Tag: loved

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

Doubly Blessed

A tiny story about how my prayers being answered became my children being doubly blessed!

January 15, 2022

Doubly Blessed

Note: (wrote this December 5, 2021 when whomever decided my computer operating system is too old to connect to wordpress anymore!)

One day I was cleaning bathrooms at a church work day and met a wonderful woman.  She was cheerful and spoke about Jesus like a best friend.  She was encouraging.  I thought “I’d like to learn about life from her!”  I saw her a few times over the next year or so at that church.  My brother liked the youth pastor and he needed a chaperone – thus being, when the youth group was participating in clean-up days or work days or whatever, I was there with him.  We started attending that church. 

About fourteen months later on a warm July afternoon, I went to meet the parents of the young man I had started dating that Friday.  Although I knew God was telling me I had the green light to marry this one, my logical brain was fighting that suggestion.  The woman I wanted to learn from?  I was dating her middle son!

I have an amazing mother whom I love.  God gifted her to me when I was born.  I never thought I would love another woman in a similar way.

But God’s ways are awesome! 

I tell people I have two moms.  One I was born with and one I got when I married Louis.  I love how Joanne is so accepting, loving, supporting, and helpful.  She and my mother, Tina, are quite similar.   Someone mentioned today that the normal “mother-in-law” is someone you fight with and tolerate or even don’t like.  I’m so grateful for the blessing of my mother-in-law.

I pray that God gives me the same grace to my children’s spouses.

This is because the blessing of loving in-laws passes through generations.  Loving interaction and respect between the parents and newlyweds turns into future strong grandchild-grandparent ties.  When a mother-in-law or father-in-law is a friend and mentor, the grandchildren see their parents show respect and love to their parents; visibly strengthening the children’s understanding of “honoring fathers and mothers” and set the stage for generational connections that are hard to sever.  My children have many fond memories of their grandparents on both sides!  I’m so thankful for that.  

That I’m a friendly, welcoming person who looks at the girls’ future husbands and Lucas’ future wife not as competition for their attention but as blessings God has planted in my life as well as theirs.  I pray to be like Joanne.  She is such a wonderful model of mother, grandmother, mother-in-law, and friend.  I have known and loved her for twenty years – related to her for a little over nineteen. 

I smile; I never considered how sweet God’s answer to my heart’s desire to “learn about life” from the bubbly, serious, hardworking woman whose company I enjoyed one Saturday while cleaning bathrooms at our “new” church – I would really get to do life with her!  She would be my mom. 

Thank you Jesus for amazing blessings!

Thank you for reading,

Type at you next time!

~Nancy Tart

A Girl and her Doggie

A Girl and her Doggie

February 19, 2020

Sometimes you choose a pet. You know, you excitedly go to the shelter or the pet store and the perfect friend snags your heart instantly.

Sometimes you are fostering a litter of puppies and one looks up at you with a connection that will never break.

(Christina and Primrose: Pretty sure this was the day she decided to keep her!)

This was the way with Christina and the little black puppy that became our Primrose (Primmy, Prim, or even Primrose Everdeen Tart – when she has chewed something).

Prim has been in our home for two baby births. Until Lucas was about 2, he was her little pup. She followed him around, protected him, and I used to say if dogs choose their people, Prim chose Christina and Lucas. The second birth she’s been here for is Theadora.

Thea loves Prim. She gets excited when Prim snuggles up next to her and squeals “my doggie!” and will either pet her gently or snuggle her whole little face into Prim’s soft fur. Thea also feeds Prim everything… if it tastes really “yummy!” then a bit of it gets dropped over the highchair after “doggie!” gets yelled. Prim knows that means – come get food.

It’s hard for me to get these as pictures because Thea knows what a phone is. If I try to take a picture while I’m sitting next to her, she drops what she’s doing and grabs said phone!

Lucas has grown away from Prim and animals – he likes things with wheels right now. He gets super excited about small animals like helping with the Guinea Pigs or Minuit, but big ones are pillow to him, that’s it.

Prim is a pillow or sleeping buddy for anyone on the couch – although she isn’t supposed to be there; she just took up Sheba’s lookout position. At night, she snuggles curled up in a little ball on the end of Christina’s, Lucas’ or Jillian’s bed. She loves her people. She’ll snuggle next to Thea’s baby pen if Thea’s sleeping there – nestled under the table but up against the baby pen.

We went to visit a friend & they had a Jack Russel puppy. When Thea got home she grabbed Prim in a hug and stroked her saying softly, “my doggie, my doggie.” My baby is thankful for her special doggie.

