By Christine Stuart
I was doing my best to keep my anger and frustration contained as my senior companion, Sister Jones, drove us back to our apartment for the night. I reflected on the day’s events now that I had the full picture.
Today we had split up and worked with another set of sister missionaries. Sister Jones and her companion for the day had been talking to people in the downtown area trying to find new people to teach about the gospel. The plan was that we were all supposed to meet up at the library afterward, but when I got there, Sister Jones was nowhere to be seen. I had debated what to do. Should I wait or proceed with the next part of the plan?
Originally, with our car in the shop, the plan had been to catch the last bus up to a smaller town so we could get to our dinner appointment that evening, then get a ride back to town where we would catch another bus home. Unsure what had happened to Sister Jones, I waited for as long as I dared before I and the sister I was with headed to the bus stop. Maybe Sister Jones would meet us there. Unfortunately, when we reached the bus stop, there was still no sign of Sister Jones and the fourth missionary.
I had no idea what had happened or what was going on, but I was doing the best I could to get to where we were supposed to be. After the bus let us off, we had a good half-hour walk to our appointment. We saw only a handful of people on the way, and finally we reached the house we were supposed to get to. I knocked on the door with confidence, but nothing happened when I did. I double-checked the address, and it was the right house. I knocked again, still with no answer. What was happening? I saw a man across the street and asked if I could borrow his cell phone to make a call.
Fortunately, I had memorized the number to the cell phone that I and Sister Jones shared. I called and it rang a few times before Sister Jones answered.
“Where are you?” I asked, getting right to the point.
“At the stake center,” Sister Jones answered, referring to the main church building in our area.
“What?” I was confused beyond my ability to resolve. The stake center hadn’t been in any of our plans. What was happening? “Why are you there?” I continued.
“Oh, Sister Edwards called and mentioned that it would be easier for her to do dinner here at the stake center. Where are you?” Sister Jones asked.
“At Sister Edwards’ house,” I responded.
“Oh,” Sister Jones said, as if it was finally sinking in what the situation was. I could hear her talking with Sister Edwards to make arrangements to have her come and pick us up.
My anger began rising. All this time I’d been worried about what had happened to my companion, while she had just completely changed the plans and forgotten about me? She had been sitting at the stake center stuffing her face and never once wondered why her companion and the other sister weren’t there? I did my best to keep my anger contained as I waited for Sister Edwards to come and get us. I felt bad about making her do so, but there was nothing I could do to fix the situation. I couldn’t wait to talk to Sister Jones and figure out where things had gone so wrong.
Fifteen minutes later, Sister Edwards arrived and picked us up. We drove back to the stake center mostly in silence. I ate with the sister I’d worked with that morning while Sister Jones and the other missionary taught a lesson to Sister Edwards. Afterward, we helped clean up the meal and dropped the other missionaries off using our car, which apparently had been fixed ahead of schedule. Then we had one last appointment before the end of the night. I tried to be in better spirits, but I was still very angry at Sister Jones for what had happened.
On the drive home, both of us were silent. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it until I found out what exactly had happened, so I asked.
“Well, we were contacting people like we planned when I got a call letting me know that the car was ready to be picked up, so we walked down to get the car, and on the way there we got the call from Sister Edwards asking if she could feed us at the stake center instead of her house. I thought that would be fine since it was closer and wouldn’t put too many more miles on the car.” Sister Jones fell silent while I processed this information.
“Did you ever think about us or letting us know?” she finally asked to break the silence.
Sister Jones looked sheepish. “No,” she confessed. “It didn’t occur to me until you called. Sorry.”
Although I was still hurt, I knew there was nothing that could be done to change it now. We had the car back and things had gotten sorted out.
Photo by Sasha Kim on Pexels.com
On commenting: Please share your thoughts! You can leave an email address, but it’s not required. Leaving an email address may prompt you to sign in with a social media or WordPress account.
The Weekly Parable 