One Month Down

One month ago today we packed up our oldest child and dropped her off at the MTC.  It's already been a whole month, and yet it's only been a month! It's strange how you can feel both feelings at the same time.  It's a frenzy of shopping, packing, and planning... until you drop them off...and then you're suspended in this kind of "what do I do now" limbo.  I imagine it's like training for a marathon and then wondering what do do when the race is over.

I'll tell you what I've been doing.  I've been living from Monday to Monday...and I love it.  Monday is P day when the emails come in, and it's my new favorite day of the week.  I heart Monday!! But as much as I love it, even Monday poses a unique challenge to my life now. 

It begins on Thursday night when the anticipation begins to build.  By Friday I am excited! It's the weekend...and we all know what follows the weekend, right? Monday! (Da Da Daaaa!!) Saturday is busy and Sunday is my spirit filled day, being with my ward family, many of whom are in my same tempermental boat! Regardless of whether I've already sent something that week, each Sunday night finds me sending an email, so Missionary Girl will have something in her inbox when she gets to the library on Monday.  I have a hard time sleeping on Sunday nights, because I know...I know, that tomorrow's the day! I don't have an email waiting for me when I get up  in the morning, but it comes soon enough, and it makes me smile for days afterward.

So wherein lies the challenging part, you ask? Well,  let me explain.  No, that takes too long, let me sum up! (Ten points if you can name the movie that line is from!)  The challenge is in  the email itself.  I anticipate it's arrival for days, and yet, when the inbox lights up, I am both ecstatic and let down.  Ecstatic because it's here...news from my girl...a happy, funny, heart felt, spirit filled letter, full of ups and downs, and love.  Love for us, love for the people of Saratoga Springs, love for the missionaries and love for the Lord.  I'm all good once I hear from her and know she's okay.  The only thing that steals a sliver of joy from me is the fact that that's it...until next Monday.  The anticipation begins nearly as soon as it ends. 

Now don't get me wrong, I live on each email for days, reading and rereading each thing she says.  I send them to her grandparents and aunts and uncles.  I edit them and post them on her blog.  I deal with my husband giving me a hard time about getting nothing else done because it's P day, and I start composing in my head the next letter or package I'll be sending.  I'm on an email high for a few days, and then I begin waiting for the next one.

 I would not have been good in the days of old, when letters came every few months, if they came at all.  Heavenly Father knew what He was doing when he placed me in this age of technological advancement.  (He probably just didn't want to deal with my whining about letters!)  When she was set apart as a missionary, Missionary Girl was counseled to be faithful in her letter writing and to 'never miss a week.'  So I am thankful.  I have been incredibly blessed to get wonderful, descriptive letters and to hear her thoughts and feelings.  This way I get to with her on this amazing missionary journey.

18 Fast Sundays

Thanks to Donny Osmond and his version of 'Seasons of Love', I know there are 525,600 minutes in a year.  Sister missionaries serve for a year and a half, which would make a grand total of 788,400 minutes.  It's a good thing I'm not counting minutes, because that's a lot of minutes! (Sorry moms of elders, your numbers just go up from here...1,051,200).  Nope, I'm not counting minutes, or even days...I can't do it.
First of all, I am severely count-down challenged. I can't even manage to get all 25 doors open on the advent calendar at Christmas time.  Every time we make a red and green paper chain I find myself cutting off several links at a time to make up for the days I've forgotten. Last year we still had four chain links hanging on the door on Christmas Eve.  Seriously, I'm just not good at it!  But more important than my little disorder is my lack of desire for self inflicted torture! 534 days of meticulously ticking off boxes would seem like an eternity to me...and though eternity is truly what I'm all about in many aspects of my life, I have no use for it when waiting for my missionary! (712 days for the boys, but who's counting?)

So am I just wandering around with my head in the clouds and no coping method for the passing of time? Um...no.  If you've read any of my other blog posts regarding my obsession desire to support my missionary, I'm sure you've figured that out.  When I am looking forward to something, I don't break it down into it's smallest divisor, I build it up into a number that doesn't seem so daunting.  I've always been that way.  I blame it on the ability to play mind games with myself...it comes in handy every now and then.  Ironically enough, it took a friend to point this out to me.

