Thanksgiving 2016: Funky and fragmented, but focused on gratitude anyway

It wasn't exactly as we'd hoped. Ideally, all of us who live nearby would be together to celebrate Thanksgiving. Instead, the holiday was a bit fragmented. But instead of whining, let's focus on the gratitude, because if you're willing to look hard enough, the blessings are always there.

1. Seth had to work at Macaroni Grill on Thanksgiving Day. Even so, we are grateful he has such a good job, one that allowed him to take a full three weeks off in order to perform in his high school's musical.

2. Eli's wife, Amanda, had to remain on the property at The Ridge apartments in Rexburg, where she works as a manager. Even so, we are grateful she has this job, which provides free housing and several other perks while Eli finishes his degree.

3. Isaiah had to work Friday and then fly out early Saturday morning for an event in Las Vegas. Even so, we are grateful he got to be home with us Thursday and that he gets to travel to so many amazing places in his job.

4. Gerald had to work Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Even so, we are grateful he has a job to support our family and provide good insurance.

So how did we handle Thanksgiving?

In shifts.

Thursday morning, we made a big family breakfast for those who were home: Isaiah, Seth, Monson-Websters, Gerald, and me. That afternoon, Gerald, Isaiah, and I had Italian dinner at Macaroni Grill, so we could be with Seth, even though he was working. My mamma heart could not send my baby off to Macaroni Grill and then come home and eat Thanksgiving dinner without him.

Nor could it leave Eli and Amanda in Rexburg all by themselves all weekend. So Friday morning, Shulamith and I drove to Rexburg, and Saturday, we cooked a traditional Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings. It was just the four of us, plus Shulamith's kids, and it was super yummy.

I am the only one who got to participate in every one of the "sections" of our fragmented Thanksgiving celebration, so I am personally grateful.

And I'm even more grateful that In less than a month, all the people mentioned in this post will be home for Christmas; schedules are working out a bit better this time. It should be epic!

The gifts and the givers

Twenty-five years ago, we lived for 18 months in northern California, about an hour north of San Francisco. It was such a small snippet of life; I left not much of myself there and took little away. It's the relationships I remember most, in particular, my closest friend while we lived there, a girl named Corrie. She was funny and opinionated and beautiful, and most likely still is. I have the fondest memories of our time together.

We celebrated only one Christmas as Californians, but I still have the gift Corrie gave me that year, this lovely nativity scene:

I put it up every year and think of her. My favorite is the little sheep that lies up in the loft of the stable. Because this was a gift, it means more to me than if I'd bought it myself, and even with so many children and so many years, I have kept each piece safe all this time.

Nativity scenes make perfect gifts, don't you think? We see the wise men bearing gifts to the baby Jesus. We feel grateful for His infinite gift of hope and eternal life, and we express that gratitude in part by sharing our gifts, whether material or spiritual, one with another.

My only other nativity scene was also a gift, one that came in sections, from numerous people. Twelve years ago we had just relocated to Billings, Montana. We had left friends and family and a life we loved in Washington to start anew all by ourselves in an unfamiliar place. Our first Christmas there, my mom sent me this Willow Tree nativity, but just Mary, Joseph, the baby, an angel, and a shepherd:

.
I loved it so much. I set it up so carefully year after year, and always I thought to myself, "One day I will get the other pieces to round out this beautiful set.

That "one day" came last year, when Eli's (then) fiance, Amanda, gave me these delightful animals:

Then, right after that, Luke's wife, Desiree, sent me these wise men:

And now I have this stunning nativity to grace my coffee table at Christmastime:

What beautiful gifts!
What beautiful givers!

The Webster Women Slay Black Friday

Black Friday shopping. Which can't honestly be called that anymore, now that stores open on Thanksgiving, and the best sales are then. I know many who boycott shopping on Thanksgiving, and I totally respect that decision, even though we don't make it ourselves. Different people. Different choices. All good.

Whether Thursday night or early Friday morning (as in the past), Black Friday is sacred to Shulamith and me; we've even been known to say it's more important than Thanksgiving, itself. I don't think we really mean that, do we???

That said, never in my memory have we found this level of sales. Well let me just show you our receipt from J.C. Penney's:

That's right. We were there for maybe one hour and saved a whopping $327! It was crazy.

Penney's wasn't our first stop. We began the evening around 5:00 p.m. at Target, followed by Wal-Mart. In both cases we found a few small items, but all things we really wanted, so it was good.

Then we were off to South Towne mall, which opened at 3:00 p.m., rather than midnight as in past years. It was so nice there, so festive and fun, way better than the claustrophobic environments of Target and Wal-Mart. The Penney's deals were incredible, but by the time we finished there, we were both pretty tired and ready for Diet Cokes and a Mrs. Field's cookie. We sat and looked at all the lights, as I crossed stuff off my “to buy” list, added stuff to “bought” list, and basically regrouped. When you have five kids, Christmas shopping is an intensive project. I like everyone to have the same number of gifts, as well as keeping the monetary amounts close to equal. It's tricky.

