Letters from a Lady Mormon Missionary

By Wendy Kaye Woolley Soria

Wendy Soria is a wife, mother, grandmother, and an active member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (or Mormon Church). She has performed or supported missionary work most of her life, and has held several missionary and teaching positions. Her goal is to encourage missionaries from all denominations to honor Jesus Christ in faithful service, to live exemplary lives of faithful obedience, and to leave a personal written testimony for their posterity. For this purpose, and to assist other missionaries to accomplish similar goals, and to prevent others from making the same mistakes she made in this book, Sister Woolley (Soria) has written a prompt-journal for missionaries entitled Legacy: A Journal of Missionary Service.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 28, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453533932

Wendy Kaye Woolley Soria

Wendy Soria is a wife, mother, grandmother, and an active member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (or Mormon Church). She has performed or supported missionary work most of her life, and has held several missionary and teaching positions. Her goal is to encourage missionaries from all denominations to honor Jesus Christ in faithful service, to live exemplary lives of faithful obedience, and to leave a personal written testimony for their posterity. For this purpose, and to assist other missionaries to accomplish similar goals, and to prevent others from making the same mistakes she made in this book, Sister Woolley (Soria) has written a prompt-journal for missionaries entitled Legacy: A Journal of Missionary Service.

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CONTENTS

Letters From A Lady Mormon Missionary Gulf States Mission

Introduction

Postmissionary Journal Entries For Anyone Who’s Interested: Miracles Happen Every Day! This Is A Highlighted Abridgement

The Wendy Kaye Woolley Soria Family Literary Collection 2010

START NOW TO KEEP A JOURNAL

"We urge our young people to begin today

To write and keep records

Of all important things in their own lives . . .

Get a notebook, my young folks;

A journal that will last through all time,

And maybe the angels may quote from it

For eternity.

Begin today and write in it;

Your goings and comings,

Your deepest thoughts,

Your achievements and your failures,

Your associations and your triumphs,

Your impressions and your testimonies.

Remember, the Savior chastised

Those who failed to record

Important events."

Spencer W. Kimball

The Angels May Quote from It,

The New Era Magazine,

October, 1975, pp. 4-5

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To my parents Georgia and Calvin Woolley

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LETTERS FROM

A LADY MORMON MISSIONARY

GULF STATES MISSION

(1967-1969 For History; the Experience—Timeless)

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Jesus Christ, my Savior and Friend

INTRODUCTION

A few months ago, I happened to rediscover a book that contained letters I’d written to my parents while I served in the Gulf States Mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, (the Mormon Church). I was in Memphis, Tennessee, and Little Rock, Arkansas, from October 1967 through March 1969. It was an interesting time in history—especially in Memphis, when Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. supported a garbage strike, led a peace march, was assassinated, and riots plagued the city.

Our cause was also about freedom, hope, peace, love, and understanding, but we did it a little differently. We went door-to-door, spreading the Gospel of Jesus Christ and sharing the Good News—that the Church of Jesus Christ, which had fallen away anciently, was once again on the earth—restored in these latter days by a living prophet, according to prophesy. We taught that Jesus Christ guided the affairs of His Church personally, through living prophets and apostles, as in times of old. These church officers functioned under the royal priesthood, which was restored by the hands of John the Baptist, Peter, James, John, and Elijah. This marvelous work and a wonder was to usher in the dispensation of the fullness of times. We were participating in the gathering of Israel, in preparation for the Second Coming of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and His millennial reign on earth.

My bound book of my missionary experiences, written in letters, was a planned project, but serving a mission was never a personal plan for my life. It was a miracle. My letters might be better understood if I explain how my missionary miracle came to be.

I suppose the best place to start would be with my grandmother, Elizabeth Anna Weston Satterthwaite, and her patriarchal blessing.

A patriarchal blessing is a special blessing that is available to members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In most cases it is given only once, according to worthiness and upon request. It provides insights to a member’s lineage, possibilities, and attributes. We believe this blessing is given by revelation and inspiration from God, and the promises and accomplishments mentioned are attainable according to our faith and obedience.

