Social media; the glitter and the dirt.

I got my fourth tattoo the other day. It's a tree on the back side of my left arm about an inch or so above my elbow. It's beautiful and simple and exactly what I wanted. It's been so long since I got my last tattoo that when I laid down in the chair and gave the artist reign over my arm I was suddenly reminded of the not so pretty parts of it all.. 

When you look up tattoo designs and ideas you don't read a lot about the pain. It's not often that you come across the beautiful pictures and creative pieces accompanied by an outlined article about the sting of the instrument and the often not so pretty healing process. 

I think social media is often like that. It's a portrait into the beauty, the whole and the healed places of people's lives. It's a snapshot of their joy, insight into their most happy places but very rarely is it a reflection of their pain in the process or the healing that comes before the joy. 

I'm definitely guilty of this. In the past I've posted photo after photo of my time traveling and working abroad. I shared with my friends the time I met the Pope and traveled to the Dead sea and to Cuba, without hesitation. What I didn't share was the time I cried myself to sleep from loneliness or all of the priceless and irreplaceable moments I missed being away from home or the experiences that broke my heart and rocked my core. 

I follow people on Instagram that seemingly have the perfect life. They seem to be debt and problem free, in perfect relationships and without fail always on cloud 9. A trip through my timeline and feed, I've come to find, would unfortunately portray the same false reality to onlookers. 

I think that despite our access to information and timelines and photo feeds we as a social media community are often more disconnected than connected.  Disconnected from the vulnerability and freedom that comes from being open about the messiness of life. We're living in a world where we're bombarded with mostly smiles, planned pictures and the perfect snapshots of our friends lives.

I want to see your Sunday morning brunch and your sparkly smiles but I also long to see what your eyes look like after you cry and what it's like to walk through an imperfect moment in your shoes. 

I recently wadded in a bit of the messiness of life. At the time I was fully immersed in filth and mud but a glance at the life I shared and promoted online didn't reflect that at all. As a blogger I want my platform to be authenticity. I want the life that I show online to be honest and genuine. Even if I'm not always comfortable sharing every detail of my situation I want to be open about times when I'm swimming with sea turtles and times when I'm barely staying a float.  

It's been 10 days since I got my tree tattoo. 10 days worth of soreness and itchy skin. 10 days of excitement over a new piece of body art and annoyance over having to keep it moisturized and out of the sun. 

Today, my lovely tree is almost completely healed. The scabbing has ceased and the tree that I was so eager to spend the rest of my life with is almost completely settled into my skin. Life, I think, is kind of like the process of a healing tattoo. It's not always pretty, there's some pain and impatience involved but in the end if you lean in to the process you end up with a work of art. 

May we never lose sight of the process and the pain that often comes with it by only focusing on the pretty, on the destination.  So here's step one of me saying and trying to implement in my life, that I want to see it all, not just the glitter but all of it 

Love Does.

Patrick said 'I love you' to me for the first time on January 6th (yes, I remember the date) It was exactly a month and one day after we became official and it caught me only slightly by surprise. We were sitting on the big comfy couch in my house and we had just had our first big disagreement and he turned to me, looked me in the eyes and said it. 

It took me a moment or two to process it all but after I got myself together I hugged him and told him that I loved him too. In that moment I felt like I loved him and like he loved me as well but looking back I can say without question, at that point in our relationship the love was purely audible, it wasn't doing. 

I'm currently 22 chapters deep in the book Love Does and I've been reading it for over a month now. It's a small book, with short chapters and I'm a fast reader but there's so much, so much to take in, that I have to digest it slowly. 

Bob Goff has a beautiful writing style one which I've seen bloggers and authors alike try to embody. He uses a story to draw you into an idea and drives it home by attaching it to a relatable and clear concept. In my opinion the book is both genius and simple and has the potential to really impact the way people view love and most importantly Christ. 

One of the reasons why this books speaks to me so clearly, is because I am very skeptical of simply audible love. A love that you can hear but not yet see, one that is relayed through words on a page or lyrics in a song but has yet to bear fruit in your life. Which is why when Patrick first told me he loved me and I said it back, I believed him and I was sincere when I responded but I had yet to see how that love was working in our lives.

I think that in order for love to be real, it has to be a living, breathing, declaration that makes a difference in the lives that it touches. Love Does is filled with stories of action. Stories about a love that shakes tradition and social norms. A love that reaches out to the lost and hurting and aims to do more than just rest in it's comfort. A love that is reckless in it's abandon but yet grounded in the way that it's consistent, it's tried and it's true. 

A love that does. 

Seated on that comfy couch, on a cold day in January, Patrick and I thought that all of those feelings and emotions were true love at it's best. Little did we know the months to follow and the actions that filled them would take our declarations and feelings and solidify them. Our love for each other went from being just words dancing in ears to an active ingredient, visible in every part of our relationship. 

"That's because love is never stationary. In the end, love doesn't just keep thinking about it or keep planning for it. Simply put; love does." 

Boy meets world.

This past weekend Patrick flew home with me and met my family for the first time. It was a weekend filled with laughter, ease, joy and so much peace. It ended with two exhausted twenty somethings on a cramped Frontier flight, headed back to good ole Denver, Colorado. 

As I sat there, two hours deep in a four hour plane ride, I was exhausted and pretty uncomfortable in that awful chair but yet so happy. Patrick, who struggled to sleep on the plane ride there, had his head rested in my lap and was out cold. I'm not sure if it was me letting him have the aisle seat or the nerves of the first trip behind him but on this side of the trip he seemed to fall asleep with ease.

I was extremely nervous for Patrick to come home with me, more nervous than I think is maybe normal. The months leading up to our trip I felt a strong sense of protection over my family and the short few days I'd have with them. I think it's safe to say that I have a healthy but very real air of jealousy in regards to my parents and my siblings and who is around when I get to spend time with them. 

I can't express fully how much I cherish the time I get to spend with my family. After high school I took a year off before college to work and that was the last year I spent at home. After my gap year I went away to college and traveled the world for a few years after graduation before ending up n Denver. So when I go home it's not just to relax or for vacation it's the short and rare window of quality, in person time, I have with them throughout the year. 

I feel kind of selfish admitting this but I think a large part of me was nervous to bring Patrick home because I didn't want him to take away from my time with my family. I didn't want to have to spend the entire weekend facilitating introductions and conversations and making sure he was having a good time instead of just having a good time myself. 

I often leave home feeling like the time flew by and I didn't get to fully soak in each moment with the people that I love. That fear, I hate to say, heavily outweighed my excitement for Patrick to finally meet everyone. Underneath the weirdness, there was still excitement but it never came without being quickly followed by the thought that one of my few trips home could potentially not go well. 

Of course, none of my fears came true. Patrick was wonderful with my family and having him there 100% added to my experience. Patrick is self sufficient, brave, personable and so easy to be around and all of those qualities shined brighter than ever this weekend. 

On the plane ride back to Denver I spent a lot of time pondering the idea of family. I thought about my parents and my siblings and the huge impact that they've had on my life and my happiness. I also thought a lot about Patrick and his family.

Patrick introduced me to his family within the first few weeks of our relationship and it's been such a joy to know them. His family is welcoming and kind and so loving and I cringe at the thought that if he was jealous of their affection and selfish with their time I'd have missed out on so much.

