Happy/Sad Tears for John
Yesterday Steven worked from home. He doesn't do that very often, but he did yesterday. He worked until about 11:30 and then he, John and I climbed into the car and drove to the airport.
Usually when we take someone to the airport, we drop them off at the curb, unload their luggage, give them a quick hug, and drive off. Yesterday we parked in the parking lot and walked into the airport with John. We helped him find the American Airlines check-in counter and get his luggage tags and check his luggage. We walked him as far as the lines for the security check, made sure he had his boarding pass and had some idea of where his gate was, and then I gave him a last hug, Steven shook his hand (John doesn't particularly like hugs, but he'll suffer through his mom's.) and then we watched him walk away and disappear into the crowd. And then we turned around, walked back to the car and returned home. Where we only have two children remaining. Steven returned to his work and I finished packing up the stuff John left behind and clearing out his room.
I admit that I've cried. It's kind of a happy cry, that I can turn to a laugh if I think about it. I'm sad that he's gone. I'm happy that he's going. I'll miss him, but he is going to meet so many people and make new friends. He'll be gone for two long years, but the time will go by fast, and I'll hear from him every week. The next two years will be so hard as he struggles to learn a new language and suffers disappointments and frustrations with both companions and investigators. But he is going to grow and learn and do so much good for others and for himself.
I don't remember feeling quite this way when Hannah left on her mission. But I think that may be because she had already been away at college before that. This is the first time John has been away from home for longer than a week long scout camp. I looked up what I wrote about dropping Hannah off at college the first time. That comes closer to how I feel now, only I'm a little worse now because he's gone for two years, and not just for a semester or two.
And I worry about him. I realize I'm parentoid. (parent + paranoid) I was so relieved this morning when I received his email to say he had arrived at the MTC in São Paulo safely. Over the last several months I've watched him confidently take a city bus into downtown Denver on his own. He's gotten apostilles and yellow fever shots and taken care of everything by himself. I've watched him do so many things with total self confidence. Now he'll be navigating a foreign country where he'll struggle to be able to communicate with anyone for months. But he isn't worried. He'll do fine. Why am I worrying?
And so I laugh at myself as I dry my stinging eyes and wipe my runny nose. This is his adventure. And he will be wonderful.
For anyone who would like to write to him, his email address is john.hiatt@missionary.org. His letters home will be posted at https://johnhiattmisson.blogspot.com/.
Usually when we take someone to the airport, we drop them off at the curb, unload their luggage, give them a quick hug, and drive off. Yesterday we parked in the parking lot and walked into the airport with John. We helped him find the American Airlines check-in counter and get his luggage tags and check his luggage. We walked him as far as the lines for the security check, made sure he had his boarding pass and had some idea of where his gate was, and then I gave him a last hug, Steven shook his hand (John doesn't particularly like hugs, but he'll suffer through his mom's.) and then we watched him walk away and disappear into the crowd. And then we turned around, walked back to the car and returned home. Where we only have two children remaining. Steven returned to his work and I finished packing up the stuff John left behind and clearing out his room.
I admit that I've cried. It's kind of a happy cry, that I can turn to a laugh if I think about it. I'm sad that he's gone. I'm happy that he's going. I'll miss him, but he is going to meet so many people and make new friends. He'll be gone for two long years, but the time will go by fast, and I'll hear from him every week. The next two years will be so hard as he struggles to learn a new language and suffers disappointments and frustrations with both companions and investigators. But he is going to grow and learn and do so much good for others and for himself.
I don't remember feeling quite this way when Hannah left on her mission. But I think that may be because she had already been away at college before that. This is the first time John has been away from home for longer than a week long scout camp. I looked up what I wrote about dropping Hannah off at college the first time. That comes closer to how I feel now, only I'm a little worse now because he's gone for two years, and not just for a semester or two.
And I worry about him. I realize I'm parentoid. (parent + paranoid) I was so relieved this morning when I received his email to say he had arrived at the MTC in São Paulo safely. Over the last several months I've watched him confidently take a city bus into downtown Denver on his own. He's gotten apostilles and yellow fever shots and taken care of everything by himself. I've watched him do so many things with total self confidence. Now he'll be navigating a foreign country where he'll struggle to be able to communicate with anyone for months. But he isn't worried. He'll do fine. Why am I worrying?
And so I laugh at myself as I dry my stinging eyes and wipe my runny nose. This is his adventure. And he will be wonderful.
For anyone who would like to write to him, his email address is john.hiatt@missionary.org. His letters home will be posted at https://johnhiattmisson.blogspot.com/.
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