Focus on What is Important

What is most important in your life?
What came to your mind? Your career? Your family? World peace? Your children? Leaving your positive mark on society? Your business?

Focus on What is Important

September 10, 2023

What is most important in your life?

What came to your mind?  Your career?  Your family?  World peace?  Your children?  Leaving your positive mark on society?  Your business?

How about Jesus?  For me, when I heard those words this morning (sitting in the Good News Church first service), my mind created a list like words from Jillian’s history and science lesson she has to look up:

Jesus

Family

Showing Jesus to others.

Whatever is the most important in your life directs everything else in your life. 

Don’t believe that?  Seriously.  Consider it objectively.  Whatever you consider most important shapes and directs your life to achieve each step in your life to honor that important thing. 

My mind reflected back to decisions I made as a young person: a lot of decisions as even a preteen are life-shaping. 

I chose to keep myself pure for my future husband. 

I chose to honor my parents and respect them even if I disagreed.

I chose to better myself so I could love my brothers and sisters better. 

Each of these I decided to do because I loved Jesus.  I saw it as my honor to be able to shine Jesus’ light reflected through my life.  I wanted my life to be lived in worship to Jesus.  I wanted people to see that I was different and ask why.  The “preteen/teen” choice that led to me having the most conversations with other teenagers was my choice to love Jesus by honoring His desire for my sexuality.  It was counter-popular-culture to stay sexually pure (yes, as my kids can’t understand, I am young enough that I was laughed at for being a virgin after 18).  I wore a birthstone ring my Daddy gave me on my ring finger and told others it was to remind me that I belonged to Jesus first; He wanted me to stay pure for my future husband.  So many people laughed.  A few asked deeper questions and I would get to share about Jesus and how He loved me first and my joy was to honor Him with all of my life. 

Later, in the business world, I was faced with repeated pressure to falsify information on forms to cut financial corners.  I held my ground and honored God.  When I was told I could choose to either “serve the company” or there wouldn’t be any more hours for me.  I actually told my boss that because I loved Jesus, I couldn’t lie.  The hours available to me dropped to where I would spend more time driving to the office than working; that would have made it a financial burden to work rather than an income.  I was unable to stay.  I often wonder if that choice did any forever good (did my decision or words help anyone see Jesus?); but would I change my decision?  No.  I choose to honor Jesus’ commandments because I love Him.  I get to honor Jesus because He first loved me. 

I pray my children discover that it is an honor and privilege to love Jesus.  We are loved by Him from the foundations of the world.  Even while we were yet sinners, He loved each of us so much that He died for our sins and rose to conquer sin and death!  Because of that, we have the honor of choosing to love Jesus and serve Him with our obedience. 

I looked at little Laud sleeping in my lap and smiled.  I choose to look at every part of loving my babies as a privilege and honor!  I wonder at how blessed I am that God would allow me to raise one of His children!  (Okay, 8 of His children so far) Still, each one is specially loved and was created piece by carefully knit piece by God as they were formed inside me.  God has gifted me the honor of being their mother; one at a time and altogether.  I am humbled, awed, and enthralled by the enormous blessing each child is.  I thank God for them when I think of them. 

Thank you, Jesus, for loving me!  Thank you, Jesus, that I get to love You!  Thank you that I get to love my children!  Keep reminding me of how I should always choose to love You first.

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

Science Add-Ons To Curriculum

Science Add-Ons To Curriculum

October 22, 2022

One of the advantages to homeschooling is being able to pick curricula.  Most of us would agree that our children can recite movie lines – sometimes even if they’ve just seen the movie twice. 

We used BBC Nature with David Attenborough for science for as long as we had access to it.  It showed nature in its entire splendor.  Of course, as with Carl Sagan’s Cosmos Series, we had to reflect on their errors in timeline and regarding the theory of macro-evolution.  We would say things like, “look at how amazing God’s creation is!” and as they got older, invite them to ask and investigate the question, “why do these scientists believe in millions of years instead of thousands?”   

