The Littlest Missionaries
By David Birley

Have you ever thought of the missionary program of the Church as being like the legs of a three-legged stool? There are the member programs (remember "just set a date" or "every member a missionary”?) and, of course, our nicely-scrubbed, full-of-fresh-ideas, new-from-the-MTC, full-time missionaries rattling off doctrine they've eagerly been awaiting to share.

While you probably agree that such concepts are beautiful to read, hear, and even dream about, if you are an experienced, realistic, typical member of the Church over the age of thirty or so, you may have had occasion to gripe that in reality, these things just don't work. Or do they?

Well, let me tell you a little story…

It was a chilly morning that Monday, December 7th, 1964. I was ready to visit Colleen Ockey in her home in Calgary, Alberta, working as a proof passer—a portrait salesman taking follow-on orders for photos, which had previously been taken by a professional photographer who’d photographed customers in the area. I was employed by Frederick Studios out of Vancouver B.C., one of many companies that would send teams of traveling salesmen and photographers to solicit, book, and sell portrait photos of families.

It was a simple formula. The coupon salesmen went first, canvassing the neighborhoods and making the appointments. They were followed by one or two photographers carrying huge old 5x7 view cameras with a "split back" on a great heavy tripod and a couple of #2 photoflood lights, which they’d set up in the living room after rearranging the furniture. They would usually make six exposures.

At the end of each day they would unload their film holders in their hotel room closet and mail it back to Vancouver for processing. The proofs would then be mailed to the customer, and the proof passer would come along and see how much he could sell in addition to the one picture that was offered with the coupon sold by the first person.

And when I got to the Ockey's home, the proofs hadn't arrived. It was chilly outside. Calgary in December? Try 25 degrees below zero—and in those days we still spoke in Fahrenheit. The Ockey's living room was warm and friendly.

As I was just getting ready to leave, I noticed something on their coffee table. It was a large copy of the Book of Mormon (remember the edition that was bound with a light blue linen fabric?). It really stood out—hard to miss.

What was interesting was that three months earlier, I was in Terrace, B.C. staying at the Terrace Motel, where the owner had placed copies of the Book of Mormon in nightstands alongside the Gideon Bible. Inside the cover was an envelope with an invitation to leave fifty cents and take the book. I was always a sucker for a bargain on a book, and so I took up the offer. However, if I buy a book, I also read it—or at least part of it, anyway.

So I said to Colleen Ockey, "Oh, you're Mormon, are you?" She stated that she was.

"Well, I have a question for you then." I said. You see, I had read the book as far as First Nephi, Chapter 16, verse 18, when upon referring to the footnote and noting a reference to the year 600 BC, I decided to defer further reading until I had resolved that rather odd metallurgical reference. I opened the book to that verse and asked, "How do you explain that?"

At age 30, I had gained a certain level of experience in asking questions about religion. I was genuinely interested and, over time, had developed some theories of my own. One was that the “God” or “Supreme Being” at the top of the spiritual pyramid in every faith system that had ever existed was, in fact, one and the same being, but that somehow men had got the instruction manuals mixed up. I had sort of picked up bits and pieces from a vast smorgasbord of religions and flavors of Christianity that to my way of thinking appeared to form a "logical" structure, and I felt that "if I ever find an organization where all these features come together, well..."

So my question wasn't frivolous. In fact, it was sincere. However, I had learned over time that the adherents of their respective faiths usually had boilerplate answers ready for challenging questions of that type. “Oh, we believe it means tempered bronze”, or “We're not quite sure exactly what it means but we accept it on faith”. And that was I what I was expecting. After all, knowing the Bessemer process for making steel didn't come into existence until 1732 AD, “fine steel” in 600 B.C. was going to need to have a pretty fancy explanation.

And what I got was absolutely, totally, what I didn't expect. Colleen Ockey said, “I don't know. But if you'd like I'll try to find out for you.”

Now I want you to understand something important here. Only a person who is really stupid, or a person who is totally secure in her faith would dare to offer that kind of an answer, and believe me, it was abundantly clear that Colleen Ockey wasn't a stupid person. Then she offered up the first of a series of intriguing questions:

Colleen: "What do you know about the Mormons?"

Me: "Well, not much, really"

Colleen: "Would you like to know more?"

Me: "Sure, I'd love to." Of course I would. My evenings were boring, anyway… sitting in the run down room at the misnamed Ritz hotel in downtown Calgary.

Colleen: "Would you like to meet with a couple of missionaries here on Wednesday evening at seven p.m.?"

Me: "That would be great."

I promise you, I did not make that up. Straight from the current Church member-missionary program at the time, Colleen Ockey hit me squarely between the eyes with the traditional icebreakers. Strangely enough, it must have worked because I accepted. So, one leg of the stool stood the test.

