Tag: Election

Image

Unshakable

Posted in God, health, law, love, war, workTagged , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

My son-in-love, Kamau, posted that he was booking a flight to Africa. There was a storm coming, he said, and somebody needed to build shelters for the giraffes.

He displayed a picture like it was urgent.
Dark sky. Lightning splitting it wide open.
Giraffes standing tall in the open plain.

He might have been joking (hard to tell with him.) Because that is Kamau.  Compassion wrapped in comedy. Protection tucked inside a punchline. A heart that sees danger and immediately asks, Who needs covering?
I love that about him. ( Don’t tell him I said that.)

But when I looked closer at the picture,
those giraffes were not panicking. They were not lowering themselves to the ground.
They were not scattering. They were standing.

Unshakable. Unmovable.
Storm pressing in. Mortal danger possible.
And yet their necks were lifted.
Their legs planted.
Their bodies steady in the wind.

It made me think of Psalm 91:
“He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. Under His feathers you will find refuge.”

Those giraffes looked uncovered. But they were not unprotected. They looked exposed.
But they were not outside of shadow. Psalm 91 does not promise the absence of storms. It promises covering in the middle of them.

And then Psalm 46:10 settles it:
“Be still, and know that I am God.”


Not be frantic. Not be consumed. Not be undone. Be still. Still like you trust the One who commands the sky. Still like you believe the storm does not get the final word. Still like your roots run deeper than what threatens you.

We are living in days where thunder travels across oceans. International conflict crackles like lightning. Voices rise. Fear spreads.

But maybe faith looks like a giraffe in a storm.
Not dramatic. Not reckless. Just anchored.
Unshakable. Unmovable.

And I smiled again. Because my son-in-love thought he was just telling a joke. Instead… he helped me write a sermon about faith standing firm in adversity.

He is going to be so embarrassed when he reads this. Make sure you tease him for me.

Love, Chelle
DefyGravityWithoutWings.com

Image

Charles Hamilton Houston: He Built the Road

Posted in Black History Month, faith, God, inspiration, selfhelp, UncategorizedTagged , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Charles Hamilton Houston believed something radical for his time:

That the law — when disciplined, prepared, and forced to tell the truth — could be used to dismantle injustice.

He was not a march leader.
He was not a headline.
He was a builder.

Born in 1895, Houston became a lawyer and educator who saw segregation not just as wrong, but as structural. He believed it had to be taken apart piece by piece, case by case, classroom by classroom.

So he did the slow work.

As a professor at Howard University School of Law, Houston trained a generation of Black lawyers to be precise, relentless, and morally clear. Among them was a young man named Thurgood Marshall.

Houston taught his students that excellence was not optional — because lives depended on it.

“A lawyer is either a social engineer or a parasite on society.”

Houston chose to be a social engineer.

Long before Brown v. Board of Education reached the Supreme Court, Charles Hamilton Houston was already laying the groundwork.

He challenged unequal pay for Black teachers.
He dismantled segregation in graduate and professional schools.
He forced courts to confront the lie of “separate but equal.”

Case by case, brick by brick, he weakened the foundation of legalized segregation.

Others would stand in front of the nation when the walls finally fell.

Houston would not.

His health deteriorated under the strain of the work.
He died young.
And when history celebrated the victory, his name was often missing from the story.

He was victorious without reward.

Charles Hamilton Houston reminds us that some people are called to prepare the way, not walk through the door themselves.

“Prepare the way of the Lord; make straight paths for Him.” — Isaiah 40:3

Houston prepared paths others would walk — paths that led to justice, dignity, and opportunity for generations he would never meet.

If you have ever done work that made someone else visible,
labored behind the scenes while others stood at the microphone,
poured yourself into something you knew you might not live to see finished,
or believed faithfulness mattered more than credit,

Charles Hamilton Houston stands with you.

He built the road.
Others crossed it.

And God saw every stone he laid.

We see you, Charles.
We honor the work you did quietly.

Bread Crumbs — for those coming after us.
Victorious without reward. Still here.