We were home early, much earlier than last year or the year before. I'm still looking at my lists in awe of the bargains we found.

Another Black Friday for history books, hands down one of our favorite days of the year. Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Let the Christmas season begin.

How to emotionally damage your child for life

As most of you know, I'm a bit of an anxious mom. I worry incessantly about my kids and really wish they would all just stay home, so I could sleep at night.

So it may surprise you to learn that, while I'm an anxious mom, I'm not a particularly sentimental one. At least not about stuff they make. I have exactly one file folder for each of my five kids. If something is amazing enough to find its way into that file, it stays forever. Not much is sufficiently amazing.

Which brings us to the topic of kid-made Christmas tree ornaments and the issue of this pine cone right here:

Luke made this pine cone when he was in second grade. Trying to be a good mom, I oohed and awed over it and proudly hung it on our tree. Shulamith is only one year behind Luke in school, so the very next year, she came home with an identical pine cone. Identical. All the way down to the ugly silver glitter that falls off everywhere.

Now come on. One of these pine cones is one too many, right? The last thing I needed was yet another one hanging on my tree. So I kept it around for a couple of years and then at some point, surreptitiously slipped it into the garbage.

At first, I pled ignorance. "Oh honey, I have no idea what happened to your pine cone?" She didn't buy it.

As she grew older and was still complaining about it, I turned to sarcasm. "It's because I love Luke more than I love you." That didn't work either.

Here we are today, over 20 years later, and she is still traumatized over that pine cone. Traumatized, I tell you. We can't decorate our tree without her complaining about it. I'm pretty sure every single thing that has ever gone amiss in her life is the result of me throwing away that flippin' pine cone.

It's the reason she is afraid of penguins.

It's the reason she drives like a maniac.

It's the reason she quit ballet lessons.

It's the reason she never learned geography.

It's the reason she won't eat fruits or vegetables.

So if you ever want to emotionally damage your child for life, throw away the ugly, glittery pine cone she made in second grade. It works. I promise.

Break a leg, Seth!

For me, the theatre has always been a passion. From the day my parents took me to see Peter Pan when I was five years old, that has been true. That night, I looked up at my mom and declared: "I want to do that." Lucky for me, the following year, Portland Civic Theatre produced the musical Gypsy, with the perfect role for a six-year-old girl, Baby June. Here is a picture from opening night:

I've been fortunate to perform in lots of different roles since then, so you can only imagine my delight when my own children also love the stage. Here is Eli, six years ago when he played Angus McGuffy in Skyview High School's production of Brigadoon:

Keeping the Erichsen-Webster tradition alive, Seth opened last night in the ensemble chorus of Hillcrest High's production of Mary Poppins. Truth be told, he doesn't love the limelight quite the way Eli and I do. What he does enjoy is singing in choir, and at his school, students in the highest choir are required to be in the musical. There are no exceptions. He had to take a 3-week break from his job (Thank you Macaroni Grill for being so accommodating) in order to handle the grueling rehearsal schedule. This school sorta thinks it's Broadway, so the kids have rehearsed six days a week for the past month! While he doesn't enjoy the many long hours, by tech week, he catches the spirit and gets excited. It happened last year when he was in Carousel, and again now.

I know I'm biased, but really, it was so great. Gerald had to work, but Shulamith and I were there to cheer him on. He wrote down the places he stands throughout the auditorium for all the musical numbers, so it would be easy for us to find him, and he bought our tickets in the best location to see him overall. My favorite was "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," where he sang and danced on stage right next to Mary Poppins. Gerald and I have tickets to go again tomorrow. Can't wait!

Love you, Seth!

I will walk away. And pray.

Sixteen years ago in the 2000 Presidential election, my candidate, Al Gore, won the country's popular vote. That means more Americans who voted that day cast their votes for Senator Gore than for his opponent, George W. Bush. However, our country has this crazy, antiquated system called the Electoral College. Usually, it doesn't matter because the same candidate wins both. In 2000, that wasn't the case. It was a hard pill to swallow for sure, especially since it wasn't even clear if Governor Bush won the Electoral College. It all came down to a little county in Florida called Miami-Dade, where votes were counted multiple times due to issues with hanging chads and whatever. I don't think we will ever know for sure who won, but in the end, the election was called for Bush.

At that time I had five children at home, ranging in age from 15 years down to 5 months. I distinctly remember election night, sitting in my rocking chair nursing Seth, when Gerald walked into the bedroom and exclaimed "I think Gore's gonna do it!" We were so hopeful.

It wasn't to be. It took five weeks (!) for that election to be decided, but once it was, I remember talking to my four older kids, all of whom were well aware of our feelings:

"We may not agree with Governor Bush's politics, and no, we definitely didn't vote for him. But he will be our new President, and in that role, he deserves our respect."

Though I disagreed with most of President Bush's policies--and when he led our country to war over the myth of weapons that never really existed, oh how ardently I disagreed with him then--I never doubted that he was a decent human being. From everything I could tell, he seemed an honest, respectable guy, trying his best in a ridiculously difficult job. I respected him as a person, and I still do, politics aside.

