In the Direction of UVU: If we never take a risk...

...imagine what we might miss!

Eight years ago we moved from Montana to Utah. Almost immediately, I began teaching part time as an adjunct instructor at LDS Business College. Since then, I've taught every semester, so three semesters a year for a grand total of 24 semesters! Whoa. In my many classes at LDSBC, I've met wonderful students. That may sound like just a platitude, but really, some of the nicest people attend that school.

Adjunct teaching is a lonely profession. You're not really part of the faculty. You have zero job security because your contract is semester-to-semester, and your employment is entirely dependent on student enrollment. As a result, the full-time faculty is understandably hesitant to get too close, to make too much of an investment in getting to know you. That said, I did make one friend at LDSBC. She retired a year ago, and I love that our friendship can continue.

Three years ago, I added a couple classes at Salt Lake Community College, a decision that proved super beneficial and offered me a new and much welcomed perspective on adjunct teaching.

Last week I jumped head first (it felt like) into another huge change. I resigned from LDSBC and began teaching a class at Utah Valley University, in addition to my three classes at SLCC. In reality, my time at LDSBC should have ended about a year ago. I knew inside, even back then, that it was time to move on. But you know, fear and stuff kept me plodding along.

The opportunity to teach at UVU came suddenly, and I was actually pretty surprised. UVU is a four-year institution, and no, I don't have my PhD, only a master's. It also came with some risk. I'm giving up a part-time job I've had for eight years (albeit no real job security as noted above, but still). What if they don't like me at UVU? Also, it means a fairly significant commute, to teach just one class, with the assurance that I'll be in a great position to get a second class in January.

So on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, on the FrontRunner I go, pulling my computer bag behind me. It feels kinda cool to be commuting to work, even though I spend over twice as long in transit there and back as I do in my actual 75-minute class. I keep telling myself two things: #1 I'm getting my steps in. It's true because I park my car at the Park & Ride, walk to the FrontRunner station, get off in Orem and walk to the bus that goes from the train station to campus, then get off and walk about a mile from the bus stop to the building where my class meets. Then I do the same thing all over again to get home. #2 I'm getting my work done on the train, which has free WiFi and cute little tables on which to set my computer. So it's all good.

My UVU students are great so far, and I'm enjoying the freedom to creatively make most of my own decisions about how to present the curriculum, while still appreciating how carefully prescribed my SLCC curriculum already is. There are advantages to both.

Change is always scary. Especially for anxiety-laden people like me.

But if we never take a risk... imagine what we might miss!

Go burn that shirt, baby!

In my class this morning, we talked about discourse communities. I asked students to consider the various discourse communities they're a part of. I asked them to conduct a cultural inventory of one discourse community and to write a thick description of it, in order to dig deep, to move beyond superficial understanding.

Watching them go through this exercise, I naturally thought about the discourse communities I, myself, embrace. I'm part of the academic community of higher education, for example. I'm also a mother. And a writer/blogger. I'm in a book group. I'm a Sunday School teacher. I'm a grammar Nazi. I'm a Democrat. I'm a walker. I'm an anxiety sufferer. I'm a perfectionist. I'm an extrovert. I'm a poetry lover. I'm a Utah Jazz fan. I'm a restaurant enthusiast.

So many discourse communities.

I'm also the mom of a full-time missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. And yes, that is a discourse community all its own. Seth is my third missionary, so there are numerous posts about that community throughout this blog; in fact, here's the one I wrote at Eli's one-year mark six years ago. As a missionary mom, I've come to understand the rhetorical culture of this unique community so near to my heart.

Today is Seth's one year point. He's halfway done! One year ago, our family arose early, piled into our minivan, and drove to the Salt Lake City International airport to say goodbye to our youngest child and sibling for two years. Well, here's the post on that if you want to see. I know for you, it may seem like this year passed quickly, but for me? I have felt every last one of the 365 days since he left. We're on the downhill now though. Oh yes we are.

