The first 48-72 hours after we got the news our son would be home in four days, I felt like my world was spinning out of control. There were so many decisions to be made, so many appointments to arrange, so many phone calls from people, ward members stopping by bringing chocolate, and life with my four kids at home two weeks before Christmas was still moving forward. Part of me just wanted to scream for everyone and everything to just stop so I could wrap my head around what was happening. In some very, very small way I wondered if that was what it felt like when someone died and the constant chaos that comes in those few days between the death and the funeral. I felt like something had just died in our home and in my heart.
I’ll be honest. The next morning after we knew he was coming home I was in the shower just sobbing (it was easier to sob in the shower because I was all alone and there wasn't any makeup that would smear) over how wrong everything had suddenly become. I remember having a discussion with the Lord and saying “Please not this. I’ll take anything but this. I’ll be okay getting cancer and dying in the next four days if he doesn't have to come home and we don’t have to face something so public. Just let everything go back to where it was 24 hours ago.” And then I thought of two elders that had recently been killed while riding their bikes in Texas on their missions. And I thought, “At least those parents get to bring their boys home in dignity and honor. Why couldn't that have happened to us?” And then I wondered if the Lord would allow the plane to go down so that we wouldn't have to do this. Not my most proud moments for sure but for me I had gone to a dark place very, very quickly and that scared me. But I didn't have time to deal with that yet. That would come later. Maybe I could get to that after Christmas.
When your son comes home from his mission like this, the church makes all the travel arrangements without checking your calendar. I shuddered to think how much a last minute plane ticket like this was going to cost. Our son was on a remote island in the Atlantic Ocean and flights only left on Tuesdays. I wondered if our tithing would be upped to cover the cost of the ticket. Another question for another day I guess. He was to leave the island Tuesday morning, fly all day and arrive in Boston late Tuesday night. He was then supposed to claim his luggage, hail a cab, check himself into a hotel, spend the night alone, check out of the hotel at 5 AM the next morning, get back to the airport, catch his flight that laid over in Texas for two hours, and fly into our airport around 5 PM Wednesday night.
When our stake president came over late Saturday night with those flight plans and itinerary my husband and I were deeply worried. No one knew what state of mind our son was in. Our stake president hadn't talked to him and neither had we. I guess that’s against the rules – who knows. I didn't even know if he’d be allowed to email us on Monday. No one could tell us if he was doing okay or if he was in a state of mind that he would flee while in Boston and we’d never hear from him again. All I could picture in my mind was the episode of “LOST” when Sawyer jumps out of the plane over the ocean. My husband looked up the hotel he was supposed to stay in and it was in a shady part of town where a murder had just occurred a few months before. I felt like a whole new injury had been heaped upon us. Why would anyone think that a 19 year old boy who is being sent home to be publicly flogged should be alone in a pretty big city? It was hard to believe that someone thought this was okay. He was still my son and I wanted him to be treated like I would treat him. Maybe there should be mom’s working in the travel department. Another question and another conversation to have with someone another day.
My husband and I spent many hours talking about different scenarios and trying to find peace with his journey home and neither one of us could get there. But I think the Lord was already showing us tender mercies at this point. When we woke up Sunday morning, we knew we had our answer. My husband travels a lot for his work and has frequent flier miles. We both knew that my husband needed to be in Boston when our son’s plane landed so that when he stepped off that plane his dad would be there and bring him the rest of the way home. We wanted him to know that we would walk this road together and he would have the support of his family. We could not bear the thought of him spending a very long and lonely night alone in a strange city. It wasn't right. After much time on the phone my husband was able to get into Boston before our son’s plane landed and was able to be on his flights the next day all the way back home. Truly a miracle given it was two days before and he had just enough frequent flier miles to cover the ticket. The Lord does not leave us without hope or answers. We called our stake president that night and told him to please get a hold of the mission president and relay our plans to our son so he would know that he wasn't going to be alone the whole way.
The next decision we had to make was how to handle the airport scene when my son and husband landed back home. Like all missionary mom’s I dreamed of the whole balloons and welcome home banner with all of us standing there excited to see our son after two years. I didn't have a vision for a son who was coming home early…only 10 weeks after we said goodbye for what we thought was two years. Balloons and welcome home posters didn't seem appropriate. Wearing all black didn't seem appropriate either. What is the right answer? Again, it would be nice if we could have picked up that brochure from outside the Bishop’s office at church on Sunday.
