Tag: Breast cancer

Image

Ministry In The Margins

Posted in cancer, christmas, faith, God, health, inspiration, love, money, relationships, selfhelpTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

When the year ends and life still feels unfinished

The end of a year has a funny way of demanding closure.
Wrap it up.
Sum it up.
Name the wins. Count the lessons. Post the highlight reel.


But some years don’t cooperate.
Some years limp to the finish line.
They end not with fireworks but with unanswered prayers, half-healed hearts, and a to-do list that spills right into January.


And that’s where I’ve learned something holy happens.


Ministry doesn’t wait for January 1st.
It lives in the margins between what was and what’s coming next.
That thin space between “I made it” and “I’m still standing.”
Between gratitude and grief.
Between hope and exhaustion.


I used to think ministry happened in neat rows — in quiet moments, with plenty of stillness and the right words.
But life didn’t wire me that way.


I’ve spent years feeling slightly unqualified — too busy to sit still, too restless to fit the mold.
Cancer didn’t simplify that. It complicated it.
Chemo brain stole words I used to reach for easily.
A speech impediment I thought I’d conquered as a child quietly returned — humbling me in ways I didn’t expect.
And the truth is, I’ve never quite fit into the version of “qualified” society seems most comfortable with.
Clear. Calm. Composed.
Tidy faith. Tidy testimony.
That hasn’t been my story.


And yet… God still showed up.
Not correcting my pace.
Not asking me to sound different.
Not waiting for me to feel confident or complete.


Jesus has always been comfortable in the margins.
He’s the Savior with mud on His hands, not a microphone.
The One who kneels in the dirt.
The One who notices the people others step around — and calls them.


The margins are where we stop pretending the year went as planned.
Where faith sounds less like a declaration and more like a whisper.
Where our prayers become, “Lord, carry me forward.”
And maybe that’s the truest kind of ministry there is.


As this year closes, I’m not interested in pretending it was tidy.
I’m grateful — deeply — but I’m also honest.
Some healing is still in progress.
Some clarity hasn’t returned on command.
Some strength showed up only one imperfect day at a time.
And yet… grace was there.
In the margins.


If you’re crossing into a new year feeling unfinished —
If your faith feels real but worn around the edges —
If you don’t feel polished, poised, or particularly qualified…
You’re not behind.
You’re standing exactly where God loves to work.
Right there.
Between the years.
In the margins.
I’m not entering the new year polished — I’m entering it carried.

Safe in His arms to Be Carried Into A New Year

Love, Chelle

Image

Store-Bought Crust, Real Filling

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

What Christmas chaos taught me about sincerity

It’s Christmas.
Which means the house isn’t quiet, the schedule isn’t kind, and nothing is quite as together as the Hallmark movies promised.

There are lists half-checked, boxes half-opened, and flour somehow in places flour should never be.

I used a box mix for the cookies.
No-bake “snow pies” pretending real hard to be cheesecake.
And the pie?
Well… the crust came from the store,
but the filling?
That part is 100% real.

Also—full disclosure—
there is a pile of tasting spoons in the sink.
Because no shortcut baker is licking a spoon and putting it back.
We are tired, not reckless.

Somewhere between the chaos, the Christmas music playing too loud, and me stepping over things I swear weren’t there five minutes ago, it hit me.

We spend a lot of time apologizing for our shortcuts.

“I didn’t make it from scratch.”
“I didn’t do as much as I wanted.”
“I don’t have it all together this year.”

But what if God isn’t inspecting the packaging—
what if He’s tasting the heart?

The crust might be store-bought, but the love is homemade.
The method might be quick, but the intention is honest.
The presentation might be simple, but the offering is real.

Jesus never demanded everything be handcrafted—
He asked that it be sincere.

He fed crowds with borrowed bread.
He healed with mud and spit.
He entered the world not in perfection, but in a mess of hay, noise, and interrupted plans.

Not fancy.
Not polished.
Just real.

So if your Christmas looks like box mix faith and no-bake prayers,
don’t disqualify it.

If your life feels like shortcuts and substitutions,
but the filling is still genuine—
grace counts that.

Scripture reminds us—right in the middle of our mess:

“The Lord does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”
— 1 Samuel 16:7

God isn’t grading your technique.
He’s receiving your offering.

And tonight, around a table of “good enough” desserts, Christmas clutter, and way too many spoons to wash,
there is more holiness than we realize.

Because what’s real on the inside
has always mattered more than how it was wrapped.

P.S.  If you come wash these spoons, I’ll save you a little something

Love Chelle

Image

The Mad Not Wrapper

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

1 Samuel 16:7 — People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.


I am known in my family as “The Mad Not Wrapper.”

Not because I’m angry.
Not because I don’t care.
But because I refuse—*REFUSE*—to wrestle with wrapping paper, tape that sticks to itself, and bows that look like they were sat on.

