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| Sunday, May 26, 2013 |
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I know one woman who was contemplating a mission who definitely had romantic prospects. She moved across the country for a summer internship and her new bishop told her he felt inspired to tell her to go on a mission. Her family thought the bishop was less-inspired. They really liked her romantic prospect. But being the independently minded person that she was, she didn’t let her family’s opinion sway her and accepted a mission call in short order. In retrospect I think everyone involved would say it was a happy (lucky?) confluence of events. That may not make your sister feel any luckier, but it does show there are bishops out there who aren’t overly concerned if a sister has romantic prospects. Unluckily, they are probably in the minority. |
(For every version like Mathew’s, there are 50 where the bishop and YW prez and roommates and family all tried to talk her out of it…) |
When I was serving in England a member showed us a newspaper article about a Mormon missionary in Scotland who’d gotten the crap beaten out of him four times, resulting in several stitches and a metal plate in his head. When asked if he had any animosity towards the Scottish people he said no. |
Please share mission stories below that will make my sister feel less like the unluckiest missionary ever. She didn’t have MY mission president, lucky girl. |
Unluckily everyone in my mission got dengue fever and pink eye. Luckily I did not. Unluckily I got malaria instead. |
She could be the sister on my mission who got sent to the dentist for a toothache and came back with 23 (TWENTY-THREE!) fillings. I’m not even sure that is possible, but I saw the bill. Personally, I’d have asked for a second opinion. That sister was a trooper, but she eventually got sent home for a combination of a broken ankle and ovarian cysts. |
Eso, Sorry, I’d like to help, but I can’t. I had the best mission and best mission president in the world. Even my worst companion was only slightly weird. Probably the worst thing that happened was when we got chased by big, mean dogs. Oh, and some of the food was upchuck-worthy. Your sister sounds like she deserves a Purple Heart. |
The forks in my bicycle went out while I was going down a hill at least 40 MPH. Luckily, I didn’t die, but I had to carry the bike back to our flat 3 miles after that, bloody arms, torn clothing and all. On the way to the train station after that to switch back companions (we were on trade-offs), a drunk stubled out of a bar tried to pick a fight with me. Luckily, he thought better of it because I could have really embarrased myself and the church. I had a medical release myself for a prolonged illness. Six months of hell. It sucked. |
Good stories, all. Ardis–I thought I was the only one who felt that way about my MP! I am glad to find I am in such good company. tisheli–malaria: it never leaves you. My condolences. Mark–you lucky ducky Kyle–funny how drunks turn up at the darndest times |
I heard from a mission friend last week. He told me that the little branch I worked in on my mission is scheduled to become a stake this year! Woohoo! |
(mind the thread-jack?) When chatting about mish’s… WHY do church leaders allow (phone) contact to Moms on mother’s day, but NOT to fathers on Dad’s day? Isn’t this a case of something that has more potential for resentment than actual benefit or ‘Making Sense’? (to my mind, anyway) this policy just seems like someone with nothing better to do than devise arbitrary policies… Oh Well…. |
Unluckily half of my district in Ploiesti, Romania got meningitis, knocking us all out completely. Luckily, the Lord healed us and within a day we were all fine. |
Guy Noir, Private Eye, I had a companion who was very close to her father but not her mother. She called on Father’s Day. I was her comp at the time, and I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Whatever.” I didn’t get sent home, but in the middle of my mission I killed my back. I spent the next month on strong drugs, and finished out my mission in a lot of pain. Twelve years later, I still suffer near constant pain (ranging from, honestly, not too bad to “give me the drugs!”) from that killing of the back. |
Guy – I think it’s actually dictated by individual mission presidents. On my mission (1989-1991) we were allowed to call on FD, MD, and Christmas, but ***ONLY*** if we had a companion who could do the same. If we were with a non-American companion whose family didn’t have a phone (quite common) or couldn’t arrange for a call, then it was no calls for anyone in that companion. |
That said, MD is a concession to mothers. Frankly, I think any phone-call home is a distraction. I think email is a distraction. It should be good old-fashioned written letters on a P-day home, and nothing else. |
queuno–wait till yours are serving, and we’ll see what you do with the e-mails. Honestly, my siblings who serve now and report via e-mail probably spend much less time writing us–they always seem rushed–than thoe of us who wrote with pen and paper. Plus, they get much less actual mail, I’m sure. |
Unluckily, my brother was threatened at gunpoint twice on his mission in Brazil. Luckily, he wasn’t shot. Unluckily, shortly after he returned home, he was shot at while driving his car. Luckily, the bullet traveled between his chest and the steering wheel, hit the radio and ricocheted between the front seats and lodged in the back seat. The bullet very slightly grazed the arm of his friend sitting in the passenger seat. He was driving on I-15 just past Salt Lake. And no, road rage was not a factor. The police claimed it was gang related. |