We discussed our options late Sunday night as a family. Our oldest daughter wanted to be at the airport and was the only one who happened to have that night free. Our second daughter was on the high school basketball team and she would have to miss practice to be at the airport which meant she would miss a game. She was a starter on the team and didn't want to miss one game or practice. As she said, “It’s not fair I’m being punished when I didn't do anything wrong.” Good point. Our third daughter was on a competition dance team and Wednesday was their big practice days for the show routines. They were getting ready for a big Christmas performance and if she missed practice she would be pulled from the dance although I was pretty sure if I talked to the teacher an exception would be made. Our fourth daughter was on student council at the elementary school and that Wednesday was the day they were taking the money they had earned from their school fundraiser to buy gifts for sub for Santa families and wrap them. It was an activity she had watched her older sister participate in and she had been looking forward to this day for months. I was scheduled to go as a driver and chaperon. She broke down crying when she realized she may have to miss that activity. As we looked at our four girls we were so torn. Yes they loved their brother and wanted to do the right thing and so did we but on the other hand, they all had very valid reasons for feeling like they were being punished by missing their activities. How do we make this choice? Again, could the church have just called me and say, “What day works for you this week to pick up your son?” Murphy ’s Law states it had to be the worst day for him to come home.
In the end we prayed about it and talked a lot about it. We came to the decision that our son had made choices that had led him to this point and he would have to bear a lot of the consequences for those choices. He needed to understand and recognize that. It was not fair to push those consequences onto others. Maybe we were taking a tough love approach but we felt right about not going up to the airport to meet them. My husband would leave his car at the airport overnight and they would drive home together. I’m not sure I could have done the happy welcome home thing at the airport – I wasn't strong enough emotionally and I knew the night was only going to be much, much harder once we met with the Stake President at 9. This wasn't a happy occasion and we were going to treat the situation as it was. I will say it was a very strange experience to be shopping at Wal-Mart with a bunch of excited student council kids from elementary school who were happy to be helping other kids at Christmas. I tried so very hard to focus on loving and serving others but I just couldn't get there all the way. When my husband texted me that they had landed, I had to find a bathroom and cry for just a few minutes while the kids continued to shop. But no one knew what we were facing - my daughter and I stayed pretty stoic through the long afternoon.
Our girls made a big sign to hang in the family room for him to see as he walked in that said, “We love you.” They were all standing there to give him a hug when he walked in and then they broke down crying again. A scene more appropriate for the intimacy of our home and not to be witnessed in a public place. No one was really hungry that night which made me feel bad because the Relief Society president had brought over a big dinner. Maybe we’d eat tomorrow. Our son was tired, my husband was tired, and the dinner conversation was pretty awkward. That was only the beginning of many awkward moments as we began to fumble our way through the dark into the new life that we had been catapulted into.
I’ll be honest. The next morning after we knew he was coming home I was in the shower just sobbing (it was easier to sob in the shower because I was all alone and there wasn't any makeup that would smear) over how wrong everything had suddenly become. I remember having a discussion with the Lord and saying “Please not this. I’ll take anything but this. I’ll be okay getting cancer and dying in the next four days if he doesn't have to come home and we don’t have to face something so public. Just let everything go back to where it was 24 hours ago.” And then I thought of two elders that had recently been killed while riding their bikes in Texas on their missions. And I thought, “At least those parents get to bring their boys home in dignity and honor. Why couldn't that have happened to us?” And then I wondered if the Lord would allow the plane to go down so that we wouldn't have to do this. Not my most proud moments for sure but for me I had gone to a dark place very, very quickly and that scared me. But I didn't have time to deal with that yet. That would come later. Maybe I could get to that after Christmas.
When your son comes home from his mission like this, the church makes all the travel arrangements without checking your calendar. I shuddered to think how much a last minute plane ticket like this was going to cost. Our son was on a remote island in the Atlantic Ocean and flights only left on Tuesdays. I wondered if our tithing would be upped to cover the cost of the ticket. Another question for another day I guess. He was to leave the island Tuesday morning, fly all day and arrive in Boston late Tuesday night. He was then supposed to claim his luggage, hail a cab, check himself into a hotel, spend the night alone, check out of the hotel at 5 AM the next morning, get back to the airport, catch his flight that laid over in Texas for two hours, and fly into our airport around 5 PM Wednesday night.
When our stake president came over late Saturday night with those flight plans and itinerary my husband and I were deeply worried. No one knew what state of mind our son was in. Our stake president hadn't talked to him and neither had we. I guess that’s against the rules – who knows. I didn't even know if he’d be allowed to email us on Monday. No one could tell us if he was doing okay or if he was in a state of mind that he would flee while in Boston and we’d never hear from him again. All I could picture in my mind was the episode of “LOST” when Sawyer jumps out of the plane over the ocean. My husband looked up the hotel he was supposed to stay in and it was in a shady part of town where a murder had just occurred a few months before. I felt like a whole new injury had been heaped upon us. Why would anyone think that a 19 year old boy who is being sent home to be publicly flogged should be alone in a pretty big city? It was hard to believe that someone thought this was okay. He was still my son and I wanted him to be treated like I would treat him. Maybe there should be mom’s working in the travel department. Another question and another conversation to have with someone another day.
