It was classic Nichole Nordeman as I remembered her: powerful words, sweet and vulnerable melodies.
So go, go, And hold up the mothers whose babies bleed from bullet holes, And feel all the hunger, the bellies and the bones, Shout for the prisoner, cry for justice loud and long, And march with the victims as Jesus marches on.
Nichole, because of you I rediscovered that beating heart of compassion, mercy, justice, and truth with no exceptions.
God was taking me on a journey, but then, he was taking you on a journey, as well.
Even then, at fifteen years old, she knew it was not possible or safe for me to own the truth of who I was.
And I tried to change.