Tag: happy

Baby on the Events

March 21, 2024

Baby on the Events

(Throwback story from December 21, 2023)

Jillian called, “Mom, I’m taking some pictures of Laud!” Lucas jumped along to help out. He loves taking pictures of his little brother.

Somewhere in their cute little thoughts, they decided our four-month-old should take a picture on each gymnastics event.

Jillian and Laud
The Tumble Track
Vault! The Vault Table
Bars! Pull-up
Floor! (Can’t walk yet)
Pommel Horse! (Yippee)
Parallel Bars! (Help!)
Beam! (Boys don’t do this!)

First there’s Jillian and Laud. He looks happy enough.

What does she have for me to play with today? Wow, that looks interesting

Then there’s the first event – Tumble Track! Jillian is very careful as he is only four months old and not yet ready for bouncing.

Big brother, what exactly is going on here, this doesn’t feel right…

Up comes the next thing… ooh, Vault! Laud has some spotting help to stand on the vault table – although that is definitely not a parent-and-tot piece of equipment.

Mom! Can you see me, mom! I’m taller than Jillian on this thing that isn’t squishy!

Unfortunately, or maybe for the pictures, fortunately, mom is busy with the computer work and although she hears her baby yelling with happiness, it doesn’t occur to her that his big sister and brother are up to something.

Floor! Sissy, I might need to tell you I can’t walk yet… um, why is this floor moving?

At least on floor there was a tumbling mat to stand on. Laud appears to begin wondering if his brother won’t save him from his sister’s silliness, maybe he should yell for mom.

Bars! Pull-up! Lucas, why aren’t you saving me?

Jillian lets him pull up on the quad bars. Once he’s up, he doesn’t seem too sure about it.

Pommel Horse! Lucas, this is really cool dude, what can you do on this sturdy thing?

Pommel Horse is probably his favorite since he can do it with only a little side spot. Lucas zoomed straight in on his face.

Parallel bars! Wait! More Bars? What happened to the horsy thing?

Beam? Um, wait, boys don’t do this… Lucas, why don’t boys compete beam? This event has Jillian smiling!

I hope you enjoyed this series of pictures and commentary!

Jillian provided the inspiration! Lucas did the photography! Laud was the subject.

How quickly they all grow! Smile and enjoy the show!

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

Picture Of A Baby

I do not know why this one picture makes me so happy.  Christina took it. I’ve never done months or even year pictures – I tend to choose the favorites sent to me by my kiddos since Christina was 10 & other family who are better at picture taking. 

Picture of a Baby

September 19, 2023

I do not know why this one picture makes me so happy.  Christina took it.  A friend gave us a blanket with months on it for Laud.  I’ve never done months or even year pictures – I tend to choose the favorites sent to me by my kiddos since Christina was 10 & other family who are better at picture taking.  It is not my forte.  (Also, I always forget) 

Once Louis gave Becky the “picture phone” (in 2012 that’s all it really did was take pictures) and she discovered her love of photography.  I also heard my father say, “I was never really there, I have the pictures and videos for your mom so I can relive it” a few times.  I know he loves that he left us a legacy of thousands of hours of family videos and so many pictures it literally takes weeks to watch them all – all digitized too.  But I wanted to be there.  I wanted to be in the moment.  I guess I’ve grown some, now I understand the “need” for having time stamped pictures.  I still don’t take them much. 

Christina fell in love with her baby brother – I knew they all would once he was born.  They tote him around and play with him, change him and burp him, and argue over who gets him.  Christina was more excited than I was over the blanket.  She said, “and we put Pooka (Laud’s stuffy) here.  Mom you have to keep that stuffy for all twelve pictures, it’s the marker.”

Yes, I will keep Laud’s special stuffy from Grandma so that you can mark the months – but Laud likes his giraffe from Mrs. Heather better.  (My kiddos call the giraffe “Bestie” – well, one of the team sisters who rides the afterschool van I drive calls him “Bestie-Billy-Bob-Jo.”)

