Psalm 137:4

137.44 was a really important number yesterday in our business. It stood out immediately and the Lord made it clear enough that I couldn’t ignore it. He nudged me straight to Psalm 137, and specifically verse 4:

“How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?”

And the moment I read that, I felt it. Not sadness—clarity. This wasn’t about sales. It was about assignment, and about how some things in life just quietly shift seasons without making a big dramatic announcement.

Fast-forward to today. I pull into One Nation Jiu-Jitsu, listening to Zahira Zachary singing “Stay” from my iTunes library—already deep in worship, already soft in my spirit—and when my Bluetooth disconnected as I parked, the exact same song was playing on the radio.

If that wasn’t a Godwink, then I don’t even know what qualifies anymore.

Inside the gym it was Q&A day. Tyrone and Matt were there, Geo was teaching as the black belt, and Jaden popped in. Coach Sadie and Coach Sam were around too. I watched them drill getting out of an anaconda and a couple of other tight spots, and then I asked my question about shrimping—the way your hips need to rotate, the angle, the mechanics. And I actually got a great answer. That’s something I need to drill again.

Then came the moment:
“Carol, do you want to roll today?”

And yes, of course I wanted to.
But I told them the truth. My plan is to roll on Sundays and Mondays, take Tuesday through Thursday to heal, and then come on Fridays and just feel it out.

Coach Sam said, “That’s wise.”
Not “wise for 57.”
Just… wise.

Right there, between the Godwink in the car and the confirmation on the mat, Psalm 137 started making sense. It wasn’t God saying, “Stop singing.” It was God saying something else to me.

There are times in life where the Lord lets you hang your harp—not in defeat, but in obedience. Not because the music is over, but because the location of the song is changing.

And then, as I sat with it, He brought me to the very last line in Psalms:

Psalm 150:6 — “Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Praise the Lord.”

Psalm 137 is the moment the song pauses.
Psalm 150 is the moment the breath returns.

Yesterday felt like Psalm 137.
Today felt like Psalm 150.

Breath.
Clarity.
Rest.
Strength.
Direction.
A new song rising.

And all of it—from the strange sales number, to Zahira Zachary singing in stereo, to the wisdom on the mat—was the Lord saying:

“Daughter, you’re not in the foreign land anymore.
Breathe.
Move wisely.
Walk in the pace I give you.
And let everything that has breath in you—praise Me.”

Exactly the plan as I enter the quotes into a standard format. Thank you, Jesus.

Hey Hey Hey

I woke up this morning with “Hey, hey, hey!” from Fat Albert in my head. It made no sense at first, but that’s exactly how the Lord works with me. He uses the oddest little threads to pull my attention toward something holy. And of course, once something like that hits my spirit, I can’t let it go. I looked it up and learned that Fat Albert first aired on November 12th of 1969 — and somehow the date, the repetition, the sound of that “hey, hey, hey” settled into me like a breadcrumb trail.

As with any word or message, I search Scripture.

Floodgates!

Hey — ה — the fifth letter. The breath of God. The soft exhale that changes everything. It’s the letter He added to Abram and Sarai when He made them Abraham and Sarah. It’s the letter of grace, revelation, openings, divine breath, the place where God says, “Behold.” The more I sat with it, the more I realized how much He has been teaching me through fives and breath and revelation without me even knowing the structure underneath it.

Hey isn’t just a sound; it’s an invitation. It’s the place where He breathes Himself into a life and names it again.

And I think that’s why it moved me. Because so much of my journey right now feels like one long, loving exhale from the Father — His breath over my bones, His breath over these scriptures He keeps circling me back to, His breath over my remembering. Every time He reminds me of a verse, every time something lines up in a way I can’t explain, every time I whisper “I see what You did there,” it’s hey. It’s His breath.

There are two “Heys” in His Holy Name YHWH. #ISWYDT

The fact that hey is the fifth letter just feels like another God-wink, because He has been speaking to me through fives for so long — grace on grace, breath upon breath, revelation after revelation. It’s the little openings He keeps giving me, the way He keeps showing me things at exactly the right moment. And it all started today with “Hey, hey, hey” echoing in my spirit from a cartoon that aired decades ago. Only God can take something like that and turn it into a doorway.

That’s what hey is for me now — a doorway, a breath, and the quiet reminder that He is always teaching me, always revealing Himself, always drawing my eyes back to Him.

I see what You did there, indeed! Thank you, Jesus!

Prayer to Destroy Pride

Father God, Thank You for opening my eyes to the Hebrew roots of pride and the Greek words that reveal its many forms. Pride is always the absence of wisdom and the absence of genuine love.

Where pride grows, love shrinks.
Where love shrinks, relationships fracture.
Where relationships fracture, the enemy rejoices.

Only you, Jehovah Rapha, heal the root.

Holy Father Abba in Heaven,
I come to You as Your daughter,
seeking deliverance from every form of pride—
seen and unseen, confessed and unconfessed,
known and hidden.

Lord, Your Word says clearly
“Love does not envy, love does not boast,
love is not proud.” (1 Corinthians 13:4)
So I ask You now:
Destroy everything in me and in Your daughters
that is not rooted in love.

By the power of Your Spirit,
tear down every high place
where we have lifted ourselves above another.

Strike down the swelling pride of ga’ōn
(Obadiah 1:3; Isaiah 16:6).

Bring low the lifted heart of rūm
(Deuteronomy 8:14; Obadiah 1:4).

Break the stubbornness of zādōn
(Psalm 119:21; Deuteronomy 17:12–13).

Soften the haughty eyes of gāvah
(Proverbs 21:4; Psalm 131:1).

And wash out the sourness of ḥāmatz
(Psalm 73:21 [“my heart was embittered”];
Exodus 12:15 as the leaven-warning tied to pride),
before it spreads into bitterness.

Lord, kill the bitter root.
Kill it completely.
Kill it at the source.
Do not let it grow back.
Do not let it entangle Your daughters
or choke out sisterhood, unity, and peace.

Holy Spirit, lay down a new foundation:
a foundation of humility,
a foundation of gentleness,
a foundation of wisdom from above—
pure, peaceable, gentle, open to reason,
full of mercy and good fruit
(James 3:17).

Father, let Your love cast out every fear,
every comparison, every jealousy,
and every wound that pride tries to cover.

In the mighty name of Jesus,
I renounce all pride.
I renounce every bitter root.
I renounce every spirit that brings division.

Plant in me—and in every sister—
a heart that loves like You love,
that listens like You listen,
and that bows like You bowed
when You washed feet.

Let us love more and more by your perfect example.

Make us one, Lord.
Make us whole.
Make us healed.
And let Your Spirit guard our unity
with Your peace.

In the name of Jesus our Deliverer,
Amen.

Mat Three:Observation

Today was such a beautiful Wednesday. I went to get my hair done and had the sweetest, most meaningful conversation with Becky—my dear friend, my hairdresser, and the pastor’s wife at our church. Every visit with her feels like a little ministry moment—two hearts sharing stories, laughter, and faith.

Today was in particularly different in that I shared my Messianic experience when I learned Becky’s sister and three of her daughters are Messianic.

I didn’t have enough time to warm up and roll at jiu-jitsu today, but I still went and observed. And honestly, it felt like a spiritual experience just to watch. I saw how intention was born on the mat—how every shift of weight, every exchange of energy carried its own story. When partners switched, the entire rhythm changed—body type, flow, and balance transforming the interaction completely.

The loving way they taught and corrected one another reminded me so much of how the Lord disciplines us—not in harshness, but in love. Gently guiding, refining, shaping us through each encounter until strength and grace meet as one.

Even without stepping on the mat, I left feeling deeply connected—part of something living and breathing, a quiet lesson unfolding before me. Sometimes the holiest thing we can do is simply observe, and let His Spirit show us what we might have missed in motion.

Thank you, Jesus! As I wore my ONJJ “Positive Energy Activates Constant Energy” purple Tshirt- I must smile and giggle a pinch as the Blonde Polish Chick I am. The tshirt spells PEACE upside down. I see what you did there. #ISWYDT. I love you.

Not Forrest Gump’s Shrimping

Today was only my second class at One Nation Jiu-Jitsu. There is much to unpack.

BJJ Technique Focus: Shrimping (Hip Escape)

The shrimp, or hip escape, is one of the first movements every Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu student learns.
From your back, you press one foot into the mat, lift your hips, and slide them sideways while curling onto one shoulder.

The goal is to create space between you and the pressure holding you down. It looks small—but it’s the move that keeps you from being crushed.

I just learned that shrimping is an escape method and scooting can be offensive or defensive option.

Shrimping teaches that survival doesn’t come from strength. It comes from angle, timing, and breath.
You don’t fight pressure head-on; you shift, realign, and make room to breathe.
It’s the language of escape written into the mat.

📖 Scripture

“You brought me out into a spacious place; You rescued me because You delighted in me.”
— Psalm 18 : 19

💭 Reflection

When I shrimp, I feel it in my ribs first—breath meets resistance.
Every inch of space feels earned.
And that’s what the Spirit does inside us: He gives us room where the world tries to press us flat.

Sometimes God doesn’t lift the weight immediately.
He teaches us to move under pressure without losing peace, to shift our hips instead of panic, to create a little grace-space before the breakthrough.

The shrimp reminds me that freedom isn’t always dramatic; it’s often quiet, rhythmic, and deliberate.
Each small escape becomes worship in motion—breathing, turning, trusting.

🕊️ Coach Jesus Says

“When life pins you down, don’t freeze.
Breathe. Turn toward Me.
I’ll show you where the space is.
It’s not running away—it’s moving wisely.”

✨ Golden Nugget

“He sets my feet in a spacious place.” — Psalm 31 : 8
“Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” — 2 Corinthians 3 : 17

Shrimping is the gospel in motion—
God teaching us how to make space for grace when the weight of the world presses in.

That’s how it feels today.

Thank you, Jesus. I love you.

First Mat

I went to church this morning without my husband. He wasn’t feeling well, so I told him I would carry him with me in spirit. After church I came home, made us lunch, and told him I was going to attend my very first jiu-jitsu class at One Nation Jiu-Jitsu.

At first he laughed, but later—just before I left—he told me how proud he was of me. Mark knows me well. Praise God.

When I arrived, there were two young students, two others maybe in their late 20s or 30s, and two female instructors, Sam and Sadie. Sadie was wonderful—encouraging, strong, and patient. She’s 38 and told me about “Jiu-Jitsu Grandma Elaine” from Alabama who began training around 62.

I looked her up; what an inspiration!

My training partners, Mushaffa and Lindsay, were amazing. We practiced the closed-guard position, using praying hands to sweep, push to the floor, and transition into a Kimura hold. They helped me every step of the way.

After drills I watched everyone roll and spar. It was fascinating—the flow, the respect, the controlled strength.

At one moment, there were three feet clearly coming from one leg as I watched Sam and Sadie spar. All I could think was about a chord of three strands and Ecclesiastes being brought to life.

I’m sore but so full of gratitude. Thank You, Lord, for the courage to step onto the mat, for new teachers and friends, and for the joy of trying something completely new.

The funniest moment was Sadie telling me Sam had figured I had some type of gymnastics background. I confirmed I could still do cartwheels, as I did for Linda in the Hickory Falls parking lot last night. One of the younger students said she could do a cartwheel, as well. I said, “yes and that’s fantastic …but you are not 57 years old””. She might be 10-11 and said, yes I am 57! 🤣🤣🤣

I went home to rest for a half hour before visiting with my JoJo. What a blessing to listen to good music with good friends and make dinner from cheese, crackers and grapes.

Thank you, Jesus, for every little thing. I love you. I have not written about my girls night out last night—-but it’s blessing has been echoing all day. Thank you for the lovely sisters you have given me. I love you.

Crafty Creekmont

Saturday morning came very early, but the Lord met me before the sun did. I had prayed the night before that I would wake up before my alarm so I wouldn’t disturb my husband, and He did exactly that. Even though we were worn out from moving the shop on Friday — the kind of tired that sinks into your bones — I woke with enough strength, enough peace, and enough joy to step into the day He had prepared.

I slipped out quietly, left the house at 7:15, and arrived early to the women’s conference at our new church. My first one — ever. There was something tender about that, walking into a space I’d never occupied before, with a group of women I’m only beginning to know, yet already sensing God’s gentle stitching at the seams of new community.

Breakfast was sweet fellowship. I sat with Anatha, Hester, Tina, and Becky — each one warm, kind, and gracious in her own way. We talked, we laughed, and there was that familiar peace that only the Spirit can knit between hearts.

Then Anatha shared her testimony and led us in praise. It was raw and beautiful — the kind of sharing that reminds you God is always working, always redeeming, always inviting us deeper.

We did a little craft together — simple, hands-on worship — and it felt good to slow down long enough to create something with my hands. Miss Pam and Randy laser cut all the pieces for us to do this craft.

Father God, thank you for clearing the rubble. I don’t think it’s any coincidence Hurricane Melissa was creating worldly conflict in Jamaica and elsewhere—-reminding me of how I wrestled with Torah teachings which fail to include your spirit this time last year.

#ISWYDT

Afterward, we shared lunch, and the sweetness of that table lingered long after the dishes were cleared.

I even brought leftovers home for my husband — a small thing, but it felt like carrying home a piece of the day, a little offering from the fellowship I’d been welcomed into.

Creekmont Women’s Conference

It was a truly lovely day — quiet, nourishing, gentle in all the ways I needed. I especially appreciated the deeper Godversation with Tina and Anatha. Both now have my phone number.

Arriving home, I succumbed to a wonderful nap “by my stream”. When I woke, we agreed to go spend the last two hours of Jenn’s Twelve Year Tenure with her at the one shop we still own.

Of all the things we could have given Jenn, we gave her our hearts. My husband will be driving the truck with all her belongings to Wisconsin for Jenn in two weeks. I was nudged to give her the craft I made and she was beyond thrilled.

The day was beautiful and blessed. Thank you, Jesus.

7 Stone

There’s a tenderness in the way the Lord works on us.
He does not rush His miracles.

Each time something new is revealed, it feels like the perfect stone placed to mark my spiritual path. I know He is leading me somewhere new. I catch glimpses and it’s beyond beautiful.

For example, it’s impossible for me to see “Emerald” and Judah together without considering the Wizard of Oz. And , just that thought causes me to remember in the last week or two, writing about OZ in Hebrew.

He peels away stumbling stones, sorrow and shame in more than one way. In the past three years, “7 Stone” have been circumcised by His Hand from my body.

My mom loves British entertainment and my daughter has a thing about calling me “mum” from time to time. I dig the “stone” being 14 pounds.

As of today, I am still down 98 pounds since March 2022. It has been a slow process.

It has never felt like simple “weight loss.” It has felt like holy surgery to remove weight from my body and my heart.

It’s like the Good Lord deep cleaned my entire being. just as much from my heart. Seven stone removed and a new softness restored. This has not been punishment in the least.

Ezekiel saw it:


The LORD meant it — not only for Israel then, but for all of us now, in every season where we find ourselves hardened, tired, or carrying more than we were meant to hold.

I can look back and see where the heaviness began — layers of protection, fear, grief, duty, and old stories that once kept me alive but had begun to weigh me down. And in His kindness, God did not shame me. He simply began removing what no longer belonged to me.

Piece by piece. Pound by pound. Thought by thought. Layer by layer.

This journey has not been about numbers on a scale, but obedience, softness, and freedom.
He has been making room — in my body, in my breath, in my heart — for more light, more love, more life.

I am lighter now, inside and out. Not because I forced change, but because I yielded to the One who knows how to shape hearts and futures. The cutting has been covenant. The softening has been grace. And I am learning to stand here — new, tender, grateful — knowing He is still completing the work He began.

