BELOVEDS, YOU CAN HAVE MY FLOWERS. I DON’T NEED THEM ANYMORE.
❣️💟💕💞💓💗💛🧡🖤💙💚🤍🩶🤎💜❤️❤️🩹💖💝💘💘🧩🧸
Beloveds,
You can have MY flowers.
I don’t need them anymore.
🌹🌷🌻
No, really.
Take them.
Take every last one.
Give them to somebody who can smell them.
Give them to somebody who can hold them.
Give them to somebody who needs to know today that somebody thought about them.
Give them to somebody who has been sitting quietly wondering whether anybody sees them.
Give them to somebody who is still here.
❤️
Because I’ve been thinking about flowers.
We give so many of them when somebody dies.
Beautiful arrangements.
Lilies.
Roses.
Cards.
Ribbons.
Rooms filled with color.
People stand beside somebody who can no longer hear them and say some of the most beautiful things they have ever said about that person.
She was wonderful.
He changed my life.
She always made me laugh.
He was there when nobody else was.
I wish I had told her.
I hope he knew.
And Beloveds—
sometimes I want to ask:
Did we tell them while they were here?
👀
Not as condemnation.
Not as guilt.
Because life gets busy.
People get tired.
Relationships get complicated.
Sometimes we assume there will be another opportunity.
Another phone call.
Another Christmas.
Another Tuesday.
Another March.
❤️🩹
I know something about March.
That’s why I’m not interested in shaming anybody for what they didn’t know yesterday.
I’m interested in what we can do today.
And today—
somebody is still here.
🌎
So you can have my flowers.
Give mine away early.
Give them before anybody has to stand at a microphone and explain what somebody meant.
Give them before the obituary.
Before the memorial.
Before everybody suddenly remembers the nicest thing they ever thought about somebody.
If you love somebody—
tell them.
If somebody changed your life—
tell them.
If somebody helped you survive something—
tell them.
If somebody makes this ridiculous world a little easier for you to live in—
tell them.
And don’t only tell the people everybody expects you to tell.
Tell the teacher.
Tell the nurse.
Tell the neighbor.
Tell the friend who answered at 2:00 in the morning.
Tell the person who made you laugh on the day you thought laughter had left you.
Tell the person who quietly made room.
Tell the person who pulled up another chair.
🪑🪑
Tell somebody:
You mattered to me today.
Because flowers don’t have to be flowers.
👀
Maybe somebody’s flowers are:
a phone call.
A sandwich.
A ride.
A handwritten note.
An hour without looking at your phone.
A ridiculous meme.
A prayer.
A meal.
A hug.
An apology.
A boundary respected.
A name remembered.
A seat saved.
A door held open.
A message that simply says:
I thought about you.
💐
Maybe flowers are attention.
Maybe flowers are presence.
Maybe flowers are seeing somebody while they’re still standing in front of you.
And maybe that’s why I don’t need mine anymore.
Because I’ve been getting mine.
❤️
Not necessarily roses.
Not necessarily bouquets.
I’ve received love.
I’ve received kindness.
I’ve received people sitting beside me.
I’ve received laughter.
I’ve received prayers.
I’ve received people who stayed.
I’ve received people who saw me.
I’ve received people who let me be loud.
I’ve received people who let me be quiet.
I’ve received people who loved me when I was strong.
I’ve received people who loved me when strong wasn’t available.
I’ve received flowers that never grew from soil.
💝
And Beloveds—
that’s enough.
So if someday somebody thinks:
I wish I could give Cassandra flowers…
Nah, fam.
Find somebody living.
🌎
Give them mine.
Take that bouquet somewhere else.
Walk into a nursing home.
Visit somebody nobody visits.
Thank somebody who thinks nobody noticed.
Call somebody you’ve been meaning to call.
Tell your sister.
Tell your brother.
Tell your friend.
Tell your Wombie.
Tell somebody who has been carrying everybody else.
Tell somebody whose name rarely gets called unless somebody needs something.
Tell somebody:
I see you.
👀❤️
And don’t wait until they’re extraordinary.
Don’t wait until they accomplish something enormous.
Don’t wait until they survive something terrible.
Don’t wait until the whole world applauds them.
Don’t wait until they’re gone.
Love ordinary people on ordinary Tuesdays.
That’s where life actually happens.
❤️
Maybe we’ve confused flowers with reward.
You don’t have to earn tenderness.
You don’t need a tragedy before somebody checks on you.
You don’t need an accomplishment before somebody celebrates you.
You don’t need to almost disappear before somebody finally notices you’re here.
Beloved—
being here is enough.
😭❤️🩹
That’s one of the things I want us to learn together.
Give people their humanity before their obituary.
Give people their tenderness before their memorial.
Give people their gratitude before their tribute.
Give people their attention before their absence teaches you to pay attention.
And when somebody gives you flowers—
literal or otherwise—
receive them.
Don’t immediately explain why you don’t deserve them.
Don’t swat love away because receiving makes you uncomfortable.
Don’t make somebody argue you into believing you matter.
Sometimes the assignment is not giving.
Sometimes the assignment is:
open your hands.
💐🤲🏿
Receive.
Then when your hands are full—
give some away.
❤️➡️❤️
That’s how love moves.
Not because anybody owes us.
Not because kindness is a transaction.
Not because I loved you, therefore you must love me exactly the way I demand.
No.
Love moves because love has somewhere to go.
We talked about that already.
Love still has somewhere to go.
🌎
And I want mine moving.
Don’t pile it around me someday.
Move it.
Take whatever love you were going to save for later and spend some of it while somebody can still receive it.
Spend it recklessly on kindness.
Spend it wisely on presence.
Spend it courageously on telling the truth.
Spend it gently on somebody grieving.
Spend it quietly on somebody who doesn’t need an audience.
Spend it across lines somebody told you shouldn’t be crossed.
Race.
Country.
Language.
Age.
Ability.
Religion.
No religion.
Whatever.
Human being.
Start there.
❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤎🤍🩶
And yes, boundaries still matter.
Love does not require returning somewhere unsafe.
Love does not require allowing somebody to harm you.
Love does not mean disappearing yourself.
Sometimes the flower is kindness.
Sometimes the flower is forgiveness.
Sometimes the flower is distance.
Sometimes the flower is:
I love you, and I cannot stay here.
Love doesn’t have to lie in order to call itself love.
❤️🩹
But wherever love can safely go—
send it.
Because there is somebody alive right now who thinks nobody notices.
Somebody who believes they are too much.
Somebody who believes they are not enough.
Somebody sitting alone.
Somebody grieving.
Somebody scared.
Somebody laughing loudly because joy finally came back.
Somebody starting over.
Somebody barely holding on to hope.
Somebody who doesn’t need your solution.
They might just need another human being to say:
Your life matters to me.
💝
That’s the flower.
