The Miracle of Laud

The Miracle of Laud: A beautiful birth story

*Author Note* Wow, I didn’t realize I have not posted all summer!  To say this summer has been busy is a severe understatement; this summer has been a crazy roller coaster jam-packed with life craziness.  Hopefully, this happy little story of a new miracle will make you smile! *

August 7, 2023

The Miracle of Laud

There was a day Louis and I took off of work and decided to celebrate our anniversary.  As I was reserving tickets for our gym’s Parent’s Night Out for my kiddos who weren’t working it, my boss laughed and said, something to the effect of “no more babies!”  Louis wanted to try for a boy and I was not against it! (I love being pregnant!)

Almost two months later we took the last opportunity to let all the kiddos know in person (Becky was home from college).  Our teenagers had various hilarious reactions we should have filmed (ranging from “ya’ll are crazy” to a slamming door to “are you kidding?”).  Jillian was super excited.  Lucas started cleaning a spot in his room for the baby; which Louis was convinced would be a boy since he used “Dr Jack’s method” that worked with Lucas.  Thea asked a million questions and kept trying to hear the baby’s heartbeat and talk to the baby.  

My babies like to hang around and I love being pregnant.  This time around was so different.  I was measuring large, but there are lots of factors that impact fundus measurement so it is more just a guide to make sure the baby doesn’t stop growing.  I’m forty and my last pregnancy to term was four years prior.  Even though, yes, I’m in what I consider really good shape, my body has been stretched out and back seven times.  I actually wore maternity clothes a friend gave me this time like normal!  I actually looked like I was pregnant from about 5 months on, a real first for me.  I loved that!

We went to the team banquet, it was the first one Christina got to come to, and the girls teased me saying I didn’t have any formal clothes… I surprised them with what I considered the cutest maternity dress ever (gift from the same friend – they just hadn’t seen it yet).  It felt so cool to show off the baby.  Friends who had seen me pregnant before asked if I was sure on the date or if there were two in there.  (Louis loved this, the baby inside was doing some movements that I still can’t explain, and secretly, I would have loved twins.

My “official” date from LMP would have been August 28, 40 weeks from the baby’s start would have been September 4th.  I just told people September or early October.  I honestly thought early-to-mid-September because most of my babies were about 42 weeks old when they came; I usually carried closer to 10 months.   

July 31st started braxton-hicks contractions, the baby was still sitting up high right under my ribs and had not yet “dropped”.  That was spot on for me because braxton-hicks contractions usually come 4 to 6 weeks (even 8 weeks, in two instances) before the baby comes.  My babies tend to drop 3 or 4 weeks before.  The baby-mapping information, which is super cool to research if you have time and want to be amazed, was telling me the baby was up to one side.  My milk usually starts leaking a week or so before the birth too and there was no sign of that yet,  

We went to the beach in the late evening of August 2nd.  It was beautiful!  I always feel like praising God for everything when I watch the majesty of the ocean, hear the laughter and joy of my children enjoying the water, and slow down to consider how honored I am to be so blessed.  The others did gymnastics drill competitions in the soft sand (handstand holds, perfect Ts, candlestick holds, etc.) while Becky and Thea made a sandcastle from dripping sand – absolutely breathtaking.  

(beach shenanigans and laughter)

On the way home, it felt like the baby shifted to sit sideways.  I mentioned that I would like the baby to drop soon so sitting in a car wasn’t so uncomfortable.  Christina laughed.  The sing-along music at the top of their lungs and windows open made it so no one else heard.  

I woke up on August 3rd a little after midnight.  I thought my body was doing Braxton-Hicks contractions; it had been off and on since July 31st.  These stretch-and-prepare contractions came and went in tiny spurts and historically clusters of three to ten stretches that disappear after I move around, shower, or stretch was “normal” for my previous births.  I remembered seeing a facebook post about one of my best friends getting home from the hospital with her son; she often didn’t have night nursing and I hadn’t meshed schedules with her in a very long time.  I texted to see if she was awake and able to chat.  God knew I needed to hear her voice and we chatted for a couple of hours.  Just after 4:15am, what I thought was Braxton-Hicks contractions about midnight (I had showered and they went away completely), became an intense contraction that came in a wave.  I paused talking to breathe through that one and mentioned that it was different.  I said, “this is early,” or something to that effect and told Hannah I was going to wake Louis & call Misti.  As I stood up – or tried to – another contraction came in which the baby shifted from sideways inside me to “in position” and dropped all in the same intense contraction!  I’ve never felt that before! 

I made it from by the couch to the just inside the bathroom (didn’t get to my bedroom to get Louis) and another seriously intense contraction came.  Someone had left two of the deep soft towels laid out flat on the floor on top of the bath rug (a nice, soft place to pause where clean up would be easy). I heard Christina coming out of the barracks and she asked, “mom, are you dead?” I was in full relax through the contraction mode and answered “I’m fine” with a tiny voice she knew meant baby was coming. She woke Louis and went to get mom.  Louis came in the bathroom and rubbed my back, “this is coming fast” my bones were doing the separate-thing they do at transition (feels like my spine is coming apart). With the next contraction, my water broke.  I texted “my water just broke” and called.  Misti ended up being on speakerphone with us the whole birth.  I remember wanting to double check my “official” LMP due date that was in my phone memo with all the other baby measurements for this pregnancy (my phone appears to be my notebook for everything to keep me straight on facts – I sometimes call it “my memory” because I upgraded from a purse-calendar-planner to that).  I couldn’t focus on anything but listening to my body because I didn’t want to move too fast; my brain kept trying to slow my body down – nope, body wasn’t listening.  

