After our son came home I wondered if I would ever enjoy Christmas again but I felt that this year I could enjoy the holiday. It is true that time does heal wounds and a year had done a lot of healing for me. I was a much stronger, happier, and settled person over his early return at this point. My son was doing so much better than where he was a year ago so it was easier to be happy. Now 20, he had been working full time for year, had been living on his own for 8 months - paying rent, buying food, earning and finding his way in the world. He was registered for school to start in just a couple of weeks. He had been dating a really nice girl that had done wonders for him. She brought him back to into the church, he was attending the temple, and I was beginning to wonder if they had talked about marriage yet. Was a wedding on the horizon for 2013? The happy feeling had returned to our home and we did our family traditions through the month of December with happiness in our hearts and things actually felt okay again. There was still a small part of me that said, "we should still have a missionary out" but those feelings didn't last long anymore. I was excited that all 5 of the kids would be home for Christmas (my daughter from college and my son who lived 30 minutes away) and that they were all healthy and finally all happy.
Christmas Eve day started with our tradition of going out to breakfast as a family. Our son, who was still at his apartment, had to work until noon and wasn't able to join us which made us sad but work had to come first. He had started a new job recently and didn't have personal time yet. He was excited to come home and participate in all the other traditions we had. Our valley had been getting heavy, heavy snow storms the past week making everything beautiful for Christmas but dangerous for driving. He did not have a good snow car but insisted on driving home to our house as soon as he got off work - when the worst part of the storm was supposed to hit. His best friend, more like his brother, and next door neighbor who was serving his mission in Japan was calling home around 3 that afternoon. Nothing would keep him from being able to talk to his friend/brother. As a mom, I was very worried about his safety and tried to convince him to wait until the storm had passed and the plows had been out. But he wasn't going to be swayed. He had to be there for that phone call. Thankfully he was watched over and no harm came to him. As he came in the door he even admitted it was a pretty scary drive out.
He immediately went to the tree to see all the presents, hugged me and his dad, teased his sisters like brothers are supposed to, and then headed out the door to his friends house. He was SO excited to talk to him and couldn't wait. We told him to give this Elder our love as we loved and missed him too. He left very happy and it showed on his face.
About an hour later we saw him walk by the window on his way in the house. He did not have that same happy look on his face and I turned to my husband and said, "He doesn't look right. Something happened." My husband tends to think I can be over-sensitive and read too much into things (he's right....sometimes) and said he was fine. He was just missing his friend. When he came in the door I immediately sensed how different he seemed. Where was that happy person that had just left here an hour ago? Did he not get to talk to his friend? I tried to decide if he was more subdued? More introspective? More distant? Something was weighing on his mind but I wasn't sure what it was or if I was supposed to ask. We asked how his friend was and how the conversation went and he said it was great, he was happy, and had just had a baptism. They were able to talk for about 15 minutes and it was awesome. And that was about all. And there wasn't a lot of time to dwell on his mood - we had family coming for dinner and I was busy getting everything ready.
We had our traditional dinner, annual cookie decorating contest, family home evening and after our company left, we all piled into our TV room to watch "A Christmas Story." My kids, who were now all teenagers, still watched that movie every Christmas Eve and slept in the TV room together like they had when they were little. I loved that they didn't think they were too old for that. I continued to notice how distant my son seemed but I chalked it up to his missing his friend and nothing more.
Christmas Day was just like all the other Christmas Day's we have always had. The kids all piled into our room at 7:30 to wake us up and we spent the morning opening presents and having a good time. I don't think it matters how old your kids get, there is still that excitement when they see what Santa brought and how they love to watch each other open their gifts. My heart was more full this year because there was joy and happiness again. There was something a little more special this year and something inside of me was telling me to savor this moment more than usual. I couldn't help but wonder why. And I could still sense that something was weighing heavily on my son's mind - maybe more so this morning than last night.
