Tag: peace

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

Judgments

What do you instantly presume based on a look? This cup, for example:

January 7, 2021

Judgments

It starts with this cup:

Judgement – instantly you either love or hate me, but you also immediately assume I spent $3 to $5 on the “coffee” I’m drinking.

Actually, I’ve never bought Starbucks. This cup? Well, I’m love my meal shake “cafe latte” hot and I’m a mom so that means 10x trips to the microwave… this cup’s predecessor two years ago was green and white and was perfect for the serving size and microwavable!! I hate waste. That green and white cup was destined for the trash… I saved it, sanitized it, and used it for almost 14 months. This cup was also someone else’s discarded trash.

Now, knowing that, you are either grossed out that I take trash, wash it, and claim it, saying “better you than me,” or you are applauding my penny-pinching way of getting exactly what I want and saving the landfill at the same time.

Isn’t it crazy how we judge?

Someone in the food bank line driving a really sweet immaculate older model Jaguar wearing a tailored suit jacket, $400 eyeglass frames, and a Rolex. You can choose to judge, “what is he here for?” or “he could sell the car (watch, frames, jacket) for money,” or whatever thought because you feel he shouldn’t be there.

Step in his shoes. Did you know he’s a former businessman whose life savings went into a dream business in fall of 2019 – just a small operation that employed 27 people. His jacket? It’s the same one he wore to his retirement party years ago. He has sold all the others. His eyeglass frames? Those were his late wife’s. He gets his prescription put in them for sentimental reasons. His Rolex look-alike? Inscribed with “to my love; come home safe; Christmas 1969” he received it in the spring of 1970 in Vietnam. His car? He takes care of it and cleans it himself – he’s had it for 22 years. The dealership won’t even give him $500 for it without locking him into a new loan he can’t afford; it is a cheap used car. He chooses to keep his employees at work but is falling deeper and deeper in debt so yes, he stretches his food budget with the weekly box from the food bank.

Have you ever read “To Kill a Mockingbird?” That book is an excellent tool for teaching you how to always treat everyone with kindness and consideration. Atticus teaches his children, and the reader, how not to make hasty judgments. Jem actually judges people and in his thoughts and conversations with Scout, he professes what Scout is thinking; they learn how their quick surface judgments are most often wrong.

Since I’ve read that book as a youngster, I decided to leave the judging to God. I strive to treat everyone with kindness. I strive to kick the judgmental thoughts from my mind before they affect my heart or bleed into my words.

Another great book for that end is “The Shack.”

In both instances I referenced, the book is far more poignant than the film, but the films do a decent job of getting the point across.

Treat others with kindness. Leave the judging to God. He alone knows the heart. Can our sour swift judgments harm? Yes. If we are to be the feet and hands of Jesus, we also need to speak his words to others and in our own hearts. When we allow own hearts to be poisoned by our own sour thoughts we allow ourselves to make hasty judgments, in turn we make poor decisions and usually harm others. We are putting a stumbling block in front of them! This is not how we are supposed to love.

As parents, we also need to avoid making hasty judgments about our children. We may know their hearts, sure. But what good can come of judging without listening? Always ask. Always talk. Always be available for them to speak to you. Your children do know your heart based on what you have shown them during their life – they need you to be a safe place for them to express feelings and emotions and speak troubles. This needs to start from the beginning and continue even when it is hard.

My father was always open where I could talk about anything with him. He guided me through dating and the first few weeks of engagement, he encouraged me to search for character traits, gave me logical wisdom as I relayed scenarios and answers, and offered questions for me to ask that led my fiancé and I into deep discussions where we discovered each other’s hearts. We came to understand our religious, political, family, and deep convictions through soul-baring conversation and intimately know each other.

I am forever thankful for the few months of guidance that led me to understand my future husband. I wanted to be someone my children could come talk to without fear, like my father had. I hope my children always understand that my love for them will never change. I will try to guide them. I will listen. I always try to listen first. I have a fix-it mentality though, which makes it a struggle to just listen when I care about someone and want to help them.

I have to learn, still, that people don’t always want help. They want ears to listen to their heart.

This is treating others with kindness.

Avoiding preconceived judgments (back to my iconic cup).

Listening without judging.

Praying before speaking.

Hearing without repeating (aka no gossiping).

Loving as Christ does.

If I am to be His hands and feet, I need to be his ears and mouth as well. I need to leave judging to God.

(Hope this encourages you as much as writing it encouraged me.)

~Type at you later.

~Nancy Tart

God’s Fireworks

June 7, 2020

God’s Fireworks

When Christina, Brian, and Becky were little, way back when Becky was going by the nickname of “Lori” and we had a big brown dog they named “Dakota” after a Disney song from a movie that went on repeat for easily two months… we lived in a house with three huge windows in the living room that opened to the huge front yard and made it easy to see the summer storm lightning shows. 

