Category: walking

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

Whew.

Whew!

WHEW!

Beloveds,

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

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

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

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

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

HAHAHA!!

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

Laugh. Hug somebody. Starting with me.

here upside down and all

Cassandra

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

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

THE CHAIR IS STILL HERE…

The Chair Is Still Here: Whosoeverwill…

Beloveds,

There is a chair beside me.

I did not put it there because I cannot sit alone.

I put it there because I have something I would like to share.

Love.

Friendship.

Conversation.

Truth.

Laughter.

Quiet.

The ordinary and extraordinary pieces of life that become a little richer when someone chooses to experience them with us.

The chair means:

There is room for you here.

🪑

You do not have to earn it.

You do not have to arrive with all the right words.

You do not have to agree with me about everything.

You do not have to hide the complicated parts of yourself before you sit down.

You do not have to promise that you will never disappoint me.

The chair is an offering.

Not a contract.

Not a debt.

Not a leash.

An offering.

And yet…

Sometimes I look at the chair and wish it were not empty.

💔

That does not mean I do not know how to be alone.

It does not mean I am incomplete.

It simply means I would sometimes like someone to choose the chair.

Not because I begged.

Not because I chased.

Not because I convinced somebody that I was worth sitting beside.

I would simply like someone to see the place beside me and think:

I would like to sit there.

But I have been thinking about the person standing across the room, too.

👀

Maybe they see the chair.

Maybe they even want to sit.

But maybe they remember another chair.

Maybe someone welcomed them before.

They sat down.

They trusted.

They unpacked pieces of themselves they did not show everybody.

And then they were hurt.

Maybe they were used.

Maybe somebody wanted what they could provide but was not particularly interested in who they were.

Maybe their kindness became an expectation.

Maybe somebody only came around when they needed something.

Maybe they were manipulated.

Maybe something shared in confidence became gossip or ammunition later.

Maybe they were abandoned after finally allowing themselves to depend on someone.

Maybe they were ghosted.

No argument.

No explanation.

No goodbye.

Just someone who was there…

and then wasn’t.

An occupied chair one day.

An empty chair the next.

💔🪑

Experiences like that can teach a person not to get too comfortable.

Not to trust an invitation too quickly.

Not to believe every person who says, “There is room for you here.”

So perhaps they are not rejecting your chair.

Perhaps they are remembering another one.

Perhaps they are wondering:

How long before you change your mind?

What will this eventually cost me?

What happens when you know all of me?

Will you still want me here when I have nothing useful to give you?

What happens if I disappoint you?

What happens if I get comfortable and you disappear?

Those questions did not necessarily begin with you.

And the person standing beside your chair does not owe you the story of how they got them.

🥹

That matters.

We can become so determined to convince someone that our chair is safe that we begin demanding an explanation for why they will not sit.

But nobody owes us their wounds as an admission ticket.

Maybe we simply leave the chair there.

And live what the chair means.

Because a chair does not become trustworthy because we announce:

This chair is safe.

Trust is built in what happens over time.

In consistency.

In truth.

In boundaries.

In what happens after disagreement.

In what happens when someone tells us no.

In whether something whispered from that chair remains there.

In whether someone still matters when they have nothing to offer us.

In whether the chair remains a place for their whole self instead of only the parts we find comfortable.

Maybe one day they look at us and realize:

You meant it.

And maybe they sit.

Maybe they do not.

Because this is where two words have been sitting with me today:

Whosoeverwill…

🌎🪑

There is freedom in those words for both of us.

I am free to offer the chair.

You are free to accept it.

You are free to approach slowly.

You are free to sit for a while.

You are free to stand nearby until you know what you think.

And yes, you are free to decide that my chair simply is not where you want to sit.

That may hurt.

But an invitation that does not allow someone to say no is not really an invitation.

Whosoeverwill also leaves room for whosoever won’t.

The chair does not accuse.

It does not ask:

Why haven’t you come?

It does not say:

After everything I offered you…

It does not tell the person who offered it:

Nobody sat down, so there must be something wrong with you.

It simply remains what it was always intended to be:

Room.

🪑

And there is another possibility.

Maybe the chair we think is empty…

isn’t.

Maybe we have been watching the doorway for the person we hoped would come while overlooking someone who has quietly been sitting nearby all along.

The friend who checks on us.

The person who remembers.

The one who listens.

The one who celebrates something small because they know it was enormous to us.

The person who keeps showing up.

They may not be the person we imagined in that chair.

That does not mean their presence does not count.

