We knew before we even had the girls that we would be dedicating the girls back to the Lord. In fact, Hannah is named after the beautiful and faithful woman in the Bible who made a vow to God to dedicate her son, Samuel to the Lord for His service. So many nights of worry that my pregnancy was just a dream, I would pray to God, “Take them if you must, we know they were never ours to begin with…” Of course when I would pray that, it never hurt nearly as bad as it does now– I guess that’s the way a mother’s love grows day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute…. But they’re His girls, and we don’t ever take the gift from Him to us for granted. I like to think that approaching parenthood with this mindset is opening our hearts to hear God’s direction for our girls.

Coming from traditional families with Catholic backgrounds, we were adamant that we would have the girls baptized in our home church. Our church family in Centreville prayed long and hard for us during our infertility and we fully believe that these girls have not just been gifted to us, but to them too as we all watched our prayers be answered in the miracle of Elsie’s and Hannah’s births. To top it off, our pastor, who I worked with long ago has become such a dear friend through the years so having him as such an integral part of their baptism meant a lot to me. BUT– we have a church here too. We have a community here that has grown us so much, and we know without a doubt will be growing our daughters too.

Then came the nitty-gritty theology. Infant baptism is all we’ve personally known and ever wanted for our children. Trey constantly prayed over our interpretation of scripture and household baptism. We also prayed hard over dedication and what we learn in Matthew 28:18-20:

Jesus, undeterred, went right ahead and gave his charge: “God authorized and commanded me to commission you: Go out and train everyone you meet, far and near, in this way of life, marking them by baptism in the threefold name: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Then instruct them in the practice of all I have commanded you. I’ll be with you as you do this, day after day after day, right up to the end of the age.”

We’ve always interpreted this passage instructing us to baptize AND THEN live by example and instruction to walk and love in the ways of the Lord. However, we also know that baptism is not a salvation issue. We know that when the day comes, our girls will make a decision for themselves based on a desire for salvation and an eternity with our Maker, our Savior, and even their grandpa. One of the greatest lessons I ever had in my years of youth ministry and training was to never assume salvation because children had been baptized or raised in the church. I can distinctly remember seeing kids feel robbed of that “salvation moment” and the joy that it brings when you just know. There’s just something about having Hannah make her own decision, and Elsie making hers that swells my heart…

All these things we took into account. I talked to Rob who said in his loving and father-like way, “Nicole, haven’t you found a church down there yet?” If you know us, we’re all about community. In part because of the tradition in the Presbyterian church to ask the congregation to make a verbal commitment at baptism to help raise our children in the church but also because we know we are not the people we are today without the support and love from our communities. Anyway, to be honest, both of our churches not just encourage but necessitate the commitment of community to help us raise our girls into the church. But, our new church doesn’t do infant baptism, only dedication. The same way I talked to Rob, we decided to meet with our friends here aka pastor + wife + adorable daughter to have a similar conversation. The conversation also included things like “but our family won’t understand the difference” and “there would be about 40 people there to join in on the commitment with us.”

We knew the girls had their godparents, we knew our immediate families made up sixteen more, and then if you’ve been following along, my extended family would make up the rest. Jeff and Jenny offered to do a private dedication ceremony at our home to included everyone but though SO SO gracious, we declined the big fat Mexican Baby Dedication and traded it for a smaller-ish more intimate time of prayer with other families from our church– here.

Our church is called South Ridge. I can’t remember if I’ve shared the story of how we found it, but let’s just say, they found us. Their commitment and mission to families and the gospel is what keeps us ignited with passion for the Lord and His presence in our own family. We are so thankful to Jeff and especially Jenny for making the Baby Dedication such a memorable and holy time for our family– complete with a photographer (you know, the second most important thing of the day for me.)

There is something to be said about having those closest to us, and the ones who already know and see the girls on a daily/weekly basis join with us in this blessed commitment. We are so blessed by this body of believers who helped us dedicate our girls. I guess it still was a big fat Mexican and American baby dedication– and one that has us smiling upon every thought and remembrance.

We chose PapaLu and LizzyLu to be your godparents because of their example to us through the years. They have modeled a loving and godly marriage to us, but also what it’s like to be parents who are so intricately involved in the spiritual growth of their children by serving in the student ministry. Having four kids of their own- their biggest example to us is that we WILL live past these long but treasured days with you and look like a million bucks on the other side.

NanaHeidi held our hands the day we were married and prayed blessings over us with your other church nanas. She prayed specifically for you then and thinking of all I can say about her right now is bringing tears to my eyes. She loves you girls so much; loved you before you were created and will be there for us through all the thicks and thins of our lives. The first small group your dad and I participated in once we were married was hosted and led by PapaSam and NanaHeidi and the Bergquists (who love you a lot already too)! When you think of dad and I and our love and commitment to one another, don’t do it without thanks to them and their lessons that laid such a strong foundation for us that we hope and pray we are passing to you every single day.

Aunt Stephanie has become one of our closest friends and biggest cheerleaders! We truly feel we wouldn’t have survived Grandpa’s death as well as we have without her prayers and support throughout his illness and crossover to meet Jesus. I’ll never forget when I told here we were pregnant with you. She called me right away and we talked about strollers and sharing grapes and pregnancy fears.. if there’s anyone who knows twin life, it’s her and Uncle Chuck. And just like your other godparents, their marriage is one that we strive to have in order to be the best that we can be for you girls. The examples they all have set in raising godly children sets a high bar, one we pray to live up to all the time. Having their support along the way is something Daddy and I know is essential to our commitment in raising you girls to know and feel Jesus with you at all times.

Your family and our close friends were a part of the day too– they’ve been there from the moments we learned of your existence and from the moment you were born.

