Living to Learn Life Lessons
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!
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
lacreaselovesthelord@yahoo.com
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.
With love, Lacrease
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.
I’ve officially moved into my new apartment, and while everything is unpacked and in its place, I’m still searching for my groove. At my daughter’s home, I had a rhythm—a flow that felt natural. Now, in this beautiful new space surrounded by concerts, dog lovers, and the heartbeat of Detroit, I’m starting fresh. And let me tell you… it’s not as easy as flipping a switch.
I know it’ll take a few weeks. I’m giving myself grace. But I also know I need to move my body. The fitness room is just steps away, yet I haven’t felt the pull to go. That’s okay. I’m not forcing it. I’m listening to my spirit, and she’s whispering: “Start small. Start soulful.”
One thing I’m proud of? My eating habits have shifted in the best way. No goodies in the apartment. No mindless snacking. No overeating. Just intentional meals and a lighter feeling—physically and emotionally. That’s a win I’m celebrating.
This is Chapter 2 of my journey. A new space. A new rhythm. A new level of self-awareness. I’m not chasing perfection—I’m embracing progress. I’ve got to get into my groovy. And I will.
Because this next chapter? It’s mine to write.
There’s something magical about the TV shows we grew up with. They weren’t just entertainment—they were family, laughter, lessons, and comfort wrapped into 30-minute episodes. As a kid, my living room was my portal to worlds that made me laugh, think, and dream.
I remember watching What’s Happening!! and feeling like I was part of the crew, laughing at Rerun’s dance moves and Dee’s sharp comebacks. Good Times taught me about resilience and love, even when life was tough. And Sanford and Son? That was pure comedic gold—Fred’s grumpy charm and Lamont’s patience were a dynamic I’ll never forget.
Then there were the classics that shaped my sense of humor: The Three Stooges had me in stitches with their slapstick chaos, while Happy Days made me wish I could hang out at Arnold’s with the Fonz. Bewitched sparked my imagination—who didn’t try to wiggle their nose hoping magic would happen?
Cartoons like The Flintstones and The Jetsons gave me two sides of the same coin—prehistoric fun and futuristic dreams. And The Brady Bunch? That was my crash course in blended family life, sibling drama, and groovy fashion.
These shows weren’t just background noise—they were part of my upbringing. They taught me values, gave me laughs, and created memories that still warm my heart today. I’m grateful for every moment spent in front of that glowing screen, soaking in stories that helped shape who I am.
Each of these films has offered me something—whether it’s a lesson, a laugh, or a lens into someone else’s world. That’s the beauty of storytelling. It connects us, challenges us, and sometimes, it heals us.
Growing up in a home with both parents, I always felt a deep need to express myself. My mom understood me—she saw the spark behind my endless questions. But my dad? Not so much. He didn’t understand why I asked so many things. To him, it felt like noise. To me, it was the beginning of understanding.
I wasn’t trying to be nosy. I was trying to learn. I wanted to understand why people thought the way they did, why they reacted the way they did, and what shaped their choices. Over time, I realized that every experience a person goes through becomes a lens through which they see the world. That lens influences how they respond, how they love, how they protect, and how they communicate.
Even now, I ask questions—not to pry, but to connect. To understand. To grow.
But when words failed me in conversation, I found another way to speak: writing. Writing became my sanctuary. It gave me a voice when I felt unheard. It gave me clarity when the world felt confusing. And most beautifully, it connected me to others who feel the same way—those who may not write, but who find comfort in reading.
Writing is more than just words on a page. It’s a bridge. A mirror. A healing space.
So to anyone who’s ever felt misunderstood for being curious, for feeling deeply, or for needing to express themselves—know that you’re not alone. There’s power in your voice. And if you ever feel like speaking is too much, try writing. You might just find yourself there.
I just moved into my new place in Brush Park this past Saturday, and that’s why I’ve been quiet on the writing front. Now that everything’s put away and my space feels like home, I’m back to doing what I love—writing.
What I adore most about living here is how alive the area feels. Little Caesars Arena is right on the corner. Ford Field and Comerica Park are just down the street. I’m a huge fan of concerts, the Detroit Lions, and anything that brings people together. From my patio, I can hear the roar of Tigers games at Comerica—it’s like having front-row seats to the heartbeat of the city.
Soon, I’ll be working out in our fitness room and writing in the community room, which has a full kitchen and a cozy vibe that’s perfect for creativity. The apartments here are five stories tall—a big change from the 22-floor building I came from—but it feels more personal and grounded.
One of my favorite things? Watching people walk their dogs. As a dog lover, it warms my heart and makes me smile every time. The energy here fits my personality—friendly, vibrant, and peaceful. People greet each other with hellos and plenty of smiles. I feel like I’ve found my place, and I plan to stay a while.
Inside the mind of cree 