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A Clown Called Worthy

Posted in cancer, faith, God, health, inspiration, love, relationships, selfhelp, UncategorizedTagged , , , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

2500 people.

A hot, humid Virginia night.

And me—standing on the Dogwood Dell stage, smelling like I bathed in a designer fragrance called “Eau de OFF!”

Listen… I wasn’t just wearing bug spray.

I was marinated in it.

If any mosquito came for me, they would’ve turned around and filed a complaint.

Five minutes.

That’s all the time they gave me to stand there with all my 55 years, all my stories, all my scars, all my holy sass… and share an original piece only about three people were truly going to “get.”

And honestly? I prayed most folks wouldn’t understand it too well — because it was raw, personal, and inspired by that sad little clown inside me who finally decided she deserved some joy, too.

People laughed.

People cried.

People tilted their heads like confused puppies trying to interpret my metaphors.

And yes… one person came strictly to see me fail.(Satan always sends somebody. It’s in his job description.)

And then it happened…

Not my feet—

but my tongue betrayed me.

See, when I get nervous, my words tango.

Between my stutter, my little childhood speech lisp, and this post cancer chemo brain that sometimes takes a coffee break without warning, a few words just packed their bags and left me mid-sentence.

But here’s the funny part:

Most in the audience thought that pause was intentional.

They thought I was giving them deep drama, spoken-word artistry, pregnant silence, poetic tension—

Nope.

Sis just forgot her line.

But God used it anyway.

Because that “mistake” was actually the unveiling of something old—

the little girl who tried her whole life to fit into rooms she was never built for.

The child who once thought her voice was “less than.”

The woman who learned the hard way that the things we try to hide are the things God loves to spotlight.

And on that stage, with my tongue tripping but my spirit standing tall, something broke—and something healed.

I spoke about differences…

disabilities…

heartbreak…

grief…

love lost and breath stolen…

but also about reclaiming my right to be seen, to be heard, to be honored, to be treated with softness, and to outgrow every lie my past tried to tattoo onto my identity.

The applause was loud, beautiful…

but the loudest thing was inside me—

my heartbeat finally syncing with God’s truth:

I am worthy.

Not because I performed.

Not because I impressed anybody.

But because God never once asked me to be flawless—

He only asked me to be faithful.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.”

— 2 Corinthians 12:9

My weakness didn’t disqualify me.

It qualified me for grace.

It made the moment real.

It made it mine.

Sometimes God lets you trip over your tongue so you stop tripping over your past.

Sometimes He lets your words fall so your truth can rise.

Sometimes your “mistake” is just Heaven’s way of proving that you don’t need perfection to be powerful…

you just need courage.

And if a five-minute performance in “OFF!” perfume taught me anything, it’s this:

If God says you’re worthy, no stumble, no lisp, no past, no hater, and no missing word can argue Him down.

Love, Chelle

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Red Light, Green Light

Posted in faith, God, health, inspiration, love, relationships, selfhelp, UncategorizedTagged , , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

Lately, I’ve been stretched thin — the kind of thin where coffee starts looking like an emotional support beverage, and my bed feels like a distant memory. With relatives going in and out of hospitals, caretaking shifts, family worry, and decision fatigue (add a side of job and regular life), I’ve been functioning on autopilot. And not the smooth, first-class autopilot. More like the “Lord, please fly this plane because I’m tired” version.
Then, yesterday, on the way to yet another appointment, I found myself sitting at a stoplight. I thought it was red, so I just sat there… waiting, replaying the last few weeks in my head. My shoulders were tight, my eyelids heavy, and my spirit stretched. Then suddenly — BEEP! An irritated horn behind me snapped me back to reality.

And that’s when I realized:
I wasn’t sitting at a red light at all.
It wasn’t even green.
It was yellow — a caution light telling me, “Proceed when safe.”

