Have you ever wanted to start writing and looked at a blank paper or computer screen and thought, “okay, how do I start?”
*Raises hand and waves it frantically*
Honestly, I just go for it.
Maybe I’ll edit and cut or rewrite the start later. Sometimes what is the start turns into a midsection, gets edited out, becomes a draft outline, or even moved to a later story! In “The Symbol of El Adame” (book in the works!!), the first piece I wrote is buried in the fifth or sixth chapter. In “Web of Deception: Child of Miny’lyra” I wrote over 120 pages of copy that was deleted or squeezed in somewhere as back story. The original start was during an advancement in Ja’hline that doesn’t exist anymore except as a memory in Jordan’s mind (and mine). The first line I wrote for the “Adventures of Long Tail” books became a draft outline that never made it to a book! The first written paragraph for the “Brantley Station Saga” became the beginning of book three (Becky’s begging for the “Pirate Baby Story” changed that).
I will say that every first line of “Five Alive: Stories of the Funny Sisters” books and “The Devonians” books stay the start. I wrote all of the Five Alive stories on the fly remembering a specific event and knew how I wanted it to start. All of the Devonians stories follow a huge overlay outline that plots the start and end dates of each book and the timelines within each for the specific book and the overall story. (Yes, I’m really nerdy about continuity – so much so that I’ve paused this series indefinitely as I lost my “Devonians” folder with all my Devonian maps and building plans when we moved last. When I find it or redo the entire structure of the Devonian world, I will restart on my favorite children’s book series.)
When you can’t think of something to start with, just put your thoughts on the paper.
Don’t stress. You can always change it later. That’s the cool thing about modern technology or writing with a pencil and paper (and eraser). You can just clear it and rewrite, rephrase, or start all over. The control key + backspace is your best friend when drafting emails and texts.
Remember that in today’s world, once you’ve posted a blog or status or tweet, it can’t be undone. There is no “Ctrl-Z” in real life. There is no real deleting of posts, texts, or emails once they’ve been sent.
Still facing that blank screen or paper?
WRITE! Just start. Rewriting is 75% of the writing process. Maybe more. Write. Proof, edit, rewrite, proof again, edit again, rewrite again (repeat until satisfied). In my case it’s “repeat until you run out of time” because I never think my work is good enough. Ever. It can be just this blog post, a children’s book, or a novel. I never am truly satisfied with anything I write.
Hope this blog encourages you to write! Let your story out (or write you school essay)!
Part 1 of Dating Decisions – dissecting real life and true love
September 16, 2020
Dating Decisions (Part 1)
WHOA! What is meant by this title?
Nothing. It’s a history story. Ancient history if you ask my children. I am a writer of stories; why would it surprise you that I would pull stories from my teenage decisions? No crazy thoughts. Take a deep breath, empty your presuppositions, and read: you may learn a little about the psychology behind decision making.
Once upon a time, (No, this is not a fairy tale… it is my truth tale.), I was just understanding love. Real love. I was curious about my parents and other couples around me and in my church. My mom and dad had at this point been married for 13 years. I was 11. I considered them ancient. Now I am older than my mother then and close to my dad’s age at the time – wow, I’ve reached the 11-year-old’s idea of ancient! One of my daddy’s mentors had been married to his wife for over thirty years. My daddy’s parents had been married for over 40 years when my grandmother died and granddaddy didn’t remarry. My mother’s parents had been divorced before my mom met my daddy and two of her siblings had been married and divorced. I had been sitting at a concert at a church with mostly teenagers where the girl asked, “raise your hand if your parents have been divorced.” Everyone in my row raised their hands. Most of the auditorium raised their hands. I had watched “The Parent Trap” from the sixties, but in that movie the parents got back together and all was well. I started to understand that divorce was the norm for most of the children I met. My family, with their short 13 years together, was already 7 years beyond the “normal” for divorce; according to research in the “Focus on the Family” newsletter my daddy received. I began to understand that most of the problems facing my peers were related to their broken families. I realized that my mother broke the chain and her baby sister was breaking the chain. I wanted to be like the couple in one of my churches who stood up on the day they honored families and claimed 73 years of marriage.
Research started.
I read marriage and family books (my daddy had two bookshelves full of them in his office to start my journey). I analyzed relationships in movies, in books, and in history and began to learn how to predict problems based on family stability. Stories of great hardships with intact, supportive families morphed into strong, successful, loving children. What was the binding tie?
