Sister Glauser

A couple of months ago, I was talking to the sisters about how members often think I'm a missionary, and I suddenly realized that that was why a man in my ward had given me a list of people to visit "when I had time" during my first couple of weeks in Leipzig. I found the list and gave it to the sisters.

A woman who works in the mornings at the institute used to often ask people who "the new sister" was. She used to ask me often where my companion was. I haven't seen her (the woman, not my companion) for a while, so I don't know if she's gotten it straightened out yet.

I thought events of this type would go away more quickly than they have.

On Wednesday, when I got to choir, I stepped in and greeted the two people who were already there, as is custom. Both brothers were from my ward. A moment later, one of them said, “Can you tell me off the top of your head the phone number of your mission president?” It took a moment for me to figure out what he meant. Then I said, “I’m not a missionary.” He fumbled around and asked the follow-up question that I could have predicted and which amuses me: "Where do you live?" I told him, "I live in Leipzig," then with a dramatic pause, "my family lives in Salt Lake."

This was the first mix-up in a while. I find it hilarious that after all this time, people are still making that mistake, although

A. What missionary wears pants and no name tag?
B. What missionary carries around a novel?
C. What missionary has time to go to choir every week?
D. What missionary receives a calling to play the organ in a ward with many piano players?
E. What missionary never has a companion with her?

Ha ha. It's actually an honor if I think about it. I do, after all, really enjoy teaching with the missionaries. Maybe I should start asking for referrals or what time they would like me to come to dinner.