Category: Christianity

Abuse, Addiction, Alcoholism, Christianity, Community, Faith, God/Jesus, Healing, Scripture, Self-esteem, Self-improvement, Social Media

End Days

Lisa Burbank

“This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, without natural affection, truce-breakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good, traitors, heady, high-minded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God, having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away. For of this sort are they which creep into houses, and lead captive silly women laden with sins, led away with divers lusts, ever learning, and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth.” (2 Timothy 3:1-6)

I don’t know if these are truly “end days” but it sure feels like it when I read that passage from Scripture.

I mentioned in my last post that social media is breeding narcissists, or men who “shall be lovers of themselves.” Granted, this is only one person’s opinion based on personal observation, but it is what I see.

I refuse to refer to any dictionary written within the last 20 years, except for comparison, as the definitions keep changing to suit the more depraved needs of our fallen society. That being said, the 1967 edition of the Merriam Webster Dictionary defines narcissism as another word for egoism, or egocentrism.

Egoism is “1. a doctrine that all the elements of knowledge are in the ego and its relations, 2a. an ethical doctrine that individual self-interest is the actual motive of all conscious action, 2b. an ethical doctrine that individual self-interest is the valid end to all action.”

Egocentric, the root of egocentrism, has this to say “1. concerned with the individual rather than society, 2. taking the ego as the starting point in philosophy, 3a. limited in outlook or concern to one’s own activities or needs, 3b. selfish.”

Today narcissism has had more controlling and manipulative traits added to its definition. If you Google narcissism, you get: “a personality style marked by grandiose self-importance, a profound lack of empathy, a constant need for admiration, and a belief in one’s own uniqueness and special status.” Then AI goes on to say that there is a “sense of entitlement,” “fantasies of success” and “exploitative behavior.” This definition seems to build upon the earlier, and likely more accurate definition, but there is also further reading about something called: Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

Sadly, every bad behavior, every area of our lives where there is a need for God’s healing and love, we turn into a disease or a disorder…and there’s definitely some validity in that. This is because it makes it easier for the victim–whether we’re talking about the person(s) adversely affected by another’s poor behavior, or the person caught up in that poor behavior–to heal, to see what’s been afflicted upon them as something more manageable, something they can change, or improve upon.

Oftentimes, with any sort of abuse–including controlling and manipulative behavior–the victim (in this case, the person being adversely affected by another’s behavior) takes on the mantle of blame and shame. It’s somehow their fault. We see this especially in children. The child who is being abused in some way pushes himself/herself to excel…to a point of fanaticism, where it actually becomes a form of self-harm. Their whole sense of being is tied up in winning, in doing their best…and that best is never good enough because, if they were good enough, they wouldn’t be abused. It’s a vicious cycle. I call them “mind tapes” and they are the most insidious consequences of abuse. By calling the abuse, the addiction, the controlling and/or manipulative behaviors a “disorder” or a “disease,” we help rewrite those “tapes.” The victim learns to accept that it wasn’t their fault.

The flip side of that is by re-labeling something a “disease” or a “disorder,” sometimes accountability gets lost.

Yes, oftentimes the person with the “disorder” or the “disease” was themselves a victim of someone else’s “disorder” or “disease” and never learned any other way of behaving, or treating others. And, yes, they often do see, or hear, themselves. The regret and shame get internalized, festering, growing, tying them in as many knots as the people around them. At some point, they hit rock bottom and finally seek the help they need to heal.

Or not.

Some people never seek help. Some people never see a problem, never believe there’s been harm done.

That’s happening on social media, too. We have the armchair critic, or “expert,” who “shouts” down anyone who disagrees with them. Their pages are filled with vitriolic memes against Democrats, Republicans, Christians and our Founding Fathers. If said memes make some sort of claim and one fact-checks it, sharing a link to that fact-check, they become unhinged. There’s no reasoning with them.

Just like there’s no reasoning with the alcoholic, the drug, sex or gambling addict, etc.

One thing that none of the definitions of narcissism includes is that, oftentimes, the person who displays this egocentric behavior does NOT truly think so highly of themselves. Oftentimes, the narcissistic behavior masks a carefully hidden lack of confidence and faith in their own worth. The definition is only about the behavior itself, not the root cause of it.

