Category: health

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Even Though

Posted in cancer, faith, God, health, inspiration, love, relationships, selfhelp, UncategorizedTagged , , , , , , Leave a comment


So I was listening to Scripture, already sitting in the middle of a situation that felt heavy, when that line from Psalm 23:4 came through: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…” And it stopped me. Because what I’m in right now doesn’t feel like a shadow of death… but it sure does feel like a shadow of change.

And that part hit me sideways. “Yea, though…” but all I could hear was even though. Not churchy. Not polished. Just plain and honest.

Even though this is not how I thought this season would look.
Even though things are shifting whether I’m ready or not.
Even though what used to feel steady doesn’t feel as steady right now.
Even though I’m trying to hold it together and trust God at the same time.
Even though.

Because “even though” doesn’t mean I’m ignoring the valley. It means I see it real clear, and I’m still walking. Not skipping. Not shouting. Just walking… through a shadow of change I didn’t ask for.

Isaiah 43:2 reminds me that when I pass through the waters, He will be with me. Through it, not around it. And if I’m being honest, I definitely asked for around it.

Then there’s Habakkuk 3:17–18, that grown-woman kind of faith. Though nothing is budding, though things aren’t producing like they should, yet I will rejoice. Not loud. Not for show. Just a quiet choice between me and God.

And 2 Corinthians 4:8–9—pressed, perplexed, struck down… yeah, that part. But not crushed. Not destroyed. Still here.

Somewhere between “Lord, help me” and “I trust You,” there’s this quiet sentence that keeps showing up: even though… I’m still going to trust You. Not because I’ve got answers, but because I’ve got Him.

And here’s something I’m holding onto… shadows shift when something is moving. So maybe this shadow of change means God is doing more than I can see right now.

God sees you. Not the put-together version, the real one. The one doing math in her head. The one holding her breath waiting on answers. The one choosing not to fall apart when it would make sense to. He sees your even though… and He hasn’t stepped out of it.

Love, Chelle
defygravitywithoutwings.com

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The Place My Name Found Me

Posted in cancer, faith, food, God, health, inspiration, love, relationships, selfhelp, workTagged , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

I went forward like everyone else.

Not rushed. Not hesitant. Just… carried.

I was visiting the early service at my son’s church,  when the  Pastor called us to come sign our names on the wooden cross that had been standing since last week’s Easter service. A simple act. A physical way to mark what God had already done.

But nothing about it felt simple.

Tears started before I ever stepped out.

I watched the seniors go first
Slow steps
Steady hands
Lives the world sometimes overlooks
But heaven still calls by name

I saw the former addict sign
Not as who they were
But as who God kept

I saw those once incarcerated
Writing their names like chains had finally agreed to let go

A blind man signed
A woman limping signed
And my own deaf son… signed

Lord… that alone almost took me out

Each name wasn’t just written
It was declared
Healing
Freedom
Promise
Still in progress, but already claimed

The children came excited
Unafraid of space running out
Because children always believe there’s room

And when space did get tight
The Pastor lifted the cross higher
So those who couldn’t bend could still reach

Even at the feet… there was still room

That part preached all by itself

But what stayed with me…
What lingered…
Was where my hand landed

A rough place
Scratched
Uneven
The kind of spot that, if you rubbed it the wrong way, could leave a splinter

And I paused

Because it felt like my life

Not smooth
Not polished
Not presentation-ready

But still part of the cross

And right there, in that imperfect place
I wrote my name

Careful
Intentional
Fully aware

That Jesus didn’t die for smooth stories

He died for splinters too

For the places that still catch
Still sting
Still remind you that healing isn’t always pretty

And yet…

That rough place held my name just fine

Didn’t reject me
Didn’t shift me to a better spot

It received me
As-is

And I heard it clear as day in my spirit

“You don’t need a polished place to belong here.”

So I signed

Not because I have it all together

But because the cross already made room for every part of me that doesn’t

“By His wounds we are healed.” — Isaiah 53:5

Signing your name in places that don’t feel smooth yet
Trusting God with the parts of your story that still feel rough
Believing that even here… you belong

**Love, Chelle**
defygravitywithoutwings.com

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When Praise Cost You A Toe ( and a Little Pride)

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This morning was supposed to be simple.

