joy – Page 3 – Nancy Tart: Writing for Life

Fighting Failure

July 12, 2019

Fighting Failure

It’s when your mind tells you stuff that isn’t what God wants you to hear, but the logical part of you says, “yes, that’s right,” so you agree and allow the spirit of failure to permeate your day.

I know in my heart that anything discouraging that doesn’t come with a motivation for how to fix it isn’t from God. Yet, my logical brain doesn’t always catch these.

Fighting with the spirit of failure has been tough for me lately, especially the last couple of weeks. One of the girls says “you are always busy,” and I hear “you are never home” to which my logical brain reminds me that I leave before most are awake and I come home straight to dinner, cleaning, and bedtime or arrive just as bedtime starts. My brain reiterates: “you are a failure” (at being a good mom.)

Louis says, “obviously, that’s wrong” when I ask for his help and my brain says, “you can’t even put a couch cushion cover on right!” This makes me irritated so I leave because I am now mad at Louis – to which my brain shouts, “see, you’re a horrible wife,” and I believe that because I couldn’t even get dinner ready within an hour the night before but Louis can throw a gourmet meal together in twenty minutes (why do I even agree with that failure, I know I’m not a fast cook?). My brain reminds me of strings of “wife fails” in reverse order like comic book pages on fast-forward speed laughing, “you are a failure” (at being a wife.)

I’m working so much and have little time (when they need me) lately to spend helping my family with our recent losses. One of my friends says “you’ll make time,” and since I haven’t stopped my job or altered my schedule too much, my brain laughs, “you are a failure” (at being a good sister, daughter.)

One of my friends is going through a very trying time and I want to be there for her more, but I’m busy when she’s free or I turn into a pumpkin at nine-thirty (to get to bed by ten & therefore up by five to get ready for work) but she is usually home and free in the evenings. My brain tells me, “see, you are such a failure” (at being a friend.)

BUT… (positive one!)

I have to remind my mind (remind = renew my mind, if you will) that we are all failures. All have sinned and come short of perfection. So, yes, of course I fail over and over! God gives me peace, hope, and joy. I do my best with what life has given me and pray for God to give me the joy (translates into strength for me) to handle what I’m lacking.

So even though physically and humanly, I am not matching up to my image of perfection (another trap for us perfectionists, we actually think somehow that we can be perfect on our own), when I remind my mind who I am, I remember this: I am saved by undeserved favor (meaning I did NOTHING to deserve it, rather I deserved to die). Jesus knew my failures ahead of time yet chose to say, “I want her.”

Now I can fight this feeling of failure by choosing to fix where I can improve and trust God with the rest. I’m not going to be working from home again anytime soon – I will trust God with that. I can try to prioritize time spent at home. (I think I’m doing good until I literally take a step wrong my first day off & bruise my neck & shoulders so I spend almost two whole days recovering and doing nothing… and those were supposed to be quality family days!) I remind my mind, “in all things, trust God.”

The joy of the Lord is my strength. My mind plays Rebecca St. James “Be The Voice,” and Mandisa’s “Born For This” as I tell myself to “Lay it All Down” and trust. “This Song is Alive” and “My Heart’s Already There!” (Point of Grace, NewSong, respectively)

Music is my key to joy! Music is how I fight failure! Thank you, Jesus, for music! Thank you for always helping me to fight the spirit of failure in me.

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

Targets

July 8, 2019

Targets

We have enough of a spot to set up our archery target (big fat canvas block thing) and our bb gun target (the windfresh bucket with three aluminum cans) and safely target shoot at those.

On perfect days when Mom and Dad are out, the question always comes, “may we set up the targets and shoot?”

Anastasia rode Lucas’ bike between turns!

Christina prefers the bow and arrow – her “weapon from a more civilized age” as she mimics Obi-wan and Kimberly laughs. Lucas is just learning to shoot with those. We have a 10 pound bow and he can finally pull that one back.

Jaquline and Jillian prefer using the bb rifle since our little Daisy is easier to load than the bows. (and they are in front of the metal beam! no ricochets here!)

Kimberly likes both. She’s a lot like me. My favorite gift ever was my crossbow (which no, we can’t shoot here, but when we got it, I had space enough to use it).

Today, we’d backed the cars off of the carport and set up the targets. Archery on the left and airgun on the right. I was overseeing (and assisting with loading) the airgun shooters. I’m not paranoid, but probably repeated “never point a gun at a person,” and “don’t load if someone is in your range of vision” a hundred times. I like them to know how to shoot, but I want them to treat every weapon with respect. Ocean, vehicle, weapon, hot stoves – anything with the possibility of causing injury – safety is the first priority. Always err on the side of safety and you will eliminate possible accidents.

