By Jess Sadler
There are moments in life when you're called to leave everything behind — not because it's easy, but because survival demands it.
I left with nothing but my children, my prayers, and a fierce, unshakable hope that God wasn’t done with us yet.
We came from darkness — years of pain, betrayal, abuse that tried to swallow us whole. But I chose life. I chose freedom. Not just for me… but for them.
We started over in a city where no one knew our names. I had no job. No friends. No map. Just faith. I remember whispering as we settled into unfamiliar walls:
“Lord, if I have to rebuild from ashes, then breathe into them.”
He did.
In that in-between space — broken yet brave — I met a man who didn’t try to fix me. He prayed for me. With me. Over our children and our home. He didn’t look at my past with fear, but stood beside me in my present with love and patience. My husband — my answered prayer — has never let go of my hand.
But life still tested us.
Two strokes.
One took my strength. The second tried to take my voice. I lost my job. My independence. And on some days, the belief that I’d ever feel whole again.
But God was already preparing a healing I didn’t see coming.
Baking. Simple, quiet, healing baking.
It started small. A way to steady my hands. To feel useful again. But the kitchen became my sanctuary. Flour turned into therapy. Sugar became a song. Each loaf I pulled from the oven whispered: You’re still here.
I began to breathe again.
And while I baked, my children carried me.
My sons, brave and devoted, serve in the military. I carry them in every prayer, every heartbeat. My youngest son, just sixteen, walks this world on the spectrum — a soul so gentle, wise, and joyful, he teaches me about God’s grace every single day.
And my daughter.
My beautiful, radiant 19-year-old daughter.
Perfectly herself. Perfectly made. She is the embodiment of strength, softness, and light. Watching her grow, love, and find her way fills my heart with a joy I can’t explain. She is beauty with roots, and I thank God every day for her.
And then, finally, I found my church.
A place that didn’t ask me to hide my scars. A family that welcomed the raw, the real, the rising. A sanctuary where I could cry and praise in the same breath. I didn’t just find a congregation. I found home.
I still have hard days. Doctor visits. Therapy. Waiting on disability. But I no longer live in survival. I live in surrender — to grace, to purpose, to God’s timing.
So, if you are reading this from your own storm, hear me:
God may not take the fire away,
but He will walk through it with you.
And when the ashes settle,
you’ll find something new has grown.
For me, it was peace in the kitchen.
Prayer in the rising of bread.
Healing in my children’s laughter.
And strength in the arms of the One who never let go.
I am still here.
And by His grace — I rise.
With grace and gratitude,
🕊️
Jess Sadler
Mother. Warrior. Faith Walker.
Survivor of the fire, keeper of the faith.
📖 Psalm 46:5 | “God is within her, she will not fall.”
📬 Let’s Connect:
🔗 Instagram | @cookiecreationbyjess
📧 Email | [email protected]
💒 Prayer Requests Welcome
I left everything behind to protect my children. I survived abuse, heartbreak, and two strokes. I lost my job, my strength… but not my God.
Now I bake — not just for comfort, but for healing.
Every loaf, every cookie, is a prayer.
My sons serve in the military.
My 16-year-old son on the spectrum teaches me joy.
My 19-year-old daughter is beauty in motion.
And my husband? He prays over us every single day.
God didn’t stop the storm…
But He never left me in it.
💛 I’m still here.
💛 I’m still rising.
💛 And I still believe.
#FaithJourney #ChristianMother #HealingThroughFaith #SurvivorStory #GodIsGood #FaithOverFear #BakingWithPurpose #ChristianBlog #StrokeSurvivor #MotherhoodMoments #Psalm46v5
And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”
— Galatians 6:9
I wasn’t born into peace—
I was thrown into fire.
Sixteen and already learning how to survive
Without parents, without a net.
My brother—my real brother—
My first best friend—
Gone.
My mother—still here, but fading,
Her memories unraveling like string.
I watched family through glass—
Through social media smiles,
Sisters in laughter,
While I sat with silence.
Then came the strokes.
The job loss.
The body breaking—
But not the soul.
Never the soul.
Because God whispered through the wreckage,
"You’re still here. You still have breath."
And I found Him…
In cookies.
Not cakes. Not grand gestures.
Just sugar, flour, almond, and prayer.
I mixed grief with vanilla,
Folded forgiveness into every dough,
Let hope bake on parchment paper.
This—was therapy.
This—was worship.
Every tray an altar.
Every bite a breakthrough.
I didn’t need a man to rescue me.
But God sent me a man who chose me.
Who still does.
A husband who prays louder than the storms.
Who doesn’t complete me—
But walks with me as I become whole.
And my children?
Warriors. Light. Purpose.
My Airborne soldier.
My Marine.
My radiant daughter.
My brilliant boy on the spectrum.
My two daughters through marriage—bonus gifts from Heaven.
I don’t have a throne.
I have a mixer, an apron, and a vision:
A bakery filled with scripture,
Soon, a coffee bar lined with community,
And lemonade stand that tastes like joy.
A stage where youth spit truth and poetry in Jesus’ name.
This is Flour + Faith.
This is revival in a cookie.
This is me, still standing. Still baking.
Still becoming.
I wasn’t handed a recipe.
I was handed rejection.
A brother taken. A mother distant.
A body broken by two strokes.
A job lost. A future unclear.
But God…
God gave me cookies.
Not just for comfort, but for calling.
When I couldn’t walk, I prayed.
When I couldn’t speak, I baked.
And in every batch,
I mixed sugar with surrender.
I folded grief into dough.
I watched hope rise at 350 degrees.
I am Jess.
I am a mother.
To warriors in uniform.
To a daughter who is beauty in motion.
To a son who teaches love beyond language.
To two daughters by marriage who became part of my heart.
I am a wife.
To a man who chooses me daily.
Who holds my hand and holds my heart.
Who prays louder than fear.
Who stands beside me as we build this dream together.
I am not just a baker.
I am a builder.
A survivor.
A woman of God with flour on her hands and fire in her bones.
And this?
This is Cookie Creation by Jess.
A kitchen, yes.
But also a sanctuary.
And someday in the future:
A stage for youth with truth to share.
A booth for single moms who need rest.
A window of light for those still stuck in the dark.
I bake because I lived.
I serve because I survived.
And I rise—
Every. Single. Day.
Because God never stopped choosing me.
And now I bake to remind you:
You’re not too far gone.
You’re not too broken.
You’re just preheating.
And your purpose?
Is rising.
