It's hard to believe it has been more than 30 years. I remember being so happy as a young college student when I found out I would be going to London, England. I loved it there, but it was nothing like I thought it would be.

I met people of all ages, all walks of life, and all kinds of religions. I think I learned more than I taught.

When I lived in the city we worked with a lot of immigrants from all over the world, but especially Africa. I remember my first sunday in a church near Wembley stadium. I was sitting on the stand because they wanted new missionaries to speak and introduce themselves. So I was looking out at a congregation that was mostly African, and when they started to sing the opening hymn (Redeemer of Israel) I had never heard singing like that in a church before. It was joyful and it was loud!

There were lots of funny things that happened on my mission. I was on a crowded double decker bus once when a random drunk lady came over, sat down by me, grabbed my tie and said, "I like your style." Dear random bus lady, I can't say that I also liked your style. But I thank you for the lasting memory.

Another time, on another bus, someone tried to cast the demons out of me.

And another time, on yet another bus, we were nearly alone. It was just me and my companion, and two other people. I felt like it was my duty to try and talk to them. But I was new and super nervous. The first person quickly let me know she was not interested. The only other person was an old man from India with a grizzly, grey beard and a turban on his head. He smiled, almost laughing as I introduced myself. He said before I could speak to him about religion I had to define it for him. But every time I tried he was not satisfied. He had a PhD in Engineering and wanted a precise answer. He said we could come to his house and talk with him more so we made an appointment, but he wasn't there when we stopped by, which happened a lot in my mission. I thought that was the end of it.

A week or two later, we were in a different part of London waiting for a bus when I saw this same unmistakable old man from a distance walking towards us. When he got closer I could tell he was happy to see me. He smiled and asked, "Did you find the definition of religion?" Here we go again. I told him no, and maybe he should just tell me. He said, "If you want to know what religion is you need to read the scriptures." I said, "Ok." And he said, "Like in Second Nephi" and he laughed as he pulled a copy of The Book of Mormon from his coat pocket. Now I was wondering what was going on. Was he just messing with us?

There's a lot more to this story, but to keep it short, we found out that someone had given him a copy of The Book of Mormon about ten years previously. He had read it and kept it with him. I didn't have many experiences like this on my mission. But I'm glad I had the nerve to talk to him that day on the bus. He was not at all the kind of person I would expect to be interested in the gospel. But I guess you never know. My companion who was nearly finished with his 2 year mission told me that Jay was the most "golden" or prepared of anyone he had met during his mission.

The best thing about any mission, no matter where it is, is the people you meet. I'm grateful I got to meet so many "saints" including:

- church members who helped and fed us

- super fun companions from all over the world

- nice people who let us in and said, "We're not interested in talking about religion but it's raining. Would you like a biscuit (cookie) and some tea or coffee?"

Attaching a picture of me (on the right) with the Lamb family - an entire family of saints. Carol (the mom) finished her life's mission and passed away several years ago.