Sending My Daughter on a Mormon Mission

I got married when I was twenty.  Twenty years old seemed so mature.  So wise.  So ready for independence.  So ready to start my own life and choose my own way.  It seemed that way when I was the one who was twenty.

But now my daughter is twenty.  And today we took her to the MTC (Missionary Training Center).  And today twenty seems so very young.

Today, as I watched her walking away, I saw a five-year old girl.  The little girl she was walking into kindergarten.  Head tucked a little.  Shy smile.  Eager.  Anxious.  Trusting.  Quietly walking away to start something new.  Something so important for her growth.

But that day she came home to me.  This time I won't see her again for eighteen months.

One day soon my son will go on a mission.  He will leave for two years, to serve wherever the Lord calls him.  I've been preparing for this his whole life.  I wasn't prepared for my daughter to leave.

In the Mormon church, we are taught that every worthy young man should serve a mission.  And every young man should spend his life working toward this goal, making himself ready.  Young women are able to serve a mission if they feel so directed, but it isn't pushed the same way for them.

And none of my daughters ever expressed any interest in serving a mission.  Until last November.  My second daughter came to me and my husband, crying, saying she needed to go on a mission.  It had not been in her plans either.  She never had any intention of going.  Until God asked her to.

And being the person she is, she said yes.

She is my most shy child.  She is my most anxious child.  My least independent child.  But when God asked her to serve, she said yes.

I admire her.  I am so proud of her.  But, even though we dropped her off only five hours ago, I miss her terribly already.

Her mission will be eighteen months (for young men it's two years).  In that eighteen months we will not see her.  We will only talk to her on the phone (or Skype) on Mother's Day and Christmas.  The rest of the time we will exchange letters the old fashioned way.  And she will get to email one day a week.

We are giving her up for a year and a half.  She is giving a year and a half of her life to leave her world behind and serve God exclusively.

She will teach others about the gospel and about God and Jesus Christ.  She will tell them that they are loved and valuable.  That they matter.  That there is so much more to life than what the world has to offer.  That there is so much more to each of us than just this life.  She will perform many acts and hours of service.  She will give and give and give.

And she will grow.  She will learn to believe in herself and in her ability to do hard things.  She will learn to reach out to God when things are difficult (partly because we won't be there for her).  She will learn to lose herself in service.  She will experience miracles.  She will learn and grow in ways I can't yet imagine.

Our family will grow, too.  We will be blessed through her service.  We will learn from her letters and her experiences.  We will grow in some ways just because she isn't here.

And, as a mother, I will learn a little more about God.  He gave His Son.  In a way I cannot ever understand, He offered His child for me.  And for you.  And for all mankind.  This experience will give me a glimpse.  As I offer my child to Him, I will gain a tiny bit of understanding.  Like when I became a mother and learned a little about how He loves us.  I will learn more about God as our Heavenly Father.

There will be so many wonderful things that happen in our lives because of her willingness to serve a mission.  And it will get easier.

But right now, I just want to hold her in my arms.  It hurts so much.  Because a piece of my heart is gone and won't be back for eighteen months.

I Can Strengthen

When I first got so tired that I went to bed for a year and a half, I kept thinking it would get better.  I kept waiting to feel better so I could get back to my life.  While it did improve, it never went away.

And when I got my headache it was much the same.  I kept expecting it to go away so that I could get back to being productive.  So that I could do all the things I wanted to do.

The fatigue has been with me for eleven years now.  The headache for seven.  There are days that are a little better and days that send me to bed.  Mostly I'm tired and hurt all the time.

If you'd told me at the beginning of either of these that I'd have them for the rest of my life, I'm not sure what I would have done.  Having hope that they'd get better helped me go on.  Having hope that I'd get my old life back made it worth trying.

But I'm at a point now where I don't think I'll get better.  I think these will be with me forever.  And even if they won't, they are now.  This is my life now.  And I can't just sit around waiting to get better before I do something with my life.

That's been a tough one.  What can I do?  There are so many things I used to do that I can't anymore.  And there are so many things I wanted to do that I never got the chance for.  It would be really easy to get angry or depressed at my situation.  And sometimes I do.

But mostly, I am grateful.  I have learned so much.  I have learned to slow down.  I have learned to say no.  I have learned to do the important things and let the other things go.  I have learned to listen to my body and take better care of it.

