Whatcha think?

As people at church and in our social circles began to find out my son wasn’t going to serve a mission, I soon realized that after my conversations with others about it was over, I continued the dialogue in my own head and it was usually something like this:  “Yep, and I’m the Mormon mom that didn’t quite make it; you might want to keep your distance just in case my failures rub off on you.”  Of course, the more I told myself this, the more real it seemed to me:  I really was a failure as a Mormon mom.

Or was I???

In a previous blog I wrote about how just because other people may say something doesn’t mean it’s true.  Guess what?!  The same principle applies here:  just because I kept telling myself I had failed at being a Mormon mom didn’t make it true.

When I came to this realization it suddenly struck me:  if I was going to determine my success or failure as a Mormon mom solely on the choices of my children, which choice was I to use?  The time a son walked out of an inappropriate movie, leaving all his Mormon friends inside the theater to keep watching?  Or how about the time my son, serving as a Deacon’s quorum president, coordinated the efforts of three deacon’s quorums (from two different wards) to pass the sacrament to two wards (plus visiting Stake leaders) simultaneously, in a reverent and efficient manner?  Or was it really my son’s choice to not serve a mission that summed up my 20-year efforts as a Mormon mom?

To be sure, the world is full of many people that are willing to decide whether or not we’ve succeeded or failed.  But the loudest voice, and the one we hear the most, is what we tell ourselves.  What one thing do you constantly tell yourself?  Is it serving you?

My Deepest Fear

When my son, Jason, told me he wouldn’t be serving a mission, I knew this probably meant he would also go through at least a period of inactivity in the church.  This seemed a reasonable assumption, but then… my mind went a little crazy and I began worrying that my son would also give up all the goodness we had taught him.  Even though logically I know there are many wonderful people in the world that are not LDS (and I have many non-LDS friends whom I love and respect and cherish), somehow my heart took this giant leap:  no mission = giving up all goodness.

I was able to keep my mind and emotions mostly in check about all of this, but deep down I still worried about the goodness seeping out of him until all that was left was a hollow shell of a young man.  This worry plagued me until one day my phone rang; it was Jason calling to tell me he had just volunteered to sing at a funeral of a co-worker (in a quartet, nonetheless!).

Now, this might not seem like much but Jason would barely sing congregational hymns and probably hasn’t even sung in any kind of group since graduating from Primary.  Yet here he was telling me he volunteered to sing in a small group at a funeral.  I was intrigued.  As he told me about the sudden passing of this co-worker and how people were reluctant to help with the funeral, he felt that every life deserved to be honored in some way because each life is precious.  So, when he was asked to sing “Amazing Grace” he said yes ~ to honor a fellow human being whose life had ended.

I hung up the phone and have no longer worried that because he didn’t serve a mission Jason will give up all the good he’s been taught.  He may not attend church but his foundation is solid, his heart has actually grown bigger, and I am at peace that this is his journey to navigate.

What’s your deepest fear about your son not serving a mission?

But shouldn’t I feel bad about this?

Let’s be honest:  sometimes we torture ourselves because we believe we deserve it or that it’s the right thing to do.  I mean, shouldn’t I feel bad?  After all, my son isn’t serving a mission. 

Our church teaches that all young men should serve a mission. 

We talk about it from the time they are little.

I have a picture of him wearing his “future missionary” name tag.

He saved nickels and dimes since he was little (and $10’s and $20’s later on).

We’ve sung, “I Hope They Call Me on a Mission” more times than I can count.

He memorized all the Articles of Faith.

He knows the principles of the gospel.

We studied Preach My Gospel.

How can I possibly feel OK about his choice not to serve?  Does it make me a hypocrite if I feel at peace since I purposely taught him a different way?  If I truly accept his choice, what does that say about my own testimony?

All of these memories and questions swarming around in my mind reinforced the idea that I should feel like a failure as a Mormon mom because my son isn’t serving a mission… until I remembered that my Heavenly Father doesn’t want me to stay in a place of despair and disappointment; He is a God of hope and love (and it’s the adversary that wants me to stay mired in sorrow and grief).

If you’d like to find your way out of the negative feelings you have because your son isn’t serving a mission, contact me now at kelly@findpeaceinparenting.com and we’ll set up a free 20-30 minutes mini-session to see if you would benefit from my “Find Peace in Parenting” coaching program.

What does this say about me?

When my son first told me he wasn’t going to serve a mission, of course my mind filled with doubt and fear.  Doubt about my parenting.  Fear about our relationship (not because I wouldn’t love him the same but because I was afraid he might pull away from me).  I also spent time wondering what his choice to not serve a mission said about me as a Mormon mom.

Did it mean I didn’t lay a good enough gospel foundation?  Did it mean I wasn’t strict enough?  Or lenient enough?  Did it mean Heavenly Father shouldn’t have trusted me to be his mom?  Did it mean because I wasn’t a perfect mom (who is?) this was all my fault?  Did it mean my son never, ever had a testimony?  Did it mean I should have tried harder, that I could have prevented this choice?

Or, does it mean this is his journey, and just like all of the other billions of Heavenly Father’s children, my son gets to use his agency?  Does it mean that because it’s his journey it’s not going to look like I had envisioned it?  Does it mean this is an opportunity for me to trust the foundation we’ve given him (because I know we followed promptings and made the best choices at any given time throughout his life)?  Does it mean I am the right mom for him because my love for him is unconditional… even if he doesn’t serve a mission?

To be sure, the negative thinking is easier, seems to come automatically, without much effort of my part.  But it makes me feel awful about myself and less likely to be the mom I want and need to be.  Negative thinking is definitely a way, but not the only way.  Another way is to decide how I want to show up in my relationship with my son and work towards becoming that mom.

I chose the second way.  What about you?