Blueberry Blues

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©jbkatke

They look so innocent sitting in a bowl. Tempting, daring a person to devour just one. Not so fast. One bite will be all it takes to realize the old gray mare ain’t what she used to be.

Today has been one for the books. Hopefully, never to be repeated. There are almost no words to describe how my day went. But I will try:

Forcing myself to roll out of bed, late-ish morning. This will be a partial day to call my own. Ideally, the morning would consist of shower, baking blueberry muffins and laundry. This afternoon, my writer’s critique.

Rushing home to bake a second batch of muffins to take to potluck this evening. Only, now all desire drained out of me. Seemingly, I’ve made enough blueberry muffins to induce a false confidence. I knew the recipe, enough not to read it thoroughly. Ha!

What could go wrong? Never ask yourself that question. Soon I found out. Mixing the dry ingredients I had the presence of mind to remove the plastic ‘sleeve’ that protects the recipe—now full of flour. Fortunately it was before adding the liquid ingredients. If only I had read that the egg and milk combo had to equal one cup. It was the combo that I forgot.

I wound up guessing how much milk should go in. Perhaps it was a tad too much. Something still didn’t look right. The blueberries neglected to be added. Poking them in the muffin cups one by one is not the recommended way to ensure they really are blueberry muffins. Maybe I better eat one just to make certain they are still good enough to share.

My answer came before it ever hit my tongue. Why is this sticking to the paper cup? Oops, I forgot the oil. Do I know better? Yes. Do I feel foolish? Of course—and mad at myself too.

Was my head even attached to my neck? That was the only thing in its proper place, clearly my mind is fried from the Kansas heat. It can wipe the smile right off your face.

I share with you my mantra till my dying day: I. Do. Not. Belong. In. The. Kitchen!

Bedtime will not come soon enough.

He’s Gone!

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©jb katke 2026

Jokingly, I have said many a time, “I’m just next in line.”

But that was in reference to the dishes in my hutch. Almost everything in the cabinet belonged to someone else first. Today it takes on a whole new meaning.

It’s my brother—Denny’s gone. Tomorrow at 1pm, he will be placed next to his wife in the cemetery. My feelings are mixed. In a sense, I have felt we were two only children. Being of the opposite sex, and seven years between us, we were never really close. But then, he has always been there. Sort of.

As children, I recall playing with him and his cars in the dirt in front of the home two doors down, newly built. Denny has always been a car guy. On the weekends his friends from high school would come and together they worked on rebuilding an engine. I think. Our dad had a carport and made a beam strong enough to hoist up a transmission or whatever it was they worked on.

Today there is a bunch of miles between us. Denny was more like our mother, quiet, private, an antique lover, and love of the home he made with his wife. That, in and of itself is a funny story.

Denny and his wife moved north and it took ten years to be accepted by the community. It seems there was another resident, by the same name that had become well known in town—not in a good way. Happenstantially, this resident had a girlfriend by the same name as my sister-in-law. Her name will not be revealed in order to protect the not-so-innocent.

My brother never had a great deal of money, so he lived humbly. His home was over a hundred years old and in the local hotel pictured as one of the original homes built in the budding city it continues to be. A few years back, he did me proud. Inheriting a few dollars from another family death, Denny purchased two things. Not one to make spontaneous purchases, he bought an antique car, and a log-splitter. The latter, very necessary as he heated his home mostly by a woodburning stove.  

Denny was not one for keeping in touch. If we were to phone each other, I was the caller. The last time we talked, he called me. Every year I made a point of calling him on his birthday—and he remembered (!) and knew I would not reach him. He had a new phone number.

Now he has a new residence too. I hope it’s the place I have prayed for him. He’ll have the chance to get better acquainted with Jesus, bring our parents up to speed with his life on earth, and meet the two siblings our mom lost in miscarriages.

See y’all later.

Ouch Pain!

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I wanted to share with you a recent painful experience.

The problem was—I’m told to always to include a picture with a blog. How does a person share a photograph of pain? Instead, I will share this guy with you. He has known pain for as long as I can remember.

This is us a few years ago in our getting to know you period of time. Through the years our friendship has grown and we remain close today. If one of us does something stupid, the other is always ready to give support and encouragement. If you have experienced someone whose personality just clicks—a friendship like that is priceless.

I consider him as my barometer. ‘Am I being a wimp or does it hurt as bad as I feel?  The pain began innocently, as I crawled in bed so as not to disturb my husband. I must have twisted myself in some contortion that created the issue.

The whole next day I was useless, unable to go about my normal day. It hurt too much if I sat wrong or turned and twisted even a little bit.  How was I going to get into bed tonight?

Thankfully, I did without adding more trauma to my body. Maybe I have never mentioned it but bed is one of my thinking spots. A realization hit me.

I said to myself, “Think of all your days lived out pain-free.  Have you ever thanked the Creator of life for that?” No.

Right then I gave thanks for all the days of being able to go about my plans. I almost hate to tell you what happened the day after because not everyone is this fortunate. But you might at well know the whole story.

The next day, I woke up pain-free.

Is being thankful of key importance?

That guy mentioned above—he is the love of my life and father to my children. He has tried everything to subdue the pain. Surgery, physical therapy, meds, injections, acupuncture—nothing alleviated it enough. Soon he will have yet another surgery to implant a stimulator that quiets the nerves telling him he hurts. While it won’t take all pain away, it should make a substantial difference.

We intend to give thanks to our Creator for the medical knowledge known today. And whatever the outcome we will give thanks for sustaining my man as he has done for countless years.

Old v New

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©jb katke 2025

These mixing bowls are something dear to me. The green and teal ones are all that is left of my mother’s mixing bowl set. I remember her using the full set of four. Social media tells me they are now valuable, something many of the younger generation consider desirable.

When antiquing I am often tempted to purchase what is missing in Mom’s set, but the price keeps me from doing so. If you think prices are high for new items, I’m here to tell you old and used ain’t cheap either.

But that is not the only reason. The large enamel bowl in the picture is part of a set from my grandmother’s kitchen. If I were to complete Mom’s set, I would no longer need Grandma’s set. How many bowls does a person need—when she does not even like working in the kitchen?

Grandma had to work at the kitchen table because her counter was filled to the max. Just as her kitchen was small, so was her table, but one of the chairs was still part way in the doorway to the dining room.

Both my mom’s and grandma’s kitchens were anything but user friendly. Maybe the ‘good ole days’ are not as good as we recall. Convenience was never considered in the design of the home.

With that being said, here we are about to enter a New Year. How was your 2025? It’s interesting how we seem to look forward to the new year when the only difference is the numerals. We are still what we are and circumstances have not changed much, if at all. But there is always hope.

A couple quotes from pastor Charles Swindoll have meant a lot to me: “Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.” Another good one is, “We are all faced with a series great opportunities brilliantly disguised as impossible situations.”

Let’s try to make this New Year better, different—one to remember. Maybe a new you.

A good start could be found in my latest book, Texting From Jesus, Season 1. Devotionals that give a place for the reader to pen their own thoughts are hard to come by. Your welcome. It is available on Amazon, with more seasons to come.  Each day will have a place for you to write to Jesus.  

If you could text him, what would you say?

©jb katke 2025

It’s True!

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©jb katke

Every bit of it. Truth.

I’ve heard of magnetic attraction, we have to look no further than birds to be confronted with the reality.

I washed my car recently, which is something of a miracle. Only when the sun shines on the windshield do I admit its time. The car looks really nice—one would never guess she is 18 yrs old. And running like a champ, even when dirty.

The location—the church parking lot. These foul birds (no misspelling here) were more than sacrilegious, they were downright ungodly. Parking in the same spot for years, with no problem. But wash your car and see what happens!

After my meeting, bird poop all over the hood, the windshield, and roof. Even the handle on the door was christened. My car looked better filthy dirty as opposed to now. Yes, it got a second bath.

You may think that if this is my primary concern, life is good.

Thanks to Jesus my life is good, but no, it is not my primary concern.

My primary concern is what is going on during this Christmas season. Holiday music fills the air at every store, radio stations are playing solid Christmas songs, commercials on television speak of nothing but what you should gift your loved one.

Peace on Earth, Good will towards men, we sing. Only there is no peace. How can anyone find peace when there are gifts to wrap, food to prepare and gather with family that have issues? Lots of them. Open the Good Book and learn Jesus came for more than saving people from themselves. He came to separate as well. WHAT? Take a deep breathe.

Those precious ones inside your circle of family and friends are included in Jesus’s hope and forgiveness. Regardless of words or behavior. Jesus offers what was never asked for—before we were ever born. Jesus had a hand in creation and knew we needed him.  He yearns to be your friend with the to die for kind of love.  

Churches are offering additional services reminding you of the birth of Jesus. He is the Messiah, our Lord and Savior, saving us from the sins this world offers. Truth spoken. How many value what Jesus offers throughout the year?

Make this time of your life different—hold Jesus close to your heart all year long.

Erasing Errors

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© jb katke

When was the last time you gave any thought to an eraser—or have you ever?

Before the computer era, they were essential little things. I can recall joining other parents getting their young ones prepped for a new school year. It wasn’t just clothes, but the supplies they would need on a daily basis. Notebooks, paper, pencils and pens. And erasers.

If you are unaware, some erasers are better than others. I keep this pink one from days gone by simply because it’s marked, ‘Made in the USA.’ At the risk of sounding like some kind of eraser connoisseur, this one is the least desirable. When used, it can either not do its full job, or leave marks on paper.

The art gum eraser went to school with the kids. It did a fantastic job on removing unwanted errors without the residue. What it did leave were eraser crumbs that needed to be swept away.

The pencil style eraser is my choice today. Housed in a plastic holder gives it stability and does a great job removing errors—without the crumbs. Also, minus the residue—one would never know it was even used.

Why am I making a deal over erasers? Soon I’ll have a new book to come out—an interactive devotional. Texts From Jesus, Season 1. Because there is a place for you in it, you can be the coauthor. If you don’t like what you’ve penciled in, erase it!

Jesus’s dad in heaven is much like the pencil style eraser. He see’s the errors we make and knows the heart they come from. Those that mean well, have the best of intentions, still make boo-boos. Does it surprise you that a Jesus follower is not perfect?

Jesus had a book published long before my One Day Wonders. While there are several versions of his book, I refer to it as the Good Book because it is chock full of good stuff that he had inspired several authors to write for our benefit.

Another book, that remains in heaven is the Book of Life, also for our benefit. Jesus’s dad erases all the errors made by his followers—he knows them by name. On earth there may be the a residue of a scar, but in heaven, his forgiving eraser makes a person look like they never even made an error.

Just Enough

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©jb katke registered 2025

These two quarters bring much to mind. Twenty-five cents apiece may not be much in today’s economy. But looking back on our early years when my husband Dave was in the Navy it would have meant the world.

