invariably His

Here I go again. Into the unknown. Uncharted waters. A new phase of life.

Yesterday, my son called with the news that he finished high school. In October. Seven months early. I expected an end-of-semester call, not a two-months-into-school call. Suddenly, I need to get senior announcements out, make phone calls inviting loved ones to his graduation (next week!), plan a party, get party invitations out, make a college visit appointment, tour said college, and visit/choose/secure housing so he can start school in January!

Me? Oh I’m fine. Except my emotions turn on a dime. I cry at the drop of a hat. I can’t focus. I’ve got my own health problems, menopause, and burgeoning time commitments. We’re still not finished with flood repairs. The holidays are coming. A last-minute trip is happening soon. Did I mention it’s birthday month around here? My head is spinning. Somebody hold me. What is even happening?

And breeeeeeathe…

Back to graduation.

photo by Rebecca McCoy

This baby of the family … this child of my heart but not my womb … this son …

I remember vividly the moment the pediatric gastroenterologist told me Johnathan might never tolerate solid food, thereby sentencing him to a life of feeding tubes. I didn’t believe him. Today, this man-child eats any and everything he chooses.

Photo by Tammy Wren

I remember in painful detail the moment the physical therapist told me Johnathan might never walk, thereby sentencing him to a life of mobility assistance. I didn’t believe her, either. So, I got on the floor multiple times a day with that baby, doing exercises, teaching him to crawl, pull up, and walk. Today, he accomplishes any physical feat he desires.

I remember the day the case worker told us to prepare for the fact that Johnathan might be given to a biological family member. I didn’t want to believe her, but my heart shattered into a thousand pieces at the very thought of losing him. Today, despite his past as a foster child, we are the only family he’s ever lived with.

Yesterday, he completed high school. My baby boy. My only son. My heart.

And my last little bird to fly the nest.

invariably HIS,

Nicki

A Tale of Two Faces

#thisisgrief

This was me yesterday. In the morning, I was cheerful and eager to serve with #mercychefs at their new Beacon on the Hill kitchen in Kerrville. I even wore my @jamieelizabeth #hillcountrystrong earrings. It was a good morning, and I helped feed around 1,000 of my neighbors a home-cooked meal.

By afternoon, I received news that our flood remediation building supplies were still delayed, meaning another month of temporary rent is due, and another month of rental income is also lost. None of which our flood insurance covers.

I found myself in the middle of Wal-Mart, on the phone, crying and questioning in an all-too-loud voice what in the world was going on and how in the world were we going to get through all of this. And then it finally happened. I got mad, y’all. Really, truly angry.

Miss Susie Sunshine–who up until this point was too blessed to be stressed and too thankful things weren’t worse– left the building. In her wake, this sobs-when-she’s-angry mess arrived. And she didn’t want to see the bright side. She wanted to feel sorry for herself and her situation. She went to the chapel and interchangeably took turns telling God how mad she was and then how sorry she was for being mad, and then how mad she was followed by how sorry she was, ad finitem. Gah, I absolutely hate feeling this way.

But this is grief. And unfortunately, I know her all too well. I know God is big enough to handle my anger and that He already knows my feelings before I even share them with Him. I know He didn’t cause the flood, but it still happened. We are still in a financial mess. The city is in a financil mess. The county is in a financial mess. There are still missing people. The survivors (and this entire community can call themselves “survivors”) are still mourning the staggering loss of life. So many of us are still displaced.

But, just in case I’m not the only one feeling this way, let me reassure you … the anger will fade, and we will move forward in this healing process. I know it doesn’t seem that way right now, when we reside here in the land of sobbing and wailing, but we are going to be okay.

I pray for each and every one of you that is feeling anything like I am feeling. Be kind and generous with one another. Give yourselves permission to feel, though. We can’t get over or around or under this catastrophe … we have to forge our way through it, together. If you’re getting tired, please ask for help. There are resources all around us.

Remember, when the river rose, so did we. Keep rising.

Grieving, but His,

Nicki

Triggered, but still HIS …

Last night I enjoyed an all-too-brief moment of zen, courtesy of an early evening thunderstorm at my home in southeast Kerrville.

Despite the seeming tranquility, I faced frantic thoughts like “Is everyone ok? Is everyTHING ok? What if the river is rising? How can we protect the office?” At the same moment these thoughts raced in, I also realized they were so small compared to the thousands of people who suffered real, devastating loss, and/or faced actual memories of being in those floodwaters. PTSD is real, and heavy rain may be our trigger around here.

Knowing all this, tonight I tried to make peace with the storm. I sat on the deck and embraced it and thanked God for it.

Not 30 seconds after I filmed this video, a giant flash of lighting lit up the sky directly in front of me, and the thunderclap followed almost immediately and was so loud I slapped my hands over my ears without even thinking. I hurried back inside the house.

Sigh. Maybe next time. Baby steps of healing and progress will have to suffice for today. There will always be the next storm. Until then, stay close to the One capable of calming it.

Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace, be still!”
And the wind ceased and there was a great calm.

‭‭Mark‬ ‭4‬:‭39‬ NKJ

Triggered, but still HIS,

Nicki

We’re all in this together …

July 27, 2025

Yesterday, I said “see you later” to my smart, funny, trusted friend Charlotte, who died in the flood. (The picture is a group of friends who were loved well by that same Charlotte.) This morning, I got myself up and went to church.

I bawled the entire service. I went through no less than five tissues. I felt like a blubbering idiot, but the tears had a mind of their own and refused to stop pooling in my eyes and streaking down my cheeks. I realized I wasn’t just grieving for my friend; I was experiencing collective grief.

The Texas Hill Country in July of 2025 is a difficult place for empaths. I was in a room full of people who were praising God while simultaneously carrying the fallout from unimaginable loss. It was powerful and humbling. It was faith holding hands with questions. It was a nervous energy making us all want to do something … to make a difference … to make the pain lessen, while also wanting to close our eyes and curl up in our Heavenly Father’s lap for consoling, like the helpless children we are.

How do we reconcile our belief in God—a good God who wants good things for us—and tragedies like this devastating 1,000-year-flood and the loss of so many innocent lives? How do we start to recover and rebuild while holding space for those who are not yet ready to do the same? How do we let go of the pain while still clinging tightly to memories of our loved ones and favorite places?

First, I think we have to remind ourselves that we live in a fallen, imperfect world. This isn’t Heaven. Bad things happen here because we collectively bear the results of one another’s poor choices. And not just poor choices, but choices made with the best of intentions but a limited knowledge and perspective. Only God can see the whole picture. We’re all down here just doing the best we can.

Second, remember, the opposite is also true: we collectively bear the results of one another’s good choices. Love and kindness ripple out in circles like a pebble thrown into a still pond. Mercy and grace, when freely offered, multiply exponentially. We see this in the helpers who show up, without fail, in tragedies like this. We will all grieve and process this trauma differently. Be kind. Extend mercy. Allow people to make mistakes, over- or under-react, behave abnormally, cry a lot, melt down, get angry quickly, or act stoic. Offer grace.

Third, listen. Take time to sit and listen to one another. Share stories of loved ones who are greatly missed. Tell tales of the generosity you have witnessed. Listen to one another’s needs.

Friends, I get it. This burden–this grief–is so heavy. But it’s lighter when we carry it together.

Yours, as well as His,

Nicki

Our River

By Nicki Dechert Carlson

I’d like to introduce you to our river, “Guadalupe.”

Her beauty and sustenance drew the first settlers to this area … she, and the tall cypress trees that grew up, out, and around her. She has always been life-giving.

She has taught generations of Hill Country natives and visitors how to swim, kayak, fish, and float. Fun and relaxation are two of her best qualities. She invites us to slow down, express gratitude to our Maker, and appreciate her allure.

She has seen countless picnics, campsites, proposals, baptisms, revivals, weddings, funerals, and formal camp gatherings and competitions. When life reaches a milestone around here, she is always there, an ever-true backdrop and witness.

It is her comfort we seek when we are sad and lonely, and her figure we look for as we enter our hometown. It is her voice that beckons us to come, sit, and think a while, and her cool water that refreshes our weary bodies and souls.

We grieve because she ripped our loved ones from our arms, laid waste to our homes and businesses, destroyed our communities, and left nothing but a muddy, debris-filled nightmare in her wake.

And yet … we will clean her up. We will clean her up as we’ve done before and will do again. Like an unruly toddler with a dirty diaper, we will bathe her, absolve her, and set her back on her right path.

We will remember to fear her as well as love her.

And one day, we will return to her and once again seek solace in her arms and on her banks … the same arms that took the lives we lament.

Why? Because she’s ours. Our river. She is as much a part of us as we are a part of her.

A Flood of Grief


This weekend I went away to rest and recover. I didn’t post about it because I felt guilty, even though I also knew mine and my husband’s limits had been breached weeks ago. 

I can’t tell you what that time did for me. My heart has been so heavy and burdened with the pain, loss, and devastation of this natural disaster—this unprecedented flood—in my hometown. So much so, that even the massive outpouring of help and support did not lift my spirits. The shock, grief, and exhaustion had numbed me to anything but the pain.

This morning, however, as I scrolled social media looking at updates from the flood, I came across a post of a group of people praying over the supplies they were sending. It stopped me in my tracks. And then it came tearing through my broken heart. 

I don’t know what it was about this post that finally struck a chord within me, but the joy and faith of these people reminded me of how I would respond if I were on the outside of this situation looking in.

It reminded me of something one of my mama’s friends told me after she died… to embrace every card, hug, prayer, and casserole as if it were a direct gift from God. Because it was God moving within those people to comfort me. 

Just like it is God moving within thousands of people today to comfort those of us reeling from this flood.

There’s a sign on the flower wall/flood victims memorial that says “Jesus wept.” I know He did, and continues to, alongside each and every one of us. And all this support? It’s prompted by Him. It’s His comfort, grace, love, and kindness pouring through His people.

Embrace the support. As I said in my book Grace-Faced, “We must grieve with open arms, not with clenched fists.” 

Grief-stricken but His,

Nicki

WHOLE-HEARTEDLY HIS

“You’re not a Christian if …” and “I don’t know how you can say you’re a Christian and …”

I see these statements everywhere these days, and they are breaking my heart.

Friends, I can be a Christian with whole-hearted devotion to Christ and years of studying the Bible and still:

—Vote for a different candidate than you do

—Support different legislation than you do

—Attend a church with differing theology than yours

And I am still a Christian. Friends, please, stop using these phrases. They have no place in winning hearts for Jesus. They have no place among His believers, either. Christ Himself instructed us on the most important aspects of our faith:

“Teacher, which is the most important commandment in the law of Moses?”
Jesus replied, “‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.’This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’The entire law and all the demands of the prophets are based on these two commandments.”

Matthew 22:36-40

Furthermore, we learn that belief in Jesus is the key to our salvation.

If you openly declare that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is by believing in your heart that you are made right with God, and it is by openly declaring your faith that you are saved. 
As the Scriptures tell us, “Anyone who trusts in him will never be disgraced.” Jew and Gentile are the same in this respect. They have the same Lord, who gives generously to all who call on him. For “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

Romans 10:9-13

I don’t see political or denominational differences anywhere in these verses, do you? When we believe we have all the right answers, and anyone who doesn’t believe exactly as we do is inherently “wrong,” rest assured we have crossed the line into spiritual pride.

But you must not brag about being grafted in to replace the branches that were broken off.
You are just a branch, not the root.
“Well,” you may say, “those branches were broken off to make room for me.” 
Yes, but remember—those branches were broken off because they didn’t believe in Christ, and you are there because you do believe. So don’t think highly of yourself, but fear what could happen. For if God did not spare the original branches, he won’t spare you either.

Romans 11:18-21

None of us can boast, because we are all saved by the same grace and belief in Christ. It’s called the great mystery of faith because it is just that: a great mystery. Not one of us holds all the answers this side of heaven. Please stop pretending as if you do. It demoralizes countless potential, new, and mature believers. And I am one of them.

We are all just walking one another home. We can make that journey enjoyable, and we can invite as many people as we can to walk alongside us; or, we can grasp hands, enclose our little circle, and avoid eye contact with those on the sidelines. Jesus did a great deal of His ministry while walking around, and I know He would land in that former group. If/then statements will always land us in trouble as Christians because they are statements designed to exclude, and Jesus aimed to include as many as possible. These statements scream to the world that your particular beliefs corner the only market on salvation, goodness, and rightness with God. That’s entirely impossible. And wholly prideful.

If God wanted us to be carbon copies of one another, He would have duplicated us instead of creating us each uniquely from scratch. Let’s embrace our differences and celebrate the creativity of our God, instead of lauding “sameness” and using it to ostracize others. We serve a massive, incomprehensible, magnificently loving God. Let’s bring Him honor by loving His people—all people— in the same way He loves us.

Whole-Heartedly His,

Nicki

Uniquely His

The Italian astrophotographer Marcella Julia Pace captured this prism of the moon’s colors over time. This piece is visually stunning in itself, but for me, the artist caught something far greater.

We know the moon does not possess light in and of itself, it merely reflects the light of the sun. This leads me to believe that even though all we can see of the sun from earth is this blinding orb of bright light, there must be more to its makeup that we cannot see, because through the reflection of the moon we are able to see all these beautiful colors.

It’s like the magnificent totality of God. While on earth, we can only see a small fraction of who He is, because we are blinded by the breadth of His being and His holiness. We can, however, see His character reflected in His son, Jesus. Through Jesus, we see different aspects of God’s makeup.

Let’s take this one step further. We humans are also created in God’s image (Genesis 1:27), so the vast array of humanity is still further revelation of God’s vast being. Our brains cannot comprehend God’s completeness, but we can see and experience aspects of His being through one another.

Why, then, do we try to reduce ourselves to commonality, rather than celebrating humanity’s diversity? In doing so, we are embracing the creative breadth and genius of God himself! Why do we try to reduce Jesus to someone who thinks like us and looks like we do? He is God incarnate! Why do insist the moon is one color? We can clearly see it emcompasses a vast rainbow of color!

Oh, what I would give for eyes to see like God does, and to be able to see Him in His entirety. One day, in heaven, I will. For now, I will marvel at His reflection in the existence of the people around me, and I will gaze at the moon in wonder.


For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. 
Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

1 Corinthians 13:12

Uniquely His,

Nicki

Beautifully HIS

ADVENTURES IN DRESSING ROOMS

It’s June. We leave for a family beach vacation in one week. I ventured into my closet to try on the swimsuits that have hung there for a decade-plus. Old, dry, elastic shrieked as it stretched out, died, and refused to snap back. It’s definitely time to go (cue the screams) swimsuit shopping.

I’ve said for years that some wealthy, entrepreneurial woman needs to invent a women-only, swimsuit-only store with sizes from 0-6XL. This establishment would be frigid in the summer with fans in the dressing rooms, and house plentiful styles and shapes for every female body type. This retail shop would also house large, comfortable dressing rooms and numerous sales ladies who check on customers and run to fetch different sizes should the need arise. Did I mention the wine or champagne? Because that is complimentary, because every gal knows she doesn’t have the wits or temperament to try on swimsuits sober … much less sober and sweating. It’s too agonizing.

Alas, this magical place does not yet exist. So I ventured into a name-withheld store that felt like it was 80 degrees with humidity inside. After fighting for my life against over-crowded racks filled with tangled straps and hangers, I loaded my arms with swimsuits to try on and–after searching 3/4 of the large store for a lone employee–was told the one and only dressing room was on the side of the store opposite from the swimsuits, near the front. Sigh. I made the trek while desperately hoping one of the suits in my arms would fit, because once undressed, I was not re-dressing and traversing the entire store a second time to obtain a different size that may not even be on the racks.

I ventured into an available dressing room, emptied it of discarded clothes from the previous occupant, and went to work. First option, no dice … unless this year’s swim fashions call for a hobbit look.

Second option … maybe … ew ewww EWWW! It’s on my leg. It’s stuck to my leg. The HYGIENE LINER IS STUCK TO MY LEG! Get it off. Get.it.OFF! How? I don’t want to touch it with my hands. OMG it’s so gross. Flick it off. Now it’s stuck to my hand. Shake it. Shake it off.

Okay. Breathe. Well, this suit is a disaster now. Let’s try a third option.

AND IT HAPPENED AGAIN! What adhesive are they using on these hygiene liners … spit? Post-it note sticky stuff? GAH! Just make it stop. I’m completely disgusted. This can’t be healthy.

I give up. I’m going to a different store.

I’ll #wearthesuit, if I can ever #findthesuit. I am #beuatifullyandwonderfullymade, after all. But this process could be a lot more pleasant, if not downright pleasurable. Someone steal my genius ladies-swimsuit-store idea and make millions off of it. I don’t care for any credit, as long as you build one close to me so I can offer my patronage.

Beautifully His,

Nicki

For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.

(Psalm 139:13-16 NIV)

MIND-BLOWINGLY His

Y’all. I can’t even. My baby girl is graduating from college. With a Bachelor of Science degree. And a Master’s Degree. At the same time. In MATHEMATICS!

But wait … there’s more …

With a cumulative G.P.A. of 4-point-freaking-0!! She’s never made a B.

Here’s the thing. She surpassed my abilities in math before she ever left high school. These last few years, I have been incapable of understanding even the NAMES of the courses she’s been taking.

There is something truly fulfilling about seeing your children do things you haven’t, though. It brought to mind this passage I studied recently that I included in my forthcoming book, “Inside and Out: Living Like Jesus in Today’s World.”

“Just believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me. Or at least believe because of the work you have seen me do. I tell you the truth, anyone who believes in me will do the same works I have done, and even greater works, because I am going to be with the Father. You can ask for anything in my name, and I will do it, so that the Son can bring glory to the Father.”

John 14:11-13

How is it possible that we will do “even greater works” than Christ? I mean, we’re talking about JESUS here, people. Consider what it might look like if we all internalized the character of Jesus and lived it out in the world, though. What if, for example, we forgave others like Jesus? What if we drew near to those in need like Jesus? What if we worshiped, prayed, and taught like Jesus? In other words, what if we lived like Jesus, inside and out? Whereas Jesus was one man, we are many. Imagine the impact we could have on the world.

My daughter is accomplishing great things I have not, and as God’s children, we can also accomplish great things … in His name and through the power of His Holy Spirit.

Mind-blowingly His,

Nicki