Month: April 2023

Real talk: The foundation is you.

I was an ugly child…

*Cassandra stops writing after hearing large gasp from her audience.*

It’s alright, beloveds. The sentence was specifically written.

For, a reason.

To, get your attention.

To, stop YOU, in your tracks.

To, force you to look.

At, you.

As far as the world was/is concerned, however, I WAS an ugly child. A joyful one. Yet, an “ugly” one.

Boys used to chase follow me, down countless school hallways, whispering and laughing, about how ugly I was.

Girls used to walk with me, down countless hallways, whispering and laughing, about how ugly I was.

Grown men and women used to follow me, down countless aisles and walkways, confusing me with being a man and calling me “sir”.

I was:

Athletic.

Big boned.

Thick thighed.

Hercules.

Loud.

I had/have:

Two, gorgeous, brown eyes.

One, ridiculous-sounding laugh.

THE dumbest/clumsiest dance the world has ever known.

A heart of gold(cuz I love aforementioned boys, girls, men and women just cuz they are).

“Hercules, come move this freezer for me”.

Mom was fond of calling me her Hercules and having move this heavy thing and that one.

I played basketball. Very well. Well enough to compete with and beat boys. Then, grown men. They did not like that. So, of course, called me ugly names. I did not like that. So, of course, made the beat downs especially Cheryl Miller like. If you don’t know who Cherly Miller was you better ask somebody!

To digress, for one moment, Cheryl Miller was one of the greatest/gifted basketball players I had ever seen. Male or female. I shall be writing about her, soon. Stay tuned.

Now that I have set the stage, we can move on. I did not want to distract you with a set up or stage. Sadly, most folk are wandering around trying to distract others, from looking at them, by setting and creating an elaborate stage upon which to perform their lives for the world to see.

They feel like imposters. They feel unworthy. They feel worthless. So, they hide. Behind masks of shame. They lock their true beauty behind makeup, clothes, jewelry and the like.

They hide their hearts upon the arms of men/women, whom they deem ‘beautiful’ so as to distract from their own ugliness.

This is why, beloveds, I speak so freely of my supposed ugliness. I never FELT ugly. To me, I just WAS. I was just me. Yes, it hurt, terribly, to be dismissed and ignored because I didn’t fit the mode of acceptably pretty folk.

I spent my growing up years eating alone, in the lunch room. I learned to live, alone, encouraging my way through this thing called life.

I never married. Almost did. Now, THAT, truly is another story for another day…

I never had children. I told myself it was because of my ministry, my jobs, my this, my that.

Maybe, though, beloveds, I never married or had kids because my heart secretly believed the lie that I was just too ugly for a man to look at me let alone fall head over heels for a loud ugly duckling called Cassandra.

That would be awfully sad, if true. I don’t think on it, much. If I did…hhmm.

Now, right now, here, currently, presently,  present, I just love me some me. Fat, balding from health issues that has cruelly snatched my crown. Leaving what’s left in white and gray strands. This doesn’t bother me. Not, anymore.

Any self-respecting sister will tell you that our hair is something we don’t trifle with or suffer fools about!

Over the last three years, God and Life have helped me learn HOW to love and accept ALL of me. ALL!

I love the loud, me.

I love the quiet, me.

I love the silly, me.

I love the annoyed, me.

I love the annoying, me.

I love the passionate, me.

I love the irrational, me.

I love the lazy, me.

I love the introspective, me.

I love the extroverted, me.

I love the me that thinks I am too ugly to be loved by a man.

I love the me that hopefully rushes to her phone to see if anyone responded to her blog posts.

I love the me that wonders if all these years of longing to love, to be loved have been a joke and humongous waste of God’s Resources.

I love the me who was ridiculous enough to have tweeted President Biden, First Lady Biden, President Obama, Michelle Obama, Elon Musk, and others, to support my GoFundMe page so I can take my sabbatical and write. 🤣

I love the me that STILL does not know how!

