She Flew!

March 30, 2019

She Flew!

I’m just coming in from work.  Thea’s diaper bag and my purse is on my left shoulder, Thea in her carseat is in my hands, and my shoes and phone on top of her blanket.

I maneuver through the gate as Jillian opens it and tell the dogs to back up.  They go about their normal business of sniffing everywhere on Thea’s blanket and clothes where my office dogs left a trace of an odor while I try to shoo them away and Thea giggles.

Lucas and Jaquline start telling me excitedly about their day – it seems Lucas wrote ones and twos today with Daddy.  Jaquline fixed her bicycle by herself.  Jillian rushes the dirty diapers to the laundry.  I ask about Becky; she’s “hiding” in the playroom making doll movies.  Kimberly is bouncing around like she borrowed Tigger’s bottoms.

The sweet chaos of returning home is silenced by Louis’ one sentence from the kitchen.  I smell yumminess.

“She’s in the air now.”

“What?” Time stopped.  The air didn’t smell like anything.  Silence as I puzzled out that meaning.  Louis is grinning.  Fresh rolls get pulled out of the oven – or was it one long French loaf?  I can’t recall.

“Who’s in the air?” I ask.

“Well,” Louis smiles, “Christina’s major called and they went up today.”

Oh. My. Goodness.  Great gravy train and gollywompers!  My 15 year old is in a Cessna!

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This tiny thing. Seriously. (Yes, I always wanted to fly one too!)

Actually, there were two cadets who went flying.  They went from Saint Augustine to Jacksonville and back.  It was just an O-flight, and they each only got to fly for a few minutes, but still… she’s dreamed of this for years!

Christina came home so re-energized to dive into physics, more math, and an enthusiasm to continue toward her goal of pilot because, “I never wanted to come down!  That thrill was so amazing!”

I haven’t even been in a plane yet ~ likely, Christina will be my pilot the first time!

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

Reset Button

Ever wonder about the reset button?

August 8, 2018

Reset Button

When I was a kid my dad was always bringing home (what we would call dinosaurs now) computers and rebuilding them as school and play computers.  The 286 had a flat red square that Daddy always said, “Do NOT touch this button!”  (I had dreams of one of the little ones touching the button and the computer blowing up like a bomb.)

As I learned to program, though, I realized the reset button was to shut the computer down from self-destruction.  If it was caught in a loop (bad software) or someone attempted to overload the system with applications (operator error) the user (me) would try the famous Ctrl-Alt-Del a couple of times, but as a last ditch effort, we hit that red button.  Usually, the computer would load back up without a hitch and we’d avoid or fix whatever caused the glitch.

In life, God gives us a reset button every day.

He says His mercies are renewed each morning.  He forgives all trespasses and helps set us back on the right path.  Sometimes our “road to self-destruction” is simply doing the same thing over and over and getting frustrated because we get the same results (loop?) but God wrote us an escape clause.

I imagine computer code like this: If x person gets into y then; if y (number of times around) = >2; exit loop; end if.

It’s the “Exit loop” that gets us out of danger – and that’s because God wants us to do and be our best.

Instead of continue in our self-destructive loop, we should allow God to work on our problem (attitude, perception, etc.) and help us climb out.

Thank you, God, for resets!

Thanks for reading!

Type at you later…

~Nancy Tart

 

My Civil Air Patrol Cadet

July 12, 2018

My Civil Air Patrol Cadet

One day Louis was driving past the Saint Augustine Civil Air Patrol building and saw cadets marching around in uniform.  He stopped, asked them what they were, and raced home to tell Christina that he found the perfect activity for her.

She is my flying nut.  She loves planes.  Just like Lucas loves anything with wheels – she loves anything that flies (except mosquitoes and no-see-ums).  Better said; Christina loves anything mechanical that flies.

She’d studied famous flying people, physics, beat her way through math, and taken a helicopter tour for her birthday.  She’d talked with pilots as Louis shuttled them to the airport from their hotels.

