I have to say it is harder to send a missionary than it was to be one. A former mission president where I work told me that it's totally the ultimate sacrifice to send out a missionary, and I completely agree.

As a missionary, I was just excited to go and have this great adventure. Sending my son was incredibly difficult, just like taking him to Kindergarten that first day. I knew he needed to go, I wanted him to go, but I wanted him home where I could always take care of him. I bawled and bawled and didn't think he could make it without me. But he did then, and he has now.

My little boy comes home in 9 days, and now I'm wondering if I can survive not having a missionary out in the field. He was safe. I knew where he was and what he was doing. He was truly on the Lord's errand and His servant. I understood his experiences because I had some of the same experiences. I was glad he was there, doing what he'd planned for his whole life.

Don't misunderstand, I'm thrilled to have him home, but I have truly enjoyed the blessings of supporting a missionary; financially, emotionally, and spiritually. I am so grateful for this wonderful opportunity he has had to teach the gospel, serve the Lord, learn a new language, broaden his horizons by seeing people in a different country and learning about their lives, culture, food and even their weather. I will be sad that he has to leave that, just as I was sad to leave the people I had learned to love and feel at home with on my mission. It will be hard to know that he has to come home and face "real life" and be part of the contributing adults to society. I know he'll miss having that spiritual mantel that he was blessed with when he was set apart as a missionary, and it will never, ever be quite like that again. But, I am so very grateful that he chose to be a missionary, never doubted that he would be, and always knew what the Lord wanted him to do.

Many years ago I was a sister missionary. I remember not wanting to put on my nametag in the MTC because then it was REAL and there was no going back. And then at the end of the mission, I didn't ever want to take it off. I still have my nametag in my dresser drawer. I've used it in RS lessons, in Primary, and love wearing it when I have those few occasions to do so. I wonder how Taylor will feel about his nametag. Will he be sick of it, or feel naked without it?

Nine days! I think I'm almost more emotional now than I was when Taylor was leaving in 9 days. I've been crying all day and can't really even say why. I told my husband yesterday that having a son ready and willing to go on a mission was something I planned for his whole life--and that day came. He was ready and he went. But now what? I can see into the future with a wife and kids, but I don't think I ever really planned for what happens after the mission and before the wife (hopefully there will be plenty of time!).

I'm excited, nervous, anxious, restless, grateful, happy and a total wreck. I feel like I'm nesting--like when a new baby was coming. I'm cleaning stupid things in my house that nobody will ever notice, especially not Taylor, and not even any guests who show up for his homecoming. This weekend I cleaned under my dresser and behind the bedside table. Last week I cleaned the tops of my cupboards. Tomorrow I'm going for window sills and around the edge of the kitchen floor where it meets up with the floorboards, under the cupboards. I think I'm going crazy! I'm not sure if I'll survive the next 9 days.

Deep breath.