Flashback Friday: Taser Boy 2007

 Flashback Fridais a weekly series on “Hopes and Dreams.”  

Each Friday a different memory from Jessi’s or John’s past is posted.  You are invited to join the fun and record a memory of your own, too, whether it be on your blog, in your journal, in an audio file, etc.  The objective is to foster an appreciation and desire for personal record keeping as we are forming our personal histories.  Also, if you chose to blog your memory, you are invited to link up to our memory (but only if you wanna).   
 
When I was 21 I decided to leave the comfort of my home for 18 months and serve a mission for my Church.  I had no idea where I would be going {it’s an assignment so you don’t choose where you serve} and I had no idea what I was getting myself into.  Of course I knew I would be working hard, sharing my message of Christ and Hope with anyone and everyone who would listen, but before I left, I didn’t think much about the in-between experiences that leaving your home and making roots in a foreign country offers–experiences that I would surely have.  And let me tell you, those experiences did not disappoint!
 
I had been in Ireland for over a year at this point.  I was serving in a town called Sligo, with one of the greatest women God has put on this good earth as my teammate: Sister T.  To this day she is one of my dearest friends, and I am so thrilled we have this memory together:
 
We had been going door to door for days, it seemed, with little fruit from our labors.  Sister T. was ever perky–the pillar of strength she was–but I was getting weary.  Then finally we were welcomed into a warm home by a sweet young mother, who turned out to be ever-so-slightly drunk, we soon discovered {but only after we had been talking about Jesus for a good 15 minutes… we may have been a little clueless, us Mormons from Utah}.  We asked her if we could pray with her and come back another time when she was a little more “present.”  She gladly agreed {thanks to the Guinness, probably} so we prayed together and were on our merry way.
 
A few days later we were in the area and thought we’d stop in our new friend.  We approached her house, but decided to first discuss with each other what topics we would present to her once we were actually able to teach her about the precious Truths we held so dear.  We found ourselves at the foot of her driveway for a few minutes as we went over a quick lesson plan.
 
Once we were ready to go, we turned toward our new friend’s front door and began walking up the driveway.  It was at that moment that a scruffy and intoxicated man burst from the front door and leapt at us with an ACTIVE TAZOR in tow.  I guess throwing stones at us like the missionaries of old just wasn’t technologically advanced enough for his tastes….  
 
So there is a drunken man aggressively approaching us with his sparking stick of electricity, ready to zap us back to Zion, and we are placed with a decision:
 
a} we run away
 
b} we run away
 
c} we plug our ears. {obviously}
 
Which is exactly what I did.  Not so much the ‘running away’ part as the ‘plugging my ears’ part.  Sister T., on the other hand, stood courageously confident in the face of Taser Boy and unflinchingly exclaimed, “What do you think you are doing!” in true Sister T. fashion, as I hid behind her, hunched down with plugged ears.  Surely she and my lack of hearing would protect me.  And they did, because as soon as this man heard Sister T. defend us, he snapped out of his raging state and realized that what he was doing was less than chivalrous.  He paused for a moment and meekly apologized as he holstered his weapon.  He explained, “Oh, I thought you were trying to steal my car in the driveway…”  Very understandable, actually, since we had obviously been pow-wowing near it, most definitely plotting our grand theft auto escape.    
 
We explained to him who we were and what our intentions were with his wife{?}, and he kindly invited us inside.  For some crazy reason, we went with him in spite of his ‘anger issues,’ but soon found out that our new friend and her male bodyguard were, unfortunately, not interested in our message from God.  So we prayed with them one last time and went on our way once again.  After all, we had many more adventures awaiting us behind lots of more doors, so we had to get knockin’.
 
But none of those adventures quite compared with our friend, forever known from thence forth as the one and only {hopefully} “Taser Boy.”
 
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Sister T. and me, in front of the Atlantic Ocean in Sligo
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With a dear Filapina-living-in-Ireland friend’s son