I'll admit I was a little freaked out before Missionary Girl left (okay, still am periodically).  I couldn't imagine not seeing her or talking to her for a year and a half.  A year.  And a half.  It was during one of those said freak outs that my friend Tammy wisely said, "just think of it as 18 fast Sundays."  That made perfect sense to my afore mentioned logic and I grabbed hold of that with both hands.  525,600 has eleven syllables in it, 534 has six...18 has two! Two! So much better...am I right?!

At first I just focused on the countdown aspect of this brilliant plan.  I mean, honestly, how many times have you thought, "oh, it's fast Sunday again?...it seems like we just had it!"  Maybe I'm alone in that, and if I am, you should know I've matured a lot since those days and I don't feel that way anymore.  True story.
Nonetheless, it comes around.

But here's the best part.  Here's where we go from simply marking time to making a difference.  We get 18 (or 24) opportunities to fast and pray for our missionaries. Our missionaries.  The ones we raised.  The ones we sent out.  The ones whose success, safety, and spiritual growth mean everything to us!  We get to set aside that time each month that is truly devoted to them and has nothing to do with emails, letters or care packages.  A sacred time to pray for them, their companions, their fellow missionaries and their investigators.  The Savior fasted and prayed for 40 days before he began  his earthly minestry.  We have been blessed to have these few precious times to follow His example and fast and pray for others as they too go about their Father's business.  What if we included the missionaries in our wards and stakes? What if we included ourselves in this great missionary effort?

I miss my girl, but I don't want her to come home.  When she walks off that plane in 18 months I will be the first face she sees (I can pretty much guarantee it), but I want it to be when she has finished the work she was sent to do.  I've waited for her before.  I worried, prayed, and daydreamed about seeing her every day for 9 months.  I can handle 18; especially when I know they'll be the best 18.

Advice:

• Don't count the days...there are just so many of them! :)
• Do something you look forward to once a month.  Massage? Pedicure?
• Find an outlet for your energy.  My friend Robin likes to exercise...a lot! :)
• Let your missionary know you miss them, but don't clobber them with it! We don't want them to count the days, but rather make the days count. (I did not make that up, but it's pretty good).
• Be positive.  They're doing a GREAT thing.

 *In case you don't know, Fast Sunday in generally the first Sunday of the month when members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints abstain from food and drink for 24 hours.  The money that would have been used to purchase food for those meals (and usually much more) is donated to our church specifically to help those in need.  It is a chance to humble ourselves and remember where our blessings truly come from.  During this time we also pray for ourselves or others who have special need of blessings.

Awesome / Not Awesome

They say a picture is worth a thousand words...
Well this little beauty sums up my whole post in one shot.

The Awesome-
Missionary Girl got to call home on Tuesday.  By Monday night we knew it was coming, which meant I slept less than a 6 year old on Christmas Eve.  I really am ridiculous, but I'm hoping that eventually this never-ending adrenaline will have to start burning some fat cells or something.

I checked the phone every hour until it finally rang at 6 a.m. Kelly and I huddled around the speaker phone, talking to our girl.  She could only talk for a few minutes* and made arrangements to call us during her layover in Detroit, if she could. She was excited and nervous, nervous and excited.

It was such a pleasant surprise when she called again.  Her airplane departure time had passed, so I didn't expect anything; but...thanks to a 4 hour delay, I got my phone call.  I think it was the best phone conversation we've ever had! I probably talked to long and too fast, but I knew this was it until Christmas day! She sounded different already...more mature, more confident, more herself.  I was so happy to know her and be in her life.  I made it through the whole conversation without crying...until I said goodbye.  The tears and the cracked voice just came out of nowhere, but I was still smiling when I hung up.  That was Tuesday.  The only day this week I would have been able to just sit in my car and talk to my daughter.  Coincidence? Aww, come one, you know better than that!

The Not Awesome:
Fast forward the rest of my week.
Performances at school.  Teacher gifts.  Last days of school.  Jr. High promotion.  Friends in town.  Suddenly it was Friday and the most horrible post popped up on Facebook.  It was pouring rain in upstate New York...POURING! Had been for days.  Guess whose mom was supposed to order a rain coat and send it to New York??? Guess whose mom forgot to do it? You got it!   I guess you could say I took my eyes off the prize...the prize figuratively being my missionary daughter.  I mean, I do have four other children living at home, and they needed a little bit of attention this week.  Still, I felt horrible.  I still feel horrible.  She still doesn't have a rain coat.  I have someone working on it for me right now.  It's not always easy to find a rain coat to someone's specific wishes; longish, but not too long, good for heat, humidity and cold weather, cute, stylish, not flashy, cinch waist, hood, etc....

