The Best Worst Day

Last hug at the MTC.

Today has been a long time coming--the day my oldest son went from being mine to being the Lord's.  Of course, he always was the Lord's; today was just a consecrated hand off so to speak. Elder Takis reported to the Provo Missionary Training Center at 2:00 p.m. and though I cried, I didn't feel the despair and sadness I had once thought I would. For one thing, if you have to do a "quick kick" at the curb, it's hard, but the MTC is the place to do it. Even standing on a sidewalk you know you're on holy ground and you feel, powerfully, the force of goodness that is there. I would have wanted to stay whether my son was there or not, just to partake, for myself, of all the strength, might, and right I felt there.  I couldn't stay, but it was a lot easier to part with my beloved son there than it would have been at any other place.

In some ways I wish I could share the incredible experiences and insights I've had the past few days, but they are too personal, too tender, and too sacred to post on a blog.  I will just say that even though the car felt empty as we drove away, even though I do mourn the passing of an era in my home, and even though I will miss, miss, miss Elder Takis, I believe in Christ, I believe in His church, I believe in my son, and I believe in what he is doing.  I believe in family and in the power and necessity of mothers and fathers and their place in God's plan.  I believe in education, but I also believe that there are varying degrees of worth and value in types and subjects of education. As someone once said said, "Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted."  I pray for the continued freedom to follow the dictates of my conscience and to teach my children.