Category: Missionary

Past, Present, Future

Tiny art by Paige for my miniature museum, featuring Tim as a missionary in Micronesia.

Being the planner that I am, I get lost in future scenarios really easily. I love to sit down with my day planner and organize everything. Sometimes I have to limit how long I allow myself to live in the future because hello, there are people here, right now, that could use some attention.

I also have a sentimental side that collects images and artifacts from every event in our lives. I find that when I am most stressed, it is my memories that will ground me. Favorite escape memories for me often involve scenes from my childhood: a still, black, icy night walking home from a tithing settlement with my family; feeling static shocks at my great-grandmother’s house from her shag carpet while eating her pink wintergreen lozenges; the leathery, then papery crunch of autumn leaves under my feet as I walked home from elementary school on a golden afternoon. The past is a friend when I am a bag of nerves.

The present is probably the least easy place for me to inhabit. But this week that is where I have tried to live. We spent time with Tim and Mark last Friday, a last hurrah together before the mission. I didn’t take pictures, just mental ones. I have tried to be open to what the last week of regular life has brought to us. I watched Tim and Elder Josh Marz together in our front yard, talking and smiling on Josh’s last P-day before flying to his mission. I watched some shows with Mark who has a cold. I walked around a store and explored the Christmas aisles instead of just my usual in-and-out beeline to the things on my list.

We gather tomorrow for an outdoor goodbye party for Tim. On Sunday, he will speak in church and be set apart as a missionary. All the planning and work makes the present more enjoyable. My word of the month is SHINE. We’re ready.

Good news

photo by Rachel Angela Photography

Our mailman has been 3 for 3 this week for bringing good things. He delivered the long awaited passport. The next two days he delivered some family history and a kind note. I have been praying for that silly passport to come, and feel so happy that we are moving forward again with Tim’s travel details. I learned a new dimension of trust in God’s will as I gave up my worry each day, a tattered offering to God who does not make mistakes, and whose will is done on earth as it is in heaven.

Childhood Home

I had an errand in Provo this morning and I drove past my parents’ old home, the usual routine. I knew the house was going on the market, but I saw the sign today. I drove the familiar streets that seem to be smaller with time. That we live out our lives within a few walls and a few blocks seems to me both narrow and warming. The neighborhood church still stands, the river flows nearby, and the friends and children we knew are all grown or gone. My memories are keen and strong of the smells, temperatures, and colors of the seasons of my childhood. At least I have a childhood home to visit. Just blocks from my parents’ old house the hospital system leveled an entire neighborhood, minus one holdout whose yard is encircled by a parking lot.

I drove to the Provo temple, my usual routine, forgetting the Missionary Training Center was right across the street. Gasp. In exactly 1 month we will drop off Timothy at this place, another testament that the important places of our lives overlap and converge. I felt small again, with life’s interactions, routines, and milestones, so big in my mind but so tightly bound in space.

I have lived in Utah, New Mexico, Texas, and Arizona during my adult life, but the spaces of my childhood are still part of my experiences today in memory and place. Home, school, church, temple, and back again.

Autumn vibe

Current light in my house is in the shades of orange and yellow, and I am a project-driven maniac. Fall is my time. It is when I was born. It is when I get things accomplished. Mission list? DONE. Christmas presents? Almost DONE. Neighbor gifts? BOOM! November and December, I am ready. Bring all you have to ask of me. Bring it all: a missionary, home MTC, Primary programs, speaking and training assignments, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Thanks to a healthy and productive October I am more prepared face all the things, and have a cushion of time for the goodbye. I fall apart sometimes, and it isn’t all perfect, but I know God has been in the details of this season.

Missionary Armor of God video

https://www.facebook.com/587112552/posts/10157933781037553/?app=fbl

I wish that this video was available in a different way, since you probably need a Facebook account to see it. I am posting it as a place marker in time, as these are the missionaries from our ward. Tim is in it, too.

Tim begins his missionary service in 32 days. We have all the gear to prove it.

This is only about 1/10 of the stuff we have for the mission. This is my current workshop for gathering and rudimentary tailoring.
Now that we have almost everything, it’s time to attach labels.

I’m on my knees about his passport, which had a hiccup in processing. I could use some fellowship in prayer on this.

Home MTC

When Tim’s friends became missionaries, reality hit pretty hard for me. I missed them! It was such a sweet surprise to see them at our house this weekend for a few minutes, eating cookies and watching an MTC training video together. They are both completing their missionary training at home. They have a little free time, and they are careful to always be with a companion. They are happy! They are also hopeful, despite all the unknowns right now about missionary work, and you know, hope is very contagious. Way to shine, elders.

What has happened since that first sunflower

The sunflowers now dominate this bed of raspberries and strawberries. Do you remember the story of my wild sunflower (the one with all the branches)?

A single sunflower that we had not planted bloomed the week that Daniel left on his mission. I considered it a gift from God, a comfort to me. A year later, on the anniversary of Daniel’s departure, a single sunflower bloomed in the same place as the year before. The third year, the sunflower had a mishap and was removed. I told Richard that a sunflower in that spot was important to me, and he planted some sunflower seeds in the area so I wouldn’t go without in 2021. But my friends, the wild sunflower, the one that comforted me all those years ago, the one that was removed last year, has come back again this year in its boldest array so far. The other sunflowers delight me, but this wild sunflower bush is special because I believe God makes it blossom just for me, one little missionary mom.

Supper

Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and I will sup with him, and he with me.

Revelation 3:20, KJV

I read this today in a list of scriptures about the Lord making appearances to people. What stood out to me is what the Lord chooses to do with those who hear him and invite him into their lives: He sups with them. The meal represents the great blessing of having companionship with God and receiving his loving support. I think it conveys feelings of comfort, rest, and fulfillment.

I have been thinking of what the pandemic has brought to us. One blessing is that we have had more time with all of our children. Did I always use the time well? No, I have regrets, but I don’t regret that I elevated Sunday dinners and other meals. Early in the pandemic, I prayed to know how to face the challenge, and one thing that came to my mind was to make the most of family time, and to create celebrations with our meals together.

I have used fine dishes for our Sunday dinners, with cloth napkins, goblets, chargers, good tablecloths, and our best recipes. I started a written record of which children came and what we talked about. I can’t think of a more bonding experience than these meals have been during this challenging time.

We said goodbye to Daniel last weekend as he headed back to college. He doesn’t live far away, but it’s far enough that we won’t see him every day, every week, and maybe miss a month now and then. Knowing there is one less person at the table is one of the hardest parts of saying goodbye each fall.

Tim will leave us soon to begin his mission, and these meals with him mean more and more to me, as I know they are numbered. Tim received the Melchizedek priesthood on Sunday, and I was invited to share my thoughts at the conclusion of his ordination and blessing. I didn’t have to think of something profound, I just reminded him of something we had talked about at last Sunday’s dinner table. This table has become a truly sacred place for our family.