Shattered

May 16, 2020

Shattered

Again. Shattered Again. This is what strikes my heart again. Of course, in the big scheme of things I realize, this is tiny. This isn’t losing a family member or going bankrupt. Logically, my brain tells me that this isn’t really a bad thing and there is likely a reason behind it, but still…

I can’t ignore the emotions that were tearing me apart when Louis said he got the email.

We never, NEVER, would have showed our children the new house (they’ve been calling it that) unless we were told it would happen.

We were told, based on incomes and expenses that it would happen. Our debt-to-income ratio (we know all that, studied before going to attempt for the loan. We had the credit scores above the requirement on the website, we’d done all our own figuring, we make three times what we would need for the maximum monthly payment!) We were told everything was good – we even asked over and over, is this really going to happen?

Well… of course, we lost income, BUT IT IS TEMPORARY!! Gym can open back MONDAY – two days from now! Are they only looking at one of my two incomes? Are they not looking at Louis’ income at all? I’m still working at the office! Louis is still working at uber.

WHERE IN THE EARTH did some loan person decide that she would NEVER once talk to me but CANCEL our documents because “they have zero income” when she didn’t even check? That’s a lie! That’s a stinking, irritating, hurtful, dream-shattering lie! We have lost income over the stupid COVID19 government shutdown garbage, who hasn’t? But to say that is permanent? It’s a bump in the road! A mortgage is 30 years!! Do you expect our income to never change in 30 years??????

We’ve not deferred ANYTHING… we’ve chosen to keep the down payment (yes, in the bank, safe and untouched!) and pay minimums on credit cards that we had to use for groceries, yes. Gym was forced to shutdown temporarily – between Monday and June 1st, I go back to work as soon as they open.

NOTHING has been late; not FPL, not our rent, not our van or car payment (we pay off the giant van payment in 4 months!)

Why is this hurting us? I thought this was responsibility? To keep the down payment, to choose to pay bills on time instead of ask for deferment, to pick up odd jobs to keep our income up while this stupid government decides to ruin our jobs and now – yes, shatter our dreams AGAIN!

Christina and Kimberly lost summer encampment, Christina, Becky, and Kimberly lost Passion Camp (this was the only summer they could all go together), the VBS they were looking forward to is canceled, they miss out on their gymnastics show, the girls are despising this whole zoom meeting garbage where they can’t talk and meet in person…

Becky said, “they can’t take our house, can they?”

It seems, one mortgage person can LIE and say we have no income while NEVER ONCE contacting or trying to contact me, Louis, or either of my bosses regarding our actual status of employment – and yes, deny us our house.

So while I understand that if someone takes the last 4 weeks of my paystubs and averages them over the course of a year, they will think we can’t make our payments; right now we are only missing about $200 a month (with the expected higher mortgage rate and this doesn’t count Louis’ income) – and we loose a $650 a month liability (paid off vehicle) in 4 months (so then just my income alone will cover our bills with more than $400 surplus!).

What really hurts is the LIES. I had to get this information from one lady we called because Louis got an email saying we no longer qualify and so have to pay a cancellation fee… ?????? Why can’t we at least get a courtesy call? No one ever asked? Not even a text. That’s seriously taking social distancing too extreme.

I hate that I took my children to see this place. I hate that I’m so gullible. I hate that I shared my dreams with others and now feel embarrassed that we even tried.

I am determined to at least speak to this person before I agree to pay for a lie.

I pray that God sets this up the way He wants it. I pray my emotions level (which, yes, after writing they always do) so I can speak calmly and rationally. I pray to see the good through this curtain of hurt. I so wanted to have those friends as neighbors, I really wanted to have Treaty Park as my backyard, but whatever; I should have known we will never make it to a real house.

