Archives for February 2017

Unexpected Love Story

02.24.2017 by Nicole Kristin Twedt //

Originally from February 2011

At a MOPS Christmas meeting I shared an experience my family had in the midst of cancer. For Valentine’s Day I’m sensing the need to push past all of the sadness and heartache and bring on a good old fashioned, life-is-good, mushy love story. Who doesn’t enjoy a good love story? It just so happens that I have the perfect one to share.

David came into my life very early on, before I was born actually. His wife Diana even threw mom a baby shower when she was pregnant with me. Diana was mom’s best friend and David, a fellow fire fighter like dad, was the most cherished and trusted of dad’s friends.

Sadly, Diana died the same year dad’s cancer returned. David was widowed and left with 2 young adult sons.

It came to pass that in March of 1996, dad, after battling cancer 6 separate times in 6 years, was really going to die. Family and close friends were called to his bedside to say good-bye for the last time. Dad hadn’t spoken much in days. He had so much morphine pumping through his broken body that when he did talk he spoke mostly as a child, speaking of flying airplanes, something he’d never in his life attempted. But the afternoon dad spoke to mom for the last time he was fully conscious and very intent on giving her a specific message. It went something like this:

“We’ve enjoyed over 20 years of married life together and I’ve cherished every moment of them. It grieves me to think of leaving you behind. Nothing would make me happier than to know that you are taken care of, that you are happy and that you will love again.” He went on, “I really can’t think of anyone who I trust my family with more than David Andrews. When I die I want you to marry Dave.”

Dad’s proclamation was enough to really knock the wind, the socks and just about everything else off and out of my poor mother. But the good sport that she is, mom didn’t say much. She gently assured dad of her love for him and that she would be okay. In the back of her mind she was probably thinking, David Andrews! He’s Diana’s husband, Ew! Then again, maybe mom didn’t take what he said seriously.

After all, dad had a lot, and I mean a lot, of morphine pumping through his body.

Shortly after midnight on March 6, 1996 Dad began a new life free of pain as he slipped into the presence of our Savior. I can only imagine his joy. Mom, Scott, David, grandma and I witnessed the event. It was the most precious moment of my life, next to my wedding day and the birth of my children, it was also the most tragic.

When you are grieving life seems to stand still, but as much as you’d like to hide under your covers, hold your breath and wait for things to get better or just give up all together, God shows up and reveals a new season. Winter turned into spring rather quickly the year of dad’s death. And those spring days found mom and Dave spending a lot of time together, taking long walks strictly as friends, both knowing the tragedy of loosing a spouse.

On one such walk, mom, trying to be funny, gently joked about dad’s last words to her, saying something along the line of “You’ll never guess what Steve said to me when he was on all of the morphine…” She proceeded to tell Dave of dad’s shot as a matchmaker. Dave didn’t laugh. Looking into her eyes Dave told mom that at the end of Diana’s life she whispered to her mother-in-law that if anything ever happened to my dad, if the cancer returned and his life ended, she knew that David was to marry my mom. I don’t know how long it took mom to recover from that one. What I do know is that something changed that afternoon between mom and Dave, something completely unexpected, something new and very beautiful.

You see, the great love story is that God brings beauty in times of despair. Just when life seems to end as we know it, he brings something fresh and completely unexpected. The enemy will try his hardest to tear us apart, hoping that we will be ruined by the trials we face. But the Bible tells us that God is in control. “And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them” Romans 8:28. Not only is he in control, but the Bible tells us in Psalm 56 that God is so near to the broken-hearted that he keeps track of all of their sorrows and actually collects their tears in his bottle. God was with my family as we said good-bye to dad. I know this without a doubt. And although it was completely unexpected and honestly difficult at the time, God was with us when mom said that she loved David and would marry him. None of this took God by surprise. He knows the plans He has for us, and they are good plans, safe plans, plans we can trust him with (Jeremiah 29:11).

I promised you a love story. And what I delivered was probably not the kind of love story you expected, but it was a love story all the same. I don’t know what your life experiences are. I don’t know what your walk with God is like or what this Valentine’s Day holds for you. But I do know God, I know him well. He knows you well. And he wants you to know him well. Since before time began, he has written a beautiful love story on each of our hearts. Right now he is speaking to your heart. If you haven’t already, he longs to help you discover how much he loves you and cares for you even when life isn’t going the way you thought it would go. I challenge you to open your heart to him. I promise that you will encounter the greatest adventure of your life and the greatest love story ever experienced.

