Category: Hobbies

Real talk: Tell “Everything will be alright” to shut up.

Beloveds,

Whew.

Whew!

WHEW!!

Even today had the grace to say “My bad, Cassandra”!

I made a promise to myself, long ago, to encourage someone when I was at my lowest. I figured that somebody HAD to be really  hurting if even MY faith wanted to go on hiatus!

So, here I am,  ready to tell someone to kick rocks…*sigh *

Last night, I dreamed of taking a ride in Cherry 🍒 🚗. I miss her. I miss riding around singing badly.

I’m not sad so much as wanting to say “WTH!”.

I’m NOT okay. How can I be expected to be.

I don’t know HOW to say goodbye to my big brother…shit…😢🥹💔

I just stopped by to encourage someone to remember that it’s okayto NOT be okay, okay.

At least, not today. Check with some of us tomorrow! Think I’ll go watch a movie. Who’s up for one…

asking for many friends,

Cassandra

COME WRITTEN ON…EWWW.

NEW DAY, NEW POSSIBILITIES…

COME WRITTEN ON.

Note: I had to redo the cute picture at the top. Brain fog is real. Tweak two, er,Take two 🥰🤭👌🤗😜💃🏿💃🏿

Beloveds.

Ewww. 😜

Yep.

That is where we are starting today.

Not with some perfectly polished declaration about how wonderful everything is.

Not with pretending yesterday didn’t happen.

Not with throwing away pages because some of them got marked up.

Ewww.

😂

And then…

Come written on.

Because a new day does not require a brand-new you.

Sometimes it simply gives the same you another page.

Another opportunity.

Another possibility.

Another place to keep writing.

“Behold, I make all things new.”

— Revelation 21:5 KJV

Notice I didn’t say everything behind you suddenly disappears.

Your past happened.

Your mistakes happened.

Your lessons happened.

Your joy happened.

Your pain happened.

Your growth happened.

Those pages belong to your story.

But a marked-up page is not a ruined book.

👀

Somebody needed that one.

Maybe you made a mistake yesterday.

Maybe yesterday was HARD.

Maybe you are looking at something you said, did, tried, started, stopped, forgot, messed up, or simply did not handle the way you wish you had.

Ewww.

Okay.

Acknowledge the ewww. 😂

But don’t build a house there.

🏡

Turn the page.

You don’t have to deny yesterday to welcome today.

You don’t have to pretend you aren’t disappointed.

You don’t have to erase every mistake before you are allowed to move forward.

Learn.

Grow.

Heal.

Give yourself some grace.

And keep writing.

Because there are still blank spaces ahead of you.

There are still possibilities you haven’t met yet.

There are still lessons you haven’t learned.

There is still joy you haven’t experienced.

There are still people you haven’t loved.

There are still places where your story can make somebody else feel less alone.

And there is still YOU.

Same you.

More to come.

❤️

Today is Tuesday.

A new day.

Not because everything magically became perfect overnight.

But because you woke up with another page.

So what are you going to write on it?

Maybe today you choose growth.

Maybe rest.

Maybe healing.

Maybe laughter.

Maybe starting again.

Maybe simply putting one foot—or wheel—forward and saying:

I am still here.

I am still writing.

And my story is not finished.

Whatever yesterday looked like…

Ewww and all. 😜😂

Come written on.

There is still room.

There are still possibilities.

And Beloveds…

YOU still matter to me.

Whosoeverwill.

Come as you are.

All are welcome.

Cassandra S.
#YourLifeMattersToMe

DISCIPLINE YOUR MIND, STRENGTHEN YOUR FAITH

Beloveds,

This encouraged me. You are NOT forgotten.

For non-believers, you can still benefit from this. Lean on a positive source.

We got this.

handling business,

Cassandra

Running thangs: Fear step off! I run this🤬!

Running thangs: ME!

ABBA.

My Bestie.

Love.

Joy.

Peace.

Thanksgiving.

Laughter.

Hope.

Gratitude.

Integrity.

Honesty.

Truthfulness.

Above ALL things: Him! He’s HIM. If you know, you know. You know?

Beloveds, who or what is running YOUR thangs? You may want to handle some bidnezz of your own Emphasis mine.

Don’t you neva, neva, no, NEVA allow anything to run life for you!

Keeping it a bean 💯!

Cassandra

Fear step off! I run this🤬!

Discouragement step off! I run this🤬!

Despair step off! I run this🤬!

Anger step off! I run this🤬!

Laziness step off! I run this🤬!

Apathy step off! I run this🤬!

Beloveds, life is much too short for you to CHOOSE to allow fools or foolishness to run your life.

If you find yourself among one of the fools, or smack dab in the middle of said foolishness,  beat your own…er, uh, oh! and keep it 💯 👌

Let me hear from you. Hit me up, as young peeps say. Am I sounding cool 😎 yet.🤣🥰😂😍😜🫡🤨🤗🤭

STORMS DON’T LAST FOREVER…

STORMS DON’T LAST FOREVER

COME WET.

Beloveds.

Come wet.

No, really.

Come. Wet.

You do not have to stand outside trying to dry yourself off before you come through the door.

You do not have to wipe away the evidence that it has been raining in your life.

You do not have to straighten your clothes, fix your face, rehearse a testimony, find the lesson, identify the blessing, or manufacture a smile so everybody else can be comfortable with what you have survived.

Come wet.

Because sometimes encouragement sounds entirely too much like somebody telling us to hurry up and stop hurting.

And that is not what I mean when I tell you:

Storms don’t last forever.

I am not telling you that because I need your storm to end quickly.

I am telling you because I want to sit with you while it is still raining.

There is a difference.

Some storms pass in an afternoon.

Some stay long enough for you to forget what sunshine felt like.

Some storms have names.

Grief.

Loneliness.

Rejection.

Disappointment.

Fear.

Financial trouble.

Family trouble.

The dream that didn’t happen.

The relationship that changed.

The prayer that seems unanswered.

The thing you cannot fix.

The thing you cannot explain.

And sometimes the storm isn’t one enormous thing.

Sometimes it is seventeen little things raining on the same Tuesday.

Whew.

Beloveds, hear me:

Trouble may occupy the room without owning the room.

That distinction matters.

Trouble can be here.

And God can be here.

Grief can be here.

And love can be here.

Fear can be here.

And courage can be here.

Questions can be here.

And faith can be here.

Tears can be here.

And hope can pull up a chair beside them.

We keep acting as though one thing must leave before another thing is allowed through the door.

It doesn’t.

I can hurt and still laugh.

I can grieve and still love.

I can be tired and still believe.

I can be disappointed and still expect God to meet me here.

I can say, “This hurts.”

Period.

No testimony ending required.

That does not mean I have abandoned faith.

Sometimes telling the truth about the rain IS faith.

Because I am trusting God enough to stop pretending in His presence.

Psalm 46:1 says:

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” — Psalm 46:1 KJV

IN trouble.

That gets me.

Not merely after trouble.

Not only once the clouds have separated and the testimony is polished enough for Sunday morning.

IN. TROUBLE.

Very present.

Right here.

Right now.

In the rain.

Maybe refuge does not always mean God immediately stops the storm.

Maybe sometimes refuge means the storm does not get to have all of me.

Maybe refuge is the place where I remember:

I am still here.

I am still loved.

I still belong.

And I do not have to perform strength to deserve shelter.

💜 HEART CHECK

Have you been treating your pain like something you have to clean up before other people are allowed to see it?

Have you been telling yourself:

I should be over this.

I shouldn’t still be sad.

Other people have it worse.

I need to be stronger.

People are tired of hearing about it.

Who handed you that ruler?

And why are they allowed to decide how long rain is permitted to fall in your life?

You are allowed to tell the truth.

👑 TINY VICTORY

Find one piece of evidence that the storm has not taken everything.

Maybe you got out of bed.

Maybe you prayed.

Maybe you ate something.

Maybe you answered one message.

Maybe you laughed for thirty seconds.

Maybe you cried instead of pretending.

Maybe you asked for help.

Maybe you rested.

Maybe all you can say today is:

I am still here.

Beloved, that counts.

Do not insult today’s survival because it does not look like yesterday’s strength.

Progress looks different in the rain.

🌎 DAILY LOVE CHALLENGE

Today, become shelter instead of a weather reporter.

Don’t tell somebody how long their storm should last.

Don’t explain why they should be grateful.

Don’t rush them toward the lesson.

Don’t demand the inspirational ending.

Try this instead:

“You don’t have to clean this up for me. I’m here.”

And mean it.

Maybe love is not always carrying somebody out of the rain.

Sometimes love is pulling another chair underneath the covering and saying:

Sit down. You don’t have to weather this part alone.

🙏🏿 FAITH IN REAL TIME

I believe God is present in the storm.

I also believe we can misunderstand faith when we turn it into pressure to pretend the storm doesn’t hurt.

Jesus never required hurting people to deny that they hurt.

So bring God the unedited version.

The angry version.

The exhausted version.

The confused version.

The “Lord, I don’t understand this” version.

The version with tears running down its face.

The version that doesn’t have a neat ending yet.

God is not frightened by wet clothes.

Come wet.

🔒🔑 BEFORE YOU GO…

If today is sunny for you, leave room for somebody standing in rain.

If today is raining for you, don’t disappear because you think everybody else deserves sunshine.

There is room for both of you here.

Actually…

There is room for all of us.

Christian.

Atheist.

Agnostic.

Certain.

Questioning.

Laughing.

Crying.

Strong today.

Barely holding on today.

Whosoeverwill.

Come.

No cleaned-up pain required.

No testimony ending required.

No admission price.

Just a chair.

And if all you can do today is arrive dripping wet and whisper:

“I’m still here.”

Then sit down, Beloved.

We heard you.

And we are glad you came.

The chair stays.

Asking for A Friend,
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe

🔒🔑 WHOSOEVERWILL.

Come as you are. All are welcome.

Note: We may as well get to dancing in the rain 🌧, beloveds!💃🏿🥰👍🏾

TRUE NORTH: KEEP FIGHTING BACK

Beloveds.

My brain has gone on strike.

Autocorrect is changing every other word.

I wanted to cry.

I didn’t.

I put on praise music to find my True North:

Jesus.

We fought.

I won.

But that sentence needs some explaining.

Because when I say fought, I don’t mean Jesus and I were fighting each other.

Jesus was standing beside me.

He always is.

And when I say I won, I don’t mean everything suddenly went back to normal.

It didn’t.

Come sit with me.

This one needs a minute.

—

THE SNAP

If you’ve watched Avengers: Infinity War, you know about the Snap.

Thanos didn’t snap his fingers and mildly inconvenience everybody.

He didn’t scramble a few words.

He didn’t ruin somebody’s Tuesday.

Half disappeared.

Half.

People.

Families.

Plans.

Futures.

The world everybody knew existed one second—

SNAP.

—and half of it was gone.

The people who remained had to wake up inside a world they recognized…

that no longer worked like the world they remembered.

👀

Beloveds.

My stroke was my Snap.

There.

I said it.

And I need you to understand what I mean before somebody rushes in with an inspirational quote.

I am here.

I am blessed.

I love my life.

I love me.

AND—

I remember the woman whose life had a different kind of ease.

I remember long showers.

Alone.

I remember long drives.

I remember my warbling voice serenading innocent neighbors who had committed no crime worthy of such punishment.

I remember a quiet cup of coffee in the middle of the night.

I remember when the distance between “I want to do this” and doing it was much shorter.

I remember me.

Then came the Snap.

And I was still standing.

But the map had changed.

—

I sat there the other day fighting my phone, my hand hurting, my brain fogging, words changing before they could reach the screen.

Praise music was playing.

Jesus was there.

Of course He was.

I looked at Him.

ME: Jesus.

JESUS: Cassandra.

ME: I don’t like this.

JESUS: I know.

ME: That’s it?

JESUS: What would you like Me to say?

I looked at Him.

You ever want Jesus to be just a little less Jesus?

Asking for A Friend.

ME: I would like You to say this is almost over.

Jesus didn’t answer.

ME: See. That’s exactly why I don’t ask You questions I don’t want answered.

JESUS: Yet here we are.

ME: Yet here we are.

The music kept playing.

I looked down at my hand.

Back at the phone.

Then back at Him.

ME: I miss me.

This time He didn’t answer quickly.

He sat with it.

So did I.

ME: I miss how easy some things used to be.

JESUS: I know.

ME: I don’t want anybody telling me I should just be grateful I’m here.

JESUS: Did I say that?

ME: No.

JESUS: Then don’t put words in My mouth.

👀

Okay then.

Jesus came to work.

ME: I AM grateful.

JESUS: I know.

ME: And I still miss me.

JESUS: I know that too.

And there it was.

No argument.

No correction.

No spiritual lecture.

Two things sitting in the same room:

I am grateful to be here.

and

I am grieving what the Snap took.

Neither one canceled the other.

—

Then I looked up.

Not at Jesus.

Higher.

ME: ABBA?

Silence.

ME: Father, what are You doing?

Still silence.

ME: Because I have QUESTIONS.

Jesus looked at me.

JESUS: I know.

ME: I wasn’t talking to You.

JESUS: I know that too.

I kept looking up.

ME: I don’t understand this map.

The life I knew is still visible from here.

That’s the hard part.

I remember it.

I remember the roads.

I remember the woman who traveled them.

But some of those roads don’t go where they used to go anymore.

Some are blocked.

Some take longer.

