Tag: enjoyment

Life Goals

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

Turtles In The Kitchen

December 3, 2022

Turtles in the Kitchen


It had been one of those days.  You know, when you begin to question everything, your brain shouts accusing bits at you and highlights every choice you’ve made since infancy, and your biggest challenge is to find something joyful to think on or something to be grateful for.  

Jillian, Lucas, and Thea to the rescue!

“Mom! Where is Jillian?” cries Thea with a giggle.

“I’m a green turtle!” days Jillian’s muffled voice from under the green bin.  

A simple little rubbermaid bin.  It started life in our house about 14 or 15 years ago as a toy-bin because someone gave it to us with junk in it, a broken handle, and no top.  We sanded the broken plastic and put big toys in it.  At this location (smaller house, so smaller toy room and no space for it), it is our pantry dump bin; usually it contains baggies, extras that need a box like soaps, random cables, an occasional box that’s too big for the shelf, etc.  Since Halloween, it had been used to set everyone’s separate candy/treat buckets inside and had been atop the refrigerator.  This morning I had moved it to the floor with the intention of wiping it out and putting it back in the pantry. 

Instead, it ended up being a turtle shell over Jillian!  

Lucas and Thea were laughing so hard, “look, you can’t see her toes!”  and “Mom!  Jillian’s a turtle with a hard shell!”  And Lucas banged drums on the shell. 

Grandma has a red plastic bin she had just emptied that normally has decorations in it.  

“Mom!” I hear a scream-yell from the kitchen.  

“Look!” Yells Thea as she pulls the red bin over her head, “two turtles!” 

“Two turtles!” Yells Lucas from the other, (Jillian is guiding Thea Turtle around so she doesn’t hit anything as she race-crawls around the kitchen)

Where are they?
Red is Thea
Green is Lucas

I smile at so much fun from imagination and two silly plastic bins.  Thank you God, for imagination!  Thank you God, that you know my heart and send these little angels to make me remember that I just need simplicity to smile.  My mood shifted from fighting my accusing brain to enjoying my children’s joy.  He uses the simple to confound the wise.  In the still small voice.  All of Creation shouts His praise.  A child shall lead them.  All these sayings pound in my brain to drown out the accusations.  

And now the turtles are a “turtle sandwich” to which one of my teenagers said, “mom, that’s something else” and giggled. (Someone has been reading their Biology book.)

Three turtles to the rescue!

Sometimes it’s a pretend turtle in the kitchen that can bring you joy!  Thank you, God, for the blessings you have given us!

Thank you for reading!

Type at you next time!

~Nancy Tart

The Many Faces of Thea

#Theadora #TheManyFacesOfPreschoolers #PreschoolerMoods #Preschool #GymNLearn #WGVGymnastics #CanMyThreenagerListen #IndependentThreeYearOld #OnlyMineForASeason #ICanDOItMyself #Faces #Pictures #MomSometimesIsntReady #TheyAreReadyBeforeMe #ILoveBeingAMother

The Many Faces of Thea

November 1, 2022


This is Theadora. 

I said “let me get a picture of your cute hair!” 

Seriously?  This child cracks me up with her faces!

They are: “I’m Thea” (top left), “I’m Coach Heather” (top middle), “I’m sad” (top right), “I’m sassy” (bottom left), “I’m Becky” (bottom 2nd from left), “I’m really mad” (bottom 2nd from left, “I’m a listening baby” (bottom right).

She loves everything her way and her biggest challenge right now is learning that she must listen to the teacher, coach, big sister, grandmother, or parent who is doing the teaching!  

She absolutely loves gymnastics (she does only Fridays at Gym-N-Learn this season).  Supposedly, her coach says she’s doing better at listening.  I hope so.  The reason it’s Fridays only? So I can bribe her with open gym participation if she listens!  (Seriously, our open gym is immediately following Preschool Program – and that seems to work.) 

Thea is a very independent three.  I think “going on thirty” but then maybe she’s just “chasing Becky and Jillian” in the attitude department – and their determination has started to serve them well in practice and life.  Thea wants to do everything herself – always has.  That appears to be a huge thing for my children though, they always want to do whatever it is by themselves.  It leads to them doing tasks and jobs before I think they are ready.  (Taking the PERT or driving a motorized “big wheeler” at two or jumping into CAP leadership or raising animals or cutting potatoes.)  

I always have to remind myself that Thea is only mine for a season.  She is really Jesus’ daughter and I have the honor and blessing of being her mother.  I enjoy each of her various faces and moods.  I love to watch them grow.  I love to guide them toward the truth.  

That’s all what went through my brain while she posed with silly faces telling me what emotion or what person she was being.  

