The Mission Call

Being a mother is not always a thankless job. There are occasions in a child’s life where no commercialization, no cultural tradition or ceremony could make it any sweeter for a mother. Sometimes they come in odd and unexpected ways, but when they come, we feel deluged, as though the windows of heaven are open and our Heavenly Father is pouring out a blessing that there is not room enough to receive.

I have one daughter and six sons, in that order. Of course they’re all different, (excuse me for stating the obvious) but the boys happen to all look a lot alike. Scott, Brian and Chris look more alike and Rob, Daniel and Thomas look alike but even in two sets anyone can see that they are brothers. Regardless of strong resemblances and traditions, our sixth child, Chris has always wanted to do things HIS way.

He was born in Colorado Springs and so we often attended Air Force Academy football games or basketball games. . .especially when they played BYU. BYU’s teams are the ones we yell ourselves hoarse over. We sometimes travel long distances to watch a football game. We have jewelry, sweatshirts, tee-shirts, shorts, hats and gloves with the BYU logo, etc, etc, etc. Chris cheered for the Air Force.

Chris was also an exceptionally shy boy when he was little. When he was still riding my hip, he would bury his head in my shoulder if anyone tried to flirt with him. He’s very far sighted and started wearing thick glasses when he was only four. He was the quintessential shy little kid. Then he decided he was tired of being shy. Shy kids didn’t have many friends and he wanted friends. So Chris decided not to be shy anymore. And the weird thing is that the transformation was sudden, and complete. Adults noticed and commented. I thought shyness was a lifelong personality trait. He laid it aside and transformed himself into a friendly, socially confident person.

Chris is burdened with a huge, tender heart. If you’ve ever known someone with this condition, you know that it’s not all good. He always tended to reach out to the less fortunate, to include the outcast, and to befriend the underprivileged. He would often be late coming home from school or track practice because he drove this person or that, who otherwise would have had to walk, home. He shared his lunch and though he bought treats for himself only occasionally, he liked to share. It didn’t bother him at all that his friends on the track team or at Frontier City were black, terribly poor with completely different life views. He saw the nobility in young boys who worked to help provide necessities for their younger siblings. They weren’t always wise, but they were doing their best and he loved them for it.

That’s the upside of having a big heart. A non-judgmental approach also keeps him from excluding friends that misbehave or who are not true to their faith and family values. “Everyone needs friends,” he often said. “I can’t exclude my friend just because he’s doing some bad things.” And as a teenager, he was not the most discerning or thoughtful fellow himself. His strong distaste for bullies was overgeneralized and turned ‘anti-law enforcement.’ We had to ban some of the music he liked. He got into some mischief here and there in the name of “funny pranks” that turned out not to be so funny. He was not immoral, but sometimes foolish and the un-doing of the pranks cost him.

In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, every young man is expected to prepare and keep himself worthy to serve a 2-year mission for the Church at about the age of nineteen. They must be virtuous, students of the Bible and Book of Mormon and committed disciples of Jesus Christ. As we were worrying our way through his high school years, he sometimes talked about “when” he went on his mission. . .but if we asked about it directly, he always said, “I want to go because I want to go and not because it’s expected of me or because everyone else went. I want it to be MY decision.” We were left to wonder if he was enjoying being the object of my husband’s and my nightly prayers, (and probably several of his siblings too) but fully intended to go, or if he was warning us that he planned a career as a black sheep. The only thing that always got a positive response was when I would say, “Someday you’re going to go to Africa on your mission and then you’ll be completely surrounded by blacks and the native cultures.” Invariably he’d say, “That would be SWEEET!”

But there were good signs too. He worked hard on the track team and took sixth in the 6¬¬-A state in the hurdles. He paid his tithing and saved most of the rest of his earnings. He earned very good grades his senior year.

He went away to BYU-Idaho after he graduated from High School. We worried and prayed for him as we always have when we fledge a chick from the nest, but almost immediately he got a girlfriend. Pre-missionaries are advised not to have a girlfriend, but to do lots of wholesome things in big groups. Everyone that knew her said she was a GREAT girl, and Chris told us she was beautiful, virtuous, kind hearted, fun, loved the Lord, etc. His friends that knew her came home and one boy said that he wanted to find someone just like her when he got home from his mission.

I know that Chris will have a hard time being away from this girl, but she showed him his own possibilities. She helped him channel his big, tender heart into righteous action and plans. She responded honestly to his tendency to dress with a gangsta flair. (“DUMB!”) Regardless of what happens in the future, she’s brought out the best in him and given him a genuine sense of his own possibilities. I will always love her for that.

Chris got his mission call this week. He expected it on Thursday, but he haunted the box on Wednesday, just in case. He went to work and called at 12:30 (the earliest possible time the mail is delivered) to see if it had been delivered. It had. He came home between training and his actual work but waited until the evening so that his family (and that cute little gal at BYU-I) could be on the phones all together. Those hours were torture.

The moment had come. Their mission is to teach anyone who will listen to come to Christ and follow Him throughout their lives. They are urged to work hard and save their money and pay as much as the $10,000 cost for their two years of service themselves. (Their parents make up the difference.) When they are close to their 19th birthday, they have medical and dental exams and a series of in-depth interviews by their ecclesiastical leaders. They send off their applications and then they wait. They have no control over the assignment. They can’t make any requests. Their health history is known to the Apostles making the assignments. About 1000 mission calls are issued per week to approximately 350 possible missions in about half that many countries.

His hands trembled a little as he tore open the large white envelope. His brother reminded him that he had to read the whole thing and not jump to the place he had been assigned. But this is my sixth missionary and I know exactly where to look and I saw the place a few seconds before he did. I burst out, not exactly with tears but with the jet power force of the windows of heaven being poured out and hitting me in the heart.

This 6’5” tall, very white boy who looks as suburban as anyone, is going to Harare, Zimbabwe, (Africa.) He’ll be getting his missionary training in South Africa. His mission also covers the countries of Zambia and Malawi. He leaves a week before school starts at BYU-I which means he’ll come home in two years in time to get back to school. The beautiful mission president and his wife are licorice black and native Zimbabweans. Oh the heavens are open! God hears our prayers and prepares us for our life’s work. I am deluged in His love.