so... Mickey and I made it safely from Boise to SLC. (this photo shows the hand-off point when I, the cousin, passed him off to higher ranking relatives, the grandparents.) During the drive we chatted, ate albertsons potato chips, and I listened to music (he wasn't supposed to be enjoying the music, as he was already set apart as a missionary.) :)
Along the trip I reflected about my time as a missionary, or should I say "sister missionary." I feel a little guilty as I say, "I'm glad it's not me this time!"
I like Ecclesiastes 3: To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven, etc. In my season of full-time missionary service I went, and loved it. Missions are hard, and I'm thankful to be in another "season" of my life. Thinking about being in Mickey's shiny leather dress shoes makes me want to stop complaining about all my stupid problems and enjoy this stage of my life ("Hey, at least I'm not on a mission," I can say to myself. Which means, at least I don't have to blunder through a foreign language all the time, and I can choose what and how much I eat, and I don't have to wear long skirts with knee-highs!)
Mickey will be a great missionary, I know it because we said a little prayer together this morning before heading down the freeway, he prayed that he would be ok. through it all. He will. We all will.