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Sometimes I wonder how different my life would look if I had taken another route — a different street, a different school, a different train. There are people I wish I could unmeet, moments I wish I could unlive, versions of myself I wish I could return to. Life has a way of making you replay the scenes you never asked for, the ones that still sit heavy in your spirit. But even in the confusion, even in the parts that still sting, I’m learning that God doesn’t waste encounter

I wrote this on my birthday — July 13th. Chapter 46. And maybe that’s why these words feel heavier… fuller… more honest. Because last year, on this same day, I truly believed I was flying into one of the greatest seasons of my life. A season that looked like promise, elevation, answered prayers. A season I thought God had wrapped in celebration. I didn’t know I was actually flying straight into the eye of the storm. How could I have known I was headed right into the center of

There was a time I thought the hardest part was losing people. But loss has a way of teaching you what silence never could. Because the real heartbreak wasn’t in the goodbye — it was in the slow, quiet unraveling of who I became trying to be enough for people who were never enough for me. I kept shrinking myself to fit into rooms that dimmed my spirit. I kept softening my voice so no one would feel the weight of my truth. I kept loving people who only loved the version of me

They tried to define me before they ever knew me. Single mom. Eight kids. They built a box and expected me to climb inside it. Never not me They assumed struggle. They assumed lack. They assumed I was someone who needed saving. But I’ve never been a charity case. Not because life was gentle — but because God refused to let their assumptions become my story. The tragedy, the childhood wounds, the heartache, the pain that pressed against my bones — none of it was wasted. It d

Some days, I don’t have the right words. Some days, I don’t even have the right breath. But I show up anyway — not because I’m strong, but because life doesn’t pause just because I’m overwhelmed. And if you’re anything like me, you know that feeling too well. We don’t get to fall apart every time we feel like it. We don’t get to tap out when life gets heavy. We don’t get to disappear just because our hearts are tired. We keep going. We keep trying. We keep showing up — even w

It was supposed to be a quiet Saturday, yet the chaos is still moving. The kids are calling from the other room, life is loud around me, and something always needs my hands. But in this small pocket of focus, I’m pushing the work forward. The cookbook I’m actively shaping. The seasonings I’m refining. The baking and cookware line slowly taking form behind the scenes. Some days the work is loud. Some days the house is louder. But I’m learning to build in the middle of

There are some stories a woman carries for years before she’s finally ready to speak them out loud. Remnants of Her Soul is the moment I stopped whispering mine. This book is not just a memoir. It’s not just spoken word. It’s not just devotional or self‑help. It is all four — woven together in a way that mirrors how real healing actually feels: layered, messy, sacred, and honest. Inside these pages, I open the door to the girl I used to be — not to expose her, but to hono

There’s something timeless about a warm batch of chocolate chip cookies cooling on the counter. Soft centers, golden edges, and the kind of aroma that makes the whole house slow down. These homemade chocolate chip cookies are part of the comfort‑food storytelling inside my upcoming cookbook, Catered Chaos, releasing soon — where real life, motherhood, and 911‑dispatcher moments meet the recipes that hold us together. DISPATCH ENTRY #043 THE CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE CASE When th

So you want to know who I am, huh. Or maybe you don’t. But I'm assuming if you didn’t, you probably wouldn’t be here. So let me give you a little bit of me. Nothing fancy. Nothing polished. Just the truth —the way I’d tell it if we were sitting at my kitchen table and the kids were finally quiet for five whole minutes. I’m the girl next door. The sister who listens. The friend who loves you but will still tell you the truth because I want you to win. I’m the mom who’s busting

There’s something I’ve learned about women — especially women who carry a lot. We don’t always have the space for long chapters, long explanations, or long anything. Life doesn’t pause for us. Healing doesn’t wait. Clarity doesn’t show up when the house is finally clean and the laundry is folded. Most days, we’re trying to breathe in between everything else. In between spilled milk. In between diaper changes. In between a business call in the car. In between the school pickup

I didn’t start writing with the intention of creating a new form. I wrote because I was hurting, overwhelmed, and trying to breathe. I’ve always written that way — short lines, quick thoughts, whatever my heart needed to release in the moment. As a mother of eight, I don’t have the luxury of long, polished paragraphs or perfect grammar. My life moves fast. My mind moves fast. And my writing has always come out in bursts. That’s how I’ve survived transitions, heartbreak, and t

When people first encounter Remnants of Her Soul, they often try to place it into a familiar category: memoir, poetry, devotional,, self‑help. But none of those labels fit — not because the book avoids them, but because it contains all of them at once, in a way that has never existed before. This is not a genre. This is a literary form. A genre tells you what you’re reading. A form tells you how the story moves through your body. My work is built on a four‑part structure tha

Trauma can leave deep scars, often manifesting in various forms, from emotional distress to physical ailments. Many individuals seek healing through different avenues, including therapy, art, and literature. One such avenue that has gained attention is the unique literary form developed by Kiamesha Smith. This blog post explores how Smith's innovative approach to writing serves as a powerful tool for healing trauma, offering readers a pathway to understanding and processing t

In a world saturated with self-help books and motivational speeches, the spoken-word devotional self-help memoir emerges as a unique and powerful medium. This genre combines the art of storytelling with the rhythm and emotion of spoken word, creating a deeply personal and transformative experience for both the writer and the audience. In this blog post, we will explore the essence of this genre, its impact on personal growth, and how it can serve as a guiding light for those

In a world where stress and anxiety often overshadow our daily lives, the quest for holistic healing has become more relevant than ever. The book Remnants of Her Soul invites readers on a transformative journey that intertwines personal growth, emotional healing, and spiritual awakening. This blog post explores the profound themes of the book and how they resonate with the principles of holistic healing. Understanding Holistic Healing Holistic healing is an approach that cons