Simple Pleasures & Treasures

🐿️💕 Sassy says:

Never underestimate how far you’ve come just because you still have a ways to go. ✨

Some seasons will stretch you. Some will change you. And some will teach you that you’re stronger, wiser, and more courageous than you ever imagined.

Give yourself grace for the days you struggled. Be proud of the days you kept going. And trust that even the chapters you never would have chosen can bring growth, wisdom, unexpected blessings, and a deeper appreciation for the good that is still ahead. 💗

Whatever gives you strength—faith, hope, love, the people who lift you up, or simply believing that tomorrow can be better—hold onto it. 🌷

You don’t have to have everything figured out today. Just keep choosing kindness, hope, and one more step forward.

Because, honey… you didn’t come this far just to forget how brightly you can shine. ✨👑

Keep going. There are still beautiful pages waiting to be written. 💕

And if life throws another plot twist your way?

Straighten your crown, fluff your tail, and remind life who it’s dealing with. 👑🐿️😂

— Sassy 🐿️✨
Simple Pleasures & Treasures

🐿️💖 Sassy says:

Not everybody is gonna understand you… and sugar, that sounds like a THEM problem. 😂💅

You just keep loving big, laughing loud, showing grace, and trusting God. 🙏✨

And if somebody thinks your light is a little too bright?

😎 Hand ’em some sunglasses!

God didn’t carry you this far just for you to shrink yourself to make somebody else comfortable.

So fluff that tail, straighten that crown 👑, say a little prayer, and SASS ON! 🐿️💖✨

Be kind. Be bold. Be YOU. And never apologize for the sparkle. 💎

💕 Sassy
Simple Pleasures & Treasures

🐿️💗 Sassy says:

Grace isn’t just something we receive from God—it’s something He calls us to give to others. 🙏✨

We never truly know the battles another person is fighting, the prayers they’ve whispered through tears, or the wounds they’re still learning to heal.

So before we judge, let’s choose empathy.
Before we criticize, let’s choose compassion.
Before we respond in anger, let’s ask God to soften our hearts.

And remember, sweet friends… grace does NOT mean allowing someone to continually hurt you. You can forgive and still have boundaries. You can pray for someone and still protect your peace. You can love like Jesus without giving everyone unlimited access to your life. 💗

God has given each of us more grace than we could ever earn. Maybe today we can pass a little of that grace along.

✨ “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” — Ephesians 4:32

Walk in grace. Lead with empathy. Trust God with the rest. 🙏💕

And as Sassy likes to say…
A little grace, a little prayer, and a strong backbone can take you a long way! 🐿️💗✨

— Sassy
Simple Pleasures & Treasures

🐿️🍂 Sassy says:

Well, well, well… October has entered the chat! 🎃😂

Time to break out the sweaters, light the fall candles, eat something pumpkin-flavored, and spend the next month dressing for all four seasons before lunchtime. 🤦‍♀️🍁

This October, we’re collecting good vibes instead of drama, memories instead of grudges, and treats instead of tricks. And if somebody tries to disturb your peace?

Honey… hide your nuts and keep on scurrying! 🐿️😂

Keep hope in your heart, kindness in your soul, and enough sass in your pocket to handle whatever falls out of the tree. 💕✨

Happy October, you beautiful bunch of nuts! 🐿️🥜🍂

💗 Simple Pleasures & Treasures

🐿️💗 Sassy says: You matter more than you know.

Sometimes the brightest smile is hiding the deepest pain. Be gentle with people. Check on the strong ones. Listen without judging. And never assume someone knows how much they matter—tell them.

If you are struggling, please stay. Your story is still being written, and this difficult chapter does not have to be the last one. 💗

God sees the pain you may not have words for. He hears the prayers you can barely whisper. And even in the darkest valley, you do not walk alone.

✨ “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” — Psalm 34:18

At Simple Pleasures & Treasures, you are more than a client walking through our door. You are a person of value, worthy of kindness, compassion, and hope. This is a safe place to be heard, to be yourself, and to be reminded that you matter.

🎗️ Stay. Speak up. Reach out. Check on one another. Choose kindness.

If you or someone you know is in crisis in the U.S., call or text 988 for the Su***de & Crisis Lifeline.

💗 You are loved. You are needed. And your life has value.

— Sassy 🐿️✨

🐿️💗 Sassy says:

Not everyone will understand your heart, appreciate your kindness, or recognize how far you’ve come—and that’s okay. ✨

Keep being kind. Keep growing. Keep shining. And remember, you don’t have to dim your light just because someone else is uncomfortable with your glow. 💖

God knows your heart, sees your journey, and knows exactly where He’s leading you. 🙏

Walk in grace, protect your peace, and sparkle anyway. ✨💗

— Sassy 🐿️
Simple Pleasures & Treasures

🐿️💗 Sassy says:

You never truly know what someone is carrying behind their smile.

That’s why compassion matters. 💕

Before you judge, listen.
Before you criticize, consider.
Before you speak harshly, choose kindness.

Jesus didn’t ask us to understand every person’s journey before showing them love. He simply taught us to love one another. 🙏

A little grace can soften a hurting heart.
A kind word can change someone’s entire day.
And compassion costs us nothing—but to the person receiving it, it can mean everything.

✨ Today, ask God to give you eyes that notice the hurting, ears that truly listen, and a heart that responds like Jesus—with mercy, grace, patience, and love.