I can think of few people more faithful and obedient than my grandmother. She was a rock—steadfast and immovable! She never wavered, never doubted. One sentence in Grandma’s patriarchal blessing states: I bless you that you shall enjoy life as long as you desire . . . On one or two occasions in my young life, I heard members of the family say that Grandma could choose her time to die.

Shortly after my parents were married and sealed in the Salt Lake Temple, they became inactive in the Church. This greatly grieved my grandmother, who felt strongly that church involvement, and especially temple attendance, was necessary for securing our family as an eternal unit.

One very vivid memory I have is listening to my grandmother lecturing my mother over the telephone, or whenever we visited, about her desire for my mother’s return to the temple. She was adamant about it. Her pleas were relentless, and my mother would often roll her eyes and hold the telephone receiver away from her ear while Grandma pestered and pleaded her cause over the wires.

Years passed, and my grandparents became old and senile. They were placed in an assisted-living center and ultimately lost their ability to recognize our names and faces. Grandpa died, but Grandma lived a sullen existence of oblivion and forgetfulness. My mother once commented that Grandma’s patriarchal blessing wasn’t true because she didn’t have the faculties to make a choice about anything, let alone a decision about when she wanted to die.

In January 2008, after I’d finished copying my letters into the computer, I tracked down a journal that I’d started a few years after returning from my mission. I found that I’d written a detailed background about my conversion to the Church, and how I became a missionary. I will quote from that journal and add clarification, but please know that I am aware that many people, inside and outside the Church, will not accept my testimony. I can only say that I bear it with whole purpose of heart and with fervent conviction.

(Please forgive the poor grammar. Editing was performed for clarification’s sake, but most of this account is as it appears in my journal.)

November 24, 1976 (From the journal written after my mission; current comments are in italics.)

Recently I’ve been thinking about the importance of keeping a journal, and what I could include that would help my children. I think the most valuable thing I can leave them is my testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and how I acquired that testimony. My belief is no longer a belief—it is the knowledge of a simple fact . . . that in the entire world, there is only one church of Jesus Christ that is recognized by Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ (for they personally initiated its restoration); only one church with the authority of the apostles and prophets; only one church that is complete, and that is the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

As I was growing up as a youth—to hear someone testify that they ‘knew’ the Church was true would disturb me greatly. I thought I believed it, but what good was belief compared to knowledge? I wanted knowledge!

My parents were not active in the Church until I was about 17-years-old, and although I knew they felt strongly about the Church underneath, they never really taught my brother and me, specifically, by testimony.

I remember one day when I was a senior in high school. My desire to know the truth about the Church was very strong, but I didn’t know how to find out. I expressed this desire to a friend at school, Connie Bates.

Connie had a very strong testimony, and talked to me for a long time about humility and prayer. After some time, I broke down and cried, and she said;

"That is how you must approach the Lord . . . with tears and humility, just the way you are now."

I went home that night and prayed, crying to the Lord for what seemed to be a very long time. I can’t say that my answer came that night, but I certainly broke the ice, and had a good start.

(Let me include here that I also sought counsel from Jack Prince, our stake president. His daughter, Laneea, was a good friend of mine, and when I visited her home, I’d ask President Prince a lot of questions. Each time we talked, he’d say, Do you really want to know? He made sure I understood that once I received insight and direction, I would be responsible for living that particular principle. I always agreed to listen, and seemed to be willing to take responsibility for the knowledge given to me. That wasn’t always easy. He explained that the Lord doesn’t give commandments lightly, and once we make covenants with Him, we are expected to keep them.)

Another time, I had the privilege of hearing President Hugh B. Brown, of the First Presidency of the Church, speak at a fireside. It’s hard to explain the tremendous impact that man’s testimony had on me. The Spirit of the Lord was so strong, I can say that I was changed inside somewhat, and my desire grew for a personal witness of my own.

I went to college and joined the Church sorority, Lambda Delta Sigma. Our large Kappa chapter was divided, and I became vice president of the new Gamma Chi chapter. Nancy Livingston was the president, and Katie Tidwell, Joyce Billings, and I were junior officers.

Many of the girls (Nancy especially) had performed in the Hill Cumorah pageant in Palmyra, New York, the year before (1966), and constantly hounded me about going the summer of 1967. (The Hill Cumorah is where the gold plates, known as the Book of Mormon, were buried. Each year, a huge pageant is held to celebrate the event and introduce the record that contains the witnessed event of Jesus Christ’s personal visit to the Americas, shortly after His resurrection, in about AD 34.)