Not the rose.
Not the ribbon.
Not the arrangement.
The knowing.
Knowing somebody saw you.
Knowing somebody remembered.
Knowing somebody was glad you existed.
Knowing somebody made room.
Knowing somebody didn’t require you to become somebody else before they loved you.
Knowing there was another chair.
🪑🪑
Beloveds,
that’s what I want.
Not more flowers around death.
More flowers around life.
🌻🌎❤️
Flowers at breakfast.
Flowers on random Wednesdays.
Flowers because somebody made it through Tuesday.
Flowers because somebody tried again.
Flowers because somebody finally rested.
Flowers because somebody spoke.
Flowers because somebody survived.
Flowers because somebody laughed.
Flowers because somebody simply woke up this morning and is still here.
No occasion required.
You are the occasion.
👀❤️🔥
And maybe somebody reading this has been waiting for their flowers.
Come here.
🪑
I see you.
I may not know your name.
I may never know your story.
But you’re here.
And for this little moment, we’re sharing the same world.
🌎
So take one of mine.
🌹
Actually—
take the whole bouquet.
💐
I don’t need to hoard love to know I was loved.
I don’t need every flower with my name on it.
I would rather know somebody received one in time.
While they could smell it.
While they could smile.
While they could roll their eyes and say, “What is THIS for?”
While they could put it in some ridiculous vase that doesn’t match anything.
While they could text somebody a picture.
While they could know:
Somebody thought of me today.
🥰
That’s enough for me.
So Beloveds—
you can have MY flowers.
Give them away.
Give them now.
Give them while somebody can receive them.
And when somebody hands you yours—
take them.
💐❤️
We are still here.
Our job is still not done.
Love still has somewhere to go.
So let’s send it.
One person.
One kindness.
One flower.
One step.
One step.
One step.
🌎❤️🔥
You are loved.
You are NOT alone.
Keep on being…YOU!
Asking for A Friend,
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
Category: Song
IT IS FINISHED. BUT BELOVEDS, WE ARE NOT. ❤️🩹🌎
IT IS FINISHED. BUT BELOVEDS, WE ARE NOT. ❤️🩹🌎
For Mom.
For Wombie.
For every person in this world carrying the name of somebody they love who is no longer here.
Beloveds,
Before I say anything else, I need to say two names that don’t belong to a sermon.
Mom.
Wombie.
Before there was Why Can’t I Be Loud?!
Before there were Beloveds.
Before #YourLifeMattersToMe.
Before the chairs. 🪑🪑
Before the fishing poles. 🎣🎣
Before I started asking you to come love this whole great big world with me—
there was family.
There was Mom.
There were her daughters.
There was ordinary life.
And then there was grief.
❤️🩹
My mother died on Christmas morning 2016.
We had plans.
We were supposed to take a vacation in March.
She was supposed to see my new car.
I thought we had time.
I was so sure we had time.
But March never came for us.
And I have learned something about grief:
Sometimes we don’t only lose a person.
We lose future tense.
“We’re going to…”
“Next time…”
“When you come over…”
“Wait until you see…”
“Next Christmas…”
“March.”
Then one day, without our permission, we will becomes we were going to.
😭❤️🩹
Maybe you have a March too.
Maybe yours wasn’t a vacation.
Maybe it was a phone call you thought you still had time to make.
A conversation.
A birthday.
A wedding.
An apology.
A meal.
A trip.
An ordinary Tuesday.
Maybe there was something you were absolutely certain the two of you would still get to do.
And then later didn’t come.
I won’t tell you what that loss is supposed to mean.
I won’t tell you everything happens for a reason.
I won’t tell you not to cry.
I won’t tell you that you should be “over it” by now.
I won’t tell you that because you believe God, grief shouldn’t hurt.
Nah, fam.
Sometimes faith cries.
Sometimes faith has questions.
Sometimes faith worships with tears running down its face.
Sometimes faith simply says:
God, I still miss them.
🙏🏿❤️🩹
Jesus wept.
Knowing what He knew, Jesus still wept.
So I will never ask you to anesthetize your grief to prove your faith.
Faith does not require anesthesia.
You can trust God and miss somebody terribly.
You can praise and ache.
You can laugh at a memory and cry thirty seconds later.
You can have a wonderful day without betraying the person who died.
You can keep living without leaving them behind.
Healing is not erasure.
❤️🩹
And Beloved, sometimes grief is complicated.
Maybe the person you lost loved you beautifully.
Maybe they didn’t.
Maybe you loved each other and hurt each other.
Maybe there were things left unresolved.
Maybe you’re grieving with gratitude.
Maybe you’re grieving with anger.
Maybe grief came mixed with relief, guilt, confusion, tenderness or questions you still cannot answer.
There is a chair for you too.
🪑
I am not going to rank anybody’s grief.
I am not going to tell you how yours is supposed to look.
I will simply sit beside you.
Because sometimes love doesn’t need an explanation.
Sometimes love says:
Tell me about them.
Sometimes love says:
Say their name.
Sometimes love doesn’t say anything at all.
Sometimes love just stays.
🪑❤️🩹🪑
And that brings me back to Mom.
My mother was more than the day she died.
She was more than Christmas morning.
More than my grief.
More than my memories.
More than what I learned after losing her.
Before she was Mom, she was a whole human being.
She had a life.
A personality.
Dreams.
Preferences.
Stories.
Joy.
Disappointments.
Things I knew.
Things I probably never knew.
She belonged to herself before she belonged to anybody else.
But Wombie and I still get to call her:
Mom.
🧸❤️
And I don’t want death to become louder than her life.
Because death does something strange when we remember people.
One date can become so enormous that it begins swallowing everything that came before it.
The hospital gets louder than the kitchen.
The funeral gets louder than the laughter.
The final breath gets louder than every breath before it.
Nah, fam.
DEATH GETS ONE DATE.
LOVE GETS THE WHOLE LIFE.
❤️🔥
Look at a headstone sometime.
Two dates.
A little dash between them.
That tiny dash can hold an entire world.
Birthdays.
Breakfasts.
Arguments.
Songs.
Inside jokes.
Work.
Children.
Bad decisions.
Second chances.
Car rides.
Christmases.
Recipes.
Mistakes.
Apologies.
Laughter.
Ordinary Tuesdays.
Love.
A whole human life compressed into one tiny line.
The world may see a dash.
The people who loved them know that dash was a world.
🌎❤️🩹
That’s why losing one person can feel like losing an entire world.
And somewhere tonight, somebody understands exactly what I mean.
Somebody just got the call.
Somebody is planning a funeral.
Somebody is cleaning out a closet.
Somebody cannot bring themselves to clean out the closet.
Somebody reached for the phone before remembering.
Somebody heard their song.
Somebody cooked their recipe.
Somebody smelled a familiar perfume.
