Confessions of a Sister Missionary

I have a confession to make. Ever since Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf was called to the quorum of the twelve apostles, I’ve been harboring a bit of guilt. Now that he’s a counselor to the Prophet, I feel compelled to say something here. I’m not sure whether and to whom I should confess, but I’ll start with my blog. I know remorse is the first step and I do feel some of that, it’s just that I still find the whole thing rather humorous. Perhaps I’m not ready for true repentance just yet. But this is a start I suppose. The first time I heard of Elder Uchtdorf was while I was a missionary in the Rome, Italy mission. Elder Uchtdorf was the area leader in Europe at that time.

You must first understand three things. First, I think that Elder Uchtdorf is an amazing man of God. Just hearing him speak in that grand german-dialected deep voice gives me shivers. Secondly, when I heard his name for the first time, I kind of giggled—we’ll get to that. And lastly, there is a special type of missionary that frequently gets called to the Rome, Italy mission. It’s sort of a mission for the good-hearted though oft-irreverent missionary.

While I was serving in “Rome’s Port City” of Ostia (I only served in coastal cities for some reason), we were told that a visiting authority by the name of Elder Uchtdorf would be speaking at our upcoming missionary zone conference. We were also told exactly how we were to stand in the church building while he entered, where and with whom we would sit, in what particular order and exactly what we could have with us during his discourse, namely one pen and a notepad. Structure and decorum is not one of Italy’s or it’s missionaries’ finer suits and some of us (see “special type” in the preceding paragraph) balked a little bit and cracked some small jokes contrasting and comparing Germany and Italy (oh, and I might have mentioned something about goose-stepping).

Anyway, by some strange coincidence, I was seated between my companion and Elder Wyatt. Elder Wyatt, when I knew him as a missionary, was on a hiatus from his degree in film at BYU. He has since gone on to produce such illustrious films as Napolean Dynamite. Elder Wyatt was also one of “those missionaries”.

So there we sat with our notepads, awaiting enlightenment from Elder Uchtdorf. I’ll admit, I started it. Knowing Wyatt was a film geek, I passed him a note: “Ever seen Dorf on Golf?” Again, I admit my irreverent behavior. Not only had my first thought upon hearing his name been the ridiculous Dorf movies, I had then planted that thought into the impressionable mind of a young missionary.

Thus, for most of the rest of the meeting (I’ll get to that), between paying attention to the inspired thoughts of an inspired man, we passed notes about movies. I still have the note in my missionary journal as proof. Not my finest moment, I’ll admit.

But, here’s the hilarious part of the story. Just as we were in the height of note-passing (in the center of the second row mind you and no one had been permitted to sit on the front row), Elder Uchtdorf descended from the podium and began speaking as he walked back and forth in the space between the podium and the front row. Just then, as Elder Wyatt was writing a return note on the scrap of paper and I was looking up, smiling intently at the wonderful message being conveyed, three things happened.

First, Elder Uchtdorf stopped in front of Elder Wyatt, pulled a pen from his pocket and held it up in front of him. Second, he said, loudly and sternly in his wonderful dialect “VOSS IS DAS?!?!” Lastly, Elder Wyatt immediately stopped writing as the little color in his face drained away, quickly replaced with scarlet. He knew he was busted.

I, on the other hand was cool, collected and listening carefully. While Elder Wyatt contemplated how he might be punished by this imposing German or our Mission President for passing notes with a sister missionary during zone conference (and whether he needed to change his shorts), I had been following the analogy.

“VOS IS DOSS?” he asked again, and someone meekly responded “A pen?” Elder Uchtdorf smiled, responded that yes, this was a pen and that it, as are we, is an instrument in the hand of someone greater. While we may be small, worthless, irreverent, disrespectful individuals, if we choose to let the Lord be our master, we will become a great instrument in His hand. That is what I learned that day (oh, and that I probably shouldn’t pass notes while I’m being blessed with inspired words from a true servant of the Lord). Elder Wyatt handed back the note to me and refused to pass any more notes for the remainder of the meeting. I think he may have learned something too (I’m sure it had to do with choice of friends or something).

I feel so much better now. How many Hail Mary’s do you think I need to say? (By the way, if anyone out there knows Chris, I would love to reconnect—although if he reads this, he may not ever speak to me again . . . )