Happy 'One Year as a Missionary' Day

Hey there everyone, I hope you're all up for another rousing game of  'Beat the clock'... because I am.  It's an important day to me, and the words have been swirling in my head since the alarm went off this morning, but this is the first time I've had to sit down and write.  So, now I'm drowning in a flurry of words that have to be posted before 12 o'clock...because today's the day...the actual day.

One year ago today we dropped off our sweet Missionary Girl at the MTC in Provo, Utah.  It was the best worst best experience of my life!  It was an experience I had always wanted and one I had always dreaded. For weeks before she left I would catch myself standing in my closet, or the pantry, or the laundry room, crying over the fact that she would be leaving.  I would envision her walking away from me for 18 months and the tears would roll.  I wanted her to go, I just didn't want her to go...

But go she did...and now it's been a year.

A whole entire year.  365 days. Well, 366 if you count today...and I do.  

I have survived and she has thrived.  What more could you ask for? 

Nothing.

I can not ask for any better experience than the one she is having right now.  There is no better way for her to learn and grow and find out who she really is, than by serving, working, crying, praying, teaching, loving, wondering, trouble shooting, problem solving, handling, driving, friend-shipping, counseling, guiding, leading, obeying, trusting and believing.  This is the real world.

When I think of the 365 days, it is nothing really, compared with eternity.  It is nothing really, compared to the years some spend wondering who they are, why they're here, where they come from.  It is nothing really...and yet it is, because you give it your everything.

Missionary Girl has six months left.  Six short months.  She was worried the time would go by too fast, that the end would come too soon.  But she has reached a new peace and is grateful for the time she has left, and confident that she'll be able to move on happily when the time has come.  The next 6 months are all about no regrets.

She's going to live it up and I'm going to suck it up... I miss her, but I'm happy, because she's happy.  And when your child has been away from home for a year and has been sick, rejected, lied to, cursed out, discouraged, and is still happy...you can't help but be happy.

I may have been a little excited today, knowing it was her 'one year as a missionary' birthday.  I knew she planned to celebrate with her companion, because they went into the MTC on the same day...and I think they like to celebrate stuff.  When I mentioned this significant day to my 8 year old daughter she rolled her eyes and said, "I know...you already told me, psychotic missionary mom!" Guess what? I took that as a compliment.  Why not? If you have to be a psycho, what better thing to be a psycho about? So I am also celebrating one year of being a missionary mom today...because I am one and I love it!

The blessings to our family have been wonderful.  I have met amazing people from everywhere imaginable.  I've seen how much good there is in the world.  I've learned to depend on my Heavenly Father and rely on faith.  I have learned that I did some things right.  I have caught the spirit of missionary work.  I have a stronger desire to be better than I am. I have seen the affect of a good example on my younger children. I have learned how to use Skype! I have been comforted.  I have been blessed.  I have seen miracles.

Sometimes I feel this journey has helped me grow as much as anyone.  Being a missionary mom for the past year has been an incredible experience.  Bring on the next 6 months... I can't get enough!

She thought she was dying...and she was okay with that

Missionary Girl writes me faithfully every week.  She tells me a lot of stuff.  But, she doesn't tell me everything, and I get that.  I get that there are stories that she will save to share with me only after she's home and safe...because she knows who I am.  The freaker outer, the worry wart, the worst possible case imaginer.  That's me.

Well, to make my Mother's Day Skype especially memorable, she shared one of those stories with me. 

Missionary Girl had been sick around Christmas time.  She had a horrible case of the flu and no mama to take care of her.  She said she had thrown up so many times she was getting worried.  Sometime during the  night, she decided to take a bath.  This is when she noticed her legs were blue...completely blue.  In her feverish haze she wondered if she should call for her companion and go to the hospital.  She was concerned about possible amputation...because she felt horrible...and you know, her her legs were blue.

You should know that by this point in the conversation I was teary eyed.  Obviously she was fine, she was there on the screen telling me the story with two arms and two legs.  I just felt sad.  Sad that she was so sick and I hadn't even known.  But there was more to the story...

She said she thought maybe she was dying...

and she was okay with that.  

She pictured returning to her heavenly home and was a little bit excited at the thought.  But, bless her little heart, then she thought of me and how sad I would be if she didn't come home from her mission and decided she would go to the hospital after all, if she woke up in the morning!    

Well, she did wake up in the morning, feeling a little better than the night before.  When she felt well enough to start moving around her room a little bit, she noticed her white socks boot socks she had worn the day before.  They were also blue.  She picked them up and it suddenly dawned on her.  She had also worn brand new navy blue leggings the day before, and they turned everything blue! She would be keeping her legs!

He eyes were twinkling with laughter as she shared the story with us and we all had a good chuckle and talked about other things.  But later in the day I was dissecting this conversation in my head, as I am known to do.  My daughter thought she was dying...and she was okay with that.  She was calm.  She was at peace with where she was in her life.   There was no panic or focus on regrets.  She was accepting of the fact that this might be it.

I will be honest and say that my natural man did not like that one bit.  I had reprimanded her (nicely) for not getting to a doctor or calling her companion for help.  I had told her that, "if in the future you think you might be dying, please seek immediate medical attention!"  She said she would.  But I was still a little bit sorrowful about this part of our conversation.   

Then I had this thought, which I am sure did not come from me.

Your daughter is comfortable with who she is and where she is in her life...high fever or not.  She loves her Heavenly Father and His Son and is anxious to see them again.  She is a happy person who is working hard to do what she feels is right, and she has faith.

So I have been thinking about how I want to feel when my final moments draw close.  If I am aware they are coming, I want them to be filled with peace.  I want to know I have done my best.  I want the people I love to know that I love them, because of they way I have treated them.  I want to not regret the things I have said, the time I have spent, the life I have lived.  I want to be sure I have laughed and loved  and shared and felt.  I want to be known as someone who believed in and followed the Savior. I want to be someone who shared the gospel. I want to be confident I have taught my children how to return to their Father in Heaven.  I want to truly be prepared to meet my Maker.  I want to kneel before Him and have Him be proud of the woman I have become.  

It will take a lifetime to prepare for this, my lifetime, no matter how long that is.  I hope it's a long way off; but when my time comes, I hope I can be okay with that.