#MaximizeCaliforniaTime

My brother wanted to go to a wedding in Temecula, California, of a sister missionary he had served with in Lithuania.  I wanted a day or too off, with only myself to worry about.  (Selfish?  Yes!  But I'll deal with the guilt of that later.)  The two of us decided to make a mini vacation of it and spend the weekend in Southern California.  We invited our sister, but she couldn't make it.



The plan was simple.  Fly to California, drive the PCH from Long Beach to Oceanside stopping at every single beach along the way, and then drive back to Long Beach and fly home.

Our Saturday morning flight had us on the ground in California at 7:30 am.  Yes, you can do the math on that one, but it meant I had to get up at 3:30 in the morning.  I don't have hungry babies anymore, so that early of a morning, something I haven't done willingly for years was a bit of a killer.  But, it meant we could maximize our time in the sunshine.

We arrived, had breakfast at our favorite place, The Sugar Shack Cafe, in Huntington Beach and then we hit the coast.  We were at Huntington all alone, minus a few surfers.  We played in the tide pools at Laguna Beach and ate a delicious, yet greasy and stomach unsettling burger in Oceanside.

The drive to the wedding was dark and winding.  We spent a total of 5 minutes at the reception - typical Mormon thing if you get my drift - and then drove back to Oceanside to sleep harder and deeper on a hotel bed than I've ever slept maybe in my life.  And, I'm a professional sleeper.

The next morning, Sunday, we toured Oceanside.  There wasn't much to see if you get rid of the grime and the homeless folks on every corner.  But, the pier was cool - pelican unafraid of humans and wooden planks, and the California Surfer museum, though small, was packed full of useful and interesting surfing information.  A topic I know nothing about.

The Oceanside beach is small.  At Dana Point, we watched a surf competition in the rain, and got drenched ourselves.  Walking up a steep hill, in a minor downpour, on a cold and blustery morning with sandy feet isn't my favorite way to travel.



Once we got back to Laguna Beach for lunch, the rain was making way for a perfectly beachy California afternoon.  We decided to spend a good part of our Sunday at the church of Crystal Cove beach, tucked away from most tourists, noise, and worldly chaos.  The beach is such a fantastic and magical and marvelous place sometimes.  I lost my brother, but I was perfectly content sitting in the silence, soaking up the waves and the sunshine.  A perfect revival for a tired soul.



We drove past the Newport Temple and scared a trespasser, watching him take a flying leap into some shrubbery.  Instead of heading up the coast for one more beach, Seal Beach, we decided to watch the sun set behind the waves at our beloved Huntington Beach.  The Sunday drum circle was pounding away, the crowd was happy, the surf appeared to be good, and the sky was a bright orange as we walked out to Ruby's Diner, got a malt to split and walked back down the pier.



One of the faster weekends of my life, but a memorable one.

Thanks Willie for the invitation.

The first day of Spring

On Sunday, church was cancelled.  All Utah members, 8 and older, were supposed to attend a rebroadcast of the Provo Tabernacle Temple dedication.  We decided that we did not want to take shifts, as the adults in our home, to attend a broadcast so after a lazy morning at home, we went downtown to Temple Square and did a little church history tour of our own.

It was a very beautiful day, the first day of spring.  There is nothing better than 70 degrees, bright sunshine and well behaved children.

While in the visitor center, we were looking at a world map and Ross asked the boys if they could find Lithuania.  While they were all pointing trying to pin point the exact location, a very kind woman walked up to us and said she could help them find Lithuania.  She was from Lithuania.  After a very quick conversation and the sharing of pictures we figured out that though she attended the Russian speaking branch in Vilnius, Lithuania, she knew Elder Petersen.  I had Ross take a very unflattering picture of the two of us (it was not intended to be as such) and we parted ways.

The day ended with a walk around the Daybreak Lake to burn off the excess energy of three young boys and some crazy double overtime basketball games.

I'd say it was a pretty great day.

He's home! He's home! He's home!

Last week, on Thursday, March 3 my long lost little brother returned from his two year mission in Lithuania.  It was a pretty nerve wracking week - I had some stress induced stomach problems; Wyatt had double ear infections and missed two days of school; Elliott had some sort of virus with a 101.4 degree fever.  Inspite of all our personal challenges though, that kid still came home.

And it was glorious.

Seeing him.  Giving him a hug.  Reintroducing him to the kids.  Pretty cool.

Two years is such a long time.  I realize that in the grand scheme of life, two years is a very small percentage, but it was worth it.  My brother is so tall and handsome and smart and grown-up.  He is of course, the same goofy dorky kid we all love, but he is so much more than that, too.

















Yesterday, Quinn and I got to spend a couple hours in the afternoon with Uncle Willie.  As soon as he came in our house, he went straight to the fridge and the pantry - just like always.  He wandered around our house, upstairs and into the basement.  He smiled and giggled and tried to talk to Quinn.

We went to Deseret Book.  The woman helping him thought I was his mom.  He's home, I guess.  Everyone thinks I'm his mom.

We went to lunch at Cubby's and I answered all his questions about family and America and food trucks.  He likes food trucks - well, he likes kebab stands, so pretty much the same thing.

