I'm Such a Chicken

The Mormon Missionaries are sitting in the hallway outside my apartment door. I think they may be waiting for me. Maybe. I wouldn't know because I am too chicken to open my door to ask.

Earlier this week I came home to see them walking away from my door. I circled the parking lot in my car and parked inconspicuously in a place where I could see them. They waited outside my apartment for a long, long, time. I sat in my car for a long, long time.

Today heard them knocking. I am sure they could hear my tv. I am sure they know I am home (why, oh why, have I not replaced my Mormons for Obama bumper sticker yet?). I looked outside, and sure enough, it was them. They went back to their car to get something and then came back to the door to wait.

And so now I am hiding in my office, waiting to see them drive away. They have not. And I have not left this room. What if they notice movement in the apartment?

I don't know why I am so afraid of that conversation. It isn't that I am afraid to tell people how I feel--I post it on the blog and explain it to people quite often. I am very confidant in where I am at and where I am going. I am very, very happy when it comes to my decision to leave.

And yet...

There is something so hard about seeing those 19 year old guys and knowing how desperately they believe and knowing that if I tell them what I believe, it will hurt them. Of course, I am not so delusional that I think my unbelief would actually hurt their faith (though, I suppose it is possible). Rather, I know that it would be sad for them.

These missionaries are just kids. They believe what they believe. They are away from home, from their families, from their girlfriends (well, and maybe their boyfriends). They spend their days being rejected from all sorts of people. They have been taught that their righteousness and happiness and future success will depend on this mission. And here I am, ready to walk away from something they care so deeply about.

I guess I just feel sorry for them. Well, maybe not sorry for them. But, I just... I don't want be a source of angst for them. I don't want to look at them and tell them that I think their whole world--the LDS world--is wrong. They believe what they believe, and for many of them (but, of course, not all of them) it brings a great deal of happiness. Who am I to rain on their parade?

So I hide from them. And maybe that makes me a coward. And maybe that means that they will continue to come knock on my door in hopes of bringing me back into the fold.

But maybe, just maybe, those two guys will go back home to their apartment tonight and feel like they have done God's work--seeking out the "lost sheep." Maybe they will pat themselves on the back for trying and they will be able to report back to their mission president that "no news is good news" (I mean, I didn't yell at them or try to seduce them or offer them a beer, right?) And they can write home to their moms and girlfriends about this inactive girl and they can feel good about their work and all will be well.

I guess if that makes me a chicken, then I am okay with that.

God knows they have enough shit to deal with--they don't need me to make their day any worse.