Sand in a Glass

Sliding Sands in a Glass Bottle: Life thoughts from Sand Art

August 21, 2020

Sand in a Glass

We were making sand art at summer camp yesterday.  As I was pouring different color sands into tiny cute plastic critters and shapes for the cute crew of younglings we call campers, one said, “I want red like in The Wizard of Oz.”

I didn’t remember the red sand in the hourglass that the wicked witch sets up for Dorothy. 

Instantly I thought of time slowly falling through a tiny hole like the red sands dropping from my spoon into the funnel to fill the little dinosaur. 

Time does just slip away.

So many times we say, “later,” or “when this is finished,” or “maybe next time,” or “when I’m not so busy.”

But I’ve learned that if it’s something I want to do, I need to do it now.  As soon as possible.  Before the person I want to do it with moves away, grows up, changes schools, changes jobs, etc. I’ve learned to live life in the now. That doesn’t mean I don’t plan for the future and have goals. It means that when it comes to relationships, I always choose now over later.

When someone is gone, it is too late.

You never want to live with regret.

We used to measure time with sand in a glass. Hourglass. That’s an old concept for most of us. I mean, really, how many of us have even seen an hourglass unless we happen to be a fan of “The Wizard of Oz” or play games like Scrabble, Boggle, or Guesstures? It isn’t just a 3-minute timer (it is in the aforementioned games). An hourglass historically was used as a reliable measure of time. It was flipped every time the last grain of sand slid into the bottom and someone yelled out the new hour. On ships, at military forts, etc.

That is how life was measured.

Now we have digital everything and except for a few traditionalists like me, constantly glancing at a timepiece on my wrist governed by fancy cogs, we seldom know how to read that analog device sitting somewhere in the distance. We certainly don’t depend on the flipping of an odd shaped sand-filled bottle.

Our life on Earth is like that hourglass though.

We have so many grains of sand before they run out.

Those few seconds of distraction were enough to finish my spoon of red sands into the plastic reptile. “What color now?” I ask. She picks blue, dark sparkly blue, and I ask, “a little or a lot?”

As I pour a little line of dark sparkly blue, I think, “and God fills our life with different layers or seasons.”

Yellow and dark sparkly purple follow with “all the rest” a black that looks like someone shredded a jet stone.

I think of how we are blessed with so many seasons of time with those we love. Some long – some short – some impact our lives just for a day. Each season of life we spend with each other is like a different layer in sand art; unique and special. Something to enjoy. Something to treasure.

I pray that I take time to treasure each relationship I have and those that will come.

One of the campers is swinging his sand art furiously – “mine’s all rainbowed!” He had a perfectly lined rainbow; red, two orange tones, yellow, two green tones, blue, indigo, violet, lavender, and black at the top. Now it is a fusion of color that looks like gray muck with spots of brilliance.

Wow. My writer’s brain goes into overdrive with that one. Bright spots in the mundane. This is what time spent in relationship is. For instance: we spent 3 days at a winter getaway with my family once and talking to my kids you would think it was an entire 3-month winter season! Those memories together is a bright spot in the normalcy of life that they bring out fondly whenever they please.

Thank you, Jesus.  Help me to treasure today, build relationships that last, and make memories for tomorrow.

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

Fatherhood

June 17, 2019

Fatherhood

So, you know this huge thing called “Fatherhood?”

What comes to mind?  A parenting book I read when I was twelve (yes, oldest sibling perks!) said something like “the child’s view of God as a Father is directly impacted by their experience with their Earthly Father.”

Yes. So true.

I went into parenthood knowing this. (Songs like “He Wants to be Like Me” reaffirmed this giant responsibility.)

A Father is often the humor of the family too – in the photo, Louis had climbed to the top of the stump and challenged “Come Get Me!” … notice all the kids following!

Despite the failures that I’ve made as a Mom and that I felt repercussions of from my parents (they were AWESOME parents, but they weren’t perfect) – I understand the crux of all parenting: we are human.  We (Parents) are not Jesus and are not perfect.

Bingo.

That awesome thing called grace collaborates with the huge responsibility of parenting to create a vulnerable, praying, God-dependant parent capable of teaching the amazing love and grace of Jesus through their own transparency.

