I love to communicate. Expressing my feelings and thoughts is second nature to me. Whether it’s talking with people or listening to understand how they feel, communication is my way of building bridges. It’s not just about words—it’s about connection, empathy, and understanding.
🧩 Problem Solving
I study people a lot, not to judge, but to understand. Everyone handles life differently, shaped by their unique experiences. That fascinates me. I’ve learned that problem solving isn’t about finding one “right” answer—it’s about respecting different paths and perspectives
📋 Planning
Planning is my happy place. I especially love organizing gatherings for family and friends. I can visualize every detail—the dishes, the plates, the silverware, the tables—before it even happens. That vision helps me avoid last-minute stress. I write things down, I prepare, and I make sure nothing is left out.
🚗 Driving
Driving is freedom for me. Funny enough, I didn’t start until I was 32, but once I did, I fell in love with it. I’ve driven all over my city and even in places like New York. I don’t like driving in the rain or the dark, but give me Michigan snow and I’ll get you anywhere safely. Daytime drives are my specialty, and I can pack up and go for hours with little sleep—just because I love it that much.
🌱 Working with Children & Young Adults
One of my greatest joys is guiding young people. I started a teen group in my home that ran for five summers, and we did everything you can imagine. Helping children, young adults, and women prepare for the real world is something I take seriously. It’s about equipping them with tools, confidence, and love.
There are two things that make me feel unstoppable: my boots and my lashes.
When I slip into my boots, you can’t tell me NOTHING! The way they hug my stride, the way they make me walk with confidence—it’s a feeling I can’t explain. Sneakers or gym shoes don’t give me that same energy. Boots transform me. They make me feel sexy, powerful, and like I own every step I take.
And then there are my lashes. I don’t wear them often, but when I do, it’s a whole mood. My lashes give me that sultry, captivating look when I glance at men, but they also let me serve serious energy when I need to. They sharpen my attention, make me feel polished, and remind me that sometimes the smallest details carry the biggest impact.
Boots and lashes—two simple things, but together they unlock a version of me that’s bold, confident, and undeniably sexy.
I’ve always been a listener. Since I was about 10, maybe 12, I asked a million questions. I didn’t even know back then that I wanted to be a writer—I just knew I loved reading, loved stories, reading the Bible and loved the truth. Truth has always been my thing. God knows me: I’m going to tell it.
One day, out of the blue, my dad sat me down. Looking back, I think it had been on his mind for years. He told me he had a daughter before he met my mom. He was about 15. He said he saw her sometimes. I remember asking, “Well why can’t I meet her?” But my dad would shut down when I asked too many questions. He’d give me just enough to keep me interested, but never the whole story. That was him.
He told me she looked like me. That was enough to keep me dreaming. I’d go to bed thinking about her, wondering what it would be like to play with her, to see her face. I never thought he was making it up—I knew my dad. I woke up to him every day of my life. He knew me, and I knew him.
Years passed. I was about 15 or 16 when he wanted to talk about her again, he finally gave me HER mother’s name. Back then there was no internet, no cell phones, no Facebook, no Instagram. Just a name that didn’t ring a bell.
Later, when I was grown and had internet. My Sister came to my mind again. I tried to research her mom, but Dad wouldn’t tell me her name. Still, I held onto the pieces he gave me. I knew My Sisters name. Even if I didn’t know how to spell it. MY FB name is LaCrease, but MY BIRTH CERTIFICATE name is LaCreasea. My mom and dad don’t know how the a got on there, but it’s on my SS, Driver’s License and all my business. I have to use that name. Her name is Lateresa
Then one day, my dad called me: “Zee, your sister just left my apartment.” I was like, “For real, Daddy? Are you serious?” He said yes. I asked him a billion questions. I remember running to Belle Isle—my place of peace—to thank God. I cried. I knew He had answered the prayer I’d been carrying since I was 12.
He gave me her phone number and finally me and my siblings met her. I was tripping on how much she looked like my grandmother. I thought back to 1985 when my grandmother took me on a week train ride to Toronto—we had the best time. Seeing her reminding me how much she looks like grandma.
