Thea is by far our youngest lover of all things fashion. Her sisters got her bows for Christmas. She had to put them on everyone. Lucas patiently lets Thea do anything to his hair – he did let Christina and Becky color it green (supposed to be blue dye, but his brown hair turned more of a turquoise). Jillian and Jaquline often end up being Thea’s models now that she wants to do their hair too!
Cheese!
My Mr. Pickles!
The big girls have “always wanted” (they shared Mary’s giant stuffies for a bit as littles) an oversized stuffed animal. They got one for Thea for Christmas. They called him “Mister Pickles” and the name has stuck. (I have no clue why a giant koala is named after a cucumber treat, but it is.) Thea loves him. This girl loves all things tiny but took to the giant stuffy like a pro. He sleeps in her bed (she sleeps on him)! Grandma got her started on “squinkies” because she loved the tiny squishy quarter-puppies at gym & she has always loved legos.
Lucas said “you are my love, Baby Thea!”
Lucas has been leading Thea everywhere since day one, literally (the picture on the bottom right is when she was not quite an hour old). They are snuggle buddies. One of her first full sentences was “Lucas come play legos with me!” They explore things together. What Lucas does, Thea has to try – even splits and carpentry!
Our little baby is two years old now! Time races by. Life is about enjoying the time we have with each other. Life is about making happy memories even in times when life is tough. Life is about friendships that you continually water even through spells of distance. Life is love. Thea reminds me of that with every smile.
Even this morning, when her 17-year-old sister is driving us to work and playing music to which Thea’s feet are dancing; I saw her huge smile and remembered how pure love is as little ones show it. Genuine smiles are a tiny glimpse of heaven’s love! Thank you Jesus for the time I’ve had with each of my children, each of my siblings, my parents, and my friends! Thank you for new opportunities to build memories and laughter as each day speeds along! Thank you for love!
This blog is for those moms, big sisters, teachers, coaches, etc. who have ever raised their hands up in the sky and demanded with tears streaming down their eyes, “God! Help!”
If you’ve never done that, please leave the rest of us in our private knowledge of complete crazy… nothing to see or read here… Thank you.
Now that I’m addressing those of you, who like me, know that they only get through life with God’s routine and very often injections of aid: understand that you are really, really not alone!
There are way more of us out here than you know.
But people don’t always see that. Still. That doesn’t mean we don’t completely loose it and at least internally… SCREAM for HELP!
Ever had a friend compliment you by saying, “wow, you were so calm.”
Your mind goes, “um.. what????” And you realize that only God saw your frantic desperate prayers as you grabbed napkins, wiped up your child’s blood trying not to freak out at her big sister’s just-started party while on your way to meet said child in the bathroom with unknown injury as you realize another daughter is already cleaning more blood (MORE BLOOD?? God, let me not scare her, make me calm.) on a gym mat. You realize that the frantic prayers were interpreted as deep breaths – thank you Jesus for oxygen and working lungs! Said child cries and you are thinking, “God, this injury is serious, help me!” but when you clean it and she whines, “I don’t want to go home! I want to play with my friends!”
Then there’s the serious prayer as you fight the urge of laughter-that-borders-on-insanity, “God, give me patience with this child!”
Bloody head wound clean. Check.
Bleeding stopped. Crisis averted. Check.
10,000+ frantic “God, you better help me” prayers in the span of 45 seconds while dealing with said child who doesn’t see that this is an INJURY and wants to GET BACK UP AND START FLIPPING! Double check.
Super glue, band-aid, and the older kids are like, “do we need to go?” Decision time. (This was supposed to be a food party & dinner & home is 45 minutes away plus party will be over & have to pick up actual party-goer in about 2 hours.) Stay.
Instant heart attack what feels like 5 seconds later when said injured child is about to show off her routine on bars – “DO YOU WANT TO LIVE TO ADULTHOOD??” (No, I didn’t scream that.)
But. I WANTED TO!! Instead it was “GOD HELP ME!” in my frantic brain while I think I may have jumped the knee wall to grab said child and firmly direct her back to my table in a solid seat (DID YOU REALLY JUST LEAN THAT FOLDING CHAIR ON TWO LEGS!!!???) beside me to watch her. Calm. Breathe. “GOD! HELP ME!” (Of course, that was a mental scream again.)
End the frantic night. (Thank you, Jesus!)
