you snuggle with your sister to celebrate a beautiful life that deserves nothing less than greatness.  You rejoice because this greatness is real and ours.  And then you shed a tear or two or three because it’s that sort of night where you choose to stay in sweats with her so that you’ll be reminded of the gift and faithfulness of a reliable Lord.

You lift the ones you love, the ones held in darkness, raise them into His arms and you pray a passionate prayer that wakes the goodness and brings company into emptiness through the purity of His Spirit within you.  With every bit of “the l-word” holding you up, you wait, and then you will return home.

To the peacefulness that begs to stand still.  To the contentment in knowing that these experiences only make you appreciate everything a little more.  You stand at ease in these arms.  And you admit that the sorrow broke you so that He could rebuilt you.  And here you are, still wanting, needing more.  You surrender and find yourself here, closer.

Just be held…closely.  And you pray it too-let my heart be still, strong, still Yours, remade pure through redemption and grace.  You pray you want it, and He hears and gives it.

And with whatever hope you’ve been given, you whisper thanks to the ones who have never forgotten, never stopped believing, and whom you know with every ounce will never stop loving.  You do what is right.  What is pure and noble, what is expected and noteworthy, what is deserved and you trust, you accept, you surrender and you stop to live a different kind of Saturday night.

–

If you didn’t know it, I have a thing for ketchup. It’s kind of gross actually…for most people. NOT ME though. I smother it. I smother it like it’s dripping out a gooey goodness as it falls to the plate for me to “redip” my hot dog into. And oh. Did I add that there needs to be the perfect mayo balance to make it extra good. Oh it is SO good. Toast that bun darling, it’s that much better. It warms the ketchup just enough. SIDE NOTE: my friend Jill doesn’t refrigerate ketchup. Quick poll–how many of my readers do? Here’s another poll– how many of my readers eat ketchup on your eggs? *raises hand… Of course that’s on the eggs that come out actually edible.

P.S. I’m back to failing. This photo was taken yesterday. Appropriately, my smarty pants cousin responds with this: “Sunny side up means you leave the yolk intact.” Really?! I had no idea….

Eggs USED to be my favorite breakfast. I’ve resorted to fruit… because there just ain’t no screwing that baby up. And cereal, which “lesbi-honest” *mmhmmm that one’s for you Pitch Perfect fans I have been known to screw up too. Damn this busy life.

BUSY- ashamedly I admit, I now have an app entitled Free Time. “What is this?!” you ask. Oh, okay darlings, let me tell you. It’s the next best saving grace that isn’t eternal (cue Jesus lover now.) Right. So I no longer use my iCal to schedule events and appointments. I now use Free Time. Sad- yeah. kinda. *I’ll come back to that too. Right now my fingers are moving too fast to stop… Is being busy a drug? Something to show us what we are capable of but giving us an excuse to fail while at the same time remaining numb. More thoughts from my man Donald’s blog here. Perfect timing, Yo! P.S. I’m pretty sure I’m addicted…

Oh yeah, breakfast! SO fruit. I love raspberries. Mom quit buying them though because she says they just sit there and I never eat them. So, today I went to Pinkberry. Guess what topping I picked…. *said in a sing-song voice. Darlings, you’re so smart! Apples though. Mom always gets apples. Not my favorite fruit, but most of the time- just good enough…like right now, I actually bit into a soggy part (which I hate)…bring on the crispies *you apple lovers know what I am talking about…

[entering serious soap box now]

I think God is preparing my heart for something new to me. Hunger-advocacy. Because confession time: I am pretty sure I am a glutton. For steak, and ketchup, and ice cream and cookies, and goat cheese, and granola bars, and fruit snacks and frozen pizzas…ahhh and chinese food, OH MY GOSH! *wait! this isn’t about me. It’s about him, and others like him… ps. this apple sucks! PLEASE WATCH!

