The Big 3-0 can feel like this uncharted territory, with its expectations and labels that often carry weight we never agreed to shoulder.

Recognizing when it’s time to let go can be challenging, but it is an act of obedience, trust, and faith in God’s purpose for your life.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve had a desire to live in Texas. I didn’t know why—it was just there, long before I understood its purpose.

This shade of a story is how God, in His complete sovereignty, out of 7.9 billion people, fulfilled purpose in the lives of two people.

Right after graduating, I accepted a teaching job at a small private school, and it was far from the path I had envisioned for myself.

Right now, I’m in my own transition—figuring out how I want to show up in the world. I’ve been hiding behind words, logos, and other people.

My first wedding wasn’t what I wanted, but it was a vehicle into purpose, a door God opened to usher me into a new season.

When you think of “influence,” you probably imagine someone with a robust following, posting beautiful pictures on Instagram or TikTok.

Yesterday, while in the shower, peace washed over me as I reflected on my life. Despite past trauma and recent job loss, I found joy.

As I reflect on my life in this season, I’ve sat with grief. Like Jesus, I know it well. While I may have nursed it longer than necessary.

As I write this, I’m still without many of the things I long for. But God hasn’t lifted the suffering—He’s enlarged it.

We often know what to do—whether it's avoiding unhealthy carbs or resisting the urge to be petty—but we fail to activate it.

Just when I thought I was heading to Bath and Body Works for candles, God had something better waiting—a Michael Kors tote at 75% off!

This week has been a doozy. I've been eagerly awaiting my new bed, but after learning it would be weeks late, things took a turn.

The one place a girl with low self-esteem, daddy issues, and insecurities about her weight should not find herself it is at a university.

The earliest memory I have of the foreignness of a father was a childhood birthday. I can’t recall the age, but I surely can recall the day.

My name is Deja Brown. I am a wife, sister, friend, mentor, and a broken little girl in need of a “Father Fix”.