post-grad-musings

[post-grad-musings]

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[post-grad-musings]

@socomesxlove @jspark3000 @kierstw @terrilammers @livesimply-lovefiercely-blog @brrriii-blog @actslikesummer-andwalkslikerain 

Ray-Ban Sunglasses

[post-grad-musings]

sex + things Christians are scared to talk about on the internet.

Ah. I have put off writing this for so long. And I think I’m only writing it now because I’m procrastinating something else 😊 But the Lord has laid it on my heart to type this up, and I believe I need to.

This past year was a year that can pretty much summed up with… WOOF. Not because of a dog, but because there are truly no human words that can accurately express all the feels I have felt in the past year. No words can express how worthless I have felt. How ashamed I have been. How small I have seemed.

A lot of people told me not to write this because it would seem too pointed at one particular man in our tight-knit Nashville community. And to be honest, it is. I have forgiven him for what he did to me, but I have not forgotten. I have let go of my bitterness, but that doesn’t mean that I have accepted it. It breaks my heart that there are women and men alike who are pulled into relationships quickly, used for sex or otherwise, and then are left hanging high and dry. Wondering what about them wasn’t enough. Was my body not enough? Am I lacking in beauty? Am I not smart enough? Fun enough? Chill enough? Did I text too frequently? What the efffff did I do wrong that made you turn around so quickly? After you got something you wanted, of course. Of course.  

There is part of me that is angry at our Christian culture. Angry that there are so many restrictions and rules that people will oftentimes just throw them all out the window out of frustration. It can for sure be an easy thing to do. I am angry at our dating culture that allows men to think that they have the right to look at or touch my body just because they bought me dinner. Behind closed doors or not, my convictions are just that: mine. They don’t have to be yours, but they are mine, and you must respect that.

I’m not bitter, not any longer, at least. I’m just a little shook. I’ve been having conversations with lots of women lately who are wondering, where are the men who will be walking so closely to Jesus that they are also capable of not making the women they date an object of sex? Or vice versa? I know this can happen to men too.

I dated one of these incredible men. Briefly, but he gave me a renewed hope. And I hope he finds the most incredible woman.

Dating in your 20’s is hard, in general, but especially as someone who is clinging to Jesus, is really damn hard. And kudos to all the people out there who are doing it! It is a task we each deserve medals for.

This year, the Lord has given me the word renew. Renewal of my heart, spirit, mind, soul, body… ERRYTHANG. I have really screwed up this year, but one thing I know to be true is that there is not one person who is too dirty or too broken to be loved, accepted, and known by Jesus. Your brokenness, my brokenness, it’s all welcome.

WOOF.

[post-grad-musings]

more than enough, never too much.

Inadequacy. A pretty consistent feeling in my heart. As I’ve done some soul searching as of late, I’ve come to realize that it is one of my core beliefs about myself: 

I am not enough. I am too much.

All the while, I am pained whenever I say those words aloud, because I know who my creator is. I know that he designed me for a very specific purpose (one that I seek out daily… GOD?? What do you want from me?)

Surprisingly, one of the only places in my life that I feel competent, capable, and more than enough is in my job. MY JOB. I have yet to decide if this is a problem because it shows where my priorities lie, or if it is a major gift from above that I have a job that brings me so much joy. To me, one of the safest places in the world is in my classroom, surrounded by tiny humans—listening to them converse, hearing their perspective on the world, discovering their greatest fears and heartaches, and being the one who gets to watch them grow, help them learn, and be on the receiving end of at least 100 needy little hug/squeezes each day. Summer can be hard sometimes because I feel that part of my identity, part of what I’m good at, is stripped away and I have to wait until August 10th to feel like I’m enough again.  It’s taken me a few years to feel competent here, but through many failures (and many more in the future), I have come to realize that I’m enough because I’m exactly what they need me to be—a friend, a parent, a person to wipe the tear, to bandage the scrape, to encourage throughout the trials and celebrate successes. Here, I know I am enough because I know I am needed.

So why does that philosophy not translate into other areas of my life? This is where I struggle. Do you ever feel replaceable? Like if you’re not enough, someone else will be? Maybe in your job, in friendships, in (dare I say) romantic relationships? <<<<<< This one hits my core. How can someone love me when sometimes I find it hard to love me? How can someone love me fully, even when I mess up? Don’t we all desire to be fully known and still fully loved? I’m learning that I’m not sure that kind of love exists outside of the Father, and maybe that’s the only place I need to run.

Just recently, God and I got into a fight. I was driving around Nashville, sun roof open, sitting in silence as I felt God’s presence rushing over me. “Do you trust me?” he asked. “NO,” was my simple and salty answer. Our feud was fueled by my own Earthly desires—I wanted to be the king of my own kingdom, because I know what’s best for me, right? I so frequently try to take control of my life, because then maybe, just maybe, I will be enough. If I do the work, if I put in the time, if I stretch myself and try really hard, then maybe my competency will overshadow my insecurities.

And perhaps when it all comes down to it, my desire to be enough results from part of my desire to be my own boss, to be my own king, to be my own god… something that I need to give up control to and allow myself to simply be pruned.

So, on Monday I’m hopping on a plane and heading to Europe with my gal pals for a few weeks. It’s gonna be BALLER, but I still have much to work through. My mega prayer is that the Lord will use time away for me to rediscover the truths that he has already and continues to speak over me:

My child,

You are enough.

You are not too much.

You are made in my image.

You have a divine purpose.

You are doing my work.

I love all that you are.

Sooo, gonna go pack a giant bag (obviously with too many clothes that I surely will not wear), and pray these words over myself. I continue to pray that the enemy will release his grip on me and that these words will provide refuge over my heart right now. I need you, Dad. Thanks for being a good, good Father. Always.

(And uhhh sidenote: If you have any recs for Ireland, London, and Paris, hit your girl up.)

Much love,

Kier

[post-grad-musings]

surrender.

I’ve hit a writing drought, I realized, and have not been writing down my thoughts as frequently as I have liked in the past, but I’ve been trying to compose this, my thoughts on 2017, for a long while, and it’s just difficult. I feel that I usually write for one significant purpose. To prove a point, to share a lesson that I’ve learned, or to show the way that the Lord has taken me, a broken person, and fixed me right up. Because that’s what I need, right? To be fixed? I’ve been reading “Uninvited” by Lysa TerKeurst, which is really a fabulous book, 10/10 would recommend. One particular passage that really stuck out to me was this:

“It’s easier to construct a more palatable life story—where I can draw straight lines from each hurts of the past to the healing I later experienced—than to face the raw truth. I prefer to neatly match each hard part of my testimony with the soft place I landed in the middle of God’s grace, forgiveness, and restoration as proof I am walking in freedom.”

I wish I could write and mention all of the struggles I have experienced this past year, but about how they are all struggles of 2017 past as I have been healed by the grace of God and completely restored. But that wouldn’t be very honest of me and it wouldn’t really allow me to experience true healing.

Today, I was unbandaging my (five) fugly incisions write on my tummy. Damn gallbladder. As I was admiring the work of my surgeon (modern medicine is seriously so cool), I looked and saw how carefully they were created, yet how they will still create some gross scars. Thanks a lot, life! As if I needed another reason to be insecure about my body and the way it looks, especially in a bikini. Hoping these will heal in time for the summer, but if they don’t, I’m going to have to get used to one piece bathing suits or simply ok with showing the world my scars. Is that something we ever very willingly do as humans? This is where I was hurt, and this is how it healed? Or even better, this is how I’m still healing?

In 2018, I want to be more ok with not always having an answer. I can still be walking in freedom without being completely healed. I’m messy, and I’m always a work in progress. Always.

This year has brought many great things (see: grad school, new job, sister roomie, puppy, etc.), but I think what I’m most grateful for is all of the truly wonderful friendships that have been cultivated this year. At my lowest, the Lord gave me some of the most beautiful humans to be with me, laugh with me, pray with me, drink coffee (lots of it) with me, dance with me, and be honest with me.  Thanking Him for people who can handle the messes and who share honest conversation about my screw-ups and sin.

But boy am I glad to live in a world where there are second chances (and third and fourth, etc). Where I don’t always (or rarely) get what I want. Where the universe sometimes seems out to get me and where I seem so utterly small. Where God can do things that truly blow my mind and that I will never understand, yet they are completely the best for me and my divine purpose.

I pray that in 2018 I will surrender more of myself and my own desires to the Lord. I pray that I will continue to abide in Him, but that I will be more willing to surrender the idea that this life I live is for me. I find it so cool and humbling that God loves me enough to give me good things that make me happy. Puppies and coffee and friends and sunsets and Chick-fil-A bring me so much joy, and he graces me with those things regularly. But ultimately, I’m on a mission to know the Lord and make him known. All for you, Jesus. May I continue to surrender myself to you daily and do so joyfully.

Thank you for a fantastically messy 2017. At times, it felt like a cluster****, but it brought so many beautiful things with it. Here’s to another year of messes and brokenness and sadness and joy and fulfillment and gratitude.

[post-grad-musings]

forgive my selfish heart.

By nature, perhaps because I’m human, or perhaps because I’m Kiersten, I have a very selfish heart. I like to think of doing what is best for me, rather than what is best for the kingdom of God. It’s really hard, but it’s something I’m aware of and working on.

Earlier this year, basically all of my friends moved far, far away or just to a less convenient location to me and I freaked out. GOD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING???

I panicked and immediately started planning to also move far, far away. My heart said, you have control over this situation, but my mom reminded me to pray about it (thanks, Ma!) Ugh. Does prayer ever actually work? I keep praying for all of these things and God’s not giving them to me!!! Come on, man.

Alas, I prayed about it. I said, “God, your will, not mine. Do with me what you will and give me the trust to really believe that you will work for my good. “ I also prayed for clarity, but later realized that clarity kind of defeats the purpose of trust, so we’re just going to keep working on that one…

I remember the day I decided not to move. I was sitting in small group, crying in the midst of sharing my testimony and realizing the vulnerability I could experience with people who were brand new to me. I realized that you create community in the places you’re at, rather than running to find it. I could have community, people, exactly where I was at, if I was willing to put in the work. And my heart knew it was willing. More willing than ever. In the past couple of months, God has blessed me abundantly in ways that I cannot even begin to describe. My life still looks messy sometimes, but dang, God is doing work on this ole heart of mine.

The other night, I woke up suddenly and couldn’t fall back asleep.  In my moment of annoyance, I found myself praying for my new friends. Thanking God for giving me people to love. Thanking God for His provision in my moments of distrust. Praying for vulnerability and kindness. Praying that I would invest in relationships and allow others the opportunity to invest in me. God is so so good. If you asked me if this life I’m living would be one I would have planned for, or even prayed for, the answer would have been HELL NAH.

God has done the biggest things when I’ve been at my weakest, and I think that’s because I needed to be so low in order to see the absolute greatness of God in comparison to my humanness.

Of course, I still want to control everything. Like where I work. Or my income. Or my grad school program. Or my friends. Or my romantic relationship status. But God keeps showing up. He keeps shutting my plans down and saying WAIT GIRL. I got it covered. It never looks the way I want it to, but it’s always what I need, and usually much greater than I could have planned. There are hiccups along the way, but these have proved to be more opportunities to cling to Jesus and his promises to me.

I am certainly not writing this to say that I have suddenly discovered the formula to living, for I know that does not exist. But, I think I have found something that allows me to live more joyfully, with abandon.

Thank you, God, for constantly pursuing me, even when I’m running from you. Thank you, friends, for doing life with me. You might not know it, but I’ve prayed for you.

[post-grad-musings]

god-shaped holes.

For a long part of my life, I truly believed that God didn’t hear me. Or that He simply chose not to give me what I asked for. So, I stopped praying. For years, I was silent. Maybe throwing a prayer up every few months as a desperate plea, but otherwise, crickets.

Over the past year-ish of my life, I realized I was treating God like He was a slot machine in the sky. Maybe if I’m lucky enough, or if God loves me enough, He’ll give me what I ask for.

·      God, can you please give me a perfect man, approx. 6’ 2”, who is sinfully handsome and loves me?

·      God, please help me lose 20 pounds.

·      God, I REALLY need an A on this exam. Help a sista out.

·      More money please? I accept Venmo.

·      And if you could ship all of these items via Amazon Prime, that would be ideal.

·      Thx, Pops. TTYL.

I mean, my prayers were not too much, right? Right?

Yeah, I know. They’re ludacris. Pscho. But those were the times that I was praying. When I needed something.  When God could do me a favor.

And then this year, I got to a really bad place. I felt like my world was falling apart and everything I knew to be true was flipping upside down. One of the cool things when you’re at the bottom, is that you suddenly have a different point of view and you can literally only go up.

That’s when I started remembering who I am and whose I am.

I am not my own because apart from Jesus, I am nothing. I am worthless.

So why pray for me and myself? Why not ask God where the hell I’m supposed to be and who He needs me to be in order to fufill the divine purpose He has set for my life.

I am a firm believer that we cannot step outside the will of God. I may stray from the path and take the longest detour possible, but eventually, I will reach my final destination.

As my friend recently said, when we let Him in, He is the only Being who is able to fill the God-shaped holes in our hearts.

UGH. That’s real.

I’m still on this journey and I’m really excited to see all the ways I screw up in the new future and all the beautiful pieces of redemption God allows me, because it’s all ineveitable. But in the meantime, I’m thankful for a God who hears me when I cry out to Him and who hears me when I thank Him for the wonderous gift of coffee. Or when I let happy tears and cheers and thankfulness dance down my face when He doesn’t answer my prayers, but instead fills my void with things and people and joy that I didn’t even know I needed. That I didn’t even think I wanted.

I am a perfectly imperfect, messy human being who needs God and forgiveness so dang much. I’m really thankful He hears me no matter my prayer or plea. And I’m even more thankful He doesn’t always answer them. 

(Thank you Midtown Fellowship/small group/YL for the love lately. I’m a brat, but I’ve needed it.)

xo,

KW

[post-grad-musings]

a season of loneliness

ENFP. That’s my Myer’s Briggs personality type.  So, I’m an extravert by nature, but more in the sense that I get my energy by being around people. At all times. Being alone, or merely the thought of being alone, gives me EXTREME anxiety. But of course I choose to shove all that anxiety away and don’t ever dare to show it, because I want to look like I have my life together, damn it. If I’m alone in my apartment for longer than about 5 minutes, I must immediately pack all of my things and go find friends to be with or sit at a coffee shop and at least feel like I’m surrounded by people.  

 lone·ly

ˈlōnlē/

adjective

sad because one has no friends or company.

 When you graduate college and move away from the family and friends that know you the very best, how on earth are you supposed to merely “start over” and form relationships that took you years (or even decades) to cultivate? The Lord has been very kind to give me some very near and dear friendships in this stage of life, but friendships change, by nature, sometimes friends move, and yet the earth keeps spinning.

I am in a stage of life where I crave companionship. I crave “a person.” Whether that’s a best friend (lucky enough to have several dear friends who fit under that category), or a significant other (patience, my dear), I long to do life with others. I want to know others and be known by others. To me, there is no more lovely feeling than walking into a room full of friends who greet one another with hugs and inside jokes. To be fully known and to be truly loved are truly two of the greatest gifts on this earth.

I am, however, learning in my moments of loneliness, to cry out to Jesus. I cannot do this thing called life on my own, although I oftentimes like to allow my own prideful and stubborn nature to think that I am good enough, all on my own. HA. What a funny thought.

God, thank you for your ever-faithfulness. Thank you for reminding me in my moments of desperation that you have given me the dearest, truest, most pure friendships. Thank you for Bachelor viewing parties, a million coffee dates, movie nights, painting parties, hours of phone calls, snail mail, and FaceTime. What a true gift it is to have the privilege of investing in others and having others invest in you.

Because ultimately, we were not created to do life alone. (So, let’s be friends and go get coffee.)

[post-grad-musings]

a special kind of (perfect) student.

Today I cried for the first time in front of my first graders. And it was a happy cry. A proud cry, really.

This year, I have the privilege of being the designated inclusion classroom for special education students in our grade. It can be a challenge, of course, but mostly, it is a gift. My whole class has really surprised me this year by the amount of love and compassion that they show these students in our class. As one of my TA’s recently said: we treat them like our classroom celebrities. They are SO loved.

Today, one of these students was having a BIT of a meltdown, so I pulled him aside to console him for a second. Another student immediately said, “Well, why does he get your attention? Why does he get extra help?”

I realized that we hadn’t yet addressed this in class this year, but it is a topic that requires a lot of care and gentleness in order for 6-year-olds to understand. So, I went for it:

“Well, everyone is made differently. You are different than me and I am different than you, and he is different too. People can also learn a little differently, and he just needs someone to help a little bit more so he can learn all of the fun things you’re learning too! Does that make sense?”

As I’m trying to decide if I handled this question appropriately, one of my sweet ones swoops in to save the day:

“Well, Miss Wyatt—God made everyone to be different. He made him too and when God was done making him, he looked at him and thought that he was perfect. And he is perfect because God made him that way.”

Be. Still. My. Heart. That was when I absolutely lost it. BIG crocodile tears streaming down my face. My TA was crying. We were both big sobbing messes right in the middle of first grade reading centers.  She was right, he IS perfect.

My small people had no idea what to do with me. Other than start attacking me with hugs, of course. I like to think it’s very healthy for them to see that I’m human and I express my emotions, when necessary. I couldn’t help it because a first grader realized something at age 6 that a lot of adults are still struggling to understand. These sweet ones in my class (and all over the world) are wonderful creations. They are smart, funny, always willing to teach me something new, and bring so much joy, love, and compassion to our classroom. 

There are days that I’m ready to say, “I’m out” and throw in the towel. There are days that I do not want to hear someone say “Miss Wyatt” ever again. There are days that I am sick of tying shoe laces and picking up 11 broken pencils off the ground and saying “1, 2, 3 eyes on me.”

But then there are days that I get to hear about pet pigs named “Bacon” and see those little light bulbs come on for the first time and have hula hoop contests (that I always win) at recess and watch a child really, truly embrace their peers for who they are. Our world is such a hateful place anymore, but I’m glad that I can work in a place with 18 tiny humans who remind me that love and compassion can simultaneously exist within a group of people who are all very different. Thank you for letting me be your teacher, little ones (even though, many days, you are my teacher). What a blessing it is.

[post-grad-musings]

quarter-life crisis mode.

Let me talk about myself for just a second. After all, this is MY blog. If you’re reading it, well hey, THANK YOU (really, truly). I don’t know why you’re wasting your time reading what’s on my pscho heart. Maybe it’s entertaining, maybe you can relate, or maybe you just want to pat yourself on the back for having your sh*t together more than I do.

Lately, I’ve been in a strange bit of a crisis mode. I realized it is potentially a quarter-life crisis (I mean, I am almost 25). Relatable? Potentially.

Things that suck about being an adult:

1.    Men—The worst. I’m totally kidding. Actually, over the past year, I have met many incredible men. How wonderful it’s been! I don’t actually think men completely suck, but dating does. Oh, I’m supposed to find one human being I want to be with the rest of my life? Easy peasy. I can’t even decide what color nail polish I want to wear short-term, how am I supposed to find a person who complements me well and who I like enough to spend forever with? Also, what is with this texting/dating crap? If you want to take me on a date, call me on the  phone and ask me to dinner. I may reject you (and later, you may reject me), but I will have a whole hell of a lot more respect for you. Geez Louise.

2.    Money—Is there ever really enough money? Will I ever be satisfied? I clearly became a teacher because I make a huge and wildly impressive salary. Thoughts of money and bills and earthly possessions with a price tag consume my thoughts and make me go a little crazy sometimes. Currently looking into selling my plasma or blood or kidneys or first-born child for a little extra $$$.

3.    Being Egotistical—Talking to myself here. Being an “adult” sometimes gives me an ego much larger than necessary. I hate asking for help because I’m an independent woman and I don’t need or want your help (with the excuse of my parents—HELP ME). This includes the help of the One I need the most help from: my Jesus. When life gets hard (and really confusing), I need to remember to turn back to my Creator. It’s something I’m majorly working on.

4.    Pretending—This is probably my worst “adulting” trait. Track with me, here. Oftentimes, I have a “fake it till you make it” mentality, and to be honest, it’s exhausting. I struggle. I fail. I screw up. I sin. I am human. Someone recently asked me why I cursed if I’m a Christian. Because, how could I possibly love Jesus and say a bad word at the same time? My answer to that is I, just like you, have many imperfections. I fall short of the glory of God. I curse sometimes. I drink too much wine. I kiss and run. Lots of people try to hide their imperfections, their shortcomings, and their sins. I am guilty of this myself. Isn’t it so much easier just to put on a pretty little mask and hide behind it? Isn’t it great when we can disguise our struggles with an Instagram filter and show the world just how much perfect fun we’re having? I want everyone to know that I am real and I mess up. Sometimes I hide behind Instagram filters in order to try and show the world how great it is to be 24. And you know what? It is great. I have been gifted with many wonderful blessings, but the world is still a very messy, broken place.

____________________________________________________________________

While there are many things that have brought me into my quarter-life crisis, there are so many praise-worthy aspects of life that I faithfully trust will get me through these moments of struggle. 

Friends are a huge factor. I don’t mean friends who just stick around for fun times, but the ones who stay and ask you all of the hard, pressing questions. The ones who rub your back when you need it, but who also slap you across the face when you need to change directions. The friends who encourage you to make Jesus the priority above all else, and who remind you when you’re not. Dang. That’s something to be thankful for.

What about family? My fam continues to support me from states away and somehow manages to love me, even when I’m at my lowest. I don’t deserve them, most of the time, but I am glad they decide to stick around, even when my body and mind are far away from them.

The job. Shoot, I love it. Some days, I leave with a raging headache and I want to curl up in a little ball and cry, but who doesn’t have those days? Thank you, Jesus, for a job I love and people around me who somehow manage to love me even on my worst days.

Man oh man, I think I may just come out of this quarter-life crisis alive. It’s going to be real hard, but I MIGHT be able to do it…!

Habakkuk 2:3 "But these things I plan won't happen right away. Slowly, steadily, surely, the time approaches when the vision will be fulfilled. If it seems slow, do not despair, for these things will surely come to pass. Just be patient! They will not be overdue a single day!"

xo,

Kier 

[post-grad-musings]

why I only wait for chick-fil-a (and other memoirs of an impatient person)

Almost a year ago (WEIRD), I got my one and only tattoo. It was something I never thought I would get, and yet now it’s permanently inked on my left wrist. I love this little piece of writing on my body because it is a simple reminder that I am saved through grace. I love its simplicity and the conversations that come out of it. I am always thrilled to share what the word grace means to me as an individual, but also as a part of the body of Christ.

Lately, I’ve had an INKling (…get it???) to get another tattoo on my other arm, but what word would have enough meaning to me to become a permanent part of my body? To me, it’s a big decision that requires lots of thought, consideration, and prayer.

A couple of days ago, I was really thinking about my desire to get another tat, so I started to pray about it. What sweet, beautiful word in our language deserved a small lot on my right forearm? It was in this moment that I did hear a word. One word: WAIT. It was loud and it was clear.

WAIT??!!! I screamed at a stoplight. It’s perfect! I do need more patience. It’s really a beautiful word. Awesome. Ok, so which tattoo place should I go to?  I should have done more research before. Who is going to hold my hand? What font am I going to choose? Damn, this is hard.

Wait a second. Did God just direct me toward the word “wait” as my tattoo, or to wait on getting another tattoo?? Ah crap. Now I’m confused. And irritated. So I shouldn’t get it? Uh.

So I’m holding off on the tattoo (for now), but the word “wait” really did resonate with me. I’m quite horrible at waiting, yet I know I need to try harder at it.

I HATE waiting for absolutely everything. In a world where we constantly receive instant gratification, I find it incredibly difficult anytime I have to wait.  Waiting in line for Jeni’s ice cream? Gimme dat brambleberry NOW. Waiting to ride Millenium Force at Cedar Point? I’m ready to punch the people in front of me out of line. Waiting in lots of traffic? My road rage flares and I accidently run into other (large) objects on the road. Waiting in the drive-thru at Chick-fil-A? Suprisingly pleasant because it’s really fast and I’m just so excited to have some chicken.

Waiting is not a gift of mine. Yet, in order to really receive all of God’s gifts, we must be willing to wait. Esther chapter 8 reminds me of a time when it was great to wait. As Queen Esther waited on God to orchestrate her life and show her the fruits of her labor, she did not know that she was saving the entire population of Jews in the process. Her patience and willingness to wait allowed God to use her for something even more spectacular than she had in mind.

I’m not really sure what I’m waiting for at the moment, but I suppose I can wait on God to show me that as well. He continues to prove to me that His gifts are far more abundant and wonderful than I dream up on my own. It’s very humbling to be reminded that no matter how hard I try, I can never outdo God. Never ever. So now, I wait.

Something cool is coming and I can’t wait to look at it in my rearview mirror one day and say OH YEAH--God is good.

Xo,

Kier

[post-grad-musings]

no coffee and a slice of anxiety.

Earlier this week, I found myself checking myself into the emergency room. It wasn’t dramatic, but I had been having some heart palpitations for a while that I desperately needed to get checked out.

I’ve had these problems before, all of which had been related to my caffeine consumption. Let’s be honest, I might as well receive an IV of coffee at all times because I basically drink caffeine at all times. What is water anyway?

This is the first *medical issue* I’ve had since I’ve been away from my parents and it felt kind of crippling to not have them nearby to take care of me and make medical decisions for me. After being unable to breathe or catch my breath all day, I called my dad and asked if he thought I should go to the doctor. Apparently, if one is incapable of breathing, one must go to the hospital ASAP. Learning to be an Adult 101. It’s hard sometimes.

Long story short, my heart palpitations were from a) extreme caffeine intake and b) anxiety.

ANXIETY WHAT?? I am not an anxious person, in general. So when my doctor asked if I had any anxiety in my life, I was a little taken aback. After thinking about it for a minute, my answer was “DUH, I’m a human being. Of course I have anxiety.”

So often, anxiety is seen as a weakness. You are not allowed to feel anxious, or you are just a crazy female.

As my doctor was releasing me, he said “Ok, so remember, no caffeine, no chocolate (cry), and please try to take care of yourself. You need to.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, I will try.” He gave me a concerned look and finally I said, “Yes, sir. I WILL.”

As human beings, we are so fragile. Our hearts, our souls, our brains, our bodies. They are each so fragile and we must try to take care of them. They are a gift, and I want to utilize these gifts to the best of my ability, even if it means taking care of my own needs before the needs of others. And even if it means not drinking 12 cups of coffee a day.

SO hi world, my name is Kiersten and I have anxiety. And no coffee. Or chocolate. Damn.

[post-grad-musings]

life lessons from my elf on the shelf.

I am home for the holidays and so far I have done a few things; sleep, blow my nose, sneeze, cry (not really, but it seemed fitting), sleep some more, and today I did something really fun: I ventured out of the house to go to Starbucks, which is where I am currently. It has been a magical couple of days.

Between the drive home and all of the major relaxing I’ve been doing, I’ve had a lot of time to just think. I feel like this could be a bad thing for many people, but for me it’s quite excellent. Due to my extreme ADD issues, I do not usually have mass amounts of “think time,” so it’s nice to just take a minute and, you know, ponder life and stuff.

Naturally, the first free minute I have I start thinking about work and what I’m going to do better next semester and all of my little first grade friends and how we would be dismissing school in approximately 3 minutes if it was a normal Monday and how I strangely already miss their sweet little hugs, but how I’m also somewhat relieved that I didn’t hear “MISS WYATT” about 2.3 million times today. Who knew you could start to cringe at the sound of your own name? ;) Also, I just typed the absolute worst run-on sentence that I’m quite ashamed about, but I’m too lazy to fix it, so deal.

This past semester, I fell in love, as I always do. I fell in love with a bunch of little people. It always blows my mind that there’s always room for me to love them so entirely when I didn’t think my heart had the capacity to adore another human. One of my sweeties accidentally called me “Dad” this past week, to which he was completely mortified, but I thought it was quite endearing. A little strange that he didn’t mix me up with “Mom,” but sweet, nonetheless J Another one of my little friends has just captured my heart entirely and I just really can’t handle how dearly I love her. Maybe it’s because she wouldn’t talk at the beginning of the school year. Maybe it’s because when she did finally start talking, it was just a whisper, here or there. Or maybe it’s because now she greets me with giant hugs, loud “I love you’s,” and even the occasional braiding of my hair at recess. No matter, my heart has a very special place for this one. 

This past month, our school had a Gingerbread Shop—a little store that students could go to so they could buy gifts for friends and family. Presents ranged from $1-$8 and the store consisted of Barbies, mugs, Santa earrings, friendship bracelets, hot wheels, and many other small gift items. Some students came to school with big chunks of change, while others had a dollar or two. One day, a parent volunteer showed up to my room with an envelope of money with my little sweetie’s name on it. “Didn’t you know we had her money?” She asked. “Go ahead and send her down to shop.” I did not recall the child handing in any money, so I asked her about it. “I will ask my mom and dad if they brought it to school,” she said. The next day, she came to school and said “Miss Wyatt, my mom and dad didn’t send in the money.” I was puzzled. Had I mixed up her money with that of another child? “Well where do you think it came from?” I asked her. “I have an idea! It was a present from Jingle!!” Jingle was our Elf on the Shelf who caused all sorts of mischief, but who also gave lots of nice little treats. “Of course it was! Jingle is just the king of surprises!” Then I dropped off the class for lunch and I cried in my room. Yes, I admit it. The sweetness and the innocence was just too precious to handle.

Later that week I found out that our PTO gave money to students who they thought may need some so that everyone could participate in the Gingerbread Shop. I was overwhelmed with gratitude because they had no idea what that money meant for this sweet babe of mine. They didn’t know that she jumped and cheered and eagerly showed me every little gift she bought for her mom and dad and brothers and sisters. They didn’t know that she thought this had to be from the magic of one particular classroom elf and Santa.

I think that’s one thing that I love about the kindness and selflessness of people. You don’t always get to know the outcome of your actions. You don’t always get to see what comes of your generosity. Sometimes, you just have to hope it made a difference. To our PTO, thank you. You made a child believe in the magic of the season. You allowed a first grader to experience the joy that comes with giving too. You gave my sweet girl something she doesn’t always have—hope.

I hope that at least one thing I did this season made some sort of difference or at least started a chain reaction. As I continue to celebrate the birth of Christ this season, I also want to remember to give and not always expect something in return—just as He would do.

Keep on giving generously, friends. If it’s not money (I know I’m lacking in that department), let it be time. Time spent with people is one of the very best and most valuable gifts J

Merry Christmas!

Xo. Kiersten (and Jingle too)

[post-grad-musings]

People are just my favorite.

People. If you asked me what is most important to me in life, it would be people. I love being around people even if I’m simply sitting amongst them in silence. Gosh, multiple times a week, I go to coffee shops just so I don’t have to spend a minute alone. More than that though, I love relationships. I love loving people and I have learned to love allowing others to love me.

J.S. Park said something really cool that just really explains why I need and love peeps:

"Loving people: this is where it gets real and it’s no longer abstract doctrine. To really love people and restore them, to get in the grit of their lives and lift them off the floor. It’s messy. It’s painful. It’s not romantic. It’s what Jesus did, and they killed him. But it’s what we’re made for."

I love people because they’re messy (like me). I love people because they are such a beautiful gift from God. People to do life with. People to share successes with. People to cry with after a hard day. People to snuggle me when I don’t want to be snuggled. People to argue with. People laugh until my sides hurt with. People. They’re good.

I went through a time in my life when I had to desperately cling to every single relationship I had. The good, the bad, and the less than great. It was exhausting, if I’m being honest. I got to a point where I felt that hardly any of my relationships were truly meaningful because I didn’t have time to really know or be known by my friends.

I realize that the Lord sometimes only allows people to cross our paths for a time. Sometimes, that’s for a couple of months and sometimes that’s for a couple of years. Each relationship has its own purpose and significance and I never want to forget that.

So, if you have been a friend to me at all in my life, even if it was just for a season, please know that I have loved you. Know that I appreciate you. Know that your friendship had great value and helped shape me. I hope you have meaningful relationships in your life now and people are able to appreciate you in the same way I did.

And to those of you who invest in me and who allow me to invest in you: THANK YOU. I have the most loving, gracious, and humbling group of people in my life. If you smile at me at the grocery store, hold the door open for me at Frothy Monkey, or buy me a glass of wine at J. Alexander’s, know that I appreciate you too. Your kindness is not overlooked.

God is just so cool in the sense that He always gives me what I need. Don’t confuse that with what I want, but what I need. He equips me to best serve His kingdom and I’m just so glad that He has included some truly amazing people with the most beautiful hearts in my life.

Yo people: I love ya. Thanks for being around.

[post-grad-musings]

talking the talk.

Coming back into a new school year, I have been reflecting on all of the places I have gone over the past couple of months and all of the places God has taken my heart. This summer was weird for me. Not necessarily in a horrible way, but in a way that really put me back in my place. Point blank, I made some really dumb choices. Some choices that may have caused me to point my finger at other “Christians” in the past and say “You’re not really practicing what you preach.” 

That’s just it, I wasn’t practicing what I was preaching. I was talking the talk, but not really walking the walk. I think it is so easy to forget why I choose to follow Jesus sometimes. It’s so simple to merely go into autopilot Christian mode and go through the motions. It’s also really easy to get a jaded idea of who God IS. At the end of the past school year, I was terribly unhappy and honestly, I was just sad. I didn’t really share that with people around me because I wanted to look like I still had it all together. For so long, I had been trying to live this “perfect” lifestyle, thinking that if I did, God would give me exactly what I wanted. After much frustration, I realized that this wasn’t working and I decided to just stop trying to be so perfect all the time. So instead, I made some bad choices. None that I am ashamed to discuss, but choices that did not really portray who I am as a person or as a follower of Jesus. It was in these moments that the Lord also gave me several things in my life that I had been hoping for and praying for so desperately. Instead of being excited, I was immediately taken aback. HELLO GOD. I DON’T DESERVE ANY OF THAT. Hell, I didn’t feel that I deserved any good things in those moments. And yet, there they were. Wrapped in a pretty little bow. It hit me that this was just one example of the powerful grace of God. The grace that He shows me every single day, that I will honestly never deserve. The grace that I have tattooed on my wrist to always be a reminder that although I deserve absolutely nothing, the Lord of the universe has offered me absolutely everything.

As I was struggling to come to terms with some of this, someone reminded me that God is not a “God with slot machines in the sky.” He doesn’t give us things by chance and he doesn’t give us points for good behavior or punish us for our mistakes. All this to say, He certainly does not enable our sin either. I know that my sin is used as a learning experience and hopefully as a way for me to be able to better relate to others. Grace means that my sin now serves a purpose instead of serving shame. How beautiful? I have learned that there is power in vulnerability and that there is power in being raw and open with people. So, here I am. I make mistakes. I sin. But I don’t dwell on them. I learn from them, yes. But I don’t ever want my sins to define who I am spiritually.

I can honestly say that I haven’t experienced anything too painful in my life (praise Jesus), but I have learned that “the goodness and the love of God is not mutually exclusive to the pain and suffering of this world (-Max Zoghbi).”  We simply serve a good God in a dark world. I pray that more times than not, I am always drawn to the lighter side. And when I’m not, I pray that the light always continues to lead me back home.

Xo.

[post-grad-musings]

the hiatus is over (and so is summer)

Well, this is it. My summer is officially over as every single day is now booked with various new teacher orientations, professional development days, or simply me totally freaking out over the pile of stuff that will eventually become my new classroom (or rather, it’s all packed in my car and I just laugh at it in my rear-view mirror). It’s both exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time.

As the overall excitement of getting a new (and totally awesome) job has dwindled, the hard truths have started to set it. One thing that I’ve really struggled with was my decision to move from a low-income school to the suburbs. Don’t get me wrong, my new school has already completely captured my heart and I am just thrilled to be there, but in some ways, I have felt like a failure when I admitted to myself that teaching in a low-income school just was not my gift. I originally came into the school year thinking, “I’m totally going to make a difference and change the whole world and it’s going to be the absolute BEST!!!” In reality, I did fall completely in love with 17 little people and man did I love them BIG. They drove me nuts, but I was crazy about them—I think I always will be. However, the job took everything out of me. I came home mentally, physically, and just emotionally exhausted every day. We couldn’t even make it to the academia side of school sometimes because my kids’ basic needs weren’t being met. As a new teacher, this was so terribly frustrating because I wasn’t prepared on what to do when you have to pick lice out of your kid’s hair or counsel a 7-year-old struggling with depression or expect a child to finish his homework when you know he’s not eating dinner or sleeping in a bed. It was these aspects that drove me wild and broke my heart to tiny pieces. I cared for my kiddos so very much, but the environment made it impossible for me to do my job in the way I needed to. One day late in the school year, I expressed my concerns of being a failure to a teacher-friend of mine and she completely altered my thinking. She said,

“Kiersten, you just have something completely different to give. What you have to offer isn’t wrong, it will just be a better fit in a different environment. Every child needs someone to care about them, it may just look differently.”