Okay. I figure there needs to be purpose coming out of this post. Here it is. I am deeply moved for children living in poverty that are being denied basic human rights because of their parental income i.e. a right to eat a crisp apple without worrying that too much money was spent on fresh produce. In just two weeks, I have been bombarded with daily (sometimes hourly) reminders that I am blessed taking advantage of the blessings of fresh produce…and more advantage of the processed yuckies that lead to medical health hazards. What can we do darlings!? We need to do something…

[exiting soap box now with a prayer in my heart and a hope that you will help me advocate...]

Right. So better eating. How about more exercising…. how about exercising with some sass?? I’ve decided to take up biking. I already have a mountain bike that I inherited from one of my greatest heroes, BUDDY! It was his bike…and he loved it. I love it more because of that… Buddy was my sister-cousin’s husband, the one who was KIA in Iraq, 2004. I don’t write about 2004 enough…it was pretty comparable to 2012. Maybe someday….

Right. This bike. Damn- sometimes this scattered brain takes me farther than I ever intended. Hope you’re still tracking… I remember getting a bike for Christmas one year from my dad. Some of my greatest quality moments with him were on the bike trail in our neighborhood….but then I became a teenager…sorry dad. And then I never got on a bike again. Let me tell you, that trip to Dicks to just sit on one was an adventure a sight. Picture Lloyd Christmas picking up Harry on the “hog” and wobbling as he turned around. That balance…it was difficult, even if I am 10 years post-cheerleader/post-dancer… hah! That’s probably why.

So I needed to buy some biker pants. That’s what everyone told me at least. To protect the hoo-hah. The vag-ajjjeeee. The “chach”…if you will. That’s where an idea for the title of one of my “not good enough for a single post” posts was created. We called it “lipstick and chaches”. Because we were on a mission at the mall for two things. Chach protecting biking pants and lipstick.

Mission accomplished.

HAH! You thought that ass was big.. You better back it up….back, back, back it UP!

No, it’s big. But not that big. I don’t lie. There’s some “thing” inside of them. Check it out! Are you kidding me?

Ummm… what does THAT remind you of?? Dude! Scratch off the part above that referred to this as “maxi-pad-ish” …these are freakin’ “THAT kind of gift at a specialty story.” ps. they do not vibrate.

To unscare me from these “chach-pants” (and because I am fashionable when able) I had to at least buy a matching shirt. *which I am showing you to unscare you as well…yes, you’re welcome friends!

Check out that sassy shirt!

but wait! There’s more… (I spoke that as I wrote–and as you read it, I know you heard an infomercial tone come off your screen, if not, try again.)

THE LIPSTICK. Where Thug Life meets Sass Life. and where the words “Lookin’ good ladies!” ring true every time you reapply. (Which is only every 7.5 hours & worth the $26 that Lancome received as a result of this new “need” of mine…wait, what was that about hunger??)

ps. Aunt Yo thought my make-up looked great that day…smoking eyes *ahem, just woke up from a nap smeared mascara* and red lips..Sister-Cousin made it clear that “great” meant “working the streets for two nights in a row and just getting home.” Shoot. Must have been the chachey-pants…

–

and there’s just no easy way to transition to this. In my dreams, I’ve now died twice and my favorite, Jus, is my killer. No joke. He was mowing my lawn. Hit a rock. Bounced off the house. Hit me in the head….anddd… beep. beep. beep. that’s the sound of me in a coma. BEEEEEEEEPPPP. now I’m dead.

Dream #2. He brings home this new girl. Family disowns him (because she’s only 18 and a previous student of mine). Friends have an intervention. p.s. she had bad acne and an unfortunate face. only in my dream though, not in real life. BANG. BANG. BANG. those were the gunshots of the three other friends of ours he shot. BBBBBBBANAAAAAAANNNNNNNNGGGGGGG! and that’s the sound of the gun that he switched to as it blew my brains out.

Me: Jus? Do you want me dead.

