I’m Fine (Don’t Go Deep)

March 13, 2021

I’m Fine (don’t go deep)

You know, someone says politely, “How are you today?”

Preprogrammed for courtesy, we reply automatically, “I’m fine.”

But are you really “fine?”

Or does that really mean, “I’m hurting, but don’t ask?”

In our society, it’s so easy to fall into the trap of pretending we are okay.  Of pretending there is nothing behind our mask distorting our inner soul or crushing our heart or making rivers of silent tears run.  We bottle up the true emotions we are feeling and hide them safely where no one can touch them. 

Where no one can judge us.

Where no one can think we are imperfect.

Why do we want to appear perfect?  Why is it not okay to show vulnerability?  Why is a parenting question suddenly turned into an accusation that we are not fit to be a parent?  Why is a question about how to handle an emotion turned into an accusation that we are depressed?  Why must we instantly judge others instead of allow them to safely talk through their emotions?  Can’t we all admit that sometimes we are angry? Irritated with a coworker? Disappointed with a child? Frustrated by a situation? Unsure about feelings?  Can’t we all admit that we are not perfect?

When we comprehend the full meaning of the word “Forgiveness” we can choose not to judge others or ourselves. 

Forgiveness is love.

Forgiveness understands that we listen and let it go.  Forgiveness understands we are all imperfect. Forgiveness doesn’t consistently remind a person of a previous failing.  Forgiveness is not holding a grudge. Forgiveness doesn’t gossip. When you find someone who truly understands forgiveness, treasure that true friend!  Strive to be that friend yourself.

I process emotion by writing because I can’t always be talking with someone who will just listen.  I’d love for there to be a portal like in Star Trek where I can say, “beam me to” and instantly be at my best friend’s house so we can discuss mutual struggles and listen to each others’ individual issues without judging. 

I understand forgiveness. She understands forgiveness.  We both understand that sometimes just admitting to another human that we are human is enough to help us work through our challenges.  This I think is the essence of the verse where it says “iron sharpening iron;” we are to listen, encourage, and edify.  We are to speak the truth in love.  We are to listen with love.  My Daddy used to say, “God gave us two ears and one mouth because He wants us to listen more than we speak.”  I still twist back to “To Kill a Mockingbird” and Atticus telling Scout that in order to understand a man you have to listen well, put on his shoes, wiggle your toes around, and walk a ways with him. 

Listen.

Don’t judge.

Be quick to forgive and slow to wrath.

When I feel overwhelmed, I pray.  I sometimes wish I could just talk to an understanding friend.  I don’t like facades.  I don’t like pretending I’m okay.  Yes, I understand that God is in control and that everything will turn out in a way to glorify Him; but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to ask rhetorical questions that I already have answers to just to help my brain process the thoughts or emotions within.  My feelings are real.  They are valid.  I know how to make my mind calm and to cast all my worries on Jesus.  My desire to discuss my emotions with another honest human is not agreeing that I don’t trust; it’s admitting that I’m human and don’t want the festering hidden thoughts to poison my mind. 

In my Devonians world, the adults talk as if they have no fear of each other.  They ask questions and advice of each other.  They admit to fault.  They don’t pretend to know everything.  They act the way I feel.  They are the epitome of what I imagine we were made to be.  Honest humans who discuss feelings and help each other.  Of course, that’s fiction.  But using that world and the characters within it help me to put my questions to a nonjudgmental audience – I basically have them discuss things that sometimes never make it to my books so I can understand my own mind and heart.  Crazy?  Yes.  Truth?  Yes.

I miss my Daddy the most when I am overwhelmed.  Even though I still pretended I was fine all the time, I could get him to discuss theoretical issues with me or book scenarios that moved my mind to a happier place. 

Like music.  Loud, fast music that I can sing to.  (Can’t sing anymore but my hope is that someday my voice and lungs will heal and I’ll be able to sing again. Thea’s never heard me sing a song that doesn’t sound like a dying chicken.)

