You’re Never Gonna Be Jell-O
Oh, dear reader, today we begin with a question that only surfaces when life throws us a paradox—when the usual rhythm of order, chaos, and fleeting wonder is interrupted. You know those moments: when something unexpectedly funny happens with a loved one, or your child lingers in our embrace just a little longer? I call them bite-sized blessings. They feel so good.
But what happens when someone wants to take it a step further and cherish you—when they see you as the treasure you truly are? Do you feel worthy of such devotion?
One of my favorite quotes is, “We must handle each other with silk gloves.”
So, are you worthy of unconditional love? The kind where you are fully known and fully adored? The short answer? Every single day—and twice on Sunday.
How do I know this? It’s not because I’m some enlightened sage, commissioned to remind humanity of its inherent and irrefutable worth (though, I must admit, typing that sentence was fun). And while I’d gladly accept such a position—especially if it comes with an official pendant—that’s not the reason.
I know this truth about you because it’s written in the ultimate life manual: the Bible.
Pour another cup of coffee, dear reader. We’re going deeper.
Your worth was determined by the One who created you.
He said you are fearfully and wonderfully made.
He said He knew you before you were even formed in your mother’s womb.
He said He knows the number of hairs on your head.
He said He collects your tears.
Can we trust this valuation? Without a doubt. Why? Because the Bible isn’t just a collection of poetic musings or moral tales—it is the only book on Earth that contains 570 fulfilled prophecies.
Let’s put that into perspective. Imagine an ancient guru—a man of 114 years, living in solitude atop a mountain, speaking only when wisdom demands it. You trek five grueling hours up rocky terrain, sweat beading at your brow, until you finally stand before him. He gestures for you to sit. And surrounding you, carved into the stone walls, are 570 predictions—each one spoken by him, each one fulfilled.
You have one question. A burning question. What is your question?
You utter it slowly, then wait in silence. He looks at you with knowing, timeworn eyes, and then… he speaks.
Would you listen? Of course you would. Because, as the saying goes: people lie, numbers don’t.
570 fulfilled prophecies mean the Bible is more than ancient text—it is our single source of truth.
And if God, the ultimate authority, declares that you are worthy—soak that in. Let it sink so deeply into your spirit that you redefine yourself. Worthy becomes your first name, and every other name follows.
And don’t do that thing—don’t rifle through your mental Rolodex of all the ways you’ve fallen short, the ways you think you aren’t as worthy as you once were. Remember: Noah was a drunk. David orchestrated a murder just to claim another man’s wife. Paul ordered the deaths of those who believed in the very gospel he was later called to proclaim.
Yet, God still called them. Used them. Loved them.
And He calls, uses, and loves you—flaws, failures, and all.
You are worthy beyond measure. Period.
Okay, this will hurt. Trigger warning. There are people who will never see your worth and will treat you accordingly. Are you surprised? Probably not.
As Julia Roberts’ character said in My Best Friend’s Wedding, “You’re crème brûlée. And he wants Jell-O.” To which Cameron Diaz’s character replied, “I can be Jell-O.” Let’s park here for a moment—never shrink yourself into Jell-O for someone.
You are crème brûlée—not just any crème brûlée, but the finest, made in a quaint restaurant on the hillside of the South of France. You are exceptional. You deserve people who, rather than diminish you, would sooner bow out of your life than treat you as anything less than perfect for them. That’s the thing—no one is perfect, but you can be perfect to the right person. Because for them, you are the missing puzzle piece, your jagged edges fitting seamlessly into the curves of their nature and experience.
Don’t we know this to be true with our children? I wouldn’t trade my Minerva and Miladys for the entire world.
Yesterday, we watched the story of Sally Hemings—the enslaved woman of Thomas Jefferson, a fair-skinned woman who, fun fact, was actually the half-sister of Jefferson’s wife, who had passed away early in their marriage. During a trip to Paris, Sally had the chance to stay behind and be free.
Side note: I despise slavery movies and documentaries. My parents must have watched Roots at least 457 times during my childhood—no exaggeration. Mom, can I get a vouch?