In depth studies of animal adaptations and human interference in our food (animal and plant husbandry) have led to the understanding that “kinds” of animals adapt by losing a recessive trait rather than by adding a completely new trait.  This led to my kids saying “oh yes, I believe evolution happens, do you understand the true meaning of the word evolution?” (Spoiler: it simply means change) But have you ever been able to add anything to a creature or plant?  We have bred plants, raised animals (Becky bred chickens to get specific traits or colors), watched and observed the genetic traits pass in Guinea Pigs, chickens, and parakeets.  

Imagine their surprise and excitement when we discovered a video series that discussed the same adaptation and genetic issues they had seen in life!

We discovered The Ark Encounter website along with Creation Museum and their affiliated YouTube channel called “Answers In Genesis!”  Wow!  They are not afraid to take on difficult subjects and ask and investigate so many fascinating things about our biology, animal adaptation, DNA structures, explanations of the how and why behind so many scientific theories.  It is a wealth of information. 

The first single episode we watched (it was almost an hour long) on dinosaurs in the Bible had my youngest five captivated the entire time.  Even Theadora, who interprets every video in terms of “Paw Patrol” at the moment, sat on the couch with her snuggly blanket the entire rainy Sunday afternoon as we watched the long dinosaur episode and three others!  The podcast episodes are more for those with longer attention spans.  The lectures and Ark Encounter and Ark Exploration videos are fascinating. 

Well-done science videos help my younglings to remember the subject matter better than simply reading it in a textbook.  Apologia science (our core science) textbooks are amazing because they are bright and have experiments that bring the science to life for the students.  Adding videos as supplements to our coursework aids in bringing the words off the page and into “real life;” we are a visual people.  We like to touch, taste, see, and feel the world around us.  If you can’t physically see the Grand Canyon with your own eyes, it certainly helps to be able to watch a video showing it.  The tools available to my children far exceed those I had access to 35 years ago.  I still default on books, but I am totally willing to include new tools to help them answer tough questions in any subject. 

Check out the Ark Encounter website or look up “Answers in Genesis” on YouTube.  You will be amazed at the wealth of scholastic information in their videos.  Second best to sitting in the actual lecture hall (actually, Louis thinks it’s better because we can pause it, pull out books, and do our own discussion and additional research as they talk). 

I’ll type later about our super history supplements (also free from YouTube!) we’ve discovered.

Thank you for reading and I hope this helps you explore some cool new teaching tools!

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

Armor of God

WOW! Just wow, personal study and crazy writer’s brain thoughts on a recent Sunday School lesson!

Armor of God

August 31, 2022 (Timewarp from August 8, 2022)

At Sunday School yesterday, the study was on the Armor of God (Ephesians 6, if you want to check it out).  When I was ten (approximate age of my class), I loved studying different cultures, their people, ways of life, weapons, costumes, you name it.  This armor of God passage clicked for me because I had just been reading of how the armor of the Etruscans, Greeks, Romans, Babylonians, and Egyptians had invaded or defended and defeated greater numbers due to their armor – either a superior weapon, superior body armor, superior tools (like chariots), superior tactics (like phalanx). 

It was pretty easy to get the first part; our enemies aren’t other people walking around even though we’re tricked into thinking so and shove all our energy into being mad instead of focusing on the real enemy.  It was the rest about all the cool armor that glowed to life with my recent understanding:

With all your armor on, you will stand strong; only with your armor (through Jesus), will you stand. 

(The Bible repeats this for emphasis!)  Super neat!  Only with this armor (all of it requires Jesus, like He’s the master Creator who designed all this stuff in the first place, you know!) can you stand tall in victory!

Having your loins girt about with truth…

(My thoughts, again) Having is one of those multi-tense verbs in Greek, meaning have, having, and has had, aka always having or continually having.  Girt = girded, or strapped around.  In the body armor symbolism, being “girt about” or “girded” was having a belt/sash/rope tied tightly around your clothing to keep it in place and as a holder for weapons.  Most sheathes were looped or tied onto the belt.  The truth is the Word of God.  (My ten-year-old brain already got this from Sleeping Beauty as the Sword of Truth is the Word of God – the voice of Light with the power to defeat darkness.)

(Still my thoughts) This translates to: continually having the Word of God in your mind.