I think sometimes I just struggle with needing to feel like I’m making a difference in the most drastic way possible. There are days I think I need to hop on a plane and go serve orphans in Central America in order to feel “fulfilled.” In some ways, I think that is terribly selfish of me because God does not always show us the fruit that we bear. He simply allows us to plant seeds and we may never get to see them grow. No, my mission field is not as radical as Guatemala or Kenya or Saudi Arabia. For now, my mission field is College Grove, Tennessee and I’m going to do my best to be all-in.

My anthem for the next school year is “Grow where you’re planted.” God has planted me in Williamson County and there I will learn and grow this next year. That’s not to say that I will be there forever, as I know Christ could uproot me at anytime He felt necessary, but for now, I will allow myself to grow and learn and love in a place that I care so much about.

To the teacher who will essentially be taking my place this next year: I hope you love them the way I did. I hope you give them lots of hugs and extra snacks. I hope you tell them that they are important and that they matter. I hope you push them and have high expectations for them. I hope you tell them the importance of being a good friend and finishing school. And every day before they go home, I hope you say “I love you.” Someone has to.

In some strange and twisted way, I hope that God makes me the most uncomfortable this year. I pray that He takes me far out of my comfort zone and challenges me in brand new ways. He’s already stirring up something weird in my heart and I’m just really curious to see exactly what it is. Here goes nothing (or a whole lot of something)! Prayers are appreciated :)

"You are my Lord and King,” I said. “I don’t know how to speak. I’m too young.” But the Lord said to me, “Do not say, ‘I’m too young.’ You must go to everyone I send you to. You must say everything I command you to say. Do not be afraid of the people I send you to. I am with you. I will protect you,” announces the Lord." –Jeremiah 1:6-8

[post-grad-musings]

1 Year Blogiversary

I started writing this little blog exactly a year ago today. Why? Because I felt inspired by an attractive dental student at a coffee shop. (Never saw him again in case you were wondering. I still have hope.) What my little place of the internet has become is a space where I enjoy writing about post-grad life, my crazy little first graders, and all that Jesus is teaching me on this journey.  I was pleasantly surprised and thankful by the number of people who read all of my silly ramblings and have texted or called me to let me know that something I wrote resonated with them—that’s the whole reason I publicly publish these anyway. I despise journaling, so blogging is my fun little way to simply put all of my weird thoughts into writing. To all of you who have spent a year reading all of my ramblings—bless. I love you and I appreciate you.

Over the past year (and especially the past couple of months), God has been teaching me something. He has been teaching me what grace really means.  I think I have always had the misconception that God would only give me what I “wanted” if I was being a perfect Christian. This is horrible, but whenever I really want something, I really try to be absolutely perfect in hopes that if I am on my best behavior, God will give me what I want. It’s really messed up logic, am I right? This past year I have been struggling with a job that was really difficult in all of the wrong ways. I had mornings that I would cry on the way to school and on the way home and in the shower and as I was falling asleep (I don’t enjoy crying in front of people clearly) because I couldn’t understand why God would put me in a job that I didn’t love. It was so selfish of me really. So this spring, I started interviewing in other school districts. The first interview for a job that I didn’t even think I wanted. However, I felt pretty confident after the interview and was slightly shocked when I found out I didn’t get the job. Why would God do that to me? I deserved it. So I interviewed for another job that I would have been happy with, but would have taken me out of the classroom setting. Not ideal, but better. When I found out I didn’t get this job, I was devastated. Seriously God? I had been absolutely perfect. I was reading my bible, praying extra, doing nice things for others, and I even cut down on my poor cursing habit (that I have been working on).  I definitely deserved this job. I was sure of it. Out of frustration, I stopped trying to be perfect and let myself be me. Kiersten Wyatt. Follower of Christ. Daily sinner. I then got another interview. For my dream job.  And I got it. In a moment I deserved it the very least, God gave me what I wanted most.

I know that’s not how this works. I’m not going to screw up intentionally in the hopes that Jesus will give me everything I want. However, to me, this was a beautiful demonstration of His grace. Despite my sins and imperfections, He still loves me, and has greater plans for me than I have for myself. That’s why I got my “grace” tattoo. To remind myself that I will fail, but still be able to thrive. I don’t have to be perfect.  I can’t. But thanks to Jesus Christ, I don’t have to be. He already took care of that the day that He died on the cross. Although I know that God is capable of loving me through my sin, I also know that He does not enable my sinful actions.

This next year, I pray that the Lord will use me in a way that only He knows. I pray that He directs me into uncharted territory and lets me love others as well as I know how. I pray that He allows me to learn from my sin and that He allows it to become my story, but not my shame.

I also pray He opens my heart drastically and allows enough space to love a brand new group of first graders. (I think He will; I love them already.)

Thanks for a year of reading, friends!

 Xo. Over and out.