Letters

While walking around the neighborhood and enjoying the sunshine, I let my mind wander to my last post, starting to feel the vacuum of self-pity that I will never receive a letter from Elder Caden while he's proclaiming the gospel.  It wasn't more than three steps before a thought came into my head: I had already received one such letter, although not from "Elder" Caden.  I felt the tug of a grin form as I remembered the words that were written in a letter sent days after Caden passed away, a letter written to himself when he was just 11 years old.

Days after we moved to Washington, his Language Arts teacher from Enterprise Middle School gave the class an assignment to write a letter to themselves, one that would be kept in a time capsule, to be opened when they graduated.  It would have been a really cool letter to read on its intended day, but because of the circumstances, it now means even more.  Written in his own hand, a glimpse into the mind of my still-innocent Caden, I received my very own missionary letter of him proclaiming the gospel.

Because he was still such an innocent child (the very age Shelby will turn on the 29th), the letter had its share of silly.  He thought very highly of himself, stating that the girl that he had a crush on (giving details of her, even) most definitely had a crush on him as well. {Look at that radiant smile-- can you blame him for feeling handsome?!}  It was seriously adorable to see what about this girl captured his attentions.  It also showed just how much he struggled making friends.  He even went so far as to say he had "enemies."  He did not feel as if he fit in here, or that he ever would, very much missing the best friends he'd left behind.  I knew this already, but reading his tender words about it broke my heart.  "I miss Brayden.  Remember him?  Brayden Busch.  If you don't talk to him anymore, find him.  He is a good friend."  I may not be able to watch Brayden grow up (like I can the friends here in Richland), but I will always love the Busch family for the love and security they gave Caden while he was "growing up in Casper," as he liked to say.

Many emotions were felt while holding this letter, seeing his handwriting, and reading his words.  Tears were shed, both sad and happy, as I carefully, slowly devoured his words.  And then my heart burned within me as I read these words:

"If you have not been to church in a while-- GO!  It may be hard, but it is really important!"

Some would say that we "raised that boy right."  Here is an 11-year-old boy telling his 18-year-old self that church is important.  But I'm telling you, Caden's strength came with him from Heaven.  From his earliest childhood, Caden was a spiritual giant.  He invited friends to church and other activities, read his scriptures without prompting, reminded us to have Family Home Evening if we missed (which we did often when I had three babies under three), kind of chastised us for not attending church if the reason didn't warrant us a viable excuse, reminded us days in advance of General Conference and that we needed candy to play our traditional games while watching, and, as I've written before, wrote in his journal.  There were times throughout the last few years where he had us race home from the hospital- even if the hurried motion made him nauseous- to attend Sacrament meeting, a presidency meeting, or mutual.  If we were in Seattle, he'd make sure that we had the Sacrament brought to us, if we could.  He cared that the broken bread "counted" if he threw it up seconds after it hit his stomach, wanting to be worthy to take it each week.  Toward the end of his life, he saved up all of his energies so that he'd have enough strength to attend Seminary each day, even attending the day we returned from Hawaii, just five days before he passed.  My Caden was born a missionary.  This precious time-capsule letter, the stories that have been shared about him from so many, his very life are the letters written to me while he proclaimed the gospel.  I need not mourn missed missionary opportunities with my Caden-- I've had 16 years of letters!