Category Archives: Thoughts

The Color of Love

I was not a girly girl growing up. I was 4 years old when my only sister got married and moved away to start her own life. I was left with ALL boys. I didn't have a shot at being a girly girl. I learned early that if I was going to have someone to play with I would have to learn how to take a punch, take a joke and take a hike when necessary. So on the playground that was our backyard I tried to throw, catch, hit and run just as good if not better than they all could. It was my way of survival as much as it was my assurance that I would be included in their world. And make no mistake, I wanted to be part of their world. It was the only one I really had much exposure to. My mother, who had prayed diligently for another girl tried very hard to expose me to pink, dresses, dolls and other girly things. But bless her heart, she didn't stand a fighting chance with the 8 testosterone filled siblings I was left to play with. The day we lost our baseball in the backyard and I pulled my dolls head off to use in its place, I think a little something died inside of her. But she never gave up and she NEVER made me feel as though I was being the wrong version of myself.

So today when I painted a version of pink that no human should have to put on a wall I thought of my mother. You see, 4 years ago I think I gave birth to the daughter that my mother had always wanted. A frilly, tu-tu loving, fabulously feminine girl who can't get enough of dolls, princess' and things that sparkle. She actually broke down in tears one time when I told her that I didn't like pink. I don't encourage the girly thing, I don't know how to encourage the girly thing. It's just there. So taking a lesson from my mom I will simply love her. Her. Not the version of her that I think she should be or that I'd rather she be for my own comfort, but her. Not because I understand her or agree with her but because my job is to love her. The fabulously unique, wonderful individual that she is right now and will continue to become. And right now she wants to be surrounded in, draped in and consumed by all things pink and purple and glittery. And so….I'll paint. Painting is my version of when my mom cheered for the homerun I hit with the doll head. On the inside she was undoubtedly shaking her head but on the outside NOTHING but love! And love is what makes all the difference in life isn't it? So today, in our house, the color of love is pink….with flowers…..and a little purple….

And just to let her know I REALLY love her I put down my artistic expectations and gave in when she wanted to paint flowers too!

I do love her. She won't know how much until she has to sit and cheer on her daughter at the lumber jack contest or the pig call national finals!

Book Cover

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The cover is done!

The publisher says:

Letters to Love is a heartfelt and deeply moving collection of author Missy Nicholas' letters that document her twenty-year search for love. Sometimes hopeful, sometimes despairing, the letters reflect the emotional roller coaster that every single woman can identify with and every married woman should be reminded of. In her search Nicholas discovers as much about herself as she does about the love she is looking for and the type of person she wants to spend her life sharing it with. Steeped in truth, Letters to Love is a love story like you've never read before.

Stay Tuned for Letters to Love release date!

Message for Daddy

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He was a man of few words, my father but for some reason he always encouraged mine. "Keep writing," he would say "You're good at it." So I did. I've played with poetry and kept journals since I was a kid. Words have rolled around in my head wanting to be introduced for as long as I can remember. I have filled notebooks that even I don't necessarily want to go back and re-read. But I continue to write. I'm a terribly slow reader myself, since I mouth every word even when reading silently. But I love to see what words will do when they fall off the tip of my pen. I made a 'C' in at least one English class growing up. My term papers, research papers and compositions were always filled with red marks and an average grade when handed back to me. But I kept writing. There was an English proficiency exam which was an essay that was required by all seniors to graduate from the University I attended. I flunked it. Flunked! As in: You will not be graduating! The professor wouldn't even read it because I had written it in all capital letters, as I do everything. Automatic 'F'. It seemed the only voice encouraging me to write was Daddy's. "Keep writing," he would say "You're good at it." So I did.

