What if the way you define respect has been shaped more by power than by truth?

Most people are not reacting to you…
they are reacting to what is happening in their mind.

Unhealed trauma.
Unspoken stories.
Generational patterns.

And in a world that confuses control with respect, many of us have learned to survive… not to heal.

Respect is not control.
Peace is not weakness.

If you’ve ever been misunderstood, disrespected, or pushed to react… this is for you.

Because the real question isn’t what they did.

It’s who you choose to be when it happens.

This piece challenges you to look inward…
to release the need to control others…
and to take responsibility for how you show up.

To choose peace over power.
To redefine respect from the inside out.

So when the moment comes…
when you are tested…

Do you choose peace… or power?

What if the battle you have been fighting is not just around you… but within you?

Most people live on autopilot, reacting instead of responding, surviving instead of truly living. But once you understand how your mind, your “parts,” and your choices are working together, everything changes.

This is not just a blog. It is a mirror.

Because once you see… you cannot unsee.
And once you know… you are responsible for what you do next.

What if the storms in your life were never meant to destroy you, but to reveal what God was building in you? In Choose Your Hard: The Storm, the Shipwreck, and the Snake, Rebecca Newby reflects on grief, leadership, heartbreak, survival, and spiritual transformation through the hardest seasons of her life. This is a testimony about choosing growth over bitterness, trusting God through wilderness seasons, and learning how pain can become wisdom for generations to come.

This is a personal reflection on why I write… rooted in faith, healing, and purpose. Through honest truth and lived experience, I share how words have helped me process pain, grow, and stay connected to God. My hope is that by the end of this piece, your pain meets peace… and you feel encouraged to find your own voice too.

Everybody’s in the pool… but not everybody is okay.

There once was a child…
with freshly done hair…
invited to a pool party.

They were told one thing:
“Don’t get your hair wet.”

But someone threw them in anyway.

And instead of getting out…
they stayed.

Because it’s easier to go with the flow…
than to disrupt the moment
and admit something isn’t okay.

Some people are drowning quietly.
Some are forcing a smile.
Some are staying just to avoid being seen walking away.

And the truth is…
you cannot heal what you refuse to acknowledge.

So the real question is…
what kind of water are you in?

I almost married a man who was never mine…
but this story isn’t really about him.

It’s about discernment, grief, healing, and the hard truth that sometimes we stay in places God has already called us out of.

Through love, loss, and lessons I had to learn the long way, I discovered that choosing peace over confusion will cost you… but it will also give you your mind, your identity, and your life back.

This is not tea.
This is testimony.

I recently watched young Black men tear a social justice debate apart with intelligence, discipline, and pride. Afros. Bantu locs. Academic brilliance spoken with confidence and authority. As I listened to them challenge ideas, reference research, and command the room, one thought crossed my mind: these are the rough roses.

Young people learning how to grow in environments the world never expected them to bloom in. Too often, the brilliance of children in our communities is misunderstood before anyone takes the time to hear their story. What looks like attitude is often adaptation. What gets labeled as defiance is sometimes survival.

One of the most dangerous weapons used against generations is not violence, poverty, or failing schools. It is what we do not know. When we do not understand the environments children are navigating, we begin to misread them. And when we misread them long enough, we begin to blame them.

This reflection explores what I witnessed in that debate room, what I learned growing up in Pine Bluff, and what years in education taught me about the power of asking a different question. Not “What’s wrong with you?” but “What happened?”

Because when we finally slow down long enough to ask that question, something powerful happens. We begin to see the rose growing through the concrete.

What looks like sudden change is often years of quiet preparation.

In this reflection, I share how faith, grief, leadership, and obedience shaped the path that ultimately led me to Atlanta. From serving in church during the pandemic to stepping into unexpected leadership roles, I began to see that God was aligning every step long before I understood where He was taking me.

This story is about trusting God through pressure, recognizing divine alignment, and discovering that even the hardest seasons are often preparation for something greater.

Five years since March 3, 2021.
Five years since 5:35 PM.

There are moments the body does not forget. Trauma does not just live in memory. It lives in the nervous system. It lives in breath. It lives in the chest before the mind catches up.

This is a reflection on grief, anger, trauma, and the love we still carry. Because everybody dies. But not everybody truly lives.

Five years after March 3, 2021, I am still learning what grief does to the body, what peace does to the brain, and how love continues even after loss.

This is not just a memorial. It is a teaching. A prayer. A letter to grief. And a reminder that love does not stop when breath does. It multiplies.

“Grief is not only the passing of a loved one. Sometimes it is the version of your life that no longer exists. Sometimes it is change you did not ask for and could not have seen coming—pushing its way into your life and demanding adjustment. Learning how to grieve gratefully does not erase pain. It teaches you how to carry it without becoming bitter, numb, or hardened. This is the language that saved me.”

In Grieving Gratefully: Learning How to Walk Again, Rebecca shares how faith, neuroscience, and lived experience intersect in the aftermath of devastating loss. After surviving a school shooting, grieving the passing of her student Daylon, and helping her daughter process the loss of her father—all within the same week—she began rebuilding her mind and spirit through intentional language, biblical truth, and emotional regulation practices.

This piece explores what grief does to the brain, how trauma reshapes our perception, and how spiritual discipline can become a stabilizing force in the storm. Through personal story, scripture, and practical tools, Rebecca offers a grounded pathway toward healing without bitterness and hope without denial.

This is not about moving on.
It is about learning how to walk again.

In Heaven on Earth Is a Practice: Four Agreements. Nine Fruits. One Path to Peace., Rebecca shares what she has learned about protecting peace when life feels loud. Rooted in Scripture, cultural insight, and lived experience, she unpacks how fear operates beneath our reactions and how love becomes the disciplined response.

Through the Four Agreements and the Fruits of the Spirit, this piece offers grounded, everyday tools for regulating emotion, strengthening relationships, and choosing peace over being right.

This is not about being perfect.
It is about practicing alignment, one moment at a time.

Born Into Warzones: Serenity Was in the Room is a first person witness account of the day Daylon Burnett was shot at school and the days that followed. Told through the lens of presence, care, and faith, this piece centers what happens when systems fail but people stay.

It is a story about holding other people’s children in the middle of chaos, choosing breath over panic, and honoring the lives forever changed, not only the one that was lost. This is a reflection on grief, accountability, and the quiet practices that make safety and healing possible long after the sirens fade.

I was not born into ideal conditions. I was born into environments that required adaptation, resilience, and faith before I had language for any of it.

What followed was not a straight line, but a God-ordained journey shaped by education, grief, leadership, obedience, and healing.

Hands of IX was born from the understanding that titles do not protect your soul, productivity does not heal grief, and peace is something we must choose and practice.

This work exists for those ready to move from survival to stewardship.