Nicole K. Twedt

Being Brave When Life Is Hard

Weekend Roundup, October 7, 2022: It’s Been a Minute

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The electric buzz of caffeine ignites my brain and fingertips, compliments of a recent cup of Nespresso, or so it appears. It turns out Double Espresso Dolce is my jam, especially when served in a fall-themed Seattle tumbler from Starbucks with a heavy dose of Caramel Macchiato and Cinnamon Roll creamers, non-dairy of course. But the buzz has precious little to do with my beverage of choice. You see, it’s time once again to write.

To put it politely, a bit of time has passed since I last shared something new on this old gal (my blog). The last Weekend Roundup was over four years ago (gasp) when I was entering my second trimester of a much-wanted yet surprise pregnancy, emphasis on surprise. Naïvely, I assumed being pregnant would birth creatively but, as it turns out, pregnancy kind of sucked the life out of me (I mean this in the best way possible, I hope you know). All creative energy as I once knew basically shriveled up and died. I’m not at all being dramatic. Being pregnant at 39 and having a fourth child at 40 was a bit much, though it was the joy and privilege of my life, all the same. The aftermath of my son’s birth, however, was when things got interesting. Life was perfect, in a sense, or as perfect as can be with two adults, four growing children and a little hypoallergenic dog crammed in a 1300 square foot rambler in the outskirts of Seattle. My son, he was perfect in every way, except for a hearing loss not present at birth. Sleep-deprived me couldn’t think about it, definitely couldn’t write about it. I was blindsided, shell-shocked, my soul stripped bare.

Spoiler alert: God healed Noah, fully, completely.

To God be the glory.

Even now, I can hardly write about this unexpected miracle. It’s too wonderful for words, too holy to make sense of and also a little too horrible to relive.

And time marched on.

As babies do, my boy grew to be a tremendous and terrible toddler who grew into a ruddy man-child who now attends preschool at the little church down the road from our new home in Snohomish, Washington. It turns out raising four kids is the utmost splendid adventure on the planet but it’s one that leaves little time to scratch one’s head in amazement or in wonderment (and sometimes horror) of it all. But God has been prompting. It’s time.

There’s lots to cover after four years of not writing. So let’s just not and say we did. Let’s pick up where we left off.

Since it’s been a minute, how about I offer a refresher on all things Weekend Roundup? Long ago, I was part of a writing group called Hope*writers that grew to be a ginormous writing group in my absence. I haven’t exactly been an active member but I joined Hope*writers when the monthly fee was low. I’m not a life member but this group is basically stuck with me for life because I can’t afford to quit and rejoin later. The monthly membership fee has risen much like the housing market. I digress. Back to the Weekend Roundup. Roughly once a week I pick a few articles that I find intriguing, funny or heartwarming to share from the folks in my group that I hope will resinate with you, sprinkled with my own random (and I do mean random) life observations.

Since Noah will need to be picked up from preschool VERY soon, I’m going to dive right in.

This week, Hope*writer Jennifer Wier wrote a mini devotional of sorts on her website about the Biblical story of Hagar. Here you go. You remember Hagar, Sarah’s handmaiden. No one really talks about her. We hear more about Abraham and Sarah and their promised son, Isaac. I encourage you to take a minute and read this article. Personally, I’ve read Hagar’s story many a time but it never really penetrated my heart like it did today. So many powerful (and applicable) truths about God and how much he loves us.

Forget transitions, I’m taking a hard right with this one. I highly enjoyed reading about Queen Elizabeth from April J. Harris of Making the Most of Life at Home and Away. Here’s the linky-link for you. I enjoyed reading quotes from the late queen, more than I thought I would. But it’s more than that. Seriously, you can file this post of heartfelt and inspiring quotes under Personal Growth. What’s more, author April J. Harris happens to be from the south of England which means she has authority. Or at least more authority that someone who hails from the wrong side of the pond. I mean, I don’t even like tea unless Honey Citrus Mint Tea from Starbucks counts or whatever yummy tea my friend Afton served around the fire pit at our summer book club.

You need to read the next essay. It’s my favorite. Author Ann Averill wrote an essay titled I Never Wanted to Be a Teacher. Go ahead and click the link on her blog that will take you to the actual article because Ann was a guest contributor on someone else’s website. It doesn’t really matter what Ann writes about. She has a strong and memorable writer voice. Ann could write about dirt and it would be beautiful. But go ahead and read it because her words matter. To be honest, I almost didn’t read her essay because I never wanted to be anything but a teacher. I’m so glad I did. I would have missed out had I scrolled on to the next submission by my writerly friends.