Instead, I use Christmas-printed trash bags and gift bags.
Festive. Functional. Honest.

If you’re lucky, you might get tissue paper.
If you’re really lucky, the bag won’t have a knot.

And yet… somehow… every year…
There are tears.
There is laughter.
There is joy.

Which tells me something important:
The magic was never in the wrapping.

Jesus never wrapped the loaves and fishes.
No parchment.
No ribbon.
No “presentation matters” speech.

There were no matching baskets or branded packaging.
Just a boy’s lunch.
Bread. Fish.
Ordinary. Bare. Exposed.

And here’s the part we often rush past:

Jesus saw the need.
He received what was offered.
And He gave thanks before anything multiplied.

That gratitude—before the miracle—was the wrapping.

He didn’t disguise the lack.
He didn’t pretend it was enough on its own.
He simply acknowledged it fully and thanked God anyway.

And thanksgiving?
That’s where miracles breed.

We live in a world obsessed with wrapping.

We wrap our lives in filters.
Our faith in pretty words.
Our pain in silence.
Our generosity in explanations.

We size people up by their packaging:
how they speak
how they dress
how polished their testimony sounds

We even do it to ourselves.

“I’d offer more if I had it together.”
“I’d serve if my life wasn’t such a mess.”
“I’d show up if I looked the part.”

But Jesus never asked for polished packaging.
He asked for **what you have**.

Unwrapped.
Unfiltered.
Still smelling like fish.

Some of the most powerful gifts I’ve ever received weren’t wrapped at all:
* a hand held in a hospital room
* a meal dropped off in a grocery bag
* a prayer whispered when words ran out

None of them were pretty.
All of them were holy.

And I wonder how many miracles we miss because we’re too busy critiquing the container instead of receiving the gift.

Here’s the truth the Mad Not Wrapper has learned:

Love doesn’t need lace.
Faith doesn’t need bows.
Purpose doesn’t need perfection.

What God multiplies is what’s inside —
when it’s offered honestly
and thanked for fully.

So this season, maybe we stop evaluating:
our worth
others’ value
our readiness
based on the wrapping.

Maybe we learn to see the gift.

Because Jesus still takes ordinary things, gives thanks, and feeds multitudes.
No wrapping required.

And if He can do that with bread and fish…

He can surely do something beautiful
with you.

Merry Christmas. May your lack of wrapping bring you joy.

Love Chelle

Image

Dear God- Keep  Digging

Posted in cancer, christmas, faith, God, inspiration, love, money, relationships, UncategorizedTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

Luke 13:6–9 (NIV)
Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it but did not find any.
So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, ‘For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?’
“‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it.
If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’”
Reflection
Some days, I feel exactly like that fig tree—standing in the middle of life, trying my best, but still wondering if I’m producing anything at all. Not the perfect, fruitful tree everyone expects… just the one hoping nobody notices how bare the branches feel.

And honestly? There are moments I feel inadequate in almost every role I hold:
– As a wife, loving deeply but sometimes running on fumes
– As a mother, praying between grown-child crises, hoping I’m guiding well
– As an employee, juggling tasks with a superhero cape that keeps slipping
– As a minister, pouring out even when my cup feels half-empty
– As a singer, trying to bless God while my voice sometimes protests
– As a writer, full of stories but occasionally stuck between heart and keyboard

And in the middle of all that, I slip into development mode: fix myself, improve myself, upgrade myself—as if I’m a project on a deadline.

But Jesus tells a different story.

In the parable, the owner looks at the tree and says, “Cut it down.” But the Gardener—who knows how roots really work—steps between judgment and mercy and says:
“Give her time. Give her grace. Let Me work with her.”

He doesn’t ask the tree to try harder. He doesn’t shame it. Instead He says:
“Let Me dig around her.”
“Let Me nourish her.”
“Let Me tend to the parts nobody sees.”

While I’m busy trying to perfect myself, Jesus reminds me:
“Growth is My job. Staying connected is yours.”

He is not rushing me. He is not disappointed in me. He is not walking away from me.

He is kneeling in the soil of my life saying:
“Give her another year. I know what she needs. Let Me grow her in My timing.”

And that truth sets my soul at rest.
Prayer
Dear Lord,
Thank You for being the Gardener who refuses to give up on me. Forgive me for the times I rush myself, judge myself, or declare myself fruitless. Teach me to rest in You, to stay rooted in You, and to trust Your timing over my own. Dig around me, nourish me, and grow me in the way only You can. And when I feel inadequate, remind me that Your grace is still at work beneath the surface.

With love,
Chelle

Image

Trying New Things (Even When They Wiggle”

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


Funny how fears can rule you!
All my life I have refused to eat any food that moves, jiggles, or looks like it might still be breathing. Jell-O? Absolutely not. Pudding? Hard pass. Runny eggs? Never. I don’t know why, but something about the texture has always made my stomach flip like an Olympic gymnast with no spotter.