Wednesday evening and an Elder Evans was there with some other missionary who was passing through temporarily on a transfer. Bright-eyed, and only slightly damp behind the ears, they set up a little flannel board and prepared to present the first discussion. Of course, I had a question for them, "Do you have the answer to my question?"

Now, as I mentioned earlier, I was prepared for a variety of answers, and quite prepared to pack up and move on depending on what one of several might have been. However, just as Colleen Ockey's answer had caught me by surprise, Elder Evans had one that knocked me right back on my heels:

"What question?"

Wait a minute… Here was a question, which I felt, was so obviously at the very foundation of testing the truth of the book, which the Mormons presented as scripture, and it hadn't even been passed along the pipeline? Wow.

So I took the Book of Mormon from Elder Evans, turned to the verse, and asked him for his explanation. By now, I am sure you can guess what answer he gave. Word for word the exact same answer I had received the first time I asked it, "I don't know. But if you'd like, I'll try to find out for you."

Well, they were there, I was there, and it seemed like we might as well proceed with the lesson anyhow, answer or not. For the next two and a half hours I regaled them with my ideas and theories based on my travels, studies and reading. I don't recall if I got as far a knocking down the church on their flannel board, but certainly they got no farther than that.

Even still, they ended the evening with an invitation to return on Friday and, of course, I willingly accepted. These guys did something that the ministers and preachers I had tormented previously with my zany ideas had never done before. They kept insisting, "There's nothing in what you say that disagrees with what we believe." Either I was on to something, or these guys had zoned out somewhere along the way. So Friday at seven p.m. it was to be.

By Friday, I had decided that I had been given the opportunity to air my goofy ideas, and it was only fair to allow them to do the same. As a result, I was prepared to be the meek and humble student. I wasn't prepared, however, to be met by two totally different missionaries from Wednesday! They were Elder John Leslie Lyman and Elder Steve Rees—the former a physically slight, olive-skinned, and intellectually-inclined individual, and the latter a more solidly built young man that I affectionately classified as a Utah farm boy.

You may be aware that one of the suggestions given to the missionaries is to "invite for baptism early and often". Elder Rees, ever the zealous and obedient missionary, took this guideline quite literally, to a surprising effect. After our initial greeting, and the explanation that this was "really their territory", Elder Rees said to me "We're having a baptism on December 26th. We'd just like you to keep that date in mind." (Remember now, this was barely Friday, December 11th!) There went the second leg of the stool…

Well, the session still took two and half hours, but we did get through it. Many of my questions were answered with "We deal with that in ‘the fifth discussion’", a response that became a running joke between us. (This was in reference to the typical six-discussion outline that had been set up at the time.) Oh yeah, and my question? Same answer: "What question?" I ended up having to research it myself at the public library.

So now we come to turning point of the story or the third leg of the stool—the members. Colleen Ockey had two daughters—Patsy Ann, aged 8, and Pammy Jean (she's going to hate me for calling her that if she ever reads this), aged 6. They were the subjects of the photos that had brought me to the house originally. The father of the household was Kent Ockey, then serving as a President of the Seventy—back in the days when they had Stake Seventies.

During every one of the discussions, those two precious little girls sat together with their parents and listened intently to the missionaries as we discussed the gospel. I was continuously struck how they would never ask to get up and get a drink of water, leave and go to their room, watch TV, or anything else. It was clear to me that wanted to be with their family, and to be part of the process that was unfolding in front of them.  For some reason, their behavior moved me very deeply.

Although I was still single at age 30, I had long said, “When I marry it will be for keeps,” not even realizing what that really meant. But when I saw those two little girls and how they truly made that household into a family such as I had only read and dreamt about, but never actually seen other than on TV, I found myself feeling: "I want what this family has". And so it was that Patsy Ann and Pammy Jean were true missionaries, without even trying. Through that family, I gained a glimpse of the reason for everything.

I was inspired—so inspired that Kent Ockey eventually baptized me on December 26^th—exactly the date as Elder Rees had invited for.

So here it is, more than 40 years later. I recently had the privilege of spending a weekend with Elder Rees, now an OB/GYN practitioner in the Provo area, member of a Stake Presidency in one of the BYU stakes. I heard that Elder Lyman is now a physicist at the Los Alamos laboratory. I am a High Priest, recently widowed, but due to marry again in the Columbia, SC temple on September 3rd, father of five and grandfather of 10.

The next time you are confronted with one of those seemingly overzealous “programs" from the Church for member-missionary work and feel dubious, just remember, they have been known to work from time to time, as I can attest to. I am truly grateful that some folks actually bothered to listen, and to act.