How are you?  What do you need to talk about?  Or as Philip usually asks Jamie in Little Thief, “what is it you don’t want to talk about?” – because he knows his little brother better than anyone else…  He is an understanding friend.

I encourage you to find a true friend with whom you can discuss anything that is troubling you.  Someone who will listen to your heart.  Someone to whom you can listen.  Listen, encourage, and pray together.  Build each other up instead of tear each other down. 

Sharpen each other!

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

Shattered

May 16, 2020

Shattered

Again. Shattered Again. This is what strikes my heart again. Of course, in the big scheme of things I realize, this is tiny. This isn’t losing a family member or going bankrupt. Logically, my brain tells me that this isn’t really a bad thing and there is likely a reason behind it, but still…

I can’t ignore the emotions that were tearing me apart when Louis said he got the email.

We never, NEVER, would have showed our children the new house (they’ve been calling it that) unless we were told it would happen.

We were told, based on incomes and expenses that it would happen. Our debt-to-income ratio (we know all that, studied before going to attempt for the loan. We had the credit scores above the requirement on the website, we’d done all our own figuring, we make three times what we would need for the maximum monthly payment!) We were told everything was good – we even asked over and over, is this really going to happen?

Well… of course, we lost income, BUT IT IS TEMPORARY!! Gym can open back MONDAY – two days from now! Are they only looking at one of my two incomes? Are they not looking at Louis’ income at all? I’m still working at the office! Louis is still working at uber.

WHERE IN THE EARTH did some loan person decide that she would NEVER once talk to me but CANCEL our documents because “they have zero income” when she didn’t even check? That’s a lie! That’s a stinking, irritating, hurtful, dream-shattering lie! We have lost income over the stupid COVID19 government shutdown garbage, who hasn’t? But to say that is permanent? It’s a bump in the road! A mortgage is 30 years!! Do you expect our income to never change in 30 years??????

We’ve not deferred ANYTHING… we’ve chosen to keep the down payment (yes, in the bank, safe and untouched!) and pay minimums on credit cards that we had to use for groceries, yes. Gym was forced to shutdown temporarily – between Monday and June 1st, I go back to work as soon as they open.

NOTHING has been late; not FPL, not our rent, not our van or car payment (we pay off the giant van payment in 4 months!)

Why is this hurting us? I thought this was responsibility? To keep the down payment, to choose to pay bills on time instead of ask for deferment, to pick up odd jobs to keep our income up while this stupid government decides to ruin our jobs and now – yes, shatter our dreams AGAIN!

Christina and Kimberly lost summer encampment, Christina, Becky, and Kimberly lost Passion Camp (this was the only summer they could all go together), the VBS they were looking forward to is canceled, they miss out on their gymnastics show, the girls are despising this whole zoom meeting garbage where they can’t talk and meet in person…

Becky said, “they can’t take our house, can they?”

It seems, one mortgage person can LIE and say we have no income while NEVER ONCE contacting or trying to contact me, Louis, or either of my bosses regarding our actual status of employment – and yes, deny us our house.

So while I understand that if someone takes the last 4 weeks of my paystubs and averages them over the course of a year, they will think we can’t make our payments; right now we are only missing about $200 a month (with the expected higher mortgage rate and this doesn’t count Louis’ income) – and we loose a $650 a month liability (paid off vehicle) in 4 months (so then just my income alone will cover our bills with more than $400 surplus!).

What really hurts is the LIES. I had to get this information from one lady we called because Louis got an email saying we no longer qualify and so have to pay a cancellation fee… ?????? Why can’t we at least get a courtesy call? No one ever asked? Not even a text. That’s seriously taking social distancing too extreme.

I hate that I took my children to see this place. I hate that I’m so gullible. I hate that I shared my dreams with others and now feel embarrassed that we even tried.

I am determined to at least speak to this person before I agree to pay for a lie.

I pray that God sets this up the way He wants it. I pray my emotions level (which, yes, after writing they always do) so I can speak calmly and rationally. I pray to see the good through this curtain of hurt. I so wanted to have those friends as neighbors, I really wanted to have Treaty Park as my backyard, but whatever; I should have known we will never make it to a real house.

