Prey (“Hello, Gentlemen…”)
You’ve heard the prison jokes about Karma, “dropping the soap.”
You have heard about all the “serves ‘em right” assessments.
“Them.”
Prison inmates.
“Getting what’s coming to them.”
Yet…Yet…Yet…
They are still loved, “Beloved,” by Him, in fact.
The Most High…
“I have loved you with an everlasting love;
therefore I have drawn you with loving devotion.”
Jeremiah 31:3
Even now, as, right now, some of them are in pain, in fear, being hurt, “getting what’s coming to them?”
Even while we may joke about them being “prey?”
He still loves them and He wishes we would also.
“Remember those in prison as if you were bound with them, and those who are mistreated as if you were suffering with them.”
Hebrews 13:3
Amazon.com: "Hello Gentlemen...": 9798259016163: Cruse, Sheryle: Books
A Lady AND an Actress?
Famous actress and drama coach, Stella Adler, once quipped this.
“Darling, you can’t be a lady and an actress.”
Indeed, the world of theatre has a reputation for not having the most dignified of behavior.
It’s been widely discussed that healthy people really don’t seek to become actors. There tends to be something “off” about those “theatre people.”
As a theatre rat, I’ve had many years to contemplate how my trauma responses and “my issues” have played into my- uh- dramatic self.
My stage debut, at the age of nine, was that of playing the Lead Babydoll in a Christmas play, set in “Ye Old Doll & Toy Shoppe.”
I have the documentation to prove it.
I remember that was where the acting bug first bit me.
In my third-grade classroom “audition.” I remember how, when I read for the role, as each girl took their turn reading, I knew, instinctively (The Most High’s leading, I’m now quite sure, years later), that I needed to use my “baby voice.” I read the lines, including, “Let’s visit the Baby Jesus doll in the tiny little crib,” squeaking with that voice. And my music teacher, in charge of casting the play, started laughing, acting surprisingly animated for rural Minnesota. (But, then again, she herself, was from California, land of Hollywood, so…).
To use “theatre speak,” I “nailed” the audition; I got the role.
And here we go. My issues, being dramatically expressed through theatre.
So, as my childhood and adolescence bumped along, I became quite the little thespian. Between 4-H plays (rolled out, during a spring event called “Share the Fun”), and my elementary and high school career, I was in multiple plays and musicals.
And it was here where I started learning to vent my ugly, unacceptable emotions, like anger and despair, in these settings.
I came from childhood abuse, where the only acceptable “emotion” was “Everything is fine,” unless, of course, my abuser wanted an upset reaction from me to gratify his and her need to “get a rise out of me.”
Then, I better be anxious, upset, lashing out, frustrated, and unhappy.
But certainly, my own independently expressed emotions of anger, sadness, despair, and yeah, even joy, were forbidden. They didn’t fit neatly into the box, called “Children should be seen and not heard.”
It shouldn’t shock people, then, to know I pursued a theatre degree in college. I will admit that some of my reasons involved less necessity for math courses, going down this avenue (I hated math).
But I loved acting.
I won awards, scholarships, and was told by others that I was “good at it.” Especially, at being able to make people cry with my “dramatic self” reactions.
Spurred on by this, like any Drama Queen out there, I pushed things more.
To quote Shakespeare, yeah, there were times when I tore “a passion to tatters, to very rags” (“The Player’s Speech,” Hamlet Act III, Scene 2).
I cringe at an unsuccessful college soap opera attempt. I played a distraught mother, sobbing at the deathbed of her son, as the Radio/TV Majors filmed it with their cameras for class.
I hope the tape has been destroyed. It was not pretty.
I often think, now, years later, about the role that pain, abuse, and trauma played within my dramatic self, and its expression. And it’s additionally complicated, when my faith is added TO that picture.
As a child, I did have faith in “Jesus.”
I was a child Christian, simple in belief, not critically thinking about much more than what I learned from sporadic Vacation Bible School attendance, mixed with the harsh reality of how to stay safe in my abusive home.
College and young adulthood had me testing more limits, which affected other ways I expressed myself: writing and the visual arts.
Oh, yeah, I “experimented.”
Nothing “full-frontal” on my end, like those who were cast in “Hair.”
The closest I came? Nude figure drawing in the drawing class I took in college. Drawing the human form, after all.
But I now see how the trauma I experienced influenced how I chose to show up… and either use discretion, or simply just beg for attention.
In more recent years, we call the attention-seeking “thirst traps.”
“Being thirsty.”
These phrases, in the lexicon, are probably out of date now, but you get the point.
It can be argued that “TMI”IS a trauma response.
Oversharing.
Trauma dumping.
And, in my writing, be it books, articles, or blog entries, I have shared and dumped a lot.
I pray that it is not “tearing a passion to tatters, to very rags.”
I pray that it helps.
It helps me, “getting it out of my system.”
Is that only selfish?
I hope not.
I am not fishing for appearance compliments as I mention the following scripture:
“Like a gold ring in a pig’s snout is a beautiful woman who shows no discretion.”
Proverbs 11:22
Eating disorders, breast cancer, abuse, a lot of ugly, unflattering situations, issues, and behaviors.
I hope there’s not a pig’s snout, nor a gold ring attached TO them.
I hope that what I write honors The Most High.
It may be dramatic, but it’s not “acting.”
I am sincere. There’s still that childlike “Babydoll” in my faith somewhere.
