"On Eagles' Wings!"-Home to My Arms 1 Year Ago

So our hero, L'il Wayne, has been home from his mission a year today! What a day that was, to have the whole family at the airport to meet him. I remember the absolute thrill to catch a glance as he came towards us---so handsome, grown up, and glowing. Was he not all that, and more? Could not grasp that such perfection belonged to me. To us.


And then the overwhelming joy and contentment that evening as we all were together. It was almost as though I was having an out of body experience to observe the family both as a group and as individuals, the entire dynamic was out of this world. The joy and love had no choice but to pierce my heart so it could burst open to make more room to try to contain it all. Smiles and tears are just so much leaking from all that inside flooding. No way does it get any better than this. No way!



As I savored every delicious moment, I remembered how near it came to not working out this way. When Wayne and I flew to Mexico City the following week, I had him drive me to the place where it came precipitously close to such a different ending just a few months previously. To the Chapel where he had driven one hot August evening on a quick errand.

As Assistant to the Mission President, he was responsible to set up for a special meeting that next morning with a General Authority. Taking the brand new van, and accompanied by the Secretary, he left about 9 PM to pick up tablecloths (evidently not for Relief Society only). After arriving, they opened the security gate and ran in to grab what they needed out of the closet, neglecting to lock the gate behind them. While rummaging around in separate rooms for what they needed, Wayne was suddenly aware of a couple of Mexican men in the building, and asked what they were looking for, how he could help them. One of the men started talking to him, and Wayne got a sick feeling, as the man asked him a couple of questions about who was there with him, about where the keys were to the van, and when Wayne turned around, he found a gun staring him in the face. The other Elder was pulled into the room with him and their wallets and valuables were taken in addition to the car keys. They were thrown to the floor and tied up, lying directly in front of the door. They were told not to move for 15 minutes, that they would be watched by other gang members and finished off unless they remained silent and immobile. The door closed. Immediately, it chilled him to hear the voice of the gang leader on the other side of the door give the order, "Tiro les!" (shoot them/kill them). Wayne tried to move his head a little, so as to keep the bullets from hitting him in the head, hoping he could survive being shot in the neck or shoulder. He braced for the inevitable.

A few weeks before he left on his mission, he had almost casually said to me with a smile on his face, "I don't think I'll be coming back, Mom. I have a strong feeling my life will end before my mission is over, and I'm cool with that. What better way to die than in serving the Lord." There was such a depth of serenity about him at that moment, that I was at peace as well, and we left it at that without another word. Although I was always hoping there was a Plan B option! And so there was. After an oppressive interlude, they literally dodged the bullet on that one. At least no bullets went whizzing by. For whatever reason. Wayne was able to extricate himself from being bound and then untie his companion. Looking out the glass doors, they saw figures in the dark out front, so raced out the back doors. I was struck when we were there about how daunting their escape had to be at this point. There was a sheer concrete wall about 9 feet tall, topped off by another 8 or 9 feet of chain link, surrounding the parking lot in order to keep the environs secure. No way could that afford them escape. But adrenalin plus angels? Who knows. Somehow they scaled the straight wall and found a small hole in the chain link and managed to get out and race a few blocks away to the safety of a pool hall. Of all places.

The patrons inside were supportive and let them call the police and President Castillo. Quickly a squad car pulled up, and the lone cop told them to get in. Wayne told the officer they needed to go to the Mission Home, per orders, as he entered the vehicle. But that sickening evil feeling came over him once again, and as he heard the "officer" tell him he needed to take them back to the Church to check on things, Wayne recouped and instructed the Secretary not to get in, as he himself bailed. They ran back to the sanctuary of the pool hall and waited for the real police to arrive (in hindsight, it was obvious that this was a set up, as it is so terribly dangerous in Mexico City to be a cop, that they are always in groups-at least two-for their own protection.) They returned later that night to the President to report, minus the brand new $30,000 van, but with their very lives.

Although President Castillo did want to inform me about this, Wayne asked him not to do so, as he was aware of an extreme crisis I was dealing with at home at the very same time, and he didn't want to add to the burdens already created. So it wasn't before the night we were leaving to fly to Mexico that he shared this experience with the family, and told me it was too late for me to change my mind about going--- we were packed. Hadn't even mentioned it when reporting to the Stake President, the High Council, or in the talks he had given that week in both his Las Vegas and California Wards. Having listened to him at all four opportunities, I thought I knew all there was to know, and I was so proud of how he had lived and conducted himself for those two years. The Stake President had even taken me aside, and told me that Wayne was truly extraordinary---that he felt so strongly about him, even not knowing him, that he was the one and only missionary he had written about in his journal when he had set Wayne apart before he left. He confided that Wayne would someday be a Stake President himself. I don't think he realized the extraordinary miracle it was just to have this young man alive at this point. The gratitude and joy I had felt that day at his homecoming almost a week prior to this revelation of his was multiplied a thousand fold when I realized how precious it is to have each other in this life, for however briefly or long we do (it's always going to be too briefly, no matter how long, isn't it?)


I have loved hearing the stories of the people he had loved and served. I loved going there and meeting them. I loved his willingness, his attitude, his actions for those two years. Not all of us choose to live so nobly. Did so living and loving help save his life? I like to think so. I loved that he was held closely in the hollow of God's hand, literally, maybe more than once. I loved Wayne going. And how I loved him coming home. He'll always be my baby. But, oh, what a man! What a man!