When I look at this picture I’m overloaded with emotion.  Laud is still (barely, but still) wearing the girls’ favorite of his preemie outfits from Mrs. Hannah.  He’s my smallest miracle!  He was just over seven pounds at the time of the picture.   He’s only just in newborn and 0-3 month clothes at 6 weeks!  All of them are such little miracles!  I’ve been so blessed to enjoy 8 of them!  I have amazing friends who have blessed us with clothes, diapers, food, love, conversation, and so many things!  My baby looking so peaceful and tiny on his blanket reminds me of all the blessings we have in our life.  I’m so thankful for everything God has given us – especially for friends!

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

As Happy As your Least Happy Child

As Happy As your Least Happy Child

A time-warp story from June 21, 2023

At church I heard something that made me laugh and shake my head.  The laugh was total irony.  It was a stab of truth.  “You are only as happy as your least happy child, and if you have a quiver full, sometimes you may be both happy and sad at the same time.” 

I laughed inside because the three days before this Sunday and that particular morning, I had been feeling stabbed repeatedly by three teenagers.  Periodically the younger ones would take turns deciding to pretend to be just like them and that was not encouraging.  

I wondered about that saying.  When the girls wound my heart with unthinking words or “mean” things, I have to remind myself of something I learned a while back that helps: people tend to show their innermost feelings like aggression, anger, desperation, irritation in a place they feel safe because humans in their deepest parts fear rejection.  When they know you won’t reject them or stop loving them, they feel safe and as such, end up showing their “worst side” to you.  

I understand that their sharp words or actions are reflecting something hurting them.  I will often try to find that something; usually not at that time as experience has taught me that when I say, “are you okay?” or “what’s bothering you?” when they are upset, I usually get a snapped, “nothing!” or “you!” which doesn’t help.  I’ll often try to broach the “what is hurting you?” question in a less explosive time.  Sometimes, it’s something small that felt huge at the time.  Other times it’s something that needs more discussion.  

But always, when I they hurt my heart with words, I pray for theirs and now remember something else: it is true that my smile can be on for Thea and I’m happily talking about her make believe lego world while we build our respective houses but my heart is sad because I know the “snap” was really something hurting their heart.  So yes, there’s a part of my heart that is always feeling the hurt from my least happy child even though another part is engaging with smiles at another – sometimes there’s four or five of us in a game yet one’s hurting; I totally feel those “both feelings at the same time.”   

I wondered about God and how we hurt his heart yet He always loves us.  He knows when we are hurting but unlike mothers and fathers, who don’t always know what is in the heart of their child, God knows our heart and sees everything within us.  Thank you, God, for loving us!  Thank you for giving us a heart for our children!  

Thank you for reading.

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

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

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

Encouragers: The Challenger of Norms

Encouragers: The Challenger of Norms

October 6, 2022

I’m praying for her family.  I’m praying for strength, wisdom, and peace in her heart.  This woman is the Challenger of Norms.  She has encouraged me over many years.  When my daughters ask if I have a best friend, this woman comes to mind.  She has allowed me to speak openly.  We can talk honestly with each other about our respective challenges, joys, disappointments, fears, mountain highs, and valley lows without judging each other. 

She was the friend who taught me it was safe to be vulnerable to another adult (other than my husband).  She taught me I can be real about the challenges I face with the life I chose.  Often we feel trapped in the life we chose, especially if our choice is considered “unconventional” or “unrealistic” in today’s world.  This is because the world tries to isolate us into tiny corners.  Public schooled here.  Homeschooled there.Medical challenges in your children here.Healthy children there.Stay-at-home-moms here.Working moms there.Struggling business owner families here.Lower class, middle class, upper middle class, lower middle class… Etc. Society tries to put us all into tiny boxes and keep us isolated there. 

