Category: Brothers & Sisters

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Remembering 09/11/2001

Lisa Burbank

“The path of the godly leads away from evil; he who follows that path is safe” (Proverbs 16:17)

I had just come back from the company cafeteria with a cup of tea when a co-worker hollered over the foam-filled cubicle wall, “Oh, my God! Did you see that?” And then a cacophony of voices asking, “What?” “Yes, OMG!” “Holy crap…my sister/mother/brother just texted me; look at this!” “What happened?” and “This can’t be real.”

And, yet, it was.

As the images scrolled across every screen in our corporate facility, I remember glancing at the plate-glass window behind me and trying to imagine what it would be like to see a large commercial airplane heading straight for me. Granted, I was on the ground floor and our facility sprawled rather than rising up to touch the skyline but, at that point, I believed anything could happen. I thought of the family and friends those people would never see again…because, in that instance, you would know there was no escape.

Glancing at the clock on the PC, I picked up my extension (I wouldn’t join the ranks of cellphone users for many years to come), and called my parents’ house in Warwick. I knew they weren’t flying anywhere but, you know, you couldn’t help but check-in with all of your loved ones at a time like this. Every other extension was lit up with the same type of phone calls. Nobody was working on September 11, 2001…outside of first responders and hospital personnel. And, as news footage rolled, janitors, cafeteria workers, assemblers, accountants, executives and technical engineers stood shoulder-to-shoulder to watch in horror.

Mom wasn’t up yet. My stepfather had just awakened, poured a cup of coffee and turned on the TV. His two-plus-packs-a-day-early-morning-gravel declared, “It looks like something out of a Sci-Fi film”. As he could likely quote dialog from Star Trek, I agreed with this assessment. I still had that feeling of otherworldliness myself; it would not wear off for some time. For me, it was more like Freddy Kruger meets Godzilla, or something equally as fantastical and unbelievable.

My stepfather woke my mother up. It felt good just to hear their voices as I watched new footage rolling of people trapped in the upper floors of the Twin Towers jumping to their deaths.

Suddenly, my Mom mentioned a new neighbor of theirs who had sat outside with them a few nights’ earlier, showing off a new tattoo. She remembered it depicted an airplane flying into a pair of towers…

They hung up to call the local police station.

Nobody ever responded, took them seriously…even after they discovered only hours later that the couple had moved out in the middle of the night on September 10th.

Later, as the list of casualties scrolled across every news outlet feed, I learned that Mom had an old high school friend on board one of the planes. Carol was en route to her daughter’s wedding. I can’t imagine her last thoughts…or that of her daughter on what should have been a day filled with joy, not sorrow. And, as my mother’s side of the family is mostly police officers, I couldn’t help but grieve for those who lost their lives trying to save others, while also admiring the bravery that every emergency worker displayed as they rushed in, heedless of their own safety.

Of course, with the renewed sense of patriotism after these attacks, and the pretty much unanimous approval for our commander-in-chief to invade the Middle East, came a great fear in the hearts of many for anyone of Middle Eastern heritage. Or anyone just sporting a head covering of some sort. Memes spread via email hating on anyone Muslim or Middle Eastern…or both. I understood the fear behind it but, when one such meme surfaced quoting passages from the Quran, I decided to risk some censure. The quote and the book didn’t even exist in the Quran (and forgive my faulty memory for not remembering the fake quote from 20 years’ ago). Though I am Christian, I have a copy of the Quran in my home and have read it cover-to-cover. I double checked and then copied down text from the numbered passage the meme claimed as “gospel”.

Yup. I got reamed. Family, friends…was I crazy?

No. Just trying to do what I thought Jesus would do: counter the lie with the truth…and stop the persecution of innocent people. While all members of Al Qaeda and the Taliban identify as Muslim, not every Muslim is a member of Al Qaeda or the Taliban. It’s like members of the Ku Klux Klan claiming to be Christian, but not every Christian is a member of the KKK. Both are fringe extremists of their respective religions and cultures.

I was called un-American for pointing out the error in the aforementioned meme. I had a brother deployed to the Middle East right after 9/11. Of course, I was worried sick over his safety, and that of his brothers- and sisters-in-arms. Of course, I supported (and still support) our troops, our police officers, firefighters, EMT’s and other emergency workers.

And I always will.

As I sit here remembering 09/11/2001, my heart grieves for Every. Single. Life lost in this terrorist attack. I grieve and pray for all of the unsuspecting executives and office workers, maintenance and food preppers, blue color and white color, who went to work that morning never realizing what that day would bring…or the ultimate sacrifice they would have to make. I pray for the passengers and crew aboard each airline. I pray for the emergency workers and first responders who gave so selflessly. I pray for the lives lost over the last 20 years due to the myriad pollutants inhaled during and after the attack. I pray for all of our soldiers, many who also gave the ultimate sacrifice to defend our country, and for those who came back less than whole with limbs missing, sight and/or hearing destroyed, suffering from PTSD and, like so many of our vets from Vietnam, found themselves homeless upon their return to the U.S. (we can do better than this America…). And, yes, I also pray for those caught in a cycle of hate for their heritage and/or beliefs since this attack, whether Muslim or Sikh or any other individual mistaken and mistrusted for something they had no more control over than any other American.