I applied to participate in the pageant, and was accepted immediately. I was told that part of my responsibility as a cast member was to go among the people in the audience and bear my testimony of the Book of Mormon. I knew I couldn’t do it, because I didn’t have a testimony. I hadn’t even read the entire Book of Mormon all the way through; and so for two weeks before the date to leave for the pageant, I started reading.

Never before had the Book of Mormon become so alive to me! I’d started it several times, wasn’t particularly interested, and eventually quit, but this reading was so different! I devoured every word, and was so excited when the promised Messiah finally appeared to the faithful in the Western hemisphere, that I ran in to my parents yelling; He finally made it!

After I finished the book, I applied the promise given by Moroni at the end of the book that bears his name: Moroni, chapter 10, verses 5 and 6, which states;

"And when ye shall receive these things (the Book of Mormon), I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.

And by the power if the Holy Ghost ye may now the truth of all things.

I prayed and asked the Lord if the Book of Mormon was his word, and if it was true. That night I received a direct answer, through the Spirit of the Holy Ghost, that it was! What joy! I knew, really knew, and my heart swelled within me, and my whole being was bathed in peace!!

That answer to my prayer also answered other questions. If the Book of Mormon was true, then the Church had to be too! Joseph Smith was, indeed, a prophet of God, and he really helped restore the Church of Jesus Christ back to the earth! It all fit!

I went to the pageant with a confirmed testimony, and had tremendous experiences there. One night it rained hard. I even had the faith to promise one couple that if they’d stay, the rain would stop . . . and it did, and they stayed. I wrote to them later. I think their name was Williams.

The Sunday after I returned home from the pageant was ‘fast Sunday’ (a meeting where members voluntarily bear their testimonies to the congregation). Franklin D. Richards, a general authority of the Church, was visiting our ward (congregation), and was sitting next to our bishop, Malcolm Jeppson. I don’t think I’d ever stood in a sacrament meeting to bear my testimony before that time, but this Sunday I felt that I needed to because of the wonderful spiritual experiences I’d had at pageant. I stood.

As I was speaking, Franklin D. Richards turned to Bishop Jeppsen and said; That girl has to go on a mission. My bishop told me later that he’d been prompted to talk to me about a mission, but the feeling left. This time, as I was speaking, he felt an impression similar to that of Elder Richards. After the meeting, he asked me to see him in his office later that day. I thought he was going to ask me to give a talk about my experiences at pageant, as it was a custom. I agreed.

As I left for that meeting, I remember that my dad was cleaning out the garage, (on the Sabbath day, too!) He jokingly said; If it’s a mission, tell him ‘no’. I laughed, and left. I was 21-years-old, going on 22.

The bishop and I talked for awhile about routine things, and then he asked; Wendy, have you ever thought about going on a mission?

I said; Well, I guess I’ve thought about it, but I feel that the pageant was my mission.

Then he said something that left no way out for me—the only thing that made me know, even then, that I was to serve a mission. He said; "Wendy, the Lord wants you on a mission. I want you to go home and pray about it."

I broke into tears. I was scared, and touched, and confused! We had a kneeling prayer together there in his office, and I went home bewildered.

My parents’ reaction was interesting. Dad became angry. He felt that his permission should have been sought first. He said he’d refuse to support me on a mission, and practically stopped speaking to me. Mom, however, came into my room that night and said; I don’t want you to go, Honey, but if you decide to go, I’ll support you, myself. (She was always my angel.) Both of us knew I was going.

That night when I asked the Lord his will concerning a mission, I may as well have been hit over the head with a ton of bricks! The answer came so strong, it was almost overpowering! There was no question about it. I was going—that was where the Lord wanted me!

Papers were filled out, and everything was settled so that I could receive my mission call, but it took several weeks to arrive in the mail. Finally it came, and when I opened it, I read; GULF STATES MISSION. Gulf States Mission-where was that??!! What a disappointment after dreaming of France, England, or Germany!

