Category: Inspiration

JOY DOES NOT HAVE TO EXPLAIN ITSELF.

Beloveds,

I would like to file a complaint against the idea that everything enjoyable must also be productive.

🤣

Sometimes I want the movie.

Sometimes I want the music.

Sometimes I want the joke that makes absolutely no contribution to civilization.

Sometimes I want to laugh until whatever was heavy five minutes ago has to wait its turn.

Joy is not evidence that pain was exaggerated.

Laughter is not betrayal of grief.

Pleasure is not proof that recovery is finished.

A hard life can contain a ridiculous Tuesday.

A grieving person can laugh.

A disabled person can have fun.

A believer can enjoy something without turning it into a sermon.

Ecclesiastes 3:4 says there is “A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.” KJV

I am taking the whole verse.

💃🏿

If you do not share my faith, I still hope you give yourself permission to experience joy without cross-examining it.

🔑 Joy does not always need a reason.

Sometimes the key is simply opening the door when it knocks.

You matter to me.

What made you laugh lately that had absolutely no deeper meaning?

Asking for A Friend,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Bring your answer to the comments, share this with somebody who needs permission to enjoy today, and follow along if you want more.

Wednesday, October 7, 2026 — 6:00 PM

Wednesday, October 7, 2026 — 6:00 PM

What has “should” locked you out of? 🔐

Beloveds,

I told you yesterday I was coming for one little word.

I’m here.

👀

Should.

Five letters.

Tiny word.

BIG lock.

🔐

I should be further along by now.

I should be over this.

I should have healed by now.

I should have figured this out.

I should be stronger.

I should be happier.

I should have more money saved.

I should have the career I planned.

I should have found somebody by now.

I should still have the life I had before everything changed.

I should be able to do what I used to do.

I should…

I should…

I should…

And before we know it, we’re standing outside our own lives holding a measuring stick somebody handed us years ago.

👀

But here’s what I’ve been wondering:

Whose “should” is it?

Who decided where you were supposed to be by now?

Who decided how long grief gets?

Who decided how quickly a heart should recover?

Who decided when somebody should trust again?

Who decided what healing is supposed to look like?

Who decided there was one acceptable timeline for becoming who you are becoming?

❤️

Sometimes the person who decided was us.

But even then…

which version of us?

The version who made plans before the diagnosis?

Before the loss?

Before the layoff?

Before the divorce?

Before the betrayal?

Before the caregiving?

Before the accident?

Before the financial crisis?

Before the phone call?

Before life took the map we had carefully drawn and said:

We’re not going that way anymore.

🗺️

And then we punish today’s version of ourselves for failing to arrive somewhere yesterday’s version expected us to be.

Whew.

Read that again.

We punish today’s version of ourselves for failing to arrive somewhere yesterday’s version expected us to be.

That’s a heavy sentence.

And an even heavier way to live.

❤️

Maybe you didn’t fail.

Maybe the map changed.

👀

That doesn’t mean everything that happened was good.

It doesn’t mean you wanted the detour.

It doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to grieve where you thought you would be.

It means your life cannot always be fairly measured against plans made before you knew what the road would require.

And maybe that’s where some forgiveness needs to happen.

Not forgiveness because you did something terrible.

Forgiveness because you’ve been angry with yourself for being human inside circumstances you never planned for.

❤️

Maybe:

I forgive myself for being changed by what happened to me.

I forgive myself for needing longer.

I forgive myself for getting tired.

I forgive myself for being scared.

I forgive myself for not knowing what I know now.

I forgive myself for making decisions with the information I had then.

I forgive myself for surviving imperfectly.

I forgive myself for having limits.

I forgive myself for not becoming the person I thought I would be on the schedule I wrote before life changed.

And maybe…

I forgive myself for not being where I thought I should be.

🔐❤️

Because “should” can become a strange kind of shame.

It doesn’t only tell us where we aren’t.

It can convince us that where we are is unacceptable.

And once shame gets involved, correction becomes condemnation.

A mistake becomes:

I am a mistake.

A delay becomes:

I am behind.

A struggle becomes:

I am weak.

A changed life becomes:

I failed.

A different road becomes:

I got lost.

But what if different isn’t automatically lost?

