Author: Lisa Burbank

Writer, minister, animal rights' and environmental activist, herbalist, homesteader and prepper.
Animals, Environment, Gratitude, History, Nature, Religion, Spirituality, Writing

First Decent Snowstorm

Lisa Burbank

First big snowstorm hit last night and I became a little kid again. Though an inch of snow fell in December, it barely coated the ground. This is different. According to Channel 3 News, 8 inches in some areas. I’d say we’re pretty close here in Brooklyn, CT. The snow hadn’t finished falling last night when I went out to the barn around 7:30-8 o’clock to feed, water and check on the animals, and it was over the back of my calf.

I love it!

Of course, I’m not looking forward to the clean up this morning. My driveway’s not super-long but my shoulder will be screaming abuse at me before the job is done. Thankfully, this is the light, fluffy, sugar-snow…as opposed to the heavy, wet variety…and I can push more than actual shoveling. That’s a little easier on the back and shoulders but, though I am scheduled as a Eucharistic minister this morning, I doubt I’ll get shoveled out in time for the 8 a.m. Mass. No burly young men to sweet talk into doing the shoveling for me (and I’m not really lamenting that, just stating the facts) nor do I own a working snow blower. This ought to burn some calories. =)

But, aside from these practical considerations, and a deeply-felt gratitude that we did not fall victim to the power outages that were predicted for the area (we were woefully unprepared for such; we have plenty of bottled water, candles, oil lamps but no wood for the stove), I’m feeling that childhood magic that comes with the first big snowfall.

And, yes, I do feel that it is magical. Those first few moments, before any of that snow is disturbed, that pristine blanket makes everything feel safe, clean and fresh, and makes me think of some sort of fairy land, like Narnia. I sincerely hope the White Witch doesn’t come riding up on her sleigh, but the artist and author in me sees a thousand pictures, paintings and/or stories hidden in each and every flake. I see a snowman on someone’s front lawn and think of Frosty. I see a pattern of hoof prints in the snow by the woods and, despite the yuletide season being over (unless you’re of Ukrainian descent; yesterday was Ukrainian Christmas (or Eastern European)), I think of Santa’s reindeer and their white-tailed cousins who live in those woods behind my house. The big kid in me wants to follow their trail, roll one of Frosty’s cousins into existence, throw a few snowballs at someone and lay in that snow to make an angel.

Of course, for those of us who grew up in Rhode Island, there’s still that little kid inside, hoping to hear Salty Brine’s voice singing out over the radio: “No school Foster/Glocester!” (I always wanted to live in either Foster or Gloucester as a kid…they had more snow days than every other town/city in RI combined!) God bless him; he will forever be a Rhode Island icon, his voice forever recorded in my memory.

I’m praying that these magical snowstorms will never be “forever recorded” in just a memory. Eight inches on the ground today; temperatures in the 50’s Tuesday through Thursday this week. As a kid, this sort of snowfall would last weeks. Guess I’ll have to do the angel thing on my way to the barn again. Might not get another chance.

May God bless you & keep you!

Healing, Holistic Health, Yoga & Fitness

Woefully Out of Shape

Lisa Burbank

I am determined that this year I WILL lose these extra 30 lbs. So Wednesday Mom and I visited Pourings & Passages’ bookstore in Danielson, CT. This is a second-hand bookstore that also carries pre-owned DVD’s and such. I purchased a Jillian Michaels’ 30 minute Shred DVD.

There’s a reason why Jillian is known as the toughest trainer in Hollywood. There’s also a reason why she’s got such an incredible, muscular shape. She works her…can I say it?…ASS off! This video is intense. So much so, I only made it through the first 8 minutes before I was ready to collapse. If I can finally see my way through the whole thing–even just this beginner level workout–I will be back to the slender frame I vaguely remember a couple of centuries ago.

