Author: Kaleathia Murphy

How many times can someone start over? Honestly as many times as they want. I have to remind myself of that, because here I am… starting over again. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve done this, but this one feels different. This time, I chose intention over urgency.

I decided to only bring things into my space that I truly wanted. No filler items. No “this will do for now.” And now when I look around, I feel grateful. Everything I own has a place, a purpose, and a little joy attached to it. There’s nothing I’m planning to replace later because it already feels right.

That mindset spilled over into my wardrobe, which let me be honest was never something I cared much about. But wow. Having clothes I actually love and feel good in? Game changer. I’ve taken the time to put together no-fail outfits, and I’m finding pride in my appearance in a way I never expected. I didn’t know I’d ever care about this and now I kind of love it.

I get excited about getting dressed, even if I’m just staying home or walking to check the mail. There’s something sweet about that like I’m showing up for myself, even in the smallest moments.

Starting over has benefits. I’m learning to embrace the process instead of rushing to fill empty spaces. I don’t want things just to be there. I want them because I truly want them. And for the first time in a long time, that feels like enough ✨

I’ve been afraid of starting new things for a long time. Not because I don’t want them but because I want to be good at them immediately. Like, mastery-level good… on day one. Which is wild when I think about it. I was expecting perfection from something that hadn’t even had a chance to breathe yet.

Recently, I started recording short videos for social media again, and whew talk about feeling exposed. It felt like standing in the middle of a room with no walls, inviting people into my world. I love people, truly. I just don’t always love being that vulnerable with them. But something in me knew it was time to stop hiding behind polish and start showing up a little messy.

And the funny part? I’m not even a prim-and-proper person. I’m messy. I don’t know everything. I figure things out as I go and I’ve always been proud of that. Somewhere along the way, though, I tried to retreat into a version of myself that looked more put together, more acceptable, more “right.” But that version was never really me.

Now, I’m getting comfortable again. Comfortable with this newer version of myself who honestly feels more like the real me. It feels like a rebirth, like learning how to walk again but laughing when I stumble. I’m learning so much about myself in the process, and instead of rushing ahead, I’m letting the becoming be part of the joy. And honestly? That feels kind of magical ✨

My husband and I were carrying our luggage around he had a large suitcase, and I had a small carry-on.  We also had a big Old Navy bag that looked like one of those oversized brown paper grocery bags. As we crossed the street, a woman rolled down her window with genuine concern in her eyes and asked, “Are you guys okay?”

I didn’t think much of it in the moment. I smiled, waved, and said, “Yes,” before we continued on our way. We were waiting at a Starbucks, planning to stay the weekend with friends who were on their way to pick us up. So there we sat for a few hours, surrounded by our weekend bags, sipping coffee, and just waiting.

While we waited, my daughter called. Somewhere in that conversation, I had time to process what had happened earlier with the woman.

And then it hit me she thought we were homeless.

It wasn’t a thought that had ever crossed my mind before, at least not in my adult life. The realization stopped me. For a brief moment, in someone else’s eyes, I was seen as someone without a home.

When I told my daughter about it, I could only laugh softly and shake my head. I knew I wasn’t homeless because I had a place to stay, but I also knew I didn’t have a home of my own at that moment. I remembered recently asking if I could use someone’s address to renew my license. I knew that wasn’t my home, but it was something I had to do.

Even then, I could feel there was a lesson in all of this.

At that point, everything important to me was with me my husband, our essentials, and a few sentimental items tucked into a small storage unit. We had learned from our last living situation not to take up too much space or inconvenience anyone. This time, we were doing things differently.

But as I sat there, I couldn’t help but feel a deep heaviness in my heart for the homeless community. I should have always carried that kind of compassion, but life has a way of putting us in situations that open our eyes and soften our hearts.

Sometimes it takes walking through something yourself to truly see others clearly.

I’m grateful- grateful that we had a place to go, grateful for the people who made room for us, and grateful that this experience reminded me of the kind of person I want to be. Compassionate. Aware. Willing to act.

Because when God allows us to experience certain things, it’s rarely just about us. It’s about learning, growing, and letting empathy take root in a way that changes how we see the world and how we serve it.

Buying jeans at Old Navy without enough money I don’t even know what my game plan was. The only thing on my mind was simple: I need jeans. That’s it.

I stood there in line, fully aware that I didn’t have enough, yet something in me refused to turn around. Then, right in the nick of time, a Cash App refund from Walmart came through. Just like that, I was able to buy not one, but two pairs of jeans.

