Squabbling amongst Christian religions is the equivalent of sibling rivalry. Sometimes it gets bitter. It makes parents, even those on high, exasperated.

MORMON BOYS

That they would find each other would have been as unlikely to predict as the fall of communism or the good sheep market. She was old and a lifelong Southern Baptist. They were young and on a mission for the Mormon Church.

A requirement of good “Mormonism” for young men is to serve as missionaries for the church for two years. They are expected to go door to door wherever they are sent and spread the gospel of the Latter Day Saints (LDS), also called Mormons.

Now if you think that’s easy, put yourself in their place. You are nineteen years old, most likely from a rural background, have no car, and are in a strange place. You’re also wearing a dark suit and tie, riding a bicycle, and knocking on strangers’ doors. As you know, many who open those doors and find out you are “peddling religion” are not friendly.

They knocked on her door one day and explained their purpose. She said, “Well, I’m teachin’ our home Bible class.” They excused themselves and left. Later she said to her husband, “I’ll never turn those boys away again.”

Eventually they came back down her street, and she said what she says to everybody who’s ever knocked on her door: “Have ya eaten yet?” Well, for two boys a thousand miles from home and batchin’, nothin’ sounded sweeter.

For the next eight or ten years, the Mormon boys “stationed” in her little Oklahoma town beat a steady path to her door. They overlapped each other every few months, and each new missionary was taken to meet Uncle Leonard and Aunt Effie.

Many of these boys were country raised and homesick, I’m sure. They are not allowed to call home except on Mother’s Day. Effie and Leonard were retired farmers, both in their eighties, and sure knew how to cook for hungry boys. The boys played Skip Bo, ate fried chicken and peach cobbler, helped Effie with her garden when Leonard became unable, sang while she played on the piano, and found an oasis from the pressure.

Uncle Leonard passed away last fall, and Effie’s havin’ health problems. I visited her in the hospital recently, and she talked about her Mormon boys. Her face lit up. It was obvious how much they meant to her. Some still write, and the new ones still come by checkin’ on her.

I’m sure they discussed religion, but as Aunt Effie told ’em, “Yer out walkin’ the streets for your Jesus, He’s my Jesus, too, and that’s more than most religious folks do. I’m proud of you.”

She saw their need and filled it the only way she knew how. She offered them kindness. And if you ever questioned that passage “It is more blessed to give than receive,” you ought to see her face when she talks about her Mormon boys.

I don’t know if they’re better Mormons or she’s a better Baptist for their knowin’ one another. And I don’t know if the leaders of the Southern Baptist Convention and the Elders of the church of the Latter Day Saints would approve. But I do know that the human race is a little better species because these two folks took the time to appreciate one another as people.