It’s just my mind and me… and now you.

Sharing my thoughts, feelings, and prayers with you.

Join me on this journey of self-discovery, growing closer to God and myself.

I wasn’t made to be tending a grave…

Anyone who knows me knows that grief has been my biggest struggle since I was eleven years old. To be honest, at the time that my Pop Pop died, no one had really ever taught me about Jesus. All I could think was that God stole him from me and that wasn’t really someone I wanted to lean into. Thankfully, I’ve learned that God did not steal him from me, but instead, he saved him for me. 

I had a moment of truth in church on Sunday. As the worship team sang “Made For More” by Josh Baldwin, I found myself relating to one specific part in a new way. One important thing about me is that I will always make music personal even if it’s not directly inline with the writer’s intention. 

There’s a lyric that says, “I wasn’t made to be tending a grave” and suddenly, I was overcome with a newfound perspective on my journey with grief. 

Half of my battle with the grieving process has always been about the lack of closure surrounding my Pop Pop’s death. I missed my last chance to see him two days before he died. I never saw his body. He didn’t have a funeral. He doesn’t have a grave. I have never seen his ashes. 

I remember sitting in therapy session after therapy session crying because there wasn’t a gravesite I could visit to be with him. I truly thought a gravesite would solve all of my deepest feelings of grief. 

When I heard this lyric, it hit me like a wave. I wasn’t made to be tending a grave. Sitting by a gravesite isn’t where I’ll find my Pop Pop. He’s not as far out of reach as 11 year old me thought. In fact, because of Jesus and how good he is, he is all around me all the time. 

In a world that filled little me with so much anxiety, he always helped me simply by showing me the little things. Oreo McFlurries. Trips to the park. Bouncing me on his knee and singing. Brushing my hair. Showing up. 

A few years after he died, I had a very vivid dream. I was swimming in a pool (he had already died in my dream) and all of a sudden, he walked around the house to the pool. I jumped so fast out of the water and ran right over to him. Even in the heat of the summer, he was still wearing his leather jacket in my dream. I gave him the biggest hug without a care in the world for the fact that I was getting him wet. Once I realized what was happening, I said to him very bluntly, “But I thought you died.” He shrugged his shoulders and said, “But what if I didn’t?”. In true curious Nicki fashion, I insisted, “But you did.” And he repeated himself… “but what if I DIDN’T?” 

I know what he meant. He didn’t want me to spend every day crying, sad, and aching to be with him. He wanted me to continue on with my life as if he were still here. I thought that meant I could never cry or be sad or be angry or have any sort of negative feeling about his death. But now, I see that wasn’t what he meant at all. He meant that I can go on securely knowing that he is always with me, even when I can’t see him. That I can find him in the simplest of happenstances if only I slow down enough to look. 

Now, I can find him in the random quarters that seem to follow me. I can find him in the rainbows my students draw. I can find him in the stubble that scratches my face when I give my dad a hug before I leave. I can find him in the plumber at my job who is related to him and just so happens to have the same exact posture as he did. 

It’s no wonder I can find him in the little things now. I wasn’t meant to stop and tend to a grave to feel close to him. I was meant to find joy in the simplest of things because that really is where he’s waiting for me.