Yup. I did a more traditional resolution this year. Lose weight. Middle-aged spread didn’t just creep up on me. It clocked me over the head. And my vanity is seriously offended. Which isn’t exactly the stuff you’d expect to hear from an ordained minister but I am only human, after all. And, really, the extra weight has brought a decrease in energy; I can do a lot more for Him if I’m feeling my best. And right now, I’m not.

Back to the video, those 8 minutes left me with a right knee that didn’t want to support my weight yesterday and an aching shoulder this morning. Of course, this is an older video. Jillian looks to be in her mid- to late-20’s–about half my age. Maybe at 25 or 30, I could’ve made it all the way through the beginner’s 20 minute workout. I certainly didn’t have the injuries that are flaring up from all these new moves. A car accident in 2002 threw the shoulder out of whack and a close-range shot from a paintball pellet screwed up the right knee/calf area. So I’m feeling it a bit, shied away from it this morning, but more determined than ever to finally work my way through level 1. I’ll worry about levels 2 & 3 later…

May God bless you & keep you!

Creativity, Faith, Writing

Getting Back in the Groove

Lisa Burbank

I’ve heard it said that it takes 21 days to make a new habit. That makes sense, actually, because it takes time for that habit to become ingrained. And, for some of us, simply remembering this new habit can be the challenge. However, I don’t know as if I’ve ever seen data about how quickly a habit can be broken. It seems like a much shorter process. It only took me 2, maybe 3, days to break the early-morning yoga/blogging routine. And, I’m thinking, much more than those 21 days to get back into it.

I have MISSED blogging. Every day that I spent knitting, looming, painting, my fingers were itching to get back at the keyboard. Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy all of these activities. But, there is a fine line between enjoying that whole creative process–whatever the medium or creation–and having your home look like a warehouse or assembly line. Due to that ol’ bugger Procrastination, I kept putting off making my Christmas gifts until that final moment. And then I crammed.

That happens a lot. I tend to motivate under pressure…and panic. As, I blogged earlier this week, I am determined to break this habit. But, in this case, it means developing a better habit to replace it. It means becoming that self-starter. Again…

Years ago, Thanksgiving would arrive and I would have already finished my Christmas shopping/creating (depending on which) before this holiday, have it all wrapped and would spend Black Friday filling out and mailing Christmas cards early. I would put up the Christmas tree and have it decorated so it could be enjoyed throughout the whole yuletide season. This year I didn’t even put up a Christmas tree. I got lost with Overwhelm, the buddy of Procrastination. How on earth did I fall off this bandwagon??? I can’t even remember the point where it all fell apart. But I am determined to rekindle that fire, that Something, inside of me that had me pumped so early in the season. I enjoyed it more.

And it is not exclusive to the holiday season.

Life seems to have gotten away from me. Maybe because I keep trying to take control instead of letting the One who is truly in control take charge. Maybe it is because I keep looking at the calendar, seeing that time running out, but, for some strange reason, think it will slow down for me long enough to catch up. Maybe I simply overcrowd my life with too much “busy” work. Or I simply have abandoned the discipline I used to have to put down that book, that magazine, that game or puzzle that has captured more of my attention than things more important. Maybe it’s a little of all of these things.

But this year, I am waging a war on it. I’ve been in this ‘blah’ sort of slump for too long. And it shows. I’m still searching for that accountability partner though…

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Creativity, Faith, Gratitude, Prayer, Spirituality, Writing

Reflections

Lisa Burbank

As the last 28 minutes of 2016 wind down to the first seconds of 2017, nostalgia for what has been, both the good and the not-so-good things, of this year kindles.