In tears, I called my father, who hadn’t spoken to me since my meeting with the bishop, and cried; Where is the Gulf States Mission? (I was literally weeping in despair).

Dad immediately became very excited and reassuring. He told me many things about ‘the South’, and how different the culture was there. He took off work, and came home to get out his National Geographic magazines, so I could read about the area and the people.

That night I went with Dave Boyd to a dance at the Terrace Ballroom. When the band played Stars Fell on Alabama and Mame, I knew I was going to the right place.

This account may leave you with the wrong impression of my father. I want to explain a few things so you’ll understand his behavior.

Dad had a difficult time expressing his feelings to people. He liked things his way, and closed up if he didn’t get it. He was much different from the impression he often gave to others. He was a wonderful, generous, honest man; a great dad, and an ideal husband to my mother, who idolized him. He had a quick wit, and wonderful sense of humor.

I learned, however, that he had not been very impressed with lady missionaries who served with him in the Hawaiian mission in the 1940’s. They seemed to him to be rather plain and unattractive, and always sick. He evidently didn’t get along with them. He felt that when people learned that his daughter was on a mission, they’d think I was an unattractive sickly nuisance.

Dad’s reaction to my mission call didn’t surprise me, and neither did my mother’s. Mom totally supported me, as she always did. Both were wonderfully supportive to me while I served my mission." (End of this journal account.)

When you read my letters, you will see that my parents grew and progressed as much as I did.

Now let’s get back to my sweet grandmother, Elizabeth Anna Weston Satterthwaite, who was withering away in an assisted-living center at the time I was preparing to leave for my mission.

One of the requirements for missionary service is for the prospective missionary to go through the temple. The temple is to Mormons, much like Mecca is to the Muslims. It is a spiritual goal and a sacred place. For us, it is where baptisms for the dead by proxy are performed, marriages and families are sealed for eternity, and eternal covenants are made.

My mother, who was worthy to go but hadn’t been in over twenty-five years, agreed to be my escort when I went through the Salt Lake Temple for the first time. It was a wonderful, fulfilling, joyous experience for both of us, but as I recall, my father did not go.

A day or two later, on the October 7, 1967, my grandmother died. As per her blessing, I am certain that she vowed never to leave this earth until my mother returned to the temple. My mission was the motivation behind that marvelous event, when Grandma could return home to her departed loved ones in peace. She awaits the resurrection and the joy of being united with faithful family members—forever.

After that day, my mother spent years attending the temple doing work for hundreds, perhaps thousands, of our ancestors—fulfilling a promise that was given to her, in her patriarchal blessing.

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LETTERS WRITTEN BY WENDY KAYE WOOLLEY TO HER PARENTS, CALVIN COOK WOOLLEY AND GEORGIA SATTERTHWAITE WOOLLEY, WHILE SERVING IN THE GULF STATES MISSION: 1967-68 (Some editing [in italics] was performed by Wendy Kaye Woolley Soria in December 2007-March 2008.)

(Before I begin my account, let me explain that my letters do not begin to cover all the experiences of my mission. They do not explain the long hours of tedious tracting [a missionary term we used for going door-to-door] or the dozens of rejections we received every day. You will also note that I was somewhat upset with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. when he came to Memphis in 1968. I mentioned the events briefly, but please be forgiving of my naive attitude. As missionaries, we were not allowed to listen to the news. We were told by others what was happening, and we were confined to our apartment during the riots. We were little ants in the middle of a historical event, for which I did not gain an appreciation until many years later. Hindsight is a wonderful teacher. Dr. King left a wonderful legacy of a dream. All of us leave a legacy of some kind. The following missionary letters are part of mine.)

OCTOBER 17, 1967

Greetings Parents!

Would you believe I just finished my very first day as a missionary?! I’m sneaking a few minutes of sleeping time (I’ve almost forgotten what that is) to write and let you know that I’ve arrived safely, and so far, it’s been great!

Getting to Shreveport (the Gulf States Mission headquarters; this mission doesn’t exist anymore) was quite a challenge, since we had two flight cancellations, and arrived four hours late. I came with three elders; Elders (Roy) Austin (the one you met at the airport), (Mark) Barraclough, and Pully. Later on in Denver, we were happy to have Sister (Elizabeth) Webb join us. She’s from Pennsylvania, and she has been my companion during our trip, and while we’ve been in the mission home.