Twenty years…

The children of the soldiers deployed in 2001 are now old enough to be soldiers themselves. 13 of them died as our current administration finally pulled out of Afghanistan. Yes, it was time and past for this war to end.

More criticism: I’ve been told I have no idea how hard it is to pull a whole army out of a country like that and I shouldn’t judge…even though thousands of American citizens and Afghan allies were left behind. I should focus on the, I believe the number is over 120,000, people that were rescued. Focus on the positive; this has never been done before (yeah, there’s an echo chamber here from the previous administration…). Those left behind are essentially hostages now. And, no, I really don’t know how hard it is to pull out of a country like that. But my brother could’ve been one of those 13. And I believe my critics are missing the point completely as we all mourn the loss of who I pray will finally be the last of those lost since 9/11 and the seemingly endless war that has followed in its wake.

May God bless you & keep you!

And may we never forget: 09/11/2001 – 09/11/2021

Animals, Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Compassion, Exhaustion, Faith, Forgiveness, Friendship, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Grief, Healing, Homesteading, Humanity First, Memories, Nostalgia, Poverty, Prayer

And Then the Other Hammer Falls

Lisa Burbank

“But Lot’s wife looked back as she was following along behind him, and became a pillar of salt.” (Genesis 19:26)

I feel a bit like Lot’s wife. He’s been pointing me away from here for years now. And I keep looking back, allowing nostalgia and sentiment to sway my decisions. Now home has become unsafe and I received the foreclosure notice yesterday.

WARNING: There may be some redundancy in my blog posts as the weeks roll on. I will be sharing the link to my Go Fund Me campaign periodically in my posts. Please forgive me; these are desperate times.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-our-farm-is-being-foreclosed?utm_source=customer&utm_medium=copy_link&utm_campaign=p_cp_guide_do&member=12637057

Even if you cannot help, if you could share this link on your social media pages, I would be forever indebted to you! Your prayers, positive thoughts and energy are also appreciated!

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Brothers & Sisters, Compassion, Healing, Humanity First, illness, Politics

Vaccine Perils, 2.0

Lisa Burbank

“A merry heart does good like a medicine, but a broken spirit makes one sick.” (Proverbs 17:22)

I don’t remember if I shared this first story here before. For any readers who have been here for a few years, first of all, thank you! And, secondly, my apologies for any redundancy in the retelling. For any new readers, also thank you! The retelling should provide the background without having to search through years of posts.

Anywho…

Back in the summer of 2015 I was sitting in my rabbit room (every respectable rabbit owner should have a special room for their buns, don’t you agree?) when all of a sudden the buns started thumping their back legs. This is their warning system to alert each other that something is amiss in their world. I looked around but couldn’t see anything amiss. Then I heard what sounded like muffled voices outside the open window and then heavy footsteps running away. It was dark outside so I couldn’t see anything but, a moment later, as I stood peering out into the darkness, I heard a caution little “Me-ow!” from below the window.

Another cat dumped off here at The Herbal Hare Homestead.

As it was dark and who knew if the person dropping said kitty off was still about (single female here), I waited until morning to investigate. The beautiful and very pregnant tortoiseshell feline had made her way around to the other side of the house and was waiting on the doorstep. She shied away then rubbed up against me when I opened a can of cat food for her. Later, Mom risked picking her up and putting her into a cage…and got bit!

We went to the ER where she was given both a tetanus and the first in the rabies’ series. Then she left for her sister’s for an overnight stay. I made an appointment with the vet for Priscilla then went into the bathroom where she was being kept separate from the other felines of the household to feed her again.

This time she bit me.

Back to the ER.

Because Priscilla was already quarantined, I didn’t need the rabies’ vaccine but he did give me the tetanus. I’d had a tetanus a few times before so, no big deal. I went home, went to work later that day, and by the time Mom came home that night, I was feeling horrible. I ached everywhere–especially my head–and I felt warm. I grabbed the thermometer and took my temperature. It was 105 degrees.

A third trip to the ER in fewer days.

We were there for hours while they pumped all sorts of electrolytes and pain relievers (mostly Motrin) into me to try and bring my fever down. They’d get it down, take out the IV, and I’d spike again. They were contemplating keeping me overnight but, eventually, I leveled off and they sent me home.

The next morning I was back up to 106 degrees and, in 90+ degree temps outside, burrowing under three of the thickest blankets we own because I was shivering uncontrollably. I couldn’t get warm!??!!

Fast forward to a follow up visit with my doctor and she recommended I get one of those medical bracelets. Most people don’t have an allergy to the tetanus serum. She believed I reacted to one of the preservatives and that, because the preservatives are often present in other vaccines as well, I should avoid things like flu shots and pneumonia shots and shingles shots…you get the picture! I would likely have the same reaction and, next time, she warned, there was a potential it could be worse.

