For almost three weeks now, I have been anxiously waiting.
I hate waiting.
When will that envelope come in the mail? When will I know where Jordan will be spending the next two years of his life?
He could go anywhere in the world. Will it be a safe place? Will he have modern conveniences? What language will he speak? Will he have a piano?
I hope he has a piano. His musical soul needs that, even if only at the church where he can play for a few minutes between Sunday meetings.
Uncertainty is my nemesis. It twists my insides until I feel like I might explode.
But this is out of my hands. Out of Jordan’s hands. Neither of us gets to choose the next step in this journey. Serving a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is an act of faith. His fate was in God’s hands from the second he submitted his application two and a half weeks ago.
So we wait.
I am usually not a nervous mom. I don’t stress about many things. But he has never been away from home for longer than a week.
A two-year mission is a long time in comparison, especially when we will only be able to talk to him twice a year, on Christmas and Mother’s Day. Weekly emails will be our only other source of communication, aside from the occasional package or handwritten letter.
How will he fare in a faraway place, away from everything that is familiar?
I am a little worried. A mission is what we have always wanted for our kids, but everything right now is so unknown….