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She had the time of her life when some friends took her to the Jacksonville Air Show! (Photo credit above & below – Hannah Clark & crew)

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The poster from that day was the first one tacked to her wall.

So, she “visited” the CAP meetings with Louis for three weeks – but Wednesday morning after her first meeting, she was like, “Mom, I’m going to join Civil Air Patrol.”  Of course, Christina’s decisions are never small – “I’m going to get to officer rank and they have all these things I can learn so I can get into programs to help me learn to fly…” and she continued talking me through the book and information someone had given her.

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She is a scrimping saver and refused any help with CAP dues, fees, or for her first uniform.  (This is a point of pride for her – to be able to cover all her own expenses.  She saw God’s love in action, though, when she thought she wouldn’t be able to go to winter encampment but our amazing church family gave her enough money for the trip and the extra items needed!)

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CAP gave her a grant to go toward buying her first blues uniform though – something about earning a certain rank.  (These are my borrowed shoes for her first day wearing blues.  Her real ones have a one inch heel and no decoration.)

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Lucas loves Christina’s uniform – especially the caps (aka, covers).

Thanks to CAP, Christina has matured greatly in social interaction (you can order younger siblings around all day, but it is different ordering someone else around!).  She is more confident, more physically active, emotionally and physically stronger, and enjoying the company of respectful, goal-driven, encouraging fellow cadets.

Our family has learned some new terms: water is hydration, anything not a uniform is civies, a funny backpack with a water bag inside and a fishtank-hose looking straw hanging around the cadet’s neck is a camelback, among others.

 

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We’ve swelled with pride watching our cadet march in parades (even if we only get a picture of her back half hidden behind another cadet)…

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…assist veterans in her blues…

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…and attend encampment as a student…

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…and staff.

She’s constantly challenging herself to new higher limits – one day, I’m sure, she’ll touch the sky!

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

 

 

 

 

 

The Fallen

May 27, 2018

“The Fallen”

Sometimes art inspires me.  Sometimes it’s hard to visualize large numbers.  These memorials do an excellent job.

I’ve heard of the origin of Decoration Day (Memorial Day) and often thought about the hearts of the women decorating the graves of fallen soldiers during the War Between the States.

Today, I learned of a beautiful memorial done on the Normandy beach on September 21, 2013 that memorialized the enormous loss of life in the absence of peace.  They called this project “The Fallen.”

Over 9,000 soldiers and civilians died on June 6th, 1944 as part of the liberation of France during World War II.

The artists chose to etch a human-sized body into the sand of the beach for each soldier and civilian who was reported to have lost their lives during the invasion.

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Hundreds of volunteers came and 9,000 sand etchings were created to show the huge loss of people.  (above picture from Sand In Your Eye)

This picture from the cliff speaks volumes.  (picture below from Sand In Your Eye)

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This memorial lasted a few hours until the tide slowly washed it away.  The image of this memorial reminds us of the human costs of war; as was quoted from Sand in Your Eye, the artists responsible, “[each figure was] a representation of a person that once lived, they had parents, family, friends… those people that lost their lives are no longer with us but on [this day] they spoke.” (quote from Sand In Your Eye)

Studying history, I understand the necessity of war to rescue people from hopeless situations of oppression, but that doesn’t lessen the sadness of loss.  I thank those who serve to protect us, the families of those who perished, and those who were not trained soldiers yet fought when they were needed.

As Memorial Day approaches, I remember those who sacrificed their lives for others.  If you can ever visit the memorials in Washington DC, do it; and remember that each name on a memorial is all we see of an entire life – family, friends, and dreams.  It hits home when your teary-eyed ten-year-old holds her hand an inch from the reflective black marble wall and says “that could have been granddaddy’s name and then we would be missing all his children and grandchildren.”

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Whether we agree with the war or not, we honor and remember each of the fallen.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

 

 

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