Category: Seasonal

Opposites Attract

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©jb katke

Winter is necessary.

My dearly beloved, Dave, would hasten to disagree with me. We are polar opposites. Not to say I love winter, but it does create an appreciation for springs new growth.

At least in normal people. Not I. After our springtime rainy season is over and it gets warm, sadness settles in me. I know what is coming. Heat and sunshine, neither of which I can tolerate. Nor can this squirrel.

The same happens with Dave, only his time of sadness is when autumn hits. That is when I shine. But we both know what is coming. A cold dead winter that chills him to the bone.

Trees lose their leaves. Don’t you just love hearing them crunch underfoot? Dave doesn’t. He sees the bare branches of those trees losing their lush greenness, standing bare naked for all the world to see

I, on the other hand, see them pointing up to their creator. The beauty of the individual leaves is better seen when underfoot, not so when massed together in the branches. Suffice it to say, one of us is perpetually gloomy. Correction, not gloomy. just eager for the season to be over.

Looking back, I can’t say when this mood swing became apparent. When we married we agreed on everything. I jokingly say he’s changed. But I have too. Those tendencies were lurking about for a long time. Each of us growing up in Michigan, we were unaware of extreme weather changes.

Living in Kansas, we now recognize the change and can lay a finger as to the why of it. Michigan is full of trees and overcast skies. The sun shone brightly, but the trees were a shield. We had occasional hot days, but they never lasted long, and gentle breezes made it bearable.

On the other hand, the Kansas breeze is more akin to a constant wind. In the summer, it blows hot air. Admittedly, I do appreciate it when we have the winter ice storms, as it seems to blow the pavement dry.

Bottom line, there is always something to be grateful for. As well as something to whine about. Change is what the world is all about, and for the longest time, has never meant to be perfect. Instead, it gives us something to look forward to. Something to hope for that is better than what we see or feel today.

Something that won’t change, ya’ know, something everlasting. Like God’s love. And heaven, where life is perfect because of who lives there. Jesus and his dad, the Lord God.

Spoiler Alert: He was the Guy who created all this climate change. Something for everyone!

Pro Choice

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The irony of it all, as we recently honored mothers. Am I the only one who sees it?

The news is focused on the Roe v Wade discussion in the Supreme Court. Opinions are heartfelt. As a swinging door goes both ways, so goes public opinion. It is a highly emotional issue.

Mother’s Day. That too, can be an emotional roller coaster. Some women dread it, desiring a child, but the choice is out of their hands. Others regret the day they gave birth, delivering the infant to an adoption agency asap.

Women come from any variety of experiences landing somewhere in between. Can we agree life can be hard? Either direction you lean, has the potential for a life of regret. What appears to be right today, tomorrow could feel so wrong. 

Some of my regrets are not of my own making. Decisions were made without my input that impacted my life. It’s a surefire recipe for discontentment to take up residence if f I dwell on it too long. Today I was almost there. It breaks my heart.

To go down that path is an exercise in futility. One cannot change the past. The healthiest thing for me to do is take life where I am at and move forward. I have a choice in where my thoughts take me. Wrong thoughts can lead to destructive actions. 

It brings the nameless woman to mind.

The story goes, that a woman was hauled into church on a day of worship. Thrust before Jesus, her wrongs were aired for all to hear. Prostitution. Back in the day there were laws against such a thing, worthy of a death sentence. Single women of that era had few career choices in how to make a living.

The religious leaders were daring Jesus, whose mission offered hope, to do away with her. Caught red-handed, she deserved it. Instead, Jesus did the fair thing. He turned the tables onto her accusers-instructing the one who had never sinned, and lived by the book of the law to cast the first stone in murdering her.

Can you feel her terror? Her life was in the hands of others, she had no choice in the matter. Quietly, Jesus waited, writing a message in the sand. One after the other, they left the scene. Jesus inquired, “Where are your accusers, has no seen to it that you get what you what you have coming to you?”

“No sir, they all have left.”

Jesus’ response was unbelievable. “Well, I am not going to see to your death either. You go too, and don’t sin anymore” You can read it for yourself in the Good Book, in the first part of John 8.

How I would love to know the path this woman took to live differently. That message in the sand too, what did Jesus write? Did the men leave because they knew their life wasn’t sin-free? Or was the message in the sand directed to them? Inquiring minds want to know. The Good Book only reveals what we need to know. Maybe, we too, should wait quietly and see what Jesus is going to do in the situation. He loves fairness, whether we deserve it or not.

Great Beginnings

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© jb katke

I’ve been here before, but each revisit becomes a little more serious. More intentional.

Another garage sale season is coming upon us. Even though I say ‘never again,’ I find myself doing it again. They are so much work! Can I get an Amen?

We have an antique chair from Grandma Andrews house. A no longer needed area rug. Clothes too big; can’t say they are mine darn it. And that blasted quilt room I practically never enter anymore. It’s become a cesspool of excess everything.

I feverishly worked at yet another purge. My fabric is stored on those cardboard bolts that the fabric stores use. After emptying fourteen of them I felt good about myself. Never mind the room looks like a hot mess. Bins, bolts, and fabric strewn everywhere. Apparently people are right, I have enough fabric to open a store.

Now I can put the fabric that was in storage bins on these empty bolts and be rid of the bins. With room to spare…ha! I did empty a bin, but now my shelves are bursting again and I haven’t even gotten to the bin downstairs.

Enough of this nonsense. Clear the ironing board so you can at least get the ironing done. Only to learn a button is missing from a pants pocket. That led me to scrounging in the button box. One would think that having close to a bazillion buttons, I could easily find one that matches. Another ha!

Mission accomplished after my husband tells me he never buttons that pocket. How many times must one set out on a project, get distracted by another, and give up because it’s a hopeless mess?

Life is like my quilt room; it never seems to be what I think it should. I can rise out of bed, full of ambition, and get side-tracked so easily. Or maybe reality sets in. Do you sometimes feel like a hopeless hot mess?

An alarming realization came to mind. Today, right here, right now, could be where Jesus wants to meet with you. If you are down so low that all you can do is look up. Look up to him. He doesn’t want us to stay down low, but he does want us to see him in our mess. That is the coolest thing, he meets us right where we are at.

Like a box full of useless buttons, a life without Jesus is a side-track of the here and now. That is a dangerous place to be. Moving out of this life, is moving on to another. Let him purge out all the excess baggage in your heart so there is room for him. It will feel so good, and you will be ready to live in the mansion he’s prepping just for you.

Mrs. Astors Plush Horse

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Easter Sunday I dressed up fancy-like. I felt like Mrs. Astor’s plush horse.

Who on earth is Mrs. Astor, and what is a plush horse? I can recall my mom verbalizing this idiom. Seeking to find the history behind it, I learned Mrs. Astor was a New York socialite. A monied one; her husband, William Backhouse Jr was a successful horse breeder.

The Mrs. was known for her extravagant dinner parties; formal dress always a prerequisite. From there, the story gets a little wild. Rumor has it that she put on a dinner party for animals and they all came adorned in the fancy dress of the day. Needless to say, she looked like a fool.

Since COVID has entered our lives, I have been living on the casual side. On Sunday I felt overdressed. Upon entering the church, I encounter a friend, “Oh my goodness, you have knees!”

I felt like a fool.

But why? I know folks who think church-going is unnecessary. Foolish even, given the whole joint is full of imperfect people. Why not look the part? Put on some fancy clothes so others will think we have life all figured out.

That is where my story takes on a wild side. Imperfection is the very reason church-goers go. We know we don’t have life figured out, but we also know who does. Jesus doesn’t care what clothes we wear; he cares about where our heart is.

Back up.

Maybe he does somewhat care about our wardrobe; knowing some attire draws unsavory people to our circle. Unlike Mrs. Astors dinner parties, there is no mandatory attire in church attendance. Jesus prefers those who don’t put themselves on display. From what I have read in the Good Book, he is especially drawn to  those who don’t have high self-esteem.

One of Jesus’ specialties is transforming a nobody into a person of influence. Nothing can impact others like witnessing a changed life. Better yet, is experiencing a changed life. Rarely do I take sermon notes, but this one hit me between the eyes. The pastor shared, “Sometimes the best way to believe the impossible is to experience the impossible.”

Hmmm, there is food for thought. Easter commemorates the impossible that happened. At the ripe old age of thirty-three, Jesus died for something he had no part of. By the reports I’ve read in the Good Book, he arrived on earth in a supernatural way. He was God’s son, but referred himself as the Son of Man; he chose to be identified as both. Perfect, but human.

There is an oxymoron for you. Not everyone buys into the ‘God is love’ story; a  choice only you can make. Regardless of your stance, Jesus did the impossible and rose from the dead. A change of heart can give you the same experience, rising to a new eternal life. If a perfect living sounds good to you, it’s a heart turned to Jesus that is a prerequisite.

It’s a come as you are party, but I recommend adding a seatbelt to your wardrobe. The places God takes you will be an adventure!

The Letter

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 © jb katke

“I wonder how Easter got started anyway?” The question came from one of my co-workers that haunts me to this day. My mind responded, but nothing came out of my mouth. Much later, having this recurring question stalking me, I responded to her by letter. I don’t know if she ever received it.

Not having her address, I sent it in care of the company. It may have been too late. My position was eliminated; thus, losing the job I loved.  Had she gone on to other things too?

Even though I had included my address; possibly my phone number too, if she wanted to talk with me. No response came. I’d like to think she got it, because much thought went into what I wrote.

First off, I clarified that Easter has nothing to do with bonnets, bunnies, or baskets full of candy and colored eggs. I can say that with certainty because I’ve done my homework. Researching the Good Book, I read about how it came to be.

It started way before our time, before even the day God’s son Jesus walked the earth. Jesus was a real people person kind of guy. He loved to tell others about where he came from and how mankind could go there too when they leave this earth. All folks had to do was believe in him and change their mindset.

You know how it can be with a know-it-all;  a warm welcome can be rare. That was how the religious leaders of the day felt. They wanted to tell people how to live and what to believe. The power, respect, and the revenue they got from it put them in a prestigious place.  

Jesus coming along, saying you don’t have to obey all these man-made rules the leaders came up with didn’t set well. Push came to shove; they decided the only way to stop Jesus was to kill him. Jesus became a prey, while the leaders waited until the time was right. Passover.

Passover is an annual Hebrew celebration, a time of remembrance when God spared the Jews from death. It took place in Egypt; where the Israelites were in slavery so long ago. God was about to perform a miracle. The Egyptians were going to lose their firstborn everything. Livestock, cattle…and their first child. This was the final straw in the many plagues Egypt endured, until they finally set the Hebrew nation free.

This death of the firstborn would include the Israelites too, unless they sacrificed a lamb and spread his blood over the door frame of their home. Fortunately, they took God seriously. The death angel only ‘visited’ homes unmarked. Hence, pass over. This all took place long before Jesus was born, but the tradition holds true.

So now, returning to Jesus. He was framed, captured, placed in a mock trial, brutally beaten beyond recognition, and eventually forced to carry his cross to be hung from. There, he died. Today we know that as Good Friday. Ironic, huh? Read on to see why it was good, the story continues.

Jesus’ body laid in rest in a borrowed tomb for three days. On day three, he rose from the dead. According to reports, others saw him alive and interacting with people. We call it Easter Sunday.

Even today, that is not the end of the story.

Here is the kicker, Jesus knew what events would take place all along,  So then, why did he come?

Remember my mentioning that he was telling all sorts of people they could go where he came from?  He knew folks could not get to heaven under their own power, it’s the home of a holy God. People are too full of wrong-doing; the Good Book calls it sin. The only way that was possible was for him, God’s only son, to die with bloodshed. Taking on the world-wide sin on his own shoulders; sacrificing his life like those innocent lambs from long ago whose blood was on the framework over the door.

Death was his mission in life. I have read Jesus did it with pure joy. The best way for me to wrap my head around that statement is to liken it to childbirth. For months this new body growing within is looked forward to with eager anticipation. Giving birth hurts like heck…but the joy in bearing a new life; it’s worth every painful moment!

Celebrating Easter is remembering what God did for the Israelites in slavery. To know that same God can today, perform a miracle for those who choose to believe. To be saved from the slavery of alcohol, drugs, prostitution…you name it. God is a miracle worker, freedom is available.

As I wrote this letter to my coworker, I realized this event recorded in the Good Book was God’s letter of explanation to anyone who would read it. To understand what Easter is all about and why it is so important. Where we go after leaving this earth is a vital concern.

I hope my friend got that letter. Every Easter I think of her. While this is a religious holiday, it applies to every man woman and child today throughout the world. What Jesus talked about then, still holds true if we just believe.

Happy Easter!

A Day to Remember

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 ©jb katke

Well folks, two, twenty-two, two thousand twenty-two is in our rear-view mirror. One that we will not live through again. Amen to that.

Did you do anything remarkable that day? I know it will not reach the infamy of the day John F Kennedy was assassinated or even anything the likes of walking on the moon. I did not set out to make it anything other than another day. Despite my good intention, it did stand out from the norm. Thank heavens not every day is like that one.

The day started out with my Tuesday morning Bible study. A hymn was recommended to look up. I shared a page from my songbook that includes a brief story of events that took place in the songwriters life, inspiring the song. It’s quite interesting and the ladies seemed to appreciate it.

On my way home, I stopped into Walmart to pick up a few grocery items. My choice is always to use a checkout where an actual person is ringing up my purchases. The management has instead chosen to make the row of cash registers a décor of bygone days. The only ones open are those the consumer has to man themselves. I hate that. If we customers are ringing up our own purchases and bagging them, we ought to either be put on the payroll or given an employee discount.

I finished my transaction only to find the can of peanuts that I missed in ringing things up. Immediately I find myself having to decide to forego the peanuts or ring up a second purchase. I realize there is a third option; to quickly exit the store without paying. I decided on option #2; the following explains why.  Cameras are everywhere. There is not a doubt in my mind that I would have been caught, detained by the police and most likely been taped for the television series of America’s Most Wanted. I didn’t have that kind of time. Besides which, I wanted to sleep that night, and you know…the Lord would know.

The day could have ended there. But nooo. I had a load of laundry to do. I use a smaller bottle of detergent to load into the washer because the bigger bottle is harder to handle pouring. Little bottle was nearing empty. No problem, I’ll just pour more from the bigger bottle. As I’m doing so, I got to thinking I should have made sure I picked up the right bottle, both detergent and fabric softener are white bottles. Girlfriend, you’re always doubling checking yourself. Show a little confidence, you know what you’re doing. I couldn’t resist, after filling my detergent I peeked at the big bottle. Yup, I poured fabric softener into the detergent bottle. I went to bed early that night before I could make any more memories.

Resolving Resolutions

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©jb katke

Scratch resolutions. They are nothing more than reminders of how we have let ourselves down. Again.

Upon reading through my past Happy New Year 1 blog, I find not much has changed. I continue to avoid artichoke hearts and have yet to lose weight. In fact, I’ve gained a couple pounds…tis the season you know.

The problem is this new year resolution stuff comes right after gorging ourselves during Christmas. Who arranged that? Poor planning if you ask me. Those who knock themselves out preparing holiday junk food; who am I to be rude by refusing to eat it?

This reminds me of what my husband, Dave, has always said. “If it tastes good, spit it out!”

Another decision I made long ago was to discontinue sending Christmas cards. Go figure, this year we received more than the usual folks trying to bone up their business. We actually heard from friends; whom I have decided have more of a life than we do.

Many send greetings through social media, which I find less personal and depressing. Normal people take countless pictures of friends and family. More years than  I care to admit, we went without a camera, now the camera is on our phone. That doesn’t mean I will remember to snap a few memories. This year I was bound and determined to do just that.

Too bad I didn’t get a picture of our Thanksgiving memory-maker. Our meal was laid out buffet style. For the table we painstakingly laid out the silverware place settings, making certain we were all gathered together. How wonderful that our family has grown so much we ran out of chairs! Sometimes it just doesn’t pay to plan.

Christmas day was spent with our daughter and son-in-law. With no pictures to prove it. Tradition, bah humbug!

COVID came for a visit and brought our New Year’s plans to a screeching halt. You do not hear me complaining; both of us are well and are just being cautious interacting with others. It was a quiet holiday. Dave is having a time well spent with woodworking projects and I am catching up on reading.

Regardless of how much planning goes into them, our days are what they are. It is what we make of them that counts. This year has been one of reflection on the good memories. I have chosen to revel in what I have…even if there are no pictures to prove it.

If the lens in our minds have clarity that is something to be thankful for. Happy four-day old New Year!

There is Hope

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 © jb katke

Many can hardly wait to see 2021 in the rearview mirror, broken as it is. Are you breathing a sigh of relief because the holiday is over?

The Christmas season is a lot of work. Shopping, wrapping, baking, and being of good cheer when you might not feel it, is hard. Especially when social media blares happiness at us. Many folks just as soon forget ringing in a New Year.

I can recall telling my daughter a new day is a fresh start, an opportunity to change the direction we are going. If only I could take those words and apply them to self! I may not be the only one.

When Jesus arrived in the world, there were no cameras to document the event. I guess you could say he did have a form of social media; but it was to only to a certain, select group. The heavenly angels appeared to a couple shepherds and the brilliant star caught the attention of a few astrologers. That was the extent of what we could call his friends.

Baby Jesus didn’t come to be a rock star calling attention to himself but his life did just that. Through the years his impact was made one person at a time; individuals were his thing. Particularly the broken, overlooked, oppressed, or those just down in life. He was drawn to them like a holy magnet.

Before he set to work, he gathered twelve nobodies. Just ordinary guys, maybe a little broken, that got a front row seat to what he was doing; giving them the opportunity to do likewise. His message of love, hope, forgiveness, and a chance of a new life was spread by word of mouth. It never ceases to amaze me that he trusted these guys to carry it forward.

I can relate to that. Do you feel like a nobody too? I write because Jesus gave me his word to pass on. Through these blogs of mine, I am astounded at the ways he has made himself real to me. Twenty-twenty hindsight opened my eyes. As a child, I could have drowned; as an adult, a possible victim of a drive-by shooter, or maybe killed, being pushed into a full skid of bricks.

But here I am, telling you what a great God we have. One that wants to impact your life for the better. He selected and gave me a chance, now you give him a chance.

Perfect Timing

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Or was it; considering being up to your eyeballs in wedding plans? I would never have thought of Christmas as a supernatural experience. Joseph didn’t either.

Nor Mary. Not the shepherds that were just out doing their job. Possibly the astrologers: they may have been the forerunner of our climate change people of today. But the timing of it all!

We know the story of Christmas, of Mary expecting a child out-of-wedlock. My guess is this was not in her plans. She was a girl in her teens, engaged to Joseph. Back in the day it was a promise; an agreement between parents where the young people involved had no say.

Joseph didn’t believe Mary when she first told him of her pregnancy. Her line was that she was visited by an angel that told her she would become pregnant, not in the normal way, but God would do it. If you were Joseph, would you believe her?