Jus: NO! Although I would laugh really hard if I was mowing the lawn and managed to hit you in the head with a rock only because that would take serious skillz. *yes, apparently skills is spelt with a z.

Umm…so glad that’s where that conversation went……. not. *shakes head*

and I’m out. Happy Friday Darlings!

p.s. that’s lipstick I’m wearing… and yes the pants too (though I was covering up the big butt with my running shorts that had to come off for the picture so I looked more hard core–crap. I just told you my secret. crap. they’re in my picture. And I’ll answer what you all are wondering just because I love you that much: MY CHACH SURVIVED!

Yes, it’s still a “thing…”

No, I don’t plan on stopping now that I’m officially in grad school.

Yes, I’d love to take your photo.

No, I don’t mind if you share this post to help me promote the business.

Smiles, nic

xoxo

I thank you, High God—you’re breathtaking!
Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
I worship in adoration—what a creation!
You know me inside and out,
you know every bone in my body;
You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
how I was sculpted from nothing into something.

Psalm 139, The Message

Look who is turning one… Sweet Addie GIRL!  We love you and your beautiful life.  You are fearfully and wonderfully made, given to US.  From nothing into more than just something…

The day you were born, a new piece of my heart was unwrapped.  Tears slowly fell when I saw you take your first breath, the moment I heard your first cry, the moment I felt your hand wrap around my finger.  And a new me was born.

The me that loves in a new way, the way that I too was fearfully and wonderfully made to be yours.  This God-mommy hood is the biggest gift I’ve ever been given aside from life itself.  Your life Addie-girl, is our prayer.  Your life Addie-girl, is our joy.  Your life Addie-girl, is a gift that we reopen everyday we see you smile, hear your trusting cries, your precious giggles, watch you crawl, anticipate your first steps, and hold your heart in ours…

Today is your day Addie-girl.  And we celebrate you.  The joy you bring us, the peace you give us, and the love we’d never felt before there was you.

Ahhhhh!  ”Mom!  MOM, WAKE UP!!! I GOT IN!!! I GOT IN!!!!”

Phone call 1, text 1…. phone call 577, text 1035.  AND YOU– THANK YOU…and you, thank YOU! and all of you DARLINGS!  THANK YOU!

AND MY LORD, RISES HIGHER… faithful to the end.

“Sister, I did it.”  and the tears flow…. and the breathing moves freely.  and satisfaction reaches new height.

Let “that” be over, finally. Let me begin….

In October, my dad was diagnosed with Stage II Prostate Cancer.  For the past eight weeks, he has been going to radiation 5 days a week.  Today though, he got to ring his bell.  I’m feeling thankful, and lucky.  (Of course blessed too, but some days, blessed is a word that is too often over used.)  I don’t believe in luck.  I believe in the power of God, and His purposes and the ways in which they help us grow.  But today, we are lucky.  ”Lucky” as we’re rewarded by Him with good fortune.  Were we unlucky to have an unfortunate diagnosis?  Nope- because in it we’ve found the real blessings….and real faith.

When I moved home in October, we had no idea that “this” was on the horizon.  We had no idea that the biggest scare of our lives was on it’s way into our family.  But what we did know was that this was another chance to enjoy the luck that we find through each other:

The “luck” of being thankful for one another.  The “luck” of worshipping the coming of a King together.  The “luck” to feel snowflakes fall “on our nose and eyelashes” through smiles and giggles and hugs and cold hands, warm hears…  The “luck” that is revealed on a Valentines day card reminding you that you are an answer to prayer, a miracle.  And the “luck” that propels us to trust in prayer for another miracle….

and here we are.  He rang his bell… and we are so lucky to have this good fortune. And it’s done.  We are faithful in a God who holds us close in His hands.