…and having the breastplate of righteousness…

(My Thoughts) Same sentence, so this is still in the cool multi-tense of Greek.  A breastplate was a thick piece of padded armor covering the front and back – most types connected at the top of the shoulders, and covered both the front and back, sometimes the front was more heavily padded.  The strongest of these deflected arrows!  All of them lessened the impact of bodily attacks.  The purpose is to protect vital organs, like the heart, lungs, stomach, etc. 

…and your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace…

(My thoughts again – remember, same sentence, same tense) Wow!  The preparation of the gospel of peace is like when John the Baptist is preparing the way for Jesus!  It is the telling of everyone without regard to our own life and safety!  It is the understanding that the eternal is the most real and that this life is temporal; a vapor, the Bible says!  “Shod” is an old word that means “covering the feet.”  Our most common use today is when we say a horse is “shod” – his feet are protected!  My feet are being protected so I can share the gospel to prepare others to come to love Jesus as I do!

…above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith you shall be able to quench the fiery darts of the wicked.

(thoughts…) Oh my!  This one!  Just wow!  First off: this is “above all” so primary!  Our defense is primary (of course, so we can continue to be effective, a wounded soldier isn’t effective).  Then: fiery darts can be translated to arrows, flaming arrows, projectile, etc.  “Fiery darts” in the Roman era when Paul is writing were the most devastating weapons because they were usually arrows or spears with the ends coated in a pitch/tar mixture that was lit before tossing or shooting and did its job effectively by sticking into the target, spreading, and burning.  Quench means “to put out.”  Basically, this shield can smother any fiery dart and since elsewhere the Bible warns of the devil throwing “darts” at us, it means everything the devil could throw at us is extinguished!  Translated in my brain I saw the shield of virtue (yes, I’m reverting to my ten-year-old brain again) that the evil dragon breathes fire on and not even the heat burns his hand!

…and take the helmet of salvation…

(again) Helmets were to protect the head and later, the neck, one of the most vulnerable points.  I think of the helmet protecting the brain; keeping fiery darts from our minds – the place most unseen attacks start for me.  Salvation is the only way.  Jesus is our salvation so He is the only way.  Putting on the helmet of salvation puts us under Jesus and therefore our mind is protected!

…and the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God.

(my crazy thoughts again!) Finally!  A weapon!  The sword of the spirit is the Word of God.  That can’t be more plainly spelled out, can it?  The only weapon we wield that can do any damage is the Word of God!  Isn’t that cool?  Jesus used scripture to combat the devil when He was being tempted in the wilderness, when the Pharisees tried to trick Him, in answering His disciples, and anytime someone questioned something He did (you know, like healing on the Sabbath).  If that sword is the one Jesus chose to use, we should follow His example!  

…praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching with all perseverance and supplication for the saints.

Challenge accepted! (My thoughts again)  Anyway, that translates to always having communication with Jesus and (prayer = talking, communicating) and asking everything (supplication = like begging or pleading) in the Spirit watching out with perseverance (perseverance = standing strong) and pleading or asking for every other brother (saints = followers of Jesus).  So I took this / take this as a challenge from Jesus – He just told us this armor was so we can stand strong!  Remember, “In this world, we will have trouble” but He has already overcome the world!  Putting on all of His armor, which is tried and true, tested already for us, will enable us to stand strong and exterminate the attacks of the enemy!

This passage study is a little glimpse into my crazy writer’s brain that connects everything from cartoons to real life to old culture study to word origin and entomology.  I use all of these things to analyze and interpret literature – including the Bible!  When someone sends us a letter, we read it in his voice, so when I read the Bible, I read it as a letter from Jesus.  The only way I know His voice is by reading and using the miracle of intelligence He gave us; I analyze and step into the time then and translate it to now.  Crazy, I know, but still super cool! 

Our weapons are a sweet total covering of armor for defense, a shield of ultimate defense (nothing gets through it!), and the best weapon ever made! 

Thank you for reading,

Type at you later!

~Nancy Tart

Hold Longer

August 17, 2021

Hold Longer

A song came on the radio today. It was the first time I heard it. Casting Crowns’ song called “Scars In Heaven” played while I was on the way to after school pickup.

The first line says “…if I had known it was the last time…”

I almost cried. I prayed, “thank you, Jesus,” because the last time I saw my Daddy on Earth I did “know.” It was a nudge, a distant feeling I almost tried to brush aside in disgust.