In every personal interview I did over the next six years (and beyond, but I’m telling the story of teenage me) the common thread for successful marriage was that both loved Jesus, both were willing to love the other without expecting anything in return, and both went into their relationship committed to making it last. Repair it rather than throw it away. I already had a waste-not-want-not mentality. This matched.
Along came 12. The first boy asked me out. I thought he was sweet. He liked to carry my books from Sunday School for me. He was nice to his baby sister. I found myself already studying potential mates. I was scared of that. I told him I couldn’t date until I was 16. That became my pre-programmed response to all of the offers in the next 4 years.
I was already journaling. I told God I was going to be 18 before I dated. I told Him I wanted Him to be in control. I told Him I wanted to focus on being the best big sister and daughter I could. So began my journey of discovering and morphing myself into what I thought God wanted.
At 16, my Daddy started getting worried. My 14-year-old sister was already dating and my 12-year-old brother liked to whistle at girls. I was deep into studying. I took time to develop relationships with all of my siblings as they allowed. It wasn’t that I wasn’t “interested” in boys. I plain and simple told my daddy once, “I’m not old enough to do anything about it, so why would I play with someone’s heart?” (As a teen, I thought he was shocked with my logic, but now as an adult I wonder if he was also scared of what I meant by that.)
And that was the first dating decision I realized I had made.
One of the things I like best in the whole world is to read books. Aloud. To children.
Don’t get me wrong, I love reading personally too, but there is just something so amazing about getting to play all characters in a book for wide-eyed child audiences. My first audiences were my younger siblings – actually, most of them were just trapped. It’s like “not again!” but one or two would be like “yes! read this one!”
One of my biggest encouragers in my writing was my youngest brother. His favorite read-aloud story is actually completed (a trilogy, actually) but because of my perfectionist nature, needs tons of work before I would publish them. So Olivia and Alex will be left right there in our imaginations for now… The next one he wanted me to read was “Web of Deception” in which I created a character to “be him.”
And Becky begging for more “Pirate Baby Story” – I wanted to see the sparks of interest in reading. Reading is the open door to so much knowledge.
Now I’m sitting on my comfy bed with Lucas and Thea, starting “Fibbing Fisherman” (Lucas calls it “the fish boy that Becky draws” because Becky illustrated the cover). Jillian hears and lumbers in from her spot on the couch (did I really just draw her away from a movie). Kimberly hops in, “are you reading?”
The last big one was Voyage of the Dawn Treader. (I love the Narnia books!) I’m always reading something – in progress on a big one and reading through little ones at least one in a sitting. They fall asleep around me – the big kids hadn’t even shown up at the fishing spot yet – as I read and pretend I’m each different character. We discuss each decision as the characters make them because most of the time book readings are interrupted by “why’d he do that?” or “what was she thinking?” questions. (YIPPEE! time for socratic questions to answer these and get their own mental gears turning!)
I hope I’ll always be reading so someone. I don’t really read to Christina anymore. Sometimes Becky will wander in when it’s a book she likes or when she wants to read (she is a great oral expressionist – I expect she could be a great speaker or do drama or some such). Right now, I’m happy to be in the stage I’m at where there are still some younglings begging, “Read me a Story, please?”
Treasure each moment, it turns into a memory as soon as it passes.
Once there was a little girl who
loved dogs and prayed for a little black dog.
Her mom had already agreed to take the least wanted puppy from a litter
about to happen. Her mom prayed the
puppy was black.
A few weeks later, Mom got a call – the mommy dog had shoved one baby puppy away and it needed special care. Mom said, “we’ll take it” and the tiny “runt of the litter” fluffy puppy came to her furever home. That was February 25, 2008, almost 12 years ago. And yes, other than a white spot on her tummy that grew to cover her belly and some brownish tan on her paws, the puppy was black!
Sheba with (L-to-R) Kimberly (Sheba loved snuggling on the couch), Jaquline (Sheba would sleep on the walker to keep Kimberly and Becky from “racing” the baby around!), and Thea.
Sheba became the Tart family’s
perfect dog. She loved the three little
humans who grew up with her. Kimberly
was only five months older than Sheba!
Sheba ran around, grew up, played, made doggie friends, herded chickens,
mothered lost dogs who wandered in, loved on chickens when the Tarts lived on
their farm, snuggled with baby chicks, guinea pigs, the two rabbits, and Christina’s
baby puppy, Prim.
