I hadn't cried since the airport...

Okay, maybe I teared up a couple times when I walked into his room and saw the Paraguay flag hanging on the wall, his clothes hanging in his closet, clothes he won't wear for two whole years. Maybe I shed a tiny tear when I drove by Mr. Mac and remembered the night I took him there to be fitted for his mission suit. But no, I hadn't down dirty ugly cried since the airport.

Until this morning.

I got up early to get our beloved egg casserole in the oven, so it would be ready for everyone by the start of conference. If you ever want to be eternally grateful to me for sharing the most delicious food you will ever eat, then open this link right here. You're welcome.

Then I began to clean. Why? Because even though I spent much of last evening working to get my house what I call "General Conference clean," there were still tasks left to do. As I knelt on hands and knees in the bathroom, scrubbing out the tub and floor, it hit me. All at once. Out of nowhere. My Seth would not be with me to watch General Conference. "Well, duh," you are probably thinking. "He's in Mexico, preparing to fly to Paraguay Monday." I know that. I do. But the pathos attached to it didn't all come together for me until I was kneeling over that bathtub, struggling to scrub the dirt out of the those stupid grout-filled tiles.

You see, for the past several years, Seth has been my General Conference buddy. Everyone else seems to come and go. Gerald usually has to work during at least one session on Saturday. The older kids do crazy things like go away to college, serve missions, even get married! Sometimes they're here; sometimes they're not. Seth is the one constant. He's always here. I can count on him to set his bungee chair in front of the TV, wrap himself in a blanket, get his spiral out to take notes for seminary, and begin asking for food (treats he requested earlier in the week).

I texted Shulamith:

Me: I can't stop crying. Seth isn't here to watch Conference with me.

Shulamith: That must be so hard. But remember, if he had decided not to serve a mission, that would be even harder.

Me: Yes, of course you're right. But I just really miss him today. And I can't stop crying.

Shulamith: Start walking to Chevron. I'll meet your there. We'll get Diet Cokes and go home and watch together.

Girl, you have always been, and will always be, my best friend.

Some have told me I can't have it both ways. I can't encourage him his entire life to serve a mission and then be sad when he does. I disagree. I can absolutely have it both ways. Yes, I taught him to prepare himself to serve the Lord on a full-time mission. Yes, I helped him with every step of the process. And yes, I wanted this for him more than anything. Nothing he could possibly do would make me any prouder.

But yes, I still feel sad sometimes, and today was one of those times. The memories flooded over me. Early in his childhood, when watching a full two hours of Conference was unreasonable for a little kid, I would encourage him to listen when prophet spoke. And he did. I remember him sitting on my bed in our house in Billings. He got really quiet when President Hinckley spoke. It was as if he could sense that he was sitting at the feet of a prophet of the Lord.

Then I thought about Conference just one year ago. In the Saturday afternoon session, Seth and I didn't watch together. I watched the session live in the Conference Center, and Seth watched it from the choir loft, where he sang with a group of youth from our area. I was right down on the plaza floor, with a perfect view of Seth.

When the session ended, we weren't sure how we'd find each other since they didn't let the kids keep their phones (because, you know, teenagers would never pull out their phones while singing in a choir at General Conference). But I walked outside the door and within only a few minutes, there he was:

Today, Seth did not watch Conference here with me. He watched with around 800 other missionaries in the Mexico CCM. I hope it was so wonderful for him. I hope his testimony was fueled by Elder Soares, who invited him to reach out to people of other cultures (like Paraguay!) and welcome them into the church, and by President Uchtdorf, who reminded him that God's love is transformative and powerful, sufficient to overcome the "Weltschmerz" that, at times, plagues all of us. 

Between sessions today at the CCM, they served fresh, hot churros with toppings of chocolate sauce and fruit and whipped cream. Seth loves churros! I hope he ate two. Maybe he even gained another pound. 

I hadn't cried since the airport. But today. Well, today was a day. Perhaps I had to get it all out of my system before Monday, when I might get to talk to him (yes, actually hear his voice). Missionaries are allowed to call home from the airport when they leave the MTC (CCM) and before they fly off to wherever they're serving. But giving international phone cards to Gen Z kids, who have never in their lives not had cell phones, and telling them to use these cards in a pay phone at the airport to call home, well let's just say it's pretty much a crap shoot, whether or not they'll figure out how to do that. Seth has literally never used a pay phone or, until now, seen a calling card.

Elder Frost's mom and I are praying hard one of them figures it out in time for both of them to call. 

You pray too! Thanks!