Author: Quilter

I find life lessons and sometimes the humor and/or hope in everyday events.

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.

The Unexpected

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© jb katke

An unwelcome and unexpected visitor came by this week. If the possum could talk, he/she may have been in agreement.

We have a couple window wells that come flush with mother earth. Animals can easily be nosing along the ground when suddenly they are pedaling air until reaching a stone-filled landing. Three concrete walls surround them with a row of windows on the other side.

Our home is in a well populated, heavily trafficked neighborhood, meaning the critters do not have much woods to call home. But this wasn’t the first time. One would think word would pass in the animal kingdom.

There is no alternative but to get the homeowners attention. Get me outta here!

This, in the dead of night. My dearly beloved is about to crawl into bed when the scratching began. If left unattended our window would be destroyed. On go the clothes, out comes the truck, down comes a long board to put into the window well so the poor thing can crawl out. Which he/she takes their lazy good-for-nothing time to do.

C’mon, it’s cold out here and I wanna go to bed.

I slept through the whole escapade. When morning came, I found him/her eating breakfast.

Have you ever found yourself in a hopeless situation? You need help but unsure of where to turn. What can a person do in the dead of night with no one around to help? Pray? It can’t hurt.

The Good Book tells us that not a sparrow falls that Jesus does not know about it. Surely, he looks after possums—and people too. Pray. What do you have to lose?

Feeding the flock

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© de katke

It has been freezing outside. I can say this with confident authority because I was born and raised in the northern part of the Midwest. I know cold.  Never has it been like this past week.

In my home state of Michigan, we had our share of winter weather. More snow than ice, which is preferable to me. Snow can be dealt with, just shovel it out of the way. Ice is downright treacherous. The coldest of days, in my memory bank, may have hit a few degrees below zero, in the night, days were not as severe.

Kansas has been the victim of the highs breaking -13 degrees. Combine that with a continual wind and you have the recipe for a miserable outdoors. This time of year, a commercial advertising pets left outside to suffer in the cold pulls on the heart strings. My heart goes out to mistreated animals in any weather.

That is why we are keeping a close eye on our bird feeder. How those little birds are surviving this brutal winter is beyond my explanation. They have become regular visitors to our feeding station. Flocks of them.

In the Good Book Jesus mentions that not a single sparrow dies that his dad doesn’t know about it. As a part of his creation, he cares for birds too, but they were not made in his image. Jesus fed flocks but not the feathered variety, he fed the people kind. Wherever Jesus went, flocks of people followed.

All kinds of folks with various degrees of hunger. The sick hungered for healing. Jesus’ reputation for healing gave hope of a better life. They showed up wherever Jesus’ travels took him. Some hungered for a good show and maybe get a free meal. They too, came.

Twelve men tagged along because they had been called upon for on-the-job training. Women followed to provide the meals and be a support system. Religious leaders gave time and attention as well. In hopes of catching Jesus in mistakes.

If you have a hunger for Jesus and follow him, I am curious to know what variety hunger you have. In what way does he ‘feed’ you?

Post Christmas

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© jb katke

What a difference a couple generations make. Pictured is the toybox my mother had as a child. By todays standard, she had next to nothing.

What did children do back it the day? My guess is they used their imagination. Children were also vital members of the family. They had responsibilities—whether it be helping with the dishes or feeding the chickens. It was another way of life. Foreign to many young ones today.

Getting our children to clean their rooms was a constant battle. It took all day. Only because they unearthed a toy shoved deep under the bed—prompting renewed interest in it as a long-lost friend. Play time!

After Christmas, it was time to find a place for the new playthings.

After a full day of cleaning/playing in their bedroom it looked no better than when they started. Desperate parents do desperate things. Their dad brought in the big guns, the garden rake and a huge box. Toys left out were raked into the box. The only way to get them back was to purchase them. Prices ranged from a penny to a nickel.

In fairness to them, twenty-twenty hindsight acknowledges the kids lacked a thing called away. Toyboxes only hold so much—and no place to put puzzles or games that might spill pieces. To our surprise—and disappointment, some things were never purchased. 

That was a huge lesson for us. We had our reasons, but bought too much! The grandparents on both sides of the family had limited income. We picked up the slack—wanting our children to have a good Christmas. Or birthday—the only times gifts were given.

Today I read of families that prior to the holidays, go through the toys, selecting the ones outgrown to donate to other children. It teaches charity and letting go. Both have value in todays’ economy. I learn my best child-raising ideas after it is too late. Mine are now grown adults. I might add they all live responsible lives, despite their over-indulgent parents. We are not alone.

Jesus gives good gifts too, on a daily basis. The necessary ones, that will draw us to him so we can spend eternity together. He too overindulges—on grace, mercy and forgiveness. 

OMG-She’s Alive!

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© jb katke

Her lights flashed to get our attention.

Dave: “Alexa, do you have a notification?”

Alexa: “One new notification from Alexa News from Fox News. ___________. Do you want to hear more?”

Dave: “No.”

Me: “I wonder why she does that? She says it is from both Alexa News and Fox News too.”