I’m laying in bed, praying that her head heals well and there’s no infection. Reading Proverbs for whatever chapter the day was (you know, when you can’t think of anything but Proverbs has a chapter for every day in the month?), I came across timeless wisdom that basically said (my brain translated the words to the following, it is NOT a direct quote:), “give everything to God and know that you aren’t perfect without Him.”
Truth.
Give over my worries. Give over my fears. In. Real. Time.
If I just write it on paper (or type it in a blog), that’s just words. What shows that I do trust God is in real time. When my toddlers decides to tilt her head back and scream bloody murder with a huge smirk because I’m on the phone. (PATIENCE, PLEASE!) When my boy is annoying his sisters for the bazillionth time in one minute. (Please, God, don’t let them kill him.) When an attack comes and it feels like the life-breath from my lungs is being sucked out by a giant vacuum. (Calm. Breathe. God. Help. Me.)
This is trusting in real time.
This is choosing to know that I cannot do anything without Jesus.
This is knowing that with Jesus I ca do all things. I can breathe. I can parent. I can mother. I can coach. I can love. Without Him, I can’t do any of those things.
So, yes, I know I’m imperfect. (I’m FAR from perfect!)
But…
I trust in the perfect one. I ask Him for help daily (um… thousands of times a day, in every situation I get stuck in!) and He answers with comfort, ideas, calm, and love.
Take a breath. Breathe in Jesus, breathe out, breathe in love, breathe out; now face your challenge! (As I hear a squeal from the kitchen followed by a crash… doesn’t sound like anything broke… “MOM!”) God, they are your children; HELP ME! I need to parent them to lead them to You, show me how.
Type at you later!
~Nancy Tart
P.S.: Those who were there, yes, I was freaking out inside. Yes, she is okay and nothing left to point at proudly and say “look what happened to me!”
Seriously. I’m super competitive by nature. I had to teach myself that trying to “be my best” is a different thing than being better than someone else.
I had to fail at comparing.
What are we at, 8 billion people on the planet? Each one of us has a unique set of circumstances, challenges, goals, cultures, and opportunities. How can we possibly compare ourselves to each other?
Simplify: we do it in our own heads even if people don’t for us. So we have to learn not to compare in our own heads too!
Your child is acting out.
From people who may or may not know you comes the onslaught: “that’s because you work,” “that’s because you stay home all day,” “that’s because you are too busy,” “that’s because you never go on playdates,” “that’s because you have him around too many children,” “that’s because you have him in vpk,” “that’s because you home school,” “that’s because your mom ate Wendy’s Frosties with French fries while carrying you…”
And it goes on and on! They give you reasons to blame yourself or your situation for the child crying in the grocery cart.
You know, mentally, it’s been a long day or he just woke up and the bright lights hurt his eyes or he’s teething or maybe he flat out doesn’t want to be in the store today but you let the judging start in you. Now you blame yourself.
One child is independent at 6: he wakes up before the rooster crows, does schoolwork without prodding, makes healthy food if there isn’t a ready meal, dresses himself and three younger siblings and feeds the dog before you have your coffee. Another is 13 and you can’t trust him with the dog for three seconds, he never does anything without you doing it for him, you bought him sliders and gave up on shoelaces decades ago, and it scares you that the government thinks this kid can climb into a 2-ton vehicle in less than three years and turn himself into a human projectile at 70mph+. (Exaggerated, I know, but still!)
You find yourself blaming you and your circumstances for how your kids are.
Stop it!
Mommy, your kids are fine!
They have their own unique personalities and the unique way God set in them from when they were knit together in your womb! Your job is to help them find their way. It’s a really cool study to really research the Hebrew on that passage you know, “Train up a child…” the word way there means “the traits that are his” we might say his personality, likes, and dreams. Dig into that one more when you have time – awesome study.
ANYWAY! Back to your mind yelling at you and beating you up because your children are different. Different than you, different than your spouse, different than their siblings, friends, teammates, schoolmates – YES! They were all made different. Each a beautiful masterpiece God is still carefully crafting with His own hands.
That independent child? We lead and guide and pray they choose to ask for help when they face something that looks difficult – we’d rather them not make the same mistakes we did. (Waving my hand, I was that independent child and humility was/is a challenge for me!)
