Finally! Snow!

 

It's a poor photo, but three cardinals are hiding in our bushes.

We filled up the birdfeeders Friday evening. By last night, the one in the front yard was empty. The one in the back yard is half full. I need to brave the cold and fill the one out front. It's a whopping 9° today. I won't even look at the wind chill. I've been inside since Friday afternoon, and if I can get my husband to fill the bird feeder out front, I'm going to stay inside! Here in my neck of the woods we received about 6 inches of snow. That's just right in my mind— enough to be beautiful, but not enough to cause any major troubles. The temperature, though, frigid! 

I've done some computer work this morning. This afternoon, I'm going to find a warm spot, and watch an old movie while I knit a bit. I'm currently knitting toddler socks for my grandson. He recently thrilled me by giving me a name. I am now Gammy! It's the most wonderful music to my ears to hear him call and say, "Hi Gammy!" My husband has had a name for a few months now. He is Boppop (Bah-pop). I expect that will change as he gets older, but my husband is thrilled right now!

Well, my computer is in my workroom. It's a glassed in back porch that gets very chilly. I have a little electric heater by my desk that helps a lot. But— I'm ready to go inside and get warm!

Have a wonderful week!

Laura

Enjoying the one hurrah of winter!

Knitting Mittens for My Kittens

My Top Ten Tips for Socializing Real Kittens

♥♥♥

    Once upon a time, long long ago, three little kittens needed some mittens. Although their momma was still a novice knitter, she took on the challenge. She followed Kelly's Mitten Class from KnitPicks. She began with the oldest and proceeded to the youngest.  The results weren't exactly perfect. In fact, her young son's mittens had some rather large thumbs! Nevertheless, her kittens loved their mittens.

    Once day, recently, the littlest kitten, who now has her own little kitten, sent her momma a Marco Polo video. Her little hands were tucked into her sleeves as she tried to drive! Oh my! Momma's needles to the rescue! Just as soon as momma's needles finished with her grandkitten's mittens, they began clicking away on little mommy kitten's mittens. 

    

Mommy Kitten's new mittens

Grandbaby Kitten's Mittens

    My little kitten was thrilled to have mittens for her and for her little kitten. Needless to say, my knitting skills have increased dramatically. ~smile~ This time I used The World's Simplest Mitten from Tin Can Knits. They have an app now that makes it easy to follow just your size and keep track of your rows. It's great. I used it to make a Flax sweater for my grandkitten, too.

    I hope you have a wonderful week. It's looking to be a wintery cold one here in southern Missouri. Wherever you are, perhaps you'll take up your needles as well. If you do, you might enjoy a cup of homemade hot cocoa with your cozy blanket. 

Warm hugs from Harvest Lane Cottage,

and do try my cocoa recipe! It's a hug in a mug!

