Elias S. Woodruff, president of the Western States Mission, told this story involving Sylvia Alice Goodliffe of Park Valley, Utah, then about 22 years old, in October Conference, 1930:
Over in Lincoln, Nebraska, a young missionary sister was distributing tracts with her companion, her companion on one side of the street, she on the other. She came to the door of a woman who invited her in, with the understanding that she would listen to her only while she continued her ironing. The woman said: “I am too busy to listen to you unless you talk to me while I iron.”
So the sister went in, took a chair and sat down. Pretty soon the ironing stopped. The woman pulled the plug out of the electric iron, stood the iron on its end, drew up a chair, and sat down in front of our missionary sister, and said to her: “What is there about you that is different from anyone I ever saw before?”
This sister, of course, was unable to answer her, for she was not aware of any difference.
The woman said: ‘Why, you are surrounded by a halo of light. I have never seen that before in my life.”
So our young missionary sister tried to explain to her that sometimes the Lord’s blessings were manifest, and the Holy Spirit which surrounded his servants might be seen by those who had the gift of seeing.
She was so interested and so astonished that after a little while, hearing in the conversation something about our Primaries, she asked Sister Goodliffe: “What is the Primary?” Sister Goodliffe explained to her what our Primaries are. The woman said: “I am the mother of nine children. Will you hold a Primary in my home?”
So today, once a week, the two sisters in Lincoln, Nebraska go to this good woman’s home, and they hold a Primary with her children and the neighbors’ children that are invited in.
I’m getting a real sense of “I was a stranger and you welcomed me,” or of “Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him” in the breaking of bread at Emmaus. I aspire to the sort of hospitality that sees Jesus to be welcomed in the stranger at the door, but if I were too busy to stop ironing, I’d probably forget all those spiritual ideas, do the practical thing, and turn the uninvited guest away.
Makes you wonder what made this woman different. Was she feeling welcoming? Lonely? Irritated, too polite to give a firm no, but hoping her guest would take a hint and leave? Whether I imagine that the welcome was initially grudging or wholehearted, it was evidently sufficient to see something I’ve never seen behind a stranger’s face.
On rereading, I wish I hadn’t said “sufficient,” as if the gifts of God could be paid for by doing enough. I suppose I had more in mind that whatever the woman was feeling, she opened a door that I would have left closed. That God stepped through in that particular way was a gift — but facilitated in some way by her own willingness to receive it? I didn’t mean to start developing a theology of grace and works here.
On a more pedestrian note, I was surprised by these missionaries tracting opposite sides of the street and going into houses alone. I don’t think I’ve even imagined missionary companions having that much independence from each other.
Hi Ardis, do you know if this story is the source of the various “glowing Mormons” legends? I wish I had examples to point you to, but I swear I’ve heard dozens of stories at church about non-members seeing a literal glowing aura around a Mormon or a group of Mormons. (I think these stories are usually told informally, like in a testimony meeting.)
Dane, it doesn’t seem likely to me that a single conference story, especially one told by a mission president (not a General Authority), would have been widely repeated to spark such an enduring meme.
Two stories:
I worked briefly on a construction site, keeping track of contract changes and working in the construction trailer. There was a man who would often come by my desk and stand and talk about the most trivial things. Eventually, after some somewhat miraculous help with an impossible genealogical problem he eventually told me about, and his rebaptism into the church, he told me why he kept stopping by — he said that every time he came into the trailer, he saw a glowing light around me, and had the sense that he was supposed to ask my help with something, and he kept putting out such feelers until he hit on the topic of genealogy. I believe he meant what he said — he was entirely serious, and the help I was able to give him came from a source beyond myself. Not many other people had the peculiar combination of skills I had to even start working on his problem. I take him at his word that he saw what he said he saw.
And second, two or three months after I returned from my mission, another young woman in the ward returned from her mission to Hong Kong. I don’t remember a lot of what she said in her homecoming talk, because I was fascinated by the glowing light that surrounded her. I had never seen anything like that before — or since, really. But it was real, and didn’t come from the electrical lights or a beam from a window or any other source that I could see. It was far more than “wholesome good health” or “cheerfulness” or anything else that people suggest when they try to explain that phenomenon. There was an actual glowing light around her that came from her, not to her from some outside source.
I promise I’m sober as I write this. 🙂 The light is real, at least sometimes. I’ve seen it once, I apparently have radiated it once.
Thanks for sharing about your experiences, both seeing a light, and emitting one. That is so fascinating!
I’ve never quite known what to make of such events when I’ve heard them. I’ve never experienced this myself. But, the idea of a faint light around someone seems more believable, for some reason, than some other miraculous stories/faith promoting rumors I’ve heard through the years (like, seeing spirits of deceased people; garments protecting the skin from burns; etc.). Maybe because it’s a subtle, even beautiful-sounding phenomenon.
I can imagine a woman with nine children saying often “talk to me while I iron” to the kids.
She can stay busy and be available to them.
Ardis: I try not to just leave comments saying thanks, but you are such a gift. This was facinating to me on multiple levels. To see the 1930s custom of splitting to each side of the street and going into homes to teach alone. Of primary being set up in that home, a separate entity from church. To feel the sincere experience of a woman of faith receiving the Gosepl. This is a gem. You are so good at finding gems.
I used to routinely see light around members of the church. I also, as a non-member, used to see in them an unreasoned happiness that I told my member girlfriend of the time made them seem giddy.
Neither of these phenomena are obvious to me in the way they once were. I have seen some sad bothers and sisters that have lie to my early expectations of the saints; at times I have been among their number. That said, I think faithful members still have the aura when I look for it, and we remain, on the whole, happier than most.
I had an experience a couple of weeks ago in Baltimore, towards dusk, taking public transportation, by myself.
People who live around here know the significance of all those factors. I was basically taking the bus with a bunch of black guys, and a few women, in a city known for how dangerous it is. I do have a network of friends who could have just come and given me a ride, but one by one all of those options had failed me.
Anyway, what I have to say is this. The Lord had my back, and the Black people of Baltimore had my back. My experience is that when you treat people like humans, they generally respond in kind, so I started there. I was worried and uncomfortable, but I did not get on my phone. I felt uncertain at a couple of different points, and I asked for help. And the bus driver stopped the bus and waited for me to run an entire block, to catch it; the guy sitting next to me was getting off where I needed to get off, and kindly rang the bell for me; the woman I asked about the train that was half an hour late happened to also be going my way, and expressed exasperation that it was always so late. But the creme de la creme was the guy who got to the steps of the train at the same time as me, and who gestured for me to get up first. I honestly don’t remember the last time that has happened, in any city.
I felt the Lord’s love for the people around me in such a palpable way that I was tempted to repeat my adventure, though common sense dictates otherwise. When I was talking to a friend about it afterwards, I mentioned that I felt the fact that I was carrying a bunch of tulips I had felt prompted to buy was a protective factor. She speculated that it was because the people noticed that I’m so cheerful and glowey. I thought she was speaking metaphorically at the time, but now I’m sort of wondering if I should ask.