Category: Animals

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Yang Leaves, Takes Hope with Him

Lisa Burbank

“Why, then, should you forget us, abandon us so long a time? Lead us back to you, O Lord, that we may be restored: give us anew such days as we had of old. For now you have indeed rejected us, and in full measure turned your wrath against us.” (Lamentations 5:20-22)

Last night when I received the word that Andrew Yang had suspended his campaign, I felt like I had been clubbed at the knees. I’m not surprised, really. The Democratic propaganda machine decided from the beginning that they wouldn’t allow Yang to run all the way. From pro-Democrat media outlets repeatedly inserting journalist John Yang’s picture instead of Andrew Yang’s in debate posters, to the muting of Andrew’s mic in many of the debates so that he couldn’t get the attention of the moderators when he wanted to speak, this man has been snubbed at every turn. Not by his fellow peers on the Democratic stage. Many of the other candidates–Republican and Democrat alike–have started parroting some of his talking points. But by the DNC itself. Yang is an outsider, not a career politician. And, I’m guessing, many of his ideas have seemed too radical for more traditional Democrats. I’ve also heard the argument from many that we have someone in office already who is not a career politician…and, sadly, we’ve become more polarized than ever since the 2016 election. So, while I’m not surprised, I am heartsick and disappointed.

Before I alienate every Republican in the room, like Yang, I am not here to attack President Trump or anyone who has supported him. In 2016, the majority of voters simply voted for what they viewed as the lesser of two evils and, depending on your party affiliation, voted accordingly.

Yang got that. And so do I.

In this last debate, he became very vocal about how Donald Trump was not the cause of this nation’s problems. He wanted to bring us together as a nation again. He wanted us to start talking and working together to get things done, to help the American people–many of whom are hurting worst than ever today. He said that Donald Trump was a symptom of the ills in our society, not the disease itself.

And he was right.

Granted, some of President Trump’s shenanigans may have turned that disease terminal. So many of our environmental protections have been rolled back under his administration. Again we must fear that our drinking water is more unsafe and unclean, species of life hang on a thinner thread dangling towards extinction, and our air quality is declining at an alarming rate with the roll back of emissions’ standards.

The environment is what swayed my vote in 2016; it always is. It’s also the reason I started homesteading: I want to know what’s in my food, my medicine, and even my clothing…and I don’t want it to be more chemicals and plastic, the latter a by-product of the fossil fuel industry.

We do have more jobs now.

However, if you’re in the job market, as I still am, you know that most of those jobs are part-time, temporary, seasonal and/or minimum wage. In Connecticut, minimum wage was recently increased from $10.10 an hour to $11.00 an hour. Even if you’re lucky enough to find someone to hire you full-time at minimum wage, that comes out to $440 a week before taxes and SSI, etc. are deducted. Gross income for the month is $1760.00. Again, this is before taxes, etc. are taken out. And, if you’re full-time, we have to factor in benefits as well. So, if you’re lucky, you may be taking home, roughly, $1400-$1500 a month. A one bedroom apartment in Connecticut averages $1200 a month…nothing included. And, sadly, most of these minimum wage gigs are, like my current position, also part-time. $1400-$1500 a month is grossly optimistic and totally unsustainable for the average person trying to stay afloat. It’s only one illness, one injury, one major car repair, etc. away from falling behind…perhaps indefinitely. And, if you can find two or three part-time gigs whose hours don’t overlap, you’re likely to run down fast trying to keep up this crazy pace…making you more ripe for that injury or illness.

Our unemployment numbers are better only because, yes, people are working, but they’re going without food, without medicine–much needed prescriptions, such as insulin and blood pressure meds–without hope just to keep a simple roof overhead.

Yes, hope.

You can’t do much if you lose that. And, no, Yang is not on the same plateau as my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, but in him I saw a humble man with a heart, someone with a clear vision of how it could be in this country, of how we could help lift

Every.

Single.

American.

Period.

I truly fear for our country now because most of the remaining candidates do not understand why Trump got elected. They think taxing the rich will work. Yang debunked that; other countries have tried it. It failed. They think an increase in minimum wage will help. It will only create more part-time gigs…and fewer full-time because employers cannot afford it. Like the citizens of this country who are, like me, only an injury or an illness away from homelessness and total financial ruin, most businesses are slowly being beaten out of business by big tech companies like Amazon. They can’t compete when Amazon can run much of its operation with robots…instead of humans who demand a wage for their labor. Just look at your main street empty storefronts for proof of this. Even Walmart is going automated, having recently remodeled and removed more than half of their cashiers for self-checkouts.

Every one of those self-checkout lines is an American job being lost.

Let that sink in.

And it has nothing to do with Latinos and Hispanics coming across our southern borders. That’s a Republican propaganda fable to prey on our fears and uncertainties, our prejudices and bigotries.

I’ve been hit and miss on this blog because I’ve spent the better part of this year sharing Yang interviews and speeches, highlighting his policies from his website and sharing them on social media, and even canvassing for signatures to get him on every ballot. It’s the first time in my 50+ years that I have believed enough in a candidate’s platform to lend my support in whatever way I can. He may still get my vote…written in and impotent and not likely to ruffle the feathers of any other candidate.

You see, with foreclosure looming ever larger overhead, owing to the lack of a decent-paying job, to reduce the stress and worry, to channel all of my negative energy and emotions on something other than my problems, I threw myself wholeheartedly into this campaign. I haven’t ignored my problems. But, having something else to occupy my mind has made life more bearable, sleep more manageable–rather than the anxiety-induced insomnia. Some may argue it was an escape but, I would not be the first person in the world to donate her time and energy to a bigger cause…and find a solution to her own troubles along the way. Sometimes we stress and obsess so much that we block any good coming in. I gave my troubles to God and focused on getting Yang into office.

Again, he wasn’t a savior, or an idol. He was simply someone I would’ve been proud to call “President of the United States”…instead of another heavy sigh of “Oh, well, this one seems the lesser of two evils”. At this point, I’ll settle for Vice-President Yang. Is anyone listening?

May God bless you & keep you!

Abuse, Addiction, Alcoholism, Animals, Appreciation, Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Compassion, Creativity, Culture, Enlightenment, Exhaustion, Faith, Family, Forgiveness, Friendship, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Healing, Homesteading, illness, LGBTQ, Love, Nostalgia, Open-mindedness, Politics, Prayer, Religion, Scripture, Self-esteem, Self-improvement, Supernatural, Understanding, Worm castings, Worm Tea, Writing

What if?

