The Mission Call

It seems that things happen in multiples. Either we're going along in life without anything too out of the ordinary happening, or all sorts of unique things are happening all around the same time.

It was the last week of April/first week of May. Chris was in Zion for a work trip (hiking Angel's Landing, and I'm glad I didn't know that until after they'd safely back at their camp), we were expecting to receive Jordan's mission call on either Wednesday or Thursday and we were leaving for a week-long trip to Hawaii on Friday.

On Wednesday afternoon, I came home from work around noon and the mail was sitting unassumingly in the mailbox, sans mission call. It was somewhat of a relief, since we would have waited until Thursday to open it when Chris was back in town. But what I wasn't expecting was the anxiety I'd feel as we awaited the next mail delivery.

Thursday was a juggle of working at home; listening for the mail; a trip to Costco which was meant to be a combination of gathering snacks for the group that would arrive for the opening, picking up some chicken salad for a lunch at work and remembering a few essentials for the Hawaii trip; and arranging a vet appointment for Charlie. By the time I left for Costco, the mail hadn't yet arrived. Full of nervous energy, I went to work, went to meetings, and rushed home again just before 3:30 to get Charlie to the vet. No mail yet. As Charlie and I were backing out of the driveway I spotted the mail truck, parked at the end of the road. Then I saw a white convertible pull up next to it, Jordan jumped out, grabbed a handful of mail and reversed his way back up the street. There was certainly a sense of calm at that point, just knowing it had arrived.

But the next few hours were still suspenseful. Charlie got immunized while the envelope sat outside in the Passat. Then it sat on the table in the kitchen while Jemma and I cut up fruit and filled bowls with nuts and other snacks. I knew that whatever was inside would change the course of my thoughts - I would know where Jordan was going, when he was leaving and I'd probably be doing all the research I could about a place I either had some knowledge of or, quite possibly, somewhere I'd never heard of before.

Around 6pm, the house started filling with people. My mom, Chris's parents and grandma, and bunches of boys and girls. I think there were around 20, maybe 30 people. A couple people filmed on iPhones, I got Mark on a Google hangout and I think Doug had Laur on speaker phone while Jordan opened the envelope and read aloud....the Peru Iquitos mission.

My first flood of thoughts and feelings were of how inspired that call was, how that was a place where Jordan's going to have deep and amazing experiences, how I'd wondered if he would go to South America and yes, he is, how Jordan speaking Spanish seems so natural, how I'd never heard of Iquitos before - and I was impressed that he seemed to know exactly how to pronounce it, without hesitation.

Jemma was in tears, Jordan gave me a long hug, the sentiments of his friends were encouraging. Some, who are also going to South America, and one who's going to another mission in Peru, were especially excited. It was amazing to me, to see the support, to see this kids, sophomores, juniors and seniors in high school, having this experience together - encouraging each other toward goodness, preparing to spread out across the world, preaching the gospel and sharing God's love. They put their arms around him and I heard, more than once, "Love you, Jord." It was a moment I'm very grateful for.

It seems like everyone left quickly afterward and it was very quiet. Chris and I were Googling Iquitos, Peru. Finding facts, marveling at the thought of Jordan living in a place that's not accessible by car, along the Amazon River.

I would love to hear Jordan's account of this experience. I can imagine it was quite different for him than for us, as parents. Chris and I both had our mission calls read to us over the phone. I was in London, he was in Alaska. Of course, we didn't know each other then. He was called to Coventry England and arrived a year before I did, which by that time had changed to the Birmingham mission. I don't recall the anxiety or suspense. I do recall, when I heard "England Birmingham" a feeling of familiarity and my instant reaction that I wouldn't have to come home. I remember the hesitation on the other end of the phone, and the concern, and feeling like I'd just have to somehow figure it out. I vaguely remembering telling the people I lived with, and getting mixed reviews about Birmingham.

As the mom at this point, I'm thankful and humbled and happy.