Maybe It Wasn’t That I Was Bad at School

 

Author’s Note:
Returning to school later in life has given me a new lens on my past. What I once thought was failure, I now recognize as something I simply didn’t understand yet. If this helps even one person feel less alone, it’s worth sharing.

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I was actually very smart in school.

Textbook smart.
I could read the material.
I could memorize it.
I could pass the tests.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted.

After my junior year at Tulane, studying Mechanical Engineering, I started struggling — not with effort, but with application. I knew what the book said, but turning that knowledge into real understanding felt hard. When asked to explain what I thought about what I read, my mind often went blank.

It was confusing, because I knew I was capable.

At the same time, I didn’t feel like I had the kind of support that we later made sure our own kids had in college. There wasn’t encouragement to ask questions, to slow down, or to admit when something didn’t click. And student resources — if they existed — weren’t obvious, accessible, or normalized the way they are now.

Mostly, I didn’t even know how to ask for help.

So I did what many students did back then.
I pushed through.
I stayed quiet.
I assumed the struggle meant I just wasn’t cut out for it.

Looking back, I see it differently now.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t intelligent.
It wasn’t that I didn’t work hard enough.

It was that no one ever taught me how I learn — or gave me permission to learn differently.

Could someone have a learning difference like:

• Difficulty applying information even when they understand it

• Trouble with abstract or open-ended questions

• Needing time and space to turn facts into meaning

Yes.
And guess what?

👉 Those students are often very successful when they’re taught differently.

Many adults don’t discover this until much later in life — not because they weren’t capable, but because the systems back then weren’t built for reflection, flexibility, or support. You either kept up, or you quietly fell behind.

Now, returning to school as an adult, I’m realizing something freeing:

I don’t need things simplified.
I need time to process.
I need context.
I need permission to think before I respond.

And the resources that exist now — tutoring, explanations, grace, encouragement — have changed everything. Not because I’m smarter than I was then… but because I finally understand myself better.

If you’ve ever felt smart but stuck… capable but unsure…
maybe it wasn’t that you didn’t understand.

Maybe you just didn’t have the support, the tools, or the language yet.

“If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.” — James 1:5

Grace applies to learning too.

💛
Still learning. Still growing. Still grateful.

#LearningDifferently #AdultLearner #SecondChances #FaithAndGrowth #EmptyNestSeason #NeverTooLate #GraceOverGrades

No Cape Required: Lessons I’m Carrying Forward

 

“She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future.”
— Proverbs 31:25

I used to think strength looked loud. Confident. Certain. Like someone who always knew the next step and took it without hesitation.

But life has a way of teaching you otherwise.

Looking back now—especially in this quieter season of empty nesting—I see that most of my strength didn’t show up with a plan or a spotlight. It showed up in small, ordinary moments. In doing what needed to be done. In getting back up when I didn’t feel ready. In choosing love, responsibility, and faith even when I felt unsure.

No cape required.

There were seasons when I thought I was just surviving. Keeping plates spinning. Saying yes when it would have been easier to say no. Letting go when my heart wanted to hold on. Starting over more than once. At the time, none of it felt heroic. It felt exhausting. Necessary. Quiet.

Only now do I recognize what was really happening.

I was learning resilience.
I was learning strength that didn’t need applause.
I was learning that leadership often looks like service.
I was learning that vision doesn’t always come with clarity—sometimes it comes with trust.

Empty nesting slows things down in a way that forces reflection. When the noise fades, you finally hear your own thoughts again. You start to see patterns. You notice how much you carried. You realize how often you showed up without fully acknowledging the cost—or the courage—it took.

If I’m honest, I made mistakes along the way. Plenty of them. I trusted the wrong people at times. I doubted myself more than I should have. I stayed too long in some seasons and rushed through others. But those missteps didn’t cancel out the growth. They shaped it.

And maybe that’s the lesson I’m carrying forward most clearly now:

Strength isn’t the absence of mistakes.
It’s the willingness to keep going anyway.

I don’t look back with regret the way I once feared I might. I look back with gratitude—for the woman who kept showing up even when she didn’t feel strong, even when she didn’t have answers, even when she didn’t realize she was becoming someone steadier, wiser, and more grounded than before.

If you’re in the middle of your own messy, demanding season—whether you’re raising kids, letting go, starting over, or wondering who you are now—I hope you hear this gently:

You don’t need to become stronger.
You already are.

Sometimes it just takes a little distance—and a little quiet—to finally see it.

No cape required.

💜 With love, faith, and a quietly growing nest,

Kerri

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When the Nest Emptied, God Showed Up

Sharing the journey God is writing in this new season.

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#NoCapeRequired #EmptyNestSeason #FaithOverFear #QuietStrength #ResilientWarrior #WomenReflecting #LifeLessons #GraceInTheGrowth #StillStanding #FaithJourney #MidlifeReflection

What If This Year…

 

January 1, 2026

“See, I am doing a new thing!

Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”

— Isaiah 43:19

Happy New Year, friends. 🤍

If you’re reading this, thank you for being here with me as another year begins.

The start of a new year usually comes with pressure — new goals, new habits, a “better” version of ourselves we’re supposed to chase. But this year, my heart is asking a different question.

What if, instead of chasing another version of ourselves, we chased more of Him?

What if we made peace with our poverty — not just financially, but spiritually? The kind of poverty that admits I don’t have this all figured out. The kind that stops striving and starts trusting. The kind that leads us home.

When my nest first emptied, people told me I’d love the quiet. The freedom. The clean house. And while parts of that were true, the quiet also brought questions. Even nearly three years later, the empty nest still feels like a tender, in-between place — a space where God continues to meet me gently and faithfully.

This season has taught me that letting go isn’t a one-time thing. It’s ongoing. It’s layered. And it’s holy.

As I continue to figure out life in this quieter season — returning to school, deepening my faith, learning who I am beyond motherhood — I’m realizing I don’t need all the answers to move forward. I just need to stay close to the One who does.

This year, my prayer isn’t about becoming more productive or impressive.

It’s about becoming more surrendered.

More present.

More rooted.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

— Matthew 5:3

So here’s to a new year — not defined by hustle or perfection, but by humility, faith, and the courage to follow God wherever He leads.

Thank you for walking with me as I share this journey.

💜 With love, faith, and a quietly growing nest,

Kerri

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When the Nest Emptied, God Showed Up

Sharing the journey God is writing in this new season.

Loving People Well, Even When Life Is Complicated

 

“The Lord looks at the heart.”

— 1 Samuel 16:7

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Why I’m sharing this now

As I’ve been writing more openly about faith, family, and this quieter season of life, I’ve found myself reflecting on chapters I don’t talk about very often. Not because I’m ashamed — but because they’re tender.

I’m sharing this now for two reasons.

First, because this season of returning to faith has invited reflection — not regret — just honesty.

And second, because the triplets I carried years ago turn 18 on January 2. That milestone has stirred memories, gratitude, and a deeper appreciation for what that chapter meant in my life.

This feels like the right time to acknowledge it with grace.

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A gentle note before we begin

This post is not meant to debate, convince, or correct anyone.

It’s simply my lived experience, shared from the heart.

This space is meant to be kind, respectful, and safe.

If this topic is not for you, it’s okay to quietly pass by. 💗

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There are chapters of our lives that don’t fit neatly into a box.

They aren’t black and white.

They’re layered, emotional, and sometimes misunderstood.

Surrogacy is one of those chapters for me.

Originally, my curiosity was simple and honest — I genuinely wanted to know what it was like to be pregnant with twins. At the same time, I had the opportunity to help another family who longed for children of their own.

So I became a surrogate.

It wasn’t about making a statement or proving anything. It was about curiosity, compassion, and the belief that helping someone become a parent was an act of love.

I knew what it meant to love deeply.

I knew what it meant to carry hope.

And I knew I had the ability to help someone’s dream come true.

So I did.

I carried babies for families who longed to hold a child of their own. I walked through the physical, emotional, and mental weight of surrogacy with the intention of giving — not taking. At the time, I didn’t wrestle with it. I saw it as service. As sacrifice. As love in action.

Now, years later, as I find my way back to God in a deeper, more intentional way, I’ve spent time reflecting — not with shame, not with regret — but with honesty.

I’m learning that faith doesn’t always arrive with immediate clarity. Sometimes it looks like bringing your full story to God and saying, “Here I am. Every part of me.”

Do I regret helping families build theirs?

No.

Do I believe God understands the heart behind why I did it?

I do.

I don’t believe God is surprised by our pasts. I believe He meets us there. I believe He sees intention, love, and sacrifice — even when life is complicated and the path forward isn’t perfectly clear.

That chapter shaped me. It stretched me. It taught me compassion and selflessness. And now, watching those triplets step into adulthood, I feel gratitude — for the families created, for the lessons learned, and for the growth that continues in me.

If you’re carrying parts of your own story that feel complicated or hard to place, I hope this reminds you of something important:

God isn’t asking you to erase your past.

He’s inviting you to walk forward with Him — honestly, humbly, and held by grace.

And I believe that matters more than we sometimes realize.

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Closing Thought

Some chapters don’t need defending.

They just need truth — and grace.

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With love,

Kerri

EmptyNestGodShowedUp 🌸

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#MyStory #SurrogacyJourney #FaithAndGrace #LovingPeopleWell #GodSeesTheHeart #ImperfectButFaithful

Plot Twist: The Empty Nest Got Holy

Psalm 46:10 (NLT)

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

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I thought starting a blog about being an empty nester would be fun.

I imagined funny stories, lighthearted posts, and laughing at myself while figuring out this new season of life. I thought I’d share the humor of a quiet house, sleeping in, and learning who I am now that the kids are grown.

That was the plan, anyway.

Turns out… my life didn’t get funnier.
It got quieter.

And in that quiet, I didn’t find punchlines. I found space.

Space I didn’t ask for.
Space I didn’t know what to do with.
Space that felt uncomfortable at first.

So I started writing.

At the beginning, this blog was just a place to get my thoughts out of my head. Somewhere to put the words instead of letting them swirl around endlessly. I thought the humor would come later.

But somewhere along the way, something unexpected happened.

I found God here.

Not in a big, dramatic way.
Not with instant answers.
Just quietly present.

I didn’t start this blog looking for God. I started it because I needed an outlet. A place to breathe. A place to be honest. But in the stillness of this season—between empty rooms and quiet mornings—I realized I wasn’t alone after all.

Today is Sunday, and I haven’t found a church yet. And for a while, that bothered me. I felt like I was doing something wrong. Like I was missing something important.

But I’m learning that God isn’t limited to a building.

Sometimes He meets us right where we are—in the quiet, in the in-between, in the season we didn’t choose but somehow still need.

This blog may still have moments of humor. I hope it does. But it’s also becoming a place where I’m learning that joy doesn’t always come from laughter.

Sometimes it comes from stillness.
Sometimes it comes from reflection.
Sometimes it comes from realizing that even when life doesn’t look the way you expected, God is still there.

“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10

This isn’t the blog I thought I was starting.

But maybe… it’s the one I needed.

From Joy to Freedom: Choosing My Word for 2026

“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”

2 Corinthians 3:17 

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Every year, I choose a word.

Not a resolution.
Not a long list I’ll abandon by February.
Just one word to come back to when life gets loud, confusing, or quietly heavy.

For 2025, my word was Joy.

Not the loud, bubbly, everything-is-awesome joy.
More like the “choose it even when the house is too quiet” joy.
The “find it in small moments” joy.
The “God, I trust You… even when I don’t love this season” kind of joy.

And honestly?
I didn’t realize how much I needed joy until I started practicing it on purpose.

Joy in ordinary days.
Joy in obedience.
Joy in trusting God when my role as mom shifted and my identity felt a little blurry.

And something unexpected happened.

Joy made room for Freedom.

So for 2026, my word is Freedom.

Because freedom doesn’t just show up one day like a surprise package on your porch.
It grows.

Joy loosens the grip of fear.
Joy quiets comparison.
Joy reminds you that you’re allowed to live fully now — not someday.

And freedom follows.

Freedom from needing to explain my season.
Freedom from guilt over chapters that are already closed.
Freedom from believing I’m behind just because my life doesn’t look like it used to.

This season — empty nesting, going back to college at 57, rebuilding my faith, rediscovering who I am outside of motherhood — has stretched me in ways I didn’t expect.

But it’s also been holy.

God hasn’t just been walking with me.
He’s been gently untying things.

Scripture puts it perfectly:

“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”
2 Corinthians 3:17

Not freedom as the world defines it.
But freedom to breathe.
Freedom to rest.
Freedom to trust God without controlling the outcome.

Joy taught me how to be present.
Freedom is teaching me how to move forward.

So as I step into 2026, I’m not chasing a feeling — I’m choosing a posture.

Open hands.
Open heart.
No fear of what’s next.

Because freedom doesn’t come from having it all figured out.
It comes from trusting the One who already does.

With love — Kerri

Empty nester • College junior at 57 • Mom of four • MN Goalie Mom
Learning to live the life God is writing in this season

#WordOfTheYear, #JoyToFreedom, #FreedomInChrist, #EmptyNestSeason, #FaithOverFear, #MidlifeFaith, #CollegeAt57, #TrustGod, #WhereTheSpiritIs, #GodShowedUp

Find Your Joy in Today

 

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him…”

— Romans 15:13 (NLT)

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Today I watched a reel where parents kept saying:

“I can’t wait until they’re older…”
“I can’t wait until this stage is over…”

And I swear I felt personally attacked. 😅
I mean — yes, I might have occasionally said “I can’t wait until someone can buckle their OWN car seat”… but overall, I knew those years would fly by faster than my kids avoiding my phone calls today.

Now, as an empty nester, I see it so clearly: every season held joy, even when I was too tired, too stressed, or surviving off a lukewarm Diet Coke fountain pop because that was basically my personality at the time.

But back then, I didn’t always see the treasure in the chaos.
I was just trying to keep everyone alive and somewhat clean.

If I could go back, I wouldn’t change the kids.
I’d change me.

I’d slow down more.
I’d stop worrying about having a “perfect” house (spoiler alert: it never existed).
I’d pause long enough to appreciate the moments I now stalk on Facebook memories at 2 a.m.

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✨ Don’t Postpone Joy

Somewhere along the way, we start postponing joy without even realizing it.
We tell ourselves:

“When life settles down…”
“When the kids are older…”
“When this crazy season is over…”

Well… here I am at 57, life is “settled,” and guess what?
I’m now googling, “Why don’t my adult children call me?” and wondering what to do with all this quiet.
(Pretty sure even my dogs avoid me some days.)

But joy doesn’t live in the “when.”
Joy lives in the now — even the imperfect, messy, unfiltered now.

Don’t postpone joy.
Don’t wait for the next phase.
Don’t assume joy will magically appear when your schedule clears, the laundry is caught up, or the house stops echoing.

Joy is already tucked inside the moments we’re living:
the small conversations, the tiny blessings, the moments that feel ordinary until they’re gone.

One day, these moments become the ones we’d give anything to relive.

So today — wherever you are in your motherhood journey — pause.
Look around.
Find one second of joy, even if it’s just a quiet car ride or the fact that no one spilled anything… yet.

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Now, in this season of rediscovery — college at 57, rebuilding faith, and remembering who I am outside of being “Mom!” shouted from across the house — God is gently reminding me:

Joy lives in today.
Joy lives where He placed me.
Joy lives in noticing the small things… even when the small things now are just dogs snoring and a dishwasher that isn’t full for once.

Whatever stage you’re in — newborn chaos, teenage drama, college transitions, or the quiet of an empty nest — you are living a moment you will someday miss.

Let it teach you.
Let it bless you.
Let it show you joy.

And if all else fails… laugh.
It helps.
A lot. 😄

Thank you for reading — may joy find you in every season.
— Kerri

#findyourjoy #motherhood #emptynestgodshowedup #momlife #joy #faithjourney #presentmoments #christianmom #romans1513 #seasonoflife #emptynest #lifereflection #faithblogger