Hermana Heywood

Kaitlynn in the Chile Puerto Montt Mission

Morning Call with You (Puerto Montt), July 13, 2026

July 13, 2026 · Puerto Montt

Mom and I talked with you for about seventy-eight minutes this morning, the first of two calls we would have with you that day. You were sick and homesick, and told us more than once that you were done being a missionary with 70 days left.

Heat at home and homesickness

After some audio trouble and good-mornings, I told you it had been hotter in Salt Lake the day before than in St. George, around 109 degrees, and that we had broken a heat record for as long as records have been kept in Utah. You said you missed the heat and the sun badly, that you kept seeing pictures of missionaries who had gone home tan, and that your companion from the CCM was already home. You said the weather where you were sat around 52 degrees.

Cold Doritos, and a busy sick week

You were eating cold Ranch Doritos and said if you could not be home you would eat them for breakfast; I said the US only carries the flavors "that burn your mouth off." I asked about your week, and you said the last two weeks had been very busy with presentations, that you had been sick so you canceled planned exchanges and worked only in your sector, but that you had put baptismal dates with about three people. I noted you had still been sick when I talked to you with Natalie earlier in the week. You said you had started feeling better but that Hermana Figueredo was now getting sick, though she was taking better care of herself with medicine.

Zone-conference presentations in the new area

You said you had given the same presentation three separate times because the mission is so large it holds three zone conferences, and that each time was a little unique depending on what the Lord wanted you to say. You said you spend about four hours making a slideshow, on a computer at the mission office when you have access, and confirmed you are right at the mission home area.

Three baptismal dates

You described the people you had put on dates. One was Brandon, whose wife (a member) had texted saying they wanted to come to church; Brandon is not baptized, and you had been teaching the couple about a week and a half. Another was a woman named Annie (spelled like "Amy," which you kept wanting to pronounce "A-N-Y"), who had been in and out of teaching but with whom you had just had your first real lesson and put on a date. A third was a man who had been in teaching a couple of weeks and was supposed to be baptized that Sunday, but since it would only be his third time at church you planned to move his date to be safe. I asked what usually blocks baptisms; you said the biggest obstacle for you is getting people to church, because "all the people here are lazy," more than word-of-wisdom issues.

Reading each other's writing

You said you had read my talk and it was really good; I said it felt good to be done with it. Mom joined ("Hi, Mom"), and there was a loop-joke about answering "how are you" twice. You said you had read Mom's "catch up" email and enjoyed it, and noted that my parents were apparently still on your mission email list. You joked about the etiquette of removing them, then re-adding them, so they would miss one email and know they were not as close to your heart as they used to be.

Ruffle socks and Natalie's MTC packing

Seeing a photo, we talked about ruffle socks Natalie wore as a child; you said you have a closet of ruffle socks you took from a departed missionary. Mom said Natalie goes to the MTC on Wednesday and walked through packing: a blanket you may have to ship to the mission rather than fit in a suitcase, checking Amazon or Costco, weighing suitcases that day, and figuring out which of Natalie's dresses to send after she tried everything on. You said that in the photos you kept mistaking Natalie's dresses for ones you had worn, and made a running "Latina monkey" joke about how tan I looked in the garage.

Volcano Osorno trip

You said you were supposed to go to Volcano Osorno that day, which you had done twice before, but this time it would be free because a member was taking you; the only cost was transportation. Later you pulled up a map to show the route: the member would pick you up around 10, you would drive roughly halfway up the volcano, then take one of the trails, though reaching the very top would take forever. You said there might or might not be snow, and that you wanted to see snow badly.

"I'm so done with being a missionary"

You said plainly that some days you were so done being a missionary, that seeing everyone home and warm while you were cold made you not want to be there, and that you sometimes just wanted to go home, lie down, and do nothing. I said you would get that soon enough and then would miss Chile and wish you could go to a volcano. You joked back that then you would be too lazy to move. You said you should be grateful and not have a bad attitude, but that it was hard to walk into families' houses and see them watching Avatar and eating Papa John's. I told you that ordinary life "is gonna be the rest of your life," and you agreed it could start now.

The home slideshow

I walked you through photos to help you feel connected. We covered: the day we went to the temple and Natalie was set apart, including the cinnamon-roll place near the temple we always went to ("the village idiot"); Natalie posing while Mom took pictures; Natalie's now-empty room; the pool pump; a new low-pile rug that replaced a hard-to-clean one; a family-history project; Mom going through suitcases; and a picture of me bugging Natalie while she worked on her calling. I told you the pool's story: we bought it the previous year as a spur-of-the-moment proof of concept, first grabbing a huge 12-by-20-foot pool at Costco, then returning it for a smaller one with a solar cover, and with the recent heat the water was now "like bathwater." Other photos included me chasing Mason with the pool cleaner, Mom and Natalie spending time together, and Alexa's boyfriend Kristian getting his nails done. You also noted that the little BYU creamery near your old Puerto Montt apartment had been demolished and turned into a supermarket.