Lisa Burbank

“For the Lord watches over all the plans and paths of godly men, but the paths of the godless lead to doom.” (Psalms 1:6)

“What if” must be the most terrifying sentence in the world as it opens up every can of worms and sends them wriggling across the floor of our hearts where they feed and fester and eat away at our very soul. “What if” can stop us in our tracks from whatever our pursuits. “What if” is the ultimate second guessing of ourselves, our loved ones, our community and even our government. “What if” reflects a serious lack of faith.

And yet, I succumb to asking this question at least 20 times a day.

“What if” I can’t stop the foreclosure? “What if” I can’t find another place for us to live? I mean, it’s a tall order when you have a farm and an aging mother to provide for. “What if” the new job doesn’t culminate into something bigger? “What if” I don’t find work to sustain us? “What if” my dreams are only that–dreams–and never come to fruition? And everything shuts down inside as fight-or-flight spirals into overdrive. I find myself mentally, emotionally and even physically paralyzed with fear and panic and all those negative emotions the adversary would like us to believe in.

Instead of Him.

In my Al-Anon daily reader it talks about how you learn to accept uncertainty in life when you live with alcoholism. Plans and rules change ad nauseum and we’re left with a shattered trust that taints our present and our future. It also talks about how we react to every situation with desperation, fearing there’s only one chance–regardless of the situation. Sort of like the questions I asked above.

I know well where my anxiety comes from. And while the worries and fears may continue to surface, I’m learning how to beat them back into, well, maybe not complete submission, but at least I can send them to the corner for awhile for disrupting my life yet again. “What if” He breaks my hold here to give me the farm and animal sanctuary of my dreams? “What if” He demonstrates a miracle through me by manifesting the impossible–total “catch up” and halt of the foreclosure? “What if” the perfect “job” is the work that my heart, hands and imagination create each day as I sit here at this keyboard? “What if” I am loved beyond my ability to comprehend and He really does have my best interest in His heart, ready to write it loudly and clearly on mine?

And yours.

When we succumb to the apathy, the only one who wins is the adversary. And we can’t let him win. He’s been at the forefront of this world for too long now. What if we manifest a more positive world with love for everyone, regardless of where they come from, how they look, how they dress, who they love, or what they believe? What if we love ourselves unconditionally–not as a narcissist whose “love” is really a mask for their lack of confidence and self-esteem–so that we can love our neighbors as ourselves? As Christ commanded that we do. Kind of hard to love someone as yourself if you don’t have a love for yourself, a love that recognizes self as a child of God, in the first place. “What if” we finally opened our hearts to that unconditional love and spread it throughout the globe? Talk about a war on terrorism! Anxiety-the internal terrorism of self.

May God bless you & keep you!

Abuse, Addiction, Alcoholism, Animal Rights, Animals, Appreciation, Bereavement, Books, Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Climate Change, Compassion, Creativity, Culture, ecosystems, Emergency Preparedness, Enlightenment, Environment, Faith, Family, Fashion, Fiber Arts, Fleece, Forgiveness, Friendship, Frugality, Gaia, gardening, Global Warming, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Grief, Healing, Herbs, History, Holistic Health, Homesteading, illness, Love, Memories, Minimalism, Nature, No-dig Gardening, Nostalgia, Open-mindedness, Organic, permaculture, Plants, Politics, Religion, Scripture, Self-esteem, Self-improvement, Spices, Spinning, Spirituality, Straw Braiding, Understanding, Weaving, Wool, Worm castings, Worm Tea, Writing, Zero Waste

I Have Been a Coward

Lisa Burbank

“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? When evil men come to destroy me, they will stumble and fall! Yes, though a mighty army marches against me, my heart shall know no fear! I am confident that God will save me.” (Psalms 27:1-3)

Back in 2017, especially towards the end of the year, my blog posts had gotten deeper. I no longer was exploring homesteading endeavors only but some of the real issues that I have faced over the years. Sometimes I questioned myself, wondering what these issues, such as alcoholism and abuse, had to do with homesteading. But I continued onward, seeking to find both a voice and a niche in the blogging world. What I eventually came to was that every homestead is different and reflects the individuality of the person/people living and/or working it. And, while this is a homestead–albeit a struggling one these days as I seek to find work to sustain us off the property–it is also a home. And the people that live here are human…with all of the human failings of every individual.

This homestead is the brain child of a 50-something-year-old woman whose father has never wanted any part of her life…and a step-father who wanted too much to do with her, if you take my meaning. It’s the brain child of a child who watched in terror as this same stepfather popped open that first can of many beers until he was raving drunk, breaking everything he could lay hands on, kicking holes in the walls and beloved pets across the floor, screaming like a banshee and generally terrorizing us all. I also saw the opposite side of alcoholism with a grandfather, the same paternal grandfather who instilled my love of writing, who came home inebriated, mildly sat down on the sofa, pulled me onto his knee and spent the rest of the evening reading fairy tales to me…or teaching this 3 year-old granddaughter the finer points of chess. At 8 years’ old, I visited a very yellow-skinned Poppop in the nursing home for the last time. And then was told by, again, the stepfather and my Mom not to cry about his passing because it might upset my maternal grandfather, with whom we were staying, and cause him to have another stroke.

However, before I continue to paint my stepfather in the darkest terms, there’s even a flip side to this raging form of alcoholism. He was endlessly patient when helping me with homework. He praised my writing to the hilt and, before he died, told me in all confidence that I would be a great writer someday and have that bestseller. I sincerely hope he is right. But, even if he isn’t, despite the abuse I endured from this man, it means a lot to me to have such confidence behind me…even as a part of me fears a feeling of failure if I never do write that bestseller.

Such is the mark of abuse: confidence is always subjective at best.

Some of my posts, and one in particular, focused heavily on the effects of alcoholism in a family. It shapes dynamics, creates an atmosphere of fear and distrust even among loved ones, and fosters a lack of communication. There were consequences to speaking your mind.

And I felt them after such posts.