Christmas Angel

02.23.2017 by Nicole Kristin Twedt //

Originally from December 2010

My dad was first diagnosed with cancer in the early nineties. Although dad was in remission at the time, in the fall of 1994 the board of firefighters recommended an early retirement from his career as a firefighter. He had survived the deadly battle of cancer, but his body was no longer able to fight fires. Early retirement presented a huge financial burden for my parents. Mom was a stay-at-home mom and dad was now retired with a pension half his normal salary. Money would be tight and Christmas was just around the corner.

But money was not my parents only concern that weekday afternoon. Dad’s cancer was back. My parents were crushed. Dread filled their hearts as they neared our family home in Shoreline. They would have to tell my brother and me that cancer had returned. And this time the prognosis wasn’t positive. To make matters worse, mom and dad didn’t have the money to provide for Christmas the way our family was used to celebrating. Not that Christmas was about the presents, but mom’s heart broke with the thought of the financial pressure they faced at this time of the year. The Lord’s birth was always the central focus of Christmas in our family, but how could she ignore the festivities of this special holiday when this could very well be dad’s last Christmas?

Like many family homes, ours had two main entrances, the front door for visitors and a side door adjoining the driveway for close friends, neighbors and family. Earlier that afternoon, my brother Scott and I returned home from school to find an envelope taped behind the screen of our side door. Certain this was a note from my youth group’s Secret Santa, I ripped the envelope open. What I found inside was a typed note attached to a bundle of bills. Knowing this was clearly not for me, but a blessing for my family, Scott and I shoved the money back in the little envelope and anxiously awaited the return of our parents.

Knowing nothing of this financial blessing, dread seeped into my parents’ hearts as they neared our home. But something caught the corner of their eyes as they slowly turned down our steep driveway to the little house in Shoreline. We had a large picture window in the front of our home. And to their surprise, my parents could plainly see Scott and me jumping and dancing around the living room like wild hooligans. Teenagers at the time, Scott and I were not prone to such displays of emotion or excitement. Mom and dad knew something was up.

As soon as we saw their little Geo pull up, Scott and I dashed to meet them. We threw our arms around our parents, laughing and crying, oblivious to the news we would ultimately hear. When we finally let go of them, with tears streaming down our bright eyes, we presented our findings. Slowly, mom and dad opened the envelope to discover ten crisp one hundred dollar bills with a typed letter explaining that we were not supposed to know who the money was from but that we had a friend who knew that we needed a little extra help this Christmas. As a family we praised God, rejoicing that an anonymous friend, a Christmas Angel, had it on their heart to bless us with a generous gift when our family needed it most.

Then came the hard part. Once inside, mom and dad sat us down and explained all that they had learned from the doctor. With more tears, Scott and I learned that dad’s cancer was back and that his future didn’t look promising. Ironically, it started to rain at this point. But when all of our questions were asked and answered around our dining room table, mom and I looked up through the sliding glass door and noticed that it had stopped raining. There, to our surprise, was a glorious rainbow, bright in color and promise. Immediately I was reminded about God’s covenant with Noah. The Lord would protect and bless our family, even in the deadly realm of cancer.

Over 15 years has passed since we were visited by the Christmas Angel. Still, the verse from Jeremiah is clearly impressed upon my heart when I think back to that late fall afternoon: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11).

I once thought that God sent the rainbow and the Christmas Angel as a promise that nothing was going to happen to my dad, that cancer would never take his life; and that we would always have plenty of money for Christmas presents. Now I understand that the promise extends past the physical world and into the eternal, spiritual world. There is no promise against cancer. There are no promises that we will always have the funds needed to celebrate Christmas elaborately. That’s not the point, is it? However, God promises something better. He loves His children so much. He has something better planned for us than what we understand from our given circumstances. We will go through trials, believe me we will, but He is always there. And what He kindly offers is a love relationship with him that stands against even death.

Merry Christmas.

