Category: God/Jesus

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

Seeking Humility

Lisa Burbank

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

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

But this is neither here nor there.

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

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

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

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

That’s not what people voted for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I stand guilty as charged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Appreciation, Christianity, Community, Faith, Family, gardening, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Herbs, Homesteading, No-dig Gardening, Prepping, Scripture

Here or There?

Lisa Burbank

“Put your outdoor work in order and get your fields ready; after that, build your house.” (Proverbs 24:27)

Well, that about sums it up. I have trays of chestnuts bedded in soil in the refrigerator with the hopes that they will germinate, putting down roots to be potted out next spring (yeah, there’s a metaphor somewhere in there…). There are plans afoot to purchase some dwarf varieties of fruit trees as well…and maybe an arborist to come look at my apple trees, those that came with this house 20+ years ago, and tell me if they’re worth saving (I hope so! RI Greenings are a pretty awesome tasting apple…).

Planting a tree of any kind is a symbol of hope for the future, a future I may not see, but one I plant anyway.

Oh, I’d love for “The Dream” I’ve shared of more acreage and more animals and endeavors to become a reality. And maybe that’s in His plan for me. Someday…

But, for now, here is home. And it may be the last home I ever have here on earth. I know that sounds morbid, but we never know the number of our days. Here there is a full-time job that I love. More importantly, it’s close to family and friends, and a community of which I enjoy being a part. A community that has been there for me during the tough times, as well as the joyful ones.

That’s nothing to sneeze at.

Yeah, Maine would be awesome. But I’m older now. Do I have it in me to build that home out of cob? Is it even still allowed there? It’s been a long while since I first started planning all of this. And, considering the chestnut trees I’m starting, if it’s to be Maine, I would have to move pretty quick on that dream.

I’m not sure I want to…but I will, of course, go wherever He leads.

The chestnut trees will be potted for their first few years anyway, so it’s still early enough to take them with me…ere the ruminations keep churning round and round.

This house needs some serious work. The sills are rotted in places. The roof needs replacing. The exterior needs a serious paint job…and it’s asbestos siding so, a costly job. Inside, it needs new flooring, new ceilings in some of the rooms, and the walls all need new paint…or wallpaper, which I prefer. But a new paint job will do and it’s the easiest out of that list…it’s also the last one I need worry about.

As the Bible verse above says, I’m getting my outdoor work in order and my fields ready. More raised beds, painted pale green, are going up from as many salvaged materials as I can lay hands on. And then the food forest on that overgrown half-acre. What lines much of the supermarket shelves doesn’t even disguise itself as food anymore so growing my own, especially with the threat of more supply chain interruptions, is important.

Having access to organically-grown natural remedies is also important. The bulk of those raised beds in the front yard will be herbs, most of which flower and look quite attractive.

Then there’s the zoning issues that I thought resolved if I’m to ever raise goats here again, or to consider sheep.

None of this is impossible. Sometimes I think it would be easier to start somewhere else but, I’m starting with here. Because here is what I’ve got. And I am ever so grateful for here.

It’s in His hands, as ultimately everything always is. If there is a “there” in my future, I trust that He will lead me to it, and pave the way to get “there”.

There are endless possibilities no matter which way I look. Amazing to think just a little over a year ago, hope was such a tenacious thing hanging by the most gossamer strands of faith…

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Appreciation, ecosystems, Environment, God/Jesus, Homesteading, Nature, Scripture

If You Build It, They Will Come

Lisa Burbank

“Then the Lord said to Moses, ‘Go to Pharaoh and say to him, ‘This is what the LORD says: Let my people go, so that they may worship me. If you refuse to let them go, I will plague your whole country with frogs.” (Exodus 8:1-2)

If I was Pharaoh, I’m not sure this would’ve been considered a punishment in my eyes. Perhaps Pharaoh didn’t either because, as I remember from Scripture, he didn’t let the Lord’s people go…and in came the frogs. God’s word is true.

I also didn’t built “it”…not intentionally anyway.