👀🧭

Maybe finding our way home begins when we stop demanding that the road look like the one we originally planned.

❤️

There it is.

Because maybe home isn’t the old life.

Maybe home isn’t who you were before.

Maybe home isn’t reaching some imaginary place where everything finally looks the way it was “supposed” to look.

Maybe home is learning to inhabit this life without constantly prosecuting yourself for living it differently.

That’s not giving up.

That’s not refusing growth.

That’s not pretending there aren’t things we need to change.

Accountability still matters.

Growth still matters.

Choices still matter.

But accountability says:

This needs attention.

Shame says:

You are the problem.

Those are not the same voice.

🔑

Remember what we said yesterday?

Shame is a sneaky locksmith.

And “should” is one of its favorite locks.

It can keep us outside joy because we think we should have more before we’re allowed to enjoy what we have.

Outside rest because we think we should have accomplished more before we’re allowed to stop.

Outside love because we think we should be more healed before anybody gets close.

Outside our own lives because we’re still waiting to become somebody we consider worthy of living them.

Beloveds…

stop moving your own chair.

🪑❤️

You do not have to exile yourself until you’ve improved enough to come home.

For those who share my faith, I don’t believe My Father waits at some imaginary finish line tapping His foot because I didn’t arrive according to my schedule.

I believe He meets me on the road I’m actually walking.

Even when I don’t understand it.

Even when I don’t like it.

Even when I am tired of it.

Even when I thought I would be somewhere else by now.

❤️

So tonight, here’s the Heart Check:

Where has “should” locked you out of your own life?

And maybe:

Whose “should” have you been carrying?

If the map changed, beloveds, you are allowed to acknowledge that.

You are allowed to grieve it.

You are allowed to learn a different road.

You are allowed to become somebody you didn’t know you would need to become.

And you are allowed to stop calling every detour failure.

Because maybe you aren’t behind.

Maybe you aren’t ruined.

Maybe you aren’t lost.

Maybe the map changed.

🗺️❤️

And tomorrow…

we’re going to talk about keys.

Because once we stop standing outside our own door…

we need to have a conversation about who else gets access.

👀🔑

Oh, yes.

Who has a key?

See you tomorrow.

loving me some you
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe

Love stays.

Love stays.

At least mine does.

I choose to love.

No matter what.

Being ghosted hurts.

Every time.

Yet, the love stays.

You all matter to me.

Everybody.

Friend or foe.

Gay or straight.

Rich or poor.

Believer or atheist.

ALL matter to me.

So, I sit.

Arms outstretched.

Never folded.

Shoulder ready.

Hand extended.

Here today.

Here, tomorrow?

God knows but He’s not telling.

loving whosoeverwill,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Never, I replied.

When will you give up, defeat inquired of me.

Never, I replied.

Whe shall you walk away, fear admonished me?

Never, I replied.

When will you stop believing, naysayers, asked of me.

Never, I replied.

Never, never, never, I replied.

Nuff Said.

Cassandra

Beloveds, life is STILL before us.

In less than ten months, I have lost a twin of 57 years, had a major stroke, lost every dollar, been hospitalized three times in a three months span, had forever friends seeming to have walked away forever, lost another big brother, had my heart wounded by a friend, and a million other things I could  name.

I believe. Still. Call me foolish.

I’ll be His and your fool

apparently being foolish,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

I choose to forgive.

Beloveds,

I find myself at a crossroads. Someone, who has come to mean a great deal to me, has chosen to do things, deliberately, to break our relationship.

Am I angry? Not, anymore. Am I sad? Perhaps.

Should I walk away? Would I have justification? Maybe.

MY faith tells me that we ought forgive 70 times 7. That’s 490 times.

I have forgiven many times over that.

Do I turn my back on the shared laughter, the shared sadness, the shared foolishness.

Ah, God, what do I do with me. Here. Now.

I, at least, choose to forgive. I have been thinking about agency. I have been doing my best to love as many as I can.

I have sought friendship and love for 50 plus years.

I don’t regret my heart’s choice to love a world that appears to care not a whole lot for Cassandra.

I’m STILL going to show up as long as I have breath. My life is NOT a cliffhanger. By MY choice.

I love yall. Periodt.

Why? Because, your lives are important to me. Why? Because, He first loved me.