And how's he doing? So, so great. Really, he's so happy in Paraguay. If you receive his weekly group email, you know that he is working crazy hard but that he is loving his mission. He says he barely remembers a time when he didn't speak and understand Spanish, and in many ways, he feels like he's always lived in South America. He sometimes thinks about how funny it is that we're all still here living our lives, and that we all speak English.

Today he will burn a white shirt. In the discourse community of full-time missionaries, elders often burn their clothing as they reach certain points in the mission. At six months, they typically burn a tie. At one year, a shirt. At 18 months, a pair of pants. And when they reach two years, they burn a suit jacket. When Eli burned a shirt at the one year point of his mission in Arkansas/Tennessee, he did it at a ward member's home, supervised by responsible adults, who were kind enough to videotape it so I could see. None of this will happen with Seth. He and his companion will do this burning all on their own. Pray for their safety.

Now that we've reached the halfway point, all future events will be our "last time" without Seth. Soon it will be the last Halloween, the last Thanksgiving, the last Christmas without him. Come January, I'll be able to say, "My missionary? He'll be home later this year." This is all very good.

As we ended one of our video chats recently, Seth asked Gerald and me, "Is there anything I can do for you?" My response: "Oh my sweet Seth, my favorite elder! You are already doing everything I could ever want you to do. And I am the proudest missionary mom in the whole world." I know other moms would disagree (as they should), but that's how my heart feels. Though I miss him with a longing I can't even describe, I wouldn't want him anywhere else.

So Elder Erichsen, carry on! Carry on loving the wonderful people of Paraguay. Carry on walking the streets, clapping doors, inviting everyone who will listen, and sharing God's love through the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Oh, and also.....Go burn that shirt, baby!

Did we lose a week?

Have you ever felt like you lost an entire week? But at the same time, like a whole year has passed when it's only been seven days. That's exactly how I feel today.

One week ago, I sat in Sacrament Meeting for about 20 minutes, long enough to take the sacrament and begin to listen to the first speaker. As she started to talk about gratitude (at least I think it was gratitude?), my phone lit up with a text from Eli: "I know you're in church, but can you call me? Amanda is having sharp pain in her stomach." I left immediately, called Eli, and headed home to find Amanda burning up with fever and in severe pain. We helped her to the car and headed to the emergency room, where we spent the rest of the day watching Amanda endure multiple tests, repeated questions, all while being so, so sick, with a fever of 104.5 to prove it! It was heartbreaking.

Finally, she was diagnosed with a kidney infection, and later, blood cultures would reveal that the sepsis had also made its way into her bloodstream. Indeed, this is a serious situation, and Eli and I were pretty frightened, truth be told, but she was admitted to the hospital and received the most excellent care from a wonderful staff of nurses, aides, and (most especially) an amazing doctor, who put us at ease each time she spoke with us.

(As an aside, this very smart doctor also confirmed my belief that Diet Coke is not bad for people and that it's every bit as hydrating as water. Yep, I've been correct all this time. By our second day at the hospital, Amanda had a headache, and Dr. O'Hara told me to "go get that girl a Diet Coke" because she was likely experiencing a little caffeine withdrawal.)

Amanda stayed at the hospital two nights, and I stayed there with her because, you know, the timing of all this couldn't be any worse. Monday was Eli's first contract day in his new teaching position; he absolutely couldn't miss. I could sense the torment he felt each time he had to leave Amanda at the hospital and go to school, but really, he had no choice. Her recovery was definitely up and down, but by Tuesday, she had improved enough to come home. Hooray!

Our next order of business, besides encouraging Amanda to rest and recover, was to help Eli finish getting his classroom ready for the 22 5th graders who would arrive Monday (tomorrow!). Are you thinking what I'm thinking? You'd be right. Shulamith and I super suck at this type of thing. Most of you you are aware of my woefully limited skill set, but in case you're not, here's a nice little parable about it: "I Think I Was Napping: Another Parable of Talents."

