There’s something magical about walking into Walmart with a little spending money and a whole lot of excitement. I’m talking about that $250 splurge that sets my soul on fire—not for clothes or gadgets, but for the glorious world of house cleaning products.
Hand towels. Bath towels. Forks and spoons. Garbage bags. Toothpaste. Bath wash. Bleach. Dishwashing liquid. Sweeping and mopping essentials. These aren’t just items—they’re my fuel.
I love the feeling of coming home, unpacking everything, and putting it all in its place. The fresh scent of new cleaning supplies, the crisp folds of untouched towels, the gleam of a stocked medicine cabinet—it’s like a reset button for my spirit. It’s not just about cleanliness; it’s about, comfort, and care. It’s about creating a space that reflects peace and preparedness.
And the best part? It’s just me. So, these treasures last for months. My apartment becomes a sanctuary of stocked shelves and sparkling surfaces. Paper towels and toilet paper stacked like little towers of joy. A medicine cabinet that whispers, “You’re ready for anything.”
This is my kind of self-care. This is what gives me energy.
There’s something timeless and comforting about Bible stories—especially the ones told through vibrant cartoons or illustrated books. I still remember the joy of flipping through those pages as a child, when my mom would bring home books filled with stories of courage, kindness, and divine wisdom. Those moments weren’t just entertaining—they were formative.
Now, as a parent, I see the same spark in our children’s eyes when they watch these stories unfold. Whether it’s David facing Goliath or Esther’s brave stand, these tales speak to the heart and soul in ways that stick.
🌟 Why It Matters If we take just 15 minutes after school, a few days a week, to share these stories with our kids, we’re doing more than filling time—we’re setting a foundation. These small moments can shape their values, fuel their curiosity, and build a lasting love for Scripture. Trust me: when they grow up, they’ll crave the Bible—not out of obligation, but out of genuine connection.
📅 A Simple Routine with Big Impact
Choose 2–3 days a week for story time
Keep it short and sweet—just 15 minutes
Let them ask questions, reflect, and even retell the stories in their own words
Mix it up with cartoons, books, or even audio stories
These stories aren’t just for children—they’re for the child in all of us. And when we share them, we’re passing on more than tales—we’re passing on truth, hope, and a legacy of faith.
Let me just say this loud and proud: I cannot bake a cake to save my life. Nope. Not even a little. Since I was a young girl, cake baking has been my culinary kryptonite. I’ve tried—oh, how I’ve tried—but it always ends in disaster.
It all started with egg shells. For some reason, when I crack eggs for anything else, they behave. But when I’m baking a cake? Crunch. Eggshells in the batter like they’re invited to the party. And that’s just the beginning.
My biggest issue? The cake is never done. I follow the instructions. I preheat the oven. I set the timer. I even poke it with a toothpick like the pros say. But somehow, I’ll frost it, slice it open, and boom—raw in the middle. Every. Single. Time.
People ask me, “What temperature do you set your oven to?” “How long do you bake it?” “Are you watching the time?” Yes, yes, and yes. Still, it never works. I’ve officially waved the white flag.
Now, I leave the cake baking to the experts. My favorite cakes come from Meijer, my niece Nell, and I’ve got my cupcake lady and my cake lady—two queens who’ve been baking for me for over 20 years. Their numbers are sacred. I’m never letting them go.
I’ve made peace with my cake-baking curse. Every now and then, I’ll whip up some cupcakes (because they’re a little more forgiving), but when it comes to full-on cakes? I’m out.
So here’s to knowing your strengths—and outsourcing your weaknesses to women who know how to work magic with flour and sugar.
“Your gift will make room for you and bring you before great men.” — Proverbs 18:16
If I could rewind the clock, I’d tell my younger self: Focus on your God-given gifts. Not just because they’re special, but because they were meant to sustain me—spiritually, emotionally, and yes, financially.
For years, I poured myself into making sure everyone else was okay. I was the helper, the fixer, the one who showed up. But somewhere along the way, I forgot to show up for myself. I didn’t nurture the talents God placed in me. I didn’t prioritize the work that lit me up inside.
It wasn’t until my 50s that I realized: everyone else had moved forward in their calling. And I was just catching up. That was a hard truth to swallow. But it was also the beginning of something beautiful.
Now, I’m walking in purpose. I’ve cut off the habit of putting myself last. And while I wish I’d learned this lesson earlier, I’m grateful I learned it at all.
Because catching up isn’t the same as being left behind. It’s choosing to run your race—finally—with your eyes on your own lane.
🏈 Football, Food, and Fierce Loyalty: My Sunday Ritual
There’s something about Sunday afternoons that feels sacred—especially when the Detroit Lions are playing. Football isn’t just my favorite sport; it’s a whole mood. And today, they’re up against the Green Bay Packers… a team I absolutely cannot stand (laughing). So yes, I’m cheering loud and proud for my Lions to take that win and make Detroit proud.
While the game’s heating up, I’m in the kitchen switching up dinner plans. I originally pulled out chicken, but my taste buds had other ideas. Tonight’s menu: Salisbury steaks smothered in rich gravy, served with fluffy rice. It’s already late, so I need to get moving—but there’s something comforting about cooking while the game plays in the background. It’s my kind of multitasking.
This is what Sundays are made of—passion, comfort food, and rooting for the home team. Whether we win or lose, the Lions have my heart. And this meal? It’s about to have my stomach.
Today is my daughter and I BIRTHDAY. My only child!!! I love this gurl so much we are so much alike, but different at the same time. I’m 58 and she’s 39.
I took these photos a few days ago since my stroke and I’m feeling good! Thank you, Jesus!
If you feel lead, please Zelle lacreaselovesthelord@yahoo,com
Before I even step foot in Walmart, I ask the Lord to cover my day. I’m not the type to walk in with an attitude—I smile, I greet, I do my job. But every now and then, somebody walks in like they’re auditioning for a role in “Let Me Test Her Patience.”
One Saturday evening, a man around 41 walks up to my register. His total? $4.68. He hands me a $5 bill and 68 cents in Canadian coins. Now listen—everybody and their 4-year-old knows we don’t take Canadian money in the U.S. So, I say, “Sir, we don’t take Canadian coins.” He hits me with, “WHY? Where’s the sign that says that?”
I told him, “Ain’t no sign. We just don’t take Canadian money.” I finish the transaction out of the $5, and he suddenly wants a refund. I asked him why? He says because I want to know where is the sign that says no Canadian money. This thang clearly wanted to argue with me. So, I said well in order to get your money back I will have to call a CSM. He was like call em then. Because he didn’t like how I said it. Said I wasn’t “professional.” Mr. Sir Man, ** didn’t say all that LOL* what other way is there to say “we don’t take Canadian money”?
My CSM, comes over. He doesn’t want to talk to her. She tried to talk to him but he gon say. I don’t want to speak to YOU, I WANT TO SPEAK TO SOMEONE HIGHER!!!! So here comes our Assistant Manager. And this man tells him that I wasn’t professional. Says he used to work for Walmart. Well then, sir—you should know the policy!
He refused to sign the refund slip. Tried to snatch the money from my hand. But I held firm. I knew if he acted out, everything he said about me would crumble. So, he took the money politely and walked away. But I could feel that he wanted to snatch it so bad. I was cracking up in my mind!
💭 My Question to You:
Why do some folks take “NO” so personally? Like the rule was made just for them. Do you feel like you’re always right when you’re out in public—at a store, restaurant, wherever?
I blog because I have something to say. Not just to speak—but to express, release, and reflect. Blogging gives me space to get things off my chest, to share what’s on my mind, and to honor the experiences that shaped me. I’m an individual with a story, and I believe stories are meant to be shared.
I love to read because I love to learn. I would listen to an animal if it could tell me about its life. That’s how deep my curiosity runs. Every blog I read is a chance to pause, reflect, and say, “I never looked at it that way.” Those moments—those quiet revelations—are why I keep coming back to the page.
When I write, I’m not just telling my story. I’m inviting you to think about yours. Maybe something I say will remind you of a time you faced a similar situation. Maybe you’ll see how I handled it and think about how you did. That’s the beauty of blogging: it’s not just about me. It’s about us.
We’re all different. Our experiences take us down different streets. And that’s okay.
I love New Balance shoes. I love the way they feel on my feet. But does that mean I should talk down on other gym shoes? No! It just means I prefer what’s comfortable for me. That’s how life works. We learn from each other’s preferences, stories, and truths. We don’t have to agree to grow.
I LOVE meeting someone who is not me. It gives me joy to read about someone else’s life, to walk in their shoes for a moment, and to see the world through their lens. That’s why I blog. That’s why I read. That’s why I listen.
Because learning starts with listening.
If you feel inspired and lead to send Blessings~ Zelle
Next Wednesday, September 3rd, I’ll be turning 58—yeaaaaaaa! And let me tell you, I’m excited. Not just because it’s my birthday, but because I’m still here. Still healing. Still creating. Still dreaming.