Just me, a broom, and some soft worship music. Nothing dramatic. Nothing deep. Just cleaning the house and minding my business.

But somewhere between sweeping one corner and turning toward the next…
that broom turned into a rhythm.

And that rhythm turned into a sway.
And that sway turned into a little two-step.

Now listen… I have not truly praise danced since my early 30s. And even then, let’s be honest, even then,I was in the back of the sanctuary respectfully copying the professionals 😌

But this morning?
Oh, I was feeling it.
Clumsy? Yes.
Anointed? Also yes.

And for a moment, it felt free.
Like I could just stay right there…
moving, praising, forgetting everything else.

And that’s where it shifted.

Because instead of staying in the praise,
my mind wandered into the problems I was trying to outdance.

Like Peter stepping out on the water in Matthew 14:29–30. As long as his eyes were on Jesus, he was good. But the moment he looked at the wind? He started sinking.

Well…The moment I stopped focusing on the praise and started focusing on everything else… I didn’t sink.

I stubbed my pinky toe.

And not just a polite little tap either. No ma’am. The kind that makes you see your whole life flash before your eyes.

Which then threw me off balance…
which then reminded my knee about that old meniscus injury from my 30s…

So now I’m in the middle of my living room,
half praising, half limping, trying to decide if I need prayer or an ice pack.

But here’s the thing Even through the pain, my thoughts got corrected. Because I realized:

Praising your way through something will cost you if you stop mid-praise to pick your problems back up.

You can’t hold both.
Not well anyway.

And right there—in between the limp and the laughter— I had to laugh at myself. Because I know I looked like something.

Just me… off beat… off balance…
still trying to be faithful in the middle of it.
And while nobody else saw it…

God did. And I believe He smiled. Because it wasn’t perfect. But it was real.

And if you needed this today…

Go ahead and praise anyway.
Even if it’s off rhythm.
Even if it’s in your kitchen.
Even if it turns into a wobble instead of a dance. Just… keep your eyes in the right place.

And if you do happen to stumble? Laugh, reset, and keep moving. Because the goal was never perfection.

It was presence.

Love, Chelle
defygravitywithoutwings.com 💛

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Not Chained. Positioned.

Posted in faith, God, health, inspiration, law, love, money, relationships, Uncategorized, workTagged , , , , , , , Leave a comment

It’s 1:15 a.m.
The house is quiet, but my mind isn’t.
My spirit is talking, but my thoughts keep trying to interrupt. And if I’m honest, I don’t even want to go where my mind keeps taking me.

Because yesterday… I got burned.
Not a misunderstanding.
Not a small thing I can laugh off later.
Burned.
And not the kind you can just pray off and keep it moving like nothing happened.

And the part that makes it sit heavy in my chest is this: I’m still expected to show up tomorrow like nothing happened.
Smiling. Producing. Performing.
Because apparently… healing is not on the job description.

Because responsibilities don’t pause for disappointment. Bills don’t care about betrayal. And sometimes… purpose doesn’t immediately pull you out of uncomfortable places.

So there I was… sitting in the quiet, feeling tired in a way sleep can’t fix and the thought slipped in:

“I’m chained to this situation.”


Gee… I didn’t even like how that sounded coming out of my own mouth. But just as quickly… something in my spirit pushed back.

Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just steady:

“You’re not chained… you’re positioned.”

Whew.

Because chained means stuck. No movement. No options. No end.
But positioned? Positioned means this is not permanent… no matter how long it’s been.
Positioned means there is purpose even here.
Positioned means you’re still on your way somewhere.

So I had to correct myself. I am not chained.
I am in transition with responsibilities.
And that changes how I stand in this space.

It means I don’t burn bridges out of frustration but I also don’t build my identity in a place that hurt me.

It means I pay attention. Because what hurt me also showed me something.
How people move.
What I can and cannot depend on.
Where I need boundaries.

What happened yesterday? That wasn’t just pain. That was data. And baby… I take notes.
And data helps you move wiser.

So instead of letting my mind replay the moment or fast-forward me into feeling stuck forever, I made a decision in the quiet:

I will deal with this tomorrow. Not at 1:15 a.m. Because I am not losing sleep over something God is already handling.

Because this hour isn’t for fixing. It’s for listening. And when I listened,I heard it clearly:
“I am not chained. I am collecting what I need before I move.”

So I’ll show up. I’ll do what needs to be done.
Not because they deserve my best… but because I do.

But I won’t shrink. I won’t forget who I am or whose child I am. And I won’t mistake a temporary season for a permanent assignment.

To be clear… just because I’m still here doesn’t mean I’m staying. Because even here,

God is still positioning me.

—

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord… “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. – Jeremiah 29

—

Love,
Chelle
DefyGravityWithoutWings.com 💛

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Worship Beyond The Song

Posted in cancer, faith, God, health, inspiration, love, relationships, selfhelp, UncategorizedTagged , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Worship is easy when the music is right,
the lights are soft, and nobody has touched your wounds that day.

But real worship?
Real worship sounds different.
It sounds like forgiving while your heart is still tender to the touch. It looks like choosing God when people are still choosing to bruise you.

Because worship was never just a song…
it’s a decision. A decision to trust that God is still good even when people are not.

And we saw it—not in a sanctuary, but on a cross.

When Jesus looked at the very people who were crucifying Him and said, “Father, forgive them…” (Luke 23:34)

Not after it was over. Not when it stopped hurting. While it was happening.


Sometimes worship looks like the opposite of what we expected:
Forgiving when you’re still hurting.
Praying when you’re disappointed.
Trusting when nothing makes sense.
Giving when you feel empty.
Staying when it would be easier to walk away.
Walking away when it would be easier to stay.
Being kind to people who mishandled you.
Keeping your heart soft in a hard situation.
Choosing peace when chaos would feel justified.
Telling the truth when a lie would protect you.
Resting when pressure says perform.
Waiting when everything in you wants to rush.
Obeying when you don’t understand.
Loving without getting anything back.
Letting go of what you prayed would stay.
Thanking God before you see the outcome.
Showing up again after being let down.
Keeping your integrity when nobody is watching.
Not clapping back when you have the perfect comeback.
Blessing people who bruised you.
Believing God is still good on a bad day.
Choosing joy without evidence.
Honoring God privately, not just publicly.
Surrendering your version of how it should go.
Standing still when fear says run.
Moving forward when comfort says sit down.

Because sometimes the most powerful worship isn’t what you sing in a moment of peace… it’s what you choose in the middle of pain.


It’s saying:
“God, I honor You… not because this feels good, but because You are good.”

So yes, worship Him even while the bruise is still fresh.

Not because they deserve it.But because He does.

“In quietness and trust shall be your strength.”
— Isaiah 30:15


God, teach me how to worship You beyond what is comfortable. When my heart is bruised, help me not to harden it.

When I don’t understand what You’re allowing, help me trust who You are.

Give me the strength to forgive even when the pain is still fresh, and the courage to release what is trying to take root in me that You never planted.

Let my life honor You not just in my songs,
but in my choices.

Even here. Even now.

Amen.

Love, Chelle
DefyGravityWithoutWings.com

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When It Bolts

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It’s 4:23 a.m. on Easter Sunday and I’m standing in my little greenhouse, looking at spinach that decided overnight… it was done.

Tall stems where leaves used to be. Little flowers where nourishment used to grow.
Bolting.

Translation? “It’s too hot for what I used to do.”

And for a second, I felt disappointed. Like I did something wrong. Like I missed a window. Like I should’ve held on longer.
But spinach doesn’t argue with the season.
It doesn’t force itself to keep producing what the environment no longer supports. It shifts.

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” — Ecclesiastes 3:1

And standing there, I realized… Some of us are still trying to produce peace in places that have already gotten too hot.

Still trying to hold conversations that only grow bitterness. Still trying to get nourishment from situations that have already shifted into something else.

And we call it perseverance. But sometimes…
It’s just a season that’s ended. The spinach didn’t fail. The season changed.

And instead of forcing leaves that would turn bitter anyway… it moved on to producing something new.
Seeds.
Future.
What’s next.

And maybe that’s where I am too.
Not failing.
Not falling apart.
Not losing ground.
Just recognizing that I don’t have to keep forcing what no longer grows here.

Because the work of the  Cross didn’t just prove He could get up… it proved that endings don’t get the final say.

So I don’t have to panic when something stops producing. Idon’t have to force life out of what has already shifted. And I don’t have to sit in disappointment like something has gone wrong.

Nothing went wrong.

The season changed.

And the same God who allowed this one to close… is already making room for what comes next. And instead of holding on too tight… I’m learning how to release without fear.

“Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth…” — Isaiah 43:18–19

So I’m not mourning what bolted. I’m watching for what’s about to spring up.

Love, Chelle
defygravitywithoutwings.com

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Paid For, Not Pending

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It’s Easter weekend and if I’m honest, everything in my life isn’t lining up all neat and peaceful like the Cross might suggest.

There are still things that don’t feel right.
Still emotions that keep trying to rise up and take over the room. Still situations I could easily let steal my focus.

But I had to sit with a truth that didn’t ask me how I felt about it.

“But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him…” — Isaiah 53:5

Not will be. Was.

Which means… peace isn’t something I have to wait on. It’s already been paid for.

And somewhere between trying to figure everything out and trying to hold everything together… I realized I’ve been treating peace like it’s pending approval.

Like it’s waiting on people to act right.
Waiting on situations to settle down.
Waiting on life to cooperate.

But the cross didn’t come with conditions. It came with a receipt. Paid in full.

And if I’m honest… I’ve been holding my breath. Carrying things. Bracing myself.
Living like I’m about to be swallowed whole by everything I haven’t figured out yet.

But He didn’t just die.He got up.

“O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” — 1 Corinthians 15:55

So I don’t have to live like I’m being swallowed anymore. I get to breathe the life He died to give me.
Not shallow.
Not rushed.
Not survival breathing.
Full, steady, grace-filled breath.

So today, I’m not fixing everything. I’m not forcing conversations. Not chasing resolution.

I’m receiving.
Peace in my mind.
Steadiness in my spirit.
Enough clarity for the next right step.

Because if Jesus already paid for it…
then I don’t have to earn it by exhausting myself. And maybe that’s the real freedom Easter offers. Not that everything around me changes overnight… but that I don’t have to be held hostage by it anymore.

So if you see me a little quieter today. A little less reactive… a little more settled than the situation calls for…just know I finally stopped holding my breath…

…and started living like the grave already lost.

Love, Chelle
defygravitywithoutwings.com

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Release While In Motion

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It was one of those days that needed me to be focused.

Not halfway. Not distracted.
The kind of day where details matter, timing matters, and anything pulling at your attention feels like it’s trying to sabotage something important.

And yet… my mind would not sit still.

It kept circling the same place.
Big decisions. Career. Finances. Life.

The kind of decisions that don’t come with a clear map. The kind that make you pause long enough to ask God, “Am I supposed to stay… or am I free to go?”

So somewhere in the middle of moving, thinking, preparing, and trying to keep my day on track, I said it:

“Lord… I need You to tell me I’m released.”

Not emotional. Not panicked. Just honest.

Because I wasn’t trying to escape anything…
I just didn’t want to stay somewhere out of habit when You had already given permission to move.

And without missing a beat…God answered me in traffic.

A car passed by with the license plate:

GodHVUS

I paused.

Because… okay Lord. I hear You.

A few minutes later, another one rolled past:

DBLBLSD

Now I’m sitting there like… “Sir… are You serious right now?”

And then it settled in. Not just what passed me… but what I was already sitting in.

My own car. My own plate.

Renew2

“See, I am doing a new thing; now it springs up—do you not perceive it?” — Isaiah 43:19

I asked God for release… and He answered with coverage, increase, and a reminder I had been carrying the whole time.

God has us. Double blessed. Renewed too.

And just like that, what felt heavy…
shifted.

Because release doesn’t always come with a loud announcement. Sometimes it comes with peace that quietly replaces pressure. Sometimes it shows up while you’re still in motion… not when you’ve stopped everything to go looking for it.

God doesn’t just release you from a place.
He renews you for the next one.

Because walking into something new with an old mindset will have you second-guessing doors He already opened.

It will make you call provision “too uncertain”
and growth “too uncomfortable.”

But when God is in it…there is a steadiness that follows.

Not because you have every answer but because you know you’re not walking alone.

So if you find yourself in the middle of a busy day… trying to hold everything together while quietly asking God for direction,

Pay attention.

