An Inspired Chat with Karen Larkin of Milledgeville, GA

We recently had the chance to connect with Karen Larkin and have shared our conversation below.

Karen, really appreciate you sharing your stories and insights with us. The world would have so much more understanding and empathy if we all were a bit more open about our stories and how they have helped shaped our journey and worldview. Let’s jump in with a fun one: Are you walking a path—or wandering?
For much of my life, I thought I was walking a path — until I realized that paths aren’t always paved in clarity. Sometimes, they’re formed through storms, pain, and detours that shape who we are meant to become. My journey — from the depths of a stage 4 cancer diagnosis to the victory of being declared cancer-free — taught me that even when I couldn’t see the way, God was still directing my steps. I wasn’t wandering aimlessly; I was walking a path divinely designed for me.

There were moments I felt lost, uncertain, and overwhelmed — moments when my faith was tested and my future felt fragile. But in that wilderness, I discovered that wandering isn’t always wasted. Every step, even the shaky ones, was leading me toward purpose. It was in the stillness of surrender that I found strength. God wasn’t asking me to know the whole map — just to trust Him with the next step.

Today, I walk my path with intention. As an interior designer, I don’t just design spaces — I design peace. Every room I create, every story I share, every woman I encourage through my foundation or events — it’s all part of the same divine blueprint. My path is one of restoration, beauty, and hope. I now understand that peace is not found by escaping the storm but by learning to stand firm in the middle of it, anchored by faith.

So, am I walking a path or wandering? I am walking — with purpose, with grace, and with gratitude. I walk in alignment with the One who led me through the valley and placed me on solid ground. My path is illuminated not by perfection, but by the light of His promise. And every step I take now is a declaration: I am no longer lost. I am led.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Karen Larkin is an interior designer, author, speaker, podcast host, and philanthropist whose life and work are guided by faith, purpose, and a passion for transformation. As the founder of Karenna’s Design Studio, she creates intentional spaces that nurture peace, creativity, and well-being — helping individuals and entrepreneurs design environments that reflect healing and wholeness from the inside out. Through the Annie Cooper Hope Foundation, inspired by her own victorious journey through cancer, Karen extends compassion and hope to breast cancer patients by providing financial assistance, emotional encouragement, and spiritual support during their most challenging seasons.

Karen also uses her voice as the host of the empowering Sista-to-Sista Podcast, where she engages in real, raw, and faith-filled conversations that inspire women to embrace healing, growth, and sisterhood. With every design, every word, and every act of service, Karen’s mission remains the same — to help others discover peace within their walls, purpose within their hearts, and strength within their storms.

Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. What breaks the bonds between people—and what restores them?
Bonds between people are fragile threads — woven by love, trust, and shared purpose. But even the strongest threads can fray under the weight of pain, misunderstanding, pride, or silence. I’ve learned that what breaks the bonds between us is rarely one great explosion — it’s often the quiet erosion of connection. It’s the moment we stop listening. The moment we allow ego to speak louder than empathy. It’s when fear builds walls where love once built bridges.

During my own battle with cancer, I experienced both the breaking and the mending of bonds. Illness has a way of revealing truth — who shows up, who withdraws, and who holds your hand when your strength fails. Some relationships faded in the silence of discomfort, while others deepened in the sacred space of honesty and faith. What I once thought was loss, I later realized was pruning. God was removing what no longer served my growth and strengthening what was meant to last.

What restores those bonds is grace — the kind that comes from God and flows through us when we choose to forgive, even when we don’t receive an apology. Restoration begins when we see one another through eyes of compassion rather than judgment. It happens when we choose understanding over being right, when we let humility lead, and when love becomes the loudest voice in the room.

True restoration is not about returning to what was, but rebuilding something new — stronger, wiser, and anchored in truth. It’s realizing that connection is sacred, that people are gifts, and that healing happens in community. When we let go of resentment and open our hearts again, we invite God to weave the threads of relationship into something far more beautiful than before.

So, what breaks the bonds between people? Fear, pride, and distance.
And what restores them? Faith, forgiveness, and love.

Because love — real, enduring, God-breathed love — is the thread that never truly breaks. It only waits for us to pick it up again.

What did suffering teach you that success never could?
Suffering has a way of stripping away everything we think defines us — the titles, the plans, the confidence, even the will to keep moving. When my mother passed away, my world shattered in slow motion. The woman who had been my anchor, my encourager, and my safe place was suddenly gone. And with her went my sense of direction. Three years later, I found myself standing in a place where I no longer wanted to live — not out of rebellion, but out of exhaustion. My faith felt distant, my purpose unclear, and my reflection in the mirror unrecognizable.

But in that valley of grief, I learned something success could never have taught me: the power of surrender. Success teaches us how to build, but suffering teaches us how to be still. Success celebrates strength, but suffering reveals where our true strength comes from. It was in my brokenness that I discovered the presence of God was not in the noise of victory, but in the whisper of survival. When I had nothing left to give, He met me in the silence and reminded me that my story wasn’t over.

Suffering taught me compassion — not just for others, but for myself. It softened the parts of me that success had hardened. It reminded me that it’s okay to not have all the answers, to cry out in pain, and to rebuild slowly. It taught me that faith isn’t proven in the mountaintop moments; it’s refined in the fire, in the nights when tears outnumber prayers, and in the mornings when you rise again simply because grace carried you through the dark.

Most of all, suffering taught me purpose. It showed me that my pain could be the very thing that helps heal others. Through the death of my mother and my own journey of despair, I learned that brokenness is not the end — it’s the beginning of becoming whole again. Today, I stand not as someone untouched by sorrow, but as someone transformed by it. Success never taught me how to live again — suffering did.

Because it was in the darkness that I finally saw the light. And now, every step I take, every life I touch, and every word I speak is a testimony that even in suffering, God is still good — and His plan is still greater than the pain that tried to break me.

Next, maybe we can discuss some of your foundational philosophies and views? What’s a belief or project you’re committed to, no matter how long it takes?
I am committed to healing — not just my own, but helping others find theirs. Healing isn’t a moment; it’s a movement, a lifelong journey of restoration that flows from the inside out. It’s the heart behind everything I create — from the spaces I design to the foundations I build, to the words I write. Whether through Karenna’s Design Studio, the Annie Cooper Hope Foundation, or the books and events God has placed on my heart, my purpose is to help others discover peace, hope, and strength — even after life has shattered them.

This commitment was born out of my own pain — through loss, through illness, through the nights when I wondered if my faith would survive. I’ve learned that the most powerful transformations are not instant; they’re cultivated over time, through faith, perseverance, and love. Healing takes patience. Purpose takes process. And while the world often celebrates quick success, I’ve come to honor the beauty of becoming.

I believe that every person deserves to live in an environment — physical, emotional, and spiritual — that reflects peace. That’s why I design not just with colors and textures, but with intention and compassion. Every wall, every fabric, every layout tells a story of renewal. I want people to walk into their spaces and feel seen, safe, and restored. Because peace is not just a design aesthetic — it’s a spiritual state of being.

So no matter how long it takes, I’ll keep building what God has placed within me — spaces that heal, messages that uplift, and movements that restore hope. I’m not racing the clock; I’m walking in divine timing. The seed has already been planted — and I trust that in its season, it will bloom into something greater than I could ever imagine.

Because this isn’t just my work — it’s my calling. And I’m committed to it, for as long as it takes, until every space I touch and every heart I reach reflects the peace I once fought so hard to find.

Thank you so much for all of your openness so far. Maybe we can close with a future oriented question. What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
When I’m gone, I don’t want people to remember me for titles or accomplishments — I want them to remember how I made them feel. I want my story to be one of faith, resilience, and love — a story that says, “She never gave up. She kept shining, even in the darkest storms.”

I hope they say that I was a woman who walked with God, who faced unimaginable battles but never let bitterness take root. That even when cancer tried to silence my voice, I chose to speak life. That when grief tried to break me, I turned pain into purpose. That I built spaces not just of beauty, but of healing. That I showed others that peace is possible — even after chaos.

I hope they remember that I loved people deeply — that I saw them, listened to them, and believed in them. That I used my gifts to restore hope in broken hearts and bring light to weary souls. I hope someone says, “Because of her, I believed again — in myself, in love, and in God’s plan.”

And more than anything, I want my story to echo with grace. I want it to remind others that no matter what they face, God’s purpose still stands. That faith doesn’t make life easy — it makes it possible. That strength isn’t measured by how much we can carry, but by how willing we are to surrender.

When I’m gone, I hope people don’t just talk about what I built — but about who I became. A woman who lived with intention. Who fought hard, loved harder, and left the world softer, kinder, and more peaceful than she found it.

Because at the end of it all, that’s the story worth telling — not of perfection, but of purpose. Not of fame, but of faith. Not of success, but of surrender.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://karennasdesigns.com
• Instagram: https://instagram.com/karennasdesignstudi0
• Facebook: https://facebook.com/karennasdesignstudio

Image Credits
Rhayna C Photography
May Alice Photography