We bravely pulled into the next available numbered space at the curb of the Missionary Training Center in Provo. We were there to drop our daughter off for her first stop on her 18-month journey as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
All too quickly we realized that years of contemplating, months of preparing, weeks of planning, days of anticipating and hours of praying would all culminate in a few brief minutes to hug and say goodbye. I didn’t cry on the outside. No puffy eyes or stuffy nose for me. Instead, an emotional torrent was unleashed in my heart that left me with a pounding headache and a queasy stomach.