ஐღ Laura of Harvest Lane Cottage ღஐ 

...doing what I can with what I've got

where I am on a short shoestring budget!

~~~~~

 "The three little kittens, they lost their mittens,"

By Mother Goose

The three little kittens, they lost their mittens,

And they began to cry,

"Oh, mother dear, we sadly fear,

That we have lost our mittens."

"What!   Lost your mittens, you naughty kittens!

Then you shall have no pie."

"Meow, meow, meow."

"Then you shall have no pie."

The three little kittens, they found their mittens,

And they began to cry,

"Oh, mother dear, see here, see here,

For we have found our mittens."

"Put on your mittens, you silly kittens,

And you shall have some pie."

"Purr, purr, purr,

Oh, let us have some pie."

The three little kittens put on their mittens,

And soon ate up the pie,

"Oh, mother dear, we greatly fear,

That we have soiled our mittens."

"What, soiled your mittens, you naughty kittens!"

Then they began to sigh,

"Meow, meow, meow,"

Then they began to sigh.

The three little kittens, they washed their mittens,

And hung them out to dry,

"Oh, mother dear, do you not hear,

That we have washed our mittens?"

"What, washed your mittens, then you're good kittens,

But I smell a rat close by."

"Meow, meow, meow,

We smell a rat close by."

A New Year's Choice

 

Have you made a new year's resolution or two or ten?

I haven't this year.

    I have thought about what I'd like my life to look like. I want more community in my life. That fell off in 2020, when we left the church we'd been in for many years. We were overworked in that church. It made both my husband and I timid about getting over involved again in our new church. The result has been that we've been on the fringes at church... involved but not involved.  There have been too many excuses. But, truly, I haven't made church a priority. 

    I've been seeking God through His word, a Bible study with ladies in the next town, videos and podcasts, weekly Sunday morning attendance. But. I've been feeling the longing for some time now to feel more connected to the body of Christ. That takes time and commitment. 

    Do I believe a person must be there every time the church door opens? No. But. That's the way my husband and I have lived much of our married life. Up until that last experience, it was all good. Even the last experience was not bad. We were there for a purpose, brought in during a natural disaster by God, but the heavy dependence on us wore us out. 

    What I am saying is that we I have been neglecting Wednesday evening Bible study with the ladies and Sunday evening services. I just haven't wanted to get too involved. Who's suffered from that? Me. (I crossed out we. I cannot speak for my husband.) I believe that I've made choices that lead me further from what God wants for me.

    So, no resolution, just a choice. I am going to stop avoiding church for whatever reason. You might say that I am repenting of being lazy about going to church and making relationships with God's people. 

    So, this year I choose to grow in relationships with other Christians in my own church. 

    I choose to listen to God when He speaks to me through the Word or by whatever method He chooses. 

    I'm getting away from the fence and into the fold.  

    Has this struck a chord with you?

Let me know in the comments. I encourage you to listen to this short video by Phil Robertson that I listened to this morning.

Have a wonderful weekend,

Laura

Are You Facing Hard Times? A Story of Desperation and Hope: A Christmas Miracle on the Frontier

 

Hard times don't take a Christmas vacation.
Loss of a loved one, family strife, natural disasters, a frightening diagnosis, loneliness, and financial stress can all contribute to our hard times.

I know several people who really stretch their money to make ends meet. There's only so much elastic in a dollar bill you know. I've been testing that stretch capacity full-time for nearly forty years now.

Most likely you know someone who's struggling. Maybe it is you. Our families will be affected differently by these situations, but it will be a challenging season for all of us who are experiencing hard times.

Sometimes, in our desperation, we give up to despair.
Sometimes, in our desperation, we give in to God and
He takes over. He comes in and saves us... maybe not
from the circumstances...but always from the despair.

Give in and find hope, peace, love, healing, and provision.
God's arm is not too short. Nothing is impossible with God.

Please enjoy this story that I share each year....

A Christmas Miracle on the Frontier

     I remember a day one winter that stands out like a boulder in my life. The weather was unusually cold; our salary had not been regularly paid and it did not meet our needs when it was. My husband was away much of the time, traveling from one district to another. Our boys were well, but my little Ruth was ailing and at best none of us were decently clothed. I patched and re-patched, with spirits sinking to the lowest ebb. The water gave out in the well and the wind blew through the cracks in the floor.

     The people in the parish were kind, and generous too, but the settlement was new and each family was struggling for itself. Little by little, at the time I needed it most, my faith began to waver. Early in life I was taught to take God at His word, and I thought my lesson was well learned. I had lived upon the promises in dark times until I knew, as David did, who was my Fortress and my Deliverer. Now a daily prayer for forgiveness was all that I could offer.

     My husband’s overcoat was hardly thick enough for October, and he was often obliged to ride miles to attend some meeting or funeral.  Christmas was coming; the children always expected their presents. I remember the ice was thick and smooth and the boys were each craving a pair of skates. Ruth, in some unaccountable way, had taken a fancy that the dolls I had made were no longer suitable; she wanted a nice large one, and insisted on praying for it.

     I knew it was impossible, but, oh! how I wanted to give each child his present. It seemed as if God had deserted us. But I did not tell my husband all this. He worked so earnestly and heartily, I supposed him to be as hopeful as ever. I kept the sitting room cheerful with an open fire, and I tried to serve our scanty meals as invitingly as I could.

     That morning before Christmas, James was called to see a sick man. I put up a piece of bread for his lunch–it was the best I could do–wrapped my plaid shawl around his neck and then tried to whisper a promise as I often had, but the words died away upon my lips. I let him go without it.  That was a dark, hopeless day. I coaxed the children to bed early, for I could not bear their talk. When Ruth went, I listened for her prayer. She asked for the last time most explicitly for her doll and for skates for her brothers. Her bright face looked so lovely when she whispered to me, “You know I think they’ll be here early tomorrow morning, Mama” that I thought I could move Heaven and earth to save her from disappointment. I sat down alone and gave way to the most bitter tears.

     Before long James returned, chilled and exhausted. He drew off his boots. The thin stockings clipped off with them and his feet were red with cold. “I wouldn’t treat a dog that way; let alone a faithful servant,” I said. Then as I glanced up and saw the hard lines in his face and the look of despair, it flashed across me that James had let go too.

     I brought him a cup of tea, feeling sick and dizzy at the very thought. He took my hand and we sat for an hour without a word. I wanted to die and meet God and tell Him His promise wasn’t true–my soul was so full of rebellious despair.

     There came a sound of bells, a quick step and a loud knock at the door. James sprang to open it. There stood Deacon White. “A box came by express just before dark. I brought it around as soon as I could get away. Reckoned it might be for Christmas. ‘At any rate’ I said, ‘they shall have it tonight.’ Here is a turkey my wife asked me to fetch along and these other things I believe belong to you.” There were a basket of potatoes, and a bag of flour. Talking all the time, he hurried in the box and then with a hearty good night, he rode away.

     Still without speaking, James found a chisel and opened the box. He drew out first a thick red blanket and we saw that beneath it, the box was full of clothing. It seemed at that moment as if Christ fastened upon me a look of reproach. James sat down and covered his face with his hands. “I can’t touch them,” he explained. “I haven’t been true, just when God was trying me to see if I could hold out. Do you think I could not see how you were suffering? And I had no word of comfort to offer. I know now how to preach the awfulness of turning away from God.”

     “James,” I said, clinging to him, “don’t take it to heart like this. I am to blame. I ought to have helped you. We will ask Him together to forgive us.”  We poured out words of praise–Bible words, for nothing else could express our thanksgiving.  It was eleven o’ clock; the fire was low and there was the great box with nothing touched but the warm blanket we needed. We piled on some fresh logs, lighted two candles and began to examine our treasures.

     We drew out an overcoat. I made James try it on–just the right size–and I danced around him, for all my lightheartedness had returned. There was a cloak and he insisted on seeing me in it. My spirits always infected him and we both laughed like foolish children.

     There was a warm suit of clothes also and three pairs of woolen hose. There were a dress for me and yards of flannel, a pair of arctic overshoes for each of us and in mine a slip of paper. I have it now and mean to hand it down to my children. It was Jacob’s blessing to Asher: “Thy shoes shall be iron and brass; and as thy days so shall thy strength be.”

     In the gloves, evidently for James, the same dear hand had written: “I the Lord thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee.”  It was a wonderful box and packed with thoughtful care. There were a suit of clothes for each of the boys and a little red gown for Ruth. There were mittens, scarf, and hood, and down in the center–a box. We opened it and there was a great wax doll!! I burst into tears again and James wept with me for joy. It was too much! And then we both exclaimed again, for close behind it came two pairs of skates. There were books for us to read–some of them I had wished to see–stories for the children to read, aprons and underclothing, knots of ribbon, a gay little tidy, a lovely photograph, needles, buttons, and thread, a muff, and an envelope containing a ten dollar gold piece.

     At last we cried over everything we took up. It was past midnight and we were faint and exhausted even with happiness. I made a cup of tea, cut a fresh loaf of bread and James boiled some eggs. We drew up the table before the fire. How we enjoyed our supper! And then we sat talking over our life and how sure a help God always proved.

     You should have seen the children the next morning! The boys raised a shout at the sight of their skates–Ruth caught up her doll and hugged it tightly without a word; then she went into her room and knelt by her bed.  When she came back she whispered to me, “I knew it would be here Mama, but I wanted to thank God just the same, you know.”

     “Look here, Wife, see the difference!” We went to the window and there were the boys out of the house already and skating on the crust with all their might.  My husband and I both tried to return thanks to the church in the East that sent us the box–and have tried to return thanks unto God every day since. 

     Hard times have come again and again, but we have trusted in Him–dreading nothing so much as a doubt of His protecting care. “They that seek the Lord shall not want any good thing.”

~~~~~

Reprinted by permission from Lizzie at A Dusty Frame.   She typed it up from a very old book, The Sword Book of Treasures by Dr. John R. Rice, published in 1946.

Happy Christmas,
Laura
Trusting in His care

Sending You a Little Christmas

    Hello everyone! So, how's it coming along?

    Today, the 6th, was my deadline for Christmas decorating. As often is the case, the best laid plans of mice and moms often go awry. ~smile~ I did a ton of laundry today. Blankets and towels along with the regular laundry. I once heard it called Mount Neverest. I thought that would end when my kids left home. Nope, there's still plenty. ~smile~ 

    Anyhow, I've got just a little more decorating to do. I want to put up my porch tree and maybe a tree or two inside. Yes, if I had it my way, I'd have a tree in every room. I just love the twinkly lights. Whatever I don't finish tomorrow will have to wait until next year. 

    This is one of my favorite contemporary Christmas songs. Enjoy!

Happy Christmastime!

Laura

Just What is Kringling?

 

Are you a Kringler?

I am.

I've been hiding and Kringling for years.

What is Kringling?

Kringling is what I call the time when I go into my bedroom, lock the door, and sew, create and wrap gifts. 

When my children were young, and living at home, I made it clear that if they came in and saw what I was doing, it would be given to someone else instead. Consequently, no one tried to peek. ~smile~ It was never a problem, and I never had to follow through on my warning. 

I can remember spending hours at my sewing machine, and crafting, and collecting to make Christmas for my children. Many years, there simply wasn't a budget for gifts. I scrimped and saved pennies and nickles and rocks (wink) for months to be able to get small gifts at thrift stores, sales, and yard sales. I made sure they all had something they wished for when I could. It was hard work, but the joy of seeing their little faces on Christmas morning was worth it.

Years later, I'm an empty nester. I still make Christmas for my family the best I can. I still call it Kringling. It still includes sewing, but I also knit gifts now. I'm blessed to have an extra room that I can work in, so I don't have to hide in the bedroom anymore. I also don't have to worry about being caught. ~wink~

So, though life has changed, I still love to Kringle—making, purchasing, wrapping and giving to family and friends. I hope this month to share a few ideas that I've implemented through the years; and, I hope to share memories, too.

Come along!

Let's make Christmas together!

BUT!

Keep in mind, our focus is on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith. All the rest of this is just for fun. I'll write more on that later this month. 

Blessings from Harvest Lane Cottage,

Laura

A Slim Christmas Budget

 

   Don't let yourself feel bad over a slim budget. We all have years like that. I've never had a big or even average budget. We've always had good Christmases, though. I have a friend whose family had a Thrifted Christmas last year. No new gifts were allowed unless they were made by the giver. I think that was an absolutely fabulous idea. 

    I've always used thrifted things. It's the way my kids were raised; and fortunately, my step-mom saw great sales and thrifted items as victories! She passed that on to me; and, I passed it on to my kids. They were happy with the gifts that I made or bought for them new or not. 

    Be blessed, dear reader, and have yourself a happy, joyful, Jesus centered Christmas filled with all the peace and rest you can grasp!

    May you grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be glory both now and forever! Amen. II Peter 3:8

Go forth and be creative and thrifty!

Laura

Suggested reading:

Are you Facing Hard Times? A Christmas Story of Desperation and Hope

Filling Tummies in Hard Times ~ A Simple Potato Soup

Laura