Of course this isn’t the last time I’ll talk with Daddy, I told myself.

But I listened to the nudge. I’m forever thankful for that nudge.

I waited until I would be almost late to pick Christina up from the library (it was going to close). I hugged him tighter than normal. I did just what the singer of the song is lamenting he didn’t do. I have always tried to listen to that tiny nudge of a voice that usually is right in the back of my head. My mind usually tries to argue with it. Like then. I tried to brush that feeling away because even though my Daddy’s health wasn’t great, I didn’t want to believe I would ever walk in and not find him sitting there, ready for long talks, vibrant discussions, and heartfelt conversations.

I heard the singer’s heart hurt as he sang of how if he’d known, he would have held on longer, hugged tighter, talked longer… But we never really know.

God tells us no man knows the hour or day of his own passing.

My father and baby sister are in heaven. My baby never met her Boompa. I didn’t really cry or grieve for them. They were both prepared for death. Both loved Jesus and are now in His presence. I can’t logically cry for them. (I’m way too logical over deep things but I find it’s the silly little stuff that makes me cry.) I wasn’t ready for either of them to go. Just like we are often not ready to die, we are also never ready for a loved one to die.

My Daddy gave me a special gift long ago… He had grown up without his mother (she died when he was 12) and when we were living in Sylvania and had a friend with cancer, he once said, “enjoy every day, you never know when Erica will go home.”

So true. I couldn’t even cry for her. She loved Jesus and let everyone know how excited she was about getting to see Him.

That life lesson has stayed with me. I never don’t say bye or I love you. I leave them with a smile. I don’t ever want someone’s last thought of me or my last thought of them to be bitter. I live as if each time I leave someone it may be the last time I see them. Not that I’m reckless or clingy, but I’m open, honest, and speak the truth about my love for them.

I never want someone to regret their last meeting with me.

I always listen to that nudge. I’m so grateful for God’s warning I got that afternoon… For the happy call from Charley in Mom’s kitchen six months later with Mom & Mary when I brought Christina to loan her some deposit money… For the happy memories of talking a bit longer, hugging a bit tighter, saying “I love you” before I left.

Always hold a bit tighter, hug a little stronger, chat a bit longer; always say “I love you.”

I hope you listen to that song. I pray you always remember to love while you have the time.

Type at you later,

~Nancy Tart

Life is Risk

May 26, 2020

Life is Risk

Life is risky. How many people get out alive? (I’ve heard that from two sources this week, and it got me thinking…)

Our goal since the beginning of time has been to build this net of safety around our family to allow our offspring to grow in relative peace – to be fruitful and multiply.  How we each define peace greatly fluctuates based on our culture, time, and prosperity.

Think through culture and time.  Isn’t relative safety for her offspring the goal of every mother who ever lived?

Imagine Eve carrying her children outside of the garden.  Even though animals were still peaceful then, there were dangers that had arisen.  I wonder if she lamented over what was lost or considered her time peaceful.

Imagine being one of Noah’s daughters in law.  You grew up in a time when every step you took was surrounded by evil and except for the tiny oasis of your husband’s family unit you felt scared to go anywhere.  You couldn’t go home.  Now you are post-flood and raising your children in a world where peace is your constant – except for the new storms.  How thankful you are to be in such peace!

Imagine you are a Jewish mother raising her children under Roman occupation.  The slightest whim of a passing legion, an unruly governor, insane emperor, or a bandit troupe can take your harsh living conditions and twist them into certain death.  How do you dare to plan for the future when you know only scattered moments of peace?  When the odds are that maybe 20% of the village’s children will live to maturity?  One in five of your children will die before adulthood – how can we in this culture fathom this?

Imagine you are an orphan whose parents both perished in a famine and you were lucky to have been taken in by another family instead of doomed to die or languish into the horrid world of child slavery.  You are second class in your home with little hope of being more than a worker paid in room and board, but at least you are not starving. You fear famine and disease, ugly monsters who still stare in the windows of your village hungrily; where can you find peace?

Think of stories. Fiction, non-fiction, legends, lore. Don’t most of these follow someone who chooses to do something risky to help others, find an answer, discover a cure, or save someone or something they love? Risk-takers. Once I read, and many times have heard quoted, “in order to live, you have to take risks.” Honestly, what activity doesn’t come with risk?

