Tell me, what does it feel like?
Death.
Really? Death? Why do you say that?
Because it’s like giving part of myself away.
Um, can you explain? Continue reading “Trust is a Verb”
Success!
My husband and daughters and I
Drove the car almost 10,000 miles
From east coast to west
And then back again
Still everyone came home alive!
© Nichole Liza Q.
Inspired by our 32 day cross country road trip, which I chronicled here.
Written for Writing 201: Poetry;
Day 2: Journey, Limerick, Alliteration.
Holding Summer
Steaming mug of tea
Burns against my palms, like hot
Pavement on bare feet
© Nichole Liza Q.
Written for Writing 201: Poetry;
Day 1: Water, Haiku, Simile.
Prayers Like Snowflakes
Do you ever wonder, as you slog through your list of prayers, does this matter? These words – in the form of petitions and praises and pleadings – do they matter?
Do you ever feel overwhelmed? Discouraged? I do.
So much heartache. So many needs. Needs that outnumber my prayers. Needs that outweigh my weightless, colorless, tuneless words.
Discouragement is stronger than gravity and can pull us down with a force that pins us to the lowest places, the cold, hard places so that we can’t even lift our heads to look up. And in comparison, our prayers seem to drift away like vapors in the wind.
One day, not too long ago, as I sat on my bed praying, I felt an emptiness and futility pressing in on me. I found myself asking,
How can these prayers I offer up today – please bring k peace, keep her safe and help her share your love with others today…completely heal and restore c… comfort my friend who misses her mother… save that marriage on the verge of divorce…bring that young man off the streets and into a rehab that will make a difference… – how can these prayers make a difference? How, God? It all seems so pointless. And I just feel like giving up.
And then I thought of snowflakes.
18 Things That Inevitably Happen on Family Road Trips
We’ve taken quite a few road trips in our family: Florida, Cross Country and Back, Florida, Kouchibouguac National Park, Florida, Cape Breton, Florida, Outer Banks, Florida… Short or long, they’re always interesting.
Some notes before we begin: You may find my list light on stories about kids fighting in the car. That’s mostly because our kids are (a) girls (b) seven years apart in age and (c) have always been great car travelers. (Well, minus the fact that one of them was prone to motion sickness and used to vomit on car rides around town). Also, I don’t drink coffee…at all. All Starbucks stops are for the girls and my husband (though he prefers Dunkin’).
- Elation: So you’ve planned the trip, prepared your playlist and packed the car. You’re so excited you could pop. It’s about this time that you determine that you have the coolest family in the world. The voices in your head sound something like this, “We are so awesome! We are going to drive to California and back in 32 days, in a four-door sedan. What could possibly go wrong?!”
Continue reading “18 Things That Inevitably Happen on Family Road Trips”
Out of Darkness, Light | A Christmas Poem
I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of being told how to do Christmas better, how to get it right, how to rethink it or turn it upside down or make it count or What. Ever. Not that that those aren’t worthy endeavors, but rather at this point, I just want to enjoy Christmas for what it is. And when it came to writing a Christmas post, I was practically gagging on my own words. That’s when I know it’s bad – when I can’t even stand to listen to myself. So I gave up and wrote a poem. No commentary. No lectures. No exhortation. No opinions. No judgments. No assertions.
Just a poem. A painting, if you will, of words. Merry Christmas.
Out of Darkness, Light
We walk in darkness
Stumbling, feet slipping
Grasping for something, anything to keep from falling
We scrape our hands on broken branches
Our knees on stony paths
In trying to save ourselves, we are wounded
Continue reading “Out of Darkness, Light | A Christmas Poem”
How to Rock the Boat Without Drowning Anyone, Including Yourself
When my family goes canoeing (which isn’t often), I hear things like this:
“Nichole, sit down in the middle of the boat and I’ll push us out. Just…just sit down and remember to stay low.”
“Nichole, would you stop moving.”
“You want a turn rowing? OK. Hold on and let’s…no, no, wait!”
“Mom! Stop!”
“For crying out loud, Nichole! Are you trying to capsize us?!!!”
I guess some people were just made to rock the boat.
I was rocking the boat before I took my first breath. Babies who start out in a teenage girl’s womb usually do. Our very existence causes disruption, forcing issues and conversations no one wants to have: You did what? With who? Are you keeping it? How are you going to take care of it? Will you finish school? Get a job? Get married? Do you even love him? Who’s going to pay for all this?
I didn’t ask to ride into life on the wave of a storm I didn’t create. But it happened. I didn’t want to force difficult conversations and tough choices. But I did. Just by being.
Continue reading “How to Rock the Boat Without Drowning Anyone, Including Yourself”
Is Your Church a Safe Place? Mine’s Not
Is your church a safe place? Mine’s not.
Our doors are open wide. On any given Sunday, you might find yourself sitting next to an adulterer, a drug addict or a murderer.
At my church, people gossip, they get angry and hurt each other, and sometimes they harbor unforgiveness.
At my church, we have people with schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, depression, and anxiety disorder.
There are people who self-harm, cheat on taxes, swear, smoke and watch ‘R’ rated movies.
Winter’s Coming but Spring is Here II
Winter. A season of painful exchanges: flip-flops for bulky jackets, warm breezes for
cold floors, the sound of crickets for the hum of the furnace, which, let’s face it, is basically the sound of money burning.
But the exchange that weighs on my body like a wet, wool coat, is that of light for darkness. Each autumn day, the coming winter snatches another two or three minutes of sunlight, replacing it with night. We wake in the dark, go to work in the dark, come home in the dark, eat dinner in the dark….
As of today, there are 53 more days of sliding headfirst into the abyss.
From Here to There
A piece of fiction Writing 101:
“And don’t come back in ’til I call you! You hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sammy muttered under her breath.
“Babygirl! I said, do you hear me?!”
“I am not a baby girl!”
“Do. You. Hear me?”
“Yes, Mama. I hear you,” she grumbled.
Sammy let the screen door slam behind her, took a few steps and sat down on the front stoop. She kept to her family’s side of the porch. Mr. Johnson, who lived in the other half of the duplex, didn’t like anyone on his side of the porch, especially little girls.
Lightning Bug 