One more contraction at total relax and the next one came with a burning urge to push.  I felt the baby moving to crown and said something, likely incoherent at this point, about the baby crowning.  I heard what I thought was Louis repeating what I thought I said.  I heard Misti say something too, but I was focused on listening to my body and slowly (in my head it felt slow, but time is so relative when you are in concentration on something – it was likely fast) pictured what the muscles in my body were doing and focused on working with them instead of fighting against them.  I remember praying and feeling God say, “listen” like a soft ocean breeze in my ear.  He made my body to do exactly what it was doing now.  I relaxed – rested – in my trust of Him.  

Louis told me the baby crowned and to push, I didn’t feel a contraction but refused to panic, I waited and breathed deep to calm and listen; another contraction came and pushed our little one out.  There was a cry followed by a choking sound.  As I looked to see the baby in Louis’ hands, the baby’s fingers then arms and toes then legs started to turn from a bright pink-red to blue!  The baby had come out with the umbilical cord wrapped and Louis unwrapped it. 

Time here slowed for us.  It felt like an eternity. 

“What happened?” Misti seemed to be able to see everything though she was just on the phone, we said he was turning blue like he choked, she said to suction his mouth.  I remembered that from Kimberly’s birth – her cord was really short and the midwife had stopped me from pushing to unwrap her cord, then used a long tube to suction out her mouth – she had been blue.  I couldn’t see using a nose suction thingy, it was too short.  I had heard Louis say he was a boy as he first cried.  Now my mind said “he” instead of “baby”.  “How do I do that?” I remember not panicking although the back of my mind was screaming at me “he’s blue!  Not breathing! He’s going to die!”  Misti said to hold his nose and suction him with my mouth.  It was like she could see that I wasn’t pulling strong enough, I remember, “no, pull like you’re sucking a milkshake through a straw,” I prayed and sucked up a ton of mucus which I just spit on the floor.  “Blow into him, firm but gentle,” I heard.  I blew a breath as I prayed again.  He shuddered and breathed in and cried out!  I cried.  

Christina had called 911 when he started turning blue.  He’d been not breathing.  It had really been less than a minute between choking sound and his next full cry.  It had felt like ten minutes.  It had felt like eternity.  Everything had happened so fast but in my mind it had happened in slow motion.  

Fire rescue came in.  My mom said one guy heard the baby crying and whispered, “thank God,” as he entered.  Misti told us to rub him so we had been rubbing on Laud all over to get the circulation back.  We’d recently watched Thea’s “pongo dog” aka “101 Dalmations” and one of the kids mentioned, “just like the puppy.”  I didn’t know which of the girls were awake just yet.  I did suddenly realize when there were strangers in my house that I was naked and bloody and there was a giant mess in the bathroom – I made a mental note to throw out the towels on top of the rug and I didn’t care if they were the big nice ones or not.  I had been focused on Baby Laud.  Louis covered my shoulders with a big towel.  The Fire Rescue guy looks at the cord, which was wrapped around my leg, the placenta hadn’t delivered yet, and Laud is at my chest height being rubbed.  He said, “wow, that cord is long.”  They waited a moment for the pulsing to stop so all the blood from the cord went into Laud.  Cord was cut and they did some stuff checking out Laud.  I told them, “we called for him, not me,” because “blue and not breathing is scary” and I told them what I needed to do for me (deliver placenta, get blood off to see if I am actively bleeding, etc). The guy agreed and said the baby was good asked if he’d urinated. Yes, with his first big cry after I suctioned him, he’d peed all over, which honestly had made us laugh. Since Louis and the rescue people had Laud, I washed to get most of the blood off and stimulate my body to contract again and get the placenta out.  Misti was still on the phone and had all the times and such.  Someone (likely Louis, Mom, and Christina) cleaned up the mess on the floor (I hoped the towels just got tossed).

One of the rescue guys said they couldn’t leave until they made sure baby and I were good – for me, that meant delivering the placenta and not actively bleeding. Placenta delivered along with huge blood clots. Louis goes, “I know what to look for.” He says the placenta is a fascinating organ and knows what the whole one looks like. The placenta was whole. I’ve seen them too, but usually I’m a little occupied with the baby and only once do I remember examining one because I was curious. No active bleeding. Sweet. Just that drainage, which honestly appeared too light to me.

All Laud’s vitals were good!  His little fingers and toes were pink by the time the placenta delivered and I’d cleaned up a little so I felt ready for the baby.  They checked my blood pressure, which was “a bit low” so I had to explain that my blood pressure is always low, stress makes it “normal.”  They were so nice and it was amazing how quickly they arrived.  Everything was good so we opted to stay home because I never sleep in hospitals anyway.  Laud was perfect!  

From the “my water just broke” text at 4:36 to when he was born at 4:43 was literally 7 minutes.  I am still in complete awe of how quickly everything went. Rescue guys and lady left somewhere before 6am (that was when I texted someone, Misti or Hannah likely)

Our little Laud Arik “stole” Christina’s title of “lightest” at his new 6lbs 4oz.  He tied Kimberly for the shortest at 19 inches.  His name means “Praise” and “Lion of God” in Hebrew.  The teenagers pointed out he is a Leo.  He is such an amazing blessing!  The girls of course, are vying for who gets to hold him.  Lucas commented, “you have two brothers, he’s my only brother.” (Although that is literally true, it’s also a little funny that he decided that was why he should be able to hold him more than the girls.)  

