Ich wählte eine Familie

My love affair with the German language began when I was 17. My best friend and role model was 21 and a senior at Willamette University. She was dating a foreign exchange student from Austria, whom she subsequently married. I entered Willamette, myself, the following  year, after my friend had already graduated. She married her Austrian boy and moved with him to Vienna where they lived for 10 years. And I enrolled in Elementary German at Willamette. I was an uber-achiever German student, doing everything I could think of to learn this language. I listened to tapes to perfect my pronunciation. I pasted 3 X 5 cards with German vocabulary all over my dorm room. I hung out with the new German exchange student. I lived in an international studies house, where I was supposed to speak only German. However, what I needed was immersion. I needed to live for an extended period of time in a German-speaking country if I was to truly master the language. I applied and was accepted to an exchange program, and I prepared to spend my junior year studying at the University of Munich.

Then the world turned upside down. Three months before I was to leave, my dad passed away tragically and unexpectedly. And I decided not to go. Looking back, this is by far my biggest life regret, but at the time I felt too destroyed to do much of anything, let alone leave the country for 10 months. The poet tell us "No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man." Indeed, I would never have such an opportunity again.

Shortly after, I met Gerald and we were married. Early in our marriage, we continued to talk about travel to Germany and even looked into some long-term study opportunities there. But sooner than we expected, we learned that if you give God half a chance, God will send your children on God's perfect timetable, not according to your imperfect plan. In under three years, we had our first two babies, with the other three to follow.

And the years went by.

And I chose a family.

Dreams of Germany, though still somewhere in my mind, were pushed further and further to the back burner of life, as funding for such a trip was replaced by more immediate needs: diapers and dance classes, braces and ballet slippers, piano lessons and prom dresses. I learned that motherhood was my divine destiny, greater than any pull I felt toward European travel or foreign language study and far more meaningful.

And the years went by.

And I chose a family.

Now I have lived half my life, perhaps even a little more than half; I can't be sure. Today, any thought of travel to Germany is replaced by our financial focus on missions and weddings and college educations. In May when Isaiah graduates from Westminster, we will be able to say "three down and two to go"  toward our goal of supporting all five kids through their undergraduate degrees.

With half my life still ahead, I could still make it to Germany. Maybe. Someday. If I do, it will surely be a dream come true, but if I don't, that will be okay too. And though I can still speak a bit of German and understand lots, I will most probably never be fluent. And that is okay too. Because I have something greater and purer and far more worthwhile. I have something that lasts forever.

Ich wählte eine Familie. I chose a family.

Post #500: Can it really be that many?

Seven years ago, I began blogging. A friend once said, "You can't swing a dead cat without hitting a Mommy Blogger," and seven years ago I became one of the many. A lot has happened in those seven years, and much of it is documented right here in this blog. I am grateful. Grateful for the medium with which to tell our family's stories. Grateful for a place to give voice to my thoughts. And mostly, grateful to you, those who read and enjoy.

This is the 500th post.

Wow.

That is worth celebrating, I decided! When I began, I never dreamed so many people would want to read my essays. Really, I thought it would be just my kids (and probably not even all of them) and Gerald. Maybe my brother, occasionally? My two best friends? And that would be just fine because my goal was to do my part to preserve some family history. Plus, writing is therapeutic for me and far cheaper than a psychiatrist, so there's that.

But how to celebrate? I decided the best way was to look back and attempt to pick my favorite post of each of the seven years. Every year, I have my posts published into a hardback book, so I've been leafing through the many pages of those books, trying to chose my favorites. It's not easy. I  will link each of my choices, in case any of you would care to reminisce along with me.

For 2009, I chose my Christmas post. It was last Erichsen-Webster Christmas before people started getting married, and I remember so fondly sitting in my living room the night after, so joyous, so content, so thankful for my sweet family. 

For 2010, I chose an essay I wrote in my mind as we drove home from Salt Lake City after marrying off our only baby girl: Wasn't it just yesterday? I penned it the very next day as I remembered some of the earliest experiences of "The days of me and Shulamith."

For 2011, ah, okay it's a tie. I couldn't choose. Sorry. First is this post, "Wealth" because it highlights my sweet Isaiah and his understated yet strong character, and at this moment he is on the other side of the world (Australia), so very far away from me. And I miss him. But then there is this other one about Eli and leaving my baby at college, and, well, go ahead and read it if you want. And cry along with me.

For 2012, I chose two posts about Seth, our funny and fabulous 15-year-old, who, just the other day, was an equally funny and fabulous tween: Tweens and Planners are a Waste of Time and Space. I've said it so many times, but if you decide to have a "capstone" child, seven years after the others, be sure Heaven sends you one as amazing as Seth.

For 2013, I picked two again. Yes, this is becoming a habit. It's hard, though. There are so many. This one, because it still cracks me up everything I think about it (think Matt and Seth) and this one because it speaks my truth.

For 2014, so maybe three this time? I know, I know; this post is spinning right out control. But it's my blog and my 500th post, so whatever. I couldn't leave out my essay about bringing our missionary home after two years: You came home. You really came home. Or the one about our trip to Indiana to celebrate the first "doctor" in the family: Dr. Luke Erichsen. But then there's this other one which highlights the crazy, beautiful dysfunction that is our family.

And for 2015, we shall return to just two, Friends are friends forever and You might cry a little. Just because.

So there you have it. Post #500. Eli just came in and asked what I was doing. When I told him, he said, "That's a lot of writing!"

Indeed. A lot of writing. A lot of joy. A lot of memories. I may be one of the hundreds of "Mommy Bloggers," but my stories are all mine. And my family is all mine. I love them so very much. 

2009 Blog Book Arrived!

A few weeks ago, my friend Patty mentioned that she decided to have her blog posts compiled into a book. What a wonderful idea! I have often thought that I should have a hard copy of this blog just in case something happened to it online. I mean how secure is cyberspace anyway? What if the Internet suddenly disappeared? Okay, not likely. But what if Google somehow lost all my posts? Anyway, I thought it would be good to have something physical, but the idea of printing the entire blog and compiling all the pages was way too daunting a task to even consider.

Fortunately, I didn't have to.

This company called blog2print did it for me. It was so easy. All I did was log on to the site and enter my blog address. I chose a color (red, of course) and pictures for both the front and back covers. They quoted me a price, I paid it, and this lovely book containing all seventy 2009 blog posts, complete with pictures and comments, arrived two weeks later. I am impressed. I believe I will do this every year.