Love, Chelle

Image

Let Peace Come (Even When the World Says “What’s the Point

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

As I write this, Tibetan monks are walking the East Coast on a pilgrimage for peace. Step by step. Mile by mile. No microphones. No arguments. Just feet on pavement and the quiet conviction that peace is still worth walking toward.
When I shared a simple prayer online — yes, let peace come — another believer replied,
“What’s the point? The Bible says the bad things must happen.”
It stopped me for a moment.
Yes, Scripture tells us the world will groan. It speaks honestly about deception, division, and heartbreak. The Bible doesn’t deny the mess we’re living in.
But it also never tells us to stop praying.
It never tells us to stop loving.
And it never tells us to stop showing up.
Through the prophet Isaiah, God gives us a picture that still steadies me:
“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace.” (Isaiah 52:7)
Isaiah praises feet — not arguments, not timelines, not predictions.
Peace, in Scripture, is not passive.
It walks.
Somewhere along the way, religion replaced relationship and politics fractured fellowship. Both young and old are left confused — unsure what to believe or whether prayer still matters.
Here’s what I still believe:
Hope is not denial.
Hope is obedience.
Jesus never told us to love only when it fixes everything. He told us to love because that is who we are — even while we wait, even while the world aches.
So when someone asks, “What’s the point?”
This is my quiet answer:
Love still matters.
Prayer still matters.
Peace is never pointless.
Waiting for Jesus does not mean standing still.
It means walking faithfully — even now.
And if monks can walk for peace knowing the world is broken,
surely we can still pray for it.
Yes, Lord.
Let peace come.


Love, Chelle

Image

Before Dawn Breaks

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


Dear Martin,

Thank you for the courage it took
to love loudly
in a world fluent in hate.

Believing the long work could move
even when your hands were tired
from holding up the gate.

Our marching turned to sleepwalking.
Scars.
Stains.
Graves faded into parades.

Why teach us to love our crayoned brothers
when our sisters are heard passing
on streets made of rumor and rage.

We mastered resistance
only to trade it in
for the soft, comfy
quiet chairs of apathy.

Economic empowerments
became the next big sale,
freedom measured in discounts—
forgetting life ain’t free.

I wonder if you are proud us
I wonder if pride and grief
can do a sit-in
at the same table.

Laws need courage.
Platforms for voices.
Access breeds action.
Dream me not a fable.

I hope you see both things—
two things true at once
what we protected
and what we neglected.

The laws we guarded fiercely.
The people we forgot quietly.
What we defended,
then defected.

Still—
there are mornings when children march
without knowing your name
but carrying your dream
in their bones.

There are hands that reach back.
Feet that refuse silence.
Hearts that choose love—
to  let live  and to be left alone.

So if you are watching,
there are still some of us trying,
avoiding rose-colored glasses
and wide-angled scopes.

I hope you notice
some of us straining
to answer  the silence you were buried in
with shaking hands,
quiet prayers,
and stubborn hope.

Sincerely
a daughter of the dream
still learning how to keep it alive,
while  having it deemed woke.

Penned January 2026 – Michelle Gillison-Robinson

Image

Practice the Presence That Protects the Promise

Posted in cancer, faith, God, inspiration, love, money, relationships, selfhelp, Uncategorized, workTagged , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment


A reflection of Psalm 91

There are days when the world feels too loud for jokes.


The headlines carry war, division, fear, and the slow erosion of freedoms we once assumed were permanent. The ground feels less steady. The future feels less certain.

And the little clown in me—the one who usually believes laughter can soften almost anything—finds herself mourning.


Not because hope is gone.
But because peace matters too much to pretend this doesn’t hurt.


Psalm 91 doesn’t ask us to deny danger. It invites us to dwell.
“Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” (Psalm 91:1)


Protection, here, is not earned.
It is not performed.
It is not proven by volume, certainty, or strength.
It is positional.
To dwell is to stay.
To remain.
To practice presence when the world feels unrecognizable.


This is protection without performance.
Not faith that shouts.
Not hope that rushes to fix.
Not peace that pretends everything is fine.
Just presence—steady, near, covering.


The promise of Psalm 91 is not that trouble will disappear, but that God does not. The shadow does not move. The refuge does not close. The shelter does not require us to be unafraid—only willing to come close.


So today, the clown in me removes her red shoes.
She sits on holy ground—
trusting the same God who once said, “Stay.”
Trusting that what marks the door also guards the dwelling.
She mourns for peace honestly.
And still—quietly—she dwells in hope.


Today’s practice is simple:
not fixing, not proving, not performing—
just dwelling in His Presence.

—-
God of refuge and nearness,
When the world feels unstable and peace feels fragile, help me to dwell rather than strive. Teach me to trust Your presence more than my ability to understand what is happening around me.
Let Your covering be enough today.
Amen.


With Love And A Multitude Of Prayers,
Chelle