Across times, across cultures, across this world, what we in the “first world” countries of the twenty-first century know as peace is something most people who have come before us would have thought at heaven.  Consider that in most places and times in the world, the thought that you will see all of your children become adults is rare.  We are in shock at this?  There are people even today who live in cultures where lack of medicines, inadequate nutrition, and the possibility of becoming collateral damage in a conflict are normal.

A hundred years ago, the simple concept of sanitation was so unknown to the majority that we can’t understand.  People dying of fevers and botulism without medical assistance? Do we even hear of food poisoning in our comfortable first-world culture?  Rarely.  Once upon a time importing unknown food products into new markets such as potatoes into England resulted in thousands of deaths because people ate the wrong parts of the plant!  We don’t hear of that often, do we?

When we consider breathing air too risky to take a walk for exercise, I consider my life not worth living.  I want to live.  I want to take risks.  I drive in a car to get to and from work – great risk is involved in that.  I want my children to enjoy the green growing outside.  I want them to run freely, love deeply, play with neighbors, and live.  I live by the same code I always have: I trust that God will decide my time and I will live my life to show my passion through everything I do.  I will not avoid stopping to help someone with their flat tire because she isn’t wearing a mask.  I will offer help.  I will not dampen my offers of help, comfort, food, or a listening ear because of some sickness – I would still talk about Jesus if it was illegal.  Why would I not show His love?  I choose not to be fearful.  I am so blessed to live in a place where the gunshot wound that killed Lincoln could now be healed, cojoined twins sharing a brain can be safely separated, babies born at 20 weeks can be nurtured to full strength; medical miracles have come from our increased knowledge in nutrition, anatomy, biology, and sanitation… and so much more. 

I will not be afraid.  I have always washed my hands, changed clothes when coming in from work, washed and changed after visiting someone who was sick, cleaned my food, and kept my home and family clean.  I understand that we have tools to keep us healthy.  The rest is up to God.  If I am to hide from this fear, why not from the fear of every other disease that circulates?  Why not hide in my home away from items I am allergic to?  Why not hide from the fear of getting in a fatal car accident? 

I refuse to allow fear to control my life!  For you have not been given the spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. ~ 2 Timothy 1:7

I understand being cautious.  If you have a preexisting co-morbidity, you probably already keep yourself distant from possible infections that would aggravate your condition.  You do not go out in public without taking precautions.  The responsibility of your own health is on you, not everyone else around you.  No one understands your personal strengths and weaknesses better than you. You are weighing your risks.

But I am willing.  I am willing to take the risk of driving to work, the risk of walking into the farmer’s market, the risk of hugging my neighbor, the risk of helping a woman with a flat tire, the risk of adopting a new pet, the risk of living. 

This choice is one each person in each culture, stage, time, and place must make for themselves.  If you choose to live without fear, you must understand and accept the risks.  Just as you understand that a person may deny your offer of help, they may not wish to go out of their home, the may wish to keep everyone around them ten feet away.  That is each person’s choice. 

Learn. Read. Question.  We have more access to more knowledge than ever before. Research. Then make up your own mind and take the risks you are willing to take. 

Only a relative handful of people choose to research a mountain, outfit themselves, and climb to the summit; the risks are great – they could even die!  But when they reach the summit, the rush they get from their massive accomplishment usually makes them enthusiastic to begin planning a new mountain climb before they have even returned to base.

You must accept the risks of life to truly live.  I choose not to live in fear.

Thank you for Reading!

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

Questions:

September 23, 2019

Questions

I love how children ask questions.  Sometimes their questions make you go search something.  Like “what is a rainbow?” or “why are leaves green?”

Sometimes their questions mirror your own; but those you won’t speak.

You know, questions that your doubting mind asks but your thinking heart understands.

“Why are you crying?” I ask.

My little girl is riding with me to go pick up two of her big sisters, “why did Aunt Mary die?  Why is Mandy’s mom gone?  Jay is a baby; he will never remember his mom.”

Her tears fall as she speaks.  I let her finish talking.  My heart aches.  I ask those questions in my head too. 

