Abuse, Alcoholism, Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Community, Compassion, Enlightenment, Faith, Family, Forgiveness, Friendship, God/Jesus, Healing, Love, Politics, Prayer, Self-improvement, Understanding

Avoidance and 30-Day Snoozes

“And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men: knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance: for ye serve the Lord Christ.” (Colossians 3:23-24)

Another three day weekend and, of course, I made plans–plans to get a lot of chores done that I’ve been putting off, daunted by the enormity of them. I think it was Mother Teresa who said: “You want to make God laugh? Tell Him your plans.”

No, nothing catastrophic. Instead of making a huge dent in some of those chores, it may be more of a small dimple. Instead of hustling after church yesterday, I made a second cup of tea and curled up with a book that I’ve read skeighty-eight hundred times before…because, well, avoidance. I am plagued with it.

Yes, Sunday is a day of rest. And I do feel more energized with having given myself that bit of “rest” but, of course, the guilt complex threatens to take over: should-of, could-of, would-of.

I think that falls under the sin of pride category.

Or vanity…

Maybe both?

I almost bowed out of going to church yesterday (gasp!). But, in the end, I decided I needed a true day of rest. Not avoiding the service altogether, but simply enjoying it for itself. I wasn’t serving as either Lector or Eucharistic Minister yesterday. The choir wasn’t singing the Mass this week. I had no responsibility other than to sit and listen to His Word.

And that’s what He wanted me to do.

This is what happens with avoidance, with procrastination, etc. I miss out on life’s blessings. And yesterday’s homily went straight to my heart from His. Had I stayed home instead of attending, I would’ve missed this important message.

It was all about humility, of being humble enough to accept one’s limitations, of not needing the last word or constantly trying to trump another person.

Having been brought up in a household with alcoholism and abuse, I tend to avoid conflict at all costs. I may post memes and articles on social media that are a little provocative, but I try to be sensitive of others. Still, what I post does open the proverbial can of worms from time to time…even unintentionally. I’ve learned that anyone posting a snarky response to those posts doesn’t really care what I have to say in defense. They’re not interested in compromise or reconciliation. I’ve learned that nobody truly wants to know why you voted the way you did…except to tell you that they’re right and you’re wrong. They don’t want to know the issues at your core that you simply cannot compromise on. Often, I find myself getting caught up, as guilty as I charge others, provoked by accusations and insults, and getting tied up in knots along the way.

Divide. Divide. DIVIDE…isn’t that the adversary’s way?

What should be hailed as a brilliant means of reconnecting with old friends and classmates we’ve lost touch with, or family members who live too far away for regular visits, the adversary has twisted towards his own end. I’ve posted before about being unable to see the person on the other side of the keyboard, to read expression, or hear the tone of voice, to emphasize with that person in any way. Social media has turned us all into budding narcissists, focused on self rather than community…rather than focusing on the One we should be focused on.

Did I mention I hate conflict?

Sometimes it is unavoidable. But, with social media, it is almost always avoidable. I don’t have to engage. I don’t have to have the last word. I don’t have to leave my own snarky remarks. I’ve learned to weigh carefully what I post, or share, so as to avoid any conflict…and, again, it still happens. I’ve worn out the 30-day snooze feature on Facebook. I refuse to give up on anyone simply over a difference of opinion so I seldom, if ever, “block” or “unfriend” someone. But, there are some friends from whom the vitriol flows like the mighty Mississippi…and, sadly, that small handful gets “snoozed” repeatedly. It’s a way of setting some boundaries without shunning someone entirely. Social media also tends to breed cyber-bullies.

One friend who might fall into this last category came to church yesterday. I watched her walk in and take a seat on the opposite side of the aisle. About this time last year, it was almost like she waited for me to post something about which she could brow-beat and bully me…and then any friends or family members who came to my defense.

For a moment, a sneer and a snarky thought reared up inside of me…then Father Ben launched into his homily. Bulls’ eye!

That inner sneer and snarky thought pattern is on me…not her. The realization almost broadsided me. No matter how much she may have cyber-stalked and bullied, it takes two to make or break a relationship. What have I done to contribute to any break between us? I felt the sting of shame as I thought of other sneers and snarky remarks aimed in her direction. This was no way to treat a friend.

I tried to catch her eye during the meet-and-greet (it has another name that escapes me at the moment…) just before Communion. Either she didn’t see me, or chose to avoid me. I thought back to all of the times I’d tried to reach out to her after Mass before, and how it always seemed to escalate into more of the same as on social media with each of us beating our heads into the proverbial brick wall, hoping to get the other to see the light in each other’s views. I heard again the lines from the Prayer of St. Francis: “O Master, grant that I may never seek so much to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand…”

Could I approach her with that kind of humility? Could I approach her with ears, mind, and heart to listen without judgement? Could I have a conversation with her without having to be right? I spent the rest of the Mass in quiet soul searching, finally hearing that still, small voice saying to leave it alone…for now. Give it time.

