Visitors

 

A different type of post.

Non cancer.

Just a weird experience post.

First let me start by saying, like most people I respect all religions and those who follow them.

That being said, excuse me for being tickled pink when two young Mormon boys approached me this evening.

They were so adorable.

Both young and handsome, both wearing glasses, white button-down shirt, a tie, name tag and both had on a knitted vest in this weather.

I needed to run to the Dollar General real fast for dishwasher soap. As I came down the stairs from my apartment, small garbage bag in hand,  they smiled, I smiled and nodded, then they asked, “Do you know Earl (Not real name).”

“Young Earl or old Earl,” I asked.

“Old.”

“Oh, yeah, he moved about three weeks ago.”

“That makes sense,” Simon (Learned from the name tag) said. “He is from our church and we haven’t heard from him.”

I conveyed how nice it was that they checked up on him.

And then I stepped outside.

They followed me.

“Have you heard of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?”

“Who hasn’t?” I replied.

“That’s our church,” Simon said, then held up this black book. “Have you read The Book of Mormon.”

I told him I had, it was like twenty years ago when I was reading about all religions.

Then weirdly he said, “You were probably really cute back then.”

“I was hot,” I told them. “I’m a cute old lady now, but was hot back then.” I dumped my garbage.

“Would you ever consider stopping by our church?”

I looked at him and told him, “Honey, every Sunday I am busy. I work for a church.”

Then he was like, “So you go to church to make money.”

I looked at him seriously and told him. Money has nothing to do with it. It’s where I need to be, what I believe in and God and I are tight right now, working on something.

He nodded graciously and then asked, “Do you think we’d get in trouble if we hung around this complex, knocked on some doors.”

“No,” I told him.

“Do you know what building might be a good one to start at?”

Never one to exclude those I love, I thought about my Aunt Dot who lives in my complex and I told them about some sweet older lady who might be happy to talk to them. I sent them her way.

Although she may never make me homemade gnocchi again.