Category: selfhelp

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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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Lace Under My Armor

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

Someone told me I was one of the strongest women they know. Juggling a crippling set of battles and making it look easy.

I smiled… but something in me shifted.

Because strength has a way of being misunderstood.
People see what you carried.
They don’t always see what it cost you to carry it.

And before I could stop myself, I said it out loud:
“There is lace under my armor.”

Not everything about me is steel.
Not everything about me is survival.
There are still places in me that feel deeply.
Places that bruise.
Places that hope… even when hope has been stretched thin.

And right there… in this tender space… God met me with this:
2 Corinthians 12:9
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

Not weakness like quitting.
Not weakness like falling apart with no return.

But the kind that says…
I don’t have to be hard all the time.
I don’t have to pretend I am unaffected.
I don’t have to wear armor so tight that grace can’t get in.

And, I have learned about armor,
the belt of truth holding me steady,
the breastplate guarding my heart,
the shield lifted when the hits keep coming,
the helmet covering my thoughts,
the shoes that keep me standing when I’d rather sit down,
and the sword I reach for when I need to speak life.

Each piece doing what it was designed to do…
and still, not covering everything all the time.

There are moments when something sacred shows through;
a tender place,
an honest place,
a place still being healed.

Because His strength was never designed to sit on top of my perfection.
It settles into the soft places.
The honest places.
The lace.

So yes… I am strong.
But not because I stopped feeling.
Not because I became unbreakable.

I am strong because I let God meet me in the places that still are.

There is lace under my armor…
and sometimes, my slip shows.

And that is exactly where His grace rests.

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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Flowers Don’t Apologize

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

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

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When You Finally Deal With the Root

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I’ve been out there in the yard, minding my business, working on my garden. And while I was planning what I could grow…
I kept looking over at this little tree behind the garage.

Now let me tell you this thing has been cut down more times than I can count.
And every time I thought we were done?
Here it come again.
Fresh. Bold. Unbothered. Like it pays a light bill back there.

And what really got me?

I realized I would have a whole lot more room
to grow something good…if that little joker would just go on and leave.**

But it won’t.
Because it’s not gone.
It’s rooted.

As frustrating as it is, I’m not losing. I’m just not dealing with the part that matters.
Because clearly…
cutting it ain’t killing it.

Some of us living like that. We trimming behavior. Fixing attitudes—for a week. Saying “this time I mean it” with our whole chest.

Meanwhile the root sitting underground like:
“I’ll be back.”

See, we like surface work. It’s quicker. It’s cleaner. It lets us feel productive without being uncomfortable.

But roots?
Roots require honesty.
Roots require time.
Roots require letting God get into places we’ve been managing real well on our own.

And God, in all His love, will look at something we keep trimming and say: We not doing this again. Not because He’s harsh. But because He’s not interested in your exhaustion becoming your lifestyle.


“See, I have set you this day over the nations and over the kingdoms, to pluck up and to break down, to destroy and to overthrow,
to build and to plant.” Jeremiah 1:10

Did you catch that order?
Pluck up first.
Then build.

Because God is not about to plant something new on top of something that keeps coming back.

Let me say it plain: Some of us don’t lack space for growth. We just haven’t removed what’s taking up room.

And I know… we get attached to our coping mechanisms. We get used to our patterns. We learn how to function with things that were never meant to stay.

But there comes a moment when you get tired enough to say: “Okay God…we not cutting this again. We removing it.”

Dear God, I see now that some things haven’t left because I haven’t let You deal with the root. Give me the courage to stop managing what You’re trying to remove. Clear out what’s taking up space in me so something better can grow. And help me trust that what You uproot is making room for something good.
Amen.

—

Love, Chelle
defygravitywithoutwings.com

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Step Off Now!

Posted in faith, God, health, inspiration, love, relationships, selfhelp, Uncategorized, women's history monthTagged , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

I walked out of the hospital holding back tears.

Not the kind that fall freely…
the kind that sit right behind your eyes
because your heart is full and heavy at the same time.