Type at you next time!

~Nancy Tart

Questions:

September 23, 2019

Questions

I love how children ask questions.  Sometimes their questions make you go search something.  Like “what is a rainbow?” or “why are leaves green?”

Sometimes their questions mirror your own; but those you won’t speak.

You know, questions that your doubting mind asks but your thinking heart understands.

“Why are you crying?” I ask.

My little girl is riding with me to go pick up two of her big sisters, “why did Aunt Mary die?  Why is Mandy’s mom gone?  Jay is a baby; he will never remember his mom.”

Her tears fall as she speaks.  I let her finish talking.  My heart aches.  I ask those questions in my head too. 

“I miss my baby sister too.” I start, I want to connect with her heart. “Our world is broken because of sin.”  She nods, she has heard this too. 

“I know,” she is still slowly crying, “but she loved Jesus since she was little like me.”  (Mary had told them once that she was five when she promised Jesus her heart. I was there.  She was telling everyone about Jesus and was just five years old.)  Jaquline didn’t know how complex her aunt’s life had become so fast.  Because of sinful controlling people in her life that kept her bogged down, in fear of her life or her family’s life, and assaulted her mentally as they tried to keep her quiet and separate her from anyone who truly loved her.  As a young teen, some guy misused her, showed her that from a certain spot he could see her father’s bedroom, and told her one shot through the window would kill the man she loved the most.  He was the first to rip her young heart to shreds with his awful controlling self – then he had the gall to continue to threaten her when she moved 300 miles away!  Others treated her like dirt; lying about those she loved and people who cared about her until she actually believed these lies and isolated herself from those who would have helped her.

I could hate these people.  Instead I pray for them. 

But she’s my baby sister.  There was a part of me that wanted to go “Good Citizen” on their carcasses.  But I know Jesus died for them just like He died for me and I am supposed to love my enemies.

Switch back to my car on the interstate with my nine year old sitting shotgun with silent tears crawling down her fair cheeks.  This all flashes really fast so the same song is still playing.

“Do you ever think about where Aunt Mary is now?” Jaquline says. Newsong’s “My Heart is Already There” was playing in the background.

“Yes.” All the time.  That comforts me. “She’s with Jesus.  Can you imagine?  Being in His presence and seeing his face?”

Jaquline giggles. “Maybe all her puppies will be there.”  (Mary loved animals and was always trying to get a dog, but always the guy she lived with didn’t want one.)

“Remember the pictures of her as a baby chasing Boodle?” I ask (cutest little Maltese my family had twenty years ago) Jaquline laughs.  “I bet she’s petting him instead of chasing him now.”

“I ask Jesus why Aunt Mary is gone.” Her voice is distant. “He doesn’t answer.”

I sighed, “do you know why Jesus made us?”

“To be with Him.” Bingo.

“Yes, He wanted a relationship with us.  He loves each of us.  He didn’t want Mary to die, but now she is with Him all the time.  Only God knows when each person’s time comes to die.  We all will die one day.”

“I always hope to die when I’m old like Boompa,” Jaquline said.  “I’m not so sad for Boompa, but I’m so sad for Aunt Mary.  I’m sad for Grandma.” Yes.  Same for me.  I miss my father immensely.  I miss my sister.  I can’t fathom the depth of grief for my mother. 

“Jesus will comfort Grandma.  We have to help love her too.”  I say.

“We can be Jesus’ arms and hug her!” Jaquline’s tears have dried a bit and she’s now thinking about serving others.  She loves helping; it usually brings her happiness.

“Yes.” I smiled at her as we parked.  “And sometimes Jesus uses her arms to hug you, too.”

Big smiles return. 

Yes.  I totally miss my sister.  I grieve for the harshness she ended up living through for the last few years of her life.  23.  Her life’s clock stopped so short, only 23 years.  I always dreamed of her silly dancing at our Christmas parties for ages, smiling her beaming-happy-smile as she watched nieces and her daughter walk shakily down their aisle to their forever-love, dancing with her sons at their weddings, encouraging my teenagers in their Christian walk toward womanhood, and living her new-found free life focused on her three little angels.  Their plans, maybe not together, but at least working together for the best – the children. So, yes, I asked that question.  “Why, God?  Why is my baby sister dead?”  It seemed so surreal for me.  No body.  No last look.  No nothing.  I keep expecting her to drive up, drop the littles off, and enjoy some of whatever food we have just cooked. 