To have a little extra faith, a little more thanks for life, a lot more of an understanding of blessings, oh the power of prayer…

It all comes down to prayer.  I don’t believe in luck, or the stars, or sister, even candles…. but what I do believe in is the power of God and the way people exercise faith through what we are able to see, what we are able to grasp.  Just remember this though,

The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith, is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living. It’s our handle on what we can’t see. The act of faith is what distinguished our ancestors, set them above the crowd. (Hebrews 11:1-2, The Message)

Faith in my God.  Not the candle, not the stars, not the “best wishes..” or the “good lucks.”  Faith in God that overtakes the worry, the frustration, the fear… faith in the support of our brothers and sisters… it lives here: in my heart, in my families hearts and though we can’t see it, it’s there.  In all our good fortune, our “luck” it’s there.

So here: let me be faithful about this.  I am surrounded by a great community that are praying for me daily that the end of this roller coaster is near.  ”Have you heard yet?”  ”When will you hear?”  ”Anything?”  ”Have you received your letter from Mason yet?”  ”Now Love, give me an update on Mason…” “Any word on grad school yet?”

Oh you make me that much more faithful in this church of believers that lift up the ones we love in hope of “luck,” in realizations of blessings, in faith of what we cannot see but in confidence of what we hope know.

I have not been nervous until about an hour ago.  It’s all in God’s hands, there is nothing else I can do… but oh I don’t want to take another detour along this road.  I have confidence that this is where I am supposed to be.  I have faith that God is in control.  But the fear is fighting faith, the peace is starting to fade.  The “luck,” the good fortune still mine.  The “blessings”….. come my way.  again.  It makes me selfish, but sure.  And the human part of me begs for more of You…stay by my side.

I know who goes before me, I know who stands behind.  The God of angel armies is always by my side…

Chris Tomlin, Whom Shall I Fear (God of Angel Armies)

Darlings, soon.  Soon we will know.  And the good fortune of the journey will continue.

I don’t have a special way to end this, but search deep within my heart to know the thanks….thanks.

nic

Yes.  This is the inevitable dark mood of this blogger.

That moment when you barf all over the back seat of your new friends car and are more embarrassed that you had chunks in your cowl neck sweater and mixxed into your sequence skirt than the fact that her car still smells of spinach and artichoke dip.  That moment when you really need a new black purse.  That moment when you MUST say good bye to the $58 wallet that no one ever knew the price of until now.  That moment when the last thing you needed to hear was Toby Keith.  And the rain keeps falling….  PERSONAL NOTE: someday, I truly believe I will be able to hear Toby Keith and Seal…and even Ray LaMontagne without a little piece of my heart shedding a sad tear in remembrance of blissful times…

Yes.  That will indeed contribute to the dark mood of a blogger.  me.

So to you out there in the blogosphere world that get fed on the words and wisdom and emotion of writing… feed on this.  *insert obnoxious and perhaps R-rated motion and language here.*

We’re all human.  And while yes, the past few weeks and even months have been so blissful, I feel like no- I am not super woman.  No I am not *always* me-the happy-go-lucky, spunky fashionista with cute, sparkly shoes and red lipstick.  Sometimes I’m real with a woman mind that wanders through memories and butterflies and frustrations and fear.  Sometimes, I’m in a mood… *cue today*  And honestly, I like having these sometimes moods where I can just be PISSED OFF!

You know what’s so funny though?  It’s that I like to laugh during said moods.  I like to state the obvious in my own little blunt and rude way…like it’s going to help make me feel better about my own bad day.  Though I hate bullies, I’m a little bit of one myself when the darkness seeps in..

For example:

Mom: Try not to make any noise, your dad is sleeping. 

Me: Oh, how nice…. at least someone is quiet for him…. *under breath…who was NOT up at 5.  and for a moment in time I forget that he’s in his 7th week of radiation at the ripe young age of 85..and it becomes all about me…

Ahhh, yes friends.  I can be a real bitch.  And sorry dad.  I know that really wasn’t nice of me at all.. and least of all respectful.  But that’s the human in me.  Not only am I sassy, I’m cheeky too.  And when I get mad, stay far, far away.  These blunt and rude words can cut deep.

