By Nicole

There's something percolating in my heart. A dark, thick brew taking it's time to drip through all the filters. There's fermentation happening. I can feel the bubbles starting as the yeast in my brain starts working its way through aha moments, the epiphanies as delicious as sugar syrup.  It's been too many years since I wrote anything, outside of typing up Bible study notes or prep for a class. Recent events keep pulling me back, making me yearn to get it down, tap it out, share it with someone. I'm a bottler by nature, and I'm sure I've blogged about those moments before. You know. The ones where I'd held it all in and then it came spewing out. All over the kitchen and the living room, catching my husband off-guard and leaving me sobbing and spent, sheepishly explaining that it had nothing to do with the overflowing sock basket or the unrinsed coffee cups. This isn't the kind of stuff that should be bottled or hidden in the back of the closet with

For as long as I have been blogging, I've held onto the secret desire to make something of myself by writing.  Live the dream, right?   One perfect post, and I'd be rolling in publishing offers and signing parties.   Well, not that extreme.  But, you know, quit my day job.  Have a substantial social media presence. Be the woman other women want to be.  Hold my own with Beth Moore and Jen Hatmaker and Sarah Bessey and Jennie Allen.  Move to Texas or Canada and just be another IT Christian momma like the women I secretly ADORE.  And... then there is real life, and writer's block, and horrible tragic things that threaten to suck the very soul from the core of my being.   2016 is not a year I want to relive.   So many good things, but so many bad, dark days at the end.   The one thing I know for sure about being a Christian is that God never promised an easy road.  Jesus made it pretty darn clear we would have troubles...that things would be hard.  And, e

I'm sitting here tonight knee deep in procrastination... or neck deep.. I'll know for sure tomorrow morning when I see my mess for what is truly is.  I'm supposed to be planning for a health and wellness bit this Saturday at a women's conference, but my mind won't sit still and focus.  Too many other thoughts rolling around in my head, and I don't want to get stuck on a women's lib rant on Saturday when I should be talking about self-care and healthy things.  (I'm also awake at midnight on my second spoonful of Nutella, which leads me to believe I am utterly unqualified to talk to anyone about health or wellness.) This past week, prepping for our Personal Appearance discussion in my girls' group and having subsequent conversations afterward, I've spent a lot of time mulling over how God really feels about women and our appearance.  How does what Jesus said fit in with the message the church so often sends girls and women?  Do the women of the B

Last week, I was blessed with extra time one afternoon to over prepare for my Wednesday night girls group.  Because the curriculum is slightly outdated and somewhat LAME, I generally choose to redo it. I am tragically inconsistent, but every once in a while God steps in and helps me out.   We have been talking about college and career.  True to my expectations of these lessons, everything was a little too... ugh... for me.   Now, I'm an M.Ed in Guidance and Counseling, pro-college, pro-life planning, pro-education type of girl.  But I also am acutely aware of how often we package our expectations and try to align Christian values and a certain level of professional success.  Achingly upper-middle class.   I'm also a social worker, culture of poverty, social justice soapbox kind of girl... and I was kind of struggling to rectify it all.   Throughout this unit, I kept feeling like God wanted us to talk about more.... dig deeper.  Get a little gritty and real. In my n

Today was a day that will live in infamy in our home.  The day the cow escaped and we spent hours and miles looking and chasing and worrying.  The day we fell a tree into the goat fence.  The day nothing went the way we planned.  The day we wanted to throw our hands up and cuss and yell and stomp in the mud and throw tree branches and pout. Instead we were humbled and reminded of God, who works all things together for the good of those who love Him.  We still don't know when those things will start working together for good, but I guess that isn't the point. The cow is still out.  First day in the barn, and he didn't like it, so he leapt over the fence and took off.  We saw him twice and couldn't get him to go the way we wanted.  Three hours later, we tucked our tails, set out hay and drove away. Those three hours were supposed to have been spent building a second place for our two smallest pigs, moving Connor's chickens to a better spot, cleaning the house, m

This post was fresh in my mind over the holiday.  Itching to break free and find life in the interwebs... but, alas, I've been sidetracked by pork dumplings, meatballs, and tree demolition.  And my current guiltiest pleasure... Blacklist. I'm going to digress here and there as I attempt to reawaken the phrases that kept running through my mind.  Since the poetry escapes me.. I'm going to say it out right. This was THE most relaxed, non-stressful Christmas I've EVER had.   EVER. Since my children and the pressures of grown-up life anyway... And that, my friends, is a BIG deal.  BIG.  Even the hubs agreed and said so to others... which means truth.  We had a 4-H party at the house the week before.  Family over for dinner on Christmas.  My modest home had 25 humans in it at one point on Christmas day, and we all fit.  And talked and laughed.  And I didn't start breathing funny or have to wave my hands around my face in our closet to calm myself.  I