From the time that I learned my missionary would be coming home to the time when he would actually show up at the airport was about three days. He had been called to a very small country very far away. My Stake President is a wise man; he forwarded my son's itinerary to me the moment he received it. He had the same concerns I had: What state of mind is this missionary in?
When I reviewed the itinerary I became very concerned. My son would be flying across the Atlantic by himself, arrive in Boston, stay a night in Boston in a La Quinta Inn by the airport, get up the next day early, get himself to the airport, and then fly from Boston to Dallas, change planes, and then fly to Salt Lake City. I did a quick Google search on the La Quinta Inn. Not good: there was a murder there not more than two years earlier. I wasn't feeling too good about things.
My Stake President dropped by. Should we have elders in Boston meet my son at the airport and have him stay with them? Should I fly to Boston and meet him there? In the end, after counseling with my wife, I decided to use accumulated credit card miles to get a ticket to Boston and then back to Salt Lake City on the same flights my son was taking. I would meet him at the airport, we'd stay together in a safe, clean hotel, and then fly back to Salt Lake City together.
This plan worked out quite well. It gave me time alone with my son. We cried. We laughed. And I saw changes in him that were impressive. He went out of his way to be a gentleman, to help people with their luggage, to make sure he said "thank-you" and "your welcome". In the time he was gone he had learned to forget himself and help others.
I need to relate what happened in Dallas during our layover, and then I'll summarize what I learned: Part I. While waiting for our plane to depart to Salt Lake City I noticed two elders standing near the gate. By the looks of the wear on their suits and shoes it was obvious they were on their way home. They had immediately noticed my son (because he was wearing his suit and tag). They knew who he was but they had no idea who I was; they couldn't make the connection between us.
When my son saw them he stood up, without hesitation, and walked over to them and shook their hands. I was impressed. I expected him to ignore them; they represented something he would not be. But he greeted them as brethren, and they, to their credit, greeted him in likewise manner.
Here is what I learned:
When I reviewed the itinerary I became very concerned. My son would be flying across the Atlantic by himself, arrive in Boston, stay a night in Boston in a La Quinta Inn by the airport, get up the next day early, get himself to the airport, and then fly from Boston to Dallas, change planes, and then fly to Salt Lake City. I did a quick Google search on the La Quinta Inn. Not good: there was a murder there not more than two years earlier. I wasn't feeling too good about things.
My Stake President dropped by. Should we have elders in Boston meet my son at the airport and have him stay with them? Should I fly to Boston and meet him there? In the end, after counseling with my wife, I decided to use accumulated credit card miles to get a ticket to Boston and then back to Salt Lake City on the same flights my son was taking. I would meet him at the airport, we'd stay together in a safe, clean hotel, and then fly back to Salt Lake City together.
This plan worked out quite well. It gave me time alone with my son. We cried. We laughed. And I saw changes in him that were impressive. He went out of his way to be a gentleman, to help people with their luggage, to make sure he said "thank-you" and "your welcome". In the time he was gone he had learned to forget himself and help others.
I need to relate what happened in Dallas during our layover, and then I'll summarize what I learned: Part I. While waiting for our plane to depart to Salt Lake City I noticed two elders standing near the gate. By the looks of the wear on their suits and shoes it was obvious they were on their way home. They had immediately noticed my son (because he was wearing his suit and tag). They knew who he was but they had no idea who I was; they couldn't make the connection between us.
When my son saw them he stood up, without hesitation, and walked over to them and shook their hands. I was impressed. I expected him to ignore them; they represented something he would not be. But he greeted them as brethren, and they, to their credit, greeted him in likewise manner.
Here is what I learned:
- It's not about me! In a previous post I shared the findings of a survey of early return missionaries. One key finding: What the parents want is irrelevant. Had I understood that principle before meeting him in Boston I would not have been so surprised. And I would have asked different questions: What now? How do you feel? What do you need from me? Instead, I focused more on me.
- The missionary department is not perfect. These guys are handling hundreds of flights every day. Maybe the La Quinta Inn by the airport is just fine. Maybe 19-year old young men really can get themselves from the airport to the hotel, and back to the airport without a problem. Maybe. But I reviewed the itinerary, I had concerns, and I had the wherewithal to do something about it. If I didn't, I think the Stake President would have called and asked the missionary department to do something different. Don't be afraid to push back if something seems sketchy.
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