He may not stop your schedule to answer you. But He will meet you right in it. And when He does…you won’t have to force clarity.

It will roll right past you.

Love, Chelle
defygravitywithoutwings.com

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His April Faithfulness

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Even though today is April Fool’s Day…
for me, it marks something completely different.

Twenty-one years ago, I went from being a near-homeless divorcee with three kids in tow to becoming a homeowner in 90 days.

And I still smile when I think about it. Because I was so careful not to say anything that might disrupt what God was doing, that every time someone asked me, “Chelle, what are you going to do?” I would simply say, “I’ll tell you on Wednesday.”

There was nothing special about Wednesdays… except that it gave me somewhere to place my expectation.

And sure enough—every Wednesday—
God gave me something to say.
A step. A shift. A provision. A testimony.

So I kept showing up to Wednesdays. And when I finally walked into that house, on April Fools Day,  I found a Bible waiting for me.

Inside was a note from the selling  realtor that said: “Your bid was not the highest, but in 1955 this house was built for you. God has blessed it. Enjoy”

Confirmation of what I already knew.
This wasn’t luck.
This wasn’t timing.
This was God.

And here I am, twenty-one years later…
on another Wednesday.
Still standing.
Still provided for.
Still carried.

And if I’m being honest… at 2 a.m. this morning, life tried to get loud again.
Decisions. Pressure. Finances.
The kind of weight that makes your head hurt and your chest feel tight.

But somewhere between the worry and the whisper,  I found my footing again.

And this is what I stood on:
Lord, I trust You more than this situation.
Lord, I trust You more than what this situation is trying to tell me.
Lord, I trust You more than how I feel right now.
Lord, I trust You more than my need to control how this turns out.
Lord, I trust You to take care of me… no matter what this becomes.

Because I’ve seen this before.

Different details… same God.

So no… I don’t really do April Fool’s. Because I’ve lived long enough to know that God doesn’t play about His promises.

This isn’t April Fool’s to me. This is “His April Faithfulness.” A reminder that no matter what I face, God has always had my back.

Not always my way.
Not always my timing.
But always… faithfully.



Love, Chelle
defygravitywithoutwings.com

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Flowers Don’t Apologize

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This prayer is for those who need to realize…
you can’t have flowers without the dirt… and some rain.

I know… we love the bloom.
We love the part people can see.
We love the color, the beauty, the evidence that something worked.

But real growth?
It doesn’t happen in the spotlight.

It happens down in the dirt.
In the messy places.
In the seasons that don’t look like anything is happening at all.

And if we’re being honest…
some of us have been side-eyeing the dirt in our lives.

Questioning it.
Trying to rush out of it.
Asking God why it had to be this way.

But this morning… let me remind you gently…

“His mercies are new every morning.”
— Lamentations 3:23

That means yesterday’s mess didn’t disqualify you. It didn’t ruin the process.
It didn’t cancel what God is growing in you.

It watered something.

Even the hard conversations. Even the tears.
Even the moments you wish you could redo.

God used it.

So yes… there may be some mud in your life right now. Yes… it may feel uncomfortable.
Yes… it may not look like growth yet.

But that doesn’t mean nothing is happening.
It means something is forming beneath the surface.

So today… we make a choice.
We choose to rejoice.
Not because everything feels good…
but because we trust what God is doing.

We rejoice in all things…
because we understand that dirt and rain
are part of the process of becoming.

And when it’s time to bloom…
You won’t have to explain a thing.

Flowers don’t apologize for the dirt it took to grow them.

Dear God,
Thank You for not wasting the dirt in our lives. Even the parts we didn’t choose…
even the seasons that felt heavy, messy, and unclear. 

Help us to trust You in the middle of it. When we don’t see growth…
when all we feel is the weight of the soil…
remind us that You are still working beneath the surface.


Teach us to stop resisting what You are using.
Give us the grace to endure the rain and the patience to wait for what is being formed.
And when it’s hard… help us to rejoice anyway. Not because everything feels good,
but because You are good in everything.

Grow us in the places we tried to escape.
Strengthen what we thought was breaking.
And when it’s time to bloom…
let it be undeniable that it was You.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Love, Chelle
defygravitywithoutwings.com