I hope it comes through.
And I hope it helps someone else out there.
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
Cinnamon Roll (“Hello, Gentlemen…”)
It’s not surprising that abuse is a reason why people can end up incarcerated.
Abuse is about harmful interaction/touch.
Abuse is about harmful absence of loving touch/neglect.
Most of us were not targeted with healthy love; let’s be real.
We were not at the center of that cinnamon roll.
So, go a little easier, perhaps, when you think of “them.”
The “Untouchables.”
They are not.
They are loved and valued BY The Most High.
“Remember those in prison as if you were bound with them, and those who are mistreated as if you were suffering with them.”
Hebrews 13:3
Amazon.com: "Hello Gentlemen...": 9798259016163: Cruse, Sheryle: Books
Cinnamon Roll
“But whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in Me to sin, it would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck, and he were drowned in the depth of the sea.”
Matthew 18:6
When I was a Girl Scout, one of the activities we engaged in was something called “The Cinnamon Roll.”
In today’s language, I suppose, it could be considered “team building” or “morale boosting.”
My Girl Scout troop would designate one girl to be “the center” of “The Cinnamon Roll.”
“She” would stand and clasp hands with another Girl Scout, who would grab another’s hand, on and on, until the entire troop, holding hands, stretched out the length of the room.
Then, the last girl would start “The Cinnamon Roll…” rolling.
She would move in on “the center” girl, and all subsequent scouts, holding hands, would gradually coil themselves around her.
The activity was not “complete” until the entire Girl Scout Troop had engulfed her. She felt the enclosing “hug,” being the center of the human cinnamon roll.
Each time we participated in this activity, there was always so much laughter. Sometimes, squeals.
And “the center,” while slightly squished, felt the warmth and the human contact of the Girl Scouts wrapped around her.
I’ve often thought about “The Cinnamon Roll” as life has rolled on.
I think about it, complicated, often viewing it through the lens of my abuse history.
I have suffered abuse, mostly from childhood. Emotional, mental, verbal, spiritual, and financial abuse have all been a part of my childhood experiences.
And there is yet another form of abuse that is not as widely discussed.
But it is widely, painfully felt: neglect.
Neglect IS abuse.
Neglect goes beyond not meeting food, clothing, or shelter needs. Yes, that is a part of it.
But Neglect covers the absence of loving, invested parenting and/or nurturing.
Neglect involves when someone does not have the ability to meet needs: the emotional, financial, spiritual, mental, or the personal needs of another person, like a child.
He/she doesn’t “know how to be a parent.”
He/she doesn’t “know how to love.”
You and I are familiar with that cliché. We have often heard the words, uttered as excuses, perhaps minimizing the impact on us.
That is painful.
We are in pain.
But there is another aspect to Neglect, within the abuse realm.
Yes, someone may not know how to show love or be a parent.
But what if they DO?
What if someone knows how to love, how to nurture, how to be a parent, but they are just unwilling to do it?
“When my father and my mother forsake me, Then (Elohim) the LORD will take care of me.”
Psalm 27:10
That is Neglect. And it’s painful.
It’s painful because the message, perhaps, is this: “other people deserve this, but you don’t.”
Preferential treatment.
Physical Touch…
“…‘Do not touch My anointed ones. And do My prophets no harm.’”
Psalm 105:15
Physical abuse is typically defined as harmful touch on the human body. The abuse causes broken bones, bruises, and bleeding, in its most obvious and severe forms.
Many of us experience that.
However, there is another kind of harmful physical touch: the absence of loving physical touch. Again, The Neglect.
Yes, it’s devastating when we are hit with a fist, slapped. It is devastating with we are overpowered, for instance, as children, by adults who cause physical harm in a myriad of ways. They are bigger and stronger than the child; they can use force to execute their plans and demands.
But how many of us… need a hug?
How many of us... are DENIED that hug?
We can be children; we can be adults. The need is still there, no matter our age
“Failure To Thrive…”
This phrase is often uttered regarding babies who just are not responding and growing as they should.
They are listless. They lose weight instead of gaining weight. They don’t “meet developmental targets.”
“Failure To Thrive.”
“…‘Do not touch My anointed ones. And do My prophets no harm.’”
Psalm 105:15
I think it was around the time of 1990 when there was news coverage of Russian babies in orphanages. Footage of numerous cribs, containing baby after baby, displayed this “failure to thrive.”
Indeed, some children were listless, just staring into space.
Others were rocking back and forth, sometimes violently, out of compulsion.
Still other babies could not- or would not- make eye contact with any human being around them.
Journalists wrote stories on these orphans, even noting the heartbreaking realities when, upon some of their adoptions, they displayed severe attachment issues, and even struck their caregivers.
In… anger? In… frustration?
These poor children did not respond well to physical touch. They screamed. They went limp. They hit the person trying to do the hugging.
Why was that?
Simple answer?
Neglect.
These poor children only knew neglect as normal. They didn’t recognize loving human physical contact as normal.
And that goes beyond Russian orphans. It is human vulnerability. And we can all be subject to it.
Forsaken…
“…‘(Elohim)The LORD has forsaken me. And my (Elohim) Lord has forgotten me.’”
Isaiah 49:14
Feelings of being forsaken are part of Neglect.
Again, it’s the message conveyed to us: “You are not important enough to take care of.”
As a child. As an adult.
“Not important enough.”
Forsaken.
