Tuesdays are now the most exciting day of the week, simply because that’s the morning an email from Elder Ben drops in my inbox. With only thirty minutes of computer time, his letters are rushed, uncharacteristically filled with typos and sentence fragments.
He’s doing well– the language is coming easily, the food is OK– and he misses us. He misses us a lot.
Someone advised me to never say that I miss him in a letter. I don’t know what to think of that advice. It’s good to know that people love and miss you– certainly not to say, “I’ll die if you don’t come home.”– but to express, “I care about you; I notice your absence.” But I’ll try not to say it too much.
I’ve been writing him almost every day using dearelder.com (a very cool, free service that prints out my letter and delivers it to the MTC every day), assigning a sibling to write each afternoon and sending care packages.
Ben was so excited and eager to go that the initial separation was not as hard as I had anticipated. After all, I’ve been through much worse.
But the reality of two years, twenty-four months without my boy, is settling in. People tell me that the time will fly by, but I know that’s not true. The boy across the street left in June of 2009– my world has cracked and changed in unimaginable ways since then. Loved ones have left this earth and been born into it. The axis of the earth has literally shifted for all of us.
And besides, I can’t wish these two years away. I have a houseful of people who need me and I want to create a home that they too, will miss when they leave.
Some time soon, I’ll set up an Elder Ben blog to archive his missionary letters and photos.
But for now, I am keeping his words close to my heart, unsure what to share and what to reveal. Already, his second letter was less personal than the first. And though I am sorry that he was homesick that first week, I think I’ll always treasure those words, “I miss just talking to you, Mom. You really are the best.”
Provo, UT 84604