In the end, she left church as swiftly as she came in and averted her gaze from me as her car passed mine in the parking lot.

She’s not ready. Maybe neither of us are. Maybe any conversation would’ve escalated just as before…no matter any good intentions to the contrary. That old adage about not talking politics or religion is apt.

That still, small voice spoke Truth, as it always does. Leave it alone. Let it go. For once, I allowed myself the grace of taking that step back and listening, really listening to that Truth. That’s something we all need to do more often. Put down the phone. Walk away from the screens (yes, even this one…lol!) and the drama within them. Stop filling every waking hour with busy-ness and noise. It’s okay to just sit quietly. To pray. To think. To listen. To dream.

To simply BE.

What Truth is He laying on your heart today? Are you bold enough to listen?

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Bereavement, Brothers & Sisters, Exhaustion, Faith, Family, Gratitude, Grief, Holidays, Homesteading

New Year’s Eve 12/31/2024

“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes: and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.” (Revelation 21:4)

A year ago today I was MESSED UP. I only acknowledge this now after reading last New Year’s belated post (I neglected to even create a New Year’s Eve post until January 2nd!). I mentioned the loss of Faith (no pun intended) the Plymouth Barred Rock chicken in that post, but not the loss of either rooster. Not a big deal when stacked up against the loss of my Aunt Sandy and Uncle George, but still worth noting.

This year, not only are we rooster-less at The Herbal Hare Tomestead, we’re also goat-less, having lost our beloved Felicity, the last of our Nigerian Dwarfs in early spring. As with Chester, whom we lost towards the end of 2023, age was a factor. But, I think without one of her own, loneliness may have also been a factor. Sure, chickens and ducks shared her world, and humans, too, but she and Chester were the last two for so long, I know she mourned the loss of him right alongside the rest of us.

In addition to Felicity, MIG and Radar (roosters), we lost the last of our Black Australorps, Phantom; the last of our Buff Orpington chickens, Diamond; Taffy, our Silkie chicken, Basa, one of our Polish crested hens, and Strawberry the Pekin duck, who I am sad to say, lost her life from one of our remaining chickens. It happens. It sucks. And it breaks my heart. But I will forever wonder if I could’ve done anything better/different. Was the new coop too small? It didn’t seem so with chickens and ducks having separate houses and only sharing the barnyard together, something they have done their whole lives. As for the others? We are a homestead of geriatric critters. The uncertainty of whether we would keep the farm, or lose it to foreclosure, meant I haven’t restocked for a number of years in case we were forced to rehome them. I’ve simply been caring for those that remain, helping them to live their best lives for whatever time they have left.

It may stay that way.

Despite the tab labeled, “The Dream”, I am also acknowledging my own aging process. No, I’m far from ancient, but my lower spine gave me a painful reminder that I’m no more a young, sprung chicken than my feathered friends when it came to burying Chester and Felicity’s remains. As their name suggests, Nigerian Dwarfs are a smaller breed of goat. Felicity wasn’t so bad. However, Chester was rather large for the breed. He was wethered by his previous owner because he was too large for the breed and any offspring might’ve been too large for a standard-sized Nigerian Dwarf doe to safely birth.

Felicity

He was also too large for someone 55+ to be lifting and then lowering into a grave.

All of that being said, I’m not giving up on my dreams. I’m simply being careful not to spread myself out too thin going forward, weighing options, and considering the future. Also, the recent threat of foreclosure, the loss of loved ones, and a thesis to complete for graduation last August, have all wreaked havoc on me (Can you say “burnout”?). It may be a while before I’m ready to take on a fully-fledged farm again…and when I do, I’m considering only bees and bunnies. Time will tell…

Of course, we’re not completely out of this season of loss. As we lost my father’s sister, Sandy, and her husband, George, last year, my mother lost one of her sisters, my Aunt Donna, this year.

It has been very hard trying to be strong for Mom, while also mourning the loss of another beloved aunt. I’ve mentioned often about having a stepfather who wanted “too much to do with me” as a child. When I first opened up about the abuse, Auntie Donna was with Mom when I told her. She was a well of support in the weeks and months that followed, even to going with me to therapy one afternoon.

More importantly, she was Mom’s closest sister. Mom is one of 11 children in what I can only describe as a very dysfunctional family (and, yes, I know that term has been bandied about far too much over the years…). Good people, all of them, but they don’t talk. They take offense too easily. Despite being sisters and brothers, they have the equivalent of high school “clicks” amongst them. And income, or the lack thereof, has often been a determining factor in who gets to be in which “click”. Mom has been widowed and living with me for over 10 years now. Only one other sister calls to check up on her from time to time. To say that she’s feeling this loss keenly is putting it mildly. I can only hope that 2025 will be a better year for our family…and yours!

