There's nothing as constant as change. But look at us!

They say there's nothing as constant as change. But look at us! Our lives have changed. Our kids have grown. Our circumstances are different. But our friendship remains constant. Let's go back in time and tell the story.

Once upon time in 2004, my family and I left our home, our friends, and the life we loved in Washington, to move to a new and unfamiliar place: Billings, Montana. None of us knew a single person there, but we put on a brave smile and jumped in with both feet to our new life. And it was good. I missed "home" for sure, but overall it was pretty good.

About a year later, I was called to be the Relief Society President in our ward; that means I was sort of the leader of all the women in the congregation. I needed counselors (two people to help me), and for one of them, I chose  this girl:

Look at how cute she is. And you wouldn't believe how talented. I knew she could handle all the cooking, crafting, decorating, party throwing business that's needed in Relief Society, all the stuff I suck at. And she did. She totally rocked it, and we had a wonderful time together. We'd sit at McDonald's, let our kids play, and plan enrichment activities. Such good memories.

Then one day, she invited this girl to join us at McDonald's:

Right? Look how cute she is too! Let's just admit it; I have good taste in friends. They are both equally beautiful on the inside too. Over time, McDonald's became our "place." Our kids would play. We would talk. For hours. Lots of adults don't like McDonald's food, but we all really do. We eat there even when we don't have our kids with us. I still go there at least daily, even if it's just to drive through and grab a Diet Coke. My heart, and McDonald's, and Celeste, and Lindsey will forever be wrapped up together.

During this "once upon a time so long ago in a glorious world" story, the three of us lived within a half a block of each other. Celeste used to joke that she'd call Eli to come babysit, and before she had time to put down her phone, he had skateboarded to her house and was knocking on the door. Those years were a blessing, a tender mercy I'll always cherish.

But nothing is as constant as change, which we learned all too quickly when the time came for Celeste and her family to move to San Antonio, Texas. In case you didn't know, that is very far away. It was so sad, and we all cried a lot, but yes, life moves forward. About a year later, Lindsey and her family left Billings as well, to move to Rexburg so David could finish school at BYU-Idaho.  And then it was my turn. In 2011 my family and I relocated here to Salt Lake City, 212 miles from Rexburg and a whopping 1,087 miles from San Antonio.

Lindsey and I get to see each other several times a year; 212 miles is not so far, and it helps that Eli goes to school in Rexburg and Lindsey has relatives here in Salt Lake. But Celeste? That's trickier. Our chances are few. But here's the grace! For the past couple of years, Celeste has been teaching online for BYU-Idaho's Pathway program, and each year this program hosts a teachers' conference on campus in Rexburg. And they pay her expenses to come. Woo! The only downside is that since they pay all those expenses, they sort of expect her to, you know, attend the conference. We think they should just let her come and hang out with us. If they read this blog post and truly understood our story, they surely would.

We had just one lovely evening together and then one quick lunch (McDonald's of course), but it was so great.

We reminisced about the past: "Remember how Seth would beg to go home from McDonald's, and we'd bribe him? 'Just watch the little kids for a tiny bit longer and we'll give you a dollar!'"

We talked about the present: "Where did the years go? How is it that everyone is so big? Megan is on an all-star softball team. Emma is a girls' camp. Seth is driving a car! This cannot be happening!"

We dreamed about the future: "Let's go on a cruise together! We can start saving now, and then go in two years after Seth graduates and leaves on his mission. Terrianne will need something to dig her out of the deep depression she will be in with no kids at home."

They say there's nothing as constant as change. But look at us! Three women, miles apart, hearts connected, a friendship that never ends.

I can't help falling in love with you

Wise men say only fools rush in

But I can't help falling in love with you

Like a river flows, surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be.

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can't help falling in love with you.

When you bake someone cookies, it's about way more than cookies

Yesterday I had a really bad day. I won't discuss specifics, but you know, one of those days when any one little glitch would not have amounted to much, but too many little glitches bombard you all at once, and then the proverbial "final straw" pushes you right over the edge. That's what happened yesterday.

And believe me, my little troubles amount to nothing, less than nothing, when compared to the writhing sorrow that has come to others in the world this past week, particularly in Florida. When I think of the grieving parents who lost their precious child to an alligator attack, my heart breaks. It breaks again when I consider the family and loved ones of those gunned down in a nightclub, victims of hate, and a gunman who had way too easy access to deadly weapons.

