Nicole K. Twedt

Being Brave When Life Is Hard

Family Christmas Letter, 2017

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Photo by rawpixel.com on Unsplash

Dear Friends and Family:

It’s December 18.  Christmas is exactly one week away.  Steven is at basketball camp at the high school. Emily is home sick watching The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, courtesy of Amazon Prime.  Lauren is snuggled on the caramel colored oversized chair in the living room with my ancient iPad.  Curled up on the blue-confetti knit blanket next to my laptop is Chloe. Even the dog is taking advantage of our first day of Winter Break. It should be the perfect time to add the finishing touches to my annual Christmas letter.  But I’m feeling meh about writing it this year.  I’m beginning to wonder if the Christmas letter ship has sailed. Perhaps it’s time to put the tradition to bed. Except I have a zillion Christmas photo cards from Costco waiting on my desk. Either way, I have some addressing and stamping to do.

Some already know of my online writing spot. Welcome newbies. This little blog was private and unpublished for much of its existence.  But something unexpected happened and nicolektwedt.com went live by mistake. Freedom came once my work was out there in the great wide somewhere of the internet. Pain loses its power when pushed to the surface. Yet there’s a lot I don’t know about creating and maintaining a blog. I still don’t have a system to deliver blog posts straight to your inbox. I don’t even have a spot for my tagline. Ah well, my online writing gig will come together in time.

As one can imagine, with three kids, a dog and a husband, it’s difficult to find time to string words together. Every now and then I choose to ignore Mt. St. Laundry on the couch and the dishes in the sink long enough to write about faith and heartbreak and how through God, and writing, I’m learning to acknowledge the pain and hard places and seek out joy in the midst of it all. With everything I write, he (and by he I mean God) reminds me that he is holding onto our family, teaching us that he is here. And because he is here, we really can practice being brave when life is hard. We all can. Probably the gutsiest subject I’ve tackled this year is the autism evaluation process with a surprise ending for one of the Twedtlings.  You can read about it here and here.  I also wrote at length about grief, anxiety and motherhood. A few book reviews were thrown in for good measure.

In the spirit of keeping it real, there’s much to report, and much I shouldn’t, about fifth-grader Emily, third-grader Steven and first-grader Lauren. Hands down, the hardest part of the year was loosing Grandpa Beck to cancer. Fortunately, the challenges and heartbreak of 2017 were balanced with breakthroughs and good times. There was plenty to get excited about, plenty worth shouting from the rooftop. We love having a tween in the house (Emily). Our gig as parents keeps getting better and better. The craziest thing happened last spring when a mama black bear lumbered through our quarter acre lot. Lauren and Chloe were in the backyard.  Our eleven pound Havanese chased the bear away from her girl. Not bad for a little dog with a behavioral modification plan for anxiety. As for Lauren, she waited until Chloe was ushered into the sanctuary of our tiny rambler before calling for help.  Uff da!

In a nutshell, this season of life has been all about learning to seek out and acknowledge everyday victories. In other words, Greg and I are fighting to acknowledge the baby steps, the miracles-in-progress, glories along the way that are easily overlooked when buried beneath the frustrations and busyness of daily life. It’s forcing us (yes, forcing us) to see life and new beginnings in barren trees and delicate seedlings, rather than fixing our eyes on our current situation or on what we hope will be the end result.  This practice, I’m starting to think, requires a heck of a lot of faith, hope and wonder.  I’m not exactly there yet, but I’m headed in that direction.

Through the challenges, the mess and the mundane, the volleyball practices and basketball games, a certain verse stirs my heart. “…Come all who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls (Matthew 11:28, 29 NLT).”

“Come all who are weary…” Yep, that’s me. You too? In the deepest parts of my soul I feel God saying, “Hold on. Rest in me. Don’t let go. Trust me. You’re almost there,” and “You are not alone.”

I wasn’t going to write a letter in the first place, but Dr. Preston, Steven’s beloved pediatric optometrist, asked if I was going to write about a certain something.  You see, Steven turns nine years-old on January 3. When Steven was an infant, we were told by Dr. Preston that he could stop wearing an eye-patch at age nine. Nine seemed like an eternity away, but here we are. An eternity came and went with plenty of blood, sweat and tears to keep things interesting. I can hardly believe we’re about to bid farewell to such a tremendous and terrible part of our son’s childhood.  I can hardly write about this part of Steven’s story without tears showing up.  Tears aside, I also kinda-sorta feel like slipping on my dancing shoes.