🌟 Misreading the Signals
That moment hit me deeper than I expected. Because stress will have you out here misreading life’s signals.
When you’re tired enough, everything looks like a stop.
A closed door feels like punishment.
A pause feels like abandonment.
A delay feels like failure.
A quiet season feels like rejection.
A yellow light looks red.
But exhaustion is a lens that lies to us.
Sometimes, God isn’t saying “STOP.”
He’s saying, “Chelle, slow down, breathe, look around… and move forward with Me.”

God Uses Yellow Seasons Too
We love the green-light seasons — when everything flows, doors open, blessings drop, and strength is high.
And we understand the red-light seasons — when God lovingly tells us to wait, rest, or retract.
But that yellow light?
That in-between, not-quite-here, not-quite-there space?
We treat it like an inconvenience.
God treats it as instruction.
A yellow season says:
“Be cautious, but don’t freeze.”
“Use wisdom, but don’t quit.”
“Move forward, but stay alert.”
“Pay attention, but don’t be afraid.”
A yellow light is still movement — just intentional movement.

The dig into  this moment wrapped itself around one of my Uncle/Pastor Ron’s favorite scriptures:
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways acknowledge Him,
and He shall direct your paths.”
— Proverbs 3:5–6

My scripturally adjacent version:
When we’re exhausted, our understanding gets cloudy.
When we’re overwhelmed, our perspective gets foggy.
But when we trust God, He clears the road even when our vision is blurry.

Honk Honk,  if you feel like you’ve been waiting at a red light for too long…
Ask yourself gently:
“Is this really a red light…
or am I just too weary to see that God is saying, ‘Proceed — just proceed wisely’?”
Look again.
Take a breath.
Lift your head.
Reset your spirit.
Ask for fresh strength.
Sometimes, the miracle is not the light changing…
it’s your clarity returning.

So before I pick up my keys again and cause some other signal light saints to lose their religion, pray with me:

Lord
I am tired. My mind is overloaded, and sometimes I misread what You’re trying to show me.
Help me see clearly today.
Help me not confuse exhaustion with direction or fear with caution.
Give me discernment to know when to rest, when to wait, and when to move forward.
Thank You for being patient with me when I stall at yellow lights.
Guide my steps. Strengthen my spirit.
And help me proceed wisely, safely, and confidently with You.
Amen.

With Love Chelle

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Bloom Baby Bloom A Christmas Cactus Sermon I Didn’t Ask For

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


So listen… this morning I’m minding my business, sipping my coffee, scrolling Facebook, and everyone and their Grandma is posting pictures of these big, full, show-off Christmas cactuses blooming like they’re auditioning for The Voice.


And then there’s mine.
Sitting in my living room.
Looking like it’s thinking about blooming, but hasn’t quite made a decision.
One tiny blush of color like, “Don’t rush me, sis. I’m processing.”


I’m looking at this plant like, “Ma’am… it is almost Christmas. I need you to get it together. Shine for the people.”


So I start Googling tips. Because I refuse to be the only one with a cactus that looks like it has low iron. And baby… what I found? A whole WORD. A sermon. A Bible study. A TED Talk.


Apparently, if you want a Christmas cactus to bloom, you have to do something called “darkening to bloom.”


Yes. You literally put that plant in the dark 12–16 hours a day like it’s grounded.
Then! You’re supposed to pluck off the long, lazy leaves (but don’t you dare use scissors).
Keep it a little colder.
Restrict its comfort.
Limit its light.
Disrupt its cozy routine.
And after all that?
…It blooms.
It blooms brighter because of the dark.
Not the light.
Not the pampering.
Not the perfect conditions.
THE DARK.


And I said, “Well God… if You wanted to speak to me directly, you didn’t have to drag my plant into this.”
Because sometimes life puts us into a “darkening to bloom” season.
Not because we’re failing.
Not because we did anything wrong.
Not because God forgot us.
But because the bloom requires it.


