Nicole K. Twedt

Being Brave When Life Is Hard

WE GO TOGETHER

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Photo by Hannah Busing, courtesy of Unsplash

Every now and then I get a chance to share a few words in the form of a Mentor Moment with my local MOPS group. MOPS is an acronym for Mothers of Preschoolers. The gist of MOPS is No Mom Alone, at least it was during my first foray with the group, back when my big kids were littles. I’m pretty sure the point is the same: to provide a place for mothers of young children to get the support and love they need to know they’re not alone in this challenging yet breathtaking season of life. It’s also all about Jesus.

Good morning! I’m Nicole. I’m the mentor mom who is more like your big sister. At least that’s what I tell myself. Those of you who’ve been around this group for a bit know I’m the mentor mom who basically got knocked up and had a baby at 40. I know what it’s like to be in the trenches of motherhood because I’m very much still in the trenches of motherhood. I’m also the mentor mom with ADHD so I can pretty much guarantee I’ll be all over the place this morning. Hang in there. I’ve come to learn that because my mind is everywhere, I see God everywhere, too.

I set off to write a mentor moment peppered with humor.

SIDE NOTE #1: I’m not that funny. Everything I came up with was lame. And when I say lame, I may or may not have been planning a dry-shampoo tutorial. Besides, I actually washed my hair last night.

Instead, what I’d like to do this morning is acknowledge that life is hard right now for many of you. BUT there is good news: You are not alone in these hard times.

SIDE NOTE #2: YOU ARE NOT ALONE is basically like saying WE GO TOGETHER. And WE GO TOGETHER is this year’s theme at MOPS. How about that?

You are welcome here. You belong. You are worthy, and I really hope you’ll put yourself out there, be vulnerable, take a few risks, at least enough to experience true friendship and community with the women at your table and in this group. We go together in the beautiful yet terrible trenches of motherhood.

I’m supposed to encourage you but this mentor moments has nothing to do with me giving you advice or me being your personal cheerleader, cheering for you on the sideline. 

SIDE NOTE #3 I’m an introvert. I’m more likely to be found whispering positive affirmations in your ear. There will be no yelling.

Side notes aside, the point I’m trying to make is this: Maybe you’ve heard it before, maybe you haven’t. You are not alone because WE GO TOGETHER. WE (as in you and me, all of us in our MOPS group) GO TOGETHER with GOD through his son JESUS. I know I’m risking sounding cheesy when I say it, but I’m saying it: You are not alone. You are deeply loved by the savior of the word. And with him, YOU WILL NEVER BE ALONE.

WE GO TOGETHER.

This is a dark yet incredible world. Life is an adventure and it is glorious, blah, blah, blah. The truth is that life is indeed glorious but it can be so incredibly hard and sometimes downright painful and lonely. But friend, hope and heartache go hand in hand. I’ll say it again: Hope and heartache go hand in hand. Know why?

Jesus Christ died for you. Not just for the world collectively but for YOU personally, so that when you ask him in, his Holy Spirit, his Presence, will be with you wherever you go. He knows who you are, he knows where you’ve been, and where you’re going. He knows the very number of hairs on your head in the most non-creepy way possible. He is your biggest fan, your greatest advocate.

I know life is hard right now. 

SIDE NOTE #4: It’s been hard for me too. 

I thought 2020 was bad but 2022 has been an epic dumpster fire year. I’ve had so many “what’s the point of it all?” thoughts. I’m not ashamed to say it. But you know what? If anything this intense moment in time is reminding me that I am deeply loved, and I’m not alone. God is with me and I have a story to tell. You have a story to tell. Not every season is good but he is good. Despite what’s happened, he loves me. He loves you too. And he longs to reveal himself to you so you can go through life in hope, purpose and love and in great joy.

I’m no expert. I’m hardly what you’d call a mentor because I mess up all the time. I seldom have my act together. I can’t even hear well. But I know Jesus. I know him. There’s nothing you can do to add or take away what he did on the cross for you. He died for your sins to give you new life. Not just everlasting life in heaven but hope for here and now. To give you hope and strength and great joy for today because WE GO TOGETHER WITH THE VERY ONE WHO CREATED US.

SIDE NOTE 5: If you’d like to know more about God and this Jesus and the Holy Spirit, particularly if you’re curious about why I’m gushing over Jesus, I would love to walk along side you and answer your questions or pray with you. Any of us at MOPS would love to pray with you. Or maybe you’re having a hard time. We’re here for you, too, because WE GO TOGETHER.

PRAYER

P.S. SIDE NOTE #6: I forgot the prayer. Hailey had to pray before our breakfast portion of the meeting.