The 13 year old that seems lazy and unproductive? Watch what falling in love with a sport, subject, or animal will do for him. You turn around and that one is buying books on said subject, devoting hours, days, whole weeks lost in it, suddenly you blink and he’s that subject’s walking encyclopedia – then if you listen you’ll discover that was always there, he studies one thing at a time and shoelaces, school deadlines, and things that didn’t interest him just didn’t get any attention.
When you feel like your brain is beating you up because of your parenting, your situation, and your children not being “perfect,” remind your brain that no one is perfect. There are no perfect children. (Okay, be honest, you aren’t living in a Jewish village 2000 years ago watching Joseph and Mary parent Jesus – my brain wouldn’t have shut up watching a real perfect kid!)
You can’t say to yourself, “I did xyz” regarding a child’s personality unless you are using that as a tool to ask yourself, “how do I help him overcome this?” Because yes, I know, going through financial instability, parents going to work or coming home, changing schools, changing neighborhoods, losing family members, that all does contribute to the development of personality and psyche in a child (or in an adult, am I right?) so understanding is good to help more forward – but the best way to help is to LISTEN.
Sit with them when you can – vehicles are normally good because they are trapped and can’t go anywhere. And ditch the devices. Unless you are parenting long distance, look in their eyes and listen with your whole self. It doesn’t have to look like two adults over coffee at a Barnes & Noble, either. Think like them. You can be playing a video game with your kid and have deep conversation. You can be building duplo blocks and get the scoop on everything in his little heart.
Listen to them. Ask them prodding questions about their thoughts, their dreams, their goals, and what things have impacted them. You will learn a lot. Let them speak as much as you can. You lecturing the same stuff becomes listening to a broken record. You need to hear them as much as they need to talk to you. Learn their hearts. If you forget stuff sometimes like I do, WRITE DOWN important stuff and file it away somewhere. That way when you want to know your daughter’s favorite color you don’t have to text her sister.
Fail to compare. ALWAYS choose not to compare. If you hear them saying “at least I’m better than so-and-so…” ask why they feel that way and then tell them how each person is unique. If they want to be better at something, encourage it! But don’t compare with others. They don’t know “so-and-so’s” full heart story. (Side note on that is let them read “To Kill A Mockingbird” or watch the Gregory Peck film version.) Don’t compare. Especially don’t compare siblings!
Choose to change what you can (only yourself and the environment you create) and accept what you can’t (the personality of others and situations you have no control over).
Do your best in the environment you have. That is all we can do. Mothers for millennia have been doing just that – wars, famines, massive global flood, cultural and political changes, pestilences, and economic booms and busts notwithstanding, Mothers continue to do their best for their children.
Fail to compare.
Instead of tearing each other down, we should build each other up. We should provide safe environments for each other to come, talk deeply, and gather advice. We live helping each other because we know the power is not in comparing ourselves with another but with helping each other up. We need that type of love. We need to build each other up instead of compare and break down. Our children see how we treat others when they are near and when we are alone – character is what we say and do when no one is watching. Build up. Encourage. Instead of judging someone else, rejoice with them or encourage them.
This is for our own children too. Build them up, encourage them, rejoice with them, pray for them, and lead them in their own unique and special way.
If you catch yourself comparing yourself to another or your children to each other or another’s child… Stop. Instead, choose to encourage or rejoice. Your heart will smile more and that will show on your face and in your attitude – this causes joy in your heart!
So when Grandma Tina brought Lucas’ new bicycle, she also brought a little pool! The girls were like, “oh, look, a baby pool for Thea!” and “6 feet! Wow, I can lay down in it and not touch each wall!”
It was not just Thea’s pool!
After each empty, they scrub it out with our dishwashing soap, relocate it so as not to totally kill the grass, and start over! The first refill has a tad of soap left – the last refill had a bit too much soap but they made hats out of the bubbles!
Here are some video tidbits!
And Lucas had to try it… he said “let me do it, just me!”
He didn’t go underwater then, but normally he does! My little wave-crasher is now a small pool fish too. Thea stands in the pool and flings water at everyone else, when we can get her in it!
Someone asked, “wow, how can they have so much fun out of one little pool?”
Because they enjoy time, have vivid imaginations, and enjoy each other’s company… and we try to cultivate an atmosphere of gratefulness. Always trying to find the good and enjoy it. Life is so much more fun when you enjoy it!
