"Far and wide his love proclaim."

Just over a week ago, when Seth spoke in sacrament meeting prior to leaving on his mission, he talked about several things, but his primary focus was love. He said he wanted to go to Paraguay so he could share God's love. In other words, as the hymn suggests, "Far and wide his love proclaim." What a wonderful goal! That is what missions are all about because that is what the gospel of Jesus Christ is all about: the pure, precious, perfect love of our Heavenly Parents and the Savior. If that's Seth's goal and if he can maintain that focus through all the ups and downs of the next two years, he will no doubt be successful.

The night before his early-morning flight, he experienced all the natural emotions you would expect. He was nervous, really nervous. "What if I can't learn Spanish? What if I can't relate to the people because I don't speak their language?" And he was also sad, not because didn't want to go, but sad to leave so many friends behind. Honestly, it was a constant stream of kids through here those last two days. It never stopped. Isaiah commented, "If I ever did anything cool, I couldn't get three people to come over. Where did he find all these kids?" Seth is indeed loved by many.

We went for sushi with the family, minus Shulamith, who had to teach a class Monday night, and yes, I tried to eat half a bite. But I can't even begin to compete with Amanda, who hates sushi as much as I do, but put an entire piece in her mouth and swallowed it. Then she told Seth, "If you ever wonder if you can do hard things, remember this moment and me eating this disgusting stuff."

After dinner, we changed clothes and headed to the stake center, for Seth to be set apart as a missionary. We were a small group, compared to most Utah families, just Eli and Amanda, our bishop, Seth, Gerald, and I. (Shulamith was still in class. Blah!) Whatever I say here won't come close to relaying the experience of the blessing our stake president gave Seth when he set him apart. I can't adequately describe the spirit in that room or the power in that blessing. But if Seth had any doubts as to his ability to fulfill this calling, those were quickly put to rest. We left feeling calm and confident and ready to meet the challenges of the following day.

Very early we arose, and methodically got ourselves ready and drove to the airport. Isaiah helped Seth get checked in, and we gathered outside security to say our final goodbyes. There were missionaries everywhere, some from the Provo MTC (we assume), already with name tags and companions, headed off to various missions. There were others like Seth, brand new, surrounded by hovering parents, siblings, and crying moms. I was pretty distracted by that point, and I'm sad I didn't get a picture of Seth with Isaiah or Eli or with Gerald. Here is all I have:

Lots of kind friends have asked how I'm doing. Those who know me well, know this isn't easy. Yesterday and today, my phone has pinged regularly with so many nice text messages wishing me well, sending me virtual hugs and words of support. Last night, someone dropped off chocolate and Diet Coke, but since I was downstairs and Isaiah answered the door, I have no clue who this lovely person was. Isaiah doesn't remember what she looked like; he only remembers that she had a child with her. That could be so many people! Please, whoever you are, self identify! Today, another friend brought me the exact same treat, chocolate and Diet Coke. Dang, my friends know what's up. To all those who called, texted, brought treats, or sent good thoughts, please accept my heartfelt thanks. Really, I never expected such awesome support, and I am truly touched.

How am I doing? Pretty well. I was uber anxious yesterday after I watched him walk through security all alone. I stood there in the airport and cried for about five minutes. The rest of the day, I checked my phone for email 1,857 times. What if he didn't find his gate and never made it onto the plane?

(To which Isaiah replied: "He can find Gate D. It comes after C and before E. Twelve years of public education should help with this.")

What if he got mugged in the Mexico City airport and never made it to the CCM (MTC)? What if he couldn't find the guy with the "CCM" sign? All those fears were quieted around 8:30 p.m., when I checked email for the 1,858th time, and there it was: seth.erichsen@myldsmail.net. Oh the relief! He was safe. Even better, the email was so great. He said the flight was long and boring, but all was well. His final sentence brought more tears, this time happy, relieved tears, but tears nonetheless: "Thanks so much for helping me on my mission. I love you tons and I know it's gonna be great here; I can already feel it. Love you!!"

Music to a mom's ears. He's happy. That's all I needed to know. The thing about being a mom is when your kids are sad, you are even sadder, but when they are happy, you are elated.

Now we wait another full week for his next email. In Seth's entire life, I have never gone a single day without hearing from him. This was the first. And it's almost over, so that means I can do this. If he can go to Paraguay, speak Spanish, and live in an entirely different culture for two years, and if Amanda can eat sushi, I can do this. I, too, can do hard things.