I am liable to start blubbering. I lost a lot of fur- and feather-babies this year and I feel those losses keenly. I keep looking for Alice and Ariel, Trooper and Jillian, Blessing, Patience, Squire and Charity. It doesn’t help that Ariel, Trooper and Jillian were all geriatrics. No matter how much time you have with someone you love–human or humane–it is never enough. Trooper was my problem “child”, always into mischief and squabbling with the other cats–especially Pearl. And every day we shared was a gift that I wouldn’t trade for all the tea in China. Nor would I have wanted him any other way. Ariel…she and I go way back. I was blessed with 16+ years with her; I couldn’t have asked for much more but, again, there is never enough time. That was especially true for Alice, who died too young and unexpectedly, but who graced my life with so much love and hope while he was here. (Yes, he. Alice was named for Alice Cooper.) Jillian Bunny was probably the least skittish out of all of my bunnies and patiently put up with regular groomings and haircuts. Though the latter was always a little stressful due to the constant worry about nicking her, it was also a bonding time with us, a time where she was the focus of all of my attention. And my chickens all greeted me with their songs each morning–except for Squire. I confess, though it saddens me that he also died fairly young, Squire was the meanest rooster I have ever known. I did everything the “experts” suggested to tame him but he was a nasty boy. I’m saddened over any loss but was more relieved than anything else when I found him in the barnyard last summer…suspiciously so after he challenged Sargent Feathers earlier in the day. Just saying…

That’s true for humans, too. There is never enough time and I am more grateful than any words can express that friends and family are all hale and hearty this year.

As midnight creeps ever closer, I’m looking back not only at the losses but also the triumphs of this year. I had a lot of good classes, wrote some good pieces for those classes and kept the 4.0 grade point average in tact. Yes, I am boasting a bit but I’m proud of what I have accomplished. I also worked with a wonderful woman named Farnoosh Brock this year, taking her Smart Exit Blueprint course–it helped me to focus on what matters the most in my life, my passions, hopes, dreams, and gave me the courage to step out of the comfort zone and follow my heart’s desires. I’m not changing careers so much as simply giving myself permission to pursue the one I have always wanted. That has been writing, of course. And this blog is another triumph. It’s no longer collecting dust and I have been blessed with new acquaintances along the way. Lastly, through the SEB program, and a fundraiser at church, I discovered a love for painting. I use acrylics for the moment; hoping to branch out with watercolors and oils, too.

New Year’s Resolutions? I blogged this morning about overcoming my tendency for procrastination. And that’s a big one, one I can’t ignore. I think I’m also going the more traditional route and add “losing weight” to my list. Forget the 20 lbs. by November 20th. The goal is to lose 30 lbs. this year, to get into better shape, improve my circulation and eat better, healthier. That will do for starters.

And, as it is now 12:05 a.m., I say ‘goodbye’ to 2016 and welcome a new year filled with hope and prayer and faith. It will be a good year.

Happy 2017!

May God bless you & keep you!

Creativity, Faith, Gratitude, Religion, Spirituality

Phew!

Lisa Burbank

That about sums it up. The last couple of weeks have been a whirlwind of, well, stress. I did exactly what I told myself I wasn’t going to do–got too caught up in the busyness of the season rather than actually enjoying it. The week before Christmas was spent in very late nights, early mornings, trying to finish everything I was making to give to those I love and cherish.

I remember one night, in particular, being up until 2 a.m. with my office looking like an assembly line with more than a dozen paintings laid out on the floor, or propped up against a wall, in various stages of completion: Okay. We need blue sky on this one, and this one, and this one. And I would mix a healthy dollop of white into the blue to get a good sky blue and slather it over the upper halves of each painting. Then, for those with ocean scenes, that same blue mixed with a drop of black to get that deep-sea blue, then lightened a bit with some contrasting color and a few lines of white to form the crest of waves and the foam in the wake of a sailboat or ship. I need to work on my ships. And my mesas. And almost all of the animals I painted in were either asleep or had their backs to the viewer. Or were silhouetted. I’m not confident enough yet in my painting abilities to tackle contours and facial expressions. We’ll get there. This term with SNHU is “Intro to Drawing”. And, later this year, an illustration class. I may see what Michael’s crafts has to offer on art classes, too.

But that’s neither here nor there.