Hannah Hope- you were dedicated to the Lord by your father and I on May 11, 2019, trusting that someday He will use you to move mountains according to His will. Elsie Love- your father and I gave you back to the Lord for His service to be a blessing to others always on May 11, 2019. May you both forever know that on this day, you received the biggest blessing to be welcomed with open arms into this beautiful family of believers in His presence. We prayed that you would grow in strength to be beautiful women that would exude the gospel in everything you say and do. We prayed you’d grow to be kind, confident, sincere, compassionate– that you would put others before yourself. And then these most marvelous saints, they all prayed for Daddy and I. They prayed for energy and strength in our marriage and especially in the ways that we are raising you.

Our community is filled with the most beautiful people Aunt Sarah and Uncle Doctor Paul being some of them. From the moment we met we connected like something from heaven… oh wait, it was. They love you girls so so much. I kick myself that I didn’t take any pictures when they came to visit you in the hospital…but they did. AND Uncle Doctor Paul helps us keep you alive– that alone in-debts us to him eternally. No but really- Paul and Sarah- we miss our double dates before we had kids, and appreciate your prayers before, during, and after their births. Thank you for committing with us to raise these girls to know our Savior… and thank you also for creating a love triangle between our girls and your boy.

Can you tell we pray a lot– sometimes when I write I think we sound like the most desperate people… but I correct myself saying that we are the most faithful people instead, knowing that God delivers in His timing and ways. All that to say… that we prayed HARD for the worlds best neighbors to come to our street. I wanted a young family that would have kids that could grow up with the girls… but what God answered with was even better. He gave us Jeff and Roxanne who together with the girls help grow our girls. They were some of the first visitors at the hospital and are some of the last we see before we go to bed…regularly. Hannah, despite your face in this picture, you LOVE Mr. Jeff!!

I know this is a super long post…. like SUPER LONG– but what I hope is gathered from this is how beautiful the community is that comes from being a part of God’s church. Not a day goes by that we don’t thank God for these people, these believers who are already impacting you girls for eternity by sharing in God’s beautiful family together. I guess that’s why we’re so #blessed. It’s them!!

In complete and pure Nicole-fashion, I had a pinterest inspired Big Fat Mexican Baby Dedication party planned. I even made these invitations that I sent out to our guests with the girls’ birth announcement…

We made prayer cards on my cricut… which of course I didn’t picture. AND I even made a cake topper and banner… which weren’t really pictured either. Hence my attempts at pinterest momming not completely failing… the important thing is that we partied. We celebrated this first, big, and most important event in the girls’ lives and we loved every second of it. I especially loved that my husband did the picture taking so that I could enjoy just being.

These girls are my biggest saving grace of motherhood. “Nicole, can we come put the girls to bed?” “Nicole, do you need help feeding the girls?” “Want me to babysit?” YES! ALL THE TIME YESSSS!!

and Jenny- YOU!! YOU were the mastermind behind all of it! Our most special day, thank you!!

This was the first time we had all “our” kids in one place; the kids that taught us how to love so deeply and sacrificially. I’m completely IN LOVE with this picture, and it will hang on our walls FOREVER, the day we gave them all more cousins! I know it was never their intention to bring about pain on Trey and I, but I hated when they would ask us if we were “EVERRRRR going to have a couple of kids.” So glad to know we didn’t disappoint.

Signing off now. If you have questions about baptism or dedication or my super creative undocumented Big Fat Mexican Baby Dedication *to which many of the Mexican’s were unable to attend* hit me up. I’d love to chat it over!

xoxo,

Nicole

a special thanks to our church’s photography ministry: Lindsay Sousa and Stacie Hubbard for taking the dedication photos at the Gauntlet!

I looked down and saw this:

…and I couldn’t help myself.  “This” becomes more real every day.  As excited as we are, I’m still really struggling; forget the fact that I already suffer from extreme anxiety.  But we’re still heartbroken.  Don’t get me wrong, we couldn’t be more happy that this has finally happened for us, but there are still so many who are still walking the inconsolable pain that we came to know VERY WELL.  And to be honest, that’s why we decided VERY early on (pre-pregnancy) that we would not go public when it finally happened.  Buttttt…. my mother-in-law really, REALLY wanted to share.  And my birthday had family members hinting on my Facebook page.  And re-answering the question of “When will you put it on facebook?” was getting old.  I guess maybe that’s why we decided I’d instagram it instead….??  Maybe.

The thing is, we truly believe that God chose us for this journey to be a voice.  You can read about that here.  There isn’t a moment that goes by that I don’t see my bump and pray hard and long for every couple I know that is in their waiting.  And I guess that’s when it hit me yesterday… just because “it” finally happened for us, we were never sanctioned to silence in the process.  Now more than ever, our voice can be heard.  And it has been.  If our 100 something “likes” spread the word, then to us, it was worth it.  And now our prayer is that our 1 in 8 friends would feel that same support; that they would see Hope in the bump.

I clearly remember seeing the bump photos of our acquaintances, our friends who knew, even our own family– and it was the darkest, most toxic feeling I’ve ever experienced.  In my mind they were selfish, uncaring, even ignorant of the pain it was causing us.  Trey and I got in a huge fight because he lied (by omission) about some friends… apparently he knew for months but was trying to “protect” me and decided not to tell me.  I have the most perfect husband in the world, but Lord knows, even the bravest warrior can’t protect an infertile woman from these feelings.  If you’ve never walked the path of infertility, consider this your pass for not completely understanding, but also consider this: acknowledgement is the kindest, most selfless thing you can do (at least it was for us…) and I think others too.

When we decided to go public after all, we did so with this in mind…. ACKNOWLEDGEMENT.  A few months ago, at the start of IVF, I reached out to every woman and couple I knew on the same or a similar path to ours.  I had a million times the hope then compared to the hope I had at our last transfer; I wanted to be intentional when our day came and tell each and every one of them…personally.  I really tried to.  Trey did too.  We stuck to it, from the moment we had our first blood test.  I didn’t want to wait.  Partly because I knew we needed every prayer and good thought imaginable; but more so because we had a glimmer of hope–and I wanted that for them too.  That’s been every prayer since.  EVERY.SINGLE.PRAYER. since.

