Meet my mom, Jane. Today’s her birthday. (I’ll let her say which one if she wants to, but I will just say it’s an impressive number.)

Some months back, she quietly retired her quilting needle – not by choice, but by necessity. She loved the pastime. Was a president of a quilting guild. Had a license plate holder warning the she brakes for quilt stores. But the strokes made things difficult. At first, impossible. Then just… too much.

Each morning, she’d wake with a sigh, not quite sure about the “why.”

But lately, something shifted.

She found a forgotten bundle of fabric squares in a drawer—remnants from various projects from long ago. Much of quilting’s charm is how the disparate pieces come together to tell a new story. We helped gather up what her setup was missing, and she laid the squares out again, quietly. No announcement. Just a maybe.

Not every day cooperates. Some days still say no. But other days – well, other days she quilts.

What I’m facing right now is much smaller by comparison, but the lesson wraps around me like one of her old patchwork throws: When the spirit nudges, even softly, you listen. And if you can… you do.

Thanks for modeling for me how to rekindle the creative spark in life’s act 3, Mum. And happy birthday.