I haven't really blogged since, well, Elder Smith came home and I quit updating http://elderjamessmith.com.  However, now I'm blogging again since Elder Smith has left! That's for my younger son, Elder Smith!  http://elderjordansmith.com

I may start posting here again, or, with the content that I may be posting, I may end up creating an altogether different blog. It's yet to be determined.

Just not here.

Life has changed a bit. All of my blogging is happening in behalf of my missionary son on elderjamessmith.com. What a crazy month he's had--a 7.3 earthquake followed by the strongest tropical storm to ever make landfall in world history.

I was told that being a parent of a missionary would be hard. I just didn't know it would be THIS hard. As a friend put it, "I've never been asked to sacrifice this much." So true.

Yet the growth I've seen in my son is worth every bit of sacrifice.

...the dark ancestral cave, the womb from which mankind emerged into the light, forever pulls one back - but...you can't go home again...you can't go...back home to the escapes of
Time and Memory. You Can't Go Home Again.
― Thomas Wolfe

This past week, I visited Billings, Montana.  It's where I was born and where I lived until just before my 18th Birthday.  Until this visit, every time I went back to Billings, it felt a little bit like coming home.  This time, I felt...

...nothing.

We drove around town and I pointed out the places I had lived and attended school.  We drove past church buildings and restaurants and parks.  And all the while, I felt...

...nothing.

It was unexpected. I thought I would feel nostalgia.  I thought I would feel some sort of emotional attachment to anything.  I thought it would feel a little bit like coming home, but instead, I felt...

...nothing.

The more I've thought about it, the more I realized that in the past, I was coming home to people, not to a place.  It wasn't a house or a school or a church that I was coming home to.  I was coming home to parents and siblings.  That's what caused the feeling of coming home that I used to get when driving the last miles into Billings.  With no family to come home to, that may be the reason that I felt...

...nothing.

I left Billings in August, 1987, and since then, I've lived there a total of about 7 or 8 months.  I have now lived in Utah County for a little under 22 years.  I've lived in Utah County for a longer time than I lived in Billings.  And when I drove the last few miles down Provo Canyon, it felt like coming home.  I did get the feeling of coming home on this vacation.  It just didn't happen where I thought it would.

I've been absent for a while here.  I have wanted to post things here and there, but life has gotten busy and posting on my blog has never been top priority for me.  Sure, it's nice and all, and it's fun to keep people up-to-date on what's going on in my life, but when it comes down to it, I try to do the more important things first and post here when/if there's time left over.

Also, I often don't really have anything interesting to post. I'll open up a new post window and start to type something, and then realize it's boring and/or mundane.  It's drivel.  No need to bore people with drivel.

So, what's been going on?

When I have time to post something, often that time is used posting my son's latest letter on his missionary blog.  That's much more important to me, to him, and to those that follow his blog.  It's been so much fun for me to share the photos and stories he's sent to us so far. It's been strange to have half of my children not only gone, but living on the far side of this planet.

I've been trying to spend time with my younger son.  He needs time and attention from his dad, especially lately since he has been trying to come to grips with the suicide of one of his closest friends.  He and I like to watch The X-Files together, and we just finished watching Season 5.  Now it's time to watch The X-Files: Fight the Future.

I had to finish up my semester at UVU, and since I was teaching from a different book, it took a lot of my "extra" time to prepare lectures, and to write quizzes and tests.  I'll be teaching from that same book this fall, so that's going to be nice.  I will just need to tweak things here and there instead of creating all of my course materials.  I will also be using "clickers" for the first time this fall though, which might (or might not) take extra time.

I've been made a team lead at work, which has been taking more time than expected, especially at first.  It's taking some time to find the new work/life balance.  But I think I'm getting there.

Among all of that, I've also been trying to make time to spend with my wife, because in the next three or so years, we're going to be empty nesters.  How strange is THAT?

Anyway, that's what's been going on.  Only time will tell if this is the start of regular posts again or if this is one sporadic post among more months of silence.

What a crazy, crazy week.

Elder James Smith left the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah at around noon on Monday, 11 March, 2013.  His mission president requested early travel for the fourteen missionaries that would be traveling together to the Philippines, Cebu mission.  If Missionary Travel could get them there a day earlier, then they would arrive on their preparation day, and that would make things easier for the incoming missionaries as well as the fourteen missionaries that would be training them.

But little Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often awry

--Robert Burns, 1785

In order to get the missionaries to Los Angeles at the last minute, the group of fourteen were broken up into three travel groups.  James got to fly directly to Los Angeles from Salt Lake City, which was nice.  Others had layovers in different airports.

We were able to talk to James very briefly in the Salt Lake airport, and he promised to call us for a longer visit when he had a layover in Los Angeles for several hours.  After finding some dinner, James called, and we put the phone in the middle of the kitchen table and talked as a family for almost an hour.  It was wonderful to hear his voice.  It was fun to hear the excitement in his voice.  I realized how much I miss his laugh and his humor.  It was a very, VERY fun conversation.

We said goodbye, thinking we wouldn't hear his voice again until Mother's Day.  We went about the rest of our evening activities, and I ended up falling asleep in front of the television.  I was startled awake when my wife leaned over to shake me awake.  She had woken up to the sound of my cellular phone ringing.  I checked my voice mail, and it was James.  I quickly checked the balance on the phone card we had given him to use and I added some money to it since it was getting low.  He ended up checking the balance, heard that there was more money on the account, and knew that I had gotten his message, so he called back and told me what was going on in more detail.