To make matters worse, I hadn't even sent her a letter.  I kept thinking I would get it done...and then I kept getting busy.  Saturday, I thought, I'll get it done on Saturday.  But then a last minute temple trip popped up with friends and I decided to go.  I felt horribly guilty for missing a letter on only the third week of missionary mom-dom (although, if you count the number of letters I have sent...but you get my point!)  Right before I left the for the temple, I got a reprieve from the guilt.  I remembered the dear elder I sent on Monday, before she left the MTC.  I had, in fact, sent a letter this week! I was still a good missionary mom!

So... it's been 5 days since we got to talk to her and I have no idea where she is.  Her P day is tomorrow, so I'm eagerly anticipating an email.  I confess I inadvertently lied to you all.  I said that the wait between dropping your child off at the MTC and hearing from them the first time was the worst...but I was wrong.  The wait between knowing they have left the MTC and hearing from them in their first area is definitely worse! Thankfully I was kept insanely busy or I doubt I would have survived it (too dramatic? okay).

I'm pretty comfortable with the fact that she's safe.  I'm sure she got where she was headed...but I'm a detail girl and I want to know it all! We live in the world of instant answers to almost everything...and yet, now that I think about it, the answers to the most important questions rarely come instantly or without a struggle.  I guess maybe 6 days isn't so bad.  Tomorrow should be a very good day.

Advice:

• Just enjoy the heck out of that airport phone call.  It's the best! Listen more than talk.

• Pick out a rain coat before your missionary leaves - especially if they're picky particular.

• * The luggage weight allowance if 52 pounds for State side travel, and apparently they mean 52 pounds.  Missionary girl spent quite a lot of time moving clothing from both of her suitcases to another missionary's suitcase because both of hers weighed in at 53 pounds! (Irritating, right?)  That is why our phone call in Salt Lake City was so short! Pack well Sisters!

Last Day at the MTC

I guess I didn't realize just how good I had it, with Missionary Girl being in the MTC.  Oh sure, we all know I cried like a baby after I dropped her off, but still, it was comforting to know exactly where she was, who she was with, and what she was doing.  I had been dropping her off just down the road at BYU for two years. I should have paced myself, that was just the warm up.

 For the past two weeks I've been comfortable in the fact that she's being fed and that people are kind to her.  I know the things she shares with others are not being ridiculed or mocked.  She's safe from dogs, cars, bike chains and frost bite.  I know she's surrounded by 5,000 young people who have the same goals as her.  I know every person she's met thus far only wants the best for her.  She's been in a spiritual bubble; learning, growing, and absorbing goodness of that great place.

Today is her last day there.  Tomorrow morning she'll leave the MTC and board a plane for Syracuse, New York.  I'm not sure where she'll settle and I'm not even sure when I'll know.   It's a little bit of a leap of faith...for her and for me.  I realize it's not Russia, or the Phillipines, but it's still a bit of my heart, moving farther and farther away.

Tomorrow the bubble evaporates for her and she becomes a missionary, missionary! No more classrooms with patient teachers. No more fellow BYU students pretending to be investigators.  No more dear elder letters waiting at the end of each day.  I know she loves it there and is sad to leave it behind.  But I also know a bigger part of her is anxious to get to New York and share the gospel with others.  I am happy for that.  If we don't put into action what we know, then what good is there in  the knowing?

I am a proud mom.  I am a nervous mom.  I am a mom who still sees my little girl in ponytails, giving her first talk in Primary.  I am a mom who wants my kids to fight their own battles, but one who stands on the sidelines ready to mess you up come to their defense should they need me. I am a mom who believes that my child has made one of the best and most important decisions of her life.  I am a mom who is fully relying on my Father in Heaven to watch over my missionary.  I am a mom who misses my girl.