I had poured in. Tears. Prayers. Words of life. And I meant every bit of it.

Before I even made it off the elevator,
my mind had already started moving ahead of me…Who can I call?
What resources can I connect?
What can I put in place to help carry this?

By the time those automatic doors opened,
I had a plan forming. I was ready to do more.
Be more. Help more.

And right there,  as I stepped outside… I heard it in my spirit:

“Step off now.”

Not later.
Not after one more call.
Not after I “just check on one thing.”

Now.

And it didn’t match what I felt. Because everything in me wanted to stay involved.
To keep my hands in it. To make sure it would be okay.

But I’ve learned something… both in the garden and in life:

There are moments when the worst thing you can do is touch it.

When the soil is too wet even good hands make mud. You can have the best intentions.
The purest heart. The right tools. And still…do damage by stepping in too soon.


“In quietness and trust is your strength…” — Isaiah 30:15

Because sometimes strength doesn’t look like movement. Sometimes it looks like restraint.

In the garden, wet soil means wait.
Let it settle. Let the excess drain. Let the roots breathe again.

And here’s what took me time to learn…Not every plant needs constant tending.Some plants actually thrive when they are allowed to grow without being handled every day.

Too much touching…
too much adjusting…
too much checking… can stunt what was already trying to grow.

In life, in ministry… it’s the same.

I must trust God to show me which seeds I am assigned to plant… and which ones I am not meant to cultivate.

Because every seed I sow is not mine to steward long-term.

Some will be watered by others.
Some will be strengthened in places I will never see.
Some will grow best when I am no longer standing over them.

Doing nothing can feel like neglect. But sometimes it’s obedience.

That day, standing outside those hospital doors, I had to make a decision : Trust what I heard or trust what I felt.

And what I felt said: “Stay. Help. Fix it.”

But what I heard said:

“Step off.”

So I did.

Not because I didn’t care.

But because I trusted that God was already working in ways I could not see… and without making it muddier.

Truth:

Everything that’s messy is not mine to fix.

Some soil needs to settle before anything can grow. And some seeds need space to become
what God intended without my constant touch.


Dear Lord, teach me the difference
between when to step in and when to step back. When my heart wants to help,
but Your Spirit says wait…give me the strength to listen.

Help me trust that You are working even when my hands are still. Show me which seeds are mine to plant… and which ones I must release into Your care and the care of others.


Help me with trusting You with what I have  planted, even when I am not the one called to stay.

Love, Chelle
defygravitywithoutwings.com

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The Things I Didn’t Throw Away

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All my life, I’ve collected broken things.

Toys missing pieces.
Tools that didn’t quite work right anymore.
People… especially people.

Not because I didn’t notice what was wrong.
But because I could still see what was there.

I think my favorite rescue was a Christmas ornament—
a little elf on skis… missing one leg.

He couldn’t glide like he was made to.
Couldn’t balance like the others on the tree.
But I kept him anyway.

Hung him where he could still be seen.

Then there was that little robot suncatcher.
The one that doesn’t dance anymore
because his color panel is worn down.

He just… stands there now.
Still catching light, just differently.

And just this week, I stood in a nursery
while someone said, “Don’t buy those.
They’ll only last a week.”

Tulips on the clearance rack.
Already on their way out.
And I thought, a week of beauty is still beauty.


So I bought what I could afford.
Not to save them forever…
just to enjoy them while they’re here.

I’ve never been drawn to perfect things.
Perfect things don’t need you.

But worn things? They need a little time.
A little patience. A little belief that they’re not finished yet.

And somewhere along the way, I decided this:
Just because something doesn’t work the way it used to… doesn’t mean it has no use at all.

Sometimes it just needs a different kind of care.
A slower hand.
A softer place to land.
Someone willing to stay a little longer than is convenient.

Because even the smallest things,
a crooked ornament,
a quiet presence,
a short-lived bloom,
can still add something to the world.

I’ve always believed there is a kind of invisible ledger… a quiet tally being kept.
Not of perfection. Not of productivity.

But of smiles.