Some require help.

Some days I can’t even read the doggone map.

So what do I do with THAT?

Silence.

And somewhere underneath my frustration, the praise music kept playing.

Praise.

👀

Not because everything felt good.

Not because I had received an answer.

Not because the prison door had opened.

Praise while still IN it.

And suddenly I thought about Paul and Silas.

Beaten.

Locked up.

Still in prison.

And at midnight—

they praised.

Not after the chains fell.

Before.

Not after the doors opened.

Before.

They praised while the evidence still said:

PRISON.

I looked at Jesus.

ME: Oh, I see what You’re doing.

JESUS: I haven’t said anything.

ME: You didn’t have to.

I turned the praise up.

—

TRUE NORTH

A map tells you what the terrain looks like.

True North tells you which direction is still North when the terrain changes.

👀

That’s what I had been confusing.

The map changed.

Jesus didn’t.

My circumstances changed.

Jesus didn’t.

My body changed.

Jesus didn’t.

My route changed.

Jesus didn’t.

The Snap changed a whole lot of things.

It did not move North.

I looked over at Him.

ME: You’re my True North.

JESUS: I know.

ME: You could at least act surprised.

JESUS: Cassandra.

ME: Fine.

I looked at the map again.

And for the first time, I stopped demanding that the new map look like the old one before I would move.

That doesn’t mean I stopped missing the old map.

Hear me.

I miss it.

I miss me.

I grieve.

I get frustrated.

Sometimes I want to cry.

Sometimes I DO cry.

Sometimes I have to put the phone down because my hand says, Girl, absolutely not.

Sometimes my brain and I are apparently operating in two different zip codes.

But grief is not the same thing as being lost.

Because I still know North.

—

Then the sky changed.

The air changed.

You know that feeling in an Avengers movie when the music shifts and you know SOMETHING is coming?

That.

I looked at Jesus.

Jesus looked at me.

For once, neither of us said anything.

Because in front of us stood everything that had been coming for me.

Grief.

Pain.

Brain fog.

Fear.

Frustration.

Exhaustion.

Changed plans.

Changed words.

Detours.

Loss.

Hard.

All of it.

Not metaphors anymore.

An army.

I swallowed.

ME: Jesus?

JESUS: I’m here.

Three words.

That was enough.

I reached for what I had.

Not what I used to have.

What I had.

Jesus stepped forward beside me.

Not in front of me like I wasn’t there.

Not behind me sending Cassandra into battle alone.

Beside me.

I looked at the army.

Then at Him.

ME: This seems like an unreasonable number of people for two folk.

JESUS: Cassandra.

ME: Just making an observation.

Then Jesus looked ahead.

And His voice changed.

Not loud at first.

Just certain.

JESUS: Avengers…

He looked at me.

I knew.

I straightened the best I could.

He turned back toward the battlefield.

JESUS: ASSEMBLE.

…

Nothing.

👀

I looked around.

ME: Um.

Jesus said nothing.

ME: Jesus.

Still nothing.

ME: I KNOW You did not just yell Avengers Assemble and nobody—

Then, almost too quietly to hear:

THE FATHER: On your left.

I froze.

Jesus smiled.

I turned.

And there she came.

Tansay.

And behind her—

the Beloveds.

Not spectators.

Not people standing safely somewhere sending thoughts and prayers toward the battlefield.

Coming through.

Then another opening.

FAITH.

Another.

PEACE.

Another.

PRAISE.

Praise came through LOUD.

Because apparently Praise had been waiting on this moment.

Another.

HOPE.

Then—

GRACE.

Then—

PERSEVERANCE.

And the sky opened again.

Michael.

Gabriel.

I looked at Jesus.

ME: You knew.

JESUS: Of course I knew.

ME: You could have told me.

JESUS: And miss your face?

I looked toward Heaven.

ME: Father, You see Him, right?

No answer.

I KNOW He was smiling.

—

And then—

we fought.

Not Cassandra watching everybody else fight for her.

We fought.

Faith met Fear.

Peace walked directly into Chaos.

Hope went after Despair.

Grace stood between me and the voice telling me I should be doing better by now.

Perseverance looked Exhaustion dead in the face and said:

We can rest AND continue.

👀

Praise?

Praise was ridiculous.

Praise went into battle singing.

Because Praise had already learned something in a prison cell centuries ago:

You don’t have to wait for the chains to fall before you praise God.

The Beloveds fought beside me.

Tansay fought.

Michael fought.

Gabriel fought.

Jesus fought.

And Cassandra?

Cassandra fought too.

Not the old Cassandra.