Somebody dreamed about them and woke up happy for three beautiful seconds before remembering.
Somebody lost their person yesterday.
Somebody lost theirs fifty years ago.
And suddenly today—
it hurts again.
Beloved,
bring their name.
🌎❤️🩹
You don’t have to leave them outside to sit with us.
Bring Mom.
Bring Daddy.
Bring your sister.
Bring your brother.
Bring your child.
Bring your spouse.
Bring your friend.
Bring the person whose relationship to you doesn’t fit neatly into a box.
Bring the person whose name still catches somewhere between your heart and your throat.
There is room.
🪑🪑
And while we’re sitting here, I need to say something to Wombie too.
We lost the same mother.
But that doesn’t mean we have the same grief.
Same Mom.
Different daughters.
Different memories.
Different relationships.
Different places where her absence lives.
Neither grief has to compete with the other.
There is room for both.
❤️🩹❤️🩹
Maybe that’s something all of us can remember.
Two people can stand at the same funeral and go home carrying entirely different losses.
Love doesn’t require us to compare them.
Love makes room.
And memory makes room too.
One person remembers something another forgot.
Somebody remembers the laugh.
Somebody remembers the recipe.
Somebody remembers the phrase they always used.
Somebody remembers a story differently.
Piece by piece, we remind one another:
They were here.
🧩
Not:
Their death was here.
THEY were here.
That distinction matters to me.
Because my mother’s death is part of her story.
It is not her whole story.
And my grief is part of mine.
It is not my whole story either.
I am still here.
Wombie is still here.
You are still here.
🌎
And that brings me to Jesus.
There are three words Christians know well:
IT IS FINISHED.
Jesus said them.
Not me.
Not you.
Jesus.
And I need to be careful here because I don’t want to borrow His sentence for something He never assigned to it.
Jesus’ job is done.
Our job is not done.
That does NOT mean Jesus completed part of salvation and left the rest for us.
Nah, fam.
We are not finishing Calvary.
We are not completing Christ.
We are not anybody’s Messiah.
What belonged to Jesus to finish, Jesus finished.
🙏🏿❤️🔥
His work is completion.
Our work is response.
We don’t love the world to finish what Jesus couldn’t.
We love because we have been loved.
We don’t have to become saviors.
We can become neighbors.
And neighbors can do ordinary things.
Call.
Listen.
Visit.
Feed somebody.
Remember.
Protect.
Apologize.
Forgive where forgiveness is possible and healthy.
Hold a hand.
Say a name.
Pull up another chair.
Stay.
Love.
❤️
That’s our work.
And Beloveds—
there are still people here.
That’s why I’m not finished.
That’s why you’re not finished.
That’s why we aren’t finished.
Not because death is stalking us and we should live terrified of every goodbye.
No.
I don’t want fear to teach us how to love.
Life is happening now.
That’s enough reason.
The last ordinary day usually looks ordinary while we’re living it.
Nobody announces:
This is the last phone call.
This is the last Christmas.
This is the last ridiculous joke.
This is the last hug.
So don’t spend your life terrified that everything might be the last thing.
Instead:
Let ordinary love count while it is still ordinary.
❤️🔥
Tell people they matter while they can hear you.
Sit with them.
Laugh with them.
Listen.
Be present.
Don’t wait for a funeral to discover somebody was precious.
Don’t wait for March.
And if your March has already disappeared—
come sit with me.
I know something about missing a March.
❤️🩹🪑
Mom’s love did not make her immortal.
But her death did not make her love meaningless.
Some of what she gave reached her daughters.
And love moves.
Person to person.
Life to life.
❤️➡️❤️➡️❤️➡️❤️➡️🌎
Somebody may receive kindness tomorrow that began partly with a person whose name they will never know.
That’s an extraordinary kind of legacy.
Love that no longer needs your name attached to it.
But let me be clear:
Legacy is not reimbursement for loss.
Nothing beautiful that comes afterward makes losing somebody “worth it.”
Nothing replaces Mom.
Nothing gives us March.
Nothing balances some cosmic ledger and makes everything even.
I can be grateful for what love produced and still say:
I miss my mother.
Both are true.
❤️🩹
And maybe that’s why I keep coming back to the whole world.
🌎
Every stranger you pass contains a history you cannot see.
Somebody is carrying an empty chair.
Somebody is carrying a name.
Somebody is carrying a March.
Somebody is carrying joy and grief in the same body.
We don’t know everybody’s story.
Maybe we don’t need to.
Maybe we can begin somewhere simpler:
Beloved.
Before I know your race.
Beloved.
Before I know your country.
Beloved.
Before I know your politics.
Beloved.
Before I know whether you worship like me—or worship at all.
Beloved.
Before I know your story.
You are a human being standing here with me in this world.
And your life matters.
🌎❤️
I cannot love eight billion people individually.
Neither can you.
That’s why I don’t ask you to save the world.
I ask something human-sized.
One step.
Love somebody within your reach.
Then another person does the same.
Then another.
Then another.
One chair.
One phone call.
One meal.
One name remembered.
One person seen.
One act of love.
One step. One step. One step.
That’s how a human-sized heart approaches a world-sized command.
❤️➡️🌎
Mom,
I wish we had gotten March.
I wish you had seen what I wanted you to see.
I wish there had been more ordinary days.
But there weren’t.
So I will not pretend I understand everything.
I will not pretend missing you doesn’t hurt.
And I will not allow the day you died to become bigger than all the days you lived.
You were here.
You loved.
You mattered.
You still matter to your daughters.
🧸❤️🩹
Wombie,
there is room for your grief too.
Always.
❤️🩹
And Beloveds—
there is room for yours.
Bring the names.
Bring the memories.
Bring the questions.
Bring the laughter.
Bring the tears.
Bring the complicated parts.
Bring the whole messy human thing.
🪑🪑🌎
We don’t have to resolve before we belong.
And when we’re ready, we’ll stand—or sit, or roll—from that table and turn again toward the living.
Because there are still people here.
There is still kindness to give.
There is still loneliness to interrupt.
There is still injustice to confront.
There are still hands to hold.
There are still voices to hear.
There are still people who need another chair.
There is still a whole world full of human beings who need love.
So yes:
JESUS’ JOB IS DONE.
OUR JOB IS NOT DONE.
His:
IT IS FINISHED.
Ours:
KEEP LOVING.
Again tomorrow.
And the day after that.
For however many tomorrows we are given.
Mom was here.
Your person was here.
You are here.
And while we’re both still here—
LET’S LOVE THE WORLD TOGETHER.
🌎❤️🩹❤️🔥
Your life matters to me.
One step.
One step.
One step.
You are loved.
You are NOT alone.
Keep on being…YOU!
Asking for A Friend,
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
Help me be loud:
DON’T GIVE UP YET!
💙📫 A POSTCARD FOR YOU: DON’T GIVE UP YET
Beloveds,
DON’T GIVE UP YET!
I don’t know who needs this little postcard today, but I’m sending it anyway.
Don’t give up yet.
Not because I can promise you everything is about to become easy. I can’t.
Not because I know exactly what you’re carrying. I don’t.
But because sometimes we make permanent decisions while standing inside temporary pain. Sometimes exhaustion starts talking like it knows the future.
It doesn’t.
So before you decide there is nothing left ahead of you, give tomorrow a chance to introduce itself.
Rest if you need to.
Cry if you need to.
Be quiet if you need to.
Ask somebody to sit beside you if you need to.
Take one tiny step if that’s all you’ve got.
But please—
Don’t give up yet.
There are people you haven’t met yet.
There is laughter you haven’t laughed yet.
There are mornings you haven’t seen yet.
There are songs you haven’t danced badly to yet. 💃🏿😂
There is love you haven’t received yet—and love only you can give.
You do not have to figure out the rest of your life today.
Just stay for this step.
Then the next one.
One step. One step. One step.
I’m rooting for you from my little corner of this great big world.
🌎💙
Your life matters to me.
You are loved.
You are NOT alone.
Please don’t give up yet.
Keep on being…YOU! ❤️🔥
Asking for A Friend,
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
Help me be loud:
AFTER MIDNIGHT — WHAT ALL OF THIS WAS ABOUT 🌎❤️🔥
AFTER MIDNIGHT — WHAT ALL OF THIS WAS ABOUT 🌎❤️🔥
Beloveds,
Tonight we went a long way around to arrive at something that has actually been here all along.
Why Can’t I Be Loud? was never simply about being loud. It was about having a voice.
It was about refusing to let this world decide whose voice deserves room, whose story deserves to be heard, whose difference makes them inconvenient, or whose pain should be made quiet so everybody else can remain comfortable.
And somewhere in all of tonight’s music, memories, laughter, hurt, photographs, fishing poles, empty chairs, chains and rebirth, the message became clearer.
I see you.
Not the version of you somebody else decided you ought to become. Not only the polished you. Not only the healed you. Not only the easy-to-love you.
You.
I know something about what it feels like to believe you are the one nobody will choose. I know what it means to carry words spoken over you long after the people who said them have gone home. I know what being called ugly can do to a heart.
But I also know this:
God loved me then.
God loves me now.
And I learned to love me, too.
So when I tell you that your life matters to me, those are not decorative words at the bottom of a post. That is the work. That is the reason I keep opening the door. That is why there are two chairs instead of one and two fishing poles waiting beside them.
🎣🪑 🪑🎣
Come sit with me.
Bring your story.
Bring your laughter. Bring your questions. Bring your faith or your uncertainty. Bring your scars, your accent, your anger, your joy, your difference, your whole complicated self.
You do not have to become somebody else before there is a chair for you.
Maybe that is what all these playlists and stories and conversations have been doing. They have been fishing for something bigger than any one song, movie, photograph, country, race, body, language or life.
Fishing for love.
Fishing for one another.
Fishing for a world where seeing somebody different does not make us retreat, but makes us curious enough to pull up another chair.
Because I don’t want to love only the people who look like me.
I want us to love the whole world together.
🌎
That is why I keep saying:
One step. One step. One step.
Because changing the world sounds impossible.
Loving the human being sitting in the other chair does not.
And maybe enough of those little acts of love eventually become something enormous.
A chain transformed.
A life reborn.
A voice recovered.
A lonely table with another chair pulled up beside it.
A world remembering that we belong to one another.
So after everything tonight, I think the summary may actually be very simple:
You matter to me.
I see you.
You are loved.
You are not alone.
And whatever tried to convince you that you had to disappear in order to belong—
Nah, fam.
There is room here for your voice.
Keep on being…YOU!
🌎❤️🔥🪑🪑🎣🎣
Asking for A Friend,
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
Note: One step. One step. One step. You are loved. You are NOT alone. Keep on being…YOU!
Help me be loud:
🤣😂🥰😍
😂🎤 SOMETIMES I JUST WANT TO LAUGH
Beloveds,
Listen.
Sometimes there is a lesson.
Sometimes there is a testimony.
Sometimes there is something that makes me stop, think, pray, cry, or look at the world a little differently.
And sometimes?
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
IT’S JUST FUNNY.
That’s it.
That’s the post. 😂
I love comedy.
I love laughing.
I love those moments when somebody says something so ridiculous that you weren’t prepared for it and the laugh just FALLS OUT. 🤣
Everything does not need a dissertation.
Everything does not need twelve footnotes.
Everything does not need Robie standing in the corner with a clipboard trying to determine:
🤓📝 “But what does the laughter represent?”
SIR.
SIT DOWN.
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
Sometimes joy gets to be joy.
Sometimes funny gets to be FUNNY.
And sometimes I just want to laugh.
So come laugh with me. 😂❤️
🎤 You’re Up Next Clean Comedy Competition:
https://youtu.be/trxTFRo0DHw?is=93fMmi2_dUfB6pOs
And if you’re wondering what all these seemingly different things have to do with each other, come over here:
❤️🌎 A-B-B-A — WHAT DOES LOVE DO?
https://whycantibeloud.wordpress.com/2026/08/28/22490/
But first?
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
LAUGH.
One step. One step. One step.
You are loved.
You are NOT alone.
Keep on being…YOU!
❤️🌎
Help me be loud:
👘 I COULDN’T HAVE DONE THIS HARD RIGHT-HANDED
👘 I COULDN’T HAVE DONE THIS HARD RIGHT-HANDED
Beloveds,
It started with a kimono.
👘
Yep.
A kimono.
Because apparently God will use whatever is lying around when He wants me to notice something. 🤣
I was getting dressed, working with this body of mine, doing what has become normal:
figuring it out.
Not necessarily doing something the way I used to do it.
Not necessarily doing it the way somebody else would.
Just figuring out how this body can get it done.
👘
And somewhere in all that maneuvering, adjusting, pulling, reaching, twisting, and making the clothes cooperate, a thought hit me:
I couldn’t have done this hard right-handed.
Ironically.
🤯🤯🤯
Because my dominant hand used to be the hand I depended on.
The hand that knew what to do without being told.
The hand I probably barely thought about.
Then life changed.
My body changed.
And suddenly the side that wasn’t supposed to be the star had to learn some lines.
👀
And apparently she has been studying.
🤣
Because there I was—
getting myself together,
putting on my clothes,
working out this kimono,
and realizing that some of the things I have learned to do now might actually be harder if I tried to do them the old way.
WHEW.
👘🤯
Then came the headset.
🎧
Y’all.
I realized I had been putting my headset on backwards.
🤣🤣🤣
So what was supposed to be coming through one side was coming through the other.
I had been listening to the world backward.