"Far and wide his love proclaim."

Once upon a time, I had a baby.

Don't let that smile deceive you. Behind it are swollen eyes and bottled up tears. I'm doing my very best to hold it all together for Seth. It's scary enough to serve a mission, to leave the country and everyone you know and go to a place where no one speaks your language, to leave your cell phone and all your friends behind, to live on your own at age 18 without the security of family. It's scary enough. The last thing he needs is an emotional mom. So I'm smiling. I'm helping. I'm encouraging. I'm reassuring him of all the things I'm doubting inside. I'm trying to make these last couple of days good for him.

Several people who don't know our family have asked me if this is my first missionary. They sense my angst and assume I've never done this before. But you see, it's precisely the fact that I have done this before, two times over, that makes it so hard. I'm not in the dark here. This is not my first rodeo, as they say. I know what I'm about to do. I know exactly how it feels to hug your baby goodbye for two years. I know. And then there's the added variable that he is my youngest. Well, let me tell you a little story about that:
 
Once upon a time, I had a baby. He was born a full seven years after Eli, the youngest of his four older siblings. Lots of people thought he must be an "oops" baby, but nope. He was the most carefully planned of all of them. (Not that there's anything wrong with "oops" babies. They are awesome! Just ask Luke and Shulamith.) 😃

Well, despite my best efforts to keep him little, this baby grew and grew. All too soon, he was eight years old. His oldest brother, Luke, came home from his mission just in time to baptize him a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was a glorious day in every way. At eight years old, he was pure delight. Well, open this link to get an idea just how delightful his little personality was.

A few months later, his big sister got married, and at the reception, he was in charge of drinks. He wanted to set out a tip jar, and Mathew encouraged him (grrrrr!), but I shut them both down immediately.

Age eight was so perfect. I mean look at him. Does it get any more adorable? I remember wishing I could just stop time. I couldn't. I blinked, and he was 11. Really, I  closed my eyes for just a split second, and we had moved to Utah, and he was entering 6th grade. Look how handsome he was:

Each morning, I would walk him up to Midvalley Elementary and then go back after school and wait for him to walk home. I suspected that the following year, in middle school, he might not want his mom walking him to school. I was right. Often now, when I drive on 450 E., I think back to those days of walking him to and from Midvalley. It was a joyous time.

I should have learned my lesson about blinking. The next three years sped by, and before I even noticed, he was 14, finished with middle school and headed to high school. He was so excited to welcome another missionary brother home. I think, even then, plans for his own mission were beginning to form.

Almost immediately, Eli went back to work at Macaroni Grill, a long-standing tradition in our family. So at age 14, my little boy, who just the other day was passing out soda at his sister's wedding, began working there right alongside Eli:

In a second, two more years passed. That 16th birthday brought with it a bunch of new adventures, his junior year of high school, lots of dating and driving, hanging with friends. I found myself wondering if I was ever quite this social. Maybe? Those final two years of high school passed so quickly that refusing to blink wouldn't have helped. One big event fell right on top of the previous one, it seemed: proms and homecoming dances, vocal ensemble performances, fall musical, choir tour to NYC, singing in General Conference. I barely kept up. Here are a few highlights:

By May of his senior year, he had submitted mission papers and was awaiting a call. It still felt surreal. Surely he wouldn't really leave on a mission any time soon. Goodness, he wasn't even 18 yet! Even after that call to serve the people of Paraguay arrived, he had to wait a few weeks for his birthday before he could be ordained an elder. The mission seemed far off. He wouldn't report until August 28th. "We have all summer," I reassured myself. "We can do all sorts of things together before he goes." I'm reminded of the Abba song "Slippin' Through My Fingers":

"What happened to the wonderful adventures?
Places I had planned for us to go.
Well, some of that we did, but most we didn't,
And why, I just don't know."

Those 100 days flew by, so much faster than I wanted. Vocal Ensemble end-of-year POPS concert and high school graduation topped the list of events.

And if you happen to be keeping track, you might have noticed that his report date was August 28th. TODAY! So I need to end this post and get to writing the one about today, our airport experience. You see, the two things that calm my anxiety best are eating and writing. And you can only eat so much. So here's a picture of my new missionary saying goodbye to his favorite dog.

Once upon a time, I had a baby. And now he's a missionary. Based on my flight tracking app, he will land in Mexico City in 23 minutes. So stay tuned for more on that.

