Today I found myself thinking of my mother.   She was born in 1915 and lived through the Great Depression.   For some reason, the people in her generation didn't talk much about their past, but here's what I know about her.   She was the third oldest of nine children.   Her mother, father and oldest sister emigrated here from Yugoslavia in the early 1900s.   Two of her siblings passed away from diphtheria as infants.   When my mom was 15, her mother passed away at the age of 39.   Her father drank and didn't take care of his family.  My mother told me he beat her for eating a piece of meat from the smokehouse because she was so hungry.  At that point, both of her older sisters had left home.  She left soon thereafter.   I can't even imagine leaving home when I was 15.  I was barely out of the Barbie doll stage let alone having to fend for myself.   


The story continues where she got a job working as a Nanny for a Jewish family.   Over the next couple of decades, my mother found herself working in a hospital laundry and then a bakery.  It was while she was at the bakery, a cake decorator took her under her wing and my mother discovered a hidden talent.  She had an artistic flair and used it to create beautiful wedding cakes.  It wasn't until years later that I discovered I, too, had the same talent.


Although I never decorated professionally, I did use that talent to bless family and friends as well as generate a little income when I was a stay-at-home mom.    I now limit myself to making birthday cakes for my grandchildren. 


If you've hung in there so far, you're probably wondering what this has to do with anything.   You see this morning I was making a birthday cake for my granddaughter who's turning 4 tomorrow.  She wanted a "Grinchy" cake…Christmas in July anyone?   I always hold my breath when the kids tell me what they want because I'm afraid I won't be able to do it.   I inherited my mother's talent but she was the artist with a blank canvas.  I'm just a copycat.  Since I can only draw stick figures, I've had to get creative using other means to get the desired results. 


If you are a perfectionist like I am, I don't have to tell you the anxiety I would have every time I made a special cake.   I would be in agony working on these cakes fearing the disappointment on my grandchild's face as I focused on each tiny flaw, until today.   


I started off by waking up before dawn and I knew it was because I was feeling the pressure of producing the perfect cake.  Soon after I was mixing and baking.  It wasn't until the second layer that things went south.  As I was flipping the cake onto the bottom layer, it started cracking and falling apart.  Normally this would've sent me into panic mode but instead, I took a step back and asked God for help.   Yes, I asked God to help me fix this cake.   


The Bible talks about how He knows the exact number of hairs on our heads and He's aware of every sparrow that falls to the ground.  I truly believe He loves it when we ask for His help even in the small things.  He doesn't want us stressed and anxious about anything and He never expects us to be perfect.   


He answered my cry for help and I finished the cake even with a few other challenges.   As I stood back to look at my handiwork, I heard myself saying, "not perfect but perfect enough."   How I want to apply that to every area of my life.   The first place I need to start is by not comparing myself to anyone.  I've placed my value of who I am based on other people's thoughts and opinions my whole life.  One of the ways I'm recognizing it is my attitude when I'm with others, especially family.  If they're happy, I'm happy.  If they're not in a good mood, neither am I.   Does anyone else do this?   


I know this won't happen overnight night but I believe the first step toward change is awareness.   I will keep asking for His help  but the difference will be that since He is perfect I can be ok with being "perfect enough."

The Nutcracker

By Eileen Glotfelty • December 19, 2025
I had always looked forward to being a grandmother. Both of mine passed away before I was born and I couldn't wait to have my own. When my oldest granddaughter was three years old, we started a tradition. I took her to The Nutcracker Ballet every Christmas. I would buy her a fancy dress and it became an annual date that we both loved. At first it was just the two of us but over the years it grew as we added cousins and friends. It was always a special time. Two years ago, all of my granddaughters moved down south. As Christmas approached, my heart was heavy as I realized this tradition had come to an end. I struggled with this realization and I had to examine my heart to find out why the grief was so strong. The answer came as a surprise. I thought the real reason was about not wanting to accept change and letting go of tradition but underneath it all was a fear of being forgotten. I was afraid if I couldn't carry on the tradition then some day after I was gone, the memory of me would fade away. I wanted my life to mean something to someone. I wanted to be remembered. I want to leave a legacy but I had to ask myself if it is more important that they remember me or what I stood for? Do I want them to just remember the places we went and the things we did or do I want them to remember they saw Jesus in me and they were loved, valued and accepted. That's the truth and that's what I hope they remember. I'm thankful to say this story has an unexpected happy ending. Today I had the pleasure of taking my daughter and all three granddaughters to The Nutcracker. It was a miracle how it all worked out as we all live in different states. I don't know if we'll be able to go again next year but I'm not going to worry about it. All I know is a lost dream was restored and I have a different perspective. My oldest granddaughter is now 11 and takes ballet. I watched her face as she watched the performance. There was an understanding now of hard work and commitment. She has a love and a passion that was planted when she was a little girl. This tradition isn't about me. It's about planting love and goodness and hope into future generations. I told her if she ever dances in The Nutcracker, I'll be there.

