Tag: writing

Godsdaughters

In Loving Memory of Sharon Rae Nietert

Reba Nietert

Sharon Rae Nietert, a cherished pillar of her community and the heart of her family, passed away peacefully of natural causes on February 8, 2026. Sharon was the ultimate matriarch, a woman whose warmth and vibrance defined the lives of those she touched. She has now been reunited with her beloved husband, John Nietert, and her daughter, Jennifer Mullen, who preceded her in death. Sharon’s life was a tapestry of creativity and connection. She was an avid crafter and a gifted piano player, often filling her home with music. Known for her competitive spirit and quick wit, she was a fixture at family game nights and a dedicated fan of televised game shows. Her kitchen was the soul of the household, where she spent countless hours cooking for her children and preparing for the traditional holiday gatherings she loved so dearly. Of all the seasons, Christmas held a special place in her heart; she transformed every December into a magical time of tradition, light, and togetherness for her expanding family.

Sharon’s greatest pride was her family. She is survived by her children and their families, who carry forward her lessons of love and resilience: Her children, Scott Nietert, Andrew Nietert, and Kathryn Krieger. Her grandchildren: Elizabeth Nietert, Jacob Nietert, Brandon Mullen, Samantha Mullen, Laura Mullen, Sofia Nietert, Nolan Nietert, Johnathan Krieger, Luke Krieger, and Cordelia Krieger. Her step-Grandfamily: Step-grandson Brad Mullen and step-great-grandchildren Evelina and Steven Mullen.

Sharon was a woman who never missed an opportunity to dance or to share a meal with those she loved. Her absence leaves a profound void, but her spirit will be felt every time a piano plays, a game is won, or a family gathers around the table for the holidays. She will be profoundly missed, but never forgotten.

For me, this is extra difficult. I am currently residing, and have been taking care of Sharon’s home for months now. Packing, separating, cleaning a home that went untouched for years. So many broken pipes, floorboards, roof, etc., the list goes on and on and apparently has become yet another responsibility for my husband. (As if his plate is not already overflowing.) It’s a tedious task that is taking a lot longer than expected.

It brings to light the failures of our choices. We had intended to part half year here in Texas, while maintaining a home in Colorado and live part of the year there. We are pleased to announce that our business, LoneStar Home Watch, is taking off and I have had to live out of a suitcase for the past months. The Colorado home that we furnished, poured our hearts into, is now for sale in a market that is saturated with homes that buyers cannot afford. We have no showings.

Not only am I reminded of Sharon when I view every wall, or use her dishes to eat on, or her pots and pans to cook with but down to the towels, the sheets, all of it is a constant reminder, {This is NOT my home,} I feel unsettled, lost, removed, and yet thriving in a business that has taken me two years to grow. The paradigm shift is palpable.

Scott, my husband is understandably distraught, disorganized and fraught with duty and tasks. It’s overwhelming on top of an already burdened life of duty. Sharon is the 15th foundational loss we have suffered since we moved here in 2016. That’s 10 years. That’s a lot of servicing others with no benefit of our own. We losing more than we’re gaining and we are reminded every time we open our eyes and look around. Missing our real home at the lake, and unable to spend any time there, it looks like a sale there too in the midst of this economic downturn that rivals the 2008 catastrophe! What do we do?

We sit, have patience, hesitate our words, speak our wisdom, and love unconditionally. If that doesn’t work, we cannot take it personally. No has any idea of the insurmountable obstacles that we are facing together. Scott is a juggler and expert at the process, and I am jumping in and out as he needs me as the emotional weight of it all falls heavily on both our shoulders. Give us some grace. Allow us the same love we offer, and be patient with us. Kindness goes a long way.

The picture is in 1994 with my daughter, Elizabeth and her grandma.

Uncategorized

Heaven-Touched Views: Life in a Craftsman Mountain Home

Reba Nietert

There’s a kind of magic that only exists deep in the heart of the mountains, where a craftsman-style home nestles quietly among the pines and wildflowers. Here, the world feels both infinite and intimate—views stretch up to heaven, blue and endless, while the sturdy beams and warm wood of the household you close, safe and grounded.

Every window frames a living masterpiece: sunbeams spilling over distant ridges, clouds drifting lazily above peaks, and forests whispering secrets only the mountains know. The air is always a little cooler, edged with the scent of pine and earth, as if the whole world is taking a deep, cleansing breath.

Outside, playfulness is the order of the day. Pups dart and dash across the meadow, chasing birds that swoop just out of reach and small critters that scurry through the brush. Their joy is contagious, their energy a gentle reminder to savor every moment—to let laughter echo off the hills and let curiosity lead us down winding paths.

There’s so much to do here that you can’t do anywhere else, especially when the temperatures dip and the world feels fresh and new. Midday rides on horseback become adventures through golden light and dappled shadows, the rhythmic clop of hooves blending with the rush of a nearby stream. Biking through valleys, the landscape rolls out before you—each turn revealing a new secret, a new thrill. The call of the wild grows stronger as you climb higher, ATV roaring up to the tallest points, where the world falls away beneath you and the sky feels close enough to touch.

Fly fishing in crystal clear waters is a meditation, a dance between patience and hope. The sun glints on the surface, the line arcs gracefully, and for a moment, there’s only you, the water, and the promise of something wonderful just beneath the surface.

And when the day’s adventures are done, there’s nothing like gathering around a table filled with homegrown ingredients—crisp greens, sweet berries, and the hearty flavors of food crafted with love and care. The laughter is warmer, the stories richer, and the sense of belonging deeper.

In this place, the quiet is never lonely. It’s filled with the music of the wind, the playful bark of a dog, the distant call of a bird, and the gentle hum of a life well-lived. Here, in the crisp mountain air, every moment is an invitation—to play, to reflect, to love, and to truly live.

Uncategorized

The Serenity of the Lake: Where Stillness Meets Joy

Reba Nietert

There’s a hush that settles over the water at dawn, the kind of quiet that feels sacred—almost as if the world is holding its breath in reverence. The lake stretches out in front of me, a glassy expanse reflecting the gentle blush of early morning. Here, time slows. Here, my soul exhales.

I watch as my dogs, those furry bundles of kinetic joy, race along the shoreline. Their paws kick up dew-damp grass, their tails high with purpose and delight. They chase each other in wide, looping arcs, tongues lolling, eyes sparkling. There’s a kind of magic in their movement—a pure, unfiltered happiness that shoots straight to the heart and fills me with a calm, unexpected rush of dopamine. It’s impossible not to smile, not to let their exuberance seep into my bones and soften the edges of whatever weight I carried to the water’s edge.

Above us, the wind stirs the leaves in the trees. They flitter and dance, catching the light in a thousand shades of green and gold. I find myself watching the way each leaf trembles, the way the branches sway and bow. It’s a gentle reminder that God lives here, in the quiet beauty of the woods, in the hush between the breeze and the water, in the ordinary miracle of another day. The world feels both impossibly vast and intimately close, as if I’m being cradled in the palm of something loving and eternal.

Out here, the remoteness isn’t lonely—it’s restorative. The silence isn’t empty—it’s full, brimming with the subtle music of nature: the distant call of a bird, the soft lapping of waves, the rhythmic panting of tired, happy dogs. In these moments, I remember how alive I am. I feel the pulse of my own heart, the steadiness of my breath, the quiet joy of simply being. The lake’s serenity fills me up, washing away the noise and hurry of everyday life, leaving only gratitude and peace.

Sometimes, all it takes is a quiet morning, a wild-hearted dog, and the shimmer of sunlight on water to remind me of what matters. Of how much love there is in the world—whispering through the trees, running along the shore, waiting patiently for us to notice.

Inspiration

A Poem, “I Am Enough.”

Reba Nietert

I once trembled at the thought of rejection,  

Until I learned the gentle art of never turning away from myself.

I once feared abandonment,  

Until I discovered the steadfast companion within—  

A presence that would never leave.

I once carried the weight of others’ opinions,  

Until I realized they were but whispers,  

No heavier than my own voice,  

No more powerful than my own truth.

I once mourned painful endings,  

Until I saw them for what they truly are—  

Secret doorways to beginnings yet unseen.

I once hid from the fear of seeming weak,  

Until I witnessed the quiet, unbreakable strength  

That lived in the marrow of my bones.

I once shrank beneath the idea of being small,  

Of being unimportant,  

Until I touched the vastness of my own spirit,  

And recognized the power that was always mine.

I once flinched at the thought of being called ugly,  

Until I learned to see myself with loving eyes—  

To honor the beauty that is uniquely my own.

I once dreaded failure,  

Until I understood it as a mirage—  

A lesson dressed in disguise,  

A teacher in the school of growth and grace.

I once despaired in my lowest moments,  

Until I realized they were fertile ground,  

The birthplace of brilliance,  

Where transformation quietly blooms.

I once resisted change,  

Until I embraced its wild, inevitable dance—  

A reminder that nothing is permanent,  

And every moment is a fleeting, precious gift.

I once feared solitude,  

Until I learned the joy  

Of my own company—  

The richness of being at home within myself.

I once doubted my uniqueness,  

Until I claimed it as my greatest gift—  

The wellspring of my singular greatness.

I once shuddered in the darkness,  

Until I remembered:  

I am the light.

And I once feared life itself,  

Until I remembered—  

I am life.  

I am possibility.  

I am enough.

Human Interest

Confessions Before Forgiveness – A Real Story, Real Pain, Received & Given.

Reba Nietert

I settled into a beautiful therapist’s room—soft light, a welcoming couch, a sturdy chair, a credenza adorned with thriving succulents. This time, my therapist was a man. He sank into his reclining chair and, after a moment’s pause, asked gently, “What brings you here?”

I answered honestly: “I can’t seem to feel joy.”

As I unraveled the tangled threads of my life, he listened quietly. Then he asked one question that stopped me cold: “When was the first time you felt love from a man?”

I searched my memory and finally replied, “When I was 27. I had hurt someone deeply—taken his money, mirrored the ways men had treated me, and lied through our entire friendship. Yet, when I confessed, he looked at me with a tenderness I had never seen. ‘I love you,’ he said, ‘but I can’t have you in my life. You’re toxic.’ It was in that moment I realized the toxicity was mine to own. But it was his eyes—filled with pain and love—that pierced me. For the first time, I understood men could love, too.”

The therapist looked at me and said, “You do realize I’m a man, don’t you?” I nodded, a little uncertain. He continued, “You do realize that you hate men, don’t you?”

I sat in silence, the weight of his words settling over me. Here was someone trained to see beneath the surface, naming truths I hadn’t dared utter. Forgiveness—for myself, for others—would take years. The wounds inflicted by men’s actions, the demands, oppression, domination, slander, and judgment, still haunted me. I worked tirelessly to free myself from those patterns, but it unsettled me how often men around me failed to see women as equals—in friendship, in marriage, in sisterhood, in motherhood. I found myself asking: Why does this systemic entitlement, this pattern of male oppression, persist?

The roots of systemic male entitlement and oppression run deep, woven into the fabric of society over centuries. Historically, patriarchal systems have shaped laws, customs, and cultural narratives, positioning men as default leaders and decision-makers, while relegating women to supporting roles. These patterns are perpetuated through:

– Socialization: From a young age, boys and girls are taught different expectations—boys to lead, girls to support. This is reinforced in schools, media, and even family dynamics.

– Institutional Structures: Many institutions (legal, religious, economic) have long favored men, making it difficult for women to gain equal footing.

– Cultural Narratives: Stories, myths, and media often reinforce male dominance and female subservience, subtly shaping beliefs about what is “normal” or “natural.”

– Power Dynamics: Those in power are often reluctant to relinquish it, consciously or unconsciously resisting changes that would create true equality.

Change is happening, but slowly. It requires not just policy shifts, but deep self-reflection—by individuals and by society as a whole. It’s about unlearning old narratives, listening to one another’s pain, and intentionally building relationships rooted in respect and equality.

Questions a Man Can Ask Himself

1. How do I respond when a woman sets a boundary or disagrees with me?

2. Do I listen to understand, or do I listen to respond or defend myself?

3. Am I aware of the ways my words or actions might make a woman feel unheard or dismissed?

4. Have I ever assumed I know what’s best for a woman, rather than asking her opinion or respecting her choices?

5. When was the last time I asked a woman about her experiences with gender bias or inequality—and really listened?

6. Do I expect praise or special treatment for doing things considered “basic” in a partnership or friendship?

7. Am I comfortable showing vulnerability and admitting when I’m wrong, especially to women?

8. Do I ever catch myself interrupting, talking over, or minimizing a woman’s perspective?

9. How do I react when a woman succeeds or takes the lead?

10. Do I seek out women’s expertise and leadership in my professional and personal life?

Courses of Action to Reframe Thinking & Build Connection

– Practice Active Listening:

  Focus on listening without planning your response. Let her finish her thoughts and ask clarifying questions before reacting.

– Embrace Vulnerability:  

  Share your own feelings and uncertainties. Expressing vulnerability builds trust and shows you value emotional depth.

– Educate Yourself:  

  Read books, articles, or take courses about gender equality, emotional intelligence, and healthy communication. (Brené Brown’s work, “The Will to Change” by bell hooks, and Esther Perel’s talks are great starting points.)

– Challenge Assumptions: 

  Notice when you’re making assumptions about what women want, need, or feel. Instead, ask open-ended questions and invite her perspective.

– Support and Celebrate:  

  Uplift women’s achievements and ideas, both privately and publicly. Step back when appropriate and let women lead.

– Reflect on Power Dynamics:  

  Consider how your actions or words might reinforce old power structures. Aim to create space for equality and mutual respect.

– Apologize and Adjust:  

  If you realize you’ve messed up, own it without defensiveness. Apologize sincerely and ask how you can do better.

– Seek Feedback:

  Ask women you trust for honest feedback about how you show up in relationships and be open to constructive criticism.

– Model Respect:

  Speak up if you hear other men making derogatory or dismissive comments about women, even when it’s uncomfortable.

– Invest in Growth:

  Commit to ongoing self-reflection and growth. Growth is a journey, not a destination.

The point is, it’s important to learn, grow and improve with women you are in a relationship with. In the same direction. It’s important to be positive. It’s important to encourage. It’s important to affirm, because if you don’t do all of these things, you could find yourself very alone.