Looking back, I can’t help but ask myself: What was that?

And the only answer that fits is faith in action. Blind faith. Faith that had no evidence of how things would work out but still chose to believe.

That day wasn’t really about jeans. It was about trust. It was about standing in line even when logic said, “You don’t have enough.” It was about believing that God would meet me where I was, even in something as small and ordinary as a clothing purchase.

This year has been a journey. Doors have shut. Options have run out. There have been moments when the only choice left was to trust. To be like David and remember what the Lord has already done.

And today, that’s exactly what I’m doing.

I’m remembering.

Because right now, my needs are stacking up again. The math doesn’t make sense. There isn’t enough.

But God is.

And that’s enough for me. Even in my humbling, even as I’m brought lower day by day, I can still say with confidence: God provides. God sees. God knows.

Sometimes faith looks like standing in a checkout line with nothing but trust in your heart and watching Him show up right on time.

I’m beginning to see endings in a new light. They aren’t moments of sweet sorrow anymore they’re the bridge to beginnings. Endings reveal the work in its completed form, showcasing everything it took to arrive at that moment. But they’re fleeting, gone before you can fully take them in. It’s tempting to rush on to the next thing, but I encourage you to pause if you can. Sit with that ending. You made it! How do you feel? You must feel amazing.

Recently, I made a conscious decision to end things that no longer serve me relationships and situations that don’t align with where I’m going. I once believed I didn’t end relationships, but I’ve come to recant that. If a relationship isn’t healthy, it’s okay to let it go. That doesn’t make it easy, but it’s necessary. I’ve realized that letting go can create space for something better maybe even reconciliation one day. But if a relationship does come back, it has to be on terms that allow it to be healthy and to grow.

If an ending brings the most peace, then it’s worth embracing. Not every ending has to be painful; some are the beginning of something amazing. Whether it’s a chapter, a season, or a relationship, when it’s time to let go, trust that it’s leading to something better. This ending whatever it is can still be something beautiful.

If someone comes to you, be available. I try to set aside time to be there for people because everyone needs a safe place where they can feel seen and heard someone they can turn to without fear of judgment, no matter how bad they think their situation might be. I believe it’s my responsibility to lay down my life for others in this way. It’s the least I can do, especially knowing that I’ve been graced with the ability to encourage others. This is a task I take seriously. No matter what’s happening in my own life, I want the person in front of me to have the stage.

What’s the point of having a gift if you don’t share it? I don’t see myself as the gift, though encouragement is. My job is to empty myself of every good thing God has placed within me so that others can be uplifted. It’s not always easy, but I trust that whatever I pour out will always be replenished. What I eat or drink figuratively speaking comes from a source that never runs dry. You could say I’ll never be thirsty or hungry because I have access to a well of grace and strength that keeps regenerating me.

I’ve learned to embrace the truth that my life isn’t about me. It’s about service, love, and encouragement. When someone chooses to confide in me, to seek comfort or clarity, it’s an honor. In that moment, their needs take center stage. My role is simply to listen, support, and reflect God’s heart for them. If I can offer someone even a fraction of the hope and encouragement I’ve received, then I know I’ve fulfilled my purpose for that moment. So, whenever the opportunity comes, I say: take the stage.

I don’t want to look the part I want to be who I am. It’s so easy to get caught up in trying to appear perfect, and social media plays a huge role in feeding that illusion. With every curated post and filtered image, people start losing touch with who they truly are. They become puppets, controlled by the world’s standards, brainwashed into chasing perfection. But the truth is, perfection is a mirage. You can’t have it all or do it all, and striving for that is like grasping at the wind. No matter how hard you try, it will always slip through your fingers.

What I see saddens me. I see people acquiring things they don’t truly want, all for the sake of impressing others. These things are often neglected, not cherished, because they were never desired in the first place they were just props for a fleeting moment or a social media post. I’ve fallen into that trap too, trying to make everything picture-perfect: hair in place, house spotless, life neatly tied up in a bow. But the reality is, life doesn’t always look like that. Sometimes it’s messy, unpredictable, and beautifully flawed. And honestly, that’s when you truly see people for who they are.

Life isn’t supposed to be a picture-perfect performance. It’s meant to be lived, with all its ups and downs, chaos and imperfections. We shouldn’t apologize for letting life unfold authentically. It’s okay if things don’t always look or feel perfect because perfection isn’t real. What’s real is the journey, the honesty, and the moments that show us as we are. So let’s stop chasing illusions and start embracing the beauty in life’s imperfection.

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.