My husband and I spent many hours talking about different scenarios and trying to find peace with his journey home and neither one of us could get there. But I think the Lord was already showing us tender mercies at this point. When we woke up Sunday morning, we knew we had our answer. My husband travels a lot for his work and has frequent flier miles. We both knew that my husband needed to be in Boston when our son’s plane landed so that when he stepped off that plane his dad would be there and bring him the rest of the way home. We wanted him to know that we would walk this road together and he would have the support of his family. We could not bear the thought of him spending a very long and lonely night alone in a strange city. It wasn't right. After much time on the phone my husband was able to get into Boston before our son’s plane landed and was able to be on his flights the next day all the way back home. Truly a miracle given it was two days before and he had just enough frequent flier miles to cover the ticket. The Lord does not leave us without hope or answers. We called our stake president that night and told him to please get a hold of the mission president and relay our plans to our son so he would know that he wasn't going to be alone the whole way.
The next decision we had to make was how to handle the airport scene when my son and husband landed back home. Like all missionary mom’s I dreamed of the whole balloons and welcome home banner with all of us standing there excited to see our son after two years. I didn't have a vision for a son who was coming home early…only 10 weeks after we said goodbye for what we thought was two years. Balloons and welcome home posters didn't seem appropriate. Wearing all black didn't seem appropriate either. What is the right answer? Again, it would be nice if we could have picked up that brochure from outside the Bishop’s office at church on Sunday.
We discussed our options late Sunday night as a family. Our oldest daughter wanted to be at the airport and was the only one who happened to have that night free. Our second daughter was on the high school basketball team and she would have to miss practice to be at the airport which meant she would miss a game. She was a starter on the team and didn't want to miss one game or practice. As she said, “It’s not fair I’m being punished when I didn't do anything wrong.” Good point. Our third daughter was on a competition dance team and Wednesday was their big practice days for the show routines. They were getting ready for a big Christmas performance and if she missed practice she would be pulled from the dance although I was pretty sure if I talked to the teacher an exception would be made. Our fourth daughter was on student council at the elementary school and that Wednesday was the day they were taking the money they had earned from their school fundraiser to buy gifts for sub for Santa families and wrap them. It was an activity she had watched her older sister participate in and she had been looking forward to this day for months. I was scheduled to go as a driver and chaperon. She broke down crying when she realized she may have to miss that activity. As we looked at our four girls we were so torn. Yes they loved their brother and wanted to do the right thing and so did we but on the other hand, they all had very valid reasons for feeling like they were being punished by missing their activities. How do we make this choice? Again, could the church have just called me and say, “What day works for you this week to pick up your son?” Murphy ’s Law states it had to be the worst day for him to come home.
In the end we prayed about it and talked a lot about it. We came to the decision that our son had made choices that had led him to this point and he would have to bear a lot of the consequences for those choices. He needed to understand and recognize that. It was not fair to push those consequences onto others. Maybe we were taking a tough love approach but we felt right about not going up to the airport to meet them. My husband would leave his car at the airport overnight and they would drive home together. I’m not sure I could have done the happy welcome home thing at the airport – I wasn't strong enough emotionally and I knew the night was only going to be much, much harder once we met with the Stake President at 9. This wasn't a happy occasion and we were going to treat the situation as it was. I will say it was a very strange experience to be shopping at Wal-Mart with a bunch of excited student council kids from elementary school who were happy to be helping other kids at Christmas. I tried so very hard to focus on loving and serving others but I just couldn't get there all the way. When my husband texted me that they had landed, I had to find a bathroom and cry for just a few minutes while the kids continued to shop. But no one knew what we were facing - my daughter and I stayed pretty stoic through the long afternoon.
Our girls made a big sign to hang in the family room for him to see as he walked in that said, “We love you.” They were all standing there to give him a hug when he walked in and then they broke down crying again. A scene more appropriate for the intimacy of our home and not to be witnessed in a public place. No one was really hungry that night which made me feel bad because the Relief Society president had brought over a big dinner. Maybe we’d eat tomorrow. Our son was tired, my husband was tired, and the dinner conversation was pretty awkward. That was only the beginning of many awkward moments as we began to fumble our way through the dark into the new life that we had been catapulted into.
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