One aunt, in particular, refuses to speak to me after one such post, denying such dynamics exist in our family because, on my mother’s side of the family, the last generation of active alcoholics was my great-grandparents. My post talked about learned behavior that, sadly, can be passed from one generation to the next. That’s why Al-Anon refers to alcoholism as a “family disease” because, in essence, it’s catching…even if you don’t drink.

Then there was the blog post, which has long since been taken down, where I lamented the cruel treatment of an animal where I was working. I came close to being fired, was put on probation, and threatened with litigation. Sure, I should’ve gone through the proper channels and brought the treatment to the attention of my supervisor first. I was so horrified, I didn’t think about it until after I’d calmed down…and after the damage had already been done, so to speak. I don’t negate what I witnessed–and continued to witness–but I stopped writing about it. And floundered some mornings about what to write about at all. After being written up for this infraction, I got reprimanded again for another post that, in all honesty, I never even considered might be offensive. In that post, I lamented being unable to serve at church on Sunday mornings because of the work schedule conflict. It wasn’t meant as a shot against the employer in question but they took it that way.

These hands have been, sadly, quiet over the last year-and-a-half or so. Fear of retribution has made me second guess every word typed. Yes, I know, as a writer, I have a responsibility to be cognizant of people’s feelings. I also know that I am going to piss some people off even without intending to. I know that I cannot please everyone and, maybe, depending on the subject of my post, someone will get angry enough to seek compensation for what they view as a damaging image created by those words. However, while I have no desire to cause pain to anyone, I also know that by remaining silent, sometimes I cause more pain.

To myself.

And, yes, to others, too.

None of the above subjects have anything to do with homesteading directly. Nor do the political or religious issues that sometimes crop up and demand my attention. However, they do have something to do with this homestead. Every homestead is unique. Not just in what that homestead produces, such as fruits and vegetables, herbs, fiber products, honey, etc but in the human force behind it.

What hurdles have those humans had to jump over to get to where they are right now? What hurdles have become road blocks to their success? What issues influence why they are homesteading in the first place? And what issues influence the direction they take?

I started homesteading because I wanted to rescue abused and neglected creatures. I wanted to help those without a voice, as well as remember those beloved pets of my youth whom I was too young and powerless to protect. Later, as I learned more about herbs, a love started by my mother when she cured a tenacious strain of conjunctivitis (pink-eye) with a decoction of spearmint leaves, I wanted to grow my own herbs organically and experience the healing power I’d heard so much of regarding gardening. Then, as commercial food products continue to get recalled and we learn about the harmful chemicals used in growing food on a commercial scale, I wanted to heal myself and my loved ones by growing as much of our food myself as possible. This led to an awareness of how much our planet is hurting due to the toxins in our air, water, soil and bodies. Many of those toxins come from plastic clothing, the synthetic fibers like nylon and microfibers and Spandex, etc that release tiny particles into our waterways every time we throw them in the washer. My brief career in living history was an enduring experience because of the gift of learning how to raise and then process natural fibers–without harm to the animals in question.

No, I can’t save the world. But I can mitigate the harm to our planet by reducing my own abuse of resources…and educating others on ways that they can reduce that carbon footprint as well. And I may not be able to save every animal who hurts or suffers under human abuse, neglect and/or exploitation, but I can mitigate some of that suffering one creature at a time…and, when resources allow, help empower others in the field of animal welfare.

Have I fallen short of the mark in my endeavors? Of course. I am human…with all of the human failings of our species. I can be lazy and undisciplined. I procrastinate. I can be short-sighted. I can also be loving and kind and laser-focused at times. I’m creative and a bit of a Pollyanna–this last can be both a failing and a success, depending upon one’s perspective. I’m also tackling another hurdle right now in trying to save this homestead from certain foreclosure if I don’t find a position, or a means of supplementing the current one, that helps me get caught up on all the back payments due.

I’ve cringed every time I’ve blogged about my financial situation. Shame, which is part of that pride cycle, has filled me even though I know my current situation stems from an unexpected fall and the subsequent injury I sustained in that fall. In many ways, it’s been a blessing. It’s made me stop and realize that, over the years, I have judged others less fortunate harshly. I’ve shared a common belief that somehow this person may have brought their troubles on themselves.

When I ought to know better.

In short, I’ve been a coward about humbling myself to my readers. I’ve allowed a few wrist slaps to influence the direction and reason for this blog. And, while those wrist slappings may curb some overzealous crusades, if I allow them to silence me entirely, I don’t deserve to be a writer at all. While a writer has a responsibility to all of the things I mentioned above, a writer also has a responsibility to share the truth, to be genuine, to lift people up and shed the Light of that truth on as much of the anger and prejudice and sufferings in this world as he or she can.

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Appreciation, Environment, Faith, Gratitude, Healing, Herbs, Holistic Health, Homesteading, Prayer, Reflexology, Reiki, Self-esteem, Self-improvement, Touch for Health

Closer to Home

Lisa Burbank

“After you have suffered a little while, our God, who is full of kindness through Christ, will give you His eternal glory. He personally will come and pick you up, and set you firmly in place, and make you stronger than ever. To Him be all power over all things forever and ever. Amen.” (1 Peter 5:10, 11)

Well, I got the job.

I’m a little stunned because it happened so fast, but it feels good to have someone believe in me so quickly. Granted, it’s part-time–at least to start–but it’s also steady income without the stress of being a temp where the proverbial rug can get pulled out from under me at any given moment. Will it be enough to turn this mortgage thing around? It’s too early to tell. If I’m being completely honest, probably not. But it’s better than “temp” and both the pay rate and the hours will increase after the 3 month probationary period. The real beauty is I’m within easy walking distance from home. That’s a significant savings on gasoline and car maintenance. It’s also healthier for both me and the planet.

Oh. I guess I am getting ahead of myself. So just what is this new job?

Funny you should ask.

The writer gets to feed her other passion: I’m the new town librarian/library clerk (positions are combined due to budgetary constraints). Soon, one of my own stories will be gracing their shelves. For now, I get to be surrounded by others’ literary works, the printed page, the smell of crisp-musty miracles…for isn’t the imagination a miracle in itself?