What I really need to do is slip into our small kitchen to prepare lunch for the girls.  Steven will be home in a little over an hour.  Friends and family, my prayer for you this season, and into 2018, is for you to experience the hope and wonder that does not disappoint. Take heart, friends, all this is temporary. He has overcome. Beauty and hope abound. Here’s to keeping our eyes wide open to catch a glimpse of his love and the wonder of it all. Merry Christmas.

Love,

Nicole

with Greg, Emily, Steven and Lauren

Christmas 2008

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Originally from December 2008

I’m an odd duck, it’s true.  I look forward to writing our family Christmas letter all year long.  Now that it’s that time of year, however, I’m encountering a case of writer’s block, severe as they come.  Perhaps writer’s block, at least for me, has to due with me being nine months pregnant.  Excuses, excuses.

I’m going to be easy on myself this year and just write a blurb about each of us, oldest to youngest.

Greg: After all most four years of marriage, good ol’ Greg is still my very best friend and the love of my life, no less.  Good thing we still like each other.  We’re on this crazy adventure called marriage for the long haul.  Greg’s generosity and faithfulness blows me away.  I’m learning so much from my husband about patience and gentleness.  I’d like to think he’s learning a lot from me, but it hasn’t been the case this year.  I’m not nice when pregnant.  Don’t hold your breath, but maybe he’ll learn something from me next year.

Greg is frantically working on our house, getting it ready for our new addition.  In the process, he discovered a leaky pipe in our family room.  It’s slowly been leaking ever since the house was built in 1988.  But all’s well that ends well.  We no longer have a 5-foot hole in our wall where a little patching had to happen.  He’s in the process of sanding everything so he can texture and repaint, hopefully before Steven comes.  Also, Greg’s working on making a dream of his come true: remodeling the garage, or as I secretly call it, the man cave.

Nicole: I’m about 38 weeks pregnant and about to pop.  I’ve found this pregnancy to be kinder on my body than my pregnancy with Emily, except for the first twenty weeks which almost did me in.  I identify this time around with women who say they enjoy pregnancy.  No words can possibly describe the wonderment of having a human growing inside me.  I’m in awe daily.  I also spend quite a bit of time mulling over the mystery of the stretch marks, which congregate mostly on my right hip.

I’m seriously freaked out about being pregnant again, even more scared to have another baby.   God gently ministered to my heart through a verse from the prophet Zepaniah (Zeph. 3:17).  I know now, without a doubt, that he is with me in this pregnancy, and will be with me as I take care of a newborn again, even though it scares me out of my ever freaking mind.  Above all, he is mighty to save.  All I have to do is run to his outstretched arms and he will calm my fears.  In fact, he rejoices over me with singing.  I never understood this verse until I was lying on the couch during the first few months of pregnancy, too nauseous to do anything but puke.  God spoke to me through a picture of me rocking Emily as I sang a lullaby.  He spoke to my heart about how this is how he wants to nurture me.  He just wants me to lay everything down at his feet as I come to him.  He will quiet my anxious heart with singing.  Pretty cool, I think.  For those who might say at this point that I’m a bit of a fanatic, I probably am.  But everyone has to have a passion.  I really love the Lord and I’m excited about what he’s doing in my life and in the life of my family.

Emily: Believe it or not, our princess will be two at the end of this month.  Emily comes in two speeds, fast and faster.  Surely her motto is, Why walk if you can run and why run if you can skip or hop? Curious, like her daddy, Emmie likes to discover how things work, loves to color, and really loves the letter O.  Best of all, she loves watching me put my make-up on.  And getting into make-up.  Unless it’s chicken nuggets, meat is avoided at all costs.  Emily hates being alone in her big girl bed, camping, and her brown shoes.  She adores her cousins Brad, Margaux and Greta.  If only cousin Isaac lived closer!  Brad, almost eleven, is Emily’s beloved Bro-Bro, and the apple of her eye.

Just the other day, after several attempts to get Em to put her coat on, I tried reasoning with my almost two-year-old.  I told her that she should want to put the darn coat on because it first belonged to Greta.  Emily loves Greta.  When that didn’t work, I threw it out there that maybe, just maybe, it was once Margaux’s coat.  She really loves Maggie.  Emily scowled, but switched gears and asked if the coat ever belonged to Bro-Bro.  I was tempted to lie right then and there.  But I couldn’t lie to my little girl.  I ended up reminding Emily that her coat used to live at Brad’s house, and that maybe, just maybe, it hung next to his coat at one time or other.  It was good enough for my Emily and she gleefully slipped into the darn coat.  Mama for the win.

