My last companion to come home from Kentucky came back this week and yesterday I went to her homecoming. Or, the meeting formerly known as... Anyway, I got in touch with some old friends from the mish, and, as always, good times were had by all. Then this morning, I got my weekly email from my best friend out in the field, and I felt the final story was worth a post. So with out any further ado, a classic sampling of missionary life in Kentucky:
"The week here wasnt too out of the ordinary. We were at an investigator's house and her Dora -look-alike granddaughter comes running in and yelling what sounds like, 'hey grandma, i've got your crack pipe!' We all just kinda stare for a bit, not really knowing whats going on. it turns out they were bringing back her crockpot. i was relieved."
4 comments:
hehe...that's hilarious.
there was this one time when my companion and I were over at this elderly members home and her granddaughter was running around calling people "Bucko!"
She's say things like..."hey there Bucko!" and I swear...it sounded like she was saying something else.
Crack pipe?! HAHAHAHA!! heehee! :)
Love the drug-related stories from the mission field.
I served in Indiana, just over the border from the Bluegrass State, and my run-ins with special grasses were all too real.
Let's just say that I can relate to Bill Clinton and legitimately say, "I didn't inhale."
Ah, the joys of mission life. :)
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