And where do we most see this mirrored?

Yes, on social media.

Every armchair critic or “expert” seeks validation of their beliefs and opinions. That’s often why they react so strongly when somebody calls them out, or simply does not share their opinion: only their opinion matters.

We share photos of our own accomplishments, and those of our children or grandchildren, but how often do we share the accomplishments of others?

And though it may seem innocuous enough, and some may engage in it just for the fun of it, instead of posting an actual photograph of ourselves, we create an avatar. We use the provided filters to create an image that completely takes away from our true beauty. At best, we upload a photo from 20 years ago…when we were younger, thinner, etc. In short, we create a lie. We allow our egos, bruised and battered though they may be, to elevate “self” rather than others…as He has called us to do.

May God bless you & keep you!

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

Lisa Burbank

“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!

Abuse, Animal Rights, Animals, Christianity, Community, Culture, Diversity, Faith, Fiber Arts, God/Jesus, Herbs, History, Homesteading, Human rights, Prayer, Reading, Religion, Scripture, Straw Braiding, Tradition

A House Built on Sand

Lisa Burbank

“Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it: except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain. It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so He giveth His beloved sleep.” (Psalm 127: 1-2)

Yep. The same line of Scripture referenced from yesterday’s post. I addressed the latter half of it…sort of. I mentioned being tired, longing to wind down and rest. Because I am guilty of rising early, staying up late, trying to be super-lady in control of everything, over-extending myself due to anxiety, an anxiety that says I am not enough.

Nope, I’m not.

But He is.

When I first started this blog it was with a vague idea of chronicling my journey as a homesteader. I’ve always dreamed of growing my own food. Most of what lines the grocery store shelves shouldn’t qualify as a “food”. I’m also a herbalist. Growing herbs, and mixing/making my own medicines and personal care products, is another goal. Again, what’s in our so-called medicines isn’t likely of medicinal value at all. Most of it is toxic, especially with prolonged use.

I love animals and have always wanted to rescue as many as I can adequately care for from the abuses of society. As the years have gone by, and I started working in living history, wearing natural fibers, and learning how to card and spin wool, weave, knit, and braid straw for hat-making, I started becoming more conscious of what’s also in the fabrics we wear. Where do our clothes come from? And, more importantly to my mind, what is the lot of the animals pressed into service to provide some of our clothing (as well as our food…)?

And, no, spun plastics are NOT the answer as they poison our water and our soil.

This ongoing awareness, and the skills needed to address these ills in our society, are all well and good. But they mean nothing without a solid foundation underneath them.

We’ve lost our way.

I challenge anyone reading this blog post today to read any book written before World War II. I’m not 100% sure why this seems to be a turning point, but it does. Yes, you will find long, descriptive passages…but stay with it. Start with the classics: Walden by Henry David Thoreau; Little Women by Louisa May Alcott; Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain. Then pick up some lesser-known authors: Lydia Maria Child; Mary Jane Holmes; Seebohm Rowntree, etc.

Pay special attention to the vibe. What do you hear?

A solid faith in God, and the solid foundation of a culture built upon that faith. It isn’t any accident that our Declaration of Independence references a “separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them” or being “endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights.” Or that our currency states: “In God We Trust.”

Yes, yes, yes…I can hear the critics now. What about separation of Church and State? Well, you’re right…to a point. The United States of America was never meant to be a theocracy. That’s why the First Amendment states that “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion…” This was, believe it or not, to protect the church from being intruded upon by the state…to allow coaches to pray before each game; to allow the Muslim to spread their sajjada in public spaces; the Jewish to openly don their Tallit and the Catholic to openly finger their rosaries…and to prevent the closing of the doors of houses of worship during times of pandemic, for example.

Freedom of religion allows any person here on these shores to worship whomever they choose, whether that entity is called God, Allah, Goddess, Buddha, or the Great Spirit. Our government cannot prohibit you from worshipping the god of your consciousness.

Separation of Church and State, however, was never intended to remove all mention of a Christian God from U.S. society and culture. He is the Rock, the foundation of that society and culture.

