Post In Which We Send Abe On His Mission. Again.

On the morning of June 23rd, nearly three months into having Abe unexpectedly back home with us, Mike and I loaded him (along with the suitcases and carry-on that had been sitting, at the ready, on his bedroom floor since late March) into our small white car; and, with his siblings jumping up and down and shouting goodbyes from the street corner until we were out of sight, headed to the airport where he would be boarding a plane to Las Vegas for his “second mission” (as I’d begun to think of it).

For weeks my mind had rocked back and forth in time over all the activities playing themselves out in a strange repeat of last year. I kept thinking of our family last summer — and how we never would have even thought to imagine all the sameness we’d be experiencing this summer: a last Bear Lake trip, looking up mission Facebook pages, choosing a quitting date for Abe’s job, taking care of last minute preparations (last June it was buying luggage and getting an apostille, this June it was fixing a suit hem and shipping a bike), and that same heavy rock in my stomach expanding upward as the days grew closer to goodbye.

All that replication. Everything so tossed back in time. And yet we’d experienced so much in the space between that first goodbye and this reprise! We knew and understood all of these things that we hadn’t before.

Which served as a comfort. Definitely.

But also allowed for a more full comprehension of the magnitude of our goodbye.

I knew pretty well just what was ahead this time. It reminded me of natural childbirth the second time around — when I went in with the benefit of experience and knowing somewhat what to expect but also ... with the very realistic trepidation of experience and knowing somewhat what to expect.

And so, knowing what his absence was, and not feeling at all ready to begin it again, I shed far more tears and hugged Abe goodbye much longer this time than I ever did the first time.

But, having him home was joy. (Below are a few pics off his phone of some of his various adventures.) And while, already, the memory of his being here — snuggly fitted into our life again — is beginning to feel like snatching at those dust particles in a stream of sunlight, I feel so lucky to have had those months of reconnection.

And, I don’t know if I can describe this properly, but there is something so lovely I’ve begun seeing in all of this. It keeps circling in my mind, wrapping and tucking its way into my understanding, and showing increasing areas of application in my own life. Sort of a "faith precedes the miracle" concept. So, between Abe, his many close friends who were brought home from foreign missions at the same time as he was, the many missionaries who returned to the US from his same mission, and the friends who had just received foreign calls to places they now could not go, we witnessed a host of missionaries being given new assignments the last few months. There was an interesting feel about the response to these reassignments. The emphasis on where (which had seemed so hugely paramount before) dwindled to ... nearly gone. Not that they weren’t anxious or eager to know where they would be. But, for all of them, it was different from where they thought they would be. And most, including Abe, seemed to care relatively little about where their new assignment was. They’d committed to a mission. And they were simply going to finish it. Where didn’t really matter much anymore.

So they went. And then ... God began showing them that the where did matter after all! Almost as if they’d passed some test in their submissive willingness to go even if the spot no longer mattered. “Good work,” God seemed to smile and say. “I'm so proud that you were willing to serve when you felt the place maybe didn't even matter anymore. And now I will show you that it does matter.” Things like Abe meeting, within two weeks of his arrival in Las Vegas, two different families who knew people he knew in El Salvador. (A country of 6.5 million where he had only spent 8.5 months). Just these kind little nods from God saying, “There is connection here and purpose in all of this. And I have had no trouble arranging important things for your mission even through a pandemic.”

And of course, seeing glimpses of things like that, always make the sacrifice seem small compared to: God directing a path and granting amazing opportunities to have certain people brought into our lives, to serve him, and to learn specific lessons. It's amazing. And exciting. 

So. Here we go again. On to “second mission”. ...