This weekend I was reminded of something simple that we all learned in preschool, "sharing is caring." Patrick shares his family, whom he values so very much, with me because he cares about me and being able to do the same thing for him this weekend was amazing. 

When you start to share the things and people who matter the most to you, I realized this weekend, you gain way more than you lose. I guess family is meant to be shared and before you know it the small knit group, you never imagined would change, is bigger and more special than ever. 

As Patrick and I left the plane and entered the terminal he grabbed my hand and familiarity and relief washed over me and all of a sudden he felt a lot less like an intruder and a lot more like family. 

Who am I?

When I sat down this week to start writing about graduates and graduation a lot of ideas popped into my head. I thought about writing something about the importance of always being a student, seeking to learn and grow from every person that you meet. Though an interesting idea, it didn't quite feel right.

Then I considered writing an open letter entitled "dear graduates," with advice and tips and tricks for navigating the world outside of the four walls of school. This idea felt better than the first but the words just didn't flow, a clear indication that I was on the wrong track. 

All of that idea tossing and brain storming led me to what I'm writing about today, identity.

I don't know about you but all of my life I've been heavily defined by and tied to titles related to my education. For all of my K-12 years I was the home schooled kid and that was a badge that, once I stopped being ashamed of, I wore proudly. My post secondary track led me to a small all women's liberal art's school and for those four years I was the college student attending a strong all women's college. It was a time in my life that I was so proud of and shared with others quickly.

After finishing college I joined the global education program Up with People and for years it was the first thing I would share about myself when meeting new people. The fact that I got to travel the world performing, volunteering and living with host families made me feel like my life was such an adventure.

Then before I knew it, I wasn't connected to any of those things anymore. I was living in Denver, working in an office and staying in my host family's basement. 

My life it seemed, had gone from unique to unique to all of a sudden strikingly average. My identity was so tied to my circumstances and how they made me stand out from a crowd that when my circumstances became seemingly normal I felt like I as well had gone from someone that was special to someone who just blended in with the crowd. 

My first few weeks of living in Denver were harder than I imagined they would be. As I  began to settle into a routine; wake up, work, workout, sleep, repeat, I also began to settle into a cycle of self doubt and lack of identity.

"Who am I if I'm not the world traveler?" I thought to myself one day as I boarded a plane from Denver to Pennsylvania to visit my family.  Whenever I would come home to visit, my dad would always proudly introduce me to his friends as "his daughter, the world traveler,"  I was terrified at the thought of how boring his new introduction may potentially be. 

That weekend when we went to church, I walked into the building with my parents and immediately from across the room one of their friends, with a huge smile on their face, came bounding in our direction. They greeted my parents warmly and then turned my way and said "Is this the daughter that you've been telling us about?" and then wrapped me in a warm bear hug. As I stood there, hugging a stranger I was taken aback by the reality of my identity. 

To my parents, regardless of where I was studying, living or traveling I was always first and foremost their daughter. 

It's so easy for us to tie our identity and our worth to the things that we do and the circles that we run in. Do you find yourself doing that? Introducing yourself and first mentioning where you work as if our jobs are able to give people an all encompassing snapshot of who we really are. As if the fact that you're loving, kind and compassionate are secondary to the fact that you work for a non-profit or a large corporation.

Ted Dekker once said "Life consists of cycles of remembering and forgetting and I, like you, still forget far too often...and in that forgetting, my view is clouded once more until I remember who I am and surrender who I am not." 

That day, at church with my parents, I was reminded of who I am. I began to tie my identity to the factors that will always remain and not to the circumstances that are constantly ebbing and flowing through my life. I began to stop looking to my job, my friends and my situation to tell me who I am and started to embrace the truth of who God says that I am.

I willingly began to surrender who I am not and with a peaceful heart rested in the truth of who I am. 

"At least I got a man."

When I was a teenager I remember being at church and there was a girl there teasing me. I can't even remember exactly what she was making fun of me for but I remember at the end she said "You might be smarter than me but at least I got a man."

As soon as she said that everyone around us started laughing and saying things like "that's true," and other stupid comments. I walked away from her feeling like I had just been hardcore shamed, like my intelligence was something but nothing compared to the fact that this girl had a 'man.'

The other day I had a deja vu moment with one of my friends, a moment that took me back to being a shamed kid at church. This person is someone that I consider to be extremely intelligent, successful and on their way to even bigger success.We were texting about our lives and things that we're doing currently and at one point she said "Well you're still doing better than me because you have a man now."

When I read her message I was dumbfounded. I sat there just reading the message over and over again and I couldn't help but to laugh. Why is it that being in a relationship determines how well someone is doing?  I sat there thinking about her, someone that I look up to so much and felt so sad that she thinks that I'm in anyway doing better than she is simply because I'm dating someone and she's not.

For the last five months or so I've talked a lot about my relationship, it's really hard not to. Patrick is my first boyfriend and we spend a lot of time together. Patrick is an amazing human and friend and I just want to tell everyone about him. Being with him has added even more joy to my life than was there before, he's an answer to prayer.

Let me say this though if for some reason, God forbid, Patrick and I broke up my worth on this earth wouldn't change.

As an educator that works a lot with teenage girls, this is an issue that is very close to my heart. I see girls everyday, ones that are running from relationship to relationship trying to find worth and meaning in this world. They're reaching for dirty hands and unattainable hearts hoping to find belonging and acceptance through their relationship status and I know how it feels.

Even though I grew up with a present and loving father and amazing brothers, when I went to college and got a taste of the rat race of false love I was addicted to the attention. It's only by God's grace that I didn't end up sleeping with some no good man and really changing the trajectory of my life.

I'm saying all of this to say, that I am so proud to be a woman. I am proud to be made in the image of Christ and to be a portrait of his creativity and goodness and my identity and my worth is firmly rooted in that. I'm proud of the places I've been, the stories I've walked through and also the many lives that I've been able to impact through work.

If Patrick and I get married then I think part of my identity will change. Being married will require so much more commitment from us than just being in a relationship and with a name change, moving in together and the merging of families we'll become one. Even when that happens, the greatest and most enriching part of my identity will still be in who I am in Christ.

I've written about this before but society often tells us that as women we haven't fully made it until someone wants us, marries us and makes us their own. Today I want to tell you that you're wanted, you're cherished and you're loved. You're loved by someone that will never leave you, never fail you and never forsake you until the end of age. God is that someone. If you're single and someone throws it in your face than dear just let me remind you that you always have God and he's not an "at least" he's more than enough.

"If you are not attaching your identity to the unshakable love of your savior, you will ask the things in your life to be your savior and it will never happen." - Paul David Tripp

Your deadly comfort

On the last day of April my pastor preached part two of a message called 'Simplify.' He talked about our time being one of the most important things we have and that the way we fill our minutes before we know it evolves into the way we fill our life. The take away and what really struck a chord with me is that we need to focus more on who we want to become and less on what needs to get done.

As I sat there listening to his words my planner flashed before my eyes. All of the color coded plans and clearly outlined appointments played like a slideshow in my mind. My calendar is filled with things that need to get done, tasks upon tasks upon arguably meaningless tasks.

As I sat there thinking about the person that I want to become I realized that the things currently on my to do list don't add to my big picture. A few years ago I created a mission statement for my life, the idea behind it being that I would weigh my actions, my decisions and my weekly tasks against it. It would become the measure by which I would weigh my life. Today as I sit here I don't even remember what that mission is or even where I wrote it down.

