Don't Come Preachin'

Every couple of months, Mormons come to our door to try to witness to us. It annoys me ENDLESSLY.

The first few times, I just told them I didn't have the time to listen because I was always rushing off to school just as they knocked on the door. But since having Luke, I've actually come to enjoy their visits. Not because I like being preached to by random people at my doorstep, but because it provides some unexpected entertainment in the middle of the day.

The last time they came, I told them that I had a personal belief in Jesus Christ and that he talked to me frequently, but that he told me that I wasn't supposed to tell anyone else what he said to me. They looked confused. Then, they tried to tell me about their prophet. I told them that if talking to God makes on a prophet, then I'm sure there are lots of prophets since prayer is a way of talking to God, right? They left.

They came back again yesterday. I told them I was Hindu. And to my chagrin, they started asking questions about Hinduism. So I dug down to all the things I remember from the stories my grandmother used to tell me and I told them about Hanuman (a giant monkey) and the blue baby Krishna who swallowed the entire world. Again, they left.

Next time, I might tell them I'm wicca. I'd better start researching...