There are always subtle reminders everywhere I turn that can really set me back. I can go weeks and not really think that my son would only have 6 months left if he had stayed out. I can get through days where I don’t think about “it” at all. I can go to stores, run errands, show up at high school events and no one asks my how my son is. I love those weeks. And then I can have a day, just one day, where every time I turn around there is another reminder.
I started off the day by running to Wal-Mart. While I was there I ran into a lady whose ward we used to live in. Her husband had been our bishop. Her grandson and my son are the same age and used to be playmates. She asked how my son was doing and how excited we must be that he’d be home soon. It’s been 14 months since he came home and I’m still shocked that everyone doesn’t know he came home. News like that always seems to travel quickly. But in that moment, once again, I had to explain that he had come home just weeks after leaving. She then told me how her son had come home years ago from his mission early as well. She told me how it nearly destroyed her; that she stayed in her house as much as she could for 18 months because she didn’t want to face anyone or answer questions. She told me how it took everything she had to face the world again and not feel like a failure as a mother. I felt validated in all the things I have felt the past 14 months because I know that other mothers, other parents, struggle to make sense of it all too. I also looked at this woman that I have admired for years and thought, “she survived. I can too.”
As I was leaving Wal Mart I ran into another lady and her son who used to live in our current ward. She was beaming and bursting with excitement because they had just finished all the medical paperwork for their son’s mission papers and couldn’t wait to turn the papers in. I sat and listened to her talk about how soon she thought he would leave, all the possibilities of where he could serve, and how excited their family was. I told her how awesome it would be, how happy I was for them, and I’d be excited to see where he would be serving. And I genuinely mean that. All I wanted to do was finish that conversation and get out before I had to explain for a second time in 20 minutes that my son was home and not on the tail end of his mission. But that didn’t happen. But I took courage in knowing that other mom’s survive this and I will too.
An hour late I learned a dear friend’s daughter was given the gift of a new baby through the miracle of adoption. My friend wanted to run to the temple at the last minute before flying out to help her daughter. She asked me to come along with her and I willingly went without a thought of what day and what time it was. When we arrived at the Provo temple I realized it was a Wednesday afternoon at 1 PM. There were hundreds of parents there with their missionaries dropping them off at the MTC. But I smiled at all those parents we passed even though it still stings a bit.
And of course when I got home a couple hours later and checked Facebook, three of my friends had kids who had gotten mission calls and one friend had posted a video of them dropping their daughter off at the MTC. And I said out loud, to no one in particular, "Really?!" That's a lot of reminders in 6 hours :)
And then my husband came home from work that night and talked of a co-worker who was having dinner with a friend in a few hours whose son had returned home after 5 days in the MTC. This co-worker came to my husband, knowing that my husband would understand what his friend was experiencing, and asked how he could support his devastated friend. As I related all my experiences through the day to my husband we both felt that heaviness in our hearts. But we also feel more determined to write about the things we experience and feel so that others may draw strength. I am realizing I will never escape the subtle reminders that are a part of everyday life but they don’t have to de-rail my forward progress. I can feel empowered that I’m still standing and still facing the world. There is strength in knowing that we are not alone in our struggles or the way we feel. My husband and I hoped as we went to bed that night that a family in a neighboring town who had just picked up their son would find hope and comfort in our little blog.
I started off the day by running to Wal-Mart. While I was there I ran into a lady whose ward we used to live in. Her husband had been our bishop. Her grandson and my son are the same age and used to be playmates. She asked how my son was doing and how excited we must be that he’d be home soon. It’s been 14 months since he came home and I’m still shocked that everyone doesn’t know he came home. News like that always seems to travel quickly. But in that moment, once again, I had to explain that he had come home just weeks after leaving. She then told me how her son had come home years ago from his mission early as well. She told me how it nearly destroyed her; that she stayed in her house as much as she could for 18 months because she didn’t want to face anyone or answer questions. She told me how it took everything she had to face the world again and not feel like a failure as a mother. I felt validated in all the things I have felt the past 14 months because I know that other mothers, other parents, struggle to make sense of it all too. I also looked at this woman that I have admired for years and thought, “she survived. I can too.”
As I was leaving Wal Mart I ran into another lady and her son who used to live in our current ward. She was beaming and bursting with excitement because they had just finished all the medical paperwork for their son’s mission papers and couldn’t wait to turn the papers in. I sat and listened to her talk about how soon she thought he would leave, all the possibilities of where he could serve, and how excited their family was. I told her how awesome it would be, how happy I was for them, and I’d be excited to see where he would be serving. And I genuinely mean that. All I wanted to do was finish that conversation and get out before I had to explain for a second time in 20 minutes that my son was home and not on the tail end of his mission. But that didn’t happen. But I took courage in knowing that other mom’s survive this and I will too.
An hour late I learned a dear friend’s daughter was given the gift of a new baby through the miracle of adoption. My friend wanted to run to the temple at the last minute before flying out to help her daughter. She asked me to come along with her and I willingly went without a thought of what day and what time it was. When we arrived at the Provo temple I realized it was a Wednesday afternoon at 1 PM. There were hundreds of parents there with their missionaries dropping them off at the MTC. But I smiled at all those parents we passed even though it still stings a bit.
And of course when I got home a couple hours later and checked Facebook, three of my friends had kids who had gotten mission calls and one friend had posted a video of them dropping their daughter off at the MTC. And I said out loud, to no one in particular, "Really?!" That's a lot of reminders in 6 hours :)
And then my husband came home from work that night and talked of a co-worker who was having dinner with a friend in a few hours whose son had returned home after 5 days in the MTC. This co-worker came to my husband, knowing that my husband would understand what his friend was experiencing, and asked how he could support his devastated friend. As I related all my experiences through the day to my husband we both felt that heaviness in our hearts. But we also feel more determined to write about the things we experience and feel so that others may draw strength. I am realizing I will never escape the subtle reminders that are a part of everyday life but they don’t have to de-rail my forward progress. I can feel empowered that I’m still standing and still facing the world. There is strength in knowing that we are not alone in our struggles or the way we feel. My husband and I hoped as we went to bed that night that a family in a neighboring town who had just picked up their son would find hope and comfort in our little blog.
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