Yesterday morning at 4am we headed out for the airport to put Elder Hughes (our dear sweet baby boy - there's no way he's 19) on a plane to Peru for the start of his 2 year mission to Bolivia. The night before, encouraging haste and trying to meet his new missionary requirement to be in bed by 10:30pm, we called all the kids to our room for scriptures and prayers, just as we had every night of their lives for as many nights in the past they could remember. They clamored up on the bed, this one loudly arguing the greater merit in the red officer's Star Trek fatigues compared to the blue, another two giggling tirelessly at jokes on Pinterest, and a fourth, the one we lost, wearily pleading for the others to "get focused guys?". I smiled to myself between requests that they please open their scriptures, and looked over at Eric. By this time the conversation had devolved to colorful reminiscences of vomiting episodes on family car trips. Eric lay back, quiet, eyes closed, mostly-grown children all around him on the bed, a smile on his lips. I wanted to capture that moment in time, just pause there for a minute, implant it as a permanent memory for a bleak or lonely trial in life sometimes down the road: "I remember this one time, we were all on my parents' bed together, and we laughed, and laughed, and laughed..."
So, now, Elder Hughes is an Elder. For two years, he's the Lord's. How did Hannah manage it, I wonder, taking her dear sweet baby (and that time he really was) to Eli the priest, following through on that sacrifice? I walked out of the airport and for a moment felt like I couldn't breathe; all I could think was "two years, two years, two years". Hannah gave Samuel to the Lord for a lifetime. I am weak. I miss him already like an empty place, like an ache, like a yearning. Two years.
The truth is this: I wouldn't have it any other way. He is the man we raised him to be. We taught him to stand for the truth, to be a leader among men, to be fearless in sharing the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Plan of Happiness, and he is all we hoped and taught him to be and more. Because of his genuine love for others, he is going to have an amazing experience on this mission. I will miss him, no doubt about it, but I am also so very grateful he has a strong testimony of the Savior which he is willing to share.
In two years, we'll call the kids together for scriptures and prayers, as we do every night. On our big bed. Elder Hughes will be home, and our big bed won''t be nearly big enough to hold us all. Imagine what we'll have to talk about then.