Lord, please just give them HOPE.

When I say I’m really struggling this is why.  It’s like I’m jealous and broken {of us} and our happiness… on their behalf.  Please don’t misread that– not every infertile woman is jealous or worse yet “broken.”  NO!  We’re a tribe of strong heroes.  But our hope– it’s like each passing announcement is digging away leaving little pieces of our hope behind.  And that drowns me– even still.  And even still, we’re overwhelmed with JOY.  What a strange dichotomy that I might never fully understand.  I would be lying if I didn’t tell you this: me… more so than Trey (though probably by just a smidgeon), wanted to hide our joy from the others “to protect them.”  See what happened there.  God spoke and said, that wasn’t fair.  And it also wasn’t what He intended when He gave us these strong voices.

So….if you missed the public announcement– I’m publishing it here.  Our goal wasn’t ever to rub our joy in your faces… but to rub a stronger and more intentional hope.  So if you read it, please read it again… only this time– meeting our intent.   PS. My husband? –he did a brilliant job.

Nicole and I are beyond thrilled to share the news of the newest additions to our family. We have tried from the moment we were married to grow our family and over the last 2 and half years we were unwillingly forced to become a statistic. We are 1 in 8.  1 in 8 couples suffer the pain of infertility.  While we have so much joy, we still face so much heartache knowing all too well the pain that our announcement may cause others.  It’s the same pain that we felt for a very long time, and a pain that some have known for even longer.  We even silenced our own parents from excitingly sharing our news to be sensitive to others.  So please, don’t just look at this as another pregnancy announcement, but as a chance to learn about the 1 in 8. We ask that in the midst of your gladness for us and the twins we will meet in March, that you remember the others too. Pray for us, all of us.

I posted something on my photography page too:

We’ve debated for a long time about sharing our news publicly with the purest intentions to not cause any more pain to so many who we know that walk through a similar valley.  In the end we decided on HOPE because those of you who have known our struggles have given it so freely to us, and we want to pay it forward.  SO BEHOLD, our very own little miracles growing every day, a little more.  Let this be our message of hope.  A hope to our other 1 in 8 friends that your miracles can happen too, and a hope that you, the other 7, will learn a sensitivity and a deepened awareness to the disease of infertility.  It’s not a bad word and it’s okay to talk about it.

I don’t know that this post has a real purpose.  I mean obviously a purpose to coach the *fertiled*.  But I think there’s so much more to it, so much more to learn.  Like for example how infertility IS a DISEASE.  And how for TOO LONG it’s been a taboo topic.  1 in 8!  Think of eight friends– one of them (maybe it’s us) knows this pain… And I’m hoping you have more than eight friends?  If you do, chances are you know more than one who knows this pain.  Isn’t that insane?!

It’s not any different than being sensitive to a friend who has celiac disease, or fibromyalgia, or lyme.  So be there to acknowledge their hopelessness to give them the hope we all so desperately need and want!  And if you don’t know how to– don’t worry I’ll be addressing that in my next post…… to come…soon-ish.

In the meantime– don’t call this (down below) our bump.  We’ve decided to call her our Hope.

total transparency here- behind the (clean or dirty??) bra, the make-up, the baby powder and hair dryer, we had our first real sighting of our tiny hope at 9 weeks.

In this particular instance, I really want to change the sign behind me to read, HOPE BIG…at 10 weeks. Ps. I wore this romper on Sunday and I had a choice between major cleavage and major camel toe.  It’s now in the back of my closet.  Pps. Trey can’t believe I just wrote “camel toe” on the world wide web.

If there was anyone to give our babies their first kiss, I’m so glad it was my Sheree-ree.  11 weeks and slowly surpassing the “is she fat(ter) or is she pregnant?” stage.

This picture might be my most favorite picture of Hope yet. I babysat these humans–all 4 of them. And that kid on the left… I knew him when he was in his mama’s womb. Blessings come two-fold.  I totally get that saying now.

12 weeks. Trey doesn’t like the way he looks in this picture… and to be honest, I don’t like how I look either… but Lord–if we didn’t know His presence before, we sure did after being in the most beautiful place on earth, my South Dakota.

and today. 13 weeks and another sighting of our HOPE and another unceasing prayer for my tribe of warrior brothers and sisters.  

I listened to this song while I was writing today… and as part of the hope I’m sharing, these words for you too: The sun, it does not cause us to grow.  It’s the rain that will strengthen your soul; it will make you whole.  We have lived in fear and our fear has betrayed us.  We will overcome.

These are the days of our best life yet.  I was talking to our friend a few weeks ago about how parenthood can sometimes be like marriage.  I wouldn’t know because I’m not entirely there yet.. but the parts that stretch us further than we ever thought we could be stretched… the patience that tries to sink us deeper than we can swim, the triumphs that make us prouder but not until we’re on the other side… all part of these glory days that God has ordained in the midst of His great creation.  And so again, that’s why I say we’re living out best lives yet.  That- and we are currently somewhere in the middle of Nebraska and Virginia completing a 10-day road trip across my HOME.  side note but only because I know he’ll say something otherwise-Trey is quick to remind me that he is my home… but to be honest, I don’t actually feel that as strongly as he does UNLESS, we’re in my “home” with the rest of my family… in Letcher.  I’ll write more about that soon.. believe me, I’ve got TONS of pictures to share but for now just this other one in the story of

when marriage meets parenthood…

—

I have spent months, chatting up with so many of you lovely people.  Not just the routine “hi’s” but intimate conversations that have allowed me vulnerability and every time we hear words like “Your story [fill in the blank]” our hearts do some sort of humble yet glorious dance in thanks that God chose us for this journey.  I used to read this verse in James about pure joy in the midst of trials, and laugh.  That was until you all.

