Tag: curiosity

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

Dating Decisions (Part 1)

Part 1 of Dating Decisions – dissecting real life and true love

September 16, 2020

Dating Decisions (Part 1)

WHOA! What is meant by this title?

Nothing. It’s a history story. Ancient history if you ask my children. I am a writer of stories; why would it surprise you that I would pull stories from my teenage decisions? No crazy thoughts. Take a deep breath, empty your presuppositions, and read: you may learn a little about the psychology behind decision making.

Once upon a time, (No, this is not a fairy tale… it is my truth tale.), I was just understanding love. Real love. I was curious about my parents and other couples around me and in my church. My mom and dad had at this point been married for 13 years. I was 11. I considered them ancient. Now I am older than my mother then and close to my dad’s age at the time – wow, I’ve reached the 11-year-old’s idea of ancient! One of my daddy’s mentors had been married to his wife for over thirty years. My daddy’s parents had been married for over 40 years when my grandmother died and granddaddy didn’t remarry. My mother’s parents had been divorced before my mom met my daddy and two of her siblings had been married and divorced. I had been sitting at a concert at a church with mostly teenagers where the girl asked, “raise your hand if your parents have been divorced.” Everyone in my row raised their hands. Most of the auditorium raised their hands. I had watched “The Parent Trap” from the sixties, but in that movie the parents got back together and all was well. I started to understand that divorce was the norm for most of the children I met. My family, with their short 13 years together, was already 7 years beyond the “normal” for divorce; according to research in the “Focus on the Family” newsletter my daddy received. I began to understand that most of the problems facing my peers were related to their broken families. I realized that my mother broke the chain and her baby sister was breaking the chain. I wanted to be like the couple in one of my churches who stood up on the day they honored families and claimed 73 years of marriage.

Research started.

I read marriage and family books (my daddy had two bookshelves full of them in his office to start my journey). I analyzed relationships in movies, in books, and in history and began to learn how to predict problems based on family stability. Stories of great hardships with intact, supportive families morphed into strong, successful, loving children. What was the binding tie?

In every personal interview I did over the next six years (and beyond, but I’m telling the story of teenage me) the common thread for successful marriage was that both loved Jesus, both were willing to love the other without expecting anything in return, and both went into their relationship committed to making it last. Repair it rather than throw it away. I already had a waste-not-want-not mentality. This matched.

Along came 12. The first boy asked me out. I thought he was sweet. He liked to carry my books from Sunday School for me. He was nice to his baby sister. I found myself already studying potential mates. I was scared of that. I told him I couldn’t date until I was 16. That became my pre-programmed response to all of the offers in the next 4 years.

I was already journaling. I told God I was going to be 18 before I dated. I told Him I wanted Him to be in control. I told Him I wanted to focus on being the best big sister and daughter I could. So began my journey of discovering and morphing myself into what I thought God wanted.

At 16, my Daddy started getting worried. My 14-year-old sister was already dating and my 12-year-old brother liked to whistle at girls. I was deep into studying. I took time to develop relationships with all of my siblings as they allowed. It wasn’t that I wasn’t “interested” in boys. I plain and simple told my daddy once, “I’m not old enough to do anything about it, so why would I play with someone’s heart?” (As a teen, I thought he was shocked with my logic, but now as an adult I wonder if he was also scared of what I meant by that.)

And that was the first dating decision I realized I had made.

…continued next time!

~Nancy Tart

The Rumble of Life

How I love the blessing of carrying life!

November 14, 2018

The Rumble of Life

Today I’m very thankful for life.

My little unborn angel is rolling around and kicking, punching, or whatever inside me with such force Lucas and Jillian keep giggling at my stomach bouncing!

What an honor it is to be able to carry a new life!

From the first flutter-kicks I felt of Christina’s 15 years ago, I have been awed by the honor of being pregnant.

So, maybe my body isn’t always so happy about it, but that’s fixed.  With Christina it was routine, wake up, eat, attempt a prenatal vitamin, upchuck said prenatal, get to work, run to the bathroom, there goes breakfast, and snack on some grapes or tuna salad very slowly throughout the day praying for no puking.

