The Missionary

Just received the last e-mail of the mission.

The missionary comes home in a week.

Sending my eldest on a mission was the very hardest and yet one of the very best things I've done in my life.

So far.

This picture was taken during our Christmas day phone call with him. He has the knack of closing, squinting, winking or doing other awkward things with his eyes in almost every picture we've ever taken of him. But here? Smiling big, eyes wide....and a cell phone attached to his ear.

**edited to add- when I looked at the larger version of this picture, I noticed that yes, he still has a bit of his signature squint. That's ok- it still counts as eyes wide in "bradford picture history!"

lol.

I don't see the cell phone (too much) though. I see my son, totally happy and enjoying the wonderful family who graciously celebrated their Christmas day with him.

I see someone new too- a man who has served his Heavenly Father faithfully for two years. A man who has found true joy in missionary work.

I'm so excited to be at the airport next week awaiting his return.

I'm excited to see the son I sent off- to hug him, enjoy him, and probably get some goofy pictures.

I'm also excited...actually very excited to see the man he has become.

The "G" Word

Many years ago when the missionary was just a little tyke, maybe kindergarten or first grade (I know, I should have written it down when it happened. Maybe he was like, 14 or something as well as I remember things!) I picked him up from school one day.

He was noticeably upset.

I decided to be a mature mama and wait to see if he would share his problem with me.
I drove off.
30 seconds later all my maturity drove off too. (He was my first child, after all!)

I demanded (and I'm afraid that's all too true, in fact, I think I literally commanded him to tell me his problems. I had a lot of mothering learning to do. I still have a lot of mothering learning to do.)

In a tremulous voice, he told me that someone at school used the "G" word.
Said with appropriate tones saved for the very naughtiest of deeds.

The "G" word? My not so quick and commanding mothering mind searched for the "G" word. Was this some new word that I didn't know? I finally had my aha! moment and in my most mature mothering voice (it came back after being driven off) I started to explain how not all children have learned that we don't take the Lord's name in vain.

"Not that word, MOM!" he groaned.

Oh. Mature mother slipped away again momentarily. What to do? What other "G" words are there? What are they teaching my child at this school that I pay my taxes for? Who is my precious firstborn cavorting with at this heathen institution?

"Well, umm, which "G" word did this child say?"

No immediate answer from the back. I could see his thoughts...mom asking me to say a bad word???

then, quietly, hesitantly, I hear him say

"Jerk!"

I had to cover my mouth in a pretend fit of coughing to hide the uncontrollable laughter gurgling up within me. Between sputters and coughs, I finally summoned up enough composure to say one of my wisest, most mature mother comments ever.

"Oh my!"

I never had the heart to tell the missionary that the "G" word isn't really a "G" word after all, but a "J" word.

JOYFUL (and Lazy)

I scrapped this page six years ago, and it remains one of my favorites. KK does bring great joy into our lives. A little bit of spice too... but what's joy without some seasoning?

This was actually supposed to be a post about how my oldest (the missionary) will be turning 21 years old tomorrow. How having him was such an exciting experience after what seemed like a lifetime of waiting and a prior miscarriage. How I am missing him when I think about the years I was blessed to have with him as a child- and how fleeting they truly were. When my children were little, I fantasized about a good night's rest, a real conversation, a glass of juice I didn't have to pour myself. Little did I know that those memories would become precious and that inconveniences associated with them totally forgotten...just like labor!

Despite all my warm and fuzzy feelings today about the missionary... I don't have a picture of him as a baby or toddler on the computer (it was all film then, folks) and am too lazy to go scan one. Recent pictures of him are always in groups with people I don't know and who I doubt would be thrilled to be foisted onto the web (and I'm too lazy to crop them out.) He was a wee one (hmm- a little irish flair to the blog today!) at 6lbs, 4oz. and cute as a button.

So instead of a picture of my first baby, you get a picture of my last baby....and I assure you, there was a baby in the middle who I love just as much and will devote an entire blog entry to someday. When I'm not feeling quite so lazy!!!

