Airport Western States Mission

Yes, folks, I have now joined that elite set of Church members who have had missionary experiences during airline travel. I was sitting in the airport after one lovely week’s vacation, waiting to board my plane. Of course, since I got there a couple hours early, there were no lines at the security checkpoint and I got to the gates about five minutes after being dropped off. So I had a lot of time to kill. I whipped out a book (big brown monster purse to the rescue!) and settled down to read it.

About half an hour later, a middle-aged man came and sat next to me. He struck up a conversation. (Sam and Brina: reminded me of Randy and Colette.) Since I was reading The Once and Future King, we talked about King Arthur for a bit, but then he asked me if I was a Mormon. I said yes, of course, and a couple hundred little bells went off in my head, reminding me of Sunday school lessons, missionary talks, passalong cards, and all the advice I’d ever heard about planting seeds. This was it! Could I do it? Wait a sec, had I prayed to have a missionary experience recently? (I had!) Images of scenarios in which I royally screwed everything up immediately flickered into life and rolled continuously in the back of my mind. I didn’t want to push too hard, so we got off and on the subject a few times.

Polygamy, of course, was the first topic of conversation, and you know, as much as I roll my eyes at the lingering “curse” of association with the practice, it really does open up conversations, doesn’t it? The harder Satan tries to sow confusion, the more curiosity there is. You can’t kick the Church anywhere but upstairs, I heard once. Anyway, we continued on to temples, Salt Lake, and BYU. I chatted with this guy until it was almost time to board, and then he expressed interest in reading the Book of Mormon. I looked at my purse, wondering how much time it might have taken me to track down an extra copy before I left the house, or at least to grab some passalong cards. I had neither, darn. So I had him write down his address, and I’m going to see if I can send a referral there.

I felt carefully excited as I got in line, reviewing and critiquing the conversation in my head. I’d had this perfect opportunity dumped into my lap, and I wasn’t sure I’d done as well with it as I should—but at least I had done something. Still, I felt comforted when the woman standing in front of me in line turned and said, “I was sitting right behind you and heard the whole thing. I’m a Mormon too, and you did a good job!”

Moral of the story: Live your life so when God tosses you an opportunity, it’s like catching a baby, not like catching a small, slimy fish. And stick passalong cards or an extra Book of Mormon (or both) in your purse/wallet/man-purse/briefcase/backpack. Seriously.


Original Comments

Sofal on 18 Sep 17:12
So now there's an image in my head of me with my hands clasped together with a disappointed look on my face while a small fish bounces around on the ground.

Grandma B on 20 Sep 12:47
I am not sure I am doing this right. The last message I sent went out of the universe. Sarah, I enjoyed very much reading about your experience. I have had a similar experience and it was difficult for me but luckily I had a give away Book of Mormon with me.

Kate The Great on 11 Oct 21:32
Can you give us an example of a man-purse? I want more laughs.

Aye Spy on 12 Oct 15:09
A man-purse is something that (some) men habitually use to carry necessary stuff around with but refuse to call a purse. Denial is key. They'll say it's a backpack, a briefcase, a fanny pack, etc., but they use it all the time, not just at school, for work, or as a tourist. Sorry, sonny jim, that be a man-purse.