Auntie Donna

To be honest, I don’t know if He is finished with this season of loss with us or not, but I think this year’s word will be “Hope”. I am hopeful about so many things, I don’t know where to begin listing them…despite the recent losses. On that score, I am also grateful to have been able to share my life with these loved ones for as long as I did. Maybe I took some of them for granted. Maybe I could’ve been there for them more than I was, but my love for them was always deep and never-ending…and it always will be.

So here’s to 2025…a year of Hope.

As for the usual song of the year? I’ve decided this year that I will be sharing a new video/song, as well as a line of Scripture, every day on my social media accounts, so there isn’t any one song this time around. And that’s okay.

Happy New Year, Everyone! May God bless you & keep you!

Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Faith, God/Jesus, Holidays, Mother Mary, Religion, Scripture, Tradition

Merry Christmas!

And it came to pass in those days that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem (because he was of the house and lineage of David), to be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.

And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her first-born son, and wrapped him in swaddling-clothes, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them, and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, ‘Fear not: for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling-clothes, lying in a manger’. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will towards men’. (Luke 2:1-14)

Merry Christmas…and, in the immortal words of Tiny Tim: God bless us, every one!

AI generated…I’m a little leery of AI, and not sure how/if to cite it, but Merry Christmas!

Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Faith, Family, God/Jesus, Heavy Metal Music, Love, Music, Prayer, Religion, Scripture, Spirituality, Understanding

Tell Me Something Good

“And now, Lord, behold their threatenings: and grant unto thy servants, that with all boldness they may speak thy word, by stretching forth thy hand to heal: and that signs and wonders may be done by the name of thy holy child Jesus.” (Acts 4: 29-30)

We are called as Christians to spread the Word of God…in a world that, for the most part, seems to have rejected Him. I’ve determined that this blog will continue to carry a line of Scripture each time and I always end each post with “May God bless you & keep you!”. If I am ashamed of Him, of my faith in Him, He will be ashamed of me when I finally shake off this mortal coil.

However, I remember how irritated I became in my youth when people started “Bible thumping” at me. No, I won’t change the structure of my blog…nor abandon my faith. He has shown me far too well over the last several years that, yes, He can be trusted.

But…the “Bible thumping”…

I spent my youth playing lead guitar and lead vocals in heavy metal bands. That usually startles people. I still hear the same “accusations” I heard from fellow band mates that I looked “too wholesome for metal”. Such was the bane of my existence…to the point that I bleached my hair almost white and got this awful perm that made me look like a reject from Twisted Sister.

And I still got accused of looking “too wholesome” despite damaging my mane.

Then there was the other side of this life: the “Bible thumpers” outside of the many concerts I attended. When I wasn’t playing and performing music, I was glued to the radio, or record player (yes, I’m that old!), or cruising around town in my little Dodge Omni, listening to Doro Pesch shouting about “All We Are” blaring out of the windows…even during winter when the windows were rolled up. (And I wonder why I have some hearing loss…). Concerts were a peek into the world I wanted to inhabit. They were where I learned about stage presence and got ideas for my own elaborate stage set, which obviously never materialized, but I was young and full of dreams of recording my own music someday and touring the world.

Until I got outside of the arena.

My Uncle Brian and I went to see Iron Maiden and Twisted Sister in concert one night. Great show by both bands but, as my stepfather was picking us up afterwards, we left before the final encore, catching only a glimpse of “Eddie” before we hurried out to the curb where my stepfather said he’d meet us.

“Those earrings are bitchin’!” he said, as they approached us. Both teens were about our age (I was maybe 17, Uncle Brian, 14 (yes, he’s younger than me…big families)), a boy and a girl. The guy was kind of cute, my boy-crazy self noted. Then he shattered it all by asking, “What do they mean?”

What do my earrings mean???

They were my favorites. Long, tear-drop shaped hoops with a crescent moon dangling on one side and a star on the other one. Both baubles were a little over an inch long. I remember how much they caught my eye at a flea market that my family and I often attended. But what did they mean?

It’s just a star and moon, I replied, still feeling perplexed, and wondering if he was mentally stable. Should Uncle Brian and I move away?

Then, when I revealed no deep, dark meaning behind those earrings, he followed it up with, “Did you know you were sinning in there?”

This from the guy who told me moments before that my earrings were “bitchin'”…to my 17 year-old self, who blushed crimson and ducked her head whenever I let “Damn!” slip in exasperated moments. I expected Mom’s chastisement for swearing to descend upon me, of course. (Oh, to be so young and innocent today; it’s rare that a day goes by now without me dropping an F-bomb or two…how times change!)

Anyway, thus began a long litany of how these heavy metal artists were “evil” and listening to their music was a sin passed bearing. When my stepfather’s pickup truck pulled up to the curb (10, 15 minutes later??? It felt longer), Uncle Brian and I quickly thanked our “hosts” for the religious pamphlets they’d handed to us and jumped into the cab with a collective sigh of relief. The guy meant well (he did most of the talking). But, as is often the case with many Christians, he was a little overzealous with his delivery. Instead of attracting people to “his” Jesus, he repelled.