Sitting in my warm seat at church I was slapped with the realization that I wasn't optimizing my time and dare I say it out loud that I was comfortable with my life.

One of my friends has a shirt that says "Comfort wants you dead," and it's a phrase that for the past week has been on my mind. As my minutes become my hours and my hours my days and my days my life, I see a recent string of comfortable days. Days where I push just enough, or lean in just enough to do a good job but not enough to break molds. Molds like the one I'm comfortably housed in right now.

My comfort zone, though safe is slowly killing me. Killing the passion in me that thrives on new situations. Situations where I give a little more, love a little deeper and push myself just ever so slightly pass my normal stopping point.

This week I decided to make one slight change to my schedule. I set my alarm for 15 minutes earlier than my normal wake up time so that I can spend quality, uninterrupted time with Christ. It's a small and ever so slight change but the peace that it's brought to my week has been incredible. If I look at my planner and the circumstances that I was faced with this week, the outcome should have been unrest but instead it was peace.

I used the first 15 minutes, just 15 minutes, of my day differently and it affected the entire trajectory of my week. In the days to come I'm planning to look at my schedule even closer, with the goal being to subtract and minimize things and tasks that are unnecessary and aren't adding value to my life.

I'm also going to recreate the mission statement of my life and set myself back on a path of growth and discovery, back on the path of life.

If you only take one thing away from this post I hope it's the truth that your comfort zone may be safe but it's not beneficial. Comfort is not a place where we can thrive or grow. In order to do more and to get closer to the person that we so desire to be we have to take a step outside of and away from what's familiar. A step outside of our deadly comfort.

My first 40 days

This year I decided to do lent for the first time. For some reason when the opportunity presented itself and I had the chance to give up all of my favorite things for an extended amount of time, I took it.

For 40 days I gave up coffee, candy, social media and alcohol. I wish I could say that the hardest part was the no coffee but lets be real, it was giving up candy.

Before this year I didn't really know much about Lent. Growing up my family wasn't big on Easter, we would go to church the weekend of but besides that we wouldn't do Easter egg hunts, or baskets or anything. I grew up with the sense that Easter was another holiday that society capitalized on but didn't truly understand.

The last 40 or so days have changed my entire view of this season. Easter is more than just another day out of the 365 that we get each year. The concept, the truth behind Easter, is the foundation of the Christian faith.

For those who aren't super familiar, the 40 days leading up to Easter, lent, is meant to model the 40 days that Jesus spent fasting in the wilderness. The bible says that Jesus was led by the Holy Spirit into the wilderness and he fasted for 40 days and 40 nights and when it was over he was tempted by the devil. Hebrews says that because Jesus suffered and was tempted he is able to help us when we are tempted.

On Easter Sunday, as I sang a set of worship songs to a congregation full of people the truth of Easter reverberated in my soul. I realized that regardless of what we add to the day, how we enhance it and make it marketable, Easter is and will always be about Jesus.

Lent for me was not about just taking a break from things that I enjoy. It wasn't about forcing myself to stop going on Facebook and to lay off the candy for a few weeks. Lent helped me to be able to narrow my focus, It took away the heavy distractions and clutter that often fogged my view. Lent pulled away the junk in my life and pointed me straight to the giver of life, it pointed me to Christ.

Easter is the celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. It's what happened after the disciples saw Jesus hanging on a cross, crucified. Jesus, their hope for the future, was gone. The messiah had seemingly been defeated and death had won.

The truth though is that death is defeated and Christ is risen. He rose again on the third day and renewed the disciples hope in him as their savior and as the savior of all mankind. The darkness of the weekend and the sight of him hanging from a tree was erased by the joy of seeing him again in all of his honor and glory.

Easter is so much more than just pastel colors and packed church services. Lent reminded me that the resurrection is the Christian story. It's the three years that Jesus spent preaching and reaching out to the lost coming to an abrupt halt and then beauty, glorious beauty, being born from the ashes.

Lent was the path that I needed to take to become truly connected to the Easter story. It was the defining moment that made Easter not just another bible story but rather the moment in history that makes everything that I believe in truth.

"If Jesus rose from the dead, then you have to accept all that he said; if he didn't rise from the dead then why worry about any of what he said? The issue on which everything stands is not whether or not you like his teaching but whether or not he rose from the dead."  - Tim Keller

The happiness of a patriots fan.

I've been a Patriots fan for as long as I can remember. Growing up my brothers, all 5 of them and my dad, loved the Redskins. It seemed like the Redskins were the Magloire family football team but I never seemed to develop a liking for them. Instead, I gravitated towards the team with a coach that never smiled and a sixth round quarterback draft pick from California.

Before I even knew what it meant to be a fan of anything I was a fan of the Patriots. I didn't really know what I was doing as far as being a football fan was concerned. Eventually, I figured that I just needed to model the behavior that my brothers displayed.

So I would look up stats and players names and I would watch games and make noise when we scored a touchdown and make noise when we got scored on. I figured if I was constantly making noise during a game I was doing something right.

Now that I live in Denver, I often get slack from people about the team I like. The most common things I hear are "But wait, you're not even from New England," or my personal favorite "Oh great, another bandwagon fan."

I love football and I love being a Patriots fan but during the Super Bowl I had a moment that forced me to take a look at myself and be reminded that it's just a game.

Picture this, there I was on Super Bowl Sunday, eight minutes left in the fourth quarter and I was sobbing. I was sitting there crying so hard, not at all embarrassed because I thought the Patriots were going to lose. My friends all laughed at me and called me ridiculous and I just sat there crushed. Feeling like the game was so important, like the Patriots really needed to win or my life would be affected in some major way.

For every game that is lost in football there's a coach, a team, investors and a few others that are greatly affected. It changes the trajectory of their season, whether they go into the playoffs or not and for some players it affects whether they're able to even stay in the league. When the Patriots lose, nothing in my life changes. I wake up the next day, the same as I did the day before and I continue going on with my life.

The truth is, for the majority of us Football fans, besides our emotional state being altered for a few hours, our lives don't change at all by the results of these games. Yet there we are, crying,  in a room filled with people we love because we think that a game might not end the way we want it too.

Super Bowl Sunday was kind of a reality check for me. It was like I had an out-of-body experience by seeing my behavior through my friends eyes. Is football really that important to me?The answer, is that it's not.

What's really important to me, one of the things that I want people to see me engaging in passionate conversations over and fighting for, is education.

So many of the students that I work with want to play in the NFL or the NBA. They want to be famous singers and rappers, they want to drive Ferrari's and live in mansions in LA and a lot of that is far fetched for 99.9% of them. What shouldn't be a far fetched dream though, is for them to be able to go to a high school in their neighborhood that offers them a rich education geared towards their learning styles.

I want to yell and raise a ruckus about things like that. About all of the thousands of  under served and disadvantaged youth in this country and my city, that don't have access to the opportunities they deserve. For kids from low income families that aren't able to get an education that gives them a chance to have a better life. One that is better than the one their parents had and equips them with the tools they need to break the cycle of poverty.

Football is often as simple as win or lose and maybe that's what I love about it. There are four quarters, a slight chance of overtime but regardless it always ends with someone winning and someone losing. Education, on the other hand, may not be as simple but it's undoubtedly more important.