Rat sitting on her head? My animal-related mission story is that in one area a possum took up lodging in the ceiling of our house. We tried to trap him and only made him mad. When we heard the trap snap down we looked up at him with flashlights and he just glared at us from the rafters. He was a real devil. He came down when were out of the place and urinated all over my suitcase. It was the worst smell ever and I’m positive he knew exactly what he was doing. Luckily he didn’t actually come down and bite us in our sleep. By the way, the word used in Guatemala for possum is “tocquasin” (not sure if I’m spelling it right)… a word I’ll never forget. |
queuno- Some people ENJOY being arbitrary, treating others arbitrarily. ‘Strangely’…Not very many people enjoy Being Treated arbitrarily…. I (don’t) wonder why? |
I had 18 companions in 17 transfers, I sent 2 companions home early. I was involved in 6 Emergency Transfers, none of them involving my actions. In other words, none of them my fault. My most difficult transfer was as a new DL with a junior much older than me shipped in from a different country for a second chance after some mistakes. At the same time I had another junior who was having morality issues and had to go home. The older companion refused to work and swore at on the street alongside threats of violence. That was a pretty unlucky transfer Oh and one transfer our roof caved in in our apartment and fell on my bed. Luckily there was a couch I could sleep on… which I did for a month. |
unluckyily – I had one transfer my whole mission. Ten months in my first area, twelve in my second. luckily – My areas were pretty cool |
Your stories are not making me feel better! My son is serving in Europe, due home in less than 6 weeks. I know he does not tell me all the stories (I fully intend to pry them out once he’s home) but the little I do know includes: 6 broken bones (that’s 6 different episodes), getting struck by 3 cars, a motorcycle, a red bus, and the worst one was by another elder on a bike with failing brakes who neglected to yell “watch out!” as he careened down the hill towards the back of my son. I think that was the broken wrist. He has been so sick –twice–that the mission president wanted to hospitalize him (Son told him “when this country gets a real medical system, we can talk). Once was so severe the mission president’s wife actually moved in with him and his companion to care for him for 5 days, and arranged house calls from a doctor. He has been robbed twice, including once that took everything they owned, cameras, books, clothes, wallets, food, all of it… and he admitted a month later that he was pretty tired of plain pasta, because having pooled their resources, that’s all he and his companion could afford to eat for 3 weeks until the monthly money arrived. I hollered at him “why didn’t you say you needed money! You told us the mission was taking care of things!” Turns out, taking-care-of meant changing their locks. Shot at, robbed on the street twice, beat up at least twice, told to pick another nationality because being American is not safe in some of his areas… three of which were so bad they had to be indoors by dusk. He wrote “All my life I have avoided pornography, but now there is active prostitution 5 feet from our door.” This week, our son wrote that he on a 4 day odyssey; said he is “homeless, going from area to area, companion to companion on a half-day basis” since he was sent to cover an Emergency Transfer (11 elders sent home early!) with a 2 hour notice on Sunday. 6 areas/cities in 4 days, but not to worry, because on Friday at 3pm, he plans to be in “the best area on earth,” his all time favorite place, where he was loved and did an amazing amount of good last time he was there. When he was there last time, the branch president actually protested to the mission pres, begging for my son to be allowed to stay! Said he had doubled the congregation while he was there, and they couldn’t do without him. (okay, the branch has 30 people… but 25 investigators to church weekly , in an area that had not had missionaries before was pretty good!) He is thrilled to be able to end his mission there. He sounds cheerful enough, but I’ve never heard of a mission with so much commotion! Could not end his mission any better, though. Well, some stability might have been nice. You know the odd thing? My son has ~~enjoyed~~ much of his mission! He has broken records for Most Baptisms (more than one a month in a mission where 1 per year is average), and Most Investigators To Church (25 in one week), as well as Most Injuries In A Month, Most Severe Injury, and Most Dramatic True Story Told To Pres This Month. I just want him home… Never again will I consider a mission routine, just another calling! |
Deb, that’s a fascinating comment you gave us there. Where in Europe? |
I absolutely adored my mission president and my mission. I had the perfect areas, in the perfect order, and loved every bit of my mission. |
Mac–I have never heard of that |
Unluckily, I didn’t serve a mission. While serving in a pretty exotic country, she had to have emergency surgery in a pretty sketchy hospital. For reasons that had nothing to do with the original illness and everything to do with the way the surgery was performed, some damage was done and she was left infertile. She went home to recover and to have some further surgeries. For the rest of her mission, she was reassigned to a stateside mission. During that part of the mission, she met a fellow misisonary and they got married after they both got home. So at least that part was lucky, right? Not really. He turned out to be a complete [insert whatever unpirntable phrase you want] and they are now going through an equally unprintable divorce. Ouch. |
When I was a child (about 25 years ago) . . . Unluckily, a sister contracted chicken pox while serving in our branch. Luckily, our family was the only one where everyone had already had the pox. She got to come to our house everyday while RS sisters played “companion”. We loved having her, spots and all. By the time she was no longer contagious and was able to return to her work, I’m sure she was ready to be quit of us all. I knew a boy who served in Serbo-Croatia and was on notice to evacuate at any moment ahead of hostilities in the early 1990s. He had to evacuate twice that I know of. We feed the missionaries once a week in our home. Luckily, my little boy has always loved having sister missionaries. |
