Tag Archives: tara

Joyous Birthday to the firstborn, my Tara Jean~

To the girl who was deemed Liquid Joy {or Joy-bear} while she was growing up~

As the music at the banquet

As the wine before the meal

It was 5:55 a.m. The sun had just broken through bright and I felt the earth move.  Actually, probably less the earth moving than having that first, distinct contraction – that sign for which I had waited, wondering if I’d even know when you’d be coming.  But there it was – a new sensation, so marked and unambiguous, I knew everything was about to change forever.  I drank in the sun as it rose through my window.  I looked at the clock and my heart palpitated with wild excitement.

Today is the day.  This child for whom I have prepared and waited would arrive.  Today – this baby that had caused me to exercise daily and eat so many vegetables for its’ health – now we would see.

Boy or girl?  I didn’t know, but I was praying for a baby girl with blond hair and rosy cheeks (like the baby of one of my college Bible teachers).  I had a vision in mind…

No one but Grandma and I even knew.  It was our happy little secret all day as we went here or there.  I wrote down contraction times and when asked by friends and church family, “When are you going to have that baby?”  “Oh, maybe today, I’d tell them,” smiling so big inside about the best secret in the world.

5:55 a.m. and the clock spun wildly around until 5:55 p.m. when I told Grandma, “I need to go to the hospital now.”  I am not sure how I knew it except that I was packing my bag and when a contraction would come, I’d have to stop what I was doing to breath through it.  I was giddy with anticipation, feeling out of control.

But grandpa.  He wanted us to wait and drop him at the church.  So we left at 6:15 and drove {the almost opposite direction} to drop him at his office around 6:30 p.m. and then we were off to the hospital.  Okay-maybe I am being dramatic, as it was only about a 10 mile trip, but when you are in transition…

We pulled up to the doors at emergency so my mom could drop me off and I was met with a wheel chair at 6:48 p.m.  As we went over the bumpy grate going in, I said to my wheelchair-pusher, “Could you stop for a minute?  I am having a contraction and need to breathe.”

Oh, honey,” she said with great disdain.  “You are never going to make it.  This is your first baby and you will be in labor for at least 20 hours and if you are acting like this now, you will never make it.”  I figured she was the expert and I thought if what she was telling me was true I would never be able to do this for 20 more hours. I was not going to make it.

But I also kind of wanted to hit her.

She delivered me to labor and delivery and you were born at 7:16 p.m. – just 28 minutes after my mom had delivered me to the door.  I have never gotten over the fact that I didn’t get to smack that wheelchair pusher.  I just never have.

As the firelight in the night

So are you to me

At two

And like so many other things in your life

You surprised me and showed right up and it was beautiful and mysterious and awe-inspiring and magical and spiritual and breath-taking and it was you and me, just us. And you looked at me, and I couldn’t quit looking at you and though we’d only just met, I felt so at home with your warm, fuzzy head. The smell of you, the contour of your face in the barely-lit room: proof of God’s love for me.  A gift straight from heaven!  I knew I was undeserving.  I knew no one, no one, but God could have, would have entrusted you to me.

At three

As the ruby in the setting

As the fruit upon the tree

Oh, love story of love stories – my baby, my own, a sweet tiny, pink-bundled girl.  Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, joy of joys.  I wondered if I was actually allowed to feel this happy –  because I was sure some one would take you away if they knew.

As the wind blows over the plains

So are you to me

 Read about Kai’s adoption story here

And now, joy-child, beautiful woman with two sons of your own {I learn so much from watching you mother them, love them} – it is a day to celebrate your birth, to remember and recall that day thirty-four years ago with gratefulness and thankfulness to a loving God who drew my heart to His with the most loving-kindess imaginable in the form of a girl, tender and sweet, now a woman – wise and lovely.  I do thank God for you.  I do.  So I wish for you (a prayer-wish, of course):

As the wind blows over the plains

So are you to me

So are you to me

Happy Birthday, firstborn and namesake.  Happy Birthday, daughter and friend.  I love you.