I think this is where my friend would compare parenthood to marriage; the way that things just suck so badly, you have no choice but to laugh (and find the joy somewhere in between)!  Track with me- it’s like sharpie marker on a white sofa that you know you’ll never be able to remove or get out but you know you have to keep the joy because Jojo is still your kid, and gee golly she’s cute!  For us, it’s this infertility that tests your our patience for a bigger plan as we sit buried in question after question, doubt after doubt hoping at some point we’ll come out of our own “white sofa” but still keeping the joy because we KNOW there IS a bigger plan.

It’s the disappointments and “oh no’s” where all you can do is laugh!  And this we know well.  In a moment of insensitivity and guardedness, I snapped at Trey a week after our last transfer.  “Trey- why did you pray for our babies… you know if they didn’t actually implant, they’re dead by now.”  I laughed, but the patience and joy of marriage (much like I assume we’ll come to know in parenthood) superseded as my terrific and VERY understanding husband hid his hurt feelings in some welled up tears and placed his faith and hope a little deeper in our God because at the time I couldn’t.  Thank you God for Trey!  And here we are, 11 weeks later.  And thank God because I’ve found my joy again.  11 weeks and 5 days later.

Almost 12 weeks.  In case you’re wondering that’s somewhere around 75 of my big-butt-shots, 2 pregnancy tests (because clearly the first one couldn’t be right), 3 blood tests (just to make sure), 1 really awful night of what “they” call “morning” sickness (whoever “they” might be… “they” are wrong, by the way), and 4 ultrasounds and 1 really cool chromosomal test (more on that later).  ALLLLL to find out that after 2.5 years of infertility, the best way God could ever teach us about that “joy in the midst of trials” stuff I was just talking about, would be to entrust us with twins.

Behold you guys!  The Happily Ever Bresslers are adding TWO to their nest.  TWO!  Do you think that’s one for each year of infertility?  Or just double the blessings because of my husband’s noteworthy and very joyous faith that carried us out of that low valley of sharpie markers on white sofas?  God really did hear us (AND YOU), and now, we’re having twins! (p.s. in case you were wondering why I look a little larger than 11 weeks and 5 days, it’s because TWINS)

—

I told my brother first.  Though we hardly talk any more, I feel stupidly connected to his sensitive side that in my mind brings me closer to my dad.  And then I told my sister-cousin– the one who paved a way for me when I had no idea I’d ever need it.  I texted my cousin who walks a parallel heartache, and along with her all the special people we’ve met along the way who are still walking their own heartaches and desires with a bravery that only we “get to” know.

BTW- my in-laws, and my mom, and my south dakota-mom all found out when we did.  The conversation went like this “Well, the doctor heard a strong and healthy heartbeat….” (insert screams and tears) “…and then she heard a second!” (insert louder screams and tears).  This all might sound familiar to you because it’s also how we told each one of you that has prayed on our behalf, reached out with sincerity and truly believed when we couldn’t, that our day would come.

We’ve been amazed at all our friends who have unknowingly said the same thing, “OH MY GOSH, I have goosebumps and I’m crying!” LIKE- for us!  What have we done to ever be so deserving of your love and support.

But there will be miracles.  There are miracles.

—

There’s a passage in Scripture that for forever– like since I was 15 that I’ve read and reread, and reread again with such amazement at the power of God within… and I need to share it with you.  Mary is newly pregnant with Jesus and she goes to visit her sister Elizabeth (also pregnant). At the sound of Mary’s voice Elizabeth’s baby leapt in her womb; and she (Elizabeth) was filled with the Holy Spirit (Luke 1:39-55).

I get it now.  I totally get it.  We sat at our last ultrasound, tears of joy streaming down our faces as we watched our children “leap” in my womb.  Their little arms and butts wiggling like dancers, and I could FEEL God’s power within me telling me that I’ve been healed.

Maybe this passage had been preparing me for that ultrasound day all along…?  Because somehow it came so naturally and I did what Mary did; I prayed a silent but VERY JOYOUS prayer that sounded so much like hers in that moment with her sister.

My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior.  For He who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is His name.

There will be miracles, and here is ours that we’ve found in the joy when our own marriage met parenthood.

—

There is so much more I want to say.  So much to fill in the gaps that I know so many of you are begging to know.  And I promise I will in time.  Trey wanted to wait to post this as long as we could which I completely understand.  And for those of you (THERE ARE A LOT) who have kept it a social media secret, we are so grateful!  We’ve tried so hard to be respectful to those that are in their own “sharpie on a white couch” moments.  I said earlier on as we’ve publicized our infertility journey that I would only share here to be sensitive to A LOT of people we knew before and that we know now because of our choice to be open… but I also know that in our quest to be personal we can’t possibly be 100% successful, so please, a gentle, subtle reminder to only comment here (and also if you want to know more, be sure to subscribe).  Please don’t be surprised if I delete your comment from my Facebook post.

We love you all!  We are thankful for you ALL!  AND we love these sweet and very healthy miracles.

I’ve missed you and your ways that pull me deep into an obsessive state of habitual organization and compulsive exploration for all things new.

—

I thought long and hard of how I would start this first post of 2018.  Would it be a reflection of last year, or a mere collection of goals; you know, the imperative mission that some how falls through the cracks of heart, mind and soul as the year progresses through seasons of change both environmentally…. and emotionally….?

So I resolved to a simple “Dear January.”  You see, I wanted to acknowledge with every morsel that I could, this excitement that I have stirring at so much new to the normal of our lives.  With the months of grief behind me it’s so satisfying to return to the details I know that were so proudly founded by my dad: Organizer.  Planner.  Executor.

