Typically, this image wouldn't unsettle me, but it has been a whole month since I've heard from my missionary! Two weeks ago, while donating blood, one of Wesley's friends stopped by my gurney to say that she had just received a letter from Wes that very day. This was two weeks into the letter drought and I commented that I was glad she had heard from him and if she intended to write him back, she should tell him to write his mother. A reasonable request, or so I thought! The girl's mother, who had just given a pint of blood (so, perhaps she was a little light-headed) commented that although it was important for a missionary to write his mother, it was just as important to "stay connected" with his friends. Let's just say that had I not been laying there with a needle in my arm, that woman would've given more than just a pint that day! Whenever I whine about my empty mailbox, most people try to console me by saying that not hearing from him means he's busy doing the Lord's work. Well, I hope so, but I still have a hard time believing that he doesn't have a few minutes each week in which to drop his mother a line or two.
So, I've quit complaining. This week I sent Wesley the same photo you see posted here on my blog. It's my version of tough love.
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