Coming Home 1.2

The water hits my face.

The water feels different in Chile.  It always has.  I can’t describe it.  Even the smell is different.

I shave for the last time in Chile.

Drying off, I’m reminded of my first shower in Chile.  It was an old shower that dripped just enough water to make you wonder where the rest of the water was.  I remembered feeling cold and frustrated.  The water wasn’t hot, and I instantly started feeling sorry for myself.  How did I ever survive?

I laugh at the memory.

I dry off and look in the mirror.   I don’t see a scared 19 year old boy anymore looking back at me.

I’m almost 22 now.

I grab my things and head downstairs.

My companion is already sitting at the table.  I chuckle inside because I can tell immediately Mammita is making him wait until I am there.

I put away my things and return to the kitchen.

Mammita grabs my chair and helps me sit down.  She always did this.

She put both her hands on my shoulders, and kept them there.

She asked me to pray.

I knew this would be the last time I would have the opportunity to pray for Mammita.  Mammita kept her hands on my shoulders as I began to pray.

The tears come back.

I pray.

After the prayer Mammita keeps her hands on my shoulders.  I know she is trying not to cry.

Without saying a word, she leaves to grab our food.

I watch as she leaves, and it hits me.  Mammita is what being a Chileno is all about.  They are kind, generous, loving, and giving; so many other things I can’t express.  I have been so blessed to have been amongst them all for the past 2 years.  I never knew I could care about a people the way I did with the Chileans.  They were my people now.

I am part of them now.

Mammita brings us our food.  I smell it instantly, Ham and Fried Eggs with Freshly Cooked Bread.

I look up at Mammita.  She is smiling.  She knows this is my favorite breakfast.

She tells me she will not return me to my mom on an empty stomach.

I laugh.

We eat.

I keep looking up at my companion.  He is oblivious to what is going on.  His knew companion will arrive in a few moments, and that will be the end of our companionship.  I have learned to love my companion.  He will be my last.

He was 17 years old when I started my mission.

He is going to be a GREAT missionary.

I eat as much as I possibly can without getting sick.  Mammita sits in the corner like she always did watching us eat.  She made sure we ate a good meal 3 times a day.  She would never eat with us.  Humbly, she would wait until we had eaten to fix a plate.

I thank Mammita for the meal, and leave to get ready.

I put on my white shirt.

I pull on my slacks.

I roll on my black socks.

I put my watch on.

I grab my tie.  The same tie I wore my first day in the MTC.  I look at it.  We both had come a long way.

I tie my tie perfectly.

I sit on the chair next to my bed, and slip on my shoes.  They are beat.  I will be throwing them away the moment I return home.

I tie my shoes and sit up.

The next step was the most important.

I stand up and grab my black Missionary Tag.

I feel tears in my eyes as I look at my tag.

ELDER ANDERSON

LA IGLESIA DE JESUCRISTO

DE LOS SANTOS DE LOS ULTIMOS DIAS

I rub my fingers over the words.  The urge to break down and cry is so strong, I have to sit.  Being a missionary has meant everything to me.  Just as I was getting the hang of it, it was time to go home.

I’m reminded of my brother Nathan.  I watched him in 1997 as we got on a plane in the Philippines.

 

He was so quiet.

When we sat down on the plane, I watched as he looked out the window.  His shoulders were shaking.  He kept wiping his eyes.  I didn’t understand why he was so sad.  He was coming home!  What was there to be sad about?

Now my shoulders are shaking, and it is my tears I am wiping away. 

I was going home.

What was there to be sad about?