Lead, Kindly Light

I can't remember the first time I saw this picture, nor can I remember how long the hymn, whose name it bears, was my favorite in our church's hymnal. I don't know which came first. For a long time, I didn't even know the connection between the two; I didn't know the title of the painting I loved so much. When I found out, I was stunned. The relationship between art and poetry has been a personal passion ever since I studied the work of William Blake, in my undergrad days as a literature major. This revelation brought my love for the artwork and my passion for the hymn full circle.

May I share the lyrics by John Henry Newman, stanza by stanza:

"Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom,
lead thou me on;
the night is dark, and I am far from home;
lead thou me on.
Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see
the distant scene; one step enough for me."

We all experience "encircling gloom" in one way or another. Whether it be tragedy that strikes so violently and without warning or simply the day-by-day struggle to endure, we all know. And we all feel "far from home" now and then. Sometimes we feel far from our Heavenly Home and the nurture of our loving Heavenly Parents. Other times we feel isolated right here in this world, far from a figurative home, far from peace and safety, whether physical or emotional. Everyone, at one time or another, fears the future. What if _______? How comforting to be led by his "kindly light," one step at a time.

"I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou
shouldst lead me on;
I loved to choose and see my path; but now
lead thou me on.
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
pride ruled my will: remember not past years."

But no, we never do it perfectly, do we? We look back on failures, when we lost our faith or at least let it slip for awhile. "Pride ruled my will,": indeed, our desire to shape our own destiny rather than follow his plan, as we "love the garish day."  Thank goodness for the marvelous gift of repentance, that puts us right back on the path toward Heaven and welcomes the light to lead.

"So long thy power hath blest me, sure it still
will lead me on,
o'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
the night is gone,
and with the morn those angel faces smile,
which I have loved long since, and lost awhile."

Always the reassurance of God's grace! He loves us, and he wants us back. And barring interfering with our agency, he'll do anything he can to guide us home, where "angel faces smile."

This painting hangs in the entryway of the clothing section of Deseret Book here in Midvale. Every time I go in, I stop for a few minutes and admire it. Since learning of its title, I stay a bit longer, pondering the words to my favorite hymn. Then I go home and tell my family that one day the picture will hang in our home.

When would that happen? I had no idea. Newly grown-up kids are way more expensive than little ones, with college, missions, weddings to pay for. I knew I'd have it one day. I didn't know when that day would be.

But Eli and Amanda decided it would be now. They gathered some financial support from Shulamith, Isaiah, and Seth and had the painting wrapped and ready for me Christmas morning. The surprise was paralyzing. I had no words, which as most of you know, is a rare occurrence. Thanks to Eli, it now hangs in the entryway of our home, the first thing you see when you walk in. You need to come over and see it in person; the picture above doesn't come close to revealing its beauty.

May it be a reminder to all who enter of the light that leads us home.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds...

Christmas, 2017 is now officially over. I still listen to Christmas music during my morning walks, right up until January 1st, but that's just me holding on as long as I can. If I'm honest with myself, I know it's over. Because we celebrated on the 27th rather than the 25th, we stole a couple extra days, and it was most definitely a Christmas to remember.

I chose the title for this post because something magical happens when your children sleep in your house Christmas Eve, even if some of those children are technically adults who live elsewhere. Our oldest, Luke, lives in Maryland so he wasn't here, but the other four were right under our roof as "visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads." It made for a tight squeeze, as Isaiah slept on the living room couch and Seth in the big rocker/recliner, but it was totally worth it! Shulamith told her son, Swen, that she actually heard the "clatter out on the lawn" when Santa came. And I think she did.

She and I woke early with her kids, so we tiptoed down the stairs, trying not to wake Isaiah or Seth, to see what Santa brought. We checked the cookie and milk plate, and sure enough, all gone. Under the tree we found the gifts from Santa, and we hurried right back up to my bedroom, to play and wait until others woke up.

Erichsen-Webster Christmas celebrations are big events, and no one describes them better than Shulamith's husband Matt, so I'll refer you to what he had to say last year. Now think "repeat in 2017," only we didn't go to church because it wasn't Sunday.

We love giving and receiving gifts, and even more, we love to watch everyone open his or hers, slowly, one at a time, so yeah, it takes a minute. Here are a few highlights:

Shulamith's daughter, Kennedy, gave her mommy a new wallet. She was so proud!

 Amanda gave Eli a personalized calendar with pictures of all their family members on their birthdays and anniversaries.

Amanda and I gave Eli and Gerald matching robes! How cute are they?

It's a tradition that goes years into the past for the girls to have matching Christmas jammies.

Most of my sons aren't quite as into the whole Christmas jammies deal, but I knew Eli would be delighted to match Shulamith's son, Swen.

After three kids, Shulamith's diaper bag was worn and in need of replacement.

Shulamith's baby, Theodore, opening a present on his first Christmas.

Beforehand, I would have told you this would be the best surprise of the morning, a joint present for Isaiah and Seth: a Nintendo Switch console.And believe me, it was pretty awesome. We actually drew a real reaction from Isaiah, and this picture captures it well. Neither of them was expecting this gift, which is exactly the way I like it.

But no, it wasn't the best surprise of the morning. This was. Oh my goodness! I have wanted this painting for a very long time, and Eli and Amanda made it happen. But I think it's worthy of its own blog post, so I will leave it for now.

The day was full of food, fun, and festivities. You should see my house. Or maybe you shouldn't. There were 12 of us opening gifts, followed by 12 stockings. Just imagine the amount of paper, let alone the gifts themselves! But instead of cleaning up, we jumped right into some serious competition called "The Game of Things." Have you ever played it? You should. Except my family doesn't think I write good answers, when really I do. Super good ones. That make sense. They are the ones who write bad answers, including ones that use those horrible bathroom words, you know, the ones that begin with the letter "P" and are totally inappropriate. Ugh!

Then we played Jenga. Which is terrifying. 

We ended the night with Shulamith cooking potatoes in her new Instapot, which is very scary. I will definitely let her figure it all out before I get one for myself. We talked. We laughed. We dreamed of the day not too far in the future when Eli and Amanda will graduate and move down here. It was good to be together. Until next year...

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night."

A quiet, peaceful non-Christmas Day

Here I sit, reclined in my rocking chair, heated blanked spread across my lap. I awoke this morning at 5:00 a.m. to teach two Chinese lessons in a row. As I bid goodbye to my first student, a new kid I'd never met before, his mom came on the screen, smiled big and said to her son, "Wish your teacher a Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Teacher," the little boy tried to say.

How lovely! For the most part, they don't celebrate Christmas in China, but still they know. They may not understand its meaning or deeper significance, but still they know. They know it's an important day and that those of us teaching English to their children have sacrificed part of that special day for them.

Granted, for me, it's not a huge sacrifice. We are not celebrating Christmas today, but instead have moved our celebration two days forward. Tuesday night will be our Christmas Eve activities, and then Christmas will be all day Wednesday. It was tricky this year to find a time that worked for everyone, and we are super excited.

So while most of you, my friends, are right this second in the midst of your full-on celebrations, I sit here in my chair. After my two Chinese lessons, I slept two hours. It was that crazy good, morning sleep, the kind you can't replicate at night. Now it's amazingly quiet. And peaceful. Gerald left for work while I was teaching VIPKID. Seth, Eli, and Amanda are still fast asleep. Seth will go to work at noon. Yes, for the first time ever the Mac Shack is open Christmas Day. He offered to work, once he learned we had moved our Christmas. Of all my kids, Seth hates it the most when we need to move the day. He feels cheated when all his friends are opening their gifts and he has to wait.

But guess what??? Shhhhhhh! Don't tell him. This year, to offset that unhappiness, I got one gift for him to open this morning. It's all wrapped up, and he has no idea at all that he'll get to open something today. I'll surprise him with it just before he leaves for work at noon.

Once Eli and Amanda wake up, we will have a small celebration here, as they open their gifts to each other. And may I just say, there are a few of those. Like hundreds. Or millions. Okay, hyperbole, maybe, but remember that time before you had kids and bills and more kids and more bills, and you showered each other with Christmas gifts? I remember. Well, that's what's going on here today.

I offered to leave for awhile, to give them the house and some privacy for their own little Christmas. I could go for a walk, or find someplace open with Internet and drink Diet Coke and browse online. But sweet Amanda said no. Have I mentioned how grateful I am for her and that Eli found such a thoughtful and caring partner with whom to share eternity? She said they totally planned on me being with them while they open their gifts. Unless I don't want to. Are you kidding? Terrianne: The Christmas Mom of all time? Of course I want to watch them open their presents! I can hardly wait! In fact, I'm sitting here excited, wishing they would wake up and get started.

So that is about it for our non-Christmas day. I'll tag back with ya later this week to report the details of Tuesday night and Wednesday. There are some dang good surprises to come. Meanwhile, may I include some photos of my Christmas house before it's all torn apart (somewhat literally) tomorrow night and Wednesday? Just for the blog record. Thanks!

So it's been a bit of a troublesome tree this year; nevertheless, it's beautiful!

Our Charlie Brown tree. "'And on earth, peace." That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.'

The stockings were hung by the [staircase] with care...

My children's photos with Santa through the years

December is the only month I love to get the mail. Greetings, updates, and well wishes from friends, near and far.

My favorite of all! 

I wrote in more detail about it here, but this nativity is a gift from four people, who piece by piece, made it the beauty it is. Thank you, Mom, Amanda, Desiree, and Lacey.

Sickness, Scams, and Snakes.......suck!

....seriously.

And if you think that is perfectly awful alliteration, you are right. Each on its own, these are terrible enough, but together in the same week? And the week just before the most wonderful holiday of the year? I'd say we've done pretty well not to let all this get us down.

Sickness
About 10 days ago, Shulamith woke in the middle of the night, not because Theodore needed milk, not because Swen needed a drink of water, not because Kennedy....wait, no, Kennedy never wakes in the night. But not for any of those reasons. Instead, Shulamith awoke to a nasty case of stomach flu. We'll leave out the details, but you get the idea. Blah.

From my experience, stomach bugs are usually short lived; 24 hours is not uncommon. But this was in Shulamith's words a "brutal virus." No lie. She was way sick for four days, pretty much too sick to eat, then weak from not eating.. On Day 5, she began to feel better (other than a weird sore throat that cropped up), but it wasn't until Day 6 that she felt normal.

Throughout those five days, she would ask me now and then, "Do you still feel okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm just fine. I don't get sick. Too many kids coughing and puking all over me all these years. My immune system is rock solid."

Pride goeth before the fall. On her Day 6, I awoke to the same terrible symptoms. "I think I have what you had," I texted her first thing in the morning. She was graciously sympathetic, knowing what was ahead for me. My illness path paralleled hers almost exactly, including the piercing sore throat on Day 5 that disappeared by Day 6. Regardless of how I feel about you, I can say this with complete certainty: May you never, ever, contract this virus.

Today is my Day 6, and yes, I feel just about normal. Just before Christmas and Disneyland. Whew.

Scams
Also this week I was attempting to sell my iPhone 6, after upgrading to an 8 about a month ago. Gerald listed it on KSL, and immediately texts started flooding in. Apparently lots of people are in the market for a phone like this. One guy in particular said he was in Texas on business, but he was interested and would I send him another couple pictures. That I did. He then said he would definitely buy the phone, and I should consider it sold, and he would give me an extra $50 for the hassle of holding it for a few days while he arranged payment.

He told me he would send me a cashier's check in the mail. Once I cashed the check, he would send someone over to pick up payment and get the phone. Gerald was skeptical right from the start, but I'm naturally trusting, so I said okay. And I waited for the check to arrive. Meanwhile, Gerald looked up some info on these types of scams, and several of the criteria mentioned fit my situation: 1) If they want to pay with a cashier's check, it's likely a scam. 2) If they offer to pay you extra  for your trouble, it's likely a scam. 3) If they send you a check in an amount lots higher than the price of the item, it's likely a scam.

Yes. Yes. Yes. When the cashier's check arrived, it was in the amount of $1,700! My phone is great and in excellent condition, but I was hoping to get maybe $215 at most. The instant it arrived, the guy started texting me over and over: "Did you get the check? Go right away and deposit at an ATM. Have you deposited it yet? Terrianne, are you there?" When I mentioned that it was for $1,700 and there was no way in h### I'd be depositing it into my personal checking account, he finally backed off.

There is a good ending to this story; Gerald listed my phone again today, and within an hour it was sold to a nice, honest lady and her son, who brought me $215 cash.

Snakes 
A while back I wrote about a little supplemental job I have teaching English to Chinese students online through a company called VIPKID. While the early hours are kicking my trash, I keep doing it for two reasons; it's the easiest teaching job on the planet (think no planning and no grading), and the kids are just adorable. Really.

The other day I had the VIPKID app open on my phone to check updates on recently booked  or cancelled classes, and Shulamith happened to see one of my upcoming lessons:

"Oh no! That one there called "How Animals Move" has a couple snakes in it. Even worse, soon after that lesson comes a whole unit on reptiles and fish with tons of snakes, over and over."

Well, great. My easy, stress-free supplemental job just became a giant hassle. In case you don't remember, I've written about my intense phobia a few times, here, and here, and here.

How the freak am I going to teach these lessons that contain pictures of those awful creatures right in front of my face on the screen? No, I can't look at them. And yes, I know a picture can't hurt me (some stupid person on my VIPKID Facebook group actually told me this). I am phobic. It's not rational. I can't look at the things. End of story.

Shulamith and another sweet friend and fellow VIPKID teacher (Hi Kara!) both graciously offered to preview all the slides for every one of these lessons and then tape black construction paper over my computer screen, so I can teach without looking. Then I would need Shulamith or Kara to read me the words on each slide, so I could take notes and know what to ask the student to do. If this sounds like a giant hassle, it is! Like ridiculously hard. So far, I haven't had a student reach this "Rated S" level, but my cute little Jessica, my very favorite regular, who books me twice weekly, is just about there. Help!!!

Summary
My awful sickness finally got better. My scam was thwarted and my phone sold legitimately. But this last one. No, I don't know what to do.


Suggestions?

Christmas is creepy

So it feels like just yesterday people were telling me it's way too early to listen to Christmas music. "What are you thinking? It's barely November. Wait at least until Thanksgiving." Blah, blah blah.

But Christmas is creepy. It creeps up. Fast.

It's been sorta hard this year with all that's happened recently. I keep thinking of Dolly Parton's song "Hard Candy Christmas."

Maybe I'll dye my hair

Maybe I'll move somewhere.

Maybe I'll sleep real late

Maybe I'll lose some weight.

Maybe I'll learn to sew

Maybe I'll just lie low.

Okay, that sewing one, never in a million years. But the others? Maybe.

Regardless, my motto has been "fake it till you make it" because this is potentially Seth's last Christmas with us for two years, so despite my melancholy, it dang well better be merry! 

It's creepy, though. How can it be Dec.10th already? I feel like I'm walking through water; everything feels hard and slow, and the days keep creeping by. 

And then there's my possessed Christmas tree. Two weeks ago, Eli and Amanda were here, and they, along with Shulamith and Seth, set it up, decorated it, and got out all my other beautiful decorations. I mostly just watched. That night, we noticed one of the branches was loose and lying on top of the one underneath. What?? Shulamith carefully tied it to the tree trunk. Problem solved, we thought. Then the next day, another branch, same story. She tied that one up as well. Then next day, another. So now I have three branches tied up. I'm not even kidding.

Then all the lights went out on the top half of the tree. Then they came back on a day later. Then out again. Amanda discovered it had something to do with the electrical outlets, and all the lights are on now. Whew!

A week ago, one of my favorite events of the season happened, The First Presidency's Christmas Devotional. If you didn't get to watch, here is the link to President Uchtdorf's talk. Stop now, whatever you are doing, and watch this talk. Wait....you're reading my blog. Yes, stop reading, and watch this talk. Then finish my blog.

You're welcome.

Thursday night, another of my favorite events happened, my Christmas cookie exchange, the third annual. It's really the only social event I host in the entire year, and it's pretty fun. Stats: My tree stayed lit. Check. My lemon bars failed. Replaced with store-bought orange sticks. Eleven fun women came. So great! But then, then... I forgot to get cookies. The way this whole thing works is everyone brings a couple dozen of her favorite cookies to share. We eat some that night, and before everyone leaves, she puts together a heaping plate filled with samples of all the different cookies to take home. Except I was so busy hostessing that I forgot to make a plate for myself. When everyone was gone, I said to Shulamith, "Where are all the cookies?" 

"Did you not make a plate for yourself?" she replied.

Hard candy Christmas.

And creepy.

I am so far behind with everything. I only have maybe 1/3 of my shopping done; our tree looks awfully empty. Usually my cards are delivered way before now, but I'm still struggling with my holiday letter. I think I just about have it, so cards going out soon, hopefully.

The other thing I've been doing is watching Seth sing all over the place with his performing choir, vocal ensemble. That is pure delight.

I have a feeling the next ten days are going to creep past even faster and less obtrusively. I may not even notice. 

Because Christmas is creepy.

I'm a starfish

So forgive me for oversimplifying, but in general, there are two types of sleepers: starfish and mummies. I'm a starfish. Gerald is a mummy. This has been a challenge pretty much since the day we got married. Starfish like to sleep, well, resembling starfish, arms and legs stretched out wide, taking up a whole lot of space in a bed, leaving little room for anyone else. Mummies like to sleep all curled up in the fetal position, blankets wrapped tightly around them (serious claustrophobia!). When a starfish marries a mummy, the struggle is real.

I've always thought that a king bed might ease that struggle, and on those occasions that we've been in a hotel with a king, it's been way better. But I've never forked over the cash to get one. Until now.

As many of you know, Seth is going to New York City in April, on tour with his performing choir. Such a trip requires some serious fundraising, and the first and biggest fundraiser happened to be a mattress sale. Could this be the impetus I needed? I could buy a king mattress set, and Seth would earn $125 toward his NYC trip. Done. And while I was at it, why not also buy a full-sized bed for Seth, who was sleeping on a million-year-old twin mattress? This purchase added $75 to Seth's trip; we were now $200 ahead!

Of course the mattresses didn't arrive in time for Thanksgiving when we had a houseful of people staying here, but they did arrive just after, two days ago to be exact. Gerald is working 15-hour days this week, and Seth is either in school, rehearsing, or performing pretty much all his waking hours, so that left Shulamith and me to set up these beds. Could we do it? Well, of course we could. "Who needs men anyway?" she proclaimed, as she unscrewed apart and then screwed back together my queen bed frame, in order to move it into what I'll always call "Isaiah's room," even though Isaiah doesn't technically live here anymore.

I thought the hardest part would be navigating the king mattress, but once we got there, it was actually pretty easy.

Can I just say, the Webster women rock! We set up Seth's new bed in his room, moved the queen bed into Isaiah's room, and set up the new king in the master bedroom. Woo hoo! By the end, we both had backaches, and even our arms were sore. We popped some ibuprofen and decided we should probably start weight training again.

So friends from out of town....come stay with us! We now have a lovely queen bed available in Isaiah's room. But more importantly, the starfish and the mummy will be sleeping well every night.

We gather together

Many families eat dinner together, all around the table, every day. We don't. We eat at the dinner table about twice a year, on Easter and Thanksgiving. What can I say?  We're just really informal about food, and we also eat many meals in restaurants.

So it's particularly joyous when we have a meal together, gathered around the table. Here is a picture of all of us on Tuesday, when we celebrated Thanksgiving two days early because my mom was in town to see Seth perform in Les Mis. Included here are four of our five beautiful children, along with Shulamith's husband and Eli's wife.

It's been a whirlwind of crazy! Grandma flew in from Portland Monday afternoon, and after grabbing some pizza, we all headed to Hillcrest High School to see Seth's performance. I had already seen it three times; yep, I'm that mom, the one who bought a ticket for every night. Nevertheless, closing night Monday was incredible! I was worried I might not be able to point Seth out to my mom in all eight musical numbers because he was positioned in different places throughout the auditorium, but  I think I succeeded.

Seth was in Carousel his sophomore year and Mary Poppins last year, but nothing compares to Les Mis. What a perfect way to end his high school musical tenure! It doesn't matter where I see this play; whether on Broadway or at Hale Center Theatre or even at a high school in Midvale, Utah, the story always touches my heart. The tale of redemption and courage in the face of oppression challenges us to look more closely at our lives. Indeed, it challenged Joshua Long, the director of Seth's show, to do just that. May I share a snippet of his notes from the program:

"The stories and experiences of Fantine, Eponine and Jean Valjean are still echoed in many people we see every day. We haven't figured it out as a society. Are we even trying anymore? I am so incredibly inspired by Enjolras and his army of young students who realized what was happening to the less fortunate around them, realized their privilege, and then dedicated their lives to doing something about changing things. Am I that brave? Well, I'm obviously not. I have not built a barricade and stood up on top it it to fight for those less fortunate than me. Could I be like that? Who needs me to do that for them?"

I echo his words.

This Thanksgiving, may we be grateful for all we have.

The past two weeks: A lot of pathos involved

A friend and fellow VIPKID teacher recently commented that she goes through all five stages of the grieving process every morning when her alarm goes off and she has to get up to teach. The other three of us in this text thread 100% agreed. With the recent time shift, prime VIPKID hours for us in the Mountain Time Zone are 4:00-6:00 a.m. I mention this because I'm going to discuss my own grieving process on a different topic in this post, and I wanted to be clear that, although the five stages of grief were originally drafted to explain the process we experience when someone we love dies, they can also apply to other unfortunate circumstances in life, even those that aren't tragedies.

So to be very clear, what I'm going to tell you about is not a tragedy. I've experienced tragedy. I know what that feels like. This isn't it. Nevertheless, I have been up and down, back and forth, in and out through all the stages of grief for the past two weeks, and that process continues right up to this very moment.

Backstory. Just shy of seven years ago, I sat in the living room of our Billings, Montana home and together with Gerald, Shulamith, and Mathew, plotted. We plotted out a future plan that, then, seemed so complex and challenging, it was more a pipe dream than anything. I'm not sure any one of us truly believed that this dream could become reality, as we sat together in our living room that cold December night. At one point Matt remarked, "There are just a lot of bridges we will need to cross to get from where we are now to where we want to be." Indeed.

And then we began to cross those bridges, one by one. We would need to sell our Montana home. We would need to secure employment here in Utah. We would need to find the perfect Utah house, one that included a separate apartment, because the goal was a home where we could all live together, but where Shulamith and Matt would have privacy, meaning a completely independent unit with its own entrance and kitchen. Also, I didn't want it to be totally under ground (those dark ones with super low ceilings that feel like caves).

That bridge took lots of time and effort. I came to Utah on three separate weekends, and Shulamith and I, together with our patient realtor Susan, looked at dozens of houses. While tempted to settle for less than the ideal, we didn't. We continued to search, believing that the right house for us was out there and that we would eventually find it.

And eventually, we did. Right here on East Angel Ct. It honestly had everything we were looking for. When we both felt it was the right house, we brought Matt to look at it and sent pictures to Gerald, who was still in Montana working. They both agreed. Gerald and I made an offer, and thus began the process to crossing Bridge #3.

In July of 2011, Seth and I moved to Utah and into our new home. Shulamith and Matt moved into the apartment once their lease expired in September, and Gerald and Eli came in October. We did it! We crossed all the bridges. We were here. It was so wonderful.

And temporary. It was always temporary. We knew it would not be forever; in fact, had I tried to predict, I would have guessed the Monson-Websters would stay with us maybe a year or two, until Matt finished his degree. That was 6.5 years ago. Why did we stay together so long? Because we all loved it! There were just so many pluses to the situation and literally only one minus: size. As the Monson-Webster family grew with the addition of three children, our lovely, but small, one-bedroom, daylight basement apartment, well...you can only imagine how cramped it became.

But back to the pluses. Oh my goodness, how wonderful joint living can be, given the right personalities, the right relationships, the right circumstances, and the right space. It fosters a blissful interdependence that eases burdens, reduces stress, and increases love:

Shulamith: "The kids are asleep, and Matt and I want to run out for some ice cream. If I leave both doors open, will you listen in case they wake up?"

Terrianne: "Hey, I'm stuck downtown, and Seth needs a ride home from school and some food. Can you go grab him and feed him?"

Shulamith: "Theodore was up all night, and I'm fading. Can I bring him upstairs for an hour and catch a nap while the big kids are with their grandparents?"

Terrianne: "I'm having a full-on clothes crisis! Can you bring up some shirts that might go with my gray skirt?"

Shulamith: "Matt wants to go play video games with Tyce and Cam, but I have VIP kids tonight. Can you hold Theodore from 8:30-10:30."

Terrianne: "Seth has my car, and I desperately need Diet Coke. Can I borrow your van for five minutes and run to Chevron?"

I could go on. And on. And on. From sharing food to sharing clothes, from providing needed recipe items to providing emotional support, from helping with each other's kids to helping with each other's housework, these past 6.5 years have been pure joy. Is it any wonder I'm swimming through the grieving stages day by day?

Denial
This is what we've done for the past year, pretend it wasn't happening. If we pretend it isn't happening, maybe it won't. This strategy has worked very well, by the way. I highly recommend it. Even now, I continue to be in denial most of the time. I pretend she's still here.

Bargaining
Maybe there's a way to work this thing so it won't be so bad after all? Hmmm. The worst day of the week is Sunday, when Shulamith is no longer in my ward. Like it really, really super sucks to be there without her. Because she and Matt are late for church literally every week (exception: the three Sundays they blessed their babies), I am accustomed to glancing back every so often to see if she's coming yet. Then I get so happy when I see her! Imaging the despair these past two Sundays, as I kept glancing back, only to remember that she wouldn't be coming.

My many Protestant friends are baffled: "Wait....what? In addition to all the grief you're going through already with this, now your church won't let her go there anymore?" Lacking the emotional energy to explain the many reasons for ward boundaries, my answer is, "It's complicated, but in a word, no. No they won't."

In further attempts to bargain our way out of this, we joke that we should just go to the Christian Assembly Church right around the corner. The sign says "Everyone Welcome," and they don't care where you live.

Anger
Most of my anger related to this situation is the result of what might have been. Shulamith tried her very best, twice, to move close to me. I will never forget that. She and Matt made offers and were under contract to buy two condominiums just across 80th from our house. But circumstances entirely unrelated to Shulamith and Matt (something about the condo association not maintaining sufficient funds in its reserve account) caused both deals to fall through. And these stupid condos are right on my walking path, and I get mad every single time I walk past.

"God doesn't want us to be together," I spewed in anger one day. Shulamith's reply: "Don't blame God. It's Satan who likes to tear apart families. Blame him." Good point. I'll direct my anger there.

Shulamith didn't tell anyone about their plans for a very long time, partly to protect me (and others). I remember saying to her:

"If someone dares to tell me I should be thankful you are still fairly close, I might snap.

And hurt someone.

And go to jail

And Seth won't have a mom anymore."

So maybe don't be that person.

It is so easy to project our own feelings onto others. I know I'm guilty of doing this. But really, there is no "should" in feelings because all feelings are valid. So telling me how I should feel or how you would feel, or have felt, or think you would feel under similar circumstances is pretty much irrelevant because we just can't compare pain. Everyone is different; all circumstances are different. May we seek to affirm rather than to judge.

Depression
With the holiday season approaching, I try not to live in the depression stage for too long though sometimes it's inevitable, especially when I think about our future here. I really don't know what the future holds; our long range plans are woefully uncertain. But whether it's one more year or 40 more, I'm pretty sure I'll always be lonely in this house without her.

Then there's the fact that it's very possible I'll never see Matt again. I saw him more when we lived in Montana. I used to fly down here each month to spend a long weekend with Shulamith, and in those early days, when they were dating and newly married,  Matt would hang out with us the whole weekend. He doesn't do that anymore. Truth is, I basically see Matt in just two scenarios. Sometimes we happen to be taking out our trash at the same time, and we meet outside at the trash can and say hi. More often, he's leaving for work at the same time I'm out walking, and we wave to each other. Since neither of those scenarios is likely to happen now, I'm pretty sure I'll never see Matt again. Which is sad. Because I really like Matt.

Acceptance
Nope. This one is not happening. Not ever. The best I can do is acknowledge my sincere appreciation for what we had. I got to live with my best friend for 6.5 years. And it was awesome.

If it looks like a 3-day food fest and acts like a 3-day food fest, it probably is a 3-day food fest

I love to celebrate birthdays! Including my own. Since I spend most of my life on a strict low-fat, low-cal diet, I love the excuse to take a break and eat whatever I want for a few days. So if it looks like a 3-day food fest and acts like a 3-day food fest, it probably is a 3-day food fest. Fortunately, Shulamith loves food as much as I do; she makes for a good celebrating companion.

We eased in Thursday night with a lovely dinner at Cheesecake Factory with a couple of friends. Then Friday morning, a quick breakfast consisting of a Harmon's maple bar with whipped frosting and Diet Cokes. For lunch, Shulamith picked me up between my two classes, and we met our friend Lacey at City Creek, where we ate Red Iguana enchiladas. We used to go there every Friday last semester, and Lacey would sometimes meet us, so it felt like old times.

When I went back to teach my second class, one student had brought homemade cookies, and they all sang "Happy birthday, Sister Webster" when I walked in. So sweet. This is an especially nice group of students.

Friday night it was "The Dog Haus: The Absolute Wurst," a cute little restaurant in Sandy that serves super yummy hot dogs and burgers. We ate bacon-wrapped hot dogs, mine with caramelized onions and cheese. Mmmmmm!

Onward.

Saturday, we went to Denny's for breakfast, mostly because we love their pancakes that taste pretty much like vanilla cake. If you haven't tried them, I highly recommend you do.

For a mid-afternoon lunch/dinner, Gerald was kind enough to keep Shulamith's two older kids at home, so I could enjoy a relaxing meal with three of my cute kids. We went to Hu Hot for Mongolian bowls, plus S'mores for dessert. So good. Only sad part...this is one of Eli's favorite places, and he wasn't here to go with us.

I always say that my favorite child is whichever one I'm with at the time. That day, these three were my favorites. The food was so good; the company, even better.

This morning, I went out early and brought home Cinnabons and Diet Cokes for a before-church breakfast. They were gooey, gooey good. Then this afternoon, Shulamith made me taco salad and chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. This is quite a sacrifice for her because she doesn't eat salad (only the hamburger and the chips...boring) and she much prefers white cake.

All in all, it's been a delightful food fest, and no better way to celebrate my birthday. And it's not quite over. Matt has been away all weekend, so we haven't had the chance to do our standard, girls only, celebration without kids (well, her baby gets to come). We always do dinner and a movie, and that will still happen, but probably not for two weeks, because Gerald and I are going to Rexburg next weekend to visit Eli and Amanda. I'm hoping the movie "Battle of the Sexes" is playing here by then.

Thank you to restaurants that make good food and to my sweet little family for sharing it with me. I am a lucky mom. Love you!

The difference? This time, I really didn't want to send him

Early this morning, as he's done dozens of times before, Gerald got up to drive Isaiah to the airport. And just like dozens of times before, Isaiah's destination was Las Vegas. And just like dozens of times before, I smiled, waved goodbye and said, "I love you. Be safe."

The difference? This time, I really didn't want to send him.

I'm scared, really scared.

Isaiah travels all over the world for his job as a senior on-site tech specialist for Lanyon/Cvent. In the past three years, he's visited 13 countries on five different continents. He's gone places I'll likely never go, and he's gone places I'll definitely go because he tells me I "have to!" I've never been scared to send him off before, only excited for his opportunity to see and experience so much at such a young age.

Vegas is a popular city for events, and Isaiah spends roughly six weeks there over the course of a year, and about 75% of the time, he stays at Mandalay Bay. He refers to it as his "home away from home." Two weeks ago, when I awoke to the tragic news of yet another mass shooting, this time near the Mandalay Bay hotel in Las Vegas, for a split second my heart sank. Fully awake, I calmed myself with the words, "Breathe, Terrianne. Take a breath. At this very moment, Isaiah is safely on a plane to Lisbon, Portugal."

But it so easily could have been otherwise. He could have been in Vegas that week. He could have been staying at Mandalay Bay. Often, he and his coworkers go out in the evening, sometimes to attend events in the city they're visiting. Including concerts.

He so easily could have been there, his precious, 26-year-old life ended in a split second, and my life forever shattered. All of those killed that night had mothers whose hearts are now broken. My own heart breaks for them. I can't even imagine. 

Afterward, we were told by some that we shouldn't talk about why this keeps happening, that "now is not the time." Instead, we should send "thoughts and prayers." And local folks should donate blood. Well, sure. Yes, of course. I am both a thinking person and a praying person. I'm also a lifelong blood donor. So yes, I appreciate the value of thoughts and prayers and blood donations. I also know that none of that will do a single thing to keep these senseless tragedies from happening again and again and again.

So please don't tell me "now is not the time" to talk about how to fix this mess. If now isn't the time, then when?

To that end, may I address our sitting president for just a moment.

Mr. President:

It's no secret, I'm not a fan. I didn't vote for you, and I was devastated that you somehow managed to get elected. The morning after that fateful day, a friend posted that this was the worse thing Christians have done since the Crusades. I concur.

That said, I hoped that a miracle might occur, and this office might change you, lift you, move you to a point where you might see past yourself enough to work for the greater good of our country and the world. That has not happened. Instead, you are so bored with your job as Commander-in-Chief that you spend your time awake in the middle of the night, tweeting, like a hormone-raging teenager, syntactically-incorrect rhetoric spewed against anyone who opposes you; goodness, my 17-year-old kid has more maturity and class.

But there's still time. Because though it feels like an eternity since January 20th, in fact, it's only been nine months. That means you still have three years, three months left in office, plenty of time to prove me wrong.

Surprise me! Do something right. If you truly wish to "make America great," accomplish something past presidents have not yet been able to. Stand up to the NRA, and figure out a way to get sensible gun legislation through Congress.

Lives literally depend on it.

Yours truly,
A mom, who's terrified to send her baby off to work in Las Vegas today

Wonderful Weekend Weariness

It was a wonderful weekend.

And a weary one.

It all began about six weeks ago when we learned that local youth would have the opportunity to sing in the choir for the Saturday afternoon session of General Conference. I was immediately excited and, right there in church, texted Seth, "You have to do this!" It wasn't that he didn't want to; it was more that he was already so busy with two different choirs, Les Mis rehearsals, school, and work. But I kept reminding him what an opportunity it was, likely a once-in-a-lifetime one. Ultimately, Seth decided to go for it. Since then he has rehearsed for two hours every Sunday evening, preparing four wonderful songs for Conference.

When the weekend finally arrived, Seth was super excited. Me too, but the whole thing definitely changed our typical General Conference weekend. Seth had to be downtown at the conference center at 10:15 a.m. on Saturday, following an all-state choir rehearsal that began at 7:30. Gerald and I picked him up from all-state rehearsal at 9:30 and drove him downtown. Then we hurried home just in time to catch the morning session, where, in my favorite talk of the weekend, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland reminded us that though celestial goals may feel quite far out of our reach, we can take heart in God's perfection, and "be grateful that God is merciful and a peacemaker because we need mercy, and the world needs peace." It was Elder Holland at his best; if you missed it, I highly recommend you look it up.

As soon as the morning session was over, Gerald drove me to the Trax station, where I rode back downtown. They gave each kid in the choir one ticket to the session, and no, I didn't offer it to Gerald. How surprised are you? I have never sat down on the main floor of the conference center, and that was crazy cool. Even cooler was looking up at the choir loft where the kids were rehearsing and seeing my baby right up on top:

I fought back tears I was so proud of him. The choir did a lovely job; my favorite song was a medley of "I'm Trying to be Like Jesus" and "He Sent His Son." Simply beautiful!

And just like that, it was over. Seth and I managed to find each other outside the conference center, even sans cell phones (they didn't let the kids have their phones).

Gerald picked us up, and we came home once again. Poor Seth went straight to work, while I got to relax and watch the Priesthood session as I waited for Eli and Amanda to arrive.

Sunday was our typical Erichsen-Webster General Conference, aka "pajama church," filled with Twinkies, Swiss Rolls, Mint Milanos, Oreos, Almond Joy bars, red vines, and more. Seth was so tired, and I had decided not to wake him, but he got up anyway to join us.

Gerald got up early and drove Isaiah to the airport, on his way to Lisbon for a week. It was his first time in Portugal, so he was excited. Gerald got back almost in time for the first session. All the talks Sunday were excellent, but if you'd like to know my personal favorites (and even if you wouldn't, because this is my blog, so...), Elder M. Russell Ballard's denouncement of racism, sexism, and nationalism was amazing, as were Elder Quentin L. Cook's discourse on equality as God's children and Elder W. Craig Zwick's heartwarming message of love.

It was wonderful to have three of our kids here watching Conference together; my mommy heart was happy! Here are Shulamith, Eli, Amanda, and I in our matching Conference pajamas. Couldn't quite talk Seth into it, and Matt? Not a chance. Haha.

Eli and Amanda really like babies, so Shulamith lent them her Theodore for one of the sessions:

When it was all over, we ushered in October by decorating our house for Halloween and feasting on french dip sandwiches, chips, and pasta salad. Amanda's brother and sister-in-law even joined us for dinner with their little girl. We don't have family of our own here in Utah, so we were grateful Amanda was willing to share hers. After ice cream cookie sundaes, we had to send Eli and Amanda back to Rexburg. We can't wait until July, when they will graduate and move down here, so we don't have to keep sending them back.

And there you have it....
Conference weekend. Wonderful weekend weariness.

I am not Jacqueline - Wait! What was I thinking?

Last month I traveled to Portland to attend my mom's 80th birthday celebration. So many things about that short weekend made it a delight. Well, here it is, if you want to read about it. One of the most delightful things was this one particular pie my sister-in-law brought to the party. It was seriously so delicious; everyone was raving about it. So I got this crazy idea that maybe I could make that pie. Why would I think that? Who knows? Sometimes my brain doesn't think clearly. Keep in mind:

I have never, ever, in my entire life, made a pie.

Jacqueline told me a well-intended, totally non-malicious lie, one I've heard so many times before: "Oh, it's really easy." For people like me, things like this are never easy. Even so, I asked Jacqueline for the recipe, and yesterday, I decided to try to make this pie. Banana cream is Shulamith's husband Mathew's favorite pie, and I am pretty fond of it myself, so my motives weren't entirely unselfish.

Bright and early I was off to the store to buy the ingredients. Home again, I laid them all out on the counter, making certain I had everything I needed. At that point it hit me: I don't own a pie plate. Why not?

Because I have never, ever, in my entire life, made a pie.

Why would I have a pie plate? I texted Shulamith to see if, by some chance, she might have one, but no. And then another thing hit me: This was going to be a terribly expensive fail. But I already had all the stuff, so back to the store I went to buy a pie dish. Found one for $5.99.

The next few hours were filled with angst. I can't really describe it, except to offer two revealing details:

1. Several times in the process, I declared, in a voice a few decibels louder than my normal tone: "I am not Jacqueline! What was I thinking? Jacqueline does stuff like this. She cooks. She paints. She sews. She makes beautiful crafts. So of course she makes pies. What in the freak made me think I could do this?"

2. Once, when Shulamith was upstairs and dared to say that she thought it was going to turn out great, I snapped, "How can you say that? You have no idea how many things can go wrong here!" The smell of bananas was making her sick, and my attitude was making her sicker, so she quickly retreated back downstairs.

One of those many things that could go wrong was the whipped cream. For this recipe, you literally have to whip the cream. Like you buy it in liquid form and then whip it with an electric mixer. Until yesterday, I had never done that. Cool Whip was all I knew. My question: How do you know when you're done? How do you know when it's whipped enough? They should definitely tell you how many minutes to whip. That would help.

Well I know you're dying to hear how this all turned out, and even if you're not, humor me. Believe it or not (and I barely believe it, even now), this pie was a huge success. It definitely doesn't look as pretty as Jacqueline's, but it tastes just the same. I know, right? I am just as shocked as you are.

When Shulamith first told Matt I was trying to make a banana cream pie but it probably wouldn't turn out, his response was logical: "No, it probably won't." I think he was as surprised as I was when we both loved it.

As I said, not as pretty as Jacqueline's, but here it is...

Homecoming blessings!

Six years ago, we left Billings, Montana and moved here to the Salt Lake Valley. Seth was 11 and in his final year of Primary. I promised him that for sure, his Primary class would have tons of kids. It was Utah, after all.

I lied.

Our very first day in the ward, I took him to his class, to find only four other children, one boy and three cute little girls. One of those little girls was named Britney. Six years later, Britney and her family have moved out of our ward, but she still attends Seth's high school, and this past weekend the two of them went to homecoming together. And they were pretty much the cutest:

I mean seriously, right? Here's one more:

Six couples formed their group, and from what I hear, it was a fun day and evening, filled with bowling, Buffalo Wild Wings, the dance itself, and games after that. Here's the whole group:

It was Seth's last homecoming, but not only that; it was also my last homecoming. Can I just say right here that these "lasts" are not easy for me. I'm not ready for this part of life to be over, and comparatively, the future doesn't look all that appealing. So as I said in an earlier post, my plan for now is to enjoy each and every event of Seth''s senior year to the fullest. And then try not to worry about what comes after that. So there I was Saturday night taking loads of pictures and delighting in my cute boy, my very last baby.

Eli and Amanda were also here this weekend, so they accompanied Gerald and me to the Oquirrh Mountain Temple Saturday afternoon. It was lovely to be there with them.

And if homecoming didn't provide sufficient excitement this weekend, the following morning, Shulamith and Matt blessed their little baby, Theodore. They kept it very low key this time around, but the blessing was beautiful, and I think they were happy with the day. Here are a few pictures:

Finally, Shulamith and I often remark that we are so happy Eli married a cool girl like Amanda. She is so cool that she brought face masks for all three of us! How scary are we?

The weekend left us exhausted but happy. I guess that's as it should be.

Homecoming blessings!

VIPKID: Can it cause mush brain?

Last spring, Shulamith began working for VIPKID, a company based in Beijing that teaches online English lessons to Chinese children. It's a wonderful job for at-home moms because teachers work entirely from home, and they choose when they work and how much. At first, I didn't consider applying myself; I already have a part-time job, teaching English at a two-year college, and that is plenty. However, at that time, because of its rapid growth, VIPKID was desperate for teachers and offering a $100 bonus for successful referrals.

I decided to go through the application/hiring process, just to get Shulamith the bonus. Of course anyone who works for VIPKID knows that the application/hiring process is the hardest part of the job by far. Once you're hired, it's a piece of cake, comparatively. I passed my initial interview and then went to the Mock I class. I thought that went very well, so I was annoyed when I learned that I'd need to do Mock II, so much so that I almost discontinued the process at that point, but then I thought about Shulamith's $100 and persisted.

Finally I was hired and could begin booking classes. I only had to teach one lesson for Shulamith to earn her bonus, but once I did that, I didn't want to stop. It's seriously so much fun, and the whole thing is sort of addictive. You get up, put on an orange shirt over your pajamas, talk to a cute Chinese kid for 25 minutes, and think to yourself, "I just made $10." So you do it again. And again. And again.

When I first started, I was in the middle of summer semester at my college, so I didn't open a lot of slots for bookings. But these past four weeks, I've been on break, so I opened tons of slots, including the very early morning peak hours. Beijing is 13 hours ahead of us, so prime time there is 5:00 a.m. - 7:00 a.m. our time. To be clear, I'm NOT a morning person. Come to think of it, I'm not really a night person either; I'm a "middle of the day" person. Yeah, that's what I am.

So these early hours are seriously kicking my trash. My brain might be turning to mush.

Evidence? Sunday I was scheduled to speak in church, my absolute most favorite thing ever, so I got up early, took a brief walk (only 2,000 steps), and jumped in the shower. I got out and went about my regular routine, starting with makeup, and then I removed the towel covering my head. What did I find? Slimy hair. Totally slimy. I had completely forgotten to rinse out the conditioner. What is wrong with me?!? Mush brain from VIPKID. Clearly.

Well this dilemma was quite a serious pickle because I had just applied flawless makeup. How would I get the slime out of my hair without destroying all that? I couldn't go back in the shower and let water run all down my face, so I had to rinse my hair ever so carefully in the sink. It wasn't a perfect rinse job, but I managed to get most of the slime out and style my hair as planned.

Whew.

Then, as it turned out, I didn't get to speak after all. Our bishop talked for 15 minutes before our meeting began, and then the first speaker went about 10 minutes over his time, leaving only five minutes for my talk. Nope. Not gonna work. I quickly texted the bishop and asked if he would like me to speak another day. He said, "How about next week?" Perfect! So now I get to be excited for another whole week. Woo.

My new semester began yesterday, so I've scaled back my VIP bookings to a manageable number. Perhaps this will cure my mush brain. We can only hope.

When you borrow an egg, it's about way more than just the egg; same with babies and even wedding cakes

Last night in my English class, my students were discussing how language is both a tool and a resource. It serves as a tool to get things done, but oftentimes it provides a richer resource, one that digs deeper and builds relationships. Our discussion reminded me of a sermon I once heard from an intuitive pastor a long time ago. He said, "When you borrow an egg, it's about way more than just the egg." He meant that far more important than acquiring the needed egg, the connection you build through the act of borrowing might forever change your life.

This past weekend I traveled to Rexburg, Idaho to do two things, visit Eli and his wife Amanda, and hang out with my friend Lindsey. I always feel like I'm double dipping when I can do both in one weekend, like I'm somehow cheating the universe; it results in a feeling if immense satisfaction, bordering on smugness even. It had been too long since Lindsey and I had spent any good time together. I was missing her. Lots.

Her second born and only son, Jase, is now 11. I will always be grateful to Jase for introducing Lindsey and me. Once upon a time, about 11 years ago, I was sitting in a Gospel Doctrine class in our ward in Billings, Montana. Behind me was a mother holding her newborn son. I didn't know her; I'm not even sure I knew her name, although maybe I did because I was Relief Society President at the time and made it my business to know all the sisters' names. At the time, my own baby was already six, and I definitely suffered from "empty arms syndrome," a condition that still haunts me now and then. I glanced back at this mother with a longing that she obviously sensed, because finally she said, "Would you like to hold him?"

Would I like to hold him? Uh.......yes.

She handed me Baby Jase, and just like that: a decade-long friendship began. One that would survive long-distance moves (neither of us lives in Billings anymore), two more babies (hers), significant events in my own children's lives, and more.

When you borrow a baby, it's about way more than just the baby.

Some friendships are eternal, and this is one of those. Along with some lovely extended conversations and two McDonald's meals (cuz it's what we do), good visits with David, and amazing hugs from each of their four kids, I also got to spend a bit of time with Eli, Amanda, and their cat, Ramsay.

It was a busy weekend for them; in addition to their regular work schedules, Amanda was helping a friend with her wedding, and the word "helping" is a gross understatement. Amanda not only lent this bride her wedding gown and assembled a "bride's wedding day survival kit," but she also volunteered to bake the wedding cake! I'm not even kidding. Now you may be wondering, "Is Amanda is a wedding cake baker?" Until this past weekend, no. She had never baked a wedding cake in her life. But she saw a need and she stepped up: "Sure! I can do this!"

When you bake someone a wedding cake, it's about way more than just the cake.

Throughout my three days in Rexburg, I watched Amanda care for this bride-to-be with meticulous detail. She did far more than just bake the cake (which was no easy task); she invested her time and her heart. Layer after layer, she worked, relentlessly, until late in the night. Once each layer was baked, cooled, and carefully frosted, she asked Eli to say a prayer that they could safely transport all of it to the reception. I have never seen someone work with more love.

I once borrowed a baby, and the result was a friendship I could have never imagined as I sat in that Sunday School class all those years ago.

Amanda once baked a wedding cake for a friend, and just look how lovely that turned out! But as always, the process was even greater than the product.

A wise pastor once said, "When you borrow an egg, it's about way more than just the egg."

He was right.

If only life were like "Arrival"

In the Oscar-nominated movie Arrival, time is not chronological. Events are not experienced one after another, but rather synthesized and often simultaneous. I hope that's how Heaven is. Then I'll never have to miss anything.

But here on earth, the well-known statement "I can't be two places at the same time" couldn't be more true, a dilemma I faced this past weekend.

My brother was throwing an 80th birthday celebration for my mom, and of course, it was also the weekend of the long-awaited total solar eclipse. I didn't think much about that three months ago when I booked my flight to Portland to attend my mom's party, but as the date grew closer, I thought, "Dang, it would have been fun to go with Gerald up to Rexburg to view the eclipse." But more than that, we all wondered what travel might be like, as residents of Portland were warned to basically stay home, because going anywhere would be a challenge. The eclipse would be 99% in Portland, so while not quite totality, about as near as you could get without driving 45 minutes south to Salem.

Would traffic to and from the airport be miserable? Would my flights be on time? Most importantly, would we have to cancel our beach trip Sunday, as a result? I only get home to Portland about once a year, so when I do, I really, really want to see the ocean! I miss it. Almost as much as I miss the rain. I did not get even one drop of rain this time, but I did get to go to the ocean. Ahhhh. Here is a picture of my mom and my brother and me right out on the beach to prove it:

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. The surprises began Friday night, when my brother picked me up at the airport, and we drove to my mom's house. That's right; she had no idea I was coming. Tom texted her to ask if he could stop by, and we just showed up at her door. I think she was pretty surprised. "How did this happen!? How did you do this!?"

Haha, on an airplane.

Saturday was the big bash as she became an octogenarian. Can you even believe that? Because I can't. My mom is young. How the heck can she be 80? When I told Isaiah I was going to Portland for her 80th birthday, he expressed my thoughts perfectly: "No! Grandma is not 80. That's ridiculous. She is a normal person that you can have a normal conversation with." Right Isaiah.

The party was a huge success. Tom decorated with balloons and banners and invited all her friends from her work, along with our family. His oldest daughter put together a video with each of his kids and each of my kids wishing her "Happy Birthday" and sharing their memories of Nanny/Grandma. (Tom's kids call her "Nanny" and mine call her "Grandma.") My personal favorite of all the messages was Eli singing "Happy Birthday" in Italian, but I may or may not be biased.

And of course if you're a Webster, the single most important element of any event is the food. So just look at these delicious pies made by my sister-in-law, Jacqueline.

Yep, chocolate cream and banana cream and both crazy delicious. It was such a treat to visit and catch up with Jacqueline after way too long, and she tells me the banana cream is "so easy." Indeed, I've heard that line many times, and it's rarely true, but I think I will at least try to make this because banana cream is Mathew's favorite pie, and Shulamith wouldn't get near a banana.

Sunday was beach day. We loaded into two cars and caravaned to Seaside for a day filled with fun, food, and fire. Highlights included riding the Tilt-A-Whirl (I LOVE that ride!) and eating an elephant ear. Dinner was yummy, and would have been delightful, except for a game my brother plays where he takes random, candid pictures of everyone and then sends them out on a group text thread. Ugh! Those who know me, know how I feel about candid photos. No way! If you want to take my picture, you give me fair warning so I can fix my hair and makeup, and then you count, "1-2-3." Duh. Taking frivolous, unplanned pictures and then sending them out to people is just wrong on so many levels.

The best part of the evening was the bonfire on the beach. These people are expert fire builders! Here are my cute nieces, Leslie, Katie, and Carley, getting started:

And just look at the result:

It was a cool evening, and the fire was warm and inviting. So much so that a passing mother with her six-year-old daughter (whose birthday it was) wandered over and asked to "borrow" some warmth against the cool ocean air. All I could think of was "My glowing fire, my loaf of bread, my roof's safe shelter overhead," as we gladly shared this lovely fire and made the little girl a birthday S'more.

It ended as quickly as it began. Before I knew it, Tom was driving me back to the airport early this morning. It's hard to say goodbye. So much of me would love to move back home. To my family. To the beautiful rain. To my many friends, all of whom I missed seeing this weekend because the visit was so brief.

Meanwhile, in Rexburg:

Gerald waited 38 years since the last total eclipse to see this one. And see it he did, up in Rexburg with Eli and Amanda. Was the whole thing as amazing as he thought it would be, I wanted to know:

"Awesome, with the stress on the 'awe.'"

As for me, I didn't really notice it. I think I was either riding Trax from the airport or walking home from the Trax station at its peak here. Maybe 93% just isn't that cool? It's an A-, so that seems good, but I didn't even notice a change in brightness. When I got home, I put on glasses and looked at it, just as the moon was at the very end of its pass with the sun. So I saw that. It was fine.

I guess we have to wait seven years to see the next one, and we'll have to travel south. Pretty far. Maybe we'll plan a trip down to Eli's mission to see it.

And so ends an eventful weekend. One day we will live in Heaven. And it will be like Arrival. And we won't miss anything. We will be able to attend birthday parties and total solar eclipses, in two different locations, at the same time.

And that will be truly awesome. For now, we'll settle for pictures. Here are some more: