Author: Kaleathia Murphy

I was raised without a dad. I knew who he was, but he wasn’t there to take care of me. Surprisingly, it didn’t bother me the way some might think. I often hear stories of people growing up without a father and how deeply it affected them, but that wasn’t my story. I saw a man who was trying to figure out his life, and I understood that. He had his struggles, and while he wasn’t present for me, he was active in the lives of some of my siblings. That gave me a glimpse of the type of father he could be.

From watching him with my siblings, I saw the man he was to them a good dad and the man he became for his youngest child, an even better dad. Over time, it was clear he had figured things out, becoming not just a great father but also a great husband. And you know what? I’m genuinely happy for him. It doesn’t matter to me what I didn’t receive from him growing up. Instead of resentment, I feel gratitude for the man he became, because everyone in his life now benefits from his growth.

We all have a journey, and it’s easy to hold someone to their past mistakes. But life is about evolving and becoming better. My dad didn’t give me what I needed as a child, but he’s giving so much to his family now. That’s what matters. It’s a reminder to me and maybe to you that holding on to bitterness serves no one. Celebrate who people become, and don’t hold them to who they used to be. Growth is a gift we all deserve to acknowledge.

I’ve always loved watching people create with their hands and minds. There’s something captivating about witnessing the beauty and creativity of a finished project. Creators are constantly inspired the world is their palette, and their muses are limitless. I remember explaining to my husband how a particular art piece made me feel, and he stopped me mid-conversation to say, “You’re a creator too.” At first, I brushed it off. To me, a creator was someone who worked with their hands, had a grand vision, or could make music out of thin air. But me? I just journal, dabble in blogging, and have a few books that still need to be finished. I didn’t see myself fitting the mold of what I thought a creator should be.

But as I sat with his words, I started to let them sink in. He’s usually right (though I rarely admit it), and this time was no different. The definition of a creator is “a person or thing that brings something into existence.” And that’s exactly what I do when I write. My words bring ideas to life. Why did I have to overthink it to realize this simple truth? My writing, whether it’s in a journal, a blog, or a book-in-progress, is proof that I create. Writing isn’t just something I do it’s who I am. I’m a writer. And, as I’ve discovered recently, I’m also a speaker.

This revelation has me excited about the possibilities. There’s no limit to what I can create with my mind. The same is true for all of us there’s no end to the things we can bring into existence when we lean into who we’re meant to be. So yes, me. I am a creator, and I was made to write. The beauty in that truth is that my creativity has no boundaries, and I’m ready to embrace it fully.

When my husband asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I told him, “A trip to New York.” I’ve been dreaming of seeing a Broadway show, trying all the pizza and bagel spots I’ve saved on my phone, and experiencing the magic of New York during Christmas and New Year’s. Just thinking about it fills me with excitement. For me, experiences hold more value than any material gift. They’re treasures I can carry with me, replaying the memories over and over in my mind.

This reminds me of the time I first visited Colorado. Going to Denver was something I had put on my vision board, and when it finally happened, it exceeded all my expectations. The scenery was breathtakingly beautiful truly picturesque. Even now, I can close my eyes and transport myself back to those moments, feeling the awe and joy all over again. That trip, like so many others, became a cherished part of my life’s story.

I’ve decided to focus on collecting experiences, not things. These moments stay with me, becoming a part of who I am, and I can revisit them anytime in my mind. Whether it’s a trip to New York or a memory of the Colorado mountains, the joy of these experiences is something I’ll always hold dear. So here’s to the adventures we dream of and the ones we’ve yet to take each one a gift that lasts forever.

I recently came across a post on social media where a woman shared her story about getting married later in life. It was her first marriage, and she hadn’t had children, even though it had always been her deepest desire to be a wife and mother. She spoke about how she never gave up believing it would happen one day. Her faith and persistence were inspiring, and she encouraged other women with the same dream not to give up. She emphasized that delays don’t mean it won’t happen—it’s not happening because you doubt it will. Let’s unpack that for a moment.

I truly believe the Lord gives us the desires of our hearts. But I also know that not everyone is called to be a wife, and that’s a reality we don’t often discuss. It doesn’t mean God loves you any less or that you’re somehow forgotten. God knows what He’s doing. His plans are purposeful, and He calls us to trust Him completely, even when life doesn’t match up with our hopes or timelines. Personally, I wasn’t someone who initially desired to be a wife. God had to work on my heart to prepare me for that role, showing me that His ways are higher and wiser than my own.

To anyone reading this who feels unseen or unfulfilled in this area, I want to remind you that God hasn’t forgotten about you. Whether or not marriage is part of His plan for your life, His love for you is constant and unfailing. Trust Him with every part of your journey—your desires, your timing, your purpose. Rest assured, His plans for you are good, even if they look different than what you envisioned. Listen with your heart and know that you are deeply loved and valued, regardless of your marital status.

I’m officially throwing in the towel on trying to become a morning person. Honestly, it’s better for everyone if I ease into my mornings. I’m at my best around 10 or 11 a.m., and I’ve accepted that. There was a time when I didn’t have the luxury of choice I had children to care for, school drop-offs, and endless to-do lists that demanded I hit the ground running. But now, that chapter has passed. I remember the first morning when no one needed me to be anywhere or take them anywhere. I woke up when I wanted to, with no agenda other than my own. It was liberating and, frankly, a little surreal.

Back then, my identity was completely wrapped up in being a mother. Everything I did revolved around my children. Now, I’m stepping into a new phase of life, one where I get to discover me. I’m learning that I’m funny, that I’m compassionate, and that I love being around people who make me smile. Who would’ve thought I could be this person without the constant tasks of motherhood? Strangely, some people I meet don’t even know I have adult children and I’m okay with that. It reminds me that I’m more than “mom”; I’m a whole person with layers waiting to be explored.

This journey started with me admitting that I’m not a morning person and slowly waking up to the truth of who I am now. I’m not mad about it not even a little. In fact, I’m embracing this stage of life with gratitude. Letting go of who I thought I should be has given me the freedom to love who I actually am, whether that’s a slow riser or someone savoring life’s quieter moments.

In July 2023, I sold my car, and I haven’t had one since. It’s been over a two years now, and surprisingly, I don’t miss it. For the first time since I was 17 years old, I’m free of the responsibilities that come with owning a car no maintenance, no insurance, no monthly payments. After 30 years of that burden, I thought it would bother me, but it hasn’t. Living in downtown Los Angeles, everything I needed was within walking distance, so not having a car was easy to adjust to.

Now, with the possibility of moving back to Georgia, things feel different. Unlike downtown L.A., Georgia isn’t as walkable or accessible without a car, and it’s clear I’d need one. Plus, as the primary driver in my household, it would be practical to have a vehicle again. But here’s the thing I’m in no rush. The idea of owning a car again feels less like a necessity and more like a choice I’ll make when the time is right. For now, I’m simply enjoying the freedom of not having to think about it.

Since I was a child, I’ve been sensitive to people’s emotions and feelings. It’s not something I used to talk about I guess I didn’t want to seem weird. But as I’ve grown older, I care a lot less about what people think. Honestly, it’s none of my business what others think of me. That’s their concern, not mine.

For a long time, sensing other people’s emotions felt like a burden. I used to think I was just being judgmental, which made me doubt myself. I remember praying, asking the Lord, “Is this me, or is what I’m sensing real?” Over time, I began asking Him to teach me how to pray specifically for whatever I was discerning. I won’t pretend I’ve got it all figured out there are still times I try to handle things on my own, trying to process what I feel with my limited understanding. But eventually, I’m reminded: this isn’t something I can figure out on my own. It’s a God-thing, far beyond my human capacity.

I’ve come to accept that I’m not the fixer God is. He’s more than capable of handling anything, and He loves when we bring everything to Him. He patiently waits for us to do so. Now, whenever I’m feeling overwhelmed by what I sense, I stop and ask myself: “Is this a me thing, or a God thing?” More often than not, it’s a God thing. And knowing that takes the weight off, reminding me to lean into His strength instead of my own.

I used to be someone who clung tightly to what I thought I liked. I was immovable once I made up my mind, that was it. It’s funny to think about now because these days, I try just about everything. Well, almost everything. My philosophy is simple: “At least try it.” If I don’t like it, so be it but at least I’ll know. I remember how I once hated the idea of sushi. Just the thought of it made me queasy, and I couldn’t get past how it looked. Without ever tasting it, I was firmly against it. Then one day, some friends invited me to a restaurant and practically forced me to sample their plates. To my surprise, I ended up loving all six dishes I tried not liking, loving. It was a shock, even to me.

That experience taught me something important: my preferences aren’t set in stone. I’ve learned that it’s okay to change my mind, to let go of the things I once loved but no longer do, and to embrace new things that I never imagined liking. Growth has taught me that I’m not bound to one way of thinking. It’s liberating to realize I don’t need to justify or explain my choices to anyone. This freedom of letting go of the chains we place on ourselves is powerful. It gives you the space to explore, evolve, and truly discover who you are.

Imagine a life where you let go of the fear of judgment and simply try. When you’re not afraid to test the waters, you’re open to possibilities that could change your perspective entirely. Some things you’ll end up loving, some you won’t, and that’s perfectly fine. The point is, you’re free to choose and free to grow. That freedom the permission to change is where true living begins.

I moved away from my hometown at the age of 30, and by my mid-forties, I took an even bigger leap cross-country. At first, I didn’t think I had it in me to leave the place where I grew up. Fear and self-doubt held me back, and to make it harder, the people I respected most advised me not to go. They meant well, worried for my future, but deep down, I felt I needed to at least try. In making that leap, I lost the familiar connections and routines of home. It wasn’t easy, but along the way, I discovered something important: home isn’t necessarily where you live it’s what you carry with you. For now, without my own permanent address, I’ve come to realize that I am my home. Wherever I go, I have the power to create peace, safety, and comfort for myself.

Ironically, Georgia, the place where I was born and spent most of my life, no longer feels like home. Whenever I visit now, I feel like a guest. It’s strange something I never imagined could happen. How could the place that shaped so much of my life feel unfamiliar? The truth is, it’s not just the place that has changed I have, too. I’ve grown, stretched beyond the boundaries I once believed defined me. Georgia is beautiful, but I’m no longer tethered to it. My heart is open to discovering new places, creating homes wherever I choose.

Life has a way of surprising us. What we once thought was permanent shifts, and with that comes the possibility for something greater. I’ve stopped resisting those changes and started embracing them. I don’t know where life will lead me next, but I’m willing to explore it fully. Maybe that’s what home really is not a single, unchanging place, but the journey of trusting yourself and letting life surprise you.

Communication has the power to cancel all misunderstandings. When a misunderstanding occurs, it’s always best to address it with honest, clear communication rather than relying on assumptions. Assumptions, in my experience, are the lowest form of communication they create unnecessary confusion and are unfair to everyone involved. In my less mature days, I often made assumptions, which only led to stress and unresolved issues. But once I realized that communication was the key to clarity, it became my first defense in resolving conflicts effectively.

I’ve also learned that clear communication sometimes requires overcommunicating, especially if confusion lingers. While I now prioritize talking things out, not everyone is receptive. Some people resist engaging in constructive dialogue, which can be frustrating. But even in those situations, I’ve decided to stick with what works for me. Choosing communication over assumption continues to bring me peace and resolution, and that’s a win every time.