Despite my deepest desire, I will not be a super spy passenger on that airplane tomorrow (but seriously, wouldn't it be great to see all those kids board that plane??!!).  My heart will be 30,000 feet in the air somewhere between Salt Lake City and Detroit by the time I wake up in the morning.  Her brothers and sister will be celebrating the last day of school and we'll be busy like always.  But every now and then I'll look up and wonder; did you land? Did you transfer? Hope you're not stuck in Detroit! Do you know who your new companion is yet? Are you excited? Are you nervous? Do you really know how much I love you?

I love you to the moon and back Missionary Girl. God bless and Godspeed. 

Hurting Hearts

Wednesday is new missionary day at the MTC.  I personally know three kids who entered last Wednesday.  Among all the new arrivals was a girl I had never met, but will never forget.  Hailey Mayle, from Colorado, entered the MTC to serve a mission in New Hampshire.  She entered with a heavy heart, not knowing where her older brother was.  He had gone hiking several days earlier and had not returned home.  Rescue crews were scouring the mountain trails trying to find him. 

Seven hours after Hailey entered the MTC, her brother was found.  He had fallen from a cliff and had not survived.  Her family arrived to give her the news. My heart aches as I think of the mother and father who said a tearful goodbye to a daughter only hours before they said a final earthly goodbye to a son. I can't imagine having to receive and then give my daughter that kind of news.

 I have faith that the atonement of Christ can make us whole, even after such a devastating loss.  I pray for this family and that they will be able to feel the peace that the gospel of Jesus Christ can bring.

 I am posting a link to the beautiful tribute Hailey wrote for her brother.

http://sistermaylecalledtoserve.wordpress.com/2013/06/07/pressing-forward-enduring-to-the-end/

Alphabet Week

Due to all the letters around here, I am officially deeming this week : Alphabet week!  We got our first email from Missionary Girl on Wednesday...oh happy day! Technically, there were three lovely emails waiting for me in my inbox after zumba.  After class I said a quick goodbye to the girlfriends, who all knew why I was grinning from ear to ear.  I sat in my car, a little sweaty and a lot happy, and started reading.  She is so good! She is happy and learning and growing and feeling the spirit and that's all I could hope for.  She loves getting all the letters and emails we send, even though I may have been slightly harassed by some people for sending too many! She also still  needs her momma because she can't find some things she thought she packed and wonders if I know where they are! Her letter left me reassured and comforted that she was being reassured and comforted.
(If you want to see just how good she is, read this http://narrativesfromnewyork.blogspot.com/  )

On Thursday I went to the mail anticipating nothing... and yet my eyes picked out the partially buried stamp that only comes on a personal letter.  A nice fat envelope addressed to her little sister and 'the kids.' Well, no one was home from school at this point and I want you to know how much self control it took for me to not open that letter! I mean, I really don't think it's illegal to tamper with a 7 year-olds mail, right? But, I waited...and waited...

Inside the envelope were individual letters for each of her four siblings. I will freely admit that after they read them, I read them.  They were the best.  She loves them, collectively and individually and bore her testimony to each of them in a way unique to them.  Here are a few of my favorite passages:

(Sweet Pea - 7)
I sleep in a bunk bed and share the room with 7 girls!
I love spending time here, even though I am away from my family.  It is because I love Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I want people to know about them and how much they love us.

(Bray - 10)
How is your minecraft city coming along?
One day you'll get to teach people about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. They love you so much and will love for you to be a missionary!

(Q- 14)
Hey gamer Qdaddypwns, I know you'll love being a missionary because you get to do some acting in the MTC, pretending to be an investigator! It's super fun but a lot of work! You'll be one heck of a missionary .   Love, SisterMisspwns

(Ike-17)
To the next missionary in our family - be nice to my iphone,  it's my favorite toy and I love and miss it! I want to personally tell you how important being a missionary is. You're so confident sharing the gospel, I know you'll be great. I love you. Stay good!

She wrote to them about the things that interest them, and I love her for being so personal and taking the time to write them all. She is a good big sister and is setting a wonderful example for them.

Now Friday...totally not expecting a thing. But let me tell you what being a member of the former generation brings you (besides the love of 80's music and aerosol hairspray); an ability to judge from the weight of the mail, the type of stamp or envelope, if there's something good in the stack of papers you collected from the box! We didn't get emails or texts or cell phone calls, we got letters! And if your fiancé lived in another state, you learned quickly if the mail was worth going through.

