Hold Longer

August 17, 2021

Hold Longer

A song came on the radio today. It was the first time I heard it. Casting Crowns’ song called “Scars In Heaven” played while I was on the way to after school pickup.

The first line says “…if I had known it was the last time…”

I almost cried. I prayed, “thank you, Jesus,” because the last time I saw my Daddy on Earth I did “know.” It was a nudge, a distant feeling I almost tried to brush aside in disgust.

Of course this isn’t the last time I’ll talk with Daddy, I told myself.

But I listened to the nudge. I’m forever thankful for that nudge.

I waited until I would be almost late to pick Christina up from the library (it was going to close). I hugged him tighter than normal. I did just what the singer of the song is lamenting he didn’t do. I have always tried to listen to that tiny nudge of a voice that usually is right in the back of my head. My mind usually tries to argue with it. Like then. I tried to brush that feeling away because even though my Daddy’s health wasn’t great, I didn’t want to believe I would ever walk in and not find him sitting there, ready for long talks, vibrant discussions, and heartfelt conversations.

I heard the singer’s heart hurt as he sang of how if he’d known, he would have held on longer, hugged tighter, talked longer… But we never really know.

God tells us no man knows the hour or day of his own passing.

My father and baby sister are in heaven. My baby never met her Boompa. I didn’t really cry or grieve for them. They were both prepared for death. Both loved Jesus and are now in His presence. I can’t logically cry for them. (I’m way too logical over deep things but I find it’s the silly little stuff that makes me cry.) I wasn’t ready for either of them to go. Just like we are often not ready to die, we are also never ready for a loved one to die.

My Daddy gave me a special gift long ago… He had grown up without his mother (she died when he was 12) and when we were living in Sylvania and had a friend with cancer, he once said, “enjoy every day, you never know when Erica will go home.”

So true. I couldn’t even cry for her. She loved Jesus and let everyone know how excited she was about getting to see Him.

That life lesson has stayed with me. I never don’t say bye or I love you. I leave them with a smile. I don’t ever want someone’s last thought of me or my last thought of them to be bitter. I live as if each time I leave someone it may be the last time I see them. Not that I’m reckless or clingy, but I’m open, honest, and speak the truth about my love for them.

I never want someone to regret their last meeting with me.

I always listen to that nudge. I’m so grateful for God’s warning I got that afternoon… For the happy call from Charley in Mom’s kitchen six months later with Mom & Mary when I brought Christina to loan her some deposit money… For the happy memories of talking a bit longer, hugging a bit tighter, saying “I love you” before I left.

Always hold a bit tighter, hug a little stronger, chat a bit longer; always say “I love you.”

I hope you listen to that song. I pray you always remember to love while you have the time.

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

Sixteen Sweet Years

October 3, 2019

Sixteen Sweet Years

The one who first called me mother is sixteen years old.  Thank you, Jesus.  I am so grateful for being blessed with Christina!  I can’t imagine life without her. 

I truly understand that God entrusts us with raising his children.  There is such a wonderful humbling feeling in being able to watch my little baby grow into a young woman of God. 

For nine months I felt this tiny life growing inside of me.  We prayed over her (not knowing who she would be yet) and loved her from the time we imagined she would come.  She was born the eldest grandchild to both sets of grandparents – imagine such a crazy double blessing! 

Fast forward to today: she’s driving and we’re on the way to her job and Kimberly’s classes with Thea and I riding along (so I can take the car back home and Thea was just up with us so got to serenade us – she sings to music now).

I thank God daily for each of my children.  I know we aren’t promised tomorrow.  I treasure every day.  Every time I get to hear Thea sing notes (no words yet, just “aaaahh-ooooh-aaah”) to music, every time Lucas builds a train track that snakes all over the front room, every time Jillian is jumping like a pogo stick because she learned a new skill or mastered a math concept, every time Jaquline makes something new, every time I get to see Kimberly march (in Civil Air Patrol) or practice some new flip (gymnastics), every time I see Becky snuggle with Lucas, Thea, and Jillian on my bed reading “Angel and the Ring” (Lucas’ favorite), every time Christina ranks up or encourages someone else… every time I get to spend life with my children. 

They don’t have to come to me when they need to talk about something or ask personal of difficult questions – I thank God that they do.  They could bury themselves in isolation from “the parents” but I’m super thankful that they choose to be around us when we are home.  In this precious time while they are close, I want to talk, snuggle, read, play games, cook together, watch them build, invent and grow, and see them climb closer to Jesus.  I am so thankful for the time we’ve been given together.

I became a mom on December 24, 2002.  My little life began inside me and I excitedly whispered it to my mother on Christmas Day because I knew she wouldn’t think it odd that I “felt” my angel start inside me. My first pregnancy journey ended with my beautiful young woman who is driving beside me now.  There is something humbling and awe-inspiring when you hold that first tiny human and realize that God has gifted you with one of His children to raise up.  Once through that, I felt the same huge responsibility and humbling gratitude each time I felt the little life start. 

Life is a vapor; you look at your tiny child in your arms and when you open your eyes again, she’s been flying a plane and driving a vehicle, doing college classes and working a job.  Though she is nearing the time she can choose to leave your home you carefully built for her, you continue to enjoy each day, each opportunity to be around her.  You pray thankful for the time you’ve had and for her safety and future. 

Those years speed by.  The love you carry never leaves.  No matter if your youngling is plucked early to fill heaven with joy, your love remains as strong as the day you discovered them growing inside you – a mother’s love never stops.

Type at you next time,

~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

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

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