Thursday | A Sip of Flava

I’m sitting with my coffee this morning, drifting back to breakfast outings at IHOP with my Daddy and my grandbaby. To this day, it’s still her favorite spot.

Daddy used to call those mornings our business breakfasts. Coffee on the table, pancakes in front of us, talking about Lady Flava News—plotting, planning, dreaming out loud. My Daddy was my biggest supporter. He believed in my vision long before it ever had a name, and he never doubted my dream of being a business owner.

A Touch of Sunshine

Flava Coffee House

Lady Flava News

Looking back, there’s a clear thread through all of it. I’ve always been drawn to work that brings comfort, care, and support to others.

Being raised as a Baptist minister’s daughter, I watched both of my parents—along with my godmother—give of themselves freely. They helped people lovingly and willingly. I was surrounded by faith-based people who believed in showing up, doing right, and caring for others without conditions.

That kind of love becomes part of you. It comes naturally to me, and I genuinely like that about who I am.

But like my elders before me, age has taught me something important: boundaries. I still care deeply, but I’m more mindful now. I limit how much access people have to me and what I’m willing to give. That’s wisdom—not hardness.

I come from a good home. A solid era. Strong morals. Clear values. Respect. Integrity. Heart.

I miss the times when the world wasn’t so loud—when life felt less complicated and less confusing.

This constantly changing era of technology feels like both a blessing and a curse. Some days, I wish we could step back just a little… breathe a little easier… live a little slower.

I won’t lie—sometimes I struggle with how I fit into today’s world at 65+, compared to how I was raised. The contrast can be heavy.

But I also know this: God made me exactly who I am. And I still feel that pull—this deep desire—to provide meaningful service, to be present, to care in ways that matter.

So this morning, I sip my coffee and hold those memories close.

An easier time.

A loving Daddy.

A table full of dreams.

And gratitude for the woman I’ve become.