(I did not note first names of most of the elders with whom I worked or last names of family members, or close friends. After some research—thanks to Lon Addams and the church history department—I’ve added as many as I could find quickly, and I hope they are right and spelled correctly. It is a difficult lesson to learn forty years later. So if you keep a journal, take note and include FULL names.)

President and Sister (Lyman and Bea) Pinkston met us at the airport, along with the mission staff. When we arrived in the home, Elder Austin and I sang a song that we made up on the plane. It was to the Vive La Amour tune. They seemed to enjoy it.

(Yes, I wrote the words to this dumb song. We sang it in the Missionary Training Center before leaving for Shreveport. Elder Austin sang with me there, and the four of us new greenies sang it for the mission president. Here’s the song as much as I recall.)

The life of a mish is a sago of woe; vive la compagnie.

Just see what we go through before we can go; vive la compagnie.

(Chorus) Vive, la vive, la vive l’amour; vive, la vive, la vive l’amour;

Vive l’amour; vive l’amour; vive la compagnie.

We wake in the morning at four or at five; vive, la compagnie.

If we keep this up we will never survive; vive la compagnie.

(Chorus)

With the discussions, our memory’s poor; vive la compagnie.

It’s Thursday already, we only know four; vive la compagnie

(Chorus)

(Sisters only)

Oh, hundreds of elders surround us each day; vive la compagnie.

Our only regret; they are arm’s length away; vive La compagnie.

(Chorus)

We finally got to bed about 1:30 a.m.—ugh! (Oh yes, they also said that my typewriter case opened during the flight, but the mission staff took care of it. At least, now they know what ladies’ garments look like—oh well.)

Today has been a busy but rewarding one. We were coached by the assistants to the president—(Bill) Godfrey and (Lon) Addams (Jean’s brother). Both are outstanding young men and excellent missionaries. We practiced door approaches while each of us had a private interview with President Pinkston.

During the afternoon, we went tracting—yes—good old door-to-door. It was a riot! Two sisters took us (those who were to become our companions when President Pinkston assigns us). I went with a Sister (Jeanette) Elison—just a darling girl and a darn good missionary. We tracted an ordinary street in a white area here in Shreveport, Louisiana; we got into two doors. One was an old Catholic lady who’d listen to anybody—just wanted company, and then we found a golden one—my very first day, too!!! (The word golden was used by missionaries to describe someone especially receptive or prepared.) She is a young girl 16 years old, who is married. Her name is Kathy Jones. She’s just a beautiful girl, and had pat answers—a real ‘Mr. (Mrs.) Brown!’ (Name we used for an investigator when we practiced our discussions). She had been raised Baptist. (Most people here are Baptist or Catholic.) She wasn’t at all happy with her church, and seemed to be very interested. We made an appointment to see her Saturday, and her husband too. But I got my assignment, and I’m going to Memphis, and Sister Elison will be my first companion! She’ll be great! I’ll write you when I get there.

We came back and watched some movies on missionary work, and then had a testimony meeting. Elder Austin and I sang a duet, Abide with Me. It was great! By the way, Mom, get that duet book of sacred songs from Rhea (Jensen—Mom’s sister). Elder Austin has been assigned to Memphis, too, and we may have occasion to use them. Also include my solo song music that I forgot, too. Mary Lynn (McDonald—now Robertson) will let you have God is Ever Beside Me. (I sang a lot, can you tell?)

Well, I love you both, and I’ll write when I get settled in Memphis. Love, Wendy

October 19, 1967

Hi Folks,

Sister Elison and I are taking time tonight to write our parents because we’re just settled, and we want you to know we got here alright.

You wouldn’t believe the last two days! All day yesterday, we sat on the bus. Sister Webb, my companion in the mission home, didn’t set her alarm and we got up at 7:00 a.m. I was supposed to leave on the bus at 7:45 a.m. I was ready and driving toward Sister Elison’s at 7:15 a.m., and we whipped into the bus depot at 7:45. Good old Pres. Pinkston made the bus driver wait ten minutes for us, and we were on our way.

