What is Your Best Missionary Story?

You probably had experiences on your mission that were incredibly spiritual, incredibly funny, moving, crazy, or just dumb.

You know when you got home from your mission that people were interested in your stories for the first week or two and then life entered in and they stopped being interested in the two best years of your life.

But, no matter whether you are 24 or 94, you will find yourself using the phrase, "when I was on my mission..." fairly often in Church or even just talking to strangers who are members.

Here is your chance to share your best stories.

Here are a few instructions:

Keep them to three short paragraphs if at all possible. They may be great stories but you aren't writing another bible. Keep them short and give us the meat. We'll catch on and enjoy them if they aren't long and drawn out.

One story per email please.

Send your story in an email to: create1631.ldsmissionarystories@blogger.com

Put the title of your story in the subject field of your email and put your first name and last initial at the end of your story.

Not every story will make it in. I'll have to look at each one and cut any that may be a problem.

With that said, SEND IN YOUR BEST STUFF!!

Missionary Story from The "Hood"

I served in an economically and spiritually depressed area of New Jersey, in a small town known as Camden that sat on the banks of the Delaware River directly across from Philadelphia. This town was once the crown jewel of New Jersey, but was now overcome with crime, government corruption, and poverty. The air was heavy with defeat.

On one particular occasion, as my companion and I were out “tocando puertas” or knocking on doors, we came across a young latino boy who was very scrawny and couldn’t have been more than 11 years of age, although from his WWF t-shirt, large diamond stud earrings, and menacing scowl on his face it was apparent that he thought he was pretty hardcore.

My companion began to introduce us as special messengers with a gospel message. As was his custom, he broke the ice by inquiring as to the boy’s name. “Everlastin’ “ came the reply. We were both a little stunned, and I had to fight back a small smile from the corners of my mouth. “Everlasting what?” my companion asked. “That’s it- just Everlastin’ “ our young friend replied in his gruffest and most gangsterly of tones. Again we tried not to laugh as this kid really did want to be respected and regarded as a man who meant business, but as we walked away later I couldn’t help but smile to myself and reflect on that product of the ghetto. Jim A. - Utah

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