We took my oldest son to the MTC this week, to learn Cebuano in preparation for his mission to the Philippines. The night before, the stake president and his counselor came to our home and set him apart, and then we had some family blessings. The next day we drove in the underground MTC parking lot and took a picture, gave him hugs, said goodbye.
See how spare those words are. They are stark. They don’t hold any of the power I felt that night, and on into the next day, and even now when I stop and ponder. The Spirit felt like the same… flavor of the Spirit I have tasted when giving birth: God honoring the sacrifice of bringing a human soul, body and spirit, to the next stage of his eternal progression. The air felt thick, like breathing in humidity, only instead of water vapor, it was the Spirit.
I want to bear witness of the Spirit that accompanies a new missionary, and my deep gratitude that I get to experience it as a mother.