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.