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These weeks have not been easy. The not knowing, the not-so-good news, the waiting, painful conversations with people who heard Daniel was home when he was not, the constant school emails, and the work stress were rough. Things were complicated in Chile. Daniel helped print four different release certificates for himself in the mission office as his evacuation date moved several times. I prayed for peace constantly. One night, out of words to pray, I lay in bed praying the words to “Bring Him Home,” which was one of my more effective prayers.

Neither Richard nor I slept well the night before Daniel’s flight, and Richard tracked that plane constantly throughout the day. I kept busy, but felt my chest tighten as the day progressed. We drove to the airport together, two nervous wrecks. No, we didn’t think he would come home sick or harmed, but we were embarking into an unknown. Daniel arrived, full of light and reassurance. That night, I had my best sleep in years.

It’s not that we lacked faith. It’s that faith sometimes needs to be tested. Would we complain? Would we push our needs ahead of others who were suffering in different ways? Would we keep turning to God? Would we be overly dramatic about circumstances? Would we neglect the needs of our other children as we hyper-focused on our worries about international travel for Daniel? Would we stop acknowledging the blessings that flowed because Daniel was serving a mission? Would we forget hope? Would we neglect the little things like family prayer and scripture study in this sickly, dense fog?

There is much more to live before the resolution of this story. I don’t want to forget the comfort that only came through prayer. I don’t want to forget the light in Daniel’s missionary face. I don’t want to forget that there was a continual flow of understanding and concrete instructions as I read the Book of Mormon each day, pen in hand. These have been precious, soul-expanding days leading up to his return. Now that he is home, I am giving myself permission to breathe, rejoice, rest, and just look at Daniel’s face, in line with the rest of our children, all gathered together again.

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Angela

I write so my family will always have letters from home.