Settle

The settler

She hurt her feelings.  Though she hurts feelings from time to time she wonders, why wasn't her heart checked?  How could this happen?  Holy Spirit!  Come on!  This is your job to halt the hurt before it hurts. 

Through a  few pointed questions, none-of-your-business questions, but wondering questions, she inadvertently unsettled the settled.  The space wasn't settled any longer.   Bellies were knotting, bodies were twitching, brains were agitating.  Tears were brimming.  And she didn't know.  She should have.  She should have paused to take a temperature.  

She used to feel the nudge of her husband, catch the glance of his eye, expect the save-the-day interruption.  She used to leave the entire conversation to him who somehow asked the same questions without unsettling any settles.  Feelings weren't hurt.  Relationships weren't ruffled.   He could ask a pointier, important, please-consider-this question, shrouded in a sense of love that actually settled the settle before it unsettled.   How did he do that?

She doesn't know.  Will never know.   But what she does know is... that... she is not him.  Cannot replace him.  Cannot even imitate him.  

So, she will learn a lesson, which is what she does, nearly everyday.   Learn lessons.  

Today's lesson:  

Aim to settle. 

Discoveries

 "All my discoveries have been made in answer to prayer."

Sir Isaac Newton 

But Sir, what about the crawly worm you dug up along side your mom in the garden?  And Sir, did you ask God how fast the wheel on your wagon would turn?  Did you ask God for these discoveries?

Worms and wheels discoveries belong to the prayers and answers of a mom.

So Sir, you must mean the phenomena of gravity.  And what happens when moving things stop.  And why is white light white.  Did you ask God for these discoveries?

Physics and phenomenon discoveries belong to the prayers and answers of a scientist. 

I imagine Sir, you don't mean finding independence.  You probably didn't ever wonder about inner strength.  Did you ask God for these discoveries?

Independence and inside-me discoveries belong to the prayers and answers of a widow.  

"All my discoveries have been made in answer to prayer.  So so much prayer." 

Sir Isaac and Kathy 

Hose

New hose day.

Actually it's the 2nd new hose day because the first new hose was the wrong hose.  I thought I ordered a water hose.  I didn't.  I'm a goof ball.

Return.  Reorder.

Second new hose day.

Looks like the right hose.  Acts like the right hose.  It doesn't fit.  Wrong hose.  I'm a goof ball.

But then, then he insists it fits, that hose fittings are standard.  Well, I say, I spent 10 minutes getting it to fit.  It didn't fit.  And then, then he comes and screws the hose in the faucet.  10 seconds.  I'm a legitimate goof ball.

You know when you can't get the email to send?  The email button doesn't light up to click?  And then, then Mr. IT comes and prompts you to put an address in the address field?  That kind of goof ball. 

I didn't even mention the pressure washer goofs.  Like turn the faucet on.  Pull the choke out.  I'm just highlighting water hose goofs.   

About the time I get the hang of not-my-jobs, goof ballitis takes over.  

Yikes.  Yikes because I need another new hose.  

Like-me

 

Hoses do not like me.

They do not want to stretch or thread the fittings or coil up.  They want to leak, turn this way and not that, and be way too heavy.

Dog training devices do not like me.  

They do not want to quiet barking,  prompt obedience... immediately, or remember to stay in my pocket.  If I have a pocket.  They want to hide, run out of charge, or be too complicated.  

Filter covers do not like me. 

They do not want a screwdriver, or at least the right size screwdriver, or release the screw with the right screwdriver.  They want to strip screws, collect dust forever, or be too far out of reach anyway. 

This day isn't going well.  Nothing seems to like me. 

How do I get my stuff to like me?  

I need more strength, more know-how, more skill, more command.  That's a lot of things to need.  Maybe I'll just wait for help.

Tomorrow I will get out my sewing machine.  I know it likes me.  

 

New hose to replace my broken hose.  

Good grief 

Go

 

Go Bear.  Give it everything.  Give every ounce.  Give beyond what you think you have.  Give more. 

And so he did.  He ran 26.2 miles.  He didn't pace, wouldn't slow, he just raced.  He didn't drift, wouldn't pause, couldn't stop.  He just raced.  He knew it was worth it. 

Breathing, fueling, going.  Go Bear. 

I want this.  This is what I want on my path, this honest effort.  Let me run this walk with intention.  With determination.  Straight ahead.  Following the pacer, my God, who is always in sight.  