Sometimes we should look beside us before deciding nobody came.

And sometimes…

the chair truly is empty.

There may be history in that emptiness.

Someone once sat there.

Life changed.

Distance came.

A relationship changed.

Someone left.

Someone died.

Sometimes nobody did anything wrong.

An empty chair can hurt precisely because something beautiful once occupied it.

That does not make the relationship a failure.

Sometimes an empty chair is evidence that something mattered.

💔

And perhaps, someday, somebody else sits beside us.

Not as a replacement.

People are not interchangeable.

They bring their own story.

Their own laughter.

Their own way of being present.

A new person does not erase the person who came before.

Life simply made room for another connection.

But there is something else I want us to remember.

The person offering the chair is taking a risk, too.

Opening space in our lives means allowing ourselves to be known.

It means admitting:

I would like your company.

There is vulnerability in that sentence.

So the chair needs boundaries, too.

Whosoeverwill does not mean whosoever wants unlimited access may have it.

The chair sits inside somebody’s life.

Love without an admission price does not mean love without boundaries.

Both people matter.

The person sitting.

And the person invited to sit.

🪑🪑

Maybe that is what I love most about the chair.

Nobody has to disappear for somebody else to belong.

Nobody has to become smaller.

Nobody has to be dragged into it.

Nobody has to be chained to it.

Nobody has to earn it.

It simply says:

There is room for you here.

And yes, beloveds, sometimes the chair is lonely.

Sometimes I look over and quietly think:

I wish you were here.

There is nothing shameful about that.

I can sit fully in my own life and still desire company.

I can know my worth and still miss someone.

I can respect your freedom and still wish you had come.

Both can be true.

So I will keep my chair.

Not as an advertisement of loneliness.

As an expression of love.

As a declaration that after everything life can teach us about the risks of connection, I still believe people are worth making room for.

And if you are the one standing across the room looking at somebody’s chair today…

I see you, too.

Take your time.

You may have survived things nobody in that room knows about.

You may still be learning that not every chair comes with an invoice.

You do not have to explain every scar before deciding whether you want to sit.

And if you are the one looking at an empty chair today…

do not automatically decide its emptiness says something about your worth.

Keep living.

Keep loving.

Look around occasionally.

Someone may already be nearer than you realized.

And let the invitation remain an invitation.

The chair is still here.

There is room for you here.

Whosoeverwill…

loving me some you
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe

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

Mix – Your Story Is Not Over—God Is Restoring Everything | Gospel R&B Wo…

Beloveds,

Your story is NOT over. Be encouraged.

Stand!

Fight!

Try!

Believe!

In YOU!

You are never alone. Still really sick but standing TEN TOES down  on faith, hope, and love.

I love me some YOU. SO DOES HE!

Cassandra

THE CHAIR.

PRE-NOTE: I have been really sick but fighting to get this to you unscathed. Pain and 🤒 won’t let go

Still, I fight on.  Hours late, but here. Will have to come back to add photos. Here goes nuttin…


📫 THE CHAIR STAYS. 🪑💜
Beloveds,

I need to tell you something about the chair.
Not a chair.


The chair.


The one sitting beside me.
The one I keep putting into these pictures.
The one that might look empty if you do not know what you are looking at.
It is not empty.
It has never been empty.

That chair is there on purpose.
When I first started imagining this little world we have been building together, I kept seeing a chair beside me.



Sometimes we are fishing.
Sometimes we are sitting near the water.
Sometimes we are traveling.
Sometimes we are laughing.
Sometimes I am tired.
Sometimes I am thinking.
Sometimes I am simply looking out at this beautiful, complicated 🌎 and wondering what God is teaching me next.

But there is a chair.


🪑
And the chair stays.
Because somewhere along the way, I realized what it meant.

The chair is an invitation.



It says:
Come sit with me.
You do not have to believe everything I believe.
You do not have to look like me.
You do not have to sound like me.
You do not have to vote like me.
You do not have to worship like me—or worship at all.



You do not have to understand everything about my life.
And I do not have to understand everything about yours.
You can still sit down.
💜
That matters to me.
Because too many people have spent their lives wondering whether there is a chair for them.
Some of us learned very early what it feels like to walk into a room and wonder:



Where am I supposed to sit?
Some know what it feels like to be left out.
Some know what it feels like to be misunderstood.
Some know what it feels like to be tolerated instead of welcomed.
Some know what it feels like to have people decide who you are before you ever get the opportunity to introduce yourself.