My heart breaks for all of them. Nothing could have predicted or prevented the random alligator attack, but plenty could be done to reduce if not prevent the type of massive gun violence that occurred at that nightclub. May we sit silent no longer. May we rise up and do something to effect change. As my favorite Stephen Colbert quoted this week: Love is a verb.

The problems in my little, self-centered universe don't begin to compare, and yet, they are mine. So tiny though they are, they matter to those whom I call my friends, to those who care about me. One such person demonstrated that care yesterday. On a day when everything in my world felt broken, I had plans to see this one friend twice, once first thing in the morning, and again for lunch. I couldn't hide my emotions at our first meeting. I apologized for sucking so badly, but she didn't judge, neither in her eyes nor in her voice. She simply reminded me that everyone has bad days.

Then she went home and baked me cookies. Really, she did. Not even the easy break-and-bake kind (which are the only kind I know how to make), but genuine, bona fide, homemade cookies. I think she had to blend up oats or something to make the flour. Like who does that? She does! They are positively delicious, but that's beside the point.

When you bake someone cookies, it's about way more than cookies. It's about taking the time to show you care. Love is a verb. I sometimes complain that I have no friends here in the Salt Lake valley. Truth, this has been a super challenging relocation for me, and after five years, I still wonder if I'll ever be happy living here. But it is not true that I have no friends.

This friend saw my struggle and responded. She went home with two little kids in tow and baked me cookies. My day was still pretty crappy, but it was one delicious oatmeal chocolate chip cookie less crappy because of the selfless kindness of this friend.

Thank you. It meant a lot.

Yes, Gerald. It's time.

Four days ago on Tuesday, Gerald took a PTO day and stayed home from work to watch the returns of the last Super Tuesday of the Presidential primary season. He earned it. Working swing shift, he misses most of the action of the season, which is sad for someone who loves politics as he does. Once it was clear who the Democratic nominee would be, Gerald asked me, "Is it time to order our Hillary bumper stickers?"

"Yes, Gerald. It's time."

Throughout the primary season, he and I have supported Senator Bernie Sanders. We proudly caucused for Bernie back in March, and along with so many others, were indeed "feelin' the Bern." Senator Sanders' consistent and relentless crusade for middle class Americans, which spanned decades, brought much to our Party and clearly helped shape both the ultimate nominee and the platform. But neither Gerald nor I ever really thought he'd secure the nomination. Truth, I'm not sure Bernie, himself, thought he'd win, but his voice and passion accomplished much, and I am so grateful he ran.

Now, though, it is time to move forward. With presumptive nominees on both sides, the real fight for the Presidency begins. A few of my friends have posted a meme recently, quoting Ezra Taft Benson, former president of our church. President Benson said, "If you vote for the lesser of two evils, you are still voting for evil." I would like to say that I completely agree with that statement. Completely.

If I believed that both candidates were evil, I would vote for neither. I would do what many have said they will do, vote for a third-party candidate or write in the name of someone I could honestly and honorably support. That's what I would do.

But that is not the case. I don't think both candidates are evil. I like Secretary Clinton. She wasn't my first choice, not this time around and not eight years ago. In the 2008 primary season, I supported a young, energetic senator from Illinois named Barack Obama. He gave me hope. Hope after eight years of mess and unnecessary war and lies and turmoil. Obama gave me hope.

I was not disappointed. I'm proud to have voted for him twice. No, I don't fully agree with every single thing he has done as President. He isn't perfect; no one is. But he brought honesty and grace to the White House, and he accomplished incredible good, despite opposition and obstruction from the opposing side, the likes of which I have never seen before. I will miss him. Regardless of who takes residence in the White House January 20th, I will miss him.

From where I sit, it is now time to unify around the only candidate of the two major parties who is fit to be President. The presumptive nominee from the GOP most certainly isn't. Would I go so far as to call him evil? I'm not sure. That's a strong word. But if embracing and promoting racism, sexism, misogyny, egotism, and ethnocentrism makes one evil, then there exists that proverbial shoe, and it sure seems to fit.

I've heard people lament about how shocked they are that such a person has made it so far. How's it possible that a major political party in the United States could nominate such a man? "Okay, joking time is over. Who's the real candidate?" But honestly, this outcome doesn't surprise me very much. When powerful leaders in a party spend eight years hating on the President, it shouldn't be surprising that all that hate results in the nomination of one such as Donald Trump. Hate breeds hate. I saw a Facebook meme once that said "If Obama came out in favor of oxygen, Republicans would all suffocate." This would be funny if it weren't so dangerously close to the truth. Nope, Trump's presumptive nomination does not surprise me.