Then, we went to Target, and he pushed Captain Quinn around in the cart and we looked at all the toys.

We came back to my house, and he read books to his former best friend, who is starting to warm up to the whole idea of Uncle Willie.  He went with me to get the big boys from school, checked out the pantry one more time when we got back, and then he headed home.

He is a good boy and one of my best friends.  I am so happy he is home.

35 days

Exactly 5 weeks from today, a mere 35 days, my brother will return home from his two year mission in Lithuania.  He has finally started to hint, just a little, in his letters that he will in fact be coming home.  He has received notice from the "U" that they are waiting for him to return.  He is the topic, or falls into nearly every conversation my boys and I have with each other.

I think I've posted this statement before, but according to my mom (and I wholeheartedly agree), this brother of mine is the "glue" that keeps our family together.  Well, when the glue is gone for two years, things don't really fall apart, but sometimes, the hole that is left in his place feels really big.  Too big to fill up any other way.  I've been an emotional mess lately - not worth mentioning really, but I think that in several aspects of my life, the word "Basket-case" is written in bold letters across my forehead.  One night, a week or so ago, after unloading yet another basket-case full of worry onto my husband before we fell asleep (perfect timing, right?) he said to me, that I need my brother home.  That I'm done missing him and I just need him back, where I can see him and talk to him every day.

I know that I miss him more now, on the cusp of his return, that I did when he left.  In my mind, I can see him coming down the escalator at the airport, doing his little fake yell/scream with his hands waving in the air, dropping his stuff and charging for my mom, then my dad, then if he goes in sister age order, me.  But I'm sure that the kids will attack him first.  It's so exciting to think about and talk about, and shed the happiest little tears about.

So close.  Closer every single day.

The end of the year..

It seems that every single December sneaks up on me.  Here we are, just plugging along, living life, going on adventures, experiencing the seasons and then BLAMO!  It's Christmas!

Christmas completely and utterly stresses me out.  I have panic attacks and cry.  I miss my grandma's and strive to find their presence in all that I do, just to know, that they know, I'm trying.

The actual day of Christmas is a blur.  It is never as stressful as I think it's going to be and I do manage to find joy in watching my children's overwhelming excitement for all things wrapped (and not) in flimsy holiday paper.  We rush and rush and rush and then it all just comes crashing down.

Christmas should be the end of the year.  We should wake up the next day and ring in the new year all at once.  These days between December 25 and January 1 are just a jumble of sugar and chaos and trying to figure out what to do with ourselves every single day.

Today though, is my super cool brother's birthday.  He is 21 today.  Holy cow.  To celebrate, we are all going bowling (the Bing-Bings, the parental units and my family of 5), and eating lots of french fries, which is a pretty good way to celebrate the birthday of the one we love when he isn't here.  Because, if he was here, we'd probably be doing the same thing.

I'm excited for what the new year holds, what it will bring, and the adventures we will take both near and far.  I'm excited for my children to continue to grow and learn and be the great kids that they are.  I'm excited to get out of my 13th year of marriage and move on to the 14th, because the 13th has been a little stressful, to tell you the truth.  I'm excited to take more pictures, have new experiences, and maybe even go on an actual "date" or two with my husband, sans children.  I heard those things exist, but haven't been on one in so long I'm not sure I remember what to do.

All that being said, here is a quick slide show tribute to our 2015, may it rest in peace.  It seems that every year, my boys and I adopt a song.  One that's easy on the ears and can be wildly danced to in the kitchen (or the car, or anywhere else for that matter.)  Walk the Moon's, "Shut Up and Dance" seemed to fit the bill this year - and is probably one of the first songs we will have that Uncle of ours listen to as part of his missionary de-programming in two short months.

Happy New Year.  Bring on 2016.

Happenings...

It's just a few days before Christmas...9, if you don't count today, right?

I was talking to Ross on the phone this afternoon whining a bit.  It seems that all my time, our time, in the last couple weeks has been pulled away from us into different directions.  Church callings, basketball practice and coaching, Christmas concerts, Sub-for-Santa, traveling for work, holiday markets, frantic sewing for shows, frantic sewing of custom orders, shoveling snow and snow blowing all the neighbors driveways and sidewalks...it really feels a little overwhelming.

There are people in this world who need help.  There are members of my family who need prayers.  There are so many NEEDS in this world that it's impossible to think of them all, or to help all those that need it.  I try hard to spend as much time as I can serving others, in big ways and small.  I try to do something everyday that will benefit another person, even if on most days, I don't make it past the other four people in my home.

And guess what.

I'm really tired.

And I have a lot to do in the next nine days.

I hope I can get it all done.

I find January and February, like most people, to be pretty depressing.  It's cold and dreary, the air is bad, lots of people get sick and pass away (our stake president a few weeks ago called winter the "season of dying" and as morbid as that sounds, he's right), as a parent, it takes me a long time to recover from the excitement and let down of the holidays.

But, there are a lot of good things too.

Our neighborhood provided Christmas for 7 families who would otherwise have nothing.  My oldest son performed amazingly well on the trombone in three holiday concerts, and my niece and nephew did well in their program, too.  My boys are great basketball players and very helpful, kind, nice boys which I think that their dad and I take for granted every once in a while.  We are lucky to go on adventures, have the resources to help other people, and spend a lot of time with the people we love.  Last week, the boys were on the trampoline in hoodies and this week, they are bundled up in their warmest gear to play in the snow.