“I miss my baby sister too.” I start, I want to connect with her heart. “Our world is broken because of sin.”  She nods, she has heard this too. 

“I know,” she is still slowly crying, “but she loved Jesus since she was little like me.”  (Mary had told them once that she was five when she promised Jesus her heart. I was there.  She was telling everyone about Jesus and was just five years old.)  Jaquline didn’t know how complex her aunt’s life had become so fast.  Because of sinful controlling people in her life that kept her bogged down, in fear of her life or her family’s life, and assaulted her mentally as they tried to keep her quiet and separate her from anyone who truly loved her.  As a young teen, some guy misused her, showed her that from a certain spot he could see her father’s bedroom, and told her one shot through the window would kill the man she loved the most.  He was the first to rip her young heart to shreds with his awful controlling self – then he had the gall to continue to threaten her when she moved 300 miles away!  Others treated her like dirt; lying about those she loved and people who cared about her until she actually believed these lies and isolated herself from those who would have helped her.

I could hate these people.  Instead I pray for them. 

But she’s my baby sister.  There was a part of me that wanted to go “Good Citizen” on their carcasses.  But I know Jesus died for them just like He died for me and I am supposed to love my enemies.

Switch back to my car on the interstate with my nine year old sitting shotgun with silent tears crawling down her fair cheeks.  This all flashes really fast so the same song is still playing.

“Do you ever think about where Aunt Mary is now?” Jaquline says. Newsong’s “My Heart is Already There” was playing in the background.

“Yes.” All the time.  That comforts me. “She’s with Jesus.  Can you imagine?  Being in His presence and seeing his face?”

Jaquline giggles. “Maybe all her puppies will be there.”  (Mary loved animals and was always trying to get a dog, but always the guy she lived with didn’t want one.)

“Remember the pictures of her as a baby chasing Boodle?” I ask (cutest little Maltese my family had twenty years ago) Jaquline laughs.  “I bet she’s petting him instead of chasing him now.”

“I ask Jesus why Aunt Mary is gone.” Her voice is distant. “He doesn’t answer.”

I sighed, “do you know why Jesus made us?”

“To be with Him.” Bingo.

“Yes, He wanted a relationship with us.  He loves each of us.  He didn’t want Mary to die, but now she is with Him all the time.  Only God knows when each person’s time comes to die.  We all will die one day.”

“I always hope to die when I’m old like Boompa,” Jaquline said.  “I’m not so sad for Boompa, but I’m so sad for Aunt Mary.  I’m sad for Grandma.” Yes.  Same for me.  I miss my father immensely.  I miss my sister.  I can’t fathom the depth of grief for my mother. 

“Jesus will comfort Grandma.  We have to help love her too.”  I say.

“We can be Jesus’ arms and hug her!” Jaquline’s tears have dried a bit and she’s now thinking about serving others.  She loves helping; it usually brings her happiness.

“Yes.” I smiled at her as we parked.  “And sometimes Jesus uses her arms to hug you, too.”

Big smiles return. 

Yes.  I totally miss my sister.  I grieve for the harshness she ended up living through for the last few years of her life.  23.  Her life’s clock stopped so short, only 23 years.  I always dreamed of her silly dancing at our Christmas parties for ages, smiling her beaming-happy-smile as she watched nieces and her daughter walk shakily down their aisle to their forever-love, dancing with her sons at their weddings, encouraging my teenagers in their Christian walk toward womanhood, and living her new-found free life focused on her three little angels.  Their plans, maybe not together, but at least working together for the best – the children. So, yes, I asked that question.  “Why, God?  Why is my baby sister dead?”  It seemed so surreal for me.  No body.  No last look.  No nothing.  I keep expecting her to drive up, drop the littles off, and enjoy some of whatever food we have just cooked. 

I know this world is broken by sin.  I know it wasn’t ever in God’s plan for us to have death.  I know my grandmothers, father, and baby sister are in heaven in the presence of God.  I have hope I will see them again.  But yes, I did ask those questions.  Yes, my heart aches for my family who must live without her.  I pray for all of us daily.  I find it hardest to pray for those who have hurt her, but that is my challenge.  I must love them as Jesus did.

