I Hope They Call Me On A Mission (Part 10 of 12)

Thursday, October 30, 1980 dawned overcast, but turned into a bright and sunny day. I woke up at 5:00 and made a final trip up to the attic with some items from my room. I then dressed in one of my missionary suits. I made the final packing preparations with my suit cases. I had a sad feeling looming over me. I knew I was doing the right thing. There was no doubt about that. But after this day I would never be truly at home in this house. After the mission I would probably go away to college and then marriage. My wonderful house! I had lived there since I was four years old. Not quite fifteen years – a short time really. But most of my growing up years were centered around on that house. My crayon drawings on the cement floor of the basement I had made as a little boy were still there. Symbolically I said good bye to all these things I had so dearly loved. I went to the back yard and said goodbye to the sandpile where I had played and built imaginary cities. Then I said good bye to the grape stake fence I had climbed on and gotten slivers. The old boards in the side yard I had built huts with. The electric lawn mower with its cord patched with a hundred pieces of black electrical tape fixing where I had run over the cord. I bid farewell to the big, wonderful swing set where every kid in the neighborhood had played at one time or another and where I had imagined to be a space fighter pilot. Tears were very close to the surface.
And then I went back inside. We had scriptures and prayers and then breakfast. Toast and scrambled eggs and jam. I went back down stairs and got all three of my suit cases and carried them up the stairs. A few days before I had zipped Christopher inside my largest suit case, Johnny inside the middle one, and Lori in the smallest. I carried all three up the stairs in this fashion, then after letting them out for a minute I put them back inside and carried all three back down the stairs. This time there was no going back. I saw little Lori as I paused a moment before carrying my suit cases outside. “Lori, I wish I could take you in my suit case again.” Little Lori. She would change the most in my two-year absence. Did she understand where I was going? Johnny would change a lot too. How I had loved these final few months to be home more with those two tiny children. I continued carrying the suit cases out to the van waiting in the drive way. I put all three in the back. Everyone piled into the van and we were ready to go. Dad drove the forty miles or so to Provo, Utah where the missionary training center was located.