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Life Is Made of Moments

10/26/2014

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There's a song from the Broadway musical “Into the Woods” that I love.  Though the actions of the Baker’s Wife are morally questionable, the message of the song she sings is—to me—immortally important.    

Oh, if life were made of moments,
Even now and then a bad one!
But if life were only moments,
Then you'd never know you had one.


Life IS made of moments—magical moments when time seems to stand still, when images are permanently etched in our memories, when words ring in our ears that will never be forgotten, when powerful feelings fill our hearts and inundate our souls.    However, if life were only made of moments like these, we would never know we’d had one; they’d lose their magic, we’d fail to recognize their significance, their power to enchant and change us would disappear.  It is the random, spontaneous sporadicness of moments that give them their magical powers.   Thank God both for moments and for their momentariness.

 

Our Havasupai was filled with moments, life-changing, time-freezing, heart-warming moments.  Let me share a few……

 

Monday morning.  4:45 a.m.  Already cars dotted the OPA parking lot.  By 5:00 the lobby was swarming with activity; students loading backpacks on the trailer, drivers receiving last minute instructions, parents giving last minute instructions, teachers accepting last minute payments and forms.

 

After a brief “QUALITY” speech [You represent OPA, Ogden, and us to the world.  We trust you.  You hold our reputations in your hands.  Please be QUALITY people], I invited anyone interested to join me for a prayer on the school’s front lawn before loading into the cars.    For many reasons—separation of church and state, prayers in schools issues, and perceived images of Mormon arrogance to mention a few—inviting students, parents and teachers to join me for a word of prayer before beginning a school trip scares me; it’s an intestine-turn-to-Jello  feeling.  Nevertheless, leading 10 cars, 15 adults, 41 students and a dog nearly 1400 miles is not something I wanted to do on my own; asking for divine assistance was intelligent, even imperative.

 

Choose what is right; let the consequence follow, right?  So I issued the invitation and walked outside, come what may.   And people came.  Lots of people.   LOTS of people.   Parents and students.  Most the people there were not LDS but most of the people there joined us in prayer.   God bless America!   We are a still a faithful people.

 

“I’m going to follow you,” Monica told me before we left the school.   When I questioned the efficacy of her plan she assured me that she was good at staying with people.   Sure enough, she was right behind me the entire time, even when my speedometer read 95 mph. (There are several long, flat, lonely stretches of interstate between Ogden and Las Vegas……)   Later I learned the reason for her tailing talent; she is a police officer.   Hum……….

 

I thanked God (it was not the first prayer of the trip or the last) for Monica’s talent when my van died just south of Vegas.   Because she was right behind us, she was there to take Sam and Talyn (two OPA teachers who had been riding in my van) and Hobbes (the dog) on to Kingman, AZ while Marjorie (my sister), Aliza (my niece), Grace (my daughter), and I (myself) stood on the edge of the freeway, reading Elder (Chick) Hislop’s first email from Washington and waiting for the tow truck.   

 

The van, may it rest in peace, will never leave Las Vegas.    Thanks to Marjorie’s daughter who brought us their vehicle, and Marjorie’s husband, who took their daughter back home, we were able to leave Vegas and join the rest of the group in Kingman where we all rested semi-peacefully (…Imagine 40+ 13-14 year olds, first night away from home, having ridden in cars all day……) on the high school football field.   Amazingly, we did get some sleep that night.

 

Even more amazing were our experiences in Havasupai.

 

Six miles into the canyon, his feet aching from their trek in unfamiliar shoes, his back aching because he’d undone the waist strap and was carrying the entire weight of his pack on his shoulders, and his throat aching because he’d finished the last of his water hours earlier, Xander said to me, “You were right; this is life changing”…and he said it sincerely, even graciously, like it was a good thing.

 

Charolette, her red hair damp with perspiration, her face flushed from exertion, said “Now I know I can do anything.”   Yes, sweetheart, you can!!  

 

Brayden laid down on a bench in the Supai Village, 8 miles into the canyon, and fell asleep so soundly that even a face-licking from the village dog did not awaken him. 