A couple of autumns ago, I drained the kiddie pool with which my ducks used to swim. As always, once drained for the winter, I propped it up against the outside wall of the barn to keep the rain from pooling up inside and then freezing, thus, possibly cracking the “pond”. Well, winter winds and/or heavy snows knocked the pool facedown. The following spring, the pool was full of water, but upside down.

Said kiddie pool is quite large, and especially heavy with all that water pooled up on it. The drain is now at the “top”. And, it seems like every time I start bailing the water out of it, we get more rain and it refills. This past spring, I started to bail and noticed some frog eggs amidst the dead leaves and duckweed floating on top of the stagnant water so I left it alone. Come summer and on into fall, I’ve had quite a number of tadpoles swimming around in that “pond”.

This weekend, friend Robert came over to help reinstall the inside door to the basement. There was a point where he needed to use the skill saw, which would produce a lot of sawdust in a small and confining place, so he recommended I step outside until he was done.

I wandered over to the chicken coop to visit with the chooks and ducks (Incidentally, the ducks have been given smaller pools that are easier to manage…there are also fewer ducks these days).

Then I wandered over to the upside-down pool-turned-vernal-pool. The tadpoles have either been eaten by the family of stoats we discovered living under the Florida room floor, have morphed into their adult selves, or have gone deeper since a recent frost (Do tadpoles hibernate like their adult counterparts? Or do they die off in the cold?). However, I found three rather large frogs, and another that looked to be either a juvenile, or perhaps simply another smaller species of frog (or are some of these toads??).

No matter, I am thrilled with my new neighbors and now spend every evening visiting. A vernal pool was in the “future” plans for this homestead; what a blessing to find Mother Nature produced it herself.

May God bless you & keep you!

19th century, Animals, Appreciation, Culture, ecosystems, Global Warming, God/Jesus, History, Homesteading, Memories, Nostalgia, Scripture, Tradition

The Comfort of Fire

Lisa Burbank

“Love each other deeply. Honor others more than yourselves. Never let the fire in your heart go out. Keep it alive.” (Romans 12:11)

I shared the photograph below on social media over the weekend, but it bears sharing here, too. Because nothing brings about a sense of tranquility and peace like a warm fire blazing in either a fireplace, or in my case, the woodstove. It really is a comfort.

Yes, I know a few European countries have banned the use of fireplaces and woodstoves, citing climate change, pollution and air quality as the reason. But how much more is our air quality challenged by the smoke stacks of various manufacturing facilities, jet exhaust, crop dusting, and the mining for various minerals and precious metals that go into our electronics and so-called “green” energies? Even with the recycling of some of those components, it doesn’t completely offset the harm done of this last.

Yes, my minor was environmental science. I’m familiar with the science, have seen the evidence that the climate is changing, and that Mankind is responsible for this change. But it’s not you or I driving back and forth to work each week, or the woodstove you’re lighting to save money on heat each winter, that’s the cause. Both are just a drop in the bucket against corporate violations.

But that’s neither here nor there. I’m here to talk about fire…the good kind that satisfies the soul on a chilly autumn night. Can anything else compare? Surely no electric, oil, or even gas, heat soaks into the bones as readily as the fire on the hearth.

What is it about fire that soothes so much? Is it ancestral memory? Surely our ancestors spent their winters gathered around such, praying, reading, telling stories, making music together, sharing a pot of tea and a wedge of pie.

Granted, before woodstoves were invented, they wouldn’t have been warm. Houses from the 19th century and before were not insulated. And, while the fire on a true hearth (i.e. fireplace) satisfies almost as readily as that in a woodstove, much of the heat actually escapes up the chimney. It’s one of the reasons why woodstoves caught on: the heat stays locked in the cast iron, radiating throughout the house. With a fireplace, unless you’re sitting right in front of it, you cannot feel its warmth.