And we get to talk to our Uncle Willie next week.  You just cannot beat that.

March 3, 2016

We have a return date for that tall blond elder in the picture.

March 3, 2016.

I can hardly wait.

I was talking to my mom about the Big Iggy this morning.  We both started crying.  She said, "I don't know how we got so lucky to have this kid in our family, but he is the glue that holds everything together."

Truer words were never spoken.

I'm ready for the glue to come back home.

For my dad

My dad is the young men's president at church.  They are doing a missionary themed mutual this week and he asked me to collect about 40 pictures of my brother since he moved from the #greatwhitehope to the #lithuaniaexpress, to show to the kids before their activity.

Of course, I cannot stop at "put about 40 pictures on a flash drive".

I had to do a little bit more.



My brother, oh that brother, will be home in a little over 100 days.  This final stretch is a bit of a killer.

When I texted my mom that the video I made would make my dad cry she replied, "doesn't take much".

February cannot come soon enough.  Or March.  Or whenever he gets back.

200 days

In just over a week, Elder Petersen will have been serving as an LDS missionary amongst the people of Lithuania for 18 months.  Just last week, he crossed the 200 day mark.  It's taken a long time to get to the downward slope of Willie's mission, but it really feels now that he is so close to coming home.

We are already in the middle of August.

Then it will be Christmas day and we will be able to Skype with him.

Then it will be February and it will be time to head to the airport and embarrass ourselves and him with our airport antics.  Actually, maybe we will play it cool.  He will probably come home at a crazy time, hopefully when the airport isn't too crowded so that when my mom SCREAMS as her only son descends the escalator towards her, security won't think there is some sort of terrorist attack taking place.  But, I bet it Salt Lake, those sort of motherly screams are heard at the airport by luggage claim quite a bit.

We spend a lot of time talking about when Willie will come home.  When he left 18 months ago, time was just at a stand still.  It moved on of course, but so slowly.  We knew he was healthy and safe and doing what was important for him, but man alive we missed him.  His contagious laughter, his plopping on the couch, his occasional brooding, even his farting.  Well, maybe not that.  His presence just left a hole.  A giant albino hole.

That hole gets filled on Monday mornings.  Monday mornings are the best.  For about three minutes.  Those three minutes it takes me to read his letter before I get in the shower, and the next three minutes to look at the pictures he's uploaded into dropbox make getting up on Monday mornings worth it every single week.  I haven't missed writing my BiG Iggy brother one week his entire mission and he hasn't missed writing us.  He's been late a couple of times, leaving my mom and sister and I in a three way texting frenzy, but those letters are life blood when such an important person is gone from you.  His goofy personality shines through in those letters and its usually enough to get you through to the next Monday.  I find myself looking at those pictures several times throughout the week and during sacrament meeting on Sunday's, Elliott and I look through them.  It's not the same as him being next to us, petting our shoulders with his giant paws, but it does alright just the same.

We talk about what life will be like when he gets home.  Will he be weird?  How long will it take for him to just lay on the couch and watch "Regular Show" and "Sponge Bob" all day long?  Will he like music?  Will he be funny?  Will he be too serious?  Will he get mad at us for not being "SPiritual" enough?

I've thought about sending him a "Missionary Detox" kit to use on the airplane on the ride home.  Mostly, it would just consist of an ipod shuffle full of all the awesome music he's missed in the last two years.  Elliott, Wyatt  and I have been compiling a list of the music we think he needs to hear, to help him get back to normal.  It's a pretty good list, too.  My boys have good taste in music.  I mentioned it to Willie in a letter and his only response was, "DON"T VIOLATE ANY MISSION RULES!"

Yep, 6 more months.

Yippee!

July, so far...

July.  It's here.  The boys finished school on July 1 and 2, respectively and we are ready for summer.  So far, we've managed to get a lot of activities in.

We've bought Quinn a new bed.  He gets out of his a crib a lot and he is almost three.  So, we bought him a new bed.  Now, we just need to set it up.





We've been swimming a lot at great grandpas house and started swimming lessons this week at the Kearns Rec Center Pool.  Elliott is in "whale" and nearly finished with the whole swimming lesson program.  Wyatt is a "crab" for the third time.  He's hopefully finally going to pass it off because I've told him that he must take swimming lessons UNTIL he can pass crab, and then we can talk about it. Quinn isn't old enough to start "fwimming lessons" yet, but as soon as the boys are back in school, I'm going to sign him up for a mom and "baby" swimming class.





On the last day of school, because it was the last day of school and the boys had great report cards, I took them to lunch.  We went to the training table because I wanted a Hawaiian burger and some delicious fries.  The boys were brats before the food came, but luckily settled down when the food arrived.  That was, until, I had to take Quinn in the bathroom to change his diaper.  I came back three minutes later to a complete and total fist fight on the bench.  Wyatt was swinging at Elliott and Elliott way laying on the bench choking Wyatt.  It was awesome.  People were staring.  I was flaming mad, just like Anger in "Inside Out".  I drug the boys outside and yelled them into a wall.  I yelled some more on the way home.  Then, they both spent about an hour (Wyatt a little more because he wouldn't stop screaming) in "sit in the middle of the floor and don't touch anything" timeout.