But that's not the best part.  The best part is I've learned that I am more than just what I can produce.  I am more than what I have to offer physically.  I have other things to give, other ways to serve, other ways to be of value.

And one of the best things is, I've learned how to better strengthen others.

In the past my service to others was always physical:  make them dinner, help them clean, take care of their yard,  take some of their work upon myself to ease their burdens.  It was good service; it was heartfelt.  I am glad I could do all those things.

My service now is different.  Now I listen.  I spend time with people.  I share my heart.  It's less obvious service.  You can't see something I cleaned or made.  But I can feel their burdens lighten.  I can see them ready to go back into the fray.  They are stronger when our visit is over.  And so am I.

There is great power in being able to do something for someone that lifts their physical burdens.  It matters.  But there is also divine power in strengthening them so they can lift their burdens themselves.  I'm so grateful I've had the opportunity to do both.

Counting My Blessings

My best friend is sick.  Not a little sick.  Really, really sick.

It started about six weeks ago.  She'd been sick for about two weeks before I even knew she was struggling.  Part of that was because she is a private person and didn't really let anyone know.  Part of it was because I was pretty sick at the time.  And part of it is because I take her health for granted.

Two months ago she was the healthiest person I knew.  She's a little older than me, but much healthier.  She had more energy.  She was a doer.  She was always on the go, ate well, never got sick.  I just assumed I hadn't heard from her because she was busy.  And I was too miserable to worry about anyone else.

Then I found out she was sick.  That kind of rocked my world.  She doesn't get sick; how is this possible?

I was on my way out of an illness.  I tried to check on her every day, calling or visiting.  Little by little she got worse.  She lives alone so there was no one there to monitor every day at first.  As we realized this was for the long haul, her friends started stepping in.  Weeding her garden.  Doing her shopping.  Washing her dishes.  Cleaning her house.  Preparing her meals.  It was a beautiful chorus of service.  All of us doing what we could to help.

I did a little.  I wanted to do more.  I wanted to move in and take care of her.  But that wasn't possible.  I wasn't well enough and it wasn't what she wanted.

Another friend did step up and take over the lion's share of the load.  I will be forever grateful to her for that.  She gave with her whole heart and soul to a woman I love as dearly as if she were my own sister.  Every act of service she performed felt like it was for me, because she was doing for my friend what I couldn't.

My best friend continued to decline.  She doesn't believe in traditional western medicine and was taking a more natural approach.  It was difficult to watch her not heal faster and respect her feelings on her care.  She was hurting a lot.  Swollen.  Sleeping 20 hours a day.  Losing her appetite.  Losing weight.  Severely fatigued.  It broke my heart to see her because she was so altered.

Then she started to improve.  For a couple of weeks she seemed to be getting better.  The pain and swelling went away.  She was able to move easier.  As gradual as it was, it seemed to be getting better.  And we continued to respect her desires for her care.  (There were some who tried to convince her to see a doctor, but those of us closest to her supported her.  Out of love and the belief that she has the right to choose for herself.)

But last week she took a turn for the worse.  An obvious downturn.  And it was scary.  And when it got to a certain point, the person she sees for her healing told her it was time to consult a doctor.  The doctor told her she needed IV fluids and lots of tests, but she could choose to do them on an outpatient basis or be admitted to the hospital.  The decision was hers.  She chose to be admitted.

So I have spent the last two days in and out of the hospital.  Helping her get admitted and settled.  Speaking on her behalf because it's just so hard for her.  And trying to comfort her, if only with my presence in the room.

And the feeling I am overwhelmed with is gratitude.  I am so grateful that I am not that sick.  I am so grateful that her caretaker was humble enough to ask for help.  I am so grateful she was willing to take a new direction, one that was so hard for her, and that the decision was hers.  I am so grateful for all the people who have helped her every step of the way.  I am grateful that all the medical personnel now involved have been respectful of her choices up to this point, never chastising her for waiting to involve traditional medicine.

But the thing I am the most grateful for is that I am well now.  I couldn't be there in the beginning and not much in the middle, but I can be there now.  When it's the darkest.  My health and life are allowing me to spend hours and hours by her bedside or running her errands.  My family supports me and hasn't complained of my absence once.  I get to be with my friend.  The way I want to be.

And she is improving.  I am so, so grateful for that.  I will never take her for granted again.

To Do the Will of God

I would like to share some spiritual thoughts.  To throw out some ideas for you to ponder or to chew on and to do with as you will.

For this exercise to work properly you should know where I stand, what I believe.  I believe in personal revelation from God.  I believe that He speaks to each of us.  In our hearts.  In our minds.  Through a feeling of peace when we hear truth spoken by others.  I believe that He speaks to each of us differently, knowing us as He does, in a way we will understand.

And I believe that many of us choose not to listen.

We turn to Him when we have a question or concern.  Sometimes we even remember to turn to Him in gratitude, just because we feel blessed.  I wonder how often we turn to Him as a servant, a disciple.

We ask what we should do at this particular time, within the framework of our current life and situation.  We ask what direction we should go or path we should take to meet our goals.  We read His words in the holy scriptures or hear it from His servants and look at our life.  We interpret what He would have us do and ask how we should do that.

These are good things.  These are honorable questions and choices.

But I wonder how often we lay it all on the table.  How often we say "Thy will be done" and mean it with our whole heart and life.  We mean it in this instance.  With this situation.  Do we mean it with all that we have and all that we are?

And so I would ask (rhetorically) what are you willing to sacrifice to do the will of God?  Do you ask what He would choose to make of your life if you offered it freely to Him?  And if you ask, do you sincerely listen to the answer and follow through on your offer?

Imagine you are young, say 25, and you ask this of God.  And He communicates to you that He has a very important work for you, but that in order to do this work you will have to be blind.  If you accept this assignment your eyesight will begin to fail and you will be blind before you are 30.  Then you will be ready to do His work.  Would you accept?

Or you are newly married and eager to begin your family.  You ask God how He would use your life and your talents.  He tells you that you will be a leader among women and touch many hearts.  But to qualify you for this role you will be asked to do hard things.  You will get pregnant many times but will not carry a child to term.  You will never hold your living child in your arms.  Would you be willing to carry this burden to serve Him?

What if you are well established in your profession, a giant in your community, and He asks you to give away everything you have and start a new life of simplicity?  Having little materially and working hard to serve others?  Could you let all that go if you knew it was what He wanted?

I ask these questions and put forth these possibilities because I think this is what prevents us from asking.  I believe most of us do not ask, do not offer our whole lives, because we are afraid of the answer.  We have a plan for our life.  Our goals are righteous.  Our hearts are pure.  We will ask His direction as we work toward our goals, but we know what we want to do with our life.

Do we know what He wants to do with it?

My Beautiful Neighborhood

Tonight, as I let the dog in, I took the opportunity to admire my neighborhood.  I stood on my porch and looked at the homes within my immediate view and was overwhelmed with love and gratitude.

I am incredibly fortunate to live in my neighborhood.  I love the location.  I love the view from my porch.  But most of all, I love my neighbors.

There are some younger than us, some older than us, and a few of the wise and wonderful generation.  And each of them has touched my life in some way.

Our immediate neighbors have been incredibly understanding and forgiving during times when the volume between my husband and me was intense.  And again when my children held a picnic on their porch and didn't clean it up.  They have been kind and helpful.  They have watched over us.  They have been an emergency contact for my children when we were away; I felt comforted knowing they were there for my kids.

The ones on the other side I don't know as well.  The parents only speak Spanish and I don't.  We haven't really connected verbally.  But they have been polite and friendly.  We wave at each other with a big smile.  Even without many words, there is a tenderness there.  An understanding that we are neighbors.

Across the street is my neighbor who is 95 (give or take a year).  He frequently walks across the street and visits with me and my kids when we're in the yard.  He brings us produce from his garden.  He talks to my kids about the activities they are involved with.  He tells me about his family and all that they are up to.  And he loves us.  In the way he talks to us and smiles at us, I know that he does.

And all along the street I can see people who are kind to me.  People who have helped me.  People who look out for me and my kids.  People who see when I'm having a bad day and give me a hug.  People who look past the irritating things we do and are still our friends.  People who've had hard times and learned lessons and shared them.  People who speak with love from their heart.  People who are open to connecting and aren't afraid of being loved.

I hear of people who don't get along with their neighbors or who live in unsafe neighborhoods and I am sad.  I wish everyone had a neighborhood like I do.

Each of these people has touched my heart.  Each of them has served me at one time or another.  And if asked each of them would probably say that they didn't do much.  But isn't that the point of a neighborhood?  If we all do a little to take care of each other, everything important will get done.