Perhaps the ancestral memory goes back even farther…to days of living in caves and the crackle of a fire keeping predators away. Is it that sense of safety and security that make it such a joy? While we may not need to keep a fire going to save us from being eaten by a saber-toothed tiger, perhaps there’s a transference of that safety and security onto the knowledge that, in the event of a storm and subsequent power outage, we’re still safe from freezing to death.

It’s likely we will never know the true answer to that, but what a time to mourn if we’re ever denied the comfort of that fire as some of our European neighbors have been. It truly is a gift…as Miss Zelda would agree (below).

May God bless you & keep you!

19th century, Books, Faith, Finances, God/Jesus, Homesteading, Human rights, Scripture, Writing, Yoga & Fitness

Can’t? Says, Who?

Lisa Burbank

“No weapon formed against you shall prosper, and every tongue which rises against you in judgement you shall condemn.” (Isaiah 54:17)

I would’ve been a suffragette if I had lived in the 1800s. Not because of any man-hating, as far too many modern-day feminists seem to do, but simply because I’ve never been able to accept being told I *can’t* do something.

Yes, I am well aware of the biological differences between men and women. I know my physical limitations, for example. I simply do not have the same upper body strength that a man has. I’m okay with that because I *can’t* think of anything that this has kept me from doing that I’ve wanted to do…except maybe Camel pose in Yoga (chuckle). All kidding aside though, in every other instance, I’ve always managed to devise ways to compensate for that limitation. For instance, I purchased a “dolly”, or hand truck, many years ago to help me carry 50 lb. sacks of animal feed into the barn.

But telling me I *can’t* own my own property and do with it as I choose. Telling me I *can’t* control and manage my own finances. Telling me I *can’t* be a writer, or an artist, or a doctor because I’m female. That wouldn’t have flown with me…even in 1830. I’d either be chaining myself to a lamp post, or shoved into an asylum, because I refused to stay in the box that society put me into.

My stepfather use to tell everyone not to tell me I *can’t* do something because I was going to prove you wrong…or die trying. Well, he was right. And I’m still standing.

Not recently, but I have had a lot of naysayers over the years telling me I *can’t* earn a living as a writer. Well, I haven’t proven that I can yet, but it’s not stopping me from writing…or trying to reach that pinnacle of worldly success.

Yes, I know. For every Stephen King or Nora Roberts, there are hundreds of writers who have been published, but they’re still working other jobs to make ends meet. Many of them were my professors in college. I can find most of them on Fantastic Fiction with a list of the tomes they’ve written…even if nobody seems to have heard of them. Their books sell well enough to keep an editor happy but, for some reason, they’re just not household names. There’s no shame in that. Countless others never get that shot at being published at all.

I hear a lot of naysayers telling me I also *can’t* homestead, especially not alone. I need people to help me. Well, yes, it would be nice to have others on the same page with me and working right alongside me. And, even if they’re not on the same page as me, I appreciate the help I do get from others. I’ve learned to accept that not a lot of people *get* this homesteading thing. They certainly don’t *get* my why, or how, no matter how often I seek to explain it. That’s okay. This homestead was thriving solely under my care until a recession, and then an injury, derailed a lot of that care. It will be again. It’s simply a matter of picking up the pieces and getting back on that proverbial horse again, not throwing in the towel.

I would’ve been a suffragette in the 1800s because telling me I *can’t* only goads me into proving to everyone–including myself–that, yes, I CAN, just as my stepfather used to say.

You CAN, too. Whatever dream, or goal, is on your heart, you can. It may not happen overnight, but it won’t happen at all if you don’t take steps towards making it happen. And that’s as much a pep talk for me as it is for you. I’m my own worst enemy!

Taking those steps forward means learning to manage your finances, and your time, a little better than most. It will also mean missing a few cookouts or movies, etc. That’s part of the commitment and time management. Not missing out on fun and/or quality time entirely, but finding that balance that let’s you indulge your passions (those that are productive and giving, not the raw kind of passions that lead to the destruction of self (drugs, alcohol, sex outside of marriage)). But, if you really want it, you’ll learn to manage your resources and make better choices that will take you closer to your dreams.