Thank you for reading, 

Type at you later!

~Nancy Tart

Pumpkins

Pumpkin Memories

October 29, 2022

Pumpkins


We love pumpkins.  You cut off the bottom, scoop out everything inside and scrape all the yummy meat out (save it for roasted seeds and pumpkin pie!), decorate it with a silly face, and put a candle inside – now it’s an amazing nightlight that smells oh-so-good!

The first pumpkin I opened up with Grandma Jeanette; she was teaching me how to make her pumpkin pie.  My Daddy had told us long ago that the reason for the perfect pale color in most commercial pumpkin pies was due to the company using a hard squash instead of pumpkin.  Pumpkin cooks darker than winter squash.  Grandma Jeanette used everything.  I loved learning things from her because I can’t stand waste.  She came from the generation and grew up using everything!  Nothing was ever thrown away.  I loved that.  

Anyway, back to the pumpkin.  She opened it from the top with a big knife.  I was expecting puree like when you open a “pumpkin pack” tin can.  Nope.  Stringy spongy looking guts with spots of seeds reminded me of thick orange spiderwebs.  Grandma Jeanette took all that stuff and scraped with her big metal spoon until the wall was very thin.  Stringy stuff and tiny shavings that looked like slivers went into a big pot with a little bacon grease in the bottom.  She had a really cool method of basically pulling on the strings and all the seeds practically fell onto a pan on the counter.  She picked a few out.  (I have never been able to duplicate that easy seed removal and wondered later if she picked a specific type of pumpkin!) Seeds got tossed around in an oil and spice mixture and roasted in the oven.  The big chunks of hard pumpkin wall (not the actual skin, just the “wall” scrapings from inside) got chopped into smaller hunks and tossed in the pot with the strings and shavings.  Water added to the pot.  It was covered and cooked in a pressure cooker for however long we were sitting and chatting on the couch while the seeds roasted.  

When the lid came off, the strings and hunks had blended into a watery orange soup.  Grandma churned that around with her blender (it got handed down to me years later and had been manufactured in the 40s!) until it was smooth and now it looked like a darker cousin of the canned pumpkin I was so used to seeing.  

Now that was pumpkin pack!  

When Grandma Jeanette did it with me that year, she made all of it into pies for Thanksgiving and Christmas as family and friends always gathered at her house.  She froze the ones to save for Christmas.  I loved the heavenly smell!  She taught me some tricks about the pastry dough.  She sometimes short-cutted by buying premade dough, which she would prick with a fork, paint with butter and sprinkle with a bit of sugar on the edges to give it a “homemade” taste.  For my scratch recipe, she showed me how to layer and roll so it would be flakey.  Cold butter shaved into the mix.  Don’t overmix.  Don’t over roll.  NEVER freeze your scratch pastry.  Always bake the whole pie and then freeze – but it’s always best fresh.  It’s super fast and easy to make anyway, so I LOVE making pastry dough from scratch.

This is why I am transported into happy memories when I see a pumpkin.  I remember bumping around the kitchen with little Christina, Becky, and assorted cousins in and out of the house as we laughed and I listened to Grandma Jeanette’s stories.  

When I cut a pumpkin, I make pumpkin pack, but I don’t bake 12 to 16 pies the same day.  I use the canning pot and tools (all hand-me-downs from Grandma Jeannette, we still reuse some of her jars as well) to can the pumpkin pack for later pies.  1 pint makes one deep-dish pumpkin pie.  1 quart makes 2 deep dishes or 3 flat pies.  I love the whole process!  My plan each holiday season always includes a pumpkin and pumpkin pack and from-scratch pastry to make pumpkin pies.  I tell the stories of Grandma Jeanette and Christina, Becky, and the cousins bringing critters (lizards, toads, etc) into the kitchen and being told how cool they were before being shooed “back where they belong” to “take them home to their families,” yes, that’s why I say that about insects and critters my children capture.  I tell stories of our family because it feels so natural to do that while I’m canning.  Grandma Jeanette taught me to can.  She gave me our tiny library of books and pamphlets about canning, storing Florida produce, and food safety (old publications that came from St Johns County, University of Florida, and Ball, Inc with dates ranging from 1928 to 1965).  

Louis carves the pumpkin shell with the girls.  They love it!  If you open from the bottom, you can replace the candle easier and you can sprinkle cinnamon on the top (while the pumpkin is upside down and let it sit to sink in) and it will stick and make the house smell so good!

Pumpkins make me think of family.  Pumpkins make me smile because of the memories I have and the memories I hope I create for my family.  What food makes you think of happy memories?

Type at you next time!

~Nancy Tart

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