Mothers Torture Chamber (MTC)

Yesterday we said our good-byes to Josh at the MTC. We know the routine now by heart: spend the morning slowing getting ready... check the clock for the time... no one has much of an appetite... check the clock again... close up the suitcases... look at the clock... give a few last words of advice and encouragement... check the clock... stay strong--no tears... okay, it's time to go! As we load the suitcases in the trunk the snow begins to lightly fall. And I'm thinking why didn't I bring a jacket? I'm freezing! It's 40 degrees cooler here than Arizona! I barely notice how gorgeous the mountains are all covered in white. Slowly we drive the short mile from my parents' house down to 9th East...

And THERE IT IS... the Missionary Training Center... the big iron fence wrapped around dozens of tan brick buildings... a rather ordinary looking place... but with extraordinary things happening inside!! Mark was the first of our family to enter those gates to start his mission there almost 30 years ago! And now all three boys will have had those same wonderful experiences learning and growing within these walls. (My mom and dad served there for many years and they once told me that the MTC is a place of miracles.) As you enter, the spirit is palpable--I get goosebumps every time I'm there. Other than temples, I think it is one of the most spiritual places on earth. Someone dubbed it the Mothers Torture Chamber, but I only say that tongue-in-cheek, because it really is an extraordinary place!!

Josh has remained calm all morning but now I notice a little nervousness kicking in. As we pull into the parking lot, the older gentleman volunteers are everywhere directing with hand signals and orchestrating every movement with great precision. Pull up here...park over there...Welcome Elder!... take your luggage there....go to that door there... Yes, I remember it all too well from the last two times! I whisper to myself... stop tears...don't spill out yet! While Mark parks the car I help Josh take his suitcases down the long sidewalk. His big neon green tags will help him easily find them again among the masses of black suitcases. We huddle outside in the drizzle for another picture or two and then send him in one door and we enter another. We watch him as he gets some instructions and then joins us in the lobby for the official placing of his missionary badge. As his mom I get the honor of placing it on him for the first time. The knots in my stomach temporarily untwist as I feel the sweet peace in knowing that he is now officially part of the greatest army on earth--the Lord's missionaries! I am so grateful and proud!

It's time to go into the chapel... we cannot stall any longer... hurry, one last picture. Again we are guided by cheery volunteers saying "Welcome Elder!" every few feet as we walk the long corridor to the chapel. We watch 30 or so minutes of "Mormon Ads" and fun facts about the amounts of milk and cereal consumed by the missionaries in the MTC each day. (Did you know it takes a 300 cow dairy to keep the missionaries in milk??!) Then President and Sister Smith enter and the meeting begins. My eyes are pooling with tears as we all sing "Called to Serve". I'm watching Josh as he intently listens to the talks. The lump in my throat is growing and I'm biting my lip to keep it from quivering... only a few more minutes to sit by my baby...my boy soon a man... We watch part of the video "Called to Serve". (It was made about 20 years ago and my parents and many of their New Hampshire missionaries are in it.) After the closing prayer... it's time. Slowly everyone stands up and deep breaths and sighs echo throughout the large room. But Josh is ready to get this over with quickly! Hugs, tears, kisses, smiles, and one more big, squeezy hug to last me for two years... And then he turns and walks toward the missionary exit. A few moments later he is gone....disappearing amongst the sea of short haircuts and dark suits.... Robotically we move toward the big yellow sign that says "Family Exit" and down the hallways lined with tissue-offering volunteers. Out into the fresh cold air I pause to look at those beautiful mountains and wonder if Josh will see them, too...

During the drive back this song is playing in my mind... "Dear Lord, who hears and answers prayers...please keep thy servant always in thy care...as he prepares to teach his fellow men...oh keep him safe and bring him home again....In the hollow of thy hand as he grows from boy to man let him know the special blessing of thy peace." (This was sung at Josh's "farewell".)

Well, the hardest part is over. My eyes will probably be puffy and red for a couple of days... can't think about the two years. I'm on pins and needles waiting for his first email to arrive... a Blackberry would sure come in handy! Honey, how 'bout it?

And you'd think by the third time I'd be a pro at this sending off a missionary stuff, but I'm already working on a package to send up all the "forgotten" items!