This is abusive. It’s harmful. And it involves the harmful aspect of touch.
Therefore…
“…‘Do not touch My anointed ones. And do My prophets no harm.’”
Psalm 105:15
It is rejection when we experience someone withholding love and affection from us.
It can be subtle. It can be obvious.
It is painful.
Physical touch is a human need.
Therefore, to be on the receiving end of a message like “I’m not going to meet this need for you” can be devastating.
Devastation involves someone’s willful choice to deny us our need for love, nurturing, protection, and provision.
And that’s yet another unmet need.
Our soul cries out.
He is Our Cinnamon Roll...
The Most High, Our Father, hears that cry.
“When my father and my mother forsake me, Then (Elohim) the LORD will take care of me.”
Psalm 27:10
He holds us; He touches us…
“‘Fear not, for I am with you; Be not dismayed, for I am your (YAH) God. I will strengthen you, Yes, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.’”
Isaiah 41:10
He wants each of us to experience and feel that right now.
“He heals the brokenhearted And binds up their wounds.”
Psalm 147:3
Neglect is a painful part of so many of our lives.
But He desires to surround us with His Love.
He never neglects.
Let’s pray.
ABBA-
We come to You, in The Name of Your Son, Our Savior, Yahshua.
We need Your help when it comes to matters of touch and neglect.
You know fully how we have been hurt by these issues.
You know how we have been neglected by others, including family and “loved ones.”
We ask that You hold us lovingly right now. Help us to feel and experience Your Loving, Healing Touch.
Heal us of all neglect and the pain associated with it.
Thank you for always loving and holding us, in Your Mercy.
Forgive us of our sins, including neglect of You.
Help us to know, to love, and to connect with You.
We thank You and receive it all, In Yahshua’s Name.
Amen.
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
How Many Rodeos Do I Need To Attend? (Cancerventures Book Excerpt)
“…There is nothing new under the sun.”
Ecclesiastes 1:9
Many of us who deal with a cancer diagnosis, have “been to the rodeo” before.
A lump.
A doctor’s appointment.
An ultrasound.
A mammogram.
A biopsy.
Fear of “What it could be.”
Repetition.
Here’s a little of my story.
(Cancerventures Book Excerpt)
In 2003, I noticed a lump. It felt like a rubbery marble suspended in my breast. I immediately made an appointment with a doctor. She checked me out and determined I needed my first mammogram.
So, I showed up, had my breasts trapped in between those cold hard slides and waited for the results. I braced for the worst. I expected to die (this will be a reoccurring theme).
The results? Benign. And a new word, a new diagnosis: “Fibrocystic.”
Apparently, because I had large breasts, I had this dense breast tissue. “Lots of women have this,” I was told. Nothing to be alarmed by. Keep doing your self-exams.
Not my first rodeo…
Jump to 2008. Another rubber marble lump. More distress, more “I’m dying.” I went in for another mammogram. But this time, I was called back for an ultrasound. They “spotted” something.
That doesn’t sound good- “spotted.”
So, more nervous waiting, Again, benign, again, Fibrocystic.
I briefly met with a surgeon, going over my results. As I was given her business card, I also inquired about the need to pre-empt and get them removed before they caused any additional trouble. She said that was certainly a possibility; more women were doing just that.
In the meantime, “keep doing your self-exams.”
Let’s jump to 2013. Gee, what do you think happened again?
Another rubber marble, another mammogram, necessitating another ultrasound. More fear, more death thoughts, more waiting.
As I was led into the changing room for my ultrasound, a nurse, sporting a blonde pixie cut, uttered, “We’re going to hold a good thought now.”
Waiting for the results, you guessed it: benign, Fibrocystic, “Keep doing your self-exams.
Come back for your mammogram next year.”
And apparently, now, I guess, “Hold a good thought.”
And then, it was a different rodeo…
So, let me set the stage. I waited for my June 2017 appointment with a gynecologist when there it was. On June 15th, a lump in my right breast got my attention. I, again, felt the rubber marble. It was most pronounced when I bent over. But this marble was different; it didn’t move with as much ease as the “others” did. It felt even more rubbery, in fact- a bit like an extension cord. I had days to go before my appointment (June 27th).
Once there, I mentioned my findings; the doctor did a self-exam, and seemed calm, telling me she couldn’t feel anything, but, because of my track record, I should get a mammogram and ultrasound done just to rule anything out.
I set it up for that Friday, June 30th.
Joy* greeted Russell, my husband, and me. She was the breast nurse navigator at the clinic who ushered us back to that imaging area and would handle these fun testing details. *(Names of certain specialists are changed to protect privacy; that’s why I’m using alphabet letter names, or, in some instances, completely unisex names. I’m also going to refrain from using masculine or feminine pronouns, in some instances, for further identity protection. So, get used to me using “they,” “them” and “their” to describe these individuals. Just know I’ve come across both male and female practitioners in my experience).
I changed into that gown with blue/green ambiguous prints on it, open and untied in the front. I told the mammogram technician I felt more than one and wasn’t sure it was just a lone mass or if there was more going on. The technician gave me some little stickers to mark the site of the lumps I detected.
For the lump I felt on the underside of my right breast, I told her I needed to lie down to tag it better. So, I was shown a room with the ultrasound equipment, a room I’d be in minutes’ later, and placed two stickers on the sites, hoping my version of pin the tail on the breast donkey was accurate enough.