I’ve spent the last six days fastened to the novelty of a chance to use his hope and ambition that he so strongly instilled in me to move forward.  It’s what he would have wanted.

and so here we are (p.s. my mom is shrinking… pps. no she’s not… I grew three inches in 2017.  just kidding.)

I *almost* purposefully didn’t send out Christmas cards this year.  The thought of smiling in a family photo with out my dad just seemed wrong, lonely.  I delayed the annual investment in portraits because it felt uncomfortable and distressing to ask my mom to stand there… companionless.  But, the brilliant, Pinteresting, Proverbs 31-seeking wife made a commitment at the beginning of our marriage to take anniversary photos, every year.  Wellll…. Trey got a haircut from “not his usual lady” on anniversary number two and suddenly the delaying felt more acceptable…  Fast forward a month and we seemed a little more ready for this commitment kind of healing.

I often tell my clients that my most favorite part of my job (and also the meaning behind the name) is that I get to “behold” the love within each family.

We were not only ready for this kind of healing, we needed this healing.

This kind of healing, vital.

and so Dear January…

Thank you for the bountiful ways you are helping us through:

Emotional Healing

The hardest part in grieving my dad is doing it with my mom.  Some might think it’d be the easiest because we have each other, but it’s not.  I feel I have to stay strong for her and she feels she has to stay strong for me.  So in reality, we both fighting this internal battle alone.  In some ways, it’s harder to endure this with her than it was taking care of him.  I can’t fix it; he’s not coming back.

I spoke at my dad’s memorial service sharing these words, my mind and heart still circling the truth without any further musings:

My home doesn’t feel like home without my dad in it.  We live in this beautiful new house and gift from God but he’s missing.  It’s like a piece of me doesn’t know what home is anymore.  And for my mom, it’s like a she took her last breath with him on October 24.

There is this void that I could never in a million years explain to you, and you might not understand it unless you too have lost a parent.  I “lost” my dad.  I can’t find my hero.

Everyone tells me that it doesn’t get any easier; but it does get better with time; the sting a little less painful.  And they’re right; my awareness has changed as this hazy fog of grief continues to dissipate one day at a time.. sometimes one hour at a time.  I call that healing.

There’s this peace that comes in knowing he’s at peace.  Like I don’t have to keep searching for him because I know he’s okay.  His legacy is everywhere here– and this IS our home, because we can feel his love everywhere we turn.

And mom, I’ll never be able to comprehend the loss of a spouse… at least not in the next 60 years I pray, but we’re healing in these moments together of love and good cheer.

We kept saying through the journey of his care that we needed to take care of ourselves.  And we did, kind of.  But dear January, you’re giving us some very deliberate rehab.

Spiritual Healing

My dad died on a Tuesday night.  We were at church on Sunday morning.  We went to this quaint little church right down the road from us–one that my Dad called his (even though he never was well enough to attend) because he knew he wanted to…and so fittingly, we thought we better take/go with Mom so that we could find some sort of presence or word from the Lord in the immediate intensity of his death.  I’m so glad we felt called to go there with her and so thankful that I have a husband who cares to help her find her way.

Trey and I had been before but we miss our church home… like a lot; so much so that we’re going tomorrow, because, family and home.  But we’re here, and it’s January.  We need to build our community here now.

Mom has found her place.  And we need to find ours.  We’re beholding God’s peace in every place of worship we’ve encountered, but goodness why are we missing the feeling of home?

I won’t lie that I hated the idea of going to church after our first Sunday without my dad.  We were singing hymns and his harmonizing was missing.  The fog too heavy…too thick.

We got into it one Sunday morning… me yelling something like, “Did you ever stop to think that maybe it’s too painful for me to go right now?  Can I just be mad at God for a little while?!!”

Because clearly it’s God’s fault that my dad is dead and that we still haven’t found a church home and that my body is broken and that my mind is unhealthy… clearly.

We’ve tried so many churches…and can I just say that having worked at a church adds an entirely different perspective when church hunting?!?  But we’re beholding every message from Him as whispers to my heart as He helps us heal.

We even went to a “Next Steps” dinner of a church plant.. literally RIGHT up the road from our home.  Is a church plant something we’re ready to step into?  I have no idea.  Are we trusting in an effort for spiritual healing?  Absolutely.

But January, and opportunity knocking.

Physical Healing

Our hearts have been broken by each negative pregnancy test (and there have been a lot).  We have spent so much money on ovulation kits and infertility meds that I joke maybe we should have bought stock in all things fertility.  The toll that it has taken on us watching more and more of our friends announce their pregnancies is no joke.  It’s this constant fight between happiness and envy that leaves me speechless.  Literally.  I have friends I haven’t spoken to in months because I just don’t understand; guess I should add relational healing here too…

My body is broken.  And yes, the depression and lack of care for myself over the last year has had a huge impact.  Literally and quite physically, huge.  I don’t want to go into too much detail here, but Paleo and running, and it’s day 6 and 5 pounds down and many more miles to go– we’re starting to heal.

Trey says the hardest part of infertility is watching my longing.. Then I’m thrown right back into a “God, why” moment pleading to make him a daddy…. but he already is.

In our innermost longing for a child to love, God has been pointing us to adoption; through the churches we’ve visited and even the people we have met.  And so, I don’t know if 2018 is going to dissolve this longing in the fruition of our greatest hopes for our family, but some how the decision to move forward in this process is bringing us so much peace in our journey of healing.  And your response to my last post and this announcement was a HUGE part of this.  I didn’t know adoption announcements are as heavily acknowledged as pregnancy announcements– seriously.  The healing has already started!

Our family will grow– of this we are so sure!

And so, in case you had to figure it out, I’m doing that one word thing…again.

Last year, I chose “me” and that was good– because in so many ways, I felt like I came alive last year as the woman God intended for me to be, caring, compassionate, patient, strong (all traits that I never thought I possessed until so many told me otherwise after watching me with my dad.)  I needed that foundation for 2018, so here we go.

