What’s in a name?

“SHUT UP!!!” I heard my companion yell from the living room. Then I heard the phone slam down on the receiver (we later got cell phones, but that area still had an old school wall phone with a twirly long cord and everything). This sudden outburst was uncharacteristic of the bubbly, blond, Sister Anderson. At first, I was afraid she was hanging up on our less-than-helpful ward mission leader (we were serving in the single’s ward and his idea of “fellowshipping” female investigators was a creepy brand of flirtation), but even he didn’t deserve that kind of censure. “Something wrong?” I nervously inquired. “Marler.” She hissed our District Leader’s last name like a dirty word. This wasn’t the first time the two had argued, but I wondered what could have drawn that kind of reaction from her. Apparently, he had forbidden her to marry the missionary in South America, by the name of Elder Schmidt, who she was dating prior to her mission. “Why not?” I asked. Her face grew red. She rolled her enormous eyes and her voice took on a nasal, whiney tone. “Because…he said… my kids will be Little Schmidts!” Despite my best efforts to refrain, I laughed at the joke. She was not amused. But don’t worry, she didn’t marry Elder Schmidt. Sister Smoot San Antonio Texas 2006-2008

2013-01-25T09:00:00+00:00 January 25th, 2013|Uncategorized|0 Comments

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