Author: Kaleathia Murphy

For the past two years, I’ve been wearing braids, doing them myself because going to a salon just isn’t in the budget right now. I’m grateful for the skills to style my own hair, but recently, my hair and my life have started changing in ways I didn’t expect.

I’m perimenopausal. One of the many symptoms is hair loss. Today, I experienced it in a way that left me shaken. As I was washing my hair, clumps of it started falling out. At first, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was afraid to even see how much hair I had left.

I tried to comfort myself, telling myself, It’s just hair. It’ll grow back. But the reality of my limited finances hit me hard. I felt sad and unsure of what to do. I thought to myself, I’m not weak. I can get through this. Women deal with this all the time, right?

Still, I felt numb uncertain about what comes next.

I finally told my husband what had happened, and in that moment, I broke. I wept in his arms, loudly and without holding back. It was one of the most comforting feelings I’ve ever known, to just be there in his embrace, letting all my fear and sadness pour out.

I didn’t have answers. All I could do was stay in the moment the moment of a woman who is growing older, facing the challenges that come with it.

This isn’t easy. But I know I’m not alone, and maybe, just maybe, there’s something beautiful in learning to embrace the changes life brings.

Over time, I’ve learned a powerful truth: people have the right to be exactly who they are. They have the right to stay the same, to choose not to change, and even the right not to choose you. It’s a hard truth, but it’s freeing when you accept it.

When it comes to relationships, we face a choice: we can decide to accept people fully as they are flaws, quirks, and all or we can choose to step away from what doesn’t bring us peace. Both options require courage, and neither is easy.

For me, the work began within. Over the years, I’ve had to stop pointing fingers and take a hard look at myself. It wasn’t “them.” It was me. I couldn’t continue viewing myself as a victim. Yes, I’ve been hurt, but those hurts were long ago.

At one point, I thought time would heal old wounds. I believed that with enough patience, broken relationships could be mended. So, I went back, trying to fix what was shattered. But to my disappointment, some brokenness simply can’t be repaired.

That realization wasn’t easy to accept. Even now, I find myself standing at a distance, still hoping and praying for change. But here’s what I know: when you’ve done the work to become healthy, it’s not wise to risk making yourself unwell again by stepping into toxic situations.

Some people are who they are and they have every right to be. But your presence in their lives isn’t always necessary.

Letting go doesn’t mean giving up on hope. It means preserving your peace. Sometimes the kindest thing you can do for yourself and for others is to step back and let them be.

I’m not the person who knows all the answers. In fact, I’ll be the first to admit it and I’ll say it again and again if I need to. I’m okay with not knowing everything.

I’ve come to learn that sometimes, it’s not about having the perfect words or knowing exactly what to say. Sometimes, it’s about just being there. Sitting on the phone when words fail to come or when words simply aren’t needed. Sometimes, it’s about listening really listening without judgment. Hearing someone’s breath, their sighs, or the passion in their voice as they let their emotions pour out.

In those moments, my presence matters more than my words. Whether it’s quiet support or simply being a space for someone to release what they’re holding inside, I’m learning that this can mean everything.

It doesn’t matter what comes out whether it’s anger, pain, joy, or confusion. What matters is that someone feels heard and understood. And sometimes, the best way to offer that is to just sit there, in silence or in solidarity, letting them know they’re not alone.

I’m realizing that the act of simply being there speaks louder than anything I could ever say. Words can be powerful, but they’re not always necessary. After all, most communication is nonverbal.

Each day, I’m discovering the beauty in this. The beauty in just being.

Our son called today to tell me that his car had been stolen. He explained how he had just purchased it and all the effort he put into saving the money for it. I could hear the frustration and rage in his voice. He said he was walking around aimlessly, questioning why his car was taken when there are better ones in his neighborhood.

All I could do to console him was listen. I knew this wasn’t the time to give advice or say much at all it was simply a time to be present for him. My heart ached hearing the hurt in his voice.

As mothers, this is part of the process of watching our children learn to fly the part we can’t teach them. There are lessons they must figure out on their own. They have to navigate mistakes, endure hurts, and face disappointments. These experiences shape them, making them stronger and more resilient.

But even as they grow into adulthood, my job as a mother isn’t done. I still have a responsibility to feed them not with literal food, but with encouragement, hope, and love. I must continually pour these into them as they navigate this life.

It’s a bittersweet and beautiful experience, watching your children learn how to fly. But as any bird knows, sometimes you have to fall to the ground before you truly soar.

Today, I planned to notify someone that I will no longer be accessible to them. It’s time for me to be selfish with my time and energy. I no longer want to be in so-called friendships that don’t contribute to my growth. I prayed before sending the message, seeking guidance.

But just as I was about to let them know, the Lord halted me. He spoke to my spirit, saying, “They aren’t mature enough to handle what you’re about to say.” I paused and asked, “What shall I do then? I don’t want to keep erasing texts or delaying this.”

He replied, “Let it be. What you’re doing is cleaning house. You’re removing everything in your life that isn’t serving its purpose. You’re creating space for people who will assist you in where you are going.”

This is a season of new birth for me. I trust that everything I need will come to me. The people meant to be in my life will find me, and I will recognize them when they arrive. My spirit is ready and willing to give and receive whatever is necessary to fulfill my purpose.

I want to fully embrace who I am who God says I am. It’s time to begin the journey of pouring out everything within me, leaving nothing undone. I won’t die with purpose still inside me, because I am purpose.

This is my season to grow, to align, and to let go of anything that holds me back.

For several weeks, I let my thoughts run wild. They were taking over my mind, leaving me feeling cloudy and overwhelmed. I was reading my Bible and praying, but no relief came. My mind felt like a battlefield, and I couldn’t find peace.