It will take a lot of prayer and commitment, too. Yes, prayer. Not only does He make all things new, He has a dream for you. If you’re dreaming of something, take it to Him in prayer. What is His plan for your life? I guarantee that dream on your heart came from Him in the first place, but the execution, if we put it in His hands, will be greater and more fulfilling than anything you could’ve ever imagined.

May God bless you & keep you!

Abuse, Books, Creativity, God/Jesus, Homesteading, Scripture, Writing

Making Every Moment Count

Lisa Burbank

“Yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.” (James 4:14)

To the best of my knowledge, I’m healthy and hearty, but I have been spending an inordinate amount of time struggling to concede my age…and, maybe something more detrimental to my mental and emotional well-being: fixating on chances missed throughout this lifetime. It’s that “if-I-knew-then-what-I-know-now” syndrome. And, if it’s not really a “syndrome”, it ought to be.

I alluded to this a little bit in yesterday’s post. It was focused completely on finances but, paying yourself first (after tithing, of course) should also be a *thing* when it comes to future goals.

The first thing I do every morning now is write…or at least that’s the goal each day. I don’t always succeed, but I do a lot better with keeping a writing habit in the morning than I do in the evening…especially if I don’t have a thesis holding my backside to the fire.

It was while I was working on that thesis that I started fixating on those missed chances. Why didn’t I do this writing degree thing 30 years ago when I was younger? Why did I allow another’s abuse to broadside me away from my dreams? If I had finished this book a decade or two ago, so many loved ones would still be here to read it. I can only hope they’re smiling down from heaven now, cheering me on. But I wish I could’ve shared it with them while they were here.

Ditto for my homesteading dreams. In this case, and maybe with my writing, too, I keep waiting for the perfect conditions. Or I’ll tell myself all month that with my next paycheck I’ll pick up XYZ for the garden, the kitchen, to streamline some project, etc. And then payday comes and goes and my inner-Martha comes out and my focus turns more to the day-to-day. Nothing wrong with that…except another month comes and goes and I’m no closer to that one little goal I set for myself. Slow and steady wins the race, but I also have to keep moving towards that goal…or it’ll be another dream never realized.

There’s a string of them behind me. I’m sure most people reading this will have them, too.

And, yes, this is where I remind myself of two great ladies I’ve mentioned in the past: “Grandma” Mary Moses, who didn’t sell her first painting until she was 78 years old (and lived to be 102!), and “Grandma” Emma Gatewood, who became the first woman to hike the Appalachian Trail alone at the age of 67 and is the first person to ever hike three times.

I’m not too old. And it’s not too late to have a successful career as a writer. It’s also not too late to develop a thriving homestead.

However, I do have to take those steps. That’s where the paying-myself-first advice comes in. It may only be something small, but at least it’s something. It’s a step in the right direction.

“If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.” (Henry David Thoreau)

What dreams are on your heart today? And what steps are you taking to meet them? I’d be delighted if you’d share them in the comments.

May God bless you & keep you!

Abuse, Alcoholism, Appreciation, Emergency Preparedness, Finances, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Homesteading, Prepping

Preparing for the Future

Lisa Burbank

“Wealth gathered hastily will dwindle, but whoever gathers little by little will increase it.” (Proverbs 13:11)

I am not fully recovered financially from the past decade or so of financial hardship, but there’s definitely an upward climb for which I am grateful. Until very recently the focus has been on simply paying down debt and earning enough to keep home and hearth together.

However, I am mindful of the journey that started in 2008. Like so many people, I was seriously impacted by the Great Recession. Despite having a 401K account, a savings (albeit a modest one), a budget, and a modest amount of debt outside of my mortgage, I still got clubbed at the knees. How much worse was the recession for people without those benefits and resources? And, just when I thought I was getting back on my feet, I got clubbed at the knees again in 2019 with an injury.

Today’s inflation bites. I don’t care what the reason for it is…well, except for the impact it may have on who I vote for in a few weeks. But, for those who are still struggling to recover from the recession (which is almost everyone), there really is an underlying amount of stress controlling our every financial decision.