We had another pregnant feline show up on the doorstep towards the end of April this year. This time we weren’t lucky enough to capture her before she birthed. We’ve christened her Zelda and she’s been coming faithfully since April for meals. She’s lovable, friendly, allows us to pet her, but she’s been nursing and we didn’t know where she’d gone to birth them. I even tried following her one time…to no avail. We didn’t want to capture her and have her babies starve to death without her, so we’ve tried to gain her trust with the hopes she would eventually bring them to eat when they got old enough.

Imagine our surprise when we discovered she’d birthed them under our back deck!

Mom spotted them all lounging on the back deck one evening around dusk. I very carefully went out with food in hand, set up a couple of cages, put the food in a bowl and placed it on the ground beside the deck (kittens had all run pell-mell back underneath when they saw me coming towards them). The plan was to wait until they came out for the food and scoop them up. The problem was Mama kitty was standing about 10 feet away, hissing, growling and definitely not being her usual friendly, lovable self. I had visions of her racing to attack if I dared nab any of them.

I wish now that I’d risked it instead of deciding to take it a little slower and gaining their trust better.

About a week later, I found one of the kittens in my barn with a broken leg. No clue how it happened. I took her to the vet. Her chances were good, but the leg was broken in two places, they might have to amputate and it was going to cost thousands of dollars to rehabilitate her…if she made it at all. I had to relinquish her to the local rescue as I simply could not afford the cost of treatment. I’ve been heartsick ever since. I know she would’ve died a horrible death if I hadn’t attempted to help her but I can’t help thinking if I’d grabbed them all that first night and risked Mama’s ire, none of this would have happened.

(I’m super lady, remember? LOL!)

Of course, she also bit me as I was trying to get her into a cage to transport her to the vet.

My tetanus was still good. It’s only been 6 years. But I hemmed and hawed. Should I go to the ER or not? I elected not to initially. The next morning my index finger was three times its normal size and my knuckles were swelling, too. I went to the ER…where the ER doctor promptly scolded me for waiting. He read my records, saw the reaction I had to the tetanus and decided not to give me another. But he kept circling back to this was a stray kitten. Did I know if it was rabid? What about the mother? He was scared to give me the vaccine because of my history but scared not to in case it was rabid. I was scared about the same. Eventually, I gave him the okay to administer the rabies vaccine. The logic was rabies will definitely kill me. The vaccine I have a 50/50 chance and he’s going to be looking for those reactions, prepared to intercede should I react again as I did with the tetanus.

Well, the last three weeks have been horrible! Headaches, body aches, chills, dizziness–this last frightening in that the room has been spinning even while I’m lying down. I’ve missed work that I can ill afford, been nauseous, no appetite. Again, it’s been horrible. Work on my book, my blog, everything has been halted. This weekend has been the first that I’ve felt semi-normal in a very long time.

And what did I hear from a friend yesterday after church?

“Well, if you survived the rabies vaccine, maybe you should think about getting the coronavirus vaccine, too.”

Even though my doctor, and the ER doctor, advised against it given my vaccine history??

I’m shaking my head right now. Everything has come down to political. Nobody cares about each other. They just want you to do what they do. And they will bully and berate you until you do…or call you selfish if you dig your heels in against their reasoning.

Or a sheeple from the other side of the aisle if you do cave.

I had a reaction to a tetanus vaccine, and then a rabies. Both are tried and true. I’d had the tetanus many times before, successfully so. It only takes one bad reaction. And, once it’s in your arm, it’s too late. It simply has to run its course. For some of us, that course might prove deadly.

To be honest, I’m tired of the bullying and berating that I hear on the news, from friends after church, from both sides of the political aisle. I’ve even stopped watching Stephen Colbert because of his promotion ad nauseum of the vaccine. This is a new vaccine that was rushed through the channels, so to speak. Understandably so. We are in the midst of a pandemic. But the FDA has not approved it, there has been no time for long-term testing, and most importantly, 1% of the population that has gotten the vaccine has reacted badly to it. Some have even died. Some had underlying health conditions. Some did not…or at least did not know they had them.

Again, once it’s in your arm, it’s too late.

And I’m not unique in my situation. Since that first episode with the tetanus, I’ve met many people who have shared similar stories. One friend from high school lost both her parents to a bad flu shot within a few days of each other. I cannot imagine the heartache.

And I know many have suffered heartache from this virus. I’m not saying don’t get it if you feel comfortable doing so. I’m saying stop bullying others for their refusal. It may not be selfishness on their part, but an underlying medical condition that makes them afraid. They may be unwilling to share their medical history with you. They may have lost a loved one to a vaccine like my friend from high school and so are afraid. It may be a deep-seated fear of a science that is all but being forced on people, a science that does not prevent you from getting this virus…just from spreading it. An important aspect, but their fear against the vaccine may be just as great as your fear of the virus itself. We can no more know if we will be in the 1% of having a bad reaction to corona than we know if we’ll be in the 1% who will react badly to it’s vaccine. Whatever “side” we stand on, judging others, bullying them, doesn’t help anything. In fact, the more you push for your own views to be followed, the more likely people will dig those heels in. These are our brothers and sisters. It’s time we started treating them as such, looking on with compassion…instead of derision because we haven’t walked that proverbial mile in their shoes and don’t know the reasons behind their choices.