Baby-to-be: Steven Thomas is due around the twenty-ninth, right before big sister’s birthday.  Given my limited experience in childbirth, no one is holding their breath for a 2008 baby.  We chose the name Steven after my dad.  And the Stephen in the Bible, a gentle man who was martyred for his faith in the days of the early church.  Interestingly enough, Steven literally means crowned or victorious, which is how my dad’s new life is with Jesus.  His life reminds me of the saints in Hebrews 11 who lived by faith but did not receive their crowns or rewards on earth but in heaven.  Julea, my sister-in-law, gave a verse for little Steven that I’m hanging on to.  “He will be a joy and delight to you, and many will rejoice because of his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord…” (Luke 1:14, 15).  That’s my hope and prayer for our baby boy.

Well, the writing was surprisingly simple and pain-free, once I gave it a shot.  It’s amazing how the words come when I start writing.  I wish it was this easy in college.  Anyway, we three Twedts wish you a blessed celebration of our Savior’s birth.  We’ll be sure to let you know when Steven makes his appearance.

Love,

Greg, Nicole and Emily

P.S.

Steven Thomas Twedt. January 3.  9 pounds, 3 ounces.  21 1/4 inches.

Christmas 2007

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Originally from December 2007

Greetings!  This year was an interesting one for us as first time parents.  We welcomed our baby girl Emily into our family last year, five days after Christmas.  I naively thought motherhood would come naturally to me since I worked with children.  Nothing could have been further from the truth.  There is nothing natural about parenting.  All the same, being a parent is more than profound, far more amazing and life-changing than I thought possible.  Kimmi says mothers walk around with invisible umbilical cords attaching them to their children.  It doesn’t surprise me.  Greg and I love Emily so much it hurts.

Emily is the apple of our eyes.  At eleven months she has seven teeth, white-blonde hair and greenish-blue eyes with little flecks of gold, just like her mama.  The eyes, not lack of teeth.  Her favorite things include singing “Ba-ba” over and over again as we sing Ba Ba Black Sheep, closing her bedroom door, wrestling with daddy, and racing through Grandma and Grandpa’s circular floor plan in a bright pink umbrella stroller pushed by cousins Brad, Margaux and Greta.  Chewing on her hairbrush also makes the list of Baby Emily’s favorites.  She’s a mover and shaker, no doubt about it.  Emily’s name means industrious.  And she is.  She will only sit for two-seconds at a time unless a bottle or Eric Carle’s Brown Bear, Brown Bear is involved.  It seems the only cuddle time we get happens with the bottle is present.  Poor Emily will be at least five before we wean her.

When he isn’t wrestling with his little girl, Greg is busy working for the best employers in town: His dad and Uncle Keith.  Greg keeps busy working on who-knows-what, metal projects of all shapes and sizes for companies in the pacific northwest.  He is involved with a group from church, mostly guys from our Young Marrieds class.  He’s also helping Jim and Eli remodel their home in Edmonds.

It’s been almost an entire year since I quit my teaching job.  I missed teaching at first, but not anymore.  I loved being a preschool and kindergarten teacher but it doesn’t compare with the wonders that come with discovering the world through my own child’s eyes.  I thought I’d get bored at home, but I realize I’m working harder than I’ve ever worked before.  You were right, Julea.  Staying home has given me opportunities to get plugged into MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers), nursery, and a Thursday morning Bible Study at church.  I’m learning about God and how he loves me in new ways.  I was water baptized in October.

This has truly been an exciting year for us as a family of three.  In September we took Emily to Tennessee to meet her Uncle Ben, Auntie Jen, Uncle Marty and cousin Isaac for the first time at Ben and Jennifer’s wedding.  My parents and Uncle Scotty were there too.  We had a fabulous time with family.  And one really interesting night driving through the streets of Tennessee in an attempt to get Emily to sleep in the car.  We finally gave up around 2:30 in the morning and went back to the hotel, vowing never again to vacation with a baby.  We broke our promise and recently booked a trip with Nana and Grandpa Dave for Hawaii in February.  I think we were sidetracked by the remote possibility of a date night in the tropics.  We’ll see how it goes.  Wish us luck.

We hope this year has been a year of hope and joy for you and your family.  As we hold tight to our baby (when she’ll let us), our thoughts turn to another child.  We reflect on the grace of Father God, amazed that his love compelled him to send his most precious son over two thousand years ago, love that reaches down still, to save lives and bless the broken-hearted.  Our prayer for you this Christmas is for you to truly experience the love of Emmanuel, God with us.