The word "nice" always felt "meh" to me.
But life has me rethinking this word, because I'm experiencing how powerful nice can be.
For half a year, I've been friends with David Wetherelt and our conversations are rich with meaning. He says things, and I find myself thinking about them for days to come.
Then he does things that make my heart crunch.
This was best displayed when traveling for work in January. I would have missed a church event that mattered to me.
So he brought me on his phone (and put a tiara atop his device.)
As you can imagine, my heart continues to grow fonder of this dear man each day, and we recently documented a shared conversation that transported us into the soil of something we’re discovering together: the quiet, powerful, gravitational force of true kindness.
Listen in...
Brenda: “We throw the word ‘nice’ around like it’s filler. You say something was nice and it sounds like a polite brush-off. But I’ve come to realize, especially through you, David, that ‘nice’ is sacred.”
David: “Yeah. It’s like gravity. It’s everywhere. You don’t notice it unless it’s missing—and without it, nothing works. It doesn’t scream for attention, but it holds everything together.”
His analogy struck a chord. We often celebrate love, passion, and intensity, but overlook the very medium in which these emotions thrive. David likens “nice” to the atmosphere—essential, invisible, and foundational.
David: “Nice isn’t the fire. It’s the air that feeds it. You can be in conflict and still be nice. You can even be angry and still be nice. It’s not about being a doormat."
Nice is about choosing to stay grounded in respect, even when the storm hits.
As we explored the idea, I reflected on my own past. Moments when cruelty surfaced unexpectedly—scars left behind by words that crossed lines never meant to be crossed.
Those moments make the presence of real kindness feel like a healing balm.
Brenda: “Once someone steps outside of love and says something deeply cruel, it changes everything. It’s like a crumpled piece of paper—you can’t smooth it out again.”
David: “Exactly. And sometimes what we think is love is just masking. People going through the motions, doing nice, not being nice. There’s a difference between performing kindness and embodying it.”
He’s been on that journey too—unmasking, shedding artificial layers of sweetness inherited from a world soaked in performance. For David, this revelation wasn’t just personal—it became the heartbeat of his work.
Through his non-profit Like Minds, David helps people with late-diagnosed Autism and ADHD unearth their true selves. Many of them, like David, have spent lifetimes performing, people-pleasing, and chasing acceptance.
David: “I tell my clients, ‘Just be nice to yourself today.’ That’s it. You don’t have to conquer the world or solve everything. Just stop beating yourself up. Be nice to you.”
It’s a truth that echoes the teachings of Tara Brach, a teacher and author we both admire:
“Radical acceptance is the willingness to experience ourselves and our lives as it is.”
And also of Scripture:
“Love is patient, love is kind… It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” — 1 Corinthians 13:4-7
But David sees kindness—nice—as even more elemental than love.
David: “Love is sunlight—warm, energizing, healing. But love can burn, too. Nice is gravity. It’s the constant that holds everything in place."
"I honestly think you can’t really reach true, authentic love without walking through the front door of nice.”
That was a revelation. All the grand gestures, the fireworks, the intense chemistry—it means little if the atmosphere isn’t nice. If the space between two people isn’t safe.
David: “We’ve made nice sound like a consolation prize. But it’s the prize. It’s what makes everything else possible.”
I think back to a weekend early in our relationship. We made dinner, sang karaoke, wandered through an art show. To me, it was a whirlwind of joy.
His text afterward? “That was really nice.”
At first, I bristled.
Just nice?
But now, I get it. From David, “nice” isn’t lukewarm—it’s holy. It means safe. It means real. It means home.
David: “We’ve got this idea that to be powerful, you need to be loud or intense. But nice?
Nice is steady. It’s quiet. It’s love in its gentlest, most enduring form.”
So yes, this was an interview. But it was also a love letter—to David, to our shared journey, and to the force that underpins it all.
Nice is not weak. Nice is what lets us be strong.
Nice is not passive. Nice is the soil where every beautiful thing grows.
Nice is not boring. It’s what makes magic sustainable.
May we all remember to return to it.
David: “Don’t forget about nice. Never forget about nice.”
David Wetherelt is the President of Like Minds, a nonprofit focused on peer coaching for neurodivergent individuals, and a consultant for the Autism Society of San Diego. He is a writer, speaker, and advocate for compassionate systems of care, grounded in authenticity and—of course—nice.
Even butterflies can't resist nice.
