Nicole K. Twedt

Being Brave When Life Is Hard

Weekend Roundup, September 3, 2017

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Photo by Lionello DelPiccolo, Unsplash

Howdy there!  It’s been awhile since I shared a Weekend Roundup.  Okay, it hasn’t been thaaaat long, only a week or so. I’m feeling a bit rusty all the same. And late in the game since it’s already Sunday!  But it’s all good.  I can be a latecomer this time around.  It’s my blog and I’ll share if I want to (to the tune of Lesley Gore’s hit of the 60s).  Come to think of it, it’s a three-day weekend.   I’m really not late at all.  So there.

It occurred to me this morning, as I frantically shoveled KIND Cinnamon Oat Clusters and dairy-free vanilla yogurt down my hatch so as not to be too late for church, that Greg will be home tomorrow.  Early morning Nicole knew that Labor Day was coming but failed to connect the rest of the dots. Then again, we go to first service and it was early.

I’ve got to make this one a quick share.  I haven’t walked Chloe yet.  And it’s getting late.  She’s doing so much better, but she’s not there yet.  She’s still not a fan of headlights.  It takes time, baby, it takes time.  I’m not as quick to get my derrière in gear and walk tonight.  You see, I spied Chloe’s arch enemy, the silver Siamese, during our last few strolls around the neighborhood.  I don’t want a repeat performance of dog meets cat. Not that the cat cares.

Come to think of it, I don’t even know if the cat is Siamese.  I know nothing about them.   All I know is that s/he is a beautiful silver-gray, the kind of gray I was going for when we repainted the interior of the house.

On to more important matters.  About Houston.  Leigh Sain wrote a powerful essay, When Prayers Seem Small and the Water Keeps Rising.  It’s a must-read and I appreciated the links to help at the end.  I want to throw it out there that Convoy of Hope is also a great relief organization.

This one by Elli Johnson of The Hippo Chronicles made me smile.  And how I needed to smile after writing about such a heavy topic less than 24-hours ago.  You can read it here if you’d like.  I always feel weird linking to myself.   Anyway, I think you’ll appreciate Elli’s essay.  We could all use a to-don’t list of sorts.

The title of Robin Chapman’s essay grabbed my attention.  You and I may come from different places, but I think everyone would benefit from reading it. Greatly.  By the way, it’s called Owning My Racism.  Food for thought and then some.

Toodles,

N.

When Friday Share Day Happens on a Saturday

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It’s 9:40 on this cool Saturday morning.  I’ve ditched my Starbucks tumbler in favor of the mug with the turquoise mama bird and her nest that found me at Central Market earlier this year in the dead of winter.  It matches B’s mug perfectly, and I think of my sweet friend whenever I use it.  This has nothing to do with anything.

The dog is next to me, as always.   She’s fast asleep on top of the armrest of the ugly rust couch.  I’m just as surprised as the next person that someone so anti-canine would come to delight in such a creature, and a little dog to boot. If it strikes your fancy, you could read about my change of heart regarding all things furry, here.

Friday Share Day is going to have to morph into Saturday Roundup.  I should be kind to myself and call it a Weekend Roundup.  No matter what I call this showcase of writing, it’s time once again to share the work of fellow Hope*Writers.  Even if I’m a day late.  I’m supposed to have a sweet little plug-in or widget (whatever it’s called) somewhere on my blog identifying me as a Hope*Writer, but it’s one of many techie-tech parts of being an online writer that I haven’t yet figured out.  Someday I’ll get my act together, or I’ll have someone else figure it out for me, and I’ll be linked to my group of writers, at least officially.

This is only the third time I’ve decided to feature the work of other writers, but I notice a theme.  I keep pulling from the work of the same people.  I think I’ve found my tribe.

Anyway, the dog is off following Greg around the yard, so now’s the perfect time to go to the computer and share my findings.

My Kids Are Jerks.  Everything you need to know about this essay is in its title.  Well, not really.  But check out Robin Chapman’s essay on Kindred Mom.  It’s a good one.

