A Mixed Day

A mixed day. We still cannot see President Copeland—he seems to have disappeared with his family since the visit of Elder Lasater and Elder Hilliam. It's probably a great idea, but at least it leaves us still somewhat on dead center. We know what we must do, but he needs to define how we're to get there.

The Feira (Market) is in São João today. The area across the street is completely (and overflowing) filled with booths selling every non-perishable one could imagine. Plus a few foods. It comes once per month here. We roamed the area and bought too much. The goods don't seem to be any cheaper than elsewhere. But the traffic—it was horrible. I pulled our car early into the street to park it where we could get out, but we ended up going no place.

Then at night the "concerto rock" bit us. From 10:30 to 4:30—and that's night—pm to am that is—This building shook with the madness of rock music. The amplification was at the peak, the shouting of vocalists at its peak, all the trimmings. And the mob that was here was far more than this little corner of the town could hold. I cannot stand this. I will not.

I know—and it was reconfirmed last night vividly—that Satan is inherent in rock music. He promotes it, influences it and laughs about it. I will not put myself and my wife through an occasion like that again. The Dono must give absolute assurance.

Marian is sick with the diarrhea—has been for 4 days. We won't be able to go to Águeda with the Elders for branch conference tomorrow. This inactivity is getting to me. The beginning is often the low parts. It is this time. Thoughts of home and the important lives there are uppermost in our minds. Discouragement is difficult to cope with.