My mind drifts back:

“…He has called us too! He has called us too! We are all disciples!  Even me and you!” The little voice yells each stanza of the VBS song.  Jumping with excitement, “did I get them all right?” 

I had been singing along and am raking something for a vegetable bed.  “Yes, Mary, don’t bounce on my tilled dirt.” We laugh and she points at her shoeprints.

“Yippeeeeeee!” She hollers and spins.  “Where’s Easter!  I’m gonna sing it to Easter!”  And she runs off in a singing blur, little bright blue eyes sparkling with life, long wispy blonde hair flying about in the Georgia breeze, she’s going to find that silly yellow hen that actually loves to be captured by Mary and sits contentedly tucked in her arms.  I look up to see my vibrant baby sister swinging on the swingset with Easter in her lap, projecting her beautiful voice with some soul-singer power as she practices the song for tomorrow’s VBS service. (You know, where the kids show off to the adults what they’ve learned in the week) Mary would tell the world that she asked Jesus in her heart about two years later.  She had such a love for life and care for others.  No one is perfect.  We aren’t Jesus.  I love her for her heart.  I will always love my baby sister. No, loss never “gets easy” but I do have hope in Jesus that I will see her again.  And that keeps me out of falling into bitterness. I can’t allow my grief to turn into bitterness.  I can’t be Rose from Overcomer; I have to choose joy.

And just like a soundtrack to my life, as I slide back in the car with the two older girls in tow, For King and Country’s “I Choose Joy” is shouting from the speakers.

Thank you, Jesus.  You know my heart.

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

The Story of Baby Thea

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:

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Lucas kept trying to “pet” and “kiss” Baby Thea

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Christina & Thea (oldest & youngest)

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Lucas said “you are my love, Baby Thea!”

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Grandma Joanne & Thea

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Christina and Becky are already vying for who gets the baby

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Kimberly and Thea

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Jillian and Thea

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Theadora Taliesyn Tart

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This is Christina’s favorite from Thea’s birthday

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Jaquline and Thea

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Becky and Thea

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Daddy and Thea

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Aunt Becca and Thea

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Thea and Mommy

Hope this brought you a smile!

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

Wimpy Atlas

Ever feel like everything in the world is raining down on your shoulders and you can’t keep anything up? That was today…

December 20, 2018

Wimpy Atlas

Am I the only one who feels like Atlas with wimpy shoulders sometimes?

Yesterday was a good example:

I got up at 5:30am to work, the guy cancels as I’m just on the road.  Bummer.

Get back home, waste of a half-hour prep and 20 minutes gas and time, but I try to stay positive.  My breathing flared up; can’t lay down to go back to sleep.  Grrrrr… hot tea and honey while I work on my character cards for the 6th in The Devonians – 26 characters in this one because it is set during a community planting season.

I write a program for translating ages – this will make future work easier.   I had my tea.  I hoped I would avoid having to take the allergy pill (discovered a natural antihistamine as I’m allergic to both Benadryl and the emergency inhaler I was supposed to be taking 4 times a day, but I still prefer not to take anything).   I pick up the second ride.  I’ve now made $20.

I chose not to dwell on sad things pinging around the back of my brain.

But when I got home about 11, I was starved.  I made my Shakeology because Louis wasn’t hungry (the kids had already eaten, and I wasn’t going to make a whole breakfast just for me).  Louis took the next call so I could finish eating.  I gathered all my stuff into neat little piles so I could use my tools to guide my story.  Christina needed help on an Algebra problem so I set my Shakeology cup down.

But… (that word NOT in the positive this time!)

As I finished with Christina’s problem *BAM* I turned and knocked the full Shakeology cup over ($3.50 meal – I hate waste)!   *SPLASH* the broken blinds, the window, the lamp, the wall, EVERY ONE of my 26 cards, my hand-written “cheat sheet” I’d created almost a year ago for the Devonians families, and the floor are covered in goo.  Imagine slightly soupy pudding – that’s the consistency of Shakeology + coffee.

Immediately, as quickly as the drops of fluid, everything negative that I was trying to hold back rained down on my brain.

The evening before, Mom got Daddy’s ashes… all that’s left of his body is in two boxes on her table.

Didn’t get to stop by Mom’s on the way home (*thoughts* you are a horrible daughter.)