Emotions are sometimes things we hide. I do. I try very hard not to let anyone see anything that isn’t positive. I try to be the mood lifter, not one who complains or cries or feels darkness. But I do. I feel darkness right now – like all my life I’ve dreamed of having a house where I could raise my children and grow trees that would shade my grandchildren – I know, silly. I saw a plan online that almost mirrored the house I’ve been building in my sketchbook all my life and even though we had to give up the place that was my first dream, I thought that if this all went through, it was a second shot at my dream. Next year would be too late: Christina wouldn’t be in that house. This faint hope rose to believe we’d have one season before Christina went to college. A place my teenagers wanted to be in.

These are raw emotions. We all have them. We all scream at the irrationality, lies, deception, cheating, or hurtful things that shove us or our loved ones into positions they don’t want to be in, shatter their dreams, or whatever.

We have to do what works to calm ourselves down and realize that God is in control; yes, even when someones lies and it shatters our dreams, it is just an opportunity for God to show us something better…

Anyway, I write to sort through my emotions; what do you do?

Thank you for reading.

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

Loss and Love

June 23, 2019

Loss and Love

Standing excitedly on the screened porch steps, 6 children stand about squirming, giggling, jumping, and otherwise trying to pitifully contain their excitement.

“What is it, Daddy!” chorus a half-dozen voices.

Daddy pulls out a stork – plain, white, six-foot-tall wooden stork.

“No, Daddy! It is a boy or a girl!” “Is it a Bobby or a Mary?” “Daddy! That doesn’t tell us anything!” “Daddy!”

He’s grinning under that “Indian Jones” hat he always wore. He loves the suspense. The oldest boy sits on the steps; he’s been telling us it’s a girl since he knew Mom was pregnant. He jumps when Daddy finally pulls out a bow – a pretty, humongous PINK bow.

The children scream with joy and start dancing about, following Daddy as he plants the stork in the yard and ties on that giant pink bow – announcing to everyone speeding up and down our county road that God had gifted this family with a new beautiful baby girl.

Our Mary.

Our treasure.

It was 24 days before my thirteenth birthday 23 years ago that I first heard my baby sister’s cry over the phone. (No skype or video phone back then.) Mom would bring our new baby sister home the following day all wrapped up in blankets against the South Carolina January cold. We loved, spoiled, and thanked God for our baby.

Our Mary.

Honestly I was an odd big sister; I read tons of parenting books and practiced techniques on Charley, Dorothy, and Mary, so they felt like my children instead of my siblings.

My Baby Sister.

Two days ago at work, just settling in, going happily about my day, I get a call from my Mom that made a part of my heart die. Mary was gone. She didn’t have details, but just that turned me numb. I went into split mode. Six months and ten days ago it was my Daddy; this was ripping my mother’s heart from her chest. Her baby girl was dead. My baby sister was dead. My niece and nephews would never see Mommy come home from work. My boss helped me gather my things and Thea and I started trying to call my rocks (phones are hands-free now so your voice and your car does everything, Daddy couldn’t call us from the road when she was born). I needed to talk. Louis told me he was with her babies. My Mom had gone to tell Becca in person. I cried, I screamed, mad at the waste – I didn’t even know nor care how she died yet. I was so irritated that God had let this happen to us. Mary was just getting on her feet again. She had found a home to rent, she had enrolled the kids in school, she was starting a real job on Monday… her life was moving in a positive direction.

She was 23.

23.

A baby. Her children needed Mommy. But she was gone. Talked with my baby brother. It was a car accident. An accident, a blink of an eye; everything about two families changes.

“Praise you in the Storm” came on Hope FM. Music is my life. God knows me. The next few songs playing while I made the 35 minute ride home seemed like God talking to me through them.

Mary had told me the day before that she kept seeing Daddy with his arms out to her like he was going to hug her. I told her that was God letting Daddy give her a hug while she slept. Now that popped into my head to make another river of tears before I got to the house.