This past year has been a whirlwind. I moved; I’m settling in, writing daily, and embracing the peace that comes with new beginnings. But there’s one thing I’ve been missing deeply: making and selling candles. I haven’t poured wax or blended fragrance oils since last year. Candle-making was more than a hobby—it was therapy, joy, and a little side hustle rolled into one. It gave me purpose and peace. And now, as I continue my recovery and wait to be cleared to drive again, I want to return to that joy.
So, for my birthday, I’m asking for something simple: wax and fragrance oils. That’s it. Just the basics to get me back to creating. I’ve been using what little money I have for essentials—tissue, body wash, dish soap—but this gift would mean the world to me. It would give me something to do while I heal. Something that brings light into my space—literally.
If you feel led to help me celebrate, you can send a gift via Zelle to: lacreaselovesthelord@yahoo.com. Every little bit helps, and I’ll be lighting candles with gratitude in my heart.
Thank you for walking this journey with me. Here’s to 58 years of grace, growth, and glowing wicks.
Five months ago, I woke up from an 11-day coma after suffering a stroke with a blood pressure of 310/138 and bleeding in my brain. But here’s the miracle—my face wasn’t twisted, I could walk, I could talk, and my speech was intact. After being in a coma, Doctors were coming in with at least 10 or more staring at me. I answered all the questions they had for me. I knew it was normal, but I didn’t know they were thinking, “how is she alive with Blood Pressure that high and no surgery in the brain?” And they were right. I was a miracle. I NEVER experienced any pain, not one time, not one day, not one minute. I could feel my feet, my legs, my hands, my face was intact, my speech was off because of the tubes that were down my throat, but it came back. I was confused at times, and my memory wasn’t all the way there. I knew I would gain it over time. But from the moment I opened my eyes, I knew something had shifted. I wasn’t mean, but I was assertive. I knew who I was, and I knew I was headed in a new direction.
I didn’t remember but, my sister told me while I was in the hospital that I told the doctors my birthday was 3/9 when it’s really 9/3. That moment still cracks me up—I can’t wait to tell that story on YouTube so y’all can see my face and what she did when I told her I DIDNT SAY THAT! 😂
As my memory was starting to return, I asked my family and friends to stay home and rest. I needed answers—not from people, but from God. I had questions. Deep ones. And every night after 11 PM, I stayed awake all night to talk to Jesus. It became a habit. A sacred one.
I asked Him, “How is it that I had a stroke and yet I’m not experiencing what others go through? Why am I feeling good, but nothing seems wrong?” And He answered me.
He reminded me of the six years I spent praying consistently, asking for more in life than just waking up, Door Dashing, eating, and going to sleep. I had been saying, “There’s more to life for me.” And He said, “You’re right. There is.”
Then He asked me, “Remember what you told Nesha when she asked what you wanted for Christmas?” I paused. Then it hit me—a tripod. I also told her that I needed another car mount so that i could record when I drive. I wanted it so I could start my YouTube channel without holding my phone. I had planned to do it, but fear held me back. I was scared to even go to the dentist for dental work. I was scared and nervous to make a video. But in that moment, He said, “You are FREE. Fear has left you.”
Instantly, I felt it. No fear. Just freedom. He told me that I was FREE AND FREE FROM FEAR. I knew then, that’s what I’m here to do. Communicate! He said you are not afraid to speak up for the truth. You are BOLD, and can get your point across, but I will show you how to tone it down. Because I WOKE UP AGGRESSIVE. MY FAMILY HAVE LOTS OF STORIES ABOUT THAT HOSPITAL STAY. LOL LOL LOL LOL But you get my point.
I knew then that I would start my YouTube channel this year. I had been nervous I’d forget my thoughts or quit because consistency is hard for me. But this time is different. By the time I left the hospital, I knew my assignment. We talked EVERY NIGHT, It was clear to me. And it felt good. I told my family everything, because when it happens, they will believe me. They could be witnesses of what God told me. To this day things are happening just as Jesus told me.
I prayed, “Lord, please don’t let me leave here and not do Your will.” I knew I had to use my communication skills and personality he gave me to draw people to Him. Going to work and coming home wasn’t enough. My personality is too big for that. I want more. I need more.
This is my season of clarity, purpose, and bold obedience. I’m walking in it.
I have so much to share.
Below are the text messages I sent my daughter* my only child* she knew immediately that I was having a stroke. She FT me and it was confirmed. She beat the EMS to my apartment. I Thank God for her fast thinking, they said things could have been differently.
Inside the mind of cree 