Some have been told directly that the table was not built for them.
And some were technically allowed at the table but were made to feel every single minute that somebody wished they were not there.
I know something about wanting to belong.
And maybe that is one reason this chair matters so much to me.
I cannot fix every table.
I cannot make every room welcoming.
I cannot force anybody to see another human being with compassion.



But I can decide what happens beside me.
And beside me?
There is a chair.

🪑
For the person who believes.
For the person who doubts.
For the person who has questions.
For the person who is angry.
For the person who is grieving.
For the person who has made a mess.
For the person rebuilding after the mess.


For the person who feels strong today.
For the person barely hanging on.
For the person everybody notices.

And especially for the person who has gotten used to being overlooked.
Sit down.

You do not have to perform first.
You do not have to explain yourself into worthiness.
You do not have to make yourself smaller so I can feel bigger.
And I do not have to disappear so you can belong either.
There is room for both of us.



That may be one of the most important things I am learning.
Making room for you does not require erasing me.
And being fully me does not require pushing you out of the chair.
We can be different.
We can disagree.
We can ask hard questions.
We can correct one another.
We can learn.
We can laugh.



We can occasionally get on one another’s nerves. 🤣
We can even have to repair something we broke between us.
And still—the chair stays.

🪑💜
Because belonging cannot mean, “You may stay as long as you never disappoint me.”


That is not belonging.
That is probation.
Love has to be sturdier than that.
Grace has to be bigger than that.
Community has to be brave enough for that.
And Lord knows, I am still learning how to do it.


I am learning that loving people does not mean pretending harm did not happen.
I am learning that forgiveness does not mean abandoning boundaries.
I am learning that listening does not require surrendering my own voice.
I am learning that disagreement does not automatically make somebody my enemy.



And I am learning that sometimes the bravest thing we can do after something has gone wrong is look at the chair and say:

No.
Leave it there.
We are going to try again.
💜


That is the world I want my love to keep showing.

Not a perfect world.
Not a world where everybody suddenly agrees.
Not a world where difference disappears.
I do not want that world.
I want this one.



A world full of colors.
Cultures.
Accents.
Bodies.
Abilities.
Stories.
Questions.
Faith.
Doubt.
Music.
Laughter.
Tears.


People still becoming.
People still learning.
People still getting some act right. 🤣
People still discovering that somebody else’s humanity does not threaten their own.


And wherever I am in that world—
Paris.
Chicago.
At the ocean.
At the Grand Canyon.
In a library.
On a sidewalk.
Fishing somewhere with absolutely no idea whether I am doing it correctly. 🎣🤣
There will be another chair.

🪑


Maybe sometimes somebody will be sitting in it.
Maybe sometimes it will appear empty.
But now you know.
It isn’t empty.
It is holding space.
For conversation.
For possibility.
For reconciliation.
For curiosity.
For friendship.
For somebody I have not met yet.


Maybe even for you.
So when you see that chair  show itself from now on, do not ask:
Who forgot to sit there?
Remember what it means.


It means:
YOU ARE WELCOME HERE.
Pull up a seat.
Bring your story.
Bring your questions.
Bring your whole complicated self.
I will bring mine too.

We do not have to become the same person to sit beside one another.
We just have to remember that the person in the other chair is a human being whose life matters.


And Beloveds—your life matters to me.
So wherever this journey takes us next, I already know one thing.
The scenery will change.
I will change.
You will change.
We will learn things.
We will unlearn things.
We will laugh.
We may cry.


We might even have to move the furniture around sometimes. 🤣

But that chair?
THE CHAIR STAYS.
🪑💜
Asking for A Friend,
Cassandra

I have tried since after midnight to have this scheduled for 6:30.  God and life had other plans. Be encouraged… RISE

#YourLifeMattersToMe
Note: One step. One step. One step. You are loved. You are ¹ alone. Keep on being…YOU!
Unapologetically His. ❤️

THE

MOM, WOMBIE, LET’S LOVE THE WORLD TOGETHER. 🌎❤️‍🔥

MOM, WOMBIE, LET’S LOVE THE WORLD TOGETHER. 🌎❤️‍🔥

Beloveds,

We have grieved.

❤️‍🩹

We have talked about March.

We have given away the flowers.

💐

We have gone home.

🧸

And now—

come outside with me.

🌎

There is still a whole world out here.

People waking up.

People going to sleep.

People laughing.

People grieving.

People praying.

People questioning.

People falling in love.

People falling apart.

People beginning again.

People who look nothing like us.