 

Jasmine casually told me that her parents insisted she pay for the entire trip herself so she went business-to-business downtown seeking sponsors and then sold candy bars door-to-door to secure her funds.  She completely and independently made it happen.

 

Deanna, whose best friend was forced by illness to back out of the trip the night before we left, told Bev (OPA teacher) that she was tearfully terrified to come on the trip; with her best friend gone she did not have a tent mate nor was there anyone on the trip with whom she felt comfortable sharing a tent.  “I had no friends,” she confided, “but now (two days into the adventure) everyone is my friend.”  

 

Moments, moments, moments.   Moments like these make it worth all the effort, anxiety, and expense.

 

We had a few moments of effort and anxiety the first evening……

 

The first OPA wave arrived in camp in the early afternoon, set up their tents, and had time to go swimming.   The final wave, the group I was shepherding, arrived just after nightfall.   It was completely dark when I began pitching my tent…..and when Laura said, “Mrs. Hislop, Abigail is not here yet.”   Word quickly came that Brayden and Damien were missing as well.

 

Oh dear.  OH DEAR!  They’d left the Village before me so I knew they’d take a wrong turn somewhere.  Trying to figure out how to help them, I mentally put myself in their shoes and imagined what they were thinking, what they would do.  It was pitch black (canyons are like that at night) and the night was full of foreign-to-them sounds; they were lost in a strange place and probably terrified. Inexperienced, trail-novices, they were sweet kids but still kids and very capable of doing something very stupid.  (More prayers.)

 

Talyn and I backtracked over a mile when we saw a light bobbing on the trail above.   When we reached them, they threw themselves into our arms and began sobbing.  They’d done exactly the right thing under pressure— stayed together, back tracked with they realized they were on the wrong trail, started down what seemed to be the main trail, , had a plan to return to the Village and wait if we did not find them soon—but when our arrival released the pressure, the tears flowed.   I was so proud of those three brave little souls, a fact I told them repeatedly as we clung to each other, laughing, and crying together in the dark.   Tender moment.

 

More moments, tender, anxious, and otherwise……….

 

Xander, frightened by heights but eager to join the fun, stood motionless at the top of an 8 foot waterfall.  Soon he was surrounded by friends, old and new, who encouraged him to jump.  No one pushed him, no one shamed him, no one ridiculed him; everyone was positive, urging, inspiring.  And we all shared his victory when he took the plunge and came up smiling.

 

Hobbes, too, jumped off the waterfall…and landed on Corey’s head.  Boom, splat.   Fortunately, Corey came up smiling as well.

 

Tony, an adult-of-body, kid-in-spirit father who came with us, also came up smiling but it was questionable for a few tense moments.     He jumped into the confluence of the Colorado/Havasupai Rivers, found himself unable to swim back, and was being swept from the rock to which he clung when Sam, Talyn, Hilary, and a few others formed a human chain and drug him back to shallow waters.

 

I found myself in deep water at Beaver Falls.   When I took off my shirt, I discovered that I’d put on my swimsuit inside out.  (The tent was dark when I’d dressed that morning.)  What to do?   The canyon walls were steep (no place to hide) and the natural pools were filled with my students.   I swam over next to the waterfall and, in neck deep water, took off my suit.   I was completely naked, swimming suit in hand, when an undertow began drawing me towards the waterfall. 

 

Great, thought I…..Either I am going to drown and the kids are going to see my bare body float to the surface or the current is going to rip the swim suit from my hand and I am going to have to stay in this pool forever because there is no way I am going to walk unclothed back to my shirt and shorts on the opposite shore.     Fortuitously I was able to catch a branch, turn my swim suit inside in, and put my body back into it before any of the imagined scenarios occurred.