I know this world is broken by sin.  I know it wasn’t ever in God’s plan for us to have death.  I know my grandmothers, father, and baby sister are in heaven in the presence of God.  I have hope I will see them again.  But yes, I did ask those questions.  Yes, my heart aches for my family who must live without her.  I pray for all of us daily.  I find it hardest to pray for those who have hurt her, but that is my challenge.  I must love them as Jesus did.

My mind drifts back:

“…He has called us too! He has called us too! We are all disciples!  Even me and you!” The little voice yells each stanza of the VBS song.  Jumping with excitement, “did I get them all right?” 

I had been singing along and am raking something for a vegetable bed.  “Yes, Mary, don’t bounce on my tilled dirt.” We laugh and she points at her shoeprints.

“Yippeeeeeee!” She hollers and spins.  “Where’s Easter!  I’m gonna sing it to Easter!”  And she runs off in a singing blur, little bright blue eyes sparkling with life, long wispy blonde hair flying about in the Georgia breeze, she’s going to find that silly yellow hen that actually loves to be captured by Mary and sits contentedly tucked in her arms.  I look up to see my vibrant baby sister swinging on the swingset with Easter in her lap, projecting her beautiful voice with some soul-singer power as she practices the song for tomorrow’s VBS service. (You know, where the kids show off to the adults what they’ve learned in the week) Mary would tell the world that she asked Jesus in her heart about two years later.  She had such a love for life and care for others.  No one is perfect.  We aren’t Jesus.  I love her for her heart.  I will always love my baby sister. No, loss never “gets easy” but I do have hope in Jesus that I will see her again.  And that keeps me out of falling into bitterness. I can’t allow my grief to turn into bitterness.  I can’t be Rose from Overcomer; I have to choose joy.

And just like a soundtrack to my life, as I slide back in the car with the two older girls in tow, For King and Country’s “I Choose Joy” is shouting from the speakers.

Thank you, Jesus.  You know my heart.

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

The Story of Baby Thea

A birth story of our little angel (and a slideshow of proud siblings & family!)

February 22, 2019

The Story of Baby Thea

If you’ve been following my blog, you know I was growing my seventh little angel.

Today, I get to write the story of her arrival!

On February 19th, a beautiful Tuesday morning, my day started normally. During my 32 minute drive to work, the Baby started thinking there was not enough room and my body did the stretching contractions (Braxton-Hicks) that is very normal for me in the last month or two before birth. I didn’t think much of it, really. After my boss left for appointments, one of my office companions, Lily, a beautiful brown and white pittie belonging to my boss, started laying at my feet and wouldn’t let me go anywhere without her! This was a bit of a warning to me because Sheba (my Aussie mix) always does this to me when I’m in active labor. I left at one (normal time) to get to Christina and then my midwife appointment.

Christina had been babysitting, finished some errands at the college so she would be ready for the summer semester, caught the bus to 207 (the road I take into town), and was waiting for me. Along the way, my midwife texted to reschedule the appointment to Thursday and I laughed during my voice-text because I was very tired and that worked great for me. I added, “or when Baby is ready,” as a joke because my babies have all come on or after the due date. Everyone had been rooting for a February birth since the official “due date” was February 24th, and except for Lucas, my wee ones were between 9 and 13 days “overdue” so I usually ignored the due date and just gave a general month (in this case, I’d been saying March).

I got Christina, teased her about driving (she’s recently received her learner’s permit), and we headed home. Sheba was acting odd, I was starving; Louis had made lasagna Monday so I ate a huge plate and took a short nap.

When I got to gym with Becky (her class is on Tuesday, the others are all Wednesday), the contractions were still there, but, like I said, that is normal for me. It had been happening off and on already for about a week and a half, so I just went about work because they were easy to ignore. Some friends and I chatted about babies as I was leaving, and someone said, “you know about your body by now, right?” I laughed, “each is different, but I’m still thinking March.”

Wow, was I wrong.

As Becky texted Christina and Louis to tell them we were off & headed to pick up Christina at CAP, Becky said, “Mom, I can’t drive us home, but if the baby keeps contracting like that, maybe Christina can.”

We laughed. Part of the driving restrictions on a learner’s permit forbid night driving for the first few months; but we always teased Christina that she’d have to drive home in the dark if I was in labor.

Home, I was starved, but my belly felt full after four strawberries. I took a shower and crashed. I kept waking up every couple hours, but I’m a light sleeper so that’s also normal. Each time, though, I noticed contractions. I’d check my phone just to see what time it was. Midnight. 1:40. 2:30. 3:50. At almost 4, I realized I was sweating and I decided to wait for fifteen minutes (so the water softener cycle was finished) and take a shower. The next glance at my watch showed 4:19. I took a shower and the first contraction after the water hit was very strong. I felt movement inside me. “Wow, you sure you’re ready?” I asked. I was sure that was just a fluke and usually the warm water calms contractions down. When the next two made my legs feel like jelly, I got out of the shower and crawled back into bed. The phone said 4:35. I wasn’t about to wake anyone or call Misti for three oddly strong contractions.