Not some imaginary version of me whose body could do everything it once did.

THIS Cassandra.

The Cassandra who showed up with what she had.

And that mattered.

—

Eventually the battlefield grew quiet.

I was exhausted.

Jesus stood beside me.

I looked around.

The map was still different.

👀

That’s important.

The battle did not magically restore the old map.

Some things were still hard.

Some things were still missing.

I still had questions.

I still missed me.

ME: So this is winning?

JESUS: What do you think winning looks like?

I thought about it.

Long time.

Then I looked behind me.

Beloveds.

Tansay.

Faith.

Peace.

Praise.

Hope.

Grace.

Perseverance.

I looked at myself.

Still here.

Then I looked at Him.

Still Jesus.

ME: Maybe winning isn’t getting everything back.

He waited.

ME: Maybe sometimes winning is knowing where North is when everything else changes.

Jesus smiled.

I looked up.

ME: Father?

Silence.

I smiled too.

ME: Yeah.

I heard You.

—

Beloveds, maybe life has snapped something in your world too.

Maybe your map doesn’t look anything like it did.

Maybe you’re grieving somebody.

Maybe you’re grieving yourself.

Maybe the future you planned disappeared.

Maybe you’re standing in a life you recognize and don’t recognize at the same time.

I’m not going to insult you by telling you it doesn’t hurt.

It does.

I’m not going to tell you faith means you won’t grieve.

I do.

I’m not going to promise everything comes back.

I don’t know that.

Here’s what I can tell you from where I’m standing:

A changed map does not mean you have lost True North.

So cry when you need to cry.

Rest when you need to rest.

Ask God your questions.

Turn up Praise while you’re still IN the thing.

Use what you have today.

And when Hard lines up across the battlefield acting like you’re standing there alone—

look around.

You might hear it too.

Quietly.

From somewhere you weren’t looking.

“On your left.”

👀

And when you turn—

I hope you find somebody standing there.

I gotchu.

I gotcha.

And God has got us all.

The map changed.

True North didn’t.

Still here.

Still His.

Still finding my way,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Sunday Morning with My Bestie and MeThere’s a Chair for You Here 🏡☕️🪑


Beloveds.

Come on in.

Coffee is on. ☕️

There’s tea too.

I put out some snacks because apparently I believe every serious conversation should have refreshments. 😎

And there’s a chair waiting for you.

Yes, you.

Not the cleaned-up version of you.

Not the version who has figured everything out.

Not the version who believes everything I believe.

You.

I’ve been thinking a lot about home this morning.

Not necessarily the house where you grew up.

Not even necessarily a place.

I mean HOME. 🏡

That place where something inside you finally stops wandering.

Where you can exhale.

Where you don’t have to translate yourself before somebody decides you’re worth hearing.

Where your accent doesn’t need correcting.

Where your disability doesn’t become your entire identity.

Where your anger doesn’t automatically make you disposable.

Where your questions don’t get you thrown out.

Where your grief isn’t hurried.

Where you don’t have to leave pieces of yourself outside before somebody lets you through the door.

Home.

Maybe you’ve been looking for yours.

Maybe you already found it.

Maybe you lost it.

Maybe life changed so much that the place that once felt like home doesn’t anymore.

Maybe you’re trying to find your way back to yourself.

I understand that more than I wish I did.

And this morning my bestie and I stumbled into something while talking:

True North leads home.

👀

Wherever home is for you.

I need to say that again because I don’t want anybody misunderstanding Cassandra.

Wherever home is for YOU.

My True North is Jesus.

Unapologetically.

I love Him.

I talk to Him.

I argue with Him.

I ask Him questions.

Sometimes I probably get on His nerves.

He’ll be alright. 😎😉

My faith belongs in my writing because my faith belongs in me.

But hear this part carefully:

I HAVE NO HIDDEN AGENDA.

I am not secretly loving you so I can get you saved.

My chair is not bait.

My coffee is not bait.

My friendship is not bait.

#YourLifeMattersToMe is not bait.

I don’t need you to become a Christian for your life to matter to me.

I don’t need you to believe in God for me to care whether you make it home safely.

I don’t need you to agree with my theology before I can sit beside you.

And I don’t need to turn every act of love into an altar call.

My witness is my love.

Periodt.

Jesus said He would do the drawing.

I figure Jesus can handle Jesus’ business.

Whosoever will, let them come.

And Cassandra?

I’ll be over here hanging out with everybody else too. 😎😉

Coffee or tea?

😂

Because if you never believe what I believe—

your life still matters to me.

If you never walk into a church—

your life still matters to me.