In those day’s we lived paycheck to paycheck. On the weeks too close for comfort, we had a couple pennies between the two of us. On the good weeks we had a nickel. We made it through—life is all a matter of perspective.

Quarters today remain a valued commodity to me. One of our local grocers has a clever idea in encouraging shoppers to return their carts to the door. The carts are linked together by a chain that clasps onto the cart in front of it. To get a cart out, insert a quarter and they separate.

Occasionally as I go for a cart, and someone has left a quarter for the next shopper to use. It always brings a smile, and I thank Jesus for allowing me to be that next shopper. Yes, we continue to live paycheck to paycheck. We continue to make it through, almost fifty-five years strong.

Today, I try to do the same thing. With the intention of paying it forward. As I leave the quarter, I say a little prayer, ‘Jesus let someone know you see and provide for needs.’ We reside in a pricy community and know there are others like us that would be appreciative.

It isn’t much. Others can and do more than I. A trademark of living as Jesus would have us, first and foremost, is a changed life. Doing and saying things that give aid or comfort to another hurting soul. Kindness does not hurt, and it could be just enough to help another get through the day.

Speaking of coins brings the fish story to my mind. I’m not making it up—read it for yourself in Matthew 17:24-27 in the Good Book. The topic at hand was paying taxes. One of Jesus’s disciples, Peter, witnessed the conversation.

Peter being a fisherman by trade—Jesus knew this would be a learning moment. He directed Peter to go fishing, the first one he catches has an unexpected surprise. A coin that was just enough to pay taxes.

Trust that Jesus is aware of your needs and ready, willing and able to meet them. He gives just enough to strengthen faith muscles.

Anti-Constipation Salad

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© jb katke

What a find!

It is a hidden treasure that brings a giggle to surface. Although, to some it may be helpful and that is why I’m sharing it today.

The recipe will be included in case you are unable to read it from the picture. What made me smile was my father’s note at the bottom of my mother’s recipe. I can hand this down to my children, but only I recognize the handwriting of my parents.

I’m not sure where Mom got it, but it wouldn’t surprise me is it was from her mother. As far back as I can recall in my child mind. Grandpa Andrews never left the house. By that, I mean going anyplace.

His three-acre yard was his tramping ground. Grandpa always had a garden and lots of fruit trees—cherry, pear, and snow apple. Today snow apples are unheard of, you could liken them to a McIntosh. Even they are rare find in the produce department of the grocery store because they bruise easily. Biting into a snow apple, the skin was a perfect red and the inner apple, snow white. Thus, the name.

Grandpa stayed home due to an ailment that I never understood, but it had to do with the bathroom. Methinks it was constipation. Grandma Andrews was forever making stewed prunes and Aunt Jane that lived with them constantly made bran muffins.

For those interested, here is the recipe:

Anti-Constipation Salad

One heaping Tablespoon shredded raw potato with skin on

Two heaping Tablespoons shredded raw apple (peeled)

One heaping Tablespoon finely chopped seedless raisins

One Tablespoon vegetable oil

One Tablespoon lemon juice

Mix well and let stand about an hour before eating.

My father’s note at the bottom of the recipe:

“2 hours before bedtime”

In the Blink of an Eye II

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©jb katke

It was not me this time, well, not entirely. This time it was my husband, Dave.              

My right knee buckled, forcing me to hobble a few days—but that does not compare with Dave’s ordeal.

Without going into detail, he experienced a severe blood loss, enough to warrant a trip to ER. Saturday night he was admitted to the hospital, discharged Monday afternoon without a diagnosis.

Only to return to ER that same night for the same reason. All said, he must have lost nearly a half-gallon of blood. This, over a course of four days. Admitted a second time he was held for a few days of testing.

Before his second discharge, Dave received four or more blood transfusions. We began to lose count. He is tired and weak (there is no rest in a hospital)—now home but recovery will take some time.

Dave never asked for this episode, it just came, ready or not. This sudden change in our day turned into a week. Looking back at what was endured, how did we get through?

We do what must be done.

When crisis moments hit, we just deal. And think about it later. In my first blogpost of In the Blink of an Eye, I mentioned a verse from the Good Book that came to mind. Dave’s episode did much the same. Thinking of what Jesus endured.

Their two stories are not the same, but in each one, blood was lost. A lot of blood. Times were different in the era of the Good Book.

Jesus is God’s son—Dave is created in the likeness of God. There is a difference. Here is an attempt to compare it:

  • Dave’s episode was unexpected/Jesus’s was planned
  • My man got help/Instead of help, Jesus experienced hatred
  • Hospitals aim for rest, even if allusive/Jesus was not granted that
  • Medication was provided for Dave/Sour wine was all Jesus got
  • Dave’s healing will come with time/Jesus’s death made restoration available

For a while, the lame (me) was ministering to the ailing (Dave). Many people suffer from some sort of poor health. Dave loves Jesus—but even followers of Jesus fall victim to the ailments of living on planet earth. It’s part of life.

But this restoration thing is worth looking into. Wouldn’t it be nice to live pain-free? Imagine a life of no frightening episodes. Spoiler alert! You can for all eternity. That was the purpose of Jesus coming to earth—to identify with people and make a way for better living. Now and Forever.

Trust in what Jesus said and did. Look upon it as something that must be done.

In the Blink of an Eye

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My view in ER ©jb katke

Three thoughts flitted through my mind. ‘I’m flying fast! How did this happen? And This is not going to end well!

It was not my plan for the day—but there I was in the blink of an eye, languishing on the floor.

My task was simple enough, carry the dishes out to the kitchen and drop the napkin in the trash. As I turned away from the trash, I took flight, my feet becoming uncooperative. In the middle of my flight, the floor rose up to greet me.

I landed on my left side not in the kitchen. The plate I was carrying broke and cut into my left elbow to the bone. According to my husband’s words, “I jumped a mile.” Me and the plate made quite a clatter.

On my way down to the floor, I made contact with the chair. I guess I moved it out of the way. Various other parts of my body wanted a piece of the action too. The left elbow got eight stitches, the right forearm was scraped, and my left eye took a hit. Even one of my fingers on the right hand felt the need to be included in the damages.

Dave stood over me, “Are you alright? Get up! Your bleeding!”

Waving my finger, “In a minute.” The pain was real, shocked at what happened—I needed the trembling to stop before even trying to get up. Assessing the damages, we decided a trip to ER was necessary.

Thankfully the emergency waiting room was empty. Or so it seemed. I had to wait for what felt like forever to have a CT scan and some ex-rays—longer still for the doctor to stitch me up. Clearly I was not their first patient of the day.

My short version: I tripped and fell.

I made it through the night (there was no concern of that), alive and well to tell you all about it today. Twenty-twenty hindsight my episode brought a verse from the Good Book to mind.

“It will happen in a moment, in the blink of an eye, when the last trumpet is blown. For when the trumpet sounds, those who have died will be raised to live forever. And we who are living will be transformed.”                First Corinthians 15:52

It was a letter written long ago by a guy named Paul, sent to a church in Corinth. His subject matter was a reminder of what will happen in a future event. Jesus had died on a cross but was at some time going to return alive.

He wanted these people to be ready because it can happen when they least expect it. Today, it is safe to say it hasn’t happened yet. But it will. I can safely say this because everything the Good Book predicted happened. Some of it not yet though.

The moral of my story is a recommendation to befriend Jesus. Your eternal life depends on it.

Curvaceous Me

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©jb katke

Never have I perceived myself as desirably curvaceous. My hair begs to differ.

Anyone that has known me for any length of time will assure you that hair does not come any straighter than mine. In the past I have felt my head is one overgrown cowlick. But now, with no justifiable reason, my hair decided to make waves. In all the wrong places. That won’t go away.  

Me and my hair seldom see eye to eye. I was one of those in high school that slept in curlers—only to have my hair droop pitifully by first hour.  I determined to accept my fate of straightness until recently. Now I battle these blasted strands that insist upon sticking out making themselves known. Every day in a different place.

My remedy was going to the hairdresser and having my hair cut shorter. It’s a temporary fix, because we all know it will grow back.

Can you relate to things that appear out of control?

Folks can easily become discontent with life. A haircut may become necessary. Or a home make-over, maybe a career change. It could be anything. The changes we make can be regrettable. Proceed with caution.

I wonder if our Creator in heaven gets as frustrated with some of my decisions.  The wrong frame of mind can lead to regret if the waves I’ve created put me in the wrong place.

The Good Book has something to say about hair—specifically gray hair.

“Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained by living a godly life.” Proverbs 16:31

Life could be less stressful if I accepted what He determined best for me. People are designed according to the Creator’s perfect specifications, only to find them trying to change things up. But I had not considered gray hair as a crown of glory. Some things call for rethinking.

The problem can lie in not realizing the Creator’s best is better than my best. Why settle for my best that is inferior with what is meant to prepare me for eternity. I can’t see as far into my future as our Creator.

Likely, there is a lesson to be learned here. I’m going to try and see eye to eye with Him, seeing how our Creator can see further than I can. Same with you?  

Letter to Mom

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©jb katke

Dear Mom,

If only you could see yourself as I see you because I love you so much. I know you are not perfect—but you are exactly as I made you—in my image, remember? Image is a likeness, not sameness. Many of your characteristics are like mine, they come from me! I can see that sometimes you don’t like who you are. When you criticize your appearance it’s like you think I didn’t create you right. Are you aware that in not liking yourself, you are rejecting me too?

What I’d like for you to understand is life is a process. Maybe you don’t quite like where you are in life right now, but that’s okay because you aren’t going to stay there. You see, nothing on earth was intended to last forever. In due time, it’s all going to pass on, wear or, or rot away. That is what makes time so precious, it goes away and will never return. If you could see things that way—it makes all the difference in the world in everything you say and do. Moments count.

There is so much more to life than what you are seeing today, When I look at you, I don’t see those imperfections. I see what you are on your way to becoming. Those experiences that were so hard to get through are going to come in handy in your future. Lessons have been learned. But you haven’t finished growing yet, you’re still a work in progress. I can see the result, trust me, I know what I am doing.

Just look to me, I will guide you through and be with you in the hard times. It’s a promise. But it is not all about what I will do in you—you have a task too. We are in this together. Please don’t leave me out of your life, I gave you life. You are to die for. So, I did—because you are worth it. Not because you deserve it but because together you and I could go so far. I really love being with, so let’s keep in touch.

Love, Jesus

PS Happy Mother’s Day!

Honorable Trip

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© jb katke all rights reserved

A trip not soon forgotten—and I could not go. But oh, the memories made!