On the bus, I was able to get to know Sister Elison quite well. She’s a very fine young lady from Pingree, Idaho. She’s tall, slender, and nice looking—and she’s a very good missionary. I know I’ll be able to learn a lot from her. She lives the mission rules to the letter, and my rebellious attitude doesn’t bother her. I do what SHE says, and that’s the way it should be, until I’m the senior companion.

I also learned a lot about the people here in ‘the South’, while riding on the bus. On the whole, they are much poorer than we are at home. Our poor class would be the middle class here. It’s pathetic to see how some of the Negroes live. We passed many one-room shacks on the cotton fields, while traveling to Memphis, and I couldn’t believe it. A family with many children would live in a gray rotting shack about as big as my bedroom—just filthy! A Negro man sat across from us most of the way, and his clothes were very worn. He smoked his cigarettes down to the last ¼ inch, and when he started a new one, he’d smoke two or three puffs, and then put it out with his fingers so he could save it for later. When we stopped for lunch, he bought two packages of cheese crackers, because that’s all he could afford. When he left, his seat was covered with cracker crumbs. The Negros are treated very well in the South, though. (Boy, was I naive and quick to judge. I didn’t know what I was talking about!)

The cities I’ve seen in the South are dirty. Salt Lake is heaven compared to them. Even Memphis can’t hold a candle to its cleanliness. But Memphis is pretty, from what we’ve seen so far. It has around 55,000 people; 53% are colored. (Memphis is gorgeous now.)

The elders shopped around and found a very nice apartment, but when we got here, they’d just confirmed it, and we had no lights or heat. So the elders called a Mrs. Denton, a member here, and we stayed the night with her—on ten minutes notice. She’s an old darling Southern lady, and opens her home and heart to the missionaries. We had dinner and breakfast with her and her daughter. The elders took us to the city to get our telephone. We get it Saturday, but we had to pay a $25.00 deposit.

The rest of today, we’ve cleaned our apartment, and did some shopping. It’s expensive to start out cold, because we had to purchase the necessities, like a broom, mop, cleaning utensils, etc. Then we went to the bank and got our travelers’ checks converted, because they won’t take them here. (They had trouble with thieves).

The hundred dollars for reserve is to be kept by the missionary, and so I set up a checking account with the First National Bank just around the corner, because I don’t want to carry two hundred dollars around with me all the time, or have it lying around the apartment. Each month, if I have any money left over from your $100.00 check, I’ll deposit it and save as much as I can.

The sisters here WALK. We don’t have a car, but Sister Elison says she still needs $90.00 to $100.00 each month. (That would probably cover groceries now.). The elders barely get by on $110.00 to $120.00 each month, with their cars. It has cost more this month because we’ve had to travel and break in a new apartment. I’m glad I had extra when I came. I used it, but I still have $30.00 left until we have to buy supplies. Let me know what time each month you’ll send the check, and I’ll try to arrange my schedule around it. I think we pay the land lady the 16th of the month.

Picture this! Sister E. and I bought $24.00 worth of supplies and groceries, and had four bags full of them. Well, we have to walk everywhere, so the store boy let us push a basket home three blocks away, with the groceries in it. It looked pretty funny, but not as funny as it did when we pushed it back empty. It would have been complete if one of us would have ridden in it. You just don’t see two girls pushing an empty grocery basket down a residential street, every day.

Oh boy, the man finally came in and turned on the gas—we’ve been freezing!

I guess I’ll close for now. I’ve learned one thing for sure—this is the one of the strictest missions in the Church! Today is one day in a million I’ll have time to write. Tomorrow we’ll be settled, and we’ll get down to business. I may be sending home a few clothes I won’t need. Sister E. just about died when she saw all my stuff. Oh yes, please send my blue coat and liner, camera, music—no ukulele (I won’t have time), and an old dress I can house-clean in. Thanks. I love you muchly, Wendy

(Our day began at 6:30 a.m. We ate, dressed, and then studied one hour alone, and a second hour together. Our tracting [door-to-door] began at 9:00 a.m. We took less than an hour for lunch, an hour for dinner, and spent the evening teaching investigators, visiting members, or attending meetings. We were to be back into our apartment at 9:00 or 9:30 p.m. We then made plans for the next day, filled out reports, etc. Monday morning, for three hours, was our preparation day, to shop, do laundry, write letters, etc.)

