Weird Obstacles to Missionary Work

August 12, 2013

There's the things you anticipate might be difficult in missionary work..

and then when you're in Tacoma there's all kinds of other weird things that slow down the work and just make you go, "really, Satan? That's the best you can do?"

Case in point: knocking on a door, saying, "Hi, we're the Mormons. Tell me something good you've heard about us". Their response: "Oh, Mormons, you guys are the ones who don't use spoons, right?"

So, that's a new one. For those of you who may not know, Mormons do use spoons. We eat cereal. We eat ice cream. We eat soup. These things are all difficult to eat with a fork or chopsticks. I know, because sometimes I'm too tired at night to wash the dishes, so I end up trying to use miscellaneous clean silverware to eat dinner. Some foods are just meant to be eaten with spoons, let's just leave it at that.

But weird rumors that are just laughable? Good try, Satan. Too bad for you we've started carrying spoons with us when we're tracting. 

Other unexpected obstacles: angry guard fowl

As a missionary in Washington, you expect dogs. Everyone has dogs. Even their dogs have dogs. They are huge and they are teensy and everything in between. In fact we have one investigator who I'm quite positive is actually a werewolf because whenever he's home, the dog is mysteriously gone, and when the dog's at the house, the wife tells us her husband is either sleeping or at work. That just seems a LITTLE TOO SUSPICIOUS to me, so of course the logical explanation is we are teaching a werewolf the gospel of Jesus Christ. How cool is that? We'll just have to plan his baptism around the full moon. 

But I digress: dogs are not a surprise. What is a surprise is when you go up to knock on the door and a rooster comes out of nowhere and flap attacks you and pecks your ankles until you leave. I kid you not, I have bloody rooster-pecked ankles (do not worry, I purchased Phineas and Ferb band aids so I am in good hands). This is not a joke. Neither is the fact that we've been up on a doorstep and a peacock will just wander around from the backyard and stand next to us and follow us around from door to door like it's a little pea-missionary. 

This email had no point. But pretty much the moral is this:

Tacoma is absurd. I love it here.

I've been in this crazy town 11 weeks, and the church is true here too!

-Sister McQuivey