And somehow…
I WAS STILL LISTENING.
👀
Now hold on.
Because THAT got me.
My headset was backwards.
My sound was coming to me differently.
And I suddenly thought about this body that sometimes does the opposite of what I expect it to do.
The signals don’t always travel the way they once did.
The side I once depended on isn’t necessarily the side doing the work now.
Sometimes I have to approach something backward.
Sideways.
Opposite.
With the other hand.
From another angle.
With another method.
And yet—
I am still here doing it.
😭❤️🔥
Maybe different isn’t always less.
Maybe sometimes different is simply:
the way through.
Maybe I have spent so much time noticing what my body cannot do the old way that I almost missed what it has quietly been learning to do another way.
👘🎧🧠❤️🔥
That kimono wasn’t just clothing this morning.
That backwards headset wasn’t just a funny mistake.
They made me notice something.
I have been adapting.
Learning.
Problem-solving.
Listening.
Living.
And sometimes doing things in ways I never would have discovered if life hadn’t forced me to learn another side of myself.
😭
I couldn’t have done this hard right-handed.
Read that again.
The hand I once would’ve automatically chosen might actually have made today’s task harder.
The hand I didn’t choose had something to teach me.
🤯
And maybe that’s bigger than hands.
Sometimes the route we would have chosen isn’t the route that teaches us what we’re capable of.
Sometimes what feels backward is still moving us forward.
Sometimes the other side has been learning while we were grieving the side we lost.
And sometimes you look down at yourself wearing your kimono, realize your headset has been backwards, think about the absolute ridiculousness and wonder of this whole journey and have only one thing left to say:
WON’T HE DO IT!!
🙌🏿🙌🏿🙌🏿😭❤️🔥
Beloveds,
however you have to get there today—
left-handed,
right-handed,
backward,
sideways,
slowly,
awkwardly,
with three attempts and a prayer—
GET THERE YOUR WAY.
Different does not automatically mean deficient.
Sometimes different is evidence that you are still learning how to live.
And there is life in that.
🌎❤️🔥
Asking for A Friend,
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
One step. One step. One step.
You are loved.
You are NOT alone.
Keep on being…YOU!
Help me be loud:
Beloveds, I’ll BE the storm for you. 📞 call on me.
FROM THEIR HEART TO OURS ❤️🔥
Beloved, You Can Stop Trying to Earn What We Already Desire to Give You
Beloveds,
Today, we’re going to be quiet.
No teaching first.
No fixing.
No proving.
No trying to impress God with how well we’re handling everything.
Just…
come.
😭❤️🔥
Imagine setting everything down for a moment.
The guilt.
The shame.
The fear that you’re asking too much.
The embarrassment about what you cannot do.
The worry about everybody who’s helping you.
The questions about whether you’re becoming a burden.
The frantic need to prove that you’re still useful.
The old fear that love always comes with strings.
Set it down.
And hear the heart Scripture reveals to us from the Father and Jesus.
❤️🔥
❤️🔥 BELOVED, COME.
You keep thinking you have to get yourself together before you come close.
But Jesus already told us:
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
— Matthew 11:28, KJV
Not:
Come when you’re stronger.
Come.
Not:
Come when you’ve stopped crying.
Come.
Not:
Come when you’re useful again.
Come.
Not:
Come after you’ve cleaned up the mess.
Come.
Not:
Come when you finally have something impressive to offer.
Just…
come.
😭❤️🔥
You’ve spent so much time wondering what you can bring to God.
Maybe today the answer is:
yourself.
Tired.
Confused.
Grateful.
Angry.
Hopeful.
Scared.
Healing.
Hurting.
Laughing one minute and crying the next.
Still figuring things out.
Still learning how to receive.
Come anyway.
❤️🔥 YOU DO NOT HAVE TO APOLOGIZE FOR NEEDING US
Some of us have been apologizing our way through life.
I’m sorry I need help.
I’m sorry I’m tired.
I’m sorry I can’t do what I used to.
I’m sorry I’m crying again.
I’m sorry I’m not stronger yet.
I’m sorry everybody has to help me.
And Scripture keeps showing us a God who invites needy people closer.
“Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.”
— 1 Peter 5:7, KJV
All your care.
Not only the respectable worries.
Not only the spiritual ones.
Not only the problems you think are big enough to bother God with.
All.
😭❤️🔥
What if the Father isn’t standing over you irritated because you need Him again?
What if He is exactly who Scripture says He is?
A Father.
And what if Jesus isn’t exhausted by the fact that you’re still learning?
What if grace anticipated that?
❤️🔥 WE KNEW YOU WOULD NEED GRACE BEFORE YOU EVER NEEDED IT
Grace wasn’t God’s emergency backup plan after humanity became messy.
👀❤️🔥
He knew.
He knew we would stumble.
He knew we would hurt.
He knew we would need forgiveness.
He knew we would become frightened.
He knew we would become exhausted.
He knew some days our prayers would sound magnificent…
and other days they’d sound like:
“Jesus. Help.”
😭🙏🏾
And somehow two words can still be prayer.
Sometimes one word can.
Jesus.
Sometimes tears themselves seem to carry what language cannot.
You don’t have to perform spirituality either.
❤️🔥 STOP BRINGING US YOUR RÉSUMÉ
Some of us keep approaching God with our list.
Look how faithful I’ve been.
Look how much I’ve served.
Look how much I’ve given.
Look how many people I’ve helped.
Look how hard I’ve tried.
And those things can be beautiful.
But beloved…
they aren’t currency for purchasing the Father’s love.
❤️🔥
Scripture says:
“For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God:”
“Not of works, lest any man should boast.”
— Ephesians 2:8–9, KJV
Gift.
There is that word again.
Gift.
And some of us don’t know what to do with gifts.
😭❤️🔥
We know what to do with wages.
Earn them.
We know what to do with debts.
Repay them.
We know what to do with contracts.
Fulfill them.
But a gift?
A gift leaves us standing there with empty hands.
And perhaps that’s exactly where grace wants us.
Not empty because we are worthless.
Empty because:
there is finally room to receive.
❤️🔥 BELOVED, WE ARE NOT ASHAMED OF YOUR NEED
You may be ashamed.
God isn’t surprised.
You may look at your weakness and think:
“Surely this makes me less valuable.”
But Jesus has never needed your strength in order to be strong.
👀😭❤️🔥
Read that again.
Jesus does not need you to pretend to be strong so He can remain Savior.
You are allowed to need saving.
You are allowed to need carrying.
You are allowed to need comfort.
You are allowed to need mercy.
You are allowed to need rest.
You are allowed to need Him.
In fact…
that’s the whole point.
❤️🔥 YOU KEEP TRYING TO CARRY WHAT WE KEEP ASKING YOU TO RELEASE
Somebody needs this.
You’ve prayed about it…
then picked it back up.