Emotions are sometimes things we hide. I do. I try very hard not to let anyone see anything that isn’t positive. I try to be the mood lifter, not one who complains or cries or feels darkness. But I do. I feel darkness right now – like all my life I’ve dreamed of having a house where I could raise my children and grow trees that would shade my grandchildren – I know, silly. I saw a plan online that almost mirrored the house I’ve been building in my sketchbook all my life and even though we had to give up the place that was my first dream, I thought that if this all went through, it was a second shot at my dream. Next year would be too late: Christina wouldn’t be in that house. This faint hope rose to believe we’d have one season before Christina went to college. A place my teenagers wanted to be in.

These are raw emotions. We all have them. We all scream at the irrationality, lies, deception, cheating, or hurtful things that shove us or our loved ones into positions they don’t want to be in, shatter their dreams, or whatever.

We have to do what works to calm ourselves down and realize that God is in control; yes, even when someones lies and it shatters our dreams, it is just an opportunity for God to show us something better…

Anyway, I write to sort through my emotions; what do you do?

Thank you for reading.

Type at you later,

~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

Minuit’s Story

This story of Minuit, the Dwarf Holland Lop bunny who became Kimberly’s best gift ever, and how Kimberly fell in love with her “snuggle bunny” gifted by her big sisters!

January 2, 2019

Minuit’s Story

There was a girl, Kimberly, who fell in love in 2013 when she was 6 and a black and white “retired stud rabbit” she called “Mister Walter Rabbit” was left on her family’s back porch.

Mom found out Mr. Walter Rabbit was over 12!  (Rabbits average 10 years.)  That didn’t matter to Kimberly.  She slid down the kiddie slide with him, she put him on his blanket in the baby buggy and dragged it around like a rickshaw, she slept with him, she loved him more than any animal ever before, and with a little help from her oldest sister, took care of him “all by myself!”

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Kimberly and Mr. Walter Rabbit were inseparable for over two years!

Fast forward to 2018 and Kimberly helped build a Guinea Pig cage for the big girls’ three new “girl Guinea Pigs” – but Becky’s angel was actually TobyMac (read more here).  Kimberly’s little Avery love was far older than the lady let us know, and Kimberly only was able to love on Avery for almost a year.

Kimberly’s loss of her “baby” Guinea Pig came only two days after her Grandfather passed away.  Kimberly cried that this would be her saddest Christmas ever.

It wasn’t a great financial year for her parents, so they were very busy with trying to pick up odd jobs and stay working so they could pay bills on time.  Kimberly’s mom listened and tried to console her, but she knew Kimberly would have to heal herself because words don’t fill wounded hearts.  Kimberly’s mom’s Daddy was Kimberly’s Grandfather.

Kimberly’s mom had only been home for a couple hours after a temp job that morning when Becky and Christina, Kimberly’s two older sisters who had been working babysitting and odd jobs too, came excitedly up to Mom.  The younglings were asleep (except the baby brother), and Becky gave Mom $50 and said, “we found this bunny for Kimberly and it’s just perfect and the lady just texted us… they are back from candlelight service and we need you to drive over and pick it up with us.”

Mom was flabbergasted.  The teenagers had researched, found a local bunny breeder with the specific kind of bunnies Kimberly had wanted (Dwarf Holland Lops) and she was holding a black female (the EXACT color and sex Kimberly said she was going to buy “once I save enough”) for them.

IT WAS CHRISTMAS EVE!

Christina babysat, Becky kept Mom awake, baby brother fell asleep in the van, and Mom taxied the proud big sister out to pick up “the perfect gift” and ferry it home.

The big sisters had planned ahead with feed, a very nice cage (a pair of Guinea Pigs came in it, but it was not used now as they had the big run), the bedding, and even a waterer and feeder.   They prepped the bunny cage, set it under the Christmas tree (it was nearly 11pm now!), and tossed a thin sheet over it.  Both were so giddy they could barely sleep!  Because of her black fur, black eyes, and sweetness, this perfect bunny was called “Minuit,” which is French for “Midnight.”

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On Christmas morning, the kids gathered around to open presents and the suspense was just too much for Dad, because Kimberly hadn’t even seemed to notice the animal cage covered in sheet!  Dad said, “Kimberly, that sheet is in the way, please fold it up.”