Alexa: “I’m sorry, I don’t have an answer to that.”

Yikes—she heard me and responded!

Artificial Intelligence, or AI, has been a regular topic in the news of late. It started out as convenience, but has quickly become a concern.

We have been using it—perhaps without realizing it. Have you texted someone recently and found the word you were starting to write pop up? That is AI. Or maybe while scrolling through the internet gathering info on a potential purchase—suddenly all these ads come at you without your prompting? AI is at work. I heard of a couple talking face to face, in front of their phones apparently, and ads starting streaming in to relate to their conversation.

Can it go too far? Technology knows so much these days that it can be frightening.

This has been a talking point in the writers meetings I have attended. It seems there are websites available that will help an author produce an online book using their own voice.

As tempting as that may sound, I suspect there may be drawbacks.

TV commercials speak of multiple mortgages being made on your home without your knowledge. Snail mail enters your mailbox of a security breach at your bank. While it may or may not be AI, it definitely is technology. It is only a matter of time and your voice may be ‘kidnaped’ and used against you in some way.

Yes, in my world, that is going too far—and we all should proceed with caution.

But consider this:

There is one who does more that hear what we say—he reads hearts. He knows our thoughts and desires. Not Santa Claus, but Jesus. The Good Book documents such happenings in Mark 2:6-8 and Luke 9:46, to name a couple instances.

Words should be used wisely—and beware of what enters our heart. He knows. Jesus understands what we want—and like a good father provides for our needs. There is a difference, and can explain why some of our desires go unfulfilled. It takes faith and trust to comprehend what the fifties television show indicates, Father Knows Best.

https://blogreedsy.com/guide/audiobooks/ai-narration

 

2024 Dreams

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© jb katke

Are you ready? Here we are smack into a New Year.

December 31st brings reflection on the past months. Looking back can be hard. Some things we just don’t want to remember. Those things we most enjoy seem to go by too fast—we want the good times to roll endlessly. Only life doesn’t work like that.

If you read my last blog, Miracles Abound, you will know I have had a trial concerning posting a blog. Obviously, my issue dissolved because here I am. God-encounters usually take place in daily happenings. Ya gotta look for them because they can be disguised as trials.

But we are in the season of New Years resolutions, yes? They too, come disguised as a wish list. Yesterday I recalled a promise I made to myself—only to break it shortly after. Some time ago I promised myself I would be thankful for whatever I got accomplished in the day. A short time later I broke that promise—stuffing it away as an impossible dream.

My momma used to say, “You are your own worst enemy.”

I guess she is right, I hate that! She has since passed on to her eternal home, but can still hear her words. That’s the thing about mothers, they tell you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear.

Love looks like that.

Getting back to dreams and resolutions, I’d like put less emphasis on gotta-dos and more time on writing. Time will tell how that works out! The good Lord has been showing me a few things lately that have room for improvement. His love is even greater than my Moms.

If you care to share, let me know what your dream/resolutions are for this year. Putting them in print might be all you need to accomplish them. With the Lord by your side, strange things can happen.

Happy New Year everyone!

Miracles Abound!

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©jb katke

What you see here are both the culprit and the recipient. Okay, maybe I hand a hand in it too. Literally.

Cleaning the family room (some might consider that miracle)—I foolishly tried moving these candles at the same time. They are weighty little things and I did not have a good grip on them. One came crashing down on that glass table top. Visions of broken glass ravaged my mind—not to mention the price of replacing said glass that was custom-made.

Nothing happened. So typical of our worst thought scenarios, yes? It is a little thing that could have been big—but now, after the fact, is a huge miracle.

That was not the first of our holiday miracles. A second is the developing relationship with our great-grandchildren. I had a hand in that as well. Do you have children in the family that live a distance away?

Here is what I did. Based upon the child’s birthday, I send a little note with a picture of myself or Papa every three months. They are little and some cannot yet read, so I keep my words to a minimum—but something that may interest them and share what we are doing in our life. In-so-doing we are becoming more like the family we are. Recently, in taking some Christmas gifts to them, my efforts were rewarded. A big miracle in our eyes. We all hope to be someone to somebody, right?

Our third miracle happened on our way home from visiting the great-grands. We were within inches of making contact with a speeding vehicle at the gas station. Accident averted. With pounding hearts, full aware of what could have been. A genuine miracle and proof angels do watch over us. There is never a good time for an accident, but especially so at Christmas. It was a miracle to us.

My Momma used to say, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” I say ditto to the little incidental things that are a big deal in our eyes. While all these are huge to me, they are not the biggest ever.

The biggest one ever I had no hand in. It took place long ago, before I was born. It is the birth of the little baby that we celebrate during this Christmas season. This sweet innocent infant left the riches of the kingdom he lived in, specifically for me. And you.

It was by his choice and plan—to take the blame and die for the wrong we see all around us. That is how much mankind means to him. This. You. So that you might spend eternity together with him. But that choice is yours to make.

See the miracle for what it is. Look closely each day to see the little miracles that only he can work.

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.