Let’s face it: most of the American culture makes fun of fathers.  (Ever seen the Goofy Salute to Fatherhood?) Even as early as the 1950s when there was still a bit of a patriarchal society present, cartoons and movies started to depict fathers as lazy, goofy, clueless bunglers who often caused more problems than they solved.

Although I laughed along with my Daddy at a lot of these early shots at the masculine father, I understood the bulk of media still left you understanding that the love and bond of a father to child was the glue of a family.  The unsung hero always was the silent sure strength of the God-following Father.

As time inched forward, the media continued to turn the American Father into a non-essential entity.

The opposite is true!

I consider myself a strong, independent woman when it comes to my life.  I am a Christian woman, but one of my strongest battles with myself is submission – first to my father, then to Jesus, and later to my husband.  I know this though…  I CANNOT be the mother I am without the encouragement and support from my husband.

If I had to do motherhood without my husband being my ultimate cheerleader and sounding board, I would have realized how unfit I am about three months into the first child.  I have the ultimate respect for people whose life circumstances have forced them to navigate parenthood alone.  I try to be an encourager to them and help those single parents in any way I can because I cannot imagine myself having that strength.

I am excited to be around my husband!  I was on a softball team (church, yes, I’m an athletic maniac but wasn’t on an actual team until I was in my late 20s and it was just for one season with my church family).  Louis was working sometimes 100+ hours a week for our family at the time.  The company I had just closed.  He’d never made it to any of our games (I took all the kids with me; they loved it and hung out with their friends & some of the church ladies who came to encourage us bounced my baby around).  One day he showed up and I was so excited!  (I was told I squealed like a little girl; don’t remember exactly.)  I love walking with him.  I am excited when we do something as a family – or when he’s going somewhere and says, “hey want to go with me?”  Because I know he likes his alone time.  I get way too much alone time at my office – I relish gym coaching because of the other encouraging women I work for and with and the chattering children I love.  I will chatter way too much sometimes.

Our church sermon was on how Fathers aren’t perfect (only Jesus is) and how their honesty and relationship is their connection with their children.  It’s the way to disciple.  We aren’t perfect, our children aren’t perfect – bingo!  Common ground.

I know how important real, honest, God-fearing Fathers are to the fabric of our family.  I know how hard it is to buck the media’s garbage portrayal of our roles and follow God’s plan instead.  I am so thankful that I have a husband who is pursuing God’s heart.  His passion for Jesus makes him a better husband, a better father, and a better friend.  He helps encourage me to pursue God’s heart.  (Told you I’m competitive.)  He isn’t perfect, but he is constantly improving.  A challenge arises and he rises above it.  He’s always leading in love and with a determined drive that is totally contagious.  His passion for Jesus, life, and family (okay, and sports) is encouraging.

And he doesn’t think he’s “so much” – he compliments and lifts me up consistently.  He makes me feel like I’m doing well despite whatever challenge I feel I’m failing.

At church, we pulled in on Father’s Day (neither of our fathers went to church as adults) and he comments, “wow, church is crowded on Father’s Day.”  Yes, at our church, the culture of encouraging each person to follow God individually, corporately, and in their family is persistent.  (I was afraid we lost that when our previous church folded.)  I am so encouraged that Louis has found a church with a culture of lifting up men as fathers; the vital leaders in their homes, encouraging and holding each other accountable.

Thank you, Jesus, for fathers who choose to take the hard road and follow you; they are raising up the next generation of world-changers.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next later…

~Nancy Tart

Me Without You

June 15, 2019

Me Without You

Yesterday I entered a bit of nostalgia.  My facebook timeline mentioned a memory of Father’s Day a few years ago.

Father’s Day.

This is the first Father’s Day when my Daddy is in heaven.

The first thoughts were sad.  Theadora, who was laying on her tummy in the office talking to Faux, one of the office dogs, has never seen her Granddaddy.  I haven’t written anything in any of my books since he’s passed – more likely because I’ve been working two jobs but it feels like there’s no one to discuss book ideas with.  I wonder if I’ve made the right decisions; Daddy would listen and he’s been in this position before.  On the ride home the radio show host asked “what does your Father want for Father’s Day?” and I remembered all Daddy ever wanted all the time was just to spend time with us.