So for about an hour, I loaded the little Daisy and Jaquline, Jillian, Anastasia, Lucas, and Kimberly took turns taking three shots each at the three target cans. A few “wow, you got all three!” and a few “oops, try again,” shouts. They encouraged each other.

Sometimes you feel like you were aiming at something and the site is off. You can’t hit it at all. Sometimes everything falls down perfectly. Life is unpredictable. Sometimes your perception is off. Sometimes something that looks perfect is lying.

Strange thoughts I have while the children are shooting? I couldn’t get out of my mind how thoroughly I’d believed in the good while the truth was right online for me to see if I’d just searched the county records. (I had to update my story) I heard “Black Eyes Blue Tears” and cried. I cried as the kids danced to “Fireflies” just a bit ago. I pray for her ex-husband. I pray that her babies remember her.

Briefly, thoughts like that interrupt my life now. I am there, helping to load the bbs and saying, “yea! You got them!” but I’m also crying inside because I was supposed to be there to protect her. I watch Christina patiently help Lucas aim his bow. I see her mouth move and I know she’s saying, “breathe out, release the string,” just like I did to her. I teach them safety. I teach them truth. I teach them about life. But I can’t protect everyone. That reality hurts.

I pray daily for my children, nieces, nephews, the boys and girls in my gym classes, those I influence. I pray they will find the true Protector in Jesus and follow His direction so their life will be anchored in love, truth, and joy.

I help Anastasia aim the rifle and she giggles when the bb hits the target box. (The targets are supposed to be the cans, but the box counts too.) I pray that God puts a hedge of protection around all of His precious children and keeps them safe from deceit.

Jillian and Anastasia are giggling while Jaquline grunts trying to pump the rifle because she’s too big for help. It doesn’t seem that long ago that I was helping my baby sisters aim our old “red ryder” bb rifle down at the pond, popping off pinecone targets. I can’t change the past. I can help mold the future.

Hope. Hope is what helps me through each day.

The girls are giggling again because Louis is pretending to close his eyes and act like he’s asleep. It is easy to choose joy with these angels around.

Joy. Yes, joy is my strength. Thank you, Jesus, for giving me the strength to choose your joy!

Type at you next time,

~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

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.

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

Goofy Meme

A meme shared by their uncle provides for a funny, entertaining morning!

March 2, 2019

Goofy Meme

One thing Christina and Becky like to do is look through my FaceBook feed.

Hilarious laughter exploded one morning as I showed them a meme one of my brothers shared:

Becky adds: “Me: Uncle Buddy, Uncle ChaCha, how did you get in my birth room?”

Kimberly, Jaquline, and Christina went into laughing debate over which of their uncles would fit which roles.

Christina and Becky decided this would be the most awesome thing to do after their first baby’s birth. Becky started talking about how it would be her and her husband mimicking this exchange.

I told them to do a ToyActs video play with it. (Don’t know if they will.)

This did turn the entire breakfast table and schoolroom into a discussion that led into movie/book differences, how nerdy our family is, a few recitations from the movie, and one of the girls looking at Thea and saying, “You’ll understand this soon enough.”

Their interactions certainly kept an amused smile (and a few chuckles) on mom’s face.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

Behind the Picture: Thea and the Apple

Behind the Picture: Thea and the Apple – Becky and her photography & funny snippets.

February 25, 2019

Behind the Picture! Thea and the Apple

Becky likes photography.

Becky has an interesting sense of humor. When she takes pictures on the play phone and sends it to me, I get this: (Thea is about an hour old)

Kimberly and Christina changed Thea, bundled her up, and as Kimberly is bringing her to me, I hear a singing voice: “We’re taking the baby to Isengard!” (I have no clue how I have the honor of being “Isengard,” but this was the look I got: )

In the first picture, Becky was trying to get good pictures of newborn Thea. Becky was making faces to get her attention, Lucas ran up with an apple in hand to “help,” and Becky ended up with a picture that had just the “wrong” angle – but it made a funny meme picture.

The girls are totally enjoying having a new baby sister – and Lucas loves being her “protector.” He told Louis he was “protecting Baby Thea from dog kisses, bad dinosaurs, and big sisters when they don’t listen.” (The last was likely because Jillian kept touching Thea’s head when we said not to touch her soft spot.)