I never understood having to walk into your own house, look your children in the eye, and tell them their Aunt is dead. Two of my daughters were closer to Mary than I was. She had been coming to stay with us for summers when they were young (my Daddy’s idea of “parenting classes”) until she married and divorced… I called her ex.  (They’d been seperated off and on for the last three years but officially divorced on June 11, 2019.)

Death is horrid.

I don’t know how those without God can handle death. My hope is in Jesus and I know I will see those I love again. I know my baby sister is in heaven with my Daddy – her Daddy.

The roller coaster of emotions still races through every vein and artery in my body.

“You have to take care of her,” Daddy is saying – I’m 13 & she’s a bright-eyed 6 months. “Don’t let anything happen to her.”

But I can’t always be there! I can’t always stop bad things! I am so powerless a protector!

I walk in to Mom’s house (Mary was living there until she got her place) and there’s Mandy, Isaac, and JJ looking up at me all excited, “Yea! Aunt Alice!” and they grab sister-cousins and brother-cousin and disappear into the playroom (their bedroom).

Our focus is on these angels now. On helping their guardians (another sister & her husband have custody) as much as we can. On being there to tell them stories about their Mommy. On praying for them. On always being there for them through the life journeys they will take without her.

Oh, God, I know death was never in your plan! It hurts so bad. It rips our soul. I pray constantly that we will know peace. I pray that all those who lose loved ones find peace. I pray for my Mom – God, only you can comfort her. I pray for Mary’s babies.  Wrap your arms around them and whisper to their ears that you are holding them and you will guide them.

Oh God, death is so hard to bear!

Go hug those you love, speak without anger, treasure the time you get with friends and family. Life is a vapor – you never know when it will end.

~Nancy Tart

Watching & Analyzing

Watching & Analyzing

April 27, 2019

I’ve always been a watcher.  I watch the world around me and (most of the time) analyze it.  I look at a beautiful blue sky and my mind says “wow, how pretty,” and quickly follows with “it won’t rain for the next few hours.”  (Yes, hours, we live in Florida – if you walk outside and don’t like the weather, go brush your teeth and check again.)

Honestly, I analyze too much.

I shouldn’t catch a glimpse of something and try to analyze it.

In relationships, that is nosy.  See someone and instantly turn on your inner Sherlock Holmes… (Four different cat hairs on her skirt, four cats – her house must be smelly… unless she uses that whatever-name-it-is-I-saw-on-tv multi-cat litter.  Is her purr-fume laced with tuna?)

That just isn’t nice.

In normal life, it can suck out the joy.

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I catch this glance of my angel sleeping.  Instant thought: “My Mom will love this.” Second thought: “She was two months old on Easter Sunday.”  Third thought as I’m sending my mom the picture: “Daddy never saw her.”  Followed quickly by a flood: Daddy didn’t get to hear about Christina flying, Lucas will not remember his Grandfather, they won’t get to learn how amazing Daddy’s brain was – like talking to an educated encyclopedia with an open mind.  He was always listening, always talking, always making connections where we couldn’t see them; always the analyst.

Within two minutes (from the time I took the picture until Mom texted back), my mind had sent my mood from joyful to sorrowful.  From excited about young life to regretting the passing of my Daddy.  I had just rode an emotional roller coaster at work and nothing had changed on my face.

I forced myself to refocus.

Daddy always expected Christina to achieve her dreams – he once told me to “look out, she has your determination and a friendlier world; just you watch what she does!”

Lucas loves watching family videos and listening to stories of his “Santa Boompa” told by his big sisters.

I inherited Daddy’s knack for soaking up knowledge (probably why I can make myself learn any new job rather quickly) and if you want to start me talking… (yes, the girls call it lecturing) enter at your own risk because I’ll make strange connections, see beyond what is easily seen, and read into situations for what “could be.”

I remind myself that we can always shift our focus to the positive, and that’s what Daddy would have wanted.  He didn’t want anyone sad when he left us.  He always wanted the joy, smiles, and laughter that he tried to cultivate.  So, now I’m back to joyful.

Then music runs through my head: “I Choose Joy!” (For King & Country – I love that song!)