Fast forward 16 years to yesterday's election. There are similarities to 2000, with one striking difference. Once again, the Electoral College fails us. It is almost a certainty that Secretary Hillary Clinton will win the popular vote, while losing the Electoral College, and thus, the Presidency. It is a much, much harder pill to swallow this time. I consider this outcome a tragedy for the country I love. I keep shaking my head and asking, "How could this happen?" It's like a nightmare. How could the United States of America elect such a man to be our President?

And there lies the striking difference between 2000 and now. I have no respect for Donald Trump. And the fact that he will be sworn in as our nation's President will do nothing to increase my respect for him. You see, that ship already sailed:

• It sailed with "I'm building a wall between here and Mexico, and I will make Mexico pay for that wall. Mark my words."
• It sailed with "I'm calling for a total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States."
• It sailed with "I’ve said if Ivanka weren’t my daughter, perhaps I’d be dating her."
• It sailed with "The point is, you can never be too greedy."
• It sailed with "You know I’m automatically attracted to beautiful women -- I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kissing. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star they let you do it. You can do anything...Grab them by the p***y. You can do anything.”

That ship has sailed. I don't respect the man.

All but one of those five children are now adults, and the fifth is a teenager. Amazingly, they still care what I think and like to hear what I have to say. What will I tell them this time? That I don't respect the President? That I think he's a racist, sexist bully, a narcissist who has no regard for anyone but himself? Well, they already know I think that. Here's what's new. I had to ask myself the question, "Is it possible to still respect the office of the President, while not respecting the person who holds that office?"

My answer is yes. I think it is. So I will respond to a Trump Presidency as I would deal with any bully. I will walk away. I will not engage with him. I will simply walk away. I will try to remember what Isaiah said last night: "He is just the President. He isn't a king. We still have checks and balances. It will be okay." I hope so.

I will walk away. And since I'm a praying person, I will pray. I will pray to one with greater wisdom and authority than I can comprehend, one who will not force the human will, but who has been a source of unwavering and relentless strength and protection to me throughout my life. I will pray for protection for my African-American, Latino, Muslim, and LGBT brothers and sisters. And though I don't fit into any of those groups, myself, I obviously fit into the one I left out: I will pray for women.

I will walk away. And pray.

We gather together, and we gather stuff. Both are good.

I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to gather. My next week's Sunday School lesson is on the Gathering of the House of Israel, so it's been on my mind.

This past week, I had several opportunities to gather.

Friday, I drove to Rexburg to gather with Eli and Amanda. Our gathering wasn't particularly monumental, but it was lovely nonetheless. We watched movies, ate popcorn, drank soda, played cards, and watched TV. We stayed up late into the night talking. We gathered together.

Saturday morning, my friend Lindsey's daughter, Hanna, was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Many family members, Eyres and Mechams alike, gathered from Utah, Idaho, Wyoming, and Montana to be with Hanna on this day, and I was privileged to gather with them. As I sat in the chapel awaiting Hanna's turn in this large stake baptism, I marveled at the joy of so many cousins together. They are all different ages, and most don't live near each other, but they gathered with obvious gladness to be reunited. Families are eternal, including extended families, and the Eyre/Mecham family is a shining example of what it means to nurture eternal relationships. We gathered together.

Saturday evening, I gathered for dinner with Eli and Amanda and their friend, Ben. Ben had been brining a pork roast for five days, and Saturday he cooked it and shared it with all of us. It was a simple meal, just the delicious pork, some potatoes and salad, but there was a spirit of grace in Ben's kind offer of this food that he had prepared all week. Thank you, Ben. We gathered together.

Sometimes we gather physically, and other times we gather in spirit. In just a couple weeks, we will gather to celebrate Thanksgiving. Some of us will gather here; some of us will gather in Rexburg a couple days later. At no point will we all be together physically, but always we are together in spirit because of the love we share as a family. We will gather together.

Earlier in the week, before I left town, Shulamth and I spent several hours gathering, not people, but stuff. When you gather stuff, it's not nearly as fun as when you gather people, but it's still pretty gratifying. Twice yearly, the City of Sandy sends around a large truck to pick up stuff. They will take anything you leave out in front of your house, anything at all: furniture, yard clippings, branches, trash, old bicycles, tires, wood, dead bodies--okay, maybe not that--but just about anything else.

Well you can imagine how this is heaven for an OCD girl like me. Shulamith and I clipped and clipped branches from our yard. We clipped the peach tree, the rose bush, and miles of blackberry bushes (who in his right might mind would plant all this crap in a yard?), and we made a beautiful pile in front of our house. It's not the highest pile in the neighborhood, but it's definitely competitive, and we are proud. Then we cleaned out the garage and backyard shed. Clear it out, baby...woo! We gathered stuff.

Sometimes we gather together. Sometimes we gather stuff. Both are good. Because when we gather, we are stronger, stronger in purpose, stronger in might, stronger in unity. And our garage gets clean too, so win/win.