And if something—anything—can still add to the smile quota of the world… then it still has value.

I’ve seen what happens when you don’t give up too quickly. I’ve ve seen people who were overlooked become the very ones who light up a room.

I’ve seen what love can do when it doesn’t rush off at the first sign of difficulty.

So if you’re feeling worn today…
set aside…
like maybe people have decided you’re too much or not enough,

Hear me:

You are not something to be discarded.
You are still capable of adding something good to this world. Even if it looks different than it used to. Even if it’s quieter than before.

Even if it’s just one smile.

And that counts more than you think.

Matthew 5:7
“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.”

I see you — still adding to the world in quiet ways that matter more than you know.

Love, Chelle
defygravitywithoutwings.com

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From Braces to Gold – Wilma Rudolph

Posted in Black History Month, God, health, inspiration, selfhelp, women's history monthTagged , , , , Leave a comment


(June 23, 1940 – November 12, 1994)
Sometimes history runs faster than doubt.
Wilma Rudolph was born prematurely in Tennessee and spent much of her early childhood battling illnesses, including polio. Doctors warned that she might never walk normally again.
For years she wore a leg brace.
But Rudolph’s family refused to surrender to that prediction. With determination, therapy, and relentless support from her mother, Wilma eventually began walking without assistance.
Soon she began running. And she did not stop.
There is a verse in Philippians that says, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” For Wilma Rudolph, those words would come to life in the most extraordinary way.
By the time she reached the 1960 Olympic Games in Rome, Rudolph had become one of the fastest women in the world. There she made history, winning three gold medals in track and field, becoming the first American woman to achieve that feat in a single Olympic Games.
Her victories were not only athletic triumphs. They were symbols.
At a time when segregation still divided much of America, Rudolph returned home to Tennessee and insisted that her hometown parade honoring her victory be integrated. It became the first racially integrated public celebration in Clarksville’s history.
Wilma Rudolph ran past more than competitors. She ran past expectations. And in doing so, she reminded the world that sometimes faith, courage, and persistence can carry us farther than anyone ever imagined.
Sometimes the world writes a story about what you cannot do.
Wilma Rudolph once wore a leg brace and was told she might never walk normally again. Later, she became the fastest woman in the world.
The miracle is not always that the path is easy. Sometimes the miracle is that you keep moving forward anyway.


Steps From Our Sisters
Honoring the Women Who Marched Before Us
Curated by
Michelle Gillison-Robinson
DefyGravityWithoutWings.com

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The Doctor Who Chose to Heal the Forgotten – Rebecca Lee Crumpler

Posted in God, health, inspiration, love, relationships, selfhelp, women's history monthTagged , , , , , , Leave a comment


(February 8, 1831 – March 9, 1895)

Sometimes healing begins where others refuse to go.

Rebecca Lee Crumpler grew up in a time when medicine was almost entirely closed to women, and especially to African Americans. Yet she believed deeply in the power of caring for the sick and protecting the vulnerable.

In 1864 she became the first Black woman in the United States to earn a medical degree.

After the Civil War ended, Crumpler moved to Virginia, where she treated newly freed men, women, and children who had little access to medical care. The conditions were difficult, resources were scarce, and prejudice remained strong.

But she continued her work.

Crumpler believed that knowledge should serve compassion. She later wrote A Book of Medical Discourses, one of the first medical texts written by an African American physician.

There is a verse in Jeremiah that says, “Heal me, Lord, and I will be healed.”

Rebecca Lee Crumpler answered that prayer not only with faith but with skill, dedication, and love for those who had long been ignored.

Sometimes the most powerful medicine
is the courage to care.

Bread Crumbs

Service does not always appear glamorous.

Rebecca Lee Crumpler chose to practice medicine where the need was greatest and recognition was smallest.

She reminds us that compassion often requires perseverance.

Sometimes the calling God places on your life
is simply to heal what others have overlooked.

Steps From Our Sisters
Honoring the Women Who Marched Before Us

Curated by
Michelle Gillison-Robinson
DefyGravityWithoutWings.com