My husband Dave took advantage of the opportunity to travel to Washington, D.C. compliments of the Kansas Honor Flight for veterans. For those who may need assistance, volunteer guardians are provided. Veterans get a free ride, but if a friend or relative comes as a guardian there is a price tag.

Dave invited our son Jamie, and all concerned are so happy for the experience. Jamie claims, “It was the trip of a lifetime.”  Father and son are already close, but I feel some serious bonding took place.

Because Kansans came from all over the state, departure was centrally located in Wichita.

It was an action-packed three-day tour. The first stop was at Ft. McHenry, where they learned the hymn The Star Spangled Banner was born in 1814 by Frances Scott Key. Other sites of interest were:

  •  Eisenhower Memorial, 
  • Air Force Memorial-Spirit Flight
  • Korean War Memorial
  • Lincoln Memorial
  • Vietnam Memorial
  • Arlington National Cemetery
  • Changing of the Guard
  • A Wreath Ceremony
  • A Tour of the Iwo Jima Memorial
  • World War II Memorial
  • Tour of the Navy Memorial

The experience was enlightening as well as humbling. Landing in D.C. before the vets even disembarked the plane, two fire trucks gave a ‘waterful’ salute. As the group walked through the concourse, everyone clapped and cheered for these men and women that had so bravely served their country.

Included in an evening celebration, was the especially meaningful mail call back in their time of service. We, back at home were given the opportunity to send a note or card of honor and appreciation to our soldier. It was a touching moment for all attendees.

Returning home, the weary travelers were greeted with a bagpiper escort though the concourse. One more all-important item to mention is these trips are open to vets nationwide— taking place in the spring and fall each year. If you are a veteran or know of one who would like the experience you can find details at www.info@kansashonorflight.org.

After Easter

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© jb katke

By now the Easter candy may be devoured, and the festive baskets put away for another year. Plucking the Easter grass out of the carpet may take a bit longer. All the preparations and pictures have been snapped and filed into the memory book. Easter is over.

Not really. What you heard remains as true today as it was on Good Friday, or more importantly Easter Sunday. The why of calling Good Friday by that name is questionable. A person would not consider it a good day for Jesus—an innocent man brutally beaten and left to die on a cross.

But it is important to note, he knew the day was coming. Jesus spoke of it to his closest friends—unfortunately, they did not get it. Do you remember the baby Jesus whose birth we sing of in the Christmas season? We are talking the same guy thirty plus years later.

We celebrate this infant that came to earth for a specific reason. To die. Knowing it was planned all along does not make it easier to understand. What is even more mind-boggling is he was excited to do it. The potential of what comes later would make it worth it all.

Jesus and his dad were together in the planning and implementation of creating the earth and its inhabitants. They loved people and wanted to have a personal relationship with us. But we were worlds apart—which explains why Jesus came. So that we could relate to him. In turn, he told everyone that would listen about his father in heaven.

But as you may have heard, he died. What is so remarkable is that he didn’t stay dead. This may or may not be a news flash, but Jesus was no ordinary guy. He was the Son of God. No one else holds that position, so it is in our best interest to know him. Obviously, because he rose from the dead, we know he is capable of anything.

Jesus accomplished his goal. His life and death were for the express purpose of giving us the option to spend eternity with him after our own death. Crack open the Good Book and you will find countless passages that speak of what heaven is like. Hell too, only he doesn’t speak of it too much, just enough to make a person not want to go there.

The point is, we can consider everyday Easter because each day is an opportunity to know Jesus better. Because he lives. Not here—Jesus is back with his dad now. He has done his part, the rest is up to us.

Wishing you a Happy Easter everyday!

Who Am I Now?

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©jb katke

It rarely happens.

Cooking is not my thing, so when a person asks for a recipe, I’m always surprised. And pleased. My daughter Naomi asked for my recipe for pork chops. For the most part cooking does not run in our family blood.

I do have a few good recipes though. Most all come from someone else’s culinary expertise. Copying recipes from another kitchen is no problem to me. Call it survival of the fittest. We have to eat—preferably a meal that is palatable.

©jb katke

A friend gave me a magnet for my refrigerator that says, “Many people have eaten my cooking…and gone on to live normal lives.” She knows me well.

I had a sister-in-law was known for her cooking. It was her identity. 

There was a time when I was into quilting. That could have been my identity at the time. But I took a lengthy recess from it. Today I dabble at the sewing machine, going through the motions of quilting.

I’m not sure what my identity is anymore. When the children were little I was the parent or guardian of (name of child.) I was a morning person back then. Not so now. Bedtime is something I look forward to, so I cannot be identified as a night owl. Currently, I think of myself as an early afternoon person. My favorite mornings start off slow—admittedly it does not give me much time to get things done.

This I can say with certainty though. I am a Christ follower. Jesus helps me get my days in order. He brings me peace and a purpose to keep on keeping on. Most of all, a satisfaction at the end of the day.

You can have the same experience. Have a conversation with him about your concerns and see what he does for you.

Bragging on a Gift

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©jb katke

Did you ever have one of those days? Maybe that ran into a week? Mine are running into two weeks. Possibly three. Consecutive. It’s best I don’t keep track.

Mine began with coffee. Spilling it. The first time was at Bible Study. “Oh, it’s not that bad,” said a friend. Looking at my no longer snow-white sweater forced me to disagree.

“I have to go change, but I’ll be right back.”

The second instance was spilling all over the puzzle table. Fortunately, not on the puzzle that was on loan from a friend. Things can always be worse. Right? The puzzle was spared of the unintentional baptism. That was a down-right blessing, because it was not ours, but a gift from his kids. And there are those who do not believe in God!

My third escapade with coffee was again at home. During a personal Bible study. Working at an already full tabletop, I juggled a couple books on my lap as I held the coffee cup. The books shifted and you can figure the rest out. I was glad we had ripped out the carpet and installed LVP flooring.

Back at church with my Bible Study table ladies, I shared the above. The consensus was I should not be allowed coffee. But I like my coffee.

I tried to make light of it. “I’s not hard and I don’t mean to brag, it’s a gift.”

And it keeps on giving. A couple weeks ago, my beloved Dave came upstairs from his shop. “What’s that smell?”

Pecking away at my computer, “I don’t know. What does it smell like?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t have asked what the smell was.”  Silence.

Last week, again coming up from the lower depths of his basement shop, “I figured out what that smell was.”

“Oh?” I was again at the computer.

“Yeah, it’s you thinking of what you are writing.”

Funny, but true words. It takes time and thought to give voice to things. Nor should it be rushed.

For that matter, neither should I. Quickly I changed my shirt before heading to the beauty shop for a trim job. Getting out of her chair, my hairdresser, “Turn around. Your shirt is on backwards, your pockets are on your back!”

In the words of Charlie Brown, “Good grief.”

Thanksgiving Wishes

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Have you ever had a missed opportunity?

My most recent missed event came from a routine trip to my local Walmart for a few groceries. As I went through the store I found myself behind a shopper dressed in her camouflaged Army uniform.

As I passed her, I hesitated long enough to thank her for her service to our country. Her response stopped me in my tracks. Putting hand to heart, “Thank you for the opportunity to serve.” What a gracious young woman.

How I wished I had noted her name, taken a picture—anything to have further honored this soldier. She deserved it as we find our military, police, and first responders being dragged through verbal mud.

I just don’t think fast enough.

We are in the time of year when lots of thinking is going on. We think of the family member that won’t be at the table this Thanksgiving. We think of the gifts we wish to buy for our loved ones. We think of past holidays—when the kids were little and thought they would never grow up.

They are now and have a life of their own that may not include us. We invested so much of ourselves. Missed opportunities to treasure what we had. But they are adulting, and that is commendable of them.

Would it surprise you to learn that Jesus thinks of you daily? He invested too. In mankind. Jesus knows what it feels like to be left out—as we go about our busy lives. He literally gave us his all, dying for our thoughtlessness.

As our holiday season approaches—do it different this year. Instead of mourning lost opportunities, make the best of what you have. Some have more than others, but we all have the same amount of time.

A portion of this afternoon was spent rummaging through a few family heirlooms. I came across a letter my Aunt Jane wrote to Jesus. Some were words of confession over her unmet past opportunities—but in the bottom line of her wishes—she asked for wisdom to live out the rest of her life seeking his direction on how to spend her remaining days investing in others.

I share her sentiment and hope you give it consideration too.

Have a happy and blessed Thanksgiving

Intermission III

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“Break time.” Those words are spoken of often at my house. Sometimes my man and I work hard, other times we hardly work. Even so, the break times are necessary. Especially if we are in stressful moments.

What are the concerns going through your mind today? There is always something to worry about. The big ones are beyond control. This being our election year here in the US—some are concerned about who will take the oval office, others concerned who will not.

Have you ever considered that concerns can be a positive in life?

Recently, I have been reading a great book, Daniel—found in the Old Testament of the Good Book. When my address is changed to my eternal one, I really look forward to meeting this guy.

 The story of his life picks up at where you and I might see his situation as more than stressful—try a crisis. It has all the makings of being unbelievable—but only truth is found between the covers of the Good Book.

Daniel lived in Jerusalem that was taken over by another nation. It happened often back then, but often does not make a situation any less worrisome. He and others were taken captive and hauled off to the victorious Babylon.

My guess is Daniel was either a youth or in the prime of his life. Only because, what profit would he be as an old man? It did not take long before his wisdom became apparent. He had the ability to interpret dreams. Wouldn’t you love to understand your dreams?

Here is the kicker though. Daniel’s ability did not come from his smarts—it was someone he was in constant communication with. Jesus. Cue the saying, ‘It’s not what you know, but who you know.’ I am not going to elaborate on the dreams. It would be better for you to read it for yourself.

The point I wish to make is that having a relationship with Jesus does not guarantee a worry-free life. What the friendship does do is keep the concerns on a back burner. They do not consume you—instead they provide an opportunity to talk to him. Only Jesus can give the peace of mind that everything is under control. His, not yours.

Faith strengthens trust, that builds greater faith that strengthens more. . .well, you get it.  These building blocks lead to a wonderful place.

Intermission II

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Stay tuned for the upcoming news on a home improvement project. In the meantime, Grandma Andrews words come back to haunt me. “A housewife never gets bored—she always has something to do.”

Ain’t that the truth! At the moment I have to get started on this blog that has been circling in my head.

But I was ironing and needed an intermission to give myself a sugar boost. As I munched on a snack, I realized preparing lunch should be happening, not snacking. After lunch, the dishes and kitchen got cleaned up. Returning to the ironing, I came across the laundry that needed attention.

It was such a small load I delved into my quilt stash to see if I can add some unwashed fabric. There is a potential project worming around in my mind, only I can’t color match anything to my load of laundry. I can hear my daughter Cindy saying, “Mom, it’s okay to mix colors.” Whatever.

