October 21, 2013
After much deliberation I have decided what I am going to be for
Halloween. I'm going to be a.......(drumroll please)........missionary!
More specifically I'm dressing up as my companion, Hermana
Deroche. And based on the fact that everyone asks if we're sisters, I think
I'll be pretty convincing.
So basically we had a pretty happen’in week this week. We have
found so much success in just talking to everybody. It's amazing how many
people are interested in our message. Before my mission I thought the majority
of people would be resistant to talking about Christ and learning what we
believe. But as children of God I have learned we are all hungry for the truth.
Each of us has questions -important questions- that we need answered. Most
commonly they are: Why am I here? What's my purpose? –So, as missionaries, when
we offer the answers to those questions (we like to call them "questions
of the soul,") people are willing to listen. Our message is also unique in
that we ask people to find out for THEMSELVES if our message is true. Not
only do we not expect them to take our word for it, we INVITE them to
ask God, and find out for themselves. Mormon missionaries aren't here to
convince anybody of anything. We are only here to help others find out from God
Himself what the truth is.
So in honor of Halloween I decided to tell you a little ghost
story.
Once upon a time there was a little missionary girl
named......Hermana Tomtom. She was happy and well groomed from her shiny black
nametag to her polished red shoes. She smiled all the day long and had not
even a hair out of place (I exaggerate obviously, for the sake of the
story.)
But once a day she would stop at the exact same spot in the road
by her house, and after about 30 seconds, her companion would say something
that would send shivers down her spine. For the rest of the night she would sit
wide-eyed, horrified, on her bed, unable to shake the gloomy feeling. The next
day the same thing would happen until little by little she became unnerved.
She started fidgeting and twitching at small sounds. She
couldn't sleep at night and developed large purple circles under her eyes, signaling
to the world her distress. Every day when she would stop on the street,
she silently begged to have her companion say something else, but every day her
companion said the same 6 words that sent waves of terror throughout
her withering missionary body. Finally, it got to the point where she knew she
could take it no longer. For one last time she stopped on the side of the road.
Her companion walked
thunk
thunk
thunk
and turned the rusty key. The little metal panel
swung open ------screeeeeeeeech.----- Hermana Tomtom closed her eyes
"don't say it, don't say it, don't say it." she silently begged. Her
companion turned around with a sick smile. "No mail for you again today"
she said. And at last little Hermana Tomtom, whose tag was once so shiny, and
her shoes so polished, slipped quietly into a mail-deprived-induced coma.
The end.
[via la mom insert: letter writing guilt directed exclusively to missionary's siblings. period! Thanks for loving and supporting our California Redlands missionary!]
Happy Halloween.
Hermana Thomas
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