This is me.
Not literally, but this is the mental image I have of myself.
For 19 years we have hoped and prayed that our son would choose to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when the time came.
The time is nearly here.
Of course it is a good thing. It means that he has lived his life in such a way that he is worthy to serve the Lord.
It means that he has a testimony of Jesus Christ and is willing to follow Him. He is willing to put his life on hold to dedicate himself to the work for two years as an act of worship and service.
I know all of the worldly blessings he will gain from his service. He will test and challenge himself in a way that no other experience can offer him. He will learn and grow. He may learn a second language. He will become more independent, more compassionate, learn how to problem solve and develop his spirituality; preparing to be a better person, husband, father.
I know that he will be protected. I know that God lives and has always blessed us. All that we have, indeed even our children, is not really ours but God’s first. I know all of this. Yet, it is a test of my faith too.