And that is why I wish he were here today. So I could thank him for buying me that word processor which showed 4 lines at a time before you hit 'print'. A fantastic piece of technology for a wannabe like myself. I wish he were here so he could read my blog. He wouldn't agree with all of it's points or passions but he would read it and he would tell me that he was proud. I wish he were here so I could thank him again for noticing that I loved something and encouraging me to do it. And I wish he were here so that I could say, "Daddy, there is a publisher that wants to publish a book I wrote!" I always wanted to be able to tell him that. It's been a dream of mine for years. For myself and for him. And now that dream has come true! Somehow although I don't get to tell him in person, I think he knows. He certainly had something to do with it happening. Just by saying those 6 words that I often needed to hear. "Keep writing. You're good at it." So I did!

Letters to Love, my twenty year journey of being a single adult will be available this Fall! I'm excited for the process and the feedback about my work. Perhaps it will help somebody, encourage somebody or just cause a chuckle or two. That would delight me. I would love it if you bought one, borrowed one or downloaded a copy when it's available. I'll keep you posted on where you can get it. If you do read it and you enjoy it, share it with a friend and send a little thanks to my dad!

Advice From The Mother of All Moms

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This is one of my favorite photos of my mother because she is laughing! I've always loved it when she laughs. Raising 10 children certainly provided many opportunities to laugh. I've also always loved my mother's lessons and advice. She recently made a list for one of the grandkids who requested it as a birthday gift. The following are among those she considers most important. Enjoy her wisdom!

1. Remember friends come and go. Family is forever.

2. Don't be afraid to say no, when no is the right thing to say.

3. Keep in touch with God – Go to Church – Pray — it works.

4. Don't hesitate to work through disagreements calmly.

5. Write "Thank You" notes!

6. Read.

7. Vote – it's a responsibility and a privilege.

8. Don't be afraid to work – it feels good to accomplish something.

9. Respect others.

10. Don't let material things rule your life — you can't take them with you.

11. Be proud to be an American – God has blessed our country.

12. Laugh often.

13. Stay close to your siblings – they are your parents’ most precious gift to you.

14. Always leave a place better than you found it.

15. Have a good work ethic.

16. Get involved in your community.

17. Please don't be a slave to your cell phone, text, twitter, facebook, or any other ways of communication that technology comes up with.

18. Respect yourself — (body, mind, and spirit) so that others will do so too.

Excellence Inspires People

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For years while teaching psychology, giving talks at various places or during sessions with clients I have told the story of a man who changed my life almost 17 years ago when he delivered a pizza to my door. He carried himself with such joy, purpose and passion that it taught me the greatest lesson about making a difference with your life. I have rarely felt as inspired or touched by such a brief encounter with another human being. And his only real obligation was to deliver my pizza. But I knew in the depths of my soul he had delivered to my door, so much more. He inspired me to be joyful no matter what I was doing. He taught me to see beyond my title or role and instead be defined by my outlook and attitude. So I talked about him for years. I have told the story of all that he taught me hundreds of times. Most recently it was to a client in my private practice office. Trying to relay the message that our worth does not come from our education or occupation but instead from a deeper more personal place. This time the listener looked up knowingly as I talked about how that man changed me all those years ago with his genuine smile, kind words and obvious joy for life. She looked inquisitive instead of inspired which is my usual intent of the story. She left our visit without responding much but noticeably pondering the message within.

She returned to my office two weeks later with this picture asking "Is this the man from your pizza delivery story?" I got tears in my eyes when I looked at this precious face, the subject of a story I have told for so long. This is the man that taught me that it doesn't matter what occupation you have in your life. What matters is who you are while doing it! Apparently for 22 years he has been delivering joy, kindness, compassion, enthusiasm, inspiration, smiles, and Oh pizza! She recognized the joy that I spoke of. The excellence I talked about resonated in her memory. It was evident she had similar experiences but had never put it into words until she heard mine. I didn't describe him physically so she wasn't certain she had encountered the same person. Between her visits with me she ordered several pizza's wanting to get the photo to see if she was correct. When she did, she told him the story and asked permission to take his picture. According to her, he seemed genuinely surprised that I had been talking about a pizza delivery that occurred almost 2 decades ago. But I was. I still am. Because that's what you do when you are inspired.

“Why, God?”

