Hollywood is not America...

Some things:

1. I have a pretty little collection of water bottles. It has absolutely helped me to drink more water, but mostly I have them because they're cute. 

2. I really love reading, but i'm a book quitter sometimes. Also, it takes me forever to actually get into a book. 

3. I like audiobooks a lot. Oddly, my favorite audiobook is "Bittersweet" I could (and have) listen to it over and over again. It's simple and real and reminds me why I love writing. I want to write. I just have to figure out what. 

4. I am obsessed with old movies right now and always, really. The faster the talking and the older the better. Right now i'm super into the 40-60's. I also love a Hollywood love story. 

5. I just watched a documentary on the Oscars. It was delightful. 

6. If i ever get to New York, my first stop will be The Algonquin. 

7. I like nicknames but i don't necessarily like pet names i've decided. You don't get to call me sweetie or honey unless you're my parents or grandmother. Take note boys: Call me sweetie and it will not go well, I'm not a 5 year old. 

8.  I had a kid make me a playlist of their favorite songs on spotify. It was an excellent choice. It's so good. 

9. I'm strangely into the Kennedy's again. But i'm also reading 11.22.63....so there's that. 

10. I haven't been to church in 6 weeks. This is officially a problem. 

11.what if i never get married. ugh ugh ugh. 

I need more Jesus and less of everything else. Everything else makes me crabby.

Baby go find what you're searching for....

Things that I miss:
 1. Creative Team.
 2. Weekly check in meetings
 3. Project meetings
 4. So much coffee shopping
 5. weekly prayer meetings
 6. When Rita would buy raspberries for me.
 7. Opening the building at 7 The way stepping stone smelled and felt when we woke it up on sundays.
 8. Literally weekly texts from brad that said "you're a good thing"
 9. community prayer
 10. scheduling people. and sending emails. I miss church homework.
 11. service projects.
 12. random outings.
 13. feeling part of a community that really loved me.
 14. Bread and chocolate
 15. ALL THE PIZZA LUCE.
 16. Rita.
 17. house sitting for rita.
 18. abby the dog.
 19. learning things from rita
 20. like fasting.
 21. all the time i spent with Sam and Julia. Aria, tea garden. Cafe Latte.
 22. always having people at my apartment.
 23. When people trusted me with big things like the offerings, and planning things, and leading things and like...their hearts.
24. planning worship set lists.
25. I miss when Brad would cry during prayer
26. I miss funny brad.
27. Gelato with Bard
28. Shish.
29. The way the kindalls call me Nickolai, and before that, Neko.

 I've been thinking about Sam and Julia a lot lately. I've just flashes of memories I haven't thought about it in so long. Like late nights at Nina's doing homework. Picking up Julia while she waiting for Brad, ordering pizza luce and watching trashy tv. Gilmore girls. Guitar Center dates with Sam where he would try to teach me guitar. House sitting #whenthepastorsaway.

 Then it obviously goes to late night texts about their mom, when i would get out of bed and drive to be with them so their dad could be with their mom. When Julia begged to say with me for a week while her dad was gone and her mom was home. Going to check on Sam. Having to tell them their mom left and wouldn't be around for their birthdays. Watching brad pray in front of everyone that one time it happened during check...and scooping Sam and Ju up and taking them with me because they shouldn't be alone. Their graduations, their grad party.

 Then wondering why after so much prayer and trench digging....it didn't work. Why she's in KY, our baby church and community is scattered and everything that we worked so hard for....didn't work. And maybe it's my heart reminding me how deeply i love them and i haven't checked in on them enough, and maybe they need it. So many things. And they come and go without any consideration for what i'm currently doing.

 What i'm finding though, is that these things are bittersweet, but mostly sweet. These are the things that i LOVED. I can remember exactly how it all felt when it was good. It was so good. so fun. so fulfilling. It lit me up, it pushed me out, and it made me happy. I'm not mourning it anymore, really. It's so much of who i am. And i loved it, and hated it. But i haven't spent time remembering it. The way if felt. The girl I was. The girl i'm working my way back to. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be paying attention to, but I am paying attention.

I wanted it to be Hilary....

The past two days have been hard. Hard in a way that has caught me off guard.  I've always been excited about politics and civics. I cried when the first black man was elected and inaugurated. I believed deeply in this country and the hope of a more unified America. This year, when Hilary accepted the democratic nomination, I got choked up watching the first woman accept a nomination for president, knowing that this moment has been years in the making. The blood, sweat and tears of so many are finally being realized.

