Standing at the airport, looking at Josh in his dark gray suit, white shirt, yellow tie and most importantly, his “Elder Nilsen” name tag, the thought clearly came into my head, You have given birth to him again. This was a maternal message. Sending him on a mission was like birthing. I labored for him to leave me, my breath became shallow, I was in physical pain but this time, instead of the doctor handing him to me, I was handing him to the Lord.
It occurred to me that possibly, as mothers, we do give birth to the same child throughout their life. But this feeling didn’t hit me the day we took him to the temple; all I felt was pure joy. Waiting in the gardens of the Salt Lake Temple, while Bob took Josh to do his initiatory work, I was suddenly so filled with happiness that I couldn’t speak. I was overwhelmed with love. But yesterday was different; Josh was a new man. He looked different. He was changed. As much as this was a huge occasion for Josh, it was a rite of passage for me and the Spirit let me know it.
Now, like so many, I am in that worldwide society of relief, women who’s children have made it this far, have been born into another life that requires looking outward rather than in, a world of youth who put into practice, “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” I look at the missionaries in our area and better recognize that everyone of them has a mother who has had to labor again, recognize the separation and see their child anew. I am humbly inspired by the strength of their mothers. Admittedly, I feel guilty that I get to raise their children while they have to be quarantined, therein lies the village that covers the earth. Every time we have a missionary in our home, I recognize they have a mother who is recovering from delivery. I believe it takes two years.
Kathleen (mother of five – mission mom to 170+)
Thank you for expressing exactly what it feels like to be the mother of a missionary, and how difficult it is to let go.