Aaron has been gone six months. I look back at my posts that I made when the boy left: posts with titles like “suffering” and “sacrifice.” I have a vague memory of feeling that way. I had written the Missionary Moms when I was missing Aaron a lot, right after he left, and they all told me that if I could get to six months, I would feel much better. They were right. I assumed, when I heard their advice, I’d feel better because time had passed. That’s actually only part of the story.
Sure, time passes and we get used to a new normal. I will concede that time does tend to heal wounds. But I remember a point when I got one of Aaron’s letters where it was clear that he had found a home down there. He was talking about people like they were his friends. They were people that he would miss if he never saw them again, and they no doubt would miss him as well. Mothers were feeding him. Children were befriending him. Other missionaries were sharing their strategies with him to help him manage his new life.
Knowing that there are people in Guatemala who care about my son helps me know that I’m not the only one seeing to his welfare anymore. He is loving and serving, and, in turn, is being loved and served. His willingness to speak the language and eat the food and make friends down there is not only making it easier for him, it is making it easier for me. Love brings us so much support in our lives. He is loved in Guatemala. He is going to be just fine, and because of that, so am I.
I am starting so suspect that love is the answer to everything. It certainly has been a wonderful lesson to learn, and I’m not sure I could have learned it any other way.