"Go ask your parents where they were and what they were doing. They'll be able to tell you."

All through elementary school, my teachers instructed us to "Go home and ask your parents where they were and what they were doing when JFK was assassinated. They'll be able to tell you."

I did.

And they could.

My mom was in Seattle visiting her aunt and uncle when news of the shooting came in. And the nation stood still. Glued to their TVs with nonstop coverage on every network, they waited impatiently for more information. Was the president alive or dead? Who shot him? Was anyone else hurt? They waited. Day by day, piece by piece, the story unfolded.

It seems in every generation, a defining moment like this pierces our lives and our souls, and no, we never forget. I thought mine was September 11, 2001, as I sat in my bedroom in Mt. Vernon, Washington, propped up with pillows, nursing my one-year-old son, my other four children already at school. Gerald came in and told me, "A plane just hit one of the Twin Towers in New York City." He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV in the bedroom just in time for us to watch the second tower attack. This was no accident. Once again, the nation stood still. Day by day, piece by piece, the story unfolded.

Today, we live through another life-defining situation. This time it didn't happen in one instant; it was more gradual, and yet, it seemed to escalate so quickly. A week ago, I was still teaching my regular, face-to-face classes at SLCC. Rumors of school closures were just that. In one week, life as we knew it has shut down. Hour by hour, we receive reports of closers and cancellations, warnings and admonitions to remain inside as much as possible, to wash our hands thoroughly and often, to refrain from gathering in groups of more than 10. This list goes on.

Once again, the nation stands still, this time not just one nation. As perhaps never before, we are reminded that we are first and foremost, world citizens, a global community. We are called to sacrifice our own convenience to protect others' lives. We are called to act in charity.

As I stood in line for over an hour to enter Costco hoping to find some much-needed bath tissue, I wondered why people took to hoarding the stuff in the first place. Come on. Everyone needs bath tissue, but we only need so much of it.

Even so, with what looks like greedy hoarding, I see far more evidence of a united response to the call to charity. I see parents, who never imagined they would be, suddenly homeschooling restless children, who just want to go to school and play with their friends, rather than struggle through Common Core math at home with parents who don't understand it. I see at-home moms offering to help with homeschooling for kids whose parents still need to go to work. I see teachers, given no notice, sacrificing hours to create online lessons in attempt to meet students' needs and provide some sort of academic consistency.

I see many who are blessed with abundant resources donating money to compensate for salaries of those who can't go to work. I see communities, churches, and social organizations reaching out to offer help, wherever and however it is needed. I see grace in action. I see the Savior.

Most revealing, I see kindness. In the grocery store. At the gas station. On my daily walks. People smile. Though practicing safe, social distancing as much as they can, they still smile. They say hello. They ask how I am. Plagued with uncertainty, I find hope in this outpouring of human kindness. It helps me remember that we are all in this together and that one who is wiser and greater than all of us in ultimately in control.

We will come through this. Possibly my favorite line, repeated hundreds of times in The Book of Mormon:

"And it came to pass..."

This came, and it will pass. And we will be better for having experienced it. We will have learned things about ourselves and our fellow humans that we did not know before. We will be stronger.

And when the next generation of children come home from school and ask their parents, "Where were you and what were you doing during the COVID-19 pandemic," their parents will know.

They will know.

"Mom, who is Lorrie? She writes me every week!"

                                                                                                                                      Unlikely pen pals?

Perhaps.

But their story is truly adorable, a relationship that spans 15 years and two continents.

When Seth was five, he began an almost daily email correspondence with my longtime friend, Lorrie. I met Lorrie when I was 13 and joined The International Order of Rainbow for Girls. Later, we both attended Willamette University, though never at the same time; in fact, about the time I graduated from high school and headed off to college, she finished at Willamette, got married, and moved to Austria. Still, the friendship endured into our adulthood and eventual motherhood.