I’m angry with myself for procrastinating all season long. I told myself this time last year that I would give myself a good, early start with my painting, knitting, or whatever else I was planning to make as gifts, and not give myself this sleep-deprived, stress-laden holiday effect. So much for remembering why we actually celebrate this season. Although I did attend Mass last Sunday, I vaguely remember fighting sleep the first half of the Mass. However, a bit of humor to slip in. It was my week to serve communion. The big Christmas celebration at church had been the evening before so, sadly, the early-morning Mass was nearly empty. Father Elson filled the goblets half-full and sent us to either side of the altar to give it to those parishioners who wanted to drink the blood of the Lamb. Well, because the numbers were so small, I still had half of a goblet full of wine at the end of communion. As Eucharistic ministers, we have to finish whatever is left as it cannot be wasted. That little half glass of wine, coupled with only 4 hours of sleep and an empty stomach came close to laying me out flat in the pew for the second half of the Mass. Sad, but true.

That’ll teach me…

But I’m not complaining. Not really. Dinner at Uncle Ernie’s the week before was a beautiful sharing with family–albeit, due to the recent family rifts, shy some well-loved members–and dinner Christmas Day at my Auntie Debbie’s was also a beautiful sharing of good food, a lot of laughter and love…and everyone seemed to like the sophomore attempts at artistry so those late nights weren’t a total wash. And the holiday season has not been without a good remembrance of why we really celebrate it, even if that remembrance came through a haze of fatigue.

My New Year’s resolution this year? To keep fighting against that eternal procrastinator so that I can enjoy those precious moments a little more. And a few more hours of sleep next holiday season. It may help to find that accountability partner to keep me on track. Any takers?

May God bless you & keep you!

Faith, Gratitude, Religion, Spirituality, Writing

A Quick Little Note…

Lisa Burbank

“Someday” I will learn not to procrastinate. “Someday” I will have made all of my Christmas presents ahead of schedule and not be cramming to get them finished–plus cramming on end-of-term assignments–and, alternately, goofing off with a good book or a quick game on the new smartphone that leads to several more.

Yup. I’m my own worst enemy. I have been dragging my backside for days now. The overwhelm that comes with last minute holiday ANYTHING has me by the throat. “Someday” I will start early enough that this “push” isn’t happening but I can slow down and savor the holiday moments. But “someday” isn’t today so a quick blog post to let everyone know I’m still in the land of the living. (Chuckle) And I have so missed blogging. There’s a certain peace that steals over me as I’m typing, a peace that we all should be looking for at this time of year–but a peace of a different sort, the ultimate peace that comes with Jesus.

Okay. Breathe. I know you’re all with me on this one. ‘Tis the season…but He is the reason for this season.

May God bless you & keep you!

Abuse, Alcoholism, Faith, Gratitude, Healing, Prayer, Religion, Spirituality

The Power of Prayer

Lisa Burbank

“Come and hear, all of you who reverence the Lord, and I will tell you what he did for me: For I cried to Him for help, with praises ready on my tongue. He would not have listened if I had not confessed my sins. But He listened! He heard my prayer! He paid attention to it! Blessed be God who did not turn away when I was praying, and did not refuse me his kindness and love.” Psalm 66:16-20

Today, for the first time in weeks, I dialed in to The Prayer Cafe. What is The Prayer Cafe? It is a 20 minute group prayer hosted by The Christian Mompreneur Network. Though I am not a Mom (at least of any human children), I am seeking to build my own home-based business–in plural, actually. And, while, yes, I hope that at least one of these business ventures succeeds well enough to sustain Mom and I and our menagerie of fur and feather babies, I also hope that at least one of these business ventures will succeed well enough that I can also give back to the community.

And therein lies the truth of where I’ve been at fault.

I started this blog post to talk about prayer and how my soul has been thirsting for this 20 minutes each week of prayer and fellowship with these ladies–ladies I have never met face-to-face but whom I have grown to love very much. I have been thirsting, feeling dried up and maybe a little hopeless inside. I posted a prayer request because of all the financial difficulties I’ve been assaulted with of late–November was a rough month all around with 3 major losses of beloved fur and feather babies, and the usual stress of re-applying for emergency mortgage assistance until I can finally get back on my feet financially. The end of that first paragraph was an “Aha!” moment. The host of The Prayer Cafe posted something afterwards to me about the biblical truth of “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all of your needs will be met.” He spoke to her heart. And He just spoke to mine.