Christmas 2011

02.23.2017 by Nicole Kristin Twedt //

Originally from December 2011

Merry Christmas everyone! I can’t believe how fast this year has flown by. Like many of you, 2011 was filled to the brim with mountain top highs but also heartbreaking lows.

As for the highs, boy were they high! We welcomed the fifth member of our family this summer. Lauren Anna Elise was born in the early morning hours of July 13. Daddy and Auntie Julea almost missed her appearance because she came faster than anticipated. You would think I would know what labor feels like by now…

Lauren is our little love. Her personality has emerged as sweet and very social, much like Grandpa Steve. Out of all of our children, she is the one who reminds me of him the most. Our time with Lauren is a treasure, a rare glimpse into heaven. In honor of my dad, we chose the name Lauren which literally means “crowned with laurel.” His meant “crowned.” A few months back I came across a verse in Isaiah that reminds me of their names. “Those who have been ransomed by the LORD will return. They will enter Jerusalem singing, crowned with everlasting joy. Sorrow and mourning will disappear, and they will be filled with joy and gladness” (Isaiah 35:10). Talk about hope! How my heart leaps inside me each time I ponder those precious words. We are blessed to have Lauren. We pray that she will have the love of the Lord in her heart at a young age and that her gentleness and sweet disposition will be a light in this very dark world.

As for Uno and Dos, as we refer to Emily and Steven when we don’t want them to know we’re talking about them, Emily is on the brink of turning 5, while Steven is quickly approaching 3. Emily is in her second year of preschool at Westgate and Teacher Pasi is her beloved teacher. Greg and I met back in the day when I taught with Pasi. I’m sure most of you know the story of how I met and married my student Bradley’s uncle through a certain “matchmaker” named Julea. Anyway, having Emily in my dear friend’s class is a blessing and brings back many fond memories. Although my little go-getter is as fiery as ever, there is a growing tenderness about Emily, especially when it comes to her baby sister. According to my sweet big girl, “Lauren is a present from God.” Yes she is, Emily, and so are you.

Steven’s great milestone of 2011 is that he no longer thinks he’s a dog. That’s right, he has stopped growling at most people. It occurred to me around Thanksgiving that maybe Steven was growling because he desperately wanted to interact with others but didn’t know how. We’ve had ourselves a little talk about manners and proper salutations and now Steven mostly says “hi” to people and is quick to give out hugs and kisses. Hopefully this means we will no longer have to leave restaurants due to all of the growling coming from our table. We’re still working on not growling at babies, especially baby boys. But Steven is starting to warm up to Lauren, especially now that she rolls over. Perhaps he thinks she’s a dog.

Steven’s eyes are constantly changing. The right eye, the one touched by Morning Glory Syndrome, is getting better and better with each visit. And the left is starting to catch up. There’s been only the slightest change in that eye, but it’s been enough improvement to need a new lens. All praise and glory to Steven’s Healer! We’re thankful for all of Dr. P.’s help, too. We press on, not knowing what’s ahead, but claiming victory and hope for the day when Steven’s eyes are perfect in structure, strength and vision.

As for Greg and me, honestly we are so exhausted most of the time. A scene from the movie Marley And Me comes to mind when I think of this season in life. Remember the scene where Jennifer Aniston and Owen Wilson’s characters are lamenting on how HARD parenting is? Everyone tried to warn them about the challenges of parenting, but they just didn’t listen. Kinda how we’re feeling these days. But the scene ends in affirmation. Aniston and Wilson’s characters wouldn’t do anything different. They love their children, they love each other, they love their life. They even love their unruly canine Marley (and we love Steven). I must be wired for struggle because even though my sanity is in question most days, this has been my very favorite season, challenges and all. Our three children are a constant reminder of all that is tender in life.

I almost didn’t write a Christmas letter this year. As I’ve said, this year’s been filled with extreme highs but also devastating lows. I need to be real about that. Yet I am compelled to write. With a joyful heart I want you to know that we are hanging in there, not just surviving, but thriving because Hope has come! Hallelujah, Hope has come! He came as a tiny, helpless baby, much like baby Lauren. And because He came and dwells with us, our hope cannot be shaken. Merry Christmas.

Love,

Greg, Nicole, Emily, Steven & Lauren