ALL things things help and ARE the foundation of my life. In fact, my life IS the foundation.

As is yours, beloveds.

The foundation of WHAT?

Ah.

Aha!

Great question!

Ask who?

Ah.

Aha!

You are getting closer.

I shall end this hear. So you can ask and receive some wondrous answers.

Life is short. Time for you to lift up your beautiful head.

This world has sold you a bill of goods that yoy are this, that and the other thing. None of which are worthy of being seen and loved.

Ha!

To hell with that! You were fearfully and wonderfully made, the Bible says.

Rise, beloveds. Then, love someone today. Starting with you. You don’t need to wait for someone to come riding up on a horse to claim your heart.

You do NOT have to present a stash of cash to be loved.

You do NOT have to be this, that or the other thing. Just, be. You. The foundation.

Of what?

Ah.

Aha!

loving me some Him, some me and some you,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

  1. Anthony Nguyen's avatar

    That reminder to stop trying to prove ourselves and just set down the weight of guilt is so deeply comforting.…

  2. Domenico Valentino Covelli's avatar
  3. Tansy Gunnar's avatar
  4. Cassandra S.'s avatar
  5. dailysamdigitalstudio's avatar

The foundation: God, I don’t know how.

God: Write.

Me: I don’t know how.

God: Write.

Me: I don’t know what to say.

God: Write.

Me: I don’t know who to write to.

God: Write.

Me: NO one will listen.

God: Write.

Me: NO one will care.

God: Write.

Me: I don’t have any money.

God: Write.

Me: I don’t have the time after working all day.

God: Write.

Me: I don’t feel well, today. I barely had enough energy to make it through the work day.

God: Write.

Me: Mom died.

God: Write.

Me: Mom died! 😢

God: Write.

Me: MOM DIED! 😡

God: Write.

Me: I’m tired.

God: I know. Write.

Me: NO one will respond.

God: I know. Write.

Me: NO one will understand.

God: I know. Write.

Me: God, WHY do You want me to write?

God: Ah!

Me: God, what do You want me to say?

God: Aha!

Me: Ah?

Me: Aha!

God: Write.

Me: I will.

God and I have been having this conversation for most, if not all, of my life. There has always been this call, deep inside, to write. To, encourage others. To, encourage myself.

I longed to impact the lives of millions. MILLIONS! And, for no reason other than to let people KNOW they were loved.

Why? Because they are.

YOU are.

Loved.

All these years I have done what I can to let folk know that they were and are not alone. Doing so has been a lonely road. Yet, not. Jesus had been My Homie, the whole way. The Holy Spirit has guided my steps. The Father, ah, beloveds, has truly become MY Father during these long, lonesome, yet not, days.

During these times, I had been soooo discouraged that my labors had been in vain.

I can not even tell you the myriad of folk, over the years, who professed awe and faith in my, supposed, gift. Countless times, I would be promised ‘help’ to assist me with my writing/giving passion. Yea, these folks helped. THEMSELVES. To, my passion. To, my gift. To, free labor.

For me, or so I told myself, it was a labor of love. It was. Yet, I deserved to be the one profiting from the words born from inside me. Profiting so that I could make my living from the gifts and skills given to me. Profiting so I could continue to love and encourage others.

Over the course of time, I reached out, less and less, with my writing. At least, not how I used to. How I truly long to. It just hurt too much to not be able to do and be how I envision.

Back and forth, God and I have battled/reasoned/cajoled one another. He, to ask me to keep on going. To, keep on trying. To, keep on believing:

In, others.

In, me.

In, Him.

In, you.

Especially, in you.

Keep going, beloveds.

You are building something.

A foundation.

One, in which will sustain all you are. One, in which will uphold your dreams. One, in which will withstand EVERY test, trial and storm.

Keep going, beloveds. You were not meant to see the foundation. You were just meant to build it!

Build your foundation on sure ground:

Faith.

Hope.

Joy.

Love.

Empathy.

Forbearance.

Laughter.

Song.

Thanksgiving.

Life.

Jesus.

God.

The Word.

And, many, many, many other bricks in this thing called life.

God: Write.

Me:…

To be continued.

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Note: Be encouraged. In fact, just be. You are building a legacy that shall cover, sustain, uplift, exhort, protect others long after you have drawn your last breath. In the meantime, love, live, and laugh. You CAN. You WILL. As, will I. I love you. Love me back.

This is it: The next step.

This is it!

Huh?

*Cassandra rushes into the room, waiting to SEE her dreams, now fulfilled, with her own eyes*

Huh?

Huh!

*pout*

*Cassandra peers around the dark room seeing what she ALWAYS saw*:

Unfulfilled, dreams.

Disappointment.

Discouragement.

Frustration.

Loneliness.

Silence.

Ah, the silence!

The silence, is soooooooo very loud.

The loneliness, is sooooooo very lonely.

The unfulfilled dreams, are sooooo very unfulfilling.

*Cassandra decided to climb upon The Father’s Lap to let Him know how lonely the lonely was, how agonizing the silence was and how unfulfilling the unfulfilled dreams were. Cassandra whispered all these things and waited to see what He would say. Quietly, God said*:

“Beloved, this IS it! It is the next step, of your journey. Yes, I know you are tired. Well I know, of your fight. I understand. Trust Me. Keep walking. It will be worth it, in the end.”

*Cassandra gave God one final hug, slid off His Lap and got about being about it*

This is it.

The next step.

The NEXT step?

Ah.

Aha!

walking where she could/can’t see,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Note: Stay, beloveds! There! In THAT spot. Right where you already ARE! You are exactly where you were chosen/meant to be. Just BE, beloveds, in your space. In your place. Where you are, now, is where you are supposed to be.

The restlessness is just a sign that change/growth is near. Embrace this. Don’t run away from the fatigue and the discomfort. These are but spices which will make the end product that much more tasty. Ah. Aha! Keep going. You got this. You SHALL fulfill your dreams. Know, also, your dreams are not given just for you. YOUR fulfilled dreams will change the lives of others. Beginning with you. Be encouraged.

Mom’s Goulash.

Life, has been, a pain.

Work, can kick rocks, lately.

God, has worked the last of my nerves, showing burning bushes and whispering sweet nothings of all that I can say, live, love and do without showing me how to do them!!!!

Ack!

Egads!

Yikes!

Whew!!

Scuze me, beloveds. Had to blow off a bit of steam there.

So, here I found myself staring at a pile of tangled up life.

Fresh hell!

Reminds me of mom’s goulash. She would scrounge the fridge and cabinets for whatever was left in there.

She would then dump said contents into whatever crockpot, electric skillet or pot sitting near.

Ew!

Some of the experiments looked positive gross. Yet, some of the tastiest dishes were of those what in the fresh hell is THAT?! dishes mom would make.

Thinking of her goulash, I decided to try making some. I took some leftover taco meat, can of potatoes, can of green beans, handful of shredded cheese, glop full of Irish butter. Added a pinch of this, a dash of that and all manner of spices.

Mixed all with an extra helping of Dear Lawd I sure hope this works, and let it all cook/simmer and do what it do.

Yummers!

It came out absolutely delish!

In the past, I would have been afraid to try. I would tell myself I would waste food. I would admonish myself that I would put in too many spices. I would lament I would not add enough spices. By the time I was finished, I would have ended up eating a ‘safe’ peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Don’t get me wrong. I love a good PBJ. But, not when hankering for some goulash.

Thinking of my successful goulash, I looked upon my what in the fresh hell do I do with dreams and pondered on what/how? I know absolutely nothing. Whilst knowing nothing, I went ahead, FINALLY, and figured out how to edit my About Page.

Hmmm….

How about that?!

