Rollercoaster slash flood.

This last week has been such an emotional rollercoaster slash flood. In fact, I think that’s it. It’s almost like trying to ride a rollercoaster in a flood. Yep. Try to picture that. And that’s what my insides have felt like lately.

 

Ever since I set foot in Kansas a week ago, I’ve been a wreck (unbeknownst to everyone around me. Except my mom. I’m sure she knows. She knows me better than I know myself at times.)

 

Every inch of this place is dripping with 15 years worth of moments that made Nicolle Galyon. Nicolle Galyon, circa 2002. On my morning run alone I run right over Derek Schneider’s initials engraved in the sidewalk. It says D.S., plus sign, then nothing. I used to think that it was waiting for an N.G. (Derek is now my brother’s art teacher and basketball coach.) I pass by the red-brick church where I asked Jesus to come into my life; it’s also where I played piano before my feet could reach the pedals. (I married my amazing husband there almost 2 years ago.) I wave at, on average, probably 3-5 grain trucks on that 7-block stretch of Broadway. And I remember riding a combine for the first time. I run around the lake where I scraped my knee rollerblading so badly that it still won’t tan in that spot; it’s also where I learned to dive, crush on a much older man, Mark Frederick, the lifeguard (how foreshadowing); and where in high school my girlfriends and I would cruise. Nothing but windows down, radio soaring, 30 mile-an-hour bee-boppin’ in our first cars, which in our case meant a hand-me-down minivan or a 10 year old cherry red Escort. Take your pick. It was on these cruises that we’d wait to see the car full of boys. Boys we had known since diapers. And somewhere in those 10,000-or-so trips around Sterling Lake we’d share our secrets of the little we knew about love, and where we thought we would go when eighteen came around.

 

Eighteen came around. So did twenty-one. And two and three and four. Five’s around the corner and here I am on some kind of rollercoaster in a flood…in the middle of Kansas! J

 

These memories that I speak of stir up the perspective of a different girl. A girl with eyes a bit wider. A girl in a world much bigger.  A girl with a heart less worn. A girl with a little less weight on her shoulders. A girl with longer tomorrows and shorter yesterdays.

 

And I can’t help myself from doing an A/B comparison of that girl with this girl. Nicolle Galyon now. My entire journey where Nashville is involved has been one unexpected readjustment after another. Oftentimes brought on by a door that God cracks open just enough to make me believe that I’m supposed to run thru it as fast as I can and just. trust . Him. So I have.  Or at least, I’ve attempted to. And those doors coupled with my fearlessness (fearless in my case means being really stinkin scared, but doing it anyway) have led me here. To writing songs. And playing with a band. And singing in front of people. And pursuing a record deal. And proclaiming to the world that I’m an artist. And believing that I belong on stage. (Might I add, not for the faint of heart.)

 

Chasing a dream of this nature doesn’t require jumping and trusting God once. It means dozens of times a day walking to the edge, looking down, knowing it’s gonna really suck if I land wrong, and jump with a big fat smile on my face. It means ignoring the voices in my head that try to tell me I’m crazy. It means overcoming the voices of others who smirk at my efforts. It means never considering the odds. It means rarely considering practicality. It means putting my pride on hold, and my name on the line.

 

And I whole-heartedly accept that challenge. But coming home this week has made me realize that that mentality has left the girl I used to be far behind. And it’s got me in a vulnerable place right now. On a rollercoaster in a flood. Remember?! I don’t know what’s coming next.

 

And you know what the good news is?

 

I don’t have to. I’m just gonna ride it out and step right up to the ledge again.

 

And again.