Next came the anxiety. No wait, the fear. No wait, the TERROR! I have to read the blog in hard copy print. WHAT IF I FIND ERRORS? Ack! When I skim through my former posts electronically, I make changes all the time. I tweak a phrase here; I edit a clause there. I trim wordiness wherever I can. Always, always, writing can be improved. But not anymore, at least not with the hard copy edition of my blog. I can no longer edit. And that's hard for me. In the depth of my soul, I am an editor.

In the comfort of my bed, with pillows propped up all around and a Diet Coke on the nightstand, I took a deep breath, faced my fear, and read the book cover to cover. Believe it or not, I didn't find a single error. That doesn't mean no errors exist; it just means I didn't see any. Which is all that matters, right? -- because I'm the only one who cares. What I did find was a year of glorious experiences, memories, thoughts (both sad and happy), friends, family, vacations, holidays and more, woven together in a series of essays. Much of it I had forgotten. It was fun to read it all again.

I am thankful to have discovered blogging as a creative outlet. I'm even more thankful that I can finally follow the age-old counsel to record something of our family history. I've never been good at keeping a journal. Writing daily about events seems boring because my life, day to day, isn't all that interesting. I recently read a blog whose author called herself an essayist. I think that's what I am. Yes, I'm an essayist. I love to write, but I need a focus, a theme, a central idea in order to make it work. I'm happy to have found the ideal medium for that.

So to all of you who read and even sometimes comment here, thank you. I love to know that people are reading.

Now for the next hurdle. Gerald suggested taking a picture of me holding the blog book to post with this entry. Good idea? Yes! But that means I have to take a good picture. Blah. We've now taken 12 pictures, and I like NONE of them. I look either frightened, frumpy, fat, or 40+. Blech! Thank goodness Gerald is a patient photographer. We'll keep trying, and if you see a picture with this post, you'll know we finally succeeded in taking one I could live with.

Vanity. Is that one of the seven deadly sins? If so, I think I'm doomed.

Swen-isms - Part VIII

 300. Today is New Year's Day, 2024, and we planned to meet Eli, Amanda, and Jane for lunch. Swen was super slow to get ready, and Shulamith texted me to say she'd be late to pick me up as a result. On the way to the restaurant, Swen explained to Shulamith why he took so long to get ready.

Swen: I wanted Eli and Amanda to have to wait for us, because we always have to wait for them.

301. On that same drive to lunch today, I showed Swen a picture of President Nelson and his wife, Wendy.

Me: Look, this is President Nelson with his cute, young wife.

Swen (looking at the picture): Wow, that's sort of like how it is with Gerald and you.

302. And yet again, as we were driving to the restaurant, Swen was throwing things at me from the backseat and trying to hit me in the face.

Me: Stop throwing stuff at me, Swen?!

(He continued to throw even more random items.)

Shulamith: Who has the power in this relationship, you or Swen?

Swen: Definitely me!

(He's not wrong.)

303. I'm here with Shulamith's three kids today because she's at some training meeting, and her kids don't go back to school until tomorrow. Swen got a giant stuffed snake for Christmas. (If you know me at all you know I have a fully irrational, but still very real, phobia of snakes.) Swen has always been very protective of me with regard to this fear; he warns me if he sees pictures of them or toy ones in stores (yes, I'm afraid of both; go ahead in laugh. I don't mind). So today, he brings down this snake stuffed into a big pillowcase, so I can't see it. As I'm trying to get him to take his ADHD medication (PLEASE!), he picks up the pillowcase:

Swen: I have a snake in here, and I'm not afraid to use it!

304. Swen: If you could only save me, Kennedy, and Theodore OR the whole world, which would you choose?

Me: You and your siblings. 

Swen: But then the while world would go extinct. Siblings can't get married, so there would be no more people. Unless you would mate with Gerald again to have more kids.

304. Swen: Hey Her. Did you and Gerald ever share a spaghetti noodle?

Me: What?? No. We have our own food. Why would we do that? 

Swen: Because I have this feeling that Gerald might have been cute back then. Or did you just marry him for his Porsche?

305. Swen: Gerald is kinda like a dog.

Me: Why do you say that?

Swen: Well, he stays in the basement all the time, like Waffles, and doesn't do anything. And he'll eat anything.

306. I have a bronze statue of three ballerinas at the barre. We always say that they are Kennedy, Shulamith, and me, because we all three danced while growing up. 

Swen (pointing at each girl): Oh this one is definitely Mom because she looks like she's about to fall. And this one is Kennedy because she has an ugly outfit. And this one is you because her nose is all pointy.

307. Swen was sick today and home from school. I spent part of the morning with him after I helped Shulamith assess her kindergarteners. Swen talked to me nonstop, asking question after question. I was trying to work on one of my classes as the semester begins Monday.

Me: Swen, just let me get this one thing done, and then I'll stop working and talk to you.

Swen: Her, wait, just one more question. Well....actually 60 more questions.

308. Recently Swen and Shulamith met with Ms. Felt, the principal (and Shulamith's boss) to talk about why Swen doesn't like his rotations group and to problem solve the situation. At one point Swen randomly started talking.

Swen: My mom just thinks everyone should be nice to each other and have peace and love everyone. But there is a war in the middle east. See, Mom, Ms. Felt knows there are wars.

309. In our church, boys receive the Aaronic Priesthood and are ordained to the office of a Deacon at age 11. Here is Shulamith's report of what happened when Swen was recently ordained.

Swen: I don't want a bunch of men putting their hands on my head.

Bishop: Well, how about just four men? Your dad and the bishopric?

Apparently, this was acceptable to Swen, because Shulamith says the ordination occurred.  

310. The smoke detector wiring throughout our house malfunctioned, and fire alarms were randomly sounding here and there all evening. I was telling Shulamith that I don't mind the chirping that smoke detectors do when batteries are expired because I've lived with that for decades. But actual LOUD alarms? That's totally different. 

Swen: Why didn't you change out the batteries?

Me: Because I don't know how and can't really reach them.

Swen: Her. You are a college teacher and a very mature person. Are you telling me you don't know how to change batteries in a smoke detector? 

311. Shulamith and Matt are friends with a guy Matt went to high school with and his wife. Tommy is very slender. (as is Swen).

Swen: Mom, I think I'll always be small. When I'm a grown-up, I'll probably be as small as Tommy.

312. Shulamith and I took her kids to McDonald's for dinner tonight. While we were there, Shulamith asked all of us how she should dress up for the 100th day of school. Kindergarten teachers typically try to dress like a 100-year-old woman.

Swen: Her, why don't you just go there as yourself.