Here are some more..and then I’m done.

Friends, because yes, if your my friends, you’ll still be after reading this, do NOT, I repeat do NOT play the “‘Woe is me’ card” through your facebook and twitter updates on a regular basis, at all for that matter yes, I find I am being hypocritical at this moment…but really I dare you to go through my posts and updates.  Minus this one, find one where I complain, just one.  Here’s why you won’t: While yes it is inevitable that we all are hit by these dark moods, move on.  Don’t get stuck there…You had a bad day…. aww so sad, so did the rest of the world, but guess what IT GOES ON.  Aww, you don’t believe in love because your relationship sucks, such a pity- don’t ruin it for those who still do…. and awww….you wore blue shoes instead of black?? emmm, not a good enough reason to use *FML* …. knock it off and quit being redonkulous.  You’re still blessed.  and so am I.  I get these moods, I do because here I am too.  Sometimes we do have those FML days–but get over it and move on.  GOOD NIGHT!  We don’t all get our naps when we need them most, but we do get blessed when we need the blessings least.  That’s called being humbled.  It’s called grace.  Maybe we should try reveling in it for a change…

mmkkk.  I feel better now.  and that inevitable human normality is finished, for now.  And the dark side is now being shined upon by warm weather and a sparkling green tea lemonade from my favorite writing place….and this boy in front of me is wearing flip flops and glasses and shorts… I’m pretty sure that was a half smile we just gave each other…

I’m pretty sure I’m still blessed when I least deserve it.  I’m pretty sure if I heard Toby Keith in the radio when I get back in my car, I’d scream.  I’m pretty sure if I get home and the noise is still too overwhelming to find the slightest bit of solitude, I’ll turn right back around and go to a hotel.  And I’m also pretty sure that in the midst of my tiny end of the world, those closest to me are at their wits end with their own darkness and apocalypses.  But guess what you obnoxious facebookers and tweeters and bloggers *ahem, me* we’re still blessed.  So I dare you, in the midst of your hissy fit over traffic that is brewing to stop and pass a half smile with a cute boy in flip flops.  I dare you to open your sunroof and be fed by the Son.  I dare you to face the inevitable return of goodness.  and behold Him.  Live blessed.

I’m out.

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

The “bloggity blog mojo” playlist sings a certain calmness over me as I rejoice a little of this life, this gift that keeps singing a brilliant song over me and this heart.  Rising up made the fall worth it…I’d even do it again, all of it to be here again and again and again, (though I’d probably forgo a certain shower moment…).  But oh, this life is just so so beautiful.

“mercy, will we overcome this…carry on just a little bit longer as I try to give you what you need…” hashtag, so thankful.  SO SO THANKFUL…

The chocolate from the samoas leaves the most delicious taste on my tongue.  and here I go, tasting so much of the realness that I’m living.

I spent the last three weekends doing the me thing…leaving traces of my passion and love in Charlottesville, in Boston, in my Home-aha and fitting in commitments and school work into the left over crumbs of this awesome feast.

I could write about C’ville with my lady friends, or Boston with my happy friends, but in all honesty darlings, those trips seem light years away, and right now all I can think about is the smell and warmth of fuzzy baby fitting her tiny head into my crease where elbow meets forearm, where her heart meets mine, where I melt and am forced to leave you with this:

February 28, 2013:

A few years ago I boarded a plane to fly half way across my world to visit my childhood friend. The one I love with life because she was doing life, breathing life, feeling life–giving life.

And as I sat on the runway calming myself by counting to ten 500 times to keep from attacking the flight attendants and pilots so I could get to the hospital, there he came…Westen Dean, our first little miracle.

