While some of my very best friends are Mormons I don’t make it habit to write about them or about myself. But an interesting thing happened to me recently. I was walking home carrying three heavy bags of groceries and a fourth in the pack on my back. Striding towards me were a tall older man and his wife wearing shorts, t-shirts and sneakers. It was a Saturday afternoon. The couple were politely trying to outpace two much younger men walking either side. They had short tidy hair parted to the side. Both wore dark suits, white shirts and neckties.
Walking alone, weighed down with my shopping I was an easier target. They paused, waited for me to approach and as soon as I was within range, they introduced themselves as Elder this and Elder that. They were very polite and asked me the usual things. Had I heard of the Book of Mormon? Had I had the lessons? Did I know about the Church and would I like for them to come to my house and talk about God’s plan? Yes, yes, yes . . . no. Was I sure? Yes. Was I sure I was sure? Yes . . . yes. My arms were tiring but I wasn’t slowing down and they were keeping up.
I was tiring and so were they. It was becoming obvious: I wasn't going to say yes to the lessons, I’d already heard the message many times over. I did not care for more talk. Plainly I was not a good prospect and clearly in a hurry to get my shopping home. They wished me a nice day, turned around and walked back in the direction we had come from.