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Appreciation, Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Enlightenment, Exhaustion, Faith, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Healing, Prayer, Religion, Scripture, Self-improvement, Spirituality

Praising Him in the Storm

Lisa Burbank

“When you go through deep waters and great trouble, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown! When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up–the flames will not consume you.” (Isaiah 43:2)

Praising the good Lord even in the midst of a storm…I struggle with that one, even though I know that it is correct. I know, deep down inside, that even in these little earthquakes that rattle the soul, He has my best interest at heart. He has my back.

Until the voice of the adversary creeps up and tells me I’m not worthy. I’m being punished for something I did. Or didn’t do. Or didn’t do right. All those promises from the Bible are for other people.

Then there’s another voice that whispers, “Why am I praising the struggle???”

That’s probably the worst one of all, the one that pulls me the furthest from my Lord and Savior: questioning why.

Because it shows I haven’t quite learned how to walk by faith yet.

But I will praise Him. Even if a part of me has forgotten how. How to surrender. How to let go. Did I ever really know? Have I ever really let go long enough for real trust to grow?

But praise Him I will.

I praise you Lord for the splinter still caught under my right ring finger…and for the salve I made several months’ ago containing the plantain that, hopefully, will draw it out.

I praise you for the acid reflux and asthma attacks Wednesday night that had me up at 2 a.m…and made me realize just how unsustainable such an early rising would be for the long haul.

I praise you for whatever is leaking in the basement. And for the lack of funds to have it looked at and repaired; further proof that this old fixer-upper has become a drain on my strength and soul.

I praise you for the new neighbors who are harassing us and challenging zoning regulations. I praise you for blessing them…and maybe there is just a little gremlin still sitting on my shoulder that says, “Yeah, open their eyes! Pierce their souls with contrition for the hardship they’ve added to a thousandfold! (Translation: a thinly veiled plea for revenge…lol!) I praise You for that, too; there’s still some fight left after all.

I praise you that I didn’t get the director’s job, yet another full-time position that would’ve made all the difference financially. I praise you for answering my prayer that I get that position only if You mean for Mom and I to stay here in Connecticut.

I praise you for the new kittens who are filling our home and our hearts with laughter.

I praise you for the friends, family, and spiritual community that you have blessed me with for almost 20 years. And all of the many animals that have shared this home with us.

And, Lord, if it be thy will, I praise You for showing me where to now. It’s been almost a decade since this storm first hit, Praise God! I’m growing oh-so weary…

And, yes, there is a note of cynicism and bitterness. But also, an inner canniness that understands a little of what is happening here. ..at least I hope so.

You see, I started working with a coach last month. She is a Christian and helps those of us whose faith is struggling. She is also a writing coach. If nothing else, she is helping me to simply show up. To write. To pray. To worship and create. To draw closer to Him.

And that’s not in the adversary’s plans at all. So, of course, he’s throwing as many monkey wrenches at me as he can find.

But, you know, I even praise the Lord for both the monkey wrenches and the cynicism. I may not know all of God’s plans right now, where He is leading me, where He wants me to go, or what He wants me to do, but I do know that that ol’ devil perceives the threat to his machinations. And that’s worthy of at least a dozen “Hallelujahs”. Maybe praising Him in the midst of a storm isn’t that difficult after all.

May God bless you & keep you!

19th century, Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Healing, Herbs, History, Holistic Health, Homesteading, illness, Nature, Organic, Recipes, Spices

Age…and Digest Tea

Lisa Burbank

“White hair is a crown of glory and is seen most among the godly.” (Proverbs 16:31)

Ever since I broke the habit of rising at 3:30 each day to write, I’ve been struggling to get back to that schedule. If I don’t write this blog early in the a.m., it usually doesn’t happen. And 3:30 leaves me a few hours for blogging, working on my book, some yoga and prayer before the farm starts clamoring for breakfast. However, it’s a tough schedule to maintain even under the best of circumstances.

This morning?

A 2:00 a.m. attack of acid reflux, which triggered an asthma attack, which had me running to the bathroom because I’m rapidly becoming one of those ladies that pees when she sneezes, wheezes or coughs, of which I was batting 2 out of 3. Middle age is starting to peek over the horizon in the rearview mirror.

Welcome to the silver years!

After relieving myself, I attempted to go back to bed. 2 a.m. is a bit early even for me. But acid reflux continued to rage and then, alas, hot flashes, too. Ay caramba! I got back up a little after 3 after tossing and turning, burning and flashing, brewed a cuppa my favorite Chai tea (of which I’m wondering if the herbalist should’ve elected to brew her digest tea instead of being so much of a creature of habit…) and voila! And, while I may have given the recipe for my digest tea in an earlier post, it’s one that is worth repeating for any who may have missed it.

Digest tea is made with equal parts Chamomile (Matricaria recutita) and Fennel seeds (Foeniculum vulgare). I typically use a tablespoon each of the dried herbs. Then add about 1/8 – 1/4 teaspoon of ginger and just a pinch of cardamom. All are excellent digestive aids.

Chamomile is an excellent brew all by itself for digestive complaints. It relieves diarrhea, abdominal cramping (antispasmodic), flatulence, colic in babies and, when used in conjunction with these other herbs and spices, tends to calm my acid reflux. It is also good for menstrual cramps, nervousness and insomnia (Tierra, pp. 110-111, 1998).

During my tenure in living history, I learned that both fennel seeds and caraway seeds used to be candied and placed on the dinner table to alleviate gas and the abdominal pains that often come with eating certain foods, or overindulging. Though caraway seeds could easily be substituted, I prefer the slight licorice-y taste of the fennel seeds. Fennel is also good for treating colic and can be used as an expectorant to help expel excess mucus. It is often used in “herb formulas containing strong laxatives to prevent griping” (Tierra, pp. 76-77, 1998).

Ginger (Zingiber officinale) is, in my opinion anyway, a herbal powerhouse. It is good for anything pertaining to the stomach, intestines, and for the circulatory system. It relieves nausea (which often comes with acid reflux) and indigestion. Combined with honey and lemon, it soothes sore throats and helps promote sweating in the treatment of colds and flus. It works well as a natural pain reliever for muscle and joint pain, including the pain that accompanies arthritis.

Lastly, cardamom (Elettaria cardamomum) is another carminative, which means it relieves gas and acid reflux. It has a warming effect on the body and helps to relive diarrhea, colic and headaches.

These four herbs combined not only relieve my acid reflux and help with all things digestive, they also taste delicious. It’s one of the few herbal teas that I can drink without any sweetening, though I often add a spot of honey, which can have a soothing effect of its own on the digestive tract.

When making any herbal tea, you want the water hot, not boiling. I tend to bring my water just to a boil, turn it off and let it sit for about 5 minutes before pouring it over the dried herbs. If the water is too hot, it will destroy the medicinal properties of the herbs. Cover the mug, or tea pot, and allow the herbs to steep for about 20 minutes. Strain and enjoy! If using honey, I typically add it to the cup right after I pour the water over the herbs and allow it to steep along with the herbs.

A word of caution: Avoid using any plastic vessels or nonstick cookware as they may leach into your tea. Cast iron may also adversely affect your brew. And never use the microwave! I use stainless steel pans and kettles for all of my herbs, and ceramic mugs/tea pots for brewing.

As both cardamom and ginger are two of the herbs used to make Chai tea, maybe I’m not so far off with my favorite brew this morning after all but, I’m also thinking maybe I should start incorporating a cup of digest tea before meals…instead of hoping I’ll remember at 2 a.m. when acid reflux is already wreaking havoc. As much as I am enjoying watching the sunrise and hearing the opening chorus of wild birds and pet roosters, acid reflux would definitely fall under the heading of a “rude awakening”.

May God bless you & keep you!

The FDA has not evaluated these statements. This blog post is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any diseases.

REFERENCES

Tierra, Michael (1998). The Way of Herbs. Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. New York, NY.

Abuse, Animals, Appreciation, Books, Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Creativity, Exhaustion, Faith, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Healing, Homesteading, Prayer, Writing

When In Doubt

Lisa Burbank

“For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. They are plans for good and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. In those days when you pray, I will listen. You will find me when you seek me, if you look for me in earnest.” (Jeremiah 29:11-13)

The kitchen faucet, which has needed replacing for some time now, started leaking in earnest last week…i.e. we had a flood in the kitchen. The nosy neighbors who hide in my hedges, craning their neck over the wall, the same ones who have challenged zoning, are proving to be partiers. Bonfires, loud music, swearing, screaming, shouting until all hours of the night…and there’s less than an acre between us. Then the trunk of my car wouldn’t close Saturday night so I had to wire it shut. On the way to pick up dinner last night, the wire broke and I had to pull into a parking lot and try to rewire it. I eventually had to pull some baling twine off of the bale of hay in the trunk and jury rig it until I could get back home. After fiddling with it some more, I finally got it closed…only to approach opening it again with much trepidation. When I got home, Felicity, my female Nigerian Dwarf goat was shaking like a leaf. Chester, the male, got a little rough with his head-butting. No major injury but she’s a little stiff and sore; I had to separate them.

This could be the sequel to Francesca Battistelli’s song, “This is the Stuff”. As I plan to walk to work as long as the weather holds, I pray I won’t have to worry overmuch about misplaced keys or doing 45 in a 35 mph zone, as she intones.

But, yes, this is the stuff that drives me crazy.

Foreclosure is still looming. I still haven’t found a zoning attorney to help me with my current issues. With bad credit, finding a new homestead looks pretty grim. My paltry part-time paycheck, for which, yes, I am eternally grateful to have even that, will take me a month of Sundays to save for an acre or two of land. Then I have to build a house.

And I’m stressing over having to change a faucet on my own!

Having these added issues, no matter how seemingly small, just adds insult to injury. I feel a crying jag coming on. Mainly because I’ve lost my cool more often than I’d like to admit.

Hope flew out the window last night. The thought of ending it crept in. Only for a moment but it was enough for me to stop and take stock of things. I am so completely overwhelmed. They say He doesn’t give us more than we can bear. I don’t believe that’s entirely true. He never gives us more than He can bear, not what we can bear. We can’t bear all that much on our own. And maybe that’s what I’m trying to do: shoulder it alone. The problem is I don’t know how to let go and let God. I don’t know how to trust, to believe that He really does have my best interest at heart. I don’t know how to surrender my will to His for fear that I will lose everything that truly matters to me…not as idols, but I’m still that abused little girl expecting a punitive father to strike me down.

And yet there must still be a nugget of hope somewhere in my heart because I keep envisioning that homestead up in Maine, Vermont, upstate New York, maybe Tennessee or Missouri to be closer to my brother and best friend. Ohio has popped up on the radar, too. Yeah, maybe just dreams. But, to be truly without hope, those dreams would be cast aside. Instead, the yearning grows stronger.

Enough that I have signed up to work with a writing/career coach. She is a friend of a friend that I met at a Christian writer’s workshop the summer before Covid-19. We have stayed in touch through social media. I realize how truly overwhelmed I have been with this blog (I’ve strayed away a time or two from its original purpose), with both books, with starting a career as a writer and not knowing where to go, where to start. I aced the classes. I have the degree. Now where do I go from here? And I don’t know a lot of writers locally. Before Covid-19 I had considered starting a local writers’ workshop that would meet every week. Covid-19 nixed that for the moment. I realize I need that support, that accountability, some basic structure and feeling that I am getting somewhere as I navigate through my first novel, or two.

As for my living situation? It may be a while before He reveals where He is leading me. I suppose I need an accountability partner there, too. Someone who routinely asks me, “Did you call x, y, z this week? Did you have a chance to do ___________?” It is far too easy to slide back into a depressed slump, to cave in to the apathy of worldly struggles. To feel, yes, overwhelmed by the magnitude of this mountain I’m being asked to climb.

And He is asking me to climb it or He wouldn’t keep bringing me back to it. I feel like He is asking me to take all of this knowledge He has given me, the resources He has revealed and put them to use, to take advantage of them…and to shake off the underlying feeling that I am not worthy of His grace. That’s the peak of the mountain…learning to believe He loves me and I don’t have to earn it.

This yearning-to-be a professional writer, homesteader and prepper is reaching out and asking for your prayers, your positive vibes/energies, some kind intentions. I’ve been in this place for most of the last 12 years; enough is enough. May God send His blessings upon each and every one of you, too!

Amen!

REFERENCES

Battistelli, Francesca (2011). “This is the Stuff.” Hundred More Years. Fervent Records, Curb Records, and Word Entertainment.

Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Culture, Diversity, Enlightenment, Faith, Humanity First, Love, Religion, Scripture, Spirituality, Understanding

Ramadan Mubarak to All of My Muslim Brothers and Sisters

Lisa Burbank

“I will raise them up a prophet from among their brethren, like unto thee; and I will put My words in his mouth, and he shall speak unto them all that I shall command him” (Deuteronomy 18:18)

As I watch the sky pale from outside my home office window, enjoying a cup of my favorite Chai tea, I cannot help but say a prayer for my Muslim friends who, by now, have finished sohour and will not eat or drink–even water–until after sundown this evening. This second meal of the day during Ramadan is called iftar and often begins with dates and/or sweet drinks. These give Muslims, who have been fasting since before sunrise, a boost.

Sohour is the meal that Muslims eat together in the earliest hours of morning–or perhaps latest hours of night, as some may view it–before the sun rises. Families awaken super early to share this meal, something I cannot even imagine. I struggled–and failed miserably–to give up only sweets/sugar during Lent. Abstaining from all sustenance from sunrise to sunset elicits a slight shudder; I am the proverbial bear when I don’t eat. Which also leaves me questioning where my own faith lacks. Could I endure such? And, perhaps, “endure” is not the operative word here. According to one source, Muslims are supposed to fast with niyyah, or intention. This means that they must not simply abstain from food but “intend in heart that the fast is meant to be a worship for Allah alone” (Klein, 2021).

I am always amazed at the beauty of traditions that are followed by each religion and/or culture. Though I am born-again Christian, and a practicing Catholic, I have always been intrigued with what others believe and how they worship the God of their consciousness…even to “practicing” some of these traditions myself for short periods of time. Not to make light of such traditions, but because I have always believed that the true way to peace is to learn about each other. And the best way to learn is to submerge yourself, as least as much as one is comfortable, in that culture, tradition, religion, and/or language.

Case in point: I studied at the Rhode Island School for the Deaf for several semesters. After the first couple of weeks of introduction with a hearing/speaking instructor, we were assigned to a Deaf teacher. We learned Sign quickly…if for no other reason then to get our next homework assignment. I learned so well that I found myself reading body language even outside of the classroom…much to the chagrin of an over-eager swain in a local night club one night who laid on the b.s. like peanut butter.

But I digress…

So what is Ramadan?

According to the Encyclopedia Brittanica, it is celebrated, or observed, as the “commemoration of Muhammad’s ‘receipt of the first Qur’anic revelation towards the end of the fasting month of Ramadan’,” (Brittanica, n.d.). Like my own tradition of Lent, it is a time for drawing nearer to God (or so it seems in it’s willing sacrifice for Him). (And, I hope, if there is any error here, that any Muslim brethren reading this will post a comment below to enlighten us further (smile)).

That being said, Ramadan Mubarak to all of my Muslim brothers and sisters.

And, to all of my brothers and sisters of every faith and tradition, no matter your calling, or beliefs, as always, may God bless you & keep you!

REFERENCES

Klein, Allison (2021). “How Ramadan Works.” Howstuffworks. http://www.people.howstuffworks.com/aculture-traditions/holidays-other/ramadan2.htm

Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Creativity, Culture, Diversity, Enlightenment, History, Holidays, Nostalgia

F-F-F-Foolin’

Lisa Burbank

“Wisdom is a fountain of life to those possessing it, but a fool’s burden is his folly.” (Proverbs 16:22)

I’ve dedicated some time to learning more about holidays from other cultures and/or religions. I’ve explored Wiccan and Pagan traditions, Judaism, Muslim, Native American and Hindu festivals. However, I’ve neglected the “holiday” we celebrate today: April Fool’s Day!

Holiday is in quotation marks because I don’t know of a single country, municipality, or corporation that gives April Fool’s Day as a day off to celebrate or commemorate. Instead, the fun and games are often made manifest on the job or in the school. Most of the time these manifestations are harmless, perhaps even corny in their execution, but sometimes they’re a little more of a, shall we say, nuisance?

I am reminded of one April Fool’s Day in my early-20’s when a local DJ announced that Bon Jovi was coming to town and tickets were going on sale that morning. My friends and I piled into the car, raced into the downtown area–complete with bursts of road rage towards anyone who got in our way–only to find it was a hoax. Our juvenile selves were quite put out by it. (Ironically, today I couldn’t care less if Bon Jovi was coming to town; how times change!)

Anyway, from what I was able to find yesterday, this holiday actually goes back several centuries and no one is truly certain exactly when or how it was started. However, the general consensus is that April Fool’s came about when we switched from the Julian calendar to the Georgian calendar. April 1st used to be New Year’s Day by that calendar and, for those “fools” who continued to celebrate and wish everyone a “Happy New Year” on April 1st, even years after we rolled calendars, April 1st came to be known as April Fool’s Day. Pranks were then started to “prove” just how foolish and gullible a body was. According to Wikipedia (which, albeit, is not always the most reliable…), in Scotland, the day has traditionally been celebrated by tacking signs on another person’s derriere saying things like “Kick me!” And we always thought Looney Tunes came up with that one on their own.

April Fool’s!

May God bless you & keep you!

Brothers & Sisters, Culture, Faith, Humanity First, Open-mindedness, Religion, Scripture, Spirituality, Understanding

Happy Passover

Lisa Burbank

“Then the Lord said to Moses and Aaron, ‘From now on, this month will be the first and most important month of the Jewish calendar. Annually, on the tenth day of this month (announce this to all the people of Israel) each family shall get a lamb (or, if a family is small, let it share the lamb with another small family in the neighborhood; whether to share in this way depends on the size of the families). This animal shall be a year-old male, either a sheep or a goat, without any defects.

On the evening of the fourteenth day of this month, all these lambs shall be killed, and their blood shall be placed on the two side-frames of the door of every home and on the panel above the door. Use the blood of the lamb eaten in that home. Everyone shall eat roast lamb that night, with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. The meat must not be eaten raw, or boiled, but roasted, including the head, legs, heart, and liver. Don’t eat any of it the next day; if all is not eaten that night, burn what is left.

Eat it with your traveling clothes on, prepared for a long journey, wearing your walking shoes and carrying your walking sticks in your hands; eat it hurriedly. This observance shall be called the Lord’s Passover. For I will pass through the land of Egypt tonight and kill all the oldest sons and firstborn male animals in all the land of Egypt, and execute judgment upon all the gods of Egypt–for I am Jehovah. The blood you have placed on the doorposts will be proof that you obey me, and when I see the blood I will pass over you and I will not destroy your firstborn children when I smite the land of Egypt.

You shall celebrate this event each year (this is a permanent law) to remind you of this fatal night. The celebration shall last seven days. For that entire period you are to eat only bread made without yeast. Anyone who disobeys this rule at any time during the seven days of the celebration shall be excommunicated from Israel. On the first day of the celebration, and again on the seventh day, there will be special religious services for the entire congregation, and no work of any kind may be done on those days except the preparation of food. (Exodus 12: 1-16)

Today’s post has a longer piece of Scripture than post, but as many reading may not know why, or what, is the reason for the Passover celebration for our Jewish brothers and sisters, it seems befitting to add this.

That being said, I’d like to shout out a “Happy Passover” greeting to my Jewish brothers and sisters. May your celebration bring you bright blessings throughout the year!

May God bless you & keep you!

Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Culture, Diversity, Healing, History, Holidays, Human rights, Humanity First, Lent, Religion, Scripture, Understanding

Falling Behind

Lisa Burbank

“Now as for you, dear brothers, who are waiting for the Lord’s return, be patient, like a farmer who waits until the autumn for his precious harvest to ripen. Yes, be patient. And take courage, for the coming of the Lord is near.” (James 5:7-8)

I missed the First Day of Spring, Ostara, and Nowruz greetings this past Saturday. I missed St. Patrick’s Day, St. Joseph’s Day, Presidents’ Day, Lent, Valentine’s Day, Groundhog’s Day, St. Brigid’s, Candlemas and Imbolc, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day and even New Year’s Day–including the Chinese New Year (2021 is the Year of the Dragon, by the way!). I’m probably missing a few others, too.

As for the usual commitments, I never picked a theme song for the year. However, that being said, in light of all the escalating hate crimes, I think I’m going to keep the collaboration between Mandisa, Kirk Franklin and Tobymac, “We All Bleed the Same,” for another year. It is, sadly, still befitting. And something we should all remember.

Our Asian brothers and sisters are NOT responsible for coronavirus coming to these shores; please stop beating them up or shooting them in their places of business. It is especially heartbreaking to see that it is mostly the elderly, and women, who seem to be the targets of such cowardice.

Our Black brethren deserve to feel the same sense of safety and security walking down the streets as their Caucasian brothers and sisters; ditto for feeling safe in their homes. There’s a reason why we should never forget names like Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery. Our Black brethren also deserve the right to vote…and to have that vote count. If your candidate, whether in the House or Senate, the Presidency, or local government, lost because more people voted this time around than in any other point in history, suppressing that vote is not the answer. Scratching your head until you come up with real solutions to the issues that matter most to Americans should, instead, be your course of action. Your candidate lost because they demonstrated more concern with Party authoritarianism than We, the People they were hired to serve (eh, we’re beyond Party “loyalty” at this point…on both sides of the aisle).

The flip side of one of these pleas is that not every officer in blue is guilty of either racial profiling or brutality; I know quite a few who were just as outraged that George Floyd was not let up from under a knee when he said he couldn’t breathe. There were even some police units that marched with Black Lives Matter protestors this past summer in a show of solidarity.

Every member of the Muslim community is NOT responsible for 9/11, nor do they want to kill everyone who believes differently from them. Instead, our Muslim brethren are typically warm and caring individuals who came to these shores for the same reasons other immigrants came here. Get to know them, lose the fear bred by ignorance.

Yes, the Holocaust really happened and over 6 million of our Jewish brethren lost their lives because of Nazi terrorism and evil. Denying it is a slap in the face. Like our Muslim brethren, Jewish people are also typically warm and caring individuals. Get to know them, lose the fear bred by ignorance.

Our Latinx brothers and sisters are NOT taking your jobs. Neither are they “animals” or “vermin”. Most are hard-working and, again, are coming here for many of the same reasons every other immigrant has come to these shores.

This same litany of ignorance and distrust has been perpetuated against every immigrant who has ever graced these shores since Columbus set foot here back in 1492. The only “thieves” in the mix are the earliest settlers to these United States who called our First Nations’ brothers and sisters “heathens” and “savages”, accused them of being “animals” and “murderers”, forced them off their lands and onto reservations, tried to wipe away every trace of Native American heritage, and sold many to the Caribbean as slaves.

On the issue of slavery, yes, we do have much in the way of reparations to our Black brothers and sisters to give. I have no doubt some of these families would have found their way to these shores like every other immigrant if left to do so freely. However, most did not come here freely. And, because these “immigrants” came here as chattel, even tracing their lineage is more challenging than for any other demographic of people. Like our Jewish brethren who lost so much during the Holocaust, it is a slap in the face to all of the men, women, and children who lost their lives to that “peculiar institution,” and to the myriad hate crimes that have dogged their steps ever since.

Going back to immigration, it hasn’t only been people of color who have experienced hate and violence at the hands of those U.S. citizens who came here before them. In the 1840s, the doors and windows to nearly every business held a sign that said: “Irish need not apply” or “No Irish”. That is until factory owners realized they could hire two young Irish girls for less than they paid the skilled American worker…and fired the latter. I could be wrong, but I believe that was one of the earliest episodes of an immigrant being reportedly “taking our jobs”.

The truth of it all is that our country has progressively become the richer for every wave of immigrants that have come to these shores. Don’t believe me? Take a look at the list of holidays I neglected to celebrate. We have Catholic, Protestant, Muslim and Wiccan holidays listed. Irish, Italian, Black, and Asian celebrations, too. In a couple of weeks it will be Easter (Christian), Passover (Jewish), and Ramadan (Muslim). And Cinco de Mayo is just around the corner.

Where else in the world can you find such diversity? We not only bleed the same, we bleed together when we cannot love our neighbors as ourselves.

May God bless you & keep you!