Only ONE YEAR LEFT to:

use his ipod (upon which I have deleted all his songs and uploaded mine)... what? My ipod is lost. This was the budget friendly way to have all the joys of an ipod and not pay for it!

use his laptop...upon which I have added thousands of pictures, photoshop cs, and millions of kb's of primary records.

enjoy his redecorated and over girlified bedroom- with the bed and nightstand, duvet covers, pillow cases, and lamps he's never seen (love ikea, yes I do!) I know that when he returns he'll want something more mannish. At least I hope he will. It's a veritable flower paradise in there!

write 52 Sunday afternoon e-mails trying to come up with interesting, clever, and witty things that have happened in a week where all we did was school/work/church/home... When we have done something noteworthy or exciting, trying to make it sound fun, but not TOO fun.

Appreciate the opportunity he has to set aside the common worries of young adulthood, and instead focus on serving his Heavenly Father.

I hope the year just SPEEDS by! For me, that is. I think he's hoping for slow-motion.

update to "the call"

"The Call"

had it's moments of surprise- when at the end of the call our side of the phone was accidentally hung up without saying good-byes all around. We waited for our missionary to call us back. He didn't. We had his cell phone number (we probably weren't supposed to actually NOTICE that on the caller id) and whereas dad was fine with calling it a night, I wasn't. Must say good-bye before Mother's Day! We called the number... it rang an awfully long time while I'm sure our missionary was pondering whether it would be obeying or disobeying mission rules to answer.... finally, a hesitant hello? Good-byes were said and all was well with the mother (me!)

It had moments of tragedy (well, a bit hyperbole there) when we learned he had been hit by a car in June and hadn't told us... apparently we (me) reacted to strongly to the march bike accident and missionary was concerned that this would have me on a plane at his side. A texting teenager driving an SUV ran into him, propelling (another hyperbole, but it makes it sound so exciting- especially since I know he's fine) him onto the hood and then back to the ground. Said driver then got their phone number (on a pass-along card) and hightailed it out of Duarte. Of course she never called. The bike was the most hurt, with the missionary injuring a shoulder slightly, and suffering from shock- but otherwise fine. The missionary was disappointed she never called back- both from the standpoint of civic duty and the opportunity to ask her about the Gospel.

And of course, there were several moments of confusion. I forgot most of my questions and concerns, added some new ones that I had never had (like, how many other things have happened that we as parents should know but don't) and delighted in the joy he is finding serving his Heavenly Father and Savior. He sounded grown up and independent, which is what I hoped to hear after all this time...on the other hand, the mothery part of me was a bit chagrined.

It was all good.

Waiting for "the call"

It has been a merry and joyful Christmas at our home. We had a great Christmas Eve with the Christmas Story from Luke, our traditional"Polar Express" read by William Hurt (not with us in person, but delighting us via cassette tape) and a Mormon Tabernacle Christmas on PBS. We also waited excitedly for the 1 minute phone call telling us when "the call" would occur today.

The phone rang at 11:15 pm. It was our missionary!!! I mentioned to him that it was almost midnight (he's on pacific coast time) and he said that he had hoped to catch santa in the act.

Morning came, my parents are in town which is always wonderful, the kids were excited and even a bit surprised (hard to do when you only have teenagers!) at their gifts. A good nap, and a turkey dinner in the oven have completed the day.

Except for "the call"

Which should happen in an hour or so.....

We haven't talked to our missionary since Mother's Day. 7-1/2 months. We get e-mails every week, but just the sound of the voice...EXCITING!!! I could hardly sleep after last night's 1 minute call. So I am excited and anxious and nervous for our icing on this Christmas Day. After Mother's Day I hung up feeling like I forgot to say so many things, and that I said so many things I didn't mean too.... (right, Mr. Yes?) I also hung up feeling so blessed to have him as a son, and missing him more than ever....

Now, 11-1/2 months into his mission will I feel the same?
Probably....
but for now, I wait for "the call"