So, suggesting that we learn to save, even if it’s just the change in your pocket each week in a jar, may seem like a laugh. But even change adds up.

In my case, I can’t say if it stems from growing up with alcoholism and abuse in the house or not, but I have a bad habit of waiting until the end of the month to put something away for that rainy day instead of paying myself first. I wonder if the $20-$30 that I can afford right now seems too small to make much of a difference so why bother?

Yes, it does seem that the minute you save a few bucks, the kids get sick or the pets do, the car hiccoughs in a threatening way and there goes whatever ground you feel like you’ve gained.

But what if you were saving that $20 a week/biweekly (whatever you can afford) all along? Sure, you may have only saved $100 by the time this thing reared its ugly head, but it would be $100 easier to face. $100 less of feeling victimized. And, if enough time elapsed between those hiccoughs, there would be even more to lesson that feeling.

It’s the bigger picture that I’m looking at. It’s also the whole reason I’ve turned to homesteading and prepping. What happens with the next plandemic? What happens with the next supply chain lapse? What happens if the WEF succeeds in orchestrating those 15 minute cities? If we’re not herded into them like sheep, I really do want that off-grid homestead up on a mountain somewhere. Having ready cash on hand is a way of reducing our vulnerability to whatever life hands us.

So, I’m making a vow to myself to set aside some amount each month for that rainy day. It doesn’t have to be a lot. I have to quit looking at that $20, that $10 bill, that jar of change as something pathetic, but rather hopeful. Because every little bit really does make a difference. Next paycheck that $10 becomes $20 or $20 becomes $40 and so on and so forth until we can draw a deeper breath each night before bedtime…and thank God even for the small blessings.

May God bless you & keep you!

Appreciation, Books, Christianity, Creativity, Faith, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Healing, Homesteading, Writing

Catching Up

Lisa Burbank

There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

2     a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3     a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,
4     a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5     a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
6     a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7     a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8     a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace. (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

So it’s been a little over a year since, by the grace of God, I was able to turn the mortgage right side up again. Of course, I now owe more than the home is worth, but I no longer fear phone calls or a knock on the door. Nobody is likely coming to evict me. And that’s a huge relief–praise the Lord!

Life as a librarian is way more involved and multifaceted than I could have ever imagined…in a very good way. I laughingly tell everyone that I am now using every skill from nearly every job, or pet interest, that I have ever had. The exception is forklift driving, but it’s only been 2 years since I took over as director. We are looking to build a bigger facility in the not-so-distant future so maybe they’ll have need of a forklift driver in the building process. It could happen…just saying.

Actually, being a librarian has its perks. We now host a weekly story time for the kids, a Knitting & Crocheting Club (I am still abysmally slow at knitting…), both an adult Book Club and an adult Writer’s Workshop (my favorite for obvious reasons), as well as a Juvenile Book Club and Young Writer’s Club. It’s been incredibly rewarding.

I graduated on August 1, 2024 with my Master’s degree in Creative Writing. The first draft of the working title: Familiar Witch is complete and, after a quick revision from my professor’s editing notes, I will be sending it off to my beta readers…and likely doing another revision of it once each of them is finished reading the rough draft and giving their opinions on how to strengthen the story. My story actually proved to be a trilogy; “Ivy” and “Moz’s” story is far from over. But I’m thinking of toying with a few other ideas in the meantime. Any revisions to Book 1 might require revisions to Books 2 & 3, which would be a daunting task to say the least.

Lastly, I am once again looking at homesteading. I’m planning to start right here with what I already have. If He provides a way for me to move and expand, I will be eternally grateful for the opportunity. But I won’t pass up the chance to grow and thrive here first. I want to show Him that I can manage what He’s already given before I ask for more. I’ve spent the last 20+ years not wanting to invest the time here, viewing this as too small and restrictive to the larger plans in my head. (I think it was Mother Teresa who said, “You want to make God laugh? Tell Him your plans.) As I’ve done over and again for the last couple of years, I’m turning over the “keys” to my heart, and especially my life, to Him. His plan is far greater than anything I could ever imagine.

It’s good to be back. It’s good to be contemplating ways to grow and expand this community…if it even still exists. It’s good to be looking towards the future again. Whatever it holds, I know He’s in control. And knowing that is worth every hardship and hiccough in life that I’ve experienced over the last, well, almost decade.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? Well, maybe not…what doesn’t kill you makes your faith stronger because He makes all things new.

May God bless you & keep you!

Abuse, Christianity, Chronic Epstein Barr, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Compassion, God/Jesus, Healing, Holistic Health, Homesteading, Human rights, Humanity First, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, Politics, Scripture

Right and Left

Lisa Burbank

“A wise man’s heart inclines him toward the right, but a fool’s heart toward the left.” (Ecclesiastes 10-2)

Yeah, I confess, I might’ve been listening more to the little guy with the pitchfork seated on my left shoulder when I posted this line of Scripture on social media the other day rather than the guy with the angel’s wings on the right. I certainly heard a rather devilish snicker.

But it’s funny how He works.

The Lord can take even our less than stellar motives, actions, etc. and still use them for His good. Sometimes it’s just to shine the light on something.

You see, back in 2020, I often shared the most hateful and cruel memes designed to slander and poke fun at then-President Donald Trump. I had bought into the mainstream media narrative that he was the second coming of Hitler and he should be banished from all society. And every time, that man with the pitchfork not only snickered, but wrung his hands in glee. No, Mr. Trump is far from perfect. And he’s certainly done some questionable things.

But so have I.

And so have you.

We all fall short of the glory of God. Because we’re human, not God. We may strive to be Christ-like, and that’s truly worth striving for. In fact, it’s the only goal worth obtaining. But, as we take those steps closer to Him, it’s also important to remember that others are on the same journey…and we should be cheering them on, not tearing them down. Still more have never even started that journey and what example are we setting to lead them along with us? We’re all sinners. And He loves each. And every. One of us.

Including former-President Donald Trump.

Now, fast forward to 2024. After much reflection, and having watched countless interviews and speeches from Mr. Trump, I’m no longer with CNN and MSNBC when they crucify him daily for things they give others a Pasadena for. Heck, they even blamed him for getting shot in the ear. Seriously? How much of their hateful vituperative has led to, I think we’re at, three attempts on the man’s life? Words matter. And they can have deadly consequences. Whatever we think of Mr. Trump and his policies, he is somebody’s husband, father, grandfather.

Today, though I voted for her and Biden in 2020, I don’t believe Kamala Harris is the answer. She flip flops on too many issues that I believe she will flip flop back against if elected (gun buy backs, fracking, defunding the police). But I try not to sling any hate at her as I did Donald Trump in 2020. Do I succeed? Obviously not. The barely veiled snicker over a line of Scripture that was clearly used for political reasons proves it. Instead of memes, I try to share videos that shine a light on her record as a DA, an AG, and VP. What has she done? What hasn’t she done that maybe she should have? I.e. I try to keep it about policy, accomplishments and failures, not her person. Again, I don’t always succeed. But that is the goal I strive for. And I try to remain cognizant that she is somebody’s wife, stepmother, sister.

Words matter.

But here’s the thing: despite my recent lack of decorum, He’s using this to shine a light right back on my behavior from 2020. The same staunch Democrat friends who gloated and then waged an attack on my Republican friends and family members in 2020 when I shared memes that were insulting and hurtful to them, slapped back against me and my post with mockery, sarcasm, and in some cases, even verbal abuse. They *got* the dig for which the sharing of this line of Scripture was intended against the “Left” or Democrat party.

And that’s not what His word was intended for.