This was not how God intended!  We are intended to work together!  Younger are to learn from elders, we are to speak truth and encouragement into the lives of others, we are to build each other up and edify.  You can’t do that if you feel trapped into silence because someone’s response to you saying you feel stressed, please pray for me ends up being “you shouldn’t have done xyz” instead of just saying “yes” or praying right there.  I always heard “your troubles are just because you have too many kids” – um… no.  Our financial troubles came from poor decisions (paying off credit cards instead of house), medical unknowns (my crazy hospital issue), or issues beyond our control (losing jobs due to forced government shutdown debacle, someone using a car without permission and wrecking two others, someone rear-ending and totaling a car that is too old for us to get a replacement, etc)

The Challenger of Norms taught me to embrace the life I chose and enjoy each stage of it unapologetically.  I have taken that to heart.  She has managed to keep joy and purpose even in the face of debilitating medical issues facing her precious children.  Once I mentioned how I felt bad speaking about how I was challenged when she faces so much.  She told me only she walks her journey just as only I walk mine.  That I’ve heard in my heart for over a decade.  I have to lean on others who are choosing joy in order to encourage me to choose joy in my challenges. 

We can discuss homeschooling options and challenges without comparing our children one to another because both of us understand that each child has their own unique challenges and strengths.  We can discuss our challenges and encourage each other in mothering without judging.  We can share our challenges and strengths in our respective marriages and understand that neither of us are alone in our respective struggles.  We can boast on our men and laugh at their craziness and somehow that actually makes me feel more thankful for the blessings we both have. 

She taught me that dropping in unannounced was totally acceptable for friends.  We could show up at each others’ homes and just jump into whatever was going on – from parties to cleaning to pool parties to bonfires to just chatting about everything while our toddlers to teens entertain each other and our babies fall asleep.  My home is now always open and I don’t really care what it looks like (Louis and the girls generally keep it in “mostly acceptable” condition anyway).  We have games and fun every Sunday as that is officially our “family day” that we try to keep open.  I hope to build relationships with my children, their friends, and families of their friends so that friends and family feel comfortable just showing up at my house if they ever need it or want it.

What I really learned from my friend is to live life as I want to, as God leads me, and let everyone else think and say whatever they want without really caring.  Oh, I listen, but when it’s something that directly challenges the lifestyle God has given me – my amazing husband, our wonderful children, our happy amazing life – I smile, nod politely, and let it in one ear and out the other.  I am who I am. 

Sometimes we just need someone to affirm we are human just like everyone else and someone who will tell us the truth while allowing us to speak our emotions openly.  We know the truth.  I am loved.  I am chosen.  I am blessed!  Sometimes we need to speak our emotions out loud to get them in line with our truths – and that, it when we find out where true friends are.  Those who listen, agree they are human just like we are, and speak encouragement into our lives.

I am so thankful that God allowed me to overcome my insane fear of talking to adults just in time to make an amazing friend who, together with her awesome family, has blessed me and my family in more ways than I can possibly ever list. 

Be that friend to someone today.  Listen.  Be human.  Speak truth in love.

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

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

Walk and Enjoy

February 3, 2021

Walk and Enjoy

Louis likes to do “spur of the moment” fun.

We had a lovely Saturday; work, the guys watched a game, we played outside, we had some really good food some of the girls helped Louis with, and we were winding down for the early evening when suddenly…

“Let’s go downtown!”

“Yippee!!”

Everyone grabs warm top layers for the wind. They have learned that Florida winter off the Bayfront can be cold. “Shoes? Socks?” I have to remind the gymnast crew that feet need to be covered as well. We load into the van and we text Becky (who was babysitting) and her charge’s mom to make sure they wanted to come and had permission.

We swing by and grab two more singers to add to the movie soundtrack sing along concert and windows down – well, down partway because we can’t freeze the baby! We continue to the only spot you can find parking on busy Saint Augustine nights (behind the Lightner Museum, you’re welcome) and walk down MLK to the Bayfront.

Well, actually, that is the cliff notes version. It sounds tame. Nope, not tame at all! Jillian was just 9 and commented on how we are all odd for now. 17, 15, 13, 11, 9, 7, 5, and 1. Thea will be 2 shortly but yes, for almost a month, all of our family and Anastasia are odd. One of the kids pipes up with, “but oddballs all the time!” Which makes all of them laugh and act silly. All of this and we haven’t reached the front of the Lightner!