I tried to sleep. I had about two hours before I had to get ready for work.

At somewhere before 6am, I tried getting ready for work. I had to stop and breathe through contractions that were easy to time and I felt the baby moving slowly down inside of me. I was about to wake Louis but ended up stretching through a contraction. We have a mind link, I think. Louis woke up as I was stretching. He goes into mega cleaning and question mode. This is his serious mode. He has been through it enough to know we were going to have a baby this morning – or at least today. He told me to call Misti, he woke the kids up to help clean (normally, we clean before bed, but they had been in a non-cleaning mood the previous night), and directed the house with efficiency. I was restless, so kept walking around in between. Christina and Becky didn’t want to get out of bed. I went into the barracks to find out why not.

“Mom! You can’t have the baby in here!” Christina shrieked, covering her head.

“So, get up please and help Daddy with cleaning. Y’all should have done that last night. Once you finish, you can go back to bed, but he’s really stressing about the house and people coming so please help.”

No answer. I could feel another contraction creeping up. “Okay, you have about 20 seconds before I get another contraction and…”

Christina bolted, “MOM! I’m up! I’ll help Dad! GET CONTRACTIONS OUT OF MY ROOM!”

Becky was up too. Kimberly was definitely awake. Mission accomplished. I went back to the kitchen table. My “leave” alarm reminded me to text or call my boss. 6am though, I figured I should just text – plus I didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment.

Misti showed up (can’t remember if the house was clean, but based on the voices and giggling and a movie being on, I’d guess it was straightened). Mom was on the way, she told us she had to be at one of my brother’s promotions at 8am. The girls had turned on “The Two Towers” and as Louis walked by during the Uruk-hai production scene and he ordered, “Turn that off, you can see a real birth soon enough.” I can’t remember if the result was “Wild Kratts” or “Dumbo” but there was something far less messy on the tv a minute later. (I did hear one of the teenagers or preteens quip, “Mom will sound like an orc.” Louis and I laughed. We’re nerds.)

By 8:30, I was immune to the world. I heard Misti’s voice, smelled Louis (I was leaning on him), and faintly heard background voices. I was focused on this job.

8:42am and our little one came into the world, veiled. Misti took the bag off and the Baby screamed to test the limit of her lungs! (We didn’t know Baby was a “she” just yet!) Baby opened her eyes fully and stared up at me. Then she screamed to rattle the roof again. The dogs were barking. We discovered our Baby was Thea!

Welcome to our crazy world, Theadora Taliesyn Tart. You are loved and cherished!

Theadora (after her great-grandfather Melvin Theodore Pearson) means “gifted by God” and Taliesyn (feminine form of your grandfather’s favorite character from a Celtic legend) means, “one with the shining brow, one who sings wisdom.” And Daddy chose the nickname “Thea” because he likes it. (Your uncle texted that he’d call you “3T” – yes, Daddy searched for two “T” names we both liked!) I kept both names the same length, since that’s what we’ve done – all of the children’s names have the same number of letters in the first name and middle name. Theadora 8 letters, Taliesyn 8 letters – told you we are nerds.

Mom (Grandma Joanne in the pictures) came back with a shower of baby girl goodies! (And, yes, this is why she’s in such cute clothes once we managed to get them on her!)

Theadora, I pray you always feel the love of your family as you wiggle your way up to adulthood. I pray you feel the warmth and see the light of God’s love reflected in the faces of your sisters and brother, mother and father, aunts and uncles, grandparents and cousins. We have accepted the honor of being your guides to lead you to Jesus, to raise you in love, and to give you room to find, develop, and follow the passion of life God has rooted within you. You are a daughter of God, a precious gift to us, and chosen to bring light through your smile.

Becky said I can’t post a baby story without her pictures! So here is a little slideshow:

20190220_0922593123920168555028484.jpg
Lucas kept trying to “pet” and “kiss” Baby Thea

20190220_0908135432048004040143947.jpg
Christina & Thea (oldest & youngest)

20190220_1029118265629499958905990
Lucas said “you are my love, Baby Thea!”

