Dearest [Daughter],
I sit here before a blank slate, wondering what to say. What have been the lessons of the week? I’ve been thinking of [your brother] all week, with his birthday nearing. You were so thoughtful to have thought of my birthday long beforehand, so [your sister] could deliver your wonderful and personal card on the day. Knowing that alone made the card touching and meaningful. The boy, my son, one whom I love dearly. Where is he? How is he? What is he thinking? How can I show my love to him? What does he do with his time? Who are his friends? Does he think of his Heavenly Father? Does he know that he’s loved of so many? Does he know I love him?
This year, as last, I bought the same birthday gift for all of my boys, as I did all of my girls. The boys I bought Liahona tie tacks. And for [your brother], as this is his 25th birthday, I included a cake mix and several varied kinds of wonderful candles, including mini birthday cake sparklers [his birthday is on the 4th of July]. For the girls … well, you’ll have to wait.
So what did I learn this week? On a weekend when I was to have [your younger brother and sister] stay with me but they were at youth conference, and thinking of [your older brother] and his upcoming birthday, then for some reason having half a dozen people today at church ask me out of the blue how my children are, and three of them asking, “How is your missionary?,” and feeling so sad at being so distanced from you all … but I didn’t share that part, but just that they’re doing wonderfully. And they are. But I had one thought that I shared with my good friend Sam today when he asked how you’re doing. …
When [your oldest brother] left on his mission, having just been separated from my family myself, I realized quickly that even though he was thousands of miles away, I was closer to him than the rest of my children. I felt disconnected from their daily lives. The rest were either out of the home on their own, or spending most of their time with their mother. But [he] was in this other world, the world of a mission. I was also on a mission, away from my family, learning on my own, serving and doing things that my family was not a part of. It was like [he] and I were on missions together. It was a sad day when he returned from his mission … but I didn’t return from mine. I lost that connection with him. The same happened with [his younger brother]. I joyed in every step of his mission too, as I did “mine.” But when he returned, I again shed real tears, knowing that I’d now lose touch with him as I had the others of my children, as he integrated back into the family that I was not part of.
I have a kinship with what you’re experiencing, because we’re away from our family on our own missions, and they know little of the details of what you and I are doing. But we are serving and loving and doing our best to bring God’s children back to Him.
Our Father in Heaven also misses us, and joys when we reach out to Him.
I run across pictures of you occasionally. I was struck a couple years ago that every picture of you I see shows a face of purity and godliness. This one happens to be open on my screen because I scanned it recently. It may not be a good quality picture, but your eyes, like every picture I find of you, is of the highest quality, showing simplicity … or simply put, the Light of Christ.
I love you dear daughter. I love what you’re doing. You are doing God’s will and you and others are blessed for it.
The lesson of this week: I love each of my children … and God loves his.
Love always,
Dad