Jill’s essay.  I suppose I should sign up to follow Jill E. McCormick’s blog because I’ve linked to her work every time I’ve had a Share Day, except I’ve only really had three.  Back to the Jill’s piece: While I believe God certainly tells us when to head left or to the right, at times it’s less certain.  Sometimes we really don’t know which way to go, which brings me back to why you should read this essay.

This.   I get to be part of two distinct (though overlapping) writing groups.  For some reason I thought Karen V. Rutledge was a fellow Hope*Writer and a Glory Writer.  She should be, but my mistake.  I get people and groups of people mixed up in the flurry that is Facebookland.  Anyway, please read Karen’s haunting reflection of a recent Friday she spent at a homeless shelter.  I appreciate the way Karen doesn’t end her essay with a tidy Christian bow but allows for the opportunity for us to sit with her in the grief of it all.

Faith Gibson’s guest post, Come As You Are Hospitality is a recent essay featured on Voice of Courage.  Authentic hospitality, not Martha Stewart hospitality, is something that is always on my mind.  The struggle is real for this introvert and recovering perfectionist who really wants to open her home but doesn’t all the same.

Kathleen Cope wrote a splendid essay that was featured on For Every Mom exploring why being a mom is more than enough.  She’s not saying that women are defined by motherhood alone, nor does she try to convince us that our role as mother is the only job a woman can do.  But being a mama is a worthy endeavor, and a warrior can often be found with a tiny babe in her arms, chasing down a toddler or chauffeuring children to and from their activities in the Honda Odyssey.

Although running is not my jam, I easily related to Dorina Lazo Gilmore’s essay Running Therapy: How Grief Crashes Like Ocean Waves.  Dorina’s words helped me make sense of the way I (inwardly) reacted the way I did when someone I know lost a parent.  You can read my essay, A Time to Mourn here.

And finally, I chose Because, No. We Are Not There Yet since “Are we there yet?” has been the anthem of our summer walks with Chloe.  But seriously, I love how Leigh explores why we should bring our questions to the one who can can handle them.  And by the “one,” I mean God.

Happy reading everyone.  Peace out.  I never say “peace out.” Not sure where that came from.  Anyway, in typical Nicole-fashion, have a lovely weekend.

N.

Friday Share Day, June 30, 2017

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Please note that I’m having a computer catastrophe at the moment, if you can call it that.  I’m trying to edit on a teensy-tiny iPhone screen.   So spelling and adding tidy links will have to wait til later.  My apologies.  

Today marks the last day of the Vacation Bible School my kids have been attending all week.  It’s actually called VBA at this church, as in Vacation Bible Adventure because who wants to go to school in summer?

Here’s a few pics of my three at the church playground.

Here they are inside the church lobby with their matchy-matchy VBA t-shirts, which have been washed exactly once this week because white t-shirts aren’t going to stay white so what’s the point?

The lighting is poor but the kids were being kind to each other, if kindness is a spectrum, and I wanted to capture the moment.  But really, I was also trying to take a picture of the iron-and-wood console they’re standing in front of but didn’t want to risk looking like a weirdo.

My friend Sharon took a picture of the console for me and posted it on Facebook.  She’s not afraid of strange looks.

Which made me think, “Well I can do that.”  So yesterday I took a few more pictures and ended up snapping a bunch of other furniture pieces.  I just couldn’t help myself.  Forget Pinterest, the church lobby is where it’s at.  Unfortunately, during my picture taking enthusiasm I had to reassure a small child that I wasn’t taking a picture of him, just the sleek coffee table and end tables next to him.  Weirdo.

Like most of my stories, the rustic yet contemporary lobby furniture has nothing to do with where I’m headed.  Except I mentioned it’s the last day of VBA which means it’s Friday.  And that, my friend, is what it’s all about.

