Monday, September 25, 2017
And nothing I do seems to have any effect.
Being a missionary is hard work. It's tough. We know this. But there are ways to make it harder. And by all accounts, reading his emails home and being in contact with his mission president, he's following that path. His last email sent my anxiety into full swing. I've been a mess all day worrying about him. Borderline irrational. I keep having to talk myself down from crazy thoughts. I'm just so worried I can't think straight, can't concentrate on anything.
I've been praying all afternoon and evening because prayer is the weapon of every mother who is separated from her child by distance. I've reached out to his mission president. They have been and are aware of the issues. They are in the trenches with him, so to speak. The steps are being taken to help him. I have to let that, and prayer, be enough. And our letters and emails to him. And packages with candy and silly notes and reminders that he is precious to us.
And in the mean time I have to figure out a way to stop near-panicking. Because crying only makes my migraine worse, and I don't think it helps anyone--like, at all.