I firmly believe that I was made to help youth. Made to support them in their struggles and provide them with the resources that are often just out of their grasp. Football brings me happiness but education and being a bridge for students in that way, that's what brings me real joy.

I'll probably still watch football next season. I may buy a jersey and even try to get tickets for the Patriots vs Broncos game. What I won't do, is forget how small it all is. In the grand scheme of things and the big picture of my life the Patriots are just a team and football is and will always be, just a game.

Leotards, body image and me.

"Okay Nikki, go grab a leotard and a pair of tights, put them on in the dressing room and meet us in rehearsal room 1."

It was my first day of dance class and very quickly my excitement turned into dread.

"I'm supposed to just wear this, in front of everyone," I thought to myself as I picked up the black leotard and the darkest pair of tights I could find and headed in to the dressing room.

Growing up, I never felt comfortable in my own skin. I wanted to be taller, have straight hair, have a smaller waist and didn't want to be the biggest girl in a leotard in a room filled with ballet dancers.

I started taking dance classes because it was something I had always wanted to do. My best friend was a dancer and if I started taking classes we would be able to do it together. I never really thought about how it would make me feel about my body. Where it should have made me feel strong and capable, it instead led me to thinking that I was the DUFD of the group...the designated, ugly, fat, dancer.

The mind is a powerful place. It can grab hold of your attention, warp your reality and make you to believe that this flesh that you live in, is not just your home but also your worth. That the number on the scale and the size on the dress determines how good you are and how much value you add to the world.

Instead of basking in the joy of being a dancer, I often drowned in the weight of not feeling like I leveled up. Like the dance room was a place I never belonged and dancer was a title that was never meant for me.

Have you ever felt like that? Like your looks disqualified you from fitting in or doing something that you really loved?  A feeling that your mind grabs hold of and instead of replacing it with truth, enforces the lies and cements them as facts.

I haven't taken a dance class in over 5 years but my mind is still often visited by the lies. The lies that I'm not skinny enough, that my body doesn't fit the mold, that I need to work harder and eat less. That I'll never measure up and who I am will never compare to our world's standard of beauty.

The beauty of it all, something that it took me years to learn, is that the world does not determine my worth or what makes me beautiful. The bible says in Psalms 139:14  "I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works."

I am fearfully and wonderfully made. When the truth of that statement grabbed a hold of my soul it changed the course of my thoughts. I'm not a dress size or a number on the scale. I'm an educator, a daughter, a writer, a singer, a sister, an aunt and most importantly a fearfully and wonderfully made child of God.

My body is not something that I work against anymore but rather something that I work with. The food I eat is fuel for me to be able to have the energy to impact the lives of student, pour into friendships and relationships and to live a vibrant, Christ focused and joy filled life.

My body doesn't define me. It doesn't determine my worth or the value that I bring to this world and your body doesn't determine your value either. Marvelous are the works of God, every single one of them and that my friend, is truth.

"I will shed all of this skin, down to the very bone beneath it, if that's what it will take for you to come to the realization that appearance is not what makes a human beautiful."

The importance of representation.

This week I went on one of my first field trips in years. Myself and a few of my colleagues took a group of thirty high school students on a trip to the Denver Police Department and it was awesome.

DPD is one of the many groups that sends their staff to mentor in our classrooms. Out of the 30 students that we took, about ten or so of them have mentors that are cops. It was such a positive and inspiring experience because having cops as their mentors has completely changed their perception of law enforcement. Where these students once saw just a badge and someone who saw them as only a nuisance, they now see a mentor, friend and a role model. 

Something that really impacted me from the experience was meeting the Executive Director of safety for Denver. The person that holds this position is in charge of over seeing everything that has to do with safety in Denver, that includes fire, police and the sheriffs department. Pretty much the Executive Director is the head honcho, the main boss and all around a big deal and surprisingly to me an African American woman. 

When Executive Director O'Malley, stood in front of us and started welcoming us and sharing about her role and responsibilities, I was mystified. It was so cool to see someone that looked like me and like a lot of the female students that we brought on the trip, holding the highest position in the building and one of the highest positions in the city. I hung on to every word that she shared and when she finished I sat back in my chair feeling like I had just experienced something really important. 

When the field trip wrapped up and I walked my group of students back to the train I was deeply moved by the conversations that I overheard.

"I think I want to be a cop someday," one girl said, " I think I want to be like the Director of safety," another young lady shared. Where they once struggled to see possibilities, they now saw themselves represented clear as day. 

It is so important for young people of color to see themselves portrayed in high profile jobs and in the media. I am overjoyed that kids that are in school right now are able to grow up having lived through the tenure of our first black president. I'm excited that young ladies are able to see the first African American Bachelorette. More than anything, I'm elated over that fact that my students are able to see people of color holding offices that are impacting their communities. 

Mentioning the Bachelorette makes me feel a little silly but honestly I do think that this is monumental for young women of color. For them to turn on their televisions and turn to one of the most popular shows in this country and see someone who is educated, wise, beautiful, composed AND looks like them...that's important. 

Representation is a necessity. I was reminded of the importance of that this week. Growing up I so wanted to be a doctor and when I got to college and the road was rougher than I thought, I dropped that dream like a hot plate. This week was the first time, since changing my major and exploring different career options, that I wondered if my choices could have been different. If I had grown up being mentored by a woman of color that was a doctor or if I had a doctor that was a person of color, would I have made a different choice? 

Would I have tried harder? Where I saw uncertainty and the impossible would I have thought of her and seen a tangible example of hope? It's hard to tell and since I love what I do so much, I honestly don't want to spend too much time thinking about it. What I do know, is that walking to the Police station none of my girls mentioned wanting to go into Public safety or any career for that matter but on the walk back, they all did. 

There is power in thinking about your dream job and being able to recall a memory of people who walk like, talk like and look like you in those positions. There's a confidence that comes and I think in your subconscious a switch is flipped and it tells you that people who look like you have done it and so can you. 

Representation is an essential step in giving young people of color the proper tools to be able to achieve their goals. It's the black president, the first Latina Justice on the Supreme court, it's the African American woman saving NASA and the first Muslim American man winning an Oscar.

It's about giving young adults, both male and female, an image to focus on, one that mirrors who they are and what they can be. One that gives them hope, inspires them to dream and allows them to see themselves serving in any capacity that they wish.

I wish every adult that interacted with our students treated them the way that those cops did. They treated them like they were the future, like they had potential and like our city will be a better place because of each and every one of them. They showed them Officers, Commanders and Directors who looked like them. People who told them that the sky was the limit and I think for the first time in maybe their entire lives, our students could actually see it and without hesitation, believed it.

A relationship in orbit.

Dating is weird. You meet a person and you decide that you not only think that they're attractive but you also think that they're someone that you want to spend an ungodly amount of time with. So you change your status on Facebook and put a heart emoji next to their name in your phone and just like that you're a couple.

 I've written before about how watching my parents taught me a lot about love and marriage but I didn't get the privilege of watching them when they were just a couple, just boyfriend and girlfriend. I think if I did I would have learned some of the ins and outs of this relationship business.

Dating doesn't solve any of the issues or insecurities that we as single people tend to have. Rather, I think it grabs batteries from a dusty drawer in the kitchen, loads the closest flashlight and illuminates everything that you've tried to hide for years. 

