Nicole K. Twedt

Being Brave When Life Is Hard

If: Gathering 2015 Remembrance Stone

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Originally from February 2015.  Unless you happened to catch or attend the first and second IF: Gathering, this post probably won’t make sense.

I’m a year behind.  I accidentally bought and watched last year’s IF: Gathering, thinking it was the one from this year.  I’m caught up now, having just watched the final session this morning as I have a sick one home from school and time to spare.

About the Remembrance Stone.  At the IF: Gathering, those present were given a small stone to record what God was laying on their heart to do next.  I didn’t know what I was going to write on my rock, but I knew God was calling me to take a step of faith and participate in the activity.

I didn’t even have a rock.  Then I remembered the landscaping rocks that grace our small property.  Since Greg and I know almost nothing about plants and flowers we literally have tons of landscaping rocks of various shapes and sizes to fill our yard and make it look like we know what we’re doing, at least we did before the kids messed with them.

I paused the session, slipped my feet into the brown leather clogs I keep by the sliding door to take the puppy out, and marched out to the back yard, full of purpose in search of the perfect rock.

And there it was, past the sliding door, at the edge of the house almost to the fence.  There it was sitting amongst the smallest piles of rocks.  I chose the smallest rock.  I wasn’t sure there would be enough room to record my next step.  But it jumped out at me, radiant amongst the others, practically luminous, purplish in contrast to the plain stone-colored variety.  This was my rock, my remembrance stone, a permanent reminder of what God was saying to my heart pertaining to the next step of faith.  I didn’t yet know what He was saying, but my heart was ready.  I had my rock.

Then, for a moment, going back to my house I got distracted by a second pile of landscaping rocks, bigger rocks, gorgeous rocks with plenty of room to record God’s goodness.  And I thought to myself, Mine is the wrong shape. The other rocks are prettier and there is more room to write.  I glanced down at the tiny rock in my hand.  It didn’t even look purplish anymore.  It looked plain and ugly, hardly set apart from the others.  My rock was small, too small, unimportant and nothing special.

Immediately as I began to compare and complain, God nudged my heart, confirming I made the correct choice.

Back in the house, sitting in front of my computer screen, I wasn’t sure what to mark on my stone with the black sharpie.  The Lord already spoke powerfully to me about being quiet before him at the beginning of the year.  But what was the next step?  I didn’t really know.  But I had my rock.  I began jotting down notes as I resumed play on Session 4 as others shared their Next Step.

The Spirit is quiet but moves like thunder.  As I diligently took notes, he reminded me that as I follow him, being the one he made me to be, I will be luminous, shining like stars amongst this dark generation (Philippians 2:15).  But that was not all.  He gently reminded me that, like my rock, I was not the wrong shape.  He called me to stop comparing myself to other woman, both in physical shape, ministry or calling.  Praise the Lord, as I have been struggling, seriously struggling, with this battle since I shared a story with IF: Local friends about my past with disordered eating.

Now, I too, have a rock engraved in black sharpie, my little remembrance stone.

I will shine like the stars and I will not compare myself to others.

(Learning to Be) Flexible

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Photo by Hannah Tasker on Unsplash

When Emily started kindergarten, all those years ago, this rule-following mom read the school handbook from cover to cover.  Our school administrators (whom I love dearly) gently, or not so gently, discourgaed parents from scheduling appointments during school hours.  So I didn’t.  Until this year when it all came down to free babysitting.

Emily has homework most nights so it’s no longer practical to run errands after school, not that I ever run errands with three kids by choice.  And for a second-grader, Steven has a bit to do too.  And there’s Lauren.  She’s in a sweetheart stage once again but tired after a full day of kindergarten.  It’s our fifth academic year at our school, but it just occurred to me that I’m the parent.  I can take my child out of school if necessary.  I have to do what’s best for our family when life happens.  Why take two along for the ride when I could just take Steven during school hours?  Lesson learned.