Dakota would hide under the table during the storms.  Christina and Becky had just watched the Fireworks over the Matanzas – our one family tradition that has never been interrupted for 16 years – and they comforted Dakota by saying, “it is all okay, Dakota, this is just God’s Fireworks in the sky.”

One of the first summer storms to pop up this year and we get this picture and the following video: beautiful examples of the volatility and beauty of nature.  The big girls had to tell the little ones the story of Dakota and how we came to call lightning shows “God’s Fireworks.”

We listened to the wind outside howl and thunder last night.  I’m reminded of the changes in seasons.  From drought so bad we had to carefully nurse our garden with deep watering twice daily to this rain so filling that our watermelons and tomatoes are splitting.

Rainy season and hurricane season are here.  Change.

We choose to embrace each change in life as it comes.  We adapt through changes.  Sometimes we don’t like the change: like being locked away, losing jobs, losing summer camps, losing scholarship opportunities, losing VBS, losing the potential for a house… etc.

But we overcome and rise with new goals and hopes. 

We shift our job focus from what makes money to what we love!  We stop watering the garden and now watch for the signs of splitting fruit.  We work harder.  We find other opportunities.  We chose to look for the good in each event.  We choose to see the setbacks as challenges to rise above. 

We choose not to be bitter.  This is a hard one.  We must understand two things: we only can move forward and we can only change ourselves.  We cannot control what circumstances we are thrown into but we can control our reactions to said circumstances. 

I choose love.  I choose joy.  I pray my children follow in my example and choose love and joy when life throws them circumstances that seem unfair.

The lightning reminds me today that the world is broken.  Lightning can cause damage.  Lightning can cause death.  But lighting shows are beautiful, awe inspiring dancing electrons in gorgeous flashes of bright light and colored thunderhead clouds.  I choose to see the potentially dangerous lighting show as beautiful: “God’s Fireworks”

I choose to see setbacks and losses as potential to rise with joy and allow the peace that passes all understanding to rule my heart.  Odd that lighting makes me think of contention and losses… but that’s my weirdly wired brain.

Thank you for reading!

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

Study & Playtime

August 8, 2019

Study and Playtime

Your bed.

A place of rest.  Calm.  Peace.

Unless you are a mom! 

I got the baby all ready, got myself all ready, even get Lucas ready for his bed!  Lay down and *boom* here come the troops!

Lucas does an aerial front flip onto the bed, continuing into two connected forward rolls. (I almost die each time he does that!)

“What are you doing?  This isn’t the gym?”

“Going to bed with you.”  Nice.

As I start getting him settled (someone must have shared a red skittle with him, as the equation for crazy energy = red food dye + sugar + Lucas), Christina comes in with her new laptop.  “Mom, I need help setting up.”

So this is my bed & it’s 2300:

I’m trying to sleep, need to be up at 0545 to get Thea ready, me ready, walk dogs, and beat the bits of traffic; 0615 if I don’t care about eating breakfast or packing lunch.

I smile and remember – they won’t be little long.  Soon Christina will be 16, how much longer will she even ask for my help? Lucas is 4, when will he suddenly stop coming in to snuggle?  Thea is 5 months, but I can remember Christina being that little and it seems like yesterday. I take a picture as Christina gasps, “Thea! Computers are not for eating!”

Yummy! Thea tastes Christina’s brand new laptop

No, they won’t be little long.  I choose to cherish every moment… even the late night Mom’s bed gatherings.

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

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

My Office Buddy

May 4, 2019

My Office Buddy

Today I’m thinking about how blessed I am to have an awesome boss who allows me to bring my baby to work with me.

Second only to working remotely (my goal, by the way, once the business has grown), being able to have Thea with me all day has been amazing.  Being away from the girls and Lucas feels like being ripped – especially when I am sitting behind a computer doing what I could easily do at home and being reminded of home by my office’s three loveable dogs.  But with Thea sharing the office with me, I feel less like I’m giving up my children.

This was Thea when I first went back to work; she was 12 days old.

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Thea has a lovely routine.  She eats, burps, and spends almost seven of the eight hours sleeping.  I think this is because there are no big sisters and big brother vying for her attention.

This is Thea at work, discovering her Elephant toy – she loves this toy!

And at two months old, discovering her thumb.

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All at the office with me.

Thea is my little office buddy!

Thanks for reading!

Type at you soon…

~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 34th 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!

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Daddy & Mom – 1982

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

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

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Mom is about to get Daddy to dance with her!

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At Becca’s Wedding – 2012, Pearson family

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Daddy and Becca (her wedding!)

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

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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

 

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:

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And this:

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And that:

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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.

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Rebeccah took most of the pictures and her selfie:

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

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This one was a little better:

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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.

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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

 

 

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