Lucas has a unidirectional purposeful mind when it comes to what he wants. As a three year old he told us for over six months that all he wanted for Christmas was a bike. That was it. Nothing else. He didn’t break it up like the girls do (tell Grandma Joanne one want, Grandma Tina another want, each Aunt a different want, and each sibling a different want), no. Mister Super Focused always just asks for one thing only.
Well, for the past four months, actually since just after Christmas, Lucas has been asking for a “bike for my longer legs” or “a boy bike that fits my long legs” for his upcoming May birthday. He’s been singularly focused on that one wish.
I figured that if the thrift stores ever open back up I would get a boy bike with 16″ wheels.
Instead, Grandma Tina came over to drop off the coolest little pool – pics on that one in another blog! – and a special surprise for Lucas.
He was one super happy boy!
And being the lovable big brother he is, he let Thea ride it too! Just because “she loves to ride my little bike which will be hers now!”
Thank you, Grandma Tina! Thank you to Grandma Tina’s landlord whose son had outgrown this one and wanted to give it away so another little boy could love it. I promise you, this bike will be loved for as long as Lucas can fit it and in his fond boyhood memories when he’s older!
We had to drag him off of the “coolest long leg bike that fits me” well after dark and he kept going back out to check on it in the shed. The following two days he was outside bouncing from the pool to the bike without stopping for the entire day to break only for food (most of which he took outside to eat while on his bike).
Typical boy.
No. Wait a minute… Typical Tart child.
I asked him yesterday, “Lucas, what do you want for your birthday now?”
He said, “my house with stairs!” Me too, dude. Me too.
Christina has been in Civil Air Patrol for a little over two years now. She got to fly an airplane before she could legally drive a car. (This freaked mom out a bit!) Now, I have two cadets!
C/2nd Lt Tart and C/Airman Tart
Yes, my little spunky Kimberly has been dreaming of the day she would be twelve years old for over two years (she got to hang out each time we stayed as a Civil Air Patrol unofficial “junior cadet” aka little sibling close to joining age who participates). She discovered gymnastics and loves it! She’s even planned to save Tuesdays (Team girls get one day off a week) just for CAP.
Kimberly wants to be a large animal
veterinarian specializing in genetic research, reproduction, and
rehabilitation. Although this doesn’t
have much to do with flying planes, rocketry, space, or cyber-security, she
wants to be in CAP for a while. She
wants to do any medical training, explore the education they offer, and do UCCs
and other fitness related competitions.
She may discover her second love is really fitness… someday.
That being said, part of our educational philosophy is to encourage the students to explore all experiences they can…
Including my just twelve year old,
been officially in CAP two weeks, airman to try her excited, scared, jittery
hand at flying.
Yes! (Mom is less freaking out because C/2nd Lt. Tart was with her too, but still!) My twelve year old has flown a plane – and my just-sixteen-at-the-time had “run out” of o-rides.
What comes to mind? A parenting book I read when I was twelve (yes, oldest sibling perks!) said something like “the child’s view of God as a Father is directly impacted by their experience with their Earthly Father.”
Yes. So true.
I went into parenthood knowing this. (Songs like “He Wants to be Like Me” reaffirmed this giant responsibility.)
A Father is often the humor of the family too – in the photo, Louis had climbed to the top of the stump and challenged “Come Get Me!” … notice all the kids following!
Despite the failures that I’ve made as a Mom and that I felt repercussions of from my parents (they were AWESOME parents, but they weren’t perfect) – I understand the crux of all parenting: we are human. We (Parents) are not Jesus and are not perfect.
Bingo.
That awesome thing called grace collaborates with the huge responsibility of parenting to create a vulnerable, praying, God-dependant parent capable of teaching the amazing love and grace of Jesus through their own transparency.
Let’s face it: most of the American culture makes fun of fathers. (Ever seen the Goofy Salute to Fatherhood?) Even as early as the 1950s when there was still a bit of a patriarchal society present, cartoons and movies started to depict fathers as lazy, goofy, clueless bunglers who often caused more problems than they solved.
Although I laughed along with my Daddy at a lot of these early shots at the masculine father, I understood the bulk of media still left you understanding that the love and bond of a father to child was the glue of a family. The unsung hero always was the silent sure strength of the God-following Father.
As time inched forward, the media continued to turn the American Father into a non-essential entity.
