Category: Seasonal

June Finding

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© jb katke

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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© jb katke

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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© jb katke

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?

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!

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.

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. 

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.