by Jack Weyland
I stood up and began. “I just got back from serving a mission to the New Jersey Morristown Mission.” I paused. “I learned a great deal from my mission.”
At that point panic set in.
In the congregation Sierra, the older sister, was looking at me, but as the silence continued, out of politeness, she dropped her gaze and opened her scriptures. My parents and grandparents were all smiling nervously, willing me to go on.
Behind me on the stand, Kierra tried in her own way to help me. “Don’t just stand there. Tell ’em what you learned on your mission!”
Nothing came to mind.
“Say something!” Kierra demanded.
“On my mission I learned that . . .” I sighed, “ . . . that if the only reason you’re on a mission is to impress your family, and you want to end up as a district leader or a zone leader so your family will be proud, then you’re not there for the right reason. The best thing is to just do your best in whatever situation you’re put in, no matter how hard it is. Like if you have a bad companion for example. No matter what, your job as a missionary is to . . .”
I quit talking, not because I didn’t have anything to say, but because what I wanted to say was too close to my heart, and I needed to try to say it without getting too emotional.
A tear slid down my cheek. I had always been embarrassed for guys who lose it while giving a talk in church. Now I was one of them.
I wiped my cheek. “I want to talk to the young men in the ward about when you go on your mission. Your calling as a missionary is to represent the Savior to everyone you talk to. If you focus on that, then nothing else matters because every conversation you have, with every person you meet, is really important.
“I never held a leadership position on my mission, and I didn’t have that many baptisms, and my last few months were tough, but none of that matters now. What matters is that I know that Jesus Christ is our Savior and Redeemer, and He loves every person. That’s what I learned.”
I cleared my throat. “On my mission I had a chance to teach my grandparents the gospel. You might not know this, but my dad, when he was about my age, married a girl from back East. Her name was Charlene, but everybody called her Charly. Her dad was transferred out here by his company, and she was a convert to the Church. She died when I was about a year old, and sometime after that, her folks moved back to New Jersey. I was able to look them up and got a chance to teach them the missionary lessons. After I was transferred, they were baptized. Getting to know them and having them become members of the Church was one of the best experiences of my mission.
“I also got a chance to learn more about my mom . . . my real mom. I don’t know how to say this because, the truth is, the only mom I’ve ever known is sitting right there.” I pointed to Lara. “But the one who gave me life, well, I got to know more about her from my New Jersey grandparents. I found out that she was really wonderful. So learning about her was good. And I came to really love my other grandparents as much as I love the ones who are here today.”
I chuckled. “One thing I found out that I’d never known before is that my dad, before he married my real mom, got arrested in New York City for disturbing the peace. Can you believe that about my dad? I guess what happened was my dad and, well, Charly is what they called her, they had an argument when she was living here, and she got so mad at him she went back East. So my dad went out there and tried to patch things up. And I guess he must have flipped out or something. He was so crazy about this girl.”
My mom’s face was frozen into a polite smile.
“Anyway, my dad got arrested. They told him they’d let him go if he promised never to come back. So I was thinking—maybe his name and picture are on the wall of some police station even to this day.”
A couple of people laughed, but my mom closed her eyes and lowered her head. Dad was just staring at me without any expression.
“But you know, it’s okay. I can understand how something like that could happen. I mean, after all, he was really in love so . . .” I chuckled again. “It’s just really weird to me to think of my dad being handcuffed and taken away by the police.”
I could see people starting to squirm a bit, and it got very quiet in the chapel. That’s when it occurred to me that I was maybe making my talk just a little too interesting. I decided I didn’t want to talk anymore about my mission, so I read three or four scriptures that had come to mean a great deal to me, bore my testimony, and sat down.
We got out of sacrament meeting early, which made everyone happy. Right after the meeting ended, Kierra hurried over to talk to her older sister, who gave her a hug. I couldn’t hear what Kierra was telling her, but it was easy to imagine. I guessed the little brat was describing in great detail how messed up I was.
My family and I went home for dinner. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if my mom is mad or just very busy. This was one of those times.
“Mom, can I help you do anything?” I asked, even though both my grandmothers were already working beside her.
“I think we have things pretty much in control, Adam, but if you want to do something, how about filling up the water glasses?”
“Sure, I can do that.” I went to the cupboard and got a pitcher and filled it with water.
She caught me looking at her and knew what it meant. “I’m not upset with you, Adam.”
“I guess I shouldn’t have told ’em about Dad being picked up in New York.”
“It wouldn’t have been what I’d have said in a sacrament meeting talk, but I’m sure we’ll survive . . ,” she broke into a grin, “ . . . the scandal of it all.”
I felt more relaxed that she could smile about it, and went about filling the water glasses in the dining room.
My grandparents didn’t say much about my talk, which wasn’t a good sign.