Because sometimes the most powerful way we share our faith isn’t by quoting Scripture—it’s by living it. ❤️✝️

“Be kind and compassionate to one another…” — Ephesians 4:32

💕🐿️ Sassy
Simple Pleasures & Treasures

Some memories don’t fade with time. They live in your heart, your mind—and sometimes in your senses.

I was 14 years old when my daddy died by su***de.

My dad and I were living with his parents, my Gramps and Grandma Miller, in their home at the time. Thankfully, my grandparents were not home when it happened.

I was.

I was in another room. I didn’t see my dad pull the trigger.

But I heard it.

And afterward, there was the smell.

Forty-five years later, there are parts of that day that my mind and body have never completely forgotten. A gunshot has a sound you don’t simply erase from your memory when it is the sound of losing your daddy.

And that smell…

It became connected to the moment my childhood changed forever.

I sometimes think people assume that because I was in another room and didn’t actually witness it with my eyes, I was somehow spared from the worst of it.

I wasn’t.

At 14 years old, I didn’t have the words for trauma. I only knew that my daddy was there one moment—and gone the next.

And I was still there.

In my grandparents’ home.

A home that would never feel exactly the same again.

My heart also aches when I think about Gramps and Grandma Miller. They weren’t there when it happened, and I am so thankful they were spared from being there in those moments.

But they weren’t spared from what came afterward.

Their son had taken his life in their home.

How does a mother and father ever completely erase that from their hearts? How do you walk through those rooms afterward without remembering? How do you grieve your child while knowing that the place you call home is also the place where his life ended?

They lost their son.

I lost my daddy.

And in different ways, all three of us had to learn how to live with something that could never be undone.

Sometimes I wish I could go back and wrap my arms around that 14-year-old girl. I would tell her:

You are going to carry this for a very long time, sweetheart. There will be things that bring you right back to this moment. There will be questions you never get answered. There will be days you miss your daddy so much it physically hurts.

But this moment will not be the end of your story.

And Daddy, if I could speak to you today, I would tell you that your decision didn’t end when that gun went off.

The sound traveled farther than the room you were in.

It reached your 14-year-old daughter.

It reached your mom and dad.

And the echoes followed us for years.

I wish you could have known that whatever darkness you were experiencing that day did not make you a burden. I wish you could have seen another sunrise. I wish you could have watched your daughter grow up.

Most of all, I wish you could see the woman that little girl became.

She survived.

She found her voice.

She learned compassion because she understands that people can be fighting battles no one else can see.

She learned to love fiercely because she knows how quickly life can change.

And through some of the darkest chapters of her life, she held onto God.

I cannot erase the sound of that day.

I cannot erase the smell.

And Gramps and Grandma Miller could never erase the knowledge of what happened to their son inside their home.

But I refuse to allow the worst moment of our family’s story to be the only thing that defines us.

Daddy, I have carried the memory of that day for 45 years. But I have carried my love for you even longer.

And today, I choose to let the life I have built, the love I give, the kindness I show, and the faith that has carried me speak louder than the gunshot that changed our family forever.

I love you, Daddy.

And to the 14-year-old girl still somewhere inside of me:

You made it. ❤️

If you are struggling or thinking about su***de, please reach out to someone. In the U.S., call or text 988 to reach the Su***de & Crisis Lifeline. One terrible moment does not have to become the final chapter of your story.

45 years ago, my life changed forever.

Forty-five years ago, my Daddy died by su***de.

I was only 14 years old.

Fourteen is such a tender age. Old enough to understand that something terrible had happened, but far too young to understand why. I was a little girl suddenly handed a grief far bigger than I knew how to carry.

His death didn’t end when his life ended.

It rippled through the lives of everyone who loved him. It left questions that would never be answered, moments he would never be here for, and an empty place that time could soften—but never completely fill.

For years, that 14-year-old girl lived somewhere inside me.

She carried sadness. Confusion. Questions. Sometimes anger. She wondered how life could change so completely in a single moment. And she had no idea just how much strength she would eventually have to find within herself.

Today, 45 years later, I look at her differently.

I wish I could wrap my arms around that little girl and tell her:

You are going to survive this.

You are going to experience heartbreak and hardship, but you are also going to experience love, laughter, friendship, faith and purpose.

You are going to fall down—and you are going to learn how to stand back up.

And one day, the pain you thought would destroy you will become part of the compassion you give to others.

I am no longer that frightened 14-year-old girl.

I am a woman who has been tested by life more than once. A woman who has learned boundaries, resilience, forgiveness and faith. A woman who understands that strength doesn’t mean never hurting—it means continuing to live, love and believe even after you’ve been hurt.

And Daddy, after all these years, I still miss you.

I wish you could see the woman your little girl became.

Your death is part of my story, but it did not get to write the ending.

I did. And God is still writing it with me. ❤️

So today, I remember you. I grieve you. I honor you.

And I honor that 14-year-old girl, too.

Because she survived something she never should have had to experience—and she grew into a woman who still chooses hope.

45 years later, I am still here.
Still standing.
Still loving.
Still believing.
Still becoming.

And maybe that is one of the greatest ways I can honor you. ❤️

If you are struggling, please stay. Your story isn’t finished yet.

And if today feels heavier than you can carry alone, please reach for someone. In the U.S., you can call or text 988 to reach the Su***de & Crisis Lifeline. You don’t have to find the perfect words—you just don’t have to carry the moment by yourself. ❤️