313. So Shulamith was trying to bribe Swen to make good choices at school, so the administration (aka her bosses) don't have to call her to chat about something silly he did. She told Swen that if he would get through an entire week with no phone calls from the school, she'd let him stay up as late as he wanted, all night even, playing Roblox. So by Thursday, no calls!

Shulamith: Swen, you're doing so well this week. I haven't received a single phone call from the school.

Swen: Didn't Ms. Manning [assistant principal] call you? 

Shulamith: Uh no. Why would she call me, Swen?

Swen: Well, this one kid was telling me that I'm not a S.W.A T. guy, and I am. This made me mad, so I told my friend to go tell him he's a "nobody." So he did, and then the two of them got in a fight, punching each other. I didn't fight with anyone, but I still had to go talk to Ms. Manning.

Shulamith: But she didn't call me. Why didn't she call me?

Swen: Well, I explained to her that she CAN'T call you, because if no one from the school calls her about me this week, I get to stay up all night night playing Roblox on Friday. So she said, "Well, I guess what you did isn't really that bad, Swen. I won't call her."

314. One day last week Swen was supposed to ride the bus to school because Shulamith had an early meeting. She took Kennedy and Theodore with her but left Swen to ride the but. So of course, he didn't do that, but instead stayed home and watched TV. When Shulamith saw that he was marked absent, she called Swen and told him to get his stuff ready because Gerald would be there in five minutes to pick him up and take him to school. That all went as planned, but later they were talking about it.

Swen: Mom, wanna hear something crazy?

Shulamith: Sure.

Swen: When Gerald drove me to school the other day, I asked him questions, and he answered me. I asked him lots of questions, and he answered all of them!

Shulamith: Why's that crazy?

Swen: Because Gerald has never talked to me in my whole life.

315. Shulamith: Her is picking you up from your Jujutsu class today.

Swen: Oh no! Her is so stupid she will never be able to find the place.

Shulamith: I gave her the directions, she can use GPS.

Swen: No, Mom. Her still won't ever find it. She can't find her way to anywhere. I'll have to stay there all night. I'll have to sleep there. Her is that dumb.

316. Somewhere, Swen heard about the movie, Sin City.

Swen: Mom, have you seen the movie Sin City?

Shulamith: No, but you should ask Dad about it.

Swen: Dad, have you seen the movie Sin City?

Matt: Oh yeah. It's one of my favorite movies.

Swen: Really? That surprises me.

Matt: Why?

Swen: Because you're a nice person and you even go to church.

317. I picked up Swen from his jujutsu class and took him to Walmart, because the $50 he earned from feeding the neighbors' birds and axolotl was burning a proverbial hold in his pocket. As we drove down one aisle of the parking lot, all the spaces on the right were full. There were a couple on the left, but those would require me to make a U-turn in the parking aisle, and no I wasn't gonna do that. So I continued on until we came to an empty spot on the correct side.

Swen: Her, you are so dumb! Why didn't you park back there in those empty spaces?

Me: Because they were going the wrong direction.

Swen: Why can't you ever do anything right? You are the dumbest person I know. Don't you know Jesus is always saying to choose the right, but you never, ever do that.

318. Amanda gave me a mouse pad with Jane's picture on it a long time ago, like well over a year. Yet Swen is still unhappy about it.

Swen: Isn't it sad that Her loves Jane more than us?

Shulamith: Why do you think Her loves Jane more than you?

Swen: Because she bought a mouse pad with a big picture of Jane on it.

Shulamith: I don't think she bought it; I think Amanda gave it to her.

Swen: What kind of person would think their child is so special that they would give their mother a mouse pad with a huge picture of their child's face on it? 

319. This past week was Easter. Immediately following a congregational hymn "Christ the Lord Is Risen Today," Swen and Shulamith had the following conversation:

Swen: Why are all these people singing so loud, with big silly smiles on their faces?

Shulamith: Maybe because it's Easter, and they were really feeling the Spirit.

Swen: WHAT do you mean "Spirit"????

Shulamith: The Holy Ghost. When you feel really close to our Heavenly Parents and Jesus, so you feel so happy inside.

Swen: I have NEVER felt like that. And I would certainly never sing like this (big, fake smile on his face, bobbing his head, pretending to sing).

320. Shulamith walked downstairs wearing a denim jacket.

Swen: Mom, you have your clothes on inside out.

Shulamith (glancing down at her clothes): No, this is right.

Swen: Mom, you're wearing jeans on your arms.

321. Swen auditioned and was cast in a play at his elementary school a while back. Now that the performance  is coming nearer, he needed to make few things clear.

Shulamith: I am so excited to see you in your play!

Swen: Okay, But I don't want you to act all weird.

Shulamith: what do you mean?

Swen: Like you do at Kennedy's dance recitals. I don't want you being all weird and loud and shouting things like [high voice] "Oh, yay Swen!!! Hooray!!!"

Shulamith: I don't really shout, Swen.

Swen: Oh you do. And I also don't want you to get tickets for you and everyone in your family to sit in the front row. I ant you in the back!

322. Swen is going to the temple tonight with the youth from our ward to do proxy baptisms. Shulamith was explaining to him what it is, why we do it, how cool it is, and what to expect. 

Swen: Well, it's kinda creepy that a bunch of dead people are waiting around there to be baptized.

323. Swen: Her, do you wanna know what I tell my friends when they ask me who you are?

Me: Sure.

Swen: I say you're my aunt. Is that good?

Me: Well, it's not true, but it's not bad, so sure.

Swen: Maybe I'll just tell them you're an unknown being that is with our family a lot.

324. Traffic was unbelievable awful tonight, especially on Redwood and Porter Rockwell. Shulamith had to drive Kennedy to dance; then come back and get Swen, Theodore and me; drop Swen at Jujitsu; before we headed to Theodore's school to watch him in his DLI Spanish program. She was doing her best, but the wretched traffic made it so Swen would be 10 minutes late for Jujitsu. He was not happy about that.

Swen: I'm going to be late for Jujitsu, and it's all Kennedy's fault and her stupid dance.

Shulamith: No, it's the traffic's fault.

Swen: It's Kennedy's fault and also Theodore's and his dumb program.

Shulamith: Nope. It's traffic.

Swen: We can't blame cars for things. They're not real. We have to blame a person. Hey, maybe we can blame Jane!

325. Swen: I have a crush on Lilly still. Theodore, who do you have a crush on?

Theodore: Nobody.

Swen: Who is it? Max?

Theodore: No, he's a boy. That'd be weird.

Swen: Mom!! Theodore is being homophobic!

