Everything is a Learning Experience
Something that took me way too long to figure out — and I mean years too long — is this:
Everything is a learning experience.
Ugh. I used to hate that. It’s easy for someone to say that when they are outside looking in — right? But it’s true. I think I used to get triggered by that mostly because I didn’t want to learn — I wanted justice. I wanted clarity. I wanted a cosmic explanation in a glittery envelope on my doorstep titled:
"Here’s why things suck sometimes. Love, God.”
Instead, I’d spiral:
“Why is this happening to me? Why would they do that? What did I do to deserve this?!”
Or, my personal favorite:
“Okay, maybe this path is part of something bigger?? Like surely this isn’t just pain with no point.”
Plot twist: it usually wasn’t glamorous. But it was revealing.
And the “reason” I kept looking for?
9 times out of 10 — it was growth or it was learning.
We’re constantly being invited to learn. From our own mistakes. From other people’s chaos. From everyday awkward moments that you want to pretend didn’t happen.
But here’s the catch:
Learning requires paying attention.
And for most of my life, I thought I was paying attention — because I took a second to admire the trees or sip my overpriced coffee and say “wow.”
And while that’s sweet… that’s not exactly the full picture.
Living in the moment doesn’t mean romanticizing your oat milk latte and calling it mindfulness (though I do think it works a little as a placebo effect).
It means actually being present in real time.
With the people in front of you. The conversation you’re in. The feeling you’re feeling. The awkward silence you want to escape.
And listen — I get it. Focus is a skill now.
The world is LOUD. Our brains are fried. And social media is right there being all sparkly and tempting (which is what they are designed to do).
But I started catching myself.
I started actually listening to my own advice (which I know we could all do more often — we all can GIVE great advice; but not so quick to take it ourselves). I used to be a teacher (bless that version of me), and I’d ask my students to “give me 5” —
Eyes watching
Ears listening
Mouths quiet
Hands still
Heart open
And one day I was like… wait.
When was the last time I gave someone my full attention like that?
When was the last time I gave God that?
Honestly? A real palm-to-face moment.
And here’s the truth: this whole mindset shift? It’s still hard for me.
My natural instinct is to ask “why” — spiral, overthink, maybe cry dramatically.
But I’m practicing a new question instead:
“What is this here to teach me?”
Sometimes the answer’s obvious.
Sometimes it’s buried under three emotional breakdowns and a phone call with my best friend, mom, sister, or cousin haha.
But either way — it gets me out of myself. It humbles me.
And it reminds me that maybe this isn’t punishment — it’s perspective.
And when I look at Jesus, I’m reminded that He never wasted pain.
He didn’t dodge hardship — He transformed it.
He taught through it. He led with it.
And even on the worst day of His life — a day filled with betrayal, agony, and silence — He was still fulfilling a greater plan.
So if He can turn a cross into redemption, maybe He can turn this into something too.
That doesn’t mean every hard thing is suddenly holy in the moment — but it means I don’t have to spiral. I can ask,
“What is this here to teach me?”
and trust that I’m being taught by the One who knows the full picture — not just this moment of it.