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.

Unexpected Love Story

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Originally from February 2011

Photo by Jamez Picard on Unsplash

At a MOPS Christmas meeting I shared an experience my family had in the midst of cancer.  For Valentine’s Day I’m sensing the need to push past all of the sadness and heartache and bring on a good old fashioned, life-is-good, mushy love story.  Who doesn’t enjoy a good love story? It just so happens that I have the perfect one to share.

David came into my life very early on, before I was born actually.  His wife Diana even threw mom a baby shower when she was pregnant with me.  Diana was mom’s best friend and David, a fellow fire fighter like dad, was the most cherished and trusted of dad’s friends.

Sadly, Diana died the same year dad’s cancer returned.  David was widowed and left with 2 young adult sons.

It came to pass that in March of 1996, dad, after battling cancer 6 separate times in 6 years, was really going to die.  Family and close friends were called to his bedside to say good-bye for the last time.  Dad hadn’t spoken much in days.  He had so much morphine pumping through his broken body that when he did talk he spoke mostly as a child, speaking of flying airplanes, something he’d never in his life attempted.  But the afternoon dad spoke to mom for the last time he was fully conscious and very intent on giving her a specific message.  It went something like this:

“We’ve enjoyed over 20 years of married life together and I’ve cherished every moment of them.  It grieves me to think of leaving you behind.  Nothing would make me happier than to know that you are taken care of, that you are happy and that you will love again.”  He went on, “I really can’t think of anyone who I trust my family with more than David Andrews.  When I die I want you to marry Dave.”

Dad’s proclamation was enough to really knock the wind, the socks and just about everything else off and out of my poor mother.  But the good sport that she is, mom didn’t say much.  She gently assured dad of her love for him and that she would be okay.  In the back of her mind she was probably thinking, David Andrews!  He’s Diana’s husband, Ew! Then again, maybe mom didn’t take what he said seriously.

After all, dad had a lot, and I mean a lot, of morphine pumping through his body.

Shortly after midnight on March 6, 1996 Dad began a new life free of pain as he slipped into the presence of our Savior.  I can only imagine his joy.  Mom, Scott, David, grandma and I witnessed the event.  It was the most precious moment of my life, next to my wedding day and the birth of my children, it was also the most tragic.

When you are grieving life seems to stand still, but as much as you’d like to hide under your covers, hold your breath and wait for things to get better or just give up all together, God shows up and reveals a new season.  Winter turned into spring rather quickly the year of dad’s death.  And those spring days found mom and Dave spending a lot of time together, taking long walks strictly as friends, both knowing the tragedy of loosing a spouse.

On one such walk, mom, trying to be funny, gently joked about dad’s last words to her, saying something along the line of “You’ll never guess what Steve said to me when he was on all of the morphine…” She proceeded to tell Dave of dad’s shot as a matchmaker.  Dave didn’t laugh.  Looking into her eyes Dave told mom that at the end of Diana’s life she whispered to her mother-in-law that if anything ever happened to my dad, if the cancer returned and his life ended, she knew that David was to marry my mom.  I don’t know how long it took mom to recover from that one.  What I do know is that something changed that afternoon between mom and Dave, something completely unexpected, something new and very beautiful.

You see, the great love story is that God brings beauty in times of despair.  Just when life seems to end as we know it, he brings something fresh and completely unexpected.  The enemy will try his hardest to tear us apart, hoping that we will be ruined by the trials we face.  But the Bible tells us that God is in control.  “And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them” Romans 8:28.  Not only is he in control, but the Bible tells us in Psalm 56 that God is so near to the broken-hearted that he keeps track of all of their sorrows and actually collects their tears in his bottle.  God was with my family as we said good-bye to dad.  I know this without a doubt.  And although it was completely unexpected and honestly difficult at the time, God was with us when mom said that she loved David and would marry him.  None of this took God by surprise.  He knows the plans He has for us, and they are good plans, safe plans, plans we can trust him with (Jeremiah 29:11).

I promised you a love story.  And what I delivered was probably not the kind of love story you expected, but it was a love story all the same.  I don’t know what your life experiences are. I don’t know what your walk with God is like or what this Valentine’s Day holds for you.  But I do know God, I know him well.  He knows you well. And he wants you to know him well.  Since before time began, he has written a beautiful love story on each of our hearts.  Right now he is speaking to your heart.  If you haven’t already, he longs to help you discover how much he loves you and cares for you even when life isn’t going the way you thought it would go.  I challenge you to open your heart to him.  I promise that you will encounter the greatest adventure of your life and the greatest love story ever experienced.