My name is Hermana, but you can call me Sister!

For the past couple of months there has been a count down on the dining room chalkboard. (Doesn't everyone have a ten foot chalkboard in their dining room?)

It drives me nuts.

I'm not real big on countdowns. Prefer to live in the moment. Actually, I prefer to not be constantly reminded that something major is coming down the pike and I should probably be preparing for it whether I have the ability to do so or not.

In this case the impending something is definitely of the major event sort.

My little girl is coming home.

Tomorrow.

I just started shaking a bit.


A month ago I had the privilege of meeting a new friend. (Hi Greg!) He is not of my faith but he knows a bit about the people referred to as Mormons. He lives close to where my son is serving his mission and told my husband to call if ever Elder Crosgrove needed anything. I can't tell you how much that means to a mother of a missionary. I was excited to meet this very generous person and was very happy that the Man and I were able to spend an afternoon touring Sheboygan with him.

The first thing Mr. Greg has to say to me throws me off a bit. He asks me why a religion that is all about family would excommunicate their children from the family for a year so they could serve a mission. I had to correct that. We don't send our children off for a year.

We send them off for two years.

His comment does make me think. Why do we do that? Why would anyone send their teenaged children away for two years, eighteen months for the girls, and know that the only way to communicate with them would be through snail mail and e-mail? (And Skype on Christmas and Mother's Day if someone is generous enough to share some technology without being asked to do so.)

Well....I guess because I get it. I get that the happiness that comes from knowing Christ shouldn't be hoarded. I get that not everyone has had the opportunity to know that there is a difference between the happy times that the world brings and the pure joy that knowing my Savior infuses into my life.

And I get that when a teenager learns to think only of other people, the entire universe opens up to them. Life is no longer about making money and impressing friends. Having the latest and greatest fashions and hanging out on the weekend becomes irrelevant. A certain clarity is developed and major life decisions are easier to make. And I want that for my children.


In an odd series of events, my first two teenagers left the same day. The exact same day.

There are quite a few hoops that have to be jumped through to serve a mission. Medical exams, shots, dental appointments and usually wisdom teeth removed. Personal study and worthiness to attend to as well as buying a wardrobe for two years. Lots of white shirts for Elder Spencer and lots of skirts for Hermana Nichole. And when all is finished they turn in their papers and someone else decides where they will be serving.

Their mission calls came on the same day. They were both called to serve in the Spanish language, Spencer to Los Angeles and Nichole to Dallas. I thought at the time this would be a great excuse for me to learn a new language, too. The time has flown and about all I can say is mui bueno when I'm asked how my enchilada tastes.

So here we are. Hermana Nichole Crosgrove will be under my roof again tomorrow night at this time. To be honest, I am nervous. I feel like I know from her letters that she has spent the past eighteen months loving people that she's just met. But I'm worried about how she'll feel about being home again, with the Crisis Center in full swing.

Quietness is something you can get used to.

Our home is anything but quiet.

I feel like an expectant mother again. I've even been nesting. We painted her room, washed her clothes and made sure her bed is just the way she used to like it. And I'm emotional. Hairy Mooses I'm emotional. Just anyone bring it up and out spring the tears.

But mostly I just can't wait to hug her. I just want to hold her for like forever. I might not even let her out of the house for a few weeks and throw all of the young men that come around off of the porch. (I know there will be young men!)


To answer a few more of the questions: I did not make Nichole go. She has been looking forward to serving since she was old enough to decide which clothes to wear. Yes, I have missed her. Yes, there have been times when I wanted to just scoop her up and have her with me.

And even though you didn't ask, yes, I will be crying tears of joy when she sees her littlest sister for the first time!