"No Vale"

When I was 19, I spent 2 years in the wonderful country of Ecuador serving as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

My Mission Call

Like a lot of young men my age who graduated from high school and went to a semester of college, the next step for me was always to serve a mission. I was mission bound. There was never even a second thought! I had three older brothers who all went on missions, and I spent my teenage years writing them on Sundays and reading their letters they would write back. Their mission stories and experiences were uplifting and inspiring, and I wanted a chance to serve! I wanted to be prepared.

So much so that when I left for my first semester at BYU, I didn't go the route that a lot of BYU freshman go. My older brothers told me all about freshman dorms, and the cafeteria food, and freshman wards, and staying up late, and getting bad grades their first semester because they couldn't balance school and their new-found freedom away from home... At the time, I didn't want to do that (which proved harder to do than I thought...). I already had three brothers at BYU. How fun would it be to just live with them instead? Off campus. With a bunch of returned missionaries. In a singles ward full of slightly older non-freshman girls who, (I came to find out, and to my advantage) were tired of dating gung-ho marriage bound returned missionaries, and needed a break, so they'd go out with me because I was "safe." It was actually a lot of fun. But that's a story for another time...

The point is, I lived in housing off campus with my brothers, and I was the only freshman in the entire complex and in the ward.

Unlike the freshman dorms at BYU where hundreds of young men were getting mission calls every week, I was the only one waiting for a mission call in my ward! It was a big deal! The entire ward gathered in our apartment and I read out loud that I'd be serving in the Ecuador, Guayaquil South Mission. Wow! What a feeling. I'm getting goosebumps now just thinking about it. I would get to learn Spanish! I would get to live in a foreign country! I would get to serve the Ecuadorian people! I couldn't wait.

Ecuadorian Currency

This might sound funny, but one of the experiences I was looking forward to while living in a foreign country was the experience of using foreign currency! My oldest brother had served in Ukraine where the currency is hyrvnia! My 2nd oldest brother went to Dominican Republic where the currency is the dominican peso! And my 3rd oldest brother went to Japan where the currency is yen. I looked up the currency in Ecuador and... the American dollar.

Yup. They use the American dollar in Ecuador. The currency used to be sucres, but Ecuador had apparently experienced a financial crisis back in 98-99 and switched to the American dollar.

Although disappointed, I'd collect old sucres anyways during my time there, even if they were worth nothing more than a fun souvenir.

For anyone who may not know, when you serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, you pay for it. My parents had been wise with our money since I was a child and put plenty into our savings so that we could save up for our mission. I had made some money as a child model in Japan (another story for another time) and also received a yearly Permanent Fund Dividend as an Alaskan resident for the entire time I lived there. While my friends would spend their PFD's on snowboards and video games, mine went into savings. I'm sure I griped at the time, but I'm grateful that by the time my mission came around, I didn't need to worry about finances.

"No Vale"

While serving in Ecuador, we used cash (again, the American dollar...) to pay for pretty much anything. We had ATM cards to pull out cash, but any food or supplies we bought, it was all cash. American dollars. We walked everywhere on my mission. No bikes. No cars. All walking. We carried as little cash as possible around with us and prayed we didn't get robbed, an occasional occurrence among my fellow missionaries (and once almost to me, but he was too drunk to do any harm while he fumbled for his knife).

While exchanging cash among the Ecuadorians, I learned something pretty quick about how they view money. And it was extremely odd.

We were on the street and stopped to buy some food from a vendor. I pulled out a $20 bill and attempted to pay. The vendor looked at my $20 bill, shook his right hand like he was doing jazz hands, then shook his head, and said to me:

"No vale"

(Pronounced "Noh bah-leh.")

At first I didn't understand what he was saying. It took me a second to work out the conjugation of the word "valer" which means "to be worth." I looked at my Panamanian companion for help, but he just smiled. I barely understood him anyways. Why was this vendor saying my $20 bill wasn't worth anything? It's a $20 bill! I attempted again to hand the vendor the $20 bill saying "Si! Si vale! Vale veinte dolares!" Yes, it's worth $20! As a new missionary, there wasn't much I was sure about, but as a born and raised citizen of the United States of America, from which this here $20 bill came from, I can unequivocally tell you that this is worth $20! It's possible, Mr. Vendor sir, that I might have more authority than you on this subject! Now take it! And give me my food!

"No, no vale!" he said again, this time pointing to the corner of the $20 bill I held in front of him. Trying to not get frustrated, and seeking to understand, I looked at what he was pointing at. In the upper left corner of my $20 bill, there was a small, almost microscopic tear. I hadn't seen it. But even if I had, who cares! It doesn't matter. Money gets crumpled and torn all the time. It doesn't diminish the value of the currency. In broken Spanish, I tried to explain that just because there is a tear in the corner of the $20 bill does not mean it's worthless. It was still very much in tact. But he refused. No matter what I did, he would not take it, and eventually we walked away.

As we made our way to our apartment, my Panamanian companion explained to me that I need to watch out for any cash that comes to me that might be damaged in any way. When getting change from vendors or stores, I had to inspect each bill carefully, because if I got stuck with any imperfections in my money, I wouldn't be able to spend it. And if I did have any damaged money, I had to do the best I could to hide it when I exchanged it. It sounds ridiculous, but it's something I had to get used to.

Perception of Worth

What happened in Ecuador? Who decided that just because paper money is slightly torn, it all of a sudden is worth nothing?

When it comes to money, what's the difference between us and the Ecuadorians?

Perception.

Our perception of worth for that dollar bill does not change based on its worn and torn condition. In my experience, at least here in the U.S., even if a dollar bill has some rough edges and minor tears, we still see value. We still see worth.

It goes without saying that just because someone comes along and decides, for whatever perceived reason, that your dollar bill is not worth something, does not make it true. You know your dollar bill is worth exactly $1. Regardless of what anyone else says or thinks.

I wish I could have waved a magic wand over Ecuador and gotten rid of this negative perception, especially for a poor country that needs to use all the currency it's people have so they can afford to live! If they could just change their perception and see the inherit worth in the money they carried, regardless of the imperfections, it would only help everyone!

Your Worth

What does it mean to have worth?

I don't really have a good answer.

But I do know that no outside influence can determine your worthiness. Your worth is not conditional. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks about you. It doesn't matter what anyone else says about you. It doesn't matter how anyone else judges you.

You have worth. Tremendous worth. Inherent worth. More than you can possibly imagine.

Your tears and stains and beautiful imperfections do not diminish that worth. If anything, they add to it. They make you unique. They help make you YOU.

Others may look at you and decide that you're less than worthy. They may see your differences and think they can decide your fate. They might even forget about their own rips and tears because they're so focused on yours. They may even laugh at you, belittle you, and tell you just how unworthy you are.

But that's just their perception. Who cares what they think they know? You know the truth.

You know your worth.

And if you can see your own worth, and perceive the God given worth of those around you, regardless of their imperfections, you can just ignore anyone who tries to tell you...

..."No vale."