The more time you spend with someone the more they get to know you. That's a sentence that we're all familiar with but we should also add that they don't just get to know the rose colored parts of you but also the weird, scarred and quirky parts of you. 

After a few months of dating, Patrick knows quite a bit about me. He knows that I call every dog that I see fluffy. He knows that I have moments where I'm irrational and literally annoyed for no reason. He knows that I'm a sucker for the simple things and he also knows that it's the littlest things at times that really grind my gears. 

At this point in our relationship he's really starting to know me and not just the parts of me that are easily shared but also the parts that are not. The parts that I'm not always so proud of, the parts that I'm working on. 

Relationships are a constant journey of trusting, trusting and trusting some more. Trusting that the love you give will be returned. Trusting that this flaw or that flaw won't be the one that's nonnegotiable. Trusting that if they're choosing to love you today than they'll choose to do it tomorrow as well. 

I thought that relationships were easy, that they were fun ALL the time and that once you're in love it fixes every thing. I was way off base. Healthy relationships aren't always easy but they're worth it. I have so much fun with Patrick but not every conversation that we have is fun. Some conversations are hard and are uncomfortable but they are the foundation for what we're trying to build, a strong and lasting relationship.

At the core of it all I've learned that by keeping Christ at the center of our relationship we've revolved it around something that will never fail. When we first met each other, we sat at a coffee shop and talked for hours and the thing that we talked about the most was Christ. That was the catalyst that prompted a second date that eventually led to a relationship.

As we get to know each other more and begin to see the quirks and hiccups of each others lives the thing that we're orbiting around still hasn't changed. Which I think is what makes every hard conversation easier, every laugh more joyful and every small kind gesture so big.

So I guess I didn't need to be a fly on the wall while my parents were dating. I didn't need a cheat sheet that showed me how to fight fair or how to choose to love. All I needed was to put Christ at the center, meet someone else that did the same and let the rest of the story be written by him.

Xoxo.

The Good in Goodwill

This week I celebrated my one year anniversary at my job and it kind of snuck up on me. I was talking to a mentor at one of my schools and he asked me how I got involved with Goodwill and when I started. I nonchalantly answered him and told him that I started on March 7th and then it hit me that I had started exactly one year ago that day.

It's crazy how fast time flies when you're doing something that you truly love.

When I first started at Goodwill I remember feeling such a peace in my soul about what I was doing. I remember feeling like I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing. I feel pretty blessed to still feel that way everyday.

Throughout this short and lightning fast year I've learned a lot about myself but more than anything I've acquired so much knowledge about the complexities of education. I've learned and seen first hand that for some students, high school can be an almost insurmountable challenge.

Before starting at Goodwill I think it's safe to say that I had lived a pretty privileged and sheltered life. I was home schooled my entire life and after that I went to a small all women's college before working for a global education program for 4 years.The majority of the people that I had worked with and had gotten a chance to know had supportive parents that pushed them to get the best education possible.

In my mind, if you didn't get a high school diploma it was because you were lazy and didn't care about your education. Man, was I way off. I've met students that are the main bread winners for their families, students that can barely make it to school on time because they're just getting off work before the first bell rings. Students with learning disabilities that have gone unnoticed and untreated their entire lives.

I thought that attendance, grades and graduation rates were black and white. I thought that people fell in either one of two categories, the motivated or the unmotivated. Those that cared and those that could care less. The truth is, that education is such a multifaceted and complex topic and the reason why some don't have proper access to it or don't have the resources that they need to succeed can be even more complex.

I truly love what I do. I love it because it not only gives me a chance to provide under served youth with the resources that they deserve but it also is continually opening my eyes to the trials and tribulations of human life.

Not everyone has the privilege of being raised in a two parent home. Not all students have the privilege of being able to come home from school and JUST focus on their homework without having to do many other tasks to help their parents. Not every student has the privilege of knowing where their next meal will come from.

Often times it's not an issue of whether someone is lazy or motivated. Often times it's so much more than that and it takes someone getting in the trenches and showing students that they truly care to find the answer and that's what Goodwill does.

Two years ago the only thing I knew about Goodwill was that it was a company that sold used clothes. I had no idea that in Denver alone it was an organization that served over 17,000 youth and those are only the numbers from the 2015-2016 school year. I had no idea that they brought in mentors from the community to work with students and to be a consistent and supportive adult figure in their life. I had no idea that they ran adult programs that help to break the cycle of poverty and gives those with mental and physical challenges opportunities to work traditional jobs.

The 'Good' in Goodwill is that we are about so much more than just clothes, we're about people and their futures and their children's future. We're about families rising out of the pit of poverty and youth not being a victim of the school to prison pipeline. We're about doing good and having that good start where it often matters most, the classroom and in the lives of people in our communities.

So keep shopping at Goodwill friends because the money that you spend in our stores goes directly to programs for youth and adults in your neighborhood. Do your part and I'll continue to do mine and together we'll keep the Good in Goodwill.

Xoxo.

Lovely.

The other day I took a trip to my favorite coffee shop. Across from me was a young lady, about my age, with long red hair and clear green eyes and every time I looked up she was staring at me. It was kind of an intense situation because she was only sitting one table away from me. The more I tried to avoid her eye contact the more awkward and weird I felt.

I had just gotten to the coffee shop so I was still settling in and putting my things down and when I finally went to get a cup of coffee she spoke to me.

She looked me right in the eyes and she said “Hi, how are you?” I smiled and told her that I was doing fine and then asked how she was doing. She told me that she was doing well and then a huge smile spread across her face and she said “You are lovely, I noticed that when you walked in and had to tell you.”

I couldn’t help but to laugh. As far as looks were concerned I wasn’t having my best morning. I had gone to bed late the night before and woke up early to meet Patrick for breakfast before he went to work. My face felt tired and my body matched those sentiments. In that moment, lovely was not the word I would have used to describe myself. Yet there I was, surrounded by people I didn’t know and where I saw a frazzled hot mess this lady with flowing red hair saw something lovely.

How often do we do that? We look at ourselves and see all the flaws, all the things that are out of place and the things that aren’t quite right. We see the bags under our eyes and the air of exhaustion radiating from our skin and miss all the layers of ‘lovely’ that envelope us.

I took a break from blogging recently. My reasoning was that I thought I needed to refocus. I thought I needed space to clear my head and find the beauty in the ashes but now I think the truth is that I got caught up in the mess. I got so caught up, in fact,  that I was lost in the cobwebs and the dust and missed all of the gorgeous layers and hints of lovely.

The thing about commitment, real commitment, is that it’s independent of feelings. I won’t always feel like writing, I won’t always feel like my thoughts or opinions are valuable and I’m sure that I won’t always feel like I have something important to share. Commitment though, doesn’t really care about how I feel. Commitment calls out to my integrity and requires of me that I show up and do what I said that I would do regardless of how I feel.

Because when you learn to show up, even when most of you feels unprepared, unmotivated and even unworthy, that's when you start to realize that lovely things are all around you. It's in the follow through of our word and being willing to step into the uncomfortable places that we learn how to really see it.

So here I am. An inexperienced, passionate, joy filled and sometimes unmotivated writer ready to embark on a journey with you. One where I commit to the process and instead of being attached to the outcome I become attached to always showing up.

I encourage you to master the art of showing up, it'll be especially useful if you ever find yourself in the place that I found myself a month ago. Feeling like an arrow. Like I needed to pull back in order to be shot forward. Regardless of how you feel, show up and be committed to your word. You might be feeling like an arrow but maybe you're meant to be an anchor. Steady, unmovable, reliable, always staying in place even when the waves are rolling and the storm is raging.

So for now I'm committing to that. To being the anchor even when I feel like I'd much rather be an arrow. Maybe one day I'll run into you in a coffee shop. You'll be standing there thinking that you look frazzled, unwashed, and a mess and I'll be the one staring, trying to find the words to describe something so lovely.

Xoxo,

Mr. President.

And just like that

we all looked up

and eight years was over

For years we watched in awe

as you took an office not created for you.

The laughter

the soulful songs

the human reactions and expressions

We smiled along with your joy

and released tears as you cried.

whether it's widely recognized

or highly debated

You've created a legacy

It seems like the years flew by faster than we realized

and in just a few short days

you'll be the past

and someone else will be in charge

But please know that the posts

the letters

the support

won't stop when your spot is left vacant

You've inspired millions.

Where there was once an imagined person

a fairy tale character

that matched our skin tone

and understood our slang

a person that didn't stop at sympathizing

but took a step further to empathize

A figure that was once only a dream

came to life the moment you took that oath.

The first person I ever voted for

looked like

spoke like

walked like

and sang like me.

A sight for sore eyes he was.

Far from perfect

and even farther from blameless

you made mistakes

you stumbled

you had to retrace a few steps

but you did so with a grace

that will always be admired.

A President that invited change

encouraged hope

and loved the lost.

Thank you for your service

and for your sacrifice.

Thank you for your courage

and your humility.

Thank you for hearing the feedback

and not being destroyed by the criticism.

Thank you for always fighting for us.

and for understanding what I mean by "us."

You are respected.

You are human,

You are missed.

You are our President.

Wendy and Rey: A love story.

"In the flush of love's light, we dare be brave and suddenly we see that love costs all we are, and will ever be. Yet is it only love which sets us free."

Love is scary. It's portrayed as this big boisterous monster that swoops into your heart unexpectedly and makes you fall head over heels for someone. It's described as the naked child with the bag full of arrows shooting the first person his eyes land on and his stupid arrows can reach.

We grow up with these images of love in magazines, television shows and movies and it all seems so easy and so unbelievable. They make love look so doable but also so unsustainable, it happens all at once and then the movie is over but you don't see what happens next.

What happens when the little quirks that they loved become the small things that they're starting to hate? What happens when their core values don't match? What happens when they get into another argument about the same old thing and their tempers get the best of them? What happens when the magic wears off?

I don't see a lot of movies that portray those things. Films that get to the heart of life and not only show you the bells and whistles but also the thorns and spurs. I didn't learn the ABC's of lasting love from movies but I did learn it from my parents.

It wasn't until recently that I became aware of all of the lessons that I've learned about love from watching my parents choose to love each other everyday of my entire life. My parents have been married for 36 years and I've been lucky enough to be an eye witness for 27 of those lovely years.

If I use my parents as my main example I can tell you that love is so much more than just an hour long movie or a lifetime special. Love is choosing to quit your job and live off of one income to home school seven children and make sure that they have the best education possible. Love is having patience and being intentional about being kind and using thoughtful language even after working long exhausting days.

Love is a choice. Love is choosing, after 36 years, to still go on adventures and to still do the things that made you fall in love in the first place. The real thing, the 'we've been married for 50 years' kind of love, does not just happen with the flick of cupid's wrist. Real love takes work, it takes effort, it requires that you die to yourself and put the well being and needs of that other person before your own and that they do the same for you.

The stories that I see in movies and on TV pale in comparison to the romance, commitment and love that I've seen my whole life in my parent's relationship.

I used to think that I didn't know what love was. I thought that I would be scared when I found it and that being in love meant that I had to lose pieces of myself. None of that is true. I know what love is. I know love because I've been surrounded by it my entire life. I know love because God goes out of his way to saturate me in his daily. I know love.

So whenever I get to that point in my relationship where all of my daily decisions lead me to falling in love, I'll know what to do. I won't run, like I always thought I would but rather I'll continue to make choices that nourish and build our love. I'll embody the patience of my father and the thoughtfulness of my mother and create a life that teaches my children what a real and authentic love story looks like.

Single women, society and social media.

Last week, on December 16th I got the most likes I've ever gotten on a post, 407  to be exact. I changed my status from single to in a relationship and it seemed like everyone I know took notice.

Social media and I have quite the strange relationship. It's one of my favorite things because of the way that it gives me access to my friends and family that are scattered all over the globe as well as to ideas and concepts from people that I may never meet.

I love posting pictures on Instagram and posting blog updates and life updates on Facebook and reading the updates of my friends and family. It's cool to be able to update a bunch of people at once about what's going on, especially when you don't have time to call or text all of them individually. What I don't love is the way that it can be used as an avenue for hate and discord and how it has the ability to give us a false sense of community and connection.

This week I found myself waist deep in some feelings that I didn't really expect to have. This year I've been so excited to post about different things that are going on in my life. In March I got a new job with Goodwill and I've been loving every minute of it. I moved into an adorable little carriage house in a suburb of Denver and started adulting hardcore. I helped plant a church in Denver in September and it's been one of the most enriching and out of my comfort zone experiences of my life so far.

None of that got anywhere close to the attention or likes that Patrick and I's relationship update got and that kind of made me feel a little weird.

I've talked to a few people about this, my dad, Patrick and a few of my coworkers and it's so interesting the value that is put on a female getting into a relationship, getting married or having children. When so many people commented on my relationship status, I was excited but it also made me feel like none of my other accomplishments compared to this one.

Am I reading too much into this? Or is there a real issue with society and the way that we view and value the accomplishments of single women?

I loved being single. I was happy, fulfilled, content and so driven. I didn't start living when I got into a relationship, it has definitely added to my happiness and I hope that it will for years to come but it didn't create it.

I'm not annoyed that so many people reached out when I started dating Patrick, believe me I totally get it, but it did force me to reflect on a few things.

As I write this, I realize that I'm guilty of everything that I'm blogging about. I've called and congratulated friends about engagements and baby announcements and sometimes have only liked or even over looked posts about graduations, or new jobs or life ventures. I haven't always been the feminist and supportive friend that I've hoped to see in the world and for that I feel bad.

So I'm sorry if you're a female and my friend and I haven't congratulated you on all of the milestones that you've reached in life. If I didn't reach out after you bought your own house, finished graduate school, paid off your student loans or did something that was truly amazing I apologize.

You're more than your relationship status, that's apart of your story but it's not your ENTIRE story.

So yes, I am in a relationship. I'm beyond excited about Patrick and the potential that I see in what we have. I'm more than open to talk and share about the relationship and I'm also really excited to talk about everything else going on in my life.

This post isn't meant to condemn anyone. If you reached out to me recently about what's going on in my life, please know that I appreciate you. What this is meant to do is to just be a space where I can be open and authentic about what I'm feeling and how recently in the midst of a really happy moment I found myself feeling strange.

So there you go, those are my thoughts for this week. They're not so pretty this time, a little rough around the edges but they're real and I hope that's good enough.

Until next time! Xoxo.

Someone who cares.

"Dear Nicole, Thanks for coming to our school and taking your time to teach us about your career. The moment I heard you, a spark came up. The way you talked about what you did made me realize how much I'd want to be like you. Someone who has passion and loves their job. I want to be like you. Someone who cares."

In 2011, when I traveled as a student in Up with People there was a word that we used quite often. A seemingly normal word developed and grew into something that defined my semester abroad and the years that followed. 

After we'd have meetings or huddles, right before we'd start a new project or tackle a new challenge we would break on the word 'Burn'. Burn was more than just  a word, it was a declaration, it was a call to action. Burn was a reminder to always be the spark that lights the flame, to always empower. 

During my student semester abroad I would pump myself up on difficult days by saying the word burn and trying to implement it into my day. I remember one day in particular, I had to do an educational workshop in a difficult class. The students didn't seem very engaged and not at all excited that we were there. I thought to myself if I can inspire these young adults, if I can allow my passion to bleed onto their lives then I'll be doing something right, I'll be burning. 

I walked into that class with a fire burning in my eyes and passion roaring in my chest. I gave them everything I had and when I left I felt like there was a heat on my back from the excitement and the energy that was left in the class. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had made a real difference, like I had changed the atmosphere of the room instead of it changing me. 

I started this post with a letter that I got from a student that I met a few weeks ago. In October I spoke on a career panel at a high school in Denver; my topic was education and I spoke about the different jobs I've had and how they fit into the field of education. I spent a majority of my time on the panel laughing with the students and telling them about all of the times that I changed my mind about what I wanted to do with my life. Each rotation ended with me telling them about how broad and exciting the education field is and how it has changed my life. I burned so bright that day.

I grew up never wanting to be a teacher, never wanting to work in education. I wanted to change the world, I wanted my name to be written down in books and for everyone to always remember me. As I got older, as I was changed by education and educators I realized that the way to change the world, the way to make a real impact is through education. 

It's through my career in education that I was able to travel all over the world. It was through education that I was given the chance to speak in front of classrooms on 4 different continents and share my opinions and encourage conversation among youth. It's through education that I get the chance to work with students all over Denver, helping them to see their worth and the possibilities that their future holds. 

Reading that letter from that student kind of made me have an 'I can't believe this is my life' moment. I can't believe that I've grown up to become the person that I am today. Someone that loves young adults and fights for their dreams, someone that a student meets for 15 minutes and knows right away that I care about them. Someone that burns in every aspect of their life. 

I hope that you've found your passion in life. I hope it roars inside of your chest and you use it everyday to make a difference. I hope when you meet people that they look into your eyes and know that you're not just floating through life but rather you're on a mission, you're walking in your purpose. 

I hope that you burn. I hope you burn so bright that you ignite every single being that you come in contact with. I hope one day, you get a letter from a person that you met for only a few moments. A letter that tells you how you've changed their life. I hope you change the world. 

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn."

Portland and me.

For my birthday this year, I decided to take a trip and it ended up being so much more than just a vacation. My goal was adventure, laughter and time in a new place surrounded by people that didn't know my name. I wanted to be immersed in greenery and create poems whilst getting lost in all that Portland had to offer me.

When the plane landed in Portland and it hit me what I was doing, traveling in a brand new city all alone, I couldn't stop smiling. I was grinning like a five year old at everyone who looked my way and that feeling of excitement and joy stayed with me the entire trip.

Portland is irrefutably beautiful. The scenery is healthy and inviting and the people are busy but kind. There's a sense of hustle and bustle in the city of Portland and in the demeanor's of the people quickly passing by. Though they seemed to be in a hurry, I was comforted by the fact that anytime I smiled in someone's direction, I was met with kind eyes and a returned smile.

I celebrated my 25th birthday in Mexico and to be funny my friends decided to trick me and pretend like they didn't remember what day it was. I knew that it was just a joke and that at some point I would be overwhelmed with presents and so much love but for a moment I felt so alone. I thought to myself that I hoped I'd never have to spend my birthday by myself, surrounded by people that didn't know what a special day it was.

On my 27th birthday I wore all of my favorite things, with the most important thing being my roommates Minnesota Twins hat. I put my umbrella and scarf in my backpack, along with my journal and headed over to a local spot to have brunch. I ordered two eggs, potatoes and a biscuit and I ate alone while reading 'Bossy Pants' by Tina Fey, it was exactly how I envisioned starting my birthday. Alone but far from lonely.

I was comforted by the fact that no one around me knew how special of a day I was about to have and humbled by the thought that maybe everyone else would be celebrating special moments as well. I walked around with a smile on my face and what felt like a secret in my heart. There I was, only a few hours into being 27 and it was already my most exciting birthday yet.

Growing up a twin, my birthday was never just for me. Even though it was annoying in the early years I grew to love it as I got older. I looked forward to that day and spent it being reminded that from the womb I had a partner in crime, someone to venture through this journey of life with. As the years passed and decisions took us in different directions we spent our birthdays together less and less. I can't remember the last time my brother and I entered into a new year while living in the same city. My brother will always be my twin and we'll always share a birthday but this year, for some reason, I felt like October 26 was mine, made just for me.

Portland was the sentence that ended this most recent chapter in my life. It reminded me of who I've been, who I am and who I want to be. It confronted old insecurities and doubts and reminded me of the hope that's so deeply embedded in my blood and the strength beating in my chest. I've never liked myself more. never been more content with my life, never felt more connected to the lives ebbing and flowing around my own. 

If you're responsibility free and have the money and the time, I strongly encourage you to take a trip by yourself. Go to a city that you've never been to before, stay somewhere cool, bring a journal, talk to strangers and immerse yourself completely in your own company.

It took me turning 27 and traveling to a random tree filled city to be reminded of the peace and joy that the Lord has placed within my heart. 26 was an amazing age filled with excitement, transition, love and so much happiness but 27 will be better. 27, is already better.

Thanks for keeping up with me. Until next time friends. Xoxo.

A Better way to pray.

About a month or so ago my older brother tagged me in a post on Facebook. It was on the page of a well-known Pastor based in Colorado Springs and it was reaching out to bloggers and writers to give them the opportunity to review one of his books before it's re-release.

I thought to myself "what the heck, it's worth a shot," emailed them a link to my blog and my Facebook and waited for a response. A few days later I got an email telling me that they had reviewed my content and believed that it aligned well with their mission and message and that attached I would find a copy of the book.

The book is called A Better Way to Pray and it's written by preacher and author Andrew Wommack. I was introduced to Andrew Wommack and his teachings years ago by my father and I've followed his work ever since.

I'm really excited to share my thoughts about the content of this book but also to share with you some things that I took from it that I think are beneficial.

Let me just start by saying that if you've never heard Andrew Wommack preach or read one of his books before, he has a very distinct tone. His words, though filled with love, are quite direct. He doesn't hold back with his use of exclamation points and he words things in a way that makes sure that the message is always very clear.

I often found myself laughing out loud while reading this book because I could hear his voice jumping out from the pages and I couldn't help but to giggle.

With that being said the message within the pages, though at times convicting, is truly life changing. While taking notes I found that there were so many things that stood out to me that to try and write about them all would take up too much space. So instead I decide to point out three keys thoughts that really stuck with me from the book and last but certainly not least how the book has affected my prayer life.

1. The importance of thanks.

Whatever we focus on is magnified. If we focus on our issues, they grow bigger but if we focus on our gratitude it becomes the biggest thing in our lives. Prayer is a time where we can lavish God with our thanks and gratitude towards him.

Does God needs to hear us say thank you? No, not necessarily but when we spend time thanking God for what he's done for us and acknowledge our many blessings our problems become so small in comparison. Chapter 5 entitled Make a prayer sandwich emphasizes the importance of starting and ending our prayers with praise and thanksgiving. It's through that process that we magnify God and all that he's done for us instead of magnifying our problems.

When we begin our prayer time by expressing our gratitude by the time we get to our requests we're not only reminded of how small they are but more importantly how BIG God is. I encourage you to spend  the first five minutes of your prayer time thanking and praising God. I think that you'll be pleasantly surprised by the outcome.

2. The primary purpose of prayer.

The primary purpose of prayer is not receiving from God, yes that is A purpose but not THE purpose. Prayer is a time of fellowship, intimacy and relationship with Christ. God knows every single thing that we need in this life. The Lord knows that we need to eat and make money and provide for our families, he knows these things. When we come to him constantly making requests, he's not upset but we're missing the true blessing that comes from prayer.

Prayer is a time for us to commune with God. It's a time for us to share our lives with him, to laugh, to cry, to simply invite him into the most intimate parts of our souls. This book reminded me that God is not just some magical genie waiting to grant our wishes. Rather he's a father, waiting to be invited into the lives and hearts of his children. A Better Way to Pray emphasizes the fact that God wants us to talk to him not only about our problems and our concerns but also about the things that make us come alive.

God wants to be our closest friend and most intimate relationship and prayer is a time for us to build that dynamic with him. I invite you to explore the beautiful relationship that you can have with Christ by spending your prayer time getting to know him rather than just getting things from him.

3. Loving God is all that matters.

We were CREATED for intimacy with Christ. It's almost to simple to grasp but it's the truth,we were solely created for the purpose of loving and being loved by him.

Of course, when you love someone, you desire to do their will and to do the things that make them happy but if all we ever did on this earth was love God, he wouldn't be upset with us. Through this book I was reminded that God is love and everything that he does and everything that he calls us to do comes down to that same thing. It is and will always be about loving God with all that we have.

God sent his son to die on the cross for our sins so that we could spend our days in fellowship with the king. When we realize that Jesus is not our escape route but rather our invitation to community, we are then able to enter into a life filled with love and a relationship with our best friend, Jesus Christ.

Ways that my prayer life has changed.

After reading this book, I realized that the majority of my prayer life and my relationship with Christ has been spent seeking things instead of just basking in his love. I realized that though I claim 'Christian' as the most important title to my name that I rarely take God at his word believing that he'll do what he says he's going to do. I realized that though I'm willing to walk away from relationships for my 'beliefs' that I don't even truly know the God that I'm claiming to have devoted my life to.

I didn't walk away from this book feeling condemned or bad about myself but rather I walked away from it feeling like I was about to embark on a life changing journey. I finished this book and I honestly felt so much freedom. This book equipped me with the tools, the confidence and the knowledge of who God is to be able to pray in a way that's not only effective but also a way that edifies and glorifies God.

Now the adventure starts to make this not just knowledge floating around in my head but rather something that I believe and know to be true in my heart.

I know that this post was EXTREMELY long but this book has truly given me a new thirst for God and who he is. It's made me realize that in John 10:10 when it says that Christ came that we may have life and have it more abundantly that it involves so much MORE than what I've experienced with him so far.

For those of you who are interested in checking out this book, I have an extra copy and would love to send it to one of you! Comment your name and email address below and in a few days I'll randomly pick a name and send that lucky person a copy!

Until next time friends.

XoXo

The authentic artist.

In my life I've found so much freedom and inspiration from writers and artists who have been able to portray their authentic selves through their craft. People who put it all on the line, every disappointment, every single moment of success, it was all out there for everyone to see.

Those people changed the way that I pursued and consumed media. I no longer sought after a superficial and empty reality but rather I craved authenticity. I had a seemingly unquenchable thirst for a moment in the presence of something that was sincere.

The word authentic is defined by good ole Google as meaning "Of undisputed origin; genuine." Growing up my artistic interests and obsessions could all be easily summed up by that word. They were musicians, dancers and painters that all chose to be themselves in a world that told them that someone else was better.

I was home-schooled for all of my K-12 years and although I wasn't particularly fond of it at the time, I now see that it played a huge part in the type of person that I am today. I didn't grow up in an environment where I was constantly struggling with peer pressure and being bombarded with over-sexualized media and crude language. I grew up being teased only by my siblings and never really having anyone make fun of me for the things I liked.

I was raised in an environment that allowed me to have the space and security I needed to figure out who I was.

Recently, I've struggled with being open and truly authentic on this blog. At times I hold back my thoughts, focus too much on what certain people might think and even worry so much about views that I start to write posts that are just eye catching instead of thoughtful.

I've been thinking a lot about why I started blogging in the first place and that train of thought took me back to my youth and the experiences that guided my life. I did not start this blog with the purpose and intention that lots of people would read it. I started this blog because I wanted it to be a space where I could leave it all on the field.

A place where I could pour out my ideas, my dreams, my ambitions. I wanted and still want this to be a place where readers can come and find a human not a robot trying to fit the mold of the modern day writer.

I'm constantly tempted to adapt and change in order to be more popular. Just last week I was looking through my blog  history and looking at the posts that have gotten the most views. I was trying to find a trend so that I could continue writing about those topics so that I could continue to get that volume of views and shares. I was actively feeding into the practice of writing for numbers.

I realize now that those posts didn't get 100's of views because I was writing with an agenda but rather because I wasn't. People shared them and wrote to me about them because they could see my heart in the words and could hear my voice in it's tone.

I started 'Give the grave only bones' because of my love for authenticity and the way that it has inspired and directed my life. If that spirit is lost or is pushed to the side, this whole thing something that I love and enjoy doing so much, will simply become a chore. A task that becomes exhausting and eventually too much work to continue.

My unique upbringing and the art that I consumed during it has paved the way for me to live a life that is my own. A life that is genuine, sincere, vulnerable and most importantly authentic.

I pray that God continues to give me a heart that is tender to the things of this world that are real. The things that beat to a different drum and shine with colors anew. Things that remind me that to try and be a copy is to reject the gift that comes with originality.

God could have easily made us all the same. He could have given us all the same skin color and personalities and fingerprints, but he didn't. He didn't do that because he sees the value in diversity and the beauty of our differences.

I wasn't created to fit a mold. I was created to thrive and to share my unique perspective with the world. I feel so blessed to be able to share my thoughts and ideas in this space every single week. The people who read this have been so supportive and loving with their kind words and comments and I'm so grateful for that.

I'm the culprit in this current dilemma. I'm the one that put pressure on myself and let the thoughts and lies of conformity take root in my heart. That all stops today. Authenticity can be scary but compared to the other options it's truly the only route, as an artist, that I'm allowing myself to take.

"Because true belonging only happens when we present our authentic, imperfect selves to the world, our sense of belonging can never be greater than our level of self-acceptance." -Brene Brown.