Our littlest love is here!

He’s ready to be loved on and spoiled by big sisters, his big brother (who has been his shadow since birth), family, and friends.  We’re so awed and blessed and honored to have another little “arrow” to raise up!  Thank you, Jesus for friends, family, quick rescue workers (even though he was all okay when they got here, it was provision in case he wasn’t – not breathing is scary to watch)! Thank you, Jesus, for Your perfect timing!  Becky gets two & a half weeks with him before she’s gone until November, Christina gets a week & a half before her final senior semester craziness, I only missed the last two days of camp at gym and will be ready for driving with the start of school, my mom travels over summer and was here for just a four-day stay in between visits & got to be here… I have always teased that babies don’t read calendars… and my cumulative experiences with births keeps showing me every time is different and God has all of it in His hands!

Thank you, Jesus, for the miracle of love and life!  Thank you, Jesus, for the miracle of Laud!

*Pictures because my girls say I can’t write about him without sharing pictures! (photo credit to Grandma Tina, Christina, Becky, and Kimberly because I was way too busy to think of pictures!)  

(Stretching all over!)

Thank you for reading!

Type at you later!

~Nancy Tart

Shifting Time, Adapting Traditions

November 15, 2022

Shifting Time, Adapting Traditions


Yesterday a notification from my calendar app popped up on my phone.  It read, “Pearson Family Thanksgiving at Mom & Daddy’s.”  It was an old recurring appointment I’d just never deleted.  I guess I hoped we’d restart it someday.  The recurring day was always the 15th of November and time was set as 4pm to 7pm just because my app in 2010 with my first smartphone didn’t allow “all day” appointments to give me day-before notifications.

Why would our family Thanksgiving be on the 15th instead of the fourth Thursday of each November?

Good question: here’s the historical answer…

It started after the first year Louis and I got married.  We had just tried to do Thanksgiving at his family’s (Grandma Jeanette’s house) and then Thanksgiving at my family’s – and were exhausted and Louis complained he was too full from one place to eat half of what he wanted to taste at my parent’s house.  Same happened at Christmas!  At least the food part wasn’t a big issue at Christmas.  His family always did presents and stuff at the crack of dawn (not really, but early) and my family usually had a big breakfast, tried all the kids’ patience, setup everything, made sure all the service workers had gotten a good nights’ sleep so it was later and lasted longer.  Christmas was easy.  Morning with his family, afternoon with mine.  

Plus, as the second year holidays approached, we realized that three of us (Louis, Katy, and Becca) worked service industry and didn’t have the actual Thanksgiving Day off.  Hmm… That made the decision even easier!  I approached my Daddy with an idea: what if, we celebrated Thanksgiving on Mom’s birthday each year instead of actual Thanksgiving Day – of course, they could still do the actual Thanksgiving, but the Travel Thanksgiving Day celebration when we all got together would be Mom’s birthday.  Daddy said, “two feast days for Thanksgiving?  Great idea.”  (or something very similar to that, I don’t remember the exact words)

We started celebrating Thanksgiving with my family on November 15th, my Mother’s birthday!  It was perfect, service industry workers could easily ask and get a random day a week and a half before the start of the holiday rush (pre-Nights-of-Lights for us Saint Augustinians), and we’d always make or buy a cake for Mom!  It was perfect!  (Then we could go to our own thing or for us, go to Louis’ family celebration on Thanksgiving Day, if we were off – Louis usually tried to make an appearance; even it is was briefly.)

Lots of stuff has happened to my birth family and we’ve tried to keep that tradition alive, but it isn’t happening this year.  Instead, we are hosting Thanksgiving for anyone able from 11/23 to 11/27.  A few of our family will be in town and able to visit.  Maybe some friends might pop in over those off-days (we are off work and the girls on break from college, Louis is on call, but he’s always on call) – family and friends make for fun days full of memories!  

I smiled at the notification because it today would mark four full years since we’d gone over to Mom and Daddy’s for “Pearson Thanksgiving on Mom’s Birthday” and all my older girls remember “two Thanksgiving parties” every year!  Lucas attended some, but doesn’t remember them.  Thea hadn’t ever been.  

So many things shifted in our family that now, getting days off before Thanksgiving, when most of us are on vacation is like “really?” and two of our children are grown (okay, Becky’s not legally an adult yet, but I consider her one) so I want our home to be the gathering place.  I want to be like Grandma Jeanette, the “glue” that holds the family together.  I want everyone to feel welcome and this year we’ve officially started opening our home to anyone during holidays (it feels like we have more space even though we don’t).  Not that we didn’t say it before “oh, you can just come by” no, this year we sent out timelines to family and have offered verbal invitations to friends of our kids and their families.  I want to be the fun memory-making place – and it won’t matter that we won’t be in this house next year for any of the fall holidays, our new place will be the new gathering place.  I want to build memories so my younglings keep coming back – even if one day they show up and say, “Dad, Mom, can we do Thanksgiving at your house on your anniversary instead of actual Thanksgiving Day?” – and yes, we’ll shift with the time to accommodate what our youngsters and their growing families need… but that’s WAY in the future, right?  

(Who am I kidding?  It seems like yesterday I proposed the question to my Daddy…)

Thank you for Reading!

Type at you next time!

