Hey Family,
Happy Monday and Happy May—again! I pray you all had a beautiful and restful Mother’s Day.
When I realized it was time to write this article, I initially thought about sharing one from when I first launched this magazine—back when I had no subscribers and was just getting started. But God nudged me in a different direction. He asked me to share something fresh from my heart—something personal that happened this weekend.
While He’s given me clear instructions not to speak about it in detail or continue sharing the full message, He did give me the green light to take what the enemy meant for harm and allow Him to use it for good. So, as always, I’m writing from a place of healing and obedience.
I recently spent two weeks with my brother and his family—some much-needed time with my nieces and nephew before stepping into my next transition. My brother lives about an hour outside of Philly. On Saturday, at 2:27 PM, I received a text from my father that knocked the wind out of me. I was stunned.
I won’t share the entire message, but I will share what God permitted. Two lines stood out:
“I’m sending you this text because I want you to know that I no longer wanna have anything to do with you,” and
“I should’ve closed that door on you years ago and left it at that.”
Even now, typing those words brings tears to my eyes.
The text was triggered by my absence from my father’s 70th birthday party. If you know me, you know I don’t move unless God says so. There were two reasons I didn’t attend:
My brother had a funeral to attend, which changed my plans to use his car; and
The closer the date got, the clearer God's instruction became: “Don’t go.”
My relationship with my father has always been rocky. What hit me the hardest wasn’t just the text—but the idea that missing one party, when he’s missed so many moments of my life, warranted such harshness. It didn’t sound like a loving father speaking to his daughter—it sounded like a man talking to another man.
But then I was reminded of something powerful.
I listened to a sermon by Pastor Sarah Jakes Roberts titled An Optical Illusion. She spoke about the woman with the issue of blood and how the most powerful part of that encounter wasn’t just the healing—it was Jesus removing the false identities she carried because of her condition. He turned to her and said,
“Daughter...” (Luke 8:43–48)
And that one word hit different. It reminded me that no matter how people try to label us or make us feel unworthy, God’s voice is the loudest. What He calls us matters most.
That text message painted me as selfish, guilty, and even dishonest. I had already explained to my sister and stepmom why I couldn’t attend. But I guess that wasn’t enough.
Here’s what I’ve come to realize: when someone wants to find fault, they will. But I also know that sometimes, God allows a moment—like a party—to expose what’s really been in someone’s heart all along. The party wasn’t the problem. It was just the excuse.
To those of you walking with a ministry mantle, this next part is for you.
When people are hurting, we often jump into action—we pray for them, check in, send voice notes or texts. We know what it’s like to be in the valley, so we make sure others don’t walk through it alone. On Saturday, I found myself wishing someone would’ve grabbed my hands in prayer in real time, even through a voice note. Not later. Not after the moment had passed. Right then.
Real-time prayer matters. I’m not saying people aren’t praying for me—but sometimes we forget. We say, “I’ll pray for you,” and then life gets in the way. That’s why prayer with someone—not just for them—is powerful. It’s not a “Mya” thing. It’s a “Jesus” thing.
To those of you who have strained—or no-contact—relationships with your parents, I see you. I pray you trust that God will vindicate you in due time. If He tells you to reconcile, obey. But if you’ve been walking in love and still find yourself mistreated, honor from a distance is okay. Forgiveness doesn’t always mean reconciliation. Keep your heart open—but don’t subject yourself to emotional abuse.
My heart still hurts. But I trust the Mender of broken hearts to restore mine in time.
Have a blessed week—and remember to show up for people the way you’d want them to show up for you.
With love and grace,
Mya Kay
Check out the sermon from SJR HERE.
Have you grabbed your May/June issue yet? Check it out here: Girls Anthem Magazine