Yes, the United States was founded on Christianity.

I’m Mohawk and Narragansett. When my ancestors walked these shores before the arrival of Europeans here, this was not the “United States.” To be honest, I’m not sure these shores even had a collective name used by each and every tribe. We were segregated by “territories” based upon hunting and gathering needs, as well as religious beliefs and traditions. The Iroquois and the Cherokee and the Comanche, for example, all populated different parts of the land that is now the U.S. In some cases, there might be overlap, and yes, we often went to war against each other…so much so that had we banded together as one nation, we might not have lost so much of our culture and traditions to those early-Europeans.

We became the “United States” after the Revolution. We became the “United States” after the drafting of a Constitution and a Declaration of Independence that openly admits to our Rights being given by a Christian God, a Christian God who taught us to love our neighbors as ourselves…so much so that our Founding Fathers allowed each and every person coming to these shores the Right to worship their God, or the god of their consciousness, without censure.

Unfortunately, and this is especially true since World War II, we’ve allowed new peoples coming to this land to abuse this right to worship whomever and however they please. The “abuse” is in allowing these new neighbors to hammer at that foundation, removing more and more mention of that Rock from our society, so that it is now reduced to merely sand.

I would like to stress here that this is NOT a call to do harm to anyone. In addition to reading books published before WWII, I also challenge anyone reading this blog post to pick up a copy of the Quran, the Bhagavad Gita, the Tibetan Book of the Dead and read. Learn about these new neighbors. We’re more alike than you may think (and, yes, I have read all of these myself…). But instead of hammering at our own beliefs, we should be welcoming any differences in our beliefs alongside of our own…not instead of. And, while you’re at it, pick up the Bible and read it, too. There’s a lot of misquoting going on in our society today. Get your information from the Source.

If the sign of His Cross offends you, how much more so does your insistence of its removal from our public life offend the sensibilities of the people you chose to move in next to? Would you allow me to erect that Cross in your public square…and, more importantly, remove the symbols of your faith that are such an inherent part of your identity?

What does all of this have to do with homesteading?

Everything.

Homesteading is a return to freedom: the freedom to think, worship, act, grow and create for ourselves…as well as a freedom from the toxins that destroy everything that we hold dear. It is a return to using the tools and unalienable rights endowed by our Creator. Homesteading is a form of worship in and of itself. No, it’s not a church service. But prayer, and a faith in Someone greater than ourselves, goes into the making of that homestead as surely as the proverbial blood, sweat, and tears.

We can’t go back, but we can learn from our history. It’s being repeated. The First Nations’ peoples who first populated this land gave up much as they graciously allowed others to move in…and then couldn’t prevent the take over. Again, not a call to arms, but a call to stand firm upon that Rock. This is who we are. This is how we came to be. If we forget that, if we erase the sacrifices of those who came before us, then the United States is no more.

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Appreciation, Books, Christianity, ecosystems, Exhaustion, Faith, gardening, Gratitude, Herbs, Homesteading, Nature, Plants, Writing

Winding Down

Lisa Burbank

“Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it: except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain. It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so He giveth His beloved sleep.” (Psalm 127: 1-2)

As summer winds down, the garden–what little I planted–dies back, herbs and flowers go to seed, and at work, summer reading ends. On this last, we all breathe a sigh of relief. This year, we nearly tripled our participation, which fills me with joy to see so many neighbors and friends enjoying their summer with good books, fun games, prizes, and snacks.

On the homestead, I’m harvesting more cherry tomatoes than I know what to do with…except maybe as a healthier snack instead of reaching for chips or popcorn. Brussel sprouts are still growing, as is some cabbage (despite the cabbage larvae that nearly decimated both earlier in the season…). We have a few small sugar pumpkins, and some unnamed variety of heirloom bean drying in their pods on the vine. Something ate the peas. The green beans didn’t produce nearly as much as the amount of plants suggested. And it’ll be quite some time before I know if the American chestnuts (a hybrid designed to bring this legendary tree back from extinction by grafting it to a Japanese root stock that is resistant to the blight) survived the long winter in refrigeration and then into the ground.

Yes, we still talk about relocating…now more than ever due to the cost of living and the explosion of “urban development” in this once-rural community. But I leave it in His hands.

For now, I’m working towards making this place, this space, as self-sufficient as possible. The fixer-upper needs a ton of work, and now costs me far more each month to hold on to than it’s market value suggests. Perhaps there’s a solution down the road. Perhaps not. And between cats and herbs, we’ll need a Mack truck to do that relocating. Still, what is slowly happening here fills me with joy.

In addition to some veggies, I planted hibiscus, borage, bee balm (although it is not true Monarda didyma with it’s scarlet petals, but another hybrid with magenta petals; the hummingbirds don’t seem to mind…), catnip, calendula, rue, tarragon, and basil. This last, I simply love the smell…and the taste of fresh pesto mixed into some gourmet pasta. This weekend, there are plans to pick up some elderberry bushes from a friend who has an overabundance of them and doesn’t know what to do with them all. What a blessing!

Speaking of birds, though our little flock of chickens and ducks is down to just 7 geriatric birds, the wild birds are visiting in abundance. The birdhouses hosted new life yet again this year. The chickadees, cardinals, juncos, sparrows, titmice, nuthatches, and grackles are now joined by blue jays, mourning doves, orioles, woodpeckers and, yes, hummingbirds. And the mountain mint I planted a few years’ ago is covered with honey bees, bumblebees, and various other bees that I am unfamiliar with. I’m still waiting for the big bottle-blue wasps that tend to feast on mountain mint. I’ve only seen one on occasion this year. When I maintained the herb garden at the living history museum, their mountain mint was covered with these striking-looking wasps.

Again, what blessings! And I’m savoring every one…no matter how small they may seem.

The revisions on the first novel are about 3/4 of the way done. I’ve also started another book. This one, a Young Adult tome. So, despite once again neglecting this blog, it has not been due to laziness, or a lack of respect for any readers still out there. I’m hoping as we head into fall, and the work in the garden, the yard, etc. winds down, that I’ll have more time to devote to it, to develop some healthier, more sustainable habits so I won’t fall off the proverbial blogging wagon again.

Of course, this blog is also going through a little mental re-vamp as I go about my job at work, chores here on the farm, or write/revise books. All-in-all, I’m looking forward to the months ahead. This is my favorite time of year.

May God bless you & keep you!

Abuse, Christianity, Chronic Epstein Barr, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Faith, God/Jesus, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, OCD, Scripture, Social Media

Thoughts Matter

Lisa Burbank

“For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he: ‘Eat and drink,’ saith he to thee, but his heart is not with thee.” (Proverbs 23:7)

I spend far too much time on social media these days. The negativity fills my soul–and yours–like a poison. ‘You are what you eat’ is about a lot more than food, though much of our commercial food industry is laced with poisons, too. Both place an inordinate amount of stress upon the body, mind, and spirit.

I was reminded of that by a friend.

Like me, this friend has a blog. In her case, it’s part of her ministry. It spoke about praying before one shares something on social media, and how what we read and/or share has the power to take us away from His Word…and to cause other brethren to stumble.

Actually, what I often share on social media causes me to stumble. It wastes time that could be better used elsewhere.

It’s not that I don’t feel the same concerns as others, whether we’re talking globally, nationally, or just in my day-to-day life. But, by allowing myself to fixate on the fear-mongering flooding social media, I bog myself down with things of this world…rather than things of the next life, if I am so fortunate to stand beside Jesus in heaven on those last days.

More, I throw myself into a never-ending spiral of berating myself–quite harshly, I might add–for things left undone, which leads to self-doubt and feeling overwhelmed, of life being out of control–my control–when it should always be given over to His control. I know He will never fail me, but I inevitably try to take back the reins again.

And fail…each and every time.

Usually in the form of an alphabet soup of OCD, PTSD, ADD, IBS, CFS, and Chronic Epstein-Barr kicking up, each one triggering the other, until I’m barely treading life’s waters. When will I ever learn?

It’s not in my hands to control. It’s in His. And, of course, all of the things we read about, the things that fill us with fear? Most of it never comes to pass anyway.

Thoughts, like words, matter. Thoughts, like words, have power. And they can either lift us up…or tear us down.

What are you telling yourself? Would you speak as harshly to another? And is the food for thought that you’re feeding yourself nourishing your soul? Or creating a toxic waste dump deep down inside? Does what you read, write, or share fill you with peace–His peace? Or are you feeling that ol’ devil, Anxiety, kicking up a notch?

These days, I’m falling into the latter category. How ’bout you?

May God bless you & keep you!

Abuse, Appreciation, Christianity, Exhaustion, Faith, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Grief, Healing, Herbs, Introvert, OCD, Writing

Routines

Lisa Burbank

“Let them praise the name of the Lord, for His name alone is excellent: His glory is above the earth and heaven.” (Psalm 148:13)

Now, let me preface this post with saying I am eternally grateful to finally be earning enough to pay my bills each month, to work at a job that challenges me in so many good ways, and to feel so much a part of this community that I have come to love. I truly am blessed. And turning this foreclosure thing around for a second time is nothing short of a miracle. Amen!

However, there’s another way that my work challenges me, which I am hoping will also be a good thing in time, but is causing me no end of headaches and heartaches: I can’t incorporate any meaningful routine into my days.

OCD tripping me up again…?

Not work’s fault, but the childhood trauma that helped the Obsessive Compulsive Disorder to develop in the first place. Twenty years of therapy didn’t “cure” me of it. It only taught me how to manage it…somewhat. But I still struggle with that fine line between better time management overall and knowing when I’m becoming obsessive about that time.

There’s also a side of me that berates myself for being “lazy” when some niggling part of me says maybe it’s “burnout” and my body simply cannot = can + NOT go at my usual breakneck pace. Some of it may be age and menopause. However, the past decade has been one challenge after another: multiple losses of beloved family members; job loss/unemployment; under-employment; a major injury; foreclosure threats and everything seeming to break/leak, etc. all at once on the home front. I’ll have a whole new house by the time I’m done…just in time to bury me with astronomical mortgage payments. Not lamenting holding onto home either, just the increase in payments from falling behind in the first place.

And through it all, I earned first a Bachelor’s degree, and then a Master’s degree, writing the first draft of my first novel as my thesis (it’s in the middle of revisions right now before going off to beta-readers).

However, I also want to show up again every Tuesday and Thursday with a new post. I want to start writing herbal posts again. I want to get back to the heart of what this blog has been and why it was started in the first place. But I have yet to incorporate a routine that will allow it. Part of the reason is that my schedule changes day-to-day and from week-to-week at work.

Sure, our business hours stay the same each week, but my duties and responsibilities change with the seasons, and I’m in the library several hours a week when we’re not open. Again, not a lamentation. Some of those hours are to host multiple writer’s workshops and book clubs, all of which I started to encourage more patronage. We increased patronage this year by half as much again as last year, so that’s a major boon.

Yeah, I probably am Burnt. Out.

Years ago, when I worked in Corporate America, I used to take a week’s vacation, and the first few days of that vacation, I let myself sleep as much as I wanted. After a couple of days, I was refreshed and back to my old vigor. Perhaps that’s what I need now.

Or perhaps the chronic introvert needs some serious time to simply retreat from the world for a few days. Not necessarily in sleep, but simply “time out”.

And maybe, just maybe, yeah, the perfectionist needs to quit trying to “perfect” everything all at once and focus on one area of life first: my health and well-being, and then take a few baby steps towards another area of life once I’m feeling more like myself.

Only then will it be possible to carve out a routine that works without burning me out again.

In the meantime, as with my foreclosure process, I leave it all in His hands. What will be, will be. And I trust Him with whatever the outcome. And that statement right there? That’s the best testament of healing of all: I trust Him. That same childhood trauma that gave me OCD also threw my trust in the dirt, stomped all over it and left it in the gutter. That I can actively give up control of any kind says a lot about His healing, His timing, His plans. Maybe I don’t need a routine after all. After all, it’s His will, not my own.

May God bless you & keep you!

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

Merry Christmas!

Lisa Burbank

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!

19th century, Christianity, Culture, Faith, God/Jesus, History, Holidays, Religion, Scripture, Tradition, Yoga & Fitness

December 25th

Lisa Burbank

“Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign: behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14)

My Puritan ancestors did not celebrate Christmas. The Puritans took much of Scripture, if not all of it, literally. And, as there’s no actual date for the birth of Christ in the Bible, December 25th was business as usual in New England until around 1850 when Prince Albert gifted Queen Victoria with a fully-decorated Christmas tree. That fashionable trend, along with the influx of immigrants from Italy, Ireland and various other countries that followed closely the Church of Rome (Catholicism), paved the way for the religious observance of December 25th that Chrisitians, and even non-Christians, celebrate as Jesus’ birthday each year in the U.S.

Yes, it’s true that Constantine “borrowed”, “hijacked”, or however you wish to term it, certain Yule-tide practices from what we now call pagan religions. Back then, “pagan” was simply a term for a country dweller (farmer), who followed the seasons, and paid homage to the god of his or her consciousness for successful crops, and good health through the long winter ahead for family, friends and even livestock. But it’s also true that early scholars have studied Scripture and other religious documents closely…enough that they have a fair approximation of when Christ was born.

Yule, from which many “yuletide” celebrations have stemmed, is celebrated on December 21st. Kwanzaa is celebrated December 26th through January 1st. And, this year, Hanukkah is celebrated December 25th through January 2nd. Hanukkah’s dates change each year though. The celebration of Christmas does not. It is always December 25th.

In short, He is the reason that Christians celebrate December 25th. So, I will say, “Merry Christmas!” to you in passing. Not in effort to be an insensitive clod, but because this is my faith. This is what I believe. Because I am celebrating this sacred time and I want to wish you well during this season…and throughout the whole year.

If you correct me with an admonition that I should say, “Happy Holidays!” so as not to offend somebody else, guess what? For many Christians, that is offensive. Should I start correcting you in your religious practices?

That being said, I often do say “Happy Holidays!”, especially if I don’t know what you believe. Context often plays a role here. If I know you’re Jewish, I will wish you a Happy Hanukkah! If Wiccan, or today’s Paganism, I will wish you a Happy Yule! But, if I do greet you with a “Merry Christmas!”, perhaps reconsider that I’m baiting you in some way, or lavishing an insult. “Merry Christmas” means I wish you peace, joy, and love. That should not be an insult to anyone…and no conversion necessary to accept my humble blessing of peace, joy and love with grace. A simple “Merry Christmas to you, too!” will do. (Sort of like intoning “Namaste” to each other after a yoga practice…)

May God bless you & keep you!

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

Tell Me Something Good

Lisa Burbank

“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…

Abuse, Alcoholism, Bereavement, Christianity, Forgiveness, Friendship, Grief, Healing, Humanity First, Love, Memories, Politics, Prayer, Scripture, Self-esteem, Tradition, Understanding

It’s An Age Thing

Lisa Burbank

“The righteous flourish like the palm tree and grow like a cedar in Lebanon. They are planted in the house of the Lord; they flourish in the courts of our God. They still bear fruit in old age; they are ever full of sap and green, to declare that the Lord is upright; He is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in Him.” (Psalm 92:12-15)

I turned 58 last Wednesday. Not a milestone of any kind, and a day like any other. The many Facebook posts and text messages wishing me a “Happy Birthday!” were about the only occasions to mark it (outside of dinner on Sunday with Mom and a friend). None of this is a lamentation of any kind. I am grateful for all the well-wishing. But, damn, if I don’t feel every inch of those 58 years these days!

Aside from the usual aches and pains that accompany aging…especially those of us who have long abandoned our yoga practice…it’s the heartache that also accompanies this aging process. As the old saying goes: “Growing old ain’t for sissies!”

It’s the faces no longer here, which seems to occur with more rapidity as the years advance. It’s also the changes in relationships.

And, along those veins, a lamentation against modern technology and the havoc it can wreak. I.e. We are far more open about our thoughts and feelings on social media than we are in person. We say things maybe we wouldn’t. And, for those of us who have always been the dour church mouse in the corner, we speak up for ourselves where, in person, we’d probably continue to take the verbal abuse.