October 23, 1967

Greetings Folk!

Gee it was great to talk to you last night! I’m glad you’re still alive and surviving without me. We’ve been going so long, and so hard, that I’ve hardly been able to think about home as much as I’d like. Sister Elison called her parents last night, too. It was the third time she had talked to them during the seven months she’s been out. I think they talked half an hour, or so.

I really love her; we’re a lot alike, even though we come from very different backgrounds. She was raised on a farm, and is used to doing the chores, etc. I’m cooking, cleaning house, doing laundry—the whole bit! I like it, too; I guess because the apartment is all ours, and nobody else will keep it up, except us.

We live in a good area, with a grocery store and laundry mat just around the corner. A bank is down the other street (Union), and all main streets close by are covered with little dress shops, art shops, or variety stores. This is unusual to be so close, because in Shreveport, Sister Elison and her companion had to walk 10 blocks to do either their laundry, or their grocery shopping.

We splurged the other day and bought a few luxuries, such as a blanket and two pillows! We just finished our shopping and bought $15.00 worth of food and supplies. We’re going to see if we can make it last for two weeks. We’re eating three times as much as the elders here—or better, anyway, because we can cook.

We’ve won (I think) the friendship of our district leader, Elder (Joseph Sheldon) Kennedy, and his companion Elder (Garth) Smith. It seems they spend a lot of time taking us places to get settled, and giving us rides to church. When they helped us move in, we sent them a ‘thank you’ note. And when they gave us a ride home Sunday, we made a cake and gave them a piece. I don’t think they mind giving us rides now, as much as they did before. I guess before, the sisters didn’t appreciate anything the elders did for them. They took them for granted. But I think we should give them credit. They’re such sweet ‘little boys’. (Elder Smith was about six feet three inches tall.)

You will notice that I sent our monthly bulletin and the pictures of President and Sister Pinkston. I would appreciate it if you would keep both for me, so when I get home, I’ll be able to compile them. (I didn’t.) You’ll enjoy reading the bulletin, anyway. It will help you know what is going on in the mission, and how everyone is doing.

I just have to tell you about a good contact we taught today! We’re tracting a rather old area, and many of the people here are elderly. It’s very difficult to teach older people because they are so set in their ways. Well, we tracted an apartment house, and at one door, a young student answered. It was Saturday morning, about 10:30 a.m., and he was in his bathrobe because he evidentially had a late night the night before. He took a Book of Mormon and promised to read it, but we didn’t go in and teach him, due to obvious circumstances. We set up an appointment, and we just got back from teaching him the first discussion. I even got to give it (though Sister Elison came in and saved me, when I forgot what came next).

His name is Lynn Robbins, and he is studying optometry at the University of Tennessee, here in Memphis. He is from Cleveland, Ohio. He became interested in our church because a couple of his good high school chums were converted and he wanted to know why. We were amazed at his knowledge, and especially his sincerity. He answered the questions well, and promised to read our pamphlets, and PRAY. When he comes to know the Church is true, it will be because of prayer. We usually try to get a contact to close the meeting with prayer after the first discussion. If we can get them to pray, half the battle is won because they’ll pray about Joseph Smith and the Church. Well, I have never heard a more beautiful prayer in my whole life! He thanked the Lord for sending us to him, and asked Him to help him find out if it was true. He prayed that he wanted to belong to Christ’s true church, and if God would manifest to him that what we said was true, he asked the Lord to bless him with the courage to do what is right, and be baptized. He was so humble and sincere! When he finished, we all had tears in our eyes, and he invited us to come back and teach him more. Maybe I’ll get to give him the second discussion! Boy, the Spirit of the Lord was strong, and we’re praying he’ll search and combat Satan, because Satan will be working double-time to prevent his progression. Sister Elison and I walked home on cloud nine, because we FINALLY found someone who was receptive to the truth! We hope we can bring him all the way! Pray for us in this matter. If all of us do, Lynn may carry it through and be baptized.