By the time I cooled down, I'd had it.  It had been a rough week and a rough day.  I texted Ross that I was done with the boys and that when he got home from work, I was leaving and maybe I would come back.




After much internal debate about how lame I thought it might be, when Ross did get home I took myself on a date.  I washed my face and reapplied my make-up.  I combed my hair.  I put on a nice clean outfit and I left.  I took myself to a movie, one that wasn't crowded.  I sat in a corner by myself eating my popcorn and laughing so hard I cried.  Then, I walked to Target from my car and got a few things, getting my exercise for the night as well.

It wasn't lame to go to a movie by myself.  I would definitely consider doing it again.  I had a great time.  I'm a great date.






Our first full day of summer last week on July 3 kept us pretty busy.  We got up in the morning and headed to Haley's.  We played for a while, until it was time to meet dad at his new office and go to lunch.  Then, we headed to Great Grandpa's to swim the afternoon away.  The boys swam for hours.  I floated for hours.  Fun was had by all.  And, the best part?  Everyone fell asleep on our way home.  With three kiddos of such different ages, this doesn't happen much anymore.  It was a small miracle, especially considering the day before I was ready to divorce them all.







On July 4th, we broke with all tradition and created one of our own.  All of us, minus James and Willie, went to a movie.  We saw, "Inside Out."  It was delightful and entertaining and fun.  Elliott and Quinn devoured a family size popcorn.

After the movie we came home and spent the afternoon just hanging out.  Oh, and we lost Quinn.  Long story short, he thought he was playing hide and seek with the boys outside, and decided to, without anyone knowing, hide in the car!  On a 100 degree day!!  We found him, but he'd been in the car about 20 minutes and was covered head to toe in sweat, like he'd just gotten out of the bathtub.  Once he drank about 30 ounces of water and stopped crying, he told us that he was hiding from the boys and couldn't open the door to get out of the car, and we couldn't hear him screaming.  It was terrifying.  It won't happen again.





That afternoon, we headed out to my grandpas to swim and eat dinner with him.  The kids swam with cousins and we had a great bbq with my grandpa.  That evening, with a slight drizzle of rain, we set of fireworks and for the first 4th of July in many years, Wyatt did not throw up.

Winner winner chicken dinner.



And finally, I love my brother and miss him lots.  He celebrated too, just in a different country.

Happy Birthday, Elder!

Today, my brother turns 20.  He's far away, and we didn't get to celebrate in our traditional way with pizza and a party, but hopefully he could feel our love for him from thousands of miles away.

Because my mom and sister and i often think alike (and apparently Parker and a few of Willie's friends, too) there were lots and lots of social media birthday wishes for the Big Iggy.

I posted to Instagram, and within minutes, my mom and sister posted wishes to him as well.







It's so good to know that he is doing so well, and is such a great missionary.  Willie is a pretty special kid, and he has a way with people and is a natural born leader.  I am so proud of him and can't believe that he is so grown up.

10 month update

December marks the 10th month that "The Big Iggy" has been a missionary for the LDS church.  A few weeks ago, my parents got a letter from the mission president informing us that Elder Petersen was going to be a trainer.  Then we got a letter from Willie telling us that he was going to be a trainer, but that his trainee was held up in Utah with some knee problems/surgery and there was no way of telling when he would actually arrive.

For months now, he's been part of a trio, instead of a companionship.  He told me that even though he wasn't the senior companion, that it often felt like he was in the video game Animal Crossing, with those other two elders just following him around wherever he went.

But, he isn't part of a trio anymore.  In fact, my dad got an e-mail last week telling us that our Elder was getting a new assignment and that he would now be a district leader.  Then, our Monday e-mail told us that yes, Willie is a district leader in 1) a new town and 2) his new companion is Elder Norman - his companion from the MTC who, to put it nicely, tried his patience.  I could feel my nervous mervous brother sweating it out in his e-mail but hopefully, he's relaxed a little in the last few days and he can go about the business of being the missionary in charge.

Willie is now in his third city, Klaipeda, Lithuania.  It's a coastal city, right on the Baltic Sea and he said that so far, its very pretty.  But Lithuania right now especially is very cold.  I check the weather weekly and this week the high was supposed to be 25 in the country's capital.  I'm not sure whether the sea makes it warmer or colder, but I'm guessing colder.  He also said that the people are very friendly and there is actually a young man in the branch preparing to serve a mission - which is very cool.



I know that as a family, we so look forward to an e-mail in our inbox every single Monday from our Elder.  There have been a couple weeks where his e-mails have been "late" and we all frantically text each other wondering whether we were left off the list, or if something happened to him.  That something, generally, has been that he's busy.  Duh on us!




The rules have loosened a little and Willie can now send us pictures of actual Lithuanian members, and of his companions.  He's broken the rules a few times to send us, what I guess would be contraband pictures, but it's nice to know that he can do it legally and that we get to see a little more of where he is at and what he is doing and put names to faces of some of the favorite people he is teaching like Birute, his Lithuanian Grandma.