Yes, I choose joy.  Everyday.  I pray you do too.

 

Type at you Later…

~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

 

Biblical Film Adaptations

June 16, 2018

Biblical Film Adaptations

In this world, the entertainment industry often gets inspiration or ideas from books to transform into movies.  Of course, as a writer, I like to point out to the girls that every movie started as the written word (aka written or typed scripts).  One of the areas we discuss a lot is the differences between book and movie.  We watch many films which are based on a Biblical story.  Many times when people discuss Biblically-inspired movies, the main question is: “Is it accurate?”  This is an important question.  I also like to discuss why it wasn’t accurate – because I have yet to watch a retold Biblical-story-based film that was 100% accurate.

Below are a few of my thoughts specifically on Bible-to-Movie productions.

By far a favorite series in our house is the “Greatest Adventure” cartoons; stories that are close to accurate but obviously not due to the addition of three non-biblical characters and humorous exploits by said characters that just aren’t accurate.  Another favorite is “The Ten Commandments” – which although it’s a classic with great acting and brilliant pageantry, it focuses the majority of time on the portions of Moses’ life that the Bible does not cover, and omits or changes portions of the wilderness journey.  Even the more Biblically accurate “Moses” and “Joseph,” both with Ben Kingsley, omit quite a bit of the story.  Then there are the cartoon features like “Prince of Egypt” and “King of Dreams” – which are more about the lead character “finding themselves” and “fulfilling their destiny” which sounds more along the line of Star Wars than the Bible and they outright change the stories; the former appears to be all about “freedom” (good, but what about learning to obey God?) and the latter has less obvious inaccuracies with the poignant story of forgiveness extremely strong.  Mel Gibson’s “Passion”, while being graphic and realistic where you feel like an intruder through time due to the archaic languages used, has several added sequences that aren’t in the Gospels along with omitting sections that are.  “The Nativity Story” expands on just a few verses to create a realistic emotional journey that focuses on what the storytellers believe Mary and Joseph were feeling and experiencing in their culture; it is close to being Biblically accurate, but much is added into the story.  “Noah” was realistic as entertainment but flawed if one tried to match it to the Bible (though this was the first of any Noah story remake I’d seen where they’d included the fact that Methuselah died the same year as the flood).  “Samson” has an over-the-top villain that makes it seem cartoonish, the story is again modified, yet the film storyline is highly believable.  Three or four Noah remakes as musical cartoon shorts exist in our collection and provide many laughs – the only accuracy in those is this single story thread;“Noah and his family and the animals were saved by God in a boat,” the rest is singing, dancing, and cartoon animal gags.

Even our family’s absolute favorite because it captures the truth of the character of Christ as the Gospels portray, “The Greatest Story Ever Told,” leaves much to be desired if it were an exact retelling of the story (the girls always laugh at the poor cowboy Centurion but love the emotions in the face of the actor playing Jesus when he says “I am the resurrection and the life”).

The question begging is this: why are these things left out?  Why are stories shortened?  Why are portions added in?  Why create inaccuracies in a Biblical story?

In any film production there is the balance between budget, story, perceived audience retention, rating, and other factors that impact how the finished product turns out.  For the sake of the story, characters are sometimes added, omitted, or changed.  Consider in “Samson” how instead of foreskins he brings clothing (that was a nice change).  Sometimes stories are changed or details omitted to keep a film under a specific rating and therefore open to a larger audience.  When we realize that any retelling of the Biblical story will fall short of being the actual Bible, we can appreciate the retold stories as just that; someone’s retold story based on a truth from the Bible.  Granted, as with any film or story, we have to use our discretion – I don’t own a copy of “Sodom and Gomorrah” with Stewart Granger because it’s inaccuracies outweigh what I would consider worth the entertainment (really, hundreds of people escape those cities to follow the great leader, Lot?)

Sometimes accuracy is lost in retelling a story for a specific reason to craft a more palatable story or to engage a specific audience.  I’ve rewritten a few Biblical stories and no, they are not 100% accurate.

