2017 marks 20 years since my mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Every Monday, I’ll be posting tales from that time.
Today, a story with no real lesson. Just an old-fashioned missionary story.
While in the MTC, we were allotted time every week to run, walk, or play sports. With three weeks remaining before I would leave for Montreal, I was playing basketball with some other missionaries, when someone launched a half-court shot that fell way short and nailed me in the side of my head and knocked me down.
I stood up, dizzy and nauseous and seeing spots, so the on-site trainer ordered me to the local hospital to make sure I wasn’t seriously concussed. 10 minutes earlier, another missionary I knew had been hit in the head with a volleyball, and as we waited for a van to take us to the hospital, another missionary suffered an unfortunate rebounding incident and ended up with a split eyelid.
So we all spent several hours in the ER, and by the time we had each been seen, we realized the cafeteria would be closed and dinner would not be in our futures.
But our driver–who just so happened to be a friend of my BYU roommates–took pity on us and took us to McDonalds.
None of us had eaten food from the outside world in weeks, so the chicken sandwich and fries more than made up for the mild concussion.