~Nancy Tart

Dressing the Part

#DressingThePart #ChristinaCanDressUp #DressUpDays #Halloween2022 #Halloween #SillyMemories #Silliness #BeSilly #BeFun #Family #Memories #LetsMakeMemoriesTogether #CreateSillyMemories #DontLetYourFunStop #WGVGymnastics #ParentsNightOut #ChristinaHasWayTooMuchFunDressingUp

November 12, 2022

Dressing the Part


Christina likes to dress up.  She turns into “Christy the Elf” after Thanksgiving and loves dressing up to our themes at work.  This Halloween is the first we’ve lived in a community where people actually trick-or-treat!  This made her super excited!  She had Jaquline’s big speaker outside playing creepy and fun Halloween songs (some were soundtracks to different movies, others were funny like “the Monster Mash”).  She had invited a bunch of friends but most had other plans and attending a friend’s Halloween “party on my driveway giving away candy” is not a valid excuse to play hooky from work.  

One of her best friends showed up – in a totally amazing costume my nerdy girls loved! – and these two college girls goofed off and enjoyed giving away candy to all the trick-or-treaters.  A table of glowing fun candles and cute props, two smiling young ladies handing out candy, and a bunch of spare candy bags hiding just inside the door made for hours of fun. 

Christina worked our October Parents’ Night Out where the coaches are encouraged to dress up. 

Before she left, she was crawling around the house “getting into the dog character” just to make all the little ones laugh.  Christina knows how to make little ones laugh.  Maybe that’s why she excels as a preschool coach.  

Louis looked at me, “what in the Earth?” because, you know, she is nineteen.  Or is she?  

I love that they have the freedom to dress up and play pretend and goof off – one has to feel very confident in their own skin in order to act silly in front of others.  It is amazing how my girls’ first jobs give them options to be silly.  We dress up (okay, not me, but the other coaches do), we goof off with each other and our kids (yes, I goof off with the preschoolers and tots), and yet all of us are very professional about our job.  We love our kiddos!  We want the best for them!  

I always take time to do fun kid things with my children.  Thea wants to play legos (we set up the lego base boards and each gets a spot to build).  Lucas wants to play boggle with Thea (yes, they both get words now, it’s almost scary – Thea won one round because she had a 3-letter that beat Lucas’ two-letter and she’s told everyone!).  We spend family day(Sunday) with at least one board game like Monopoly or Risk.  We do silly dance parties or sing karaoke.  Sometimes we have been known to spend hours watching parakeets or guinea pigs or lizards or chickens while narrating (speaking for the poor animals).  

Sometimes when you are being silly, you totally dress the part – like Christina. 

Sometimes it helps to make you join in all the silliness and pretend you are a part of a world where imagination reigns.  Crawling around like whatever animal you are pretending to be, making the littles squeal with joy and run from you, or pretend they are “protecting” and wrestle you; always make time for “silly” memories.  When I think back, some of the most heart-warming memories with elder members of my family were the silly ones (i.e. my granny at eighty-something throwing cartwheels to teach a group of us kids how to do it, running through the sprinklers with my Daddy, “braving” the rain from a Sams Club with my mom) and then the ones I remember making with my siblings and children… twirling in the middle of a flower garden, singing silly songs on bike rides, people-watching on the bayfront, tickle wars, covering kiddos with sheets and “smashing them” while I try to fold sheets or make beds, reading stories that will never be published as they shred them apart with kid-questions, letting them “cook” stuff in Star Ocean while we fold clothes, etc.  Silly stuff we remember as so much fun.  

Enjoy your silly memory-making moments and don’t be scared to “dress your part” if the mood hits to be silly!

Thank you for Reading!

Type at you later!

~Nancy Tart

Pumpkins

Pumpkin Memories

October 29, 2022

Pumpkins


We love pumpkins.  You cut off the bottom, scoop out everything inside and scrape all the yummy meat out (save it for roasted seeds and pumpkin pie!), decorate it with a silly face, and put a candle inside – now it’s an amazing nightlight that smells oh-so-good!

The first pumpkin I opened up with Grandma Jeanette; she was teaching me how to make her pumpkin pie.  My Daddy had told us long ago that the reason for the perfect pale color in most commercial pumpkin pies was due to the company using a hard squash instead of pumpkin.  Pumpkin cooks darker than winter squash.  Grandma Jeanette used everything.  I loved learning things from her because I can’t stand waste.  She came from the generation and grew up using everything!  Nothing was ever thrown away.  I loved that.  

Anyway, back to the pumpkin.  She opened it from the top with a big knife.  I was expecting puree like when you open a “pumpkin pack” tin can.  Nope.  Stringy spongy looking guts with spots of seeds reminded me of thick orange spiderwebs.  Grandma Jeanette took all that stuff and scraped with her big metal spoon until the wall was very thin.  Stringy stuff and tiny shavings that looked like slivers went into a big pot with a little bacon grease in the bottom.  She had a really cool method of basically pulling on the strings and all the seeds practically fell onto a pan on the counter.  She picked a few out.  (I have never been able to duplicate that easy seed removal and wondered later if she picked a specific type of pumpkin!) Seeds got tossed around in an oil and spice mixture and roasted in the oven.  The big chunks of hard pumpkin wall (not the actual skin, just the “wall” scrapings from inside) got chopped into smaller hunks and tossed in the pot with the strings and shavings.  Water added to the pot.  It was covered and cooked in a pressure cooker for however long we were sitting and chatting on the couch while the seeds roasted.  

