On that awful night our son was released as a missionary our stake president pulled my husband and I aside and said, "This won't be a long process. He will be able to return in just a few weeks. Don't put him in school and have him find a temporary job. This will be quick." I suppose that was meant to make us feel better but it only further confused us. If our sons transgression was something so serious, why would he only be home a few weeks? And then I felt angry. Couldn't something that suddenly didn't seem so serious be handled in the mission office instead of humiliating our son and family? I had heard countless stories of that happening to other Elders - why did we have to be different? But, as we were quickly learning, there were no simple answers and no flow chart available as to what we could expect.
So we resolved to do everything we could to keep him in that missionary mindset. We decided it would be a great opportunity for our family to refine some habits and grow stronger spiritually. We could ignore the mumbling teenagers for a few weeks for the sake of our son returning to the mission field in less than three months. So we kept missionary hours, I had a constant companion while everyone else went to school and work, we had nightly scripture study on a new level, our son prayed in his language so he wouldn't loose it, the TV was kept off most of the time,...anything we could do to keep him close to the spirit and anxious to return was our number one priority. Our girls thought we were completely nuts at times but went along because they too wanted their brother to return.
About halfway through that "quick time period" we had been given my husband and I happened to be talking to our Bishop after church one Sunday about our son. We asked him if he knew how many more weeks it would be before he could return. The look on his face said it all and was followed by, "Why don't you step into my office so we can talk." I felt gut-punched all over again. Clearly we were in for another blow.
As we sat in his office he said he thought we knew. My husband said, "Know what?" We were completely in the dark but were about to be enlightened in a way I wasn't sure I was ready for. How many blows can you be dealt in a short amount of time? We were informed by our Bishop that the stake president had received a letter a few weeks ago from Salt Lake that stated our son wouldn't be eligible to return for a year. Our Bishop literally watched all our hopes, energies, and plans deflate right in front of him. We had lost. And then my natural instinct to need to know "why" to everything kicked in and I began firing questions in rapid succession. Why had we not been informed of this right away? Why were we just finding out now? Was anyone ever going to tell us on their own? Who makes that call? Why were we told one thing and now were being told something totally different? Why hadn't we been given a copy of that letter since we are the ones trying to pick up the pieces and make things right? Why was nothing straight forward and simple?
My husband finally put his hand on my knee which was my cue to stop talking and then he simply expressed his appreciation to the Bishop for being honest with us while obviously expressing our disappointment and frustration. It seemed so unbelievable to us that this was happening - that things could go from bad to worse. As we walked home from the church we didn't even know what to think or say. We had made this walk before feeling all these same emotions. We were definitely upset that no one had bothered to tell us this news sooner but there was nothing we could do about that now.
We went down to our sons room to tell him what had just happened. And he actually seemed relieved. Up until that moment I had firmly believed that he was going to return and all would be well again. This was going to be a sprint not a marathon to "The Return" dream. But clearly that was not his desire at this time. I guess I had to give him credit for not wanting to hurt us again. He was ready to move on with life. He had a full time job and expressed a desire to move out in a few months and try to get back into school. The sprint was quickly falling out of reach now and was never going to happen. I realized that it was time for me to let that dream go and accept our new reality.
As I processed our new reality over the next few days and weeks I felt I was mourning all over again. That dream of him returning really was gone now and it was time for me to get on board. It was a huge set-back and it took me some time to come to grips with it. And in that time, and maybe this was part of the mourning process, I felt angry and decided why would I even think about allowing him to return again? Why in the world would I put our family on the line like that again? I even told my girls on a particularly hard day that it would be "over my dead body" that another missionary ever left from our house again. And with that thought I resolved to move on with him. It was time to stop torturing myself with a thought that was never going to happen. I was not going to force him to return when he had no desire to because that wasn't going to end well. No one, no one, should have to experience this twice.