I returned to the mammogram room and waited to get flattened and stretched into the standard mammogram poses. I was squished by the cold plates and leaned into the machine, grabbing its handle, to get the underarm and node images necessary.
And then I had a fun little conversation with the technician. Why not? I’m here in this gown.
I asked her about the magic age to get mammograms. Was it forty or even forty-five?
That last number sprang up because of my years of conflicting information in and out of the doctors’ offices. I had read and had been told on numerous occasions, that, because of my dense breasts, I didn’t need to get a mammogram every year, because the machines would likely detect the Fibrocystic tissue as tumors, even though they’d be benign.
Not surprisingly, the technician responded with the standard recommendation: yearly mammograms, starting at age forty.
And then she added a little flourish. “You want to adhere to that schedule. I’ve had women who waited too long for their mammograms and unfortunately, by the time they see me, they had to lose both of their breasts.”
Yay, I had my answers- and a fun bit more.
So, moving on to still more fun, the immediate ultrasound. I walked back into the room I left minutes earlier. And there, waiting for me, was Russell. He was sitting in a chair, tucked from view, next to the long privacy curtain drawn as a middle barrier between the “action” and the door. Still in my gown, the technician working the ultrasound informed me I could get up on the table, “the doctor will be in shortly.”
Voilà! She appeared, shaking “nice to meet you” greeting hands with me. And then came the usual warm gel, followed by the ultrasound probe gliding across my breast area. There wasn’t much chit-chat here. The vibe I picked up on was that quiet was what was needed now.
Shhhh! Don’t disturb. As Elmer Fudd might say, “We’re huntin’ tumors!”
So, up and down, side to side, my right breast was canvased. Eventually, the doctor asked me questions about how I came to discover the lump. I told her the boring details: I was used to my Fibrocystic lumpiness and one day earlier this month, I felt a lump which felt “different.” Hence, we’re all now gathered in this room talking about it.
“Good job finding it while doing your self-exam!”’
(I could feel the doctor reaching for any positive spin).
“Thanks.”
And we’re temporarily quiet again. I just had to pipe up, “Yeah, I’ve heard that as long as they’re movable, that’s a better sign. What I felt seemed to be a little movable, but it did feel different…”
(You can hear my bargaining plea, begging to please be told everything is okay).
And then, there was awkward silence, followed by the doctor swiping the probe into my armpit, “Let’s check the nodes.” Nothing seemed to show up, the doctor appeared relieved. I was not. And poor Russell in the chair. This was not what he wanted to do today.
In my earlier conversation with the mammogram technician, I had mentioned previous records and had given the contact information for the clinic to obtain them. Compare and contrast was the mission. Those records were faxed over and comparing and contrasting had taken place. The images, in fact, had changed. And not in a good way.
After getting myself toweled off from the gel and changed, I was not surprised at what followed as we sat in the waiting room, just outside of the breast nurse navigator’s door.
Once ushered in, Joy handed me an official letter from the doctor, using the term,
“suspicious area.” She informed us we needed to schedule a biopsy.
UH. OH.
As we set up the appointment for July 7th, I took a “Biopsy Aftercare” pamphlet and I asked her, “So, if something turns up here, then what’s next?”
“Surgery,” she responded.
UH. OH…
The Book of a People (“IF YOU Know?” Book Excerpt)
“If My people who are called by My name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land.”
2 Chronicles 7:14
I had my answer ready. I went through cancer. I left my mother. I was in a new city, at the beginning of a Pandemic.
I had a lot on my mind. But I knew the answer to his question.
“…In the mouth of two or three witnesses shall every word be established.”
2 Corinthians 13:1
A maintenance man came by to fix our overhead kitchen light.
I was busy writing on my laptop.
This maintenance man stopped his work. He started a conversation with me.
“Do you think The Bible is a bunch of scriptures, or do you think it is the book of a people?”
Raqel, over many conversations, had uttered this familiar phrase, “the book of a people.”
She had shared some of her findings with me, doing the deep research she had been about in her life.
Therefore, I knew the answer to his question.
I responded, “The book of a people.”
He seemed surprised and delighted.
We talked for about forty-five minutes. He shared a lot of the information and insights that Raqel had mentioned in our conversations. We pinged off from one another. The conversation became livelier.
How much of that was attributed to my “white woman” appearance?
I told him a bit about my confusing background experiences.
He shared how he was pursuing his calling from The Most High, via ministry, on this subject matter.
And then I brought up Proverbs 30:4:
“…What is Your Name, and what is Your Son’s Name, if you know?”
Proverbs 30:4
He lit up at that scripture’s mention. Maybe I was the first “white” person he encountered regarding this. I don’t know.
The Name.
I do know that this was not just about fixing a kitchen light.
“…In the mouth of two or three witnesses shall every word be established.”
2 Corinthians 13:1
Divine appointment? Confirmation?
It was an unusual encounter in my apartment. This was quite specific yet dressed up as “ordinary.”
Isn’t that often how The Most High goes about things?
Anyway, it got my attention.
I didn’t know what to do with this.
Again, this was during the intensity of the Pandemic. Everyone was sheltering in place and wearing masks.
I didn’t know anyone within this new city.
I had no “spiritual home,” no “faith community,” no church.
And, even if I did, how would they receive me beginning to launch into this? I’d be stuttering through this information, probably making gibberish out of the entire thing.
Doing more harm than good.
I still wonder about that as I type these words…
If You Know?: Cruse, Sheryle: 9798272042019: Amazon.com: Books
Search Out a Matter (IF You Know?)
“It is the Glory of The Most High to conceal a thing: but the honor of kings is to search out a matter.”
Proverbs 25:2
There’s MORE!
The Most High is concealing it. It’s for you and I to search it out.
What IS That?
If You Know?: Cruse, Sheryle: 9798272042019: Amazon.com: Books
Permission To Be Freaked Out (Cancerventures)
“The Truth shall set you free.”
John 8:32
Breast cancer is grizzly. Ugly. Scary. Painful.
And beautiful.
Beautiful?
Yes, because there’s truth in it.
We try to run away from the Truth, but it’s there.
Including how images so deeply affect us.
It’s okay to see horror at the way cancer changes things: bodies, lives, appearances of all kinds.
Admit that you don’t want to look at, you don’t want to face what you’re facing.
You have permission to be freaked out.
“I will never leave you, nor forsake you.”
Hebrews 13:5
Amazon.com: Cancerventures: Tales of a Diagnosed Woman eBook : Cruse, Sheryle: Kindle Store
“EST.”
How many of us, right now, feel on shaky ground?
Insecure?
That there is nothing we can count on?
It’s time, perhaps, for a little life review.
What were we told…once, twice, three times, or more?
What did we do WITH those occurrences?
“This will be my third visit to you. ‘Every matter must be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.’”
2 Corinthians 13:1
“Let everything be established…”
The abbreviation for the word, “established” is “EST.”
We often see it on signage for businesses, the year things got going for them.
And “EST.” is “3” letters, in its abbreviation.
“…three witnesses.’”
Meaning, that, the seemingly insignificant circumstances in our lives, repeating themselves, often carry great weight and value than we realize.
The sage advice…
The destructive behavior or choice that we have experienced negative consequences for, that we know we should change…
The positive, rewarding people and interactions in our lives, that show who is truly there, valuing us…
Just some examples.
“Established.”
Why comes to our minds when you and I hear, read, see that word?
Is it about success?
Stability?
A goal?
“…Even if everyone else is a liar, Elohim is true.”
Romans 3:4
“In the beginning the Word already existed. The Word was with Elohim, and the Word was Elohim.”
John 1:1
“For I am Elohim, I do not change; Therefore you are not consumed…”
Malachi 3:6
Scriptures, that, to me, give off some SERIOUS Establish vibes!
What is established in your life right now? Because something is.
What do you bank on to always be there?
My cancer diagnosis, and all its twists and turns, has had me question permanence versus impermanence.
“Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is
Elohim’s purpose that prevails.”
Proverbs 19:21
What are you establishing right now?
Money?
Success?
Wealth?
Relationships?
Where is The Most High, in all that?
Is He there?
If not, why not?
IF so, where does He rank, in your “list?”
No judgment.
Questions.
What answers are being “established” in your life?
“EST.”
Three little letters that declare so much.
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
There, But For The Grace Of The Most High, Go I (“Hello, Gentlemen…”)
“See, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; Your walls are continually before Me.”
Isaiah 49:16
Both The Called and The Afflicted are marked, set apart, and put through a process.
Some of us, that process involves prison.
There But For The Grace of The Most High Go I.
But He never writes off anyone. He decides to love us.
And He decides to choose, love, and value our Hearts.
“‘…(Elohim) the LORD does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but (Elohim) the LORD looks at the heart.”
1 Samuel 16:7
So, Gentlemen…
“Remember those in prison as if you were bound with them, and those who are mistreated as if you were suffering with them.”
Hebrews 13:3
Amazon.com: "Hello Gentlemen...": 9798259016163: Cruse, Sheryle: Books
Your Memories (One Drive)
I admit it. I’m not a big fan of “The Cloud.”
I try my utmost to slosh through this technological landscape of “ever-improving” features for storing data.
“The Cloud,” being one of them, as, on a regular basis, I keep getting these “One Drive” messages and reminders.
One of the biggest staples has been “Your Memories” updates, popping up in my inbox. These “memories” are compiled photos and images of what occurred on a particular day, one year ago, five years ago, etcetera.
Memories. There’s nothing like that kind of loaded gun, now is there?
Alright, first, please let me cop to the fact that I have Barbara Steisand’s voice lilting around in my brain.
You know, “The Way We Were?”
Chick film, but that song, it gets in ya, doesn’t it?
Yep, memories are lighting up more than the corners of my mind, let me tell ya.
And then, my mind scurries to another unlikely source, especially, as it’s compared with “Babs.”
How about Metallica?
You heard me.
Specifically, “The Memory Remains.”
That’s the space I’m in now, especially, as I deal with mortality/recurrence thoughts.
I’m feeling like I’m tumbling around in that turning contraption the hard rock dudes are playing in, all while Marianne Faithful, adds her haunting vocal stylings, bedecked with a fake monkey, in this organ grinder of an ensemble she has going for her.
“The memory remains.”
Where am I going with this? Well, to Scripture, of course!
That’s the likely through-line from Streisand, to Metallica, to the ancient, eternal Promises…
Forget the former things…
“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”
Isaiah 43:18-19
Right now, let me just be real. I’m a bit irritated by Isaiah 43. It seems to be following me around daily, akin to Marianne Faithful’s vocal underscoring.
Why is that?