Orchids and rain and mat washers: T - Minus one week!

It is now 9:45 a.m. on Tuesday, August 21st. Seth's flight to Mexico City to attend the Mexico CCM (MTC) for six weeks is scheduled to leave at 9:45 a.m. on Tuesday, August 28. I am literally one week away from sending my baby to Mexico for six weeks and then on to Paraguay for the remainder of the two years. How am I doing? Well, if you read the previous post, you got a general idea. In addition to what I'm calling "missionary mom brain," let me share some lovely experiences, moments of grace, in no particular order, that are helping me along this week:

1. Mat washers. I'm not even kidding. If you go to the Rocket Express Car Wash on 72nd just off the freeway, you will find these amazing machines. You can take your filthy car mats that are so hard to clean and run them through this mat washer thing, and they come out the other side spick and span! It's so great. Really, you should stop whatever you're doing and go there right now.

2. Kids who read my blog books. So I've been blogging nine years. When I publish my 2018 blog book this January, it will be my tenth one. I display these books on our coffee table, and hardly anything makes me happier than when people read them. So imagine the joy when numerous teenagers, Seth's friends, sat around the living room Sunday at his farewell brunch, reading these books. Oh my heart!

3. Orchids.  My friend Lacey drove all the way down here from Woods Cross to attend Seth's farewell talk. Then she came over afterward for the brunch, where Shulamith and I promptly put her to work cutting up muffins. Then she drove all the way back home, picked up her family, and drove back down to Provo for a baby blessing (well, two baby blessings, I think: twins!). In addition to all that, she brought me this beautiful orchid. Lacey is someone who understands how to be a friend. I love her and am grateful for her.

4.  Patty and Clairy. Patty is one of my "lifetime" friends. We've known each other since college, where we were roommates for just one semester, but have somehow stayed close all these years. In pre-internet days, unbelievable as it may sound, we actually exchanged handwritten snail mail letters regularly. Email was life-altering for us, no more paper, stamps, or envelopes. When Gerald saw her in Sacrament Meeting Sunday, he made an astute observation: "You manage to get here for all these big events." Yes, she does. Patty is someone who shows up. Though she lives way down near St. George, she interrupts her busy life and manages to show up for weddings, mission farewells, mission homecomings, all the big events in my kids' lives. Often, she brings another favorite of mine, her sister Clairy. I'm so grateful the two of them were here with us this past Sunday.

5.  Hearing Eli sing. I'm a typical mom who loves to watch her kids do pretty much anything. Those opportunities decrease as kids get older, but fortunately, they don't disappear entirely like so many "lasts" I'm facing right now. Eli loves to sing, especially to the Lord. His voice is quiet and lovely. Sunday, he sang an EFY medley called "Praise the Man," accompanied by Amanda. When we practiced that morning (I turned pages for Amanda), I fought back tears, and lost. Thank you, Eli, for being a part of Seth's farewell meeting. It brought me back to Luke's farewell in 2006, when Isaiah performed a piano solo, "We'll Bring the World His Truth." I cried then too. Such a wimp mom I am.

6.  Emilys. No, that is not a typo. I have two friends named Emily. One of them texted me Sunday night with a grammar question. That led to a cool discussion about pronouns. Dang, hardly anything is as much fun as grammar, particularly pronouns. Thanks, Em! My other Emily walks with me two mornings a week. Usually, I'd say we balance our conversation fairly equally. One of us talks the first 20 minutes (usually I), then says, "And how are things with you?" and the other (usually she) talks the rest of the time. It's pretty perfect actually. Except this week, I'm kinda dominating the entire walk. Like I don't think she said a single thing about herself today. She just listened patiently to my rant, nodded, and commented appropriately.

7.  Rain. Right now. This moment. Enough said.

8.  The future Elder Erichsen. Well, what can I say about him? That for someone barely 18, he gave a splendid talk, his first "grownup" talk in Sacrament Meeting. That he was funny and confident, and the light of his young testimony shined through. That his eagerness to serve his mission was evident.

He is truly ready. Me? Nope, not at all. But that doesn't matter, does it? It's all about Seth now and his decision to follow his Savior and serve the people of Paraguay.

Still, I'm grateful for the tiny things, like friends and orchids and mat washers and rain, to get me through the next seven days -- and more importantly, the 730 after that.

Nothin' left to do but put me in a "home."

