2000-2001 Part 2

I was matched up with a 27 year-old California boy. I think it was 27 and he definitely was a boy. Blond hair, longer than the other missionaries of the group. I considered myself lucky I suppose. He made some allusions to turning his life around as he showed me his driver's license with even more hair covering his face. Spanish speaking, knocking on doors for hours. Nothing but short conversations at the open door. Then an old lady opened the door and she begged us to answer. All I remember well is the warmth, the exchange, elder to youth. She was a retired teacher, had taught for some 50 years. She must have been near 80 I suppose. I did enjoy listening to her stories, and about her children, excitement. Yet, my companion interjected many times about the church. Now, I can see no blame for his rudeness. His job, his sacrifice, his example for me required it. Yet I cannot forgive something. The church is not the issue I choose. I am fiercely angry about the sacrifice of the person for the church. The exclusion, the two sides I call Jesus. Let him stand in your midst, let him stand with the gentiles, and then with the sinners. Will you see him. I think not. She was happy to talk to us. It was difficult to exit but we did leave, and I took a turn.