Author: Kayden Anderson Page 1 of 4

I have always been mature for my age. I am proud and hyperaware of it. My mom frequently tells the story of a 3 or 4-year-old me talking to my sister.

“I think you do very well in school, Sissy,” I comforted her. Although, it is a well-known fact that my dad used to talk politics with men as a little boy. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

I never crawled. I just went straight to walking. I could hold a conversation at two years old. I could read and comprehend words that I barely could pronounce at seven. For example, how do you say devour? I could not tell you then, but I could list its definition and provide an example sentence. I was the only kid allowed to play ball down the hallway at my friend’s house. What other 9-year-old cared about hitting the wall or, even worse, the furniture? I had three older sisters. When they learned new things, so did I. I was not entertained by cartoons but rather enjoyed the shows my parents watched.

I have always been mature for my age. Yet, I needed my mom to hold my hand to fall sleep. I needed to latch onto my dad on escalators and hand him my knife at restaurants because they both irrationally scared me to death. I needed my sister to defend me and speak for me.

When you are born with a mind that thinks years ahead, you forget that your body doesn’t follow. As a result, what do you do when you’re no longer appreciated for the quality you’ve been praised for your whole life? It isn’t easy to retrace ground that you skipped over. Older people have affirmed my growth, while those my age have shrunken me for it.

This complex hangs heavy, and it is one that I have pondered lately. I may no longer need my dad to walk me into school or my mom to pour me chocolate milk, but I need advice. I need to hear my mom’s voice when my anxious mind is overpowering. I need my dad’s calm protection over the phone while walking alone. I need my sister to keep my secrets. Even though my parents are proud of me, they have always just seen their baby–their KK. They instructed me not to dribble that ball in the house. They warned me about taking caution and steered me away from harm. At the end of the day, I don’t need anyone else’s approval. They molded me into who I am. Words only have power if you let them, and I choose to let maturity win.

My name is not the only statement featured on my blog. In fact, the statement “Living the Dream” is below it. There is a reason for this, even if I have not mentioned it.

Whenever someone asks my father how he is doing, he replies, “living the dream.” I have listened to this response my entire life. In a way, it is his slogan.

Notably, my dad does not create false ideas. He is not putting on a front or pretending to live a perfect life. He maintains the dream whether he is having a fantastic or terrible day. He is the most positive person I know and sees the good in each moment. He lives the dream not based on what his circumstances bring to him but on what he can bring to those circumstances.

I have always idolized my dad. It fills me with joy when people say I act like him. With that in mind, I want to be the person who lives the dream. It is not my motto just because of what it represents but because of who it reminds me of–my dad. My hero.

I’m not going to lie; being back at school right now is the last thing I want. I had a great break catching up with my family and friends. Once again, I was reminded how much I love my hometown. It has become harder and harder to leave as the weather gets colder and the holidays draw nearer. Hugging my parents bye was difficult, but resuming classes has been just as trying.

Maybe it is a pure lack of motivation or seasonal depression, but I am somehow simultaneously bored and anxious. Finals are around the corner, so I am itching to prepare, but it is not dead week. I have nothing to do; therefore, I should seek out a task. Yet, I have no desire to move from my bed. I took a 1 hour and 45-minute nap today and awoke to the darkness outside. Tru Fru and coffee comforted me from the vivid dreams greeting my sleeping mind.

I have concluded that I am, at times, my own biggest stressor in my life. In the absence of anxiety, I find myself searching for it. A rapidly beating heart and whirring thoughts can be somewhat second nature. During times like this, I must remind myself that it’s okay to enjoy the calm, even if it is before the storm. Life is what it is. Sometimes you need a break. Or coffee and a nap.

I came home Friday for Thanksgiving break. Yes, break begins next Wednesday. Priorities. Since arriving back in Gore, I have been feeling extremely grateful. As soon as I hit the city limits, I could breathe. I look around, and I am surrounded by those who loved me the same now as they did when I was 16 or 13 or 7. Clearly, you don’t realize that the things you take for granted the most are the things you should appreciate first. Here I am, thanking them and praising Jesus for blessing me.

1. My Family

I am most thankful for my family. First of all, my grandparents have shown selfless love to everyone they encounter. Additionally, I have always been close with my parents. They are my sources of peace in different ways. Likewise, my sisters have formed my personality. I carry a piece of them with me. Finally, my nieces and nephews are sprouting into their own little people, and it has been a joyous occasion watching them grow. It is an honor to love them and to have them in my corner.

2. My Boyfriend

Next, I am extremely thankful for my boyfriend. Javyn has taught me to not care what others think and to be myself no matter who I’m around. He is loyal, funny, and my truest friend. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself. Most importantly, in a room full of people, he would pick me. The fact that I can confidently say that speaks for itself.

3. My Hometown

As previously mentioned, I was dying to leave my hometown. From ages 12-18 (honestly even younger), I felt extremely stuck. Yet, I conversely approach it now. Gore and Vian built me whether I want to admit it or not. I frequently find myself missing driving by the lake and knowing every person I meet in public. There is something magical in the stillness of a small town. Although, I may be biased.

4. Books

Books were truly my first love, and I have evolved alongside others words. Novels have shaped me and helped form my belief system. They soothe me when I need comforting and encourage me in creativity. I am truly grateful for books because they have ultimately led me to this point in my life.

