Hermana Heywood

Kaitlynn in the Chile Puerto Montt Mission

Morning Call with You (Puerto Montt), May 18, 2026

May 18, 2026 · Puerto Montt, Chile (mission home compound) and Herriman, Utah

About a 38-minute morning video call - 9:00 my time, 11:00 yours. Mom was with me on the home side. You were at the mission home compound in Puerto Montt, in a trio with Hermana Snowder (your trainer, two days from going home) and your incoming companion Hermana Figueredo. First day of the new transfer.

Opening - Hermana, and Spanish nonsense

You picked up. I greeted you as "Kaitlynn. I mean, Hermana." Mom said "Dad." I tried out a string of mangled Spanish and laughed. You told me my Spanish is really good, then asked if I had questions.

Where you are now

You said you are in Puerto Montt: "This is my house, but it'll only be my house for like three days. Well, actually less than that, because we're going to change sectors." I said "Rico." I asked what I could and could not talk about. You said I could talk about everything.

Confirmation - Hermana Líder Viajera

I asked if they pulled both triggers. You said yes. I asked if you are now an AP. You said you are currently in a trio with Hermana Snowder and her companion Hermana Figueredo until Snowder goes home, which is in two days. I confirmed Snowder ends this month. You said, "Yeah, like in two days."

I asked who the new companion is. You said Hermana Figueredo. You did not know how to spell her surname. You said you had already met her when you were in Punta Arenas. She is from Argentina.

How you feel

I asked how you feel. You said you feel good. You explained that normally you would not be in Puerto Montt yet for transfer day, but because you are going to be Hermana Líder Viajera ("an assistant, an auxiliary helper" was how you circled the term), you needed to arrive early, ahead of the rest of the mission.

I asked your new title in Spanish. You said, "Hermana Líder Viajera." If it were just a normal transfer you would still be in Valdivia with Hermana Stewart and today would be a normal P-day, but because you are going to be one of the leaders you had to come early. That is why you left Saturday.

Announcement, and your father's blessing request

I asked if it had been announced. You said the calling was announced to the mission the night before. I asked if you got a lot of messages. You said you did not - "because it was kind of not allowed." I said, "Good job, everybody."

I asked if there was a lot on your mind because of everything happening. You said no: the first couple of days you have been working normally. You got to learn all of the transfer assignments before everyone else because of a meeting with President. You said you will be in the president's house every single week for a meeting and will be in frequent contact with him.

You said you asked Presidente Mackay for a father's blessing - "even though he's not my father, because you're my father, and I can't really, like, put my head to the camera and have you give me a blessing." I laughed. You said you do not know what you are doing here and you want to have a clear mind and remember things. I riffed: "Well, the first thing you're going to have to do is stop drinking, stop smoking, start saying your prayers, start living up to your covenants, and now I'm glad I asked, President." You deadpanned, "Thank you, Dad. Very helpful." Mom said, "Thank you."

I asked how the blessing went. You said you had not had it yet; it is scheduled for Thursday so it can be honored, because this first week is going to be long.

What the first week looks like

You said this first week is different because it is the week of transfers and the new missionaries are coming in. You will be picking up all of the new missionaries, giving presentations to them, and helping their trainers. After that you will plan all of the exchanges you will do. You will go to every part of the mission to be able to do exchanges with all of the leaders. I said "Awesome." Mom said "That's so cool."

Title clarification - líder versus viajera

Mom asked you to repeat your official title. You said "Hermana Líder Viajera," and said you thought it meant sister traveler, sister leader, traveler leader, or sister traveler. I asked why it is "leader" in English and "viajera" in Spanish. You said the word is not English, it is Spanish; "líder" is the Spanish word, pronounced with an "ee" sound and a rolled r. I repeated: "Líder. Hermana líder viajera."

Mom asked what you had started to say earlier about what they cannot call you. You explained that they cannot call you Hermana Assistant to the President "because you're not allowed to have a girl who's the assistant to the president. And if we say that, one of the 70 or one of the leaders here will get in trouble." Mom confirmed: but it is the female version of that. You said yes.

Mom asked if it is an official title for all missions. You said no, it is specific to this mission. You paused to put something away. When you came back you explained that all of the missions can adjust it according to what the mission president wants or needs, and so they thought it would be good to have Hermana leaders who were like the APs. It has actually helped, and you think they are going to keep them. You added that President Mackay has changed lots of things, and "it's been really cool to see the blessings that comes from following the spirit."

My new office TV

You told me my computer was getting bigger. I said it is a different screen. You said, "Looks like a TV. My goodness, you look like a podcast dude." I said it is a TV. Mom added, "Only the best, biggest TV for Dad."

You asked if it does not kill my eyes. You told me not to show you the soda and that you miss dirty Dr Peppers.