  • In “Katy Bear’s Request,” my main character is a talking bear – seriously? This is a child’s book written as a fantasy.  No human was around to witness creation so I picked a bear to witness God making Eve.  Katy Bear is a cub because my story was written for a preschool audience.  Accuracy was lost for fantasy.
  • In “Story From the Inn,” the inaccuracy comes from added details. In the Bible, there is no mention of the innkeeper’s family and no mention that Joseph and Mary are unattended when Jesus is born.  From those unspecified details, I developed the innkeeper’s daughter who sits with the midwife’s daughter to attend Mary and witnesses Jesus’ birth to retell the story to her grandchildren years later.  This inaccuracy is due to added details.
  • In “The Living God,” I actually took quotes from the Bible for the characters to speak, but I added two young palace slaves to observe Daniel and who, like Darius, is convinced Daniel’s God is the Living God. Caleb and Miriam were added because I wanted someone with whom my audience could relate.  They are not mentioned in the Biblical account, so those additions make it inaccurate.

These stories were purposefully made inaccurate to be more entertaining and to engage my audience easier.

Personally, I like to use all Biblical films as catalysts to open discussion regarding this very truth – films are simply stories retold to entertain us.  We discuss the differences between the film and the true story, the supposed reasons why these differences exist, and how the differences affect the story.  Many times, we enjoy a retold story even though we understand the truth is different.  We have two favorite films that are about the life of Ruth – and the girls enjoy watching and discussing both.

Discussion regarding movie versus book is something I do with every film we’ve seen where the girls have read the book.  I do like to turn any opportunity into a teaching moment.  Sometimes the reaction is, “The movie is much better,” (i.e. “The Hunger Games”, “Bambi”, “The Little Mermaid,” “The Count of Monte Cristo”) but most often the reaction is, “I missed xyz” or “Why didn’t they have such and such character?” ending with, “I liked the book better.”

With almost all Bible story depictions on film, the consensus is the Book is much better.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you later…

~Nancy Tart

 

Amazing Live Music: Evan D Music

(photo from Evan D Music’s Facebook page)

May 29, 2018

Amazing Live Music: Evan D Music

Our weeks are pretty full of stuff.  Between our crossing driver shifts, taxiing children to and from college classes and groups, and just general life – it is awesome to have a mostly-weekly couple getaway afternoon on Mondays.  (THANK YOU! Shout to my amazing sister, Becca, who is brave and possibly just as crazy as me to sometimes text, “Pick them up by 8am tomorrow.”)

That is what we had this week.

The adventure of just Louis and me began with dropping off 7 children at 4pm (Anastasia had “sleptover” Sunday and Christina’s Monday class was canceled because the college was closed) to 6:30am the next day.  Only one cab ride to take someone home before the night was ours.

We had worked in the morning (all 3 cab calls) and ferried Christina to Marine Street for her Civil Air Patrol volunteer time, then spent almost 4 hours playing yard and board games with the girls (I even got to conquer an Age of Empires map with Rebeccah!) so when our time started it was like, “okay, what now?”

I wanted to walk on the beach and surf… wrong tide, and I don’t do baiting-shark surfing (aka night surfing).

Louis said, “I remember hearing some really good music downtown two weeks ago at the Tavern.” (He means the new Taberna del Caballo.)  Oh my! You should go there on Mondays from 4pm to 8pm – trust me, your ears are in for a very special treat!

So down we went.

And there, I was transported backwards to the very skillful, amazing raw guitar sounds that I heard my minstrel-of-the-dawn Daddy playing when I was a child and the awesome worship jams with Louis and his team and I first met.  Clean music, inspiring riffs (…you know, the things where a string musician picks the strings with his fingers so fast the fingers blur all together and you sit in awe with your mouth open…) and timeless songs.

We were listening to the sounds of Evan D Music.  (This guy is about to release a record too… yep, I’m not that old, but projects are records of time and passion, even if they are downloaded on a smart device in snippets.)  He plays around town almost every night but at the Taberna del Caballo Mondays from 4pm to 8pm.