Then I realized, as I do every time I’m sad about Daddy being gone, that I’m being selfish.  Daddy had spent more than two-thirds of his life without his Father.  None of us ever met our Grandfather Pearson – whom Thea was named after.  This is the first Father’s Day that my Daddy gets to hang out with his father – and with Jesus!  How cool is that?

Daddy isn’t in pain anymore.  He’s running, tending trees, worshiping Jesus, dancing with his Mom, you know… silly things we Earth-bound think about as being fun.  I wonder how many questions he’s asked God – he had a long long list of them we used to discuss.

I realized reading my last few posts leading up to his death that I’d been writing about eternity, “Finals Week” was published one week before he passed.  Odd, in retrospect, it’s like God was letting us know in Daddy’s way – with a bit of humor, as this cartoon was his idea! – that He was about to take Daddy home.

Home (Heaven) is where we belong.  On Earth, we love and learn.  We miss those gone, but we look forward to meeting our heavenly Father (God) one day!

Our love is forever.  I will love my Daddy forever.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

Movie Thoughts: Knowing

March 28, 2019

Movie Thoughts: Knowing

The other night we had a movie night.  This had to be something mostly family friendly because everyone was awake.  Yes, even Thea was awake, but I’m sure she wasn’t paying attention to the movie just yet.

See, maybe because I’m old, or a morning person, or was exhausted from the work week, or… I’ll figure out an excuse later… short of it is, I go to sleep early.  Okay, earlier than my teens… okay, even earlier than my almost-teen.  My husband works late.  He is a night-owl.  So they usually watch anything that has too much blood, bad words, or unsafe-for-little-people-stuff after I’m asleep.

SO… queue the air-popped popcorn with yummy butter and salt, some fresh-cut potato French Fries and Sweet Potato Fries, and lemonade… the movie was on.

We watched Nicholas Cage in “Knowing.”

Louis said it was a horror film.  (I asked if he had lost his marbles… I wanted the little ones to sleep in their beds!)   Honestly, I think this designation was to entice the teens to watch it with us.

Oh my goodness.  What a strange, twisting, amazing movie.

**SPOILER ALERT**

If you want to watch the movie without knowing all the twists, stop reading now and go borrow it from the library.  Seriously, this is worth the watch.  We will likely watch it again.

The story acts like a psychological thriller.  Strange dark-cloaked “apparitions” aka “ghosts” aka “spirits” appear and disappear through the 50 years of time reflected in the film.  “Whispers,” as the affected children call the voices in their heads, keep relaying numerical information and give visions to the children after the dark-cloaked strangers give them an otherworldly rock.

Dad (Nicholas Cage) is a grieving widower astrophysicist pastor’s son who has turned his on faith and believes, as he tells his students, that the universe is a collection of haphazard mistakes and there is nothing but chaos.  He drowns his hopeless unbelief in a variety of alcoholic beverages to self-medicate his depression.

The son is hard of hearing (wears a hearing aid) and deeply misses his mother and the happiness that lived in his home before her death.  He happens to be given a message from the first child (written 50 years ago and locked in a time capsule at her/his school) that is a sheet of apparently random numbers.

But the numbers aren’t random.  They are the date (in short form) of a catastrophe and the number of people who died from it… and the “unknown” digits following (which if you have been listening to a Civil Air Patrol Chief talking about orienteering and navigation by GPS, you see that these same length “unknown” numbers are latitude and longitude).

What clenches it for Dad is when he finds the date of his wife’s death (a fire that claimed many) as one of the catastrophes in this list.  He realizes this message is personally meant for his family.  Now he launches into investigation to find out who wrote the message, where she is, why she wrote it, and to find the connection to his family.

Symbolism begins to appear here as the audience starts figuring out the story.  The first hint for me was the fire vision with the animals fleeing but nowhere to go.  (Destroy the Earth by fire.)  The dark-cloaked strangers have shielded eyes but bright faces.  (How would you hide glory unless shielded by darkness yet there’s still light in their faces?)  This is revealed at the very end with the darkness falling away and now they are bright, amazing beings.  (And the viewer whispers, “every time a person sees an angel, they have to say “fear not,” no wonder!”)