The locked-out story and the family-history float

I told you a story about locking myself out when the doorknob fell apart while I was talking to Brother Walmsley, who had come to deliver a report, leaving me stranded outside as he drove away. Then I showed you the stake's family-history parade float with painted ancestors, including my own contribution: a painting of Joseph Leland Heywood with a neck beard that you compared to Elmo, joking about how little effort I had put in compared to others who sewed clothes.

My hair, and the volcano map

Looking at older photos, you remarked on how long my hair had been; I said it was cut off now, that I missed it but had felt judged and out of place at church with it. You walked me through the Osorno route on a map and mentioned finding a 2010 David A. Bednar Christmas devotional on the Gospel Stream app, which you said did not help you wanting to go home.

Being present with 70 days left

Mom counseled you to be really present, take advantage of the opportunities and blessings where you are, and not wish to be home, warning that the end would keep getting harder. You said you had 70 days left. You reflected that a few days earlier you could not understand how anyone could ever be "trunky," and now here you were. I said the Lord sometimes lets us go through things so we can better understand and help others who feel the same way, and told you to capture those feelings, learn, and push through so you can later sympathize with sisters who struggle with wanting to be home.

The German contact

You told the story of messaging the German man again (your "German soccer playing friend," Nicholas), whom you had met in a southern area weeks earlier. Half-asleep, you had texted him asking for his address so you could pass it to missionaries, and he answered that he had just reached Amsterdam and thanked you sincerely, which Hermana Figueredo teased you about. You thought you had just sent him some scriptures. I asked why he was traveling all over; you explained he had grown up in Chile, was visiting family there, and was going to study in Europe. I teased you about flirting; you insisted it was "very platonic" and that "I just want to baptize him myself." The topic ran into a German son-in-law / German pancakes / German chocolate cake comedy bit involving Grandpa Heywood.

Friction with Hermana Figueredo

You said part of why you were so "drunky" was that you and Hermana Figueredo were "not the best of friends." You described her as "way too correct," someone who tells everyone how she feels even when no one needs to know, and said the past week had been really hard because she had told you some unnecessary and "jerky" things. You said that no matter what you do you feel like a child, like a little girl, and that she is twenty-five and thinks she knows everything, though she has been in the position longer and you should listen to her more. You said her way of doing some things made you want to "pick her up and throw her out of the window." I asked whether she was right in the substance and it was only the delivery that was not okay; you said she is very direct and will tell you what she thinks is right regardless of how it lands. You said you had four more weeks, that you had been together about six to eight weeks, and that she is actually ending her mission at the next transfer. You said you were trying to let it roll off "like water off a duck's back" and take the truth in it.

Mom's reframe about perception

Mom offered a reframe: so much of a situation is how we perceive it. She used an example from home, where I had taken an outdoor fan and moved it so she could not run it at night to save on air conditioning. She said her first reaction was that I was attacking her and trying to ruin her life, but then she had the thought that maybe it was not personal, that I was probably using the fan in my hundred-degree garage office. She said we can build a big narrative to prove our own version, and that you do this by getting buried in your own head. You agreed. Mom told you that any lesson you learn now will bless the rest of your life and your other relationships. You joked, "Especially if I'm married to a German man." The conversation turned to intercultural relationships: you said, remembering our warning that intercultural marriages are hard, that you and Hermana Figueredo are from very different cultures and you are "never ever going to date anybody from Latin America." Mom said there are just different ways of doing things and the more two people can get in line, the easier it is.

"Consider intent, not delivery"

You mentioned a comment you had heard, attributed to President Oakes, about using the last six months of a mission to "start finding yourself," which an elder going home had told you. I began to counsel you to consider intent rather than delivery when someone is direct with you; the audio dropped briefly and I repeated it once you were back.

Interlude and the charity challenge

There was a break while you went to change and a long stretch of mostly unintelligible audio. When we resumed, Mom said she had to take the kids to the dentist. Before she left, I issued you a challenge: to study charity, what it means in missionary work and in your personal life, and what it feels like to have charity. You agreed to study it.

The mission-tag family photo request

Mom and I explained a request for the family picture: because both of our daughters would be on missions in 2026, we wanted a photo of the whole family with you taking a selfie so both you and Natalie appear, with your missionary tag visible. You asked how to frame it so there would be room for Natalie and agreed to try over the next few weeks. This ran alongside a story you were excited to tell, about President Hay's two daughters who served at the same time, where the one ending her mission extended two weeks to be her sister's companion.

Advice for Natalie and closing

I suggested you think of advice and tips for Natalie as she enters the MTC, noting she would be on the BYU campus while you had gone to the CCM. You joked about Natalie getting BYU chocolate milk and the "stripling warriors" MTC shirt. We closed with reminders about the family photo and the charity challenge, don't-forget-your-name-tags for Natalie, and love-yous, including our running nickname exchange.

Cleanup Notes