Dedication

I used to be nineteen. A long time ago. I really thought I was pretty dang smart and of course more mature than most nineteen year olds. But really? I was a little baby. A young kid who didn’t know much of anything. And it seemed like just last week.


With these thoughts coursing through my mind, I sat in my home and watched the young missionaries in my home. They are nineteen – maybe twenty. They are just young kids. They are sincere, they are away from home & they need a good meal.

Every so often, we get a chance to feed the missionaries. And finally it was our turn.

My children love having the missionaries over for dinner. They bring such a sweet spirit into our home; it is difficult NOT to feel it. For the last few years we have had sister missionaries assigned to our area, so I was a little taken aback while I stared at these young men in my home. They looked so little!

Though they were young and their words weren’t perfect, they sat on my couch and bore testimony of the Savior, Jesus Christ. Their humility allowed Heavenly Father’s spirit to abide in our home. And I loved it.

Then I looked over at my almost 15 year old son. Only a few more years before he would be doing this same thing. Teaching and sharing the most important message the world has ever known. Too soon, he would be leaving home to do this same thing.

And my heart tugged a bit for those moms who are sending their sons and daughters away for a while. In some cases, these missionaries go to dangerous areas where only the Angels of God can protect them.

And that is why I will always have food for the missionaries. I will always let them have a cold drink of water or a much needed snack. I may even give them a little extra grocery money when I see them in the supermarket. I will always smile and wave because I know that somewhere, they have parents who are praying for them and siblings that miss them.

I wish that everyone could see the missionaries for who they are. Dedicated, selfless young kids who are devoting time from their lives – in most cases paying for it with money they have been saving themselves since their childhood. These are somebody’s children. They are lonely, homesick and probably hungry. They will keep going through the freezing rain or scorching heat. They only talk to their family a couple times a year – depending on letters the rest of the time. They are imperfect, awkward and still learning about life. But, they are committed to doing what they believe in.

I hope for these missionaries that their feet won’t blister from hours of walking. Their hearts won’t ache with homesickness. I hope their mailboxes will be filled with letters and packages from home. I hope they will always have a fireplace to warm their tired bodies on a cold night and a cold glass of water on a hot day. And I especially hope they will never have a door slammed in their face, greeted instead with a friendly smile.

For more information about the Mormon Missionaries, click here or here.