My job, in part, involves numbers.
Research.
More numbers.
More research.
My job, in part, involves time.
Too little time.
Too much work.
I spend a good part of the day, most days, cramming as many numbers, into as much time, as I can.
Some days, I do great. Which makes me feel great.
Some days, I do not so hot. Which, if I let it, make me want to feel not so hot.
I guess it comes from being judged, growing up, on my intelligence. Being smart was a badge of honor for my dad. Report card time was a time for drama and flair to see who got straight As…*sigh*.
We played ‘around the world’ at school. I was good at it. You squared off with a classmate as the teacher held up flash cards to see who got the right answer the fastest. I was fast.
Going into the work world, as a person of color, I had to be better than everyone else to have a ‘chance’. Being a black woman, I had to be better than the best of the better, to have the chance at even getting the chance to even get a chance. Rarely, I was given the chance. I trained many who were given the chance(s) over me.
When I gave my heart/life to God, I wasn’t viewed very highly, by some. I wore pants. I asked questions. I was not pretty like the other pretty church girls. I was loud. I praised loud. I danced awkward. I sang loudly. Not well.
It seemed as though my efforts did not add up to a heck of a lot, for this world.
There are days when it seems as though my efforts don’t add up to a heck of a lot, for this world.
On days like those, like this one, I question if my little, will EVER be enough for God and Life to distribute. For me to distribute. I asked myself, earlier, why even try?
Why not, I shot back.
??
I have been asking these questions for 54 years and counting.
Counting.
There goes those numbers again!
It’s important, to remember we are so very much more than the numbers we total or subtract.
The only number that truly matters is the number of times that God/Life gives up on us:
0.
None.
Nada.
Never.
The rest, and the rest, shall come out in the wash.
Be encouraged.
If no one has told you yet today:
You are loved.
You are NOT alone.
Keep on being…YOU!
being me,
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
Note: I keep asking myself why the world I keep writing. Cuz, someone needs to know they are not alone. Be encouraged.
- MOM, WOMBIE, I GOT IT FROM HERE. 🧸💝🥰❤️🩹❤️
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- AUGUST 31, 2026 — NOON SERIES 🕛
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Why Can't I Be Loud?! 