If you hear me talking about Jesus for the next fifty-eleven years and still say, “That’s beautiful for you, Cassandra, but nah”—

pull up your chair.

You want cream in that coffee?

❤️

There is no conversion requirement attached to my love.

—

Maybe your True North is leading you toward God.

Maybe it isn’t.

Maybe it’s leading you back toward your family.

Maybe toward safety.

Maybe toward sobriety.

Maybe toward your culture.

Maybe toward community.

Maybe toward accepting the body you’re living in now.

Maybe toward the voice somebody taught you to be ashamed of.

Maybe toward forgiveness.

Maybe toward boundaries.

Maybe toward the person you were before somebody convinced you that person wasn’t worth loving.

Maybe you don’t have the slightest idea where you’re going.

That’s okay too.

Sit down awhile.

🏡

You don’t have to know the address yet to know you’re tired of wandering.

—

And there’s something else my bestie and I learned this morning.

Home isn’t necessarily where nobody ever hurts you.

Sometimes home is where you can say:

“You hurt me.”

And love doesn’t pack its bags.

Where correction doesn’t automatically mean rejection.

Where disagreement doesn’t require disappearance.

Where one person doesn’t have to surrender who they are so somebody else can remain comfortable.

Where somebody can say:

“Look again.”

And the other person actually looks.

Where failure can become instruction.

Where instruction can become understanding.

Where understanding can become trust.

Where trust can become friendship.

Where friendship can survive truth.

Maybe that’s part of finding home too.

⛓️

Some things bind us.

🔑

Some things help unlock us.

🏡

And sometimes, after walking around with those keys long enough, we finally recognize the place we’ve been trying to reach.

—

But before my bestie and I finish our coffee, I want to leave you with Paul and Silas.

Because they taught me something this morning.

They were beaten.

Put in prison.

Their feet were fastened in stocks.

And around midnight, they prayed and sang.

🎶

Not after everything got better.

While they were still IN it.

Then the earthquake came.

The prison doors opened.

And the chains came loose.

But here’s the part sitting heavy on my heart today:

Everybody’s chains came loose.

Not just theirs.

And then the jailer saw those open doors.

He believed everybody had escaped.

He was preparing to take his own life.

Paul saw him.

Paul was finally free.

The door was open.

He could have run.

Instead, he noticed the man standing in the darkness.

And he called out to him.

Don’t hurt yourself.

We’re all here.

😭❤️

Beloveds.

That’s it.

That’s the message.

Sometimes somebody doesn’t need your theology first.

Sometimes they need to know:

WE’RE ALL HERE.

Stay.

Please stay.

We’ll figure out tomorrow when tomorrow gets here.

If you’re angry, stay.

If you’re grieving, stay.

If you’re confused, stay.

If you’re questioning everything, stay.

If you believe, stay.

If you don’t believe, stay.

If you’ve been wandering so long that you wouldn’t recognize home if somebody handed you the keys—

stay.

🔑

You matter before we agree.

You matter before you change.

You matter before you heal.

You matter before you believe.

And if you never believe what Cassandra believes?

You still matter to Cassandra.

Jesus can draw whosoever will.

I’ll love whosoever is sitting in front of me.

That’s my witness.

❤️

Maybe somewhere along the way you’ll find your True North.

And maybe True North will lead you somewhere I never expected.

That’s between you and the compass.

I just hope that someday, somewhere, something inside you looks around and whispers:

I’m home.

🏡

Until then?

There’s a chair for you here.

Coffee’s still warm.

And I’m not going anywhere.

loving me some you,

Cassandra

Unapologetically His.
Unapologetically yours.

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Be encouraged,  beloveds. You SHALL NOT BE ALONE. I gotchu and I gotcha and God has us all 💯🥰😉😎💃🏿

When life just won’t stop lifing, choose joy anyhow.

Life won’t stop lifing, beloveds. So much so I texted my circle this :

Could really use some prayers. Brain fog has it hard to think. Everything looks both backwards and upside down at the same time.

On top of all that, my right cheek is numb making talking all but impossible. Both legs are weak making everything take forever.

Holding the phone is painful but I force myself to blog which helps my mind and hopefully one or two people.

I thought about a good cry but talked to mom and wombie and Jr and played uplifting praise 🎶 music on a loop.

I’m exhausted as have been hospitalized three times since April.

I refuse to give up or give in to a pity party. I’m going to keep it moving the best I can.

I’m standing ten toes down on FAITH, HOPE, LAUGHTER and  LOVE.

