Returned Missionary

I know a handsome young man who just happens to be returning home from his mission this coming Monday. He just happens to be my sister's son. He grew up in NC, so I only ever got to see him once every 2 or 3 years. Funny thing is, he just happened to get his mission call to Provo, Ut. We were all so excited when we he got his call. Finally we could get to know him a little better. Well, he just happened to get transferred to St. George right after we moved up here, much to our dismay, and has been in the office the last 3 or 4 months.  2 years have really flown by and before we all knew it, he's going home and not once have we got to see him, until tonight. It just so happens that I, with my parents and sis., got to attend a testimony meeting for those missionaries leaving this mission. We got to see him for the first time. What an incredible young man. He has grown so much. Sitting there with all those missionaries, hearing their testimonies about how their missions have changed their lives brought back so many memories for me. Not just of my mission and how much I loved it, but I was remembering that little boy that I got to see every few years. I remember when he was born. I remember how shy he was when he's come out to see us. Now he's a grown man. My sister can be so proud of him and the man he's become. He's served well and the things he's learned on his mission will shape who he is the for the rest of his life. I'm so proud of you, Adam.

I wanted to repost something I posted last year. I hope you don't mind a repeat. This is something I wrote on Adam's hump day.  This is once again dedicated to my sister. I just want to say I love you and thank you for raising such a fine stripling warrior.

The Little Boy Becomes a Man

"Can someone please help?" Cried the frantic woman standing in the middle of a crowded terminal. "My little boy is missing."
"How old is he?" Asked one passerby.
"It was only yesterday I held him for the first time as a newborn baby," the mother insisted. "He wrapped his tiny fist tightly around my finger as he nursed hungrily and fell fast asleep snuggled comfortably on my chest. I'll never forget that newborn smell or his soft skin pressed against mine. If you could have seen the wonder in his eyes as he began to discover the world around him. He would giggle excitedly as he watched the fan go round and round. When he took his first steps into toddlerhood, there were times he would fall and skin his knee and come to me with giant tears in his eyes to kiss it better. He loved to play hide and seek, jumping out from under the blanket exclaiming happily, 'here I am, Mom.'"
"What does he look like?" asked another on his way to somewhere important.
"Not too long ago he was an adorable little blonde with a sprinkle of freckles splashed across his tiny nose. His contagious smile would often reveal two missing front teeth and deep dimpled cheeks. His small hand clutched tightly to mine as the doctor stitched the cut above his eye, and mended a broken bone. It wasn't always that a simple kiss would make it all better. Once in a while he'd come to me and ask 'why does it hurt so much, Mom?' and I would tell him that God sometimes lets us hurt so that we learn to put our trust in Him. The twinkle in his bright blue eyes would light up even more when he would see me waiting there at the bus stop as he arrived home from kindergarten and amidst the excited chatter I would hear him say, 'here I am, Mom.'"
"How tall is he?" another inquired, to which the mother responded, "only a few minutes ago he was the tallest kid in his third grade class. He was a bit gangly and awkward when it came to sports. The other kids would laugh mockingly when his oversized feet would trip over each other, or his seemingly clumsy hands would drop the ball on the basketball court in gym. He would come to me with those giant tears, and I would hold him tight and kiss away his wounded heart. 'What is my purpose, here?' his trusting face implored? I could only answer that God knew what his purpose was and someday he would know. He never gave up and on the day he scored the most points for his team in middle school, I've never seen him stand taller as he looked at me with that look in his eye that said, 'look at me, Mom.'"
"When was the last time you saw him?" a fellow traveler asked the graying, wrinkled woman.
"Just a moment ago when he walked out the door to go on his first date. He wouldn't let me kiss him as he barely turned to say goodbye. That's just too embarrassing, you know. He doesn't know that I followed a few cars back to make sure he was safe. He doesn't know how my heart was touched when he opened the door for his date and took her by the hand to help her out of the car. He doesn't know how much I missed him as he was always so busy with his friends and school. It was always, 'oh hi, Mom, bye' as he would rush off to play rehearsals or ball practice. When he went through his first breakup, I stood there with open arms and said, 'here I am, son.'
Then she heard a deep voice speak to her from behind. As she turned to look, she saw a familiar face. It wasn't the little boy who once bounced upon her knee. The freckles were somewhat faded, the smile larger and more contagious, the twinkle in his eyes even more bright. As she looked into those eyes, she saw the years of laughter, tears, heartache, and love and she recognized the man that had taken her little boys place, standing taller and more handsome than she remembered. The tears welled up and flowed freely as she gathered him into her arms and hugged him tightly. "Here I am, Mom. It is I, your returned missionary son," was his humble reply as he kissed her on the cheek.