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"Why, God?" A question I hear frequently in my line of work and in our world. "Why did God allow my father to abuse me?" "If God is good, why do children get shot in schools?" "Why do natural disasters destroy, devastate and kill if God could have controlled it?" "If God really cares why did my teenager kill himself?" "If God loves me why do I have cancer?" "If God is all powerful why didn't he stop the car accident?" We fixate on finding the answer to the "why?", believing that if we knew the reason it would somehow decrease the pain. We tell ourselves that if the reason is good enough the pain will somehow be more tolerable. So we scream a guttural "Why?" from a place in our soul that desperately wants to make sense of all the pain this world is capable of in hopes to understand.

I've watched this search in countless lives and unthinkable circumstances and have even had a few "why?" screaming moments of my own. I have discovered that the answer to the "why?", if one is found, is never enough to make the pain go away. No answer provides the relief, the comfort, the reasoning that we need to resolve the pain or dissipate our extreme need to scream "why?" and get an answer that would make it all okay again. The 'good enough' answer never comes and sometimes we can stay stuck in the perpetual cycle of asking "Why, God?"

I will never pretend to be able to explain away horrific abuse, catastrophic deaths, unthinkable disaster or the senseless loss of lives with spiritually inflated well meaning statements that are filled with trite theological explanations to minimize somebody else's greatest grief. Mostly because those things don't answer my "whys?" either. I have found that when we don't find satisfactory answers to our "why" it does affect us spiritually. It changes our perspective of God and we begin to look at Him through the lens of our circumstances and tragedy. We see Him through the lens of our own confusion and pain. And we begin to define Him as unloving, uncaring, distant or evil because that is what our circumstances are. Let's be clear: Anytime I am in the position of defining God, I am in the wrong position! God defines me. No matter what my circumstances or situation I do not define Him. So perhaps replacing our "Why, God?" which can lead us to distorted views of Him with, "Who is God?" or "Where is God?" would be a more productive question to spend our time and energy on.

I may not be able to explain away tragedy because of my belief in Him but I believe there is evidence of Him despite the tragedy. If we stop blaming Him for the bad news we might recognize that He is the good news. He is there. He was, He is and He always will be. I believe that He is deeply wounded when children are abused and I believe He grieves more deeply than we do when somebody takes their own life or the lives of others. I believe He wants and desires good things for us even though horrible things may be happening all around us. I believe that He doesn't change because of bad things happening and I believe that bad things happening don't change who He is. He is there. He is love. I think He can be found in a cancer diagnosis and in tornadic rubble if we choose to look for Him. I believe He is found in car crashes, human trafficking, and children being neglected. He is there because we are there. I think He is in bad marriages wanting us to see Him, find Him, utilize Him to make it better. I believe He lives in desperate situations and tragedies even if He didn't intervene to stop them. He loves. He gives. He is. Here. Now.

I don't know, why! I wish there were a good enough reason for all the pain this world is managing to produce. I don't know, why. I do know who. He is love. He is kind. He is good. He is just. He is forgiving. He is present. He is gracious and He is strength in our weakness. And I know where. He is here. Now. If we choose to see Him, He is everywhere. In the midst of pain, hurt, tragedy, death, grief, anger, and confusion, He is here. He is in every person racing to help. He is in every prayer and praise being lifted from hearts that want to know "why?" Because I know who and where and because there is so much tragedy around us, you can find me doing the only thing I know to do in situations like this. I am going to weep with those who weep and mourn with those who mourn so that when the sun rises again I can rejoice with those who rejoice. (Romans 12:15) The "Why's" will continue, but while we reside in this place where all of our questions will never be answered I think reminding each other of who He is and where He is happens to be the best thing we can do. For ourselves and each other.

Just a mom?

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I overheard a lady years ago answering the question, "What do you do for a living?" with the answer, "I'm just a mom." I interrupted without realizing by exclaiming, "Just a mom?" I couldn't help myself. I know the value of what moms represent. I've seen bad ones. I have a great one!