The molded fizz cautionary tale

I told you I had a lesson. I had picked up an old cup of fizz, felt that it still had stuff in it, took a sip, and discovered it was molded. I gagged. I told you it was the most disgusting thing ever. Mom mock-scolded me about drinking soda and told you that you were disgusted. She told me that if I am going to be like that I am out. I apologized to you. You said "maybe it's true then" and added that it has been a fun couple of days.

Alexa's hair, and height talk

You asked if Alexa dyed her hair. Mom and I both said yes; Natalie did it. You said in a picture you saw it looked like Alexa had a massive stripe on each side. Mom pulled up other pictures to show; the streakiness was partly from the day's photos, and there were highlights, but Mom had been trying to fix the roots and parts came out weird.

You asked if Alexa is taller than Natalie. I said they look about the same height. I said I do not understand why height is a thing with girls; I would feel more self-conscious as "Tall McTallerson" than as short. You said you would too; you like being short. The reason you asked is because you want Alexa to be taller than you so you can be the shortest in the family. You said you might be an inch bigger than Natalie.

You showed your hair on camera: you now have curls. I asked if they are natural. You said yes. Mom asked where they came from. You said you do not know. I riffed "Where are they going? Where did they live?" You riffed back with the Hocus Pocus "I Put a Spell on You" cadence. I said, "You have cute hair, Kaitlynn."

Family update - Alexa's hard day, gratitude versus entitlement

You asked how Alexa has been. Mom said good and bad. You asked if Alexa is ungrounded from friends. Mom said Alexa had friends all week. You asked if it has been better. I said no, "they went back just as bad," but acknowledged Mom might have a different opinion. Mom said Alexa is just figuring out how to be a kid.

I said yesterday was a nightmare: "Yesterday she just decided to be rude and snotty to everyone except her friends, of course." By the end of the day we worked through it. I told you, "I am learning more patience right now than I have in my entire life combined up to this moment, so that's a good thing." You said it is not very fun. I agreed: most of the day yesterday, Alexa looked at me "like she hated my guts."

Mom stepped away. I continued: Natalie has been helpful; Mom has been very patient and helpful; Mom feels she can talk to Alexa more, so hopefully she does. I said Alexa is doing well and is on the right trajectory for where she is, but it depends on the day and the moment. The framing I am working with: "Like most teenagers, she focuses on what she doesn't have. So she'll focus on the 5% of what she doesn't have and write off the 90% [or] 5% of what she got."

I gave you the recent example: Alexa went to a stake dance, stayed out until eleven, wanted to stay out until midnight, and got to spend the entire evening hanging out with her friends Saturday. When she was picked up she was extremely rude and snippy at Mom and Natalie because she did not get to stay an extra thirty minutes. "She let that thirty minutes get in front of the joy that she had for what she was given."

I told you the principle we are trying to help her work through: "If you don't have gratitude and you only have entitlement, you will always feel cheated and sad and angry and you'll never be happy." Mom said this sounded like "leveling" with you. I added, "Count your many blessings is the lesson Mom has."

You asked if we have been able to read scriptures daily with Alexa. I said Alexa goes down and reads to Natalie and Alexa. Mom clarified that she reads the Book of Mormon with Alexa before Alexa gets ready, unless Alexa is on her phone. I said, "Mom is so good at that. I'm really proud of Mom. She sacrifices a lot to do that." Mom told you we are really good parents.

You on us

You said: "Being on the mission has really just proved that to me that you guys are not even just really good parents. You are the best parents because you have given so very much to help all of your children, not just one of us. And the way that you have taught us is with love and with knowledge. That even though it gets hard sometimes and it's annoying to keep on teaching us because we're annoyed that you, in the end, are letting us know or teaching us all about Jesus, teaching us all of these life skills will help us. And I am eternally grateful for you guys and for all that you have done for me."

You added: "I'm sorry that you have to go through this hard time with Alexa. I'm sorry that you had to go through a hard time with me as well. I was lame. That was poopy of me. I was the poopy pig. I wiped Mybil and I am clean and I'm sorry."

The Hunter story (rerun)

Mom said you were good the majority of the time, "except for that time you snuck out and walked the hunter." You acknowledged Mom caught you and took pictures. I confirmed I showed the pictures to my team at work, "like this is she thinks she's hidden right now."

You asked what the team did. I said they got mad at me: "what are you doing? Don't do that, you weirdo." I concluded I was the weirdo for showing everyone, not you for sneaking out, and not Mom for taking the pictures. You said taking the pictures is just normal for Mom because Mom has always been a stalker. Mom agreed.

Mom added that her phone made an automatic video the day before honoring those photos: "the winner is Hunter," which Mom called awkward. You asked why Mom does not delete the pictures. Mom said part of it is proof of your life and that it adds something.

Mom asked if you wanted to marry Hunter. You said, "You know, I've given it a lot of thought and I think no." Mom said she did not think he was cute when she saw the picture, and apologized. You said, "That's okay. I was 15 and he was my only option." Mom added, "He was better than Clay Bolton." I laughed. Mom joked that if you want to marry Clay Bolton you can, but you have to talk to his wife.