Will I forgive my friend? I already have. Will I do so until the end of time?

Tune in next time…

standing at the cliff,

Cassandra

Note: Normally, I would have offered encouragement here. Understanding. Reconciliation.

About all I can muster, beloveds, is to remain in  my pulled out chair.

Have the day you choose to have. I shall do/ have the same…

Tuesday, October 6, 2026 — 6:00 PM

Tuesday, October 6, 2026 — 6:00 PM

What have you locked away? 🔐❤️

Beloveds,

Yesterday I left you behind a door.

I told you I was coming back.

I came back.

So…

What have you locked away?

Not what did somebody take from you.

Not what disappeared.

Not even what you lost.

What did you put somewhere safe because life taught you that leaving it out in the open hurt too much?

Your trust?

Your tenderness?

Your joy?

Your ability to believe somebody when they say, “I’m staying”?

Your dream?

Your hope?

Maybe even a piece of yourself?

Sometimes we lock things away because we are trying to survive.

And sometimes that works.

For a while.

A locked door can keep something from getting hurt again.

But, beloveds, a locked door works both ways.

It can keep danger out.

It can also keep you from reaching what you put inside.

👀

That’s the part I’ve been thinking about.

Some of the things we call walls were once protection.

Some of the things we call distance were once survival.

Some of the things we criticize ourselves for today may have been exactly what helped us make it through yesterday.

So I’m not asking you to beat yourself up for locking the door.

I’m asking something different.

Do you still need it locked?

👀🔐

Because something can begin as protection without having to become a life sentence.

Maybe you are not ready to throw the door wide open.

Okay.

Maybe today you only stand in front of it.

Maybe you put your hand on the knob.

Maybe you finally admit what is behind there.

Maybe you find the key.

Maybe you don’t turn it yet.

That still matters.

There is no prize for opening before you are ready.

There is also no rule saying something you locked away during one chapter of your life has to remain there for every chapter that follows.

Your joy may still be in there.

Your softness may still be in there.

Your hope may still be in there.

You may still be in there.

And maybe the question isn’t:

What is wrong with me?

Maybe the question is:

What was I protecting?

And then…

Do I still need to protect it this way?

🔐🗝️

Yesterday we found the door.

Today we looked behind it.

Yeah.

I’m coming for that lock tomorrow.

loving me some you
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe

I was only trying to eat some crackers 😅

I was only trying to eat some crackers 😅

Beloveds, I’m in a goofball mood this 🌄 morning. Laugh with me…

I have to take my morning medication with food.

It was too early for an actual meal, and I was still entirely too tickled from negotiating with hard for some PTO, so I decided Ritz crackers would do.

Simple.

Quiet.

Responsible even.

Ritz looked at me and said,

“Nah fam.”

👀

Excuse me?

I know a cracker did not just get smart with me before sunrise.

Before I could properly address Ritz, Ziploc showed up.

Nobody called Ziploc.

Nobody asked Ziploc.

But Ziploc took one look at the situation and said,

“Both of you need to zip it.”

😐

Oh.

So this is what we doing this morning.

I went and got annoyed.

You remember annoyed.

Blue.

Extra annoyed.

Already irritated about having to exist.

Annoyed came marching into the kitchen like somebody had activated the emergency response system.

“What happened?”

I pointed at Ritz.

Ritz said nothing.

I pointed at Ziploc.

Ziploc suddenly discovered silence.

Interesting.

Then boring showed up.

Now boring had JUST gotten free from PTO jail and should have gone somewhere and enjoyed being boring in peace.

But nooooo.

Boring heard commotion and decided this was the perfect morning to develop a personality.

Boring leaned against the counter.

“So we fighting crackers now?”

I looked at boring.

Annoyed looked at boring.

Ritz looked nervous.

Ziploc tried to disappear into a drawer.

And then amused arrived.

Amused brought coffee and donuts.

☕️🍩

Did amused come to help?

Absolutely not.

Amused pulled up a chair, got comfortable, took a sip of coffee and said,

“Please. Continue.”

😂

About that time, we heard a tiny knock from down the hall.

Everybody froze.

hard peeked around the corner.

“Can I come out now?”

I said, “Are you prepared to respect the PTO agreement?”

hard thought about it.