I’m so blessed by their joy and love towards their new sister! Christina, who was worried about being “too much older” than the baby, can’t get enough time holding her! I am twelve years and eleven months older than my baby sister (she was also my parents’ seventh) – so I told Christina and Becky they both were older “big sisters” than I was. (15 yrs 4 mos & 13 yrs 4 mos, respectively) At this, Becky sends me a “wow” emoji though we are sitting at the same table! (She was supposed to be using the phone as a calculator.)

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

My Hero, My Hope

My way of processing emotion – to write. I love you Daddy. Merry Christmas at Home.

December 10, 2018

My Hero, My Hope

Be not downcast, my soul…

My Daddy’s favorite time of year is Christmas. He loves the songs, the movies (queue “White Christmas,” “Holiday Inn,” “Miracle on 34^th Street,” “Bells of St Mary’s,” my favorite, “It’s a Wonderful Life,” the 1985 Disney Channel Christmas, “Mickey’s Christmas Carol,” etc. on repeat), the giving (he loves to make people yelp with happiness!), the story, and the general mood.

My Daddy has had declining health for quite a few years. Some days were better than others. He always tried to pretend like nothing was wrong.

My Daddy went to heaven today.

He always said he prayed that when God wanted him, He would let him just “go to sleep” in his own bed and not wake up. We just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Not near Christmas. Truthfully, not anytime.

No one expects to lose someone they love. Never. No matter how sick they are or how many times they’ve been close or how many doctors have said “he can go at any time.”

No one ever expects to not be able to hear their voice again… No more long discussions about book ideas, parenting, the vastness of God’s amazing universe, the connections from one smile to a healed heart to God’s blessing.

We are human. We never expect separation from those we love.

God didn’t intend that either. In the beginning, there was no death. No separation. We were to live forever. In today’s fallen world, we do have death – “separation.”

Those with God’s light within them know this is only a temporary separation, and that gives us tremendous hope. We know, know, know that we will be reunited once again in heaven. My hero and my hope as a child was in my Daddy; as an adult, I learned that God is both of our heroes and both our hopes.

And that led my mind to an image that made me cry with joy.

My Daddy lost his mother when he was 12 and his father when he was nearly twenty. It had been nearly 50 years since he’d seen his dad and almost 60 since he’d seen his mom.

I imagined my Daddy running (yes, in his new body!) to be gathered in a hug by his mother and father. They’d be joined by his brother, two older sisters, and family gone before. My Daddy gets to go home where he is dancing, running, jumping, enjoying the beautiful garden he’s always imagined was in heaven (he used to say he would love for God to let him tend a garden).

I know we will miss him.

The child growing within me will not see Granddaddy Pearson on this Earth.

God did grant his request. God allowed my Daddy to die at home, in his bed. Daddy went into what Mom thought was a seizure. Mom caught him, called to God to help her, then she says Daddy took a huge breath, looked at her, and told her, “I love you. We’ve had a great life together… …I know I’m fading. I want to go home.” They got to say goodbye.

Those we love are never truly gone. They live on in our memories, thoughts, and hearts forever.

Thank you, Jesus, for giving me an amazing wonderful father. Thank you for the memories I hold dear. Thank you for allowing him to die at home in peaceful surroundings.

Hold those of us pained by this Earthly separation as we grasp the hope that is salvation. We know we will be reunited with Gaylord Pearson again in heaven. My goodness, what a l-o-o-o-o-n-g conversation Daddy and I will have when we meet again!

Daddy & Mom – 1982

Pearson family reunion – 2002 (Gaylord’s family – aka Daddy, Mom, & all 7 of us kids)

My Daddy with 3 of his sisters L-to-R: Mary, Dolores, Carol – Reunion 2002

Mom is about to get Daddy to dance with her!

At Becca’s Wedding – 2012, Pearson family

Daddy and Becca (her wedding!)

Mom & Daddy at our family’s “Snow House” getaway in January 2014

At Christmas 2016 : Daddy, Mom, & the older 5 siblings

Thanks for reading!

Hold those you love tenderly and treasure the memories of those who’ve had to go home before you…

~Nancy Tart

Electric Season

Energy resonates in the clear skies of the seasons changing to autumn.

October 31, 2018

Electric Season

It’s officially autumn.

To me, it never seems like autumn until the sky goes that gorgeous “sky blue,” gentle cooler breezes tousle our hair, and there is a crisp energizing feel in the air.

During these days, I remember the exhilaration I felt as a child when they first approached.

