On my evening stroll, minding my business and pretending I was getting “cardio,” I bounced upon the most disrespectful little flower. Disrespectful… because it had no business being that beautiful 😊.

So listen… I thought the hog chapter was closed. Conquered. Slain. Cooked. Plated. Victory dance and all. 🐗✌🏽

A few weeks before Christmas, my taste buds suddenly woke up like a busted pipe, flooding my mind with thoughts of Jamaican homemade ham. You know the kind: big, beautiful, honey-glazed, sticky, dressed up with pineapples and cherries like it’s going to a wedding reception. 😌🍍🍒

If there’s one thing I avoid like expired milk, it’s driving to Miami. 🥴 So I do what any reasonable woman of faith would do, I schedule my daughter’s appointments only when my husband is available. Order. Structure. Wisdom.

Let me be transparent for a moment: your girl is not the poster child for patience. If waiting were an Olympic sport, I’d be cheering from the stands, not competing. So when my printer decided to go on strike the other morning, it was basically a showdown between my faith and my flesh.

There are seasons when life feels like a drought, dry, uncertain, and stripped of clarity. Yet, those are often the moments when Heaven leans in and whispers, “Listen closely, there’s a sound of rain.” In 1 Kings 18, Elijah declared what no one else could see: “There is the sound of a heavy rain.” The skies were clear, but faith doesn’t need evidence, it needs expectation. While others relaxed, Elijah climbed higher, bowed lower, and positioned himself in prayer. Seven times his servant returned saying, “There’s nothing there,”but Elijah refused to move until Heaven moved. And then it happened, the tiniest cloud appeared, carrying the downpour that would drench the land.