Sheba had a wonderful doggie
life.
L-to-R: Sheba with Jaquline (Jaquline insisted Sheba loved “Snow Dogs”), Kimberly had “dressed” Sheba in a beaded necklace she made, Sheba’s favorite sleeping position on any couch.
L-to-R: Sheba in the playroom, Sheba loved the tile floor in that house!, Mom said “no more movies” and the girls couldn’t find the remote… (Sheba had it!) Sheba loved to sleep on that table for some odd reason.
(top) Sheba with puppy Primrose, (bottom)Sheba with Lady (one of our doggie friends), (right) Thea climbed up on the couch to snuggle Sheba, who was sleeping in her new, weird, favorite position.
L-to-R: Baby Lucas, Jillian, and Sheba at the end of the bed (right next to the crib), Sheba’s favorite spot in that garage (next to the food bag!), Thea rubbing Sheba (she loved her soft fur and had just learned “dog!”)
Last year she started to slow down a
bit. In December of this year, she
started feeling sick some days. The vet
said her stomach was failing. Vitamins and special food helped a little. She wasn’t able to digest all her food and
she would get skinny and we had decided once she was in pain, we would put her to
sleep. None of us wanted to lose our
Sheba. She loved being outside when it
was cool because she was bushy furry (we
teased she was an a/c dog because she slept on one of the air conditioning vents
in summer and almost refused to go outside in summer daylight!). On cooler days, she would play on our run
while we were outside. Christmas Day it
was gorgeous. Sheba said hi to both
Grandmas when they visited and ran outside almost the whole day in gentle cool
breezes. We were petting and snuggling
with her by turns. She sleeps a lot since
she’s been over 10 so when she curls down to sleep we usually let her rest. We were enjoying a Christmas campfire and
telling stories. Louis went inside to
get some water. I knew Sheba was fully
asleep when Louis stopped by her longer than just to stroke her and turned his
flashlight on. I handed Thea to Mom and
we verified that she was fully gone. I stroked her soft, fluffy coat one last
time before I wrapped her in her blanket.
The older girls came out to
help. We buried her and said goodbye to
our best furry friend. Sheba had spent
more time with me than any other dog.
She was our first family dog. My mom said, “Sheba probably found Boompa
and Aunt Mary in heaven.” Christina laughed, “oh, yes, she instantly found Aunt
Mary!” Because every time Mary would stay with us, Sheba would seek her bed out
and snuggle with her – I’d be like, “no dogs in the bed, Mary,” and she’d
giggle, wrap Sheba in a bear hug and say, “but she’s a big, fluffy stuffed
animal!” and Sheba would give us the sweet sad eyes so she’d get to sleep with
Mary. Sheba always snuggled up with
anyone who wasn’t feeling well – she always seemed to know before we did.
Kimberly said she had prayed that
Sheba would get to run loose outside, thinking of us having a fenced yard at our
new house, but Sheba had been running loose anytime she was outside lately and stayed
near the house because she didn’t feel good.
Louis set candles out on her grave
for the night. We’ve planted flowers
now. Each pet we’ve lost, we’ve buried
and planted a tree over it as a reminder. Louis called Sheba our perfect dog. That she was.
The Garden Bed we planted for Sheba
Thea’s first Christmas was Sheba’s
last. Our furry family treasure went to
heaven, “raced over the rainbow bridge” as Jillian said, after spending a full
Christmas Day with her family and “Grandmas.” It had been Sheba’s favorite
outside day, gentle cool breezes with a mild, wintery temperature where she’d
stand, face in the wind and wag that super fluffy “duster” tail. I’m going to
miss my Sheba. Two months shy of 12 full
years from her February 25th birthday – rather long for a dog. Goodbye, my sweet, lovable, playful furry
baby; I love you Sheba, run free and fast with no leash and no borders! Your
human family will miss you!
We have enough of a spot to set up our archery target (big fat canvas block thing) and our bb gun target (the windfresh bucket with three aluminum cans) and safely target shoot at those.
On perfect days when Mom and Dad are out, the question always comes, “may we set up the targets and shoot?”
Anastasia rode Lucas’ bike between turns!
Christina prefers the bow and arrow – her “weapon from a more civilized age” as she mimics Obi-wan and Kimberly laughs. Lucas is just learning to shoot with those. We have a 10 pound bow and he can finally pull that one back.