Especially, if I’m in this weird place of “taking stock?” Life and death thoughts. Uncertainty as to how much longer I have left?
Why am I being called to forget?
Why Am I being called to consider “a new thing,” especially, if it looks like I’m checking out of here?
Well, now I find myself jumping to the happy party, known as The Book of Revelation.
(Please hang in there with me).
Wipe away every tear…
“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”
Revelation 21:4
There will be no more death. No more death found in “the cloud.”
No more death, found in “the way we were.”
No more death, found in heavy metal way of how “the memory remains.”
“The old order of things has passed away.”
Death is not just about literal death, literally, us “passing way.”
It is also about the death, found in those memories, those snapshots, mental photos, those former things that speak to so much nostalgia and history.
Future seems impossible, sometimes, as we are mired in all of that.
Yes, the prospect of literal death can cause us to examine all other deaths in our lives. The things that “were.”
And they have us paying attention, however slightly or violently, to the hope of “the new thing.”
How can there, indeed, be a “new thing,” in the middle of so much “old?”
I’m not sure. But I know it’s possible.
And that segues me to my last ricocheting point…
Audrey Hepburn.
I have not completely lost it.
Cloud. Babs. Metallica.
Of course Audrey Hepburn comes next.
“Impossible.”
“I’m possible?”
Well, close.
Because, hey, we are going back to Scripture Land…
“I am the Elohim, the YahWeh of all mankind. Is anything too hard for Me?”
Jeremiah 32:27
“…‘With man this is impossible, but with Elohim all things are possible.’”
Matthew 19:26
It’s time to challenge what’s possible, even if/when feel like we cannot do just that.
We can still do that, even if we haven’t gotten it all together yet.
We can do that, even when it looks most bleak and dead.
Including those pesky “memories.”
Let’s pray.
Abba Father-
We come to You, in The Name of Our Savior, Yahshua.
You see what we are facing…and remembering.
You know how dead things look and feel.
You know how much pain is wrapped up in “memory.”
Forgive us for holding on and staying stuck, in ways that do not help us, but only harm us.
You are calling “new things” to happen for us.
Reveal to us what that means.
Help us to let go of what You want us to release.
Help us to move forward.
Wipe away our pain and loss tears.
Help us to see You, loving us, helping us, being active in our lives.
We need You.
We turn to You now, by faith, instead of “memory.”
Honor and reward that choice for each of us.
Thank You.
We receive it now, with peace, gratitude, and enthusiasm.
Amen
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
Fawn
“He makes my feet like those of a deer
and stations me upon the heights.”
Psalm 18:33
“Fawning” is a trauma response that doesn’t get much attention. “Fight or Flight” gets most of it. Yet “Fawning,” is, indeed, a trauma response. “Giving in,” to abuse an abuser, is another way to “stay safe.” No, we don’t fight; no, we don’t run. But we do try our best to protect ourselves.
And we feel shame- and can GET shamed for “giving in.”
There is no reason to shame concerning this trauma response.
You did what you needed to do to stay safe.
Our Savior also practiced “fawning…”
“He was oppressed and afflicted, yet He did not open his mouth; He was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so He did not open His mouth.”
Isaiah 53:7
Try seeing yourself, like Him, in that instance.
If you had to “fawn,” for any reason, it was valid.
He knows what you went through.
https://prod.elephantjournal.com/2020/12/the-fawn-discusses-this-4-f-coping-response-to-trauma/
“Pomp and Circumstance” (“Hello, Gentlemen…”)
“Remember those in prison as if you were bound with them, and those who are mistreated as if you were suffering with them.”
Hebrews 13:3
Amazon.com: "Hello Gentlemen...": 9798259016163: Cruse, Sheryle: Books
Native American? (IF You Know? Book Excerpt)
“It is the glory of The Most High to conceal a thing: but the honor of kings is to search out a matter.”
Proverbs 25:2
…Grandma's Confession?
When I was eighteen, I overheard a phone conversation between my mother and my grandmother. Everything changed about our family story.
“Mother, Mother! It’s okay...No, it’s alright...Please calm down...”
Mom tried for the next ten minutes to soothe my distraught grandmother.
When she hung up the phone, I asked what was wrong.
During the conversation, my grandmother broke down and revealed our Native American lineage.
What? Native American? Where did that come from?
Supposedly, this secret had been handed down and hushed for generations.
Grandma’s upset reaction largely had to do with the fact she believed this Native American blood was some kind of blight on the family.
She was ashamed of it.
As Mom told me everything, I felt the rejection and the judgment which flowed generationally.
As the revelation goes, my great-great grandmother was a Native American orphan, discovered and claimed by a white family during one of the Dakota Wars of the late 1800’s.
There was no written documentation; this orphan had no birth certificate.
According to family lore, this two- or three-year-old girl was discovered alone in a field. She was then “rescued” by white people who raised her as their own.
However, this orphan was old enough to love and miss her real parents and tribal family.
But her “white” family were neither supportive nor encouraging on that matter.
Because of the stigma attached to being an “Indian” back then, my great-great grandmother was forbidden to talk about any memories she had concerning her Native American background.
Her new white “parents” named her “Helen.”
(Not her real name).
They stressed assimilation.
Great, here we go again, with assimilation. What could go wrong?
She was supposed to blend in and be “white.”
But, no matter what she did or said, she could never be “white enough.”
And, unable to forget the memories of her real family and tribe, Helen sobbed herself to sleep.
Her white family, trying to pacify her, gave her penny candy to cheer her up.
(I personally wonder if this was the start of disordered eating patterns that have played out within the generations of my female family members, landing, eventually, on me).
But, of course, no one ever discussed the root cause of her sadness.
So many questions arose in me about this situation.
What exactly happened?
Was everyone in her tribe, indeed, killed?
Was my great-great grandmother rescued?
Or was she stolen by this white couple?
Did they play a role in the killing of her biological family members?
It is impossible to know what happened.
But the pain resulted, nonetheless.
So, I already had the experience of witnessing my grandmother’s shame about our family’s Native American bloodline.
But was that the root, the actual “secret,” or was there more to it?...
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
The Band Aid Approach (“Hello, Gentlemen…”)
“Remember those in prison as if you were bound with them, and those who are mistreated as if you were suffering with them.”
Hebrews 13:3
Amazon.com: "Hello Gentlemen...": 9798259016163: Cruse, Sheryle: Books
In His Image? (IF You Know?)
“This is the book of the generations of Adam. In the day that The Most High created man, He made him in His own likeness.”
Genesis 5:1
If You Know?: Cruse, Sheryle: 9798272042019: Amazon.com: Books
You can call me “Flower…”
Spring always puts me in the mood to watch the animated Disney classic, “Bambi.” I admit it, I’m a sucker for those cute little critters.
I have a soft spot for Flower, the bashful skunk who befriends our famous deer. I think my favorite scene in the movie is when these two characters encounter each other for the first time, hanging out in a flower patch. Ever the curious and constantly- learning fawn, Bambi is in the middle of learning about his environment. He just recently learned the names a butterfly and a flower.
And that brings us back to our cute little skunk. Upon bumping into Flower, nose to nose, Bambi, with great joy and enthusiasm, blurts, “Flower!”
Thumper, a rabbit character friend to our lead critter, cracks up at this “mistaken identity,” immediately trying to set Bambi straight. But he doesn’t get to finish his statement, as our cute skunk interjects, “He can call me Flower if he wants to. I don’t mind.”
Awwwh! Adorable.
And so, from that point on, our little aromatic friend is christened, “Flower.”
Think of how much easier it would be if we, male or female, could see ourselves as special and beautiful flowers. Yet how many of us struggle to see our valuable identity, as cherished creations of an incredible Creator?
Most of us do not see, let alone, feel, we are, indeed, like the beautiful flowers popping up everywhere in spring.
Most of us don’t feel special in our lives.
And because of those negative feelings, self-destructive behaviors like eating disorders, self-injury and substance abuse come in to try to mask and soothe our wounds. We believe the lie and then spend all our energy, time, and thought into rejecting our natural state: beautiful and wonderful. The low self-esteem, with all its torturous lies, becomes the dominant image. Scripture reminds us of the power of our self-perception in Proverbs 23:7:
“For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he...”
But The Most High doesn’t just leave us with that potentially dismal revelation, with no image to draw from. No. Instead, He, repeatedly, tells us who we are. But it’s up to us to believe or reject that information. And yes, throughout scripture, Elohim frequently links us to such beautiful creations, like doves and flowers. Just check out the Song of Solomon.
“I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys...”
Song of Solomon2: 1-2
“O my dove…let me see your form…for your form is lovely.”
Song of Solomon 2:14
Known as the book in the Bible, depicting a love relationship between two besotted young lovers, it’s also regarded as the relationship between us and Elohim. God is the lovesick groom, passionately pursuing His beloved bride. And yes, it gets pretty steamy.
But the overall tone of the book is how Our Father views us. Just look how He speaks to us!
“Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.”
Song of Solomon 4:7
“Thou art beautiful, O my love...”
Song of Solomon 6:4
So, by this revelation, why can’t we see ourselves as the incredible, beautiful, wonderful creation The Most High has purposed us to be? It’s nothing we need to do, to acquire our value; there’s nothing we can do to make Our Father love us. Our special uniqueness and love from Him are already there!
You may not have had the experience of seeing yourself as a beautiful flower in your life. You may not have had the experience of feeling valuable, wonderful, and precious. Perhaps things like abuse, bullying, and trauma have struck your life. I am so sorry for your suffering, that you were denied those assurances; you deserve to know and feel how special you are- especially, how special you are to Elohim.
But you can choose to see yourself differently today. You can choose to agree with His view of you. Again, it’s who you already are. There’s nothing you can do to acquire your worth and loveable standing. No eating disorder, no behavior, no material possession, and no amount of money, achievement, or status can create your value. It’s redundant. You’re valuable as is. You already are this!
“…Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if Elohim so clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?”
Matthew 6:28-30
And, if you can’t quite “get there” yet, you can start, right now, with your faith and build upon it. Daily affirmations have become more of the rage recently in positive thinking and achieving results. Why not, then, apply His Word, to yourself, as the ultimate affirmation?
“As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.
As the rain and the snow come down from heaven,
and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”
Isaiah 55:9-11
You may not be there yet, but are, indeed, going “from glory to glory” (2 Corinthians 3:18). Don’t give up on yourself. Allow The Most High’s Word to seep into you; allow it to reveal your true identity!
Your life experience may have left you feeling like an unwanted skunk, but I believe, with Our Father, you can experience your true, incredible identity. And I believe it will only be a matter of time before you, yourself, repeat our favorite little skunk’s word:
“You can call me Flower if you want to. I don’t mind.”