Superheroes have nothing on the mom population who value their role. Besides mothers, they are wives, nurturers, cooks, gift coordinators, friends, daughters, sisters, volunteers, co-workers, business owners, entertainment chairmen, referees, seamstresses, and coaches. Just a mom? These women sleep in 32-minute intervals for 18 plus years. They fix dinner and re-landscape yards with what is the equivalent to 30-pound weights strapped to their legs. They mop floors, make phone calls and organize a week's worth of meals with a 10-pound weight attached to their breast. You try it! And then some of them greet a man at the end of the day who strangely wants to be strapped around her leg and attached to her breast. Seriously!

I work in the business world and I am a mom. Comparatively, the roles and responsibilities of moms are much more vast and important than those I face everyday in business. In the business world, we clock in and out or come to work and leave work as if everything we do is a segmented portion of our lives. There is nothing segmented about a mother's job. We don't clock out at night. We don't clock out on the weekends. We don't even clock out when we clock in to go to work. We don't clock out at high school graduation and we don't clock out after they walk down the isle. It's not what we do. It's who we are. There is no comparison!

Business woman get corner offices; moms get kindergarten graduations. Executives get yearly evaluations; moms receive unsolicited hugs and tender moments just before kids drop off to sleep. They attend board meetings and budget committees; moms go to school plays, spelling bees and soccer practice. They read profit and loss statements; moms read "I love you to the moon and back" over and over and over again. CEO's hang documents that have no eternal value on their walls; a mom hangs pictures with toothless grins that contain the very image of God Himself. In the morning, they wake up to an annoying alarm clock suggesting that it will be yet another day at the office. We get to be awakened by those beautiful blue eyes standing by our bedside requesting cartoons and Captain Crunch. Managers get to explain why deadlines weren't met or why the budget busted. We get to explain why that other kid acts the way she does and why we should love her anyway. No comparison!

I have a front row seat to history. I witnessed her first step, heard her first word, took her to her first day of school and her first dance class. I will help prepare her for her first date and her first time behind the wheel. More importantly, I will help prepare her for her first opportunity to reach out to someone in need and her first time to share her faith with somebody who might need some hope. I get to help prepare her for that. I do! I will be there when she fails, when her heart is broken and when it seems nothing will make the pain go away. I get to be there for that. I do! Clearly, this is the most powerful role on the planet. Perhaps moms are valuable beyond our own comprehension or perhaps our own comfort. But, "Just a mom?"

God's message to the next generation is being fed macaroni and cheese at the tables across the world and influenced most directly by "just a mom." Whether we are seven years old or seventy years old, it is our mothers who set the stage for the rest of our existence. Good or bad. On this Mother's Day week, to "just the moms", who know the value of what you do, I would like to say; "Thank you, for doing the most important job there is!"

I Didn’t Marry My Best Friend…

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When you read on Facebook or twitter the sugary sweet posts about being married to your best friend you probably have one of two responses. You either share in that warm cuddly feeling and then immediately repost the sentiment or you throw up in your throat just a little. I'm the second one. I'm not married to my best friend. My best friends are female and they are experts at being my best friends. They have known me 4 times longer than he has. They are wired to want to talk to me and outstanding at listening. They are better at reading my mind (and my blog) than he may ever be. They are fun and relaxing to go on vacation with and are always my first choice if I need to have a good cry. We have experienced more milestones, seasons, stages, phases and changes together than he and I have had time for. They know how to deal with me. They get me. But they've had decades of practice. And they are women!

As a therapist I see many marriages falling apart because women are saying, "He should know what I need, If he loved me it wouldn't be this hard, I'm tired of telling him what I need, He's not my best friend." The truth is he shouldn't know what we need instinctively. We don't always even know what we need. And no matter how tired we are of telling him what we need, telling him is the most guaranteed way that he will know! And just because he doesn't measure up to our best friend doesn't mean we aren't loved. We are destroying our marriages and our men expecting them to have crystal balls, a female desire to befriend us and an accurate assessment of our ever changing needs. We assume that if our marriages take work then I must not be in the right marriage. Which is a lot like saying that I must be in the wrong career if my job ever feels laborious. Or I must have had the wrong kids if they are ever difficult to deal with. Good marriages are work and we are doing ourselves a disservice to compare our work in progress to somebody else's perceived finished product or Facebook post.

