The Wrong Memo
A Sasspoint Village Story
In Sasspoint Village, love usually travels in pairs:
Prayer… and somebody’s auntie peeking from the window like security.
But every so often, something different slips in — cute, charming, temporary — the emotional version of a pop-up shop on the boardwalk.
That’s what stepped into Lena’s life.
They met at The Grateful Griddle, right between the syrup station and the sign that says:
We serve breakfast — not illusions.
He smelled nice. Spoke softly. Had “thoughts” about books he barely finished.
They laughed. Shared fries. Claimed a table and called it “ours.”
And without one real conversation about the future,
Lena started imagining one.
She did what so many of us quietly do:
She began making long-term memories with a short-term person.
Whenever talk wandered anywhere near commitment, he treated it like a hot skillet.
“Let’s not rush,” he’d say. “I like what we have.”
Sir.
What we have doesn’t actually go anywhere.
But his smile was warm. His voice was steady. The moments were sweet.
So she stayed.
They took pictures. Saved receipts. Picked out a couch color neither of them owned yet.
Then one evening — mid-lemonade refill — he cleared his throat.
“You’re amazing,” he started.
And in Sasspoint Village, that line means:
Brace yourself, sis.
“I just don’t see this going long-term. I’m not ready. You deserve more.”
No shouting. No scene.
Just a tidy goodbye that still sliced like heartbreak with sharp corners.
The next morning, everything looked different.
The boardwalk wasn’t dreamy anymore — it was just planks and salty air.
Her latte tasted like plain coffee.
And when the waitress asked, “Is he parking the car?” Lena wanted to apply for leave from socializing.
On the walk home, she cried. Prayed. Sniffed. Cried again.
And finally, clarity showed up.
She hadn’t been foolish.
She’d been investing like a woman building a house —
while he was simply passing through like a tourist.
And Sasspoint Village has a quiet rule:
If they’re only visiting, don’t build them a guest room in your heart.
That night, Lena took her memories back.
The restaurant returned to pancakes — not promises.
The song went back to being just… a song.
And her heart remembered:
Real love isn’t scared of the future.
Real love plans for it — with God right in the middle.
She didn’t harden up.
She wised up.
Now she asks real questions. Pays attention to patterns. Listens for clarity — not just chemistry.
Because pop-ups are great for lemonade stands —
not destinies, covenants, or calling.
And somewhere in Sasspoint Village,
God was already preparing someone who wouldn’t just “drop by” her life…
He’d stay — intentionally.
As Lena finally exhaled, she smiled and whispered:
Somewhere along the way, my heart picked up the wrong memo —
But thank God, He rewrote it.
Scripture
“Above all else, guard your heart,
for everything you do flows from it.”
Proverbs 4:23 (NIV)
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