Hermana Heywood

Kaitlynn in the Chile Puerto Montt Mission

Evening Call with You (Puerto Montt), June 30, 2026

June 30, 2026 · Puerto Montt

Mom and I talked with you for about fifty-eight minutes this evening, the day after your emergency travel, now that you were back in Puerto Montt during transfer week with a crowded apartment full of incoming and outgoing sisters.

Apartment full of sisters; opening banter

You confirmed you were back in Puerto Montt officially. You said there were six girls in the apartment that night, with several of the incoming and outgoing sisters staying there, though not all of them. I said the sisters were lucky to have such an awesome HLV.

You and Hermana Figueredo ran a long stretch of banter. You complimented my hair; I said I did it for you. There was a running joke about whether you had passed gas: you said Hermana Figueredo had been asking you all day if you had "tooted" and kept smelling her hands, which she insisted smelled good. I joined the back-and-forth. You said Hermana Figueredo barks a lot; I said her mom says the same thing about me.

The "Harry Potter room"

You said you were living in what you called the Harry Potter room, like the cupboard under the stairs. I asked whose belongings were piled in the corner. You said it was all the clothes the departing sisters were leaving behind.

"You are awesome, even in your imperfections"

Hermana Figueredo was teasing you to tell us about something President Mackay had told you; you would not say it, joking that she was trying to get you to confess all your sins. You said the sisters think you are awesome and you do not want that to change. I told you, "You are awesome, even in your imperfections, Kaitlynn."

There was further banter about Hermana Figueredo's "high protein cookies" and protein diet and her muscles.

The German contact: Nicholas / Wilhelm

The main story of the call was about a man you met during your emergency travel. While traveling you had not slept and were very tired; on a shuttle bus, you were staring out the window when a man next to you spoke to you in fluent English, better than your own, and asked if you were one of those missionaries. You said no one talks to you in English, so it stood out. You invited him to church and got his WhatsApp number so you could stay in contact. He told you he lives in a city in Chile and was going to visit family members for three weeks and then go to Germany; he wanted to come to church.

He texted that he could not come to church after all, then texted again halfway through the meeting on Sunday asking if the sisters were still in church. You did not answer, but Hermana Figueredo did. He ended up going to church in a town he is from, where he was staying for a day, and talked to the elders there. He then messaged you that the elders said they would see you, and clarified a name issue: he uses his first name, Nicholas, in Chile, and his second name, Wilhelm, in the rest of the world, so the elders knew him as Nicholas while you knew him as Wilhelm. You joked that maybe he is a German prince.

You played his voice message on the call. In it, Nicholas said he had just gotten out of church, had gotten to know Elder Young and Brother Stanford and had a quick chat with them, and that his uncle preferred to sleep after breakfast, which gave him a minute to come down and share everything. He said it was awesome and great to be part of what they have, explained the Nicholas/Wilhelm name distinction again so there would be no confusion, and said it was a great way to say goodbye to the city his family had lived in for a long time. He said he looked forward to writing to you when he gets to Germany so he can be part of the community there, thanked you, and wished you a good day.

You said he had no German accent because he grew up in Chile speaking Spanish and German and then learned English. You said when you first saw his picture you thought a missionary had contacted you, because he looks very German, like a missionary. You showed a sticker he had sent that looked like a salute; you joked he is so German he is probably a Nazi, and I joked that he was saluting you.

You described your plan: message him in about a week with a scripture about Jesus and see what happens, and eventually invite him to be baptized. You said he wants to be baptized in his grandpa's church, and that when you told him our church is the true church and the others are not, he asked how that works with the Bible; you told him to go to church and ask the missionaries, which he did. You said you were surprised he actually went.

The topic ran into an extended comedy bit. I did a German-accented impression pretending to be the contact ("Hello, my name is Wilhelm, will you teach me about the gospel? What is your number?"), and you played along that it had actually been me contacting you as a test. We riffed with German words and phrases (Schnitzel, Volkswagen, Farfegnugen, "Heil"), Worcester-style sauce, and a joke that you would marry him when he gets baptized so you could become "the next Harriet," a mission-president's-wife joke. You said you thought the contact was very spiritual and handsome and told me I was being the mature one this time so you could be the immature one; I said I am the immature one all the time.

The two elders and missionary example

You said the elders did meet the German contact and later told you he missed you and was sad they had not invited him to the baptism, because, in your words, "they're clean, don't work." You said you were unimpressed by those two elders, who were very immature and made many crude jokes at the dinner and at the airport, including talking crudely about one of the airmen. You had gone to the dinner again with Carlos and Victoria in Coyhaique, which was fun as always, but said the elders were ending their missions and did not care anymore. You said there was no point telling President Mackay since they were going home the next day.