So just as President Obama said earlier this week: "I'm with her!" He said that knowing what it takes to be President, he can't think of anyone else who is more qualified for the job. Will she be a great President? Only history will tell us that. I think she has the capability to be at least a good President, depending on just how much opposition she has to deal with from Congress.

And now that she is the presumptive nominee, I'd like to add that it's okay to be excited that the nominee is a woman. It's okay! I don't vote for candidates based on gender (remember how I supported Senator Obama in 2008 and Senator Sanders this year?). But now, yes, I think it's the coolest that right here in my lifetime, we could see a woman President. Only a couple of generations in the past, women were not thought important enough to even be allowed to vote. It's a concept hard for those of us who are younger to comprehend, but brave and committed suffragettes fought with all they had to make that possible. We can now look our daughters in the eyes and say, "You can be anything you want to be, even President of the United States. It's not just for boys anymore."

If you truly feel that both candidates are evil, then by all means vote your conscience. But vote! It's a privilege still denied to many throughout the world.

But if you don't feel that way, consider joining me with your investment of time, effort, energy, and even money, to make certain we never have to say "President Trump."

"Is it time to order our Hillary bumper stickers?"

Yes, Gerald, it's time.

With each one, I grieve a little.

I recently read a blog post called "The last time," the tender thoughts of a mother as she acknowledged all those "last times" that came quicker than she ever expected. The last time she breastfed a baby. The last time a toddler reached out his arms and cried "Carry you!" The last time a sick child snuggled next to her in bed.

I could relate to this sweet mother, all too well. Most of those "last times" are in the past for me, as I strive to live in the present, embracing every second of raising our final child, now teenager. My more recent "last times" include the last time I watched a child sing in the Primary Program, the last time I had a middle school kid, and the last time I helped dress up a goblin for Halloween.

This past week, I experienced another "last time" -- the last time I sat shotgun next to a 15-year-old, his first time behind the wheel. Seth didn't rush this whole driving thing; his 16th birthday is four days from now. You can be dang sure I didn't press the issue; I encourage him to slow down, not speed up, this process toward adulthood. But I knew the time would come, and come it did. So off to the motor vehicle's office we went.

We submitted his paperwork, paid the fee, and then the agony began. Keep in mind that I am an anxious mom, as in I have a very real anxiety disorder. So I have no idea how normal, non-anxious moms react to such situations, but for me, it's one big hot mess of stress. It parallels watching your kids in those damn (pardon me) spelling bees or piano adjudications. Waiting while they take the test is the definition of "mother torture."

I sat in the waiting area with a view of Seth across the room in the testing area. Of course I couldn't read the questions on the computer screen, but I could see them appear and watch him think, then choose his answer and move on. With each question, I prayed he answered right. So anxious I was that I even resorted to my relaxation/visualization exercises, followed by the standard "What's the worst thing that could happen?" strategy. What's the worst thing? He'd fail the test. And we'd come back tomorrow and try again. Sheesh, Terrianne, get a grip; it's not like he's taking the freakin' Bar exam.

But you see, I didn't want him to fail. Because I didn't want him to be sad.

As you can see from the photo above, he passed! With flying colors. Relief flooded my anxious body, combined with that gushing mother pride/love that makes even their tiniest victories monumental. The Erichsen-Webster family has another driver.

Of course he wanted to use his new learner's permit immediately, so we headed for the standard "first time behind the wheel" venue, our church parking lot. Lots and lots of open space with nothing to run into. Memories flooded over me of my previous four kids in this exact situation. The learning curve was steeper for some than others. Shulamith was like a fish to water; it was like she was born to drive. After two minutes touring the parking lot, she was ready to hit the road, and did! The boys were more cautious. One in particular struggled mightily. I'll never forget his face as he looked at me in desperation, "Mom, I will never learn to drive!" I assured him he would. "You will drive. I promise. Everyone drives. Dumb people drive. Smart people drive. You will learn to drive." And he did! Quite well, I might add (so you know I'm not talking about Isaiah).

Seth was cautions but calm. He did well. We did a couple sessions in the parking lot before he ventured out into traffic. So far he hasn't gone out on State or 7th, where traffic is heavier and the speed is 40 mph, but he's done multiple trips around all the subdivisions in our neighborhood, and each time, his confidence grows.

Another "last time" has come and gone. With each one, I grieve a little.