If it means running out of breath, out of fuel, out of hope or encouragement or happy - if it means running out - let me cross the finish line having offered my best.  My hardest.   

Go Kath.  Keep focused.  Keep running.  Give everything to live this new life for God's glory.  It is worth it. 

 

 

 

Routine

It used to be:

early ups, exercise, Bible time and coffee, off to tackle the day, back home to crash.

Now it is:

early ups, exercise, Bible time and coffee, off to tackle the day, back home to crash.

Uh... Kath... the used-to-be and the now-it-is look the same.   

Oh... you're right.  My routines haven't changed so much, have they.   

Cept I'm not in the same place or same surroundings with the same person, experiencing the same life together, around the same people and church and work places.  I'm in a not-same unsettling world in a same comfortable routine.  Which must mean, routines are a big deal to next-stepping. 

I've never thought of how a regular daily structure can hold up a widow.  Can shoulder the grief while she goes about her tasks.  Can keep her feet moving, her eye viewing, her hope hoping while she's stepping.  Every day stepping.  Just stepping.  Just routining.

Routine seems to know that life keeps coming.  So keep doing what you've been doing, Kath.  Feel its familiar, its comfort, its predictable.  Routine is part of you and planned for you and so...

Tomorrow, next week and next year it will be:

early ups, exercise, Bible time and coffee, off to tackle the day, back home to crash.

 

Hand

 

God's hand may be hidden, but his rule is absolute.  JI Packer

 

Mr Packer, I wish I had written these words.  They describe my intrigue with God.  I can't stop pondering this curious trait. 

He's secret and so exposed.  He's behind the scenes and out in front.  He allows missteps and redirects steps.  He grieves sadness and plans happily ever afters. 

And no one can alter His ways.  No one can thwart His objectives.  No one can dissuade the pure, good, mind of God that constantly manages, rearranges, turns around.  That intercepts, that shields, that actuates.  That is motivated by deeper than deep love.  

After reading the book of Ruth again, a story about God's hidden hand accomplishing His absolute best for widows -- widows! -- the mystery of God's hand has me pondering.

My pondering thinks that the more I trust His absolute, the more He lets me glimpse His hand.  His hand... this widow sees His hidden hand. 

 

Everything

If it's out,  I did it.

If it needs taken out,  I do it.

If it's not out, I didn't do it.  

If I'm out, I should've done it.  

And nobody else.

Nobody else puts anything away, fetches anything from the closet, climbs the ladder, pulls in the garbage bins, picks up the wrappers, dissembles the boxes, changes the filters, cleans the smudge, sorts the mail, does this while I'm doing that.  I'm Miss Everything.  I do it.

After all this time, I still notice this everything part of my life.  Why does it stop me in my tracks?  "Oh... that's my job.  Oh...  I have to figure that out.  Oh... whoops, that's up to me."  When will I get use to everything me?  

Here's what happens when I'm stopped in my tracks.  I'm thankful all over again for a husband who partnered with me, shared the load with me, did while I did with me.  A husband!  Such a great idea!

And I'm also thankful for my mind, energy, time, and the not-too-big-everything-me tasks.  I'm thankful that I'm prompted to pray and rely on God who gives me what I need to do it all.  A God!  Even better idea!

My days are full of... everythings.  Someday I'll be use to everything.  

  

 

New

 There are a few things that are new about me on this new part of my walk, this down-the-road-a-bit part of my walk, this a-mile-past-the-Bill exit.  New.  You would still recognize me, but you'd cock your head slightly in a wondering wonder.  

For example: 

I can fix a garbage disposal.  I know.  That just cannot be true.

I am pretty good at budgeting.   Which by budgeting I mean... paying attention to account balances.

I greet, even seek out my neighbors.   You might even say I'm Norma Neighbor.  My corner just got too lonely.

I eat way too many peanut butter and honey sandwiches because I love them and I don't have to cook them.  OK. PBJ/Hs are not so new. 

I can avoid the gas lines every time.  Tuesday mornings, choose any lane and wrap the hose over the trunk if you have to, pull to the front tank if possible, have your card in your lap.  Considering I didn't usually fill the gas tank... this is a cool new. 

I plan most everything around the next game. I prepare for the game through podcasts, radio.  I watch the game only with gamewatchers. What's new about this new?  Uh... ya got me again.  Why am I telling you this?

Back to new. 

I see scripture in many new ways.  There's a new built-in flashlight in my Bible.  Did you ever pause to realize that the line of OT Kings, the institution to which God said no, Samuel said no, but both permitted, was the line from which our Messiah was born?  The eternal King.  God likes to flashlight these scenarios for me. 

 And there's more new.

But now you'll not wonder.  You'll know for sure it's me.  New me. 

 

 

 

 

 

Chosen

 

"Gramma Kath, guess what!"  

"What Littlebear?  What?" 

"I made the team!  I did it.  The coach picked me." 

And then the invisible multi-colored balloons fill our hearts' sky, and the invisible sparkly confetti falls from our hearts' sky.  The planes fly over.  The whole world knows...  She was chosen.  My littlebear was chosen.

It's all the sweeter because, last year, she was not chosen.  Unchosen.  There were no balloons in our hearts' sky.  There was no heart sky.

I know both feelings.   I like the chosen feeling more.  Everyone likes the chosen feeling. 

Chosen feels especially good when it comes from... nowhere.  I didn't ask.  I didn't interview or audition or try-out or even hope.  I was simply accepted.  Like when I'm asked to save a seat, to sit next to, to be beside.  Like when I'm asked to pray for a need, to care for, to understand.  Like when I'm invited to join a group, to know and to share.  These chosens have chosen me over the last couple years.  For trust, for more responsibility, for value, oh and the biggie... for friendship.  Small chosens, but chosesns.  And I'm assured that, even without a husband, without a whole lot to offer, without a history of community, I'm chosenable.   I'm still picked.

I mean, Jesus chose me.  He chose me.  He is the reason for balloons in my heart's sky.  

 

 

Birthday

 

When a widow, who lives with a puppy and a plant, has a birthday, she is happy to get a phone call wishing her wishes.  She is purposely low on expectations.  Not many even know.  Others don't keep track.  After all, she has had a whole family life worth of birthday thrills.  She is still thrilling over that forever birthday gift.  

So when a widow, who lives with a puppy and a plant, is unexpectedly invited to a birthday lunch in her honor, receives unexpected perfect gifts, and then unexpectedly welcomes her family for dinner and a game of Spoons, well... she is beyond happy.  Whatever that word is... that's she.

The widow tries to fall asleep that night, but can hardly shut an eyelid because of all the unexpecteds that keep rounding and rounding in her sleepy mind.  She can't believe it.  She was so thought of, so cared for, so celebrated.  She!  A widow who lives with a puppy and a plant, had an unexpected best birthday and feels so crazy thankful. 

 

Beside

  

 

January 2, 2026

 On this second January day, I asked God to help me know He is still beside me.  Today.  And He did.

 In a Christmas gift return -- a gift that's not quite right and a return that could hurt a heart.  But He eased it, even blessed it.

 In an intersection roundabout -- a maneuver that's a little scary -- a gasper.                   But He slowed it, even spaced it.

 In a non-essential purchase -- a little luxury that's too much after a depleted Christmas budget.  But He discounted it, even endorsed it.  

 In an otherwise quiet day -- a kind of day that can cloud over fast.                                But He sunshined it through a text, even a call.  

 Today I asked God to help me notice that He's still beside me, sensitizing me, guiding me, decisioning me, remembering me.   He did.  I'm so happy. 

Newblog

 

In 2024 I was prompted to blog my walk.  Then in 2025 I was prompted to pause the blog.  And that's what happened.  I paused thinking I'd wait for new.  A new season, a new turn, a curious side path, a bubbling creek.  Fresh. Different. Bright. New. Then I would blog again.

Here I am.  Blogging.  

...Discovering that fresh is when a little time has passed.  Different is when a new ingredient is added.  Bright is when a day goes well.  New is... a new outlook.

...Discovering that new doesn't come to me, I come to new,  I pick new.  I won't wait for a curtain to drop and lights to go up and the thrill of a good show to exhilarate me.  I won't wait to win a lottery (umm... I don't even play) or fall in love again, or land a deal, or become amazing at something.  

...Discovering that a new season means building a new life, which takes patience and courage, and a willing mind.  I'm prompted to resume the blog with new -- my new friend.

I'm better now.  I'm still walking, sometimes stumbling, but still stepping.  The path looks wider to me.  Two and a half years since Bill...   I'm better now.