I can't remember exactly how Lorrie began her pen pal relationship with five-year-old Seth. It was 2005, and we had just a year earlier moved from our home in Washington to Billings, Montana. I had little to do with their correspondence, other than as transcriber. Seth would dictate what he wanted to say to Lorrie, and I would type it for him. Then he'd wait for her reply, and I'd read it to him.

I also don't remember much of the content of their conversations, but Lorrie does! Here is what she remembers:

"Oddly enough, the topics are at least somewhat similar to what we talk about now: Television/music, candy, and our faith. Back in the day, Seth would tell me he loved Sponge Bob... Sour Patch Kids, and Skittles. The conversation I most remember about his faith back then would make you and the bishop smile. He said something about God loving Mormons. I told Seth that He loves Methodists too [Lorrie is a Methodist], and that there is only one God. To that, Seth said, 'Yeah, but He is a Mormon!' Seth also told me back then that his wife would, yes, need to be a Mormon and obey him!"

Seth, of course, has no memory of any of these conversations. Lorrie and I remember as if it all happened yesterday, but Seth? Nothing. Sadly, he doesn't ever remember Lorrie! She lives in the Portland/Vancouver area, and we live in Utah. I go home to Portland fairly regularly, but no, I never have Seth with me. Seth and Lorrie have met in person only a couple times, both well over 10 years ago.

And now Seth is 19 and a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, serving the people of Paraguay. Ever since he left in August of 2018, Lorrie has received his weekly group email and faithfully responded:

"Mom, who is Lorrie? She writes to me every single week?!"

"Seth, you don't remember my good friend, Lorrie? Really, you don't? You used to email her every day when you were five."

He doesn't remember. And yet. He so appreciates her letters now. He feels her support and love. She is not a member of our church, yet she supports Seth on his mission because she cares about him. And me. Though she's never sent off a missionary herself, she empathizes with my situation and how much I miss him.

What do the two of them talk about now, I wonder? Hopefully NOT how Seth's future wife will need to obey him!!!!  Gracious.

 Here's what Lorrie says:

"Now, we don't talk about television since he is on a mission, and I don't want to distract him. He occasionally mentions something in the news that he heard somewhere, but I don't engage in that or initiate anything new about TV since he can't see it. He mentioned he's looking forward to hearing Taylor Swift's new CD. He also said he's so thankful for anything you [mom] send him because of the sub-standard candy quality in Paraguay. As you and everyone else on his email list are aware, Seth writes predominantly about his faith. He is a powerful witness for Christ. I think his early convictions as a kindergartner have only gained momentum along the way and have exploded in the mission field. Just last Monday, he thanked me for writing to him. He said he was sorry he couldn't write more. I think it is very important to consistently support a missionary through letters. I think it matters to him, now even more than it did when he was five."

I agree.

I am grateful to Lorrie, more than I can say, for her devotion to my son, way back when he was five, and right now as he walks the streets of Paraguay.

Rhetoric Review (because backsliding, ya know)

For the love of all things holy, please stop saying "on a daily basis."

Wait...no. This is not supposed to be another rhetoric rant. I tried that already with limited success. Changing the world is no small talk. 

Can we take a few minutes today to review just a few of the more irksome rhetorical errors? Everyone needs an occasional refresher course, right? It's so easy to backslide into old patterns.

First, here's the link to the rant about the repetitive, wordy prepositional phrase "on a daily basis." At the risk of sounding like those annoying parents, who in the most arrogant, sickly sweet voices, tell their young children "Use your words," may I exhort you to "Use your adverbs."

Second, please use the words "literally" and "unique" only when you mean them, and learn the difference between the adjective "bad" and the adverb "badly," so you can make the correct choice. Here's the link to the full discussion of these three issues.

Issues #3 and #4 arise from a book I just read for my monthly book group. It was a good book. I loved it. Mostly. The plot was captivating, the characters real, and the voice as genuine as I've ever experienced. But dang, this author hasn't the first clue how to use semicolons. It's like she was happily (or sadly--it's sad story) writing along and then suddenly thought, "I haven't used a semicolon in a while, and they look kinda cool, so maybe I'll stick one here." IT'S THAT RANDOM!