The opposite is true!
I consider myself a strong, independent woman when it comes to my life. I am a Christian woman, but one of my strongest battles with myself is submission – first to my father, then to Jesus, and later to my husband. I know this though… I CANNOT be the mother I am without the encouragement and support from my husband.
If I had to do motherhood without my husband being my ultimate cheerleader and sounding board, I would have realized how unfit I am about three months into the first child. I have the ultimate respect for people whose life circumstances have forced them to navigate parenthood alone. I try to be an encourager to them and help those single parents in any way I can because I cannot imagine myself having that strength.
I am excited to be around my husband! I was on a softball team (church, yes, I’m an athletic maniac but wasn’t on an actual team until I was in my late 20s and it was just for one season with my church family). Louis was working sometimes 100+ hours a week for our family at the time. The company I had just closed. He’d never made it to any of our games (I took all the kids with me; they loved it and hung out with their friends & some of the church ladies who came to encourage us bounced my baby around). One day he showed up and I was so excited! (I was told I squealed like a little girl; don’t remember exactly.) I love walking with him. I am excited when we do something as a family – or when he’s going somewhere and says, “hey want to go with me?” Because I know he likes his alone time. I get way too much alone time at my office – I relish gym coaching because of the other encouraging women I work for and with and the chattering children I love. I will chatter way too much sometimes.
Our church sermon was on how Fathers aren’t perfect (only Jesus is) and how their honesty and relationship is their connection with their children. It’s the way to disciple. We aren’t perfect, our children aren’t perfect – bingo! Common ground.
I know how important real, honest, God-fearing Fathers are to the fabric of our family. I know how hard it is to buck the media’s garbage portrayal of our roles and follow God’s plan instead. I am so thankful that I have a husband who is pursuing God’s heart. His passion for Jesus makes him a better husband, a better father, and a better friend. He helps encourage me to pursue God’s heart. (Told you I’m competitive.) He isn’t perfect, but he is constantly improving. A challenge arises and he rises above it. He’s always leading in love and with a determined drive that is totally contagious. His passion for Jesus, life, and family (okay, and sports) is encouraging.
And he doesn’t think he’s “so much” – he compliments and lifts me up consistently. He makes me feel like I’m doing well despite whatever challenge I feel I’m failing.
At church, we pulled in on Father’s Day (neither of our fathers went to church as adults) and he comments, “wow, church is crowded on Father’s Day.” Yes, at our church, the culture of encouraging each person to follow God individually, corporately, and in their family is persistent. (I was afraid we lost that when our previous church folded.) I am so encouraged that Louis has found a church with a culture of lifting up men as fathers; the vital leaders in their homes, encouraging and holding each other accountable.
Thank you, Jesus, for fathers who choose to take the hard road and follow you; they are raising up the next generation of world-changers.
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:
Lucas kept trying to “pet” and “kiss” Baby Thea
Christina & Thea (oldest & youngest)
Lucas said “you are my love, Baby Thea!”
Grandma Joanne & Thea
Christina and Becky are already vying for who gets the baby
I’m a few weeks or so from giving birth to our seventh little miracle.
Lying in the bed (because of some biological oddities to hit just as this baby started, the cold that normally would take me two or three days to fight is taking a stretched-out time; I’m on day seven) Louis says, “if the afterbirth is harder each time, maybe we should stop with this one.”
I smiled, but since I was lying toward the wall, he couldn’t see. “I’ve always treated each time as if it may be the last.”
“Really?” I guess this shocked him a little because I love being pregnant, I love the infant stage, I love the growing independence of the toddler stage, I love each and every step so far in this journey. Although I’m fully prepared for God to say, “this is the last one” sometime, I’m also fully prepared to continue going through this amazing cycle of mothering a miracle.
Yes.
I guess it’s complicated.
See, about the time I was pregnant with Kimberly, I grew a great deal in my understanding of how to allow God to have full control in my entire life. I thought I trusted Him with everything but realized that I was quietly hoping to have a multitude of children and not really okay with less – or even three. But I asked myself, “What if God’s perfect number for you is three?”
I began to realize that God’s perfection was not limited nor driven by my wants. (DUH!)
I decided early during that pregnancy (with Kimberly) that I would savor every second, every feeling, every hiccup, stretch, movement, and challenge that came along as if this were the last time I would carry life.
