Author: Kaleathia Murphy

Sometimes, you mourn the presence of past relationships. You think about the good times, the shared laughter, and the conversations that made your heart feel alive. It’s tempting to revisit those memories, to linger in what once brought you joy. But then, clarity strikes. You remember your worth. You recall the emptiness you often felt, even while sitting across from them. You understand why the relationship had to end, and why it’s essential not to entangle yourself in those bonds again.

It’s okay not to return to what is familiar, no matter how comforting it might seem. The past has a way of calling you back, wrapping you in nostalgia, but sometimes, it must stay where it belongs in the rearview mirror. Moving forward means resisting the urge to look back. Growth demands that you honor the lessons the past offered without allowing it to imprison you. There is beauty ahead, and you owe it to yourself to keep driving toward it.

There was a time when I felt completely overwhelmed with my college studies. To clear my mind, I decided to take a drive and look at houses. For some reason, this simple activity had a way of centering me. It was something my cousins and I did often, turning it into a game of imagining the future. “One day, I’ll want this,” they’d say, pointing out beautiful homes.

But me? I didn’t really play along. I’d sit quietly, watching and thinking, I could never live in a place like that.

Looking back on my past and considering my current situation, it felt impossible to dream that big. How could I? My circumstances didn’t align with such thoughts. Yet, on this particular day, something shifted. For the first time, I let myself imagine living in one of those nice homes.

As I drove, I noticed a house with a “For Lease” sign in the front yard. I don’t know what came over me, but I called my husband and said, “We need to see this house.”

Here’s a little context: we had just moved into our first apartment after living with his grandma for six months. We were finally starting to adjust to life on our own. And now here I was, suggesting we look at a house. It sounded crazy.

But we went.

The owner, who was also the leasing agent, greeted us. After some discussion, he told us, “You don’t have what I usually look for in tenants. But for some reason, I feel like I need to lease this house to you.” He even said he didn’t understand why he felt this way.

Then we told him we couldn’t afford the rental price. It should’ve been the end of the conversation, right? But instead, we proposed something bold: if he reduced the price, we’d commit to staying for two years. To our shock, he agreed.

We walked away stunned.

That moment changed something inside me. Up until then, I had been so used to playing it safe. I didn’t dream big I focused on what felt manageable, what I thought I could handle. But this experience taught me to believe in the possibility of more.

Joyce Meyer once said, “I’d rather wish for some things and get some of them than wish for nothing and get all of it.” That resonates deeply with me now. What I thought I could never do or have opened the door to dreaming bigger—and I’m forever grateful for it.

Sometimes, we just need one moment, one step outside of our comfort zone, to realize that the limits we see are often the ones we’ve placed on ourselves.

The least I could do is share the love of Christ. Because I am loved by Him, I can reflect His love. I’m still in awe that Jesus, sinless and perfect, took on all my sins past, present, and future and paid for them in full. That’s love beyond comprehension. The very least I can do is live as someone who’s debt-free, telling anyone who will listen and living like a person set free.

This hope I carry drives me to manifest His love through my words and actions. His love is alive, overflowing with grace and hope for everyone who encounters it. I’m still head over heels for Him, marveling that He saved me without me having to earn it. He loved me before I even knew Him, and His love remains constant. Nothing can separate me from it. So when I give away my time, resources, or anything else, it’s truly the least I can do. For all He’s done, everything I do for the gospel of Jesus is small in comparison but it’s my joy to give.

I’m not afraid to be in a holding place, taking my time instead of rushing to move into the next season. Right now, I’m learning to embrace the moment I’m in, appreciating the lessons and growth this season brings. You can discover so much when you’re not in a hurry. It’s important not to compare yourself to others your journey is yours alone. Contentment in the here and now is key, especially when you remember this is only temporary.

Don’t let your present circumstances define your future. The middle is where you can build trust in yourself and your instincts. Even in a holding place, you’re still moving forward in ways you may not see yet. Take the time to appreciate where you are, knowing that every season has a purpose.

Failure can be a guide if you let it. Yet, no one talks much about the other side of failure the side where it turns out to be a blessing. If you focus solely on the failure, you might miss the lessons and redirection it offers.

Failure can lead you to unimaginable levels of self-discovery and growth. Once the sting of disappointment fades, you begin to see how it nudges you toward where you’re truly meant to be.

I remember a time when I had to take a crucial test three times and failed each attempt. It was a requirement for my chosen program in college, and I was told that if I failed it one more time, I would have to sit out of school for a year.

I studied relentlessly, used additional resources, and sought help to prepare for the test. Despite doing all I could, the results kept falling short of what I needed. Each time I retook the exam, I maintained a positive attitude and added something extra to my study efforts.

When I shared my story with others, they were shocked that I didn’t just give up after multiple failures. But giving up wasn’t an option for me I knew I was going to succeed.

And then it happened. On my third attempt, I passed the test by just one point. I was ecstatic, but a few weeks later, I received a letter stating there had been an error: I had actually passed the test on my first attempt.

To me, it didn’t matter when the victory came. What mattered was that I believed I would succeed, and that belief carried me through.

This experience taught me a valuable lesson: It doesn’t matter what things look like right now. What matters is what you choose to believe. I chose to believe that victory was on the horizon and it was.

Failure isn’t the end; it’s the beginning of a new direction. Let it guide you to where you’re meant to be.

Life has a funny way of humbling us, doesn’t it? Some of my most embarrassing moments have turned into the biggest laughs—and honestly, some of my favorite stories to tell.

One moment in particular stands out: the Depends saga. Yes, adult diapers. Let me set the stage. I started out crying a lot because I needed to wear them. At home, my husband had to remind me endlessly to pull down my gown or dress because, apparently, my Depends kept peeking out. I was mortified. I ugly cried about it more days than I’d like to admit.

I mean, picture this: me, tucking everything into those diapers, rolling around with my walker, trying to keep some shred of dignity. It felt like the height of humiliation. But who knew that embarrassment would follow me right out the door?

One day, after a doctor’s appointment, I was walking outside, feeling pretty good. People were honking their horns and staring, and for a brief moment, I thought, Wow, a girl with a walker is turning heads! What a confidence booster!

But that confidence didn’t last long. A kind woman walked up to me and said, “Honey, you need to pull your dress down.”

That’s right my entire dress was tucked into the back of my Depends. I was mortified. I quickly yanked it out and wanted to disappear. But then, something surprising happened. I laughed. Not just a chuckle I laughed out loud, and it filled me with joy.

What started as a deeply embarrassing moment became a highlight reel in my life. I share it with others now because it’s a reminder not to take myself too seriously. Laughing at yourself is freeing. It helps you see yourself as you truly are human, flawed, and wonderfully imperfect. It’s not about being better than anyone; it’s about leveling the playing field and finding joy in the messiest moments.

Now, I embrace those moments of humor, even in difficult times. Laughing at life makes me enjoy the moment I’m in, no matter how awkward or challenging it might be. Because, let’s face it life is just better when you can laugh at yourself.

Do you remember that scene in The Incredibles where the little boy on the tricycle is just sitting there, waiting? He’s hoping for something amazing to happen. That moment has always stuck with me because, in a way, I feel the same. My life is full of amazing stories some from incredible experiences, others from my own missteps.

We all have a story to tell. One of mine begins with the fact that I was born needing not one but two hips. I had a condition called hip dysplasia, which means my hips didn’t form correctly at birth. To put it simply, hip dysplasia happens when the hip joint doesn’t fit together the way it’s supposed to. It’s not something that can be prevented, but it can often be treated successfully if caught early. The odds? About 1 in 1,000 babies are born with it.

For me, healing wasn’t immediate. I believed I’d be healed, but I didn’t know it would take ten years. A whole decade of waiting, wondering, and enduring. But through it all, I trusted that my life was writing itself into an amazing story. This adversity wasn’t just a challenge it was a chapter.

Now, as I reflect on it, I’m so thankful I can tell such a beautiful story. It’s a testimony of resilience, faith, and the unexpected ways life unfolds. And the truth is, I’m still waiting on more “something amazing” moments to share whether they’re good or not-so-good.

Because the beauty of life is that every twist, every turn, and even every stumble has the potential to become something amazing. I’m here for it all.

Right now, we’re living with my brother-in-law and sister-in-law. They’re newlyweds, with a baby on the way, and they graciously offered us a place to stay. Their home is brand new, beautifully furnished, and filled with love. Each day I wake up, I’m thankful that they said yes to such a big ask.

I know it’s not the easiest situation. Hosting family especially in a new marriage can be challenging, but they’ve gone out of their way to make us feel comfortable. They communicate with us openly, and that means so much because I know this is the kind of situation where relationships can be tested.

That’s why I pray for all four of us. I pray for grace, understanding, and unity. I’ve always wanted to grow closer to them, and I truly believe this is the perfect opportunity to do so. I’m excited to see what the future holds for our relationship.

Moving back to Georgia was a big transition, but being welcomed into their home made it so much smoother. They didn’t have to open their doors to us, but they did, with love and care. I’ll never forget their kindness or how they stepped up in such a meaningful way.

This was a big ask, and they answered it with an even bigger heart.

Lately, I’ve been wrestling with the idea of finding a job outside the house. I even tried Uber, but it just wasn’t the right fit. The stress of it all became too much, so I finally broke down and surrendered the situation to the Lord.

The response I received was immediate and clear. It was also consistent with what I had been hearing all along: No.

At first, this didn’t make any sense to me. We need income. Our business is still in its rebranding and rebuilding phase, which takes time. Meanwhile, we’re living with someone else, and we have just over a month to either find a place or figure out alternative living arrangements. To say things don’t look good right now would be an understatement.

Yet here I am, being told to trust Him.

As crazy as it sounds, I’ve decided to believe God. I’m choosing to trust Him, no matter how dire the situation looks. I know that His plans are always better than mine, even when I can’t see the path ahead.

The outcome may be uncertain, but one thing is sure: God knows what’s best. And I’m learning to rest in that truth.

Dear Doubt and Unbelief,

I am writing to let you know that you no longer have a place in my mind. For far too long, I’ve allowed you to occupy valuable space. The space that  I desperately need for truth, faith, and hope. You’ve been running the show for way too long, but that ends now.

You see, I’ve come to understand something powerful: my mind is a battlefield. And on this battlefield, I am not defenseless. I have access to weapons of mass destruction spiritual weapons that can tear down every stronghold you’ve tried to build. Armed with this knowledge, I declare that you are defeated.

That doesn’t mean I’m naive. I know you’ll attempt to invade again, probably daily. But here’s the thing: I’m ready for you now. I’ll stand firm, wielding the Sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God (Ephesians 6:10-17). Every time you try to creep back in, I’ll fight you with truth.

Let’s be clear about a couple of things:

• Doubt is a choice. And my answer to you is, No, thank you, mister. I choose to keep believing.

• Unbelief leads to disobedience. And disobedience isn’t an option for me anymore.

So, Doubt and Unbelief, consider this your eviction notice. You’ve overstayed your welcome, and I’m reclaiming the space you’ve occupied. My mind is being renewed, and my heart is full of faith.

Goodbye for good,

Shay