Allow me to reintroduce a 4-step program I developed for those who struggle with an addiction to misuse of semicolons. Kristin Hannah, are you taking note here?

Step 1: Acknowledgement.
Acknowledge that you have a problem: My name is [insert first name], and I do not know how or when to use semicolons.

Step 2: Abstinence.
Stop using semicolons until you learn how to use them correctly. Semicolons are almost always a choice, not a requirement, so just stop using them!

Step 3: Education
Learn how to use semicolons correctly. You can look online at sites such as "Grammar Girl" or "OWL Purdue," or simply ask someone who knows (me!) to explain it to you. It's fairly simple. It won't take long. (P.S. I always wanted to be "Grammar Girl." Clearly missed my true calling.)

Step 3: Freedom

Exercise deliberate, judicious use of this amazing mark of punctuation. Free from the bondage of poor sentence structure, you are now able to make excellent rhetorical choices that include semicolons. Yay! 

This author's other issue is her gross overuse of the wordy construction "made ____way." Instead of simply saying that someone went somewhere, way too many times she uses the clause "He made his way...," "She made her way...," or "They made their way..." Ugh! I might have wanted to die after a dozen of these. The book is called The Nightingale, and you should definitely read it, but beware!

Okay, everyone, there's our brief rhetoric review for today. Keep on keepin' on.

Leaping Lizards!

Do lizards really leap? I thought about looking this up, but lizards aren't my favorite. They belong to the same animal classification as these gross creatures, and while they're not quite as bad (note: they at least have arms and legs), they aren't great. So no, I don't know if lizards really leap. I know frogs do. And kids pretending to be frogs. Who remembers doing frog leaps across the floor in P.E. class?

Today, we all leap! Today, we all get one extra day to leap. What will you do with your extra day? Will you leap?

Me? I leaped out of bed at 7:30 and did "dog duty." Then I leaped right back into bed to relax a bit. How lovely that Leap Day came on a Saturday, leaving more free time to leap.

Of course, as many of you know, my Saturdays aren't entirely free this semester, and if you don't know about all that, here's the scoop. I showered and got ready for class, leaped into my car, and drove to South Jordan to meet up with 20 nice college students, ready to leap into a lively discussion of the rhetorical strategies used by the authors of "Blue-Collar Brilliance" and "Shop Class as Soulcraft." Good times.

Then Shulamith texted me that it was QUADRUPLE POINTS DAY at Cafe Rio. I'm not even kidding. It was a Leap Day miracle! I mean, how could we not take advantage of that. It would be a Leap Day disgrace. So we feasted on a sweet pork burrito (me) and a chicken burrito (Shulamith), and then took a mini road trip down south toward Lehi to run an errand.

And finally, I'm home for Leap Day blogging, my favorite! But heading out again soon to get groceries and go for a walk (leap?).

I don't know if lizards leap, but I definitely did, and I hope you did too. I'd love to hear about what your leaping entailed. We only get this opportunity once every four years, so make it count.

Happy Leap Day, everyone.

I just ate the last chocolate-covered cherry...

And that means Christmas is officially over.

I know. Christmas was technically over eight weeks ago, but until that last cherry is gone, there is a tiny remnant of Christmas left over.

You see, as much as I love them, I only eat chocolate-covered cherries at Christmastime. Someone always gives me a box as a gift, every single year, for as long as I can remember. This year I wound up with two boxes even! I keep them hidden in my closet and don't share them with anyone (mean mom that I am), and because they are full of all sorts of delectable, high-calorie goodness, I never eat more than one a day, sometimes not even that. This year, each box I received contained 16 cherries, so 32 in all. It's been 56 days since Christmas, so I guess that means some days I eat one, and other days I don't. Sounds about right.

Regardless.

