Hit and Run

This one time on my mission...

I was serving in the rural, sandy roads of Africa. Travelers are most commonly seen on foot or in push-carts, so you can imagine the surprise of the locals when a pair of white guys, in collared shirts, came driving through their neighborhoods. The common reaction was groups of young children shouting "Amulungo!" (meaning white man) and they would  come running out after the truck, playfully trying to keep up with us. On occasion, we would stop the truck, quickly jump out and start running back toward the kids. Usually, they would scatter in all directions, completely puzzled by our reaction. This became a well-known game–highly anticipated throughout the local neighborhoods.

On one particular drive, the kids came tearing out after us as usual; in full sprint, hooting and shouting. We hit the brakes as usual, however–at that particular moment–the kid in front of the pack was looking back at his friends, still running at full keel. All his friends stopped and watched. My companion and I could do nothing but cringe as we heard a loud crash and the truck rocked. We got out of the car to make sure he was okay, but he had scattered along with his friends. The next time we came through, we talked and laughed with the same group of kids, and noticed one with a prominent goose egg on his forehead. He was proud of the mark he left on our tailgate.

Elder Medley

Johannesburg South Africa

2002-2004

Here Fishy, Fishy

This one time on my mission...

I spent two transfers serving in a ward where I was almost certain the second counselor in the Bishopric was a robot. The polar opposite of his charismatic wife, Brother D (names have been shortened to protect…well…me) always seemed bored or preoccupied at every ward function and was all business in correlation and PEC meetings. I had no issue with him until his “Bah Humbug” attitude tanked our plans to put together a member missionary fireside in three weeks. In his detail oriented brain, this was an impossible feat. But to a missionary, whose life is carved into 6 week increments, 3 weeks is plenty of time. If it’s long enough to meet, teach, and baptize a person, it’s long enough to line up a few talks and musical numbers. But Brother D. convinced the Bishop it was not feasible and we were shut down. Let’s just say my heart was not exactly brimming with Christ-like love for this man.

A few weeks later, we were invited to their home for Thanksgiving. Sister D, of course, greeted us with a smile and open arms. He nodded from a distance. We offered to help with dinner, but she assured us everything was almost done, so we should relax. Then she turned to her husband, who was buried deep in a newspaper, and said in her most chipper voice, “Honey, why don’t you show the girls your fish?” To my surprise, he put the paper down and smiled. I think that was the first time I’d seen anything but an annoyed expression on his face. “Follow me”, he instructed. So my companion, a ward member, and I fell in line.

I was expecting an aquarium of some sort - I was wrong. He led us out in the back yard, where they have a small pond with three of the biggest gold fish I’ve ever seen. He coaxed them to the surface with food pellets and called them by name. “See the biggest one? He was born in this pond,” Brother D. reported proudly. My eyes darted back and forth between him and the water. The bond between man and fish was clearly a strong one. I personally had never kept a goldfish alive longer than a month, so I was impressed by his dedication and amused by his choice of pet. Then the smile faded from his lips and his voice nearly cracked as he said, “His…his parents… were…uh, they were eaten…by cranes.”

In that moment, I knew three things: 1) This was a truly painful memory for this man who so rarely displayed emotion, 2) I found it hilarious, and 3) I HAD to react appropriately. I put a hand over my mouth to prevent the escape of laughter and cover any evidence of a smirk. This motion conveniently looked like I was horrified by the news. Brother D. looked at me and my companion who was also trying hard to conceal her true response. He shook his head slowly and continued, “I know Sisters...I know…it was devastating.” I could only nod my head up and down slowly with my brow furrowed. He went on to relate the tragic tale. “It was a peaceful Sunday morning….until the cranes came. I heard them and I ran. But I was too late.”

I remember thinking, “Poor fellow. No wonder he’s grumpy. He’s suffering from Post-Traumatic Fish Disorder.” And then I thought, “If he ever gets in the way of my fireside plans again, I’m threatening the other fish.” Fortunately, I was transferred before I was tempted to do so.

Sister Smoot

Texas San Antonio

2006-2008

Identity Crisis

This one time on my mission...

I'd been out for 9 months when I was put in a three-some which included a brand new sister. Sister Knecht was gregarious, bold and always did what we asked her with zealous optimism. She was blond, tall, funny and reminded me of a basketball playing version of Barbie. Sister Higgins was the senior of the group; a kind, soft-spoken and gentle leader.

In our first few days together, we were out knocking doors and took turns on approaches. We would each announce our names and then the designated sister would begin teaching. We had been working smoothly until it came to Sister Knecht’s turn to teach. I started “Hi, I’m Sister Medley,” then basketball Barbie blurted “Hi, I’m Sister Higgins.” I turned quickly to see what the real Sister Higgins was going to say since her name had been stolen! The lovely Sister Higgins, struggling to hold back her laughter, rolled with it and said “Hi, I’m Sister Knecht!” The greenie hadn’t realized what she’d done until she heard Sister Higgins introduce herself using her name. Sister Knecht struggled and stumbled through her teaching and we lost all composure as we ventured down the rest of the street. 

The basketball Barbie who couldn’t remember her own name.

Sister Hone

Texas San Antonio Mission

2006-2008 

Bean Plants

This one time one my mission...

In my last area, there was a recent convert named Jesse. God bless him, he was the quintessential Southern Hick; bald, front tooth missing, wore a wife beater with his gut hanging out, and spoke with a drawl as thick as molasses. Also, his favorite pastime was watching a mechanical dancing Santa, which he kept on the mantle and often danced alongside. You couldn't help but love him. My companion's last name was Horrocks, but he refused to call her that because, according to him, "It ain't right to go callin' no nice lady 'whore', even if it IS in her name." So, in his earnest attempt at chivalry, he addressed her as "Sister Hawkins".
Anyway, Jesse had dropped out of school in 3rd grade, so his reading skills were lacking. But he still tried to read the Book of Mormon. We stopped by to check on him one day. "How's your scripture study going?" I asked. He nodded his head vigorously and declared with pride, "Oh yeah! I been readin' some! I been readin' about them bean plants."
I blinked in confusion. "Bean plants?" I echoed. "Yeah, Sister! Don't ya 'member!?!" He rolled his eyes at me, as if in shock that I could possibly forget a passage as pivotal as the one about the bean plants. "Well, shoot!" he continued, "That Nephi had to kill a man to get'em...so I figure they's important. Ain't they?"
It all suddenly became clear and I had to suppress a laugh. "I think you mean BRASS PLATES, Jesse. That's what they had to go back and get." I was instantly afraid I had embarrassed him, but he just shrugged his shoulders. "Aw, brass plates....bean plants. No matter. Wanna watch me dance with Santa?"

Sister Smoot

Texas San Antonio

2006-2008

Campbell Soup

This one time on my mission...

I was serving in my first area. My companion and I were both new to the area and since we had no one to teach, we spent our first day tracting. It was hot, humid and the mid-day sun beat down on us without relent. After hours of tracting, and no success, I began thinking to myself, “Boy, I sure am looking forward to two years of this...” 

We knocked on the door of a man who finally let us in. With tears, he related his woes to my companion and I. His wife had recently left him, his kids were having a really hard time, and recently, he had teeth removed by the dentist. I was thrilled! Not with his predicament, of course, but that someone was willing to listen to our message. I had envisioned this day, when I would be able to preach the gospel to my fellowmen and here it was. The first door I had ever gotten into, my first lesson - I was finally a missionary. What an amazing moment!

As we sat in his front room, we reintroduced ourselves. The man followed suit, “My name is Bill Campbell, ya know, like in the soup.”  Now you may recall, the man had just returned home from the dentist where he’d had some teeth pulled, so his words were not very clear. I heard “My name is Bill Campbell, just call me Soup.”  

With that, I began the lesson, “It's gonna be okay Soup.” He looked at me strangely, but I continued, “Soup, things will get better.”

Afterward, amidst great bursts of laughter, my companion explained to me my mishap. For some odd reason, old Soup never invited us back again.

Elder Mark Durant

Louisville, Kentucky

A Cry Went Forth

I had a terrible stomach ache. This was not an uncommon tale serving in the Philippines. This time was different, however, because I had not passed anything for 72 hours. I was determined on this particular day to overcome my ailing digestive system. After about an hour in the bathroom, something finally passed. I stood up to find a four-inch worm in the toilet. I screamed like a little girl, calling for my companion. He remains my witness to this day.

This was admittedly the scariest day of my mission and perhaps my life. Luckily, medical professionals assured me it was a common and harmless circumstance. After taking medication that helped remove any remaining critters, I carried a memorabilia card that read Ether 14:18 “And there went a fear of Shiz throughout the land; yea, a cry went forth throughout the land - Who can stand before the army of Shiz?”

Elder Hansen
Philippines Quezon City Mission
2007-2009

"Excuse Me Ladies..."

This One time on my mission...

We were driving down the road in the ghetto of South Central, LA. I had two companions at the time as opposed to only one and I was in the back seat of the car.

While heading home we passed two interesting looking "street walkers". Long Hair, thick, bright makeup, and high heels. They were wearing matching BRIGHT pink tube tops and matching flamboyant miniskirts. So stumbling upon this rare find, I told my companion that this would be the perfect opportunity to share the gospel.

We pulled up to the ladies, my companion rolled down his window, and he said "Excuse me ladies..."

The ladies turned, and in a deep voice said, "Thanks for the compliment, but we're not ladies."

They were guys!  We didn't see that coming!  Needless to say, we didn't book a follow up appointment. 

Elder Del Denney

Los Angeles CA Mission 2003-2005