IN HIS GRACE BLOG

I woke up staring at the ceiling while sharp pains radiated through my lower back and down my leg. Every movement felt like a shock through my body. And honestly… I felt defeated. I had just finished the Whole30, something that felt like such a victory for me. I had been feeling amazing in my body—no aches, no pains, more energy than I had felt in a long time. So to suddenly wake up in this kind of pain felt discouraging. In 2022, I was in a car accident that injured my back.

I feel like I’m falling from the sky. Not slowly. Not gently. But suddenly, like the ground disappeared beneath me without warning. The wind is loud in my ears. My stomach drops. My heart races as I realize I’m going down, and instinct takes over. I start reaching—grabbing wildly for anything that might stop the fall. My arms stretch out, fingers scraping at the air, desperate for something solid. I try to grab my health. It crumbles the moment I touch it. I reach for my desi

I was listening to a YouTube channel named With the Perrys (see video below), and on this particular YouTube channel, their guest was CeCe Winans—affectionately known as “Auntie CeCe.” I’ve never met her, but I would absolutely love to. She comes across as genuine. Every interview I’ve seen where people interact with her shows how deeply she cares for people. As I listened, she spoke about many topics related to ministry and life, but one story stood out to me—her testimony

I’m tired, y’all. I’m tired of waking up already exhausted. I’m tired of researching the perfect  mix of supplements, vitamins, and herbs, hoping something—anything—will help regulate my body. I’m tired of feeling sad and heavy with grief. I’m tired of waiting…and hoping…for a period. I’m tired of trying to figure it all out. I’m tired of fighting silent battles. I’m tired of pushing through fatigue just to do the simplest things—staying caught up at work, keeping my home tog

First blog post of 2026 2025 didn’t go the way I thought it would. It didn’t unfold according to my prayers, my plans, or my expectations. This past year carried heavy losses—friendships that ended, loved ones I had to say goodbye to, and a version of life I had to release. My health took an unexpected turn, both mentally and physically, and it forced me to slow down in ways I didn’t choose but deeply needed. So no, I didn’t walk into 2026 celebrating. I limped into 2026—carr

There is a quiet weight that comes with hope that lingers too long. Scripture names it clearly: “Hope deferred makes the heart sick.” And lately, I have felt that truth settle deep within me. I realized this weekend that I stopped talking about my health issues, particularly my journey with infertility. At first, I told myself it was surface-level exhaustion— I’m tired of talking about it. Tired of explaining. Tired of answering the same questions. Tired of searching for w

There are seasons when trusting God feels simple—and then there are seasons when it feels like breathing through fog: slow, heavy, and uncertain. This journey with my health has been one of those seasons. For years, I’ve believed that God spoke a promise to my heart: that I would have another baby, a baby girl. Not only did I sense it, but dreams, visions, and confirmations came from people who had no idea what the Lord had already whispered to me. Yet despite all of that, my

“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10 Lately, I’ve been living in the tension between trying to fix my health issues and learning to trust God’s timing over my own. My mind keeps searching for answers while every “algorithm-approved” post on Facebook offers a new solution that never actually helps. Instead of peace, it brings more overwhelming feelings, more exhaustion, and more anxiety. When the anxiety rises, even the simple things feel impossible—making decisio

Lately, I’ve been sitting in this heavy place—frustrated, sad, and honestly worn down. My body feels like it’s fighting battles I don’t fully understand. I’m dealing with health issues, but the doctors can’t give me clear answers. It almost feels like I’m walking around waiting for some kind of “expiration date,” yet nothing comes… just more uncertainty. And in this in-between place, I feel like I’m floating—alive, but not grounded. Moving, but not sure where I’m going. And I

About Me Sometimes God invites us to slow down, to sit still, and to listen before we speak. So instead of talking into a camera, I’m choosing to write. To put my thoughts, my prayers, and my real life onto the page. This blog begins exactly where I am, not where I think I should be. As I write this, I’m in a season that has felt especially heavy. I’m still learning how to live with the loss of my Daddy, who went home to be with the Lord on May 28, 2025. Grief has a way of to

This morning, I woke up and just sat there for a moment, checking in with myself. I asked, “Kay, how you feeling today?” and I had to be honest—something felt off. My spirit was heavy. I realized I was feeling sad… grieved. There’s just so much happening right now . The world feels upside down. The church feels heavy. And in my own life, it feels like, “Lord, where are You in all this?” So I decided to go for a walk. Normally, I’ll throw on some Christmas music —it's a thin

So lately, I’ve been reading through the book of Job. Now, let me be real for a second — I didn’t want to read it at first. Something in my spirit told me to, but I hesitated. Because we all know Job went through it! The loss, the pain, the suffering… I wasn’t sure if I was ready for all that. But y’all… I’m glad I did. This time, reading Job feels different. I’m not just reading about suffering — I’m reading about being seen by God in the middle of it. One verse that stopp

It’s Friday, November 14, 2025, and this week has not ended the way it began. I’ve been pushing through a cold that has completely drained me. I’m tired, my head hurts, my throat is sore, and this random cough keeps popping up. My asthma is flaring, so at night I’ve been sleeping propped up just to breathe. And let me tell you—trying to sleep in that recliner last night? Miserable. I felt every minute of it. Then, early this morning, anxiety tried to creep in on top of the ph