Sometimes He limits our distractions.
Sometimes He cuts off excess.
Sometimes He cools the room so we stop running and finally rest.
Sometimes He hides us away long enough to develop something deep, strong, and beautiful.


And just like that cactus, you won’t even notice the change happening…until a day, somebody walks past you and says: “Oh wow… look at you shining.”
And you’ll realize the dark didn’t break you —
It prepared you.
It strengthened you.
It sharpened you.
It positioned you.
It pushed your bloom right to the edge of the breakthrough.
So if you’re in a season that feels cold, quiet, hidden, or clipped…
Baby, don’t panic.
You’re not dying.
You’re developing.
And when the time comes?
Listen…
You’re gonna bloom so hard folks will swear you’re a Christmas cactus on the front page of Facebook.
Amen and amen.

With Love Chelle

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Tears In My Back Pocket

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Yesterday, I laughed with her  and talked with her the way sisters do. No need to focus on anything.  She seemed stronger than the day before but kept reaching for the ceiling.  I wanted to believe she was just stretching, but the nurse and  I both heard her say “angels” . She smiled a lot, so I asked questions.  According to her nods and nos, they are dressed in white, grown and not babies,  male and are ethnically diverse (except she said no to chinese for some reason.)  We sang a little, we prayed, we did our usual affirmations of God’s power and ours.   She was a little mad because the nurse wouldn’t let me give her the lemon cake she asked for.
  I walked away last night not wanting to leave her, but she pointed me out.  Since I got no calls last night, I fully expect her to be stronger today and be the comeback kid she always is.  Putting together a play list of her favs before I head back up. I’m just  hoping rocking out will bring her joy.
Pushing aside my own feelings, but still hoping for a miracle. It’s God’s will and hers. My job is to just be her sister and put my tears in my back pocket.

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Day 1. My Day

Posted in cancer, chemotherapy, faith, God, health, inspiration, love, relationships, selfhelp, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Day 1

My day was also my day most terrified, but yet day most determined.

2500 people on a hot summer night watching me pour out my soul on the stage of the Dogwood Dell.  An outdoor venue. Hot and perfuming ironically with a bug spray aptly entitled “Off.”

5 minutes was all the stage time I got .  5 minutes of feeling all my 55 years and display and figuratively,  naked.. An original piece that I prayed most will never understand.  The musings of a sad little clown reclaiming her share of joy

.  I made some laugh and made some cry. Some applauded. Some politely attentive wondering what the imagery in my word salad was all about. One in particular showed up to mock me and hope that I would fail. In a moment of fear, I tripped,  but I did not fall in my moment of truth and freedom.

But I prevailed alone on that mic in a hot bubble of a spotlight. Speaking in veiled  colors about differences, disabilities,  challenges, hurt, loves lost, death but also reclaiming my right to be seen, heard, treated kindly, honored and never again to be defeated by my past.

A deafening round of applause at the final bow was nothing compared to the rhythm of a heart beat corrected to believe….. no, corrected to know that  I am worthy

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I know there are bigger things to worry about in this world,  but every year since my grandma died, I have been her version of the Christmas Mother. With all that has been going on and recuperating, I had to scale way back this year. I feel like a lost puppy without being in the thick of it.What was irritating me most is having an assembled tree without a single ornament on it.  I had decided that this year, the theme would be prayer, but I never got the ornaments made I intended.  So I am looking at this unadorned evergreen and hearing the message loud and clear……..perpetual unpretentious prayer from the heart is the best Christmas gift.So as I order up some store bought ornaments to go with the one handmade one I’m attempting to finish by then, I will pray for family and friends with the lifting of each one. Send me your prayer requests so that I can put yours in place.

Posted in cancer, cancer, chemotherapy, christmas, God, health, inspiration, love, money, relationships, selfhelp, UncategorizedLeave a comment
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Entertained By Angels

Posted in cancer, cancer, chemotherapy, christmas, God, health, inspiration, love, money, relationships, selfhelp, UncategorizedTagged , , , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

My God, My God.

