On Walls, People Who Moved to California, and Things We Miss at Christmas

A friend who recently lost her dear mother has been posting memorials lately, lots of pictures of her sweet mama, and memes that express the truth about loss, grief, healing, and how all those emotions are intensified during the holiday season. One particular meme struck me. It said, "Still one more thing to wrap...your arm around someone grieving a loss this Christmas." Losing our loved ones is never easy, even if we believe in life eternal and that mortal death is only a step in an eternity of progression. It's still hard. Because we're still here, to carry on our mortal journey, without those people we loved so much and whose influence will be so deeply missed. So Rebecca, and others who grieve a loss this day, my virtual arm is stretched out to you.

I am not grieving a recent loss this season, but there are still things I miss today.

I miss having a president whom I can respect to lead my country.Yes, I'm especially fond of President Obama, and yes, I miss him terribly, but this day I miss others as well. I miss all who selflessly served in one of the most difficult and trying jobs there is, as best they could, with all their limitations, to lead this nation. Thank you Presidents Obama, George W. Bush, Clinton, George H.W. Bush, Reagan, and Carter. I miss you. I miss all of you. As our current president spends the Christmas season trying to build a wall, may we speculate on what Jesus might do instead? Might He welcome the hungry; the violated; the refugee; the war-torn mother with babe in arms; the father fleeing violence, who would risk everything to protect his family? After all, the One whose birth we celebrate this day is the One who tore down walls, walls of hatred, bigotry, intolerance, fear, and exclusion. He came for all, and He welcomed all. On this day when we look to Him and His message of love, may we stand and tell this president that we are better than his stupid wall. This is not who we are.

Just this afternoon, I went to a kids' movie. I really hate kids' movies, every last one of them, and I didn't like this one any better, but I did love its message: Embrace one another. Our differences need not divide us. Break down walls of fear and exclusion. The movie is called Smallfoot, and you should probably go see it, Mr. President.

On a much smaller and more personal note, I miss my friends who are now members of the Union Park 4th ward. Last Sunday afternoon, I had a brief text conversation with our former bishop, Steve Kinghorn  (who is one of the very few of us who were moved to the Union Park 3rd ward). I had spoken in church that morning, and he texted me to tell me he enjoyed my talk (because he is just nice like that). Our conversation somehow shifted to the recent change in ward boundaries. He said, "I feel like they all moved to California." Yep! It's so weird. They didn't move at all. They are right where they always were, in some cases, just barely across the street from us. But they feel far away.

That said, a couple weeks ago, I hosted my annual Christmas cookie exchange. It's always a well-attended party because it's the one event husbands nearly push their wives out their front doors to attend. That's because they return with plates overflowing with a variety of delicious Christmas cookies. Win/win! This year, though, I changed the rules just slightly; I made attendance mandatory. I missed everyone so much that I said everyone had to come. And they believed me! Only one person was unable to make it. Even those who had other stuff to do that evening, stopped by afterward. It was just lovely. I miss you, my friends.

Finally, on an even smaller and more intimate note, I miss my baby today. So much. As Shulamith and I shopped for all the gifts this season, she remarked, "It's just not as much fun when we're not buying presents for Seth." Truth. I sent Seth a small package last month, so no, we didn't get to shop for him. But the most perfect Christmas gift for me arrived today at noon. It was all I wanted for Christmas, and it was everything I hoped for.

Everyone was here to talk to him, all gathered around the computer. He spoke Spanish to us; that was the weirdest and most wonderful thing. My baby can speak Spanish! Here's a glimpse of our time with him:

Somehow, I missed getting a pic of Shulamith, but rest assured, big sister was right here talking to him.

I didn't cry until the end, so I thought that was pretty good. When he said, "We'll talk again in five months," I broke just a little. Then he held up his tag so proudly, and told me he ordered one in Guarani, the indigenous language many people speak in Paraguay. And that was it.

My tears were happy ones, as I see the growth he has experienced in just four months. He's still our Seth for sure, funny and adorable...yet different. More mature. More confident.

May we tear down walls this day, love our friends (even those who seem like they're in California), and pray for our missionaries everywhere. And us missionary mamas too. Pray for us. Cuz this missionary mom gig is not an easy one.

Merry Christmas!

"Wait, you were in Mexico with me." "Oh yeah, I have fond memories of that trip."

Once several years ago, I left my two little kids with my mom and traveled with Gerald and another couple to Mexico. It was a good trip in many ways, but one unfortunate part was that early on, though we tried to be so careful, we all ate something bad and found ourselves with the infamous Montezuma's Revenge. It was awful.

Fortunately, modern medicine exists to counter those crappy (pun intended) symptoms, and make people feel at least moderately better if not fully well. My traveling companions took full advantage of that wonderful medicine. Me? Nope. I was just a few weeks pregnant with Baby #3, and all that good medicine was contraindicated in pregnancy.

So while Gerald and John and Becky were climbing pyramids, I was still feeling terrible and mostly stuck back at the casa. Thanks, Isaiah.

Fast forward to now. As many of you know, Isaiah is a world traveler, having visited 15 countries and at least as many U.S. cities in the past four years, in his position as an On-site Tech Specialist with Cvent, Inc. With all that travel, though, his only Mexican destination was Cancun; he had never been to Mexico City or Puerto Vallarta, the two places I went on my trip.

So this month, with so much PTO accumulated that he barely needed to work at all, he decided to head south to warmer weather for the week prior to Christmas. Using a tiny fraction of his gazillion flight miles, he booked a flight to Guadalajara, with plans to ride a bus to Puerto Vallarta and fly to Mexico City.

I was so excited for him to have an actual vacation (rather than intense work trips), and as we talked about his plans, I suddenly remembered that he had actually been to both Mexico City and Puerto Vallarta before:

"Wait, you were in Mexico with me. I was just a few weeks pregnant with you when I was there."

"Oh yeah, I have fond memories of that trip."

"Me too. I was so sick! But I didn't take any medicine that might risk your perfect development. So you're welcome!"

We laughed. And planned some more. "You have to go see the Shrine of Guadalupe. It's seriously the coolest to see hundreds of faithful people, walking on their knees on the hard ground, in reverence as they approach the Shrine."

He said he'd go there.

He left a week ago Saturday, and began posting beautiful pics to Instagram, but since he posted only to "stories," most have disappeared. I only just now thought to grab a screenshot of his most recent post:

So things were going swimmingly for Isaiah until Friday night, when I got this text: "I'm really sick."

Nooooo! Could history be repeating itself. Indeed. Isaiah, who is not super careful about food, wound up in the same situation I was in on my vacation years ago, when he was but a tiny one inside me, just starting to grow. Only he was all alone. When he texted, "Sucks being sick and alone in another country," I kinda lost it. I'm just not good at having my kids far away and sick, with no way to help them. Seth in Paraguay with woefully limited communication, and now Isaiah sick in Mexico pretty much put my anxiety over the top. Poor Shulamith and Eli were left to deal with a crazy mom:

"I forgot to tell him to pack Imodium. What if he dies of dehydration in Mexico with no one to help him?"

"He won't die, Mom. He'll be fine"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"100%? I need it to be 100% sure."

"Yes, 100%. He'll be fine."

And he was, of course. We texted back and forth, as he lay in bed in his hostel, eating crackers and drinking 7-Up, watching the Jazz crush the Blazers. Well at least there was that.

He was mostly better by the next day and able to continue sightseeing, and he'll come home TOMORROW, in time to talk to Seth on Tuesday! Oh, and Christmas (a very distant second behind the excitement of talking to Seth).

"Wait, you were in Mexico with me."

"Oh yeah, I have fond memories of that trip."

Gingerbread, Jazz, and Happy Birthday, Matt!

December is now half over, and Christmas just 10 days away! The past two weeks have been a whirlwind of activity, all good things, but so many, one right after the other. With no time to blog them individually, here is my random post of miscellaneous madness:

1. Gingerbread houses. Yes, we decided to make them, and yes, I'm aware this type of activity is far beyond my capability, but we decided to try anyway. It was pretty much a disaster until Amanda demonstrated how to construct a house that would not immediately cave in. Hers was lovely:

Then there's mine:

Okay, not so lovely, but it's sort of a house, so yeah.

Shulamith and her kids and Eli all worked hard as well, with limited success. Regardless, I'm told they tasted very good, which is all that really matters. (I didn't get even a bite because I'm doing this intermittent fasting deal, and my eating hours were long past by the time we made these.)

2. Jazz game. A few of us (read: Isaiah, Shulamith, and I) happen to be crazy Jazz fans. It's all Isaiah's fault. We would never have started watching if not for him. Our boys have had a bit of a bipolar start this season, losing miserably one night, and then turning around and winning a blowout game the very next night. Over and over. They don't even look like the same team, one night to the next! Fortunately, the game Shulamith picked for us to attend in person turned out to be one of their blowout nights. Pure joy to sit in the arena and watch Donovan and Ricky and Joe and Rudy demolish the San Antonio Spurs 139-105. It was awesome!

3. Ward Christmas party. The next weekend, Gerald, Eli, and I attended our ward's Christmas breakfast. Keep in mind, we are in a brand new ward and still trying to find our places there. It's not easy, but the more we participate, the better it is. Eli even volunteered to arrive at 7:15 that morning to cook pancakes. What a guy!

4. Matt's birthday. When was his birthday, you might be asking? May 19th. Yes, I'm aware that was seven months ago, but time sorta got away from me. We didn't celebrate his birthday in May at all. We didn't buy him presents. We didn't eat cake. We didn't sing "Happy Birthday." We didn't do anything. Mind you, Matt doesn't care in the least. But I do. And I couldn't get it out of my mind. I'd wake up in the night and think, "We STILL haven't celebrated Matt's birthday. That's terrible!" Then more days would go by. And more weeks. And months.

When Shulamith and I began to plot out Christmas presents for this year, that was the final straw for me. No way we could buy Matt Christmas presents when we still hadn't celebrated his birthday. Absolutely not. So I thought to myself, "I know what I'll do. I'll make him a pie." Okay, I know you're all thinking the same thing:  pie-making and Terrianne in the same sentence is a recipe (pun intended) for disaster, but remember when I did it once before? See!

And he really liked it that first time, so I decided to try it again. And it worked again. Unbelievable.

Now we can shop for Matt's Christmas presents in peace, and when I'm up worrying in the middle of the night, it will be about something other than Matt's missed birthday celebration.

With just 10 days to go, I hope to slow down a little. I hope you can too. Perhaps with much of the rush and bustle of the season behind us, we can all slow down this coming week, pause, take a much needed breath.

May the remainder of this glorious season be ever so merry for you, my dear friends and readers, and for all of us.

It is sent with more love than you can even imagine. Do you think he'll like it?

It's been three months now since that August morning when we all loaded into our old minivan and drove to the Salt Lake City Airport. It was a quiet ride, sort of like the proverbial elephant in the room (elephant in the van?). We all knew what that ride to the airport meant, and no one knew quite what to say. We were sending our Seth off, the baby of the family, to serve the people of Paraguay. We would not see him for two years.

My anxiety was in full gear. So many conflicting emotions pulsed through my tired body. I'd barely slept the night before. I was so proud of this kid, yet so sad. I was so grateful for his choices that brought him to this point, yet so heartbroken for the separation to come. I was so excited for the incredible experiences that awaited him, yet so fearful of all the unknown. I wonder how normal, non-anxious moms handle missionary goodbyes? Probably better than I do, but well, I can only be who I am, and I did my very best.

Since that morning, week by week, I've come to adjust to what will be our "new normal" for the next two years, Seth in Paraguay, the rest of us here. And I'm doing pretty well. I live for Monday, P-day, and those emails  that get me through another week. They make me laugh. They make me cry. They make me cringe (sometimes) as his English syntax deteriorates right before my eyes, the obvious product of his intense focus on Spanish. But mostly, his emails fill me with joy because I "hear" his voice in every single line. His tone, diction, sentence structure are all uniquely Seth. He has never been one to mince words; he'll never tell you what he thinks you want to hear. It's always the truth, raw and real.

And the truth is that he is happy. He is happy to be in Paraguay. It was absolutely the right mission for him. This past week, more so than in the past, I sensed that he was truly finding his rhythm. Everything didn't seem so new, so unexpected. There was a sense of confidence I hadn't felt before. I guess he's finding his "new normal" right along with me. I will ever be thankful to his mission presidents, the senior couple serving in Paraguay, and most especially, Elder Guerrero, his trainer and first companion. Elder Guerrero doesn't speak English, and up until three months ago, Seth didn't speak Spanish. Yet upon meeting, Seth said he felt overwhelming love from this young, Bolivian elder, who has taught Seth, guided him, and helped him adjust to the ins and outs of missionary service. Bless you, Elder Guerrero!

And it's a good thing Isaiah has taught Seth to be 100% adventurous about food. There is nothing the two of them won't try. Here's a picture from last week in Paraguay:

He said it's some kind of meat (he's not sure what), with rice topped with tuna and a fried egg on the side!

Now we find ourselves in the midst of our first holiday season without Seth. I think of him every time we celebrate one of our many family traditions. From decorating the house to trying to get my stupid tree set up, Seth was always a central figure. When we carved the Thanksgiving turkey last week, I looked at its giant leg and smiled. Seth likes to take the entire turkey leg and eat the meat right off the bone. Next came Black Friday shopping. Now Seth was never a direct participant in that. The Webster women shopping warriors do Black Friday alone, as we seek to conquer everyone else's Christmas list. But as we mapped out our game plan, it wasn't nearly as urgent this year. Without Seth's list of video game consoles, games, etc. we weren't nearly as frantic. Even so, it was still our favorite day of the entire year. Well, just look at us mid-shopping and afterward as we finally sat down for a Diet Coke and Blizzard break.

Seth's Christmas presents were sent nearly a month ago. It's a bit of a process to get stuff to Paraguay, and it was challenging to know what to do and when. Seth's mission president has requested that parents limit the number of packages they send. It's difficult on their end when hundreds of packages arrive at the mission office, and they are tasked with delivering them all over Paraguay. Also, not all missionaries receive big packages from home, so there is that to consider. The mission president even suggested perhaps not sending a Christmas package, but instead adding some extra money to our missionary's bank account.

I struggled to know what was best. Ultimately, I needed to send something. I couldn't stand the thought of Seth not having anything to open on Christmas. I also tried to be conservative, in order to respect the wishes of the mission president, who obviously knows best what's going on there. I put together a small package, just a few items that fit into a gallon-sized zip lock bag. Then I took this bag to a pickup point for LDSXPRESS, a company that delivers packages to missionaries throughout South America. I expected to find a few parents in line, but this is what I found when I arrived:

Goodness, look at all those people, some with two and three giant bags of presents! Suddenly, I felt woefully inadequate, holding my little bag. It costs $20/lb plus a delivery fee to send this stuff; these people are spending a fortune. All my insecurities surfaced. What if Seth is expecting a bag like one of these? What if he doesn't like the small things I sent? What if he has a bad Christmas, his first one away from home in a foreign country? What if? What if? What if?

Time to readjust. Seriously. This was spinning in an awful direction.

Seth's focus this year is serving others, not what he will receive for Christmas. His best gift (like mine!) will be when we get to talk that day, just 24 days from today. And he will love my little package because he will know that I chose each item carefully, just for him. Would you like to see it??

There is a small Greg Olsen calendar with beautiful pictures of the savior, a pop-up nativity, a little ornament with Mary, Joseph, and the Christ child, Skittles, a book of gummy Life Savers, a missionary tie tack, breath mints, lip balm, and a pair of Christmas socks. Missing in this picture, but included in the package, are a "dope tie" (his only request) and some personalized socks with Waffles' picture all over them.

Here is the package all put together. It first went on a big truck, then on a plane, then (hopefully) to the Paraguay Asuncion Mission office, and then out to Seth before Dec. 25th.

It is sent with more love than you can even imagine. Do you think he'll like it?