But life is life. Things slowed down. A lot of things concerning this story had me second guessing. Ups and downs came. I told God, “Okay, I’m done with this for now. When it’s time, I’ll be ready.” But one thing for sure in all of it. I KNEW WHAT MY DADDY TOLD ME WAS THE TRUTH.
After my dad passed in 2019, I heard from her again briefly. We always small talked on each other FB post from time to time, but at least I knew where she was at ALL times. I had peace. God gave me patience and understanding in this situation. I had time.
Then last week—out of nowhere—she contacted me again. She sent me a DNA list with names. I want to post it, it’s funny who all names popped up. I looked at it, and I knew EVERY single person on there. Everyone!!! I asked her what made her finally do it. She said, “I was tired of wondering.”
And that’s our story right there. We all get tired of wondering. Tired of silence. Tired of secrets. I share this because families need these conversations. Some people won’t like it, some will feel uncomfortable. I’m cool with that. Because I love truth. And I am not alone. Here are some photos of her and my niece and nephews!!!! Yeaaaaa!
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There is another story I would like to share. I got permission from THOSE, THIS STORY BELONGS TOO. I will only share the JOY it brings me, just because its MY DAUGHTERS STORY NEISHIA.
JUST weeks before I had a stroke. Nesha got a text from her cousin telling her that someone had taken a test ** I really don’t know how those test goes**, but the names on that paper LEADS to known people and their names.
She called her dad and they had a conversation, and the first thing I ask Nesha was does she have a FB? Nesha had photos of her already in her phone. She gave me her name and when I tell you I stalked her page. LOL I was so HAPPY. MY baby has a sister now. She was excited. Not only that but Nesha is an auntie. I can hear them saying Auntie Nesha. LOL I love it.
It just amazes me how things happen. God made us all and he can pair up to be family as he wishes.
When I came home from the hospital, I didn’t return to my apartment. Instead, Nesha took me in and cared for me for over four months. She put her whole life on hold—her plans, her schooling, her dreams. She had signed up for her Master’s program, but life “lifed,” as we say, and she chose to be there for me.
During that time, she spoke with her sister over the phone, but they never met in person.
Now, I’m well, moved into my new apartment, she’s working on getting her life back and it’s time for those quiet gurls to meet!!!!! I’ll see my sister next year * she moved from Detroit* but Neshia’s sister lives right here. I’m going to let them work it out, I’m just excited on the side lines. They are both businesswomen, own their own homes, and NEED TO MAKE TIME FOR EACH OTHER.
🌸 Closing Thoughts
This story is more than just about DNA tests or family connections—it’s about God’s timing, answered prayers, and the joy of discovering new bonds. Families need these conversations, even when they’re unexpected or uncomfortable. Truth has a way of bringing healing, and joy has a way of multiplying.
We all carry both personality and character. When life is good, we often show up in a certain way—smiling, laughing, moving through our days with ease. But what happens when life shifts? What happens when something unexpected knocks us off our feet?
If something ever happens to you—whether it’s a car accident, an illness, or a situation that leaves you homebound—you’ll quickly discover who is truly there for you. You’ll see it in the people who show up at the hospital, who bring food when you can’t cook, who send money or cards, who call or text just to check in. You’ll see it in those who sit with you when you’re lonely, who drive you to appointments, who pick up your kids from school, who wash your clothes, or who simply pray for you.
I’m not talking about being sick for a few days. I’m talking about the kind of life-altering moments that require months of recovery, daily care, or even 24-hour support. In those times, you learn who your community really is.
And here’s the truth: we are all just one accident away. One diagnosis, one unexpected event, one moment that changes everything. That’s why now—while you’re healthy, while you’re standing strong—is the time to change the way you think. Build relationships. Be present. Treat people with kindness. Because when you’re down, the people who show up are often the ones you’ve poured into, or those who are simply good-hearted enough to love without condition.