People who believe differently.

People whose languages we don’t speak.

People whose stories we’ll never know.

People.

And I love them.

🌎❤️

I don’t mean I know eight billion people.

Good grief.

🤣

I don’t.

I couldn’t.

And neither can you.

So when I say:

Let’s love the world together,

I am not assigning you eight billion people.

Nah, fam.

Jesus already has the Savior position covered.

🙏🏿

We get to be human.

And humans can love humans.

One at a time.

🪑🪑

That’s why I keep seeing those two chairs.

One for me.

One for you.

No stage required.

No microphone.

No enormous organization.

Sometimes changing somebody’s world begins with:

Sit with me.

And sometimes I see two fishing poles.

🎣🎣

Not because we’re guaranteed to catch anything.

Sometimes companionship is sitting beside somebody while absolutely nothing spectacular happens.

Waiting.

Talking.

Being quiet.

Laughing.

Watching the water.

Staying.

Maybe that’s love too.

❤️

Mom taught me something about love simply by loving.

Wombie carries her pieces.

I carry mine.

You carry pieces from whoever loved you.

🧩

And love travels.

Someone loves you.

You love somebody.

They love somebody.

That person carries something home.

❤️➡️❤️➡️❤️➡️❤️

Eventually nobody remembers where the first kindness began.

Good.

Love doesn’t always need credit.

It needs somewhere to go.

🌎

That’s why:

Your life matters to me.

It doesn’t mean I can fix your life.

It doesn’t mean I know your story.

It doesn’t mean I’ll always agree with you.

It doesn’t mean boundaries disappear.

It means:

I refuse to begin by deciding you don’t matter.

👀❤️

Black.

White.

Brown.

Woman.

Man.

Gay.

Straight.

Believer.

Agnostic.

Atheist.

Angry.

Quiet.

Loud.

Disabled.

Walking.

Rolling.

Speaking differently.

Speaking with an accent.

Speaking perfectly.

Struggling to speak at all.

Human.

🌎

Come sit down.

🪑🪑

You don’t have to resolve before you belong.

And you don’t have to become me.

Please don’t.

🤣

This world already has a Cassandra.

One is plenty.

🥰

I want you.

Keep on being…YOU!

That’s not decoration at the bottom of my posts.

I mean it.

Bring your voice.

Bring your language.

Bring your history.

Bring your questions.

Bring your joy.

Bring the parts somebody told you were too loud.

Bring the parts somebody couldn’t hear.

Bring yourself.

❤️‍🔥

Because love that requires somebody to disappear before they can receive it isn’t the kind of love I’m talking about.

See my difference.

But don’t make my difference all you see.

See the person.

👀

That’s the assignment.

Not perfection.

Not saving everybody.

Not solving every problem before bedtime.

Just:

Who is in front of me?

Who needs another chair?

Who needs somebody to listen?

Who needs somebody to believe them?

Who needs somebody to say their name correctly?

Who needs somebody to stay?

Who needs somebody to laugh with them?

Who needs somebody to cry beside them?

Who needs to hear:

Your life matters to me.

❤️‍🩹

That’s how we love a world too big for any one of us to hold.

We don’t hold the whole thing.

We hold one another.

🫂🌎

One person.

Then another.

One chair.

One conversation.

One kindness.

One flower.

One fishing pole.

One step.

One step.

One step.

👣❤️

And eventually maybe we look around and realize:

The world wasn’t some enormous thing somewhere “out there.”

It was us.

All along.

People.

Mothers.

Wombies.

Daughters.

Friends.

Strangers.

Grievers.

Laughers.

Questioners.

Believers.

People carrying scars.

People carrying flowers.

People carrying names.

People carrying Marches that never came.

People sitting beside empty chairs.

People pulling up new ones.

We ARE the 🌎.

❤️‍🔥

Mom,

your love reached me.

🧸

I’m going to keep passing it.

Wombie—

come on.

❤️

Beloveds—

y’all coming?

Because Jesus said:

It is finished.

His work is done.

And those of us still here have people to love.

Not someday.

Not when everything is perfect.

Not when we finally understand everybody.

Now.

So grab a chair.

🪑

Grab another.

🪑

Grab those fishing poles.

🎣🎣

Bring your flowers.

💐

Bring your heart.

❤️

And come with me.

We don’t have to save the world.

We can love it.

Together.

One human being at a time.

One step.

One step.

One step.

🌎❤️‍🔥

Your life matters to me.

You are loved.

You are NOT alone.

Keep on being…YOU!