“Define respect.”

Annoyed stood up.

“OH, I GOT TIME TODAY.”

😂😂😂

Amused reached for another donut.

Boring whispered, “This is why I preferred PTO jail.”

Then peace wandered through in pajamas, surveyed the entire situation and turned right back around.

I couldn’t even blame peace.

😂

And somewhere between Ritz getting disrespectful, Ziploc getting mouthy, annoyed getting more annoyed, boring finding a personality, amused eating donuts and hard trying to renegotiate a contract we JUST signed…

I realized something.

Life can be lifing and still be ridiculous.

Something can hurt and something else can make you laugh five minutes later.

You don’t have to wait until everything is fixed before you’re allowed to enjoy something good.

Joy doesn’t always wait on the other side of hard.

Sometimes joy shows up right in the middle of it.

Sometimes carrying coffee and donuts.

Sometimes hiding inside a ridiculous conversation with a sleeve of crackers.

Sometimes it’s just a few minutes when hard isn’t getting all the attention.

And, beloveds, we’ll take those minutes.

Every single one.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find patience.

Patience is late.

And annoyed has questions.

😅👖☕️🍩

loving me some you
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe

Negotiating with hard for some PTO 👖☕️😂

Negotiating with hard for some PTO 👖☕️😂

PSA: Just thinking about this had me cracking up. You may get a chuckle at how ridiculous my mind gets. Blame God. He made me this way. For, non-believers, blame hard!😅

Beloveds,

So apparently hard and I needed to have a meeting.

I didn’t particularly want the meeting.

I wasn’t even sure who scheduled the meeting.

But hard has been showing up every day like it has perfect attendance and is trying to win Employee of the Month.

Sir.

Ma’am.

Whatever you are.

Have a seat. 😆☕️

We need to discuss your hours.

Because this working arrangement is no longer acceptable.

You’ve been arriving early.

Staying late.

Working weekends.

Showing up on holidays.

And frankly, hard, your commitment to this position is becoming excessive.

So I slid the paperwork across the table.

PTO REQUEST.

hard looked at me.

I looked at hard.

hard looked back at me.

I took a sip of coffee. ☕️

Don’t play with me.

I would like a Tuesday where putting on my pants does not qualify as an Olympic event. 👖😂

I would like an afternoon where absolutely nothing requires courage.

I would like to sit somewhere with a cup of coffee and have the biggest decision I make be whether I want another cup.

The answer is yes, by the way.

Always yes. ☕️🥰

I would like a little boring.

Some ordinary.

A few hours when nobody needs me to be strong, resilient, inspirational, determined, brave, or any other word people use when life has been lifing all over somebody.

I would like some PTO.

Paid.

Time.

OFF.

hard tried to explain company policy.

I stopped listening.

Because, beloveds, sometimes you have to tell hard:

We can coexist, but you cannot have every room in the house.

You can be here without being everywhere.

You can be real without being all there is.

And while I may not always get to choose when hard clocks in, I can still look for places where I get to clock OUT.

Maybe that’s coffee.

Maybe it’s music turned up louder than necessary. 🎶

Maybe it’s laughing at something ridiculous.

Maybe it’s sitting quietly.

Maybe it’s watching a movie you’ve already seen seventeen times.

Maybe it’s talking to somebody who doesn’t need you to explain why you’re tired.

Maybe it’s putting your pants on correctly the first time.

Listen.

We celebrate victories around here. 👖😂💯

And if you’re reading this while hard has been putting in overtime at your house too, come sit by me.

You are not the only one tired of being strong.

You are not the only one who wants a day when life doesn’t require quite so much from you.

You are not the only one who occasionally wants to hand hard a vacation request and say:

Sign it.

😆

And until we get that PTO approved, we’ll find little pockets of it wherever we can.

A song.

A laugh.

A quiet minute.

A good cup of coffee.

A chair.

A breath.

Something that reminds us hard may be part of life right now, but hard is not entitled to all of it.

So, hard?

Meeting adjourned.

I’m taking my coffee.

I’m taking my joy.

I’m taking my beloveds.

And I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off.

You can email me.

I’ll respond in three to five business days.

Maybe.

😂☕️👖🥰

Be encouraged, beloveds.