However, He is using this lapse, not only to shine a light on my behavior, but to point to the same insidious behavior that has plagued our society since the creation of social media: the lack of accountability and loss of humanity in our responses to people we cannot see on the other side of the keyboard. We forget that they are friends and neighbors, family and co-workers. And, even when others are ugly about things, the rest of us shouldn’t respond with more ugliness. No politician is going to step in and stop the divide. They want our votes. It is up to us to step up to the plate and remember the hearts and minds that have blessed our lives in the past, and continue to bless our lives today.

Because God loves each and every one of us. Always.

Does this mean I won’t share anymore memes? Probably not. But it’s about policy this time, not the person.

For me, I cheered when Roe v. Wade was overturned and the abortion issue was returned to individual states to decide. It’s a lie that the more conservative states won’t perform a D&C to save a mother’s life. But this is another blog post in the making…and I’ll never solve the dilemma on my own and will only stir up hatred and anger and even violence if I continue to pursue it. But that’s where I stand on the abortion “rights” issue.

I also cheered when both Robert Kennedy, Jr. and Tulsi Gabbard endorsed Donald Trump. I’m tired of seeing so many people struggling with chronic health issues (myself included) due to the poison that’s in our food, our water, our soil, our so-called “medicine”, etc. I hope Mr. Trump follows through in giving them each a place in his administration next January. I hope Mr. Kennedy, alongside Senator Rand Paul, does a thorough investigation into Dr. Fauci and the NIH regarding gain-of-function research once Mr. Trump is in office again. I also don’t want to have to place the word “organic” in front of my food anymore. I want cruelty-free and organic practices to be put into place throughout every aspect of farming. I would like to retain the right to grow and raise my own food and medicines, but I also want to see healthy, wholesome food available in the grocery store, or market, for every single person on this planet. And I believe Mr. Kennedy would do everything possible to make that happen if he’s allowed that place in another Trump administration.

Lastly, I see far too many parallels in this transgender movement that is targeting minors and the pedophilia I grew up as a child. Both ask children to make life-altering decisions about their bodies before they’re mature enough to truly understand the consequences. Yes, gender dysphoria is a real thing. But it’s also true that, depending on your source, 75%-90% of those diagnosed with it, outgrow it once they’re through puberty. It breaks my heart to see otherwise healthy young girls having full mastectomies…especially when I consider the trauma every woman who has ever had to have one to save her life from breast cancer experiences. How is mutilating young bodies an answer? How is rendering any child sterile from having children of their own someday an answer? Far too many who have detransitioned have found that they do not go into a late puberty but, for many young women, they go straight into menopause. How is that okay?

So those are the rocks I stand on…that, and I’d like to stop seeing Christians mocked and derided and denied the same 1st Amendment rights that other religions enjoy in this country. But He did say the world will hate us because we are His.

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Appreciation, Books, Christianity, Exhaustion, Family, Fiber Arts, Friendship, gardening, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Healing, Herbs, Homesteading, Plants, Prayer, Prepping, Reading, Religion, Sleep Deprivation, Spinning, Straw Braiding, Weaving, Writing, Yoga & Fitness

Keeping It Simple

Lisa Burbank

“For God is not a God of confusion, but of peace.” (1 Corinthians 14:33)

I’m feeling my age…and the stress of the past year: navigating, and eventually, mitigating foreclosure; the loss of my beloved aunt and uncle; new job position that I absolutely love but, it also keeps me hopping with an ever-changing schedule; thesis courses demanding 15,000 new words to my first novel to be turned in every 4 weeks. And now, another beloved aunt struggling with health issues. I also have a cat under veterinary care right now and a geriatric goat with some special needs. To say that I am spent would be putting it mildly.

And yet, on the upside, through His grace, I have successfully navigated foreclosure and, at least for the moment, am keeping my home. I am blessed beyond measure to have aunts and uncles that I can call “beloved”. I am also blessed beyond measure in a still-tanking job market to have the job that I do. There’s a certain thrill to see the story in my head and in my heart coming out on paper. And it’s another kind of blessing to have pets to share my world, to care for each day.

But I’m still spent.