Shulamith has repeatedly said that when Seth leaves for his mission, she will put me in a "home." She has no desire to deal with me in this distraught state of mind, so as the mission approaches, she has been checking out possible options for where to put me. She says the nurses will like me because I can take care of myself, and they won't have to do anything.

She's only partly kidding. And who can blame her?

This morning, my friend Lacey texted to ask how I was doing: "Are you holding up okay?" I replied mostly in the affirmative, explaining how my emotions shift, sometimes hourly. I can be so excited for Seth one minute, but then out of nowhere, remember how long he will be gone and flip right into full-on ugly crying.

Which is exactly what happened this morning at McDonald's. As I was standing in line, I happened to notice this particular table, a small round one with two chairs. Once several years ago, a power line broke near our house, and we were without electricity for most of an evening. Now most families would gather flashlights and candles and hunker down with blankets and wait it out, but not Seth and I. Nope. We hopped in the car and headed straight to McDonald's and sat at this little round table with two chairs. We go to McDonald's almost daily, so I've seen that exact table dozens of times since, but today, oh my goodness! The memory of sitting there with Seth that night so long ago sent me right over the edge.

I guess we we should also talk about why I was inside McDonald's in the first place. I'm losing my mind. For real. I ran out first thing this morning to get cash from the ATM because Shulamith and I were getting our hair done, and our stylist doesn't have Venmo or take cards. I got the cash and drove through McDonald's to get my signature Egg White Delight and headed home. As I pulled into Chevron to grab a Diet Coke, I noticed that I had no McDonald's bag and no food. Yep, I totally paid for my Egg White Delight but forgot to stop at the second window and pick it up.

I drove back to McDonald's and this time went inside to ask if by chance they still had my Egg White. They did, but that's when I saw the table. So the cashier at McDonald's not only thinks I'm a lunatic for buying food but failing to pick it up; he also thinks I'm an emotional nut case.

Nothin' left to do but put me in a "home."

After getting our hair done, Shulamith and I were headed out to get lunch, but my purse was nowhere. I thought I brought it out to the car, but I was carrying her baby, so maybe not? But then it wasn't in the house either. After a few moments of frustration and strife, I saw it sitting in the middle of the driveway. How did it get there? No idea.

Later this evening, I was hungry again and wanting some pho. When I saw an empty bag of Wendy's food on the table next to Isaiah, I asked, "Did you bring food home from work and eat already? Cuz I was hoping we could go get pho." He looked at me like I was crazy (which by now, we all know I am) and said, "Uh, it's Saturday. I didn't go to work. I've literally been sitting here watching the DotA tournament all day. This is from lunch five hours ago."

Okay, fine. Yes. I forgot it was the weekend. A simple mistake anyone could make, right?

Seth and Isaiah and I ate some yummy pho at one of our favorite places, paid the bill, and started toward home. Suddenly, it occurred to me that my purse was way too light. My wallet was missing. "Isaiah, stop! Go back." He turned around and went back, and, sure enough, there was my wallet, lying wide open on the counter where we had paid.

So this is my life, the life of a highly emotional, mentally deranged mama, preparing to send her very last baby to South America for 730 days. Lacey, thanks for asking how I'm holding up. If you or anyone else who loves me wants to see me after August 28th, you'll probably need to visit me at the "home."

Ask Shulamith for the address.

I spent three days with 13 teenagers. And it was awesome!

I spent three days with 13 teenagers. And it was awesome! I think teenagers generally get a bad rap. I even wrote about that once upon a time right here.

Many years ago I heard a sermon at a Methodist Church where the pastor spoke about teenagers. He said, "The thing about teenagers is that they have so much potential." But honestly, isn't that the same for all of us? As children of Heavenly Parents, we all have divine potential beyond our wildest imagination, and that's true whether we are 2, 92, or muddling through those messy teen years. 

Our ward's Youth Conference, 2018 was at Bear Lake. I had never been there before, but I'd heard all about it, and it more than exceeded my expectations. The only time I've seen bluer water was in the Caribbean. It was lovely and warm and perfect.

...which is a good description of the entire three days:

Lovely. The Logan Temple, where we stopped on our way to the lake. The kids did proxy baptisms, and yes, it was lovely to watch them demonstrate their faith in this way, serving those who came before. With glowing faces, inspired as only the temple can, they came out. We sat on the temple lawn, surrounded by flowers with a soft breeze blowing, and discussed how we find peace in Christ, both inside and outside the temple.