Jaquline and Jillian prefer using the bb rifle since our little Daisy is easier to load than the bows. (and they are in front of the metal beam! no ricochets here!)
Kimberly likes both. She’s a lot like me. My favorite gift ever was my crossbow (which no, we can’t shoot here, but when we got it, I had space enough to use it).
Today, we’d backed the cars off of the carport and set up the targets. Archery on the left and airgun on the right. I was overseeing (and assisting with loading) the airgun shooters. I’m not paranoid, but probably repeated “never point a gun at a person,” and “don’t load if someone is in your range of vision” a hundred times. I like them to know how to shoot, but I want them to treat every weapon with respect. Ocean, vehicle, weapon, hot stoves – anything with the possibility of causing injury – safety is the first priority. Always err on the side of safety and you will eliminate possible accidents.
So for about an hour, I loaded the little Daisy and Jaquline, Jillian, Anastasia, Lucas, and Kimberly took turns taking three shots each at the three target cans. A few “wow, you got all three!” and a few “oops, try again,” shouts. They encouraged each other.
Sometimes you feel like you were aiming at something and the site is off. You can’t hit it at all. Sometimes everything falls down perfectly. Life is unpredictable. Sometimes your perception is off. Sometimes something that looks perfect is lying.
Strange thoughts I have while the children are shooting? I couldn’t get out of my mind how thoroughly I’d believed in the good while the truth was right online for me to see if I’d just searched the county records. (I had to update my story) I heard “Black Eyes Blue Tears” and cried. I cried as the kids danced to “Fireflies” just a bit ago. I pray for her ex-husband. I pray that her babies remember her.
Briefly, thoughts like that interrupt my life now. I am there, helping to load the bbs and saying, “yea! You got them!” but I’m also crying inside because I was supposed to be there to protect her. I watch Christina patiently help Lucas aim his bow. I see her mouth move and I know she’s saying, “breathe out, release the string,” just like I did to her. I teach them safety. I teach them truth. I teach them about life. But I can’t protect everyone. That reality hurts.
I pray daily for my children, nieces, nephews, the boys and girls in my gym classes, those I influence. I pray they will find the true Protector in Jesus and follow His direction so their life will be anchored in love, truth, and joy.
I help Anastasia aim the rifle and she giggles when the bb hits the target box. (The targets are supposed to be the cans, but the box counts too.) I pray that God puts a hedge of protection around all of His precious children and keeps them safe from deceit.
Jillian and Anastasia are giggling while Jaquline grunts trying to pump the rifle because she’s too big for help. It doesn’t seem that long ago that I was helping my baby sisters aim our old “red ryder” bb rifle down at the pond, popping off pinecone targets. I can’t change the past. I can help mold the future.
Hope. Hope is what helps me through each day.
The girls are giggling again because Louis is pretending to close his eyes and act like he’s asleep. It is easy to choose joy with these angels around.
Joy. Yes, joy is my strength. Thank you, Jesus, for giving me the strength to choose your joy!
I’ve been working on two projects for each of my children. One was a crocheted blanket for each – king size, crafted from their favorites in a pattern they chose. I’ve only completed one. The second is about 15 rows from completion, but I haven’t worked on it since Thea was born. It took me 17 months for the first half of Christina’s, but during one superbowl at Louis’ dad’s house, I completed the other half! So I’m fast, but it will likely be the next week I have off – and then I’ll start on the third of seven.
The second was started in December 2016. It looks like a simple book, right?
Actually, I started a journal for Christina.
It tells family stories, I write my Bible study notes, discuss issues, and write my prayers. I tell “her story” from my perspective starting from the last page moving forward. I saved the fourteen pages in between this story and my “journal” for family. I am going to ask women in our family to write encouragement and blessing to her in their own hand in the journal before I pass it on to her.
I’ve got a central core of stories I will have in each journal – all will be slightly different because I never write the same exact words each time.
I want to write all the wisdom I’ve heard in stories from my grandmothers, mothers, fathers, and mentors in a way my children can read them when they choose. Maybe they will be encouraged, challenged, or just smile realizing that they are not alone in a struggle they feel slightly too proud or too embarrassed to ask for help about. I try to relay life and our journey in these bits. I manage to write at least once a week and direct most of my writing as if I’m talking to her. This also helps me to process my thoughts. I also have a required study day if I forget. (Which, yes, sometimes I read without studying, but at least once a week I remember to write my study!)