Slavery was one of the darkest, most twisted chapters in America’s history. I know I am living in the dream of some of my ancestors when I say this: I never think about color. Who cares? None of that matters in the grand scheme of things. What matters is how you make people feel.
Sally ultimately chose to return to Virginia because Jefferson promised to free all her children once they reached adulthood. He kept his word. But she herself wasn’t freed until her early 50s.
After we finished the documentary, Mila turned to me and asked, “Mommy, would you come back to America for me? Or would you stay in Paris and be free?”
I looked at her and said, “Baby… I’d live in chains for you if it meant I could see you again. I could never choose freedom over you.”
She smiled. And I meant it.
That’s it, dear reader.
Would the people you hold close choose you every time? Do they make you feel worthy of sacrifice? Or are you just the free toy that comes with a Happy Meal—a fun and convenient distraction, soon to be discarded?
When someone doesn’t see your value, it is not your fault. Our value is perceived in direct correlation with a person’s level of growth. When someone is on a different path in their journey, they see you like Mount Everest—a thrilling challenge to climb, but not a place they intend to build a home.
Signs that you are being undervalued:
They find fault with you easily.
They lack the grace to forgive small mistakes.
They prioritize others over you.
And the ultimate red flag? Broken promises.
Think of your growth and self-worth like currency—USD.
If someone is operating at a lower frequency, they may have money—but it’s in Pesos. A part of them may wish to exchange true affection and commitment, but they simply don’t have the means to pay for it. And here’s the kicker—there is no currency exchange in the frequency of love.
Either you share the same currency, or you don’t do business.
Why? Because if they try to love you on their terms, you will always be the one getting shortchanged. Their Pesos will buy empty conversations that fizzle out every ten minutes. They’ll buy thoughtless gifts, half-commitments, and a love that requires constant resuscitation.
Why do I assume you have USD?
Oh, because you’re fabulous, and everybody knows it.
You see, there’s a beautiful gift God gave us called free will. We get to choose the people who celebrate our worthiness—those who delight in more than just our smile. A smile is easy. Hand me a hundred bucks, and I’ll smile on the outside. But give me understanding, gentleness, and loyalty, and I’ll smile from the inside out.
We are never trapped in our circles, relationships, or friendships. We have the power to choose those who see the sparkle in our eyes—the ones who know they hit the jackpot when we entered their lives. People who recognize our worth are rare, not because we are unworthy, but because most people simply don’t see value in themselves. So, they struggle to see it in others.
In order to see someone through the lens of worthiness, you must first feel worthy yourself. You cannot give what you do not have. Love, acceptance, and tenderness must flow from a place of deep, unshakable self-worth.
So, let me ask you—do you feel worthy of love? If someone were to extend a grand gesture of affection toward you, would you be open to receiving it? It’s natural to feel a flicker of humility in those moments, but at your core, do you believe that good things are supposed to happen to you?
Breaking news: Good things are supposed to happen to you.
For too long, my life has felt like a revolving door of almost-love and inevitable disappointment because I contorted myself to fit into spaces I was never meant to occupy. But, dear reader, you and I are are not Jello. We are a French delicacy. And Jello people? They need other Jello people. Some individuals will never change, and that is their right. Don’t exhaust yourself trying to understand them. Don’t mold them. That’s above your pay grade. That’s God’s work. You have one job. And by the way, I love that saying—like when Chick-fil-A forgets my extra pickles, I’ll say to my girls, “They had one job.” But seriously, you have one job and two responsibilities:
To recognize your own worthiness.
To treat the people you love like they are worthy, too.
This is the foundation of love. It’s the root of every accomplishment and the birthplace of every blessing.
So here’s our challenge this week: Tell someone they are worthy. You’d be surprised how rarely we hear those words, even from those who love us most. Tell them: You are worthy. Add a little sauce if you want. Make it your own.
And then—look in the mirror and tell yourself.
Until next time,
Maria 🌹