Only a load sitting in the washer had to be shifted over to the dryer. It pleases me to tell you the ironing did get done.

All this to say, this photo of a tree featured today reminded me of how life throws interruptions in our path. Direction changes as the wind blows.  I gotta do this, but wait, first I have to do this other thing. Oh, but that can’t get done until this gets done! Who would have guessed trees depicting life going in countless directions. Take note though—they all point up to their creator.

Rolling out of bed each morning, no one knows how the day will unfold. It isn’t until our head hits the pillow at night that it all comes tumbling down in your mind. Goodbye sleep. I have read other people’s similar experiences that included letting the dog outside, only to open the door again to let the dog back in. The dog season of my life has come and gone. But interruptions are the status quo.

I am not alone and neither are you. It may be be a knock on the door, the phone ringing, or a young voice paging you for the umpteenth time. Motherhood is a calling you know.

Jesus knows and understands the stage of life you are in. Circumstances change, you will find yourself moving from one stage to another. Take a deep breath. I too, must look up to our creator, because all is well— life goes on.

Through the years I have hit upon something that makes a huge difference. Each morning, I make the effort to read some of the Bible and pray about my day. It takes time and discipline, but I have learned something kinda crazy, but true. Days are better—my time is spent with productivity and energy. What I am telling you is supernatural stuff. But it works!

Human Error

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You decide what is a mistake. Pertaining to the attempted assassination of the Past President Donald Trump—it seams both the Secret Service and/or police let their guard down. The media calls it human error.

Recently, as I drove to an appointment, a car pulled out in front of me—then stopped, well into my lane. A perfect opportunity to get into an accident. Human error.

The world we live in reeks human error. Injustice rains upon us.

  • Judging others.
  • Braking the law.
  • Cheating on a spouse.
  • Steeling.
  • Undermining a coworker.

Naming a few—all frowned upon in our currant society. Dare we look in the mirror and see human error in ourselves? Consider envy. Desiring a car like the neighbors isn’t wrong. Or is it a self-imposed human error?

Sum issues take on more of a society driven nature rather than moral values.  Abortion is always a hot topic. Rites come into play—who has more rites, a pregnant woman or an unborn child with no voice to speak up?

Speaking of speak up, here the voice of truth. The words I pen may not be in agreement with your own thoughts. Butt still, you reed them. Thank you.

I would be in error if I did not share what I have come to know as truth. It can be found in the Good Book. When a person kneads medical advice, they go to a doctor. When one kneads spiritual knowledge, go to Jesus’s words. He never made human error.

By the way. You many have noticed a few words that mean something other than the point I was making. It is human error.

Phase Two

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Where on earth did all this stuff come from?

Yours truly is the culprit. My accumulation of all things quilt had gotten out of hand. Ranging from long ago vacations and shop hop road trips with the girls. To set the record straight, my husband, Dave, never discouraged my purchases. Is it okay to blame him too, misery does love company you know?   

But the purging process must be done-particularly when so little quilting is done anymore. It takes valuable time and sprains the brain dealing with it all. Gadgets are surfacing that I knew I had…somewhere. Several years ago, I was gifted with a sign that hangs in the room, ‘Organized people are just too lazy to look for it!’

We all have the same number of hours in the day—it’s how we use them that is important. Dave is doing good—the quilt room reno continues on. Walls are painted and flooring installed, the bookshelf is next, but construction will take time. I stand sentry at the doorway cheering him on. It’s taking on a new look and I’m loving it!

Getting back to the stuff though. Discarding of a past life is wrenching. Whether it’s baggage in our memory or accumulated stuff, all gets heavier with time. Unintended excess happens and the circumstances out of control can easily turn frustration into hate. If one is not careful, terrible things can happen.

Like an attempted assassination. That is the extreme. Hardship comes in too many disguises to determine what is a product of hate and what is not. Life is difficult to define because our story varies from person to person. How can one shake the history of their life?

Hints of that kind of change do exist. At the risk of being overly simplistic, use what I have been doing in my former quilt room as an example. Dispose of the unnecessary. Pitch the things that are no longer useful.

Surround yourself with people that encourage. Where? Try visiting your local Bible believing church. The place is chock full of people like you, in the process of making life better—not just for themselves but for others too. Collecting friends is of greater value than stuff.

Phase One

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Today I give you a riddle.

How can a quilt room expand and shrink at the same time?

We are up to our eyeballs in a home renovation. My quilt room is completely gutted. It has ‘expanded’ to whatever free space we have. Living room, writing room and, of all places, the shower. Not to worry, it’s the one that has never been used. We continue our hygiene as always.

The job will get done in phases. Little did I realize, with all the downsizing I’ve done through the years, how much stuff I still have. I refuse to take full responsibility. Many of the quilt shops I have entered bear a sign just inside the door. ‘Your husband called and said to buy whatever you want.’

Ideas come from so many sources, quilt magazines, the guild ladies, the projects and classes quilt shops offer is the problem. To make matters worse—fellow quilters are sooo encouraging. Never do they utter, “Don’t you think you have enough projects going on at home already?”

My turning point came by degrees. As I would sit in the guild meetings, I would realize all I am doing is keeping a seat warm once a month. All kinds of opportunities to become heavily involved were available, I just didn’t. Mostly, because of all the inspirational ideas rattling in head already. One person can only do so much you know.

Then this writing gig came forward in such a way I could hardly refuse—and I did try. It would seem my sewing machine broke down. But I really think it died of loneliness. Anyway, here I sit at the computer pecking away at keys telling stories of everyday events that might give my readers encouragement.

The quilt room is in a transitional season to be shared with an impressive bookcase. Complete with a library ladder. Be still my heart.

The answer to the above riddle is my task of weeding out, disposing, aka, getting rid of excess quilt baggage. Phase one began by throwing out tiny samples of fabric that my Aunt Jane must have saved for years. Any quilter worth her salt knows fabric of any size could be good for something. Wrong. These samples were all variety of fabrics, some dry clean only. Do not try to lay a guilt trip on me, they needed to go.

Usually, my rejects are so undesirable, no one else wants them either. If only my creative granddaughters were here to take some things off my hands! Surely they could find some useful project to make—I mean some of this could be used, right?

Patience 101

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Funny how a new lock on the door can bring a long past conversation to mind.

Me:      “I can tell you how to get your fingerprints to disappear. All you have to do is…”

Table leader:    “Ladies please, let’s get back to our subject matter!”

My table leader could have been rude to interrupt me—but maybe Bible study was not the best place to divulge that kind of information. I cannot even recall what brought that topic up. At any rate, now my table mates will never know.

The memory came popping up because of the new door lock we purchased. Like most everything in our home, this lock appears to have a mind of its own. Seriously.

The lock is the newest mental gadget against me. It accepts my code and fingerprint—until I try using said fingerprint to unlock the door. No can do.

The kitchen faucet suddenly needs a more competent hand than mine to turn off completely. The hose to the washing machine occasionally decides to leap out of its station and spill out leaving a souvenir puddle. Sometimes my blow dryer refuses to turn off when I push the on/off button. And my computer monitor will shut down at will. I could go on.

Have you noticed the recurring pattern? They are all things I use. My only comfort is that while the lock accepted my husband’s code and fingerprint at first. It now is rethinking the wisdom of letting him in the house too. Misery loves company.

The difference between Dave and I is he determines to master these inconveniences, refusing to allow the culprit-of-the-moment to win. My tendency is more in line with throwing the thing out the window. Anything that does not work as designed is trash to me.

It would be easy to think the world is against you. But these are everyday frustrations that happen to the best of us. Correction: The best of us may have in-house maids that do dishes and laundry. Maybe a daily hairdresser too. Since imagination is going off the deep end, perhaps the best of us have doormen to open and close doors for us as well.

I am an everyday person with none of the above. If you are too, take heart, these minor inconveniences is Jesus giving us opportunity to develop patience.

How are you doing? It’s okay, I understand.

DNA MIA

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Today is the day to celebrate Dads. As I did on Mother’s Day, I wish to remind you to honor your children alongside you. Without them, you would not be a dad.

 Let me start off with a word picture. Imagine men walking around without a head. I’m not speaking of the apocalypse, just a mental picture that may seem unsettling.

There are an alarming number of homes without a father figure present. Many young people are questioning their gender identity because they lack the input a father has to offer. They need to see role play lived out. Not to say fathers and mothers are incapable of working what the opposite sex generally does. But by doing so—children get a full scope of all their opportunities.

Kids need a hero to look up to, a man that has interests and is willing to share them with his littles. A dad that is willing to enter his children’s  world and learn what interests they have. They need a strong male that can be depended upon always—and at the same time sensitive enough to attend an occasional tea party hosted by his daughter.

That is a tall order. I will be the first to admit fatherhood is a tough job. In his spare time there are home repairs and yardwork to be done, not to mention his career. He may offer a helping hand to his wife, because the demands of running a home never end for either of you.

Times of rest and relaxation are few and far between. Can I hear an Amen?

Men, you need to understand how important you are to our upcoming generation. Fathers’ are the head of a home—do not consider abandoning a home with no head. It creates a lop-sided, unsettled environment.

In case you need it written out—mothers need a husband to join them in shouldering the joys and frustration of training the next generation. It takes teamwork—sometimes grandparents join the fray. I’ve heard it said, ‘It takes a tribe to raise a child.’

Be the influencer Jesus made you to be. He is right there with you, arming you with his wisdom to pass on. Your presence, words and actions all matter.

I salute all that you father’s do and wish you a Happy Father’s Day!

A Story Gripper

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Have you ever read something, where the story line grips you and will not let go? This one keeps rewinding—playing over and again in my mind. It is worth sharing and may mean something to you too.

It is one that brings my friend Sally to mind—her life was a contrast to what I read. But more about her in a minute.

The story has two main characters, both men considered to be do-gooders. Cornell, a Roman soldier with high enough authority that he had men under his service. He was a praying man, sensitive to the needs of others—he routinely was a help and encouragement. But never imagined how the future was going to play out.

Having never met this Jesus, Cornell had a thirst to learn more about him. He heard the legendary stories—but wanted more. He had this dream-like vision that he should send his men to get Pete. Bring him back here and listen to what he says.

Pete was a follower of Jesus.  Knowing him well enough to go around telling others the message he had for mankind. Pete too, had a dream-like vision. To do something that would have been taboo in the current society. Pete’s vision included a message from Jesus. Essentially saying, “Do it.”

Pete did—the end result was a miracle in the making. Cornell’s whole family made a personal decision, right then and there.

What I did not share with you was the full message Cornell got. Jesus told him he saw how Cornell lived his life, praying for others and selflessly giving to those in need. In certain circles, one could say his life was a blessing.

