He's Comin' Home!

Today is February 1st. That means I can now say, "He's coming home next month." Next month. Wow. I'm tearing up this very instant just thinking about it. When a mom sends a missionary into the field, she does so with all her heart. She sends him willingly, with love and pride and honor. She wants him to go. She has prayed for this day all his life; she couldn't be any happier or any more grateful for his worthiness and his decision to serve. Still, there is a pit in her stomach. Down deep. It's heavy and it doesn't go away. She won't see her precious child for 24 months. She can't talk to him, save four times on two Christmases and two Mother's Days. She will have to settle for weekly emails and a very occasional snail mail letter. It's tough. I'm not gonna lie.

When a missionary mom starts talking about her son's impending return, friends say things like, "Already? What? Really? Wow, that went by fast. It seems like he just left." And in some ways that is true. I think the reality for most missionary moms is that the weeks go by fairly quickly, but the days can be long, especially Mondays when we're waiting for that email. For sure, other people's kids' missions fly by. Our own kids, not so much. For me, the time has passed quickly in terms of normal, everyday events. The constant rush of life--deadlines, appointments, meetings, demands--has continued as always, and the pace hasn't slowed. Nevertheless, it has been a very long time since I wrapped my arms around my wonderful son and hugged him tight. The last time was 22 1/2 months ago outside the MTC. That is the last time I saw, in person, that infectious smile that is paralleled by no one. In that respect, time has not passed quickly. Not at all.

I have an incredible support group, though. Some of it stems from the awesome members who live in the mission area. So many times, often when I've been missing Eli the most, I log onto Facebook and what do I find? A picture posted by a member who hosted Eli for dinner or saw him at a fireside or sat with him at a ward activity. Thank you. Thank you so much. Then there's the Arkansas Little Rock missionary moms' super hero. His name is Brother Floyd. Well, he has a real first name. I think it's Richard. But we all call him Brother Floyd. And he is our hero. He watches out for all our kids serving in the Memphis area, gives them rides places, helps them move their stuff around, buys them food (Frosty ice cream club??), takes them suit shopping, and more importantly, introduces them to people he knows who are interested in learning more about the Gospel. But that's not all. He also helps us moms. If we haven't heard from our missionary on P-day, we message Brother Floyd. And he investigates. The man is everywhere. And he also pretty much lives online, so we rarely have to wait for reply. He finds our kids, tells us what's going on, and reassures us that all is well. No matter how long I live, I will never be able to fully express my appreciation for this man.

In addition, I have incredible support online and here at home. We have a Facebook missionary moms' group filled with ALRM moms just like ourselves. Those ladies are there any time I need a friend. Any time I need a boost, a bit of encouragement, or even a shoulder to cry on. They understand. They get it. And while we have moms from all over the country, a pretty healthy bunch of us live right here in Utah. We have had the wonderful opportunity to get together a couple times in the past two years, and we're planning another day just before Eli comes home. Here we are together  if you want to see for yourself! And again here!

A friend recently asked me how much contact I expect to have with this group after Eli comes home. My answer was, "I don't really know." For sure, I won't have the urgent connection that I share with them now. My obsessive interest in every single thing to do with the mission will obviously decrease. Already they are discussing the upcoming change in mission presidents this summer, and I find myself only mildly interested. Still, I hope I don't lose contact with these wonderful ladies. They have become my friends. In so many ways. And I love them.

When I woke up this morning, I made a long "to-do" list. Several items came from my other larger list titled "Before Eli Comes Home," which is displayed on our fridge. So far I have done none of those things. Because I decided to blog instead. Actually, I needed to blog. Nothing calms me or settles my anxiety quite like writing, so I decided it was okay. But now, I really better get on with it. Because you see on March 25th at 2:10 p.m., a flight will arrive at the Salt Lake City Airport. On it will be my Eli. And before I run sobbing into his arms, there is just a thing or two that I need to do:

1. Order "Welcome Home" banners.
2. Frame photos from the mission for his room.
3. Get him hooked up with a cell phone.
4. Put together "Welcome Home" basket with all his favorite things.
5. Create a Facebook "event" to invite people to his homecoming April 13th.
6.  Paint wall in kitchen, and put together collage of family photos all in black & white with black frames. (Yes, I know. This is another one of those crazy ideas that is WAY too ambitious for someone with my woefully low skill set, but I saw it at someone's home recently, and I really want to do it. You should probably try to talk me out of it. Like now).
7. Organize storage area under our house, find all Eli's stuff down there, and put away Christmas decorations. (Yes, I know, it's been over a month, but I need knee pads to do this, which is yet another story, so no judgment, okay?).

I have exactly 52 days to get all this done, in case you're counting.

Ready, set, go!