Well folks, preschool has come and gone. So has the afternoon appointment with the dog groomer, and a quick trip to Target where I unfortunately stumbled upon Himalayan Salted Dark Chocolate Almonds which I’m pretty sure will be the death of me. The big kids are home as well. Emily is doing homework upstairs in her teen cave. Steven is supposed to be completing homework and Lauren is immersed in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, which I have a soft spot for. Noah is probably tormenting our dog, Chloe. Greg called to say he’s on his way home to pick me up for a super HOT date at Costco. One must prepare for all that sexy. Maybe I’ll brush my teeth. I may even floss. If all goes well, I’ll see you back here next Friday for another Weekend Roundup.

Anniversary Tribute

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Originally from June 2013 for Dick and Dora’s Anniversary party.

As you know, Greg and I had a unique way of meeting. We had a genuine matchmaker, otherwise known as Julea. What you may not have known, however, is that the fine art of matchmaking has been part of this family’s story well before Julea and I entered the picture. Looking back through time, a little over 50 years ago to be exact, because I like to be exact, Georgina Barene Hartig conspired, along with her young daughter, to make the perfect match.

As the story goes, Miss Dora Lucille Hartig and her mother often left the tank of the family’s ’49 Chevy on empty so that a certain young gentleman, Mr. Richard Taylor Alan Twedt, would have to fill it up.  In those days Dick’s job was to fill gas at the local station where he worked weekends. Now Dora knew Dick’s younger brother, Keith, from school and Keith was a friend of her brother, Jim. Dora liked her classmate’s older brother. She liked that Dick was tall and that he had a good disposition and he was trim. Dora’s mother liked him too. Georgina liked that Richard took his own mother shopping since she didn’t drive.

Young Richard was equally smitten with Dora.  After all, the owner of the station said she was a nice girl. Dick liked that Dora went to church and wasn’t too wild. According to Dick, “It didn’t hurt that she had a good family and was always smiley.”

Shortly thereafter, it was June of 1962 and Dora graduated from high school. She went on a Hawaiian vacation with her cousins Elly, Marge, and Vonnie. Dick moped around the house the whole time she was gone. They had started dating by then, you see. Dates included a visit to the Space Needle for the 1962 World Fair in Seattle and a summer trip to Sequim to visit a relative, which Dora’s mother chaperoned. Eventually Dick gave Dora a pin. Within six months it was Christmas and Dick asked for her hand in marriage. He talked to Dora’s dad first, as he should.

The wedding was held on June 8, 1963 at the home of the bride’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. G. Monroe Hartig of Bothell. Attending the groom were David and Jim Twedt, brothers of the groom, along with Jim Hartig, brother of the bride. Cousin Linda Kitchen was the maid of honor and the late Nancy Twedt, sister of the groom, was flower girl. The happy couple honeymooned in Yellowstone National Park. Upon return they set up house in a rented apartment in Fremont. Sadly, Dora’s mom passed away on September 19, just months following the wedding. After her death, Dick and Dora temporarily moved in to help her Dad and brother.

The early years of marriage were exciting ones for the young marrieds. In 1963 Dick and Dora bought their first home in Lynnwood. Two years later, on November 8, their first son, Jeffery Alan was born. Five years after Jeff was born they became a family of four when Gregory Thomas was born.

The Twedts owned property on Lake Washington. It was never Dora’s dream to live near water so in 1974 they sold and bought 5 acres of land in Bothell, near Mill Creek. They started building the following year and by 1976 their new home was complete.

The house on Third Avenue has seen many changes over the years. If walls could speak they would certainly entertain us with tales of young Jeff and Greg scouting the land. Surely your own children were there, tagging behind the Twedt boys on their grand adventures, riding 4-wheelers, go-carts and eventually cars through the pastures.  If walls could speak, we would have the pleasure of hearing first hand the inception of their family business and the building of the shop. Many of you were there, but oh how I wish I could go back through time to get a feel for what it was like to raise a young family on Dick and Dora’s farm. I don’t just want to hear of ponies being born and dogs like Jake and Jodi roaming the property, I want to see them, touch them. As a mom, I would give anything to see the look on Dora’s face when she caught Greg leading Bill the pony through the kitchen door.

If walls could speak, they would state that Dick and Dora brought their boys up right. Diligent work and good parenting molded Jeff and Greg into the honorable, hard-working and God-fearing men they are today. Dick and Dora, you raised your sons well. You did an amazing job bringing up your boys. They are good men, gentlemen.