Kimberly grabbed the sheet and almost screamed!  (Poor Minuit!)  Kimberly was so happy she was in tears!  As Christina and Becky reassured her the 9 week old bunny was hers, she scooped her out of the cage and snuggled her on the couch.  Nothing else mattered at that moment.  Kimberly cried and after everyone had finished adoring the new bunny, she gasped, “Mom, I thought this would be the saddest Christmas, but this is my best Christmas gift ever!”

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Leave it to amazing, thoughtful, caring big sisters to research something you really desire, manage a way to get it for you, and give you the best Christmas surprise you’ve ever had!

I hope you enjoyed this story of Minuit, the Dwarf Holland Lop bunny who became Kimberly’s best gift ever, and how Kimberly fell in love with her “snuggle bunny!”

Thanks for reading!

Type at you later…

~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

 

Understanding and Choosing Forgiveness

April 23, 2018

Understanding and Choosing Forgiveness

Sometimes things make us irritated.  Loss, waste, and destruction of life are hot spots for me.

We have livestock.

Honestly, I can shrug off an owl or hawk picking off a young chicken.  I can understand the predators are getting food and my unguarded (or less than perfectly guarded) animals become easy prey.  We learn how to build a better pen or protect our animals better for the environment we have.  But I hate waste.

I had never faced a human killing animals indiscriminately.   Until yesterday, neither had the girls.  They love to show off their animals and share their experiences: from soft, fluffy biddies to newly laying vibrantly colored pullets to nuzzling Guinea Pigs.  The girls love animals and wouldn’t think of hurting them just because.  Even the “mean” cockerels (young chickens we will eat or sell, sometimes a rooster just has a mean disposition and they stay locked in the pen for protection!) are treated with respect.  They will be grilled chicken dinner or traded for feed money, anyway, so they serve a purpose.

Once, we had a child swipe a biddie because it was  “so cute  and I wanted  it,”  but her brother returned it the next day because it “looked sick.” (Unfeathered baby chicks have to stay under a heat lamp at about 100o and yes, without that heat, they get sick.)  We could understand that but the girls kept explaining to this little child that if she wanted to hold them and play with them, she could come to our yard and ask, but the biddie needed to stay with her “sisters.” (The other chicks.)

Recently, a child came to the house, systematically killed several hens, stole most of the young chickens to bait a dog, and took eggs.  We didn’t want to believe it was true.  His family returned the two live ones that managed to make it and graciously paid money to replace the lost animals.   One of the accomplices was one of the girls’ friends.  The girls went through many emotions: devastation, betrayal, anger, sadness, joy (when discovering the one rescued young chicken was the last female Buff!), compassion (when they decided they needed to pray for him), and forgiveness.

It took a while to process.  We discussed trust, honesty, betrayal, sin in the world, fallen man, how we shouldn’t be bitter, how Jesus calls us to love regardless of how people hurt us, and eventually the anger and sadness turned to compassion and forgiveness.

For me, I went through the same emotions.  It was hard to swallow and move on because of how hurt the girls were.  I wanted to protect my children from these emotions.  I didn’t want them to feel betrayal – they had allowed “friends” over and shared their animals with them and at least one of these children were part of the attack and theft.

Instead, I chose to help coach them through the emotions.  It was right to feel betrayal, anger, and sadness.  Those emotions are normal.  They had to understand how sometimes good people choose to follow evil and are sad about what they did.  (Case with their friends.)  The girls had to forgive.

And by the end of the next day, they were laughing and playing in the yard with their reconciled friends.  True forgiveness means forgetting and moving on.  That, despite the loss and hurt of the morning, made my heart happy.  Of course, I hope they never feel betrayal, but – reality check! – in this fallen world, it is likely that someone else later in life will hurt their hearts – and they will have to forgive to keep their heart from bitterness.

Yes, I found that if I allow God to move on my children’s hearts, He can turn their hurts into joy.

Thanks for reading!

Type at you later…

~Nancy Tart

 

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