Your scary bus ride - the twenty-year-old Argentine

You said before we went further you had a scary experience on the bus. Hermana Stewart stayed in Valdivia, so you traveled alone for about three and a half hours.

The person who sat next to you was a twenty-year-old guy. You decided you would not talk to him: "I will not talk to him. I do not care if I'm a missionary. I'm not talking to him. This is awkward. I feel very uncomfortable, like a cheater. I'm breaking all the rules right now. No, this is not allowed." For the first hour you did not talk. You started falling asleep.

About an hour to an hour and a half in, he got up to go to the bathroom. He was in the window seat, you were on the aisle seat. He said, "Excuse me," you said, "You're excused," you moved, he went past, and when he came back you said, "Do not talk to me. Do not talk to me." He tried to get your attention with a small gesture. You said "No." Then you had to talk to him for the next hour and a half.

You called it "the scariest hour and a half of my entire life," and compared it to "BYU again. Get me out of here. I don't want to talk to twenty-year-old men without a comp." You tried to keep the conversation on Jesus. He did not believe in God. You said you did not know what to do because normally you could pass it off to your companion or ignore the person, but he was sitting next to you. You said you should have gone and hid in the bathroom that smells like diarrhea, but did not.

You talked about: how he did not believe in God, his parents getting divorced, how he believes in science, how you are a missionary, and how he went to Finland and learned English there.

He stopped you mid-sentence about the usted / tú distinction. Spanish has two forms: usted is formal, the form missionaries should use, and tú is informal, used for close friends or people younger than the speaker. He told you that you should speak in tú: when you used usted it made him feel old. You tried to play dumb. He tried to teach you: "It's like you say it like this, tú." You said "tú," then switched to English for the rest of the conversation. You said you were relieved to avoid it.

You said you kept hearing "Ooz dead" but it was so scary. The best part was when the bus stopped: "Is this the bus stop?" You grabbed your things and ran away. I said, "Good job."

You said it was scary and you are not excited to go to that part of town again, but you just trust in Jesus. I laughed: "Good job, you're a nun. Don't talk to her. Don't you know she is a nun?" You replied, "We'll break our vows together."

You said that was your scary experience on the bus right before becoming Hermana Líder Viajera.

My parallel mission story - the subway prank and the payphone

I said it is interesting that those moments happen when you are singled out, and a moment like that happened to me on my mission.

I was picking up my greenie companion in the city, taking him in. The greenie was brand new. We were on the subway going to our train stop, and I had already walked him through how the subway worked: the different stops, how to get on, how to get off. He was aware of how everything worked.

If you have ever been on a subway, you mentally check out. The greenie had checked out and was reading his scriptures. I, as the senior companion, was very aware of where we were and where we needed to get off. We got to our stop. The doors opened. I looked over: the greenie was just sitting there, mentally checked out, scriptures open. I waited a couple of seconds, quietly stood up, and walked out. I walked over to where the greenie was on the other side of the glass, knocked on the window, and waited. The greenie looked over and saw me there, then realized I was missing from my seat, slammed his scriptures shut, and the door closed. I started laughing.

I told you I did it on purpose because I thought it was hilarious. I then walked over to the other side of the platform because I knew the greenie would switch trains to come back.

I waited by a payphone. (I explained payphones were a thing in the 1900s for calling people; they cost a quarter.) The payphone started to ring. I picked it up. It was a lady who started talking like she was making advances, "Hub, hubba." I said, "I'm a missionary from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Tell me what you know about Jesus." She hung up. You said that was funny. I said when they want to date, you just keep talking about Jesus. You called it "the perfect strat."

The greenie came back stressed out. I said, "Good job, Elder." We laughed about it and walked to where we needed to go. The greenie was from Oxford, Idaho, which has about 32 people. He went from Idaho to Philadelphia, a huge city in comparison; the entire thing was new to him. Mom asked if I was trying to break him. I said the greenie was wide-eyed and I was being mean. In hindsight I said I should not have done that, but I was immature: "I was an immature, dumb boy." The greenie visited Mom and me a couple of years after the mission ended; Mom said we were good friends and the greenie really liked me. I recalled he might have ended up being a ZL: "Do you remember that Elder Hatch?" I said he was a hard worker.

Wrap and time check

I asked if we would be able to talk again later. You said yes; you thought we should be able to talk tonight. Mom asked the time difference. I said it was 9:00 my time. You said it was 11:00 your time.

I asked if Mom died. You said Mom did not die "on a normal Monday, because today is not a normal Monday. I'm actually going to be in a meeting with President, and I'm probably not going to get home until, like, 10:15 10:30. So I'm not going to be able to talk in the night as much." Mom said, "We're really proud of you. You're doing a great job." You thanked us and said you love us. I said love you. Mom said have a good day.

Cleanup Notes