And, while I may have part-time hours (at least in the beginning), I don’t intend to be idle. I have long dreamed of having a designated space for giving treatments in Reflexology, Reiki and Touch for Health. Most spas, health clubs, and even some doctor’s offices, rent space for holistic health treatments but there’s usually a rent on the space. In northeastern Connecticut, that rent averages around $300-$400 a month. And, despite the expense, the space isn’t all yours. You have to share it with others in the field so that your own personal stamp cannot be marked. I dream of hosting on-going food drives to help support the local food pantries and giving people a discount on their treatments when they bring in valid non-perishables and even pet food for the animal shelters. I long to host prayer meetings and maybe start a writer’s workshop. It will also be classroom space for when I finally have my garden landscaped for teaching herbs. I have the space. It just requires some elbow grease to make it happen.

So that’s where I am tonight.

There is some sorrow mixed. I had high hopes that the temp position I’m currently working would become permanent (or semi-permanent; there’s no such thing as a permanent job). I’ve been working with some incredibly awesome people, many of whom have become friends. But I’ve also been feeling a little like the horse having the carrot dangled before him: promises of a sweet reward that I can never obtain. I can’t catch up on my finances with promises. I need steady. And I’m putting my trust firmly in Him that whatever decision I make in this endeavor is exactly the right one to align with His plans for me, that I’m right where He wants me to be.

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Bereavement, Compassion, Environment, Family, Forgiveness, Grief, Holidays, Memories, Nostalgia

2019 Reflections

Lisa Burbank

“And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment.

And the second is like, namely this, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. There is none other commandment greater than these.” (Mark 12:30-31)

This has probably been the most challenging year to date…both on a personal level, and on a national level. First, the personal level: foreclosure is eminent unless I can come up with $14,000 within the next 60 days. Then the mortgage company will start proceedings. I’m doing my best to sock away every spare penny but, with only part-time work, it’s not easy. I truly need a miracle.

On a national level, we’ve seen our country divided by an ever-widening gap. If I had all the right answers, I’d probably make that $14,000 in a fortnight. I’m hoping the coming year finds us re-learning how to speak and how to listen and how to hold on to love in our hearts for every person, every animal, every living thing–including Mother Earth, who is struggling so greatly. Regardless of what we look like, where we originally come from, the color of our skin, our orientation, political affiliation or beliefs, we all bleed the same. I’m hoping 2020 creates in all of us a growing awareness of how much we all have in common, rather than what divides us. I’m hoping our economy truly does improve–rather than just better numbers that don’t reflect the true state of affairs. I’m hoping whatever way the political winds blow next November that climate change will be THE priority; there is so little time left. I’m hoping, too, that we can start having the kinds of conversations that lead to reparations for any and all who have been wronged/harmed in the past. And, if I’m really going to go the whole cock-eyed optimist route, I’m hoping every single body has a home and healthy food and a good-paying source of income that allows them to raise their heads high before I post my 2020 reflections’ page.

Yes, I know that sounds like pride. I prefer to think of my last wish, instead, as empowering.

Of course, my reflections’ piece also remembers those who will not grace The Herbal Hare Homestead and Holistic Health. This year, I lost my oldest kitty, Paz; he was 19. He simply stretched out on the kitchen floor this past August and went to sleep. Never did he show signs of distress or illness, injury, or any other affliction. I couldn’t have asked for a kinder end for this little guy but there’s an empty place in my home…and in my heart where Pazzy will forever belong.


(Paz is the tuxedo kitty; his brother, Woody, passed away in 2012)

Blackberry duck drowned rooting under a pallet I’d thrown over a low spot along the back fence where the ducks kept wiggling under and escaping. As it was winter, the ground was still too frozen to any more permanent repairs to the fence so blocked the hole with the pallet. As the snow melted, I had a good-sized puddle back there for awhile. I’m not sure what she was after but she stuck her head under the water, and under the pallet…and then couldn’t get herself back out again. I found her there after dark, worrying when I didn’t find her in the barn with the other ducks. My heart broke remembering how two nights’ before she’d followed me around the barn, tugging on my sleeve, my pants, etc. with her bill to get my attention. She was such a friendly and social gal.

(A baby picture of my ducks when I first brought them home)

Sweet Pea just became a sort of medical statistic. He was only the 7th known rabbit to “pass” his bladder to the outside of his body. Had he been younger, the vet would’ve operated but, because of his age (7), she was afraid he wouldn’t make it through. It was so sudden. And he fought like a trooper–1/2 hour after she injected him, his heart was still beating but there was no way he could’ve survived that way.

I lost Sweet Pea’s father, Rhys, earlier in the summer. And one of my chickens, Rae, an Americauna, and Hummer, one of my roosters.


(Hummer is one of the babies under Taffy’s wing…)

But the hardest losses this year were human losses: my grandmother, Ruth Berniece Kimble, her daughter, my Aunt Brenda, and my godmother, Judi Morry–these last two within the same week towards the end of September/early-October. Great ladies all of them. My godmother, especially, I have to thank for my love of learning. As a child, she was always challenging me, sending me cards and letters asking me how many words I could make out of “Happy New Year” for example, (we’re going back to pre-school age here) or encouraging me with my writing. Actually, all three were encouraging with that! Aunt Brenda had a great love of dogs; rescued many of them. And my grandmother made the best lemon meringue pie on either side of the Mississippi River.


(Aunt Brenda with her grandson, Everett)


(My godmother, Aunt Judi)

I love you and will miss you all.

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Climate Change, Cooking, Creativity, Culture, ecosystems, Environment, Family, Frugality, gardening, Global Warming, Healing, Holidays, Holistic Health, Homesteading, Minimalism, Nature, Self-improvement, Zero Waste

A Sustainable Saturday – Keeping the Plastic Out of our Oceans and Streams

Lisa Burbank

“O God, have pity, for I am trusting you! I will hide beneath the shadow of your wings until this storm is past. I will cry to the God of heaven who does such wonders for me” (Psalms 57:1-2).

As Thanksgiving Day just passed here in the U.S., we now enter the delectable week of leftover meals of turkey and ham sandwiches (if you consume meat, of course), and re-heated potatoes, stuffing, squash, turnip, sweet potato and green bean casserole. We always make too much, wanting to have extra for that unexpected guest…or simply to have those leftover dishes for quick and easy meals over the next few days. We’ll do likewise for the coming holiday season. Whether you celebrate Christmas, Yule, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, or another holiday, there will likely be at least one other family gathering to share a special meal together…and this, too, will likely produce another mountain of leftovers.

And another mountain of plastic waste heading to our oceans and streams.

