The Best Two Years

That's what they say anyway.  Of course the verdict is out on whether it's the best two years OF your life, or FOR your life.

Arrival at the airport.  Maybe it's just me, but he looks nervous.

Trying to hide his nervousness with a smile. Plus I miss that awkward goofy way he stands sometimes. It's like he doesn't know what to do with his limbs.

I'm a little behind on the blogging (like 3 months) so I'm pre-dating this, pretending it's really August when I am actually smack in the middle of November, trying to remember the thoughts and feelings as I sent my first born child off into the world for two whole years.  Yes, it's just Montana, the water is safe, and packages usually arrive safe and sound (sometimes I have to pay an extra Three Whole Dollars to have the postman have someone sign for it so it doesn't just get dumped on the front porch) But in some ways it feels like he's half a world away.

I can't help but wonder how this picture will change in the next two years.  Maddie doesn't have much hope of growing taller, and Nick probably not much either, but I think the younger two will change quite a bit.

They say the first few months are the longest, and the rest of it seems to fly by, and I am holding to that faith because while these may be the best two years for/of Nick's life, I'm worried they will be two of the longest of mine.  (With three other kids wanting to go on missions, those are nearly 8 long years I am staring down)

But I'm proud of him.  It was time for him to go.  I became painfully aware during the extra six weeks that he was home that he needed to go.  Not that I didn't love having him around, but it was this feeling that I had done all I could.  He will learn more and grow more in the next two years out in the mission field than he could ever at home.  In fact, it felt like it wasn't even a contest. Any growth or learning going on here was minuscule compared to what would happen on his mission.  It's hard to explain, but the feeling to get him on that mission, despite how much I knew I'd miss him, was overwhelming.  He needed to Go. Now.

Luckily his friend, Elder Logan Hendrix would be flying on that same flight with Nick. Tender Mercy.

And so he went.

Of course I couldn't resist the urge to stalk for a little bit as he was in the security line.   "Hey, your mom is taking a picture..."

" Oh hey mom!"

He's smiling because he knows I'm a ridiculous stalker.  His glasses are off because he was trying to clean himself up from crying.  This goodbye was hard on all of us. 

You can read all about his adventures on his blog -> just click on his picture there on the sidebar on the right.

Stake President Layton saw them at the airport.  His flight was an hour before theirs, but he hung out and waited to see them.  

My parents were able to pick them up at the airport and take them to lunch and then to the MTC.

And it's a curious feeling sending someone off into the world, knowing they won't be the same when they get back.  Hopefully all good changes though.  Three months later, and he tells me he has finally learned the value of a hamper. "You'd be proud of me, mom.  There are no clothes on my floor.  Ever." (This is what I was talking about.   18 1/2 years, and I couldn't manage to teach him that, despite my best efforts.)