When you are an LDS mom living in Utah, more specifically Utah County, there are things you know will happen the minute your newborn baby boy is placed in your arms.  Certain rites of passages are yours alone to enjoy as an LDS mom.  You know there will be a big family gathering in just a few short weeks, whether you feel up for it or not, as your family descends on you to witness your son receive a name and a blessing.  Other rites of passages are yours to enjoy like taking him to church praying he doesn’t throw up all over some sweet little grandma or praying he doesn’t run all over sacrament meeting throwing cheerios at unsuspecting victims. 

LDS mom’s dream of the day their boys are baptized.  It is a sign they are well on their way to becoming a missionary.  By now our son has been singing the song, “I Hope They Call Me on a Mission” for a solid three years now.  He knows that when he finally grows a foot or two and hits the age of 19 that he’s outta here.  No questions asked; it’s a done deal.  After they are baptized, we even buy our son a little suit and new scriptures. We gloat over said suit because it’s a mini version of what he’ll look like in just over 10 years when he becomes a missionary.  Some really overzealous moms make little missionary tags to put on the suit that say ‘Future Missionary.” 

The next big day for an LDS mom comes when her son turns 12 and is ordained a deacon and receives the priesthood.  Our little boys are now dorkier forms of the young men they will become with pants that don’t reach the ground and shirt collars that are never straight.  Mom and dad sit in the congregation and beam as their son has been declared worthy to receive the priesthood and begin fulfilling his priesthood duties as the men in his family have done for generations before him.  It is his duty.  No, it’s their legacy and there’s a paper trail to prove it.

Being ordained a priest is another big checkmark on moms list of what it takes to get a missionary out the door.  He is now a priest.  He can bless the sacrament, he can baptize (although in our family his youngest sister didn’t want him to baptize her because she was convinced he drowned her before letting her up for air), but the clincher is – he can do splits with the missionaries.  You can just hear the angelic choirs singing at this point.  The mission is so close.  Just a few more years of keeping them busy with school, work, and activities so that no girl or influence will get in the way of the dream you have held your breath waiting for almost 19 years now.

The blessed day comes when your son can start his papers.  You’ve been talking about it for 19 years and now it’s here.  There should be a moment of silence throughout the world when an LDS mom reaches this moment.  Her whole existence, her whole reason for being a mom, her whole reason for devoting her life to her son is for this moment.  The real fun begins when the Stake President hits the “send to Salt Lake” button.  Everyone begins guessing where our son will serve.

Two weeks later your phone rings at the glorious hour of 7:30 AM to say the envelop has arrived and is ready to be picked up.   An LDS mom feels like she’s going to throw up but in the best way possible.  The anticipation is nothing like I’ve ever experienced.  Finally the call is opened and has the standard, ‘You have been called to serve as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints…”  and he pauses in a way that only a son could pause knowing he’s got full power of the room at that moment.  And when he announces where he has been called to serve, no one has heard of it.  Is it a real place?  But it is and reality starts to sink in.  He’s excited.  Everyone is happy.  It feels right.  The church is true.  I feel peace, oddly.  This is where he is supposed to go. My good little Mormon life is falling right into place just like it’s supposed to.  I’ve been the LDS mom that stayed home to raise my kids, sacrificed a lot to do that, we have said our prayers, had FHE, served faithfully in our callings, attend every meeting, serve our neighbors, read scriptures, make food that has cream chicken soup in it – the whole Mormon package.  We were it.  Did it all.  Believed in it all.  Bought the whole package with the belief that living this way is enough to keep you immune from the trials that happens to others; to “those parents with those kids.”  My Mormon resume is as complete as is my husbands.

Over the next four months we dutifully go to Missionary Mall so we can gloat and gush over our son in his new suit and sparkling white shirts, durable pants, heavy, bulky shoes, colorful ties, and lots of white undies to last two years.  Just a few more days to go and I can throw away my to do list, safely deposit my son to the MTC, and not worry about him again for two years.  What a glorious break it will be.  How glorious it will be to fall asleep for 670 days knowing my son is safe and I get a nice long break from all the worry and stress.  I just get to do the fun stuff like sending packages and letters.  It’s every mom’s dream.

You pull off an amazing farewell.  The missionary gave a brilliant talk that showed maturity, humor, depth, lots of emotion, and everyone sat mesmerized through the whole talk.  Because, after all, it was one of the best farewell talks this Mormon community has ever heard.  They’ll just have to wait two years to get the even better version when he’s back home a changed man.

And then suddenly the clock is moving too fast.  You find yourself looking at your son wondering how you will go on without him in your home for two years and then you find yourself in the bathroom sobbing.  What is wrong with you? This is the event, your rite of passage, you’ve been waiting 19 years for and now you’re crying about it?  There is no logic in a Mormon mom’s world.

And then suddenly, three months later, one phone call changes your whole normal.  Life as you once knew it is forever changed with one phone call.  The stake president wants you in his office at 9 PM on a Friday.  And in that moment, you know.  You know that your son will be home far sooner than he was supposed to.  You know that your son has messed up and now everyone will know.  You know that your son will walk back into church on Sunday with the word “reject” branded on his forehead forever.  You know that once again, your family and your parenting skills will be the subject of many families over Sunday dinner.  You know that they are talking about “those parents with that child.”  In that moment you feel like you will never breathe normally again or ever stop crying or ever stop feeling like your heart has been shattered into a million pieces.  You know that no one will ever be able to explain anything to you about this whole mess that will logically make sense. 

How is your son supposed to live happily ever after without serving an honorable mission?  How am I supposed to earn mother of the year now?  How do we pick up the pieces of so many shattered hopes and dreams?

Mare Wynn
7/13/2012 05:18:41 am

Seriously don't care about earning mother of the year, I just want to be the normal family who doesn't draw any attention to ourselves for being different. If you look around though, are there very many families where all of the sons are Eagle Scout Returned missionaries who married in the Temple, all of the daughters earned their YW medallion, went to college on scholarship before getting married int he Temple, everyone graduated from college, and has several cute children, nobody had fertility problems or health problems or rebellious teen problems or any problems at all. That's all I want, no problems at all. Everyone .. perfect. All the time. PS I know it says a mission is not a right of passage, but it also says every worthy young man should prepare to serve a mission. So how do we reconcile that for those boys who choose not to go or to come home early?

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