I never want to be that sort of Christian. I love Jesus with all of my heart and soul, and I have no qualms offering prayers. I will gladly sit and talk to with you about Him, but only if you ask me to, or if I sense that you’re ready to hear about Him. I remember too well how it feels to have Him “pushed” on you…or to have someone instantly telling me everything I have to change about my life to follow Him. Those changes may be needed, but they will come in their own time the closer I get to Him…as they will with you. I want to plant seeds of faith, not bulldoze over you with His message. If I bring in the bulldozer, well, if you don’t run and hide, you may start off with good intentions, but whatever seeds I scatter before you will only stay on the surface of your heart. Eventually, the “sparrows” of worry and anxiety will gobble them back up.

Oh, but what about his blog?

You have a choice. You can continue reading it, or you can ignore it. It won’t go away, per se, but you have a choice NOT to read it. And that’s the thing about Jesus. He wants you to choose to come to Him, to cultivate a relationship with Him. If the choice is not your own, He knows the roots of that relationship, that faith, will be shallow and there won’t be any way for it to grow.

So, while I won’t stop blogging about my faith, I also won’t push. Jesus is a gentleman. He won’t push either. But maybe, just maybe, if you’ve been reading this far, He’ll water a seed or two that I’ve scattered here today and shine His Light upon it so it will grow.

As we enter this Yuletide season and celebrate His birth, that’s the greatest gift that I can offer anyone. May your hearts be open to receive it…and may God bless you & keep you!

Amen…

19th century, Appreciation, Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Community, Compassion, Culture, Family, Finances, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Healing, History, Human rights, Nostalgia, Politics, Poverty, Scripture, Self-esteem

Seeking Humility

“If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.” (2 Chronicles 7:14)

Oh, it’s so easy to get caught up in the political propaganda machine! Yes, there was a political post two weeks’ ago before the election. I tried to stay middle of the road, but in my most honest moments, I did stray further to the right than the left in my commentary. These days my more conservative side is shining through over that part of me that is often liberal.

But this is neither here nor there.

The true test of my mettle has been since election night. I’ve wanted to cheer and do a happy dance (yes, me, the never-Trumper). But that’s the equivalent of rubbing salt in a wound for those whose candidate did not win. So I’ve contented myself with a simple: “Congratulations, Mr. Trump & Mr. Vance! God bless America!” on social media. Neither of these men are likely to see it, and even if they do, I’m a faceless name in a sea of posts, but I didn’t want to gloat.

Okay. Yes, I did. But, again, I chose to listen to the guy with the halo on my shoulder rather than the one with the pitchfork this time.

To make sure the point got driven home, He chose last week to cut off my wi-fi. Two rapid changes in wi-fi providers meant a billing statement got lost in the shuffle. Thankfully, it was a relatively easy fix, but it made me think about all of the people in this country for whom this wouldn’t be an easy fix.

Since last Tuesday, I’ve read a lot of posts decrying that far too many Americans chose money over morals. It’s an ugly suggestion that smacks at the biblical admonishment about the love of money being the root of all evil. Love of money is more like the character of Scrooge in Charles Dickens’ classic, A Christmas Carol: it’s where you love the coins piling up more than the good you could do with that money and piling it up becomes your only aim. It’s also where you put the earning of money before time spent with family making memories, where we value the bigger, fancier house and car, and dream vacations, over what should matter more: faith, family, friends.

That’s not what people voted for.

We live in a cash society. It’s something I lament nearly every day of my life. My years in living history taught me how much more freedom our ancestors had when they could bring a pail of old rags into a country store, have them weighed up, and receive so much credit in the store for them. (This is an example; there were many more commodities that could be bartered for what we needed) The shopkeeper would then take those rags, plus the rags delivered by other patrons, to the paper manufacturers and trade them for reams of paper to stock in his store. Very little coin was ever exchanged, but each had what they needed to survive (we manufactured paper out of cloth until 1954; many older readers might remember the rag man coming to call…). Community seemed to have a much deeper meaning then.

But that’s not the world we live in today. The first, and each subsequent, industrial revolution changed all of that. As mass-produced goods became more readily available, we chose convenience over quality…both in goods, and in life, but don’t get me started down that rabbit hole!

We live in a cash society. If we want to feed our families, instead of working our own farm and growing and/or raising our own food, most work a 9-to-5, receive a paycheck, and then go to the grocery store for our sustenance (I also won’t go down the rabbit hole about the “food” lining the aisles of that store…). We have to pay a mortgage, or rent, each month for shelter. We pay for our heating and lighting sources, and every other “extra” in our lives.

It wasn’t love of money that gave us the election results. It was the necessity of having enough money in this cash society, or of making our dollars stretch far enough in it, that we don’t go hungry…or find ourselves at risk of eviction, or foreclosure. As I was just recently hovering over the latter, I take exception to those who suggest we chose money over morals.

Our economy is tanked. GDP and unemployment numbers, as my fellow Democrats, shouted loudly and proudly during Trump’s last tenure, are NOT a true measure of how our economy is doing. The Democrats may have changed their tune in the last few years, but it doesn’t make that statement any less true. The numbers may look good on paper, per se, but if those numbers are not reflected in an improved quality of life for we the people, yes, we’re going to vote for the person promising cheaper energy, lower taxes and interest rates, better jobs, and the overall improvement of our lives as a result.

Like so many of my fellow Americans, despite being once again right-side-up on my mortgage payments–something I feel immeasurable gratitude for each and every day–I’m still robbing Peter to pay Paul.

My mishap with the internet was a result of being waylaid at Walmart by representatives from Frontier to switch to their service, then being somewhat unsatisfied with Frontier’s service, and when I called Spectrum to cancel my service with them, being offered a better deal, one that amortized my wi-fi and cellphone services into one bill that basically wiped out the cellphone service I had with T-Mobile. Hey, a savings of $90 a month (two phones) is nothing to sneeze at.

We were humbled further this month when Mom’s bank account was hacked, costing her most of her social security check.

Then the mortgage company sold my mortgage to another bank. There was an inspection fee that got added to my payment this month, another $300. (Yeah, I’m hearing the echo of Andrew Yang and Bernie Sanders both lamenting how “millions of Americans cannot afford an unexpected debt of $300…”)

It’s been a rough month. And I was humbled by another visit to the local food pantry.

It was there that true humility rippled through me. First, I was mortified to stand there again (pride goeth…). Then I saw some of my patrons to the library standing in line. Holy crap!

So many social media posts from fellow Democrats point the finger at those standing in that line as having brought their circumstances upon themselves, usually in the form of “they don’t take advantage of the opportunities they’ve been given” or “they don’t want to work”. These are the same people who attacked their Republican neighbors between 2017-2020 for pointing the same fingers. I was doing the same thing: judging others unfavorably, making assumptions that had no real grounds at all.

I was even judging myself unfavorably…how quickly we forget!

Maybe I’m not showing true humility to point out the hypocrisy of others here, especially when I share in it, but it saddens me because this shaming of those who are in need is a societal tumor. I hesitated to reach for help because of it. How many more suffer in silence, too far beaten down, afraid and ashamed to reach out to a society that judges them so unfairly?

I stand guilty as charged.

Still, and maybe it’s because I have been on both sides of this societal tumor, in my heart, I feel there is a need to call it out. There is a need to humble myself first and foremost, and to shine a light on the hypocrisy of others…and the division it causes. Will it make a difference? If it does so only in the heart of one single individual, then I’ve achieved my goal.

He reminded me of where I was just a year ago.

You see, as I stood in that line, I knew the circumstances of some of these people. I saw them everyday at work. I have talked with them. And, in my heart, I have loved them as friends and acquaintances. I know about the woman whose husband collapsed on the porch and has to have surgery. I know the man in the wheelchair, the one who was homeless until an accident took his ability to walk. I know that young mother trying to raise her children alone.

How would they handle an additional $300 this month for their shelter? How would they survive if their bank account was hacked? Most of them probably don’t even have internet or wi-fi at home. Many of those faces visit the library to use ours.

Suddenly, I felt blessed. I have so much. Yes, there is still want. There are still some needs in my life not being met. There is still a struggle going on, but I feel blessed…because the stories of my neighbors are also my story. They’re not stories of some defect of character, as those pointing the finger suggest, but the stories of a nation gone sadly awry and in need of a helping hand as much as each individual in that line. Incidentally, that line was wrapped around the building where we congregated…a 12,000 square foot building in a community of less than 9000 souls.

So, no, we didn’t vote for money over morals. Quite the opposite. We voted to help our fellow Americans, our neighbors and friends, find the means to pick themselves up by those proverbial bootstraps and the dignity that comes with earning one’s way in the world. We voted, too, for that sense of community that helps to lift those up whose circumstances won’t allow them to pick themselves up without a little help. Needing help shouldn’t be something that leaves our neighbors so ashamed that they don’t reach out for that help. It should be something that leaves those of us more fortunate ashamed for judging those who need a little–or even a lot–of help.

Because we’re all one family…God’s family. And when just one of us hurts, we all hurt. We voted to stop the hurting.

May God bless you & keep you!

Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Exhaustion, Faith, Finances, God/Jesus, Spirituality, Writing

Beware of What You Wish For

“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” (Romans 12:12)

I asked the Lord to teach me patience some years’ back. Wow. Is He ever!

Okay, maybe that’s not something to beware of since it is also His way of strengthening my faith in Him. He’s teaching me patience (or maybe I have a cross to bear in the form of insanity). Every time I get close to the finish line, so to speak, something else happens and I’m still staring at it from afar.

