When our son moved out in May of 2012 I felt a lot of relief. I was relieved that he was mentally stable enough to take this next mandatory step. I was relieved that he was ready to move on with life. I was relieved with the possibility that “out of sight, out of mind” might jump start my heeling. Don’t get me wrong, I love my son, but I also knew that putting space and distance between us was going to be good for both of us. I had great faith that as our son began standing on his own two feet, finding himself, and building his own life, that the Lord would answer our prayers and guide this next phase.
From the beginning my husband and I never prayed that he would return to his mission. I can’t speak for my husband but I knew that I would never send another child on a mission again because this was just too painful of a first experience to ever repeat again. I have one son and four daughters so not having to do the mission thing again is well within reason. Our prayers have always been that he would remain in the gospel, find his testimony, be able to move on with his life in the most meaningful way possible, and not let this experience be an anchor around his leg his whole life. The best piece of comfort advice I read was that missions are not saving ordinances and men can still be good, strong men in the church if they didn't serve a mission. While that has brought me comfort, it will never erase the disappointment of having a missionary that returned far too early.
When my son moved out he found a full time job that required him to work on Sunday. I don’t think I was surprised by that. I believe I expected him to rebel a little when it came to attending church. Church attendance has never been an option in our house so I think I naturally figured that once he was on his own he would test those waters. For the first few months he was enjoying the freedom of being on his own and making his own decisions – which did not include going to church, attending ward prayer, or going to FHE activities. I continued to pray that once his membership records arrived in his ward that a home teacher, bishop, elders quorum president – anybody- would reach out to him and fellowship him. I knew that if I prayed hard enough, the Lord would answer my prayer. But as more time went on we would ask him if he had been visited by anyone in the ward he would say no one had contacted him and he was just fine with that. I was confused. Why was my prayer not being answered? Don’t we preach fellow shipping, reaching out, and making each member feel important by giving them a calling? I have sat through enough leadership meetings to know this is what is supposed to happen. I chalked it up to summertime in a student ward and maybe things were just different. Certainly school starting in the fall would change all this.
Fall came and school started and our son still hadn't been visited by a bishop. He didn't have a home teacher. He wasn't a home teacher. He didn't have a calling. He had switched jobs towards the end of the summer and no longer worked on Sunday. He casually let us know one Sunday night over dinner that he had been going to church. Two more months went by and still nothing. He talked about his ward every Sunday now. He really liked his Bishop but he would say, “it’s like the Bishop doesn't know I’m supposed to be in his ward. He calls me the wrong name.” We found that odd and were confused by that. We kept praying he would get a calling. And then one Sunday he said, “I love our gospel doctrine class, it would be fun to teach a class.” It’s like he was asking for a calling. I wanted to call his bishop and say, “Please! Answer my prayer. Give my son a responsibility to help him stay in the church.” But still nothing. And it was starting to bother our son. He would frequently say, “I feel like I’m just lost and no one knows I’m supposed to be here even though I come to church every week.”
And then our answer came at Christmas. We received a letter from the membership department at church headquarters in Salt Lake two days after Christmas. The letter stated that his records had been lost for months and finally ended up in some department of the church that I didn't even know existed. They wanted to know if this was our son and where his records should go. I was really angry about that. I felt that all my prayers and all my faith that someone would reach out to him had been for nothing for almost seven months. Why would the Lord allow that to happen? Why does it seem like anything that can go wrong with a kid in this situation has gone wrong? I would have thought that his records would be in a brightly colored bulky folder that read, “Early release missionary…handle with care.”
We called our son to tell him about the letter and he wanted his records sent to his ward immediately. I continued to struggle to make sense of something that felt devastating all over again. All I could think of was those lost month when progress could have been made if his records had been in his ward. But in January I was talking to him and he gave me my answer. He said that maybe the whole record experience had actually been a blessing. He told me he knew what it felt like to be lost in a sense and how happy he was to have been found again. Once his records got to his ward he was given a calling and he felt like he truly belonged and mattered in that ward now. Maybe he had to experience the difference of being lost and then found to truly understand. He attends his ward every week and I have seen the difference it makes in his countenance and his testimony.
