I Hope They Call Me On A Mission

Sunday was Tres' first Missionary Preparation Class. The parents were invited to attend the first meeting. The first thing I noticed was that in a chapel and two overflows full of young men and women and thier parents, I was the only pregnant mother! Does that mean I'm too old to have babies or too young to have a missionary? I prefer the latter, though my body knows the real truth.

As mothers I think we always feel like we could do better. Our FHE's should be more meaningful, our chore chart should be longer, we should teach more, or lecture less. But what an overwhelming feeling to have your Stake President loving tell you what is expected of your young man, oh and by the way you have 10 months to get him ready!

I think I half expected, half hoped that the 18th birthday would be magical. Somehow he would become responsible, patient, and self-motivated overnight. Since magic didn't work, I guess it's up to us.

I'm not real worried about the spiritual aspect for Tres. He has an amazing testimony. He knows the scriptures better than I, probably better than most. He's read nearly the whole Preach My Gospel Manual. He says his prayers and can talk gospel principals with the best of them. It's the living away from home that gets me. Will he be able to wake up on time, will he remember to wear his retainer (we put a lot of money into those teeth!), how will he deal with the different personalities of his companions, what if he gets lost, or scared, or discouraged.

When I got home I spent some time on my knees. I needed answers to my fears, and what I found was a quiet reassurance that "all will be well, do your best, and I will do the rest."

I know we still have some work to get him ready. He will need to get up close and personal with the iron, among other things, but I know with the Lord's help he will be a wonderful missionary.