My word for 2018 is healing.  There is so much encompassing this word, and most definitely not contained in these three realms I’ve just listed… There’s so much room for growth.  So much to learn in the process.

We mocked this saying so much in grad school… “Trust the process”  But at the same time, I know how well it works.  So we’re going to… and in the midst, heal.

ps. I have found a beautiful friend who has gifted me so much more than I thought ever possible with these beautiful memories of our new now.. Thank you Kelly Dierberger, eternally, thank you.  Guys, I’m sure you’ll see more of her in the future (if you haven’t already– my dad’s last birthday and the BYP rebrand.)  She’s so gifted and so talented, I just can’t sing enough praises!!

I was shopping for towels yesterday, and while the $7.99 one was absolutely soft and fluffy, the $12.99 one had a different feeling of hugs and loves.  So I went with the $9.99 ones instead.  Easy compromise… -ish.  And maybe I just need to come to terms that my person, this “me” is always going to strive for more– for the next best thing.

I have this amazing job right now that lets me spend 10 hours a day with my neicy-girl and my cousin-girl, but it has me sleeping 5 hours a night.  And I haven’t had the energy to run in I don’t know how long.  And the cooking that I used to love is now one of the biggest chores because lives LITERALLY depend on it (and apparently so do the 20 pounds I’ve gained since meeting Trey).

And I can’t help but strive for and plan what is next… the next when my runs are back and when my longing for him reunites me with a deeper longing for Him..

We’re doing a sermon series at church called “breathing room.”  Apparently the Spirit is speaking “pause” to us this summer.   He’s telling us to stop scheduling on top of the schedules and to just seek He who matters most, trusting in Him beyond the “what’s next.”

In the interviews upon interviews that have my anxiety snapping at Trey every time someone mentions “job” I have told myself that it’s one tiny piece in our lives that are awaiting a priceless inheritance that’s eternal.  Trusting more in His timing than our own is the strongest thing keeping me sane.  It’s the only thing to do to keep my head above the water as the never-ending questions roar in like tidal-high waves that even the worlds greatest surfers couldn’t catch.  So I ignore the questions as part of my own personal boundary and business and mostly sanity, and I clench to the strength of my soon-to-be husband with each let down holding on to him and Him a little tighter as He clenches to our Maker.  109 days, Baby.  What a rock…

ps. I don’t really know how to take it that he is g-chatting me about jobs right now….

And so today, on this break that I’ve needed scheduled in my schedule, I turn to 1 Peter and within the first few verses am reminded of a God that loves so fiercely, me.  Beyond my own words or our own understanding, loves me so deep enough that long ago, He “knew me,” and “chose me” ….

And when I prayed for years that this man would “choose” me I was missing the part that God, chose me first, for him…. and now for “them.”  So I still sit here with the schedule of my day running through my head like sand through an hour glass and remember that He’s chosen me for them, the sweet children that are awaiting His work in me for them.  But I wait, trusting that in these moments, He’s working it something absolutely perfect and wonderful, not just for me, but for us– Trey and I.

So a little encouragement that’s come to me as I try and plan the days in front of me not forgetting these that are behind:

If you decide for God, living a life of God-worship, it follows that you don’t fuss about what’s on the table at mealtimes or whether the clothes in your closet are in fashion. There is far more to your life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count far more to him than birds.

 

Has anyone by fussing in front of the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? All this time and money wasted on fashion—do you think it makes that much difference? Instead of looking at the fashions, walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them.

 

If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I’m trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.

 

Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.

 

Matthew 6, The Message

..There is wonderful joy ahead.

#trusting

I know that it’s been long… a very long LONG time– but you’ll know why soon enough, promise!

In the mean time- my life goes on.  It’s not anything special (to me), but to the Creator, it’s every bit of purposeful as He dreamt… and each day in His promise, I’m finding more and more of what that exactly means.

For example, I just finished my vegetables–and Lord knows I better have an awesome work out today because of it.  And you know those self-proclaimed goals that I’m so crazy about (and SO good at failing…), well there’s purpose to those too.  It’s called grace.  And who can really appreciate that if we can’t really understand what it’s all about.

It’s holy week.  DUH!  Most holy weeks’ I sit in a contemplative sadness wondering the point of it all.  Good people are still good.  Bad people are still bad.  And I sit there and imagine nails, hands, thorns, and everything else “Easter” (eggs excluded) asking, “When does all this “grace” change me “enough” to appreciate grace not just this week, but in the everyday mundane things too.

But the thing is, does my five hundredth attempt at a paleo day gone bad really warrant the same grace that we’ve been given through eternal life?  And does my roll-by stop (or whatever the next traffic violation is) warrant just as much grace?  And does my snappy, sassy attitude ask for a little more than “that” because it was upsetting to others?  Or is grace just, grace?  I don’t get it.

And maybe that’s the simple purpose, knowing that grace isn’t so little and mundane but rather so big we can’t even fathom….

Is grace something that’s been lost in the “slow and steady” and “fast and no time to breathe” every day?  And this holy week, is it just another something that has me stop to say, none of this, meeting the man of my dreams, buying a house with him, hopefully getting engaged soon, and then married later this year….oops, did I just spill the beans on something…. none of it, possible without grace.  Fill in your own blanks.  A healthy marriage, a strong career, your childrens’ laughter…

Because who am I to be loved like this, who is he.  And who are we together without fully comprehending the meaning and fullness of grace?  His church.  Who are we to step away and then back again because we’ve been called by grace?  Isn’t that whole fullness of grace, no bounds?

And grace- it’s the gift we don’t deserve but are given anyway.  One moment, I find myself wondering how my “paleo gone bad day” needs more grace …maybe because I’m not loving myself enough the way He wants me to be loved.  And the traffic violations that get me everytime– God, I pray (for real) please help those nice police officers know grace.  And the sassafrass that’s my middle name, well shoot.  I hope you ALL understand grace too.

But not for me… for yourselves.  Yeah, the good people will still be good people, and the bad people still bad, but the people still His because of His grace.

And this post isn’t anything special….just grace.  Because each morning for the last six months, I’ve thought of nothing BUT GRACE…and that’s my purpose, getting it past the gift and into the heart.

xoxo, nic

ps. my heart is extra healthy today… it’s gonna be a paleo day gone good.

When it’s coming apart, you had it all.
It wasn’t enough. No, it’s not enough.
They tell you it’s not worth the price, so just let it go.
But you know you can’t. You know you won’t.

It’s not easy, no.
Finding the words to say.
When you’re feeling lost, you’ll find your way.

The world is so broken and sometimes it leaves you cold.
And at times you can’t feel the fire to guide you home.
The demons will haunt you and try to steal what you know.
But the angels, they brought you, and they’re gonna hold you up.
They’re gonna hold you up.

They see the fear in your eyes, heart sinks like a stone.
‘Cause when you’re afraid, it weighs on your soul…

The first time I heard this song, I was sitting with my best friend, soul mate, on our annual vacation together.  And she talked to me real and raw as I was moving into what I now refer to as my “out of body experience.”  Because, some how, some way, those demons were already fighting me and everything I knew and trusted.  and she was is my angel, holding me up.  Her (and so many others).

And my heart having just broken was already moving into the next break, completely blinded by lust and emotion.  The immortal break was begging for those angels to come and not a minute too late, just three months later than what I expected.

Shoot.  I have no idea where to begin.  Have I been well?  No.  Has there been wellness, yes.  Those are just posts for other days, ones that talk depression and anxiety, and trust, and satisfaction, salvation and eternity.  God with us.  Us without Him.

For now though, it’s just God with me in them.  And these words, my anthem: The angels, they brought you, and they’re gonna hold you up.

The world is so broken and sometimes it leaves you cold.
And at times you can’t feel the fire to guide you home.
The demons will haunt you and try to steal what you know.
But the angels, they brought you, and they’re gonna hold you up…

When the timing is right, somehow you’ll know.

I’m held.  And because I am……I’d like to introduce you to Nicole Marie Lewis.

Ms. Lewis began her career as Beholder and Impact on January 1, 2015.  Having survived self harm through severe depression and anxiety, she was reborn with fullness and understanding of purity in our hearts.  She believes.  Ms. Lewis holds body and faith as a great vessel and treasure for Jesus, the Savior and Redeemer.  And 2015 is hers.

Ms. Lewis eats a paleo diet for every day of 2015.  And Ms. Lewis runs fueling a fire that guides her home.  She runs with perseverance both the earthly and eternal races set before her.  And she encourages.

And her heart though broken and rebroken has been both built and rebuilt for this moment to tell you about her book, a book that will be released the summer of 2015.  Yes this is Ms. Lewis.

In 126 days she will stand before 150 people witnessing Love divine.

In 134 days she will stand before hundreds of others walking across to the other side of what has been the hardest journey (to date) of her life.

And this is Ms. Nicole Marie Lewis who has already begun that journey back to independence.  She bought a brand new car, a 2015 Mazda CX-5, and it’s white, like a pure fresh start.  And she’s scoping out apartments and new furniture.  But more importantly, she’s smiling.  She’s scared.  Hopeful.  Anew.  Refreshed.  and once again, in Love with the One most worthy of her heart.

—

Happy New Year my great friends and followers.  It’s been three months since I last wrote to you.  Three months full of restoration and the most beautiful me being rebuilt, reborn as Nicole Marie Lewis.

Yes, that’s new, but so are many other things in 2015.  Like that fact that in two weeks I will begin the final internship of my grad school days.  (Honestly, that’s why Nicole Marie “Lewis” has been birthed, and why “nicolebeholds.com” found a need to make it’s grand appearance.  Because THIS “Nicole Marie” isn’t going anywhere, as the other parts of her are still running.

And there’s no need to give this post more purpose or reason.  Just an introduction to the 2015 Nicole Marie….Lewis.  Who is His.  Again.  Forever.

I’ll see you soon with love,

Nicole marie Lewis

And an anger rises as I realize (once again) that God is so much bigger than us, as I try to understand why and how his “greatness” is so incomprehensible, when really all this human in me just keeps crying out, “but God, my God, it’s not freakin’ fair.”

And life’s just not fair: the failures that create walls, the memories that are still so fresh that instead they become regrets. And it’s not fair because the happy moments that go in memory books didn’t include her smile and her tears of joy.  And it’s not fair because the fight isn’t easy, clinging to the Miracle.  And the hope is hard because there’s guilt when you can’t find it.  And so instead we sit here and say that we’re going to keep trusting…. Because through the brokenness, God will turn bitterness into something sweet like freshly baked autumn bread just like He always does.  And because through the brokenness there’s light at the end of the tunnel for you, and for you, and for me, and for all of us.. And because through the brokenness we wake up stronger, newer people ready to fight for what we all know we want and deserve.  And because the Spirit that lingers has lingered for an eternity into our numbered days, holding us; so we rise up on His wings even still with our anger and questions and mistrusts, holding on to one thing, Him…. Maybe two, each other.

And so God, my God, I thank you. For brokenness, and anger, and guilt, and hope, and Your Son and His grace, and my peoples that are your peoples.  You make it beautiful…

You know, I have this thing for middle school, pre-pubescent kids (please read that without the child-molestor insinuation I’m sure it inferred…).  But I do, this thing, this love… this passion.  And I find that the drive comes from an opportunity that is so great, the one that says, “Hey, let me let God breathe hope and inspiration into your soul..” and so I do, in the process praying with everything that I am, that these kids would find their identities with confidence and self-love, security, and a whole latta hope.

Because there needs to be more hope in every single second of every single day, to change for the better and for the now.

If you would prepare your heart, and stretch out your hands toward Him…then surely you could lift up your face, yes, you could be steadfast, and not fear, because you would forget your misery and remember it as waters that have passed away.  And your life would be brighter than noonday…and you would be secure because there is hope… (excerpts from Job 11, NKJV)

and I find love in this sweet deliverance, my life in His hands, the ones that shaped me and formed me in the most fearful and wonderful way… and this is just me, secured with hope.

You all have found me and have known me in similar ways through millions of words, thousands of smiles, hundreds of tears, and through a similar hope…but sometimes I get fearful that the writing has defined me..were there really thousands of smiles, or were there more tears?  Have I been too honest, or was I not honest enough?  These words that span across many, many pages, have they given enough of His love… not just for me, but more importantly for you..?  Wait- did I speak enough about Him?  Or too much about me??

I don’t want to be defined by my writing.  I want to be defined by my hope in Him through perseverance to victory.  I want to be recognized because I write from the heart to Him.  And yeah, it’s raw, and in the moment, sometimes dark.  But there are other times when it’s so bright.  And I’d rather be defined by that, because that’s where the hope has taken me.

So if you were to define me, I’d rather be embraced as His and not so much as a writer… I’d rather be identified as a real and genuine person that still sings a little badass every now and then because of all the spunk He gives me.  Because that’s what Hope has already defined in me: Confidence that says, look at me, I’m His and no one else’s.  And self-love that says, “you have great legs,” (actually that was someone else, but I like it, so it’s mine now).  And security, oh, it’s reassuring me time and time again that I’m in the most perfect place…

This hope is bringing me all sorts of excitement and even a few butterflies.

—

I’m bored right now.  Like, out of my mind bored.  The last few weeks with Pam gone was killing me… and my sound board that makes me laugh when I really want to laugh was gone too, and life was so colorless.  But God spoke to me through hours of prayer over them and their ministry.  He spoke about beautiful friendships and even the not so beautiful ones, ones that I question as I dig deep for tiny traces of hope that I trust are still there.  He reminded me that blessings come in the most opportune times, but also leave in the most inopportune times.  Hope is saying, “Nic, that’s okay.  You’re still mine.”

And I think that Hope has played the strongest role in my life as it anchors my soul– maybe Hope has taken over, in it’s own way allowing the time to pass so much faster as it brings me one step closer to this greatness I am so impatient to relive.

Today my life started over again in my morning breath that couldn’t wait for the panting that would so familiarly bring my feet to pavement.  And tomorrow it will start over again as I get excited for a good kiss.  And then on Wednesday, I might just let Hope give me another new beginning as I smile over life that’s just so fulfilling in every moment.

There’s a day though that Hope can’t bring soon enough.  And these every days that sometimes carry boredom in between irreprehensible happies are working their way to another day when my life will be redefined as I get to humbly relive purpose and greatness that aren’t mine, but His…and my life will RUN into it hardly looking back as Hope moves me faster than I can even fathom!  

No, for realsies, it’s about to start all over again.  28 days people!!  And then define me by my love for others.  Define me by my heart that cries with love and passion for my students to know their worth and value, to meet this hope so great…. 28 days to 800 little giggles and tiny hands that will run for me to hold with trust.  28 days to an office that I can call my own as words are spoken inside 4 walls as Hope listens…

Then, you can define me as Hope lifts me to the Love on top.  Oh wait, I already did….

I feel like writing because it’s me.  And I feel like writing with no idea where to start, except to where He leads.  I feel like throwing out the keyboard and grabbing my pen and red journal that has thousands of heartfelt words prayers and just going nuts as I sit and reflect on God’s movement.  But then I realize that my fingers are at home here; the place I’ve missed so much these last couple of months.  And so I sit here.  With some ice cold kombucha and my legs are crossed, my heart is opened and here. i. go.

He chose love.  So I’m starting today with Love.  It’s what I do.  and to be quite honest, I love to love.  My cousin commented on a picture I posted to Facebook yesterday…. she said, “so sweet to be loved!!”  Cousin, yes it is, YES it is.  But friends, I’ve learned that loving is sweeter.  Actually, I learned that a long time ago. I’m just relearning it now.

The sweetness, it comes simply once the choice is made–the choice to love.  And it isn’t always easy… but in the relearning of the greatness of love, I find one amazing Truth and with it the decision more doable, more willingly doable.  Who am I, to be Loved this way, and who is he?  who is she?  But we are… we don’t have to be, but He chose to Love.  So I choose to love too.  Because who am I to decide worthiness to love or not to love.  If we’re worthy of His Love, my sweet, sweet darlings, then I choose to love you again and again and again and THAT is my choice, my very best choice.  I will choose to love you forever…

Because…………You are worthy.  Cling to it because you are so worthy of it.  And when you can’t feel His, feel mine.

Cling to it, because it’s a forever thing that gets me through the hard days when my patience runs thin and the self doubt creeps up and the emotions bring desires that test faith.  There Love is holding my faith…slowing down the days when life is too busy for deep breaths, reminding me that patience is bringing Him glory and will deliver His glory… And Love, it holds you tightly when you want to run with goodness so that you can take in every moment of His glory…and my desire of love is to give, just to give.  My desire is to be loved, yes because it is so sweet, but because without it, I am nothing.  So, maybe just choose to love me too, again, sweet Love, choose me too.

—

There’s this song I keep listening too, not because I’m having a hard time holding onto Love but because it’s fun holding onto love.

So, cling to me
And I will be forever
And I will heal
And you will feel much better

You’ll feel much better

I have waited long
But never given up
I have waited on you
But never on love

 

Jennifer Knapp, “On Love”