When summer came this year, I found my clothes were a little to snug. I guess a winter spent in sweats and eating lots of chocolate to ease the guilt and pain had found a way to surface. My friend and neighbor who also had a son come home early just weeks after our son came home, found herself in the same situation with her summer clothes so we decided to walk every morning. I was a little hesitant about this at first because I did not want to spend every morning wallowing in grief. I didn’t want either one of us to feel like all we could talk about was the hurt, anger, and injustices of having sons return home early. And she must have felt the same way because for an hour each morning we talked about everything else that life sends our way and only occasionally talked about our sons and how they, and we, were holding up. I will admit, every time a neighbor would drive by us on their way to work I wondered if they would think, “Oh, that’s a good walking combination since they both have ‘one of those kids.’”
One morning in July, we were just finishing our walk and passing our church when we see the Bishop’s family walking towards the church with their son who was leaving for the MTC in a matter of hours. Here is a family with brothers, sisters, and grandparents, all heading to the church to have their elder set apart and embark on their journey with a missionary. The same thing we had both done just months earlier. We knew what the Bishop’s family was feeling. We also knew what each other was feeling in our hearts, stomach, and mind at that very moment without having to say a word. There is a strength that instantly comes from knowing someone else is feeling my pain and sadness. It validates me. We wished the elder well and congratulated their family. Because, after all, it’s every Mormon mothers dream to get to that day.
Later that night we were at a wedding reception for our dear friend’s son. As we sat at the table visiting with friends, the Bishop and his wife arrived at the reception. I was truly surprised to see the wife there. When I dropped my son off at the MTC, I cried for the whole day. But that’s why she is a Bishops wife – they are stronger. I asked how it had gone dropping off her son and how she was holding up. I quickly became sorry I had asked that question. She immediately told me for the next several minutes “how happy she was for this day, that her son had been preparing for his whole life for this experience, nothing would be sending him home, he was ready, he was a good kid, and she was ready to just sit back, not worry, and let the blessings pour out over their family.” I was to speechless to say anything. I felt an inch tall and wanted the ground to open up so I didn’t have to face that awkward moment.Yes, everything she said about her son was true and I know her intentions were not to hurt. But what a slap that was to me. I too wanted to sit back and not worry and have blessings poured out on my family too. And then I thought I guess my kid wasn’t a good kid, and clearly wasn’t prepared or ready and she knew this but how come I didn’t? How come I didn’t get it? If I had, I never, ever would have sent him out.
I have had mothers who have sons struggling with the decision to go on a mission ask me if they should push their sons to go. I may rot in hell for this but I have told these women I wish I had never sent my son. I wish everyday that I had never pushed him to go. That was my fault. If there are mothers out there who have sons that are questioning whether to serve, I would say to find out why they are hesitant. Find the difference between the normal fear a young man would have of something so big and new and the possibility that there are things a young man may have done that makes them not worthy to serve. I regret that I didn’t do that every single day and probably always will. I’m a Mormon mom. I love to find reasons to make me feel guilty. Maybe because I can eat more chocolate and justify it :D
One morning in July, we were just finishing our walk and passing our church when we see the Bishop’s family walking towards the church with their son who was leaving for the MTC in a matter of hours. Here is a family with brothers, sisters, and grandparents, all heading to the church to have their elder set apart and embark on their journey with a missionary. The same thing we had both done just months earlier. We knew what the Bishop’s family was feeling. We also knew what each other was feeling in our hearts, stomach, and mind at that very moment without having to say a word. There is a strength that instantly comes from knowing someone else is feeling my pain and sadness. It validates me. We wished the elder well and congratulated their family. Because, after all, it’s every Mormon mothers dream to get to that day.
Later that night we were at a wedding reception for our dear friend’s son. As we sat at the table visiting with friends, the Bishop and his wife arrived at the reception. I was truly surprised to see the wife there. When I dropped my son off at the MTC, I cried for the whole day. But that’s why she is a Bishops wife – they are stronger. I asked how it had gone dropping off her son and how she was holding up. I quickly became sorry I had asked that question. She immediately told me for the next several minutes “how happy she was for this day, that her son had been preparing for his whole life for this experience, nothing would be sending him home, he was ready, he was a good kid, and she was ready to just sit back, not worry, and let the blessings pour out over their family.” I was to speechless to say anything. I felt an inch tall and wanted the ground to open up so I didn’t have to face that awkward moment.Yes, everything she said about her son was true and I know her intentions were not to hurt. But what a slap that was to me. I too wanted to sit back and not worry and have blessings poured out on my family too. And then I thought I guess my kid wasn’t a good kid, and clearly wasn’t prepared or ready and she knew this but how come I didn’t? How come I didn’t get it? If I had, I never, ever would have sent him out.
I have had mothers who have sons struggling with the decision to go on a mission ask me if they should push their sons to go. I may rot in hell for this but I have told these women I wish I had never sent my son. I wish everyday that I had never pushed him to go. That was my fault. If there are mothers out there who have sons that are questioning whether to serve, I would say to find out why they are hesitant. Find the difference between the normal fear a young man would have of something so big and new and the possibility that there are things a young man may have done that makes them not worthy to serve. I regret that I didn’t do that every single day and probably always will. I’m a Mormon mom. I love to find reasons to make me feel guilty. Maybe because I can eat more chocolate and justify it :D
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