Stepping Back

Stepping Back

February 23, 2020

My little love is one! I’m 37. We both had birthdays this week. This is the first birthday for one of my children that I missed.

I was on my way to a meeting at work when I got two adorable videos from Louis – my littlest baby, looking at her first birthday cupcake Grandma Joanne brought her while everyone sings “Happy Birthday” and her little toes wiggle happily.

I could have let that make me feel really blue. I almost did because I had a rather sour day at work that morning – I’m a perfectionist, should explain everything (right?)

As I watched that video three times, there were two voices in my head:

The first was saying things like: Aww how cute! How sweet that they took a video! She’s having so much fun!

The second jumped immediately on top with: You aren’t there. This is the first birthday cake you haven’t done with any child! You neglect her. You neglect them all. You work too much. You are missing your children’s lives. See how much you miss.

And the second voice doesn’t shut up!

I went through the meeting. That second voice was still screaming in the background on the way back to work: If you had any business sense, you could have been good at Beachbody like Katy, you could be a real author making a living at it, you could have sold makeup, you could still be at home. Why didn’t you…. You could have been… If only…

It boiled down to this: YOU ARE A FAILURE!

But I’m not!

I refocused. I took a deep breath and steadied myself on my way to gym – the voice tried again because my baby didn’t even come to gym on her birthday because Daddy and big sister kept her at home (she was pooped after birthday fun).

I am doing my best.

Most importantly, I allowed myself to step back and look at the bigger picture. That is really hard when voices – your own voices in your head – are screaming at you. Your logic tells you they are accurate! Your emotion agrees with them! All the parenting books you’ve read, teachers you’ve listened to, and “stats” you’ve seen about raising children all tell you the voices – the accusing second voices – are right. BUT NO!

Step back. I stepped back.

For 15 years, I’d been the one at home (yes, working from home too) to see the firsts. With Thea, Louis has been.

He said he loves the baby stage and is so thankful he isn’t missing all of it. He felt like he was never around for the others. I’m so happy he gets to be home in the morning/early afternoons in this season!

I had an awesome relationship with my Daddy. I want that for my children, especially my girls; for them to have an awesome relationship with their Daddy. Louis gets to spend more time with them.

I stepped back.

We have joint goals. We have family goals. A house that means a new start for us – rooms for everyone and more than 4 feet of counter space in the kitchen! We are accomplishing that!

I stepped back.

I LOVE my family, and they know this. Just because I work two jobs in this season doesn’t change that. We both got to go to Christina’s first University tour! (That wouldn’t have happened with other jobs!) We both get to go to the gymnastics show in May. We all get Sundays together as family days (that has never happened in our family lives – service industry doesn’t give up weekends!).

I took another deep breath. The accusing voice had stopped. This was because I started to mentally pray: thank you, Jesus, for this season of life you have us in. It may be hard, it may sometimes seem like too much, other people may think it’s too much, others may judge, my logic might be telling me it’s not a good place… but I am SO grateful for the season I’m in right now! I pray for guidance daily and until God says “let it go,” I’m holding on to the gifts (jobs) he’s given us. Thank you!

If your inner voices are ripping you apart…

Take a deep breath. Steady yourself. Step back. PRAY. Be grateful for what you have and pray for wisdom on what to allow to let go.

Listen to God’s heart.

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

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