After I hit my year mark I became the last companion to (or killed off as we called it) 5 Elders in a row. During interviews at the zone conference before the 5th completed his mission, my mission president asked me how many elders i had sent home. When I told him “5 in a row” he nearly fell out of his seat. The very next transfer I was training a new missionary. |
queuno–wait till yours are serving, and we’ll see what you do with the e-mails. Honestly, my siblings who serve now and report via e-mail probably spend much less time writing us–they always seem rushed–than thoe of us who wrote with pen and paper. Plus, they get much less actual mail, I’m sure. I have a brother currently serving in AZ. He is under a 30-minute restriction to use the Internet weekly, so we get these dashed-off emails with no thought to them. However, he could spend as much time as he wants on p-day writing letters. Being a child of the 21st-century, he has no idea how to actually write, so he doesn’t. This is probably why missionaries today who exclusively email give the appearance of being busy — it’s that they have a time limit, and they’re too lazy to write in any other manner. I doubt I’ll change my stance on this. The last thing I want my child doing is worried about their next letter to me and not focusing on their mission. My wife may be different, sure. But my thought is that when I send my daughter or son out on their mission, I am not the highest priority for their p-day activities. And I’d be sorely disappointed if I found that they were spending time on work days to be writing me. I think we’d get more information out of him if he wrote a hand-written note — and more “personal” touch — even if he spent only 20 min on it, then we get out of his dashed-off emails. Of course, with the pretentiousness and self-righteousness he displays with his emails, maybe it’s just as well… |
Queuno: “Of course, with the pretentiousness and self-righteousness he displays with his emails, maybe it’s just as well…” Not sure if this is to be taken seriously or not. But if it IS in earnest, let me just say that I can hardly wait for my son to send me “pretentious, self-righteous” e-mails. The whole idea of him learning to live for a cause greater than himself and to immerse himself in the role of a missionary is wonderful and miraculous to me. He is so shy, so unpretentious, that I can barely imagine him putting on his missionary tag and bearing his Savior’s name. But I do believe he will be bold in that day–which will come in three or four years. God bless the missionaries. |
Welcome back, cuz! My brother (your cousin) just got back from his mission a little over a week ago. Luckily, he returned with no major injuries or accidents (that we’ve been able to discern). Unluckily, my mom decided that with Benjamin and Abraham home, this would be the perfect time to re-do the bathroom, so Benjamin has spent much of his first week home stripping off layer upon layer of wallpaper and re-painting the bathroom :). Actually, though, he said that he appreciates being busy, which I believe. Anyway, welcome home, and I hope that we get to see you sometime! Oh, my mission story: serving in Sibiu, Romania in the 7th of the 8 months I would stay there, I got bitten by a dog that was unexpectedly interrupted during his afternoon nap. There was blood, a mangled knee-high, and a very concerned member who promptly got her husband’s strong-smelling cologne and dumped it on my wound. I made it to the hospital pretty quickly–where I discovered that anesthesia and pain-killers weren’t really considered necessary. The doctor took a scalpel, carved out another half centimeter around the dog-bite to make sure nothing uncouth remained, packed it with some white powder of some sort, and wrapped it up. When I went back to the doctor the next week, the wounded had started turning green. The mission nurse was then involved (good timing actually–I was going back to Bucuresti for transfers anyway) and was able to set things right. In defense of the ROmanian health system, I should say that I very unwisely submerged my leg in water on about my 4th or 5th day, and I never changed my bandages. It’s entirely possible that the doctor gave me explicit instructions about both of these items, and I just didn’t understand/remember. Anyway, I have a lovely scar and a great story. |
Margaret – Yes, it was intended to be tongue-in-cheek, mostly. (Although, the rest of our family is a little tired of the weekly calls to repentance. :) ) |
Unluckily, on my mission, an elder I quite respected got sent home early for carrying on with 2 girls (one a member, one an investigator) for NINE MONTHS! Luckily, he was not exed. (That was a surprise.) Unluckily, they cleared out the whole district, and then I got put in as the new district leader. (Thanks, President, I love you too.) Luckily, things went well and the ward leadership was wonderful. Unluckily, because the story was kept very quiet, we would have to lie when members would say things like, “Do you remember Elder so-and-so, he was such a go-getter.” (If they only knew.) Luckily the work was not completely dead, because the story was kept very quiet. Most unluckily, I ended my mission with a double homicide in a family I had gotten close to about a year into my mission. (The father, an investigator, beat his wife and 11 yr old step-son, members, to death with a hammer.) Yeah, that last transfer was awful. Luckily, a Catholic priest I had met in the same area gave me some of the best counsel I have ever received about dealing with and processing that situation. We have remained fast friends ever since. (I hope to visit again this summer/fall.) |