It’s time for Friday Shares over at Hope*Writers, one of my writing circles.  Here’s the deal: they won’t let you share unless you’re willing to feature the work of two other writers on your blog or social media of choice.  I almost never share.  This morning, however, I had exactly an hour to finally edit The Rest of the Autism Story that I worked on a few weeks ago.  Perfection had to take backseat to the need to share back when it was originally published.  But today was the day for revision.  I doubt anyone will notice the difference between drafts but it feels better somehow.  It is time for the essay to find its way beyond my tribe of friends.  And that is why it’s Friday Share Day here.

The first essay that grabbed me is by Dorina Lazo Gilmore.  I originally discovered Dorina through her writing on grief featured on Kindred Mom, as well as her interview with Emily Sue Allen on the Kindred Mom Podcast.  Anyway, this one stuck with me becauses the subject is worship.  And worship, like writing, is one of the ways I not only praise God, but make sense of him, or at least get a fresh perspective on whatever I’m dealing with.  You see, it’s not just  me speaking (or singing actually) to God, exclaiming the wonders of his love, but it’s me hearing from him.  I’m learning once again that it’s okay to worship him with songs of singing when I don’t have the words for prayers or when I don’t know how to pray.  This concept was seriously a life changing lesson from back when we first began our journey with Steven’s eyesight.

I remember seeing this lovely essay a few days ago by Lindsay Hausch on Kindred Mom.  I could have written this about ten years ago as it reflects my feeling of loneliness as I adjusted to life at home with a wee little one during a time in my life when most of my friends didn’t have children or worked ouside the home.  This essay is also a darn good example of why I’m such a fan of MOPS, especially for new mamas and those running after toddlers.

Call me bonkers, but God speaks to me through trees, and plants of all sorts, especially whatever’s growing in my measly quarter-acre lot.  I’m hardly a gardner and will do anything to avoid the daunting task of yard work.  You see, I’m allergic to most of what’s blooming beyond my back porch.  And I’m lazy.  But it’s true.  I’m overwhelmed by the way he reveals his majesty through nature.  Perhaps it’s why this essay by Jessica Broberg spoke to me.  It reminds me of God’s faithfulness, and how nothing, no matter how life-shattering or confusing our current situation, he is there and is not taken by surprise.

I’m no baker.  Yet I loved learning about the slow process of bread-baking from Sarah Damska.  Also, I’ve been missing gluten.  That’s a lie.  I haven’t missed gluten one bit because my memory is hardly stretched when it recalls just how badly I feel when I eat wheat, or gluten of any kind.  But I do miss the smell of homemade bread baking in the oven.  Or how I imagine it to be.  I’ve never tried baking bread from scratch unless you count half-hearted attempts to figure out the bread-maker that was a gift from our wedding over twelve years ago.  Anyway, as you can surely guess, this piece isn’t really about baking but about the process of slowing down and discovering God in ordinary tasks.

Since all of last year was pretty much a series of transitions, goodbyes  and of dreaming new dreams, I could relate well to Faith Gibson’s essay on Seasons of Transitions and Relying on Jesus.  Amen and Amen.

Leigh Sain offers encouragement in the midst of a mess of LEGO.  Or is it Legos?  As a mama of three LEGO-crazy kids, I could totally get this one.  Leigh’s essay reminded me to see the beauty in the mess and how God makes all things new, even LEGO creations.

I haven’t blown up at my kids yet this summer.  Who am I kidding?  We’re exactly a week into summer vacation and the Twedtlings have been at VBA for most of it.  I haven’t had time to have a mama meltdown.  But I’m an imperfect person, otherwise known as a recovering perfectionist who deeply feels everything.  It’s bound to happen.  Soon.  Anyway, Jill E. McCormick’s essay reminds me once again that anger is a valid emotion, not a bad one.  It’s just what we do with our anger that gets us into sticky situations.  I mean, it’s what I do with my anger that gets me into trouble.  Anyway, it’s a helpful read for those of us prone to loosing it (raises hand).

Hopefully, I didn’t bore you to tears by over-sharing, but I couldn’t help myself.  I loved each and every essay linked here today.

Have a wonderful weekend, lovelies.