Did I not just type it the other way around? Did I not just type about giving back to the community AFTER the blurb about my own needs? I’m too focused on my own problems instead of giving them up to God. Instead of letting Him take control of my life. And so, He gave my friend the wisdom to post this reminder of His love, and His command, to seek Him FIRST. It’s not about me. It’s about Him. And always has been.

What does He want for me? (Note: that’s FOR me, not FROM me…) What are His plans for my life? Have I ever stopped to ask…and stayed long enough to listen to my heart, the voice of God speaking within it? Usually I run away from the answer out of fear, out of that lack of trust that I blogged about last week. I’m afraid to “Let go and let God”. Afraid that some part of me is not worthy of such goodness. That’s what comes from growing up with alcoholism and abuse but I can only blame others, perhaps, for the first 18 years of my life; what I’ve done or experienced since is on me. And I am choosing to hand the reins over to the God of my consciousness, a God of love.

Does that mean that hard times are going to miraculously stop happening? No. He doesn’t promise us smooth sailing, just a safe landing at the end of it all. He promises to love us, to see us safely through all of life’s challenges. If only we will place our trust in Him. And praise Him for every minute thing we have–both good and bad, because He can use all things to make our lives richer, better, in the long run.

I needed prayer today. I need prayer everyday. We all do. But, in our modern world, where faith in God is often exploited and derided, we neglect our spiritual life. We don’t have time, we tell ourselves. We don’t have the money to give at church because food is scarce or the bills need paying, etc. We walk around with this scarcity mindset, a mindset that only sets us up to attract more of the same. We start neglecting everyone and everything that matters most to us, pushing aside precious moments–time that we can never get back, pushing aside even our most basic needs, pushing aside God. When He is the answer to all of this. Taking those 20 minutes or so today to indulge in this much-needed rest with Him in fellowship and prayer was just what the doctor ordered. I feel more refreshed and at peace. And, in the end, that’s what we’re all searching for. His peace.

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Faith, Gratitude, Homesteading, Nature, Religion, Spirituality

Winter Wonderland

Lisa Burbank

The unmistakable smack and part-scrape, part-screech of a metal plow hitting and running along the pavement caught my attention yesterday morning. I had forgotten all about the 1″ of snow Mom advised me of the night before. Eh, how often are the weather people right? I looked out my office window and discovered that, this time, they were. Most of the ground was coated and, looking towards the massive spotlight in the parking lot across the street (even in darkest night, my house is lit up like a Christmas tree), I could see flakes still falling.

The child in me lit up like that Christmas tree. No, it’s not a “No school Foster-Gloucester” kind of morning, as Salty Brine used to say, and was the hero of every school age child in Rhode Island throughout the 1960’s and 70’s–and probably a few decades before. Snow or not, my college studies continue. But the memory of what the first snowfall used to mean clung to me like one of those icicles that form in late-spring after a perpetual cycle of thaw and re-freeze. Forget that I am a 50 year-old woman and that snowfall now equals back pain and muscle aches from endless hours of shoveling. It’s the first snow for Pete’s sake! And only an inch of it; no shoveling required. I couldn’t wait to get outside and experience it.

And neither could Max. Max, the lily-livered Blue Heeler who will hide behind every chair, on the stair well, any place he can squeeze his bologna sausage-shaped body to avoid going out in even a light mist of rain, catapulted himself off of the sofa yesterday morning, all tail wags, to go out in the fluffy white stuff (sorry, S-N-O-W is regarded as a disgusting swear word in the office at the dealership…LOL!). There was no hesitation. He pranced out onto the back deck and immediately put his nose down into it, sniffed, sneezed, snorted and then bounded off the deck, on the deck, and fairly skipped with me to the chicken coop.