 

The week was full of scenarios—moments if you will—that I imagine will be with me forever; Laura seeing a wild, ring tail cat, Pam hiking to the Colorado River in a skirt, its edges drifting downstream in the current, Jayden gently helping his mother over the boulders and up the ladders, Jonathon running away when I unleashed my needle and offered to dig out his sliver, Monica’s relief when that same needle popped the blisters that had formed under her toe nails, Cameron and Suzan’s corn-row braided hair, the line at the picnic table where Wayment was giving shoulder massages, Colleen, Maranda and Sicely swimming in the almost-unreal blue water at the Havasupai’s mouth, Israel’s delight at finding a fossilized Joshua tree, Gary demonstrating to Xander how to jump off a cliff, Gretel, Natasha and Corey singing about being in pickles, Morgan dreamy eyed over the dessert bar at the buffet in Mesquite, Bob being willing to tackle the Colorado River hike without food or water, Garrison having answers for all the questions about the Grand Canyon during our school session, Samuel’s sly grin, Jerome’s guided tours, Clara pretending to be a mermaid, hauling 5 gallons of water from spring to camp with my sister and two bandannas………… 

 

Then it was time to pack up and go home.   Up at 4:30 a.m. and on the trail before dawn, we climbed 10 miles, 2350 vertical feet back out of the canyon.   That evening, watching the kids play soccer on a baseball field in Las Vegas, I was awestruck and spellbound.  What an incredible, magical, glorious thing!!!  The kids will remember their moments forever.  It is such a blessing it is, not only to make moments of my own but also to be a part of their moment making; what a great life I have! 

 

The next day we were home.  In the words of the song, it came time to….


Let the moment go...
Don't forget it for a moment, though.
Just remembering you've had an "and",
When you're back to "or",
Makes the "or" mean more
Than it did before.
Now I understand-

And it's time to leave the woods.
 
 (or the Canyon, as the case may be!)


 

We did leave the canyon but we will never leave the moments.  We had moments AND moments and I know those moments will make life mean more than it did before.   

 

YEA!

 

Love,

Teresa






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Really?
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Study Hall
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I'm in a pickle!
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Even a face licking from the village dog did not wake him.
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The Noel Girls
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Tarzan?
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You can do this!
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I changed my swimsuit under these falls......
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The Havasupai and Colorado Rivers come together
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Standing at the confluence. Notice the Havasu Baby Blue and the Colorado Muddy Brown
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Make It Happen

10/19/2014

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Make it happen!

One of Lance’s favorite poems (which he can still recite from memory) begins:  

 

If you want a thing bad enough
To go out and fight for it,
Work day and night for it,
Give up your time and your peace and
your sleep for it


 

Says in the middle:

 

If you’ll simply go after that thing that you want.
With all your capacity,
Strength and sagacity,
Faith, hope and confidence, stern pertinacity,


 

And ends:

 

If dogged and grim you besiege and beset it,
You’ll get it!


– Berton Braley

Classic literature?  Perhaps not….    Timeless truth?   Unquestionably. 

Make it happen!   

Chick made my barn happen and I happen to be very happy about that.   Saturday I put 50 bales of hay into my barn—by the time I had picked it up out of the field and stacked it in the barn, I’d moved 7,800 lbs.—and was almost giddy with what I labeled as joy.  (…It may have been weight-lifting-induced hallucination but I am calling it joy.)  Oh my lands!   What a tremendous feeling of satisfaction it is to have hay neatly stacked in my own barn!!

Make it happen!

“Mom, will you walk to Grandpa’s with me?”   Miles’ question came last Sunday afternoon as I was wrestling with words, trying to pin down my weekly blog post.   NO WAY was my first response.   Everyone but Miles (and me, of course) was sleeping and the afternoon invited me, almost irresistibly, to tackle the long list of Sunday-appropriate tasks I’d made earlier.  MAYBE was my next response when Miles asked, “Why not?”    LET’S GO was my final response when I remembered my motto [Life is the stories you can tell] and my mission statement [To connect and build through love].

So go we did…..7.5 miles……..2.5 hours………making it to Grandpa and Grandma’s almost before Lance woke up and wondered where we were.

Make it happen!

We went to the theater to see “Meet the Mormons”, feeling we should support a good cause.  We had no burning desire to meet more Mormons; we know plenty of them.  We left the theater feeling good, really good, the kind of good that glows.    We encourage you to see it too.

Make it happen!