This afternoon, about 30 minutes go, I ate the very last one. Now I have to wait over 10 months for my next chocolate-covered cherry. A friend once commented that these things are available year round, but I tried my best to ignore him. Really, what kind of a friend would tell me that?

Coincidentally, or perhaps not, another thing happened this week to mark the official end to Christmas: I threw away my last bag of used, scrunched up wrapping paper. Yep, the day after Christmas each year, I stuff all the bags of used wrapping paper that I can fit into the garbage can, but there are always way too many bags, so I make a pile of the others in a corner of the garage. Then, each week on trash day, I throw one bag into the big, blue bin. This week, I threw away the very last bag full of wrapping paper.

You'd think the universe was trying to tell me something: CHRISTMAS IS OVER, TERRIANNE!

My only respite in all this is that by the next chocolate-covered cherry eating season, my baby will be home. I'll be so happy I might even share one with him, but probably not.

Today I ate the last chocolate-covered cherry and threw away the final bag of used wrapping paper.

And that means Christmas is officially over.

Who let the dogs out??

I...I...I!

I let the dogs out. Constantly. Every day. Multiple times. (With the help of Gerald, Eli, and Amanda.) But look at them posing there, all adorable. How can we resist? Best friends. Though it wasn't always that way.

It helps to first understand the history of dogs in both the Erichsen-Webster and Webster-Monson families. It all started with Shulamith. Well, and me. I sort of strongly encouraged her, when eight years ago, the two of us trekked all the way to Nephi to pick up a new Boxer pup, whom Matt subsequently named "Kitty." We all fell in love. She was really the sweetest dog. Seth was just 11 at the time, and he bonded with Kitty instantly. Unfortunately, Boxers often struggle with health issues, and our Kitty died of a heart attack when she was only four.

Everyone wanted another dog, especially Seth. So Shulamith found a litter of Australian Shepherd puppies, and once again, she and I went and picked up a little ball of fur, whom Matt, this time around, named "Woof." That ball of fur grew into the beast you see above on the left. Woof was a pretty annoying puppy but grew to be such a nice dog, and Seth loved him. Then just over two years ago, this happened. And Woofie moved away.

Seth was so sad and really just wanted a dog of his own. This was in 2017, and I knew full well that in 2018, Seth would be leaving to go on a mission. We both knew it. Nevertheless, I would do just about anything to make him happy, and Shulamith would too, so off we all went to the Humane Society to rescue a dog, and home we came with the cute yellow lab/Chinese Shar Pei mix you see in the photo on the right. Seth named him Waffles and loved him so. Seth was such a good dog owner, right up until August of 2018, when he boarded an airplane and left for two years in Paraguay.

And just like that, Waffles became my dog.

We don't know what Waffles' previous life was like, but for some reason, from the moment we brought him home, he hated Isaiah and was terrified of Gerald. That situation has improved somewhat. He's still afraid of Gerald and barks at Isaiah, but he's starting to warm up to Isaiah as long as Isaiah is seated, and I am home. Additionally, feeling deserted by Seth, Waffles worries that I'm gonna leave him too, so he follows me around like a sick puppy and sits in the corner and whines when I'm not home.

Until a couple weeks ago, Woof and Waffles had never met. Woof lived in the wilderness with Shulamith, and Waffles lived here with us. But then Shulamith and Matt moved into an apartment on the third floor, making a giant dog like Woof way too inconvenient. At first Shulamith thought she would give him away. I always told her NOT to do that. "I can keep him," I told her. She kept saying it would be too hard. They expect to be in the apartment for six to nine months, way too long for us to keep him, she thought. The day before she was going to give him away, I sat in the parking lot of my school and cried. Really ugly tears. It just felt so sad. But it was Shulamith's decision, so I tried to be supportive. The next day, as she went to put Woofie in the car, she couldn't do it. She was crying too.