It's Ok to Let Go

By Eileen Glotfelty • November 13, 2025
If you know little boys, you know they are an entity unto themselves. Growing up, I had one sister. I played with girls and never did any babysitting as a teenager so boys and their character were foreign to me. When I had my two sons, my eyes were opened. Suddenly I had these two little boys whose brains functioned in ways I couldn't grasp. Thankfully they never set anything on fire but there was a day I'll always remember. It was a warm, sunny day. The kids were playing outside in the backyard and my husband and I were inside. Suddenly we heard the kind of scream that propels a parent into fight or flight. It was coming from the backyard and it was our son. My husband jumped to his feet and started running toward the back door. He didn't even stop to put his shoes on. I wasn't far behind. I'll never forget the scene that awaited us. At first we didn't see our son as we looked out over the yard. That was because the screaming was coming from up above. As we looked toward the sound, there he was high in a tree towering above the house. He was hanging parallel to the ground with his hands and feet wrapped around a branch. My first thought was to yell, “what in the world possessed you to climb up there?” My husband didn't need clarification. He simply ran over and stood underneath the branch where our son was hanging. He took one look at his terrified face, extended his arms out in front of him and said, “Let go, I'll catch you.” My son started screaming that he couldn't do it but my husband calmly reassured him. My son had a choice to make and I watched the resignation cross over his face and he let go of the branch. His father caught him without a problem. When I think of that time, I am reminded that the apple didn't fall far from the tree. So many times I thought I was going in the right direction only to find out I ended up in a place I didn't want to be and I didn't know how to get out. It wasn't until I cried out to my Father in heaven that I saw the way and it always started with God saying, “Let go. Trust me.” Sometimes the way was easy and sometimes it was hard but He always “caught” me and put my feet on solid ground. Psalm 40:2 says: “He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.” If you're finding yourself in a place where there seems to be no way out, I encourage you to say these three words, “God help me.” He will hear you and He will make a way. It's ok to let go.

Handicapped

By Eileen Glotfelty • October 31, 2025
In December of 2023, I had just returned home from a trip out west. After being terrified to fly for many years, I was proud of myself for flying and navigating one of the largest airports in the world. I came home and sat down in my recliner so I could unwind and relax. After a little while, I stood up and felt pain in my left knee. It happened suddenly, out of the blue and took me on a journey I didn't want to take. Since then I have had multiple doctors visits, several rounds of physical therapy and arthroscopic procedures on both knees. This was the first time I faced mobility issues and I watched my confidence fade and fear rise up where it had never been before. I found myself looking at the ground with every step, making decisions about my social life based on how much walking I'd need to do, getting a wheelchair at the airport, and using a handicapped placard in my car. This disability controlled my life. Last week I finished my last round of physical therapy. I am thankful to say it helped me. I've been able to go grocery shopping, take short walks and stand while talking to others. Things I used to take for granted. Today I had an appointment. When I pulled into the parking lot, there were only two spots available. One was a handicapped spot right in front of the door. The other was all the way down near the end of the lot. By habit, I pulled into the handicapped spot and immediately the thought came to mind, “do I really need to park in the handicapped spot?” I found myself backing out and driving to the end of the lot. It was after my appointment when I was walking back to my car that I heard this still small voice say, “You are no longer handicapped so why do you act like you still are?” If you have ever had an epiphany moment, this was one of mine. I had gotten comfortable being handicapped. There were actually some benefits to it such as the parking and special assistance at the airport, and if I'm being honest, being able to use my handicap as an excuse to get out of doing what I didn't want to do. I felt justified in asking for help. It was ok at the time but all through this ordeal I had asked God to heal me and now that I was in a better place, I was afraid to let go. This revelation went deeper than a physical handicap. It affected me mentally and spiritually as well. I was afraid to let go because then I wouldn't have anywhere to hide but in doing so, I gave power to fear. It affected me spiritually because I doubted God really cared about me. The healing was taking too long and I was afraid I would never get my life back. If you know God, you know He doesn't always do things our way. This was a valley moment for me. It's been a place of searching and questioning if I believed He was good and His Word was true. I found myself telling Him, “God, I've done everything I know to do.” That was the problem. I've lived my life thinking nothing good happens unless I earn it. I couldn't have been farther from the truth. I have to tell you that as I walked back and forth to my car, there was a sense of freedom. It felt good. Now, hopefully, I can look at my life through a different lens. I have to be realistic because of my age. There are some things I can't do now, like climbing ladders, but it's not because I'm handicapped, it's just life and I'm learning to be ok with that.