Everybody can’t do everything. But everybody can do something. Even a simple phone call or prayer matters.
I see people on Facebook airing out who didn’t show up for them, but I always wonder: who were you when life was good? Did you show up for others? Did you build a community, or did you expect one without giving?
So I say this: build yourself a community and be a community. Because one day it might be them who needs support—but tomorrow, it could be you.
There are moments in life that change you forever. For me, one of those moments came after my stroke—when I woke up in the hospital, tubes finally removed from my throat, and all I wanted was a sip of water.
Not a bottle. Not a glass. Just a sip.
My throat was so dry it felt unbearable. I remember laying there, not sleepy, just still. I whispered to God, “I’m thirsty. Please, just a sip. If I can get that, I’ll have hope to live.” And then I said something I couldn’t believe even as the words left my mouth: “If I don’t get a sip of water, I don’t want to wake up in the morning.”
I meant it. In that moment, it was real.
When the night nurse came in, I knew she’d say no. But I asked anyway. “Please, just a sip.” She looked at me with sympathy but said she couldn’t. I begged her. I needed that sip like it was life itself. She left. Came back. I asked again. Still no.
But then—God moved.
She left again, and when she returned, she had a small cup of water with a straw. She looked around, then gently placed it at my lips. Just before she snatched it away, I got two sips. Two glorious, life-giving sips.
I believe with all my heart that God told her it was okay.
That night, I slept. And when I woke up, my family was there. The doctors gave me more water, but I wanted gallons. My voice was low and whispery, not my own, and no one could understand me. I motioned for a pen and paper, knowing exactly what I wanted to say. But when I wrote it, the words didn’t match my thoughts. No one understood. I was so frustrated.
Can you imagine knowing what you want to write in that moment, but your thoughts won’t cooperate? Writing one thing, but it comes out another? That was me. I am a writer with almost 200,000 HITS. How was this happening to me?
The note above is one of the many notes I wrote when I needed to communicate. I think I was saying, I wanted to know when those tubes were going to be removed. (( laughing right now))
Later that day, because I was able to feed myself. A nurse came in with greens, macaroni and cheese (I hate cheese, lol), fried chicken, and a big cup of water and ice. I barely ate, but that water. That water was everything.
I know the night nurse broke the rules. But I’ve been there too.
Years ago, working as a cashier at Walmart on 12 Mile and Gratiot, a young mother came through my line. She was short on money for pampers and milk. I watched her negotiate with herself—what could wait until tomorrow? It broke my heart. I’ve been there before. I reached into my pocket, gave her the money, and told her to keep the change. I didn’t want it to look suspicious on camera. She cried. I didn’t care if it was against the store policy. I didn’t care how she got into that situation. I didn’t care who was supposed to help her. That didn’t matter to me. All I knew is that she needed help. And I sure didn’t care if I got fired.
Sometimes, when God says it’s okay, you just do it.
Life has a way of slowing you down when you won’t do it yourself. And when it does, you have two choices: get bitter or get better.
I chose better.
This week, I want to share four life lessons, a total of 4 days. I’ve learned since the stroke. I’m fine now—Thank God. But I’m not the same. And honestly, I don’t want to be. Because through the pain, the fear, and the stillness, I found something deeper. I found clarity. I found purpose. I found God in a new way.
When you go through something life-altering, you have to take a step back and ask: “God, what are You trying to teach me?” Not “Why me?” but “What now?” Not “What did I lose?” but “What did I gain?”
Each day this week, I’ll be sharing one lesson that changed me from the inside out. These aren’t just words—they’re truths I live by now. They’re the kind of lessons that come from sitting still, listening to God, and letting Him show you who you REALLY are.
So, whether you’ve been through something hard, or you’re just trying to make sense of life’s curveballs, I hope these reflections speak to your heart. I hope they remind you that healing is possible, growth is real, and God never wastes a wound.
Come back tomorrow (( Monday)) for Lesson 1. I promise—these four you won’t want to miss.
Inside the mind of cree 