We sent our missionary out today with a mass of other young elders at the airport. The empathy tears for other mothers and my own calm were surprises to me. I felt God was there, too. That was no surprise.
Category: Motherhood
New lenses
Richard dreads the idea of having to wear glasses, but I have worn them since I was nine or ten years old and know how great it is to have vision restored. Like Richard, though, I sometimes fight the different lenses I need to take on with time: the lens of experience in saying goodbye at college or a mission, the lens of what it’s like to sit with someone who is in pain, and the lens to look outward when my own troubles want to dominate my view. The lenses of experience with disappointment, repentance, and wisdom after stupidity are particularly difficult to assume sometimes.
I think the most difficult thing I ever did was say goodbye to my friends who went on missions. Three best friends left within a year and I was shaken emotionally and physically. For this reason, I worried what it would be like to send Daniel, who is more dear to me, on a mission. I have my moments, of course, but I have something I didn’t have when I said goodbye to my friends when I was 18 and 19 years old. The lenses I have acquired over time teach me that a mission is not just a goodbye. It is everything good. I have seen it again and again. I am really as peaceful about this as I have ever felt over a big transition. I felt it when he read his call to me. I feel it now, even though we have less than a week left together. It is peace not earned by personal experience, since I have never sent a son before, but it’s evidence of a generous God.
Skirt
Almost every day I shop for Daniel, I find mothers out with their sons buying mission clothing, too. I don’t even have to see them to feel some familiarity. Today I overheard a woman helping her son find a travel bag in the next aisle. I knew exactly what was going on. When I see these mothers with their wide-eyed, humble sons, it makes me ache for the mothers a bit. Maybe these moms would also appreciate something cheerful to wear. 😉 I finished sewing my polka dot skirt!
Polka dots and t-shirts
I am convinced that I need polka dots to get through the next few weeks so I am making myself a polka dot skirt. Will I finish it today? I hope so.
Today I will not obsess about Daniel’s suits being the wrong fit or colors. (They are fine. Why can’t I believe that? Who is this paranoid person?)Â I will not worry about all of the name labels I should be sewing on his clothing, nor the alterations I still need to do. (This will actually be easy, and I will enjoy a movie or two as I do it.)Â Â I will stop crying about not being able to find a winter coat for him because I think I finally found two good options late last night online. (And I have lots more time since it is expected that we will ship these things to him in a couple months.) I will stop wishing I had a big sister and appreciate all the sisters who surround me.
I am using every method at my disposal to WIN these days and weeks leading up to the mission: savoring every bite of my food, watching British entertainment, decorating with twinkle lights, embracing positive words, and taking spontaneous time with the boys. Melancholy still seeps in, and when it does, I just take it, have my little cry or whatever, and think about my polka dot skirt. But don’t let this post about fabrics fool you. When I am obsessing about socks or a suit or polka dots, it is really that I am having a hard time saying goodbye to Daniel. The person, not the mannequin I am dressing. Finding the right clothes is really the least of my worries.
I have adopted some armor. When I wear positive messages, it changes how I think. I bought a lot of happy screen print t-shirts, enough for every day of the week.
I plan to pair them with my polka dot skirt. Here are a few of them:
It won’t wear one of these on the day we say goodbye since I plan to experience every feeling that day without armor.
Collections
I spent some time today with Daniel going through his closet. When he was eleven or twelve, he and I organized his many collections in boxes with labels, and this week, he is parting with most of these things. Collections of metal, bouncy balls, airsoft pellets, rocks, army men, shiny things, cards, baseballs, toys, pens, postcards, marbles, cowboy things, Pinewood Derby cars, CDs, and other treasures went through our hands one more time together. There were things to keep, things to pass on to others, and much to throw away.
Tonight I look at Mark’s collections at his desk and feel the need to remember every detail of these messy cubbies.
Scoutmaster’s Wife
Richard and Mark left for Scout Camp this morning at 6 am. I got up to wish them goodbye, and now I can’t seem to make myself happy or get going. The trade-off for missing Richard is that I know Mark will be ok with his dad around. I miss Mark already. He is my companion most of the time, and he pats me on the back while I shop for groceries and he likes to fix me little things for lunch.
Some days are bad days for me, just like anyone, even if I don’t vocalize it.
It takes a lot of family and leader effort to get a scout to a beautiful Eagle Court of Honor like we had last weekend.