When the lid came off, the strings and hunks had blended into a watery orange soup.  Grandma churned that around with her blender (it got handed down to me years later and had been manufactured in the 40s!) until it was smooth and now it looked like a darker cousin of the canned pumpkin I was so used to seeing.  

Now that was pumpkin pack!  

When Grandma Jeanette did it with me that year, she made all of it into pies for Thanksgiving and Christmas as family and friends always gathered at her house.  She froze the ones to save for Christmas.  I loved the heavenly smell!  She taught me some tricks about the pastry dough.  She sometimes short-cutted by buying premade dough, which she would prick with a fork, paint with butter and sprinkle with a bit of sugar on the edges to give it a “homemade” taste.  For my scratch recipe, she showed me how to layer and roll so it would be flakey.  Cold butter shaved into the mix.  Don’t overmix.  Don’t over roll.  NEVER freeze your scratch pastry.  Always bake the whole pie and then freeze – but it’s always best fresh.  It’s super fast and easy to make anyway, so I LOVE making pastry dough from scratch.

This is why I am transported into happy memories when I see a pumpkin.  I remember bumping around the kitchen with little Christina, Becky, and assorted cousins in and out of the house as we laughed and I listened to Grandma Jeanette’s stories.  

When I cut a pumpkin, I make pumpkin pack, but I don’t bake 12 to 16 pies the same day.  I use the canning pot and tools (all hand-me-downs from Grandma Jeannette, we still reuse some of her jars as well) to can the pumpkin pack for later pies.  1 pint makes one deep-dish pumpkin pie.  1 quart makes 2 deep dishes or 3 flat pies.  I love the whole process!  My plan each holiday season always includes a pumpkin and pumpkin pack and from-scratch pastry to make pumpkin pies.  I tell the stories of Grandma Jeanette and Christina, Becky, and the cousins bringing critters (lizards, toads, etc) into the kitchen and being told how cool they were before being shooed “back where they belong” to “take them home to their families,” yes, that’s why I say that about insects and critters my children capture.  I tell stories of our family because it feels so natural to do that while I’m canning.  Grandma Jeanette taught me to can.  She gave me our tiny library of books and pamphlets about canning, storing Florida produce, and food safety (old publications that came from St Johns County, University of Florida, and Ball, Inc with dates ranging from 1928 to 1965).  

Louis carves the pumpkin shell with the girls.  They love it!  If you open from the bottom, you can replace the candle easier and you can sprinkle cinnamon on the top (while the pumpkin is upside down and let it sit to sink in) and it will stick and make the house smell so good!

Pumpkins make me think of family.  Pumpkins make me smile because of the memories I have and the memories I hope I create for my family.  What food makes you think of happy memories?

Type at you next time!

~Nancy Tart

Once Upon a Date

Now, though… I understand the insane shock that caused by parents not to jump with joy when I showed off my ring and announced I was engaged. #TotalAndCompleteShock

Once Upon a Date

August 2, 2022

Nineteen year old me was crazy with excitement at 10pm at a bowling alley until 1am, (cosmic bowling in 2002) but my dad looked like he’d been shot with bright headlights in the dead of a new moon night.  Now, though – I understand the insane shock that caused my parents not to jump with joy when I showed off my ring and announced I was engaged.  Total and complete shock.  At 10pm after a long day at work, hearing the same news from one of my kids overloaded my tired brain; I bet I looked like they’d shone ultra-blue headlights in my face on a new moon night!

Now I’m praying I can be a godly mentor for my daughters (all of them, but especially Christina at this moment) and my son.  I am so super thankful for those I consider mentors I’ve learned from in my life.  Sometimes they were longtime friends, my moms (one God gave me at birth, the other God gifted me when I married Louis), and some were in my life for a few days, one meeting, or a season. 

I’m listening to Christina with her planning (wedding once she has her masters in 2025) and discussing life plans for the future, and I’m smiling because I remember me twenty years ago and “We’ve Only Just Begun” by The Carpenters was filling my brain on repeat.

Really odd little tidbit?  I was engaged on July 20, 2002 & Christina’s engagement date was “Anastasia’s birthday” but 1am – aka July 20, 2022.  And time?  Cosmic bowling ended at 1am on really July 21…  I don’t do coincidence (haha).   

Thank you for reading!

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

Lucas’ Balls (Timewarp Story)

January 23, 2022

Lucas’ Balls

(Note: This is a timewarp story from May 25, 2017. ENJOY!)

Vegetables are a fun subject for writers.  Toss in toddlers and you have instant comedy.  For example:

Lucas loves to eat.  We tease that if it doesn’t eat him first, he’ll eat it! (Okay, maybe not that bad, but he will try to eat popcorn kernels, cantaloupe rinds, sweet potato skins, and even bones – yes, he tries to eat the bones!)

At the produce market, we’re loading up on yummy veggies to have sitting around for my amazing chef/babysitter/awesome sister to create dinner with.  Lucas loves to help.  He’s tossing perfect Sebago potatoes into the bag (he never misses), squishes a pepper (we’re buying this one) with “Yummy!  Green strings!” (If we chop peppers he eats them raw), and “yeah!  Sticks!” as we bag carrots (which he tries to eat before they are weighed).  Despite Mom continually repeating the accurate name of any vegetable or fruit in the world, Lucas appears to prefer his own made-up nicknames for everything.  (Onions are “ouch,” pumpkins are “pies,” and broccoli are “trees” or “flowers”)

At the counter, Jaquline helps lay out our items while telling the manager what each vegetable is.  Manager stops setting Brussels Sprouts in pint baskets to ring our items; he is chomping on fresh cherries.  Lucas points at the basket, he’s super excited (Brussels Sprouts, roasted or raw, are his favorite).  “Mommy, PLEASE BALLS!”