But about Sally. She knows Jesus too. Like Cornell, she has a sensitive heart. Only Sally does not live exactly like Cornell. She has a comfortable life—and prays, but not so much for others. Wondering why she doesn’t get the answers she would like. Discontent might be a good way to describe her life.

You can read the story yourself—it’s an eye-opener. Check out the Good Book, Acts chapter ten. There is good stuff to dig out of it—ya never know how it could play out in your own life..

Considerations

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Have you ever thought of your home as breeding ground? Or maybe a training center?

I never have before, but am giving it serious consideration now. Over something so mundane these thoughts come to me. My husband, Dave, was cleaning out our window wells. They are the below ground level ‘pits’ for the lack of a better word where the basement egress windows are.

Pulling weeds, disposing of the debris that the wind blows in, he comes upon two little unexpected finds. Babies—a frog and a turtle. We did not get a picture of the frog—it wouldn’t stay in one place long enough to snap one. Bless their little hearts. Any living thing that is small is cute and adorable. Suddenly he is on a rescue mission.

These critters would never survive if he had not pulled them out. No food, no water. It’s a mystery how they got down there, but can assure you it was by accident. Little did we know these little things were hatching there.

It got me thinking of people homes. Where children grow, develop and learn. It’s true you know—home is a breeding ground and training center too. It is the place where language is learned, social graces of what is acceptable behavior and what is not. Home is the launching pad for living a respectable, independent life as a responsible adult.

Wow mom and dad, what an awesome responsibility you have!

Pat yourselves on the back if you are proud of your offspring. It takes time, work, and a truckload of patience. Here is a message of hope for you parents that are still on the ground floor with little people under your feet. If your child seems to make excessive boo-boos, take heart. Our best lessons are learned through error. That goes for adults too—cut yourself some slack along with your child.

My own children are now grown and beyond my teaching them. Some of them are college graduates and could probably teach me a thing of two.  Giving it more thought, they do. One of the biggest lessons a parent learns is to respect the no longer child they birthed.

Dave and I are incredibly proud of ours—despite our shortcomings, knowing with Jesus’s help—we did good!

June Finding

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Are you ready for summer? June will soon be upon us. The month conjures upcoming events to mind. Graduations, weddings, vacations, picnics—you can fill in whatever I left out.

The picture you see is a couple vintage Bride’s magazines, circa 1969/1970. I was planning my own wedding—sentiment is the only reason I have them today. Boy, am I glad now!

Coming across them in my never-ending goal of downsizing, I am so thankful to have them. Perusing through the pages, to my surprise, these two drawings presented themselves to me. One depicts my wedding gown before Mom altered it. I recall the day of purchase like it was yesterday.

The other is a picture of my dearly beloved husband-to-be. Have I seen these pictures before? I don’t recall. Did I put them in the magazine for safe keeping? Maybe. Or did Mom insert them in there for me to find at some later date? That I can address. A treasure found fifty-three years later.

OMG. What if I had disposed of the mags without giving a look see? It was fun to reminisce what was trending back in the day. I consider these finds a gift. My mother was a self-taught artist and I am very proud of her. She could have made a name for herself. Instead, she took my father’s name.

Mom grew up in a different era. Women were, for the most part, expected to marry and have children, end of story. We know there were exceptions. Today’s women have more opportunities to offer the world. Yet some of us do as I did, and follow in known footsteps.

Even so, Jesus can present new horizons to contemplate. Never would I have dreamed of being a blogger and author. Feel free to read One Day Wonders, Ordinary Days Becoming Extraordinary and find out what Jesus did in my own life and those near and dear to me.  

Can you see yourself doing the unimaginable? If so, what would it be? Do share.

In Memory

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Memorial Day is fast approaching—bringing any sort of memories to the surface. Growing up in my parents home, we always loaded up the car with flowers and a modest picnic fare, traveling north to Sowles Cemetery. 

The trip was not long, but took up the day. It was an extended weekend designed give honor to those who died defending our country. The family cemetery held deceased relatives, but none to my knowledge served in the military. Those that did serve were buried elsewhere.

Originally, Memorial Day was known as Decoration Day. That description was more in keeping with what Mom and Dad did. Bringing clippers to trim around the graves and planting flowers, Geraniums come to mind. The graves were the final resting place of both my parents grandparents. People I never knew but were real to my folks.

After marriage, Dave and I never followed that tradition. But there are other ways that show honor. In my personal calendar I mark both the birth and death dates of those I love—bringing them to mind at least a couple times a year.

Something I learned about the guards of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is certainly commendable. There are numerous rules and regulations that I will not go into. But will share what took place in 2003. Hurricane Isabelle was making her way to the DC area. In the gearing up preparation for the coming storm, the House and Senate relieved duty of the guards. Only they would not hear of it, “No way,” was their response. In the midst of that storm, the guards endured getting soaked to the skin with pelting rain and high winds. They said, “Being assigned to the Tomb was not just an assignment, it is the highest honor that can be afforded to a serviceperson.”  

That, my friend, is showing respect.

Recently, in reading some of the Good Book, I learned of yet another way of showing honor. Back in the day of course. When an important event or interaction between two people (or nations) took place, stones would be laid as a monument. It was erected as a means of remembrance of what took place. Children that were not present at the time would learn the history and importance of the event.

What about right now—how could one make a personal memorial for others to see? Here is one suggestion. Make a timeline. Draw a long line on paper—start with the day of your birth. Continue on making x’s or a dot wherever something eventful took place. Give the date and event. Note when your parents died and from what, the day President Kennedy was assassinated, when man landed on the moon—as well as personal stuff, wedding, children. You get the idea.

As grandparents, we have witnessed a few things. It will give the grandchildren something to learn from you. Meaningful communication is never a bad thing.

By the way. The above photo is of my husband who served our country, but has not died in so doing. He remains with me still today!

Twisted Mom’s Day

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Every year—the same thing. Let’s turn things around.

Mother’s Day comes and we all gather around mom and sing the praises. Can we just for a moment celebrate those who made her a mother? The children.

Not everyone has children, but we all at one time or another were a kid. This is your time to shine, pat yourself on the back for a job well done…or maybe you gave it your best shot.

Motherhood has no previous training. I can say that with certainty because when awareness of the first baby’s arrival, we look at other children and think, “My child will never be like that.” And we mean it with our whole heart. Said with the best of intentions, of course. However, when the baby books entered the house, the baby didn’t read them.

Children do what comes natural to them. First time mothers have a tendency to do likewise. Not to point fingers or anything, but maybe overreact? Or become helicopter parents—forever hovering over said child?

With the birth of our first-born, I was overcome with the responsibility placed in my arms. With every little sniffle I marched him to Sick Bay. That was fine as Dave was in the Navy at the time. His concern was the future:

Dave: “You can’t just run our son to the doctor for every little thing.”

Me: “If our son needs medical care, he’s going to get it.”

Subject closed. Only it wasn’t until I got accustomed to caring for our little one.

Time passes and that is what prompted this photo. Babies grow. Their presence permeates through the entire house. From rattles to homework and shoes, the picture changes while the clutter remains.

All the while we mothers are learning important things. Like unconditional love, patience, and just how strong you have been all along. Children teach us those things. In those early years, mine taught me to discuss my frustration of them to Jesus. After all—he loves them even more than I do.

Can you relate?

Shoulda, Coulda

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I wanted to but didn’t.

The temptation was strong to stay in the parking lot until the driver next to me returned to their car.  This sign was in their driver side window. My inclination was to wait until they came out and then tell them, “You’re not chunky.” But then maybe they were.

Besides, I came to the grocery store to do business, not offer sweet platitudes to somebody. The need to accomplish what I came for took over. However, I will confess, the temptation was equally strong not to approach each overweight shopper, “Is it you that has that clever message in your window?”

That could have lead to a bunch of awkward conversations. “No, why do you ask?”

Better to let it go. Another clever sign I’ve seen on cars recently is the “Please be patient, Student Driver.” Maybe they are legit, but I doubt it—so many have been sighted. A dead giveaway is when the sticker is adhered crooked.

Shortly after moving to Kansas, I saw a street sign bearing the words, “Keep moving, merge later!” Confession, the exclamation point is mine, not on the actual sign. But it did strike me funny.

Another one, during the same move was the Touchless Carwash sign. Never had I ever seen raindrops as enormous as what was experienced. A tremendous amount of flooding at the time—highways closed, as well as the carwash. The rain water reached the height of the sign, probably two feet deep. That was touchless alright.

If you look around, you may see a few humorous signs yourself. Some though, are worth being mindful of. “Deaf child at play,” “Smile, you’re on camera,” or our good old speed limit signs. Those are especially helpful when school lets out. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do.

The Darndest Thing

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The darndest thing happened as I sat down at the computer to tell you all about Betsy McCall. She was a doll my mother insisted I have—when I was pretty much done playing with dolls.

I started to tell the story of how she came to be in our family. Today  she is a sorry sight. Sorrier than I realized. When I went to the drawer I knew her to be in, she was gone. At some point in time, I must have put her in a very safe place that I cannot locate now.

The hunt for her continued. Looking high and low to no avail. That is when the darndest thing happened. Remembering some storage boxes we have yet to unpack I found a little souvenir our great grandchildren left for me to play with from Thanksgiving. These little cars. 

If I hadn’t been searching for Betsy, I would never have known the cars were here for me to enjoy. I never did find Betsy’s torso. She is a little worse for wear as my own girls were interested in a doll from mom’s childhood. Bit by bit, she came apart. All I could find is one of her legs.

Poor Betsy, she is lurking around somewhere. No doubt I will find her when I am looking for something else. That is usually the way things go, isn’t it?

The method to Mom’s madness was a secret to me. But the day after our little shopping trip, mom pulled out a sewing pattern to make clothes for Betsy. That is when I learned to sew. It helped fill my otherwise long lonely summer. There were no playmates in my neighborhood.

Such memories. Mom had made me a cardboard ‘house’ complete with furniture. The box bit the dust still in my childhood. The bed she made is intact, but was unable put my hands on the crocheted bed cover. Maybe another blog another day Betsy can enjoy the sunshine in her claim to fame.

Just for kicks, what were some of your childhood memories? Let’s go down memory lane together.

Ten Minutes Later

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© jb katke

Within ten minutes, the day changed with my phone ringing.

“Hi mom, what does your day look like?”

I knew—she has a need that involves me. Sometimes mothers need to be needed.

“I’m going grocery shopping, then having lunch with your dad.”

“A tow truck is taking my car the shop and I need to be there too. Can you get me there?”  Of course I will do all I can to help. I mean it.

What you don’t know is what came before that SOS call.  My focused Bible verses were about giving from the heart. I posted to my women’s Bible study group the desire for my heart and mind to be willing and able to help others. I meant it.

My helping took me on a route I more than dislike. I avoid it. We have an expressway that is heavily trafficked at all hours of the day. To get there in a timely manner, today would not an option. I mean it.

The following sentence may frighten you—but read it anyway. You need to know that Jesus is in the details of life. Stepping out of a comfort zone can also be exhilarating!

Choose carefully your words in prayer, Jesus takes them seriously. Requests are granted if they fall in line with his plan for your day.

Yes, I took the fastest route. And lived to tell you about it.   

Sometimes good intentions require us to do what is not comfortable. There is a secret to success that you may appreciate knowing. I prayed, thanking the Lord that he is with me during a stressful time. I meant it.

True to his word, Jesus’s dad provided safety and a clear path on unfamiliar roads. Of course he did, he was with me and makes me smile.

Solar Events

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Stranger things have happened.

Like getting my blog posted a day early. It had to be. All the news channels are talking about our solar eclipse. A full one that won’t happen again until 2044. I may not live to see that one, so I write about today’s event.

Only I won’t see today’s solar eclipse either. First off, my part of the country is not on the path. Secondly, even if it was on path, I’ve been hearing too much about don’t look at it. Regardless of the special lenses you may use. There is too much danger in doing so, possible blindness—a life-change I can do without. Just knowing it is happening and sensing a darker sky is enough for me.

The hype and conversation reminds me of another long-ago time the sky went dark. All we can do now is read about it. The factual story can be found in several places of the Good Book. (Matthew 27:45, Mark 15:33, and Luke 23:44)

The history is intriguing enough that you may want to read the why and how of it. It was a bigger deal than what we have going on today. The creator’s son, Jesus once walked the face of this earth. He arrived by supernatural means with a love for people beyond comprehension. Only to be hung on a cross enduring a brutal death. It was by a willing plan to take the blame for all the evil found in mankind.

On his last breath, the sky turned dark—much like today. Not for a few minutes, but for three hours. That had to feel freaky. If you were in a church last weekend, you probably heard all about it. What we celebrate on Easter is another freaky thing, also by plan. Jesus came back from the dead.

I can’t help but think there is something special about three.

The Good Book speaks of God, his son Jesus, and the Comfortor (aka Holy Spirit). Three.

Jesus’s ministry of telling others a new and different way of life that would bring them into heaven. Three years.

Jesus mentions that he could rebuild a bunch of believers (church). In three days. Dead in a tomb. Three days, before rising again.

A mother giving birth to triplets, a life-change.

The egg. The shell, the white, and the yolk. Three.

There must be more three’s. If you come up with others let me know.

It is Finished 2

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© jb katke

…but Easter 2024 is not over, the message is more than daily. It is hourly—year in and year out.

I love the words I heard on Sunday, never having put the concept together before. They came from two sources, Tim Tebow, former football quarterback, and my pastor, Mike Bickley.

“Jesus’s death on the cross is biggest rescue mission known to man.”

How true! Some had need to call a fire department, others maybe the police. Or maybe both. Depending on the need being an urgent cry of help, and the right people came running.

How many of us have felt that cry of help in a spiritual sense? A mental scenario plays in my mind of someone on the verge of drowning, pleading with Jesus to save him. If saved, this individual makes all kinds of promises—only to forget about them when he miraculously is saved. It is human nature to look after number one. An unfortunate human response.

There is so much in life that is beyond our control. It only makes sense to turn to Jesus. Or is that the last resort? Consider making it your first priority. Jesus already owns a claim to fame. Cracking open the Good Book, you can read about his message of his healing, salvation, his new way of worshipping.

Wait, back up. Does that cry for help in a spiritual sense denote a need of saving? What is really desired is being removed from danger, right? Consider this: We all are in danger. If Jesus is somewhere in the way background of your life, you are putting yourself in danger of falling for…whatever.

A bigger home, the newest model vehicle, or the latest cell phone available won’t give you peace of mind. They will forever require updating.

Compare that to what Jesus has to offer, free for the asking. He is capable of instilling new wholesome desires that fall in line with his plan for you. Were you even aware he made you for a purpose and has great plans for your life? I can vouch for the fact that he will take you places never dreamed of. It’s a good thing.

Jesus can and does fill a heart with gratitude, comforts in time of need, and gives you the opportunity to spend eternity with him. The hard things in life are not removed, but you can have him with you wherever you go. Whatever you do. That, my friend, is better than a State Farm agent who is always there. An agent has hours, Jesus is 24/7 on call, waiting to hear from you.

Getting back to Easter—we have it because of Christmas. Commonly they are the seasons of acknowledgement. He came as an infant growing in this world as you did. Living a blameless life, he deliberately took all the wrong things of this world (aka sin) and let the blame fall on him. Take it personally that he died for you. It truly is the biggest rescue mission ever. It is up to you, do not let your faith be seasonal.

Any hour is right to call on him, he will come running.

Yesterday’s Easter…

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…does it look the same today? Do folks still purchase clothes to wear to church on Easter Sunday?

There is so much to prepare for that one day. Eggs get hardboiled in preparation to dye. Festive baskets came out filled with chocolate and marshmallow bunnies. Some families hide the eggs for children to hunt down. The house gets a spring cleaning. Don’t forget the food prep for a big meal.

It is all a welcome site as spring time reeks new life when the weather warms. Our lawns come back from dormancy. Flower bulbs start to make their presence known. Gardeners are poring over their seed catalog, designing new flower beds. After a long cold winter, the greenery is welcome to come. The anticipation of it all.

Gardening is a mystery to me. Seeds put in the ground and if properly nourished, will grow, looking radically different.  The action is done underground where we cannot see. The seed breaks and dies in order to be transformed into a new and beautiful life.

Does the Easter season bring thoughts of Jesus to mind? His life walking on earth was so long ago, it would be easy to completely disregard him. His life was devoted to helping and encouraging others.  He was a man in demand as he traveled around healing the sick, he was often spoken of with admiration. But he also endured a solid week of false accusations, imprisonment, and mockery. An unjust court trial lead to beating—ultimately ending with his death on a cross.

His story is heard in many churches on Easter. What I find astounding is he intentionally left heaven to make certain these events would take place. Why?

For the express purpose of taking the blame for all the things you and I have done. He knew what would follow.  Jesus didn’t stay on the cross. He didn’t even stay in his tomb. His earthly body was broken and dead. But he rose again to a new beautiful life.

He wants all of mankind to have that same opportunity. Jesus returned to heaven to be at his dads’ side. Because of him you and I have the same opportunity for our heart to join his. It’s ours for the asking. After leaving, Jesus even sent a helper for mankind to make it easier for us to bear the hard things of the world.

In your remembering past Easters, remember Jesus and what he did with you in mind. That gives us all a  reason to celebrate the opportunity of a new and beautiful life.

Make this the year your life is transformed to a new and beautiful life—Happy Resurrection day!

Waste Not

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© jb katke

The saying goes, ‘Waste not, want not.’ Frightening as it may sound hang with my random thoughts here.

In a former life I was a quilter but remain a fabriholic. My fabric stash has been greatly downsized, but has potential. It’s all good for something. Just about every quilt I’ve made has shared the same sentiment, “I’ll not make that again.”

The last being a cathedral window quilt. It is a prime candidate for using up excess scraps. I used up enough to have to go out and purchase more fabric, an exercise in futility for you. These blasted two-inch squares are the leftovers and I’m making an effort to use them as well. Saved for some day.

Today’s point has nothing to do with fabric or quilting. The focus is on opportunities. I have missed National Son’s Day. Again. For starters, I don’t keep track of them until the day arrives. Then feel bad about it, until I remember my son doesn’t keep track either. He seldom gets on social media, so he doesn’t feel snubbed—leaving me feeling guilty for nothing.

Not to mention National Daughters Day. I have more than one of them and I’d miss that too, just to be fair. Here is what I am saying:

I am incredibly proud of every one of my children. Despite their tendencies in childhood, they have grown to be hard-working, responsible, law-abiding adults. They made excellent choices in their spouse as well, as the blessings carry on.

This is my sentiment every day of the year. Not just once a year for those national days I keep missing. I give a shout out to them because they deserve it. They may not realize this post immediately because, for them, it’s a work day. They all lead busy lives. Eventually, one of them may get to it and contact their siblings, “Hey did you catch mom wrote about us?”

Let those you love know how much they are loved. Life is so short and accidents happen. It is easy to think there is time, but tragedies occur on a daily basis. Our family has experienced a few and know we are not alone.

It is a sad dirty shame I didn’t realize how precious time is when we had little ones. Young families are up to their eyeballs with, well, young families. Life stops for no one. Its when more years are behind you than in front that prompts reflection.

Another word. If your fortunate enough to have grandparents, spend time talking with them. I didn’t and regret it. Older folks have stories to share to whoever will listen. They have lived through some stuff and pass on some words of wisdom.

Who else could picture fabric scraps and speak of time well-spent?

Stranger things have happened.

This I Know…

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© jb katke

…head colds now reveal themselves differently in me than before. Because misery loves company, my husband Dave joined me. Technically, he started it. The difference between us is he went to work and I returned to bed.

…having to back out of five commitments told me I am busy. I may long for a time out, but acknowledge my life has purpose.

…drinking more water is advisable, but does not taste as good as Coke. Frozen Coke, better yet.

… it is not a good idea to procrastinate. Laundry multiplies.

… the sun rising to a new day, regardless of how I feel boggles my mind.

…doing things that are good for me is not fun. Going for walks is time-consuming.

…reading makes me tired and I have so many books to read.

… I truly don’t like change, unless it’s for the better.

…when my sewing machine misbehaves, it is time to walk out of the quilt room.

…while certain foods may be healthy and necessary, if it makes you gain weight, it’s evil.

…life is what you make it, dang it.

…dogs try to make friends with people that don’t like dogs, Just ask Dave, he can tell you.

…I can be a whiner if I set my mind to it. 

… Jesus loves me anyway. He said so in the Good Book. Starting a day reading what he says, makes the day go better. It is a supernatural experience. Trust me, I know.

…asking Jesus to take control of my life does not guarantee a problem-free life. He just makes it bearable one day at a time.

…Jesus gives me something the world cannot. Worry-free. Another mind-boggler is what he allows to take place on earth—just know his patience will come to an end.

…peace and contentment can be had.

…that you need Jesus as much as I do.

Don’t forget—Jesus loves you more than you realize.

Selling Point

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©jb katke

Have you ever encountered something that impacted you in a big way? You were not looking for it—it just presented itself to you. Add seeing it in the most unexpected place. Wow, right?

Pictured here is what was written on a business van, just making its daily service calls. I was running an errand—not on the lookout for a meaningful moment. But here it was.  