I stood up one of my best friends this week for an event that she and I were supposed to attend together. She was worried something bad might’ve happened. Then I forgot I had agreed to cover as Lector last week for a fellow parishioner. Father Ben teased me about it. He wasn’t angry, but I was angry with myself…for both instances.

I either need to simplify, or get better organized. Perhaps it’s a little of both. An accountability partner would be a blessing right now, too, but I can’t have everything…

“The Dream” section of this blog/website is still in my heart. Every time I think of simplifying, another point from that bulleted outline rears up and says, “Don’t forget me!”. And I don’t.

Still, there’s a shifting inside that is looking to modify it a little…at least until I’m through with college.

I’ve blogged before about how I overfill my time. I tend to have “scatter syndrome” from too much “busyness”. I forget things like dates with friends, additional commitments, and even prayer. The flip side is, if I simplify too much, the brain turns to mush and the forgetfulness increases, rather than decreases. I need to find that sweet balance.

Or a staycation where I can do some much-needed spring cleaning that’s nagging at me and get better organized.

But, back to simplifying…if I stay right here in northeastern Connecticut, then The Herbal Hare may get whittled down to what everyone sees in the icon: Bunnies, herbs, and honeybees. I’ve already determined, unless I do find that place in Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire…or Missouri, then Felicity will be my last goat, and the few chickens and ducks I have left, also the last.

And does that ever cut!

But my life has become an endless litany of sacrifices. I sacrifice time with friends to keep up on my studies. I sacrifice writing time to help out somewhere. I sacrifice things like yoga, exercise, time with this blog, etc. to “catch up” on some much needed sleep. And then I beat myself up for not “making” the time for these other things. In short, with my time–and I have only 24 hours a day like everyone else–I am perpetually robbing Peter to pay Paul.

So, it’s time to prioritize. And then, once I’ve graduated, I can re-evaluate.

My priorities are likened to those times that prove, or have proven, to be the most satisfying to my soul:

Time spent in prayer.

Saturday evenings playing cards and Scrabble with Mom.

Chatting with my brother, sister-in-law and nieces on the phone.

Outings with friends to hike through the park, peruse the bookstore, visit a museum, share a meal.

Family get togethers.

Time spent on the water, either cruising the lake on my uncle’s pontoon, or sharing the paddle boat with a cousin or two.

Walks with my dogs…when I had dogs.

Bunny-time…when I had rabbits, the time spent each night in their room letting them free-range outside of their cages. Sometimes I would simply read while they stretched their legs. Most of the time, I laughed at their antics…especially when the cats joined in and all of them played and cuddled together.

When I worked in living history museums, the mornings spent walking through the herb garden I was in charge of with a cuppa tea in hand, deciding what “chores” needed to be done today while stopping to inhale the scents of my favorite plants.

Working in the garden.

Making tinctures, salves, decoctions, infusions, or spice blends.

Spinning wool into yarn, filling the niddy-noddy with it, or weaving new cloth.

Braiding straw with which to make hats.

A whole Sunday spent cooking and baking for the week.

Watching honeybees at work gathering their nectar.

Time spent in the barnyard.

Reading a passage of a book, or story, that I’ve written that came out particularly well.

Reading a good book.

Spending my early mornings with a cuppa tea and working on a blog post.

And, one of the most satisfying moments of my life was about 10 years’ ago. I cooked a simple meal of pasta, salad and bread, topped it off with a cup of hot chocolate. The pasta sauce had come from tomatoes I’d grown from seed and canned. Most of the salad fixings came from my own garden. The bread was made from scratch. And even the marshmallow I’d placed in my hot chocolate had been made from scratch. It was that feeling of accomplishment.

The new job has those moments, too, especially when I’m hosting a writer’s workshop, or a book club, or a knitting/crocheting group and that sense of community ensues.

These are the things that fill me with peace, things I long to get back to. And, anything in The Dream, or in present life, that does not lead me to one (or all) of these ends, will have to go. That’s a tall order, but it’s one worth filling.

May God bless you & keep you!