I’m living my best life. Be encouraged. Have an amazing rest of your weekend. I love me some you. We got this and God has got us all. Cassandra. 🥰

I just stopped by to encourage someone. Starting with me.

I’m grieving the woman I can no longer be.

I’m not sad so much as missing the ease of life.

I miss being able to take a long shower. Alone.

I miss my warbling serenade to all the neighbors.

I miss long drives.

I miss a quiet cup of ☕️ coffee in the middle of the night.

Heckamiah, I miss me! The old me. The boring me.

I wonder if I’m the only one. I think not.

I’m going to sit out some coffee ☕️, some tea and some snacks.

I’ll have your chair waiting.

In case no one has told you today: I love you and God loves us all

here as best I can,

Cassandra

Ah, God, what do we do with us now.  Asking for A Friend…

I TOLD HARD, “HA!”

I TOLD HARD, “HA!”

Beloveds.

Life came for me.

Hard came for me.

And I told Hard—

“HA!” 😂

Now, before somebody thinks Cassandra has finally lost what little sense she had left, let me explain. 😂

I didn’t tell hard it wasn’t hard.

I told hard it wasn’t God.

Sit with that for a minute.

Because I am not going to lie to you and pretend everything that has happened to me has been easy.

It hasn’t.

I’m not going to tell you I haven’t cried.

I have.

I’m not going to tell you I haven’t gotten tired, frustrated, angry, disappointed, scared, or just plain sick and tired of being sick and tired.

I have.

Hard is HARD.

And sometimes faith doesn’t change that fact.

Sometimes prayer doesn’t immediately change the circumstances.

Sometimes you can believe God with everything in you and still wake up tomorrow facing the same thing you were facing yesterday.

I know something about that.

I am taking care of myself.

I’m listening to my doctors.

I’m preparing to begin outpatient therapy.

And I also understand that I may have to live with some residual symptoms from my stroke unless and until God heals me.

Maybe He will.

I believe He can.

But Beloveds, I also have to tell you something that matters deeply to me:

I may not get the miracle I want.

And God will still be God.

I will still be blessed.

I will still love Him.

I will still trust Him.

And I will not blame God for an outcome I don’t like.

Life came for me.

Hard came for me.

I told hard, “HA!”

Not because hard didn’t hurt.

Not because I won every battle.

Not because everything went back to the way it used to be.

Not because I got everything I prayed for.

HA! is not denial.

HA! is me refusing to give hard a promotion it did not earn.

Hard does not get to become God.

Hard does not get to decide whether I laugh today.

Hard does not get to decide whether I love today.

Hard does not get to decide whether I write today.

Hard does not get to decide whether I dream today.

Hard does not get to decide whether I LIVE today.

And perhaps that is what living your best life really means.

Maybe your best life isn’t the life you would have chosen.

Maybe it isn’t the life you planned.

Maybe living your best life means taking the life you have—

and living the mess out of it anyway.

Laugh while something still hurts.

Call somebody you love.

Watch the movie.

Play the music.

Eat something delicious.

Write the thing.

Go to therapy.

Ask for help.

Take the nap.

Cry when you need to cry.

Start again when you’re able.

Sit still when you’re not.

Find something beautiful in a day that wasn’t particularly beautiful.

And please hear me:

You do not have to defeat hard before you start living again.

🔒🔑

Hard may change the lock.

Hard doesn’t get to hide every key.

Maybe your hard is illness.

Maybe it’s grief.

Maybe somebody broke your heart.

Maybe you’re lonely.

Maybe money is funny and the bills aren’t laughing.

Maybe you’re caring for somebody and you’re exhausted.

Maybe you’re beginning again at 27.

Or 57.

Or 87.

Maybe you’ve been praying about something so long that you don’t even know what else to say.

Maybe today you don’t feel strong.

Then don’t perform strength for me.

Cry.

Rest.

Call somebody.

Get some help.

Do what you need to do to take care of yourself.

And when you’re able—

LIVE.

Because whatever came for you does not automatically get the rest of you.

AND NOW, MY 🥜 EATERS…

😂🥰

Come on in.

Yes, YOU.

Pull up your chair.

You already know I’m not about to sneak an altar call into paragraph six. 😂

You don’t have to believe what I believe for this next part to belong to you.

I believe in God.

I believe Jesus is Lord and Savior.

I believe God can heal me.

That’s Cassandra.

I’m not hiding my faith to make anybody comfortable.

But I’m also not requiring you to borrow my faith before I’ll pull out a chair for you.

So keep your peanuts. 🥜😂

Sit down.

I gotchu and gotcha.

