As a Missionary

The next four years are hard to describe--the excitement, the sorrow, suffering and hunger. Food was hard to get. We didn't see a potato for several years and once mother and I took turns standing in line for eight hours for one pound of margarine. I often wondered how the old people fared who couldn't stand as long. My brother who had enlisted in the Grenadier Guards before the war was sent with his regiment to Belgium. The Germans were already invading that country. Our town was full of soldiers from almost every country. Some were billeted in private homes. The girls at work used to go out at night looking for dates. They often asked me to go with them. I did go one night but I didn't enjoy it. I felt so cheap I didn't go again.

At church we had many problems. There were so few of us and some of those few became inactive. All the missionaries had been withdrawn of course. Father was President of the Bristol Branch and supervised the outlying branches. I was almost sixteen when the war started. I was made superintendant of the Sunday School and Sunday School teacher of the adult class. My brother, Walter, and my father were the only members left holding the Priesthood. My brother was a Priest and Father was an Elder. We were also set apart by President Richards, before he left, as proselyting missionaries. Sometimes I went tracting with some of the other sisters and sometimes with my father. I was a very timid, shy person and I never did enjoy tracting and it took all the courage I possessed to go up to a door and knock.

One Sunday afternoon Dad invited me to go with him to do some tracting. When we arrived at the assigned area, Dad took one side of the street and I took the other. The first door I knocked on was opened by a big burly man with a loud, booming voice. A large Great Dane dog was standing by his side (I was afraid of dogs too). He said, "Well, what do you want?" I told him who I was and offered him some pamphlets. Then in his booming voice he told me that if I wasn't out of the gate in five seconds he would set the dog on me. I was scared stiff but I thanked him and turned slowly and walked through the gate and closed it. I walked slowly down the street with all the dignity I could muster. My heart was beating like a sledge hammer and there were tears in my eyes. I kept walking until I reached the last house on the street then I summoned up enough courage to knock on that door. The woman who answered my knock had been crying. I talked with her for awhile and found out that a few days previously she had received word that her son had been killed in action. She had gone to her minister for consolation and help but he had told her that because her son had not been a member of any church his soul had gone to Hell. I talked with her and explained some of the principles of the gospel as taught by our church. I believe I was able to comfort her. A few weeks later I called back to see her but she had moved.

I had lots of experiences as a missionary--some good and some very unpleasant--but this I know, that the Lord truly does hear and answer our prayers. My testimony grew and also my self confidence and my knowledge of the Gospel.