And while we’re both still here—

LET’S LOVE THE WORLD TOGETHER.

🌎❤️‍🔥

Asking for A Friend,
Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

WHAT IF I BECOME TOO EXPENSIVE TO LOVE? 😭💔❤️‍🔥

AUGUST 28, 2026

WHAT IF I BECOME TOO EXPENSIVE TO LOVE? 😭💔❤️‍🔥

Beloveds,

This one hurts.

Because Jesus/The Father have been walking us underneath guilt.

Underneath independence.

Underneath our desperate need to be useful.

And maybe underneath all of that is a fear some of us have never said aloud:

“What if loving me eventually costs too much?”

😭💔

Not money.

Heart.

Time.

Energy.

Patience.

Plans.

Convenience.

Sleep.

Attention.

What if I need too much?

What if my healing takes too long?

What if my grief keeps showing up?

What if I can’t bounce back according to everybody else’s preferred schedule?

What if I need somebody again tomorrow?

And next week?

And after everybody has finished saying, “I’m here if you need me,” what happens when I actually need them?

😭❤️‍🔥

Maybe that’s why some of us apologize constantly.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry you had to come.

I’m sorry this took so long.

I’m sorry I needed you.

I’m sorry you had to change your plans.

I’m sorry I’m crying again.

I’m sorry I’m not myself.

I’m sorry I’m still struggling.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for being expensive to love.

💔

And perhaps Jesus/The Father interrupt:

“Beloved, who taught you that love keeps an invoice?”

😭😭😭❤️‍🔥

Because maybe somewhere along the way, doing felt safer than needing.

If I do everything myself, nobody gets tired because of me.

If I don’t ask, nobody can resent the request.

If I don’t need, nobody gets the opportunity to decide that my needs are too much.

If I keep giving, perhaps nobody will notice how desperately I need to receive.

And if I make myself useful enough—

maybe nobody will regret keeping me around.

WHEW.

😭💔❤️‍🔥

Beloveds, that isn’t just independence.

Sometimes that’s fear wearing work clothes.

Fear can look remarkably responsible.

Fear gets things DONE.

Fear says:

“Don’t ask anybody. Handle it.”

Fear says:

“Don’t let them see how bad it really is.”

Fear says:

“Hurry up and get better before everybody gets tired.”

Fear says:

“Make yourself useful.”

Fear says:

“Give something back QUICKLY.”

Because fear believes:

If I receive more than I give for too long, somebody may decide I’m no longer worth the cost.

😭

But Jesus/The Father are challenging that accounting system.

Not by telling us relationships don’t require reciprocity.

They do.

Healthy love needs respect.

Gratitude.

Communication.

Boundaries.

Care in both directions.

But love is not always perfectly balanced in every season.

Sometimes you carry me.

Sometimes I carry you.

Sometimes we walk beside each other.

And sometimes, Beloved—

I simply cannot carry my end today.

💔❤️‍🔥

That doesn’t automatically make me a burden.

It makes me human.

And perhaps the hardest thing for some of us to learn is this:

Being carried does not mean you have become the weight.

😭😭😭

Read THAT again.

You can require assistance without becoming an inconvenience.

You can require patience without becoming a problem.

You can require tenderness without becoming weak.

You can receive more during one season without becoming less valuable.

And somebody can become tired while helping you without their tiredness meaning:

“I wish you didn’t exist.”

❤️‍🔥

WHEW.

Some of us needed that sentence.

Because we watch everybody’s faces.

Don’t we?

👀

Was that sigh because of me?

Are they tired of me?

Did I ask too much?

Did their voice sound different?

Should I stop asking?

Should I figure this out myself?

Maybe I shouldn’t have called.

Maybe—

Beloved.

Come back.

😭❤️‍🔥

Jesus/The Father aren’t asking us to ignore people’s boundaries.

They’re teaching us not to turn every human limitation into a verdict on our worth.

Someone can love you and be tired.

Someone can love you and need rest.

Someone can love you and occasionally say no.

Someone can love you and have needs of their own.

Their boundary does not automatically mean:

“You became too much.”

And your need does not automatically mean:

“You failed.”

🙏❤️‍🔥

But there is something even deeper here.

Maybe we’re more comfortable being needed than being wanted.

Because being needed gives us something to do.

Fix something.

Carry something.

Encourage somebody.

Make somebody laugh.

Solve the problem.

Pray.

Work.

Serve.

Give.

We know exactly what to do with:

“I need you.”

But what happens when somebody says:

“I just want you here.”