One lady at another table had the best stadium whistle I’d ever heard (right through her fingers, no device!)  I’m sure people at the Oasis on the beach heard it.  You should have seen the two adorable kids dancing along with most of the patrons when one particularly moving song was performed.  (Louis doesn’t dance, so I’m not going to dance without him… but had the girls been there, we would have been dancing around too.)

I love live passionate music.  You can tell when an artist puts their heart and soul into their work – and Evan surely does.  I grew up listening to my Daddy play “story” songs from Phil Collins to Gordon Lightfoot to Jackson Browne, Moody Blues, Beach Boys, and all in between.  (We sat down to hear Evan playing “Kokomo” which was way cooler live with a riff-master on guitar – and he can sing the higher harmonies – I hadn’t heard that since my little brothers’ voices changed!)  My Daddy’s eyes would light up like he had stars in them when he strummed the tunes.  For years, I thought Lightfoot’s “Minstrel of the Dawn” was the story of my Daddy.  I loved just listening to the guys play when Louis and I first met; they’d be crammed in Grandpa’s attic room and wailing away and I’d hide on the stairs or they’d be practicing in the empty auditorium and I would slide off to the dark side entryway and dance.  I still love it when Louis (who claims he’s really rusty) plays guitar or Christina or Becca play piano.

Real music is the love of my heart.  It lifts my soul, engages my mind, heart, memories, and emotions, and spins a relaxing web of tranquility through the air.  This is what I felt listening to the talented Evan D Music; and this wonderful little place on St. George Street will be a regular haunt for us from 4pm to 8pm as long as we have Mondays off and Evan is playing there!

Check Evan D Music out on Facebook and YouTube and come be in his audience before he makes it to the Amphitheatre!

Thanks for reading!

Type at you later…

~Nancy Tart

 

Understanding and Choosing Forgiveness

April 23, 2018

Understanding and Choosing Forgiveness

Sometimes things make us irritated.  Loss, waste, and destruction of life are hot spots for me.

We have livestock.

Honestly, I can shrug off an owl or hawk picking off a young chicken.  I can understand the predators are getting food and my unguarded (or less than perfectly guarded) animals become easy prey.  We learn how to build a better pen or protect our animals better for the environment we have.  But I hate waste.

I had never faced a human killing animals indiscriminately.   Until yesterday, neither had the girls.  They love to show off their animals and share their experiences: from soft, fluffy biddies to newly laying vibrantly colored pullets to nuzzling Guinea Pigs.  The girls love animals and wouldn’t think of hurting them just because.  Even the “mean” cockerels (young chickens we will eat or sell, sometimes a rooster just has a mean disposition and they stay locked in the pen for protection!) are treated with respect.  They will be grilled chicken dinner or traded for feed money, anyway, so they serve a purpose.

Once, we had a child swipe a biddie because it was  “so cute  and I wanted  it,”  but her brother returned it the next day because it “looked sick.” (Unfeathered baby chicks have to stay under a heat lamp at about 100o and yes, without that heat, they get sick.)  We could understand that but the girls kept explaining to this little child that if she wanted to hold them and play with them, she could come to our yard and ask, but the biddie needed to stay with her “sisters.” (The other chicks.)

Recently, a child came to the house, systematically killed several hens, stole most of the young chickens to bait a dog, and took eggs.  We didn’t want to believe it was true.  His family returned the two live ones that managed to make it and graciously paid money to replace the lost animals.   One of the accomplices was one of the girls’ friends.  The girls went through many emotions: devastation, betrayal, anger, sadness, joy (when discovering the one rescued young chicken was the last female Buff!), compassion (when they decided they needed to pray for him), and forgiveness.

It took a while to process.  We discussed trust, honesty, betrayal, sin in the world, fallen man, how we shouldn’t be bitter, how Jesus calls us to love regardless of how people hurt us, and eventually the anger and sadness turned to compassion and forgiveness.

For me, I went through the same emotions.  It was hard to swallow and move on because of how hurt the girls were.  I wanted to protect my children from these emotions.  I didn’t want them to feel betrayal – they had allowed “friends” over and shared their animals with them and at least one of these children were part of the attack and theft.