😭😆❤️🔥
Lord, I give this to You.
Five minutes later:
WHERE DID I PUT THAT WORRY?
🏃🏾♀️😭😆
Right back in the bag.
Back on the shoulder.
Back into the mind.
Back into the 3:17 a.m. emergency meeting nobody invited Jesus to.
Beloved…
put it down again.
And if you pick it up tomorrow?
Put it down tomorrow.
Grace is patient enough for repetition.
❤️🔥 WE ARE NOT KEEPING THE SCORE YOU THINK WE ARE
Maybe you’ve imagined the Father with a ledger.
Good day.
Bad day.
Strong day.
Weak day.
Faithful day.
Messy day.
Prayer completed.
Prayer forgotten.
Bible read.
Bible untouched.
Kind words.
Bad attitude.
Excellent Tuesday.
Absolute foolishness Wednesday.
😭😆❤️🔥
And accountability matters.
Repentance matters.
Growth matters.
Obedience matters.
But none of those means the Father’s love fluctuates every morning according to your performance.
Scripture says:
“But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”
— Romans 5:8, KJV
While we were yet sinners.
Before the cleanup.
Before the improvement.
Before the impressive testimony.
Love moved first.
😭❤️🔥
❤️🔥 JESUS: I ALREADY KNEW THE COST
Maybe this is where the fear of strings attached finally meets the Cross.
We’ve been asking:
“What will this love cost me later?”
And Jesus points us toward Calvary.
The cost wasn’t hidden.
He knew it.
He chose it.
“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”
— John 15:13, KJV
❤️🔥
The Cross isn’t Jesus giving us something so He can manipulate us later.
The Cross reveals sacrificial love.
Grace doesn’t say:
“Now spend your life trying to pay Me back.”
Grace says:
“Follow Me.”
There is a difference.
One is debt.
The other is relationship.
One says:
Repay.
The other says:
Come with Me.
😭❤️🔥
❤️🔥 THE FATHER: YOU ARE MY CHILD, NOT MY EMPLOYEE
Some of us understand employment better than sonship or daughterhood.
Employees earn wages.
Employees prove productivity.
Employees receive performance reviews.
Employees can be replaced when they stop producing.
So sometimes we unconsciously bring that model into our relationship with God.
What did I accomplish for You today?
But family asks another question:
Whose are you?
😭❤️🔥
Before you accomplished today’s list…
His.
When you got tired halfway through…
His.
When you cried…
His.
When you needed help…
His.
When somebody had to carry you…
His.
When you finally did something you couldn’t do yesterday…
His.
When tomorrow turns out harder again…
still His.
❤️🔥 JESUS: LET ME WASH YOUR FEET
Oh, this one.
👀😭❤️🔥
Peter struggled with receiving too.
When Jesus came to wash his feet, Peter resisted:
“Thou shalt never wash my feet.”
— John 13:8, KJV
Does that sound familiar?
No, no. I’ll do it.
You don’t have to do that for me.
I’ll handle it.
Let me serve YOU.
And Jesus challenged Peter to receive.
Sometimes humility isn’t kneeling down to serve.
Sometimes humility is remaining seated while love kneels in front of you.
😭😭❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥
WHEW.
Some of us can wash everybody’s feet.
But when somebody reaches for ours?
ABSOLUTELY NOT.
Because serving feels holy.
Receiving feels vulnerable.
But Jesus demonstrated both.
And perhaps He is teaching us:
You cannot follow the way of love while refusing to ever occupy the receiver’s chair.
❤️🔥 BELOVED, SIT THERE.
Don’t jump up yet.
Don’t grab the towel.
Don’t say:
“Okay, now it’s my turn.”
Sit.
😭❤️🔥
Let yourself be served.
Let yourself be loved.
Let yourself be comforted.
Let somebody pray for YOU.
Let somebody encourage YOU.
Let somebody bring YOU something.
Let somebody make the phone call.
Let somebody drive.
Let somebody sit beside you.
Let somebody say:
“I’ve got this part.”
And don’t immediately answer:
“But—”
No but.
😆❤️🔥
Sit.
Receive.
❤️🔥 FROM THEIR HEART TO OURS
If we gathered the invitations of Scripture into one place, perhaps this is what our hearts need to hear today:
Come.
Cast your cares.
Receive grace.
Let Me give you rest.
Let Me love you first.
Let Me serve you.
Let Me carry what you cannot.
Then, when you have received love, go love somebody else.
Not to repay Me.
Not to prove yourself.
Not to purchase your place.
But because love received eventually becomes love overflowing.
😭❤️🔥🌎
“We love him, because he first loved us.”
— 1 John 4:19, KJV
There it is.
The whole thing.
He first loved us.
We receive.
Then…
we love.
🙏🏾 OUR RESPONSE
Father…
we have spent so much time trying to prove ourselves.
We’re tired.
Jesus…
we have resisted having our feet washed.
We thought strength meant always being the one holding the towel.
Forgive us where pride has kept our hands closed.
Heal us where hurt has kept them closed.
Comfort us where shame has kept them closed.
Give us wisdom where past manipulation taught us to fear every gift.
And then…
slowly…
gently…
teach us to open our hands.
😭🙏🏾❤️🔥
We receive Your grace.
We receive Your mercy.
We receive Your correction.
We receive Your comfort.
We receive Your rest.
We receive the trustworthy people You place around us.
We receive help without calling ourselves helpless.
We receive love without calling ourselves burdens.
And when guilt says:
“You need to pay this back,”
remind us that gratitude can simply say:
“Thank You.”
Father…
Thank You.
Jesus…
Thank You.
For coming.
For staying.
For carrying.
For loving first.
For loving still.
And for teaching us how to love because we finally learned how to receive Yours.
Amen.
😭❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥
Beloveds…
Maybe today there is no Cassandra Challenge.
No homework.
No assignment.
Maybe today receiving IS the assignment.
Sit there.
Let Them love you.
Let grace finish its sentence before guilt interrupts.
And when your heart finally finds words…
just whisper:
“Thank You, Father.”
“Thank You, Jesus.”
“I receive.”
😭🙏🏾❤️🔥
From His heart to ours.
From our hearts to yours.
Unapologetically His.
Unapologetically yours.
Asking for A Friend,
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
One step. One step. One step. You are loved. You are NOT alone. Keep on being…YOU! ❤️🔥🌎
Help me be loud:
🫂🧸💩🧻
AUGUST 24, 2026
💩 PEARL CLUTCHERS, THIS ONE MAY NOT BE FOR YOU
It’s okay to Make/ Be A Mess Series with Cassandra — Piece One
Beloveds,
We need to talk about 💩.
There.
I said it.
I’ll give the pearl clutchers a moment.
👀
Everybody okay?
Good.
Now let’s talk about dignity.
Because that’s what this is really about.
