Nicole K. Twedt

Being Brave When Life Is Hard

Christmas 2011

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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

Tuesday, Tuesday

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Originally from July 5, 2016

It’s the Tuesday after the 4th of July.  Tuesday, Tuesday.  My fingers itch to write but my brain is foggy, drawing blanks and truly just recovering from a busy night before.

Yesterday began as the worst 4th of July ever.

Not really.  No one got hurt, we were fine.

At times, many time, most times, introverted me craves being alone, nestled in with this family of mine, protected from the outside world.  I long for quiet and slowness.  But then I get it and I’m antsy.  Deep in my bones I needed to be out there celebrating with people.  It was a national holiday, after all.   I needed people.  Real people.  Images of people attending 4th of July parades via Instagram wasn’t cutting it.  The 4th is for family, and if not family, friends, better yet both.

How I longed to be surrounded by family and friends at a BBQ or picnic with checked picnic tablecloths in black or red and watermelon, lots of watermelon.  I don’t like watermelon, but I should because yesterday was the 4th of July.  Watermelon is the fruit of the 4th and the entire summer.  It’s what you eat.

I finally went to my parents’ house with the kids to drop off cookies.   They had plans later on.  Emily and Greg baked Icebox Pinwheel Cookies for the cousins arriving tomorrow from Tennessee.  We stopped at Fred Meyer.

Then home again, where we watched a movie and ate BBQ hotdogs and hamburgers served without black or red checked tablecloths.  We watched Harry and the Hendersons, the five of us piled on the rust colored couch with Chloe moving from lap to lap, trying to find the coziest spot amongst us.  It was a stupid movie, but one I enjoyed as a child.  Like all things ridiculous, it was made funny through the eyes of three children.

We were about to watch a second family movie, after all, it was too early and light for fireworks, when Steven asked if we could play baseball.  I don’t like sports, but something inside of me wanted, needed, to get out, move my body, laugh and play.

The five of us, and the dog of course, ended up in the backyard and having the best time, being alive, moving our bodies, laughing into the night.  It wasn’t perfect.  Lauren spit on Steven.  Steven lost his temper.  No one wanted poor Emily to pitch.  I accidently hit Steven in eye with a (rather soft) ball.  But we were a family, together, an imperfect family, playing baseball together on the 4th of July.

Another Snowy Day

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Originally from early February, 2017

Today is another snow day for our district.  At this rate the last day of school will be near the end of June.  I am not complaining.  How we needed another day to get our hygge on!  This body of mine is still fighting a cold and nothing is more appealing than another day set aside for the one and only purpose of being lazy, to relish the rare gift of time to heal my body and soul.

There’s not a lot of snow at this point.  But it’s freezing and the ground is wet.  The Twedtlings refuse to play outside for very long.  I hardly blame them.  There’s not a lot of snow going on but roads are treacherous, so I’ve heard.  I haven’t driven anywhere or even left the house since Sunday.  Greg hasn’t had a problem getting to work.  Then again, his car is a snow champ.  Mine, not so much.  Home I shall stay.  Normally cabin fever would rear it’s ugly face by now, but I am loving this.   Bring on the snow days!

I wrote a post yesterday.  It was intense, even by Nicole standards.  Just writing about what happened, the practice of putting words to feelings, is a tremendous thing.   It feels ugly at the time, putting myself out there.  Even if it’s not out there-out there, since I have yet to introduce my blog to the wide open and scary spaces of the internet.  By the way, the post I wrote, it will never see the light of day because it isn’t entirely my story to tell.   I had to get it out in order to process this wild thing called grief.  But it involves someone else and their lack of processing, or processing the only way they knew to do it.  Hurt people hurt people, and that’s about all I should say.

I can say this:  I’m starting to wonder if there’s more to do with the havoc in my present life than what happened twenty-plus years ago.  I grieve more than death.  I’m very much struggling with the trauma of Steven’s birth defect and vision impairments, and I’m deeply scarred by Lauren’s hearing journey.  It’s an alternative form of grief, but grief all the same.  And I’m feeling guilty for being heartbroken in the first place since God has done amazing things in both of their stories.   Add to it, I’ve never had the luxury of time to process the latest bits of my own hearing loss story. I’ll have to go there eventually.

I’ve pondered the idea of being brave over the last few years.  Maybe being brave right now means declaring out loud that I don’t have my act together.  I was never supposed to have it all together.  My shoulders aren’t wide enough or strong enough to carry past hurts or the wounds of the world.  But they don’t have to be.  I’m reminded of Jesus and how he calls me to come to him, leaving the heavy burdens of life at his feet.

It’s humbling to admit that I’m deeply broken.  I don’t like saying that I’m really just clawing towards the light, scratching to grasp onto what I know is true.  I know where I’m headed, I’ll get there in time, but the process, oh the process.

I recently bought a print to hang next to my bed.  It’s one of those Bible verses with fancy pants lettering that are everywhere these days.  It’s part of Ecclesiastes 3:11, “He has made everything beautiful in its time.”  I’m counting on this promise.  Only the designer wrote it’s instead of its and the English major snob in me can’t get over it.  And when I finally did get over it and had the print framed and ready to go, I noticed the verse’s address was printed as Ecclesiastes 33:11 instead of 3:11.  I’m no Bible scholar but I can’t get over that one.  It won’t do.  Not that anyone beyond Greg and me would see it.  But I see it, and it was supposed hang next to my side of the bed.

I placed a second print underneath the bogus Ecclesiastes one, before I knew it was bogus.  They were all part of a close-out sale.  It’s a Christmas print with lyrics from O Holy Night.  The plan was to switch it out with Ecclesiastes and hang it in the living room during Advent.

A thrill of hope

A weary world rejoices

This one is going up.  On the wall next to our bed.   White chalk lettering on a blackboard, without the dust thank you very much.  The print suites our bedroom well.  After all, I was a teacher in a former life.  Added bonus, I fall asleep on my back but wake facing that side of the room.  Hope.  Rejoice.  The first words I will see in the morning.

I am weary.  But I’m holding onto hope.  I will rejoice.