I voted proudly for Hilary Clinton, feeling confident that the glass ceiling would finally be shattered this year.

I wanted it to be Hilary for every little girl out there who ever said they wanted to be president when they grew up. I wanted it to be Hilary because she believe in equal pay for equal work.

I wanted it to be Hilary for every single mom working two part time jobs to support the babies she didn't abort. I wanted it to be Hilary because she cares about education, and achievement gaps and giving every kid their best chance. I wanted it to be Hilary because she knows that so many of our issues can begin to find resolve in investing in the education of our young people.

I wanted it to be Hilary for my gay friends who have just been given the rights that straight people have had since the beginning of time.  I wanted it to be Hilary because she couldn't give a shit what bathroom a Trans person uses. I wanted it be Hilary for the closeted hight school students who are trying to find the courage to be who they are.

I wanted it to be Hilary for every black, muslim and latino person who questioned whether or not they belonged in this country. I wanted it to be Hilary because as I look into the faces of the exchange students/adopted kids/immigrant kids in my class, I want them to know that we not only WANT them here, but NEED them here.

I wanted it to be Hilary because I wanted America to say "locker room talk" is unacceptable. I wanted it to be Hilary because sexual assault and the objectification of women has got to stop.

I wanted it to be Hilary because this country was founded on equality and religious freedom and to mandate laws based on a Christian set of values completely violates the separation of church and state.

You need to know that I love Jesus unashamedly and with passion, but also recognize that not everyone shares my beliefs in this country. My job is not to convert them.  My job is simply to see them, to know them and to love them well. That shows people more about the Gospel than any law ever could.

I love Jesus which is why I wanted it to be Hilary because racism, exclusion, and force do not look like Jesus.

But it wasn't Hilary, and I cried watching her concession speech. She's spoke with so much grace and poise and truly conceded like a winner. The ceiling may not be shattered, but it certainly has a few more cracks in it, thanks to HRC.

I would like to thank our President Elect for making me understand to a new extent how important my job as a teacher is. How fiercely I need to love every single kid in my class.  I need to tell them every day that they are important and they matter. I need to show them the Jesus that loves the widow and the orphan and the refugee.  I think we all know that there is no law that will change the hearts and minds of people, but community, connection and love will.

In order to look like Jesus you have to go to the places, talk to the people and do the things that Jesus did. You cannot do that when you're talking about building walls, deporting people and using language that causes fear.

My job is simple, and yet important. To do good. To spread love. To promote tolerance.

It wasn't Hilary, and I'm disappointed. My dad, who has always been conservative, called to tell me that he voted for Hilary and that he was sorry, and disappointed with outcome, too. My dad wanted it to be Hilary, too. He mostly wanted it for me, because he is a good and decent white man who sees other people. I am thankful that I was raised by that type of man.

I believe deeply that people are good, and that if we lead by example, this country will be okay. So i'm looking forward to the day when there will be a woman president, and women have equal pay and minorities are welcomed and celebrated. I'm going to continue to do what i can, with what I have, right where I am.

I'm praying that you do the same.

Oh, St. Peter wont you open up the big white gate.

There are a lot of people and things that are important to me. Parts of me that have only been crafted because of these things, and yet they are so much a part of me that if you asked me to list them I don't know that I could. 

I've decided to take the "people who are important to me" prompt loosely. The two people of importance are not people at all, but rather places. They are places, however, the I personify on the regular. 

First, St. Paul. She is sweet and constant and full of firsts.  The other, is Green Bay. She is hazy and warm like a summer sunset. She is the house that built me. 

I'm Nicole and I'm forever a midwestern girl. 

I was born in a sleepy Wisconsin city. A city whose streets raised me with endless hours of no handed bike rides. Whose well manicured backyards served as a breeding ground for creativity, skinned knees and grass stains. I was a rough and tumble tomboy tempered with the love of the way the stars sparkled and the big snow flakes landed on my eye lashes.  I played barbies in my pink room with dirt under my chewed nails and my softball uniform on. Green Bay encouraged me to be exactly who I was, and I loved her for it. 

She also open doors into the future, and after 18 years she released me into the wild knowing that I'd come back home any chance I got. She knew, even before I did, that before I could appreciate how special she was (is) I had to leave her, first. 

That's when I met St. Paul. Charming neighborhoods, poetic sidewalks and cathedral bells welcomed me like an old friend I had only just met. Though everything felt new and strange, it felt incredible normal and comfortable at the same time. 