Plastic wrap and single-use containers often get displayed in supermarket flyers right along with the sales on stuffing mixes, cranberry sauce and turkey. For convenience sake, we buy them in large quantities the same day we go shopping for food for said gatherings. The reasoning is that folks can use them to take home those leftovers. They’ll keep everything fresh and clean, and nobody has to worry about returning a host’s favorite bowl or platter.

But what happens after we get those containers home?

As I’m a frugal fanatic, those leftovers usually get eaten. By Monday, Mom and I will probably be sick of stuffing and squash. Or my chickens and ducks will have had a feast of their own on whatever we don’t eat (minus any leftover meat that Mom does not consume). However, no matter how careful we are, sometimes containers of food get forgotten in the back of the fridge. A few weeks from now, we may find a container whose fuzzy, green appearance gives not the slightest hint as to what it once contained in life. I hope not, as I am cognizant of the fact that food waste in our landfills actually exceeds our plastic waste (14% versus 12% of plastic waste (Cunningham & Cunningham, 2015, pp. 476-477)), but it does happen from time to time. Either way, eventually, there will be wads of cling wrap and/or plastic containers entering recycle bins and trash receptacles across the U.S.A.

The former raises an “ah ha!” moment in many. If you are recycling it, what’s the big deal? However, some forms of plastic cannot be recycled, especially if there are layers of materials involved, such as in paper cups designed for both hot and cold beverages. And, as many of these containers and wrappings have been used to store food, even with careful rinsing, the aromas cling. If not carefully contained at the curb, they may get invaded by wildlife who scatter it everywhere in their search for something to eat. Gusts of wind, either from nature or passing traffic, may tip over a receptacle and/or blow lighter materials about. And, if you’re one of those people who doesn’t bother to properly rinse your recyclables, once they get to the recycling plant, the Zero Sort machine kicks them out and into a waiting garbage truck to be sent to the landfill. All is not perfect in the world of recycling. (Google The Pacific Garbage Gyre to find out where a lot of our plastic waste eventually ends up)

I have fallen far short of my goals of Zero Waste this year. As always, part of it stems from other family members not being on board with it, part of it my own inability in disciplining myself in whatever new behavior I’m hoping to adopt. I’ve wasted a lot of time talking, explaining, telling people about plastic waste…only to hear the response that everyone else does it so it doesn’t make a difference.

But every effort we make, makes a difference. It may be a small one, but we’re telling the world that it matters. The lives of sea creatures and birds and possums and raccoons…and countless other species of life matter. Our own health and well-being matter…because what so-called lesser creatures consume, we also consume.

So this year, knowing I cannot control the amount of plastic waste my family produces simply by telling, I decided to lead by example.

I always have tons of canning jars around the house from preserving whatever I produce in the garden. So I packed up several of the wide-mouth quart jars in a reusable shopping bag and toted them to my aunt’s house. When the meal was over, and my aunt was asking everyone if they wanted to take some of the leftovers home so they didn’t go to waste, I ran out to my car and grabbed the bag of canning jars. Though she offered the use of some of the plastic and/or aluminum plates she’d purchased for this express purpose, I politely thanked her, then told her I’d rather use the canning jars. I then filled the jars with what she’d offered. She watched me and then admitted it was a good idea because it was cheaper than buying the plastic wrap and single-use containers, which have gotten expensive.

No, it’s not exactly the reason behind my bringing the canning jars, but ecology and economy go hand-in-hand. The less we spend on things we don’t really need, the less we send to the landfills. This is true for pretty much everything. And, even if we can’t get everyone on board about plastic waste for the sake of our planet, saving everyone a few pennies can be an incentive. The end result will be the same: less waste overall.

May God bless you & keep you!

Works Cited

Cunningham, William P. and Cunningham, Mary Ann. Environmental Science: A Global Concern, Thirteenth Edition. New York, NY: McGraw Hill Education, 2015.

19th century, Animals, Appreciation, Culture, Healing, Herbs, Holidays, Holistic Health, Homesteading, illness, Plants, Recipes, Spirituality

Wednesday’s Weed Walk – (Salvia officinalis) Sage

Lisa Burbank

“And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for meat” (Genesis 1:29)

As tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and most will be dressing their plate with a delectable mixture of bread crumbs, onion, celery, butter and sage (among other ingredients), it seems befitting to write about a herb that has become pretty synonymous with this holiday.

But, before I go any further, there’s this:

“These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. This product is not intended to diagnose, cure, or prevent any disease.”

Now, back to our regularly scheduled program…

Though we may also dress our tables with cardboard cutouts of Pilgrims and First Nations’ peoples, and though I also found this herb in “A Handbook of Native American Herbs,” sage is NOT native to North America, but a southern European plant that has long been naturalized here. I was thinking of smudge sticks, which I use to clear negative energy from a room, my home, even a client, before they enter a room or home, and how popular culture has connected them to Native American culture. As the book in question does not say how long this herb has been naturalized in this country, perhaps it does fit into the Native American materia medica botanica, but I will refrain from making a direct connection and instead, share a use found in this book that I also learned about when I worked in living history: a tea made with sage leaves is an excellent gargle for a sore throat (Hutchens, 1992; OSV Training Materials, 2017).

An herb tea, or infusion, is made a little differently than a cup of, say, Lipton tea. With herbs, you heat the water and remove it just before it boils (too hot will kill the natural healing properties of the plants). Then you pour the hot water over the herbs, cover the cup, or teapot, and allow the herbs to steep at least 20 minutes so that whatever you’re brewing will be strong enough to take effect. In this case, this is a gargle so you would use it the same as a swig of Listerine or Scope. If the flavor is too strong (and even the herbalist here considers it slightly gag-inducing in such a raw state), a bit of honey will counteract its astringent taste and have the added benefit of further soothing that raw throat.

**Another note here: when heating the water (or herbs, when making a decoction), it is not recommended to use cast iron as the iron may change the desired effect. Also, NEVER use Teflon-coated, no-stick pots and pans–even for cooking food. There has been too much controversy surrounding their negative effects on our health and, like the iron in cast iron, may leach into whatever you infuse. Metal pans/tea kettles are a better vessel; ceramic, glass, etc. vessels for steeping in.

