I lie in the bath, my feet playfully peeking through the bubble-laden surface. Immediately, I’m reminded of my friend Lavern, who often shares photos of his feet relaxing against the backdrop of the sparkling Okanagan lake.
I snap a photo of my feet, but do not post it.
Two months ago, Lavern’s family summer home was consumed by the ravenous Adam’s Lake Fire in B.C. Years of dedication, sweat, and equity had turned their house into a cherished home. When the evacuation order came, they joined the convoy of desperate families fleeing the flames, their vehicles laden with memories, pets, and hope.
Lavern’s escape bore an extra layer of pathos. As part of the local volunteer fire brigade, he combatted the very inferno that razed his home.
This year, nature’s fury has felt unbridled—fires, floods, tornadoes, hurricanes—each disaster leaving scars on our landscapes and hearts. Yet, for many like Lavern, there’s solace in the knowledge that they can rebuild, even if the journey is long and tough.
There are so many million others in this hurting world whose journey is even tougher. The catastrophes they face are man-made—bombs, bullets, and wars that annihilate not just buildings but the spirit of communities. No fortress stands invincible to a missile, no hand can stop a bullet, just as no belief can truly justify the horror we inflict upon one another.
The world’s landscape is marred with unease. In our quest for territory and power, we seem to forget that peace cannot bloom from the soil of conflict. While some invoke divinity to defend violence, our shared humanity is overshadowed.
As I reclined in my bath this morning, insulated from the world’s chaos, I was hit with a profound realization: moments of peace, like this, are a privilege. And they’re not universal.
I took a photo of my feet sticking out of the bubbles in my bath this morning. Wrapped in the warmth of my home, my thoughts were distant from the cacophony of war, far from the dread of a bomb’s descent.
It’s moments like these that starkly remind me of the divide between safety and chaos, between peace and turmoil. Such simple, unassuming moments are luxuries that many in our world are denied. As I wrap myself in the comfort of my sheltered sanctuary, I’m enveloped by a deep gratitude for my safety, but also a profound sorrow for those living in the horrific reality of the dangers surrounding them.
Lest we forget, while some of us bask in comfort, countless others are engaged in a relentless fight for mere survival. As we sit blithely, passing judgments, laying blame, taking sides, or lashing out at commentators for dissenting views, there are mothers mourning as they pull the lifeless bodies of their children from ruins. Lost children wander amidst the chaos, their tiny hearts pounding, their trembling bodies overwhelmed by hunger, thirst, and fear.
This is the harrowing face of war. After the deafening roars of guns have ceased and the final bombs have fallen, both victors and the vanquished are left with the somber task of laying their loved ones to rest. And long after the dust has settled, their hearts will continue to ache, bearing the weight of all that man’s conflicts have stolen.
If we are to make real peace with one another, let us not make it through war.
Dare Boldly 
There is tragedy and heartbreak created by forces of nature, but your post got me reflecting on how the tragedy man inflicts on man seems the most tragic of all.
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Sigh. Yes. It is. ❤ We must find the path to doing better if we are to save the world and create peace, love and harmony for all. ❤
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Good to be grateful for what we often take for granted
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It is always a wonderful reminder of how blessed we are. ❤
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That last sentence….. YES!
I always say that we live here in a ‚sheltered workshop‘ (Switzerland) – meaning that although we hear and read all about the terrible aches and pains everywhere, we still live a very sheltered life. That even though we are not wealthy by any standards or means, we are also super rich because so far we still live without the Angst and worry to lose everything from one minute to the next. I AM very thankful for all of this and I mourn deeply for those who haven‘t got anything and are losing even that little. It‘s an unmerited gift and there is nothing I can do to be worthy of all the good. But I take it with a wide open heart and a thankful soul.
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What a beautiful response Kiki and what a beautiful heart you have. ❤
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I am sitting in the warmth of sunshine pouring in through windows. I am listening to the background conversations of 40 quilters as I sit sewing at my machine at a 4 day quilting retreat hoping to have a few days’ escape from reality. Alas, thanks to the marvels of technology it is not to be. I open the iPad and WHAM – the latest breaking news and it just keeps getting worse. I recall my parents’ wishes that my generation NOT have to live through a major conflict. I can honestly say that their wishes are fading.
For now I will sew away in oblivion, if I can.
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As C.C. and I drove from the airport on Monday to Jane and Al’s for Thanksgiving dinner, he mentioned something about Israel. “What about Israel?” I asked.
I had no idea.
Without realizing it, somewhere over my ten days away, I had completely disconnected from the news.
Reconnecting is harsh.
I hope in your sewing, you find solace and comfort. That every stitch becomes the most important stitch you will ever thread, that the beauty of your quilt embraces you in tender-loving care.
Enjoy my friend. Let’s chat when you return. ❤
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Louise, we heard the news also with great surprise last Sunday morning. Not having TV and not being hooked to our phones and iPads allowed us to sleep through those horrendous news. It‘s a terrible awakening, even if it doesn‘t concern you directly.
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I understand you Iwona. I have two serious quilters amongst my far away friends. One I only call the English Quilting Queen and she does exactly that – stitch after stitch, tiny little bits of fabric, thus creating a beautiful work of art and love. It calms her and gives her some much needed peace. The other one was in Rwanda for 4 years (humanitarian help). they adopted a boy too. Since then she‘s doing quilt hangings and they always have a pattern or an idea she took with her during her hard and difficult times she lived there. (Genozide). She ‚weaves‘ her undying love into her stitchings and hangings. It does help.
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Thank you Kiki for your beautiful tribute to your friends, fabric artists.
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Thank you for sharing this thought-provoking post. While we enjoy the simple pleasures and luxuries of life, there are countless individuals living in the midst of violence, conflict, and devastation.
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It is so sad that it is so. ❤
Thank you for joining the conversation and sharing your thoughts.
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I, too, have spent much time thinking about how privileged and blessed I am. Yes, I got here through hard work, but large external events out of my control have not damaged my journey or my family.
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Hugs Bernie. ❤
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