One year more.
Indeed, March marks the halfway point in Eli's two-year mission. Now I know some of you are saying to yourselves, "What? Really? He's been out a whole year? It feels like he just left." And I believe you. As I've said before, other people's kids' missions go by fast. Our own kids, not as much. I miss him. Very little defines the word "bittersweet" quite as well as sending one's kid off on a mission. I miss him lots. I cry sometimes because I miss him so, yet I wouldn't have him anywhere else. I'm so proud of him, so very proud. One year more.
One year more of waiting anxiously on Monday for those amazing p-day emails. Mine usually comes in the morning, around 10:00. I teach on Mondays at 11:00, so many times it comes just as I'm getting ready to go. I stop. Regardless of where I am in the process of dressing, applying make-up, styling hair, or gathering my stuff, I stop right where I am and read my email. Sometimes it comes while I'm in transit. This is not good. I hear the sound, informing me that an email has arrived, and I know EXACTLY who it's from, but I can't read it on the freeway. I can't risk having an accident, so I have to just keep on driving, knowing my email is right there on my phone. It's torture! When I finally arrive at school, I quickly find a place to park, and then sit right there in the parking lot and read my letter. Occasionally, it doesn't arrive until after I'm in my classroom. Since I teach at LDS Business College, all my students are well familiar with my situation. Many are returned missionaries themselves; others are preparing to go. They wait patiently for me to read my missionary's letter. One year more.
One year more of making sure I get a snail mail note sent off each week. I need to have it in the mail by Tuesday at 4:00, in order to be certain Eli receives it by Friday. For some reason (keep in mind I'm pretty OCD about some things), I've decided he needs to have the letter by Friday. I write it either Monday night or Tuesday morning, but then come the complications of getting it printed out, into an envelope, and off to Arkansas (or Tennessee, currently). Our printer seems never to have ink when I need it. Then I can't find a memory stick, so I'm stuck hauling my overly-large sized laptop to Office Depot. Almost always, Shulamith and Swen are with me, and often Swen is not at his happiest by the time we're doing all this, so Shulamith circles the parking lot while I run inside to print the letter. Then we need a mailbox. We know where most of those are by now, but for some reason, they are never in convenient places on Tuesdays in the late afternoon when I'm desperately trying to get my letter mailed by 4:00. Ask Shulamith how much she loves this part of our week. Wait...no...don't even ask. One year more.
One year more of our nightly prayers for our missionary. Yes, Seth and I pray for each member of our family, by name, every night. Still, there's something unique about how earnestly and anxiously we pray for Eli in the mission field. May he be safe. May he be strong. May he stay warm and dry. May he have the Spirit by his side constantly. May he never give in to discouragement, which will no doubt hover around him at times as he treks forward, step after step, door after door. May he be guided to those individuals who are seeking after truth. May he serve and love as the Savior did. Oh there is so much to pray for when you have a missionary. One year more.
One year more of his absence on holidays. Christmas and Mother's Day are the hardest, but also the best, because we get to Skype. With Luke in 2006-2008, it was only a phone call. One year more of putting together packages of various treats and surprises and then paying more for shipping than we did for the contents of the box but not caring in the least. For Valentine's Day last month, we sent granola, rice crispy treats, and caramel corn. Eli was sure the granola must have been made by Mathew's mom; certainly Shulamith and I couldn't have made anything that yummy, but we were pleased to inform him that we did, indeed, make it ourselves. One year more.
One year more of the blessings of having a missionary serving. One year more of hearing the incredible stories of mission miracles. One year more of seeing pictures of newly baptized members, their faces glowing with the joy that only the Gospel brings. Eli has participated in eight convert baptisms so far, six in Blytheville and two in Memphis, and has been privileged to perform four of those baptisms himself. Would you like to see some of those pictures?
March. The promise of spring. The unvoiced hope that a relentless winter will not be forever. A bit of glorious rain instead of snow. A bit of sweet sunshine mixed in. Longer days. And one year more.
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