I know that this experience was part of the calculated experiences the Lord gives each of us because He knows what we need when we need it. It reminds me of President Uchtdorf’s talk in March 2013 at the Young Women broadcast called, “Your Wonderful Journey Home.” Each of us embark on different journeys through our lives, all designed to bring us back home to our Heavenly Father. This experience is another one of his individual journey stories.
From the beginning my husband and I never prayed that he would return to his mission. I can’t speak for my husband but I knew that I would never send another child on a mission again because this was just too painful of a first experience to ever repeat again. I have one son and four daughters so not having to do the mission thing again is well within reason. Our prayers have always been that he would remain in the gospel, find his testimony, be able to move on with his life in the most meaningful way possible, and not let this experience be an anchor around his leg his whole life. The best piece of comfort advice I read was that missions are not saving ordinances and men can still be good, strong men in the church if they didn't serve a mission. While that has brought me comfort, it will never erase the disappointment of having a missionary that returned far too early.
When my son moved out he found a full time job that required him to work on Sunday. I don’t think I was surprised by that. I believe I expected him to rebel a little when it came to attending church. Church attendance has never been an option in our house so I think I naturally figured that once he was on his own he would test those waters. For the first few months he was enjoying the freedom of being on his own and making his own decisions – which did not include going to church, attending ward prayer, or going to FHE activities. I continued to pray that once his membership records arrived in his ward that a home teacher, bishop, elders quorum president – anybody- would reach out to him and fellowship him. I knew that if I prayed hard enough, the Lord would answer my prayer. But as more time went on we would ask him if he had been visited by anyone in the ward he would say no one had contacted him and he was just fine with that. I was confused. Why was my prayer not being answered? Don’t we preach fellow shipping, reaching out, and making each member feel important by giving them a calling? I have sat through enough leadership meetings to know this is what is supposed to happen. I chalked it up to summertime in a student ward and maybe things were just different. Certainly school starting in the fall would change all this.
Fall came and school started and our son still hadn't been visited by a bishop. He didn't have a home teacher. He wasn't a home teacher. He didn't have a calling. He had switched jobs towards the end of the summer and no longer worked on Sunday. He casually let us know one Sunday night over dinner that he had been going to church. Two more months went by and still nothing. He talked about his ward every Sunday now. He really liked his Bishop but he would say, “it’s like the Bishop doesn't know I’m supposed to be in his ward. He calls me the wrong name.” We found that odd and were confused by that. We kept praying he would get a calling. And then one Sunday he said, “I love our gospel doctrine class, it would be fun to teach a class.” It’s like he was asking for a calling. I wanted to call his bishop and say, “Please! Answer my prayer. Give my son a responsibility to help him stay in the church.” But still nothing. And it was starting to bother our son. He would frequently say, “I feel like I’m just lost and no one knows I’m supposed to be here even though I come to church every week.”
And then our answer came at Christmas. We received a letter from the membership department at church headquarters in Salt Lake two days after Christmas. The letter stated that his records had been lost for months and finally ended up in some department of the church that I didn't even know existed. They wanted to know if this was our son and where his records should go. I was really angry about that. I felt that all my prayers and all my faith that someone would reach out to him had been for nothing for almost seven months. Why would the Lord allow that to happen? Why does it seem like anything that can go wrong with a kid in this situation has gone wrong? I would have thought that his records would be in a brightly colored bulky folder that read, “Early release missionary…handle with care.”
We called our son to tell him about the letter and he wanted his records sent to his ward immediately. I continued to struggle to make sense of something that felt devastating all over again. All I could think of was those lost month when progress could have been made if his records had been in his ward. But in January I was talking to him and he gave me my answer. He said that maybe the whole record experience had actually been a blessing. He told me he knew what it felt like to be lost in a sense and how happy he was to have been found again. Once his records got to his ward he was given a calling and he felt like he truly belonged and mattered in that ward now. Maybe he had to experience the difference of being lost and then found to truly understand. He attends his ward every week and I have seen the difference it makes in his countenance and his testimony.
I know that this experience was part of the calculated experiences the Lord gives each of us because He knows what we need when we need it. It reminds me of President Uchtdorf’s talk in March 2013 at the Young Women broadcast called, “Your Wonderful Journey Home.” Each of us embark on different journeys through our lives, all designed to bring us back home to our Heavenly Father. This experience is another one of his individual journey stories.
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