And with that, I was able to start letting it go. It took months to get to the point where my "letting it go" wasn't out of anger but out of realization that it is what it is. I think it was also a beginning point to my son healing as well. Once that pressure of his return had been removed, he was free from that guilt and weight he had been carrying around. He needed to know that it was okay to move on with life. I told myself many times a day, "A mission is not a saving ordinance" before I finally believed it. I was starting to heal, a scab was forming over the open wound. The future was waiting - his and ours.
So we resolved to do everything we could to keep him in that missionary mindset. We decided it would be a great opportunity for our family to refine some habits and grow stronger spiritually. We could ignore the mumbling teenagers for a few weeks for the sake of our son returning to the mission field in less than three months. So we kept missionary hours, I had a constant companion while everyone else went to school and work, we had nightly scripture study on a new level, our son prayed in his language so he wouldn't loose it, the TV was kept off most of the time,...anything we could do to keep him close to the spirit and anxious to return was our number one priority. Our girls thought we were completely nuts at times but went along because they too wanted their brother to return.
About halfway through that "quick time period" we had been given my husband and I happened to be talking to our Bishop after church one Sunday about our son. We asked him if he knew how many more weeks it would be before he could return. The look on his face said it all and was followed by, "Why don't you step into my office so we can talk." I felt gut-punched all over again. Clearly we were in for another blow.
As we sat in his office he said he thought we knew. My husband said, "Know what?" We were completely in the dark but were about to be enlightened in a way I wasn't sure I was ready for. How many blows can you be dealt in a short amount of time? We were informed by our Bishop that the stake president had received a letter a few weeks ago from Salt Lake that stated our son wouldn't be eligible to return for a year. Our Bishop literally watched all our hopes, energies, and plans deflate right in front of him. We had lost. And then my natural instinct to need to know "why" to everything kicked in and I began firing questions in rapid succession. Why had we not been informed of this right away? Why were we just finding out now? Was anyone ever going to tell us on their own? Who makes that call? Why were we told one thing and now were being told something totally different? Why hadn't we been given a copy of that letter since we are the ones trying to pick up the pieces and make things right? Why was nothing straight forward and simple?
My husband finally put his hand on my knee which was my cue to stop talking and then he simply expressed his appreciation to the Bishop for being honest with us while obviously expressing our disappointment and frustration. It seemed so unbelievable to us that this was happening - that things could go from bad to worse. As we walked home from the church we didn't even know what to think or say. We had made this walk before feeling all these same emotions. We were definitely upset that no one had bothered to tell us this news sooner but there was nothing we could do about that now.
We went down to our sons room to tell him what had just happened. And he actually seemed relieved. Up until that moment I had firmly believed that he was going to return and all would be well again. This was going to be a sprint not a marathon to "The Return" dream. But clearly that was not his desire at this time. I guess I had to give him credit for not wanting to hurt us again. He was ready to move on with life. He had a full time job and expressed a desire to move out in a few months and try to get back into school. The sprint was quickly falling out of reach now and was never going to happen. I realized that it was time for me to let that dream go and accept our new reality.
As I processed our new reality over the next few days and weeks I felt I was mourning all over again. That dream of him returning really was gone now and it was time for me to get on board. It was a huge set-back and it took me some time to come to grips with it. And in that time, and maybe this was part of the mourning process, I felt angry and decided why would I even think about allowing him to return again? Why in the world would I put our family on the line like that again? I even told my girls on a particularly hard day that it would be "over my dead body" that another missionary ever left from our house again. And with that thought I resolved to move on with him. It was time to stop torturing myself with a thought that was never going to happen. I was not going to force him to return when he had no desire to because that wasn't going to end well. No one, no one, should have to experience this twice.
And with that, I was able to start letting it go. It took months to get to the point where my "letting it go" wasn't out of anger but out of realization that it is what it is. I think it was also a beginning point to my son healing as well. Once that pressure of his return had been removed, he was free from that guilt and weight he had been carrying around. He needed to know that it was okay to move on with life. I told myself many times a day, "A mission is not a saving ordinance" before I finally believed it. I was starting to heal, a scab was forming over the open wound. The future was waiting - his and ours.
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