Fact was, we needed Amanda. Desperately. Without her, there was no way in h___ we could get that classroom finished, at least not the way Amanda envisioned. You see, she is an expert at all that creative, decorative stuff, truly gifted. Ever since Eli was offered this 5th grade position (and probably even before then), the vision of his classroom was in her mind. Without her, Shulamith and I would likely have smashed that vision right off the map.

Though she was still recovering, she came with us to the school, sat in a chair, and directed traffic. Shulamith and I tried our very best to follow her directions.

When she needed to go to a different part of the classroom but was too tired and weak to walk, I rolled her around to where she needed to be. This worked quite well!

The very hardest part was making this "Welcome" bulletin board outside Eli's classroom. At one point I might have said something like, "This whole thing would have been an awesome idea had you not gotten sick!!" Yikes, measuring all these lines and trying to make the tape straight brought me close to a full-on panic attack, but here's the result:

The rest of Eli's classroom looks fantastic as well. Those kids are in for such a treat to be in such a delightful learning environment with such a kind, caring, wonderful teacher. Lucky 5th graders!

Hiking, Reading, Netflix Binging, Deep Cleaning, and Being on the Back Burner

...except I think I'll describe those five activities in reverse order:

Being on the Back Burner. A while back, Eli was asked to give a talk in Sacrament Meeting. A true Webster, he was thrilled to be asked and excited to get started. The bishopric counselor gave him the assigned topic and mentioned that they were still looking for a second speaker, to which Eli replied, "My mom's always available." Then the counselor said, "Oh, we always have your mom on the back burner, but we'll try to find someone else."

Wait, what? The back burner? So I thought about that for a bit, and finally came to this conclusion: When it comes to speaking in church, I'd way rather be on the front burner, but I guess I'm happy to at least be on the stove.

(By the way, Eli did an amazing job on his talk. So great. It was perfectly structured; doctrinally on point; carefully arranged with the right mix of scriptures, quotes, and personal stories; and so well delivered. I think Eli likes to speak almost as much as I do. Probably not quite as much, but almost.)

Deep Cleaning. As most of you know, I teach English classes part time at a couple different colleges. Though it's just a part time job, when the semester is in session, I don't have time to do many of the more intense, deep cleaning tasks around the house. So I made a detailed list of those projects, and right now, during my break, I'm doing one each day. I don't feel burdened down with cleaning, but these necessary things are getting done, one by one. So far, I've cleaned all the baseboards and light switch plates and ceiling fans throughout the house. Today, I'll tackle the linen closet. Go me!

Netflix Binging. I don't watch much TV during the summer because all my favorite shows are on break, and I am a reality TV failure. But once my grades were submitted, I yearned for a Netflix binge, and Shulamith suggested "Bloodline," although she, herself, hasn't watched it. The language is a bit rough (okay, a lot rough), but I was hooked from Episode 1. I'm pulled in by the story of a good family, plagued with tragedy, from which none of them seem to be able to escape, and the choices, lies, and broken relationships that result. So there's some light, uplifting, summer TV for you.

Reading. Reading is my escape. Escape from worries, anxiety, deadlines, and (during the semester) escape from grading boring essays with bad grammar and even worse voice. Yep, the perfect escape! Last week I read The President is Missing and Evvie Drake Starts Over. Neither was exceptional, but both entertaining enough. Next up...Little Fires Everywhere, just downloaded to my Kindle.

Hiking. So I'm not a super hiker or anything, and I definitely don't like to go when it's hot. I also struggle with the ever-present possibility of running into one of those awful creatures with no arms or legs. That said, I enjoy the outdoors, in small doses, and there's the added benefit that when I go hiking, I feel like I can eat whatever I want because of the good calorie burn. So my friend Diana has created this little hiking group to explore some of the nearby trails this summer. She loves the mountains (with the same passion I feel for the ocean), and she's an expert on all the hikes in the Wasatch Mountains. Last night I went on my second hike with her and her group, an easy little hike to Albion Meadows. We went in the evening so it was cool, and the flowers were beautiful. Here's a picture...

We even saw a deer! Picture is blurry, but you can still see him...

So there you have it: The lazy days of summer. Filled with hiking, reading,Netflix binging, deep cleaning, and being on the back burner.

Though definitely not the ocean, St. George has become our happy place!

Going to St. George has become a family tradition. "Why there?" you might ask. "Why not there?" is the best answer I have. A native of Western Oregon, I'm not used to living in a landlocked state. The ocean is my happy place, and ne'er do I go home to visit my family without spending at least one day on the lovely Oregon coast. But here in Utah, there is no ocean to go to, so a few years ago, we started going to St. George.

St. George has become our happy place...mine, Shulamith's, Seth's, Eli's, Amanda's. It's reached the point where we can't leave to come home until we've settled on a date for next time.

It's not because of any one thing in particular. We love the red rock, but that wouldn't be enough on its own to keep bringing us back.

Is it the crepes at The Crepery? Partly, sure. This past weekend, we ate crepes twice, once for breakfast Friday morning (savory crepe with ham, cheddar, and dill cream cheese sauce), and once Saturday afternoon (sweet crepe with cheesecake filling, bananas, and chocolate sauce). Also, please pronounce the word "crepe" correctly, with a short /e/ sound, not a long /a/. Thanks.

Is it the street tacos from El Coyote Charro? Partly, sure. We also went to Coyote twice.

Or the cupcakes at TwentyFive Main? No. It can't all be about food. I've decided the joy of our trips to St. George is pretty simple. Away from home and away from the stresses of regular life, we have time to be together, which is sometimes harder to orchestrate at home, with jobs, housework, family responsibilities. Time together is a precious commodity because not only are we family, more importantly, we are friends.

This recent trip drifted sideways for just a bit when this happened, but was quickly back on track. It was quite warm, but our Airbnb was literally 20 steps from a beautiful pool, so the heat was not a problem. We swam every day. One morning while it was still cool(ish), we went to Thunder Junction All Abilities Park, a very cool splash park. At night we played games, Phase 10 and What Do You Meme? I TIED Shulamith in Phase 10; don't let her tell you otherwise. The Meme game, though; that was all Eli.

Always an additional treat for me is getting to see my friend, Patty. Patty lives in LaVerkin, and she always makes time for me when we're in town. Sometime she brings Bryan. Sometimes she brings Lindsey. But mostly, she brings Claire, and this was one of those times. Thanks Patty and Clairy for a great visit!

Until next time, St. George. You have be come our happy place.

Because Seth claims nothing exciting ever happens in our family...

Each Monday (P-day), we get to communicate with Seth. Because of a recent policy adjustment, we oftentimes even get to video chat with him, and it's pretty perfect, not gonna lie! With my other two missionaries and for the first six months of Seth's mission, the only days we got to do that were Christmas and Mother's Day, four times in the entire two years! Now, though, unless something comes up in the mission (which it does some weeks), we get an hour or so to talk to Seth every Monday.

During that time, he tells us all about his week. He makes us laugh. He makes us cry. He makes us so grateful--grateful for this opportunity, grateful for the gospel, grateful for incredible mission presidents, grateful for Seth's daily decision to serve! It's a lovely chat, especially on those weeks that the Internet connection cooperates. About half the time, the screen freezes, or we can't hear Seth, or Seth can't hear us, or our voices cut out. It's Paraguay. Technology isn't the best. Still, this policy came in the nick of time because this missionary mama was about to lose her feeble mind.

Every week, at some point in our conversation, Seth remarks that, once again, we have nothing to tell him. That's because our lives are pretty lame, some might even say "boring," though quite honestly, I'm just fine with boring. Too much drama is bad for my health. But Seth always wants a story to tell, and I never have anything. Church members in Paraguay know he gets to talk to us on Mondays, so on Tuesday, they often ask, "How's your family, Elder Erichsen?" to which he replies, "Fine." "Anything new?" they ask. "Nope, not one thing."

Until this week. I had a story this week. For reals.

It all happened Friday night, when most of us were in St. George on a four-day getaway to sunshine, swimming, and copious amounts of fattening food. (Blog post on St. George trip coming up after this one.) We had been there just one night and were strolling around Albertson's, when my phone rang. Caller ID indicated Isaiah, which immediately sent fear pulsing through my body. Isaiah doesn't call me with good news, or even neutral news. He texts. Always. The last time he called me was five years ago when he got in a car wreck, so you can see why I panicked.

Me: "Hey!" (trying to sound calm).
Isaiah: "So your stupid dog escaped, and I can't find him."
Me: "Oh no! Are you looking for him on foot?"
Isaiah: "Yeah, I've been walking around the neighborhood, but now I'm gonna get in the car and try to find him."
Me: Thanks! And sorry.

Why sorry? Because it's not Isaiah's dog, nor was it ever Isaiah's decision to get a dog. The dog belongs to Seth, who is (as noted above) all the way in Paraguay. Since he left, the dog has attached himself to me (literally, if I'd let him), terrified that I'll leave him too. To say he isn't fond of Isaiah and Gerald is an understatement. He's a rescue dog from a shelter, and I'm pretty sure he was mistreated by a tall guy, leaving him terrified of males over 6 ft., though he always liked Seth, and he's also fine with Eli.

I felt so bad for Isaiah, having to deal with this all by himself in 100 degree heat, but no one else was available. Gerald was at work. Eli, Amanda, Shulamith, and I were all in St. George.

...and then a crappy situation got even worse.

First, Isaiah sent me a picture with Waffles in the backseat of his car, with the text. "I hate this dog."

Well, yes, I'm sure you do, but at least he's found! Hooray! Huge relief. All that stuff.

Then my phone rang again. Caller ID: Isaiah. Panic.

"Mom, I tried to get Waffles into the house, but he wouldn't let me near him, and he bolted into the street, and a car hit him!"

Oh my goodness, nooooo!

Now, before you get too worried, spoiler alert: Waffles is fine. Just fine. Relax.

But Isaiah didn't know that at the time, and the guy who hit Waffles was... (hmmm, how can I describe him, using language that won't offend my readers?). No idea.

Seems to me there are a couple reasonable ways you could react after hitting a dog:

#1 You might get out of your car, and say something like "Oh I'm so sorry this happened. Is he okay? How can I help?"

#2  If you're extremely busy or late for work or something, maybe you'd stop and say, "I'm so sorry, but I can't stay. I have to get to work, but I hope he's okay."

But this guy, nope, none of the above. Instead, he got out of his car and immediately launched a verbal attack on Isaiah:

Lacing the F-bomb through his diatribe, he lectured Isaiah about responsible pet ownership and how only an idiot would take a dog out for a walk without a leash in 100 degree heat.

Yeah, no shit.

He obviously knew nothing about the situation or that Isaiah was just trying to get his baby brother's dog back home because no one else was here to do it.

Finally, after standing in the street being yelled at for way too long, Isaiah said, "Dude, if you aren't gonna help me, just leave. I need to take this dog to the vet." And the guy left. And we texted Isaiah the address of a 24-hour emergency vet.

I texted Gerald, and he met Isaiah there. They waited together, not knowing if Waffles was alive or dead. We waited in St. George. Waiting is hard. Finally, a technician came out and told them Waffles was stable and doing well. Turns out he was very hot (temperature 3 degrees above normal!) and very dehydrated, you know, from running around the streets of Midvale for over an hour in the hottest afternoon we've had yet this summer. They gave him IV fluids, cleaned up his minor abrasions, and sent him home, with his two least favorite people in the world. But at least he was alive.

And we had a story to tell Seth yesterday. Now Seth and Waffles have something in common: Both have been hit by cars and come out of the experience nearly unscathed. Oh, you don't remember when Seth got hit by a car? Well, here it is, right here.

And here's a picture of him and his Waffles.

Happy Fourth of July Birthday, Kennedy!

It's hard to have your birthday the day after the Fourth of July. Everyone is already tired of celebrating, and tired in general from being up late the night before. But five years ago, in the heat of summer, when Shulamith's doctor happened to say, "Nope, nothing has changed. No way you're gonna go into labor on your own. If you want to, we can deliver by C-section July 5th," she was all in!

So now this poor girl is stuck with a post-Fourth of July birthday for life. It could be worse, I guess. It could be Christmas.

The funny part is, I think on some level Kennedy believes that people celebrate the Fourth of July in honor of her birthday. Every time she sees red, white, and blue stuff, she says they are "July colors" and that it's because of her birthday. That said, she still prefers Halloween over all other holidays, so she was determined to have a Halloween birthday party in July, complete with face painting courtesy of Amanda:

...but back to the Fourth.  Our celebration was full from start to finish. After stopping by our stake's annual Freedom Breakfast to say hi to Eli (who was there to make pancakes, though ultimately they didn't need him), I headed to meet Shulamith at a big parade on State Street. Parades are so fun, and this one really was. Floats came by one after the other. Kids scrambled to gather candy thrown by float riders. Marching bands played. It was just perfect.

In the afternoon, we went to a fair in Riverton, where Shulamith and I shared some chicken and rice (sorta healthy), followed by a funnel cake (not as healthy, but delicious). As it got closer to dark, I found myself missing Seth so much. He loves the Fourth of July. He and Isaiah always go together to get fireworks. This year, Swen had to take his place and go with Isaiah.

This nostalgic mom kept thinking back to Fourths of the past, especially the one I wrote about here exactly 10 years ago. I know the blessings Seth is receiving from serving his mission reach far beyond what even he can understand, but still I miss him. Next year on the Fourth of July, he will be almost home. Hold that thought.

We waited not so patiently for it to be dark enough, and finally, Isaiah began the annual fireworks display.

It was excellent, and just like that, it was over, but not before I grabbed this next picture. Here are three of the most amazing people I know. I am so proud of each of them and so grateful to call them my friends:

The following day, though tired from all this partying, it was time to celebrate Kennedy's birthday. She picked Waffle Love for breakfast, but she was mostly interested in opening her presents. Before I go any further, let me tell you that both her mother and I consider ourselves fairly fashion savvy. We love clothes and know what looks good and what doesn't. However, there's this girl named Jo Jo, who is a fashion nightmare. She is now 16 but started performing as a much younger child, singing, dancing, and making YouTube videos that encourage children to make good choices. Her only problem: her choice of clothing, which includes giant hair bows and hideous dresses, like this one:

Eeeeek! But Kennedy loves her, and has wanted one of these dresses for months now, so believing that people should get exactly what they want for their birthdays, not what anyone else thinks they should have, her mom and I got her this Jo Jo dress. And this Jo Jo jacket:

She was delighted.

Which is all that matters.

From Waffle Love, we headed to Classic Fun Center to play for a couple hours. By this point everyone was exhausted, including the birthday girl, so we took a break for some R & R. That night Shulamith's sons stayed home with their dad, and we took Kennedy for girls' night out: pedicures and dinner at Cheesecake Factory.

We all had pretty toes for Kennedy's friend party the following day, which brings us back to the top of this post, with Halloween cupcakes and face painting.

Happy Fourth of July birthday, Kennedy! This was your "golden" birthday, as you turned 5 on the 5th!