Necessity took precedence. The society of that time would put a black mark on Joseph not waiting for his wedding day. Poor Mary could be stoned to death for her sin. Arranging for a hush-hush divorce was the only way out of this hot mess.

 Cue the angel coming to Joseph before he finally believed. Complete with telling him what the name of the baby would be. But the story doesn’t end there. A whole choir of angels appeared in the night sky for shepherds to witness. In one sense, they were not expecting this angelic visit, but on the other hand, they knew a Savior would come…sometime.

Reading in the Good Book, starting in Matthew, we are told the genealogy of her baby boy. Keep in mind this could be a fantasy story because of the supernatural nature. The following book, Mark, tells us of the things this child, now grown man did.

The book after that, Luke, goes centuries back in time, foretelling the birth of this child. Does the movie Back to the Future come to mind? After Luke, comes the book of John. In it we read more of the back story as well as a continuation of this man named Jesus.

Who would have thought this Savior would come as a baby? Everybody was looking for a king to come to set things right, not an infant!

But wait, there is more. Astrologers were watching, studying the stars, noticing one especially bright this night. They set out to follow where it was leading. 

At the risk of being a spoiler alert, I urge you to dig into this story; there is so much to gain from it. The beauty of a good book is the ability to put yourself into the story. To imagine yourself living in that life and time. What would you do? What would you think?

How would you respond, knowing full-well the injustice going on around you? The world needed a Savior, now we have access to one. Maybe I need to  cooperate with God’s plan like Mary did, accept it as Joseph did, be in awe of the miracle like the shepherds, and keep a watchful eye like the astrologers to recognize it when its as plain as the nose on my face.

Merry Christmas

This Is Just Between Us

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“Warning! Danger!” So said the Robot on the television series, Lost In Space. This post is for adults only. If you have trouble dealing with truth, sign off and go on about your day.

I am sharing a peek of my brother with you. Bruce is seven years older than I, so I missed out on this scene. Although mentally, I can see it played out.

Bruce was around six years old, when he came home from school in the pit of depression. Entering the house, he plopped himself down on the steps leading to the kitchen with his head in his hands. Despair written all over his little face.

Mom asked, “Bruce, what happened at school today to make you so sad?”

The little guy may have had trouble speaking, choking on his words. “Some kids at school today told me there is no Santa Claus.” His face reflected the loss of a dear friend.

Our mom was always honest; even if it meant she could no longer hide the truth. She confirmed that what Bruce heard and dreaded was true. For several moments he just sat on the steps letting this soak in.

“Then I suppose there is no Easter Bunny either?” Reality can bite.

Perhaps this made you smile, remembering your own moment of truth. Looking back at my own childhood, I recall playing along with my parents, and believed in the fantasy. One can not be too careful when dealing with incoming gifts.

It also makes me recall Dave and I taking our firstborn, Jamie, to see Santa. We patiently waited in line as our boy went over what gifts he would ask for. When his turn came we helped him up on Santa’s lap. After making his requests known, we walked away. Jamie spoke up, “That was not the real Santa.” He stated it in such a matter-of-the-fact manner that we were momentarily stunned.

“Jamie, how could you tell?”

“He never once said Ho Ho Ho.”

As adults its equally hard to comprehend someone loving us; despite our faults, and joyfully giving us gifts. Especially when we least deserve them. That is precisely what Jesus’ dad does; every year the Christmas season reminds us of that. Everywhere we turn we hear songs celebrating the birth of a Savior.

Why should that be so hard to wrap our minds around? If you are a parent, you know how to give your child the desires of his heart. They are mini-you, your own flesh and blood. Out of that love you may even not give them what they asked for, but what you know they need.

Just like God does, offering us the opportunity to live in perfection forever. No other gift can top that! Warning! Danger! Be sure you don’t confuse Santa with God though. One of them is a fantasy, the other a Life Saver.