When “EE” is revealed to be “Everyone Else” the title is explained.  Now, they know.

At the end sequence, notice the “Pearly Gates,” “streets of gold,” “white linen garments,” and other symbolism played out – how they make it come to life is pure amazement.  Everything is explained in such a unique way.

This movie is rated PG (likely for the alcohol and “disturbing images”).  It’s actually very well put together.  The storyline seems fractured but falls into place and you wonder how you missed it.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

My Hero, My Hope

My way of processing emotion – to write. I love you Daddy. Merry Christmas at Home.

December 10, 2018

My Hero, My Hope

Be not downcast, my soul…

My Daddy’s favorite time of year is Christmas.  He loves the songs, the movies (queue “White Christmas,” “Holiday Inn,” “Miracle on 34th Street,” “Bells of St Mary’s,” my favorite, “It’s a Wonderful Life,” the 1985 Disney Channel Christmas, “Mickey’s Christmas Carol,” etc. on repeat), the giving (he loves to make people yelp with happiness!), the story, and the general mood.

My Daddy has had declining health for quite a few years.  Some days were better than others.  He always tried to pretend like nothing was wrong.

My Daddy went to heaven today.

He always said he prayed that when God wanted him, He would let him just “go to sleep” in his own bed and not wake up.  We just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.  Not near Christmas.  Truthfully, not anytime.

No one expects to lose someone they love.  Never.  No matter how sick they are or how many times they’ve been close or how many doctors have said “he can go at any time.”

No one ever expects to not be able to hear their voice again… No more long discussions about book ideas, parenting, the vastness of God’s amazing universe, the connections from one smile to a healed heart to God’s blessing.

We are human.  We never expect separation from those we love.

God didn’t intend that either.  In the beginning, there was no death.  No separation.  We were to live forever.  In today’s fallen world, we do have death – “separation.”

Those with God’s light within them know this is only a temporary separation, and that gives us tremendous hope.  We know, know, know that we will be reunited once again in heaven.  My hero and my hope as a child was in my Daddy; as an adult, I learned that God is both of our heroes and both our hopes.

And that led my mind to an image that made me cry with joy.

My Daddy lost his mother when he was 12 and his father when he was nearly twenty.  It had been nearly 50 years since he’d seen his dad and almost 60 since he’d seen his mom.

I imagined my Daddy running (yes, in his new body!) to be gathered in a hug by his mother and father.  They’d be joined by his brother, two older sisters, and family gone before.  My Daddy gets to go home where he is dancing, running, jumping, enjoying the beautiful garden he’s always imagined was in heaven (he used to say he would love for God to let him tend a garden).

I know we will miss him.

The child growing within me will not see Granddaddy Pearson on this Earth.

God did grant his request.  God allowed my Daddy to die at home, in his bed.  Daddy went into what Mom thought was a seizure.  Mom caught him, called to God to help her, then she says Daddy took a huge breath, looked at her, and told her, “I love you.  We’ve had a great life together… …I know I’m fading.  I want to go home.” They got to say goodbye.

Those we love are never truly gone.  They live on in our memories, thoughts, and hearts forever.

Thank you, Jesus, for giving me an amazing wonderful father.  Thank you for the memories I hold dear.  Thank you for allowing him to die at home in peaceful surroundings.

Hold those of us pained by this Earthly separation as we grasp the hope that is salvation.  We know we will be reunited with Gaylord Pearson again in heaven.  My goodness, what a l-o-o-o-o-n-g conversation Daddy and I will have when we meet again!

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Daddy & Mom – 1982

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Pearson family reunion – 2002 (Gaylord’s family – aka Daddy, Mom, & all 7 of us kids)

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My Daddy with 3 of his sisters L-to-R: Mary, Dolores, Carol – Reunion 2002

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Mom is about to get Daddy to dance with her!

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At Becca’s Wedding – 2012, Pearson family

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Daddy and Becca (her wedding!)

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Mom & Daddy at our family’s “Snow House” getaway in January 2014

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At Christmas 2016 : Daddy, Mom, & the older 5 siblings

Thanks for reading!

Hold those you love tenderly and treasure the memories of those who’ve had to go home before you…

~Nancy Tart

 

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