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.

Suffering and Sudafed

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Originally from February 10, 2017

The Sudafed lost it’s magic.  I’m having trouble catching my breath.  When is this cold going to end? At least it’s not the stomach flu.  This illness is unpleasant but I’ll take it any day over vomiting over the toilet or into the family barf bucket.  It could definitely be worse.

I’m thinking of suffering this morning.  Not me and this cold, but suffering in general.  Maybe it’s being sick or maybe it’s the ADHD, but it’s really remarkable how quickly my pondering moves from Sudafed to being glad that I’m not throwing up to thoughts of suffering, redemption and healing.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately.   Aren’t I a ray of sunshine this morning?  I’ve been so focused on wanting to be healed, and I still do, so bad I can taste it, but I’m also thinking of everything else that happens when we suffer.  How these experiences (dad’s suffering and death, my hearing loss, Steven’s vision impairments and Lauren’s hearing issues), are worth it a thousand times over, as painful as they are, if something better than the healing is coming out of it all.  It’s hard to imagine something better than healing but I know my God well, and he has a remarkable way of taking care of his children and blessing them when the world would say otherwise.  He has an amazing ability to take what the enemy earmarked for destruction and instead use it to draw his children closer to him, his glory on display for all to see.  I was thinking of Jesus on the cross.  How he had to die.  If his life was spared, Jesus’ power would have been displayed in his release from the cross but his divine power over death wouldn’t have happened.  It’s all so confusing, wonderful, glorious, heart-breaking and beautiful. Such is suffering.

Still, I really don’t like suffering.  If I’m honest, I just want the healing.

And I’m thinking of the times he does heal.  Or the times when nothing short of a miracle has occurred.  I’m thinking of a very specific situation last year involving an extended family member.  The story is not mine to share.  All you need to know is that it wasn’t looking good.  The situation was so full of evil.  There was no possible way for it to end well.  Yet in the final hour, God showed up in all of his glory and really showed off, making the impossible possible.  It’s overwhelming to comprehend how he swept in and made a way where there was none.  I still can’t believe what he did for my family member.

That’s all the thoughts I have for today.   Time to lay down again, or at least read this month’s book for book club.  In a few hours I will drive to school and pick up Steven, take him to Bellevue for an appointment with his pediatric optometrist.  I’m nervous.  I’m praying for good news.  We’ve had such good news but also such bad news at these types of appointments.  It’s enough to keep a mama’s emotions out of whack.