Be blessed and blooming, in every area of your life!
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
Cancer: So Musical and Dramatic:
“My times are in your hands...”
Psalm 31:15
I knew cancer would be scary and life-altering. But I didn’t know it’s also be so musical and dramatic.
I was diagnosed with Breast cancer in 2017. And my Type- A personality took the news and ran with it into all kinds of worst-case scenario directions. There’s no denying cancer amplifies the sheer drama of life, death, L’Amour, loss.
And, if you are a drama queen like yours truly, the heightened effect will show probably up in the music and films you ingest.
Observe.
A song like “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now,” whether Celine Dion or Meatloaf belts it out, is a “danger: high voltage” song for the diagnosed and their loved ones. I identified with it immediately.
In both music video versions of this song, this epic scale of mansions, candelabras, thunderstorms, and the haunting presence of the departed, on the lover left behind, can send one into over-the-top- drama. It sent me there, anyway. Extreme caution here.
And then there’s Queen. Two heart-wrenching sob fests include, “Who Wants to Live Forever?” and “These are the Days of Our Lives.”
“Who Wants to Live Forever?” was written specifically for the 1980s film, “The Highlander.”
The movie’s theme deals with an immortal man who becomes all-knowing and all-powerful. The downside? Even though he cannot die, he is not invulnerable to losing people he loves; he has to watch them die, one by one, as each era passes away.
Living forever means little if you have to endure it without the loved ones who mean the most to you.
“These are the Days of Our Lives,” likewise, is another soul-ripper.
Again, written and performed by Queen, it is probably best known as lead singer, Freddie Mercury’s last recording before he succumbed to HIV in 1991. Its lyrics are every bit the reflective, end-of-life thoughts about, spoiler alert: meaningful love relationships.
Again, use caution viewing the dramatic, black and white music video. With Mercury at his most emaciated, it is a stark portrayal of reality, especially when that reality is “I’m going to die and I love you.”
They say music is a spirit, one which teleports us, seduces us, inspires us. And I think there’s a lot of truth to that. How many of us can remember where we were and what was happening whenever we hear a particular song?
But all of this drama is not limited to music. Oh, Heavens, no! We must not forget the genre of film.
I have my go-to tear-jerkers: “Love Story,” “Wuthering Heights” (the 1930s Lawrence Olivier and Merle Oberon version) and “Terms of Endearment.”
No surprise here, the theme is someone dying and some element of deep, abiding and tortuous love. So much fun. Where’s the popcorn? We need popcorn and Junior Mints.
Film doesn’t register nearly as intensely as music does for me in this capacity, but it does register.
It deals with identification, the main goal of any filmmaker telling his/her story. Grab that audience; make them identify with and feel your characters.
Films about love and loss corner the market on that objective.
Since my 2017 diagnosis, music and film are not utilized just so I can make myself cry and feel bad about my circumstances.
No.
Rather, through the filter of the lyricist or the character, I can explore my own cancer realities. What would I do if I were this song’s or film’s particular person?
And it’s not always the dying character, either. It’s also those who are the left behind.
For me, there is a therapeutic value to going to these dramatic resources. Music and film serve as conduits. They trigger and awaken.
Am I a glutton for punishment? Possibly.
But I think it has more to do with processing. I’m tapping into questions, potential realities, and attempting to face my situation. Yes, I often use my imagination (uh-oh) and think about my loved ones. How are they doing? What would their reactions be if/when I died?
But it’s more than that. It is the realization that I may be nowhere near coming to terms with and experiencing all I will go through, concerning cancer. And recognizing, when, not if, we will be separated is frightening.
It’s easier to accept that if death is a lon-n-n-n-g way off. It’s more painful if it’s coming quicker, and without asking for any permission.
I’m trying- and have tried- to have conversations with my loved ones about these film-and-music-inspired mortality thoughts. They run for the hills whenever they can. No, it’s actually just the nearest parking lot. But, not surprisingly, it’s not their favorite subject matter. However, what if we do need to go there? What then?
Right now, I may be facing recurrence. I try not to get ahead of myself there. But mortality thoughts pop up. Life and death. Scripture addresses, soothes, comforts, inspires.
And I’m still fussy me.
The Most High knows all about that.
So, there I am.
With real questions. Real possibilities. Left with not just a song or a movie.
What about you? Do you examine the possibilities, the variety of outcomes? Do you process, face, make meaningful sense of and accept what is happening to you in your life? Where does Faith come in?
Your life is very much an important song, very much an important movie. And you are the diagnosed star.
The Most High will guide you through, and utilize whatever He chooses to reach you, to get your attention, and to help you through.
Let’s pray.
Abba-
I come to You, in The Name of Your Son, My Savior, Yahshua.
You know the thoughts.
You know the reality, as it attempts to convince me of its hopelessness.
And You also know Who You are. You are in control.
Of everything.
Of everything concerning me.
And You know that right now, I feel so out of control.
Help me.
Help me, thought by thought, no matter how scary, painful, intense, dramatic, and hopeless they may be.
Forgive me for thinking that I am too hard for You to deal with.
That’s ego; That’s pride. And it’s untrue.
Just meet me and help me, here and now, for starters.
Help me to walk with You from there.
Thank You for loving me, for being in the middle of my situation.
I receive Your Loving help now, by faith.
Amen.
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
The Name is “Gentlemen”
