YOUR LIFE COACHING WV

As I sat at my sewing machine working on a new Grassroots Americana quilt, I noticed how the blocks formed a sideways cross. I grew excited and shared with my husband that this was yet another way the quilts' pattern could minister to someone who simply needed a glimpse of Christian love. You know the kind of love I'm talking about right? The kind that Jesus showed as He ministered to folks' basic and spiritual needs. Because I am a "hugger", it is my prayer that these little quilts will offer warmth as they give the recipient a little hug so to speak...and since each one comes complete with prayers for health, peace, wisdom, and HOPE stitched right in, I believe its possible for them to evoke a smile as well.  As I started to feed the quilt through the machine, I whispered a small prayer over the quilt (as well as for my still-under-development sewing skills): "Father, help me get the cross right." And with that small prayer, reality slammed me...

I looked down at the finished sampler. It was perfect...well close enough for me anyway; after being washed, starched, and tossed onto the back of a chair, the ripped-out and resewn seams would be but memories. And then I saw it. It glared at me from the finished "Grassroots Americana" samplier, so named for the red-white-blue-and-green color scheme. It is still there, in the top left block, do you see it?  That one misplaced star point?   I took a deep breath. And then another. Breathe Coach Kelly, take some of your own advice. Breathe. Breathe. BREATHE! As I calculated the tedious process of ripping the quilted blocks apart, I knew it was doable. The mistake was one that most quilters, if they are honest, have experienced. And the exact reason Mrs. Kessel, our high school home economics teacher, stressed the importance of a good seam ripper! As I glared back at the block's imperfection, something changed. Maybe it was the deep breathing, maybe it was the Holy S...

MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM THE KELLYS I am getting old...well, compared to my children and grandchildren, I am old. As I contemplate the fact that my life is more than half over, and I look back over my past, I realize that this is the time of my life that I like the best. Don't get me wrong, I loved being a "mommy". I loved snuggling with my children or watching them sleep with that angelic glow of youth shining on their tiny, perfect faces. I loved watching them explore the world around them. These things brought me happiness...But those were highly stressful days too. It was not easy putting those darling little ones to bed because I knew that more-than-likely, they wouldn't stay there long. Bath time for three little girls often resulted in as much water on the floor as in the tub! And then, there came along the youngest child, a boy. Arriving eight to thirteen years after the girls, he was solely to be loved, spoiled and fought over by his sisters! For you e...