After my very good doctor’s appt today, my husband & I went to a restaurant a bit out of our way, but I insisted because I wanted to see my fav waitress, Theresa Ann Hatch . Long story short, a couple from Columbus, Ohio were also drawn to detour and find Satterwhites. After they left, Theresa tells us that the gentleman said God told him to pay for our meal. When I ran out to find them in the parking lot he says she wasn’t supposed to tell me but since I was there……..he read all the mail in my heart from all the letters I have ever written to God. Had me crying in the parking lot. Talked my hearts desires and my need for rest and that God doesn’t expect a minster like me to try to rescue the whole world but do my part. He also said I need to get in my head how much God loves me and not just in a generic sense.

He never gave me a chance to say a word, so everything he said was 100% from God. They held on to me, and it brought a peace that I can not describe. Oddly my eyes were still dilated from my retina appt so I couldn’t get a grasp of what they looked like, just that they had a glow about them that wasn’t hurting my eyes like the sun does when your eyes are dilated. I don’t know if God will allow me to see them again in this life as they were just passing through, but My God, My God, I believe I entertained angels.

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Sorry I Lied

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I had a discussion recently with someone about mental health in the church. We need to be okay not to be okay every single day and support each other. Pray. Get Counseling. Then, pray some more. Below is what  poured from my heart:

Forgive Me. I lied to you.  

I lied to you a lot.

A clever, cute, quip..  “blessed and highly flavored.”

Yes. I am blessed. 

But the flavor of the month  is salty.

Salty attitude

Salty sarcasm 

Both to cover  up the flavor of decade.

Salty tears. 

See I am a child of the Most High God. 

Above and Not beneath

Head and Not the tail.

World  Class Devil Stomping Overcomer

Remember??

You ain’t supposed  to know that my weeping endured for more than just a night. 

Tell me, is it joy in the morning?

Or joy in the mourning?

Or joy for the mourning while I am mourning in the morning.?

Am I a sinner because my mourning dont  feel blessed?

Or right now  cause  I ain’t comforted ?

Or  I don’t wanna be a peacemaker this time?

Am I a sinner because I am still trying to forgive but can’t ever forget ?

Hands in places they should not be

Eyes on things  they should not see

Tattooing my flesh & heart worthless but powerful words that should not be.

That won’t let me be

My poor in spirit just feels broke. 

 Even with all I have……worked for and given,

Isn’t it strange that I miss the home without the indoor  plumbing where we were all together….living.

I was only meek because I was taught to be.  Choked first by the annotate to never let them see me sweat.

Another time by a well armed versed.

 And then again by my own brown skin.

I tried … even crowned my way thru it. 

But chemo was persecution 

Radiation  was an insult  

Diagnosis was an assault  on my character .

I try to  rejoice and be glad…..or at least appear  that way.   

Honestly  I do know that there is greater in the Kingdom.

My pure in heart is seeing God .

Just can’t understand why so many took the trip 

In one year

One season  

One month.

In one day.

I still hungry Lord.  I am still  thirsty. 

(Pandemics. Politics.)

Here’s  my cup Lord .

(Evictions. Convictions. )

It’s  all full up Lord.

(Riots and Racism)

Feed me 

(Say Their Names)

Cause I want no more of  this Lord 

Full and starving

Empty and overflowing 

Sister-super-sanctified 

Dying and want nobody knowing

Hush children. Hush children

Don’t let nobody be calling my name.

Is there  a balm in Gilead?

Do I rub it on? Do I smoke it?

Does it come in sugar free gummy form?

Me who never wanted to be touched,

Now misses the laying on of hands

Holy Hands

Grease my forehead and make it stop hands.

Speak a word to me.

Just don’t  kill me softly. 

I’m healed!

Just still hurting.

Walking by faith and not by sight.

You run into stuff.

You stub a toe waiting for light

Soothe my silent screaming

With your truth!

You been testi-lying too?

Right?