Once upon a dream...(or how to be a professional Mormon)

I used to say that Eli would be happiest if he could figure out how to be a professional Mormon. I was mostly kidding, but all jokes have an element of truth, or they wouldn't be funny. Eli was always my most "churchy" kid. While others sometimes balked at attending all their meetings, serving on committees, giving talks in sacrament meeting, Eli was always eager to do anything and everything. "I'll serve on the dance committee!" "I'll usher for stake conference!" "I'll lead the ward's youth basketball team!" "I'll drive around and pick up the kids in the ward and take them to early-morning seminary!"

This was just his personality, and it was a joy to watch. 

In terms of a career choice, by mid-elementary school, he knew that education would be his path. He wanted to be a teacher like Mr. Mac.  And, that absolutely happened! Two years ago, he was hired to teach 5th grade at a local elementary school. His first year was cut short because of COVID, when everyone went fully online, so this May will complete his first full year. It's been filled with the normal ups and downs of teaching, but he has a class of delightful students who adore him, and their test scores reveal that they have progressed in huge ways, and he is way proud of them. 

Still, in the back of Eli's mind, another dream always remained, the dream of teaching full-time seminary. You see, when he was in high school, we lived in Montana, where seminary is taught by unpaid, sacrificial ward members, who rise at the crack of dawn five days a week and teach lessons to sleepy teenagers who attend these classes before school. But here in Utah, where church membership is high, they have seminary buildings near every high school, with paid, professional teachers. Students literally walk across the street from their respective high schools and attend release-time seminary, one period each day (or every other day, if it's an A/B schedule). 

In Eli's mind, this would be the greatest job ever: teaching the gospel full time and getting paid to do it (or as I describe it: being a professional Mormon). Most of us have secret dreams, things we'd love to do, but sadly, many times we don't act on those. Either they aren't practical or scalable, or fear gets in our way, or we just don't have the energy to pursue them.

But last fall, Eli took a chance. He woke up one day and thought, "This seminary thing. It's now or never, so it might as well be now." He registered for the seminar that could lead to teaching within the Church Educational System. It was a long shot for sure. It's extremely competitive. But Eli moved forward with faith instead of fear and began taking classes in January. It was quite a process. After four instructional sessions, he had to prepare and present a 20-minute peer teaching lesson, based on the weekly "Come Follow Me" curriculum. After that process was completed, the class was cut from 70 prospective teachers down to 20. Stressful much?

The following week, he was informed the he made the cut and was invited to participate in the next step, an actual teaching practicum in a local high school seminary class. This time, he had to prepare and teach two 90-minute seminary lessons to real live seminary students! At this point he decided it was time to cut off his beautiful hair and shave, in order to look like a seminary teacher. So this happened...

And Amanda and I might have cried. 

Next, he prepared two wonderful lessons from the Doctrine & Covenants and practiced teaching them to all of us, as we pretended to be high school students. Teenagers are decidedly different from 5th graders. Most notably, teenagers aren't always so eager to talk, while 5th graders won't shut up. But during his two practicum classes, Eli successfully engaged the kids enough that they actively participated in meaningful gospel discussion. Hooray!

Then the waiting began. 

It was a full six weeks until yesterday, when the email arrived. "Brother Webster, we'd like to offer you a position teaching seminary in the fall of 2021." YESSSSSSS! He is beyond thrilled, and I am so thrilled for him. And yes, so proud. He chose to chase this dream, however fleeting and far away and unlikely it seemed. 

...and now, it's no longer just a dream. It's reality.

And sometimes procrastination pays off: An allegory of shoes

Once upon a time, perhaps 10 years ago, a woman sat in a council meeting at the palace where she worked. The topic of discussion turned to what happens when the king doesn't like a worker, especially one who is somewhat recently employed. One man, who knew a lot about such things, declared, "If you're a relatively new employee in this palace and the king doesn't like the color of your shoes, you're gone."

This statement was a bit alarming to the woman, who, herself, was a fairly new employee at this palace, but as with most things, it eventually slipped wistfully from her mind. A few months later, the king summoned her for a meeting. It should be noted here that this was not the actual king; this was the "interim king," hired to serve in that role until a permanent king could be chosen. 

By this point, the woman and her family had already decided to move to another kingdom far away, so she would be leaving her job at this palace. However, Interim King Dum Dum was not yet aware of her impending move, because her official document announcing her resignation was still at home on her computer. 

...and sometimes procrastination pays off!

Come to find out, Interim King Dum Dum didn't like the color of the woman's shoes. Now it's surprising he had even noticed her shoes, since Interim King Dum Dum had never been in the rooms in the palace where she worked and had never observed her working; he hadn't a clue about much of anything actually, but nevertheless, he decided he didn't like her shoe color.

When the woman showed up for the meeting, Interim King Dum Dum had a witness there. (Rumor has it he eventually left his queen and hooked up with this witness, but alas, another story for another time.) Regardless, he was noticeably uncomfortable in the meeting, to the point of squirming awkwardly as he announced to the woman that he did not like the color of her shoes.

What??? At this announcement, everything inside the woman wanted burst out laughing and jump for joy! It was all she could do to contain herself. She was already leaving the palace and the kingdom, but now she could do so with a signed document saying the king didn't like her shoes, making her eligible to receive unemployment compensation from the kingdom she was leaving. That meant she wouldn't need to rush to find a new job at a palace in the new kingdom, but could take her time and decide exactly where she would like to work.

Careful not to reveal her excitement, she stood silently and watched Interim King Dum Dum squirm nervously, as she delighted in his discomfort. Was this a charitable attitude? Absolutely not. Could this woman experience schadenfreude as well as anyone? Indeed, she could; it's an all too human emotion. The woman and her family moved from this kingdom as planned, and she soon found a new job at a palace in her new kingdom, a job where her shoes were valued, but the interim king's decision provided some helpful income through the transition.

The moral of this allegory is twofold:

Kings are sometimes dumb.

And sometimes, procrastination pays off!

Two in April

Once upon a time, an almost 5-year-old girl became a big sister. The word "thrilled" doesn't begin to describe her emotions, and she immediately became the second mommy to her new baby brother. With Isaiah's birth, I now had two April babies, Isaiah on the 15th and Shulamith on the 30th. My 2021 plan is to tell a childhood story for each of my children in the month of his or her birth, so I'd better get started! But wait. What about this idea? What if I tell a story that includes both of them: a Shulamith/Isaiah childhood story. Yeah, let's try that.

Once upon a time, an almost 5-year-old girl became a big sister, and shortly after, we moved from Oregon to Northern California with three kids in tow: Luke (6), Shulamith (5), and Isaiah (3 months). It was such a fun time of life, full of non-stop action and so much love. Each day, Luke and Shulamith would go off to school, and Isaiah and I would hang out, often get fast food (shocking, I know), and spend the afternoon enjoying the sunny California weather at various parks with my friend Corrie and her 2-year-old daughter, Kelly. 

Shulamith's year in kinder was clipping right along, with various events, including the time she was "Student of the Month" at her school. I knew ahead of time she was receiving this award, so I made sure she was dressed in her cutest outfit, a black velour jumper and white blouse, with freshly washed hair and a big bow. Isaiah and I showed up at the school and hid in the back as all the students entered, so Shulamith wouldn't notice us. Isaiah, by far my most content baby, sat happily in his stroller as we waited for the assembly to begin.

I don't remember what else happened in the assembly, but I know it wasn't until the very end that they announced the Student of the Month. I wish I could have seen her face when the principal announced "Shulamith Webster," but instead, I witnessed her joy from behind as she hopped right up and marched proudly down the center aisle, her waist-long hair swaying behind her, to claim her award. Everyone applauded, and Isaiah joined in, having only recently learned to clap his hands.

This whole deal must have been too much excitement for her 5-year-old immune system to handle, because the very next week she came home from school covered in chickenpox. This began a two-week marathon, filled with oatmeal and baking soda baths, pink calamine lotion, and Popsicles to lessen the itching from the pox inside their mouths. You see, Shulamith was generous; she unselfishly shared the illness with Luke, who then shared it with baby Isaiah. Oh my! I'm sure I slept at some point in those two weeks, but I have no memory of sleep.

Luke and Shulamith fared better than Isaiah, who definitely had the most severe case. He was seven months old and had no idea what was happening to him. I could put the big kids on the couch, turn on the TV, and tell them not to scratch. But Isaiah. None of the above. I so clearly remember his perfect face with big blue eyes and thick, black lashes, looking pleadingly into my eyes as if to say, "Mommy! Fix this!" 

I couldn't. 

Everyone recovered, and I don't think anyone has any residual scarring. Eli had chickenpox a few years later, but by the time Seth was born, an effective vaccine was available, so he didn't have to go through this. Yay for science!

And yay for my two amazing April babies! I love them so.