 

 Lance’s girls cross country team made it happen.   Tuesday they won the Charter School State Cross Country Championship.   When using standard scoring techniques, SAA’s girls earned 63 points; so did Lakeview’s girls.   In instances such as this, the tie is broken by the team’s sixth runner.   SAA’s sixth girl crossed the finish line before Lakeview’s and thus secured the victory for her team.  Her name…..Grace Hislop.

Make it happen!

Almost two months ago I stood in front of a classroom packed with students and parents who wanted to know more about our field trip to Havasupai.   After telling them the cost of the trip ($225 plus whatever they spend on food), I said, “Don’t let the price scare you away.   If you want it bad enough and are willing to work hard for it, you can make it happen.  I promise, you can make it happen if you want it bad enough to work hard for it.”

Kids needing to earn money for their trip worked hard at the school carnival, manning the petting zoo I created.    In 2.5 hours they earned $400 as they showed younger children how to catch chickens, pet bunnies, feed goats, and hold a snake.   [A snake slithered across the garden path in front of me as I was headed down to load the chickens so I brought it along for the ride.]  Seeing my students, who ten minutes earlier had known next to nothing about livestock, authoritatively demonstrate successful chicken catching technique, was profitable in ways that have nothing to do with money.

Last week a student told me, “I am not going to be able to come; I can’t get the money.”  We engineered a plan and I told him to report back.    “Mrs. Hislop,” he whispered Wednesday, “I got the money!”

“When you first told us how much it costs,” one mother confided in me, “it seemed impossible.  But you were right,” she continued, “he wanted it bad enough and he made it happen.”

“I can’t bring my backpack to the backpack check,” another student hesitantly told me.  “All my clothes are dirty and I won’t have money to wash them until the weekend.”  One of our amazing teachers went to his home, gathered his laundry, and washed it.   Another OPA teacher left school during her prep period to buy food for the backpack my father is loaning him.    Sometimes it takes a team to make it happen.

And we are making it happen………tomorrow.   At 5 a.m. 41 students, 17 adults, 9 cars, and a dog will meet in the OPA parking lot, adventure’s first stop.   WHAAAA-WHOOO!

Love,
Teresa




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This is the barn that Chick built.......and the hay that I hauled.
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"Buddy," I said, as I scooped the snake up from the garden, "You are about to have the experience of a lifetime."
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Bird. Brain.
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Grace helps carry all the trophies to the pavilion where the winners were to be announced.
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Turned these (and a few others) into about 100 quarts of grape juice. We made it happen.
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Guess whose room this is? (Thanks, Koni, for the carpet!)
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Grace helps carryone (The one!) of the trophies away from the pavilion.
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This young lady, from SAA, was the over-all champion at the State Cross Country Meet. She must have a great coach!!
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Elder Hislop arrives in Washington State, despite a lost driver's license and because of an overnighted passport. Making it happen!
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Practice

10/12/2014

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Practice!    They say it takes 10,000 hours of practice to achieve mastery in a field (http://www.wisdomgroup.com/blog/10000-hours-of-practice/) and research indicates that what “they” say is true.  From Bill Gates to The Beatles, those who are great at what they do began by being interested and invested.    They invested hours and hours (10,000 of them) of meaningful practice.    Here, at Home Hislop, we are investing hours and hours into practices of various varieties.

 

We are practicing living without Chick; he is in our hearts and in our prayers but not in our home.   We have 279 hours down, 9,721 hours to go.   If it truly takes 10,000 hours to achieve mastery, we will be masterful at living without him on November 21, 2015.    According to the same logic, he will achieve mastery as a missionary about that same time.     

Thank heavens, God is not restricted by logic or research.  “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord” (Isaiah 55:8).  With God’s help Elder Hislop will be a masterful missionary long before November 2015 and we should get pretty good at not having him in the house before then as well.

 

Actually, in some ways, I like not having him around….   This past week there has been a peace in my heart and in my home that I attribute to the blessings given to missionary moms, inexplicable but very real.    I know where he is and what he is doing and who he is becoming and it is all good…very, VERY good; it does not take 10,000 hours of practice for me to recognize that.

 

Miles’ coaches recognized his diligence at football practice with a “Most Improved Player” trophy; they spoke of his willingness to work hard and to listen, his size (or lack thereof) and the fact he is not afraid of anything, X-men included.  (Being afraid of the X-men is what mothers do…)

 

Tanah’s practice also earned her a trophy, though she did not receive it.   In the season’s first tournament, she and Henry, her public forum debate partner, earned third place though a misfiled paper concealed this fact until after the tournament was over and the trophies had been given to others.    This is the second time she has earned a trophy that she did not receive.  We’re confident that with continued practice she will someday earn AND receive a trophy, though I am not sure I appreciate it when she practices debating on me.  [“That’s a logical fallacy, Mom.”]

 

Grace has been practicing on me…… and on Lance and Tanah and her Young Women’s class.   Recruited by her drama teacher to perform a Shakespearean monologue at a competition in Cedar City this weekend, she recited parts from a Midsummer’s Night Dream what could have been 10,000 times.  

 

Ten thousand hours may not be enough practice to make us masterful parents of teens.    Tanah met a boy at the state drama competition last spring and this fall he asked her out.  No big deal, right?  Well…..he has since graduated so he is now a BYU freshman, the play was in Provo, and the plan was that she would ride the FrontRunner (commuter rail) to the date.   So…….we would be allowing our 16 year old daughter to ride public transportation two hours south to go on out with a college boy whom we’ve never met?!?!   She would then catch the train home and call us to pick her up from the FrontRunner station at 12:30 a.m.    Probably crazy but we let it happen.   And, apparently it was the right decision; the stories she tells about it are all good.

 

I have a good story to tell….  Several years ago I lost one of a pair of Ragnar earrings.   On a whim, I sent the following email to the company that makes the earrings.

 

Long ago, in the land where you are, a cousin of mine invited me to run a Ragnar.
"Run with me," she said after saying hello, "We'll run up the mountains and in the valleys below."
I said yes to her invite, running before and after the sun, and discovered that I had lots and lots of fun.
Wanting to remember the joys of the race, I looked in your store, which seemed a great place.
I found some earrings and fell in completely love but knew that I lacked money to buy even a glove.
I will reward myself, I vowed on that day, "When I have run 5 Ragnars I'll find the money to pay."
I ran not 5 but 6 Ragnar relays and went to your store without further delays.
I bought the earrings and wore them with pride; I loved having them on, I had nothing to hide.
I wore them hiking and met folks on the trail who, seeing my earrings, had their own race tales to tell.
Then one day, to my horror and dismay, I found that one earring had gone its own way.
Now I have just one earring, lonely and sad, and I am hoping, so hoping, there's another to be had.
So, please kind sir (or lovely, sweet lady), will you please, please, please take pity on me?
I've not enough money to buy a new pair but would love, so love, to have two to wear.
Would you send me an earring, if you've one to spare, so that I may have two, one for each ear?
 
Two weeks later I received a Ragnar earring in the mail.  My writing practice paid off.

 

Currently we are practicing being polar bears and it is paying off as well.    Aghast at July’s $214.22 electric bill I turned the thermostat off, effectively stopping all artificial climate control in our home.  There were a few days when the thermometer in our home read 880 F but August’s much-greater-than-usual rainfall coupled with its much-lower-than-normal-temperatures were a tender mercy that all but eliminated our heat induced suffering.  Now the suffering is on the other end of the thermostatic continuum.  The power is still off; the thermometer read 600 F this morning…and the power bill read $91.37, $123.85 saved.    One can put on a lot of layers of clothing for $123.87/month.

 

There are a lot of things we are practicing (like shivering in the morning) but there are a lot of things we are not practicing as well.   Tanah is not practicing at Burger Bar anymore; she put her two weeks’ notice in three weeks ago.   Mile said to me “I haven’t showered in 10 days.”  Clearly cleanliness is not something he is practicing.  After Tuesday Lance’s cross country team will not be practicing any more.   This week his girls won the Region Championship (Grace placed 10th overall) and his boys team earned second.   Tuesday both teams will compete at the State Championships.  Grace is practicing eating popcorn and Starbursts, a practice that will end when she gets braces later this month.

