16 Things That Happen In March When You Don’t Care About Basketball

Because Buzzfeed hasn’t written this post yet and it must be said… 

1. 95% of your evenings are spent like this

2. Your friends asks if they can use you to fill out an extra bracket for their class/work/family pool

3. Your social life becomes confined to living rooms and a lot of crowded bars

4. People will ask who you’re rooting for in a game

5. And if they push for an answer you’re just going to pick the colors/mascot you like best.

6. You discover that your friends have depths of sports trivia and knowledge that hides 11 months out of the year and suddenly comes pouring out of them like a volcanic explosion that you must be the recipient of.

7. You’re thankful to have social media to entertain you while everyone else is watching the games…

8. Never mind.  It’s now become a ESPN newsfeed.

9. You dare to ask why a first round game is even important… Since when did ALL 64 teams become relevant? And everyone around is all…

10. You reminisce about the Super Bowl, because at least that game comes with snacks, funny commercials, and a halftime show… and did I mention snacks?

11. Everyone around you is having an invested conversation about the game that you pretend you’re listening to, when really you’ve become lost in thought considering the academic lives of the players

12. You question your friend’s sanity, as they are all betting their money on a bunch of 19 year olds. And Lord knows you wouldn’t want anyone betting that kind of money on you when you were that age.

13. Someone says “my bracket is ruined!” for the 100th time and you have to act surprised and frustrated with them even though you know there’s an upset that ruins everyone’s bracket EVERY YEAR.

14. You suggest watching a show or a movie you’ve been looking forward to, but instantly get shot down.

15. You hear someone say that march madness boosts camaraderie in the office

16. And finally, at your breaking point… you decide to try to make an effort… you’ll keep up, maybe pay attention this game…. only to realize that the person in control of the remote is a serial channel flipper and there are multiple games on.

But hey, march will be over soon enough… and there’s always candy crush.


Just a matter of days ago, I was contemplating this vague idea of eventually going to live with my future husband sometime this spring… and tonight, I am spending my last night under my parent’s roof. It’s crazy thinking how much has changed so quickly, but what’s even crazier is knowing that starting tomorrow…  My concept of “home” is going to change in a way that no amount of “moving” has ever prepared me for.   On one hand I have my fiance who tells me daily that he is excited for this next venture in our lives together.  And on the other hand, I have my little brothers who have cried every night this week when I’ve tucked them in.

I am looking forward to this move, as unexpected as it is. But truth be told, my brothers are not the only ones tearing up tonight.   I am sitting in a big, empty room… devoid of all my things…  Listening to “Goodnight Sweetheart” by The Spaniels.  This was my dad’s lullaby to us as kids.  And now, I’m about to close my eyes, say “goodnight”, and then tomorrow it will be “time to go”.

Where did time go?  I keep asking myself, “Did I ever envision my life like this?”  Did I ever think, when I was in elementary school studying the states, that I would live in Pennsylvania one day?  Did I ever consider, when dreaming up my future husband as a young girl, what it would be like to build a relationship with his family?  To live closer to them than to my own family?  Did it ever cross my mind in high school when I was making big plans for my future that there would be a time in my life that I wouldn’t live at my parents place, or at school, or with my husband, or with anyone else?  That for a few months out of my life I would be coming home from work to an empty house?   I mean, heck when I was in high school… I thought I was going to be on broadway and I would learn arabic and be fluent in spanish and that I would become a high school teacher.   A degree in Bible?  My resume is “Security” and “Event Planning”?  And I don’t know a lick of arabic.

When I transferred to Cairn at 18 years old, I remember thinking and telling a friend “Any guy I could possibly meet at this school would just be this put together Christian who wears khakis and a polo shirt on a daily basis.”    And I am marrying a type A wonderful servant of God who truly does wear khakis and a polo shirt nearly every day (for work!)  God totally made me eat my words.

I know God is good.  And I am amazed at how much He blessed Joe and I this week.  Just blown away.  But now that I have this moment to be still and reflect, it’s a wonder I’m still holding on to this roller coaster.  I am not a fast person.  I like to take my time.  Consider my options.  Get trusted opinions.  Gather research.   And in a matter of days I have had a job offer practically land on my lap and have packed up my life to move to another state.   Just like that.  Even in His blessings, God has tested me.   I will have faith.  I will trust His goodness.

It’s over.  It’s the end of an era.  I will say good bye to my family tomorrow.  I will spend the next 3 months preparing a place to call “home” for my husband and me.  And from the moment I wake up tomorrow, my life will never be the same again.

After Gangam Style plays
Zach – “Kelsey, did you hear the song say ‘hey sexy lady’??”
Me – “Yup”
Zach – “What does ‘sexy’ mean?”
Me – “Uhhhhhhhh…… It’s really hard to explain.”
Zach – “That’s a good answer.”


I am not the passionate being I once was.
So alive and yearning to consume anything I could grasp.

My desires like smothered embers have changed.
To wisps of smoke, curling peacefully through the air.

It was always the smoke I liked best.
The light was never so intriguing as the cloud it gave way to.

Every flame must be snuffed eventually,
or else it rages into a destructive monster, eating everything in its way.

I always thought the smoke was death.
That being blown out was the end.
But maybe, quite possibly, the smoke is a life of its own.

Life so beautiful in faint swirls, forgotten and unimportant. Unnoticed.
That’s where I’ve wanted to be.

I have wanted to be the calm gray.
I have longed for the afterthought.
I have needed to be in the so-called mundane.

I sometimes think back on my wick where I burned, and smoldered,
and cried out that I could never be quenched.
I miss that spark a bit sometimes, and what I felt it said about me.

But I was meant to be smoke.
I was meant to be the light scent in life.
I was meant to be the smaug momentarily hanging in the air.
I was meant to be blown where ever life sent me,
not standing obstinate against gales that would overtake me.

I don’t need to be fire.
I don’t want to burn.
I don’t want to be hungry for life
I just want to be a puff
I just want to float gently
I just want to be satisfied with my everyday.

Because Writing On Here Is A Destresser

Since I have about 20 minutes to de-stress,,,, 

Yesterday, I got up in the morning and went to church, took part in the worship ministry there, worked a 6 hour shift, came back to my apartment, finished a video ad for an event me and my team have been planning, and spent 4 hours after that preparing logistically (power points, music, scripture, set outlines) for my worship team’s all-worship chapel for today.

My schedule today:
8-9 class
9-11 ministry
11-1 work
1-2 lunch/hw
2-3 class
3-4 class
4-5:30 work
5:30-6 dinner
6-7 cleaning/getting ready for work
7-11 work

I work from 10am-5pm tomorrow, room check is tomorrow night, I need to re-dye my hair like I’ve been saying for a week and a half now, and I’ve barely touched any homework aside from reading for class in over a week. I haven’t talked with my boyfriend all day. I’ve barely talked to my parents for more than 15 minutes in over two weeks.  I’m averaging 5 hours of sleep a night (that’s with oversleeping and snooze buttons) which is horrible for my chronic fatigue.  My allergies are getting worse, and all my medicine is doing is making me more groggy. I work 40 hours a week with two jobs on top of my full time class load and two ministries.  Plus, I’m PMSy.  And honestly, I’m okay right now.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not great. I want free time and relaxation and a back massage.  But I’m not breaking.  

Why? Honestly, I think it’s because I’m in the environment I’m in.   I really don’t have a lot of time for devotions, personal reading, digging into the word, and setting aside time for prayer right now.  But I have church, two worship ministries, 15 hours of Bible-saturated classes a week, two jobs that let me listen to worship music while I work, and Christ-loving family and friends who post Bible verses and Biblical truth on social media.  Honestly, without those things pointing me to God, I’d be falling apart right now.  Yes, I could very well snap any moment, but I don’t think I will.  This time is making me very aware of how fragile and easily breakable I am, but I’ve got my Solid Rock and I’m grounded right now.  I need Him more than ever and I’m seeing the fruits of turning to Him in my time of this crazy hectic life.

Off to work! 

Somehow The Words Flow Freely Now

God, how am I supposed to act?
What am I supposed to be?
Do I force myself to change?
Or should I do what comes naturally?

You teach me about morals and love
What about my personality?
Am I supposed to adapt and adjust?
Or revel in my idiosyncrasies?

Should I be vulnerable?
Or should I guard my heart?
Show me the line between showing love
And needlessly tearing myself apart.

How am I supposed to learn from my past
If I’m being told otherwise.
What if these lessons I thought I had learned
Are making me foolish instead of wise?

I’m all worried about implications and results
But not thinking about what I’m doing now
I’m worried about doing the wrong thing
I’m worried I’ll break my internal vows.

Everything in my life has taught me one thing
But now I need another way?
Can I make the choice to do what’s not safe?
Will I just be thrown away?

I can endure and fight through what is thrown at me
But do I dare start the fight myself?
God, I have no idea how to handle this all
Don’t keep the answer to yourself.

I’m scared.  I’m scared out of my mind.
I’d do anything to not go back to that place
And yet the only way for this to work out
Is taking the same steps I tried to erase?

My methods of coping and prevention
Are causing nothing but pain.
Show me God.  Just show me the way.
But don’t let me go there again.

You’re the one who guides my heart.
You’re the one who will will never forsake me.
Let me be open and obedient to you.
God, let me be free.

Overflow on a Late Night

He asked me what I was going to do this weekend.  I said I might write.  He asked me what I was going to write.  I told him I didn’t know.  There’s something about writing, that sometimes you just never know what it’s going to be or where it will take you.  And I’m not sure if I know what it is even now.  The irony that he would be my muse after our conversation and on the first thing I’ve written in months…

He’s an unwritable song
Nothing my fingertips could play
Nothing my lips could sing
Nothing my mind could pen
None of it would fit him.  

It just wouldn’t.
Not because he’s “too good” or “perfect” or “indescribable”
I just don’t posses the skill to capture his essence rightly.
It wouldn’t be done right.

He fascinates me.
His will, his mind, his strength
He is fascinating.
And he is beautiful.
His face, his desires, his soul.
All so beautiful.

He’s proven to me that God uses us to show each other His love.
That even though I’m not perfect, there’s someone willing to work through it all with me.
That the best kisses can be the still, soft ones.

There is nothing like the warmth that fills my heart when I see him smile at me.
Or the many smiles I can’t contain every time he does those little things that make him, him.

I used to think love left you with a hunger and an ache within yourself for someone else.
Or that it was this elation or joy that bubbled out from your core.
That love was an experience… or a story.

Maybe those are a product of love… a result… symptoms, if you will.
Maybe I don’t even know.

But I do know this.
I love him. 
And that love is happening now.  It is active.  It is constant.  It is here.  
It’s voluntary and involuntary all at the same time.

I just want to hold his hand,
When he is endearing, as a way to show him affection
When he is broken, to console him
When he is sure, to support him
When he is confused, to support him then too
When he is an ass, to remind myself of all the above
And when he is just who he is, to say “I want to be a part of this forever.”

He is worth more than I could give him.
He is amazing.  
He is better to and for me than I even had the courage to pray for.

God, keep my lips holy, my heart faithful, and my intentions pure.
Use me to show him your love, goodness, and peace
And guide us to you together.