Instead, I chose to help coach them through the emotions.  It was right to feel betrayal, anger, and sadness.  Those emotions are normal.  They had to understand how sometimes good people choose to follow evil and are sad about what they did.  (Case with their friends.)  The girls had to forgive.

And by the end of the next day, they were laughing and playing in the yard with their reconciled friends.  True forgiveness means forgetting and moving on.  That, despite the loss and hurt of the morning, made my heart happy.  Of course, I hope they never feel betrayal, but – reality check! – in this fallen world, it is likely that someone else later in life will hurt their hearts – and they will have to forgive to keep their heart from bitterness.

Yes, I found that if I allow God to move on my children’s hearts, He can turn their hurts into joy.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you later…

~Nancy Tart

 

What to Say?

October 20, 2017

What to Say?

It doesn’t matter how you get the message.  A man in uniform, a hospital doctor, a call from their job, a letter from a mission council: it doesn’t matter the messenger, when you hear “we regret to inform you…” with the universal calm sadness people use, you don’t hear anything else.  It doesn’t matter if the name they give is your husband, wife, father, mother, brother, sister, or child.  Your world just imploded.

You are devastated; and that word falls flat when trying to convey the emotion coursing through your veins like blood.   You stare blankly, scream, yell, cry, hit, punch, or politely slam the door in their face and curl up into a tiny ball just behind it to bawl the remainder of your heart out.  Every dream you had with them has just died.  The messenger knows this and stays silent even if you lash out at them.  They usually leave you to your grief.  No more words are needed.

Your heart compresses into a lump of coal; furious at the job, war, accident, drunk driver, sickness, or whatever that stole your loved one from you.  Your heart constricts as your emotion rises into a whirling series of blades and swirls from inside your heart to rip apart everything inside you.  Anger is a part of grief.

This just happened to someone you know.  What to say?

There is nothing you can say.  Not even the most eloquent speech from the best orator on the planet will breathe life back into the lost loved one.  No one can say “I’m so sorry for you” with just the right tone to shoot back time and change the events that have happened.

We’ve all been there (most of us have been in this insane horrid sorrow of loss ourselves).  We’ve also been the friend of someone who is still reeling from the shock of extreme loss – and if we are wise, the best we can do is say nothing.  If our eyes meet the survivor we offer a smile of encouragement, a hug, or simply cry with them; just so they know we are here.

We’ve all heard someone at a funeral say what they intend as an encouragement but it actually stabs the survivor in the lungs, sucking out their air and life, tearing into their mind.  Inwardly, the animal of attack is shredding that person – but the survivor usually realizes they meant well, it just didn’t come out that way.  (“It was just her time,” “you could always have another,” “he lived a full life,” “at least she’s not hurting anymore,” or any other cliché soundbite.)

In our current techno world, grief doesn’t have a chance!  Someone loses a precious loved one and instantly society wants heart-stopping news stories, social media posts with pics and vids on all outlets, and 24/7 access into the private life of the grieving family.  Politicians want to be on stage with them.

NO!  Just let them grieve!

Pray for them if you hear of their loss.

Deliver them a meal, send them a card or flowers, or be there at the funeral to show your support and empathy if you know them.

If you are family – protect them from this ruthless media assault.

Why must society know everything about everyone in such a callous way, so distant, so superficial?  If a person really cared, they’d do something meaningful to help the family – and not go on TV to highlight their perfect generosity, excessive understanding, and absolute empathy.  Their grief shouldn’t be our profit.

Please, let them mourn for the loved one they lost and the dreams, hopes, and life they had – and no, it will never “return to normal” (something will always remind us; a uniform, policecar, firetruck, work truck, cane, wheelchair, the ocean, the hospital, the outfit they last bought us, the ring on our finger, our children, our grandchildren – these will flood us with memories and emotion at times) but yes, life does continue.  Hope allows life to continue and restores happiness, but first they must grieve.

 

In memory of all those we’ve lost…

~Nancy Tart

 

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