That’s the spirit…

While the ground coverage was thin and actually spotty in some places, still, it was like someone magically transformed my backyard into that proverbial winter wonderland. Everywhere I looked, I saw pristine white. And the still-falling flakes made me feel as though someone had stuffed me into one of those snow globes…you know the ones, those kitschy ornaments that you shake and watch “snow” over whatever plastic, painted scene is protected under dome. And I loved every moment in it.

A few trips back and forth with Max to fill the smaller winter duck “pool”, scatter leftovers and birdseed for the chickens under the overhang where the snow didn’t fall, and replenish the outdoor waterers, and then Max went back inside the house so that chickens and ducks could come out to play.

Normally, I open the door of the hen house and take a quick step out of the way as 18 chickens and 3 ducks explode out of the house. Yesterday morning, Duncan, Dweezil and Dixie Ducks–affectionately and collectively known as The Quackers–waddled right outside and straight into their minuscule pool, obviously overjoyed to see this winter wonderland. Eh, snow’s only frosty water after all. However, there was a log jam of chickens at the door of the hen house. Goldie, the barking chicken (yes, she barks; she does NOT cackle or cluck. Whether this is learned “speech”, a mimicry of Max, or just her natural “singing” voice, I don’t know but Goldie barks…most convincingly…like a dog), squealed her brakes at the door jamb. Every hen and rooster in the chicken marathon behind her plowed into the back of her. Amazingly, she kept her footing and stayed just inside the door jamb. You could almost see the cogs turning as she took in this strange yet vaguely-remembered phenomena. Nope. She didn’t like this at all. It wasn’t until Sunset, Tank and a few others grew impatient and flew over her and into the yard that she finally resigned herself to cold feet for the rest of the day. And only Taffy ventured beyond the coop at first. In her usual pell-mell way, she came racing out of the hen house behind everyone else, squawking and cackling at the top of her lungs and racing, well, “normal” would be racing across and back again the yard but, with snow on the ground, her “race” was a wide arc around to the door of the goat barn. Race around in the snow? Maybe not…

A half hour later, goats, chickens and ducks all watered, fed and wandering free, the snow turned to a mix of snow and rain. The pristine whiteness rapidly gave way to the mud and muck of the barnyard again. But, for a few shining moments, I walked through magic, a magic that makes all things new again…just as Jesus makes all things new again.

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Environment, Frugality, Gratitude, Minimalism

The Minimalist Challenge

Lisa Burbank

An article about the Minimalist Challenge was posted on Treehugger.com last month. My interest piqued right from the get-go but, as I had fallen behind on reading my Treehugger newsletters, we were halfway through the month and, rather than play “catch-up”–which seems to be the story of my life–I decided I’d meet the challenge in December instead of November.

So, what is the Minimalist Challenge? Every day for the month of December, I am purging my home of unwanted or unneeded items based upon the date. In other words, on December 1st, I removed one item. On December 2nd, it was two. Today is the 5th so I will be removing 5 items, and so on, and so forth. By now, you get the picture. By December 31st when I remove 31 items, all total for the month, I will have donated, recycled, re-purposed or, as a last resort, disposed of almost 600 items. Can I do it? You betcha! But why not just pick those 600 items up front? Because that would the most daunting task. By selecting only a certain number each day, it breaks the task into smaller, manageable bites.

Why would I do all of this though? Because, unless we’re talking homeless, unwanted, abandoned, abused and/or neglected animals (within reason, of course…and insert cheeky grin here), my philosophy is “less is best”. While I joke that my dream home is in either Alaska or Maine, the truth is, my dream is simply a much smaller house. I really love the concept of a tiny house and this is just a step in that direction, a step towards living with much, much less. It is a much more inexpensive way to live. The less you have, the less you have to maintain. A larger living space equals bigger repairs, repairs that will almost always require a professional that I can seldom afford to pay. As a single woman on a single income, well, those of you who drive by the black house on Route 6 every day (and I seem to have started a trend as I keep seeing more and more black houses cropping up on Route 6 and many of the surrounding streets, too…lol!) are privy to the unkempt fixer-upper that never seems to get fixed up. Less is also easier on the environment. Less living space means a smaller area to light, to heat in the wintertime or cool in the summer. Lower energy usage is always good for the planet. And good for all of us who share it.