20190220_1052375750956470157074324.jpg
Grandma Joanne & Thea

20190220_095921.jpg
Christina and Becky are already vying for who gets the baby

20190220_094110.jpg
Kimberly and Thea

20190220_1002065704603961022230156.jpg
Jillian and Thea

20190220_0956408358459918490841756.jpg
Theadora Taliesyn Tart

20190220_0945031969824101188993780.jpg
This is Christina’s favorite from Thea’s birthday

20190220_0944168907838401882477134.jpg
Jaquline and Thea

20190220_0946013838703051983822880.jpg
Becky and Thea

20190221_1110518161208850048162067.jpg
Daddy and Thea

FullSizeR.jpg
Aunt Becca and Thea

20190220_0955464507561949649824245
Thea and Mommy

Hope this brought you a smile!

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

Dropping In

Lack of my technological connection device led to some deep thought… and a fun visit!

October 29, 2018

Dropping In

I think we’ve all become too preoccupied with technology in many ways.  It invades our lives and sometimes, rather than bringing us closer together (as it was originally meant to do) it appears to spread us farther apart.

Does anyone else remember being a kid and just dropping over to your friend’s house, knocking on the door and asking whatever adult came “may so-and-so come play?”  Today’s youth have their parents text or call said person.  (Or they call/text if they have a phone.)

We’ve lost the connectivity of just dropping in.

I ended up without my phone the other night (had given it to Becky because the house she was babysitting at didn’t have a land line) and wanted to go visit with a friend.

Heavens to Betsy!  I couldn’t text or call her!  (We don’t have a land line phone either – and it wouldn’t have helped me if we did as I saved her number in my phone!)

Could I just stop over?  Drop in?  Did people even do that?  Isn’t that considered rude?

While digesting these thoughts, I realized God was still nudging me to go visit (God had put her on my heart when I was on my way to work – and yes, with no phone) regardless of my lack of ability to warn her of our approach.  (Yes, we are like being descended upon by a flock of chattering geese; all six of us this time because Becky was babysitting and Louis was working.)

As I drove the few miles to her house, my mental debate continued:  I am the type of person who loves to visit with people – they can drop in any time I’m home as long as they don’t mind the almost constant state of dishevel in my home.  We live in it, and unless you catch it on Saturday in the first hour after deep cleaning or after 9pm on a regular night, my house will have sporadic hair on the floor from shedding people and pets, a few cups loitering on the table and counter, dishes in the sink, clean clothes either in a bucket or half-folded on the couch, books and art materials on the dining room table, and toys that aren’t always in the toy room.  But my family lives in my house.  So if you come unannounced, expect it to look lived-in.  If you show up on a planned visit, it will likely be “company clean” (aka, we just scurried around like frightened chipmunks to make it as presentable as possible considering the time of day).  I reasoned that I would just pop by before unloading everyone and if they were busy, if she was resting (she gets precious little sleep), or they weren’t up for company, we’d just deliver the job-related news and enjoy the drive back home.

She was excited we had come!  (Surprise!  I knew we were sisters!)  We unloaded and spent a few hours chatting, playing, and enjoying each others’ company.  We actually talked about this very thing.  She remembered people dropping by her parents’ home almost every day when she was growing up.  They would bring a pie or dish, join for lunch or supper, and enjoy a visit or the rest of the day together.

I dropped by on Grandma Jeanette at least once a week; I knew her schedule and knew she would enjoy the visit.

But with everyone else I’ve felt like everything has to be planned.  It feels impolite to just drop by and bring a gift or deliver some news in person rather than over the digital airwaves.

God knows our hearts.  He knew I would really go and knew my friend wanted some adult conversation (who am I kidding? so did I), it was part of His plan that we fellowship together and encourage each other.

We, as people, need that.

We, as Christians, need that.

We were not made to live in isolation.  Our overly busy world with unrealistic expectations tried to shove aside our human need for simple fellowship – time spent together without an agenda.  Just quality time invested in each other.  Dropping in and feeling comfortable in each others’ spaces.  This is when we do not judge each other by the state of one another’s home but choose to invest in the state of one another’s hearts.  Yes, most of my events with other people will still likely be planned, but I no longer feel restricted to just planned meetings!

I am so thankful for friends that are my sisters.  (Or sisters who are best friends!)  Those who I don’t feel obligated to race around and worry about what they will think of the shoes that didn’t make it to the shoe shelf or the train track loaded with every rolling vehicle we own running from the playroom down the hallway into the living room or the dishes that someone is currently washing.  I am thankful for the freedom to be me around them.  I love being real.  I love feeling accepted as me.  I enjoy learning from those around me.

Thank you, Jesus, for true friends!

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

Follow me!

Get my latest posts delivered to your email: