Those who have read my articles for a bit now probably know I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (Mormon). I make no excuses, never try to hide it, and don't mind if anybody knows that. We take seriously the call of the Savior to "go into all the world" and preach the gospel. Not because we are trying to brainwash people, not because we are trying to shove our beliefs down other people's throats. We do it because we have found something that has brought us so much joy that we want others to know about it. Whether or not folks believe me is up to them. But as one who has been there, I think I know what I am talking about.
My brother has been there as well. For the past two years he has been serving in and around Albuquerque NM with the people in that area who speak Spanish. Knowing him, he has worked his butt off, from before the crack of dawn until the day's end, he has been sharing his testimony with others. It is an exhilarating and exhausting work. 90-100 hours in the hospital on the wards and in the OR, while still trying to study? Nothing compared to the exhaustion I experienced while serving as a missionary. I bet he can relate.
But know he is home. His plane landed just a little past noon MST and he has a whole new world ahead of him. You don't live on your own, take care of hundreds of church members and lead other missionaries and not grow significantly. You leave one person, come home a different one. You know who you are, but your family doesn't anymore. You have to become acquainted with them all over again. Any relationships you left behind (with the opposite sex) are probably over (or at least you hope they are!), and you truly have become a stranger in your own house.
When I returned home I couldn't speak English all the time. There were (and still are) some words that you just think in Spanish, as the English equivalent falls short. He will probably face the same. I had all sorts of terrible dreams about people and places I had known and been to. Not nightmares in the grisly sense, but frightening dreams nonetheless. He will probably get those too.
I don't think the family gets it either. You just can't know until you have been there, and even then you only know so much. I vividly recall just breaking down one night. After two years of such a regimented, structured and purpose filled life, to suddenly just get up, go to work, come home and go to bed was horrifyingly hollow. I felt I was squandering my life away. And it was only a couple weeks. Finding direction is imperative, finding a focus even more so. I hope he can find that focus soon.
Speaking to him on the phone tonight (in Spanish of course), for the first time since he left in the end of January 2003, was a bit of a surreal experience. You forget what someone sounds like after two years. You forget their normal pattern of speaking, their tonal variations, their vocal inflections. And now, speaking a foreign language, those are all lost again.
I am excited to get to know him again, to find out who he has become, and catch him up on the past two years.