During one of my prayer times, I sensed God prompting me to listen to Battlefield of the Mind by Joyce Meyer on Audible. It’s funny because this book has been a staple in my yearly reading, but somehow, I hadn’t revisited it in a few years.

When I started listening, one chapter hit me hard: Think About What You’re Thinking About. It was a lightbulb moment. I realized my thoughts had been everywhere, and I couldn’t hear God because my mind was so loud. My head was full of lies seeds of doubt, fear, and negativity and I was on the verge of watering them all.

But once I started taking control of my thoughts, everything began to shift. It’s only been a week, and even my nanna noticed a difference. She said, “You sound better.” I told her, “I feel better,” and explained how I had been letting my mind take over.

Now, Philippians 4:8 has become my go-to scripture: “Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable if anything is excellent or praiseworthy think about such things.”

This verse reminds me to be intentional about what I allow into my mind. Instead of letting negative or untrue thoughts take root, I choose to focus on what aligns with God’s truth. It’s a daily practice, but it’s a powerful one.

If you’ve been feeling stuck or overwhelmed, I encourage you to pause and think about what you’re thinking about. Your thoughts have power, but with God’s help, you can take control of them and experience peace like never before.

My nanna radiated grace and integrity. I never heard her use profanity or speak ill of others. To me, she embodied the essence of being Christlike. She became my standard of what it meant to live a life that reflected Jesus.

Yet, for much of my life, I measured “good” by the world’s standards. I thought people could be good without a Savior. We rely on our limited understanding to define what’s good, but good in our own eyes is often flawed and skewed. It lacks the depth and purity of God’s goodness.

Now, I find myself at a place in my journey where I long to be a true disciple of Christ. I recognize that people are watching, even when I don’t see them. Because I have been set free from sin, I know I am called to a higher standard a standard that reflects my Savior.

I no longer want to live according to the world’s idea of goodness. Instead, I want to live a life that points others to freedom in Christ. I want to share this freedom because I know what it feels like to be bound, and I want everyone to experience what it means to be truly free.

Being Christlike is not about perfection; it’s about surrender. It’s about reflecting His love, His grace, and His truth in a way that draws others closer to Him. That’s the life I strive for, and that’s the freedom I hope to share with the world.

Sometimes, we need a different kind of vision to truly see. You need four eyes to see not in the literal sense, but in a deeper way. Our hearts act as glasses for our eyes. When the heart is engaged, it allows us to see clearly. But here’s the question: What’s in your heart?

The heart is a reflection of what’s inside of us. It’s the core of who we are, and it influences how we see the world and how we show up in it. What we put out whether kindness, love, or bitterness comes directly from what’s stored in our hearts.

When the heart is healthy, it’s impossible to consistently put out bad or unkind things. A healthy heart produces light, love, and goodness. But when the heart is unhealthy, the darkness within eventually spills over. It clouds our vision and distorts how we see others and ourselves.

So, take a moment to examine your heart. What’s in it? Is it love, forgiveness, and compassion? Or is it bitterness, jealousy, or hurt? The condition of your heart will always determine the clarity of your vision.

You may not need glasses for your eyes, but if your heart isn’t clear, you’ll never see the world as it truly is. A healthy heart brings true vision and that’s the kind of sight we all need.

I recently faced a dilemma that reminded me of the importance of having a ready mindset. Someone I knew was standing in faith for the full recovery of a sick loved one. I joined them in believing for healing, but I added, “Even if the unexpected happens, God is faithful. Whatever His will is, it’s perfect.”

In an instant, the person rebuked me, saying they believed only in a full recovery. I understood their perspective, but I couldn’t help feeling a little saddened. To me, trusting in God’s will whatever it may be doesn’t diminish our faith in His ability to heal. In fact, it strengthens it. It’s about surrendering to His perfect plan, even when it doesn’t match our expectations.

This situation brought me back to my own journey. For 11 years, I searched for answers about why I have a limp and why I can’t stand for long periods of time. Every explanation left me feeling defeated, but through it all, I clung to hope. I would say, “I know the Lord will heal me. I know He’s more than capable.”

But I also added something important: “If I remain this way, I know God is still faithful, and He doesn’t make mistakes.”

This is what I call a ready mindset. It’s the posture of being open to whatever God decides to do, trusting that His plan is perfect and good even if it doesn’t look like what we imagined.

Having a ready mindset doesn’t mean we stop believing for miracles or lose faith in God’s power. It means we embrace His sovereignty, trusting that His ways are higher than ours. Whether He heals us here and now or works in ways we don’t fully understand, He is still good.

So, as I reflect on my journey, I continue to believe in God’s ability to heal, but I also rest in the assurance that His will whatever it may be is perfect. That’s the beauty of faith: trusting the God who never makes mistakes, even when life doesn’t go as planned.

When we moved back to Georgia, I had a plan. I was excited about spending more time with my kids. Now that we’re all adults, I thought it would be an opportunity to truly get to know one another on a deeper level. I envisioned us having adult conversations, sharing adult hugs and kisses, and creating moments that felt priceless. There’s something about a mother’s embrace that brings security, even as adults. At least, that’s what I believe.

But somewhere along the way, things didn’t go as planned. Miscommunication crept in, and confusion took hold of a situation that no one wanted to fix. I tried to mend it, thinking I could, but I had to accept the hard truth: not everyone was ready for resolution. Confusion seemed to thrive in the relationships. Maybe it had always been there, but now I was in a place where I could see it clearly. It hurt to witness, and my heart ached in silence.

Still, I believe there’s good in this pain. I hope for a day when we can all come back together this time, healthy and whole. For now, I’m learning to let things be as they are, trusting that clarity and healing will come in their own time. My heart remains broken, but my hope remains strong.