After my stroke, there have been things about recovery that aren’t particularly inspirational-looking.
There are victories nobody puts on greeting cards.
There are things bodies do that we’d rather not announce.
There are moments when independence and dignity suddenly become very complicated words.
And yes, beloveds…
Sometimes there is 💩.
🤣
I could pretend otherwise.
I could clean up the story before I hand it to you.
Make recovery prettier.
Make myself more comfortable for public consumption.
But what good would that do?
Because somebody reading this has their own mess.
Maybe yours doesn’t require toilet paper.
Maybe your marriage is hurting.
Maybe you’re lonely.
Maybe you’ve made a mistake you’re ashamed of.
Maybe your body has changed.
Maybe depression has made brushing your teeth feel enormous.
Maybe somebody has to help you do something you once did without thinking.
Maybe you’ve hurt somebody and don’t know how to make it right.
Maybe you’re holding together a life that looks perfectly respectable from the sidewalk.
Mess comes in many forms.
And shame loves every last one of them.
🫀 WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT THIS?
Because shame grows beautifully in secrecy.
It whispers:
Don’t let anybody know.
They’ll look at you differently.
You’re supposed to have this together.
Other people don’t struggle like this.
And eventually we don’t merely hide the mess.
We start hiding ourselves.
That’s the part I want us to challenge.
Your humanity is not something you need to apologize for.
And neither is mine.
I am learning that dignity cannot depend upon my body behaving perfectly.
It cannot depend upon how much assistance I need.
It cannot depend upon whether my life looks tidy today.
And your dignity cannot depend upon those things either.
📖 WHY I BELIEVE THAT
Psalm 139:14 says:
“I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
Notice what it doesn’t say.
Fearfully and wonderfully made—as long as nothing embarrassing ever happens.
Nope.
And Romans 8:1 begins with another truth I need sometimes:
“There is therefore now no condemnation…”
I know the theological context is bigger than embarrassment or recovery.
But the principle reminds me of something important:
God is not standing over my humanity with His arms folded, disgusted by me.
So why am I?
And why would I treat somebody else’s vulnerable humanity that way?
👀
🧰 NOW COMES THE HOW
It isn’t enough for us to say:
“Don’t be ashamed.”
Okay.
Lovely.
HOW?
Start by separating:
WHAT HAPPENED
from
WHO I AM.
I had an accident.
That is an event.
I am disgusting is an identity judgment.
I needed help.
That is information.
I am a burden is a conclusion.
I failed at something.
That’s something I did.
I am a failure is something entirely different.
Beloveds, we have got to stop turning difficult moments into definitions of ourselves.
👓 YOUR WORK
Think about something you’ve been ashamed of.
Not necessarily your deepest secret.
We’re not trying to emotionally body-slam ourselves before breakfast. 🤣
Start somewhere safe.
Write two sentences:
What happened: _______
What I decided it meant about me: _______
Then look at that second sentence.
Is it actually true?
Or have you been carrying a verdict that nobody had the authority to hand you?
❤️🔥 YOUR LOVE CHALLENGE
Today, protect somebody’s dignity.
Quietly.
No announcement.
No picture.
No Facebook post about what a wonderful human being you were.
🤣
If somebody needs help, help without making them feel small.
If somebody tells you something embarrassing, don’t turn it into entertainment later.
If somebody struggles to do something you can easily do, don’t rush them unnecessarily.
If somebody makes a mistake, correct without humiliating.
And if you are the somebody who needs help?
Here’s your challenge:
Receive one act of kindness without apologizing for needing it.
👀📬
Yes.
That counts as love too.
💞 WHY THIS IS LOVE
Because love doesn’t only show up when people are polished.
Love becomes recognizable when humanity gets inconvenient.
Anybody can say:
“I love people.”
Okay.
What happens when they’re messy?
What happens when they’re slow?
What happens when they’re embarrassed?
What happens when they cannot repay you?
What happens when loving them requires protecting something fragile?
That’s where love stops being a slogan.
That’s where we learn HOW.
🌱 TODAY’S INSPIRATION
Your mess is something you’re experiencing.
It is not your name.
Clean what needs cleaning.
Repair what needs repairing.
Apologize where you need to apologize.
Ask for help where you need help.
Learn what needs learning.
But don’t climb into the trash with what you’re throwing away.
You still belong here.
❤️🩹
🙏🏿 FOR THOSE WHO PRAY
Father,
Teach us how to see ourselves and one another with compassion and truth.
Show us where shame has convinced us to hide.
Give us courage to take responsibility where responsibility belongs without condemning ourselves for being human.
Teach us to help without superiority and receive without shame.
And when we encounter somebody in a vulnerable moment, make us safe enough to protect their dignity.
Teach us not merely to talk about love.
Teach us HOW to love.
And Father, as I prepare to begin Outpatient Therapy tomorrow, help me practice these words myself.
When I need assistance, let me receive it.
When something is difficult, keep me from making difficulty a verdict about who I am.
When progress seems small, help me see it.
And when I am tired, remind me:
the woman trying to love Your world is part of Your world too.
Amen.
🌎 FOR MY BELOVEDS WHO DON’T PRAY
You don’t have to believe what I believe to belong in this conversation.
So here’s what I hope you carry today:
May you discover that being human was never something you needed to hide.
May you find people who don’t weaponize your vulnerable moments.
May you become that kind of person for somebody else.
May you take responsibility for what is yours without accepting shame that isn’t.
May you receive help without believing you’ve become less valuable because you needed it.
And may you remember:
Dignity isn’t something you earn by keeping your life tidy.
It belongs to you in the mess too.
❤️🩹
🫀 ONE LAST THING
I’m about to begin another chapter of my recovery.
And while I’m doing that work, I wanted to leave some words here that might soothe a soul and maybe change a life or two.
Starting with mine, beloveds.
Because I don’t have to spend my entire recovery proving I’m still a giver.
I already am one.
Maybe part of recovery is discovering that the woman who loves the world…
is part of the world she’s trying to love.
🌎🫀👩🏿🦼
So yes.
We started this series talking about 💩.
🤣
Pearl clutchers, you survived.
Tomorrow we graduate to toilet paper.
🧻
And underneath all our foolishness, we’re going to keep asking two questions:
WHY does love matter here?
And:
HOW do we actually do it?
One messy, beautiful, human lesson at a time.
Asking for A Friend,
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
Note: One step. One step. One step. You are loved. You are NOT alone. Keep on being…YOU!
Unapologetically His.
Unapologetically yours.
Help me be loud:
AUGUST 25, 2026
🧻 CLEAN IT UP—WITHOUT THROWING YOURSELF AWAY
It’s Okay to Make/Be a Mess with Cassandra — Piece Two
🫂❤️🩹🧸🧻🚿📫
Beloveds,
Yesterday, we established something important:
Sometimes life gets messy.
Sometimes we get messy.