"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid" (John 14: 27).

From there, we ate lunch at a little bistro called "Italian Place," followed by giant ice cream cones at the Aggie Creamery. All that was super yummy, but the loveliest part was the depth of friendship among the kids, the mutual care they have for one another. It was only the first day, but memories were already being made.


Warm. The lake water, where we spent the entire second day playing, boating, eating, reading (Bishop), chatting, and rejoicing together. It was a true celebration of the day God gave us.

"This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it" (Psalms 118:24).

The prefix /re/ in "rejoice" encourages us to find joy repeatedly in every day, and this particular day, it was so easy. Not only was the lake water warm, but our hearts were warmed by so many things. Kayla's incredible effort on our behalf to make everything good was unparalleled; the girl gives new meaning to the word "organized," and it shows in every detail. On the boat, Jeff's instruction, support, and encouragement to each kid who tried knee-boarding was relentless. Those constant words of praise brought about rounds of applause as several kids succeeded in getting up on their knees on top of the board.

Me? Uh, nope. I lay flat on my stomach across the board, hung on tight to the rope, and enjoyed the thrill of being pulled around the lake. They call it "body-boarding," and it suits me just fine. Seriously, so fun!

But the unsung hero of the day and recipient of the "overall good dude" award goes to Spencer. The guy literally stood on that boat for seven hours, coasting while each kid got situated in the water, then speeding forward at the command "Hit it!," then circling back to pick up the kid after he fell. Over and over. Dozens of times. Hours and hours. Never complaining. The heart of a servant he has. What dedication to his fellow humans and to his savior.

I wish I could post pics of the kids on that warm day, but in a public blog like this one, I don't feel comfortable doing that without their (or their parents') permission. So you'll have to settle for the pic of me above.

... and this cave.

Perfect. The Minnetonka Cave, which has been altered only slightly from its original formation, in order to allow visitors, beyond the five species of bats that inhabit it. Three hundred feet underground, we stood in a cave that 2,000,000 years ago was covered in water, prior to the raising of the Rocky Mountains. As the whimsical tour guide explained all this, I found myself singing a song I knew long ago, whose lyrics include

*You moved on the waters,
You called to the deep.
Then you coaxed up the mountains
From the valleys of sleep.

And over the eons
You called to each thing:
"Awake from your slumbers,
And rise on your wings."

The kids loved the cave, and so did we leaders. It was cool, both figuratively and literally, a constant 40 degrees year round. We climbed over 700 steps and met at least five or six bats. All in all, a fun experience, as well as a perfect representation of God's handiwork, in forming for us such a beautiful earth.

"In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth...and God saw that it was good" (Genesis 1:1;10).

The visit to the cave was on our final day and concluded our lovely, warm, and perfect youth conference. We cleaned the cabin and made our way home, tired, but happy.

I spent three days with 13 teenagers. And it was awesome!

(*Spirit, James K. Manley, 1975.)

Remember that one time when I wrote about pie?

This one time I wrote a blog post about pie. For real. Well, here it is, if you want to read it. The heroine in this story is pictured above next to me. Yes, I realize we're not really in the same picture. That's because while spending the equivalent of two days together, we didn't remember to take one single photo. They say you should live in the moment, your real life, rather than constantly taking pictures to represent your life on social media.

I guess that's what we did. We were so busy living our real life, in the moment, that we forgot to take pictures. And it was so, so much fun. Jacqueline and I go back a long way. She married my brother about a year after Gerald and I got married, and our two oldest kids, Luke and Leslie, were born three months apart. I had Shulamith just a year after that, and then her Carley was born a couple years later.

Then she and Tom divorced, and I (obviously) went on to have three more kids. So my two oldest have the fondest memories of "Auntie Jacque" (best aunt ever!), but my middle boys don't really remember her, and I think we settled on the fact that until this past week, she and Seth had never even met! That's because when I go home to Portland a couple times a year, my kids don't usually go with me.

So what a treat that Jacqueline decided to stop here and visit on her way home from a month-long stay in Arizona, where she and her husband own a tiny "casita." We pretty much talked nonstop. Catching up is like that; there's always more to say. So many memories of those early days of young adulthood and first-time parenting came flooding back. We talked about the year my family lived in California, which was also the first time we were able to send messages electronically. It was so exciting to be able to keep in touch that way!

We talked about each of our kids, in depth, one by one, including her two "bonus" sons, her husband Mike's boys. Turns out the younger one plays an online computer game, similar to Isaiah's DotA. When Jacqueline watched Isaiah play, she said, "That looks just like what Cameron does, screaming into a headset. I wonder if it's the same game." When she texted Cameron to ask, we discovered it's a competitor to DotA, and immediately the bantering between Isaiah and Cameron began, with Jacqueline as the middleman.

Monday morning we went out for coffee (her), hot chocolate (me), and bagels. Later, we met Shulamith for lunch. That night she came with Shulamith and me to our classes at SLCC, not the most exciting evening for her, but she didn't seem to mind. Then we came home to eat yummy turkey burgers that Amanda and Eli prepared.

Way too soon, early Tuesday morning, she was back on the road headed home. The visit was too short. It made me wistfully nostalgic and, as always, wishing I could live in Portland. The problem is, I only want to live there if I can take my entire family with me, which would be complicated. Maybe one day?

Meanwhile, I'll have to settle for frequent visits, one coming up the end of this month, Two days after sending Seth off to South America, I'll hop a plane and go party with my family for five days. It was easier to say goodbye to Jacqueline knowing I'd see her again soon.

Thank you so much for visiting us! See you in 27 days.

"I wanna be a teacher like Mr. Mac."

When Eli was little and asked the age-old question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" his answers were typical of many young boys:

"I want to be a fireman because they save people."
"I want to be an ice cream man because they get lots of money!"
"I want to be in a rock band." (He actually still wants to do that, and I believe he will one day. Eli on vocals and keyboards; my brother, Tom, on guitar. It's gonna happen!)

But something changed for Eli in fifth grade when he had an amazing educator at Little Mountain Elementary School in Mt. Vernon, Washington. The teacher's name was Jeff McRoberts, affectionately known to his students as "Mr. Mac." What made Mr. Mac so special? Was it his brilliant knowledge of math? Or language arts? Or history? Maybe. But more important than any of that was the relationship he had with his students. My friend, Jane, recently completed her doctoral degree in education. She is quick to tell anyone who will listen that the principal component of effective teaching and learning is not the teacher's knowledge of content or even his ability to explain that knowledge to students, but rather his relational skills. Learning is relational.

When teachers relate to their students and truly care, students feel it. And they respond. Mr. Mac did exactly that. Learning was fun in his fifth grade classroom because it was a team effort of both teacher and students. Mr. Mac cared about his students personally; he got to know them. Their interests became his interests. After his year with Mr. Mac, Eli changed how he answered that question about a future profession:

"I wanna be a teacher like Mr. Mac."

Well, just the other day, progress toward that goal became a reality, as Eli walked across the stage at BYU-Idaho and received his diploma for earning a B.S. in elementary education.

He still has a couple steps to go, including student teaching, but "Mr. Webster" is just about there.

College was not Eli's favorite. Unlike for some of the rest of us, writing papers, taking exams, and sitting in classes is not exactly his "Chick-fil-A sauce." But he did all those things anyway, many times over, one semester before his mission and four years since coming home. Every semester, at some point, he told me he was dropping out. He never did. Instead, he pressed forward, and each time, it was my pleasure to say, "Another successful semester down, Eli!"

The part of college he did enjoy were the teaching practicums. In the elementary classroom, he thrived, and just like Mr. Mac, the kids loved him. As he finished each practicum, he was showered with cards and notes, hugs and high fives. He is going to be such a great teacher.

Mr. Mac built relationships, and some of those lasted even after the kids left fifth grade. His bond with Eli persevered, even after we left Mt. Vernon. When we returned to visit, Mr. Mac would take him out for ice cream and talk to him, just like you might another adult. He never talked down to kids. With social media, we continue to keep in touch with Mr. Mac and his wife. He posts the very best political memes. Frequently, Eli will text me and say, "Did you see what Mr. Mac posted today? So, so great!"

So, thank you, Jeff. You rock. That little boy who sat in your classroom 15 years ago is soon to have a classroom of his own.

Monday afternoon, with 2,000 other graduates, Eli processed into the "I" Center to "Pomp and Circumstance." It was a majestic moment for this mom. He was surrounded by family,

His big sister and tiny nephew,

His little brother,

His incredibly proud parents,

...and his beautiful wife!

Major congrats, Eli! We love you!