BYU Studies, essay
Having happily served a mission myself, I was convinced that the only tears I would shed when I said goodbye to my oldest son would be tears of maternal joy. However, as his departure date loomed larger on the calendar, the metal harness of time strapped me in, and I felt nauseous as I anticipated the whoosh of the release of air just before being whisked straight upward and then plummeted to certain death—the thrill and the terror of knowing that I had not only signed up for this ride, but I had waited in line and I was the one who had paid for it. No one had threatened, cajoled, or bribed me. I was simply handing my baby over to the program, like some hyperspiritual psychopath.
Hafen d'Evegnee, Sarah
BYU Studies Quarterly: Vol. 59:
1, Article 9.
Available at: https://scholarsarchive.byu.edu/byusq/vol59/iss1/9