Currently I am in progress of writing a devotional and the wording on the van “It’s about the relationship” resonated with me. Some way, some how this will work itself into my book. My plan is not so much to teach, but it could. True to my way of doing things, it is intended to plant encouragement and hope. Could ya use some?

The words on this truck nailed it. I don’t have a plumbing, heating, or air conditioning issue—but if I did, I would be inclined to call them up. What is it that sells you on any given product or service?

It seems the way of the world is to tell people what they want to hear. Give the shoddiest job done and move on. Years ago, Dave and I were on the receiving end of a similar situation. I got a verbal estimate and requested a written statement for my husband to read over. Going to his truck, the man tore off a corner of paper and wrote the price down. Real professional, huh?

That’s not the way to promote your business.  I know. My husband was a remodeler in a previous life. Early on, most of his work was from recommendations. Friends of friends. Small repairs often grew into future home remodels on a larger scale. It was important to listen the homeowners because—bottom line, these people had to live with the end result.

It just makes sense to establish a relationship first. Offensive as it may sound, first impressions are your first impression. If that does not go well, forget it.

That holds true in business, co-workers, and neighbors. How we present ourselves is the defining moment. Considering the fact that nothing happens by accident, it could even be a Jesus moment.

There is Hope

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© jb katke

Me and my kitchen have never been good friends.

Memories of bloopers flood my mind. My future husband, Dave, gave me a cookbook a year in advance of our marriage. I took the cellophane off it after our wedding. Shortly after opening it I cooked a roast misunderstanding the oven temperature for the inner temperature of the meat. Dinner was late that night.

The year I roasted my first turkey, Dave invited a single friend to join us. For starters I neglected to realize there were little ‘treats’ left inside the cavity that needed to come out. Before roasting. Our friend loved stuffing, or dressing, as some say. Call it what you will, I didn’t make any. It’s bad enough to not enjoy cooking, but to be a disappointment to your guest. That is unacceptable.

There was the cake that refused to raise, ditto for the meringue on my lemon pie. Need I go on?

It isn’t just food issues, it’s appliances too. When the kitchen was remodeled a dishwasher and garbage disposal was added. I didn’t see the need them I wasn’t missing what I didn’t have. It’s for resale value I was told.  No time at all and I had adjusted to them.

Years ago, when microwaves were the thing, Dave insisted our kitchen should have one. I resisted—I fought the new-fangled thing that would take up space on the counter. The kids would grow used to one so that when they left home it would be a necessity in their mind. All to no avail. The pressure was on when we purchased one for Mom, with a price too good to be true. Now I cannot imagine a kitchen without one. Told ya so.

Yesterday was da ja vu. Air fryers were the topic.

Mine will arrive today. But no promises from me. Again, I resisted, but knuckled under ahead of schedule. I know defeat when I see it. I will get used to it as I did to all our other conveniences. Adjusting to change is hard when your husband does all he can to make my life easier.

Here we Are Again

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© jb katke

Every year, about this time memories kick into gear. Valentines Day.

So many past reflections of Valentines. Remember the sweet sentiments our children brought home from school mandated by the teacher? Perhaps too, the child returning home, broken hearted over the coveted valentine that never came by a certain person.

It’s nice to have a home where we are accepted and tears can flow freely.

One Valentines Day in particular was an oops. As my daughter and I were talking a woman unlocked our door and entered with her arms full of cleaning gear.

“Marge?”

“No, you must have the wrong house.”

Thinking he had arranged a treat for me, I called Dave at work. He laughed at the situation. Still today, I fail to see the humor. Some stranger had a key to our home.

Why oh why, did I not let her go about her business?

Many moons ago, I experienced that aforementioned broken heart. My job as receptionist was to accept and distribute all the beautiful incoming flowers the privileged employees were receiving from their loved one. None for yours truly, I felt special to no one. Oh yes, I regret to admit, Dave heard about it. He hasn’t made that mistake again. He has become more vocal in how much I mean to him. Expressed love was all that I needed.

That experience taught me something. What about widows? They have memories of expressed love they no longer hear. The following year, the only year, I rectified that. A friend of mine, a kind and gentle woman who was now working to support herself. Money was tight and I imagine her life had taken a hit at losing her husband. Having a tight budget ourselves, I purchased a few flowers, put them in a small vase and took them to her place of employment.

She was surprised and touched by my thinking of her. We have since lost touch with each other. Man, I wish I was better at staying in touch with friends! If my words resonate with you, bringing an individual to mind, I hope you do something special for them. Lifting up another brings smiles to both your faces.

About that feeling loved thing. We are. Look into the reflection in your mirror. Our Creator thought enough about each individual on the face of this earth to bring us into being. That’s a lot of thinking folks. We need each other and we need him.

Happy Valentines every day.

Permissible Remains

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© jb katke

Mom used to refer to leftovers from dinner as remains. Hardly exudes an appetite, no matter how  disguised it is for another meal.

I have fabric scraps lingering from a quilt project that I hope to never repeat again. These little squares take up valuable real estate in the quilt room, and their presence gets in the way of  my moving forward. To address the situation, I am making quilt blocks for a future quilt I may never make. Translated: the real estate now has become a larger storage issue.

Do you have past experiences that you wished had never been? Regrets that weigh you down today, even though the occurrence was long ago?

Some things cannot be disguised. Not in food. Not in a quilt. It is the most uncomfortable of ruts to live in. So—don’t. Give yourself permission to do something about it.

Moving forward is easier said than done. Harsh words or regrettable actions harden with age. Let it be said here that I do not have all the answers to life’s issues. But today could be the start of a larger-than-life change.

Using the quilt block for instance, I gave myself permission. I told me it was okay to put those tiny little pieces together to make something bigger. They had potential for use and future warmth.

Ill-spoken words cannot be unsaid, but there is room for an updated version that can bring a balm to the soul  and relief from guilt.

Ditto for regrettable actions. Here is a thought. Try mending relationships with new and improved actions. If done long enough, kindness wins. Even if it falls apart, you have made a commendable effort.

Give yourself permission to right wrongs. Life is too short and the burden of guilt gets heavier over time. You are worth the effort. Jesus knows your potential and with a little help from him, it becomes mission-possible.

Who Knew?

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© jb katke

Who knew grocery shopping could be so entertaining? My excursion was just another ordinary trip picking up a few items.

But there they were, east of the produce department, north of the checkout lines. A group of school children from Madison Place Elementary School, all dressed in their black and white concert finery, serenading shoppers with Christmas songs.

The usual ones were present and accounted for. You know who I mean—the child that had no desire to participate. That musical youngster that really got into it, practically dancing as he sang. The shy little girl that was clearly out of her comfort zone ‘performing’—bashfully peeking out at her parents grinning from ear-to-ear with enthusiastic support.

Not to mention shoppers like myself, that set their grocery list aside and stood with half-filled carts, taking delight in the pint-size concert we walked in on. The experience brings back memories when my husband, Dave, and I attended the countless performances our three children took part in so long ago. I don’t think we ever missed one.

I was clueless at the time—how beneficial those performances were. Standing in front of an audience with all eyes upon you can make a person of any age self-conscious. The local schools provide that experience to complement what parents aim for. Introducing a variety of things helps a child pinpoint what brings joy and fulfillment. Variety is the spice of life.

My unmarried, childless aunt questioned me about that. She could not fathom putting children through activities that were over and above school, church and play times. If taken to an excess I am in agreement—children don’t need every minute of the day programmed. Free time is beneficial in helping a child dive into a good book, develop an imagination and learn time management.

Between my three children, they participated in a variety of extracurricular activities. But were given one activity at a time. Multiply that by how many children one has and that can add up to a lot of ‘programmed’ time for mom and dad to chauffer them to and from—not counting attending their performances.

I am not complaining. I consider those years as an investment in their adulthood. Not all parents have that option. As I look back on those years I see where their interests took them. My children are no longer children—but playing Legos developed an interest in engineering. Those guitar lessons developed an appreciation for music.

The school of hard knocks brought an unplanned baby. Patience through countless years of daycare—proving herself being a better mom than I. Dance lessons brought poise and the know-how to create dance steps for a classful of girls. Working with them led to experience gained in how to get along with customers.

Can you see it too? Childhood experiences can lead to great things in adulthood.

What childhood experiences have you had that led to where you are today?

A Prized Gift

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In the season of gifts—how can a person give a lasting gift—one that is truly appreciated?

As the story goes, one couple thought they knew. They were not newlyweds, but the promises made on their wedding day remained strong. Do whatever it takes to support the other.

He was a skilled woodworker with the ability to make the most everyday pieces into works of art—armed with the tools to make it happen.

She was a homemaker with a beautiful head of hair. If it could be considered it a skill, she was able to style it in a variety of ways. Occasionally though, a strand or two would fall.

The Christmas season was upon them and their local store seemed to carry whatever a heart might desire—its windows adorned with the delights of what was inside.

Footsteps slowed as the wife admired the display of costly hair adornments. One comb in particular caught her fancy—it was easy to see it could hold up the most belligerent of hair. As she lingered her husband followed her gaze and determined the perfect gift. She was worth it.

Another window held a display of exotic wood from around the world.  The possibilities of what could be built were endless. This time it was the husbands lingering gaze that his wife noted. What a marvelous gift this would make. He was worth it.

Each held a glint in their eye as secret plans took shape. The love they shared was worth the sacrifice.

The season of gift-giving began with the celebration of the birth of Jesus. A heaven-sent infant would be the Savior of the world. Astrologers came with gifts. Jesus grew as most children do and interestingly, his earthly father was a woodworker. Like the husband in this story, Jesus was familiar with the tools of the trade—and a whole lot more. He too, had a glint in his eye of the perfect gift to give.

He knew the needs of mankind— and it was worth the sacrifice.

Plans had already been set in motion.

Jesus had the skill to heal, give hope and freely doled out encouragement. He shared another way of living—available just for the asking. Jesus took what this world offered—the disdain, the ridicule, and the hate—all the way to the cross.

As he hung there suffering, Jesus forgave the sinners that put him there and eventually died. Was it worth the sacrifice? You betcha. Because he didn’t stay dead. His rising to life again paved the way for people to live in a place where there is no pain, no heartache, no suffering. Heavenly, yes? His eyes were filled with love and took joy in what he gave.

The gifts that this husband and wife exchanged took an ironic turn. The husband sold his best saw so he could purchase that special comb for his wife. Only his wife had cut her hair and sold it so she could purchase the wood her man admired!

This story is not new, but it does bring home the reason for the season. In the gift-giving—it is all about the joy of sacrificial love. Please don’t linger on the receiving end of what Jesus offers, because you are worth it.

Thanksgiving Wishes II

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© jb katke

As I said last week, ‘I just don’t think fast enough.’