Our first “autumn” day we’d race outside, full of a new form of energy that totally required an outdoor escape. If there was a swingset in the yard, (sometimes just a rope with a stick at the bottom) we were trying to touch the sky with our feet! On our bikes, (we called them horses, since we loved horses but never had a real one) we would ride round and round the house, singing Sunday School songs at the top of our lungs. If I ever had to describe the feeling in one word, it would be “freedom.”

Today the gorgeous electric blue sky makes me think about how God arranges things in seasons in our lives. Sometimes, when a new season comes, it brings the exhilaration of freedom. I’ve felt it before and not understood why.

Life seems to say, “you are trapped more than before, why are you happy?”

But my heart answers with a song called “Happy” because one verse basically says: bring it on, I’m happy and nothing can change that!

I imagine myself telling life that sometimes.

Because I have my root of happiness in Jesus, His joy is my strength, and even if life wants to throw stuff at me and claim I’m worse off in this new season than I was before (usually it’s that I can’t see the positive just yet), I know God has me in His hands – and I choose to be filled with that freedom exhilaration that comes with this new season!

Whatever God has for us, I sense the excitement, and I choose to focus on joy! Let this next season begin!

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

Three Little Pig(let)s

Three big pigs and three little piglets! Raising our babies for joy!

October 12, 2018

Three Little Pigs

Today’s post is for complete cuteness! (pictures and a video)

We have three Guinea Pigs who are adults; Taylor, Toby, and Avery.

We are raising the three little piglets; Rocky Road, Cheesecake, and Custard.

Cheesecake is very unique (to us) because he looks like two different animals depending on what side you see! Notice:

Yes! Those pictures are both of the same little Guinea Piglet, Cheesecake!

Cheesecake and Custard go to their new mommy on Tuesday! The girls are very excited and have been talking to these two little piglets about their new home.

Ready for a cute laugh?

This is how Guinea Pigs eat…

So adorable!

Soon our three little piglets will be in their new homes – we love raising baby animals to bring joy to others!

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

Oceans of Praise

One night of de-stressing by taking the kids to experience the beauty of the moonlit beach!

September 26, 2018

Oceans of Praise

It was a long, tired, stressful day. It was the kind of day when as I’m driving home, the “Mandisa Fun” Pandora station (Christian Rock with catchy tunes and uplifting lyrics) was blaring out the speakers, windows down, and I’m trying to drum the day out of my head.

It was also nearing the full moon. There were very few clouds, a refreshing warm-cool wind (I knew this would be “blustery” at the beach), and it was 86 degrees at almost 7:30pm.

I decided we’d go to the beach.

I got home to find Eddie and Louis watching football – only into the first quarter. They do so little father-and-son stuff because Louis is always busy that I announced, “I’m headed to the beach,” knowing that would be cool for them to have father-and-son time.

“You’re taking the kids to go shark fishing?” Louis laughed. “It’ll be dark by the time you get there.”

“No, we’re going to walk along the shore and play in the shallows,” I smiled, “don’t worry, they’ll all be back in one piece. There’s a beautiful moon out and it looks amazing.”

Lucas almost stayed to watch football, but then realized all of the girls, including Anastasia, were going with Mommy, and this meant Mommy would be gone a long time.

We showed up to see this:

And this:

And that:

God had an amazing light show for us! It was so bright they could see to build a tribal village with walls, huts, and fields.

Rebeccah took most of the pictures and her selfie:

She tried to get pictures of us, but really we look like black blobs amid the darkness.

This one was a little better:

We raced up and down the shoreline. The water and wind was warm, so Anastasia lay down in the surf to get covered in water. Jillian, Jaquline, Kimberly, and Lucas followed her. Each was completely soaked in the first fifteen minutes. I think it took Rebeccah a half-hour before she let her hair get wet. Our long walk ended up being over two and a half miles! (1.3 miles one way, 1.3 miles back.) We sang praise songs because the majesty of the night looked like it was praising God.

We had to leave when Becca texted saying she was almost done with work. Anastasia was giddy at the prospect of “beating Mommy home” so we trouped back to the van, cleaned up at Aunt Becca’s, and spent a few minutes after Becca got home chatting before my crew made our way home. (Sister time for us Mommies!)

Thank you, Jesus, for a wonderful, exhilarating night.

And yes, my devious plan worked… all of them got back on their good sleep schedule.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

Tag: joy

Fighting Failure

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Targets

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Loss and Love

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Watching & Analyzing

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Goofy Meme

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Behind the Picture: Thea and the Apple

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My Hero, My Hope

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Electric Season

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Three Little Pig(let)s

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Oceans of Praise

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