There, in a cute yellow envelope, was yet another letter from the MTC, though this one was not from Missionary Girl. This letter was from one of her friends who is going to Russia on her mission... and she wrote me a letter! It was so fun to hear from her and see her Russian handwriting...thankfully she translated it as well.  Have I mentioned I love missionaries????!!

It was a great week. I think I sent her a dear elder every day.  The little kids sent letters in the mail and my big kids are sending dear elders as well. I sent off a package yesterday to New York, so it will be waiting when Missionary Girl gets there on Tuesday!! I doubt I'll be able to keep up this pace of letter writing, and I probably shouldn't.  I want her to focus on the work and not be too distracted.  I think there's a fine balance...we'll just have to discover what it is.

Advice:

• Take full advantage of dear elder while your missionary is in the MTC. You write them a letter online, it's printed, sealed and delivered the same day, M-F if it's in by noon...and it's FREE! (Though I did make a donation and would encourage other parents to do so).
• Remember, they only see email on Pday, but they can read letters and dear elders every day.
• Write to other missionaries you know from your ward! They all love to get mail.  They have very long days and it's nice to have something to look forward too.
• Understand that they don't have the time we wish they did to write! It's very, very limited.
• If possible, stagger letters from family so there's always a little somethin' somethin' for them to enjoy.
• Be positive, encouraging, and not to full of what they're missing out on.
• Encourage your younger kids to write to them. When they receive mail back, save it for them so they'll have it when they're older.
• Don't read letters to your other kids and then put them online...after the first time...

You've Got Mail!

Today is Missionary Girl's first P-day, or so I was led to believe.  The stretch between drop off and hearing from your missionary is torture! I have been waiting ALL day for a letter.  I am not, eh, how you say, good at waiting!! If pacing the floor and hitting the refresh button on my email were Olympic sports, I would be the Michael Phelps of pacing the floor and hitting the refresh button on my email.  Okay.  Moving on...

No email.  No mail.  I checked our mailbox at noon and at noon thirty I checked our neighbor's mailbox! (Thank you for understanding Lori!)  Of course their mail box was chuck full of mail.  I was not happy! We have NEVER gotten no mail, and today it has to happen? Give me a break.

Two hours dragged by while I did...nothing.  Just thinking.  Wondering why I don't have an email.  Refresh button.  Check FB to see if any other moms got letters today.  Refresh button.  Thinking.

Then what to my wondering ears did appear? The sound of the mail truck, traveling near!

(I know I'm a crazy, please don't comment and tell me that.  I know!)

I went to the window and stealthily peeked through the blinds.  'Twas indeed the mailman (or in our case, woman).  I made myself stay in the house until she put the mail in our box and then I casually walked outside, like, hey, lookie here, the mail came today.  I guess I'll pick it up...y'know, since I'm out here anyway.

Bills, bills, fake important looking letters trying to get me to buy gold coins, Bed Bath & Beyond coupon...and...one small envelope, tucked in between it all that read:  mom y dad (and we don't even speak Spanish!)  I did NOT walk casually back to the house, but I DID at least refrain from tossing all other mail into the gutter.  I may have skipped... or galloped...I'm not really sure, but I do know I was hugging that small envelope to my chest and having a severe allergy attack of some sort. 

After finding the right chair (I take these things very seriously), I carefully opened said letter.  This is how it began:

"My dearest, darlingest Momsie and Popsicle,

There's been some confusion over rooming here at Shiz!"

Okay.  This is just one more reason why I LOVE that girl!  Quoting me a line from one of our favorite musicals, Wicked! I love it!! She's at peace, she's happy,  and she loves her companion, Sister L from Texas (no rooming issues!)  She has already dropped two bowls of cereal...during the same meal, AND, her P day is on Wednesday, not Monday...which is when I can expect an email! Yay. 

My darling, dark brown haired daughter then closed her letter with music notes and:

"for you see my roommate is...BLONDE!"

Advice:

• Save the letters in a binder or box.  They'll be priceless to the missionary later.
• Find something constructive to do with all that nervous energy.
• Sometimes emails from the MTC lie are inaccurate about P day.
• Kindly ask your neighbors to collect their mail daily, so you'll know if the mailman's really been by.
• Let your letter carrier know how important it is that they are timely.
• Be patient and don't reprimand them for not writing... if it's only been 5 days.
• Take a chill pill (oh wait, that's for me!)