If only I had picked up the phone. Made the call. Communicated something.

Thanksgiving Day is over, but this year will forever remain in my memory. It’s one of those shoulda, coulda, woulda moments.

Normally I have our big dinner in the middle of the day. Smack in the middle of the football game—to the angst of my menfolk.

This year I did things different, including the hour we sat down to eat. Later in the day. Later was when some of the family was back on the road to see the other half of kin. The opportunity to eat and enjoy the company of each other became a missed moment. If only a person could be everywhere at once.

I wish I had communicated the changes so that we all could have made the necessary adjustments to commitments.

It’s a tough spot to be in when family comes from out-of-town and cannot spend adequate time together.

All it would have taken was a little communication. We all think so much of each other—no one would have suffered the angst that we did.

What about you—have you been out of communication lately? With Jesus? Of all people, I hope not him. If something comes to the forefront of your mind, it may be him letting you know. He’s the guy that helps us.

You may be wondering, if he is such a help, why didn’t he help me in my situation?

He can, he does and he did. Because unlike us, he is capable of being everywhere at once.

Jesus helps me learn from my mistakes. I have made many through the years. But when I take his guidance seriously I keep from becoming a repeat offender. 

I am fortunate to have family that finds joy in each other. Some call it lucky, the Good Book calls it blessed. It’s a pleasure to catch up on each other’s lives. We need that because staying in touch can be difficult.

The neat thing about staying in touch with Jesus is he knows all. We don’t have to explain situations or people—he created us and can sees things as they are. He longs to be part of our life, to make things better than they already are.

This is one opportunity not to be missed.

Dear Whomever

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© jb katke

Our society has come to this. Beware—a can or worms is about to be opened.

A recent shopping trip to find a birthday card led me to see this. Why doesn’t the card just say it like it is? ‘Whoever you are, Happy Birthday.’ Does that fill you with all the warm fuzzies coming from a loved one?

Me either. Greeting card shopping has become a challenge in recent years. It is hard to come by a card that expresses my wishes. The son-in-law that feels more like a son—the daughter-in-law that is more like a daughter. Just because we didn’t raise them—as most cards indicate, doesn’t mean they are any the less dear.

It goes without mentioning the estranged parents that want to celebrate their child, but the card says “us.” If a divorce took place “us” does not fit. What about the child that determines he is not a he anymore, but becoming a she? Or vice versa.

My mother had a clever saying, “The gravy thickens.”

Relationships have become convoluted. Families are not what they used to be and can easily leave one riding the waves, unsure of what shore they will wash up on.

Except for you and I. There are many that read my words that I have never met. Even so, I want to let you know how much you mean to me. It humbles me that you give time to read my thoughts of the day.

It’s you that helps me phrase those thoughts. While we all live on planet earth, our lives seem worlds apart. The norms of everyday living are vastly different. Yet here we are sharing a moment together. Thank you seems so trite—but I do thank you.

It is not just me that thinks of you regularly. So does Jesus. He played a huge part in creating you and continues to have great plans for your life. That is if you allow him to be a part of it.

What does that look like when you cannot see the guy?

Allow me to share what I have found to be a great help.

Early in my day, I talk with Jesus. Tell him what he already knows. He is great and powerful. (It’s a simple matter of giving credit where it is due) I bring up my family and put them into his hands because I can’t control their day or their thoughts like he can. I thank him for things in my own life that has brought me to a closer relationship to him and ask him to guide me through the day. Putting my concerns on his to-do list makes more sense because he is a get ’er done kind of guy.

It’s that simple. You are not a whomever person. You are a big somebody to Jesus. Consider each sunrise to be his greeting card to you. Nothing pleases him more than the two of you sharing life together.

Nice Things

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© jb katke

Do you like nice things? I do and sometimes wish I did not.

Put your seatbelt on—I will take you on one of my rabbit trails of thought. I promise it won’t hurt.

While having nice things is nice—it is not always what it is cracked up to be. All the dishware and collectibles I have inherited are stored in our hutch. It’s big. The deliverymen referred to it as “The beast.”

“The beast” has a story in itself, starting with the wicked gash in its side, but will not elaborate on that today. I am nothing more than next in line of my ancestors collection. Whether tradition will continue and my kids want anything from it remains to be seen.

It. Is. Full. Everything in it must come out for a refreshing bath. When emptied, the glass must also be cleaned. It is more than a days work. Which brings me to my point. It is not so much ownership of memories—it is more like the acquisition owns me. Maintenance required.

© jb katke

Another for instance is our cookie jar. Like so much in our home, it has history. When my husband was just a boy, he purchased it—gifting the cookie jar to his mother. It reflects what a thoughtful, sensitive nature he has. Dave grew up with three other siblings. A cookie jar was a necessary kitchen item.

Washing that cookie jar is just short of a spiritual experience. When wet, it is slippery. It has lived such a long life—I would feel awful if I brought it to its’ demise. Care required.

On the other hand—check out these beautiful leaves. I am a pushover for autumn leaves. Dave says I can’t help myself. On the ground I can see their individual beauty—on the tree they get lost in the mass.

If you examine them closely, there are flaws. They are varying colors of death. The shapes are unique to the tree they fell from, and have little holes. Some may call imperfections.

Jesus and I think they are beautiful. They have served their purpose shading us in the heat of the sun, now we can appreciate their uniqueness. Various colors of death are beautiful when viewed with other trees. And those little holes? It reveals they have been through some stuff.

Have you been through some stuff too? Maybe you don’t look upon yourself as beautiful. Jesus feels you are just right. Acquiring a few scars as we go along is part of life. It defines who we are. If we live to tell about it—someone needs to hear it.

We are not placed on earth to endure, or look good in the eyes of others. We are here to lift each other up. Care and maintenance is required, and encouragement can be scarce. Let others know Jesus likes us just as we are.

Unmasked

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(Photo by David Livingston/Getty Images)

While scary and death seem to be the theme of Halloween—death is a life event no one is completely prepared for. It makes no matter if it is sudden or a lengthy illness.

There are a lot of mixed feelings going around. We are hearing of the war in Israel and the unrest in our own country. And now, losing the beloved Hollywood actor, Matthew Perry, as we learn of his last days. How weird that he recently wrote how he wanted to be remembered.

More information will come forward—it always does. Matthew conquered a drug addiction. His battle was real and didn’t make it a secret. He unmasked his trial for the world to see and let them know it is beatable. Good. For. Him. We need more people like that in life—to know there is hope.

Life can be hard. Anything can weigh a person down. With the right kind of helpful people, we can become conquerors.

On a lighter note, are the Halloween costumes ready? The children are certainly ready to haul in the candy. I’m hoping there are lots of kids parading around as cops, EMS workers and firemen. They are the right kind of helpful people that are getting a bad rap lately.

But there are others, less noticeable. Do you have a friend that harps on Jesus? There was a time when they were referred to as Jesus Freaks. If they are in your circle, good for them.

Their words may not always be appreciated, but I gotta tell ya. They can be a real help when you are in your own battle. Addiction, divorce, death or whatever. These so-called Jesus Freaks are just the ones to help when tough times hit.

Facing hardship is never easy, but to mask it makes everything worse. It’s living a lie. How do you want to be remembered?

Jesus wants to help but won’t if you haven’t asked him. He is not one to intrude. I have learned firsthand he can bring others into your circle that are an encouragement. Either be that person or go to that person.

It makes the world a better place. Shock of shocks, chocolate is not the answer for everything.

Private Eyes

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© jb katke

“Momma, is it true, private eyes really are watching us?”

Daughter Naomi had a legitimate concern.

Dealing honestly with my children was a must, “No honey, no one is watching us.”

Her question was based upon a song that Hall & Oates produced the year of her birth. ‘Private Eyes Are Watching You’ played for substantial years, long enough for her to comprehend what the lyrics meant.

But was I being honest with her? To my knowledge security cameras were few and far between. Unlike today. We cannot even make a run to the corner store for milk without being under surveillance.

I once had a neighbor with one of those Ring doorbells that gave video of who was at their door. His range of vision was vast—knowing our every move.

The lights that line our streets serve more than just giving us light in the dark. Them things have cameras. People need to know that fact.

Don’t throw caution to the wind. There are apps available for cell phones that inform what location firemen are called to and the nature of the emergency. Privacy has gone out the window.

The worst of it is what comes into our homes. Reality TV shows air the stupidity of thieves making errors in their effort to steal. Police shows share videos of drivers gone bad.

Not to mention the news. Wars are telecast for us all to see the atrocities of evil. Everyone can see everything. I repeat:

Was I being honest with my daughter?

Particularly when I know Jesus. He sees all and knows all. That fact is too important to forget. It has impacted me in an unexpected way. He led me to start writing.

Those that know me, know I have never fathomed writing. But here I am making contact with you to know what I know. At some point I will be face-to-face with Jesus, I don’t want to explain why I didn’t do what he asked of me.

He willingly died before there were cameras and television to record the horrific event. But you can read all about it in the Good Book. It wasn’t pretty.

Reading further, you will also run across parts that tell how much you are loved. That too, is a fact. Let Jesus be a guiding light instead of the street lights with cameras.

At War

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© jb katke

Are you at war within yourself-switch on, then switch off again? Life is full of dispute.

Being on the proverbial fence, not knowing whether to change gears to be pro this and con that. The news and social media give never-ending viewpoints making it hard to know where to stand.

Dilemma can be on any given subject. Seniors, soon to graduate high school—then what? Not only are colleges expensive, but possibly not the answer. Trade schools are great but one must know what they want to do in life.

That brings up the subject of job v career. A job brings in the cash flow—a career is doing what you love and getting paid for it. It circles back to what do you want to do in life. Here is a clue to get your mind going, what brings you pleasure? Dig around and see what occupations would supply you with satisfaction.

Are you willing to marry and spend the rest of your life with the current boo? I have lots to say on that, but will leave it with this: It has nothing to do with how great your sex life is. If you want details, ask me.

Thinking about the future may seem an exercise in futility, considering the nations at war. Is our safety switch on or off? One can only guess if the end is near.

The politics of the day is a great example of mud-slinging. Is one political party better than the other? It is a personal decision. I have asked Jesus’ dad to decide how life will play out. That may sound noble, but the question is—can I live with what he deems good? That is the sixty-four-dollar question.

The answer could be, ‘Yes I can.’

The Good Book is full of promises. It says that Jesus is the son of God, that he came to earth in a supernatural way and died so that you and I can have access to hope now—and  live eternally with them later. Folks eternity is a really long time.

I have read that Jesus’ dad has plans for each person and that he is always with us. Is there a hitch? Of course. The Good Book also says we have to want him in our life. The decision is yours to make—don’t be at war when so much is at stake.