Renowned herbalist and champion of natural rearing of animals, Juliette de Bairacli Levy says that sage’s very name bespeaks its healing property. It’s Latin name, that is: Salvia officinalis. Salvia comes from the Latin word, salvere, to be well (de Bairacli Levy, 1991). She, too, recommends it as “first-rate…for the treatment of all disorders of throat, lungs and ears” and as external “application for bruises, watery swellings and tumours”. Further, she says that our neighbors south of the border, the Mexican peoples, “make brushes from branches of the herb, using them to cleanse and dry off the sweating bodies of their horses and cattle, the leaves being both absorbent and invigorating to tired flesh”. In her book The Herbal Handbook for the Dog and Cat, she also recommends it for mastitis…in dogs, cattle, goats, etc., the latter of which are more prone owing to the unnatural removal of their calves and kids for commercial milk production. In this case, you would infuse the leaves as above for a gargle but instead bathe the udders (or breasts if a dog or cat) with the sage “tea” 4-5 times a day, making sure to gently press out all milk beforehand. The area should then be “bathed with a brew of elder and dock leaves – one handful of each brewed in 1 1/2 pints of water” (de Bairacli Levy, 1992).

In humans, many of the same uses seem to apply. Herbalist Michael Tierra recommends it for “excessive perspiration, night sweats” to “clear vaginal discharge and to stop the flow of milk” and says it is also “useful for diarrhea, dysentery, the early stages of cold and flu, sinus congestion, bladder infections and inflammatory conditions” (Tierra, 1998). In this case, the infusion is made with 1/4 ounce of sage to a pint of hot water steeped “in a closed vessel for 10 minutes”. He also recommends combining it with equal parts rosemary (Rosmarinus officinalis), peppermint (Mentha piperica) and wood betony (Betonica officinalis) for headaches…and, again, I’m finding mention of its uses as a gargle for sore throats. Though I could not find any specific remedies mentioned in his wife’s book, Healing with the Herbs of Life, Lesley Tierra does mention how white sage (Salvia apiana) has become endangered due to over-harvesting.

And, lastly, herbalist Rosemary Gladstar recommends sage as a facial tonic, hair rinse, in foot soaks, to aid digestion (which is probably why it is added to stuffing/dressing on Thanksgiving Day, considering our over-consumption at mealtime this day), help lower cholesterol, as part of a throat spray(!), and to combat hot flashes. This last one combines 2 parts each of black cohosh (Cimicifuga racemosa), motherwort (Leonurus cardiaca), and sage, 1 part each of blue vervain (Verbena officinalis) and chaste berry (Vitex agnus-castus) and a measure of mint for taste. These are combined together in their dried form. Then a teaspoon of the mixed herbs is infused for 30 minutes (see sage infusion above) and 1/4 cup is drank throughout the day as needed, not exceeding 3 cups in a 24 hour period (Gladstar, 2008). She recommends, if the tea’s taste is too strong, to instead fill a couple of OO size capsules and take 1-2 capsules 3-4 times each day.

Though I knew all of this stuff, having read these books many times over (as their tattered spines will attestify), I always appreciate the reminders as I peruse them yet again to share the love and knowledge that herbs have given to my life. I hope this little powerhouse, sage, will enrich the quality of your life, too…even if it is only to enrich the flavor of your Thanksgiving Day stuffing. Bon appetit!

May God bless you & keep you!

Works Cited

De Bairacli Levy, Juliette. The Complete Handbook for the Dog and Cat. London, England: Faber and Faber, 1992.
De Bairacli Levy, Juliette. The Complete Handbook for the Farm and Stable. London, England: Faber and Faber, 1991.
Gladstar, Rosemary. Herbal Recipes for Vibrant Health. North Adams, Massachusetts: Storey Publishing, 2008.
Hutchens, Alma R. A Handbook of Native American Herbs. Boaston, Massachusetts: Shambhala, 1992.
Tierra, Lesley,L.Ac, Herbalist, A.H.G. Healing with the Herbs of Life. Berkeley, California: Crossing Press, 2003.
Tierra, Michael, L.Ac, O.M.D. The Way of Herbs. New York, New York: Pocket Books, 1998.

Animals, Appreciation, Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Climate Change, Compassion, Culture, Emergency Preparedness, Exhaustion, Faith, Family, Frugality, Gratitude, Healing, Homesteading, Politics, Prayer, Reflexology, Reiki, Scripture, Self-esteem, Self-improvement, Touch for Health, Understanding

We’re Hurting…It’s THAT Simple

Lisa Burbank

“I walked by the field of a certain lazy fellow and saw that it was overgrown with thorns, and covered with weeds; and its walls were broken down. Then, as I looked, I learned this lesson: ‘A little extra sleep, a little more slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest’ means that poverty will break in upon you suddenly like a robber, and violently like a bandit” (Proverbs 24:28-34)

My overgrown yard is intentional. Any thorns found come from stands of wild blackberries that I allow to grow–albeit with some pruning and careful maintenance to keep them from completely overtaking everything else–and the “weeds” are actually wild herbs like mullein (Verbascum thapsis), dandelion (Taraxicum officinalis) and red clover (Trifolium pratense), all of which have medicinal properties and are allowed to grow for that reason.

However, the above piece of Scripture does play into the common mindset about a yard that is seemingly unkempt: that the person who lives in that particular home is lazy. We never stop to consider that they are struggling in some way. They could be elderly with no children or grandchildren to help them (or maybe it’s their kids and grandkids who are too lazy/busy to help…). They could be disabled. They could be overwhelmed with bigger responsibilities–like an aging parent, whose home they are taking care of in absence of their own. Maybe they’re single and struggle to keep up alone. They could be a young couple fallen on hard times…or an aging couple with health issues. And, in each of these cases, they likely cannot afford to hire out. There are myriad reasons why someone’s home may not be ready for the cover of Better Homes and Gardens‘ magazine. Yet we judge…as the author of this Proverb did.

No, it’s not really a criticism of the Bible itself. I’m guessing, because He knows our hearts, that the subject who prompted this Proverb was truly a lazy body and slept all day, not getting a lick of work done. And, in my present struggles, I can honestly admit to allowing overwhelm and despair to win-out in the ambition department, from time to time, as I struggle to get back on my financial feet. But we cannot use this Scripture to judge every single soul whose dwelling is less than our stellar expectations. Such a judgment smacks of, well, judgment but also, materialism.

Who decided what is “pristine” and what is “unkempt” in our society? Why does the rolling green, blunt-cut lawn, with its host of chemicals polluting our soil, our water supply, even the air we breathe, constitute acceptable when the unkempt space, one that seldom sees even a carbon monoxide-guzzling lawnmower, equals unacceptable? That pristine lawn, sadly, smacks of prestige. It’s a carryover from the English monarchy who had rolling green lawns surrounding their estates. However, England’s climate is more suitable for such…without the costly (in both dollars and environmental costs) expense of maintaining that lawn.

And, sadly, this mindset carries over into every other aspect of our lives. How often–and I’m owning my bad in this department myself–do we judge that person because they’re standing in line at a food pantry or breadline? By the low-income neighborhood they live in? By the clothes they wear? The car they drive? Or the public transportation they use because they can’t (or refuse to) afford the cost of an auto of their own? How often do we make assumptions based upon religion, color of skin, gender identity, country of origin, or even one’s weight? How often do we write a chapter of another person’s story with our judgments and assumptions?

Back in 2008, I worked three jobs + treated clients in Reflexology, Reiki, and Touch for Health to stay afloat. I lost the first part-time gig in late-2008, the full-time, corporate position in November 2009, and six months’ later, the part-time gig at a laundromat. This was during the economic crash. My clients also felt the pain of that crisis and stopped coming in for treatments. Thankfully, President Obama extended unemployment benefits to 99 weeks while struggling to create jobs for people. We’re only now starting to feel the benefits of those efforts…and we’re still seeing mostly part-time, minimum wage, seasonal and/or temporary positions (at least here in New England). However, even with the extension of benefits, I was forced to live off of my 401K while I continued to search for work to sustain me and mine. I found plenty of the aforementioned part-time gigs but they haven’t been enough to keep me afloat. I was forced to rely on mortgage assistance for a number of years. Finally, in 2017, I found a full-time position. It required a long commute, which ate up any money I might’ve been able to save for a rainy day, and was barely above minimum wage, but I loved what I did. The mortgage assistance had just run out, and I had made my first full mortgage payment without the assistance, when I slipped on the ice and fractured my shoulder. Now I’m behind on mortgage payments again…and it doesn’t look good. I worked a seasonal job throughout the summer. Now I’m working a temporary position, which looks promising on the full-time spectrum, but I’m not banking on anything yet.

Even if I get the position, there’s no guarantee that my mortgage company will do another modification to get me right-side up again. So I’m socking away every spare penny I can earn to try to keep foreclosure from happening…but it’s not easy. And I’ll admit to being scared down to the very tips of my toes. I feel like I’m in a race that maybe I can’t win.

Maybe He doesn’t want me to win this one. Maybe He wants me to relocate. Maybe He has plans for me to be somewhere else and that’s why I’m no longer thriving here.

I get asked that one a lot: why don’t you move if things are so rough where you are?

The answer is simple: if I had the kind of money it would require to start over, I would also have the kind of money I need to catch up on my mortgage. And, with everything in default, how likely are my chances of buying another property in another state where I don’t have any job at all? And rents are just as prohibitive. This is a farm. I have animals to consider. I have my elderly mother living with me. Trust me…the free spirit would love to find land somewhere, put up a tiny cabin and live completely off-grid. Maybe, as I save and squirrel everything away, if push comes to shove, I’ll have enough to buy that piece of land.

But that’s a big “if”. I’m not banking on that either.

So I’m hurting right now. And the blog posts have been spotty at best. I feel like they’ve been a constant variation on the same theme most of this year, and if I hate redundancy, I don’t wish to bore my readers by catering to redundancy…in any form. So, I’ve refrained.

But maybe that’s where I’m wrong.

Writing this blog post this morning has actually been a sort of therapy. I can pour out my heart. And, while it may backlash somewhere along the way, or repel others (I’m thinking of that breadline I mentioned in the beginning…), I’m laying myself open anyway in the hopes that someone will read this and know of a resource I hadn’t considered that might help me get back up and running. Keep me in your prayers. Or, at the very least, please share the Go Fund Me campaign link that I’ve included below. Perhaps it will reach the right person willing and able to help…with my heart-felt gratitude for each and every prayer, share, suggestion, etc.

We’re not meant to struggle alone. We’re meant to be a community. Yet, when we’re hurting like this, we tend to retreat inward…as I have been doing. Though I cannot see the faces of my readers, my head is down in shame that somehow I have brought this all upon myself. Somehow, I caused a financial crisis throughout a whole nation…or intentionally hurt myself so I could “get a little more sleep, a little more slumber” and fold my “hands to rest”. But there is no rest in my heart right now…only angst.

May God bless you & keep you!

https://www.gofundme.com/manage/9fymzf-medical-leave

Alcoholism, Animals, Christianity, Emergency Preparedness, Faith, Family, Friendship, Healing, Homesteading, Nostalgia, Prayer, Writing, YouTube

Treading Uphill

Lisa Burbank

“It is God’s privilege to conceal things, and the king’s privilege to discover and invent. You cannot understand the height of heaven, the size of the earth, or all that goes on in the king’s mind” (Proverbs 25: 2-3)

I keep telling myself, as I continue to face the very real threat of foreclosure on my home, that He has a plan. I also keep reminding myself that He must be bringing me here again because there was something He wanted me to learn the last time and I didn’t get it.

Or do it.

Maybe this frantic, trying-to-run-in-every-direction-to-stop-the-flood is what He’s telling me to give up, to trust Him with.

Or maybe it’s the part of me that wants to curl into a ball and shut out the world. That part of me has perpetually won out over the last 10 years. I’ve hidden in books, in movies, in YouTube videos. I’ve neglected housework, yard work, my own personal needs, etc., because as the adult child of an alcoholic, I know it’s a sure-fire way to keep the world out. I can recognize this on a subconscious level; it hasn’t been a conscious decision. But while experts say knowing what the problem is is half the battle, it seldom changes. The neglect now stares me in the face as “overwhelm”. Perhaps He’s using this season of want and need to heal another layer of that childhood. And by my inactivity, I haven’t been getting the memo.

