402 days ago...

The last time I wrote a poem was 402 days ago. Over a year ago. As I was sitting flipping through my journal this evening it hit me. You see, the reason this is so astonishing to me is that I write poetry when I feel. When I feel pain, joy, love, excitement, fear, confusion, or all of the above. It's been over a year since I felt something so strongly that I had to get it out on paper. I used to write a poem a month. I'd begun to rely on poetry to get me through the ups and downs of everyday life. But then, all the sudden it stopped. Have I stopped feeling? Have I stopped experiencing life? Or have I lacked anything to be passionate about? I think I've been really stale. I think I've settled for mediocre. I've just drifted along with the waves, not feeling them and not fighting them. But I know for a fact that this is changing. I've begun to crave poetry again because I know I have adventure ahead. I have new scenery ahead. Life is calling. I'm going to jump back in.

Here is the poem I wrote 402 days ago...

"Baby Steps"
You wake me in the morning
With Your kisses so sweet
You wrap me in Your arms of love
And rock me through the week

You give Your time and energy
To make me big and strong
I never see the sacrifice
All the while long

The years go by and disappear
And still Your by my side
You help me comprehend this life
And guide me through each tide

As I look back I realize
What You poured out for me
And wonder in astonishment
How could this ever be?

Curlew Lake & Nachez

What I learned while on vacation...

A good dose of no cell phone, no computer, no instant anything really does a whole world of repair. Try it sometime.

I asked God at the beginning of my trip for one fish a day. Each morning I got up and went to the dock and fished with my dad and my Dad. At the end of seven days I had caught 17 fish. Each morning after catching my one fish I had asked for, I cast out my reel again and told God I didn't expect anymore, one was plenty, but I was gonna leave it out there in case He happen to have another one set aside for me and in the meantime I was gonna spend time with Him and my dad. Give God opportunities. So often we cut Him short. Time runs out or faith runs low. Just let the pot simmer.

I'm extremely blessed to have two brothers who love me unconditionally. Andrew brings me adventure. I had the priveledge of spending most of my vacation with him and his wife. They push me to be silly, to relax, to just roll with the punches. We spend a whole evening in the fishing boat venturing to the hidden coves and quiet spots on Curlew Lake getting tangled in seaweed and dodging logs and stumps. We also spent a day four wheeling in his Jeep, crawling massive walls of rock and exploring the rocky forest with our family and a few friends. He is a breath of fresh air in my life. Jacob brings me laughter. We spend our time at one of the rest stops throwing pea pods at our dad and giggling like we were children again, just waiting for him to get fed up with us. And we spent the whole trip giving each other the look when mom or dad made one of those comments and then bursting into laughter because it's just not worth getting angry.

I can survive tent camping as long as I have a good showerin' in the morning.

A heart shaped rock is so much more than just a heart shaped rock. There was never I time while on vacation that I looked at the ground and didn't see one. He followed me everywhere and did some deep digging in the mess of my heart. He made it look much more lovely. White as snow.

Adult

Sometimes I forget I'm an "Adult". Sometimes I want to. Sometimes I doubt it's truth. Maybe I just fear responsibility but mostly I just don't think I'm ready for it. Or it's not ready for me.

The average person, child or adult, always seems to aspire to be like someone older, more mature, or more sophisticated. And then there is me. I find myself aspiring to be like a kid more and more. I work with kids. I love kids. My life thrives on kids. Maybe this explains my lack of zeal to be an "adult". But I can't help it.

Last night I had the privilege of meeting a friend's seven year old daughter for the first time. She was captivating. She wanted to dance for me. She wanted to tell me all about her big brother and sister. She wanted to share her toys and stories. She wanted to know she mattered. I left last night feeling rested, content and full. My prayer as I lay in bed afterwards was simply this, "Jesus, don't let me forget how to be like that. Don't let me get old and dried up. I want to offer my strength, my beauty. Give me the discernment to know when and how to do that." And that is my prayer today for all the people in my life. Make us children.

Childhood

puddle jumping, soggy skin

tag, you're it, you win

racing, laughing, falling, fun

riding bikes, rain or sun

wild hair and dirty toes

never caring where time goes

ice cream dripping, sticky hands

when we're bored, lemonade stand

fill up on candy and stay up late

start over next morn', clean slate

how I wish time still stood

back in the ear of childhood

First Crop

Today I wept. They were deep sobs that made me tremble. It's been a good while since I wept like that. I was on a no tear streak. But today the flood gates were let loose.

My roommates puppy got into one of my trays of garden starts. Lettuce, tomato, carrots and peppers. They were all doing really well. I was so excited to see the fruits of my dedication come summer time. I went out on the deck and just sat and stared and wept at the pile of what had been promises of sweet summer time and dirty hands and fresh food. A few minutes later my roommate graciously came to my rescue with potting soil and new trays, ready to doctor it up. We scooped up the survivors and cleared away the mess. In the end, I had at least two of each kind that made it through.

Later, as I was weeding the garden beds, I thought about why I cried. I didn't cry because I would go hungry. Between my roommate and I, we have an abundance of seeds and will have a huge crop this summer. I didn't cry because I'd lost a monetary investment. Seeds are next to nothing and the soil I received free. Those were the two reasons a simple farmer would have heartache over lost crop. My heartache was because they were my babies. This is my first year raising a garden all on my own. I was so proud of my crop and how well they were growing. Proud. My pride. Pride comes before the fall. And today I fell. I was investing so much of my focus and drive into what may never be, which I find myself doing in so many areas of my life. And when things don't go as planned, my heart sinks. I become discouraged. All hope is lost because I'm blind to the hope that surrounds me.

When I realized this I stopped and said sorry. At that moment the sun peaked through the clouds and warmed my back. I looked out over the yard, speckled with bursts of yellow dandelions, the grass blowing in the breeze and smiled. He is faithful to forgive. I whispered thank you as I took a deep breath and dug back into the soil.

It was a lose. But it was just seeds. Life goes on.

Rusty

Last night my dad went with me to pick up an old bicycle I found for sale on the internet. It is old. It is rusty. It will need a lot of work and time. I'm so excited.

On the drive home my dad said, "You should be a writer Nicole." At first I was confused. A writer? Me? He reads my writing in my journal? Then it dawned on me, He reads my blog duh. But how I see it, my writing is like that rusty bike sitting in a pile in the corner of my garage right now. It's rusty. It's not shiny, new and exciting with lots of bells and whistles. The people that like my writing are the people that love me most, so it's not hard for them to see past the rust. They read my writing and see the beauty underneath. Strangers looking at my writing, well I think they might only see the rust. Who knows, maybe someday people will look at my rust and really like it. I'm open to it. And my dad's compliment last night opened me up to that.

Thank you dad for seeing past the rusty bike!

Free

In the past year I've tried, sometimes with great failure, to simplify my life. Cut out the unnecessary and keep or add the necessary. It sounds so simple. The steps to remove these things were simple for me, until it started impacting others. Then I started to wonder if I was being selfish. Refusing invitations to see movies at the theater, turning down foods that I once "loved", spending time working on my garden instead of hanging with friends, sitting around a fire instead of a tv, not having the latest and greatest and being content. But the more I strive for simple, the more I enjoy it and hopefully draw others in. Simple is peaceful. Simple is fun. Simple is...well, simple.

Yesterday I took my brother to Ocean Shores for a night. It's one of the vacation places we went to as kids, back when life was simple. We just hung out. Walked around the beach, rented banana bikes and peddled around town, and checked out all the shops we went to as kids. We came home with a bag full of shells and pretty content. We didn't buy any souvenirs. We didn't go out to eat. It was perfect.