Didn’t get to snuggle on the couch with Lucas because I was cleaning while he fell asleep (horrible mom.)

Didn’t get to fix my pie or anything to take to the party (horrible guest.)

I had to drive in the morning but only had two calls & the would-be big one canceled (horrible provider.)

Lucas wanted me to play trains… I was busy teaching (again, you never play with him!)

…and on and on and on… my brain just rained down things I wished I could have done differently, things I wanted to do but hadn’t, and things I should have done.

I felt like the world was falling on my shoulders and squishing me flat.

Now I was hungry, it was noon, and the very next call was “make some rice for lunch” because we had one pound of beef in the freezer and “stir-fry would be good.”  All I wanted was to type my frustrations out and make another Shakeology to actually eat.  I wanted to get to my vitamin shake before I went to work at 2. (I was leaving early to stop by my mom’s today!)

I read somewhere that a mother is the Chief Mood Officer in her home.  When I start getting lost in emotion, I remind myself of that.  I turned on Christmas music, started cleaning so I could start rice, and prayed I’d be able to pull my own mood up (and keep the house from growing dark).  My siblings’ party is tomorrow.  I can choose to shift my focus on the positive.  Hopefully it works!

*By the way* I didn’t get my shake until I was on the way to work, my mom wasn’t home when I got to her house, and on… BUT I was working playroom so had brought my Devonians folder and was able to use the 40 “lost” minutes to recreate some of the destroyed cards.  I forced myself to focus on the positive again… this week has been a constant challenge for me.  God.  God is totally in control. (I just need to lean on Him – His shoulders are not weak.)

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time…

~Nancy Tart

World Builder

June 3, 2017

World Builder

I love creating alternate fantasy worlds.  I like to make them believable but fascinating.  Here’s a little step into how I build them:

In Web of Deception, the world of the Four Kingdoms is vibrant with culture and history.  I research elements I want, design histories that incorporate geography, climatic or geographic racial differences, climactic events, and culture clashes including the resulting epidemics, interracial blending, or wars that would have been.  To me, when I read Swavarian, I see the history of the people that made them who they are.

Sometimes I love the world so much that I create alternate stories within it.  For instance: the sharply contrasting cultures within the post-apocalyptic Earth world in the Realm of Earth series began with Grenadan stories focusing on the clashes between the militaristic tribe of Grenada with its central hub cities and primitive outskirt cities and the neighboring pacifist tribe of Camela in Source of Strength, Bold Worlds, and The Truth.  This precariously perched world with one central militaristic tribe whose Guards enforce law and order in most of the ten tribes shows up again in the Brantley Station Saga with the wealthier, more technological Qualizidians dealing with the political requirement of allowing Guards in their underwater mining colony.

All Greek?  No.  All part of the Realm of Earth!

That’s the way I explore other cultures in our real world.  I like to step into the shoes of different classes of people during whatever time and wiggle my toes around in them.  I like to picture their daily lives, struggles, imagine what their dreams would have been, and understand their culture without today’s lenses clouding my judgment.  It works for various cultures today too.  How does one understand another culture easily?

Imagine you are a mother in it.  What are your worries?  You love your children (love is universal); your hope is for them to have the best.  That I’ve found to be the easiest shoe for me to step into.  But you have to be able to drop your preconceived notions about what “best” is.  Here, in America, we have almost unlimited hopes and dreams.  An early Greek family living in a smaller polis would be hoping the rains didn’t wash away their crops and dreaming for a winter free of sickness.  They spent most of their day gathering food for the same day; as with most agrarian systems, they lived life connected to the seasons and their crops and animals.  Even if we are fortunate enough to have a garden today, we can find readily available food almost anywhere for a price; we live connected to our jobs which provide us money that translates into food, shelter, and clean water.  “Best” for them was survival.  Their “Best” is what we take for granted.

When I build my worlds, I’m pulling bits from a myriad of cultures I’ve studied and attempt to morph them together in a believable way.  Then I walk around in the shoes of the people I’ve created and pull their hopes, dreams, and feelings from what I would feel should their history be mine.  Hopefully, this process creates some realistic characters and believable worlds for your enjoyment!

Thanks for reading!

Type at you next time,

~Nancy Tart

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