My missionary son woke up a couple of hours ago in the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah. Â He won’t wake up anywhere tomorrow morning, because he will be crossing the International Date Line and for him, there will be no morning of 12 March, 2013. Â If everything goes according to plan, he will be landing in Cebu City in the Philippines around 7:15 pm tomorrow evening, Mountain Daylight Time. Â That’s almost 37 hours from the time he woke up this morning until the time he arrives at his destination, making this the longest day of my son’s life so far. Â He’s going to be one TIRED young man, even if he is able to get some sleep on his flight over the Pacific.
We’ve been missing him for almost six weeks now as he has been in the MTC preparing to serve the people of the Philippines, but it has still felt like he is nearby. Â I can almost see the MTC from my window where I work. Â It’s going to be different when he is on the opposite side of the planet from us.
Yet I am so excited for him! Â I am excited for the struggles he is going to have, because through the struggles, he will grow. Â I am excited for the spiritual growth that he will experience as he learns to rely on the Lord in ways that he has never had to in the past. Â I am excited for the experiences he will have–experiences that one can only have as a missionary in the service of the Lord.
I can’t wait to hear about these experiences. Â Until he returns, we’ll be doing a lot of praying for him and for those that he is teaching. Â A song from the Nashville Tribute Band sums it up well:
Tell me there is a place in heaven where her voice cannot be heard.
Through time and space as a beam of light, it travels like a bird
Into the ear of the Father as He looks down on her
As she prays, “Bless my son. Bless my precious one.
Give him the strength to find the faith of Ammon.
Give him the power of Paul in his tongue.
Give him the Spirit to soften hearts of stone and bring them home.
And until he’s done, bless my son. Â Bless my son.”
To everyone else she knows, he’s just another boy, gone two years.
But to her, he’s flesh and blood who seems so far away from here.
So every night that goes by, just before she turns out the light,
Heaven hears, “Bless my son. Bless my precious one.
Give him the strength to find the faith of Ammon.
Give him the power of Paul in his tongue.
Give him the Spirit to soften hearts of stone and bring them home.
And until he’s done, bless my son. Â Bless my son.”
Two years away can seem like such a sacrifice.
Funny how two years adds up to ten percent of his life.
“Bless my son. Bless my precious one.
Give him the strength to find the faith of Ammon.
Give him the power of Paul in his tongue.
Give him the spirit to soften hearts of stone and bring them home.
And until he’s done, bless my son. Â Bless my son.
Bless my son.”
Good luck to the whole family. I remember when my brother was on the other side of the world, my mom figured with my late night habits and his location there was always somebody in our family that was up. Kind of like the sun never setting on the British Empire, only more familial.