This morning, I found myself in a situation at work  where I either had to eat… or be rude and not eat at all. And tempted as I was to decline, I figured I’d at least try the little thing they called a *Croque*—thick toast, fancy cheeses, tomato jam, and right on top… a sunny side–up egg. You already know what part scared me.


To make matters worse, I had just talked in Bible study the night before  about embracing all that life has to offer and not letting fear write the rules. After fighting cancer , everything else *should* seem easy, right? Right…
Well I’ll be dern. 
It was delicious. Movement and all. I wanted another. 


What I learned from this  was as fattening as the menu;
*Psalm 34:4
“I sought the Lord, and He answered me; He delivered me from all my fears.” 
→ Fear looks small until you’re the one staring down a wiggly egg.
Isaiah 41:10
“Fear not, for I am with you…” 
→ Even at the breakfast table.
2 Timothy 1:7
“For God has not given us a spirit of fear…” 
→ Fear is borrowed—not owned. It’s time to return it
John 10:10
“…I have come that they may have life and have it more abundantly.” 
→ Abundant life sometimes starts with a bite.


Sometimes, it isn’t the “big things” that grow us—sometimes it’s the tiny choices that stretch us beyond our comfort zones. Fear sneaks into the smallest corners: decisions, relationships, opportunities, and yes… even breakfast.
But growth isn’t always loud. 
Sometimes it’s as simple as saying, 
“Lord, help me try something new today.”
And when we do, God gently proves—again and again—that He meets us in the smallest acts of courage.

Sometimes, the thing we feared ends up blessing us. Sometimes, it just ends up being a funny story. Either way, we survive… and grow.
Here’s to trying new things. 
Here’s to facing old fears. 
And here’s to trusting God with both the big leaps and the wiggly eggs.
P.s.  I need more deliverance and prayer time for Jello. LOL
With Love,  Chelle

Image

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

Image

Day Two: See-Saw For One

Posted in cancer, chemotherapy, faith, God, health, inspiration, love, relationshipsTagged , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Ironically,  the thing I love most about myself is also the thing I love the least…… That I am a tower of Ironies.

I will give unselfishly to some to the point of costing myself.  Then selfishly to some others hoping they would return a kindness just so I can feel loved. 

I am quick to pray for, hug and comfort a complete stranger in need of “just somebody.”  But will proceed with caution with anyone who is supposed to love me….wondering what it is they really want…from me.

I can wrestle with an angel and sometimes a devil on your behalf and full rejoice in your freedom. While secretly dying inside, wondering when it will be my turn,  If it will be my turn. 

It is a super power that I can operate this see-saw alone. It’s my kyptonite that sometimes I wish someone would deem me worthy to ride with me but let me have the good end. 

But even in the midst of what may seem very bipolar, I have come to learn that loving when I feel unloved, makes me all the more worthy. Not externally though. Loving me from within takes work and courage….. but I am so with it and worthy.

I ACCEPT ALL THAT I AM. I AM WORTH LOVING MYSELF TODAY

Image

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.

Image

Smiles And Tears Cake

Posted in cancer, cancer, chemotherapy, christmas, God, health, inspiration, love, money, relationships, selfhelpTagged , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

When a situation births the twins of joy and pain, it makes me feel schizophrenic.


My go-to response is to clean the kitchen and bake something new. Mess up what I just fixed with goodies I will never eat. Provide delight to others while I’m screaming inside. Ministering sweets to others when I need a taste for myself.

My current loss is another’s gain. I feel quite selfish in wanting to hold on to someone who I am happy is finally free.

I know. I know. It is not the end of all things. We will meet again, at some junction, some highway, under some rainbow.


She liked to say I put my “foot in that!”.
Naw gurl! It’s smiles and tears.

Smiles and Tears
Image

Reset

Posted in cancer, chemotherapy, christmas, God, health, inspiration, love, relationshipsTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

Today, I reset but will not rewind.

I will no longer take cuts with knives I sacrificed for and be hit with stones that I have the deed to. I must say so long to my “Job’s” friends (from the Bible, not work) who need to eclipse me in order to find shine. I will no longer fill voids and patch wounds while being left on battlefields alone. I can no longer be held hostage for my portion or my inheritance

I have never claimed to be perfect or to have all the answers. Life never gave me an easy button or a GPS. I never had the finer things but would give you the shirt off my back. Never had gold in my pocket but every penny you had access to. I did my best with the hand I was dealt. That’s all God requires of m, and in my matured year, I am learning that is a very good thing.

Lord, forgive me for hearing their voices over Yours. I return to the peace you purchased and the love you freely give. I am bruised but not broken. Cast down but not destroyed. Though I sometimes stumble, I will dance with the limp I got and to the song I write.