When I was pregnant with Becky I was under a midwife’s care and learned a ton about how nutrition affects pregnancy – then I managed to only upchuck every prenatal vitamin, mix, or powder I tried.  So I stopped trying new supplements and simply focused on very healthy foods.

Just as Kimberly started along, my sister introduced me to Shakeology (a meal replacement nutrition drink) and the nausea with every successive pregnancy was gone!  Great nutrition and my body tolerated it!  I was over that hurdle.

Today, as our baby entertains older siblings, I’m answering standard questions: “How big is my baby?” (Lucas says this baby is HIS baby) “What color will baby’s hair be?”  “When will my baby come out?” “How can baby be so strong already?” (This as Jillian’s hand was kicked off my belly.)

Their curiosity about new life reminds me of how fascinated I am by the whole process.  I have general answers to give: “about this big,” (thanks to our scientific knowledge) “only God knows,” “when Baby is ready,” and “because Baby is strong like his big sisters and brother.”  (I don’t like to say “it” when referring to the Baby, so if I have to use a pronoun, it’s going to be a masculine one – most of the time I can manage to just use “Baby” instead.  The kids pick the one they want to use.)

My favorite question comes from Jaquline today (and I know she’s a veteran of two water births and about ready for a deeper explanation, but for now she’s still just eight): “How did Baby get inside you?”

“God took a bit of Daddy and put it in Mommy and mixed it together and He started Baby growing.” (Very simple, but literally truth.  God set up everything and if He doesn’t choose to give the spark of life, the other stuff doesn’t matter.  That has been my standard answer to that question for 14 years.)

This makes Jillian giggle while Lucas lays his head, ear down, on my tummy and says, “I love you, Baby!  Thank you God for my baby!”

I wish I could pause that moment for a while.

Seconds later, they have raced back about daily things: Jillian is outside helping with morning chores, Lucas is vrooming a vehicle (I think it’s a wooden car) up the side of the couch, Jaquline is doing her schoolwork at the big table where Kimberly and Christina already have work laid out (although they popped up to take a break and feed livestock and pets) and Becky is lumbering about as she slowly wakes up.  Life.

Today is full of impending activity: midwife appointment, college classes for Becky, college field trip for Becky (Louis will drive everyone to the park and make a fun day out of it; perks of big sister in a marine biology class), work (coaching) for me, work for Louis, normal stuff.

I’m swiping a few minutes just sitting here relishing this rumble in my tummy and thanking God for allowed me to hold His little child.  Baby seems to realize the audience is gone and slowly curls up to rest.  Baby is always most active with Lucas comes and explains something (why cars roll, what the sky looks like, how the big rooster is scary to snakes, how an orange tastes, how excited he is for “Baby to finally come out so I can see you”).

I love you, Baby Tart!  Thank you, God, for my baby! (All of them!)

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

Number Seven

Yes, ambiguious title and puzzle til the end of a long post…

October 24, 2018

Number Seven

Ambiguous title?  Yes.

Am I being cryptic on purpose?  Yes.

You are supposed to figure out the puzzle from the clues in this story.

(WARNING!  LONG STORY! – and it’s pretty deep because there’s a lot of feelings and thoughts smashed in here.)