My trial modification for my mortgage has been completed. I received the final agreement. I have two good friends who are notaries. One of them has taken time away from an ailing father twice already to witness my signature. And she’s coming out again on Friday to do it a third time. The reason? The bank has been sending in their final paperwork rather than standard Connecticut papers. Theirs are so poorly done that even their lawyers called them out on what is, essentially, a technicality that they created. My friend has done her job and done it well. However, there’s a piece that looks like fine print that also needs her signature and seal. Long story short, my final meeting with them to finalize all of this has been pushed out another month.

Seriously?

Yes, I know. Patience. It’s a virtue and all that. I’m starting to wonder if “virtue” is really all that it’s cracked up to be.

(insert heavy sigh here)

And I suppose that’s the end of my rant this time. Same ol’, same ol’. To say it is getting old is to point at the obvious. However, we will prevail. I may still be short on patience but I also still have faith. He’s got this.

And because He does, so do I.

PS On the upside, my finals in Short Story Writing were last week; perfect score and a recommendation from the instructor to try and publish the short story I’d written for that final. I’ll keep you posted on that one!

May God bless you & keep you!

Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Environment, Faith, God/Jesus, Herbs, Holistic Health, Homesteading, Nature, Plants, Prayer, Self-esteem

Wednesday’s “Weed” Walk: A Re-Cap of My First “Live” Weed Walk

“For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love, and self-discipline.” (2 Timothy 1:7)

On Saturday, June 3, 2023 I found myself staring down Imposter Syndrome with more resolve than real strength and conviction. I had prepared for this…but maybe not enough. Maybe I didn’t know enough herbs. Maybe I didn’t know enough about them. I took notes. Would they see me as more of a fraud if I had to use them? I didn’t study the notes enough. I didn’t memorize every fact, fable, or theory about each plant. I didn’t know every. Single. Plant. In the forest.

Dang! Who am I to call myself an herbalist?

Salvation came whilst standing in the short strip of meadow while waiting for everyone to join me for this “weed” walk. There at my feet were two of my best known—and loved—herbs: a dandelion, and plantain. This last is not the banana-shaped fruit found in many grocery stores. It is a type of crabgrass. And the dandelion? There’s a reason my Jillian is holding a dandelion in her mouth as part of The Herbal Hare icon. I’ve been drawn to dandelions since the day I took my first steps…or near abouts. My mother and grandmothers all had little Dixie cups filled with dandelion blossoms lining their windowsills when I was a kid.

Plantain (Plantago lanceolata)

Relax. Breathe. I’ve got this…at least with these two.

From there, I led a small group of 6—counting the lovely Australian shepherd who joined us for the walk; she said she got all of this, too—through myriad forest paths, up steep inclines and over rocky, dried-out streambeds. And, while there were a few stretches where that Imposter Syndrome kept trying to creep in again (we had about a 10 minute walk along paths lined with nothing but poison ivy, jewelweed, and Virginia creeper), I found enough to keep it interesting. There was even a note of praise on the library’s Facebook page later that day for the fun everyone had learning about some of the plants that share our little corner of Connecticut.

Here’s a recap of what we saw: Plantain (Plantago lanceolate), Dandelion (Taraxacum officinalis), Multiflora Rose (Rosa multiflora), Jewelweed (Impatiens capensis), Cleavers (Galium aperine), Virginia Creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia), Hairy Solomon’s Seal (Polygonatum pubescens), Skunk Cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus), Buttercup (Ranunculus acris), Dame’s Rocket (Hesperis matronalis) and Stinging Nettle (Urtica dioica). It might be fun over the next few weeks to feature each of these for a Wednesday’s Weed Walk—except the Dandelion and Plantain. I think I’ve done at least two blog posts for each; I’ll have to put a link to them in the coming weeks. 😉

May God bless you & keep you!

Brothers & Sisters, Emergency Preparedness, God/Jesus, Healing, Herbs, Holistic Health, Homesteading, Nature, Plants, Prepping, Scripture

Wednesday’s Weed Walk: (Toxicodendron radicans)

Then one went out into the field to gather herbs, and found a wild vine and gathered from it his lap full of wild gourds, and came and sliced them into the pot of stew, for they did not know what they were. So they poured it out for the men to eat. And as they were eating of the stew, they cried out and said, ‘O man of God, there is death in the pot.’ And they were unable to eat.” (2 Kings 4:39-40)

No, I’m not poisoning anyone. I’ve been poisoned…by poison ivy.

I spent the three day weekend doing yardwork with a friend. As many of you know, we’ve had both intermittent running water and an intermittent electrical line. Sometimes we have lights upstairs; sometimes, not. It seems to be most prevalent when it’s windy out. So our friend, who noticed some tree limbs hitting the power line coming into the house, decided to climb up the ladder and cut the offending limbs. I held the ladder…while standing in a patch of poison ivy.

So far, it’s not too bad. Itchy, yes. But it’s staying around the calf area only…unlike a few years ago when arms, legs, and even my face got nailed with it.

So what does an herbalist do?

Most of you probably know this little beauty:

It is (Impatiens capensis) or, as it is more commonly known, Jewelweed. Jewelweed is quite the prolific spreader. It likes both woodland and moist areas, or so I’ve heard, though it seems just as content growing along roadsides, too. Interestingly, it is also often found growing alongside poison ivy; nature, when left to her own devices, often provides both the malady and cure side-by-side. But that’s neither here nor there. Inside it’s hollow stem is a watery mucilage. Just break it open and pat (do not rub) along any skin that may have come in contact with poison ivy (use a new stem for each area if more than one possibly infected). Often it is enough to prevent a breakout of the dreaded rash to begin with.

I, unfortunately, did not do that.

However, the stems can be chopped up, placed in a double boiler (see how to improvise without a double boiler Here) and slow simmered with a lid on for a couple of hours (keep a close eye that they do not scorch). Gently dab on the offending rash.

An alternative is to make an infusion (you can learn more about infusions at the same hyperlink above) of spearmint (Mentha spicata) leaves. You can gently dab the infusion on the same as with Jewelweed or, as I did this morning, I poured half of the infusion into a cup and added enough baking soda to make a paste. This keeps the infusion from dripping and the baking soda will help to dry it up the rash. Sadly, while this last will help clear it up faster, it has to be reapplied frequently to reduce the itch.

(Mentha spicata) Spearmint leaves

May God bless you & keep you!

Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Emergency Preparedness, Finances, Frugality, Homesteading, Minimalism, Prepping

Frugal Fridays – The Budget

“Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.” (1 Timothy 17)

Washing out a bread wrapper to repurpose it as a sandwich wrap. Buying a book of matches to keep in the bathroom as a quick and inexpensive way to eliminate odors. Wearing a pair of jeans twice before washing them. Combining errands to save on gasoline. None of these practices by themselves will make a big dent in your budget. However, when combined with a host of other money saving practices, they may.

Another important practice—probably the most important one—is budgeting.

Yes, I know that’s almost a “dirty” word for many people. However, this is a skill that should be taught from grammar school on up through college until it is second nature. I cannot tell you how many people I know who don’t know how to manage money. The concept is completely foreign to them.

One of my ex-husbands (yeah, one of those rare times I’m bringing one of them up!) looked at his paycheck each month. For the sake of this exercise, let’s say he earned $2000 each month. His rent/mortgage payment was $1200. He paid $150 per month for electricity, $300 for groceries, $50 for his phone, and $150 for heat. A cable company offered him this great-sounding package for $150 each month, all the movie channels. He’d jump on it. He can afford it. He makes $2000 a month. Forgotten was the grand total for all the other expenses he had: $1850. Yes, there’s another $150 available there. But, he neglected to include gasoline for his car. Ditto for taxes, oil changes, tires, etc. He smoked. He drank beer. None of that was budgeted either. He maxed himself out and then, when something broke and needed repair or replacement, he had nothing to fall back on, and nothing saved. Instead, he’d fall behind, robbing Peter to pay Paul.

Sometimes that happens anyway, no matter how carefully we budget. Layoffs, recessions, injuries, illnesses, even some discriminatory actions that may crop up from time to time, may have an impact even with a budget. My own circumstances are like that. The new mortgage payment, amortizing in all the overdue payments from the injury in 2019, is quite high and doesn’t leave a lot of wiggle room…especially with intermittent running water requiring Mom and I to buy it in. But, this overall circumstance didn’t arise from a lack of budgeting. It’s been a lack of income. You cannot budget what isn’t there in the first place. However, having a budget–complete with some sort of savings plan–certainly helps. Having a budget lets you see just where you might be able to cut some corners to ease some of the burden.

Having a budget can also help when looking for a new job. If you need $2000 a month just for your most basic needs, you need a job that pays at least that much. Or you need to find something you can do on the side to generate supplemental income.

I used to pet sit on the side. Having a budget helps with side hustles, too. The client may be willing to pay you $20 a day to take care of their pets for them but, if you have to drive an hour each way to care for them, you’ll lose money on the gasoline you’re using. If things are tight, will you even have the gas money to put into your tank in the first place so you can get to the job?

A budget is a means of preparing for as many eventualities as you can. It won’t shield you from every calamity but, having a budget—especially one that includes some sort of savings (even if it’s just spare change; amazing how quickly that adds up)—is one of the most empowering skills you can have. Budgeting takes you from being a victim of circumstance to being a survivor…and a confident one at that.

May God bless you & keep you!

Abuse, Addiction, Alcoholism, Animals, Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Compassion, Exhaustion, Faith, Frugality, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Herbs, Homesteading, Minimalism, Politics, Prayer, Prepping, Proofreading, Religion, Scripture, Spinning, Weaving, Writing, YouTube

Going Forward

“You have rejected us, O God, and burst forth upon us; you have been angry–now restore us! You have shaken the land and torn it open; mend its fracturs, for it is quaking. You have shown your people desperate times; you have given us wine that makes us stagger. But for those who fear you, you have raised a banner to be unfurled against the bow. Selah” (Psalm 60: 1-4)

            The water’s out again. It’s happening more frequently these days. We’ll have running water for a few days, and then the taps will run dry for 2, 3…one time 9 days’ straight. We’ve considered that a combination of local drought, mixed with the flood we had last year, may have run the well dry—or semi-dry. That’s a scary thought but, a credible one. Of course, it could still be that I need to replace the pump, or the resident rodent population chewed a wire somewhere. At this point, we simply don’t know. And the means to find out exactly what’s wrong, and actually get it fixed, is beyond me at the moment. We could be talking tens of thousands of dollars when all is said and done.

As I said in a previous post, I am bodaciously tired of all of this. The struggle has become unbearable. Moving would be our best option. This may be home but, home needs way more TLC than I can give it to make it comfortable and safe again. The problem is my credit is toast at this point. Can I hang in here long enough to rebuild my credit before home becomes completely uninhabitable? We’re almost there now.

            So many things, so many worries…I still have some juvenile felines that need spaying. The roof still leaks. Even when the water runs, there’s no hot water; the tank died a year and a half ago. We heat water for bathing on the stove…or rather the hot plate. The stove no longer works either. The house is a fright. This last because I’ve allowed depression to get the better of me. The task is too enormous and there never seems to be enough time. It’s nothing some serious elbow grease wouldn’t fix but, still, it can be overwhelming with all that needs doing and fixing. I’d love to rent the biggest dumpster imaginable and just toss almost everything in it, start anew, and less is best.

            On the plus side, my friend’s little boy made his First Communion yesterday. What a cause for rejoicing! His little face was aglow as he accepted the body of Christ for the first time. Quite a lot of extended family came to church to celebrate with him, including his older brother home from college. The only downside was the low number of children making that First Communion. I praise God for the 5 who received it. However, I remember the long line of children making their First Communion when I was a child. Sad that people do not make religious education a priority today. Maybe we’d have fewer shootings, fewer suicides, less drug addiction and abuse. Maybe not but, even a tiny seed of hope planted in the heart can do wonders. That’s what Jesus does for you; He fills you with hope. When you have Him, no earthly concern can truly hurt you.

            I’m also doing a weed walk next month, my first. I hope to create new business cards beforehand so I can pass them out to any who join the walk. I’m hoping to build a local following before I start uploading videos to YouTube. I want to get comfortable with the teaching aspect of it before I have to do it on camera. There’s also the whole technical learning curve before YouTube becomes a *thing* in my life. I will, of course, share the link once I finally do hit YouTube. In the meantime, there’s local weed walks and workshops…and a renewed commitment to build a brand through my blogs.

Yes, blogs…with an S.

Most who have been following me for a while know I also have an author’s page. I’m still working on the first novel but, I occasionally do book reviews on my author’s page. I am looking to get more intentional with that, too. The link is https://lisaburbank.wordpress.com

Then there’s the latest blog. This one started as a classroom assignment. We were asked to build a website for selling your product(s) and/or services online as a freelance writer. Well, I confess, I don’t sell any services as a freelance writer. Maybe in time I will. I’m pretty good at editing. And I’m gaining some experience with grant writing since becoming the director of a library. But, as a student, even having scaled back to part-time studies, the time needed to edit another’s work, or assist someone in the grant writing process, would be overwhelming. And, to be honest, when I consider selling those services, it makes more sense to me to do so through my author’s page.

However, that didn’t fly with the professor; I tried. It had to be a new website.

Now that the boring bibliography-about-nothing-in-particular is gone, I can revamp it.

Over the years, The Herbal Hare has been such a hodge-podge of *stuff*. I’m looking to get more intentional with what I include here vs. what should probably go somewhere else. For example, some years’ ago, I wrote a piece about growing up with alcoholism in the home and how it affects the whole family, sometimes for generations. I received a lot of new followers but, it didn’t have anything to do with homesteading, herbs, or prepping, and I lost a lot of those followers who didn’t like the new direction. I’ve also gotten social/political a time or two…and alienated some readers with that. I’m hoping that https://auntielisaspeaks.com will be an alternative. The Herbal Hare will remain a blog about herbs, homesteading, prepping, fiber arts, frugal living, minimalism, antiquated skills, animal husbandry and, yeah, still a bit of a hodge-podge. Homesteading encompasses a lot of ground.

Auntie Lisa Speaks will be one-part memoir, one-part social commentary, and one-part call to action to remember that no matter the issue, there’s a real person on the other end of the screen. Their thoughts and feelings do matter, and their struggles are real. Part of that call to action will also be a call to follow Christ; our country really needs God back at the center of things again.

May God bless you & keep you!