😭

No assignment.

No performance.

No problem to solve.

No payment required.

Just—

you.

And suddenly we don’t know where to put our hands.

😗❤️‍🔥

Because if there’s nothing to do, nothing to earn and nothing to prove, we’re left standing in front of the question:

“Is who I am enough reason for somebody to stay?”

💔

And perhaps Jesus/The Father whisper:

“Yes.”

Before you helped anybody.

Yes.

Before you became strong.

Yes.

Before you learned how to make everybody laugh.

Yes.

Before you accomplished anything.

Yes.

Before you got yourself together.

Yes.

When you are giving.

Yes.

When you are receiving.

Yes.

When you are standing.

Yes.

When you have to be carried.

Yes.

😭🙏❤️‍🔥

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son…”
— John 3:16 KJV

Notice the order.

He loved.

Then He gave.

Love wasn’t waiting at the finish line after we became impressive enough.

Love moved first.

😭❤️‍🔥

Maybe that’s what Jesus/The Father are teaching us.

“Beloved, you keep trying to give Us reasons to love you.

Our love was here before your reasons.”

WHEW.

So maybe the question today isn’t:

“What can I do so people will keep loving me?”

Maybe it’s:

“Can I believe I’m worth loving when I have nothing to offer today except myself?”

😭💔❤️‍🔥

CASSANDRA CHALLENGE ❤️‍🔥

Catch yourself trying to pay emotional rent today.

When you feel yourself scrambling to prove that you’re worth the trouble—

stop.

Don’t immediately perform.

Don’t immediately promise repayment.

Don’t immediately apologize for needing.

Try:

“Thank you for being here.”

Then allow the moment to remain unfinished.

No transaction.

No invoice.

Just love received.

And tonight, perhaps sit with Jesus/The Father and ask:

“Why am I more comfortable being needed than simply being wanted?”

😭🙏

Then listen.

Because perhaps Jesus/The Father have something extraordinarily tender to say:

“Beloved, We did not come because you were useful to Us.

We came because We love you.

You don’t have to work while you’re being held.”

😭😭😭❤️‍🔥

Maybe you’ve spent years asking:

“What can I do for love?”

And now Jesus/The Father are asking:

“Will you finally let love do something for you?”

😭🙏💔❤️‍🔥

Unapologetically His.
Unapologetically yours.

Asking for A Friend,
Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Note: One step. One step. One step. You are loved. You are NOT alone. Keep on being…YOU! ❤️‍🔥

Beloveds, I’ll BE the storm for you. 📞  call on me.

giving all that I have and am,

Cassandra

However long I have, you shall have my heart/my love, beloveds.

Beloveds,

This is a tough day, a tough week, a tough year.

Still, I rise.

Still, I try.

Again.

And, yet…

These are photos of my brain 🧠. The white areas are where the  stroke happened.

They said my brain was on 🔥 fire. Burning what it could devour. Initially, I was completely paralyzed. I couldn’t speak. I could hear everything.

I found myself yelling ” I’m coming “at the top of my 🫁 lungs. No one could hear my silent, my tortured, my horrifying screams.

More on that later…

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

I don’t ask why me. I HAVE wondered why the hard must be so damnably hard ALL day.

Yet, I fight on. So, too must you. Recently, I have had a major setback. They say my brain is burning embers causing my body to experience the same symptoms as before. At first, I  freaked out. I hollered ” OH, God not AGAIN “

I couldn’t bear weight on my right leg. My left was fine. I was in excruciating pain.

After. The MRI showed no NEW stroke I was told I may have to live this way for the rest of my days.

Now, when I’m tired I can barely speak due to numb left cheek. Still, I have 📞 calls I have to make. Sis and niece no longer do anything I can do myself.

Now, I can finally get on my potty chair. I call it The Potty Wars.☺️🤠

I have gotten down to an hour. Last week it took three hours. Egads.

My life would have been easier if the stroke affected the other side so I could use my right hand.

Life said HA! DEAL WITH WHATYOU HAVE NOW.

So, I deal. I have to. So, do you!

We got this.

Life is NOT over!

I copied all the images for things I have planned for you. Yet, a stroke interrupted my life, my plans

Don’t know if I’ll get to finish.

However long I have, you shall have my heart/my love, beloveds.

I love you. Be encouraged.

loving you for the rest of my life, with the best of my life,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

One step.

One step.

One step.

You are loved.

You are NOT alone.

Keep on being…YOU!

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! ❤️‍🔥🌎