Shulamith: No, it's just that Theodore isn't gay, so it would seem weird to him to have a crush on a boy. He's not being homophobic.

Swen: Oh, okay, good.

326. Swen: Let's take the leftovers to Gerald. He'll eat anything. He's like a hog.

327. Shulamith had just baked cookies for something she was going to that evening. As she turned around quickly, all 12 cooies slid off the cookie sheet and into the sink.

Shulamith: [some sort of phrase that my have included swear words.]

Swen: Mom, those cookies are ruining our family.

328. I picked up Swen to taek him to Jujutsu, but I was texting someone, so I hadn't started the car yet, and Swen was feeling impatient.

Swen: Her! Am I gonna have to yell at you? I don't want to have to yell at you, but you need to start this car and go!

329. Swen recently returned from a week at diabetes camp. He really likes it there.

To his mom:

Swen: Camp is my first home. Our house is my second home.

To me:

Swen: Her, camp is just so uch fun. One day you'll understand.

330. Swen was mad at Shulamith for some reason. Most likely, he wanted something and she wouldn't buy it, or he wanted more time on his phone, and she wouldn't give it to him.

Swen: You're the worst mom ever.

Me: Swen! Stop saying that. You have the best mom. You are so lucky to have her.

Swen: No she isn't. She needs to read a parenting book.

331. So I run outside and jump into Shulamith's car, as I do most days, and Swen is in the seat right behind me. He immediately grabs my seatbelt to lock it tight, then puts his left foot up over the headrest and onto my shoulder. (This is a very common occurrence.)

Swen: Oh sorry, Her. I didn't know you were there.

332. Swen loves washing machines and has researched them fully, so when I decided to replace my washer/dryer set, he was excited to participate.

Shulamith: Let's go with Her to buy a new washing maching and dryer.

Swen: You don't get to help her make this decision. I'm in charge."

(I actually changed my mind and chose a front loader, based solely on Swen's research and insistence that they are better than top loaders.)

333. I recently bought a new MacAir laptop, and Swen wants my old one. But I'm gradually transitioning to my new machine and not quite ready to part with my old one, even though it's seven years old, not running well, and barely holds a charge. 

Swen: Her, give me your old computer.

Me: Not quite yet.

Swen: Give it to me. Mom said I can have it, and she's usually in charge of you.

334. Shulamith was checking Swen's backpack, homework, etc., and she came across a math assignment he had done. It was a story problem that began, "George needs help with his homework. Help him solve this problem."

...to which  Swen wrote, "I am not going to help George with his homework. George can do his own homework. Womp womp. Poor George."

335. I got new end tables for my living room. After Swen saw them, he  had this to say to his mother:

Swen: Mom! Why is Her's house so nice and decorated and ours is still so ugly with nothing?

336. Swen: Mom, can we go to In-N-Out tonight?

Shulamith: No, Dad took you there two days ago.

Swen: Okay. When I'm rich one day, I'm going to eat out like once a week.

337. Swen is in middle school for the first time, where they have actual grades.

Swen: Mom, is a "D" a good grade?

Shulamith: Well, not really, no. But it's passing, at least.

Swen: Good. Cuz that's pretty much what I'm aiming for. Maybe with a couple C's. 

338. Swen: Why doesn't Gerald get in any car wrecks, the way he drives?

Shulamith: I don't know. He's very lucky, I guess. Because he drives way too slow to be safe.

Me: Jesus really loves him.

Swen: I wonder why Jesus doesn't love you, Her. I know you really like Him.

338. Shulamith: Swen, when we get home, we need to work on your homework.

Swen: No!!

Me: Swen, you do need to do your homework, and be glad Mom wants to help you.

Swen: Really Her? Is this why Luke never comes to visit? Because you mad him do homework?

339. Swen has his first Jutitsu competition last weekend. Before he even got to compete in a match, there was a fire in the break room of the sports center.

Swen: This is the bst competition I've ever been to!

340. Swen: When am I gonna see Kylee again? I have a Pokemon card to give her.

Shulamith: I don't know for sure. It could be Christmas.

Matt: Are you asking about my cousin, Kylie? 

Swen: No! I don't even know who that is. I'm asking about Seth's girlfriend. 

Matt: She is just a girlfriend, Swen; she is not his wife.

Swen: Well when are they gonna get married?

Shulamith: Swen, they've only been dating two months. It's way too soon. Dad and I dated for eight months before he proposed.

Swen: What the heck, Dad? It took you that long to decide?

341. Kennedy always illustrates my Christmas letter. She had for several years.

Swen: Why does Kennedy always get to draw on your Christmas card? Why don't I ever get to?

Me: I didn't know you wanted to, Swen. 

Swen: Yeah, I could draw a guy robbing a bank, or a giant car crash where everyone dies, planes exploding in the sky. 

Me: That is not what I had in mind for my Christmas cards, Swen.

"This isn't what you wanted, is it? How are you handling the unexpected change?"

When we found out just over a week ago that the Church was releasing all missionaries in South America and Seth would be coming home four months early, every emotion flooded over me. So much pathos all at once. When I announced it on social media, all sorts of people commented on how happy they were for me, assuming I would be overjoyed. This made perfect sense. More than once, I'd expressed my angst over Seth's mission. That first year felt like the longest in the history of ever. I missed him so much; I can't even put words to it. So wouldn't it make sense that I'd be thrilled for this slightly early homecoming?

A few of my closest friends, those who know me best, knew better. "This isn't what you wanted, is it?" "How are you handling the unexpected change?"

"No, it isn't, and not that well, actually."

I'm a planner. I like to know what to expect, and I don't like surprises. This is absolutely not what I expected. May I just have a moment here to contrast my expectations with reality? Thanks.

Had things gone as planned, I would have had four months still to prepare for Seth's homecoming. I would have given careful thought to choosing all the right items for his "Welcome Home" basket. On August 6th, our family would have loaded into my car and driven to the airport with banners and balloons. No doubt many of Seth's friends would have joined us there, all waiting expectantly at the bottom of the escalator. He would arrive to shouts of joy: "Welcome home, Elder Erichsen." I would get the first hug. I would run to him, arms wide open and hold him just as long as I wanted, before giving others a turn.

Next, we would drive to the stake center and meet with the stake president, who would formally release Seth from his mission. From there we would head to Seth's favorite takeout, Panda Express for lunch. In the afternoon, he would reconnect with friends, and that night we would go out for a family dinner wherever he chose.