What’s that old expression? When the going gets tough, the tough get going? Every successful person I know, when faced with adversity, places their trust in Him (or whatever their concept of God/Source), and forges resolutely forward anyway. They stand and fight. They do their level best not to succumb to despair. Does that mean they don’t have their moments? Of course not! But I have to stop waiting for that perfect moment, the perfect conditions. They don’t exist…at least not on a human level.

On His level, it’s all happening in perfect time. Maybe I simply have to trust in that…and stop trying to read His mind. If He wants me to know His plans, He’ll tell me…if I’m willing to open my heart wide enough to let Him in.

Yes, you heard the resistance in that statement, too.

I fear He’s leading me away from here. That’s not inherently bad. The cost of living in Connecticut is abysmally high. And full-time, good paying jobs are few and far between. If you find one, hang on to it!

However, the majority of my family lives in New England. How can I miss the 4th of July celebrations at Uncle Ernie’s? Or holiday dinners with the aunties? Ditto for my friends. What if I never attend another fiber fest with Karen? Or dine with Katie or Kellie? What if Donna and I never visit LaSalette Shrine together again and laugh at our youthful foibles? My church community is here. I love Father Ben, my fellow Lectors and Eucharistic Ministers, my friends in the choir. I have a farm full of pets here. It would be extremely difficult to relocate with them–not impossible, but near enough. And I’m not low-life enough to shelter them. I rescue, not abandon. But, if things keep going in this direction, there’s a very real part of me stressing and worrying that this may be my only option in time. Then there’s all the little things that constitute a life already established: doctors, veterinarians, my therapist, mechanics, the folks at the local feed store who know my order before I even get to the counter. It would take years to build those sorts of relationships again. And I’m worried, with my curl-into-a-ball tendencies, if I’m really up to the task.

Of course, I know if He wills it, He’ll give me the strength to be “up to it”. And, while it would take as much in the financial department to relocate, re-establish, as it will to get out of hock, I know He’ll provide that, too.

On the flip side of all this, my brother’s visit two weeks’ ago was a painful reminder of how much of his life, his children’s lives, I’ve missed. And the missed opportunity to truly bond with my sister-in-law. The week spent together was wonderful and I’m so happy my brother has found such a lovely woman to spend his life with. I love them all but we seldom see each other due to distance. My best friend of all lives in Missouri, as do countless classmates, friends, and family, too. I can surely homestead somewhere else. And, Lord willing, maybe even better than I’ve been able to do here. My property is small, which limits what I can do here. Maybe He’s leading me somewhere where those dreams He’s put on my heart have a better chance of being realized.

At the very least, He’s given me work to do. I ask you all to pray for me for the strength to see it all through.

May God bless you & keep you!

19th century, Animals, Appreciation, Book signing, Christianity, Creativity, Fashion, Fiber Arts, Friendship, Gratitude, Greenhouse, Homesteading, Nature, Nostalgia, Plants, Potted Plants, Spinning, Summer Rayne Oakes, Wool, YouTube

Summer Rayne Oakes and the Chicken Skirt

Lisa Burbank

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick; but when dreams come true at last, there is life and joy” (Proverbs 13:12)

Okay. So the Proverb I quoted above is misleading. I can’t exactly say it was a “dream come true” to meet Summer Rayne Oakes of Plant One on Me fame, but I will confess to feeling giddy in the days and weeks leading up to her visit at Logee’s Greenhouse two weeks’ ago (yes, I am a bit behind…). Though I am not on the regular schedule at the greenhouse anymore, I still make myself available for busy seasons and special events, of which Summer Rayne’s visit was a bit of both. The anticipation of her visit, being with friends again, and being surrounded by beautiful plants really didn’t seem like work at all. It was good to be back, if only for the day, and fun to meet a fellow plant and chicken enthusiast.

Yes, chickens.

For those of you who have never visited Summer Rayne’s YouTube channel, Plant One on Me, Summer Rayne shares her New York apartment with a chicken named Kippee. And it was Kippee’s seemingly miraculous adaptation to apartment dwelling that really caught my interest with Summer Rayne.

How does she do this???

I raise chickens. And I have had the occasional convalescing chicken in a cage in the kitchen from time to time where I can more adequately care for them while they heal. I’ve also penned the whole flock of them, along with ducks and goats, in my laundry room/rabbit room during a snowstorm. However, I can’t imagine letting any of them free-range the house.

Like Kippee.

Obviously, that was one of my first questions for Summer Rayne…and I made sure to wear my infamous quilted chicken skirt to help spark that early rapport. How on earth did she house-break Kippee? Is she house-broken? It appears not 100% but one chicken alone is not so overwhelming to clean up after regarding an errant “accident” along the way. Kippee even sleeps on a roost over her human’s bed…with a hammock underneath, just in case.

All I can think of is this ROCKS! I mean, totally ROCKS!

No, I’m not planning to roost 22 chickens indoors now. Ditto for the 7 ducks and 3 goats…though the latter have figured out how to open the backdoor if Mom & I don’t latch it properly. But I like how warm and comforting her abode looks on YouTube, with so much beautiful greenery and a chicken gently clucking away at her side. During the aforementioned snowstorm, I confess it was rather comforting to have my many “children” so close at hand. It’s, like, the ultimate of bringing nature indoors with you. And the word I’ve been searching for is harmony. Again, with my crew, it’s simply not feasible for the long-term, but it tickles me pink nonetheless. (No, I’m not your average bear…)

Oh…and as for the chicken skirt?

Long before my ill-fated sojourn into living history, I have always had an affinity for long skirts and dresses. Like my honorary mentor, Tasha Tudor, I am convinced I once lived in the 19th century. And, like Tasha, I hope that my brand of heaven has me wearing those long skirts and dresses, and spinning wool on a great wheel to make yarn. It’s a goal for this life, to be sure. And, many years ago, I took some steps to make that dream a little more of a reality by slitting the inseams of my trousers and jeans and searching fabric stores for the funkiest, wackiest fabrics to fill the triangles between those ripped-out inseams. I love the modesty of long, full skirts and high necklines…but I also like to have fun. I like my clothing to be fun.

So, without further ado, here I am with Summer Rayne, having received her autograph inside her most recent book, How to Make a Plant Love You, in my chicken skirt, though the skirt is rather cut off; will have to take a picture of it and upload for a future post (sorry!) (And, yes, I really do need to lose those extra 40 lbs….after seeing this picture, I am so on it!).

May God bless you & keep you!