I offered some counsel. I said it was sad, and that some people are dumb and you learn from it and help others. I said maybe it is a blessing for the traveling sisters to have that experience and share it, not to throw the elders under the bus but to help others realize you do not stop being a missionary when the mission is over. I said that just because you have a release date does not mean people stop watching your behavior; people judge the gospel based on how you act, so you are doing missionary work without words and can do a lot of good or a lot of damage.

You agreed, and distinguished the dinner environment with Carlos and Victoria, which you said has the potential to be very spiritual, from the problem that night, which was the missionaries themselves. We discussed whether someone should have called the elders out.

Picking up the Argentine accent

You said Hermana Figueredo has been giving you the Argentine accent. You explained that people from Buenos Aires pronounce certain letters differently, saying "sh" where others say a "y" sound (for example "shashgamos" instead of "llagamos"), and that you are picking it up and are now "Argentinian."

Weird fish at the dinner; Spanish fish vocabulary

You said the dinner served weird fish, so you just ate scones. You said the last time you had it you almost threw up. We joked about the fish ("twin fishes," throwing up twice), and you ran a short Spanish vocabulary exchange with Hermana Figueredo about fish (pez / pescado) and other animals (rooster, cow).

My "teaching voice"

Hermana Figueredo had observed that my voice goes high-pitched when I am teaching or giving advice (consejo). You relayed this; she said it is not because I am being serious but because I am trying to be nice without being mean. I said I do the same thing with you ("okay, Kaitlynn, are you ready for some advice? You're being kind of bossy, you need to stop that"), and we agreed it works.

The week's transfer schedule

I asked what you would do the next day. You said probably work, but that as the HLV companionship you have a lot of unusual tasks. There is a leadership council that Friday. The next day (Wednesday) would be about the new missionaries coming in and helping them and their trainers; you also mentioned a farewell for the departing missionaries, an office change, lunch, and planning for a presentation and for a whole convivio [a mission social gathering].

Almost losing Hermana Figueredo at the transfer

You recounted that you and Hermana Figueredo had almost not stayed companions. A few hours before the transfer call, Hermana Figueredo, wanting to help another sister, had texted President Mackay asking what he thought about her being that sister's trainer so she could help her. You, who were with other companions at the time, were freaking out at home because you did not know who your next companion would be and wanted the mystery to stay. It got resolved and you remained companions. You said Hermana Figueredo had been trying so hard to help the other sister, that she had not even wanted to tell you because she knew you would think she did not want to be your companion, and that she would have hated you forever if it had gone the other way. You said it had been a crazy 48 hours.

Going through the departing missionaries' clothes

You and Hermana Figueredo spent a long stretch going through the clothes the departing sisters left behind, picking out items and joking about matching outfits, including white skirts so the two of you could match. One dress reminded you of a missionary from home named Hilary (last name possibly Hatch), who you said is now married. You also looked over other left-behind items and joked about the departing missionaries leaving their whole wardrobes behind to make room for all the perfume and cologne they bought, a callback to the prior day's perfume shopping.

The broken camera

You said you found a camera in the other house but could not get it to work. You put new batteries in; the screen lit up and at one point showed a picture of a baby, but it would not actually take or display pictures. You compared it to a toy camera you had as a little girl that said "pretty princess."

Saying Natalie's name

Hermana Figueredo's nickname relates to the Spanish word "nada" (nothing); I noted the nickname means "nothing" in Spanish. She practiced saying "Natalie," and I praised her pronunciation, saying she said it perfectly.

Post-mission schooling thoughts

You talked about your education plans. You mentioned BYU-Pathway and said you have been thinking a lot lately about Utah State, which you called random; one path would be to get your associate's from BYU and then do nursing at Utah State. You said you want the highest level of licensing you can get because it means better jobs and a better chance of getting into school. You mentioned wanting to be a phlebotomist or medical assistant or med tech, and joked about feeling "inspired to go to Germany." There was also a running joke that Hermana Figueredo wants to marry Bryson, and a joke about future grandkids' tans that you called the conversation turning "racist" on yourself.

Closing

Near the end Mom appeared on camera with an angel/halo filter, and you pointed out her wings and halo. With about twenty seconds left, we exchanged love-yous and said goodbye.

Cleanup Notes