We decided to bring him here. I wasn't sure how it would all work out, but I knew it would. Keeping him was the right thing to do, so I knew we would find a way. The first step was socializing these two dogs to each other. At first there was a lot of growling, especially when Woof thought it would be a good idea to eat out of Waffles' dish. I kept them separated after that, realizing that if a full-on fight broke out, my dog would most certainly lose.

The following Saturday, Shulamith and I spent a few hours with them outside in the backyard, and sort of forced their relationship. "You will be friends," we told them. It didn't take too long before they were running around together and playing. I still can't have them inside the house at the same time because they go whacko and run all over the place, jumping up on furniture. But they play outside together, and I have tremendous help from Gerald, Eli, and Amanda making sure they both get outside regularly.

Still, most of the time, if you're wondering who let the dogs out??

It's I...I...I.

Snow Day! (and other bits and pieces of grace)

Snow days don't happen often in Utah, so we definitely celebrate them when they do. Last evening, reports of the upcoming snowstorm kept us chattering with hope and expectation. "Snow day for everyone!" I exclaimed, with no basis whatsoever, but it sure sounded great. Eli texted his team of 5th grade teachers to get their thoughts. One said she didn't trust the meteorologists, but if the forecast turned out to be correct, there would be a late start at the very least. Isaiah hoped for a "work from home" day, and Shulamith's kids prayed for a snow day as they lay down to sleep.

The morning came early, as the family text thread lit up at 5:30. Canyons District, where Eli works, was closed. SLCC had a late start time of 11:00 a.m., meaning my 7:00 a.m. class was canceled. I waited not so patiently for SLCC to cancel the rest of the day, and that welcome notification came in about 10:45. Isaiah's entire team opted to work from home, so a full-on snow day it was!

I braved the snowy roads and drove to Chevron to get a Diet Coke (yes, I'm an addict), and on my way home, another bit of grace. I received a phone call from a bishopric member, asking me to speak this Sunday in sacrament meeting. Could my day get any better? I think not. One of the hardest things about the change in ward boundaries 17 months ago is that in the new ward, I don't get to speak nearly as often as I used to. But this week I do, and that's all that matters, and I'm a happy girl.

With all the commotion and lack of normalcy, I nearly forgot it was P-day, until Seth's message on hangouts came in: "Hola mama!" Oh my baby!!! He didn't have much time at the cyber, and the video wasn't working, but his voice was clear, and we were able to chat for about 20 minutes. He was decidedly bitter about the whole snow day thing, reminding me that in his six years of school in Billings and seven years here in Utah, he never once had a snow day. Eeeek, sorry, Seth. As always, it warmed the depths of my heart and soul to talk to him, and in case you didn't know, six months from this Thursday, I will get my hug. Just sayin'.

This afternoon, Eli and Amanda, Shulamith and her kids, and I decided to go see Frozen 2. I told myself it would be okay. I'd eat popcorn and candy and drink Diet Coke. I'd sit in a heated, reclining seat. I mean it couldn't be any worse than Frozen 1, right? Wrong. Goodness, I loathe kids' movies. All of them. Anything animated. Anything Disney. Shulamith tells me it's because I don't pay attention, but this time I tried. Really, I did. I tried to watch and listen, but it was just so incredibly boring that in no time I was completely distracted, and all I could think about was how I'd rather be home cleaning the bathroom.

Once back home, we changed clothes, and Eli and Amanda and I headed to Shulamith and Matt's new apartment to work out at her gym, a lovely ending to a lovely day. I always feel so good when I work out, all those amazing endorphins, I suppose, and just knowing I've been kind to my body. We were back home in time to watch part of the Iowa caucuses with Gerald and Isaiah. Please let this be the start of the process to replace this clown of a president. Please!

Sometimes God calms the storm. Other times He lets the storm rage and calms His child, with bits and pieces of grace, like canceled school; an upcoming talk in church; a chat with the coolest missionary; a heated, reclining seat to help endure a really bad movie; a workout to refresh and restore the body; and the hope for a nation to come where Donald Trump is not the president.