The following Sunday, Seth would report to the High Council. I think you either have to serve a mission yourself or send a missionary kid to understand the spirit present at that meeting. When your son stands in that room, with the stake presidency and all 12 High Councilmen, and bears testimony of the savior and the restoration of his gospel, well, I don't know. You really have to be there. It might be my favorite part of whole process.

Then Seth would give his mission report in Sacrament Meeting, to a room full of strangers. Haha, one sad event was the shift in ward boundaries a month after Seth left, placing us in a new and completely unfamiliar ward. However, the following Sunday or sometime soon after, he would also get to speak in the 4th Ward, where we have many friends, including lots of Seth's former Young Men's leaders. Gavin even said I might get to speak with him, so that would have been awesome. Following Seth's report in our current ward, I would host a celebration lunch at our house for everyone who wanted to come welcome him home.

Pretty much none of that is reality.

Instead, we had about a week's notice of his return and only 24 hours when we knew the exact day and time. Shulamith and I went into uber drive and did all we could to prepare. We cleaned out Seth's room, shampooed the carpets, painted the walls, and bought new bedding. We did a pickup order from Walmart with his favorite treats and soda, along with some toiletries. We ordered him an iPhone X. I drove to Provo to pick up a "Welcome Home" banner.

Gerald is social distancing as much as possible from everyone in the family because he is the only one of us who still has to physically go to work, so he chose to stay home, when Shulamith and I drove to the airport late last night. I had tracked the charter flight all day, along with three of my missionary mom friends, and the four of us kept each other sane (mostly) as we waited. All missionary parents were directed to park in Garage #2, which was labeled row by row, according to the missionaries' last names. We found the E - G row, and parked.

Their flight landed at 10:53, and about 15 minutes later, we saw him, this tall, cool elder in a dark gray suit, pulling his bags and walking toward us. It took every ounce of discipline I possess to follow the rules. President Hansen had been crystal clear in his email to all his missionary parents, in uppercase letters, even: "DO NOT GET OUT OF YOUR CAR AT THE AIRPORT. DO NOT HUG YOUR MISSIONARY. DO NOT TOUCH YOUR MISSIONARY." Ahhhh! But I decided the day before, and I recommitted last night, to follow the rules. The way I figure, Seth has done his absolute best to be obedient for the past 20 months; I can be obedient for one evening. Even if it's so hard.

So we watched him quickly load his luggage and jump in the car, and we were out of there. He was starving, so we drove through the only thing open, Beto's, and got him a giant burrito. The family was here to greet him when we got home, from a 6 ft. distance, so no hugging. Possibly the sweetest reunion of all was with his dog (whom he could actually touch). Waffles was so shocked to see him and so happy. We visited until the wee hours of the morning (When was the last time I was up at 2:00 a.m.?). Finally, Seth went upstairs and sprawled across his bed: "Oh my goodness, this bed is so comfortable!" Then he took off his shoes and sunk his feet into the carpet, a luxury nonexistent in Paraguay.

This morning at 11:00, President McIllece called to release Seth from his mission by phone. They spoke for 30 minutes, and Seth put it on speaker, so I could eavesdrop. President McIllece offered Seth sound advice on a variety of topics, along with asking Seth to share some mission experiences and giving him ample opportunity to ask questions. I would have loved to sit in the stake president's office and have this discussion face to face, but truly, President McIllece made it as good as it could be under the circumstances. At the end of the phone call, Seth removed his mission plaque (name tag), and handed it to me: "I never get to wear this again, until my future wife and I serve a senior mission together."

Later in the day, Eli and Amanda came upstairs, and Seth blessed the Sacrament in Spanish, so all of us could partake. It was a quiet, but lovely experience. To hear him use that language so fluidly and effortlessly is remarkable.  As a newly-released missionary, Seth spent the remainder of the day FaceTiming his friends, listening to music, and playing video games with Isaiah. Oh how I've missed the sound of their laughter!

One day, if the world ever turns right side up again, we will have that traditional homecoming. We will take him out for dinner. He will speak in church, hopefully in both wards, and we will host a big celebration luncheon. One day.

For now, he is home. And despite all my anxiety over things not going as planned, I delight in the joy he brings to our house. Waffles may be happy to have him here, but I am even happier.

His first taste of Terere, a traditional drink in Paraguayan culture. Seth really wanted to like it, but unfortunately, he thought it was terrible.

The Perfect Name

When a couple learns they are expecting a baby, one of the very first decisions they begin to consider is what the baby's name will be. And though they have several months to decide, most expectant parents begin the discussion immediately. They scour baby name books. They make lists of potential girls' and boys' names. Some wait until after the mid-pregnancy ultrasound, so they can narrow their search by gender, but most at least consider some possibilities earlier than that.

With our oldest two children, ultrasounds weren't routine, so we didn't know the sex of our babies until they were born. Both times, we went to the hospital prepared with two names. In my first pregnancy, those names were "Luke" and "Shulamith." Most people assumed that we chose Luke after St. Luke from the New Testament, but that is not the case. The truth is (don't laugh) there was a hot actor on my favorite soap opera named Luke Spencer, and that's how I first thought of it. As for Shulamith, on the way home from my first prenatal appointment for Luke, we bought a book of 13,000 unusual baby names, and in the car ride home, I flipped through the pages. At a red light, Gerald glanced over at the book and said, "Shulamith! What a beautiful name. It even means 'peace.'" That was the extent of our discussion. We instantly loved the name. It was decided. Our first girl would be Shulamith. We still love the name to this day, except when a few misguided people try to shorten it.

In less than three years, we had two amazing children, Luke and Shulamith. At some point in there, someone enlightened us to the Biblical significance of these names. Okay, yes, we knew Luke was in the Bible, but we had no idea Shulamith was. Sure enough! Right in Song of Solomon, there she is. Some translations refer to her as "the Shulamite woman," but others use her actual name. Who knew? With two Bible names, my CDO (which is OCD alphabetized, as it should be) insisted that all future children also have Bible names. This limited our options considerably, especially for girls. But as you know, we never had another girl, and by this time, routine ultrasonography revealed that mid-pregnancy.

My favorite Bible name has always been Isaiah. I love how it flows off the tongue. I love that it has three syllables but only two consonants. The decision for our third child was easy. The fourth time around, we struggled more. For some reason, I couldn't find another Bible name I liked. Gerald is less picky, so several would have been okay with him, but I just couldn't get my mind around anything. Finally, about the time Eli was due, I knew we were running out of time. We were sitting in Gerald's mother's living room, where we were staying temporarily as we transitioned from California to Washington, and I got out a Bible. I told Gerald this was it. We were going to find a name. We leafed through the pages, saying names aloud, until finally while looking in the Book of Samuel, Gerald said, "How about Eli?" My reply, "Perfect." So I guess you could say I named Luke, Gerald named Shulamith, I named Isaiah, and Gerald named Eli. Sort of.

Seven years later when we were expecting Seth, it was my turn again, and I had many awesome ideas. For some reason, names I passed right over with earlier children suddenly intrigued me. I narrowed it down to two: Thaddeus and Malachi. Obviously, Seth isn't named either of those. Why is that? Because my two older children thought they should have some input this time, and they hated both names. Shulamith was especially vocal about this: "If you name him Thaddeus or Malachi, I will be embarrassed by my own baby brother!" Should I have caved? I don't know. But I did. I settled for Seth, a name I love now because it belongs to him, but one that wasn't a particular favorite back then.

And now Shulamith has her very own baby. She and Matt chose the name Swen Webster Monson for their new little one, a beautiful name, rich in family significance. Lots of people have asked about his first name. Where did it come from? Is it pronounced with a "W" sound or a "V" sound? The name Swen is from Mathew's family. It is Matt's middle name, his father's middle name, and his grandfather's middle name. It might go back even further; I'm not certain. It is pronounced with a "W" sound, not a "V." I like it because, like his mother's name, no one else has it; however, we are already confusing it with Seth. I've called Seth Swen and Swen Seth several times, and a couple times, I've called each of them Sweth! One syllable, four letters, starts with "S." They are just too similar.

Webster, of course, is Shulamith's last name, and Monson is Matt's. So this little boy has a name deep with family roots.

The perfect name!

Pomp and Circumstance + Mother's Day Joy!

Also known as the graduation march, "Pomp and Circumstance" always floods my mind with nostalgia and my eyes with tears. I go all the way back to memories of my own two commencement ceremonies, marking my undergrad degree from Willamette University and my master's from Western Oregon U. But those two days pale in comparison to watching my own children march boldly into various celebratory venues and receive their degrees. 

We made education a priority in our family, vowing to help our kids financially as much as we were able, if they chose the path of higher education. They all did. Luke graduated from Whitman College in 2006 with a bachelor's degree in psychology and religious studies, and in 2014 from Indiana University with a Ph.D. in psychology. Shulamith graduated from Westminster College in 2008 with a bachelor's degree in elementary education. Isaiah shares Shulamith's alma mater, earning his bachelor's degree in computer science in 2014 from Westminster. Eli graduated from BYU-Idaho in 2018 with a bachelor's degree in elementary education.

And now...........................SETH! 

Just over a week ago, I stood in the UCCU Center on the campus of Utah Valley University, as the familiar music began to play, and a flood of green caps and gowns processed through the center of the auditorium. I was crying before I even found Seth. I quickly texted him. "I'm standing up near the stage. When you find your seat, look left of the orchestra and wave!" 

A couple minutes later, he texted back, "I see you!!! I'm waving now."

Our glances met immediately. My crying turned to sobbing, as I jumped up and down, clapping and waving to Seth. My baby. My last graduate. I am so blessed to be his mom and so proud of all he has accomplished in his brief 23 years. And for some reason, all this crazy emotion was tied up in this one moment. 

It was, indeed, a moment.

The ceremony, itself, was less than stellar. The keynote speaker was a self-made billionaire, who spoke for an entire hour (yes, you read that right), and basically said this: If you work very hard and never give up, you can be a billionaire like me, because rejection is just God's protection, and there is only one "you" in the whole universe, so make sure your soul reminds your brain of that every day. 

Over and over and over. For an hour. Not kidding. I was able to escape for a break in the middle and go to the bathroom, but poor Seth was stuck down there in his seat. At one point he texted, "Okay, I'm really starting to get annoyed now. I might start playing chess. I think I see why you love giving talks so much. Hearing this speech makes me want to write a good one."

,,,and bit later, this: "She has a book! We should buy it! I wonder what valuable lessons it holds."

...and finally this: "Okay this is ridiculous, I'm gonna lose my stuff, Mom. She just said the same thing. Word for word. Again. I can't. This is so bad."

It really was that bad. 

We thought it might never end, but eventually it did....until the next afternoon, when Seth had a smaller ceremony, for just the College of Humanities and Social Sciences. This one much better! We got to hear Seth's name read and see him walk across the stage. More tears. More pride. More joy.

That night I hosted a party for him, well more accurately, Amanda and I hosted a party. She decorated our clubhouse in black and gold, and built a balloon arch, and did all sorts of things I could never do. Thank you, Amanda! Our family gathered, along with several of Seth's friends, to show Seth how proud we are and how much we love him. I think he felt it. 

Mother's Day came along way too close on the heels of that huge weekend, and I was also buried in essays, so we decided to keep it small. Shulamith and I felt that the three mothers in the family should not have to plan, cook or clean, so we went to a park where Shulamith's and Eli's kids could play. I got to sit in the breezy sunshine and chat with Eli. Then we grabbed some dinner at Cafe Rio, where Isaiah and Seth joined us, so I could have all four of my Utah kids with me for Mother's Day. 

And I came home to a clean house without doing any work at all. Fabulous! 

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?

A Goofy Poem about a Man in a Nursing Home

When I was 15, I spent my summer charting and dispensing medication, giving insulin injections, and irrigating catheters at my job as a nurse's aide at Glendoveer Nursing Home in Portland. Anyone else find that alarming? At the time, I was too immature to be alarmed; now, I'm just so thankful I didn't kill anyone! The rule was one RN was required to work each of the three shifts. The RN on my shift was a lovely woman named Corbin (her last name, and what she preferred to be called). She really was a sweet lady, but sadly, she struggled mightily with obesity and was too heavy to make it up the stairs to the east end of the building, where the men's ward was. So she taught me to do all things she did.

With no computers, we used physical books to chart patients' medication and treatment. Corbin taught me to look at the chart, determine all the different meds each patient required and at what time, then take the proper pills out of pill bottles and put them in little paper medicine cups and deliver each patient his medication. We had three diabetics in the ward, so she also taught me how to give them their insulin injections, and at 6:00 p.m., they would line up at the nurses' station door for their shots.

I thought I was the absolute coolest doing all this stuff, and I have many crazy memories of my experiences there. One in particular I chose to memorialize in a poem.

Recently, my mom was cleaning out her bookshelf and came across a literary magazine from when I was an undergrad at Willamette University. In it is this poem. I have zero idea what possessed me to submit this poem to the magazine and less than zero idea why they chose to publish it. 