You are not doing this life thing by yourself.

And if hard won’t approve the PTO?

Tell hard we’re escalating this to management. 😆💯

loving me some you
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe

Be encouraged. Tell hard you’re willing to negotiate!😆🥰

Whew.

Whew!

WHEW!

Beloveds,

Thought someone could use a laugh this 🌄 morning. This morning’s text:

Everything is backwards AND upside down. It took forever and a day to get my pants 👖 on the right way. I have learned to laugh when that happens. Okay, maybe not so much laugh as understand this is my new normal, but not.

Think I will spend some time encouraging someone. Starting with me.

I’m no longer asking hard to leave me alone. I DID ask Him(God)to send boring and incredibly boring to spend the foreseeable  with me!😆

This tickled me so much am going to share this exact text on my blog.
Don’t worry, names have been changed to protect the guilty!

HAHAHA!!

Be encouraged, beloveds. Just because life appears to be backwards AND upside down doesn’t mean it is.

Laugh. Hug somebody. Starting with me.

here upside down and all

Cassandra

Note 📝: Never negotiate with fear, tho. Negotiate with hard for some PTO!

Truly, life is worth living. Even when it’s lifing. 💋💯🥰💯☕️👖🤗

Missing me…*sigh*

Missing me

Beloveds,

I miss me.

Not in some deep, philosophical, somebody-call-a-meeting kind of way.

I just miss me.

sigh

I miss taking a long shower without it being something that required thought.

I miss making coffee and sitting there enjoying it while it was still hot.

I miss grabbing my keys, getting in my car and heading for the highway about ten minutes from my apartment.

Sometimes I wasn’t going anywhere.

That was the point.

I would drive for an hour or so with my music blasting.

No appointment.

No destination that needed explaining.

No one waiting for me to arrive.

Just me, the highway and whatever song happened to understand me that day.

Sometimes I would treat myself to a movie.

Sometimes I would stop at Village Inn for coffee and French silk pie.

Sometimes I would grab Popeyes, go home, watch YouTube and turn in early.

Nothing extraordinary.

And maybe that’s what I miss most.

The ordinary freedom of being alone with me.

Solitude used to ride shotgun.

She didn’t talk much.

Didn’t need to.

She knew I wasn’t lonely.

There is a difference.

Solitude and I could sit in a restaurant together.

Go for a drive together.

Watch a movie together.

Drink coffee together.

Do absolutely nothing together.

We were good like that.

Now Solitude comes by sometimes and stands at the door.

I look at her.

She looks at me.

“You remember when we could just go?” I ask.

She smiles.

“I remember.”

sigh

I miss that.

Today, doing almost anything requires another person somewhere in the equation.

Someone to help.

Someone to drive.

Someone to accompany.

Someone to make possible what I once did without thinking twice.

I am grateful for people.

This isn’t about wishing them away.

It is about missing the woman who could say, “I think I’ll go get some coffee,” and then simply pick up her keys.

I miss the privacy of independence.

I miss spontaneity.

I miss changing my mind halfway down the road because there was nobody else’s schedule to consider.

I miss being responsible for nobody’s time but mine.

Mostly?

I miss being enough company to make the day possible.

That’s the part that’s difficult to explain.

Because when I say I miss being alone, somebody might hear loneliness.

I’m not talking about loneliness.

I’m talking about alone me.

The woman who could spend an entire day with herself and never once feel like somebody was missing.

She wasn’t waiting for company.

She was the company.

So tonight I think I’ll leave Solitude’s chair out for a while.

Not because I’m pretending things haven’t changed.

They have.

And not because I’m trying to turn this into one of those tidy little lessons where everything difficult has to reveal its purpose before bedtime.

Nope.

Tonight I’m simply remembering.

A highway.

Music too loud.

Coffee.

French silk pie.

Maybe some Popeyes later.

And a woman perfectly content in her own company.

“Solitude?”

“Yeah?”

“I miss us.”

“I know.”

Another sigh.

Then we sit.

No tears.

No fixing.

Just two old friends remembering when going nowhere was something I could decide to do all by myself.

And, beloveds, sometimes missing who you were isn’t rejecting who you are.

Sometimes…

you just miss you.

I do.

loving me some you
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMeMissing