Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Almost 20 yr. old vs. Drunk, Belligerent Husband; BONUS ROUND: Shady Tattooed Agnostic

Hey y'all!

Sorrynotsorry about not emailing yesterday, but I had important rugby-related things to do on my Pday! Also, it was Labor Day and the libraries were closed.

Just a warning, this email will probably (read: will) be a downer.

This week felt like I was in a boxing rink and I was getting pummeled on all sides. My proverbial face feels like applesauce and you don't want to know how my spirit feels. Towards the end of the week, I could barely keep my hands up to guard what's left of my face and it's safe to say there was a definitive K-O.

I don't know if I've mentioned how difficult my area is, but it's bad. Really bad. Haven't had a baptism in 5 months. Barely had investigators to boot. So we've hunted out of the holes in the rocks. We've tracted, hunted potentials, former investigators (heretofore known as "formers"), less active members (heretofore known as LAs) and part member families (heretofore known as PMs), you name it, we've done it. The only thing we haven't done yet it rent a billboard. And what do we get for our efforts?

We found this AWESOME former that a companionship just dumped because she was busy the time they went over. We knocked on her door, asked if she was still interested and she looked at us like we were stupid when she said "Uh... Yes please!" We're thinking "Awesome! Golden Investigator!" and she is! She's eager to learn, she wants the truth like a drowning sailor wants a life jacket. Her husband? Not so much. We went over for a return appointment later in the week and he husband didn't let us talk. He was drinking a huge can of beer and asking us the stupidest most frustrating questions. He kept saying "Well, how do you KNOW Jesus died for you, how do YOU know that YOU were called to serve a mission? How do you KNOWWWW..." and so forth. Normally, I'd love to answer these questions, they're the answers I know best. But because he wasn't asking them to learn, he instead took the spirit away and hurt his wife's spiritual progress. We tried to teach her and ignore him, but it's a little difficult to do that when he pulls out his phone and says "Here, lemme play y'all a song" and starts blasting some Satanic-y sounding hard rock. At this point, Sister Chantry and I were at the end of the rope. I said "SIr, we're teaching your wife. I'll listen to that song later. Please excuse us." He shrugged it off and went back to watching TV with his beer and scream-o.

Not to be "discouraged" from the effort, we went tracting on Saturday in-- you guessed it-- 108 weather. Chantry and I are thinking "God's gonna bless us with a new investigator, look at the sacrifices we're making!"


The very last door we knocked at seemed promising. But as we talked to this guy (Chantry and I nick-named him Shades because he wouldn't take off his sunglasses the whole time we were talking.... Untrustworthy salt of a fellow). Again. He wouldn't let us teach. He tried to tell us how to teach, and then he argued everything we tried to teach him. He started telling us how wrong we were to believe that we need to work for Salvation. He said "You guys are missing the point. We're all sinners, Christ saved us, so we're good!" and I'm like "You're missing the point, take your glasses and pride off, lemme teach you about the true Gospel of Jesus Christ and let's start with James 2.." But... I didn't say that. I'm wearing the nametag, I have to be congenial.

And it gets so flippin' HARD. We got back to the car, Chantry was trying to be funny and said "well, that went well!" and I burst into tears. I haven't sobbed this hard since the MTC. I was frustrated with myself, my area, the people I have been called to serve. I just sat there and bawled. Chantry almost slapped me. She was like "get it together, Gunson! You're a good missionary and this is what Satan wants, so let's go teach this person and have a good day!" That's what we tried to do.

Except Sunday night found us both in hysterics as we sobbed out our frustrations and emotions. I was on my knees, could barely breathe, thinking "OH MY GOSH THIS IS SO HARD." We get rejected every day, our numbers are low, we feel very alone sometimes and the only thing we have to comfort us are the scriptures.

When Monday came, I found myself burning off mass amounts of steam while playing sports with my elders and the Denton South zone. I came home just dripping in sweat, peeling my clothes off and laughing my head off. Sometimes you gotta live for Mondays. Because that's when you can let out all that stress with some good ol' runnin' around.

This week was super hard and we're gonna do another fight this week. We'll see how it goes, right?

Get through this week if it kills us!!
Love, Sister Gunson

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