We get the opportunity to Skype with Willie on Christmas day.  I am so excited.  My boys are so excited.  My mother (and I assume my dad) is beyond excited.  It's like the biggest thing ever in our lives and we are all counting down the days.  Quinn talks to Willie every day on his plastic nemo phone.  He also talks to "Unka We-eeee" through pictures, generally carrying around a photograph or magnet with his image on it at least once a day.  I really hope that he doesn't pull his crazy bashful self when we see Willie on video and that he will actually talk to him.  If we tell Willie ahead of time to ask Quinn about the bison at the zoo, I'm sure he can zone in and talk (FYI - the bison are no longer at the zoo.  They are on a farm.  Quinn will be more than happy to tell you that whenever you ask).

I miss my brother very much, but I know he is doing an important work, touching the lives of people who need a little love from a very tall and skinny albino boy from Utah.  I heard in a talk at a missionary farewell at church this past Sunday, that if you apply the law of tithing to your life, for a young man, taking two years out of his life when he's 19-21 is the same as paying a 10% tithe to the Lord.  I thought that was a neat way to interpret a mission.  We've got Willie with us forever.  The people of Lithuania just get him for two years.  I guess that's why missionaries (especially my brother) work so hard.  They've got a lifetime of work to do helping other people in a fraction of time.

The Mission :: The First Six Months

August 26, 2014 will mark the sixth month that the Big Iggy, aka the #lithuaniaexpress, aka Uncle Willie, aka, my brother, aka Elder Petersen has been a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  He has been in Lithuania since the very end of April/beginning of May and about two weeks ago, went to his second city and is now with his second companion.

When he left, I really thought that I would write more about his mission and experiences on this blog.  But the mission rules are pretty tight about sharing information about Lithuanians on any form of social media and they just got tighter.  Elder Petersen isn't allowed to, as of a couple of weeks ago, share any pictures, even with his family, of any of the members or people he is working with.  He can only send us pictures of him, the scenery, and I think his companions and the other missionaries.  That, combined with the fact that my sister and I have a private blog (invited readers only) where we share his weekly letters and some of the pictures that he sends us has left this space void of his presence.

But, our lives are anything but void of his presence.



We seem to have developed, the boys and I, our daily, "uncle willie rituals", and they are helping us get through the days that we miss him.

When he first left, and was at the MTC in Provo, we sent him pictures and drawings and letters and photos and packages weekly.  He was there for almost 9 weeks and even though we didn't get to see him, we were really in close contact with him, because he send us pictures and letters a couple times a week, too.  Once he hit Lithuania however,  we were reduced to one day a week of contact - Monday mornings and that has to get us through the week.

Luckily, my brother is an amazing writer and he knows that with three mothers at home (well, one real one anyway) that we want details so he humors us by answering our silly questions about his sleep, his zits, his shoes, the dryness of his socks, how his pants are holding up, and whether or not he really is getting enough to eat.  He also fills our spiritual cup so to speak with wonderful messages of faith and devotion to the literal "mission" he has been called to.  He is doing a great job and we are all so proud of him.

At home?  We talk about Willie every single day.  We check the weather in Lithuania and acknowledge the time difference (about 8 hours) multiple times a day.  Willie goes to bed when we pick Elliott up from school and sometimes in the car we say, "good night, Willie" on our way home.  Okay, I do it in my head nearly every day because my boys think I'm a dork, but still, it's done.  Every prayer that is said in our home, that uncle of ours is the first blessing asked for. (The second, if you want to know, is for Great Grandpa, that he can be happy in his house.)  "Bless Willie in Lithuania that he will be a good missionary," say the boys every night before they go to bed.  We put a daily sticker on our countdown chart (he's been gone around 160 days so far), have his pictures all over our house, and wonder if he gets the chance to play basketball or football.  And at least, oh, 7 times a week, someone is on my lap or next to me, looking at all the pictures and videos Willie has uploaded to all of our shared Drop box folders so we can see what he is doing.



On Sunday nights we write our letters.  Elliott sends an e-mail every couple of weeks, with Wyatt as a contributing editor.  I take dictation for the boys and do all the typing.  There is always talk of school and sports, questions about the mission, and talk about poop.  The boys and their uncle always talk about poop and farts and all the things that keep boys, boys.  Apparently it is what binds them together.

Two weeks ago, Willie asked in a letter that we sit down and write down all of our favorite things about him BEFORE he was a missionary so that when he comes home, he can read them and remember how to be normal again.  I read that part of the letter to the boys and immediately they wanted to sit down and make lists.  So, we did.  The three of us made elaborate lists of all our favorite "Willie things" and folded them up and sealed them in an envelope to be opened by him upon his return in the early winter of 2016.  Man that sounds so far away.

Anyway, we miss him.  And we love him.  He is still our fun uncle.  This summer has been particularly challenging because summer has always meant Uncle Willie.  It's been hard not to have the Big Iggy on our couch, in our pantry, mooching lunch, swimming with us, going on adventures and taking the boys for Slurpees.  Not to mention all the tai chi and yoga and other crazy things that he would always be teaching the boys.  Oh, and the Squatch hunting.  They miss the squatch hunting, too.