Because whether you believe in God, don’t believe in God, aren’t sure about God, are angry with God, walked away from church a long time ago, or have never walked through the doors—

hard has probably introduced itself to you too.

And here’s what I want you to hear:

Whatever happened to you is something that happened to you.

It does not have to become everything you are.

You don’t have to call that God.

I do.

You don’t have to explain your survival the way I explain mine.

You don’t even have to understand it yet.

But please—

LIVE.

That’s it.

That’s my grand agenda today.

No sorting table.

No religious prerequisite.

No test at the door.

There are chairs.

🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑

Come sit down.

Believers, bring your faith.

🥜 eaters, bring your peanuts.

Those of you somewhere in between, bring your questions.

Everybody bring your keys. 🔑

We’ve got some living to do.

Because sometimes the miracle isn’t that everything changed today.

Sometimes today is simply the day you realized:

I AM STILL HERE.

And being here means there is still something available to me.

Love.

Laughter.

Friendship.

Music.

A conversation.

A sunset.

A ridiculous movie.

A good cry.

Another beginning.

Another chance to say I love you.

Another opportunity to tell somebody else:

I gotchu.

And another day to LIVE.

So Hard…

I see you.

I felt you.

I have the scars to prove you were here.

I’m not pretending you weren’t hard.

But you apparently misunderstood something.

You thought because you changed some things, you got everything.

You thought because life didn’t turn out exactly as I planned, I would stop living it.

You thought because my body changed, Cassandra disappeared.

You thought because I cried, joy packed its bags.

You thought because I hurt, love left.

You thought because I don’t know exactly what tomorrow holds, I couldn’t enjoy TODAY.

Baby…

HA! 😂💃🏿

I’m still here.

Still loving.

Still laughing.

Still believing.

Still writing.

Still dreaming.

Still taking care of myself.

Still finding 🔑s.

Still pulling out chairs.

Still loving me some Beloveds.

And still living.

Life came for me.

Hard came for me.

I TOLD HARD, “HA!”

And whatever came for you, Beloved—

please don’t hand it the rest of your life.

I gotchu and gotcha.

And God has us all. ❤️

Unapologetically His.

Unapologetically yours.

loving me some you,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Note: Writing ✍️🏿 this actually brought tears to my eyes, beloveds.  I dream of raising both arms in praise. I want to run again. I want to drive 🚗 again.

I want to live on my own. This stroke makes that impossible, for now.

Now, I have to literally plan EVERY step. That gets exhausting. It’s why folks who have had a stroke take many naps. Even my try gets exhausted fast.

Still,  I am grateful for my life. Even on my harshest health days.

This morning, I told lazy to get up. Lazy, laughter, Jesus and I folded my laundry and put it away.

Whew!

I made a promise to myself that I would take no breaks until the last piece was folded and put away.

In total, it has taken almost four hours to complete my routine.

I just stopped by to encourage someone. Starting with me.

Enjoy yourself. Embrace your life. It’s the only one we get.

In case no one has told you today: I love you and so does He. Be patient. Be resourceful. Be resolute.

Be challenged. Be adventurous. Be…

Heckamiah! Be as many things as you want!😎🥰😂👀💃🏿💯

Take care of your heart as it is precious and priceless to ABBA, to me.

Finally, hit me up in the comments. Tryna sound cool 😎. How’d  I do. Asking for A Friend…😂🥰❤️

YOU ARE STILL HERE AND HERE IS A PLACE.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2026

YOU ARE STILL HERE — AND HERE IS A PLACE

Beloveds.

We made it to Friday.

Not everybody arrived triumphantly.

Somebody crawled.

Somebody coasted.

Somebody changed the plan four times.

Somebody did the bare minimum and had to call that enough.

Somebody surprised themselves.

Somebody is still waiting for the thing they hoped would change this week.

Welcome.

This week we talked about beginning again, voice, agency, and joy.

None of those subjects requires a perfect ending by Friday afternoon.

Life is not a weekly television episode.

Sometimes the victory is not resolution.

Sometimes the victory is presence.

Psalm 118:24 says, “This is the day which the LORD hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” KJV

For me, that rejoicing does not mean denying what hurts.

It means this day still contains life.

If you do not share my belief, I hope you can still receive this:

Your unfinished life is not an unworthy life.

🔑 You do not have to wait until everything is fixed to belong here.

You matter to me.

Bring the wheelchair.

Bring the cane.

Bring the running shoes.

Bring the grief.

Bring the laughter.

Bring the questions.

Bring the faith.

Bring the doubt.

Bring yourself.

There is a chair.

Asking for A Friend,
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe