I’m not posting the next block in the Bible Sampler quilt project today. Let’s take a break, shall we? I’m just now sitting down from a morning of gardening chores to enjoy a cup of coffee. So please join me for Elevenses.

I first witnessed the phenomenon of “Elevenses” in England. (The British are so clever with their terminology.) Besides being a fun word to say, I was impressed that work stopped at 11:00 and a cup of tea and a biscuit were produced, no matter the pace of the day. Bank tellers would close their windows. Phones would not be answered. Those emergencies could wait for fifteen minutes.

Coming from my home state which thrived on living in chronic urgency, at first I was frustrated. I was always pressured to work through my morning breaks on summer jobs. And all those bank holidays, and Queen’s holidays, how ever did anyone get anything done? But then it dawned on me that this slow down in productivity was actually progress. Progress for humankind. We all need to take a break now and then. That was over forty years ago, and I earnestly hope Elevenses is still in full force today.

Either way, I’m enjoying this break with you now. This is my view from my kitchen window. If your sound is turned up, you’ll hear my servants busy at their work. The dishwasher is churning, the robotic vacuum is humming right along. Happy sounds and life is good.

This little break gives me the balance I need. The world news isn’t good, but contrary to what I’m being told by some news sources, I believe that these are not the worst of times. And as I read through the book of Revelation, it occurs to me that people will feel that life is good right up to the final moment when it isn’t. Didn’t people party hearty right up to when the first raindrops fell in the days of Noah? And didn’t Pharoah keep changing his mind, plague after awful plague, in the days of Moses? I think we will behave in the same way right up to the day of final judgment.

So how should we then live? (Anyone else remember Francis Schaeffer?) Well, remember when the Jewish nation was conquered and enslaved in Babylon? God told the people to settle down, settle in, and plant their gardens for the long haul.

I’ll take that advice. And if I may, add one reminder: to stop for elevenses every day and thank the Lord for all His good gifts.

P.S. And just because this is a quilt blog, here’s some quilty content. Clue 7 of the Edyta Sitar 2020 Mystery.

“Puzzling” is a good word for this scripture passage. We’re at the point where the final battle takes place. There’s fire and brimstone, and a lake of fire, and books opened, and judgment dispensed from a great white throne. It’s wild. I’m not a fan of action/adventure movies, or thriller/horror movies to begin with, so I can’t say I relish delving into this passage.

I go to my man Martin Luther for some clarity. He said a reader of scripture was a passive recipient of God’s true word, rather than someone imposing fanciful meaning upon scripture. I can agree with that, and it sure takes the pressure off. I don’t have to figure it out, because God has it figured out. He wouldn’t purposely puzzle us with His word, making us decipher the meaning of the imagery in John’s vision. So it’s okay for me to say that I’ve got nothing here.

But now I will say that I did dabble in a little research about the symbols. So here goes nothing: The dragon is the serpent we first met in the Garden of Eden. Babylon is Rome, the current oppressive government under the despot Caesar Nero. And his name in Hebrew alphanumerically adds up to “666”. Very interesting. But of course there have been many antichrists and Babylons throughout the centuries. The allegory is timeless in that it touches on the same theme found throughout the Bible: God loves His creation and makes a way to connect with the world. (Good old John 3:16). The world makes it hard for believers to remain faithful. God comforts His people and provides the power to endure the evils of the age they find themselves living in. We may feel like it’ll never end, that the “new normal” will be the new normal. But no, the truth is that we get Heaven, just hang in there and remain faithful.

This of course is the gospel message. If I don’t focus on the step by step events unfolding in these final chapters, but instead step back and view the whole thing at once, I see the overarching love of God.

God wins.

Love wins.

Are you an empty nester like me? How did it go for you, the launching of your little chicks?

I had the painful privilege of experiencing it four times. Each was different, but each was the same in that I felt that time had slipped uncontrollably through my fingers. I needed more. I needed to have one more conversation about life, and then another one after that. I felt an urgent need to impart parting words of wisdom, as if that would make any difference. I dreaded the fact that they would no longer be under my roof, and therefore my influence. But as a wise woman told me long ago as I rocked my firstborn: the only time we have pure ownership of our babies is when they’re inside our bodies. After that, it’s a lifelong progression of good byes. Indeed, my four kids are nearly scattered to the four corners of my continent.

The book of Revelation feels like a good bye letter to me. God is writing to seven churches, the actual ones He birthed through the apostles. The last surviving apostle, John, the author of Revelation, isn’t going to live forever. His passing will leave the churches without their own “greatest generation” to keep them grounded in this new faith. So the letters are filled with advice, and pleas, and encouragement, and hope. And in this case, they do make a difference.

This passage we have come to in the Bible Sampler quilt project is right smack dab in the middle of the action. Chapter 6 had us reading about the six seals opened, with all the mayhem that came with. But now we get a breather, because Jesus has ascended from the rising of the sun. He says “Do not harm the earth or the sea or the trees until we have sealed the bond-servants of our God on their foreheads.”

See? We’re going to be okay. We’ve been sealed with the cross of Christ, on our foreheads and in our hearts.

So, in the meantime, we believers are to hang in there, share the good news, and love one another. Because in the end, everything’s going to be alright.

That’s the name of the next block in the Bible Sampler Quilt.

I’m going to take this term way out of context in this post today. It will serve to turn attention to me, me, me. Before I do so, I will say that reading the book of Revelation has been quite the challenge. For that matter, reading the Holy Bible is a terrific challenge. My self-centered human nature wants to read myself and current events into the passages. I know the Bible is a living word that speaks to me, but I remind myself that “Text without context is pretext”. And when it comes to the final book of the apocalypse, I must grasp the two-edged sword firmly in both hands and hold on to all of its truth that was written through the ages in order to even pretend to comprehend.

I know that I will in fact NOT be able to comprehend the full context of the book of Revelation. It relates to truths written back in Genesis, and the prophets, and the gospels. So many touch points swirl in my brain as I read through this final book. And Laurie Aaron Hird devoted no less than EIGHT blocks to the book of Revelation in the Bible Sampler quilt. I have no idea how I’m going to blog through this my friends, so let’s buckle up for the wild ride to the big finish.

So now I will abuse the scripture passage, the quilt block title, to serve my own purposes.

Open Book.

As I’ve probably already told you in previous self-serving posts, I tend towards privacy. If you know me in person, you know I am not what you would describe as an open book. So blogging has pushed me out of my comfort zone, and I’m going to say it has been a good thing.

We had my mom’s memorial service this past weekend. I’m going to share what I said as a tribute to my amazing mother. I don’t scrapbook, I don’t keep a journal, I won’t write a book, so it’ll be here for posterity.

Mom.

Born in the darkest year of the Depression, coming of age during World War II, like so many of her greatest generation, didn’t talk much about those times. And it was those hard years that shaped her character. Mom was strong, she was faithful, and she made her own happiness.

Mom taught me that family was important. Although her siblings were scattered across the country, and she was one of thirteen children, we visited with and got to know every one of them.

She always said “yes” to us kids – to acquiring pets, no matter how exotic, to music lessons, sports, scouts, to anything and everything we were inclined to try. She said “yes” to letting us host sleepovers, and choir parties, and afterproms, and even a surprise engagement party in our busy home. She didn’t helicopter parent us, she simply gave us strong roots so we could grow and bloom. She said “yes” every time the church called her: to serve on the altar guild, on W.E.L.C.A., to cook for Wednesday night Youth Club, and so much more. It would’ve made mom so happy to see us gathered here now, her beloved friends and family, in the church she loved so much. Thank you all for coming today.

They say your mother is your first teacher, and they say that good teachers lead by example. She was a first generation college graduate, first generation to strike out from the homeland of Fort Wayne Indiana to the Wild West of California. I followed in her footsteps and became a teacher. It was then that I truly saw her professional side, and I learned how respected she was in the educational community. My college professor worked with mom, developing a new federal program called Project Headstart. Later, mom would become a reading specialist, then end her thirty year career in the classroom.

She taught us economy and efficiency by example, too. After teaching all week long, she’d stop at the butchers on her way home from Golden Avenue on Friday afternoons. She’d load up on meat for the following week, and prep the meals that night. She could stretch a pound of ground beef to feed seven. One can of fruit cocktail or one box of chocolate pudding mix provided dessert for five kids. Mind you, those Dixie cup portions were small, but so were we. Saturday mornings we quickly cleaned the house with the promise of swimming at Uncle Kenny’s by lunchtime. Then after she helped our grandma with her housekeeping chores while we played, she’d pack us up, take us home, then freshen up for a night out with dad.

Then she became a grandma herself, and she poured all that boundless energy into her beloved grandchildren. The Broadmoor Place house was their happy place. We called it “Grandma-land”, and when the kids stayed there they baked, sewed, crafted, played board games, and went to museums, to parks, and to shops. She lavished her love on her grandkids. Camping at the beach was also a yearly tradition, and no one boogie boarded like grandma.

She was the best, and we will miss her. Especially during the holidays. Mom loved the holidays. She knew how to get all the fun from decorating, baking, and crafting. And the music, she loved music. Singing in the choir, the Christmas cantata, filled up all the spaces with joy and anticipation. She made such happy memories for everyone. She truly lived to serve. She taught us that loving others with such generosity of self brought real happiness.

Next Sunday is Mother’s Day. That’ll be a tough one for all of us who have said good bye to our moms. We just celebrated our first Easter without her here with us. I’ve altered a Christmas Poem which I will close with:

Easter in Heaven

You sing the resurrection hymns

That people hold so dear

But earthly music can’t compare

With the Easter choir up here

I have no words to tell you

The joy their voices bring

For it’s beyond description

To hear the angels sing

I know how much you miss me

Please wipe away that tear

For I’m spending Easter

With Jesus Christ this year

I can’t tell you of the splendor

Or the peace here in this place

Can you imagine Easter

With our Savior face to face?

So let your hearts be joyful

And let your spirit sing

For I’m spending Easter in Heaven

And I’m walking with the King.

Happy Earth Day! I remember the first time I learned we had such a thing. It was 1970: during those impressionable early teen years of my life. I could write here about the guilt we felt. We read Silent Spring, watched “The Ark”, and considered how we could rescue the planet from all the destruction we were causing.

But it’s just too nice of a day for that.

My better half and I went fishing today. We had the pond all to ourselves for awhile. The wind blew brisk, clean air through the trees and the trout were biting. There was beauty everywhere we looked.

We try to slip away to the mountains whenever we can. We live close to the beach and the desert as well. I will never tire of the interesting things I see in nature. God’s creation is truly amazing. Look here what is happening in my roses. A rose is growing out of a rose. Amazing.

To think that this will pass away, that we are just passing through, gives me pause.

This is the next block in my Bible Sampler quilt. How coincidental that it’s a flower too. The scripture passage includes:

“All flesh is like grass, and all its glory like the flower of grass. The grass withers, and the flower falls off, but the word of the Lord endures forever.”

Thank you for passing through and reading through the enduring word of the Lord with me.

I like to think, to ponder, to ruminate. I question if my brain works similar (similarly?) to others of my generation. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. I grew up in a time that is different from now. Duh, that’s nothing new. Of course things change over time. Let me give you a few examples: Only beautiful people with agents were models. We had to dress up to go out. We hid our baby bumps under giant tent-like dresses. Displaying emotions was immature and embarrassing. Basically, we did our best to present a presentable self to the public. What we read and viewed in the media was carefully scripted by professionals who knew what they were doing. Those “experts” had socially agreed upon and hard earned credentials. Only the cream rose to the top of the jug. In publishing, writers held college degrees and had layers of editorial hoops to jump through before arriving at the printed page. So this is why I don’t blog very much: Who do I think I am, a mere plebe, with my amateurish writing?

Nowadays anyone can publish anything. For free. I’m not saying one generation’s m.o. is better than the other. I think it’s healthier now to see realistic body images and emotions displayed in the media. I’m glad that kind of social pressure is off. What I am saying is that because I’m a product of that other generation, I tend to give more credibility to others than what might be deserved. For example, I assume the YouTube “doctor” is really a board-certified physician. And I assume the facts of the articles I read have been fact checked. How does fact checking work anyhow? Is it an intern tapping away at a keyboard to sift through the internet? In my generation, I imagined it was a solemn meeting of great minds flicking the cigarette ash off their thin black ties in a windowless board room as they passed those facts around the table to review. Only those facts that made the cut were seen by us readers. I’m sure that wasn’t the case, but that’s my naive perspective.

So all that to say, I second guess myself all the time. I compare myself to my betters when blogging, in which I always come up short. And I think about you, the reader. I shouldn’t be wasting your precious time with self-centered dribble like this. You could be reading Jane Austen, or Louisa May Alcott, or even Gore Vidal instead.

I appreciate you for visiting with me here. The reason I continue writing is because of the fact that I enjoy the (so-called, please forgive me) “dribble” from other bloggers. I love hearing about their very ordinary days and seeing what delights are happening in their necks of the woods. In true fact, it isn’t dribble at all, it’s the little things that add up to a life lived.

Enough of this. I’m still reading through the Bible, the Bible Sampler quilt continues on, and is slowly becoming my oldest UFO. Thank you for bearing with me. I’ve just completed reading the book of Hebrews. Maybe that’s why I’ve been thinking about this issue of having the proper credentials in order to expect others to listen and believe what one has to say.

It is because we don’t know who wrote Hebrews. This epistle seems to be cobbled together without a central theme. It might’ve been a collation from multiple writers, and some say it contradicts Apostle Paul’s epistles. It almost didn’t make the cut into the Bible at all. So here we go again, examining the authority of an unknown author.

But I found a central theme as I read, which is that Jesus proved Himself time and time again to be the ultimate high priest of both Heaven and Earth. He alone had the authority to sweep out the old covenant and institute the new one. The book of Hebrews took us through the ages, from generation to generation, in a fact-checking exercise. Jesus always came out as the answer, the source, the reason for our faith in Him.

And since Jesus is the only one who has that authority, I’m believing every word He says.

Good Morning, Heidi here, your canine correspondent.

I’m stepping in to the blog today because it’s been too long. My Mom doesn’t feel up to sharing much these days because her mom passed into Heaven a month ago. In her case, it was a peaceful, joyful entrance into her eternal life. It was the blessed cure to the awful disease that had rendered her helpless and wiped her memory for years. In her death there was no sting.

https://cutswithscissors.com/2020/10/31/oh-death-where-is-thy-sting/

Did you know how my Mom started quilting? It was when her mom began slipping away. Because her mom had delighted in sewing, it was a way to connect when real connection no longer existed. My mom started by using what remained of the stash to make things for the family. It felt right, it provided a cure for the sadness. When she couldn’t visit her mom in person due to COVID, it was time spent with the things that brought her mother happiness. It brought back happy memories of her childhood. Her mom had taught her to sew. They sewed aprons, dresses, Christmas pillows, gifts, doll clothes, all the things. Her mom started quilting when she retired. She lived near the “Quilt in a Day” campus and took classes there. Eleanor Burns had revolutionized the sewing methods with rotary cutters and self healing mats. Mom wished she had quilted with her mom then, but the timing was off. She had four young kids of her own while working full time.

Now that her mom is gone, she thinks she might not need to quilt for awhile. We will take long walks in the sunshine instead, and go fishing. It’s another kind of cure for sadness.

But when she’s ready, I’m ready and waiting …

P.S. when she comes back to the blog, she’ll act like everything’s normal. Could you all do her a favor and play along? It’ll be easier that way. And please don’t feel obligated to leave a comment, because then she will feel like she needs to say thank you, and so on and so forth. I hope you understand. Now I’m going to go let her pet me for awhile. It’s my job.

Remember when I wrote about Hannah?

Snowflake Babies

We didn’t know then what was in store for Hannah. To update you, I’m relaying this from Marlene:

“I wanted to give you some info for tomorrow’s 12/1 Supreme Court case regarding Mississippi vs. Dobbs. The case will begin at 10AM eastern time (early for you Pacific time zone folks!). Each side has only 35 minutes each to present. You can access it here:

Attendance in the courtroom will be limited, but the court will provide a phone feed so the public can listen in at supremecourt.gov or c-span.org.

There is a list of activities you can access here:

https://nationaldayofrepentance.org

Thank you all for your prayers and support!”

Marlene, John, and Hannah

P.s. Here is Hannah’s press release and her Amicus Brief is embedded in it should you care to read:

https://txjf.dm.networkforgood.com/emails/1393861?recipient_id=LGCvu70jMe6veyJ8DlKwpw||ZWFndWlsYXJAdHhqZi5vcmc=

I haven’t posted in awhile because the words I drafted in my head just didn’t feel right. Titus 2 challenges older women to encourage the younger ones to love their husbands, love their children, to be sensible, pure, workers at home, kind, and so on. Since I’m an “older” now, I set my mind upon life lessons I wish I had known when I was a “younger”. Those potential blogposts were my personal thoughts, born of personal experience. I’m afraid those would have bored you nearly to death, navel-gazer sessions as they were. Or they would’ve sounded trite, tropes as they were.

I finally struck upon the content that felt comfortable this early misty morning. Instead of me espousing my own didactic dribble, I’ll share with you the advice my grandma gave me back when I was the younger.

Are you ready? Here it is:

Grandma: “Make sure you carry pins in your purse so you can fix your hem in a pinch.“

These words from the woman who raised thirteen children during the darkest years of the Depression. It would’ve been fifteen, but she lost two to miscarriage. Also lost one to cancer at thirteen years of age. Watched sons and son-in-laws go off to fight abroad in World War II. She was a walking talking tome of story and profound experience.

And that’s all she gave me.

Not true. She advised without words. During my college years, I spent Tuesday and Thursday mornings with her. She was living with my widowed uncle then, who worked long hours. I would clean house, help with personal needs, then we’d play Scrabble or Rummy while we ate lunch. Then I’d scoot off to my afternoon and evening classes.

If I could’ve heard any of her stories, any sage words of wisdom, it would’ve happened on those mornings. Instead we went about the business of the day. She shared current news of family. As extended as it was, there was always news. And there was laughter. She loved poems, rewriting her favorites to keep them memorized. She had that beautiful Palmer Method handwriting. And she relished beating me at those games, which happened more often than not.

She showed me her good advice: Keep it simple. Live in the moment. Handle the day that is set before you. It is enough. Laugh.

Unless they ask, the younger ones don’t want to hear what happened in your ancient history that has no relevance to them right now. They will figure it out for themselves.

Sorry, Titus 2, I think I’ve let you down here. But if this makes it any better; I’ll not be caught with a raveled hem when I’m out and about. Thanks Grandma.

*(The title of today’s post is a nod to my husband’s Aunt Mary. She would quote this aloud before advising me on, well, anything and everything when I was a young mother myself. It’s her paraphrased version of Titus 2, and she took it seriously. Even though I didn’t ask her to take it on; I’d say she did her job thoroughly over the years.)

I read a collection of short stories by John Steinbeck many years ago. One has come to mind over the decades, and I found myself remembering it again today. It was about a man who found himself falling for a young woman, and for the first time, earnestly wanting to be married. He picked up on a casual comment she made about a furnished house she saw in a magazine. Maybe she said she saw herself living there and having a family there, I don’t remember exactly. Obsessively, he worked and planned and eventually created that very home, right down to the minute details in the photograph. The big moment came when he took her there for the big reveal and marriage proposal. Anticipating success and delight, the man was crushed and bewildered when she turned to him in scorn and ridiculed him for his misguided plan.

The younger me felt sorry for that naiive man, even though the story line was a bit of a stretch. Just think of all the money and effort and emotion he wasted on building the carbon copy of a magazine-inspired dream. As if “build it and she will come” would even work. You could see it coming, and she had every right to be creeped out by his assumptive plan. I would’ve reacted the same way.

The older me says “Aha”. I get it now. How much energy have I spent planning and working towards an end? How many times have I thought that when I achieved such and such, I would obtain this and that? I’m not so different from that man after all. Did all that delayed gratification result in gratification?

Did John Steinbeck want me to make this connection? Or was he just weaving another story, developing his characters in his unique way? Although the plot was far-fetched, the truth of our human nature was spot on. I’m not as simple minded with interpersonal relationships as that man in the story, but there’s room for improvement where living “in the moment” is concerned. Let me give you an example. Just this morning, my husband and I agreed that we wanted to take a mountain drive today to enjoy hiking amongst the autumn leaves. Well, first we needed to install that vent in the laundry room. But that shouldn’t take too long . . .

Well, here it is five o’clock now and I’ve got dinner in the oven, so . . .

It’s the template of our days:

“When we finish the {insert home improvement project/task here}

We will {insert desired activity/outcome here}”

I’ve allowed myself to be driven by to-do lists that will never end, so any end reward gets pushed to “beyond”.

I thought about that story because as redeemed followers of Jesus Christ, we find ourselves living both in the “now” and the “not yet”. The “here” and the “beyond”. We are living now on this earth, and our heavenly home is yet to come. But unlike that poor man, we aren’t working towards our future prize. We aren’t laboring to build our dream home where eternal happiness will finally abide. It has already been done, obtained, through faith in Christ’s work on the cross. We are living in the reality of the fullness of Christ now through the power of the Holy Spirit. The peace, the joy, the kingdom, is now.

That’s a proposal and reality I am glad to accept.