December 28, 2022
Life Goals
I continually reevaluate my “life goals,” if you want to call them that.
Core has always been to love Jesus, pass that on to everyone I can touch, and show love when I can. The additions have changed a little:
Pre-twenties, I wanted to be a wife, mother, and teacher. Did that. Am living that.
Twenties to mid-thirty: The only earthly thing I wanted for my children was a home they all grew up in and family roots. I failed at that. Life teaches you lessons and you hope to pass on the results so they don’t fall into the same trap.
Thirty-three and beyond, I only want my children to love Jesus in a true life-long relationship; I’ve learned that everything in life beyond relationships is just temporary.
Lately, my older children have made comments in passing that really cut to my heart. The first year I didn’t unwrap a gift from you. (Her gifts were too large to wrap & smaller things were in her stocking.) Wow, they’ve lived there like 12 years, that would never be us. (We did have a home for 14 years, just moved to two different places during that ownership to help other people for seasons.) You don’t give me stuff like the other girls’ moms. (No, I can’t give anyone a brand new car as they get their license, a new laptop, the latest phone, gaming systems, etc. I provide you with opportunities to save for those things and decide their value yourself.)
Those things and other assorted in passing comments have made me delve into self-examination for the past couple of months. I can’t talk to my Daddy about it, praying feels one-way, a memory pops up of Louis’ accident last year and the days of challenges and miracles, I feel like I’ll never dig us out into property that is our home (though I keep reminding my doubt that I left that in God’s hands, the doubt keeps trying to come in), people I know whose children I know are dying from poison, I pray daily for those I know who are affected: my life feels useless as I feel like I can’t do much for anyone.
This morning I saw the evidence of a life well lived. My entire perspective changed.
There was a young woman in a beautiful wedding dress beaming a smile holding onto the arm of an elegant man in a suit. Their faces shone with love. The photo was a portrait size and in black and white; aged scores of years. You could feel their love. Two candles on either side of the little table below the portrait. Mementos and memories on the table; he had passed away before her. It reminded me of my mother’s tribute shadowbox for my Daddy. Her home was full of framed pictures: children and grandchildren in various smiles and grins. A few in the midst of laughter – those cherished candid photos that you keep even if they aren’t the best quality. Worn rocker. Stockings. A Christmas tree. An open Bible. Her faith and the relationships she had cultivated radiated from each well-worn book, devotional, and study guide on that little bookshelf. My writer’s brain wondered how many of those books she or her husband had bought and then passed around. How many grandchildren had heard stories from that Children’s Bible with the bent binding? Children told her goodbye: that they loved her, they didn’t want her to leave, that they would see her later in heaven, one told her to give daddy a kiss from her.
That is a life well-lived.
Her children loved her enough to keep taking care of her at home; like Mom did for Grandma Jeanette. Don’t ever put me in a nursing home. Because of love, they sacrificed and made it happen that they cared for mom at her home so she could die in peace. Her face showed that peace.
That is a life well-lived.
I was so overwhelmed with emotion for that wonderful woman I didn’t know. Grandma Jeanette told me once to “live with no regrets” which I also remember from the lady who gave me my first cookbook. She’d been married four times and raised five boys. Her life story was how to gather things and make stews and build add-ons to her house and save people from storms on the lake. Her sons all passed on her faith; I played with her grandchildren and they were the first group of children I’d met who talked about Jesus like a close friend like my family did. She wrote “God will bless your life, let Him lead,” in my cookbook cover (I was 7 years old). She died shortly after at 90-something.
That is a life well-lived.
Live with no regrets. Love without reservation.
My goal is to allow my children to see Jesus through me, to trust Him in everything, to do my absolute best to shine His love wherever I can.
Life doesn’t have to be long to be well-lived. I consider the life I’ve already lived to be amazing. I thank God for each day He’s given me. For the challenges we’ve overcome as a family, for the health miracles which are the reason my babies and I are here, for the protection over my daughters’ hearts as they allow it, for the relationships we have with each other. Those I’ve known for seasons who are friends like sisters and brothers in my heart. Growing those relationships as best I can even when life is “too busy” and time is challenging; that is a goal.
Live with no regrets. Love without reservation.
I was 12, she was a beautiful frail girl with a rapturous joy of life and Jesus and family when we met her. She shared her love with everyone without caring what they thought. If someone stared at her bald head, she would approach them and say, hi, how are you today? And try to show them love and happiness. She came to our house probably because we treated her and her sister just like we treated anyone else; we played with them, swang with them, took them for canoe rides, fished on the shore while she braided flowers, played with our chickens and dogs together, told stories to each other, and otherwise enjoyed life. She lost her battle with cancer shortly afterward, but I couldn’t cry. She was home with Jesus like she talked about all the time. She told us we had to still play with Danielle. As long as we lived there, we did. I still love Erica and Danielle like they were my own sisters; since we were sisters in the faith, we are sisters.
That is a life well-lived.
He was his sisters’ baby doll. He protected everyone. He was loved by everyone. He knew who needed to hear and in turns shared his faith and struggles and love with them. His smile told you everything you needed to know; he was genuine. He died protecting those he cared about. His legacy is the love and relationships left in the hearts of those he loved and who loved him; and the relationships they created when coming to celebrate his life. He was my brother’s friend. His family and mine were intertwined in so many relationships through many seasons of our lives.
That is a life well-lived.
My perspective shifted. It set me back on the track that my brain keeps trying to veer me off of. My true life goal is to shine with Jesus’ light: to make strong relationships, to build into people, to share my faith, to encourage others, to help when I can, to do my very best to love as Jesus does. And in Jesus’ time, when my story on Earth is finished, I will go home and those I love will see a life well-lived.
Right now, I’m living my life well-lived!
Thank you for reading!
Type at you next time!
~Nancy Tart
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