A few minutes later we were ready to sit down and eat. My mom had set an honorary place for Quentin, who was on his mission. Just before we had a blessing on the food, she read part of a letter from Quentin. Apparently his mission president was amazed at how quickly he was picking up the language. “They say Finnish is probably the most difficult foreign language to learn,” my mom told us.
“Well, the fact he’s brilliant doesn’t surprise me,” my grandfather on my mom’s side said. “Look at the genes he’s got.”
I smiled faintly, trying my best not to look hurt. Quentin’s genes were different from my genes because we had different mothers.
“That’s true,” I agreed. “Quentin is very smart. I’m sure he’s an outstanding missionary.”
After my dad said the blessing, and we started to fill our plates, my grandfather on my dad’s side asked, “What are you going to do this summer, Adam?”
“Ah . . . well . . . I’m not sure. I haven’t really thought about it.”
“You’ll be working for us, won’t you?” my mom asked.
“I don’t know. Like I said, I really haven’t thought about it.”
“Well, we just assumed you’d come back to work with us again,” my mom said.
“I probably will. I just haven’t thought about it.”
“We have a family business and we need family support,” my mom said. “Quentin helped out when you were on your mission, now it’s your turn to help him. At least that’s the way I see it.”
“Let me take some time this week to look for a job, and if I don’t find anything, then I’ll work for you guys.”
“We’d love to have you, but we’ll support whatever decision you make,” my dad said.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Are you excited to go to BYU in the fall?” my mom asked.
“Yeah, I am.”
“Have you looked at the classes I signed you up for?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“You can still make changes if you want. But, of course, the freshman year is pretty much laid out.”
I paused, not knowing if I should admit that I wasn’t sure I wanted to major in informati
on systems. Of course it made the most sense, in terms of my dad’s company, but even so, I wanted some time to think about other possible careers.
For years my dad has had a business that sets up Web sites for small companies that might not see a need for a Web site. He’s been the only salesman, so he was on the road a lot. Quentin and I had always stayed in the office, cranking out Web sites, mostly for one-person companies. My mom was the office manager, which hadn’t always been the best for our mother-son relationship because, at work, she demanded perfection.
Here’s the kind of small businesses we serve: On a fly-fishing trip to Strawberry Reservoir when I was in high school, my dad stopped at a bait shop in Heber City to buy some flies. While there, he talked the owner into getting a Web site, and now this man sells his hand-tied flies to fishermen around the world.
Since we’ve mainly catered to small businesses, what we were doing was below the radar screen for other Web site companies, so we filled a niche without fear of being made obsolete. When the economy was good, our business was great, but even when the economy was bad, and people were getting laid off, some would start up their own company. And as we could find them, they signed on too.
I had worked for my dad since I was in ninth grade—after school for a couple of hours and full-time during the summer. My job was to sit in front of a computer and churn out Web sites, answering questions from computer novices about mostly simple things that any fifteen-year-old would know.
Before I left on my mission I had gotten very good at designing Web sites. And Quentin was right behind me. But with him gone, Mom and Dad didn’t have anyone to do the technical stuff. That’s why they were so anxious for me to get home and come back to work.
My mom had made my favorite dessert for the occasion. Chocolate cake. She cut me the first piece and, after setting it in front of me, kissed me on the cheek, and said, “Welcome home, Adam.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
After we finished eating, we all went into the living room to talk.
As we were finding seats, my mom said, “It’s such a small world. You know that Elder Russell you worked with?”
Sergeant Russell was, of course, my last companion—or as I used to think of him, my last warden.
“Sure. What about him?”
“I guess he’s writing a girl in our stake. Her name is Melissa Hutton. I ran into her mother at the store the other day, and she told me he had written Melissa to say you were companions.”
“Really? What did he say?”
“I don’t know, but her mother said Melissa knew all about you.”
Knowing what Russell would write about me, I had a sinking feeling that before long my mom would be told by the mother of Russell’s girlfriend that I’d been a slacker on my mission, and that I’d tried to romance a sister missionary.
“There are so many cute girls who are just dying to spend time with you,” my mom went on.
“Really? Who?”
“Oh, girls in the ward, who have grown up since you’ve been gone, and some others in the stake. I know a lot of them have been anxious for you to get home. Didn’t you notice how many were in sacrament meeting today?”
“Sounds like you’re going to be busy, Adam,” Grandpa Whyte said, giving me a big wink.
I didn’t want to talk about girls or Elder Russell, so I decided to draw my dad out. “Dad, how’s the business going?”
He smiled. “It’s going very well. You remember Bait Man Bob in Heber? You set up his Web site before your mission.”
“Right.”
“Well, we’re expanding that now. We’re going to set up one site that will bring together all the best fly tyers in the world. I’ll be flying out Thursday to an international fly-tying convention. I hope to get as many people as I can to sign on to a part of this Web site. So if this goes through, you’re going to have plenty of work to do.”
“That sounds great, Dad.”
After my grandparents left, my mom asked if she could speak with me.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Let’s go outside.”
She gave me a tour of the garden and asked me if I could do some weeding and rake up the dead leaves from under our bushes in the next few days.
“No problem.”
Then she said, “There’s something else.”
“Okay.”
“I’m glad you got to meet your mother’s . . . Charly’s parents. How was it? I mean, getting to know them? Did they tell you a lot about her?”
Lara and I had hardly ever talked about my birthmother. I had been so young when Charly died, and Lara had been the only mother I had ever known. But from what Claire and Eddie had told me, I knew Lara had been sensitive about her role as a “replacement” mom. Something told me I needed to be careful about what I might say.
“Yeah, they did.”
“I never met her, of course. Your father and I met after . . . after she had died. But apparently she was one of those people who everyone loves.”
“That’s what her parents said.”
I wanted to ask something, but wasn’t sure how my mom would take it. After hesitating, I said, “Why haven’t you and Dad told me more about her?”
She shook her head. “Maybe we should have. I just felt that, well, I’m your mom, and I didn’t want to confuse you.”
I nodded. “That makes sense.”
She gave me a sad little smile then drew me into a hug. “I don’t mind if you think about her . . . as long as you also remember how much I love you.”
“Okay, I’ll do that.”
• • •
On Monday I tried to find a job but didn’t run into anything I really wanted to do.
After a couple of hours, I quit looking and went home. I grabbed some cookies and took a swig of milk right out of the carton from the fridge. I knew it was something that drove my mom crazy, but hey, old habits die hard. Then I changed clothes and went out to do some yard work.
I was raking up dead leaves when someone called out, “Hi!”
It was Sierra, Kierra’s older sister from next door. She was standing on her patio, waving and smiling.
“Hi, yourself,” I said.
She walked toward the low fence between our yards. “Great talk yesterday!” she said with a teasing grin, showing off some very white teeth and confirming she was as good-looking as I had thought when I saw her from the stand. “I didn’t even fall asleep.”
“Are you here so I can apologize for what I said about Kierra? I can do it. In fact, bring your whole family over. I’d be happy to apologize to each and every one, together or one at a time. I can also grovel too. Hey, whatever you guys want.”
She laughed. “Look, don’t worry about it. I’m on your side. Kierra can be a pain in the butt. So you were right about that.”
“You can say that here when she’s not around. Try saying it sitting next to her sometime just before sacrament meeting is about to begin. That separates the men from the boys.”
She laughed. “Which of those two are you?”
I gave her a weak smile. “Very good. Pour it on. Show no mercy.”
“Don’t be so self-conscious, okay? Everyone in the ward understands why you’d say what you said about Kierra.”
“So, if you didn’t come to get an apology, why are you here?”
“I’m supposed to cut the lawn, but I can’t get the mower started. Can you help me?”
I went over to her place and tried several times to get her mower started but couldn’t do it, so I went ahead and cut her lawn with our mower.
As I was finishing up, she brought me out some lemonade, and we sat on her patio to drink it. “That was so nice of you. Now let me help you. What would you have been doing instead of mowing our lawn?”
“Raking up leaves.”
“I’ll help you then,” she offered.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
“Why?”
“Just
for fun.” She looked at me and smiled. She had a very winning smile.
I raked while she stuffed the leaves into bags.
“So, tell me more about your mission.”
“There isn’t much to tell, except I ended my mission with everyone thinking I wasn’t a very good missionary.”
“How come?”
I told her about my grandparents, and about Doneau getting me transferred.
“She got you transferred because she had a dream about you? That’s not fair.”
“It doesn’t matter now. I’m over it.”
She laughed. “I can tell.”
“When I got transferred, my new companion was told I was a problem elder, so he treated me like his prisoner. He never gave me a chance to do anything. I was the designated junior companion. I just followed him around.”
“You poor guy. That must have been so hard for you.”
“It was.”
She put her hand on my arm. “Sometimes when things aren’t going the way we’d like, that’s the biggest test we ever face. I’m proud of you for not giving up.”
I looked at her. Her eyes really were a great shade of blue. “You know what? I can’t remember the last time anyone said they were proud of me.”
“Well, I guess I need to spend more time with you. You’re smart, you’re a nice guy, and you go out of your way to help someone in need, like I was when I couldn’t start the mower.” She paused. “And you’re not too bad looking either.”
I couldn’t help but think this might have possibilities for the future.
“You’re a junior, right? Do you go to BYU? I’ll be there in the fall.”
She hesitated for a second and then said, “My dad works for the University of Utah, so where do you think I go to school?”
“Makes sense.”
“What will you be doing this summer?” she asked.
“I guess I’ll work for my dad.”
She invited me to have lunch with her at her place. We talked while she made sandwiches, then we ate on her patio.
After we finished, I stood up and said, “I’d better go. Thanks for a great day.”
“It was a great day for me too.”
She came very close and looked up at me. “You want to do something tonight?” she asked.
