A Company of Poets


I remember last year I was invited to an open mic night by a friend.  When I arrived I was asked if I was performing.  I’m sure I looked like a poet, with my retro hair and high waist pants (I love vintage style) but I let the woman down easy. “Nope,” I said with conviction,  “I’m not a poet!”  I made my entrance and met my friends.  After a few acts in the show I realized that much of the content people were sharing was anything but truth and light.  I grieved for my generation, praying for the Father to send someone up there with truth!  That’s when I knew.  It was me.

“What’s in your hand?” He said to my heart and I was reminded of Moses.  Well all I had was my first book on my kindle app.  My phone’s battery had been dying at the time and I didn’t even think the phone would last long enough for me to read from the first chapter.  But my friend gave me a charger and I courageously took the stage.  I read and felt the anointing and knew that though on the surface I was sharing about overcoming heartbreaking, in the Spirit I was releasing light, truth and hope.

I shared that experience with my (very prophetic) fellowship and one woman wrote on a pad, “Nicole, the poet”.  We talked about becoming all things to all men.  I tucked that little nugget in the back of my mind not thinking anything of it.

Fast forward about 6 months and I find myself signed up for a poetry workshop, writing short stories with poets in them and receiving a loud round of applause from experienced poets who heard my first poem.  I was shocked to find that my writing was not just confined to non fiction, but apparently…I was a poet.

I had my first poetry slam this weekend and shared the pieces He had given me.  Poetry has been a great way to express deep pain as well as deep desires.  Writing has been a vehicle to reveal the hidden things in my heart.  Funny thing is all of my short stories have manifested in multiple ways.  I actually keep meeting people in real life who have the same name and descriptions as my characters!  It’s been cool to see the Father confirm His hand in my writing in this way.


I want to encourage you not to limit yourself.  Don’t think because you haven’t done something yet or walked in something it is not meant to be.  Be open to how the Father wants to use you, your gifts, and all that He has put in you.

He is the Maker.  You are the clay.  And your story is still being revealed…

SHALOM

 

An Open Letter To My Roommate

Tonight will be the last night we sleep under the same roof together. Ever. (Insert sad face.)

I remember our first meeting and how I knew God wanted me to connect with you.  I had no idea back then that you would be in my inner circle.  That for nearly a year you would be a confidant, a friend and a vital prophetic voice for me in this season.  He has used you in so many ways…I’m sure you are unaware of all of them.


I needed to heal in my home, and I did while living alone, but then you brought a whole other level of healing.  Maybe one day we will get to know exactly how much.

I remember driving to our first get-together, feeling so empty, and at the same time so full with God.  “I have nothing to offer her Father.  I don’t have the testimony I would want at her age.  All I have is the cross”.  I spoke these words out loud during that drive and when I met you it became clear to me that the cross was all you wanted.

You are an amazing woman Lianna Mueller and if my blog was created simply just to meet you, well, then its purpose has been fulfilled.  I tried my best to be transparent in this journey of the cross.  I did not want to falsely portray what being disciple is.  It’s hard.  It’s really, really hard.  But when you’re chosen you have the grace and supernatural ability to lay down those things so dear.  Over and over again.

You my friend are chosen.  And I am so honored to also have been chosen to be written into your story.

And then you brought along Benny, and I was touched, knowing that this too was an answer to a desire I had buried.


There were so many funny moments and late night talks and encouraging words and prayers.  You are a gift and I’m so happy to have been able to experience who you are to Him.

You are a reminder that even when our story doesn’t look the way we want it to, or think it should, there are still great surprises around the corner.  There are still fingerprints of the Father’s love and care as we courageously move forward on this unchartered path.

My prayer for you is that you will grow in security and confidence in who He created you to be.  That He will keep molding you and shaping you and showing you destiny, promise and purpose.  His ways are not like ours, but they can be so much better.  Let Him draw you in with His love until you are face-to-Face with the Creator.  When you do, you will see that His Face is actually a reflection of your true self.

Many blessings to you in your next season and may He give you the very desires of your heart.

Love always,

Your sister and friend,

Nicole.

Poetry Slam!

Hi guys! I think I’ve mentioned I’ve been branching out in my writing more. One of the ways I’ve been growing as a writer is by taking a poetry workshop. To celebrate the completion of our class we are having a poetry slam this Saturday!  If you’re in the area I’d love for you to come! Details are below😊.


SHALOM

The Gift

It’s been a month since we started hanging. I knew I was attracted but had no idea God could use that attraction. I had no idea you would be a safe haven. A place of restoration. There are so many things I marvel at: the treatment of respect, the understanding of my value, the seeing of my true self.