If walls could speak, we would hear details of the story of how parents of sons became parents of daughters when Jeff and Julea married in 1996, and again when Greg married me in 2005. But most of all, I would love to hear shouts of radiant joy when Dick and Dora became grandparents for the first time in 1998 when Brad was born.

But those walls remain silent. After all, I’m not a crazy person. And since I wasn’t around in those days, I had to physically get into my minivan and drive across town to the green house on Third Avenue to hear the story of how Dick met Dora. I remember sitting in the living room laughing with my in-laws as I gathered enough scraps to write this tribute to be shared at their anniversary luncheon. To this day, that afternoon is one of my most cherished of memories of Dick and Dora. I would give anything to hear how they met and fell in love just one more time.

Dick and Dora mostly joked during our time together. The secret to sustaining a 50-year marriage, according to Dick, is that “She can cook and I’m glad of it.” By the way, chow mien and Dora’s signature apple and pumpkin pies are his absolute favorite. Of course, all the talk of food led to Dora cracking a few jokes about Dick’s waistline.

They shared stories that are funny and dear to them, like when the obnoxious cemetery salesman from Floral Hills came to the house. They felt so bad for him that they bought two plots just to get him to go away. They also laughed about the real reason Dora does not cook breakfast. Jokes aside, Dick and Dora noted, “You have to have patience and try to get along. You gotta work your problems out.” And get along they did for 50 years.

In closing, Jeff, Julea, Greg and I would like to honor the remarkable 50 year marriage journey of Richard and Dora Twedt. Dick and Dora, it couldn’t have been easy, but you did it. In a society where honor means little and the lack of fidelity would make Georgina Hartig blush, you did it. We applaud you and honor you for upholding your wedding vows for the past 50 years. Just think of it, 50 years ago a match was made, and it was the perfect match.

Weekend Roundup, Saturday April 14, 2018: April Showers Edition (and a HUGE suprise)

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April showers bring May flowers, right? I’m counting on it because this weather is ridiculous. The wind and Seattle rain of the past week have left me feeling like I’m sandwiched in between late fall and winter. For cryin’ out loud, it’s practically mid-April! Which is why I left my (faux) down winter coat in the front closet when I stepped out to pick the kids up from school Friday afternoon and grabbed the black and green polka-dot parka from Costco instead of something warmer. You should know that if my black parka with the lime green polka dots were stripes instead of dots, they would be a dignified pin stripe. That’s how tiny the dots are. From a distance it looks like I’m dressed in black like Johnny Cash. Nothing too attention-seeking for this plain Jane (says the woman who owned a pair of hot pink Crocs when she taught kindergarten all those years ago). Needless to say, it was the wrong choice in outerwear.

It may be dreary outside but it’s cozy in our small rambler. The boy is working on Math Prodigy at the kitchen counter while the little girl snuggles into the ugly rust couch to watch The Greatest Showman. I have to be careful or I will be sucked into the movie too. The big girl is nestled in the back bedroom, the one shared with her sister, either reading or working on a craft project, most likely crochet. Chloe the dog is fast asleep on my right leg, which means only half of my body is warm.

I have much to share in this week’s installment of the Weekend Roundup and otherwise. But I haven’t decided if I’m ready to share my BIG non-Weekend Roundup news. You see, I’ve been working for the last three months on a special project that has absolutely nothing to do with my blog or writing. Hang tight just a wee bit longer. I’m warming up to the idea of sharing the news, possibly today. For it’s been a dark week in many ways. There’s an undeniable need to share something lovely, good and true.

Back to the roundup. A Weekend Roundup is what happens when I showcase the work of my writerly friends at hope*writers, which is the online writing group I belong to. We had a surge of new writers join hope*writers last week. You’ll hear from a few of them today. And of course, I can’t help but share my tried and true favorites.

First up is Karen Grauveau. Karen wrote a killer (and hilarious as usual) article about the time she was a guest over on the Life Around The Coffee Cup podcast. Head on over to Lightly Frayed to read Karen’s post about learning to dream big and on doing it scared. Then click the linky-link to take you over to the podcast. I went ahead and downloaded the podcast episode straight from iTunes, but that’s just me.

The next article is by Andrea Wolloff and it’s perfect for parents of little girls. You see, Andrea compiled a list of her favorite children books selected especially for girls. I look forward to reserving each and every book recommendation at my local library to read with the Tiniest Tiny. You can find Andrea’s book list here.

