These lands are tourist destinations within themselves and are globally noteworthy for their natural, architectural, and historical beauty. But their charm isn't only measure in the inanimate. The people, although occasionally stubborn and hard-hearted to our message, glow. Members of the church within these tiny places are beacons of light in a dark world. Their examples shine far brighter than many I have seen or known in the western United States. I love them. I love them so very much.
On my mission I learned quickly about the importance of befriending strangers as fellow men before prospective converts. Doing so prevented a lot of doors being slammed on us, while still combating the initial impulse they had to do it. As I gained language proficiency, I was determined to learn how to talk to people, to relate to people, to laugh with people, and to teach people. Along the never-ending rows of doors we knocked, I went looking for people to meet and souls to touch rather that numbers to baptize.
I remember one particular instance in a small Belgian village. We had little business in the tiny town and decided to knock some doors, knowing that they had probably never been knocked before. A woman answered and laughed as she saw us and began closing the door. We laughed for a moment as she did which caused her to crack the door open in surprise. We talked to her about our funny shirts and ties and thick American accents in combination with our cry to the world for happiness. She began to laugh with us and before we knew it, she told us her story as we had told ours. Soon enough, her depression overcame her and she began weeping as she told her life story and search for happiness following custody issues with her daughter. We testified of the power of our message and the book we shared. She was an avid reader. She read everyday to keep her thoughts light. We shared the Book of Mormon with her and promised to return in a week to tell her more.
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