“Lucas, we already have your balls in the bag,” Jaquline informs instantly, while showing him a bag of said vegetable (using the nickname I have tried to eradicate).  Mr. Manager’s face is crimson.  He pops another cherry in his mouth (maybe he hopes everyone will think the red came from the cherry).  A couple at the back of the store chuckle.

“Yes, we are getting Brussels Sprouts, Lucas,” I say calmly, trying to decide if I want to become microscopic or be proud that he loves his veggies aka balls.  I’m sure my face matches the cherries too.  (I’m beginning to think this is why my teenagers remain outside the store.)

As we pay, Mr. Manager neatly boxes everything up, scoops up a handful of cherries, slides them in a baggie and deposits them in Lucas’ reach with: “here’s some snacks for my favorite customer who loves balls” and winks at him.

Teenagers! Boys! I don’t know which is worse. “Daddy!” as we get home, Lucas shrieks, “look what we got, balls!” “Yummy balls,” he grins. I amend my thoughts to include, men!

But, yes, this is hilariously funny and I’m sure we will laugh about Lucas’ weird names for everything one day… if I can live through it!

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

Truly Thankful

Give Thanks in ALL Circumstances

January 21, 2022

Truly Thankful

(Note: This post was written December 11, 2021 while I was in whomever-banned-my-computer-operating-system-from-the-internet limbo.

I am thankful for grace today. 

Louis was at a standstill in interstate traffic yesterday waiting to turn off on our exit and glanced up in his rearview mirror to see a white car racing toward him without slowing down.  He twisted the wheel to avoid hitting the cars in front of him and accelerated to lessen the impact – and our car is still crushed so bad the back doesn’t exist anymore.  All of the doors were so damaged he had to climb out the window and even his driver’s seat is broken.  No airbags deployed though, our $5,000 worth of rebuilt engine we did four months ago is still in great condition.  Car starts, engine runs, no fluid leaks, but without a working rear axle, that sweet engine is meaningless. 

I’m just happy Louis looked up and turned the wheel.  Without it, he would have been crushed between the stopped cars in front of him and the vehicle that hadn’t noticed everyone else was stopped.

Thank you, Jesus, for his being alert. 

I am beyond-words thankful that my husband is still alive. 

I picked him up at the gas station while he was on the phone with the insurance.  She said after listening to his description of the crash, “I’m so glad you are here and able to talk to me now.”  He said he thought he was going to die but refused to just sit there and watch the car kill him without trying to do something. 

Sometimes life flashes before your eyes.  It was December 10, 2021 – my Daddy died on that day three years ago.  Three years ago in the middle of work my mom called and I left to meet her at the hospital, but my Daddy was already gone.  Without his being alert, December 10th could have been also the day I lost Louis.  That thought was bizarre. 

Logically, since he had called and said he was okay, would be busy calling 911 for the lady behind him, and would later need me to pick him up, I told my boss he was in an accident and I’d need to leave to pick him up.  Christina was almost at the gym.  Plan was she could cover for me. 

I tend to look at things logically.  Cars and things can be replaced but people cannot.  I could be mad about it, but that doesn’t do any good.  Instead, I’ll choose to look at the positive.  We’re here.  Louis is still doing life with us.  We have a temporary fix to our down to two cars with five people working issue.  And Monday we move…

Thank you, Jesus, for deciding December 10, 2021 wasn’t Louis’ time to go home.

Thank you for reading,

Type at you next time!

~Nancy Tart

Doubly Blessed

A tiny story about how my prayers being answered became my children being doubly blessed!

January 15, 2022

Doubly Blessed

Note: (wrote this December 5, 2021 when whomever decided my computer operating system is too old to connect to wordpress anymore!)

One day I was cleaning bathrooms at a church work day and met a wonderful woman.  She was cheerful and spoke about Jesus like a best friend.  She was encouraging.  I thought “I’d like to learn about life from her!”  I saw her a few times over the next year or so at that church.  My brother liked the youth pastor and he needed a chaperone – thus being, when the youth group was participating in clean-up days or work days or whatever, I was there with him.  We started attending that church. 

About fourteen months later on a warm July afternoon, I went to meet the parents of the young man I had started dating that Friday.  Although I knew God was telling me I had the green light to marry this one, my logical brain was fighting that suggestion.  The woman I wanted to learn from?  I was dating her middle son!

I have an amazing mother whom I love.  God gifted her to me when I was born.  I never thought I would love another woman in a similar way.

But God’s ways are awesome! 

I tell people I have two moms.  One I was born with and one I got when I married Louis.  I love how Joanne is so accepting, loving, supporting, and helpful.  She and my mother, Tina, are quite similar.   Someone mentioned today that the normal “mother-in-law” is someone you fight with and tolerate or even don’t like.  I’m so grateful for the blessing of my mother-in-law.

I pray that God gives me the same grace to my children’s spouses.