However, I’m not relocating to a tiny house…at least not for the moment. Tiny house living has been relegated to that never-reached point in time called “Someday”. Minimalizing today is simply to remove the clutter that distracts, irritates, stresses me out; clutter that loses important items in a sea of useless or unnecessary “stuff”. This is “stuff” that, oftentimes, could benefit others if I simply took the time to go through it and donate it to the appropriate places. For this purge, many of the items I’m purging are books that I know I will never read again; clothes that no longer fit, or else I never really liked the way they fit in the first place; extra jars that I saved for storing dried herbs in but I have a few too many taking up much-needed kitchen storage. I have old cellphones that could be donated to women’s shelters. And a mountain of knick knacks that always seem to end up in my possession after someone else’s purge. These will go into a box labeled “Yard Sale” for next spring. While I have a few choice what-nots, I prefer a very select few to a mountain of fancy dust collectors. I guess I’m a bit Amish at heart because I like plain, simple living. I’d rather have utilitarian items hanging on my kitchen wall–like measuring cups and pot holders and colanders.

I’m enjoying this challenge. Looking around me, going through items that I haven’t thought of or used in a long time, is proving to be liberating. Not only in the amount of space that is being freed up, but also, I am finding myself wandering down memory lane, remembering people and events in my life tied to some of these items. I confess, that can make some of this purging painful but, anything with a strong sentimental attachment, can stay. The idea isn’t to tear a hole in my heart. But allowing myself these memories is proving a great way to celebrate the yuletide season. I spend most of my year hustling and bustling about so much that, to quote Jewel’s song “Deep Water”, my “standard of living somehow got stuck on survive”. If nothing else, the house is also getting a good cleaning. And I’m remembering a book I read about the art of Feng Shui, about how doing these sort of purges, giving things away to those in need, opens the door for you to receive as well. I sincerely hope that doesn’t mean more knick knacks but I think this philosophy falls in line with the biblical truth of it being “in giving that we receive”.

Either way, I am accepting this challenge. And I am doing so with a smile. It’s actually fun. And I am looking forward to seeing those select few momentos taking center stage on their own little shelves…instead of hidden amidst the “busy”.

Are you ready for the minimalist challenge? Maybe more so than you know.

May God bless you & keep you!

Abuse, Alcoholism, Faith, Forgiveness, Gratitude, Healing, Religion, Spirituality

The Great Divider

Lisa Burbank

“Now it is time to forgive him and comfort him. Otherwise he may become so bitter and discouraged that he won’t be able to recover. Please show him now that you still do love him very much.” 2 Corinthians 2:7-8

The Great Divider, the Adversary, has been working his mischief in my life of late. Instead of being loving and forgiving, instead of swallowing my pride and reaching out to others with whom I have a bit of conflict, anger and bitterness have been welling up inside and a part of me is ready to cut all ties, to slam the proverbial door in the faces of those who have recently hurt me. And I know that is definitely NOT God’s plan.

I am speaking of the family conflicts that have arisen these past few months, conflicts that I have blogged about a few times. I’ve tried to keep mum about them as much as possible but my soul is hurting because, people I have trusted above all others, have lied about me, lied to me, and now accuse me of things that they should know better about me…even to questioning my faith in the Lord and my vocation as a minister. I know the Bible says the world will hate me because I am His but I don’t think that’s the motivation behind it.

Or is it?