 

One of the greatest challenges of writing is crafting an interesting beginning and an ending that is powerful.  I have no idea how to end this letter.   Guess I need more practice!!!

 

Sure love you,
Teresa




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Two of the runners on Lance's Region Champion Cross Country team. I am especially fond of the runner on the right.
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Now I have a pair!
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The temperature in the house at 7 a.m. today
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Miles won this hat for selling candy bars for the school fund raiser. Thank you GRANDMA for buying lots. You can thank Grandma too. If he had not sold them to her, he might have practiced selling them to you.
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Practice pays off.......both in a trophy he can show and a hoodie he can wear. The hoody is especially useful in our home on the morning!
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Commencement

10/5/2014

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Until I was assigned to give a speech at Sugar-Salem’s graduation ceremony, I thought commencement mean ending.   My reasoning was sound—graduations are called commencement ceremonies and they signal the end of one’s high school experience—but my thought was incorrect.   Commencement means beginning, start; high school graduation marks the beginning of a new set of life adventures.

Until I sent our son on a mission, I thought his leaving meant the end of family life as I knew it.   My reasoning was sound—he is our first child to leave home and our little family of six will never live all together under our roof in my direct care again—but my thought was incorrect.   Departure for service in the mission field marks the beginning of a new set of eternal life adventures.

The week preceding Chick’s departure was a full one.   Chick, blessed boy that he is, quit work a week early so that he could have a day date with each of us before leaving.    He and I spent our date hiking to Ben Lomond’s peak and back.    Coincidentally the weather on this Ben Lomond trek mirrored that of last year’s trek (9/18/13), misty with occasional bursts of sunshine.    I enjoyed the clouds; I really, really enjoyed the views that appeared in between cloud episodes; and I really, really, REALLY enjoyed spending the day on the mountain with my son.

The rest of the family enjoyed their days with Chick as well….and not just because Chick bought almost-endless amounts of fast food, pop, candy, and chips for each date.  (There was more junk food in my house last week than there has been in the last five years combined.)   Miles and Chick spent their day playing at the arcade and watching super hero movies.   Grace and Chick finished roofing the barn (just before days of torrential rain hit northern Utah), watched and laughingly mocked “Ella Enchanted”, and watched and genuinely enjoyed “Princess Bride”.    Tanah and Chick had a “Supernatural” marathon, watching more episodes of the series than most people know exist.   Lance and Chick visited Grandpa Curt Hislop’s former farm in Preston, ID, pausing to eat lunch at Chic-Fil-A on the way there and stopping to watch the latest X-man movie and get beat at Pinochle by Parents Hislop on the way back.

I focused on the end that was in sight, working feverishly to have everything prepared for his departure.   We spent an evening shopping—just one evening but it was more than enough.  (Shopping, even for mission clothing, is heinous.)  We did sessions at the Bountiful, Brigham City, and Ogden temples.  In preparation for the small crowd I anticipated would visit in conjunction with his final talk in church, I excavated the basement (it had been buried for months) and scrubbed the bathroom (the layers of grime had been there longer than months, sadly).   I bought insulated underwear, cooked chicken, and tightened the screws on the toilet seat, all in preparation for the end I knew was coming.

What I did NOT do was think much about what was coming.   Just the thought of dropping him off at the MTC (Missionary Training Center), of not hearing his cackle or feeling my ribs crack under his bear hugs, of living life without him constricted my heart, paralyzed my voice box,  and squeezed tears from my eyes…so I just did not think about it.   “Lock your heart,” they told us eons ago when I was a missionary.  “Lock your heart,” I told myself this week when I started thinking about Chick leaving home. 

His final days were fabulous.   His talk in church was exemplary.    Though a bit nervous, he was well prepared and gave a talk what was simultaneously interesting, insightful, and doctrinally sound.   He did not give a “thank-timony” nor did he say anything about himself, his family, or his pending mission….and I could not have been more proud.   

We were all grateful—and a bit overwhelmed—by the love and support we felt from family and friends that Sunday.    A zillion thanks to those who came.   

A zillion thanks also to Jill and Kurt who organized a “Ties, Pies, and Good-byes” Family Home Evening event for the greater Hislop family on his final Monday.  We played an Everett, WA trivia game, made and fought with tin foil swords, and, yes, ate pies.