All of the missionaries had met up in the Los Angeles International Airport and went together to the International terminal to check in for their flight and they were told that despite the fact that they had been given boarding passes, there were no associated tickets.  They were told that they could change their flight for $75 per ticket.  The travel leader called Missionary Travel and were given the go-ahead to pay the fees and they would be reimbursed.  When he went back to pay the fees, it was no longer $75, but it was $150.  He called again and Missionary Travel said to pay the fees.  This process was repeated as the price per ticket climbed to $300, then $500, then $900 per ticket.  Each time, Missionary Travel said to pay the fees.  They were willing to spend an additional $12,600 to get these missionaries to their destination! Finally, Philippine Airlines said that there was not enough room on the flight.

My missionary son woke up a couple of hours ago in the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah.  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.  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.  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.  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.  I can almost see the MTC from my window where I work.  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!  I am excited for the struggles he is going to have, because through the struggles, he will grow.  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.  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.  Until he returns, we'll be doing a lot of praying for him and for those that he is teaching.  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.  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.  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.  Bless my son.
Bless my son."

I know I haven't been around here much lately, but lately, I don't have much positive to say, so in keeping with what my mom (and everyone else's mom) used to say--"If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"--I'm keeping quiet.

Life is just hard for me right now.  I know that what I'm going through is nothing compared to what others go through.  I understand that my problems are petty and small.  But I'm really just not in the mood to post more blog entries whining about things that, in the end don't matter much in the short term and will hopefully make me a stronger person in the long run.  Some of what I'm working through is the result of very very GOOD things, but good things don't always come easily.

For now, while I'm putting things back together again and trying to sort things out, don't worry.  I'm going to be fine.  I just really don't want to talk about it right now.

I've had 20 physical therapy treatments now, and I can honestly say that every single time I think it's going to get better, they give me a new stretch or exercise that makes it hurt just as much or more as it did before.  If I weren't making progress, I'd probably sink into a deep, deep depression.  I certainly would stop going to physical therapy.

On Wednesday, the therapist took measurements to put on a status report that I gave to my surgeon when I saw him yesterday.  Here's the measurable improvement:

Flexion - Started at 111 degrees.  Currently at 165 degrees.  Goal is 180 degrees.

Abduction - Started at 83 degrees.  Currently at 150 degrees.  Goal is 180 degrees.

Internal Rotation - Started at 49 degrees.  Currently at 78 degrees.  Goal is 90 degrees.

External Rotation - Started at 0 degrees.  Currently at 70 degrees.  Goal is 90 degrees.

So... I continue to make steady progress, and I'm glad.  I wish it would come along more quickly, but my surgeon was very pleased with my progress and gave me a thumbs up.  He taught me a new (and painful) stretch to do and told me to start swimming at least twice a week, which should accelerate my progress.

This morning, I was followed to work by a couple I know that works in this same building.  They followed me for several miles, and we stopped at multiple traffic lights.

As I looked back in my rear view mirror, I noticed that they seemed to be having some sort of argument.  He was doing a lot of yelling.  Her body language--leaning as far away from him as possible--showed that she didn't want to be anywhere near him.  Things were not going well for them this morning.

I have noticed this same type of body language on several occasions, giving me the sense that something is amiss.  I've never really been able to figure out why though, because the things that they say belie the underlying tension that is apparent in other ways.

As I watched them argue all the way to work, I finally realized that this underlying tension is a result of what is going on between them when no one else is looking.

When I got out of my car, they were both walking toward the building, and what I heard was a cheerful "Hi DeShawn!" from a smiling face.  The "happy face" had been put on because it was time to show the rest of the world that nothing was wrong.

I'm not trying to say that this is a bad thing.  Nobody would want a quarreling couple in their workplace to continue the argument they were having.  It would be disruptive and uncomfortable.  However, it makes me sad.

How many of us put on this happy face in public when in private we are feeling like we could fall apart at any moment?  I certainly have felt this way over the past weeks as I have been in a lot of pain from surgery and therapy.  It's made worse by the lack of sleep.  I've been fighting depression.  But at work and at school, I put on my happy face.

I know of one that hid a horrible marriage relationship from everyone for years until the inevitable separation and divorce came.

I am grateful, however, that my marriage relationship doesn't have to "put on" a happy face, because my wife and I are truly happy in our relationship.  I am grateful that, with my wife, I don't always have to put on that "happy face" and she has been a great strength and support during this particular trial in my life as she has been through other trying times.

I have tried several times to post what I'm feeling about my son's mission call, but I just can't seem to.  There don't seem to be words that do them any justice.

James has been called to serve in the Philippines, Cebu mission.  He will be preaching the gospel in the Cebuano language and he will report to the Provo Missionary Training Center on 30 January.

30 January?  That means that we will only have him here for another 68 days--barely over 2 months.

All I can think is "holy crap."

Tomorrow we will be applying for his passport.  We'll start looking for good deals on white shirts (short sleeved, please), wash & wear slacks, and ties.  There are a zillion other things that we'll need to get done in the next 68 days.

And I'm still thinking... Holy crap!