I am suddenly maligned because I won’t take a side in this family conflict. I cannot. Even if I wasn’t a minister, family is extremely important to me and, the idea of turning my back on any family member, goes against everything I believe in. Yes, I know there are many who come from families where they’ve been abused and seriously mistreated–I can claim some of that myself, coming from an alcoholic home with a stepfather who wanted too much to do with me. So I understand why some would not want to associate with family if such an association only brings more pain. Finding the strength to walk away from that abuse and mistreatment takes courage. I know. I’ve been there. And I respect those feelings in anyone who has or is walking a similar path. For myself, I’ve come around full circle, finding forgiveness for those who have either abused me, or who saw the abuse and did nothing to try and stop it. Forgiveness does not wipe the slate clean, it does not justify the offense, the act, the unkind words, etc. Forgiveness, however, does cleanse the soul–the soul of the person who is finally willing to surrender and offer that forgiveness. Forgiveness takes away the resentment that has built upon our souls, resentment that opens the door for that Great Divider, Lucifer, and gives him free rein to wreak even more havoc in our lives. By choosing to forgive, we open the door to Jesus Christ and allow the healing of our broken and battered souls, minds, spirits and bodies to be complete. I cannot change what has happened in my past. Holding onto that resentment and anger only hurts me more; it doesn’t hurt the people who have hurt me. It doesn’t stab them with guilt so that they want to repent. In fact, holding onto that grudge, that resentment, only gives others a power over us, a power that is not of God’s way, a power that tears us down and makes us less than what we are. In short, by holding onto that resentment and anger, another person can claim a victory over us. As can the Adversary. Forgiveness gives us the Power to heal. It tells that Great Divider to “get thee behind me” in Jesus’ name.

There are countless references in the Bible about forgiveness. And each and every one of them admonishes us to forgive our brethren because, if we do not, our Father in heaven will not forgive us. And, no matter how much I may try to deny it, I am as much a sinner as the next soul. So I am choosing forgiveness.

And yet, there’s still that little voice, the voice of my wounded self, that still wants to snarl and sneer. I am still looking to lash out, to shout at the selfishness of spirit that keeps dividing us. And, as I do so, I am reminded of the entry I read today in my Al-Anon daily reader, Courage to Change: “Other people can be our mirrors, reflecting our better and worse qualities. They can help us to work through conflicts from the past that were never resolved. They can act as catalysts, activating parts of ourselves that need to rise to the surface so that we can attend to them.” What part of this situation is pointing that spotlight back on me?

I want to be liked by everyone. That’s the sin of pride. I have this unrealistic view of that utopian world, a world where everyone gets along and shares only the best of themselves. Would that this world existed, but by trying to force it to be so, I am in danger of doing more harm than good. And I can recognize that abused little girl inside of me that gets violently shaken whenever voices and tensions arise. I hate conflict. I avoid it to my own detriment because I still struggle with how to assert myself. Speaking my mind, speaking up for myself, was not encouraged growing up. And, really, I’m thinking that this is the conflict from my past that has never been resolved. For the first time, I asserted myself in this situation. I refused to allow myself to be bullied into taking a side. Because that’s what was done. I was given an ultimatum and I refused to give in to it. For the first time, I refused to be a nodding doll, holding my tongue about things that I didn’t agree with simply to keep the peace. I’m sure for some family members this has been akin to one of our resident mice suddenly developing fangs and claws to pounce on my cats rather than the other way around. No, I didn’t “pounce”. I asserted myself calmly. But the effect was the same. While I have never been guilty of trading secrets or bad-mouthing anyone behind their back, because I kept silent when others said things that didn’t sit right, I can certainly understand why others might believe I would. “Keeping silent” has hurt people I care about, has hurt me, and it is akin to lying, even if an untruth was never uttered. By keeping silent, I have given a false impression. I’m not sure if this last revelation is that “mirror” talked about in Courage to Change but it is certainly that catalyst activating a part of me that needs to be attended to. While I would wish it otherwise, and while I know I will never be comfortable with loud voices and angry confrontations, it is better to risk that anger, that disagreement, than deliver another shock to someone later on down the line. And maybe, just maybe, I can finally learn to value myself enough to communicate without harm.

May God bless you & keep you!