We climb, jump, skip, or literally skip the steps up to the grass (Dad jumps up the wall instead of using the steps). “Cartwheels!” and there are five gymnasts showing us backward rolls, cartwheels, roundoffs, handstand rolls, and other such skills on the “softest grass around town” and two or three popped into a handstand contest. This turned into running in circles around a small tree, playing a quick round of tag, and pointing out horses and trolleys as they passed. And dogs. Christina noticed every dog of all types from a pair of tiny Maltese scurrying along like fluffed up marshmellows to the giant Newfoundland walking with his huge head taller than Jillian’s!

Now after most of their giddy energy has been spent, we are ready to walk our normal almost 2 mile route. They always giggle and ohh and ahh like this is the first time they’ve explored downtown. I love that! As we are standing at the intersection waiting for the walk signal, Anastasia announces, “Huge group coming through! Party of ten over here!” One of my teens at the rear is literally pointing and counting heads! We look like crazy tourists!

“Ooooo!” shriek six voices, “look at that cute doggie!” Please don’t hurt the doggie’s ears!

At the Bayfront, they all turn toward the bridge, “May we walk the bridge?” “The bridge, yeah!” “It’s so windy we better hold on tight!” (It’s not that windy, but let their imaginations run wild!) “Look! Lights on the boats!” And, yes, we walk the bridge! They pause, run, race, and walk; depending on whatever imaginary fun thing they are doing at the moment. Louis keeps up with the racers in the front and Mom slows to stay with the chatting teens in the back. Really, Mom is walking or jogging at Thea pace. Thea thinks she is scared of the big lions – never before has she been scared of them (vacuums, lawnmowers, air dryers, showers, yes, but not large carved critters until today). She is not scared of the grate over the water anymore (or maybe because it’s dark and the water looks black just like the grate?) which makes crossing the bridge easy.

Craziness walking back (all as a group this time, which is interesting with the motorized bicycles that are in the narrow walkway! “Single file! Don’t try to fly right now!” – yes, I yelled that ahead!) and watching boats from the “turret” (the spot where we can all fit!) while they sang jingles and cracked jokes.

Along the stones at the Bayfront, the moon was gorgeous.

Many people were just walking right from the sidewalk up to the sea wall without stopping to see the obstacles so it was another “straight line please!” and “not on the grass!” or “watch out!” as five duckies from 13 to 5 maneuvered through the groups of tourists like a long snake in a single row with the 5 year old leading to the fort.

Fort! Finally!

They run up the grassy hill to the midsection where they all have ingrained lifetime memories of rolling to the bottom. Same five duckies go rolling down the hill in three, two, one! Rolling over each other, around each other, past the baby roller to reach the bottom, laugh, and climb back up to start again.

Now it is walk down (they rolled) to the crosswalk that gets us in the alley by the Pirate and Treasure Museum (We’d love to go in, but it’s closed which means window shopping and vivid imaginations run wild!) to St George Street. They read t-shirts from windows, announce shop names, talk about where family members have worked, and sing along with songs from the live bands we pass or sing along with whatever they are humming in their own head.

Lots of “ooh, doggies!” and “wow, look, a horse!” exclamations later, we get back to our van and the parade turns into another dance and sing-along party where the whole backseat is heads bobbing in time and Thea’s whole body is wriggling like a worm (except for her torso, tightly strapped in the baby seat). By the time Becky and Anastasia get to their destination, two of the adventurers are asleep.

I love making happy memories! I love Louis’ spur-of-the-moment perfect outings and ideas! Thank you, Jesus, for my family and for fun! Thank you for the time I have with them!

Walk and enjoy!