I almost destroyed my marriage expecting for it to feel like a friendship I had with my girlfriends of thirty plus years. I married a man. A man who isn't as sensitive, compassionate or observant as my girlfriends. A man who doesn't like to talk and who believes that listening can be done without eye contact. But he is a man who nevertheless loves me. A good man. Perhaps, the best of men. But not a good woman. He infuriates me and fascinates me. He introduces me to feelings of love and anger that I never knew existed. Our marriage doesn't contain a lot of cloud walking, rolling around in flowers and chocolate eating moments. We aren't a Hallmark card. What it does contain are a lot of faithful days of living life and trying to do the next right thing for each other and for our world.

I've realized that my relationship with my husband is much like my relationship with God. He loves me unconditionally and like God, is painfully silent sometimes. He isn't motivated by my mood swings or tantrums. And no matter how I treat him he is still there willing to try again as we figure out this journey. He is almost impossible to make angry and always speaks the truth. He is faithful to go to work and faithful to return home. He knows who is and who he isn't. He isn't my best friend. And when I let go of the expectation that he should be it produced the freedom necessary for him to become my husband. Which is really what I needed in the first place.

Weighing in on the gay marriage debate

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It's interesting to me how many people have become vocal about the sanctity of marriage in the recent legislative process. I have seen rants about the institution of marriage being something worth protecting and the sacrament of marriage being the holiest thing we experience on this side of heaven. I've heard people shouting scripture at each other to defend their position as God's position. I'm not writing about whether I agree or disagree with either side of this debate. I'm writing because I am baffled by the reality that this same passion doesn't exist when marriage is challenged by other entities. Why is gay marriage seen as the primary threat to the institution of traditional marriage? I don't get it! Before we try to take the speck out of our brother's eye let's look at the log in our own shall we?

More than one half of marriages end in divorce. Clearly we aren't as committed to it's sanctity as we are claiming to be. The divorce rate is above 50%. Is this statistic indicative of something holy? The statistic doesn't improve by the way when it specifically evaluates "people of faith". In some studies it's actually higher. And divorce isn't the only measuring stick of our marriages. There are lots of intact marriages that are NOT honoring to God. They can be abrasive, manipulative, mediocre, inpatient, dead, unkind, insensitive and painful. Where is the screaming and the ranting when that happens? Where are the picket lines telling me something better is worth fighting for? Why is a second spouse more common than a second wind? Where is the fire for sanctified marriage when so many of us are living separate emotional lives? Where is the accountability we need to stop lying to our spouse about the money we spent or the unhappiness we feel? Where is the guidance one needs when he is more interested in porn than he is his wife? Why is it okay for these things to deteriorate marriage on a catastrophic scale but we don't stand up and say much of anything? Isn't there a list of scriptures we should be shouting at ourselves? You know, the ones about pride, lust, anger, selfishness, money, honor, submission, sin.

Oh that word, 'sin'. When same sex couples express a desire to marry that is the word we use. If we were honest about our own moral compass we would see that we have our own sin to deal with. Perhaps if we were to stop pointing our fingers and shooting our words at others we would realize that our marriages are the reason why traditional marriage is deteriorating. Our sin is what is breaking down the covenant relationships we claim to value so much. And we fight that sin in our culture with an apathy that is sure to do absolutely nothing! Instead we rage about the sin that exists in the lives of others. A diversion that makes us feel and appear more holy but leaves us drowning in the sin we could actually do something about. I believe what the gay community really wants is rights. I can't imagine that they want marriage. We haven't given them a lot of reasons to believe it's worth having. But I'm working on removing the log from my own eye that adds to this problem. I invite you to join me.