I've heard about this website, but never took the time to visit. Well, after following a few links and doing some random clicking, I found this guy's story. It's his answer to a simple question. Every member can create their own profile that can be viewed by anyone. I love that the church, which is a huge entity and can seem like it's made up of faceless drones, is getting personal. The gospel is about people. Millions of simple, normal people who do a million simple things a day that end up shaping the world and eternity. I really am proud to be a member.
I hope reading the following personal account gives you goosebumps too.
Why do Mormons go on missions?
Near the end of my mission I met a lady who had been investigating the Church for over 9 years. She had studied diligently with several religions during that time. When she told us she wanted to be baptized she said there were just a few questions she wanted ask me first. Her first question took me by surprise. "Does your dad do wood working?" she asked. "Yes" I answered, thinking that was an odd question. "Did you ever work in the shop with him when you were younger?" she asked next. Again, I answered that I had, still confused about why she was asking questions she seemed to know the answers to. Her next question startled me. "Did you wear a red and white flannel shirt when you worked with your dad in the shop?" She could tell the question had taken me off guard. Nearly ten years earlier my grandfather had died. I had saved one of his shirts to use in his wood shop where my dad and I built a scale sailboat together during the two weeks we spent taking care of his estate. I wondered if she had tracked down my family, oceans away and somehow learned about my past.
Seeing that I was perplexed by her insight, continued. "I should tell you why I'm asking this," she said. "Nine years ago when I first met the LDS missionaries, and read from the Book of Mormon, I prayed to God and asked Him if I should join this Church. After my prayer I lay in bed silently. I closed my eyes and an image flashed through my mind. I saw a father and son working in a wood shop. The boy was young and he was wearing a red and white flannel shirt. I didn't hear any voices, but I was overwhelmed with a good feeling, and with the feeling that that boy was the missionary who would baptize me! I had no idea that it would take nine years, but when you first came to my door, I knew you were that boy!" We entered the waters of baptism together on the very last day of my two year mission in England.