This is because the blessing of loving in-laws passes through generations.  Loving interaction and respect between the parents and newlyweds turns into future strong grandchild-grandparent ties.  When a mother-in-law or father-in-law is a friend and mentor, the grandchildren see their parents show respect and love to their parents; visibly strengthening the children’s understanding of “honoring fathers and mothers” and set the stage for generational connections that are hard to sever.  My children have many fond memories of their grandparents on both sides!  I’m so thankful for that.  

That I’m a friendly, welcoming person who looks at the girls’ future husbands and Lucas’ future wife not as competition for their attention but as blessings God has planted in my life as well as theirs.  I pray to be like Joanne.  She is such a wonderful model of mother, grandmother, mother-in-law, and friend.  I have known and loved her for twenty years – related to her for a little over nineteen. 

I smile; I never considered how sweet God’s answer to my heart’s desire to “learn about life” from the bubbly, serious, hardworking woman whose company I enjoyed one Saturday while cleaning bathrooms at our “new” church – I would really get to do life with her!  She would be my mom. 

Thank you Jesus for amazing blessings!

Thank you for reading,

Type at you next time!

~Nancy Tart

Dating Decisions – Part 3

Dating Decisions Part 3: Discovering Real Life and True Love

September 20, 2020

Dating Decisions – Part 3

At this point in my story I am a few months into 16, realizing that my focus cannot be on someone else. Jesus is my answer, my hope, my truth, not some guy I will meet “eventually.” That brought more peace to my crazy teenage mind than any other decision I had made since choosing Jesus as my personal Savior.

I determined to stand on the principles of virtue that I wanted to find in my future mate. If I had high expectations, it stood to reason that he should as well.

I had already told God (when I was 12) that I would keep myself a perfect gift for my husband. I did some silly girlish stuff that I kept hidden – like write letters to my future husband as I was journaling. Several, actually most, of these letters were destroyed by inquisitive dogs and siblings long before I was 19. I understood purity to be in the mind, body, and heart. Of all the people I interviewed, none told me they wished they had “tried it out first” but almost every person who had “tried sex out” before marriage told me that they wished they hadn’t. Most of them cited trust issues after marriage as their reason. A few told me it made them feel less worthy or made their partner less desirable. Several did not marry the person they “tried out” with. My Daddy told me that once a boy makes a conquest, he thinks of the girl as dirty, trash, something to be discarded. He said that was why he never wanted to use anyone. He told me “men don’t use women but boys use girls.” The silver screen brought that to life in “Spencer’s Mountain” where they get the cow bred and Dad says to son something like: you aren’t a bull and your woman won’t be a cow. That image stuck with me. Stories about my Daddy’s friends, relatives in our extended family, and from my curious interview subjects led me to the understanding that if someone doesn’t respect your decisions in regard to your personal limits, they don’t truly respect you at all.

That led me to the decision that should I be dating someone and they choose to ignore or press my limits, I would back up and leave. Don’t respect me = deal breaker.

I also decided that I would give them just as much respect as I expected. That was something I already did because I was raised that way, but I made that mental decision and wrote it down just to solidify it. If I couldn’t respect them, I wouldn’t waste their time. A wife is expected to respect her husband.

I started to think of myself as a wife-in-training. I had read a devotional book where the woman writer referred to her students as “women-in-training” and I loved that idea! I’m big on apprentice type learning. Show me, direct me, and I pick up rather quickly. I think that actually learning from someone with real world experience is the absolute best. (Another reason I LOVE the movie “War Room” – if you haven’t seen it, DO IT.) I picked out the qualities that I needed to work on (like patience and not nagging) and started trying them out on my siblings. Siblings had taught me that I was low on the patience thing. (Truthfully, children have taught me that I’m still, constantly, and will be forever working on the patience thing.) I am a big sister who likes to not allow her little siblings to get in a situation she knows how to prevent, but I had to sit back and let them learn after only one warning. My Daddy boomed a deep-belly laugh when he asked 17-year-old me why I let my little sisters go out in white shirts (in Florida afternoon, Kissimmee = 10 minute torrential rainfall at precisely 3pm) and I replied with “I warned them, but I’m trying to learn how not to nag, so I only said it once.”

My focus was now on myself. I understood that I needed to be a better person for my siblings, parents, and my future family. This was just the beginning.

I was still feeling tremendous pressure from peer groups to “date” like my siblings. My study had led me to the belief that dating was a long series of pre-marital interviews. I had been to job and volunteer worker interviews. I knew that the most direct way to find out if a person was a good match for the job or position was to ask direct questions. At 16, I could no longer blame my daddy and say “my Dad won’t let me date until I’m 16” therefore I began being super direct by asking, “do you love Jesus?” About half of those who asked me out laughed in a scoffing manner and (since I was primarily around church groups) respond with, “I go to church.” My reply to that “puffy religious response” was equally “puffy religious” – “no thanks. I can only court after I’m 18.”

At this point, mid-17, I still had an excellent relationship with my Daddy. I would tell him when someone asked me out. Once he told me my standards were too high, that I was expecting perfection. My reply was, “I’m looking for someone at least as much in love with Jesus as I am; the man is supposed to be the spiritual head of the family.” I was super-focused on getting into UMR or FIT at this point (two engineering colleges I was chasing) and my Daddy was big on education which is why I believe he didn’t press the matter really. I told him I wasn’t planning on dating until I was ready to marry. That became a repeated line whenever I was teased by family or my sister’s friends. One guy I didn’t like approached me about “hooking up for fun” and I asked him if he was ready to raise a child. His entire friend group left me alone.

