Sixty years ago today, Nancy Caldwell gave birth to her second child and only daughter, Tara Lynne. This was not, shall we say, planned.
Nancy was not a drinker. She loved her Tab and Pall Malls, but she rarely put a cocktail to her lips. That said, after four long months of being a first-time mother to a son and married to a traveling salesman, Nancy needed a night out. She and her husband Jay went out for dinner and found a place to Jitterbug. This weary new mom drank enough Screwdrivers to spark a night of lovemaking that both she and Jay claimed they would never forget. Nine months later, a baby girl became a little sister in a home filled with love, and second-hand smoke. Nancy thought, “Does anyone really get to be this happy?”
Fifty years ago, Tara Lynne Caldwell declared that she wanted to be a ballerina. Even at ten, Tara had an unusual sense of determination, believing that anything is possible as long as you don’t surrender. She probably trusted in this because Nancy repeatedly told her, “You can accomplish anything you want in life. Dream big, believe in yourself, and don’t give up.” Excited about becoming a ballerina, and about fifth-grade slumber parties, Tara wondered, “Does anyone really get to be this happy?”
Forty years ago, Tara Caldwell was living in a studio apartment at 3rd and Peachtree. In Atlanta, she could attend Georgia State University and train with the Atlanta Ballet Company every afternoon. Tara fell in love with the city—the grit, the art, the way it made her feel small yet powerful. Plus, she had a hot new boyfriend. The way he escorted her from girl to woman showed her the limitless power of love. Tara wondered, “Does anyone really get to be this happy?”
Thirty years ago, Tara Caldwell Heaton and her husband moved their family of five to Athens, GA. The three children were eager learners, highly sociable and active. Tara’s husband followed his dream of becoming a teacher, and she launched a career in sales that shot her out of bed each morning with big plans for the competition. Tara wondered, “Does anyone really get to be this happy?”
Twenty years ago, Tara’s 13-year-old daughter was battling refractory seizures that caused steady damage to the brain. Her son suffered in silence, using alcohol and adrenaline to cope, and her youngest daughter suffered loudly, feeling as if she was losing her voice and the once safe place called home. Tara was on a mission-driven journey to stop her daughter’s seizures, believing that as soon as she won the battle, she would be able to put her family back together like a Hallmark movie. After all, Nancy had always assured her, “You can accomplish anything you want in life. Dream big, believe in yourself, and don’t give up.” And so Tara believed she would stop the seizures, stop the brain damage, and end the trauma her family was enduring. Then she would once again ask herself, “Does anyone really get to be this happy?”
Ten years ago, the epilepsy afflicting Tara Heaton’s daughter had progressed to a primary diagnosis of Major Neurocognitive Disorder. Her youngest daughter was away at college, struggling with anxiety and an eating disorder. Her son was serving a prison sentence due to an accident caused by his tendency to numb grief with alcohol. And Tara’s ex-husband had moved to Atlanta to live with his new partner.
Not despite life’s turmoil, but because of it, Tara knew she had to live. Not just survive, but live with an elevated determination to savor what life offers now. Heartache became her source of curiosity and hope, enabling her to be a spirited giver of love and spewer of joy. She would remain her children’s loyal confidant, their fierce warrior, their source of endless love. And still, she would tap into the ballerina’s energy and pour herself into connecting to nature, to art, and most importantly, people.
Ten years ago today, Tara Heaton was sitting in a café in Paris, across from the man she knew she would soon marry, when she asked herself, “Does anyone really get to be this happy?”
Sixty years ago today, I was born as a result of Screwdrivers, the Jitterbug, and a weary new mom. Due to some rare complications, the doctor told my mom throughout her pregnancy, “Your baby only has a ten percent chance of surviving.” I’ve often wondered if that heart-wrenching pregnancy was the source of her forever telling me, “Dream big, believe in yourself, and don’t give up.”
Over the holiday weekend our home filled up with my husband, my ex-husband, his husband, my three children, their loved ones, cousins, neighbors and a grandchild! It was a crowd who came to celebrate love. Thankfully, not one of us has cracked the code on eradicating heartache.
I am grateful for hardship because it is the truest barometer for our capacity to love. Just as it is bitterness that elevates sweetness and cold rainstorms that cause us to dance about in the sunshine, it is heartache that determines the depth of our joy.
As I looked into the eyes dancing around my home, I reflected on each of their journeys and my heart wanted to explode with love. I put my palm on my chest and wondered to myself, “Does anyone really get to be this happy?”
I hope this Sunday Story made you smile, laugh, and think about how we can change the world.
With love and cheers,
LET’S TALK ABOUT
ELEVATING YOUR IMPACT
BOOK A DISCOVERY CALL HERE
or for more information: connect@enpointeglobal.com