Who's That Knocking At My Door?

Two missionaries knocked on my door today. This event, which occurs all too often, has become difficult for me. When I first moved here, and I saw the young men in white shirts and ties standing on my doorstep, I didn’t think twice about shooing them off my porch as quickly as possible. I mean, how dare they, I know where to find their church if I feel the need - for god’s sake they are on every frigging corner. My feeling about the reasons behind their visit is still there, but my feeling towards these young men has changed. You see, my daughter Amy is a senior in high school and so many of her good friends are about to embark on their missionary journey. I cannot separate their faces from the faces of the strangers who continue to knock on my door. These poor kids have been sent to a state where they are either preaching to the choir or extremely resented. And so, I kindly explain to them why I am not interested. I engage them in conversation about where they are from and share my feelings about living in Utah. They always thank me for being nice to them and go on their way to more doors slamming in their faces. I feel a bit sad as they leave and I again see the faces of all the young men I know and have come to care about over the years. Don’t get me wrong, I despise proselytizing and I tell them so. So should you if you feel the same. But… please be kind they are just young men, far from home, and maybe one of Amy’s friends.