Truly, I promise – I have home tours coming!  Several people, *ahem, have said soon they will share their spaces.  They will show us what makes their home their home!  Meanwhile, the firstborn has submitted hers.

Tara is a home-maker, as many women are.  She makes home while mommying, wife-ing, travelling in ministry, song-writing, recording, etc.  She is always excitedly telling us about one project or another and very thoughtfully creates spaces that reflect the love between her and Dave, for their son and the life of worship to God they are building.  A guest in their home recently commented, “Your house is…warm.”  It is!

Tour Tara’s Home:

They use every inch of yard space to enjoy their family life.  And loving the outdoors like they do, Tara utilized an old tree stump as wall art later adding sepia prints from a family photo shoot.  It is striking.  And simple!

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You can kind of see the loft and skylight above and the kitchen opening from the living room.  The old window matches my coffee table as it is from Tara’s elementary school in Nebraska.  Tara specifically left the dishes in the sink under the word “Life” because that is what dishes are!

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Photos of the little guy hang on a dining area wall.  Tara loves to organize life via bulletin and message boards.

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Down the hallway, and a picture of our Home Tour hostess – taking pictures.  By the way, Tara told me she really had a blast photographing her home – just like I told her she would.

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Old maps, atlases, anything about world travel can find itself in the Powers family decor.  There are a lot of photographs of their little family, peach soy candles, and one-of-a-kind art by a friend atop the bookshelves.

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In the upstairs bath, French poster art (on canvas), and a piece from Tara’s sister, Stephanie, – the tree above the bath tissue.

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A gift: Hunter in pencil; Dave’s guitars as art in the loft/TV area.

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Giant art canvas painted by Pearl as a headboard.  A photo I really love (I found it in my pictures) of Tara, Dave and Hunter Christmas 2007.  They took it themselves and it really captures them at home.

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Hunter’s room-you gotta LOVE this poster of him with daddy and the accompanying scripture.  Some of his weaponry hanging.  They are good about encouraging the wild-hearted boy in him.

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These are some of the parts of Tara’s home that makes it theirs.  I can think of other scenes in her inviting house that I am surprised she didn’t send.  I hope she’ll discover more of the home she is building through the camera lense.  It is a wonderful new way to see.

Wanna give us a tour of your home?  C’mon!!  let me know…Jeanie

“Jo, how could you, your one beauty?!…”

That is a line from the Little Women movie when Jo had cut and sold her hair for money to help the family. 

And isn’t it true our hair can actually make or break the day we are having?  There must be some glory there, or lack thereof on a “bad hair day.”

“…if a woman has long hair, it is her glory?  For long hair is given to her as a covering.”  1 Corinthians 11.15 NIV

When Tara was three, she cut her sister Stephanie’s hair – just the bangs right in front.  Stephanie was exactly one year old, had beautiful hair and now it had a”butched” area right in front!  I was sad, but a little time and cute bows and barrettes in the meantime kept her looking like a baby girl.

When Tredessa was almost three, she, whose hair was thick and curly and was already longer than waist-length when it was wet, lopped off a whole side of her hair.  I had just had a baby.  I sat on the stairs of our home and wept in deep sorrow (can you say ‘hormonal’?).  It grew back.

Gavin was three when he got ahold of some scissors and cut his hair short-short-short right next to the scalp.  We had no choice but to shave that shiny, beautiful hair right off his whole head.

Saturday morning Guini came down to breakfast and gleefully announced to her mama, “Look at my haircut,” as she stood there, sans locks, but with freshly cut hair and glossy lips (she calls it “lip sauce”).

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Mommy brought her over for a pixie-haircut – which were very popular with my friends around 1967-68.  It is really short, but she actually did a pretty fair job of cutting it to the hairline without gouging out too may big swaths into her scalp.  So we were able to give her a nice short pixie (still-in-process) and her beautiful face is her glorious feature for now…


These grand-kids keep life interesting…Jeanie

NOTE TO SELF:  Help the mommies strategize how to keep Gemma and Averi from the 3-year-old cut…

pictured: Guini with her very short bangs and baby sister, Gemma in the background