Such a simple little book. It holds our family memories, stories, and encouragement for a young woman. (I need to get busy on Becky’s as they are growing up too quickly for me!)
Not only did our little Thea officially turn two months old on Easter, but neither Louis nor I was working, neither of us was tired, and we had the whole weekend to ourselves!
Baby Thea dressed up (minus her cute socks and shoes) in her Easter dress from Aunt Becca & sister-cousin Anastasia!
Louis and the girls dyed eggs – our brown and pink eggs made some unique color experiments and tasty “angel eggs.” (Grandma Joanne started that; she redeemed the deviled eggs so they are “angel eggs” now.)
Louis was waking me up almost every night in the week before Easter as he excitedly told me about the newest item he got for the girls’ baskets – crazy plastic grass, cool candy, a bag of change for the plastic eggs and such.
We love family time! On Easter, we got up early, went to church, and talked all about the first Easter Sunday and Jaquline decided we had to watch a Jesus story movie – “The Greatest Story Ever Told” is the go-to for us. About lunchtime, we snacked on angel eggs and fruit while Louis crafted an amazing ham – this would be early dinner.
And… Egg hunt. The girls learned that Spring Egg Hunts were a result of people letting their hens and ducks out to range in the spring grass and then having to find their eggs for food – young children were tasked for this job and finding the eggs meant the end of winter harshness and the beginning of spring’s bounty.
But for us, Easter Egg Hunt means “see who can hide it best” (for the hiders, adults and teens) and “see who can find the hardest eggs” (for the younger ones). Kimberly decided she is still a youngling for Easter and joined the hunt as a hunter!
Becky took some pictures.
Christina’s hardest eggs were teal, Becky’s were green, and I hid the hard-boiled ones. Mine I wanted found quickly, so most were just rolled in the patches of clover so their stickers showed.
Down to four remaining eggs… One Teal, one Green, and two Boiled! Mom ended up winning with the “hardest” egg being inches from the walkway in plain sight!
Becky made up some adorable pictures with the baskets. Check this link to see her Guinea Pigs in the Easter Basket pictures!
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
Why does she cry? Even she doesn’t know, but the right song or movie certainly can start it.
February 6, 2019
Songs and Movies…
It has almost been two months since my Daddy passed.
I can’t find it to cry, normally. If I think about crying, I remember how happy he is in heaven. Then crying feels selfish – because I know he was in pain every day here.
But sometimes, I can’t explain it. And it’s always a song or a movie. And even that doesn’t always make sense.
I was coming home from work one early afternoon and on comes “Small Town Southern Man.” No, that wasn’t my Daddy, but the core of the song “…He bowed his head to Jesus… always loved one woman, was proud of what he had… he said his greatest contribution was the ones he left behind…” Yes, that was my Daddy.
I was bawling when the next one happened to be “Love Without End, Amen” – which yes, didn’t need any alteration and went all the way to heaven. I’m glad my car has cruise control and I’ve been driving 207 for over 20 years.
A song. A movie. (okay, this one was crazy) Never saw it with my Daddy, but he had given it to us. Annapolis. A story of a determined young person getting to his goal – my Daddy liked stories with real character. At the end of the film, Louis comments, “I know why your Dad liked that one.” And that was it. Not that anyone else saw, but I ended up tearing up over the simple thought that I can’t ever discuss this film with Daddy. It had so many side stories and threads woven this way and that – prime film material for our long-drawn-out discussions.
Whenever something makes me want to cry, I remember the silliest of song lyrics/movie lines and it’s really odd that those four lines remind me of Daddy because he didn’t like that movie. (I’m not a fan or having that one on continual repeat, either.) “He lives in you.” And, yes, my mind sings it.
I’m thankful for memories. I’m thankful for times when I hear my Daddy in my siblings and children – just things he often said or quirky humorous lines. I almost cried when I first saw my little brother in his new glasses with the hat and stubbly beard – because if the beard were a bit longer, that is how I remember my Daddy (from when I was a toddler) and my little brother is a spitting image (face) of my Daddy.
I feel sad that Daddy won’t see Teddy or Thea (our Baby, named after his/her great-grandfather Pearson) but I know I’ll keep “Living the Legacy” (another song… yes) and just like the girls don’t “remember” their Great-Grandmother Jeanette yet they know her love and life through us, my children will know their Grandfather Pearson’s legacy because it’s in us – and my extension, also in them.