Anyway, in April and May, I was in and out of clinics and the hospital because of a severe reaction to black mold.  (I know, crazy, right?)  I researched the medication I was to finish and every side effect possible happened to me (they always do, it’s just my weird, unique biology) so my hair fell out, hormone levels changed, pimples exploded over my face, and various other physical changes happened, I wasn’t watching for anything else.  It was a low period for me because it seemed my favorite parts of my body (long hair, my figure, health) was disappearing.  (Crazy reason to be depressed, isn’t it? After all, I was still alive!)  Although I kept telling myself this would work itself out, and I kept praying and believing God had control of this situation too (He has everything in His hands.), it was sometimes hard to face it without feeling sad.  Especially for me when I brushed my hair and it seemed there was more hair in the brush than stayed on my head.  (Of course, shedding hair means length disappears, so I went from semi-thick long hair that was below my waist to thin few-strands-to-the-middle-of-my-back.)  My hair was something that even as a child I was really proud of.  I’ve never cut it.  I always wanted to have long hair like Lady Godiva (ever seen the version where Maureen O’Hara plays Lady Godiva? I loved that movie because she was a strong, bold woman who loved her people.) and loved the Bible verse that says our “long hair is our covering.”  Plus, Louis likes my hair long. (Yes, after getting married, I thought it would take too much time to have to style short, plain hair so it was cool that my husband liked it long and straight.)

Being that I’m allergic to almost everything chemical (latex, cleaning fluids, pills, antibiotics, the inhaler I was prescribed!, etc.), we pretty much rely on natural family planning and some non-latex help.  Usually, I know my body well.  Part of the side-effects to one of the drugs was hormone imbalance which threw my body off where I wasn’t sure what it was doing.  Not considering it a good time for pregnancy, we decided to hold off on any potential baby-making.  Period.

Oh well, God laughed at that.

Certain things began to reverse during July.  My hair began to grow back (I have one-inch-long sticking-ups all over my head), my figure returned to normal, and other small things in my body seemed to reset.  I was very curious because although I’d been off the huge assortment of “we-don’t-know-what-this-is-but-treat-everything” drugs in the hospital for two months, everything I’d read about the steroid they’d given me was that it took twelve to eighteen months for the hormone imbalance to correct itself and I was still taking one occasionally to prevent asthma attacks.  What was turning my imbalance around?

Yep, God decided to reset my body himself; with a baby.

I love being pregnant, but worried that the drugs I’d been on had effected the child – then relaxed about as soon as I thought about it because if we were trying to keep it from happening (Starting in mid-April with the only 100% sure way), yet God said “haha, you thought you knew this stuff,” He obviously was in charge of baby’s health.

For the first time in my reproductive life, the only “date” I have can’t be.  I keep calendars that are honestly way too detailed, but those dates don’t match with the dates counting backwards.  (Every other time in my life I knew the day/night we came together to start our little blessing!)  Based on these “diary facts” as my girls call them, I can’t figure the time.  (What happened?  The little swimmers had to get through sheepskin & sit around inside of me for eight to ten days?  Really?  If I use the LMP date, that’s what had to happen because after that was nothing. Period.  I didn’t know hanging around inside was medically possible.)

Now, I’m totally enthusiastic about being pregnant (I am one of those crazy women who LOVE carrying life – every part of it); I just am amazed at the mystery of this baby.  I figured you know, I know what protection is, we use planning, and yeah, I get it, I’ve seen women on the pill, using protection, and even two who had their tubes tied get pregnant, so I know anything is possible.

I mean, philosophically we trust all to God’s hands, including family size and timing.  (Or say so, we were technically trying not to get pregnant with the whole breathing and health thing “at least until we moved to a mold-free house”)  But can you say surprised?  Yes.

So, “number seven” is this little precious life growing inside of me!  (Yes, I know most people, including many member of my family, think we are completely nuts, and maybe we are – but we are loving this adventure!)

New job, new baby, surprise!  God says!  Now I have an awesome job I can’t believe I really get to do and seriously get paid for (I love teaching children!) and a new little life growing inside that Lucas can’t wait to wrestle with (he comes and mashes on my belly, talks to “his baby,” and the baby responds by racing around, kicking, punching, whatever inside me).  I’m so excited… what does God have next?  A plot of land we can call our own and a trailer to stick on it or some plot with an old house that needs work – maybe?  Or are Kimberly’s dreams of building our own “movable house” accurate?  Okay, I’m totally open to the next step in this adventure!  (And, yes, I’m fine if that means, “rest, sit tight, you’re in pause mode right now.”)

Thanks for reading!

Type at you later…

~Nancy Tart

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