I’m learning to go with the flow, that’s the other lesson I’m learning.  And it only took thirty-eight years.  Well, I’ve always been able to go with the flow, just not with a gracious heart.  I’d smile on the outside but the smile would end there.    I like my ducks in a row and I very much like knowing what’s going to happen, when it’s going to happen and how it’s going to happen, thank you very much.

They say practice makes perfect.  Let’s just say I’ve had plenty of practice being flexible this week and last.  Who am I kidding? Being a parent for ten years will teach flexibility, if nothing else.

Steven’s glasses broke on Thursday.  And there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.  It was the day of big sister’s and little sister’s Girl Scouts so we couldn’t get the frames fixed after school.  After Girl Scouts, Steven was unusually grouchy, wanting to go to bed without dinner even.  Vomiting began within a few hours but only lasted until midnight.  Not bad for the stomach bug.   There would be no going anywhere Friday because, you know, you gotta wait 24 hours after the last bout of vomit.  Or is it 48 hours?  I really don’t know.  I should, because the handbook.

Anyway, Saturday was World Thinking Day with the Girl Scouts.  Afterward, the five of us went to lunch at our favorite spot in Redmond, if you count a taco bus as “going to lunch.”  I do.

We didn’t exactly run out of time to get the glasses fixed.  It’s just that three kids were busy all day and were done with it all. The eyewear shop is closed Sunday and Monday.

Normally I would freak out over Steven not wearing glasses for five days, fearing his vision would be further damaged.  But there was nothing I could do.  So I didn’t.

I’m not usually this chill.  But something about being sick for so long, and not being able to do a thing about it, has taught me the fine art of chilling out.  The cold, by the way, it turned out to be a sinus infection.  All of the Sudafed in the world wouldn’t have helped.  That’s another story for another day but it’s too boring to write about.

Today is Tuesday.  Steven and I butted heads all morning before school.  At one point he was literally on the ground, kicking.  A flashback to toddlerhood if there ever was one.  We were almost late.  And it was my turn to help with Sight Words first thing.  The plan was for me to come for Sight Words and then check Steven out of school to run to Woodinville to the eyewear shop.  But the student teacher needed to film her lesson.   And that was okay.  I couldn’t have cared less that I came to school for nothing.  I totally remember student teaching and it’s requirements.  I wasn’t feeling put out at all.  I just went home, played with Chloe, worked on a Bible Study and finished my morning coffee.  I couldn’t have asked for a better and more focused 45 minutes.  Just knowing I had to turn around and get back to school to pick up Steven did the trick.  Thank you, God.  This is not typical Nicole behavior.

It was snowing when I picked Steven up.  Not enough to stick, but enough to fill our hearts with wonder.  By the time I delivered Steven and his glasses to the eyewear shop, we were both calm, enjoying each other’s company even.

And I would need to be calm and cool.  Our favorite technician, Katherine, could tell Steven’s glasses didn’t accidentally break.  Sigh.  The Holy Spirit and mama intuition is telling me that he’s angry that he’s different.  Little Nicole hated her hearing aids for the same reason.  Grown up Nicole knows it really doesn’t matter.  You have to do what you have to do to see or hear.  Now is the time to wear glasses, anyway, the bigger and bolder the better.  It’s hard to explain to an eight-year-old who is still learning that God loves him and doesn’t want him to be the same.  In fact, God sets us apart on purpose.  We are uniquely made and he calls us his own.  It hurts watching my son learn this one, but learn it he must.  We all need to be reminded of this painful yet life-giving lesson from time to time.  I know I do.

I’m not sure where I was going with this.  Once again this ADHD mind of mine has gone walking.  Anyway, I’ve got to get out of here.  The school bell will ring in about twenty minutes.  I need to bring the Smith Brother’s milk in from the box on the front porch and put Chloe in her crate before I bundle up and walk the half-mile to school.

 

 

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.