It's in a tiny Summit Hill apartment with crooked, creaky wood floors in the heart of St. Paul that I met Jesus in a new way. It's here were I decided that I wanted to live a life that looked more like Jesus. Saying "yes" to this life, in this place, with a community of people I never knew couldn't live without is was sweet St. Paul has given me. 

She is the most charming in the fall, when the leaves are falling and her history is on display. She she may not be as hip as her twin sister, but she is an absolute delight. She has seen me through some of my best transitions and some of my biggest heart breaks. She saw me through the majority of my 20's. And, spoiler alert, you're 20's are fun and wild and hard. Buckle up, you're in for a treat. 

Green Bay is my forever home. The place I run to when life feels impossible, and God feels far away.  St. Paul reminds me of the infinity possibilities of new days, and endless amounts of grace. 

Green Bay reminds that I'm loved, and St. Paul reminds me that I'm forgiven. 

I'm on the hunt for who i've not yet become.....

I have always bought into the Hollywood idea that things last forever. That, at some point, there will be a happily ever after. And, I know that every romantic comedy has also taught me there is a lot of hijinks and heartbreak in the mean time. 

Hollywood has also told me that I'm an excellent supporting character, one that everyone finds endearing and the secret, unexpected treat of the show. The chubby, awkward, plain looking, single best friend who offers excellent life advice and comic relief all while bring the main character ice cream after the most recent break up with Mr. Wrong. 

I've bought in to the sex and the city arch types, and the idea of friends who just stick with each other through everything.  Not only had i bought into it, i thought i had found it. I reveled in the usness of the memories that have come in heaps for the better part of 10 years.

I was an "us" a part of we who was tethered by youth and love and having spent every day with each other for 4 years. As i sit here, i'm starting to forget what it felt like to be there, to be an us, and i swore i would never let that happen.

Turns out there are a couple of plot twists in this romantic comedy, which currently more comedy than it is romantic. Unless you count my deep love of Jimmy Fallon and my complete and total love for the happily ever after.

I feel like a minor climax to my story is that I'm starting to look at myself less as a supporting character. I've decided that maybe i'm a better person when i'm not cleaning up everyone's messes. After all the the matt across my back is not at all a cape.

So, i've recently let go of the idea that things are forever, and i'm holding on more to the idea of formative seasons, some longer than others, and ever changing as dusks turns to dawns.

This story has come around to be more about me than everyone else. Letting go of the things that are no longer meaningful is super hard. It's the bad break up scene with the bottle of tequila, the picture burning and the ice cream eating. It's a turning point.

Sometimes, turning points look like baby steps. My current quests look more like finding the jeans that make my butt look rockin', tackling the ever expanding list of books i want to read, it's taking time to enjoy exactly where i am and the opportunities that await me. It's the trip to Boston in the Fall, its being an amazing teacher who loves her job and her kids, it's making a plan to finally get her ass to Nashville, and New York, Its not worrying about if i'm going to be 100 when i get married but giving myself that permission to believe that there is a funny, dark haired boy out there who also looking for an adventure partner....and it's okay if doesn't happen the way i always thought it would.

This life is still lovely. This life is still full. There are people who love me, who know me, and who will be there, even if they haven't known me since the womb.  It's okay that I'm not wearing a best friend necklace. I like that my life is more comedy than romance because too much lovey dovey makes me gaggy.

So, i'm just here, hanging out, enjoying life until the next plot twist. Feeling a little bit lighter since I've starting letting go of the preconceived notions of what life was, what friendship was and what falling in love looked like.  I'm starting to let go of the idea of forever, and am beginning to focus on what's right in front of me.

Here we go, the end credits are not coming for sometimes.

Stay turned. I'm sure there will be more hijinks and heartbreak to come.

Outgrow

We found out stride,
our specific short hand.
A look,
a word.
A language, a world we created
together.

Promises made over late nights
cigarettes and pitchers paid for
with the change we felt was coming
pinkie swears of forever made
just to get us through tomorrow.

Nothing stays
people change
soon we look like people
we used to know.

short hand gets fuzzy,
it stops making sense
i don't even know who i am
with you.

It's time.
Band aids ripped off
the race gun shot
tears shed.

Not because what was
was perfect
but because i wanted it to be.
I wanted forever to mean just that.

but it can't, and it wont.

Here i am still believing in forever
and best friends 2 am phone calls,
"i love yous" can be real and
short hands and rose color memories

It just wasn't us,
it's just not now.
I'm cutting our proverbial ties
because i need to be set free.

I'm a better for having realized that i'm a better person without you.

good riddance to bad rubbish.