I already loved being pregnant. I shared that love with my mother and Louis’ Grandma Honey (she told me once she would have been pregnant her entire life if God had allowed her!).
At that time, I had a shift of my mental state. Instead of trying to always project perfection, I wanted to savor life with my family. If this meant not fully finishing with a cleaning chore before we went somewhere, then okay. If this meant taking a break to look at a cool flower while I’m supposed to be hanging clothes, okay. If this meant letting someone else watch the kids so Louis and I could go out, then that was okay. I realized I was trying to follow other peoples’ ideas of what my life should look like and had unconsciously adopted those ideas as “perfection” – and yes, perfection as it was in my brain was never truly achievable!
My stress level fell so much in those few months while I grew Kimberly in my belly and started a new “temp” job. I may have looked busier, but I felt so liberated!
Even though what followed (from 5-weeks after Kimberly’s birth) was what I honestly believe was the most grueling, difficult 18 months of Louis & my married life, I was able to find a well of thankfulness to pull from when I felt so far down. Without my new understanding of submitting totally to God’s plan, I would have probably allowed the horrid miscarriage to drag me into the jaws of depression. I realized even as I cried in the stupid bulk-grocery-store bathroom, by myself, hundreds of miles from home, while I “passed” the fragments of what was once a life I felt and loved, that God had even this time in His hands. He knew all the whys and I wasn’t to understand them; just to trust Him.
So, fast forward almost 12 years and here I am lying with this little miracle kicking up a nice sensitive bruise under my right side. Life in its cycle, totally unexpected, another prime example of God’s timing and perfect wisdom (Click here for that crazy amazing story!). I’m rubbing on my belly because it makes the Baby move around and react to my touch – and I LOVE that. I’m playing with this little one before he/she is born!
God has done so much, so many unexpected things that have lifted us up despite the weird, harsh, and unexpected challenges this past year. God has taught me to savor all life – all stages and parts, from babies and pregnancy to friendships and siblings. Take time for and savor everything. There are miracles everywhere. Yes, I’m okay if this is my last pregnancy and birth. I’d long ago given all control to God. I mean, if I trust Him with something so awesome as my salvation and eternal life, how can I not trust His wisdom in family size?
Louis and I operate a small business that pretty much shrunk from seventeen co-workers to one in the span of four months starting about two years ago.
Since just before then (I’m an analyst, I did see that we would shrink due to changing marketplace), I’ve been applying for various jobs all over in any industry I have experience for or my degree fits with. I’ve been turning in applications for almost two and a half years. Nothing. That’s rather tough for my ego, but hey, I had a three-inch binder with book and article rejection letters that kept coming for fourteen years before my first book was traditionally published. So I can say I’m used to rejection! (Honestly, when it came every other job I walked into the business and three of the four was hired on the spot, the fourth I was called back that week – so it was a bit frustrating being well-qualified but not getting any offers.)
I answered an ad that I almost didn’t. I knew the lady who owned the business, so I knew I would like working for her. Although the ad was for a gymnastics school, it did say “no gym experience,” and when I arrived, I was asked if I liked working with children. I LOVE teaching and working with children; I’ve taught and worked with children all my life – literally oldest sibling of 7, volunteered at schools, churches, and groups since they would let me (10), student taught, tutored, and I have 6 children.
The idea of teaching children a sport and getting paid for it is totally amazing! I consider myself active, so a job where I’m working out a bit while teaching is perfect.
It’s really cool when God’s timing ends you at a place you know you’ll love being, a boss you know you’ll enjoy working for, and the schedule you’ll have really doesn’t mess with anything you already do! (The girls’ college classes are during morning or early afternoon, we can still pick up Anastasia, it doesn’t change my ability to work early AM shuttle rides, it doesn’t interfere with the farm or schooling, and we can still do weekend craft sale events and church!)
Bonus was that I didn’t have any workout pants, but the weekend before I started training, my brother and sister brought us bags of clothing and in them were three workout pants and socks! So I didn’t need to spend money to start!
God’s timing is always perfect and sometimes what plops on your radar isn’t what you thought you would get, but it’s just perfect for you! This job is almost too good to be true for me. I’m going to get paid to teach children a fun sport on a schedule that works with my family’s lifestory… Amazing!
I’m feeling so blessed and a bit awestruck. Thank you, Jesus!