After presents were opened and breakfast was done, we did what we always do; piled back into the TV room to watch new movies and eat leftovers all day while staying in our pajamas. The house is a mess and it's the only day of the year that I don't care. It's my favorite day of the year because we can just all be together and relax. I asked my son again if everything was okay and if he needed to talk but he said he was fine. There was another big storm moving in overnight that would effect my son's 30 minute commute to work the next morning. He was worried about a white knuckle drive and decided he would go back to his apartment Christmas night to avoid the storm and a messy commute. As a mom, it broke my heart to think of him spending Christmas night alone in his apartment with everyone gone but he said he would rather do that than drive in the bad weather. I had learned the past year not to push so much and let him make his own choices. So we gathered up his presents, heaped leftovers into baggies, and started loading up his car. As I hugged him goodbye I once again asked him if everything was okay and he said, "I'm fine. Everything is okay." I knew that wasn't true but I had to respect his privacy.
My husband started to help our son haul things out to his car while I rounded up the girls to work on "cleaning" up the house (it's more of an attempt to find some carpet on the floor). I had two girls upstairs and two girls downstairs and we were making some progress. About ten minutes later my 13 year old daughter came downstairs and asked why her brother was in the front room crying to dad. My heart stopped. I knew something was wrong and I immediately feared the worst. I feared his girlfriend was expecting and he didn't know what to do. Yes, I am that bad of a mom but past experience had taught me the worst happens with this child.
I told the girls I had no idea what was going on but to stay downstairs and keep cleaning. I quietly came upstairs and could hear my son sobbing but no one was talking. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. Do I barge in there and demand to know what is going on? Do I stand back and allow my son to unload to his dad without barging in? I quietly poked my head around the corner of the front room they were sitting in so that my husband could see me but my son could not. My husband looked at me but didn't say a word and didn't motion for me to come sit down so I took that as my cue to let them be alone and I headed back downstairs. My head was spinning all over again and my heart was in my throat. My husbands side of the family is genetically wired to never show emotion, never react, and never believe that anything isn't fine and my son got that DNA. Clearly something was very, very wrong because I had never seen my son cry or be this upset - not even when he was released that awful night he arrived home.
As I walked downstairs I continued to think the very worst scenarios possible. My girls asked me what was wrong and what was going on. I had no idea and I asked them if their brother had said anything to them last night. Nothing had been said but they too had noticed he seemed different when he came back from talking to his friend on Christmas Eve. We turned on a movie although I don't think any of us were paying attention. The real movie was unfolding upstairs in the front room and we didn't have a clue what it would be about.
About an hour later the girls grew tired and wanted to go to bed - in their own rooms. Three of the bedrooms were upstairs. I figured enough time had gone by that we could safely go up there; maybe our son had left for home. But as we came upstairs we could hear them talking in the front room so the girls moved about the upstairs in their normal way, talking to each other, getting ready for bed, fighting over who got to shower next - the normal nightly routine. My husband and son quietly got up and moved back into our bedroom for privacy without saying a word to anyone and shut the door. More confused looks from the girls and all I could was shrug my shoulders - I was just as clueless. I cleaned up the kitchen, got the younger girls into bed and then went downstairs to find something on TV. Anything to shut my mind off from creating more horrible scenarios.
About an hour later I finally heard footsteps coming down the stairs. I was about to find out what was so wrong and I suddenly had a huge desire to throw up. It reminded me of when we were caught between the two worlds of knowing he was coming home early and trying to hold on to everything being how it was supposed to be. I wasn't prepared for our world to be turned upside down again. We were doing so well. We had all healed and moved on. Life was good again - I couldn't do bad again.
My husband came into the TV room and said I needed to come upstairs and hear what our son had to say. I told him I didn't want to. He smiled and said, "You really need to come upstairs and listen to him." Why had he smiled? There was nothing to smile about. As we walked up the stairs I said, "Just tell me if I'm going to be a Grandma." Again, he smiled and said, "Just listen to him." Why did he keep smiling?
We walked into our bedroom where my son was sitting on our couch. He looked and sounded like someone who had been crying for a very long time. My heart softened to see my little boy so broken and so hurt - or at least I thought he was hurting. In that moment I knew I had to put aside my fears and not be selfish - this wasn't about me, it was about him. All that could matter at that moment was for him to know I loved him and would stand by him...again. I gave my son a big hug, held him a little longer than normal, and told him how much I loved him...no matter what. I looked at my husband for re-assurance that I could handle what was coming and he was still just smiling - a huge smile. Now I was really confused and said, "What is going on?"
My son told me to sit down. Fully expecting to hear the words, "You're going to be a grandma," I was confused when he said, "I have to go back." In my mind he was obviously talking about going back to his apartment that night and I told him how sorry I was he would be alone that night. But even as I said that it didn't make sense - why would that upset him so much? Again, I looked at my husband for some direction and he just rolled his eyes at me. What had I missed? My son smirked in the way that only he can do and said, "No mom. I have to go BACK."
For once I was speechless, probably because I felt like the wind had just been knocked out of me. My mind was racing. I looked at my husband again who was smiling even more now and then it clicked. He wanted to go back...back to what we had spent the past year trying to forget and trying to overcome. Not once in the past two hours had this scenario raced through my mind. This couldn't be happening. What had happened?
My son told me that over that past few months he had been having thoughts and feelings about returning to the mission field. He said he had been praying for direction on the next step in his life. His desire was to get back into school and just move on with his life but that answer didn't feel right even though he was registered for winter semester. That morning he had prayed again to really know that going back to school next month was right for him. While he was talking to his friend in Japan and listening to him talk about the man he had just baptized, our son said he felt the Spirit bear strong witness to him that it was time for him to return. He said he felt a fire ignite deep inside his soul during that phone call and he could not deny what he had felt. It was time to return and he knew without a doubt that was what the Lord needed him to do. Now I understood his mood, his countenance, and his silence. He shared many more thoughts and feelings and I just listened; I was too stunned and blindsided for words.
By the time he was done sharing it was very late and he was emotionally and physically exhausted. After we had a prayer, he went down to his room to sleep even though he knew he would face a messy commute in the morning. As I laid in bed that night it was impossible to sleep. While my husband fell asleep with a big smile on his face I didn't share his enthusiasm. How was I supposed to get on board with something that I never wanted to experience again? I swore I would never send another missionary out - was I supposed to put our family out there again like that? I had spent every day of the past year healing from the most painful thing we had ever experienced - would we really have to go through this again? How does the process even work to go back? I fell asleep realizing no conclusions had been made, no plan put into action - we had only listened to our son literally throw up months of feelings and emotions that he needed to get off his mind. Maybe when he got up the next morning he would feel different? Maybe in the morning everything would be like it never happened? And hopefully when he started school in a few days all this would pass. And first thing in the morning I was certainly going to talk to my next door neighbor about the phone call that had happened in her home Christmas Eve day.
Christmas Eve day started with our tradition of going out to breakfast as a family. Our son, who was still at his apartment, had to work until noon and wasn't able to join us which made us sad but work had to come first. He had started a new job recently and didn't have personal time yet. He was excited to come home and participate in all the other traditions we had. Our valley had been getting heavy, heavy snow storms the past week making everything beautiful for Christmas but dangerous for driving. He did not have a good snow car but insisted on driving home to our house as soon as he got off work - when the worst part of the storm was supposed to hit. His best friend, more like his brother, and next door neighbor who was serving his mission in Japan was calling home around 3 that afternoon. Nothing would keep him from being able to talk to his friend/brother. As a mom, I was very worried about his safety and tried to convince him to wait until the storm had passed and the plows had been out. But he wasn't going to be swayed. He had to be there for that phone call. Thankfully he was watched over and no harm came to him. As he came in the door he even admitted it was a pretty scary drive out.
He immediately went to the tree to see all the presents, hugged me and his dad, teased his sisters like brothers are supposed to, and then headed out the door to his friends house. He was SO excited to talk to him and couldn't wait. We told him to give this Elder our love as we loved and missed him too. He left very happy and it showed on his face.
About an hour later we saw him walk by the window on his way in the house. He did not have that same happy look on his face and I turned to my husband and said, "He doesn't look right. Something happened." My husband tends to think I can be over-sensitive and read too much into things (he's right....sometimes) and said he was fine. He was just missing his friend. When he came in the door I immediately sensed how different he seemed. Where was that happy person that had just left here an hour ago? Did he not get to talk to his friend? I tried to decide if he was more subdued? More introspective? More distant? Something was weighing on his mind but I wasn't sure what it was or if I was supposed to ask. We asked how his friend was and how the conversation went and he said it was great, he was happy, and had just had a baptism. They were able to talk for about 15 minutes and it was awesome. And that was about all. And there wasn't a lot of time to dwell on his mood - we had family coming for dinner and I was busy getting everything ready.
We had our traditional dinner, annual cookie decorating contest, family home evening and after our company left, we all piled into our TV room to watch "A Christmas Story." My kids, who were now all teenagers, still watched that movie every Christmas Eve and slept in the TV room together like they had when they were little. I loved that they didn't think they were too old for that. I continued to notice how distant my son seemed but I chalked it up to his missing his friend and nothing more.
Christmas Day was just like all the other Christmas Day's we have always had. The kids all piled into our room at 7:30 to wake us up and we spent the morning opening presents and having a good time. I don't think it matters how old your kids get, there is still that excitement when they see what Santa brought and how they love to watch each other open their gifts. My heart was more full this year because there was joy and happiness again. There was something a little more special this year and something inside of me was telling me to savor this moment more than usual. I couldn't help but wonder why. And I could still sense that something was weighing heavily on my son's mind - maybe more so this morning than last night.
After presents were opened and breakfast was done, we did what we always do; piled back into the TV room to watch new movies and eat leftovers all day while staying in our pajamas. The house is a mess and it's the only day of the year that I don't care. It's my favorite day of the year because we can just all be together and relax. I asked my son again if everything was okay and if he needed to talk but he said he was fine. There was another big storm moving in overnight that would effect my son's 30 minute commute to work the next morning. He was worried about a white knuckle drive and decided he would go back to his apartment Christmas night to avoid the storm and a messy commute. As a mom, it broke my heart to think of him spending Christmas night alone in his apartment with everyone gone but he said he would rather do that than drive in the bad weather. I had learned the past year not to push so much and let him make his own choices. So we gathered up his presents, heaped leftovers into baggies, and started loading up his car. As I hugged him goodbye I once again asked him if everything was okay and he said, "I'm fine. Everything is okay." I knew that wasn't true but I had to respect his privacy.
My husband started to help our son haul things out to his car while I rounded up the girls to work on "cleaning" up the house (it's more of an attempt to find some carpet on the floor). I had two girls upstairs and two girls downstairs and we were making some progress. About ten minutes later my 13 year old daughter came downstairs and asked why her brother was in the front room crying to dad. My heart stopped. I knew something was wrong and I immediately feared the worst. I feared his girlfriend was expecting and he didn't know what to do. Yes, I am that bad of a mom but past experience had taught me the worst happens with this child.
I told the girls I had no idea what was going on but to stay downstairs and keep cleaning. I quietly came upstairs and could hear my son sobbing but no one was talking. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. Do I barge in there and demand to know what is going on? Do I stand back and allow my son to unload to his dad without barging in? I quietly poked my head around the corner of the front room they were sitting in so that my husband could see me but my son could not. My husband looked at me but didn't say a word and didn't motion for me to come sit down so I took that as my cue to let them be alone and I headed back downstairs. My head was spinning all over again and my heart was in my throat. My husbands side of the family is genetically wired to never show emotion, never react, and never believe that anything isn't fine and my son got that DNA. Clearly something was very, very wrong because I had never seen my son cry or be this upset - not even when he was released that awful night he arrived home.
As I walked downstairs I continued to think the very worst scenarios possible. My girls asked me what was wrong and what was going on. I had no idea and I asked them if their brother had said anything to them last night. Nothing had been said but they too had noticed he seemed different when he came back from talking to his friend on Christmas Eve. We turned on a movie although I don't think any of us were paying attention. The real movie was unfolding upstairs in the front room and we didn't have a clue what it would be about.
About an hour later the girls grew tired and wanted to go to bed - in their own rooms. Three of the bedrooms were upstairs. I figured enough time had gone by that we could safely go up there; maybe our son had left for home. But as we came upstairs we could hear them talking in the front room so the girls moved about the upstairs in their normal way, talking to each other, getting ready for bed, fighting over who got to shower next - the normal nightly routine. My husband and son quietly got up and moved back into our bedroom for privacy without saying a word to anyone and shut the door. More confused looks from the girls and all I could was shrug my shoulders - I was just as clueless. I cleaned up the kitchen, got the younger girls into bed and then went downstairs to find something on TV. Anything to shut my mind off from creating more horrible scenarios.
About an hour later I finally heard footsteps coming down the stairs. I was about to find out what was so wrong and I suddenly had a huge desire to throw up. It reminded me of when we were caught between the two worlds of knowing he was coming home early and trying to hold on to everything being how it was supposed to be. I wasn't prepared for our world to be turned upside down again. We were doing so well. We had all healed and moved on. Life was good again - I couldn't do bad again.
My husband came into the TV room and said I needed to come upstairs and hear what our son had to say. I told him I didn't want to. He smiled and said, "You really need to come upstairs and listen to him." Why had he smiled? There was nothing to smile about. As we walked up the stairs I said, "Just tell me if I'm going to be a Grandma." Again, he smiled and said, "Just listen to him." Why did he keep smiling?
We walked into our bedroom where my son was sitting on our couch. He looked and sounded like someone who had been crying for a very long time. My heart softened to see my little boy so broken and so hurt - or at least I thought he was hurting. In that moment I knew I had to put aside my fears and not be selfish - this wasn't about me, it was about him. All that could matter at that moment was for him to know I loved him and would stand by him...again. I gave my son a big hug, held him a little longer than normal, and told him how much I loved him...no matter what. I looked at my husband for re-assurance that I could handle what was coming and he was still just smiling - a huge smile. Now I was really confused and said, "What is going on?"
My son told me to sit down. Fully expecting to hear the words, "You're going to be a grandma," I was confused when he said, "I have to go back." In my mind he was obviously talking about going back to his apartment that night and I told him how sorry I was he would be alone that night. But even as I said that it didn't make sense - why would that upset him so much? Again, I looked at my husband for some direction and he just rolled his eyes at me. What had I missed? My son smirked in the way that only he can do and said, "No mom. I have to go BACK."
For once I was speechless, probably because I felt like the wind had just been knocked out of me. My mind was racing. I looked at my husband again who was smiling even more now and then it clicked. He wanted to go back...back to what we had spent the past year trying to forget and trying to overcome. Not once in the past two hours had this scenario raced through my mind. This couldn't be happening. What had happened?
My son told me that over that past few months he had been having thoughts and feelings about returning to the mission field. He said he had been praying for direction on the next step in his life. His desire was to get back into school and just move on with his life but that answer didn't feel right even though he was registered for winter semester. That morning he had prayed again to really know that going back to school next month was right for him. While he was talking to his friend in Japan and listening to him talk about the man he had just baptized, our son said he felt the Spirit bear strong witness to him that it was time for him to return. He said he felt a fire ignite deep inside his soul during that phone call and he could not deny what he had felt. It was time to return and he knew without a doubt that was what the Lord needed him to do. Now I understood his mood, his countenance, and his silence. He shared many more thoughts and feelings and I just listened; I was too stunned and blindsided for words.
By the time he was done sharing it was very late and he was emotionally and physically exhausted. After we had a prayer, he went down to his room to sleep even though he knew he would face a messy commute in the morning. As I laid in bed that night it was impossible to sleep. While my husband fell asleep with a big smile on his face I didn't share his enthusiasm. How was I supposed to get on board with something that I never wanted to experience again? I swore I would never send another missionary out - was I supposed to put our family out there again like that? I had spent every day of the past year healing from the most painful thing we had ever experienced - would we really have to go through this again? How does the process even work to go back? I fell asleep realizing no conclusions had been made, no plan put into action - we had only listened to our son literally throw up months of feelings and emotions that he needed to get off his mind. Maybe when he got up the next morning he would feel different? Maybe in the morning everything would be like it never happened? And hopefully when he started school in a few days all this would pass. And first thing in the morning I was certainly going to talk to my next door neighbor about the phone call that had happened in her home Christmas Eve day.
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