As he was flying to Europe, he called me from Chicago.  I had been having a particularly rough morning, and had been hoping for a phone call from the goof ball all morning.  Right when we pulled into the drive way coming home from preschool, I got a call from an unknown number and knew it was him.  Of course I answered and the boy on the other end was so alive.  So happy.  So full of the spirit of God and life and all that was good in the world.  It made my day to talk to him for those 20 minutes and over the last few months, I've reflected back on that conversation several times and how much of a blessing my big little brother is in my life, and the lives of my boys.

So, here's to nearly six months down.  Only 18 more to go.

(Side note: If you are a reader of this blog, and you'd like to read Willie's letters, make a comment or send me an e-mail and I can send you an invitation)

Skyping with our missionary

Bright and early this morning, Mothers Day, we got up and dressed and flew out the door.  I may have been motivating the troops a little too aggressively, but we had a very important place to be.  That brother of mine, the #lithuanianexpress, was going to be skyping with us from the other side of the world, at my moms house, and I wasn't going to miss one second of it.

I didn't have to worry.  His call was almost an hour late.

When he finally did call, it was pretty funny.  My mom and sister and I, and all the kids were sitting in the office waiting impatiently, staring at the computer monitor when Ross walked into the room.  He had Willie LIVE on HIS phone!  I still don't really know why Willie got a hold of Ross, but I guess it makes sense, when you need a guarantee that someone has their technology ready to go, it's my husband.  Ross handed his phone to my mom with a smirk and she screamed!

"Oh, is that my son!"

"Oh my!"

Then she was speechless.

Ross took the phone back, talked to Willie and we got everything figured out to get him on the computer so we could all see him.  He had forgotten his Skype user name and password and was using his companions.  Shock.



But, when that kids face appeared on the screen, he lit up like a firecracker.  And we lit up like firecrackers.  It was the best "present" his three moms could have asked for on Mother's Day, his real mom in particular.  We were able to talk with him for about an hour with no time delay.  It was so fun to be sitting in a room with all of us, and him, just like he was really there.  Laughing at us (and with us), smiling and talking to the kids, and watching them all be hauled out of the office screaming in turn, just like at Sunday dinner.

When it was time to say goodbye, we did so joyfully.  There were no tears, just exuberance.  There was so much energy.  I know, we all know that what my brother is doing is so right and so good.  He is a fine young man and is serving the people of Lithuania with all his heart mind and spirit.  I love that kid to pieces and always will.

The boy in Lithuania

Today marks one week. One week my brother has been a real missionary in a real country and not in spiritual concentration camp in Provo, Utah. He is in Lithuania and is thriving. He's going to be such a great missionary and this coming weekend, is going to help baptize two children of a less active member who have been receiving lessons from the missionaries. Not to shabby for his first couple weeks on the job.

There is a 9 hour time difference so when we are going to bed, he's starting to wake up. He'll always be half a day ahead of us, but that's probably how he likes it. Last week, I got to talk to that brother of mine on the phone from the Chicago airport. We talked for about 20 minutes and it made what had been turning into a rotten day, one of the best days ever. He was happy and floating on a cloud. We laughed a lot, I cried a little, and when I put him on speaker phone to talk to Quinn, that baby looked every where for his best buddy and couldn't find him, so he just waved to the phone.

Willie has been gone for nearly 70 days. Time sure is flying by. Okay, maybe not for my mom, but for me it is. I just know he is in the right place, doing the right thing. I realize we've still got a long way to go, but in the blink of an eye, we'll be at the airport, silly signs in hand, fighting back happy tears, waiting to welcome his skinny butt back home.

I've always sort of struggled with the idea of missionary work - it's not something I've done, and isn't really something I want to do. The thought of being out on the street every day trying to find people to talk to about your faith and beliefs scares me. It's intimidating, and honestly, a little strange. Maybe because my only experience with proselyting "missionaries" of another religion are the occasional J-Dub's knocking on my door and me running to hide. It takes a very special and dedicated person to be a missionary, at any age. It is not something to be handled lightly. IT IS HARD WORK!

 My brother may have the time of his life in Lithuania, but he is also working his butt off, that's for sure.

Note:: If you want to read his blog, and your invitation expired before you accepted it or you didn't get an invitation, let me know and I can hook you up with some spiritual enlightenment via one really awesome 19 year old.

Accepting blessings through trials

That brother of mine has been gone from us on his mission for three weeks.  Three weeks doesn't even make a dent in two years, but, it's three weeks closer to having him back home.  It's been tough having him gone.  The first few days were really sucky, but as with most things in life, it gets a little bit easier.

Sunday dinner is pretty rough.  My boys sit at the kids table by themselves and we don't hear the muffled laughter that they had with their uncle.  They just quietly eat and then ask to be excused.  It's different.  Not bad, but it just will take a little bit more getting used to.

I've heard said countless times, that for the young men and women who serve full-time missions, they and their families are blessed beyond measure.  That the sacrifice of 18 - 24 months reaps rewards in heaven and on earth.  And that, while these courageous and strong youth are out serving the Lord, that as long as they and their families are righteous, rewards will be reaped.

I've always believed that.  It makes so much sens.  But, this week my family has experienced those blessings and "missionary miracles" first hand.



On Monday, at lunchtime at "the yard", my grandpa set out for his daily constitutional around my uncles t-shirt shop when he fell.  He fell forward and he fell hard.  He's too old to really brace himself and he smashed his face into the concrete floor.  My uncles got him up and his face was bloodied, but he was conscious and coherent and was able to get himself into the bathroom.  He agreed to get checked out by a doctor because he was in pain, and, headed to an emergency room.

While there, things were not good and though he was "okay" after some tests and scans and x-rays, it was realized that my grandpa's fall had caused him to break the top two vertebrae in his neck.  The vertebrae that hold his head up and are dangerously close to his spinal cord.  It was decided to transfer him by ambulance to another hospital where a surgeon could do more tests and figure out the best way to help him.

At that point, the prayers started pouring in.  Family and friends prayed.  My grandpa was given a priesthood blessing.  His name was put on the prayer rolls of several temples.  By Monday night, the surgeon felt the best option for my grandpa would be surgery to put him in a halo neck brace.  The kind that gets screwed into your skull.  This apparatus would probably be attached to him for at least three months and because of the nature of the device, he wouldn't be able to care for himself.

More prayers and blessings.

Surgery was scheduled for Tuesday morning.

More prayers.  More prayers.

Yesterday morning, after checking him out, the surgeon decided that a halo would not be necessary, that it would be better for him and his recovery, to fuse my grandpa's broken neck to his shoulders.  He'd completely lose the ability to turn his head for the rest of his life, and would have to relearn a lot, but it wasn't a halo.

More prayers and blessings.

Surgery for the fuse was scheduled and my grandpa was wheeled into the operating room.  My mom says that they had him on the table, on his stomach, to do the surgery and when they got his neck open, the bones were not broken like they had been on the x-rays the night before.  In fact, the neck to shoulder fuse wasn't going to be necessary.  A call was made from the operating room to the family to change my grandpa's surgery  - they needed permission to flip him to his back, and fix his neck through his throat (icky!) - and all he needed was a solitary pin and the vertebrae in question fused to one that wasn't broken. (If I have all my details correct).

Can you believe that?

 I can.

I texted my mom last night and said that I was so happy my grandpa got to be a miracle.  And that the blessings of my brother being a valiant missionary, even if it's only been for three weeks, and the strength of us on earth and my grandma in heaven, healed my grandpa enough to help him be okay.  To sustain himself through the procedure.  To renew our faith, and maybe even restore the faith in a few others.

I so believe in faith and God and the power of prayer and miracles.  My grandpa has a long road to recovery ahead of him and it will be one of the bigger trials of his life.  But through faith, great works happen.  Through our trials we get stronger.

After something like this the last couple of days, I just don't know how you can't believe that that there is someone, something out there watching over us and protecting us.

I'm so grateful for my brother.  And that my grandpa is going to be okay.

And just like that, he was gone....

Today was the day.

Before today though, there was last night.

At 8:30 pm, those that could make it, gathered at my parents stake center so Willie could be set apart as a Missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  As we were waiting for a few final people to arrive, the Stake President pulled Willie out of the room and we waited a few minutes for their return.  The Stake President shared a few words and then those men holding the priesthood who were present, gathered in a circle around my brother to set him apart as a missionary.

It's a pretty special thing to witness.

Quinn was asleep and my big boys were perfectly quiet and still with their arms folding, eyes closed and heads bowed for what was a pretty long prayer.  It was a beautiful blessing, with lots of promises of great things in return for obedience to the Gospel and the mission rules.  After, Willie bore his testimony to us, and he was a missionary.

And then Elliott figured it out.  That his best buddy was really leaving.  His quiet sobs in the corner of the room brought everyone to tears.  I could sense that his little 7 year old mind had been spinning all day, with all the reality of what we'd been talking about for weeks hitting him like a ton of bricks.  He was so sad.  Luckily, he's a pretty resilient kid and....grandma had doughnuts at her house.  That can pretty much make anyone stop crying, right?

As we sat at my parents house, our last gathering as a whole family for two years, there was some sadness in the air, and some puffy faces with stark red eyes.  But, there was also joy and a lot of happiness.  We all know that Willie has made the right decisions, and that he will be blessed and protected.  When it was time to go, the boys gave Willie a couple "anaconda squeezes" and ran out to the car to get buckled in.  Then it was my turn to say goodbye, and in typical Petersen fashion, Willie and I both bawled like babies.  But just for a minute.  Because it's all good.

He is going to be such an amazing missionary.  I am so excited for him.

And luckily, we seem to have gotten all our tears out last night.

Willie was to report to the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah at 1:00 pm today.  Haley went with my mom and dad to drop Willie off, but I stayed home with my boys, requesting a quick pit stop on the way down.  Our two flexes pulled into my driveway after picking Wyatt up from school at the same time and both cars unloaded.

There were no tears today.  Just happiness and excitement.  We took a few pictures.  Gave a few hugs.  Made a couple jokes about chap stick and tissues.  Then, just as quickly as they had pulled into the driveway, they were off.  Taking Willie to his grand adventure.

