Just curious. Would anyone like to share, if they feel like it, their memory of the last door they ever knocked on?
For me, I was Auxiliary Pioneering. It was November 1983. It was an unusually mild late afternoon for southern Ontario. I was going door-to-door in Etobicoke (Western Toronto suburb). I was with about 3 or 4 other people, all sisters.
At that time, I was struggling psychologically with many different issues. Somehow, at that time, I felt that if I hung in there, attended meetings, extra assemblies, prayed harder, auxiliary pioneered and studied more, that something, somewhere was going to enlighten me or perhaps give me the 'spiritual food' I needed. It never came, and I was going out door-to-door hoping for inspiration, but it wasn't manifesting itself. Honestly? I never liked going door-to-door. But, was conditioned to believe that this is what we must do in order to preach Jehovah's word. It was trying, and I dreaded it somedays.
Regardless, I kept on persevering. This one day, as I had indicated, it was late afternoon close to evening. Beautiful unseasonably warm November. I remember knocking on this one door (side door). No one answered, but someone for some reason came out of the front door. It was a woman of middle age. She was of Italian descent. I greeted her, and she acknowledged me. She was friendly, which as you know, is not the norm. But she was engaging enough that I began to talk to her.
I was about to begin my usual means of drawing attention to God's word etc., and she said something that I did not expect.
She said something to the effect of: 'you know, I don't know how you do what it is you are doing?'
I responded: 'it's not easy, let me tell you'.
She said: 'it must take a lot of courage because I know some people do not like Jehovah's Witnesses coming to their door'.
She added: 'I'm Catholic, but you know, I don't go to church, and I don't believe in it much, it's more for the old people'.
I remember taking whatever literature that I had in my hand, and returning it to my briefcase. I closed it up, zipped the side shut, and I just chatted with this very nice woman about 'other' topics.
She was the right person, in a peculiar way, at the right time. We discussed her family, work, the weather and a few other topics. We spoke for about 15-20 minutes. The sisters whom I had received a ride from, had pulled up near to where I was. It was getting dark and it was on to or past supper time. We did touch on 'my' being a Witness, but this woman was curious as to 'where' I came from, and 'how did I become one'. I do remember telling her something like: 'it's not easy being a JW' and that 'I would much rather do something else'.
Wrapping up our conversation, she asked me about the literature I had. But I told her, it was OK, not to worry. She was going to take it oddly enough, but I said to her like: 'I have thoroughly enjoyed our conversation, it really made my day', and proceeded to bid her good-bye, and return to the car, waiting nearby.
The sisters inside the car were so curious as to my long conversation with this woman. They could see me speaking with her, and of course, observe whether or not I had left her any literature. They were surprised that I didn't place any magazines with her. But of course, they could NOT hear the conversation from where they were parked earlier. So I just mentioned something like: 'I will make a return visit with her'. That was it.
That night, I went home, and I realized: That that was it. Given some of my private struggles and issues with the WTBTS, I felt like a hypocrite, and that night, not sure which one, I mentally called it quits with the organization. I remember praying very hard and was just about in tears, wondering why all of this was happening to me.
I went to work that evening, and my head was racing a thousand miles per hour. I couldn't keep this JW life up any longer. I couldn't stand it.
I did not make my hours. I did not go out in service after that evening. I think I made 1 meeting, and I totally engrossed myself in work, taking any shift I could possibly grab. My only problem: sharing a home with a Witness couple. They were very nosey, and I often found my personal desk drawers askew sometimes. They'd call work, just to see that I was there. I knew it was time to get out of there as well. It was getting dicey.
My last meeting: January 1, 1984.
I moved out of where I was living, and moved into the city centre.
Until this very day, I have not forgotten my last door.
How about some of you? Any stories to relate re: last door ?