Well, I have a couple of letters to write yet—or just a line to the Delta Phi’s, etc. Read this to Kent (my brother) if he calls, or share it with him in some way. I’ll let you know how our next appointment goes. Love you muchly, Wendy

October 26, 1967

Greetings ya’ll,

Something else came up, and I find I have another minute to write to you. I’m only supposed to write once a week—on Mondays, but here goes another one. I hope you don’t mind.

It seems that Tuesday, when Sister Elison and I were walking home from tracting, my knee started hurting, and it was difficult to walk well. Wednesday morning, it still hurt, and I had trouble getting up and downs stairs. So when we came home for lunch, Sister Elson called our district leader, and he told us to stay home the rest of the afternoon, and he called and got an appointment with a doctor who is highly recommended by a member, who is also a doctor, but not the right kind. (I’m not sure if I followed that last sentence.)

Well, Dr. Martin checked my knee, and decided that I had some old injury that such a great amount of walking irritated. He gave me a prescription for some pills, and said the pain should go away within a week, and to stay home and take it easy for a couple of days. So that’s what we’re doing. The whole thing would have been ordinary, except I planted a Book of Mormon with him, and he promised to read it—and the pamphlets, too. He didn’t charge me for his services, but if he reads the Book of Mormon and believes it, he might be paid far beyond money. My zone leader thought it was a riot that I planted the book with my doctor. That’s about the only constructive thing I’ve done since I got here. But you never know what will happen.

Just before we went to the doctor, we had another appointment with Lynn Robbins, our optometry student. We gave him the 2nd discussion, and it went well. He’s having the 3rd on Saturday, and is coming to church on Sunday. He’s really sincere about finding out if the Gospel is true, and he’s praying hard. He hadn’t received an answer last time, but he has a strong conviction of prayer, and I’m sure he’ll persist until the Lord answers him. I know He will. He’s such a great contact, he’s sure to be baptized. I just hope Satan doesn’t ruin anything—he’ll try his best.

We’re teaching another student, but a nursing student, Mickey Pegran. We got half way through the first discussion, and she had to pick up her mother, so we’re teaching her the rest tomorrow. She looks very promising, and we hope she’s sincere. She seemed anxious to have us return, and we answered many questions she had about religion.

Elder (Tom) Lee, our zone leader, just called to see how my knee is doing. I guess Elder Kennedy reported my problem to him last night. Our leaders are really good to us, and are concerned about any problems we have. They’re right there to help. I’m glad, because I’ve heard the elders in other districts aren’t as considerate of the sisters, as they are here. Elder Kennedy and his companion are coming with us to teach Lynn from now on, because we’re not allowed to teach young single men alone. I’m sure they’ll be a big help.

Well, I’ll sign off for now, and jot a letter off Monday, when I’m supposed to. Keep Brooke’s letter. I have to get it to him some way. I’ll think about it. Love, Wend

October 29, 1967

Hi Folk!

I have so many exciting things to tell you, I don’t know where to start! We had such a good day yesterday, it’s hard to believe! Here goes:

Tracting in the morning wasn’t so hot, but at noon, Elder Kennedy picked us up and went with us to help teach Lynn the third discussion. I was going to give it, until I heard Elder Kennedy was going to be there. I chickened out. Sister Elison gave it very well. As you may not know, the third is the discussion containing the Word of Wisdom (the health code of the Church, contained in the eighty-ninth section of the Doctrine and Covenants; the challenge is that, to join the Church, a prospective member must quit smoking cigarettes, stop taking any type of illegal drug[s], and stop drinking alcohol, coffee and/or, tea), and it’s a crucial one, because missionaries lose a lot of contacts at this point. To our surprise, we found that Lynn only drank iced tea once in awhile. He asked why he couldn’t drink it. Elder Kennedy took over, and explained about the tannic acid that’s in it. That was enough, and Lynn agreed to never drink it again. He’s sooooo golden!

We felt very good about our meeting with Lynn. Sister Elison asked Lynn to pray—I think because she wanted Elder Kennedy to hear how beautifully he does it. As usual, it was beautiful. Somehow, Lynn always gets a bit misty-eyed when he prays. It’s great, because it shows his humility, and his sincerity.

Afterward, we tracted and visited some people with whom we’d planted a Book of Mormon. We finally were able to give the tract book to a fine woman who has five of the cutest children you’ve ever seen, and a