Day 322
On my second day in Orange Mound, a sumo wrestler sat on our car. Or, I rear-ended somebody and the bumper pulled the hood down so it looks like there's a butt-print in it. Church vehicle department is still investigating. In the meantime, I'm not allowed to drive; so I've begun a vigilante quest to find that sumo wrestler and bring him to justice.
It was raining, about dusk, and we were driving in a moderately shady part of town. I zoned out, and I saw the brake lights on the car ahead of us just in time to watch us hydroplane into them. So we pulled off into the parking lot of a mexican restaurant/liquor store/payday loan office, hopefully to trade insurance information (and not get shivved). I sat for a moment, anticipating what might go down if the person I'd just rear-ended was a large, angry ex-convict; but instead, it was Edna Nettles.
Edna is a middle-aged Chinese lady, about chest-high, with freckles, and she was on her way to visit her mother for the weekend. She walked bashfully up to us, blinking behind thick spectacles (I'd call them glasses, but these were definitely spectacles), and we politely exchanged information while we waited for the police to come give our wreck an official benediction.
We were waiting there for almost two hours, so eventually we just stood and talked. I don't think I've ever met such a tiny, friendly, shy little person. We were best friends. Eventually we taught her some gospel, which went really well. I've decided if I ever get another car, I'm going to put a big rubber fender on it and drive around running into people so I can teach them. Oh, and we got this really pretty lady cop, so it wasn't all bad.
After transfers, President shook my hand and said, "Back in your element, eh, Elder Dolan?" And now that I've been back a while, I think it might be true. It's hard to try to help people who hate you and everything you believe in. In Conway I am a MORMON. What I say is, "Hi, we're missionaries, and we'd like to talk to you about the gospel of Jesus Christ." What they hear is, "Hi, we're the Mormons, and we'd like to eat your babies."
But in Orange Mound, I'm a "Jesus people", and they love me immediately. I've been working harder than I've ever worked; but it feels like a vacation, just because people are willing to listen. And the stories are great: we've already met at least two prophets: one thinks he "might have been called to be an apostle" while in prison for cocaine, and the other was inspired to found an organization centered around the teachings of both Jesus Christ and legendary Memphis blues musician W.C. Handey. The Orange Mound elders were working with "the Prophet Aaron" before I got here, but I haven't met him yet. That's the Prophet Aaron, the one from the Bible. I'm excited to talk to him.
So it's a good time. And something came to me while I was talking to Elder Sellers the other night. He's new, so we were discussing his expectations; and he thought he was going to come here and baptize the whole state of Arkansas, just like I did. It was a real trial for him, finding out how few people are really willing to listen. And I thought about this: there are parts of the world that could really use us, where there aren't nearly enough missionaries to do all the work there is to do. If the Lord's intention in sending us out was simply to grow the Church, as rapidly as possible, why not abandon Arkansas and go somewhere where people will listen? Why would they send us to a place with two baptisms per missionary and a 40% retention rate?
I believe it's because He needed to build us. Zion's Camp marched 1,000 miles, ate rotting food, caught cholera, waited around awhile, and then marched 1,000 miles home without firing a shot. We're facing easier trials, but sometimes they seem just as fruitless. I've been at this almost 11 months, and I can think of one person to whom my work actually meant something. One, in how many thousands? It's more than a needle in a haystack. But I know I'm here for a reason; if we were led by men, I'd be somewhere in Latin America, baptizing families wholesale in the river every Saturday.
A General Authority passed through the mission a few months before I came out, and he put this question to the missionaries in a Zone Conference: "What is your purpose as a missionary?"
The answers were along the lines of 'to teach', 'to baptize', 'to invite', etc. He responded with an emphatic no to everything they could come up with. Finally they were getting a little exasperated, no one could come up with the answer he was looking for, and he said, "Your purpose is to keep the commandments."
That's what I've got. Hopefully I'll have pictures next week. Keep the faith!
--Elder Dolan