Since our oldest is eleven, I don’t have experience with teenagers. Admittedly, I’m also not the kind of mother who cooks her children hot breakfast every morning. In fact, Emily made her own pancakes today. During the week, the Twedtlings are trained to fill their own cereal bowls with Cheerios or Pumpkin Flax Granola and almond milk thankyouverymuch. Nonetheless, I was captivated by Vanessa Hunt’s essay titled Fried Eggs Are His Love Language. Give it a read. You’ll be so glad you did.

Next up is an article about a Pinterest fail by Leigh Sain. You can read it here. Like Leigh, my children and I have dietary restrictions. I have it down when it comes to gluten and dairy-free dinner ideas. But almost every dessert, except the recipe for orange scones, have left me feeling like a big fat failure as a baker. You should know, Leigh’s essay is about so much more than a baking disaster. Read on and be encouraged.

Now it is time to turn our attention to one of the newbies. First up is the lovely Quantrilla Ard. Quanny wrote a compelling piece on the life-work balance myth. Here you go. I don’t know about you, but I needed to be reminded that I’m not SuperGirl or WonderWoman, that I can’t and shouldn’t do it all.

The next (and final) essay or article or whatever you want to call it is from another brand new hope*writer named Jessica Faith. Jessica wrote a brilliant piece titled To The Woman Who Feels Broken Beyond Repair: Experiencing God’s Redeeming Work In Our Lives. It’s about how we, as woman, are not defined by the mess of our lives. We may feel broken but we most definitely are not. In Jesus Christ we are fully redeemed. Who doesn’t need this powerful reminder from time to time? I know I do (like every single day).

That’s all I have to share with you today. Ah wait, I promised to shed light on the secret project that’s kept me busy for the last three months. I worked myself up to sharing but in the end I almost forgot.

Let’s go back to Vanessa Hunt’s essay about frying two eggs for her son every morning. I have a confession to make. I dearly loved Vanessa’s essay, but I initially clicked on the link because of the word eggs in the title. Yep, that’s right, eggs. You see, I have a bit of an egg obsession going on at the moment. Normally eggs are not a food I crave. These days, however, eggs are where it is at. In fact, I’m loving eggs so much I can’t wait the five minutes it takes to fry them. Every morning I crack two eggs in a cereal bowl, slightly whisk them with a fork, cover the bowl with a damp paper towel and throw them in the microwave (horror of all horrors). While the eggs are turning to rubber in the microwave, I’ll toss a Franz gluten-free hamburger bun under the oven broiler. Once toasted, I coat the bun with an avocado-based mayonnaise and Grey Poupon, though I switched to Sweet Baby Ray’s Honey Mustard Dipping Sauce earlier in the week in hopes of recreating the taste sensation I experienced at Chick-fil-A during a fundraiser for my MOPS group.

Why am I telling you this? Well, if you know anything about me, you’d know the only time I’ve had an obsession with egg sandwiches was when I as pregnant with Lauren. Those glorious egg sandwiches happened in the days prior to going gluten and dairy-free, back when I got my egg fix in the form of a cheddar sausage egg sandwich compliments of a Starbuck’s drive-thru.

Have you connected the dots? Then you know it’s true. The little hope project I’ve been working on for the last three months is that I’m pregnant. And this 12-week person growing inside of me has been the most shocking and wonderful surprise of my life. I’m a few months shy of forty and never thought I’d have the privilege of giving birth and raising a fourth child in mid-life. Ironically, I gave away our BOB revolution jogging stroller earlier in the school year. A pregnancy is bound to happen when you give away the good stuff. Jokes aside, a day or so before finding out I was pregnant, I was studying the story of Joseph in the book of Genesis while working through the Flourishing Together Bible Study when I came across the following: “Jacob loved Joseph more than any other children because Joseph had been born to him in his old age…” (Genesis 37:3 a NLT). I didn’t know I was pregnant at the time but something about the verse jumped off the page of the worn Bible on my lap and landed smack-dab in the middle of my heart. To clarify, I’m not saying I’m going to love the new baby more than the original Three Twedlings. But there is much joy in this unexpected gift, the promise of new life and second chances.

It’s time for me to say goodbye for now. Have a fabulous weekend, lovelies! Greg just took Emily to a cake decorating class with the Girl Scouts. Hopefully, Em will have better luck than Leigh (and me). As for me, I’m headed to the microwave to recreate my masterpiece egg sandwich.

Love,

N.