My bestie since middle school unfriended me because she didn’t agree with whom I cast my vote for in the presidential election. That’s her right not to agree with my choice. But it was the insinuation posted on Facebook that she wouldn’t trust old friends with the whereabouts of Anne Frank that stung. I haven’t become this racist, homophobe, wannabe fascist because my more conservative side has emerged in the face of certain social changes. Whatever your skin tone, religious beliefs, country of origin, gender, or sexual orientation, you are welcome at my table as a friend…and always will be. If someone slights you because of who you are, I will still fight by your side for fair treatment. As long as you treat me and mine with the same respect and courtesy, that will never change. I will add whatever your political views to the list above, too.

I don’t care about any of that. I care about YOU.

There’s been a lot of reflection this past week. And a realization that my bestie hasn’t picked up the phone to call me just to chat in almost 10 years. I assumed it had to do with the “convenience” of social media. But, over the years, my calls to her have almost always gone to voicemail…and never a returned call. Those rare times that she has answered, it was as though she couldn’t wait to get off the phone again. I’ve wracked my brain for some sort of incident that might have precluded this behavior. We’ve never had an angry exchange of words. And I’ve never known my bestie to be shy about expressing her feelings…even before social media.

I could be entirely barking up the wrong tree: she got married about 10 years ago. For those new to the blog, I grew up with a stepfather who, to keep it G-rated, wanted a little too much to do with me. He was also an alcoholic and, when under the influence, would fly into rages. Little by little, he pulled Mom away from the influence of others in her life: friends, family members. I can’t help wondering, when looking back over these recent years, if my voting preferences weren’t simply a final excuse to cut me out of her life…because maybe her new husband is doing what my stepfather did and constantly reminding her of “offenses” that were never really offenses to pull her away from others (i.e. a control issue).

The changes in our relationship over the years haven’t been lost on me but, knowing how strong of an inferiority complex I have from the aforementioned childhood, I’ve always assumed maybe I was being overly-sensitive. I’ve always trusted that our friendship was solid enough that, if there was ever a real problem between us, we could talk about it.

The other possibility is she’s afraid of saying something more hurtful and destroying the relationship altogether. And I’ll give her that. It’s a rather childish response, and a hurtful one, but I can accept it.

I just hope she knows I’m still here if she needs a friend to talk to (incidentally, my bestie and I live half a continent away from each other…not exactly a ride across town to see what’s up) if my earlier suspicions are correct.

These are the complexities of getting older, of seeing friendships change…some for the better, some withering away. It’s especially heartbreaking in this age of advanced technology that, while it has its uses, like everything, it also has its evil side. Relationships are always changing and evolving, always has been that way, but today, it’s much easier to slam the cyber door shut than it was the physical one in generations’ past.

I love my bestie. I love a lot of other friends who have gotten angry over my recent political choices. We don’t have to agree with each other, but we should be willing to look past those differences of opinion to the person inside. When we shut our hearts, and our minds…and our screens…against any effort to understand at all the what and why that may be driving those choices, we open the door to the adversary even more broadly. With today’s technology, he’s wringing his hands with glee and ecstasy the more divided we become…as individuals, as a nation, as a world on the cusp of nuclear war.

I hate how complex life seems to get the older I get. I feel my age more and more as the world changes around me…and feel a sense of rebellion against it. I understand my parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles more as I age, the clinging on to fond memories…and the feeling of being forgotten by a society that scoffs at those memories.

My door is still open to my bestie. My hope and prayer is that, once the mad fades away with time, she’ll “friend” me again, answer my calls and/or return them. If she needs a friend to talk to, I hope she knows, I will always be there for her. Perhaps she won’t understand it, will mock me as a door mat, or some such. She doesn’t seem to understand the concept of forgiveness, of loving the whole person despite their sins. She’s an atheist to this born-again Christian, so perhaps this was bound to happen with such a differing worldview. But I will always love her…despite those differences.

That’s one of the many blessings of getting older: you understand what matters most. It’s the people who share all those memories, who share however many trips around the sun we get to travel in this life that matter. And, because they do, I refuse to close that cyber door in return…or any physical doors. Life is too short.

May God bless you & keep you!