For so long I knew I longed for love. As women we long for love.  But what I’m learning in this season is that I also long for respect.  I believe we have a deep seated longing to be pursued in such a way that causes a man to rise to the high standard our Father has set. But it’s only high because we are royalty.  And it’s only high to those who are not.

I learned how to play the game. He made his move and I made mine. Check mate. It took everything I had but I sent the text, forfeited the date, knowing he was a fool.


But then you were there. Again. And when you speak I know it’s sincere. I know your words are true. And I think fondly of our budding friendship.

“You are my gift,” you say.  And I don’t tell you, but I feel the same.

SHALOM

Blind Spots

cars_traffic

It’s amazing one can be intelligent, driven, successful, beautiful and godly.  One can be all those adjectives yet still be susceptible to FooleryManipulationFalsehood. And Deception.

One of my spiritual gifts is discernment.  Demons and spiritual entities of darkness approached me early on in my spiritual journey and I was hardly afraid.

I could see and hear Truth: He looked like Love and smelled like Beauty and He was Mine.

But even with all the training, all the experiences in spiritual warfare—I have found—there are still blind spots.

You know when you’re driving and you’re on the freeway and cars are zooming by and you need to get over so you check your mirrors?  Then you start moving over and you hear a loud honking as the car next to you lays on their horn and maybe follow it up with a four letter word?  That happens because you forgot to check your blind spot.  And in real life, I’m so good at that.  I’m actually super nervous about switching lanes to the middle lane if someone on the other side of that lane is driving parallel to me.  I have this fear that one day we will both try to get over at the same time and then… BAM!   Thankfully that has not happened.  Probably because I’m so anal about checking my blind spot.  In driving that is…

I had to learn there are blind spots in life.  There are simply pitfalls and traps that I cannot see, as intelligent and driven and godly as I am.  I am not all-seeing.  I am not Jesus.  And clearly Jesus knew that so He gave me (us) Holy Spirit.  So many times in the past He used Holy Spirit to navigate me around those pit falls.  Many times I did not understand that He was protecting me.  I only felt Rejected.  Deprived.  Frustrated.

In this season He is using others.  They call me and tell me updates on a certain situation.  They share revelation on men and relationships and things I was never taught by my father.  Or Uncle.  Or brother.  I find YouTube videos, and books and my eyes slowly become open.  It’s a difficult thing to re-train my mind because I have thought one way for so long in this area, but I have overcome much more difficult things.  I’m certain this will be added to the list.

It’s unfortunate we live in a fallen world where people take advantage of a person with a good heart.  They figure out ways to manipulate and deceive.  But one thing my friend told me that really encouraged me was this, “We do not have to be like serpents to be as wise as them”.  I believe she is right.

I am learning.  I am becoming wise.  And I will not trade my dove’s heart for a serpent’s crafty one.

He has done too much for me to make that trade.

Weekend…


SHALOM

 

Overcoming Anxiety (Poem)


I can’t believe it’s been a year.

More than a year.

I have to remember the tingling in my mind.

The needles in my brain.

Stabbing.

Stabbing.

Giving me no peace.

No rest.

No time to be.

There was a hand gripping my heart.

A very large hand, and I woke up in the middle of the night

Only to see night

Struggling to see Light.

It was gone. Overshadowed by darkness and pain. He was gone.

“How could You forsake me”? I cried. And cried.

My tears went unanswered.

My fears kept demanding attention.

Implanted there by white men who enslaved my people with chains and whipped them with whips ‘til the skin peeled off their backs.

Nobody had their backs.

Nobody spoke their language.

I couldn’t have made it at the bottom of that ship because just the fear I was experiencing was only a portion of what they went through.

Just the awful grotesque darkness that invaded me for weeks

And months

And more than a year, almost drove me to suicide.

Because a person needs their mind.

A person needs a sense of identity.

And when they don’t have that, then who are they?

Who are they but a wondering soul waiting for each day to bring them truth.

One day rolled into the next.

And I realized that if God keeps waking me up there must be a purpose.

There must be a reason.

He stood there–distantly–guiding me with His eye, showing me the way.

His way.

I trusted in His way because it had never let me down.

I sat down.

Peace in my mind.

Hope in my heart.

Love in my members.

I sat down, resting in that place and I had to be reminded of the needles in my mind. They threatened me with intensity and my propensity to give in to fear-lessened.

Just like the demoniac, I was touched.

Slowly.

Quietly.

In a way I didn’t want, but a way that needed to be.

I was free.

SHALOM