Dating Decisions – Part 3

Dating Decisions Part 3: Discovering Real Life and True Love

September 20, 2020

Dating Decisions – Part 3

At this point in my story I am a few months into 16, realizing that my focus cannot be on someone else. Jesus is my answer, my hope, my truth, not some guy I will meet “eventually.” That brought more peace to my crazy teenage mind than any other decision I had made since choosing Jesus as my personal Savior.

I determined to stand on the principles of virtue that I wanted to find in my future mate. If I had high expectations, it stood to reason that he should as well.

I had already told God (when I was 12) that I would keep myself a perfect gift for my husband. I did some silly girlish stuff that I kept hidden – like write letters to my future husband as I was journaling. Several, actually most, of these letters were destroyed by inquisitive dogs and siblings long before I was 19. I understood purity to be in the mind, body, and heart. Of all the people I interviewed, none told me they wished they had “tried it out first” but almost every person who had “tried sex out” before marriage told me that they wished they hadn’t. Most of them cited trust issues after marriage as their reason. A few told me it made them feel less worthy or made their partner less desirable. Several did not marry the person they “tried out” with. My Daddy told me that once a boy makes a conquest, he thinks of the girl as dirty, trash, something to be discarded. He said that was why he never wanted to use anyone. He told me “men don’t use women but boys use girls.” The silver screen brought that to life in “Spencer’s Mountain” where they get the cow bred and Dad says to son something like: you aren’t a bull and your woman won’t be a cow. That image stuck with me. Stories about my Daddy’s friends, relatives in our extended family, and from my curious interview subjects led me to the understanding that if someone doesn’t respect your decisions in regard to your personal limits, they don’t truly respect you at all.

That led me to the decision that should I be dating someone and they choose to ignore or press my limits, I would back up and leave. Don’t respect me = deal breaker.

I also decided that I would give them just as much respect as I expected. That was something I already did because I was raised that way, but I made that mental decision and wrote it down just to solidify it. If I couldn’t respect them, I wouldn’t waste their time. A wife is expected to respect her husband.

I started to think of myself as a wife-in-training. I had read a devotional book where the woman writer referred to her students as “women-in-training” and I loved that idea! I’m big on apprentice type learning. Show me, direct me, and I pick up rather quickly. I think that actually learning from someone with real world experience is the absolute best. (Another reason I LOVE the movie “War Room” – if you haven’t seen it, DO IT.) I picked out the qualities that I needed to work on (like patience and not nagging) and started trying them out on my siblings. Siblings had taught me that I was low on the patience thing. (Truthfully, children have taught me that I’m still, constantly, and will be forever working on the patience thing.) I am a big sister who likes to not allow her little siblings to get in a situation she knows how to prevent, but I had to sit back and let them learn after only one warning. My Daddy boomed a deep-belly laugh when he asked 17-year-old me why I let my little sisters go out in white shirts (in Florida afternoon, Kissimmee = 10 minute torrential rainfall at precisely 3pm) and I replied with “I warned them, but I’m trying to learn how not to nag, so I only said it once.”

My focus was now on myself. I understood that I needed to be a better person for my siblings, parents, and my future family. This was just the beginning.

I was still feeling tremendous pressure from peer groups to “date” like my siblings. My study had led me to the belief that dating was a long series of pre-marital interviews. I had been to job and volunteer worker interviews. I knew that the most direct way to find out if a person was a good match for the job or position was to ask direct questions. At 16, I could no longer blame my daddy and say “my Dad won’t let me date until I’m 16” therefore I began being super direct by asking, “do you love Jesus?” About half of those who asked me out laughed in a scoffing manner and (since I was primarily around church groups) respond with, “I go to church.” My reply to that “puffy religious response” was equally “puffy religious” – “no thanks. I can only court after I’m 18.”

At this point, mid-17, I still had an excellent relationship with my Daddy. I would tell him when someone asked me out. Once he told me my standards were too high, that I was expecting perfection. My reply was, “I’m looking for someone at least as much in love with Jesus as I am; the man is supposed to be the spiritual head of the family.” I was super-focused on getting into UMR or FIT at this point (two engineering colleges I was chasing) and my Daddy was big on education which is why I believe he didn’t press the matter really. I told him I wasn’t planning on dating until I was ready to marry. That became a repeated line whenever I was teased by family or my sister’s friends. One guy I didn’t like approached me about “hooking up for fun” and I asked him if he was ready to raise a child. His entire friend group left me alone.

I had devised an entire pre-programmed set of responses to boys and now men because I had yet to be asked out by anyone I actually would have dated. There had only been two young men whom I watched and admired the character of since I was 16 and neither asked me out. I actually had deep discussions about Biblical issues with both of them and discovered more about “Biblical courtship” from the latter when I was 17.

I delved deeper into the idea of Biblical courtship with a book I stumbled upon just before I turned 18. “I Kissed Dating GoodBye” by Joshua Harris – I didn’t agree with all of the book, but there were many bits that helped me to understand the whole courtship thing.

I may have bent your ears too long in this epistle. Oops!

Ready for the biggest decision of my dating steps? Covering that next time…

Thank you for reading!

~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

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