All the other poems in the magazine are serious, heavy, deep, and meaningful, the kinds of poems people discuss and argue about as they seek for hidden connotations and interpretations. Mine is just a goofy poem about a man in a nursing home. It's a true story, embellished just a bit (the FBI and private spies). For the sake of family history, one of the goals of this blog, and also just for a good laugh, here's the silly poem:

I once worked at a nursing home

Its name was Glendoveer.

I had a rare experience

I'd really like to share,

One night when I was working hard

My friend came in to say:

"Has anyone seen Mr. Brown?

I fear he's run away."

"Oh me! Oh my! Oh no!," I shrieked,

"Not dear old Mr. Brown.

He said he had to meet a man.

I'll bet he's gone to town."

We searched the east; we searched the west.

We searched that nursing home.

We searched in every single place

We thought that he might roam.

Mrs. Brown, his faithful wife,

Who lived just down the hall,

Was frantic and hysterical

Which didn't help at all.

We couldn't find him anywhere.

We called the F.B.I.

They begged us please to have no fear;

They'd send a private spy.

We waited not so patiently.

It seemed to take forever.

But finding one so small as him

Is quite a large endeavor.

Finally after hours and hours

We heard the telephone.

They'd found him sitting on a bridge

Quite wet and all alone.

While I can't remember a thing about his wife, all these years later, I can still vividly picture Mr. Brown. A tiny, frail man with osteoporosis, a cute bald head, and glasses, he was one of my favorite patients. By now, he is most certainly dancing with Mrs. Brown in heaven, but I will always remember that night, waiting with Corbin and my coworkers for news of this sweet man, about whom we had grown to care so much.

We didn't do everything, but we did many things

We have a lot of kids and a lot of Christmas traditions that have evolved through the years. I love Christmas more than anything, and it comes only once a year, and I'd  like to be able to do everything, so I dream big.

And there is nothing wrong with dreaming big in attempt to make Christmas everything I want it to be for myself and my family. But there is only so much time. I listened to a talk by President Monson, who counseled us to slow down and to focus on what is most important, so the season doesn't become a mad rush of shopping, wrapping, decorating, and baking, resulting in major stress and leaving no room for the peace that Christmas is.

So this year, I didn't do everything. A few wonderful things got left out, simply because I didn't have time and chose not to rush to the point of frenzy.

 I did not

• Make shortbread for my adult Sunday School class. I really wanted to do this because I love these people so much. They are a group of 10-12 faithful, dedicated souls, who come every week to my Gospel Essentials class, even though they don't have to. We have no actual investigators (for whom the class is intended), and these people show up anyway to discuss the gospel with me week after week. They are wonderful! I will still bring them shortbread; it will just be sometime after the New Year.

•  Frost cookies Christmas Eve to leave out for Santa. This is a die hard tradition with my kids, but with Seth working until 7:30 Christmas Eve, we just never got to it. Next year!

• Watch "A Charlie Brown Christmas" with Seth. What? How could we miss this one? Well, his work schedule was grueling this December, and though we talked about it lots and even made several plans, it just didn't happen. You can be sure this will be a priority next year since it's possible Seth could spend Christmas of 2018 in the mission field (yikes!).

I think those are the main things I missed this year. Rest assured, it was a glorious Christmas anyway. I observed many of our long-standing traditions and added a couple new ones.

I did

• Orchestrate matching Christmas jammies for all the girls. For years, this tradition involved only Shulamith and me, but it gets more fun as we add more girls. Gerald told us we looked like we were wearing prison garb. Well great.

• Visit Temple Square to see the beautiful lights, only this year, I had the added joy of watching Seth sing with his concert choir in the Assembly Hall. Love!

• Attend church Christmas morning, which is only a tradition in those years when Christmas falls on Sunday, but it's always a special treat when it does. This year Gerald and I got to narrate the musical program, something I've done many times in other wards, but never in the five years we've lived here. It was super fun!

•  Make our favorite egg casserole for breakfast Christmas morning. But this year we added Waffle Love dough, which we made into delicious waffles that tasted exactly like the ones they serve at Waffle Love, topped with fresh whipped cream, biscoff, and bananas. Yum!

• Pass out gifts one at a time, youngest to oldest in order of age, which makes the whole gift-opening process last several hours. Not everyone loves this as much as we do, and you can read about that here, but we Erichsen-Websters wouldn't have it any other way. It's so much fun to see everyone open his or her gifts, to see what everyone got, and to celebrate the surprise, one gift at a time. I think the best surprises this year were Matt's Dr. Martin boots and Isaiah's Jazz tickets. Score!

• Dream of a white Christmas and then awake to its reality. I'm a terrible photographer, but I opened my front door Christmas morning, and a Christmas miracle occurred as I somehow took this lovely photo. I think it belongs on a Christmas card; really, I do.

• Eat copious amounts of fattening food and not even worry about it, as we play games and laugh and celebrate. We taught Amanda how to play Cribbage, a tradition that reaches back to my childhood, as my dad stood over me and taught me how discard properly (always, always hold for the double run!). Memories. 

• Wish all of you, friends and family both near and far, a Merry Christmas. May we hold onto our faith as we head into 2017, despite a most incredulous and disappointing election outcome and the fear it brings. May we hold together and stay strong through the storm.

This Is Going To Make a Great Blog Post!

Just so you know, I'm not fond of moving. I did way too much of it as a child. In my first seventeen years before I left for college, my family moved 21 times and never left the Portland Metropolitan area. I am not kidding. My mother loves to move. Sometimes we just moved down the street; other times we moved a little farther. Sometimes we moved back into the same apartment complex we had lived in previously. The longest we ever stayed in the same home was four years and the shortest only a few weeks. My dad's friends would say, "If you ever want to know where Tom lives, just stand out on the corner until you see the moving truck go by and follow it!" People complained that our family used up the entire "W" section of their address books (remember physical address books?) because they had to keep crossing off our previous addresses and adding new ones.

Like I said, my mother loves to move. I do not. Since Gerald and I married 20-some years ago, we have moved six times, and all but one of those were cross country (one time in The Dalles we moved from an apartment into a house). Six moves is a lot compared to many folks, but obviously not to me considering my childhood. In any case, it's never much fun. This recent move was much anticipated, planned for, and delighted in, but a move is still a move. You still have to put every item you own into a box and then unpack each one. The trip here with the U-Haul was beautifully uneventful, but then there was the waiting, the waiting, and more waiting to close our loan Monday afternoon, and then it was another 25 full hours before we finally got our keys.

At 4:00 p.m. Tuesday, the real "fun" began. That was the first time someone remarked, "This is going to make a great blog post." You see, the house was filthy. Oh, don't misunderstand; we all still love this house. It's positively perfect for our needs. It's everything we wanted and more. However, all that was required of the previous owners was to leave the house "broom swept." Hmmm. Whose bright idea was that? I don't know if they swept or not, but this house was ooey, gooey, gross. Without going into detail, let's just say that the used diapers in the garbage cans in the bathrooms were NOT the worse of it. So Shulamith and I bought some heavy duty cleaning supplies and rubber gloves and dug in and cleaned. And scrubbed. And scoured. At the same time, Gerald and Mathew proceeded to unload the contents of the U-Haul into the garage. This included a very heavy piano and refrigerator/freezer, a few other pieces of furniture, and 5,000,000 boxes of varying sizes and weights. By 11:00 p.m., the house was sparkling, and the U-Haul was unloaded. And the four of us were exhausted. What kept us going (well me, at least)? The fact that this was going to make such a great blog post!

Next we had to find the place to return the U-Haul. Gerald was convinced we would need to wait until morning and pay an additional $40, but Shulamith got on the phone and finally reached a live person who told us what to do. The next huge endeavor was finding a way out of the house. I know. This should be fairly simple for four intelligent, educated adults. But no. It wasn't. First we couldn't get the garage door to shut from the outside using the remote, so Matt went back through the garage to close it from inside. By that point we had already locked the front door to the house from the outside. And guess what? We couldn't get it to unlock. All of us tried. The door between the garage and the house was also locked, so poor Matt was locked inside the garage. This was when Shulamith turned to me and again commented, "This is going to make a great blog post!" I'm not sure Matt was equally amused. It took about 15 minutes, but eventually they managed to get Matt out and the house locked up with all of us on the outside.

We were off to the gas station to fill the U-Haul with the required amount to return it, $125 worth of gas (gasp!). At the gas station, we decided Shulamith would ride in the U-Haul with Gerald because she knew how to get to the drop-off point, and I would follow them in a car in order to bring them back. Matt, Isaiah, and Seth would go to Denny's and save us a table. It was near midnight by then, and we were all starving. I walked over to where the car was parked, got in, adjusted the seat and mirrors, and backed up, thinking I'd pull around and find the U-Haul so I could follow it. Ahh, not so much. U-Haul was nowhere to be found, and everyone else was already gone too. They had all left me at the Chevron station. At that point, the choice was either to laugh or cry, and I chose to laugh as I reminded myself what a great blog post this would make. I tried to call Shulamith, but her phone was right there next to me in the car. I tried Gerald, but he doesn't answer when he's driving. Finally, I called Matt, who was most sympathetic, but what could he really do? He had no idea where the U-Haul drop-off point was either.

So I waited. They would eventually figure out I wasn't behind them, right? And they did. But not until they got to the U-Haul place. Shulamith called me and stayed on the phone with me as she guided me to where they were. Although I've been here dozens of times, I rarely drive when I'm here, and I really don't know my way around, especially in the dark. We ate a very late dinner at Denny's, all of us in that giddy state of total exhaustion when you think things are hilarious though they're not even remotely funny. And we headed back to Shulamith and Mathew's apartment, where I spent my very last night on their living room floor. The following day Lindsey arrived to help me unpack. She is brilliant when it comes to organizing a house. I think it's a natural talent which has been sharpened by training from David's mother, the queen of organization. If it weren't for Lindsey, I'm pretty sure I'd still be staring at the very first kitchen box, trying to decide where to put stuff.

There is still much to do, and I will do it. Eventually. Today I took a much-needed break, but tomorrow I will press forward. What matters is that we are here. We are really here. Wow!

Everyone said this would make a great blog post. I hope it did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We're halfway to Christmas. Celebrate hard!

Sunday afternoon, I drove home from church and began to prep food for dinner. It was quiet in my house...and peaceful. As I husked corn and speared potatoes, I was suddenly pulled from the calm, thrilled to hear the familiar Christmas song "There's No Place like Home for the Holidays" play on my Alexa. I stopped immediately, and waited anxiously for the phrase, "...Pennsylvania and some homemade pumpkin pie" so I could shout "He Wanted Pie!" 

I was so happy! On our Frame TV was a picture of a present, beautifully wrapped for Christmas, and on our dining table, my Charlie Brown tree surrounded by presents:

In our family, June brings a delightful (albeit fake) holiday called Halfway Christmas. We select a day close to June 25th to celebrate the fact that we are halfway to our favorite holiday of the year! This was our eighth year of this marvelous tradition. If you want to know more, the above link tells the story of 2017, and how the first Halfway Christmas came to be, and here are links to our subsequent celebrations: 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, and 2023. 

As always, it was joyous from start to finish. Amanda made yummy cinnamon rolls, and we all ate them, some of us before church, some after, some both (I may or may not be in that last group.) Later, Shulamith smoked ribs and made a pasta salad. I did the easier stuff: corn on the cob, baked potatoes, and strawberry shortcake. 

After dinner, we opened gifts, one each, one at a time. Everyone seemed happy and grateful, but I think Seth and I tied for the "most excited" prize. I had Seth's name and gave him a new disc for disc golfing, his favorite hobby. Mathew, who doesn't even like the "real" Christmas so definitely doesn't participate in "Halfway," kindly chose a disc for Seth, because I had no idea which ones are good. I added in two black, beaded bracelets, and Seth was delighted with everything.

When it was my turn, my gift was carefully wrapped, yes WRAPPED, not in a bag! I've been wanting a felt letter board to write messages, but I wasn't expecting to get one for Halfway; I didn't think it was possible to find a good one within our $20 price limit. Gerald had my name and, evidently, asked Shulamith for gift suggestions (always a good idea!). Then he found me the perfect letter board (picture top of page). 

Other cool gifts included soft pajama pants for Shulamith, an Amazon gift card for Gerald, a Target gift card for Eli (so he can buy more video games, even though he has several that aren't even opened yet), stuffed Dino Nuggets for Swen and Kennedy, a rock collection for Theodore, and a bouncing ball with handles for Jane. Amanda's gift is still a mystery, but Seth says it's due to arrive at our house today!

After presents, we played a few rounds of "Hot Seat," which brought much laughter but also TERROR, as I learned that Shulamith once provided a ride home to two complete strangers (dudes!), late at night after her serving shift at Macaroni Grill. Seriously???

We're halfway to our favorite holiday, and THAT warrants a celebration! We celebrated hard, and here are more pics to prove it: