The next block in the Bible Sampler quilt:

I’m sobered by the behavior I’m seeing out in “the world”. People are doing some really crazy things these days. YouTube provides streams of videos showing frantic, desperate people acting out in absurd ways. I figure they’re at their wit’s end, what with it being 2020 and all.

I forget that not everyone is walking around in the peace that surpasses understanding, secure in the knowledge that Jesus has done it all for us. Believers know and have confidence in the fact that, in the end, everything is going to be okay. I shouldn’t take this for granted, but it’s been a systemic part of me since my infant baptism. (Couldn’t help inserting the “word of the year” there, apologies). And it helps me understand a possible motive behind the adult meltdowns we see happening on airplanes, in grocery stores, and so on. People have been stripped of their usual safety nets, and they’ve got nothing to catch their falls into fear and worry. That’s a really hard way to live, in unbelief. Going through life without any help or resources beyond ourselves would be unimaginable. If this is all there is, then the pressure’s on to make it count, get it right, make a difference, leave a legacy, live, laugh, love. Sounds exhausting.

The passage goes like this:

John 10:22-30: “…So the Jews gathered around him and said to him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Christ, tell us plainly.” Jesus answered them, “I told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name bear witness about me, but you do not believe because you are not among my sheep. My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand. I and the Father are one.”

“Never” is a really long time. That’s security with a capital S. As long as I remember that this world is not my home, I’m just passing through, then everything’s going to be okay.

Here’s the next block in the Bible Sampler quilt.

This passage in Mark chapter eight tells of Jesus healing the blind man in Bethsaida. Actually, He took the man by the hand and walked him outside of town to perform this miracle in private. Jesus spit right into the man’s eyes, and laid His hands right on the man’s face, twice, to perfect his vision.

That’s a lot of touch, up close and personal. Maybe I’m noticing this because we are living through a pandemic-driven time of social distancing and germaphobia. But the previous accounts of Jesus healing the sick and dying didn’t involve so much personal contact. There’s a touch of the hand, or just a word. And Jesus wasn’t anywhere near when He healed the centurion’s servant.

This is reminding me that Jesus isn’t limited by ritual or form. He can heal, or cast out, or revive back to life, any old way He wants to. I think He is more interested in our faith outcome than in the physical outcome. For some, He chooses a hands on approach. Others need to be given a task, like the leper showing himself to the priest. And some don’t need any touch at all. The centurion had faith enough that Jesus chose to heal his servant remotely.

Each miraculous event was unique according to the situation. And Jesus would give them stern orders to keep it to themselves. He told this blind man to go directly home, and bypass the village. Jesus tried so hard to keep things quiet, but of course word quickly spread and needy, desperate crowds grew larger and larger. I think Jesus saw this as a sidebar to His primary purpose of teaching and revealing how He would eternally heal us once and for all in due time. I’m sure He also felt the urgency to prepare the apostles for their future ministries. Time was always of the essence. But His compassion got the better of Him, and there are over 40 accounts of miraculous healings in the gospels.

I don’t remember a time when I could see 20/20 without glasses. I got my first pair in second grade for nearsightedness, and I remember the doctor saying they were long overdue. My frames were blue, and cat eye style. The lenses were thick and made my eyes look little. I hated them, and remember with clarity that my self image tectonically shifted from positive to negative the moment I put them on.

But I also remember the surprise. For the first time, I could see the individual leaves on the trees. That was what I kept telling my mom as I marveled at the view outside my window on the car ride home.

Today, if I take off my glasses, people would look just like trees walking around. My prescription has numbers that put me in the “legally blind” category without correction. I think it’s awesome that Jesus took extra care and time to correct the blind man’s vision all the way to 20/20.

I know that we are all figuratively nearsighted. We try to work out how to be the church on Earth until we get to go to our eternal home. We mean well, but we mess up, we get things wrong, and we keep trying.

I Corinthians 13:12 says: “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I shall know fully just as I have been fully known.”

Happy December, time to pick another UFO project for the One Monthly Goal Challenge over at Elm Street Quilts.

https://www.elmstreetquilts.com/2020/12/december-one-monthly-goal.html

I confess, I was going to bow out this month. After all, there’s the holidays, pandemic or no, to observe. And I’m doing Bonnie Hunter’s Grassy Creek Mystery, which is no small thing. But a word, this one word, has clinched it for me: Challenge.

This word taps into a weakness of character I possess, which is to respond viscerally to challenges. If someone throws one down, I’m going to pick it up and take it across the finish line. It doesn’t matter if there’s a prize, recognition, or special whatever at the end, it’s the challenge that affronts me and causes me to want to overcome.

(Note to self: Research fitness challenges online. Maybe this character flaw will help me get motivated in the personal health department.)

Now might be a good time to tell you that I was indeed a prizewinner for the month of October. I’m enjoying a six month’s subscription to Make Modern Magazine. Thank you, Elm Street Quilts!

I don’t think I even intended to participate every single month for this entire year, but now that I’ve reached the final lap, stopping now would feel like quitting.

In January I had plenty of old UFOs that needed this outside motivation to push them along to the finish line. It was with relish that I chose each month’s project, excited by the prospect that they’d be up and out of the dark, into the light. (Except for last month’s finish. It went right back into a dark wardrobe.) Eleven months and eleven finishes later, I find myself at a loss as to what to pick next. I’m down to just one quilt top, my Farmer’s Wife Sampler. I need to keep that one waiting longer, because there’s no way I want to rush it through to its end. To my pleasant surprise, I’ve found it to be true that quilting skills actually improve with lots of practice. But mine are not where I want them to be for this one.

The other projects I’ve got going are the Bible Sampler quilt, a stack of neutral Courthouse Steps, cut sets of Castle Wall blocks, Lori Holt Farmhouse Vintage blocks, and the plaid economy blocks. But I consider them all WIPs rather than UFOs. I want to keep all those going, like plates spinning, because I like the juggler method.

So I guess I’ll choose the project that is my newest, Blossom Time, because I can’t seem to stop working on it. I watched Bonnie Hunter make it on her blog, and the seed was planted in September:

I started piecing these tulip blocks. No plan, no goal, just having fun with a cheerful jelly roll and some muslin.

Pretty soon I used up the flower fabric, so I moved on from block play to layout play:

Because I didn’t plan ahead, I experienced opportunity costs along the way regarding layout choices. But that’s the fun of it, figuring it out as you go along. What could possibly go wrong? I could no longer spare the bed for layout, so I improvised a design wall which covered the closet. I believe this is why I continued on with diligence, I kept needing things that were in that closet.

While finishing up Frolic for November’s challenge, I settled on this design. I design visually, not mathematically. With a sashing in between, the borders should fit just fine, right?

Wrong. I want to turn the corners like this, but I’m an inch too short on the border pieces.

No worries, I’ll figure it out. So the goal is to finish this top. I’m thinking about doing the final border like Bonnie’s, or not. We shall see. But now that I have my closet back, I think I’ll give myself a break from Blossom Time and pick up clue one of Grassy Creek. I’ve completely switched out the colors on this mystery.

What could possibly go wrong? I figure if I’m in for a penny, I might as well be in for a pound.

Happy December! Next up, Bible Sampler quilt block number 71:

Here’s an old Lutheran joke for you today: You’ve heard of God’s chosen people? Well, we’re God’s frozen people.

When I read this passage, I think Lutherans are following the words of Jesus:

“(6) When you pray, go into your room, and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father who is in the secret place, and your Father who sees in secret will reward you openly. (7) And when you pray, do not use vain repetitions as the heathen do. For they think that they will be heard for their many words. (8) Therefore do not be like them. For your Father knows the things you have need of before you ask Him.”

Yep, that describes our style of worship. Being called “frozen” might not be such a bad thing after all.

These instructions are followed by the words of the Lord’s Prayer. Jesus gave us a model, a framework, a guide for communication with God Himself. It hits all the points: adoration, submission, confession, forgiveness, and thanksgiving. We memorized and recited it word for word every night as young children. One of my comforts and joys of parenting was teaching my own babies this prayer as soon as they were able.

I attended an international Bible school for a year abroad, and we would all end our Sunday services with the Lord’s Prayer, each student speaking in their own mother tongue. It was wondrous to hear. Believers from all over the word lifting their prayers as one voice.

I wish I could recall the details, but I remember reading a POW’s story about his captivity in Vietnam. The men were separated visually, but they could hear each other. Up and down the cells, they recited the Lord’s Prayer together. Some sang hymns and recited the Apostle’s creed. The author said that over time, the complete Lutheran order of worship came back to him in bits and pieces. He shared it with his fellow prisoners and they collectively had lots of resources to comfort and sustain them.

The centuries old prayers, creeds, and liturgies of our faithful forefathers are still vital today.

Which photo do you like better, A or B?

I would conclude that “A” people love the “process”, and “B” people love the “product”.

Speaking for myself, I prefer “A”. Being in the middle of something leaves the possibility that surprises could still happen. There’s movement in that photo, and anticipation. It’s not over until it’s over.

But for the purposes of this post, I choose “B”: my November finish for the One Monthly Goal Challenge over on Elm Street quilts:

https://www.elmstreetquilts.com/2020/11/november-one-monthly-goal-finish-link-up.html

I got my “Frolic” quilted, bound, and threads pulled, truly DONE. I was motivated because Bonnie Hunter’s 2020 mystery season starts this Friday. I made my deadline with time to spare.

I think “B” actually makes me a little sad, because it’s been promptly followed by “C”:

Because I live in a mild climate zone with non quilters, my quilts are, shall we say, under-appreciated and under-used. So I squirrel them away here and there. We don’t need people poking around, saying that we might consider that one could have too many quilts, and shouldn’t one slow down a bit, now do we?

Next block in the Bible Sampler Quilt project:

Instead of the Bible passage, I want to write about what everyone’s talking about lately: Socialism. It’s a word to be feared, it’s unAmerican. But it’s taking hold, and I could go on about this alarming fact. I will share a memory instead.

I was maybe 8 or 9 years old. My best friend, Carrie*, lived behind me and we’d walk through our back yards and knock on kitchen doors to ask moms if we could come out and play.

Mothers used this leverage to get a chore or two done before allowing us to go, so there was some waiting involved. But then there’d be hours of freedom, making clubhouses and holding club meetings. We both had a younger sister, which completed the membership.

One Saturday, Carrie came outside with a plan. Summer was coming, so it was time to buy swimsuits. She had asked her mother if she could get a bikini, and was flatly refused her request. This made Carrie want a two piece with even more longing. Her plan was to raise the money by selling lemonade and buying the bikini herself. She proposed that we do this all together, and the three of us agreed with enthusiasm.

My naive childhood mind filled in the blank: We will be splitting the proceeds evenly so everyone will come out with a new bikini. I didn’t really want a bikini; the thought hadn’t occurred to me that it was an important thing to want until Carrie brought it up. Any ways, my mother would probably buy me one if one was requested. But in the spirit of the corps, I threw myself into the day. We assembled koolaid pitchers and Dixie cups and ice from both our kitchens, and worked under a hot sun all day long.

The front of Carrie’s house faced a busy street, so business was good. As I worked, I tried to imagine the bikini I’d be getting, tried to build enthusiasm. Or maybe I’d spend my money on something else. At the end of the day, I seem to remember that we made around fourteen dollars, which Carrie quickly took and pocketed, thanking us for helping her get her bikini.

I was in shock. I can’t remember my reaction. Knowing my childhood self like I do, I’m pretty sure I was stunned into silence. I think I just let her walk back into her house with all the cash. I do remember that she didn’t get a bikini. Eight year olds don’t realize that they still need their mothers to drive them to the store to complete the transaction, so she probably couldn’t overcome that obstacle.

But the lesson I learned was long remembered. It was more valuable than the lost funds which may or may not have been rebalanced if I had complained to my mother, who may or may not have made a phone call to her mother.

It was my first experience with socialism.

I had experienced sacrificial giving before then. Mom had us five kids purge our clothes and toys on a regular basis. Living in a very small house with grandma too, I can understand why space was at a premium. She was a member of the Junior Women’s League, and they were always holding events for the less fortunate. One year before Christmas she had my sister and I give away our matching favorite dolls which were nearly new. It was a hard thing to do, but it was good for our hearts to be squeezed a bit so that our generosity meant something to us.

(Maybe that’s why I wasn’t a “doll person”. I learned that I couldn’t grow attached. But I digress.)

Back to socialism.

It is a good thing to be giving of your time, talent, and treasures. But there’s a crucial difference. This generosity comes from your own volition, and you have the power of choice in your giving. God loves a cheerful giver.

Socialism takes that power of choice away from you. And to add insult to injury, it may choose to give to entities that oppose your own moral code. The money you worked so hard for may be spent to further agendas that are antithetical to your biblical values.

And it saps the esprit des corps right out of you.

When you’ve felt that deflation, that betrayal, that shame for your shortsightness, you learn. You learn that, whenever possible, the power to keep control of your time, talent, and treasure is important to your mental well being. The attitude of gratitude and all that.

Lesson learned: Be generous, be kind, but be smart. You don’t owe anyone anything, but you can give from a place of altruism and good will. That feels so much better than a place of guilt and shame.

Bonus lesson: Let it go. But should one’s reaction be “stunned into silence?“

The refrain from “The Gambler” popped into my head. “But it’s alright now, I learned my lesson well. Seems you can’t please everyone, so you got to please yourself.”

*I changed the name to protect the “innocent”. She moved away shortly after that, so we are no longer best friends. We wrote a few letters, then lost touch. And remember, choosing best friends had a lot to do with ease of access. Friendships tended to be created with regard to walking distance between houses.

It’s time to decide on the next unfinished project to participate in the One Monthly Goal over at Elm Street quilts. I’ve chosen this one:

Since I went easy on myself with last month’s goal, I’m going to beef up the challenge for November. My goal is to quilt and bind my Frolic top by Black Friday. That’s when Bonnie releases the first clue for this year’s mystery. This seems like such a natural deadline, doesn’t it? Frolic is 84 inches square, so it’s a challenging challenge for me.

This will be my fourth mystery.

My first was 2017 On Ringo Lake. I made a mistake early on, and chose to not rip apart 200+ seams, so mine looks very different. I wasn’t ready to tackle her borders, either.

2018 was Good Fortune.

I participate in the mysteries for three reasons. First, it gives me much-needed practice in giving over control to somebody else. Next, it pushes me way out of my comfort zone because the colors aren’t what I would choose. Last, it uses up lots of scraps. I also use up ugly fabrics that somehow transform themselves when they’re cut into small pieces. (This is a Bonnie saying: if the fabric is still ugly, you haven’t cut it small enough. Honestly, it works!) There’s another reason, too. The element of surprise, and excitement shared in the huge online group is fun. It helps the holidays feel festive, especially for those of us who don’t have young children around to add those elements to the season.

The new Bonnie Hunter Mystery, Grassy Creek, uses the reds, oranges, and golds of autumn. For the first time, I think I’m going to take control of the color choices. Bonnie chose the palette from the view outside her home, since 2020 has been the year of staying home. I’d like to change it up and choose the colors near mine; colors of waves and water and sand.

With a touch of coral

And maybe even a hint of sea glass. Can I pull this off?

The next block in the Bible Sampler quilt brings us to another event where Jesus brought someone from death to life.

This time it’s the daughter of Jairus, the ruler of the synagogue. Verse 36 says, “As soon as Jesus heard the word that was spoken, (that she had died), He said to the ruler of the synagogue, “Do not be afraid; only believe.”

Don’t you just love that? Even if you’re a powerful ruler, you are still powerless against death. So just take Jesus’ advice, rein in the fear, and believe. That’s all He requires of you.

Especially these days, we realize it is true that we are helpless in the face of penultimate death and dying. We used to not think about death very much as a culture pre-COVID19. We’d avoid it by keeping busy and distracting ourselves with other things. But this year we’re socially shut down, so we spend more time than we did before looking at news media, where death is constantly in our faces. But we are not to be afraid, only to believe. Which is really the only response we have any power over: our choice to believe the word of God. Jump to Romans 10:16 with me where it says: “Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of God”. If we believe that the Bible is wholly true, then we receive the gift of faith through the Holy Spirit: Faith that the ultimate outcome, eternal life, lies ahead for those who believe.

Today is Halloween, All Hallows’ Evening. Tomorrow is All Saints Day. Our church used to have a tradition on All Saints Sunday which I miss. During the service, the pastor would take time to say the names of the faithful members who had passed away since the last All Saints Day. We would be able to pause, take a moment, and remember them. In the silence between each name, I’d wonder how they were doing, living it up in their mansions set back from those streets of gold.

For those who believe, death has no sting. I’m truly happy for those who have left this world for their eternal home in Paradise. I’m sad because I miss them, but that will pass, after all, I know we will see each other again.

Here’s another trip down my own personal memory lane shared for your listening pleasure. I miss those simple, forthright worship songs of the seventies. I still have this album, and I could probably sing along with every word of every song if I still had a record player.

Together Again by Limpic and Rayburn

I wasn’t going to blog today, too much to do, but then I learned that Sean Connery died today. That news made me sad. It also started my brain thinking about what you’re reading now. Thanks for visiting.

Another month bites the dust soon, and another UFO has met its maker, so to speak. Here it is, going out the door and into the car to be gifted to my son.

One Monthly Goal

Here’s the link to the finish party over at Elm Street Quilts. The goal I set and met for the month of October was to bind it up and pull loose threads (I tend to create a lot of them). September’s goal had been to quilt it, so I went easy on myself this time. I didn’t know it would be immediately given away when I chose it for the finish; a great fringe benefit of participating in this OMG Challenge. My son was visiting, the weather was turning, he needed it, and it was done. It’s soft and warm, and I’m tickled to know that it’s being used rather than stored. I’ve starting piling up more quilts around here than we will ever need, which may be generating a little guilt. I’m looking into donation possibilities these days.

This quilt was a fun, slow project. The idea started with this blogpost I found years ago, and saved to my phone:

I started making the blocks, and when the pile got big enough I joined them two by two, then four by four. Alternating the muslin blocks in between wasn’t using up my huge stack quickly enough, so I changed the layout. I like the way my version looks, rich and vibrant.

My plan was to make the backing like the photo, and have two quilts in one. I changed my mind about that when the top grew to be so thick and heavy by the time it was queen sized. I never would’ve been able to quilt through all those seams.

I predict I’ll use up my leftovers to make another one, this time like the photo inspiration that started it all. After all, I have enough blocks and the muslin squares are already cut. I’m not tired of the process yet, and I do want to see how it turns out differently than the first. Besides, I do have another son as well.

P.S. I fixed it. You knew I would. Hand block

The Bible passage is about the time Jesus and His disciples took a boat out on the Sea of Galilee. He must have been exhausted, because He kept sleeping even when a storm kicked up. I can imagine the panicked disciples looking at each other. “Should we wake Him up?” “You wake Him up.” “No, you.” “It was your idea”. Well, they all did, and He calmed the storm with a rebuke to the wind and sea.

This makes me think of my husband. It took 35 years of marriage, and 38 years since the day we met, for me to figure him out.
Nah, I don’t have him all figured out; never will. That’s what keeps it interesting.
I knew I was getting an energetic, active man when I signed on for life. He surfed, he fished, he camped, he made stuff with his hands, so many things I liked about him. I knew I wouldn’t get bored. But silly me, I thought he’d CHANGE when he settled into the domestic life. The restless activity would be replaced with restful lounges together: by our pool, or in our patio chairs, or in our hammock, or . . .
But the man does not sit still. There is always something that must be done before he can sit and rest awhile with me. If we’re at the beach, he’s surfing. At the lake, he’s fishing. At the mountains, he’s building the fire. So it just doesn’t happen.
I just recently discovered that he can actually lounge – as long as he is next to something else that is moving. I realized this when we were on our Panama Canal cruise. There were many days at sea, and he would spend hours out on that deck.
That’s it. He has to move if he is surrounded by stillness. But if there’s an ocean swirling and swelling, give my man a deck chair on the port side of a ship, and he will sit and rest.

This was a rare sighting, not to be repeated once we returned to our home on land. Unfortunately, we don’t live right next to a large body of water. And I don’t think a lake would work with my theory, unless the wind blew up some choppy waves on the surface.
That’s the thing about the ocean. It is constantly moving, yet it stays in one place.
What a fit description for my husband.

I know you don’t care one whit about my aha moment regarding my better half. But I write it down because I secretly think that someday my kids will read this. It will humor them and they’ll remember their hardworking dad with affection. And I think you skim and skip over my words to find the things that interest you, my readers, so thanks for this.