And then it was Tuesday, our last full day together.   He wrote thank you letters and packed.  I mended his bandanna blanket and ironed all his shirts.  His thoughts were probably filled with mission stuff.  I avoided thinking.   I went to Grace’s cross country meet, took pictures in the pouring rain and yelled encouragement to the runners as if my life as I knew it were not ending the next day……….

On the drive home from the cross country meet I flipped.  The flip was not life-threatening—all four tires remained on the pavement—but it was life changing.   Suddenly I was filled with excitement for our son.   He is going on a mission!!  What a grand adventure it will be for him, what a tremendous opportunity, what a huge, HUGE blessing!  Really, money cannot buy the priceless experiences he will have.   Literally, he is beginning what will be the greatest two years of his life so far.  WOW and WOW!  My heart filled with joy.  Chick is going on a mission!!!!  [BTW:  I credit and thank the Lord for my flip.]

Wednesday morning the entire family was up at 5:45 a.m.   We spent the six o’clock hour playing a family game of Bunthead  (Tanah won) and then it came time for farewells.   Miles gave Chick a good-bye hug in the kitchen, Tanah got her good-bye hug in the Roy High Seminary parking lot, Grace hugged him good-bye in front of the Syracuse Junior High Seminary building and then we were on our way to Provo.

During the drive I realized I had forgotten to get Chick a flu shot so we detoured to a Provo Walgreens to shoot him up.    Feeling quite satisfied that I had prepared him well for his new beginning, we drove through the MTC gates at 9:00 sharp.

The parking lot was basically empty.   Hum.   Knowing that literally hundreds of missionaries arrive at the MTC each Wednesday, I began to suspect we’d messed up somehow.   The receptionist in the nearly vacant lobby greeted us kindly.  “How may I help you?” she said.

“We are here to deliver a missionary,” I said, and then followed with “We are a bit early, aren’t we?”

“Yes’” she said graciously, “but we have a class for early arrivals.  Do not worry.  He will be fine.”

She gave him a meal card, he gave us a hug and it was begun.   I watched as he walked around a corner, bags in hand.   Lance and I returned to the parking lot, hugged each other, wiped a few tears from my eyes, and drove away.

The blessings of having a missionary son began immediately.   We went to the Provo Temple where I had a spiritual experience too sacred to share.  

Missions are not without bumps and missionary moms have their bumps too.   When we got home I searched for the time we were supposed to deliver him to the MTC (1:00 p.m.) and found a whole bunch of things I was should have sent with him and did not.   Apparently one is should read the entire booklet that arrives with the mission call, not just the last two pages.  Items he was supposed to have but which were not packed include 2 towels, 4 books, pens/pencils, markers, highlighters, notebook, alarm clock, flashlight, cold meds, pain killer/fever reducer, umbrella….   It was the towels that killed me.  Thinking of my boy, likely a bit traumatized by his new beginning, unable to shower because he had no towel, feeling awkward, hesitant, unsure where to turn, knowing no one….These thoughts brought the tears that were not shed earlier.   I packed his first care box, towels included, and overnighted it to the MTC.

He emailed me the next day.  “I am at the mtc i have been here for two days and have already had a incredibly spiritual experience,” he wrote.   “Love your missionary son, Elder Hislop.”

We have a missionary son!   It is a commencement.  Let the good times begin!

Love,
Teresa


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The MTC parking lot is nearly empty.....
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Lance got dressed early....look at his collar....
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No need to avoid the crowds at the MTC.....
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Lance and Chick say their man good-byes.
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Brotherly and sisterly good-bye
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Early morning family Bunthead game
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Yet another missionary shot.....
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Miles claimed he was excited that Chick was leaving because he would get his own room. Actually saying good-bye was not so easy.....
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Chick and AJ with the money tie that Kurt built
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This is the barn that Chick built, outside......
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Tanah wields her tin foil sword
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...and in.
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Chick in the mountain mists
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On the top of Ben Lomond.........and of many other things as well!
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    Teresa Hislop
    thislop@msn.com

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