The Drop Off

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Kelly pulled up to the smiling, white-haired security officer and rolled down my window.  The old gentleman smiled at me with a look of pity and understanding.  My eyes were red and teary.  My nose was running.  I was holding my breath in a desperate attempt to keep from sobbing out loud.

"Are you dropping off an  Elder or a Sister?" He asked kindly.  More tears. I shook my head and looked for Kelly to answer.

"We're dropping off our daughter," he said as I gasped for breath.  A yellow tag was placed on our windshield and the man patted my arm  like he must do 500 times every Wednesday. We pulled into our assigned parking spot.

I had been warned about the drop off procedures at the MTC; the quick pictures, the rushed hugs, the almost non-existent chance to say goodbye.  Everything happened quickly.  A sweet sister missionary greeted Makenzie and shook our hands while the elders took all most of her bags out of the trunk.  We took two pictures and I hugged my baby girl goodbye. I would have lingered in the hug, but she could sense the meltdown danger and said, "it will be okay. I love you. Just remember the Pepto Bismol!"  Her last statement got the desired affect and I laughed through my tears.  She patted me on the back in a complete role reversal, grabbed her luggage and walked away chatting happily with her new found friend. She glanced back over her shoulder with a huge grin and she was (almost) gone.

We stood watching until we could no longer see the 104 pounds of pink polka-dot luggage her host was trying to carry, and we climbed back into our car.  I think I was shell-shocked to be honest, but I came out of it soon enough to yell, "Pull over! I need to make sure the elders got her present out of the car!" Sure enough, there was her surprise bag of  letters, snacks and a photo album sitting there in the empty trunk with only jumper cables and a candy bar wrapper for company.

"We have to take it back!" I was in what Kelly has termed my 'tenacious' mode, the one that will find a way to do what I want to have done, done.  He tried to convince me that there were options other than driving through the drop off line again, but I had done my homework boys and girls, and I knew the best chance we had at getting anywhere near the MTC again was right then! I simultaneously called the MTC switchboard whilst directing my somewhat doubtful husband back to the entrance of the building.  I don't think the gray haired man recognized me this time as I had my game face on and was all business. We managed to drop the bag off and retrace the trail of tears we had just traveled. (They let us drop off the bag with an elder who said he would take care of it...we can only assume she has it...as we're still waiting for our P day email!)

 As soon as we were back on the road, my body went limp in the seat.  All of the adrenaline that had been coursing through my veins left me to fend for myself and I dissolved into tears.  The tears became sobs and I admit I came undone for a minute or two.  She was gone.  Gone for 18 months.  I wouldn't see her, couldn't text her, couldn't even talk to her until Christmas Day! To make matters worse, I had put my husband in charge of the iphone video and he didn't get an official hug goodbye! He stared at the steering wheel in the car and said, "I didn't get a hug!"  I gave myself permission to wallow for a few minutes and then I started to think.

My whole life I have wondered what it must have been like to be a mother of the one of the Strippling Warriors as they marched off to join Helaman.  We know from the scriptures the most important words that were spoken during the last few moments between mother and child, but I'm sure there were more.  I'm sure that even in the midst of the great faith of these mothers, there were tears and whispered I love you's.   Some may have  clung to each other until the last possible moment, while others only embraced and walked away. What a sight it must have been to see that army come up over the crest of the hill with flags floating in the breeze, firm in their faith and in their desire to serve.  It is my favorite story in the Book of Mormon, a favorite Primary hymn, and now a favorite memory.  I saw that army on Wednesday in Provo, Utah. I saw hundreds of young men and women, smiling and happy, nervous and teary, but all firm in their faith and in their desire to serve the one who leads us all.  They were kissing mothers and fathers goodbye, willing to leave them and go to distant lands and shores. They were wearing skirts and pumps or suits and ties instead of armor.  They were carrying backpacks and copies of 'Preach My Gospel instead of swords and shields, but they were the same. They were answering the call.

Some were further along in their journey and came to help those new to the field. To see them lined up along the road to comfort and assist was amazing and another testimony to me of why this works! My daughter was happy as she walked away. She was excited and anxious and ready to work.  She had an instant connection with the sister who helped her.  They were friends, they were on the same team. I realized again what an amazing day this was for us as parents, for our family, for our daughter and for the people of New York.  I envy them.  They get to spend time with an amazing person! A person who loves Heavenly Father and his son, Jesus Christ, and only wants to share that love with them.  If they will listen to her as she shares the message of His gospel, they will be blessed.

I will not say those were the last tears I shed that day, but they were the last panic driven tears I have cried.  There is no place on earth I would rather have her be.

Sister Missionary: Someone who leaves her family for 18 months so that others may be with theirs for eternity.

Advice:

• Cry. Don't try to hold it in, it takes too much energy and makes you look weird!
• Hug before you get to the drop off line.  We did...but we should have made it more official.
• Make sure mom and dad both get a hug!
• If you can, designate a 3rd person to come with you and just snap pictures and/or video.
• Drive by the MTC once (or twice) if you have to settle yourselves before you get into the line.
• The elders will get all the luggage out of the car...DON'T make dad do it! Spend those last few    minutes being together. Just check the trunk before you leave.
• Relax at the drop off...there isn't a firing squad if you take too long. No one told us to hurry. We put way too much pressure on ourselves.
• Leave them with a smile! You want them to be happy, not falling apart as they enter the MTC.  (I'm not saying I did this on purpose, it just worked out and I was able to stifle the gut wrenching sobs until later, and I'm glad I did).
• Have a code word if things start to get too heavy...ours was pepto bismol. (I will clarify later).