(Disclaimer: Sometimes I jest.)

Code Word...for when things get too serious at the MTC

So, I promised you an explanation.  When Makenzie was hugging me goodbye, I may or may not have started to whimper a bit.  She immediately said to me, "remember the Pepto Bismol!"  I laughed.  She laughed.  Kelly laughed.  Here's why:

My little sister picked us up from the airport on Tuesday morning.  After eating a delicious breakfast at Village Inn, she had to run to the grocery store.  You see, she was out of Diet Coke bread and needed to get some before we went home.  We three weary travelers opted to stay in the car, and I'm so glad we did.  As we were sitting there, I noticed (and mentioned) a man sitting diagonally across from us in his truck.  He had peeled off the safety label and was drinking directly out of a Pepto Bismol bottle.  We watched in amazement as he

continued to drink THE ENTIRE THING! The poor guy then sat there, gripping the steering wheel.  He looked like grim death to be honest.  After a few seconds, he steadied himself, tossed the empty over the seat and dug through his grocery bag.  He then produced a bottle of Mylanta, opened it and drank more than half! Kid you not! I had just witnessed my first Pep-lanta cocktail!

Yes, we were laughing, but we weren't laughing out of spite.  It was more of a -  "dude, we've all been there.." kind of laugh!  I hope he made it to wherever he was going.  (No pun intended)

That's when Missionary Girl looked at me and said, "Mom, if you start crying tomorrow, I'm going to just say Pepto Bismol!"  And the code word was born.

Advice:

• Pepto makes travel tablets
• Code word (I know, I mentioned it before!)
• Woods Cross Village in is awesome, ask for 70 something year old Rosemary!

Tender Mercies

A few hours after we dropped Makenzie off at the MTC, I received this text from her sweet roommate at BYU:

"Hey Jaune! Thinking about you today as you sent off Kenzie! A friend in our ward works in the MTC and said she was radiating with sunshine as she checked in! Sounds like she is right where she needs to be!"

My throat made some funny little noise, which I have heard before but am not sure what it means, and my eyes teared up something fierce. But...they were happy, happy, happy tears.  I knew she was living out a dream in that moment.  It was the sweetest gift I could have received in that moment, and I will be forever grateful to Annie for it.

Later that evening, Kelly and I boarded a flight back to California.  We were both emotionally spent and exhausted.  I thought maybe I would be able to take a nap, but soon found I was much too keyed up for that.  I didn't want to watch TV, and I was too tired to talk.  I didn't know what to do with myself.  Once we were airborne I pulled out my ipod and just sat there with it in my hand.

I am a music junky! It is something I can't live without.  I often love to put my ipod on shuffle and just see what songs appear.  There have been times when I've had a hard day and I feel like the perfect song has just popped up.  I put the buds in my ears, set it to shuffle, and said a silent prayer, "You know what I need more than I do."  I hit play.  The music began and instantly took my breath away. I think my spirit recognized it before my mind did.  I sat forward with my face against the glass so no one could see my tears.  We were literally on top of the clouds, with rays of  sunlight streaming through them, looking down on the peaks of snow capped mountains.  It was a song my missionary loves.  No words.  Just beauty.  'If You Could High to Kolob.' I couldn't have planned it any better.  It was an exquisitely beautiful moment between me and my Heavenly Father.  I  felt as if I were at God's front door, both physically and spiritually.


Wish I had taken a photo, but this pretty one was on the internet.

Does Heavenly Father pick songs for our ipods to play? Probably not very often.  Can he? Of course.  Some would call it a coincidence; but why is coincidence easier to believe in than God?  I believe He is in the details and the moments of our lives.  He is my friend.  Just as some of my sweet earthly friends would do all they could to orchestrate an experience like that for me if they could, I believe He did.   He will do it for you, if you will let him.  The closer you allow Him to be to you, the more often you will notice these moments.  The more often you notice them, the more often they will happen.  I love my Heavenly Father and his son, Jesus Christ.  I love how perfectly they love me.  They are aware of my deepest needs and desires, even when I can't find the words to ask for them.

 The music and the landscape changed at the same time and the moment was gone.  I have listened to that song a million times since then, and though it's not the same, it is a reminder to me of the tender mercies shown that day by a loving Father.

Advice:
Notice the tender mercies that appear along this journey.  There will be many.

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).