I had devised an entire pre-programmed set of responses to boys and now men because I had yet to be asked out by anyone I actually would have dated. There had only been two young men whom I watched and admired the character of since I was 16 and neither asked me out. I actually had deep discussions about Biblical issues with both of them and discovered more about “Biblical courtship” from the latter when I was 17.

I delved deeper into the idea of Biblical courtship with a book I stumbled upon just before I turned 18. “I Kissed Dating GoodBye” by Joshua Harris – I didn’t agree with all of the book, but there were many bits that helped me to understand the whole courtship thing.

I may have bent your ears too long in this epistle. Oops!

Ready for the biggest decision of my dating steps? Covering that next time…

Thank you for reading!

~Nancy Tart

Culture: The Importance of Family

May 10, 2020

Culture: The Importance of Family

Imagine you are raised a young woman, married a few years with two children. Your family is part of a group sojourning in a land with people hostile to you. In your family’s culture, women are to obey their fathers and later husbands. You and your husband love God. You honor His law. Then you hear at the well that the midwives are commanded by the king to destroy all male babies of your people as the baby is being born. But you hear how two of your midwife friends fear God over the king and so being, do not obey him. Yet you are scared for your people.

You find yourself encouraging and helping; but the fear is everywhere. Women are praying their children are girls so they are not required to kill them.

You find yourself pregnant. Part of your heart wrestles the fear – should you pray this child is a girl? Your husband smiles and whispers, “we fear God, the child is a gift.” But you hope that stays true even after the child is born. Your daughter and son see the fear in the people and look to you for comfort. They look for assurance that you live by the faith you speak of; do you fear for your baby or trust in God? You smile and tell them, “God has given us this child, God will keep the child safe.”

But you wonder. Death and affliction are around you. The rulers hate your people. Many of your friends have faced death and the shroud of death for defying the king expands to all in their household – or so the stories say. At least twice you have known it was truth. Would you risk the lives of your husband, son, and daughter for the baby if it is a boy? Which is safer? But the rumblings of the little person growing inside you remind you as you wrap your arms around your swelling belly that this child is worth the risk. God’s gifts are always worth the risk.

When the day comes and you labour with your own instead of calling the midwives, you birth the beautiful child whose lovely eyes catch away your breath as you stare and study him. Him. Yes, your daughter says “I have a baby brother!” and your husband hugs you and the newborn tight. Your son glances up at you to look in your eyes. You are not afraid. You will risk everything for this love. “We will keep him hidden.” Your husband smiles. Your son and daughter relax in their trust of you as they see you trust in God.

But you know there will come a time when your tiny illegal child will be too loud. Someone will know, someone will tell, and there must be a way.

You are learned as your family teaches even your daughters to read and think; you know that your afflictors bow before idols. One is the god of the river, Hapi, and you know that women wishing to be fertile yet cursed with barren wombs go and bathe at one place. Also, the wealthy do not nurse their own offspring, instead they hire a nurse for the child. You begin to watch. Daily you go with your daughter in tow under the guise of fetching water and food yet along the way you see the women who come to the water. They all wish for children; the longing in their hearts and souls are deep. Their sorrow causes tears to rise in your eyes. It also waters the plan you have devised.

Your husband does not agree quickly, for him it is a horrid idea to turn his child, his beautiful gift from God, over to some heathen woman regardless of whether it may save the child’s life. How can you think of killing our son’s soul in this way? But it is your daughter who says, “but Father, what if they chose Mother as his nurse?” and this you both continue to discuss and pray about.

The time comes when he is too big to hide anymore. His tender hunger cries have turned into the periodic wails of teething, striking without warning and so loud you fear his voice will call soldiers from every corner of the globe. Now, you set him adrift in the basket of woven reeds and pitch you have carefully crafted, and carefully place it among the reeds to drift into the part of the river where the barren women come to bathe. Your daughter stays as a guard. You leave to pray.

This is the sorrow, trust, and faith of Jocebed, wife of Amram and mother to Aaron, Miriam, and Moses. She placed her trust in God and brought an illegal child into the world, hiding him from those who would kill him. She watched, waited, and used the heathen culture of her people’s enemies against them.

We know the rest; the pharaoh’s daughter comes to bathe and finds Moses. He cries and she takes pity on him, knowing he was a Hebrew! A girl appears and says, “may I fetch you a nurse to suck your baby?” and this educated woman of Egypt says, “yes.” Do you think she didn’t know this nurse would be the child’s mother? Wow. Just to imagine these three women and the things they chose to do… Jocebed in faith and love, Miriam in obedience, faith, and love, and Pharaoh’s daughter in love and pity of a child who she took into her home in defiance of her father’s order.

Just some thoughts.

I know that most of us spend today thinking about our mothers. Not to say I don’t! But I love to step into the shoes of those before. I love to try to see their struggles – how powerful Jocabed’s faith! Not only to give birth and refuse to destroy her boy, but to give that little gift in faith to another believing that God will allow her rather devious plan to work trusting her family can pass their faith on to this child in the short amount of time they will have him (while she nurses him).

Wow.

Think about the various challenges we mothers face at different points in history, through various cultures, and in various strata of existence. All of our stories are different, but the theme of faith, love, and hope permeate them all. We all want the best for our gifts and pray to effectively train them up in the little time we have them.

Give thanks for the mothers and grandmothers and motherly influences in your life.

Thank you, God, for mothers!

Thank you for Reading,

~Nancy Tart

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