Speechless?

© jb katke

Me—speechless? In your dreams!

I have all sorts of thoughts and ideas that roam freely inside my head. At the end of the day, when my feet are level with my head they activate, keeping sleep at a distance. My mind is not a blank screen.

Just this morning, as we watched the news, my husband Dave commented, “There is something I have noticed about you.”

“What is that?” I asked laughingly. Only to sober up enough to wonder did I really want to know?

“You have lived with me too long. You’re talking back to the television like I do.”

True statement. But the TV needs to know how off-base it sometimes is.

Like so many others I have an unnatural attraction to social media. Oh—the useless information one can learn! Much of it questionable.

Some feel the necessity to share the name of the restaurant they went to for lunch. Others post the pictures of their vacation.

This leads me to thinking many may need a relationship. We live in a busy world these days and don’t seem to find the time to establish friendshipe. That is where social media comes in handy.

We can reach out to a world of people we may not even know and get feedback from them. The response may stem from the topic or maybe the picture always attached. It doesn’t matter as long as some response comes from somewhere.

Beware of the questions memes ask. “What was your pets name when you were growing up?” or, “What was the make of your first car?” Someone, somewhere appears to want to know you. “Just for fun they say.” The information you provide can give them access to change your password, make expenditures in your name, or any other kind of mayhem. They are not your friend.

My personal unfavorites are the political ones. I don’t have enough fingers or toes to count how many times I would like to respond, but hold back. We live in a day and age when everyone feels the need to let the world know who they support.

So then, why don’t I respond, letting others know how I feel?  Because there is another issue of far greater importance—that no one wants to discuss.

Like what? It is important to me that you know this. Too many people don’t acknowledge life after death.

My beliefs are based upon the Good Book. It is there that truth and hope live. I do not aim to flaunt my opinions, but to point others to read it for themselves. If you take Jesus’ words personally, you won’t be sorry.

Not Sorry

© jb katke

It’s so easy to look back on things we’ve done and have regrets. Can we take a moment and make a list of what we are not sorry for?

I’m sharing this photo with you, a weekend project. The wheelbarrow carries much more than these pumpkins you see. It was my dad’s, and he used to give me rides in it when I was a child. We have no need of it, but I can’t seem to part with it yet. Having limited storage ranks this as yard décor. I hope.

Currently, we are in an HOA community, they call the shots as to whether we can keep it or do away with it. Providing it is not a problem will entail having to have some form of a pretty in it year-round. I’ve figured out summer, each fall I can do as you see here. Winter I will have to think on.

My husband has his doubts. Especially after we embarked on moving the thing full of dirt in this locale. A few things were in its path, making it difficult. It took muscle, moving the downspout and a guy grumbling, “The things we do to keep a wife happy.”

Not sorry. It’s looking good, for the moment. Now if I can just get the powers that be to see things my way.

When a new baby joined our family, I made it a practice to keep the older siblings home from school when I returned home with our new bundle of joy. My purpose was to give the children a chance to get to know their new sister and how home was going to look a little different. Hopefully too, they wouldn’t feel left out and resentful. Not at all sorry.

The day our youngest put in a request to wear her roller skates to school amongst warnings, “You’re gonna get in trouble!” She didn’t. Permission granted, not sorry.

Here is a big one, giving my granddaughters cake along with their breakfast! When Momma found that out, “Mom! I can’t believe you did that! You never let us kids do that.” Along with grand parenthood comes certain rights, like spoiling them rotten. Not sorry.

Finally got my husband to agree to moving. “This winter we’ll fix up the house and put it on the market in the spring.” I found our new home that same afternoon. Not sorry, we enjoyed that home. 

It took a long time coming, but I have a hutch for all the inherited dishware that belonged to various relatives, I was next in line. No one, including me, has good dishes anymore, making hutches almost extinct. I enjoy mine. Not sorry.

I accidently got into a car accident, totaling my vehicle. A car I never liked anyway. It is now of great importance to my husband that I like our cars. Not sorry.

It took me some time to realize the Lord was serious. I’m now following his direction and writing a book. Not sorry.

Really grateful that our Creator sees potential in all of us, giving us opportunity to step out of comfort zones and see what a difference he can make in life. So incredibly not sorry!