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

Choosing Gratitude

December 30, 2020

Choosing Gratitude

Ever feel just overwhelmingly grateful? That often happens to me as I’m contemplating life. It usually starts when I feel discouraged. Everything bad coming at me all at once or someone mentioning some past mistake that helped lead to some poor circumstance I’m in now that waterfalls into my brain assaulting me with every tumbler that went wrong or a misstep that I see instantly and try to recover from… in whatever fashion it starts, it is always a silent attack on my joy coming from my own accusing brain. No one knows I’m fighting this horrid battle inside. No one else can see the pain my heart feels. My own logical brain is my worst accuser. The devil uses the logic from my own brain to try to attack the joy God gives me as His daughter. I have to renew my own mind. I have one plan of attack that always beats the accusing voices down and tramples them into silence:

I start with thanking God for life…

my family members by name…

the time I had with those now gone…

friends He’s placed in my life… time I get to spend with them…

the awesome job He’s provided me…

my coworkers… my boss… my students…

the opportunities my children have… achievements I’ve seen each of them reach… dreams I watch them work so hard to make happen…

There is just so much to be grateful for!

I like to shift my thoughts when I’m feeling discouraged because I always know it is not real. The reality is not in my circumstances, but in the attitude I have during those circumstances. Life is not about what happens to you; it is about how you react to the circumstances presented to you.

Sometimes you own thoughts can focus on troubling things and make you feel discouraged, kick those thoughts out! Start with thanking God for something… the sky, sunrise, oxygen, a rainbow, your sweet doggie, a memory that makes you smile… start there and just see how having an attitude of gratitude will help you see life in a positive light!

Hope this helps!

Type at you next time!

~Nancy Tart

Kimberly and her Birthday Twin

August 30, 2019

Kimberly and her Birthday Twin

Louis & I decided to join the church we have been attending.  After attending a newcomers class, we brought home our study books and Kimberly looked over it.  (Our purpose was to let Christina and Becky look over it.  I wasn’t expecting Kimberly just yet.)  Kimberly has been using the month-long study guides our church publishes for about four months as Bible study & cursive writing practice. 

“I want to be baptized.” Kimberly announces. 

That began some serious Socratic questioning to find out what she really understood and believed.  I mentioned that it wasn’t required just because we were joining.  Kimberly was adamant.  She said she’d been considering it a long time and wanted to show everyone she was really a Christian. 

So, my little third daughter decided to get baptized.  Our Pastor met with her, went through the same questions (He likes to make sure the young person understands what they are doing), and allowed she could be baptized.  I was so buried that I didn’t realize she’d been able to meet up and get the okay until Saturday! 

My word, though, the emotions that flooded my heart, realizing this was real to Kimberly.  She’s been delving into a lot of deep questions over the last few months with me.  Then to hear your child explain to you what Jesus means to them – I love to hear their words straight from their heart.  Kimberly is a young woman.  I call them “women-in-training” at this point. 

If you are a mom, imagine the moment you look into your newborn’s eyes for the first time.  That adrenaline rush and flood of emotions is what courses through me when I see my child publicly announce their faith.  I can’t help but feel like I’m soaring, looking at a future where she is connected to God through her own personal faith; I pray Kimberly allows herself to listen and trust the voice of God.  I pray for strength to grow in the one relationship that will never fail her.  I try, but it’s hard to put those maternal feelings into words because I can say I am excited, proud, blessed, etc., but that doesn’t capture the rapture of my soul at that moment. 

My little girl chose Jesus.  My young woman is choosing to begin a life-long relationship with Jesus based on her own journey of discovery. 

That is my longstanding prayer for each of my children and those I love; that they come to know a true relationship with the one who created them and loved them since before I knew they existed. 

We get home, have our “technology-free” family day, and I open my Facebook to see if my mom or sisters sent a message – to find that my oldest niece got baptized on the same day! 

“Guys,” (no shame, I’m so happy I’m crying again – all three teen/preteens look at me like I’m odd) “guess who got baptized today too!”

Christina – “if you say Livy…”

Kimberly – “Seriously?  Who do I share a birthday with!”

“Yes, Livy!” And I show them their uncle’s post.  Kimberly is jumping with excitement now.  “We are sisters in blood and sisters in faith!  We are birthday twins!” (They don’t call each other “cousins” but instead “sister-cousins” or “brother-cousins” and sometimes just “sister” or “brother.”  Lucas always calls Liam, Isaac, and JJ his “brothers.”)

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

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