But not without a stop at Wendy's for some french fries first.

At 12:58 pm, I got a text from my mom.  All it said was, "Done!"  Man that drop-off is a quick one.

And now, we watch his adventure unfold from the sidelines, waiting weekly for his letters home, the occasional picture to prove he is still alive, and the power of the gospel to wash over all of us.  We will all miss him so much, and I have to admit that I've had a few moments of weakness today where I've shed a few tears, wondering, "What is he doing right now?", but they are happy tears.  Which really are the best kind.

Now, we just have to figure out what to do with him gone.  And, decide if we let Molly sit at the kid table during Sunday dinner.

Mission Farewell #lithuanianexpress

Today was the first of three big days this week.

Big Day One:  Mission Farewell
Big Day Two: Setting apart
Big Day Three:  Report to the MTC

My little brother gave an excellent talk in sacrament meeting to a packed house.  The church was full from the front of the chapel until the very back wall of the very last overflow.  He talked about Faith, Hope, and Charity.  He compared his faith to basketball but I sort of lost the analogy along the way.  He was overcome by emotion several times by the outpouring of kindness and love and support show to him and to all of us, his family.  He thanked who he hoped was an anonymous person in the audience for the monthly anonymous cash donations to his mission fund.  He talked about how faith is so important because he wants to be with family in heaven again some day.

He is ready.

I'm not sure if we are ready to send him away for two years, but, he is ready to serve the Lord.

It is so exciting.

My mom and sister and I have been preparing for the farewell after party all week, and we all congregated last night to get some of the final preparations done.  It ended up being just the five of us, and it was so much fun.  I love my family the most!

We were prepared for a lot of people, but even still, we weren't prepared for the amount of people that came to my mom's house after the meeting.  Or the number of starving boys.  We realized quickly that we would be running out of food - we had literal hundreds of everything and it was all going lighting fast.

Eventually, as the line for food wound down, my mom had to break into the pantry to feed all the people - chips, fruit snacks, apples from her fridge....anything we could find to feed the guests.  It was sort of like the story of the loaves and fishes in the Bible - how Jesus was able to feed the multitudes with five loaves and 5 fishes.  We fed close to 200 hungry people with everything we had on hand.  We definitely fed a multitude of our own.  It was one of the fastest hours of my life.




My brother has so many great friends, member and non-member, who came to support him today and I of course, had to take pictures of as many of them as I could round up.  His group has dwindled significantly, Willie being one of the last of the LDS kids to leave on his mission, but they are such a handsome and supportive group of boys.  And girls!  There were more girls hanging on my brother than I care to see, but he is cute.


My mom's house looked beautiful, even over run by people.  It was definitely a day to remember.  Now, we just need to make it through the Wednesday drop-off, and it could be the fastest (or slowest) two years of our lives.

4 weeks

In four weeks (from yesterday), the Big Iggy leaves for two years to serve his LDS mission in Lithuania.

I know he is ready.  I know he is excited and nervous and will be an amazing missionary.

I know I will miss him.

I know he's got almost all his stuff.  I know he's probably sneaking his superman socks (with capes) into his suitcase even though he'd probably get in trouble for wearing them.

I know he's been practicing Lithuanian like a James Bond villain.  I've heard him.  He sounds like a villain.

I know that I still have a lot to do to get ready for him to leave (I'm full of surprises, don't ya know!).

And I know one little buddy who is going to have a hard time figuring out where his favorite lap disappeared too.

Happy Birthday to my little Brother!

Man Alive!  I was looking through some old blog posts the other day and found my "happy 13th birthday, Willie" post.  Elliott was almost one when you turned thirteen and today, you are nineteen.

Blows my mind that you've grown up.  You still meow at us on the phone every once in a while, and were reminded on Christmas day that you used to call your bathrobe that Grandma Huber had given you, your George Foreman, but you also have adult conversations.  And eat salads.

This past year has been so great for you.  SB Pres., valedictorian, region champs in football and basketball and a decent showing in the region/state tennis tournament.  You were the outstanding senior male, were academic all-state in three sports, and you were on TV rapping with Big Buddha.

This fall in particular, I have so much loved having you as my brother.  My children adore you and something has clicked in little Quinner's head....he loves you the most.  He will sit on your lap for hours.  And me?  It's been so much fun having you show up at our house all summer and this fall to hang out, take the boys hunting Sasquatch at the lake, and meeting you at the bookstore to get Christmas Eve presents.

Mostly though, I am so excited for you to leave on your mission.  It's sad, that you'll be gone for two whole years - there is so much that you'll miss of us and we'll miss of you.  But!  But, the experiences you are going to have in Lithuania will be amazing!  You will be as good of a missionary as you are uncle and little brother.

The most fun I've had in a very long time was the road trip we went on after Thanksgiving.  Haley and I were talking about how, because of our age gap, you just missed out on a lot of stuff with us - even though you've done a lot of stuff too.  But, being able to take a whirlwind trip to the ocean, just the three of us, was the best mission send off I hope all three of us could ask for.  I hadn't laughed so hard , had the music so loud, or sang along so much in ages, and you and Haley are, and will always be my best friends.

Happy Birthday Willie!

We all love you very much!