Have you ever received one of those emails….

when you see a name in your inbox from someone in the past?
Someone you haven't heard from in years and when you see their name you think, is this for real?
Is that really an email from that person?
And you get a little excited with anticipation to open it up and see if it is really them?

That happened to me this week. I saw a name. A name that has meant a lot to me over the years. A name that has brought me great joy when i think it or even say it. Vicente.

It all began about about 9 years ago in la Plaza del Ayuntamiento in Valencia, Spain. It was a normal day for my companion and me out in the streets of the city. Talking with people or rather trying to talk with people but getting that pointer finger waved in our faces time and time again. The familiar words tengo prisa (i'm in a hurry) or no tengo interes (i'm not interested) or just flat out ¡no! (which needs no translation) were ringing in our ears.

With a slow step, we kept on walking. Thinking of how we could have skipped out on contacting that morning and gone to a ward activity. But it wasn't our ward activity. And to go would have been succumbing to that temptation to take the easy road. Which temptation creeps in all to often when you are an exhausted a "tired of being rejected" missionary. But this morning we didn't give in. And here's the reason why.

We were walking toward the bus stop, getting ready to catch the bus back home when I saw an older man sitting on a bench. "Just talk to him," I thought. "Whatever! You know how old men are," went the debate in my mind. "All they do is ramble on about the government and General Franco. It would be a complete waste of time!"
But i soon found my mouth opening to say hello and he actually answered back. Whoa! We kept talking and he listened. Not only that, he was interested in what we had to say! We gave him the first discussion and ended with giving him a pamphlet and inviting him to church that weekend.

As we left, we felt good. But he didn't really want to commit to anything so we figured we'd never see him again. As usual! You can imagine how my jaw thumped on the floor when we saw him walk into our sacrament meeting the next sunday. We soon learned that he had already attended 3 hours of the branch meeting before ours and even stood up to bear his "testimony." He explained that he met us on the street and came and felt good here. He said he was a member of the catholic church but that it bored him–but here he felt the action of learning through the Spirit. Well, you can probably guess how the story goes. We started teaching him with the elders and he was progressing towards baptism. But as all good missionary stories go…it was my time to leave. Not only leave the area, but go home. And so it was bittersweet when i left Valencia knowing that Vicente would be baptised soon, but I wouldn't be there to witness it.

But a sweet gift was sent my way when I was sleeping in my bed one morning and heard the phone ring at about 4 am. It was the Sunday of my homecoming talk. Who would be calling at this crazy hour? I answered the phone and heard Vicente's voice on the other end, telling me he was now a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Words can't describe the joy that ran from the tip of my head to my feet! It was a perfect way to bring to an end the last year and a half of service.

So as you can see, my heart was elated to see Vicente's name in my inbox this week. He sent an email sharing his testimony, his first memories of meeting us in the Plaza that day, and a few photos. I was grinning from ear to ear.

I'll tell you what, getting emails like that….well, it makes your whole year!!  

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