A Conversion Story (Part XII)
(Coming in late? Start from the beginning!)
It was at this point—after a dozen calls to my private line—that my parents’ phone rang for the first time since the missionaries had arrived. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing I wouldn’t have to answer that one, but it turned out that this one was for me, too. For some reason, Keith had called the other line—the only call I took, that evening, that didn’t require me to leave the room. He asked what I was doing; I told him that the missionaries were over and invited him to join us. He was there in less than ten minutes (including a seven-minute drive across town), and the missionaries were elated to have someone with whom they could actually place the copies of The Book of Mormon and Gospel Principles that they had originally earmarked for me. We got off on more tangents than I care to discuss, but by the time the missionaries finally asked me to say a closing prayer at about 9:00, Keith and I were well on our way to accepting the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
Unfortunately, we were unable to accept their invitation to attend Church the next day, since we were heading down the shore with my grandfather. The purpose was not only have a fun week at the shore, but also to keep him company (and keep him busy) on Monday, which would be the first anniversary of my aforementioned grandmother’s passing. We would have just gone down after Church, but it was my first time heading down there without my parents, and they wanted us to follow Pop (my grandfather) to make sure we didn’t get lost. The missionaries were understandably disappointed, but we set up an appointment for the next Saturday—same time, same place—for the second missionary discussion. They went on their way, but that night’s lesson had only just begun.
Tune in next time for Part XIII!
“[I]f it so be that you should … bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!” (D.&C. 18:15).
It was at this point—after a dozen calls to my private line—that my parents’ phone rang for the first time since the missionaries had arrived. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing I wouldn’t have to answer that one, but it turned out that this one was for me, too. For some reason, Keith had called the other line—the only call I took, that evening, that didn’t require me to leave the room. He asked what I was doing; I told him that the missionaries were over and invited him to join us. He was there in less than ten minutes (including a seven-minute drive across town), and the missionaries were elated to have someone with whom they could actually place the copies of The Book of Mormon and Gospel Principles that they had originally earmarked for me. We got off on more tangents than I care to discuss, but by the time the missionaries finally asked me to say a closing prayer at about 9:00, Keith and I were well on our way to accepting the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
Unfortunately, we were unable to accept their invitation to attend Church the next day, since we were heading down the shore with my grandfather. The purpose was not only have a fun week at the shore, but also to keep him company (and keep him busy) on Monday, which would be the first anniversary of my aforementioned grandmother’s passing. We would have just gone down after Church, but it was my first time heading down there without my parents, and they wanted us to follow Pop (my grandfather) to make sure we didn’t get lost. The missionaries were understandably disappointed, but we set up an appointment for the next Saturday—same time, same place—for the second missionary discussion. They went on their way, but that night’s lesson had only just begun.
Tune in next time for Part XIII!
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