When you’ve worked almost two years to get a harvest and a deep freeze threatens; you save the navel oranges! Jaquline’s Birthday Story
January 4, 2019
The Coldest Day
This is story of the coldest day for us in winter 2009-2010:
It was the second winter in the farm house. We loved that house because there were twelve citrus trees, a huge ancient fig tree, an Asian pear tree, tons of mulberry, pecan, and oak trees, an old neglected trio of muscadine grape vines on the arbor, and blackberry vines in thickets around the perimeter fence.
We had worked feeding and tending each of the trees for almost two years. Most had given us hearty thanks in the form of yummy, sweet fruit. Well, the pecans actually were eaten by the over abundant squirrel population and one of the orange trees was sour so when we wanted lemonade we actually just popped off six of those giant sour oranges and made orangeade instead. It was light yellow in color and except for a slight orange flavor; the girls thought it was lemonade!
There were two tangerines, one pink grapefruit, three yellow grapefruit, one tangelo, two small orange, one lime, and one sour orange tree that had given us fruit after the first winter. Since it had been a mild winter with no deep freezes, the fruit was sweet and had set on the trees over spring as we harvested it in perfectly manageable sets.
Only the navel orange hadn’t yielded fruit. Until this year. It was so loaded we had to support the weaker limbs with stilts despite heavy pruning during the summer! We were so excited because we’d been told it was the sweetest fruit but almost never had a crop. It looked like we had accomplished our goal!
But this winter had only just started.
We’d already had almost a week of mild freezes – just enough for frost, but not enough to freeze the fruit. Grandma Jeanette had called them “sugar freezes.” Now I knew that was because citrus fruit needs five to seven days of light freezes to sweeten. However, the one deep freeze could destroy the whole crop as it would freeze the fruit through the skins and rot them. We had watered down each tree carefully just before sunrise after each of the light freezes, but the forecast said tomorrow, January 7, 2010, we would wake to temperatures below 28 degrees. In our little area, we sunk two to four degrees below what the news said every time.
This would be a fruit-killing deep freeze.
And of all our citrus, the navel orange had the thinnest skin so would be the most affected.
I determined we would harvest all that fruit today.
We didn’t do school lessons, but immediately after milking the cow and feeding the chickens, we tugged the blue fruit bucket (a giant plastic washtub that held about 12 bushels) over to the tree and started picking. I sent Christina and Rebeccah into the tree. At 6 and 4 they were already experts at climbing through citrus trees avoiding the horridly sharp thorns. They scrambled up and out to get the highest fruit. We worked on for hours, singing and laughing. And my belly contracted. I was 41 weeks pregnant.
After her work was over, Grandma Joanne showed up. Seems there’s this old wives tale that if you reach up a lot while you’re pregnant, your baby will be all wrapped up in their cord. (Maybe so, as 2-year-old Kimberly, who was racing around tossing fruit her sisters plopped on the ground into the bucket, had been born with her cord around her neck. I hung clothes out on a line her whole pregnancy.) I told her I wasn’t wasting this fruit. I offered her a bag. She didn’t think that was funny. We were almost done. We were on our third bucket and there were only a few scattered edge pickings left. Rebeccah had decided they were unreachable. That was why I was on the ladder to get them. Christina was busy, putting the last bucket’s goodies into some of the fruit boxes in the garage.
Using the ladder and 4-prong rake (the girls call it the hand-tiller or the fruit-grabber depending on which use we were employing), we managed to get all of the succulent fruit off of that beautiful tree.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. For the first time I watched all three “Lord of the Rings” extended editions back to back in the bed as I tried to sleep. Baby was coming.
Early morning on the coldest day of our winter of 2009-2010, Jaquline Ellouise Tart was born.
Jaquline and Grandma Joanne – Jaquline is less than an hour old.
Christina and Louis made us sweet, fresh orange juice for celebration drinks! (And yes, Jaquline was born with a cord so long the midwife and her assistant measured it to confirm it was the longest they’d ever seen – and it was wrapped around her neck “like a winter scarf,” according to our midwife but was too long to pose a risk.)
Jaquline and Lucas with leaves!
Jaquline with Daddy at a football game!
Jaquline will be nine in a few days… and the story of the navel oranges picked the day before her birth is one of her favorites! She also loves the part about how she chose to be born on the coldest day that hit our house that winter.