5. Life

At the end of the day, there is so much to be thankful for. The sun rises in the morning, and so do I. It is another opportunity to express gratitude. If negativity weighs on me, all I have to do is take a look around. There, I will rest in appreciation.

My parents have been married my entire life. They both had children from previous marriages. My dad had two daughters, and my mom had one. Then, after a few years of marriage, they had me. With this in mind, I had a different experience than my sisters. I did not have another parent’s house to visit on the weekends, so I was constantly present.

As a result, I saw the hardships of divorce without directly feeling the pain. Additionally, I noticed the things that my parents would do for each other and how I wanted to be treated. My dad has always said that if he can do something for us, he doesn’t see why he shouldn’t. For instance, he goes out of his way to go to the store or surprise my sisters, my mom, and me with gifts. My favorite tradition is that they write each other and us notes. In fact, index cards litter our house–in cabinets and frames are proclamations of love. They represent that the little things are what matter the most.

This example has personally affected my own relationship. I recognize my parents’ habits filtering into my boyfriend and me. Holidays and birthdays are important, and we both love exchanging presents. Furthermore, we even share notes. I have a letter he mailed me pinned in my room at home, and another rests on my desk at college.

Don’t get me wrong; love is not about what you receive in return. Sometimes we misunderstand each other, and the world is crashing down. But, even in the depths of difficulty, I know that there is no one else I would rather struggle with. Likewise, I have seen my parents fight, but I have also seen them fight for each other. Because of that, I have learned how to love healthily. I have also learned how to write a note or two. 

I am a very routine person. In fact, I have a planner that practically plans my days by the hour. I love following structure: going to class, doing school work, and going to bed by 10:00 or 11:00. I have always obtained these characteristics, but they have reached their full potential since I moved to college.

Not to mention, I have a passionate desire to hear stories. I want to know what makes people who they are. Do they like books or movies better? Are they extroverts or introverts? What do they do for a living? There is so much information to acquire and so little time.

With these traits in mind, I have discovered a new interest: Day in the Life Tik Toks. These short videos are entertaining, and I have learned a lot about handling stress. Everyone spends their days differently, yet the tasks they complete all equally matter. For example, a reporter may go to work early in the morning, while a pediatric nurse works the night shift. Likewise, a student may work out to relieve stress, while an athlete chooses to journal.

These clips encourage me to take on my day with confidence and organization, but I must remember to maintain proper mental and physical health. We all are just people trying to make every day count, which comforts me more than words can describe.

I have not had the best week. Although it was definitely not the worst, it had its challenges. One thing that has kept me going is pursuing my relationship with God. I want to uplift Him through my hardships, so I have read my devotional, journaled, and prayed daily.

When I pray, I ask that God shine a light through me. Rather than just telling people I love Jesus, I want them to see it. As previously mentioned, trouble has been brewing. I searched for answers through my time with Jesus, but I was caught off guard when I received them.

Each day, my journal has one word that it focuses on and a Bible verse explaining it. Wednesday, that term was “light.” I did not think much of it, and I continued writing. The last question asked, “What are ways in which you can be a light for Christ?” This instance is when it started getting interesting. I momentarily considered my recent prayer. I flipped to the next page, and there it was.

John 1:5 jumped off the paper, exclaiming, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” As a result, I stared in shock. I immediately called my parents and shared this news of God’s faithfulness. How crazy is it that He listened and waited until the perfect time to act on my request?

Being a light puts a target on your back and spotlights you for evil. Yet, it also highlights your goodness for all to see. He led me through a test to show that being a light does not mean the darkness disappears. Instead, it means that God’s shadow beside you is enough to scare it away.

Yesterday, I was walking to class when I saw an alarming sight. I left my dorm, dressed and ready for an activity I had later. My AirPods were in as I listened to music and crunched fallen leaves beneath my feet. As I passed Dale Hall, I saw a man holding a sign.

“The sin of abortion can be forgiven,” he shouted as students walked past him. I had been strolling and relishing in the weather when I was brought back to reality. This topic itself is controversial and not one I will be discussing. Instead, I would like to navigate a different perspective.

I listened to a sermon Sunday that preached about daily faith. Unfortunately, this area has been challenging since I moved to college. Consequently, I felt convicted. Since then, I have been reading my devotional and journaling. One word that has clung to me is “obedience.”

You may ask yourself, “Kayden, what do either of these stories have to do with one another?” I see where you are coming from. To emphasize, when I saw that man doing what he thought was right, I ached. I ached for those who have experienced the subject matter. I ached for those who were listening to him. I absolutely ached for the way he was preaching the word of Jesus.

Sharing the gospel is beautiful. In fact, it is what Christians are called to do. Although, holding up a sign and showcasing someone’s sin hurts me. Sin is ugly and evil and rears its head too often, but if someone broadcasted my past for a crowd to witness, I would not stay to hear about saving. I would run.

I want everyone to know Jesus and His ultimate sacrifice. I would love to tell others what He can do, but I cannot cast stones. I pray for God to shine His light through me daily; through this, I am learning obedience. I aim for others to look at me and think, “There is something about her that is not of this world, and I want to find it for myself.”

We are all on our journeys, and we are all trying to handle life’s battles. It’s human nature for us to rely on religion for comfort. Notably, Christianity is not just a religion. It is a relationship. Jesus died on the cross so that we could know His love. He is the same today, tomorrow, and forever. He forgives the sinners, the sign holders, and even the girl with her AirPods in walking to class.