And sometimes?
We make the mess ourselves.
👀
That last one isn’t nearly as comfortable to talk about.
It’s easier to extend ourselves compassion when something happened to us.
But what happens when I did it?
I said the thing.
I made the decision.
I ignored what I knew.
I hurt somebody.
I procrastinated.
I acted out of fear.
I let pride answer before love had a chance.
I knew better…
and beloveds, I still made a mess.
🧻
Now what?
❤️🩹 FIRST: DON’T CONFUSE ACCOUNTABILITY WITH SELF-HATRED
We have a strange habit of believing that if we punish ourselves long enough, we’ve somehow proven we’re sorry.
But shame doesn’t necessarily repair anything.
Sometimes it just keeps us staring at ourselves.
Accountability looks outward and asks:
What did my actions affect?
What belongs to me?
What can I repair?
What needs to change?
Those are very different questions from:
What’s wrong with me?
One asks you to grow.
The other sentences you.
Beloveds, we need to learn the difference.
🫀 WHY DOES THIS MATTER?
Because love without accountability eventually becomes permission.
And accountability without compassion eventually becomes punishment.
We need both.
If I hurt you, loving myself doesn’t mean pretending I didn’t.
But loving you doesn’t require me to decide I’m permanently horrible either.
I can say:
I was wrong.
Full stop.
No but you…
No twelve-paragraph defense.
No explanation designed to turn my apology into your fault.
🤣
Just:
I was wrong.
Then comes the important part:
What am I going to do differently?
That’s where apology starts becoming repair.
📖 SCRIPTURE
Proverbs 28:13 teaches that hiding our wrongdoing doesn’t lead us toward flourishing, while confession and turning away from it opens another path.
And James 5:16 tells believers:
“Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed.”
Look at that last word.
Healed.
Not humiliated.
Not permanently branded.
Not publicly destroyed.
Healed.
Truth can participate in healing when we stop using truth as a weapon.
🚿 SOMETIMES YOU NEED TO WASH, NOT WALLOW
There’s a difference.
👀
If you spill something on yourself, you don’t spend seventeen years staring at the stain saying:
Look what I did.
You wash it.
🤣🚿
So why do we sometimes treat emotional mistakes differently?
Yes, examine what happened.
Yes, learn from it.
Yes, make amends where possible.
But eventually?
Wash.
Let remorse accomplish what remorse is supposed to accomplish:
turn you toward something better.
You don’t honor the person you hurt by refusing to heal.
And you don’t undo yesterday by destroying tomorrow.
🧰 THE HOW: CLEANING UP A MESS YOU MADE
Start here:
1. NAME IT.
What did I actually do?
No exaggeration.
No minimizing.
Truth.
2. OWN IT.
What part belongs to me?
Not theirs.
Mine.
3. APOLOGIZE WHEN APPROPRIATE.
Without demanding immediate forgiveness.
An apology isn’t a coupon redeemable for restored access.
👀
4. REPAIR WHAT YOU CAN.
Sometimes words are enough.
Sometimes changed behavior is required.
Usually changed behavior is the better apology anyway.
5. LEARN.
Ask:
What made this possible in me?
Fear?
Pride?
Anger?
Insecurity?
Exhaustion?
A boundary I should have established sooner?
Something I haven’t healed?
Understanding the cause doesn’t excuse the behavior.
It helps prevent the sequel.
🤣
6. MOVE FORWARD DIFFERENTLY.
That’s the point.
Not perfect.
Different.
👓 YOUR WORK
Think of one mess you made that you still carry.
Write:
What I did:
Who or what it affected:
What I can still repair:
What I learned:
What I will do differently next time:
Then add one more:
What I am ready to stop using against myself:
👀❤️🩹
Sit with that one.
🫂 TODAY’S LOVE CHALLENGE
Repair one small thing.
Maybe you owe someone an apology.
Maybe you’ve been impatient.
Maybe you’ve neglected somebody.
Maybe you promised something and forgot.
Maybe you’ve been carrying resentment and treating somebody differently without ever telling them why.
Maybe the repair needs to happen inside you.
Do one thing.
Not twenty.
One.
Love becomes believable through practice.
🧸 AND PLEASE BE GENTLE WITH YOURSELF
Accountability does not require cruelty.
Imagine someone you deeply love came to you genuinely remorseful and said:
“I messed up.”
Would you scream:
Excellent! Now hate yourself forever!?
🤣
Probably not.
You’d want them to understand.
Repair.
Grow.
Become wiser.
Why should your own mistakes receive none of that humanity?
🌱 TODAY’S INSPIRATION
You are allowed to become wiser than the person who made the mistake.
Read that again.
The fact that you can look backward and say:
I should have done differently
may itself be evidence that something inside you already is different.
Don’t waste that growth by chaining yourself permanently to the person you used to be.
Clean up what belongs to you.
Then keep living.
🙏🏿 FOR THOSE WHO PRAY
Father,
Give us courage to see ourselves truthfully.
Where we have caused harm, make us humble enough to acknowledge it.
Where repair is possible, show us how.
Where pride interferes, soften us.
Where shame tells us we can never become different, remind us of Your grace.
Teach us to extend compassion without escaping accountability.
Teach us to apologize without excuses.
Teach us to forgive without pretending.
Teach us to change.
And Father, while I begin Outpatient Therapy today, help me remember this lesson personally.
There may be things I cannot do yet.
There may be attempts that don’t work.
There may be moments when frustration gets loud.
Help me not turn an unsuccessful attempt into a judgment against myself.
Let me learn.
Let me try.
Let me rest.
Let me receive.
Let me begin again.
Amen.
🌎 FOR MY BELOVEDS WHO DON’T PRAY
You still belong here.
So here’s what I hope for you:
May you have enough courage to admit when you’re wrong without believing wrong is all you are.
May your apologies become changed behavior.
May you repair what can be repaired.
May you accept that some people may need boundaries from you—and respect them.
May you understand yourself more deeply without using understanding as an excuse.
May you stop demanding lifelong punishment for something you’ve genuinely learned from.
And may you give yourself permission to become someone new.
❤️🩹 THE WHY AND THE HOW
WHY?
Because love requires truth.
HOW?
Tell it.
Own your part.
Repair what you can.
Change what needs changing.
And then—
beloved—
stop climbing back into the mess just to prove you remember making it.
🧻🚿
Clean it.
Wash.
Learn.
Grow.
Live.
Because it’s okay to make a mess.
It’s okay to be a mess sometimes.
But when the mess belongs to us?
We learn how to clean it up without throwing ourselves away.
🫂❤️🩹🧸🧻🚿2📫
Asking for A Friend,
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
Note: One step. One step. One step. You are loved. You are NOT alone. Keep on being…YOU!
Unapologetically His.
Unapologetically yours.
Why Can't I Be Loud?! 