Today, I’m on a plane again.  And here she goes, my soul-sister whom I’ve loved since age three.  Take a breather Nic and let these tears drop with some special love, for your girl giving life…

No but for cereal seriousness-ity. My kiddo, you’re grown up and beautiful and so special. And this is your day, again! God’s given you two…and by His grace- I’ve been loved enough to experience the gift to see you be mama, twice. These tears keep falling because I just love you. These tears keep falling because I love her, already. These tears keep falling because you’re a good mama, a great mama, a born-to-be mama.  And I get to see and know this miracle, these miracles. To hold your babies with love that only your soul would let me fall in love with as if they were mine too….and yes, I s’pose we’ll share with Papa J. it’s only fair. Damn these tears….

You and I, we’ve shared a lot: late nights star gazing, boy crazing, life dazing while you were you and I was me.  Yet here we are, with you there and me here… so different than those girls back then, separated and at such different places in life that send us into unintentional neglect and even hurt.  But on days like today, we are reminded through these life events that those words, “soul-sisters” are the truest ones we’ll ever know or feel, ones that your husband and my future husband will never know, will never come close to understanding.  Because deep down, there’s still a tiny trace of those girls that they never knew.  You and I find them in our giggles and tears and hugs and support…but especially in moments like these; where the truth comes out to say “I’m still there for you and trust that you’ll be there for me too.”

So here I come, because Mama, I know you’re nervous.  Mama, I know you’re ready. And Mama, I’m so dang proud of you, because you is some beauty-freakin-fulla-love.

My soul-sista, I’m taking advantage of the wi-fi on my flight to Dallas but here’s what I’m also doing…I’m holding your hand in my heart where this soul-sista support gives you strength, oh my sweet mama-sista, just breathe! Hey- we’ve got this. You, me, Jer, and Mother C.  Hey! Bring her to us already and let us cry these happy tears that flood her with love, that give her to our Lord, that hold her forever.

I’m counting to ten with you as a flash of memories *brings more tears… Nooo…well, maybe…. I’m counting to ten with you as we breathe through those pangs that turn to joy with each thought of our childhood, the wild summer nights flipping through the best kind of dreams that were white and flowery and shining and special. Because now they’re coming to life, literally. And we’ve prayed for these moments. Oh mama-kiddo, breathe them in.

And I love you. and her.

ps. how cool was it to get off the plane to see the text from your mom saying, “she’s here.” Oh Lord, how Your Spirit moves among us.

–

Welcome to our world little one!

I walk into a room to shake the hands of two well-known faculty members and this is my chance to prove myself.  Who am I?  What is about Mason that attracts me, and why this program?  And my weakness, not just any weakness my “personal/professional weakness.”

To my left sits the man making the decision.  Then a girl, a little younger than me, freshly out of undergrad.  Next to her, a kind man, he’s a veteran, quiet but bold.  There’s a woman who I’m impressed with (seriously..I would choose her for the program before I’d choose myself.)  Then there’s her.  The woman making the decision, and oh my word, she is gorgeous, inside and out…I want to be here when I grow up!  Next to her is a young man with a heart as big as mine, his voice though, not as big as mine… define that for yourselves my darlings.  And another sweet girl, she’s still in undergrad but is so ready to be here (I say that like I’m already here…oh gosh I could really be in for a heartbreak…).  My “competition,” these five, but oh how I wish that instead they were my colleagues.  We have something in common us “born counselors”: passionate hearts that dream big– we will change the world.  We will.

…and that’s who I am…a passionate dreamer.  Little do they know, my dreams WILL become a reality.

My name is Nicole Paullin.  I have a passionate heart that dreams big.  I want to redefine success, my own success included.  I spent 8 years in youth ministry and took the last year off from life to travel and redefine my own life.  It all comes down to this moment…

My heart cries for the generation of today.  If there is any program that is going to help me make an impact, it’s this one.  I need to be here–it’s not a want, or desire.  I NEED to be here.  So here I am.

Mason’s passion to seek social justice, to take social action–THAT is what I am about.  ”This” is at the core of my calling.  Social justice isn’t just seeking equality for immigrants or homosexuals.  <–and yes friends, I’m speaking out about my liberalism….ps. I voted for Obama (TWICE!)…no darlings I did not add this footnote to my answer….because Big Sister, I know you just gasped…

In a school setting, there are too many injustices.  Sitting in my youth ministry chair, I felt limited.  <–yes darlings, it’s all coming together.  I heard about the kids who sat alone at lunch tables because they were “tards” that had b.o.  INJUSTICE-BAM!  I heard about kids who were denied a place on the team because their parents weren’t involved enough.  INJUSTICE-BAM!  and… I saw tragedy,  experienced  tragedy as students, children, took their own lives because they were overwhelmed…overwhelmed because of academics, 6 AP classes, overwhelmed because of soccer, chess club, pressure to have sex, pressure to want sex, pressure to be straight, pressure to come out, pressure, pressure, pressure… to succeed.  And this is our chance to redefine success, with JUSTICE for these that are oppressed!  <–these are just a few of my words.  Here are others.

‘So Nicole, why counseling and not pastoring?’

Because Dr. “Woman,” I’ve done that already..and while I succeeded at redefining success for many of my students, I want to go on to make an even bigger impact.  I don’t want to be held back. <–and not that anyone has ever held my back in any of my previous positions, it’s the title….  So here I am.  I want to work with other oppressed that make up the great population of Northern Virginia.  We live in one of the richest counties in the country and what are we doing with these resources??  How are we using this privilege to help the underprivileged?  What can I–one person do in a private entity with 600 members?  I dream big…  I need big, not better, but better for me and for this heart of mine….

My weakness is my empathy.  I’d be lying if I didn’t say that’s what chased me out of ministry.  Though I had help from my mentors, when it came to setting boundaries, it became extremely unhealthy–never for my students or their families, but for me and my family.  I took on their problems as my own– I couldn’t come to terms with the fact that I can’t fix everyone.  It took me a year to realize that…and again, it comes down to this moment.  This moment where I can be completely honest with you, Dr. “Man” and you Dr. “Woman” to say, it’s scary getting back into this field that I know I’m called back to.  We can’t fix everyone, but if we can fix one, we’ve won.  Here’s the thing, Dr.’s, I’m on a mission to work myself out of a job, I know it’s not going to happen overnight, and in reality most likely not in my lifetime.  But, if I have the opportunity to change one life, just one, I’ve succeeded, and so have they.

So choose me, dammit!  I want this.  I’ve drank myself to the floor and traveled across the country this year.  I’ve journeyed through my heart, wrestled with my faith, loved, lost, gained…and now it’s time to win.  CHOOSE ME!  it comes down to this moment…and the next four weeks as the admissions board continues to interview…

Only 50% of all applicants were fortunate enough to even be interviewed.  Only 25 of those will be admitted to the program for School Counseling.  25.  25, that’s like 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… yeah, 25.  And my Lord, I pray, please let me be one of those….

–

Thanks for your prayers sweet friends.  Thanks Rob, Michelle, and Dr. Ramsey for your recommendations that have brought me this far…honestly, it wasn’t just your recommendations, it was your teachings, your belief in me, and Sharon too.  And Mom and Dad–I don’t want to let you down, but I’m still scared.  I take peace in knowing that you have defined success for me in showing me that I’ve already made you proud.

I love you all.  Thanks for being a part of this journey to redefine my own success.  Stay tuned though, because I have faith that together, we’ll redefine success in others too….

behold Him and live blessed my darlings!

love, nic

ps.  have to share some of my favorite texts of encouragement.

J- “Nic, you’ll be FINE.  Just do what I told you to do and take a shot before you go in.  If that doesn’t work, tell them about your unhealthy obsession with Michael Phelps.”

C- “Will say a prayer but you know you rock.  Just be your warm loving self.  Can’t wait to hear how great it went.”

M- “Good luck today, Sister!  I know you will rock it!”

J- “We are on the slopes-literally.  Ryan and I just stopped to pray on the snow.  Good luck!  May God give you peace and calm and clear answers.”

P- “Thinking about you and praying for you this morning.  Let me know how it goes!”

K- “I hope your interview goes well.  You’ll nail it!  After all, you ARE a Paullin.”

H & S- “PRAYING!!!!!!!!!!”

T- “You’ve got this girrrrrrl!  They will fall in love with you within 5 seconds!”

Hey!  It feels so good to be loved.  And I love you too.  But friends, God loves you more.  He’s on our side.

do you remember my mornings before though?  The ones that moved my feet as they chased the sunrise through a park along foggy water?  Those mornings were mine.  They were followed by muffins, yogurt parfaits, fruit, tea, words, Words.  And oh my friends how I’ve missed them throughout this nanny love.  But here I am…

…honestly though, I must say, the head of a two year old that rests upon my shoulder as I rock reckless affection into his little soul pieces these moments together.  They’re unlocking me, humming something so beautiful, so sweet, so significant.  And I just hold on.

Today, this week has been the most special treat.  It actually started about four months ago when I walked into a garage stuffed floor to ceiling with boxes.  And it continued through Christmas, and little voices that said, “we’re moving!”  Stumbled words said, “me have tommy room.”  and screams that fought concerned tears that asked, “wait, are you coming to the new house with us?”  This morning, before I rejoined my tea and muffin, I guzzled this treat to crumbs.  ”Micole!!!!!  You’re here!!  Come see my new room.  It’s pink!!!”  guess what Keri, my favorite color is pink.  I was 24 and my room was still pink…and now it’s purple.  We’re a match, you and I.  “I sleep my own bed, Cole!”  Ethan, please stop growing up and just let me hold you here.  Put your little hands in mine and let’s just hold on.

–

Why am I continually amazed by God’s works?  By the way He is so in love with me through you.  Today, as I sit in the spot that has missed me for four months, yes FOUR!, I blare fingertips that join the keys of a piano through emotion, through finer feelings than I can express.  I blare acoustic guitars  that are accompanied by voices that sing me peace.  And I grip these words tighter than Sasha on a t-bone.

“If God made You, He’s in love with me.”

My life is such a sappy montage I actually love that...  I see three faces standing behind a tall dad named Charlie.  I see a mom that I know is already my friend.  And this family, Jeanette’s family is now mine too.  I hear “Do you like to build forts?”  …and I’m hooked.  The park is fishing to bring me back, baiting me with a morning like this.  But they won.  and I’ll let them win 50,000 times over. Because I hear His song when I am with them.  And I see, God’s just so in love with me through you, my sweetest blessings that have helped bring me here.

So…

So…

So, confession time.  I miss writing.  Where’s my mojo gone, sweet darlings?!  But today it made a special appearance, must be the muffin and tea…  Thank you Words.  You are cherished.  A little gift of gratitude for you, here:

Dear me,

Hold on, would you?!  Hold onto this moment and hear the whispers of this song and of His song.  Live each second in between.  The ones where your feet take you to the sunrise to rejoice a life lives being sung over you.  Hold on while you lose yourself in His love through them, these pieces of heaven.  Hold on, and write these words honey.  Write this love.  Hold on, baby.  This time is so fiercely yours.  Hold on tight.

and since I’m in the mood for letters:

Dear You,

Hold on to me.  And stumble me into more of your creations that sing Your love over me.  Cling me to this mercy.  Hold on, so there’s nothing between You and I but THIS LOVE.  Oh how I love…

peace out, darlings.  and hold on tightly to the creations He’s so carefully loved you with….

peace xoxoxo

p.s. raise your hand if the title of this post made you break out into the Wilson Phillips song…. don’t you know, things could change, things could go your way, if you hold on for one more day, can you hold for one more day… you’re loving me now aren’t you!?