Eagle Court of Honor
On Sunday evening at the Spencer cabin, we held Daniel’s Eagle Court of Honor during our family reunion. Thanks to Richard J. and Sarah, we have some great photos from the evening. We were surrounded by family, friends, and special guests, but we were also in a sacred setting. The cabin and mountains, with more than 100 years of family memories, added to the feelings of the evening. Daniel earned his Eagle a long time ago, but the court of honor felt intimidating to do, so we delayed. I’m so glad we decided to do it in this setting before he leaves on his mission.
No
I read a book recently about the power of Christian hospitality. Our homes, our time, and our stuff, is not our own, the author asserts. And we need to get over the idea that our homes need to be perfect to invite people into our lives. We need to move from entertaining to being hospitable. This is how we show a life of faith to others and have the greatest influence. Some of these thoughts will frame the way I will be more free with my time, my home, and my self, but I have only felt terrible this week when I have held myself to a standard I can’t live right now. I am better than I used to be about sensitivity to people and requests, and I have a greater tolerance for social demands now than even a year ago. However, in this coming month of a high adventure trip and scout camp back-to-back (alone); and during this month of final missionary preparations and errands (stretched); and during the last collection of minutes with our son Daniel living with us (sacred), people may be disappointed in my inability to do it all. I have said no, and I will continue to say no occasionally.
Half Moon Bay
We arrived at Half Moon Bay after dark on a Sunday night. We set up quickly and fell asleep to the sound of waves. It was so dark, we couldn’t know how close we were to the water, and looked forward to the morning to reveal where we had landed.
In the morning, the beach was ours to claim, cold and beautiful, and we did claim it, most of us in a commando crawl on the sand to stay warm and out of the wind. Mark, of course, took on the waves with little boy zeal in a longer, leaner version of himself than the last time he was at the beach. I knew I was watching some of the last of his childhood as he moved to attack the waves with kicks and leaps. He will be more reserved next time. I will brace myself for that.
Two favorite memories from this leg if the trip: an eclectic and well-stocked used bookstore and an old fashioned diner.
Good surprises from Half Moon Bay: a new friend at the campground named Dave, flowers everywhere along the path to the beach, Daniel’s videos of Mark, and we became faster at folding up the pop-up trailer each time.
Menu: chicken salad on pitas, breakfast burritos, pizza, diner food, roasted hot dogs, and cinnamon sugar doughies by Mark and Richard
Essentials: jackets, heater, books, magazines
Favorite conversation: at Grandma Ruth’s house about “The List” of things she is not supposed to eat anymore.
Superpowers Required
There was a big meeting scheduled this week for my calling. We were asked to “arrange our schedules” so we could attend. This phrase read in my mind, “It will be a sin to miss it.” The problem was, this meeting was at the same time as the Senior awards night. I felt the urgency of the message to fix my schedule, and wondered if God expected me to miss an important part of graduation. I mean, my ancestors left their countries and families to cross the plains and serve missions. Here it was again: the call of church and family, ringing in all parts of my mind, not in harmony, but dissonant and out of sync. This interpretation of events is no one’s fault but my own. No meeting is worth the angst I felt, but it illustrates the way I and many women face the world. We interpret invitations as commandments and feel regret when we can’t do everything. Compound this with the question, is there anything worse than a mother who doesn’t show up for her kids? Mothers are needed more than presidents, but I need to feel my choices are actually mine to make. I believe I usually choose the right option after some thought and talking it out. Of course I would choose my son, but in my mind, I was wrestling to know if it was God’s will or mine that made me think I should choose the meeting. In the end, I chose my son and was thankful that my Father in Heaven gave me counselors to cover meetings I can’t attend.
I don’t believe I need to do more things to be of worth. But independent of my worth, I want to be useful, and that means I need to do the right things. It feels like super powers are required sometimes. Sometimes I am torn in big ways, but other times I think it is funny what I am asked to do. This week included the following:
I was asked to help with an essay, but I was not allowed to read the rough draft.
I needed to visit a home full of dogs, but focus on the people, not the beloved dog biting my feet during the visit.
I was asked to demonstrate Timothy’s electric guitar since I am the only one in the house who plays the guitar. Never mind that I can’t play Metallica.
And of course, I needed to be in two places at once, or at least I felt that way until I let it go and delegated the responsibility to someone else. I think this is the freedom that I was looking for this week. My Father in Heaven has everything in place to make things work for busy moms at church.