Thank you, Jesus. I sure do love you. 💜✝️💜

Leviticus

Rarely feels like a warm embrace to me. This morning, it felt like a lingering embrace worthy of writing about.

I woke hours before dawn and enjoyed my solitude with Him. When I returned to bed, I could not sleep. In recent months, this has not been a big issue. In fact, He meets me by “our stream” and I sleep like a baby.

Not today. Today, the unmistakable nudge came with a resounding message to “put it in order.” While I emptied out cabinets yesterday, there were two which were prepped in trays for easy removal.

Here’s the deal. The folks who bought our cabinets were scheduled to pick them up today. We both expected they would attempt to come before noon. If they came early, my husband would have been pressed to make a place for the trays.

The nudge was to demonstrate sacrificial love for my husband. When He says “Go”, I go. It’s really that simple.

So I drove to the shop—my second home the past seven years- and began to see it differently.  What felt like chaos yesterday started to feel like a kind of sacred re-arranging.

Maybe I saw myself in the cabinets. Poured in. Poured out. Ready to be filled again.

Funny enough, my son texted quickly after I left the house and Mark called me at the shop when I failed to hear my phone. It was rather sweet on both counts.

I returned home and took my coffee upstairs. Mark flipped my Bible open to Leviticus 26 and 27.  It was confirmation upon confirmation.

Those chapters speak about what happens when life falls out of rhythm and how the Lord patiently draws His people back into alignment.  The disorder we feel right now isn’t failure; it’s invitation.  He is giving us the chance to bring our work, our possessions, and our hearts back under His covering.

It’s important to recognize what’s ending (26:27–45) — no fear with the closure; it’s covenant renewal. It is about redeeming what’s worth carrying forward (27:9–25) — set apart what’s still holy. Release what belongs to Him (27:26–34) — and to let go with open hands and willing hearts.

Everything we have belongs to God. Praise God, my husband and I both know this truth to the depths of our souls.

Our employee is leaving, and soon it will just be the two of us again—leaner, quieter, maybe simpler.  But as Leviticus ends, it isn’t about loss; it’s about dedication.  God calls His people to take stock, to redeem what is still holy, and to return everything to Him in order.  That’s what these days feel like: not dismantling, but consecrating.

It was easy to choose to obey that gentle command: put it in order.

To bless what has been, to release what’s complete, and to prepare the ground for what’s next.

After sharing this Godversation with Mark, I offered him breakfast, as we haven’t gotten fully back to our intermittent fasting. His eyes told me yes before his mouth spoke a word.

I went downstairs and made grilled breakfast sandwiches and fried potatoes for my husband and son. When Mark left to open the store, I was quite joyful baking dog biscuits, prepping Mexican street corn for our Bible Study dinner and preserving a plethora of tomatoes in a bruschetta mixture.

How blessed am I ? Immeasurably more than any person deserves.

Thank you, Jesus.

Noah’s Ark

It has been raining all day. I have been unable to sleep, despite perfect conditions.

I think I just needed some Quality Jesus Time.

The Bible gives such specific instructions for how to build the Ark — 300 cubits long, 50 wide, and 30 high. Those same proportions are used in modern shipbuilding today, a perfect ratio for stability in rough waters. I recall learning that factoid from my husband before our first cruise more than a decade ago.

Noah was not a shipbuilder or a naval engineer. The only way he could have known is if God told him — and He did.

That realization still gives me chills. It’s a reminder that the Word of God is not symbolic guesswork or ancient myth — it’s precision. It’s revelation. God whispered into human hands the wisdom to build something that could withstand the storm.

Sometimes I wrestle with whether certain kinds of knowledge are “good” or “godly.” But then I remember — godly knowledge always points me back to awe, back to Him. It humbles me. It makes me look at the world and say, “Only God.”

I see what You did there! #ISWYDT

When I see that the same ratio used for Noah’s Ark is still guiding shipbuilders today, I can’t help but worship. The God who gave Noah blueprints for salvation is the same God who steadies me when waters rise.

“It is the glory of God to conceal a matter;
to search out a matter is the glory of kings.” — Proverbs 25:2

Thank you, Jesus!