I have a box of all the missionary letters I sent to my parents that I got when Mom sold the house and cleaned out. I am very reluctant to read any but can't throw them.
The one reason I would read them is to remember things forgotten like even who most of my companions were besides insufferable. Only about three weren't.
I mailed home all my weekly letters, proselytizing planners with names, appointments, companions with the grand idea that I could relive-revisit my mission anytime I desied.
So my TBM collected all this stuff and took it out to the burn pile. Yep, she burned it all during a freak rainstorm the last weekend.
I lost my missionary journals, but I still have the wacky photos when we goofed off.
I burned my missionary journal. It was huge thick and fat and had a ton in it including a stamp collection inside the covers and lots of photos. I really wish I hadn't burned it but it horrified me back then.
Now, having come to terms with who I was then I would love to read those two years from this distance--the other side of midnight.
MessyGoop--I think we served in the same mission, around the same time. I went home the month it changed to a flat cost for all families (you mentioned in an earlier post that you were there for it.)
If your mission president was "White," he was the biggest a$$ I ever met.
By the way, I used to call Odessa "Odessalation" but I liked Midland OK.
txrancher Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > MessyGoop--I think we served in the same mission, > around the same time. I went home the month it > changed to a flat cost for all families (you > mentioned in an earlier post that you were there > for it.) > > If your mission president was "White," he was the > biggest a$$ I ever met. > > By the way, I used to call Odessa "Odessalation" > but I liked Midland OK.
About 10 years after my mission, I decided to rewrite my journal. I was still very much a believer at the time, but I wanted my account to be honest (and readable). I ended up with over 100 printed pages. Only a few people ever read it, but I felt that it was worth my time and effort. Ten years seemed like the perfect interval-I could still remember things, but there was enough of a separation to get some perspective and honesty. I’m sure my MP wouldn’t have liked how he was remembered, nor would a couple of my companions, but I stand by what I wrote.
I’m glad I still have that journal. I have mixed feelings (at best) about my mission, but I see benefit in looking at that journal once every few years.
When the monthly check from the parents showed up, we all went shopping for food after we paid the rent and such. So you had to be careful what you bought.
In one area we had 6 of us, the other 4 rented out of the same building. So every month they bought a 50 Pound Bag of popcorn. They ate everything the first half of the month except the popcorn, the second half they relied upon member dinner invites and the popcorn.
I reread my journal after 30 years, and 20-some years out of Mormonism. It was boring, mundane, and kind of depressing. I tossed it, along with all my Mormon books. both in English and Portuguese. I kept a few Brazilian magazines and novels. The magazines have since been tossed. I can find magazine articles online.
If I ever need to look up something in the BoM or a similar book, those are all online. The journal was unique, but still, I was happy to be rid of it. I still remember all the areas I served in, but I have forgotten most of my companions' names. I'm OK with that. Sic transit gloria.
Halfway through my mission I tore up and tossed out my journal, that heavy book some kind person gave me as a missonary gift. My memory is that I thought I was depressed, but I think I was angry. A couple of months later I bought a nice leather bound notebook and started again. I tossed that one out when I wanted to leave the church, but the cost of leaving might have been too great. Later my sister gave me all the letters I had given her--except the one my mother read and claimed it was because she found it and the dog had chewed it up.
What a revelation. I realize now the dog had died before I wrote that letter! I was sure Mom read them. I told my sister the truth. Anyway, as an exmo I took those letters and reconstructed my mission. I should probably toss it. My parents are long dead. No one will care.
I got hell for that letter when I got home. My mother nursed her anger for a year. I told her she had no idea what I'd been through. I doubt she forgave me.
After 46 years I finally read the letters people had sent me and those I had sent my parents. I had not had any interest in reading them, but after reading the post on here (rfm) about the retention issues of the Mormon church vs the JW and SDA churches I experienced some emotional feedback so I got them out and read them. The sameness of the letters was depressing. I could have created a form letter with a few blanks to insert a few names here and there and perhaps a space for a sentence at the end. All of the “the time is passing too fast”,”I wish I were more worthy”,”tell my brothers,cousins,friends to read the scriptures, learn to play the piano, prepare”,”I am so grateful that I was born of goodly parents in the true church and not into the darkness of these (poor) Catholics”,etc… And always,about the many golden contacts we were finding and the imminent baptisms (that for the most part never happened - obviously because I was not worthy enough). Pathetic. I was in Italy, incredible history,architecture,culture,etc…, and these were my inane ramblings.
Italy is my favorite country to visit. I hope you made the most of all it had to offer. It was always surprising how naive missionaries were when I was around them in England, and also how ignorant they were of the culture and social norms of the country they hoped to impact. I always thought they should have been allowed at least a couple of months to absorb their surrounding before even attempting to proselytize.
I agree, On all counts. Italy is beautiful, with amazing scenery, architecture, people, history and culture. Halfway through my mission the hardcore mission president was reassigned and the new mission president was a retired music professor from BYU. When I asked permission to go to the Scala he told me that it would be foolish not to take advantage of the opportunity (as opposed to the previous regime telling me, after taking my companion to the ER after I awakened in the morning to find him drenched in blood, that unless we were throwing up on every doorstep we should be out tracting). Also, yes, missionaries should spend time learning about the people, culture and country in addition to learning the language and having the church propaganda crammed into their brains.