*Cassandra looks pleasantly surprised at her About Me page*

Then,…*shrug*. The ABSOLUTELY RIDICULOUS thought came to create a GoFundMe Page and shoot for 100 grand so I can start my sabbatical, write, rest, get my health together, write, write, write and write. Folks have and had, set up and successfully achieved absolutely ridiculous, at times, it appears, goals and were doing this, that and the other thing.

Why not, I said to myself.

Why not, try?

It may not work.

*shrug*

It is the TRY that was important.

So, I made my GoFundMe Page. And, i did as suggested and shared with a few friends and family. What’s more, I shared my dreams, with my wombie, and dreamed out loud of what I would do. To find out what those things would be…*shrug*…go to my Help Me Get Loud Page and help a sista out. At the very least, share the link with a hedge fund billionaire you know….

Anywho, I looked upon this goulash called my try, hopes, dreams, tears, frustrations, prayers, etc, mixed them with laughter, joy, music, chair-dancing and a touch of Yikes! and Egads! and presented it to God and Life.

This is what I told Them:

Thank You, for allowing me to share my dreams, outloud. Should the answer continue to be no, i shall continue to do the best I can to encourage folk and let them know they are loved and NOT alone. Thank You, for teaching me how very short life is. Thank You, for helping me to understand that I am enough. THAT, is enough. Help folk know that. Thank You, for teaching me how to enjoy goulash. Both eating it AND making it. Your friend, Cassandra

Life is short.

Try.

Make goulash.

It may look ridiculous but it sure tastes good!

cooking with you,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Everybody needs a big brother.

*sigh*

I’m excited.

And, when I am excited, I get loud.

And, I mean REALLY, really loud.

I had an idea.

Ah.

Aha!

I wanted to share it with one of my big brothers.

I called.

Long story short…*sigh*…

I, cut up.

I, acted a fool.

I, demanded to be listened to.

I, hollered and screamed about folk not listening to me.

I, accused him of not listening to me.

All while listening, but refusing to hear, his heart.

Yes, I could hear his heart, hear his words.

Yet, I….*shrug*.

Long story short, I ended phone conversation and started another with me…

Me: Now, WHY the world did you carry on like that?

Myself: Because folk are forever not allowing me to say what I want to say, HOW I want to say it.

I: Does HE treat you that way?

Me: Okay, so, not in general, no.

Myself: Have you let him know, in a calm voice, how you feel.

I: Okay, so why the world do I have to ALWAYS be ‘calm’ when I want to communicate?

Me: Well, you don’t. But, it DOES help, to share these feelings, when you are not all up in your feelings.

Myself: Hhmm, you may be right!

I: Of course, I am ALWAYS right.

*Cassandra grabs some act right and goes in search of her big bro*

brb,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Note: Us humans can be, well, humans. Smh. Meaning, we can be really dumb, at times. It’s okay to be a moron. It’s NOT okay, to remain a moron. Folks are NOT mind readers. The friends, family, peers, in or lives care about us and do the best they can to understand us. It is incumbent to grow and learn. Even, when we cut up. Especially, when we cut up.

Keep doing YOUR work, beloveds. If the relationship is important to you, keep communication open. Clunky, thought it can be. Keep trying. Keep giving yourself the space to annoy yourself, and others, as you learn more about you. And, hopefully, allow others the opportunity to learn you as well.

And, if the other side, decides they are not ready/willing/able to struggle with you towards a viable relationship, wish them well and keep it moving. I move with you…

Even when you say you can’t.

Live.

With, intention.

Even, when you say you can’t.

Especially, when you say you can’t.

Try.

Try, again.

Even, when you say you can’t.

Especially, when you say you can’t.

Love.

Without, fear/conditions/strings/manipulation.

Even, when you say you can’t.

Especially, when you say you can’t.

Pray.

Without, ceasing.

Even, when you say you can’t.

Especially, when you say you can’t.

Rejoice.

Always.

In spite, of.

Despite.

Because, of.

Even, when you say you can’t.

Especially, when you say you can’t.

Renew.

Your, faith.

Your, courage.

Your, strength.

Your, joy.

Your, tenacity.

Your, hope.

Even, when you say you can’t.

Especially, when you say you can’t.

Tell, God.

Tell, Life.

Tell, you.

Your, fears.

Your, doubts.

Your, anxiety.

Your, pride.

Even, when you say you can’t.

Especially, when you say you can’t.

Give, God.

Give, Life.

Relieve yourself, of.

Your, fears.

Your, doubts.

Your, anxiety.

Your, pride.

Even, when you say you can’t.

Especially, when you say you can’t.

Begin.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Even, when you say you can’t.

Especially, when you say you can’t.

Beginning, with you.

Again.

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Note: It’s storming outside. Truth be told, it has been storming, in my heart, for days, now. Truth be told, for years, now. As, the decades have tried, to wear down my resolve. As, the agonizing years of unfulfilled dreams/desires/hopes, have endlessly cascaded by. As, the tormenting pursuit of shouting, into the void, for love, acceptance, joy, peace and all the other things a heart can hope for. Yea, beloveds, in ALL of those things the storm(s) raged. Outside. Inside. All, around.

Until, ah, beloveds, until I learned how to:

Stand.

Fight.

Live.

Love.

Laugh.

Trust.

Cherish.

Hear.

Receive.

Rejoice.

And, many, many, many truths.

How?

I learned how/to trust.

God.

Life.

Me.

Ah.

Aha!

Beloveds, these tests, these trials, this hard, in your life, is nothing but a test.

You shall NOT:

Be, broken.

Yet, shall be:

Broken, open.

In order for you to be:

Filled.

Renewed.

Loved.

Cherished.

Seen.

Heard.

Valued.

Fought, for.

By, God.

By, Life.

By, YOU.

Especially, by you.

Get a goin.

You got a life to live.

Now.

It’s okay.

It’s okay…

To be, wrong.

It’s okay…

To be, right.

It’s okay…

To be, emptied.

It’s okay…

To be, filled.

It’s okay…

To be, together.

It’s okay…

To be, alone.

It’s okay…

To be, understanding.

It’s okay…

To be, understood.

In short, beloveds, it’s okay…

To, BE!

Say.

Live.

Love.

First, you.

Then, another.

And, another.

And…

to be continued,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Note: It breaks my heart to see so many hearts afraid to be. Life is short. It’s okay. Be. You’ll be grateful you did. You will give others permission to also be. YOU are more than enough. Present YOU to the world. YOU are the only gift/tribute we need. Be blessed. Be encouraged. BE!

Listen: I hear you.

All my life, I have yearned, fought, struggled.

To, be…

Heard.

Listened, to.

Along the journey, I learned such a wonderful and wondrous thing:

There is so much joy…

In, listening.

Ah.

Aha!

Now, I want to spend the rest of my days, listening, learning, loving, fighting with, fighting for, cutting up with…

My, family.

ALL of, my family.

You are, my brother.

You are, my sister.

If you hear nothing else I say, hear/know this:

You, are loved.

You, are NOT, alone.

Your life, has value, simply from your birth.

Your greatness, is not, in the things you have.

Your greatness, is, in the things you share, from your lack.

Your worth, is not, in the work, you do.

Your worth, is,…*shrug*…it just IS. Period.

Your beauty, is not, in your appearance.

Your beauty, your TRUE beauty, is in how you treat yourself. In, how you treat others.

Beloveds, it’s time for you to lift up your head.

It is enough!

You have punished yourself enough for all the things you thought you should have and be.

EVERY soul’s greatest wish is to be:

Loved.

Seen.

Cherished.

Heard.

Speak.

I, listen.

here,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

We are one: You are my sister. You are my brother.

We are one.

ALL of us.

I REFUSE to look at you as the enemy, as MY enemy, my white sister, my white brother.

We are all bombarded, daily, with tales of woe and horror. Caused, of course, by the other side.

America, beloveds, there IS no other side.

We, ALL of us, are on ONE team.

The United States of America.

ALL of us are needed, yes are REQUIRED to fight FOR one another.

And, yes, beloved America, there are family members that work the last nerves. Yet, we keep them in the family, still.

Yet, we love them, still.

Folks, are hurting.

Folks, are afraid.

Hurt people, hurt people.

It is enough, America.

America used to be considered the beacon on the hill.

America used to be looked upon as the big brother and big sister of the world.

Understanding that being an example is much more important/imperative/effective than being a bully.

America used to cherish it’s elderly.

Understanding that those before us helped to create what we all enjoy now.

America used to honor it’s youth.

Understanding that our youth are the keys to our future.

America used to respect it’s leaders.

Understanding that it’s leaders are called to SERVE. Our leadership is meant to CARE. For, us ALL. Not just those who be of benefit.

America used to be about coming together in times of hardship.

Understanding that together we can weather ANY storm.

We are one.

You are, my sister.

You are, my brother.

Such as I have, I give to you.

Get to know me, my sister.

Get to know me, my brother.

For, I am a link, in the chain.

As are you.

Be, a link.

Be, THE link, that starts the chain, in YOUR neck of the woods.

Let us, start a wave.

Then, let that wave, start a tsunami that will drown and destroy the divide between us all.

We CAN.

We WILL.

extending a hand,

Cassandra aka yo sista from anotha mista…hehe.

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Mom, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to buy you a home.

I’m sorry, mom.

I wanted to buy you a house.

I wanted to present you with a home, to call your own.

I wanted so very much to be able to pay your every debt.

Mom, I so desperately wanted to meet your every need.

You gave your all, mom.

You gave from your last. You fed the homeless. You gave knowing you had not returned.

You taught me, mom, how to be a giver.

You taught me, mom, how to be a lover.

Your love language, was of deed. You did not know, mom, how to express your love, in words.

Maybe, mom, it is partly why words means so much to me: to be given freely, liberally, relentlessly, endlessly, lovingly, devotedly.

In return, I wanted to buy you a house, a home, a safe space to call your own.

You taught me, mom, that wealth was not in things. You taught me wealth could be endlessly given in love, in laughter, in deeds.

Mom, you loved me through every moment spent, in the kitchen, watching you prepare meals for us, for the community, for those in need.

I’m sorry, mom. I wanted to be able to reward you by buying you a home.

*As Cassandra looked upon the hopelessly meager treasure she had stored, during her life, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning, Cassandra gazed upon her mother who had a beautiful crown. Next to her, stood King Jesus who bent over and whispered these words to her*:

“Beloved, EVERY time you gave, you placed a diamond in your mom’s crown. EVERY time you shed tears, for another, you placed gold, in your mom’s crown. EVERY time you encouraged a soul, you placed rubies, in your mom’s crown. As you do, for the least of these, you have done unto Me.

And, as your mom taught you the way you should go, her mansion was being fashioned by My Hands. Thank you, beloved, for helping me to build your mom her home. Well done.”

Mom died, with next to nothing, so far as the world would say. Yet, she gave me priceless gifts of wisdom and tenacity. She taught me how to be loyal. She taught me how to fight. She taught me how to love with what you have.

Yet, mom only gave me ONE genuine hug that was initiated by her. And, she had only said “I love you, Jeanette” on the very last conversation we had(another story for another time).

Still, she gave me a mansion, through her love language of service. She built me a home, of love with every meal cooked and served.

I guess we are even, mom. Thank you, for being my home. Thanks for teaching me that house, can be a home, without being one of brick and mortar.

I love you, mom. I shall endeavor to build you a scepter next…lol.

Your daughter,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Note: You are building crowns, beloved, each and every time you give your heart and love to others. Don’t discount your efforts. You may never know how many lives you have touched. Keep being you. It matters. As do you.