Missionary Update

 My son is doing really well in Florida.  He just got transferred from Live Oak to St Augustine last week and was made a senior companion.  He had his first baptism the first week of December, two days before he was transferred, and imagine my surprise when the sister he baptized called me on the phone.  The connection was a bit fuzzy, but I could understand that she was so grateful to be baptized.  She thanked me for sending my son on a mission so he could change her life.  It was so good to hear from someone who has seen him and to hear her say that he is doing well.   And really at times like those, it doesn't even feel like a sacrifice.  Just think in twelve days I will get to talk with him.  That will be the best Christmas present ever.

I belong to an email group of missionary moms of sons and daughters serving in Florida.  One of those mom's posted this poem, and it is too good not to share.  Pretty much sums up how it feels to send a son on a mission.

WARNING : This poem could cause extreme eyeball sweating.

A Missionary Christmas  (author unknown)

 I skipped the sales after Thanksgiving. The thrill just wasn't there.
 No pictures taken with Santa Claus, My decorating has no flair.
 His presents are shoes, shirts, and ties, two suits and socks...no fun.
 I've bought him all white clothes because... This year I'm giving Christ
 my son.

 I've spent more time in the temple, my testimony stirred.
 I've reread November's Ensign, Felt strength come from His words.
 Our family prays more frequently. My tears are quick to run.
 Abraham seems closer because, This year I'm giving Christ my son.

 I wonder how those Lamanite mothers, gave their sons to war?
 Or how the pioneers chose Zion , their sacrifice was so much more.
 My loss will be his presence, I'll miss his smile a ton
 For two years we will pray for him, I'm giving Christ my son.

 I stare at his face when he's not looking. I memorize his eyes, their shine.
 He's always hungered for the part of him, that makes his soul divine.
 The stories and lessons he always heard, His choice and mine are one.
 I'll put my faith in God's hand, This year, I'm giving Him my son.

 Past gifts have lost their glitter; I think I finally understand
 Christ's birth should be celebrated by giving Him a hand.
 It's because I know Christ lives and reigns that all his packing's done.
 My gift has taken years to make, This year... I'm giving Christ my son.

 I know there's One who understands, the sacrifice I'm making.
 Who knows the gift I willingly give, The toll it will be taking.
 For He has done it all before Greater love - there could be none.
 For years ago God gave to me, His only begotten son.

 The hands I washed, the hands I held, The hands I taught to pray;
 Now knock on doors to find the ones Who will listen to what he'll say.
 Because I know Christ needs him, Until all the gathering's done,
 My gift has taken years to make.  This year...I'm giving Christ my son.



Sorry this is not Wonka-vision with a box of Kleenex you could pull out of the screen.