Eight years ago, I was a Mormon missionary in a far-off land.
I lived with three other missionaries in a tiny apartment. We weren’t really having a lot of success in the surrounding area.
We didn’t proselyte on Christmas, although perhaps we should have. I remember walking empty, snow-lined streets on the way to the post office, heavy coat and scarf on. Later we went to a larger gathering of missionaries.
By far, the best Christmas ever.