Category: Healing

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!

Animals, Appreciation, Books, Faith, Finances, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Healing, Homesteading, Scripture, Self-esteem, Self-improvement, Writing

Mistakes and Other Misdemeanors

Lisa Burbank

“For there is not a just man upon earth, that doeth good, and sinneth not.” (Ecclesiastes 7:20)

Not so much mistakes, although I’ve made plenty of those, but mishaps and failures. And I judge myself for them far more harshly than I ever would another human being.

He’s been giving me little messages over the last few days to lighten up on myself. Yes, there have been a lot of setbacks in recent years. Yes, I have a lot of work ahead of me. And, yes, if I think about it too much, I do feel a little overwhelmed. No, the outcome won’t be perfect. I’m learning I don’t have to do it all in one fell swoop, as they say, but that doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes long for a nose like Samantha Stevens that could just make it all happen in an instant.

It’s been a long time since I’ve really talked about homesteading. At this point in time, I’m really thinking much smaller. Some of it is an age thing: 60 is looming ever closer. Some of it is location: another big box store going in down the road from us. And some of it is the need for more land without the means of obtaining it…at least not at the moment.

What can I do here?

I am incredibly grateful to have beaten foreclosure two years’ ago so, I’m taking care right now not to lament any financial or zoning restrictions that might throw a monkey wrench in my future plans…or any physical limitations that may crop up as I “mature”. I haven’t forgotten the stress or the fear, and I don’t want to suddenly appear ungrateful for the miracle that allowed me to keep my home.

The “mistake,” or “misdemeanor,” has been the ongoing push for more, more, more. Instead of truly learning, or enjoying, what is. It’s been the overextension of my personal resources, not just financial, but strength and stamina, and the same 24 hours in a day as everyone else is allotted. It’s been the lack of planning for the future I dream of…and the lack of acceptance that what I dream of may not be in His plans for me at all.

I suspect there will always be a part of me that keeps overfilling my proverbial plate. Call it a self-esteem issue, searching for worth, for fulfillment. Searching for something in the world…rather than through the only One who can truly fill me. I fill and overfill because there is a part of me that will always think I’m not “enough”. So, starting right here with what I have right now is a good way to truly heal those feelings of unworthiness. Taking baby steps, doing what I can with what I have on hand, and considering the results a year from now…or 5…or 10.

My home was saved for a reason. He has a job for me to do here. Whether it’s the library where I now work full-time as director, or something else entirely, I have no way of knowing, but I trust Him to show me the way in His time, rather than my own.

Of course, I keep reminding myself that my first priority has little to do with homesteading. My first priority on this earthly plain is to pay off student debt and focus on my writing. The first novel is completed. It’s now in the revision stages.

Will it sell? Will it attract an actual publisher, editor, agent? Or will I be forced to go the self-publishing route? And “forced” is too harsh a word, really. I’m actually considering serializing my book as writers of old used to (Mark Twain, Harriet Beecher Stowe). Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

Scaling back on my homesteading endeavors to fit the current just-under-an-acre footprint isn’t really a sign of failure, or a mistake. Mistakes are meant to teach us something. The only true failure is when we refuse to learn the lessons they teach.

It’s been a hard lesson, indeed, to learn that, yes, I do have limitations. That doesn’t mean I’m giving up, or giving in. It’s more like fine tuning. I’m finally learning to enjoy the journey instead of obsessing over the destination. 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!

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!

19th century, Abuse, Alcoholism, Chronic Epstein Barr, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Exhaustion, Faith, God/Jesus, Healing, Herbs, Holistic Health, Homesteading, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, Poverty, Prayer, Scripture, Writing, Yoga & Fitness

Convenience Over Quality

Lisa Burbank

“And even as they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient.” (Romans 1:28)

Despite my longing for a 19th century style of life, unprocessed foods and clean soil with which to grow food, I live in the 21st century. When I’m feeling tired, rundown, or overwhelmed, it’s pretty easy to cave into temptation and reach for a package of Ramen noodles. Or a can of Campbell’s soup. Would that there were healthier options available in that time of need. Would that I still spent Sundays cooking and baking a mountain of food to freeze for such times again.

Convenience is the reward for either my laziness, or my lack of foresight, in planning ahead for such “rainy” days. The price is a body that feels stiff and tired, eyes that burn with fatigue, and a head that’s filled with so much fog, I might need a foghorn to warn any incoming data of potential rocks up ahead.

Of course, there’s a snowball effect here, too. As I reach for convenience, I also find myself sleeping later, but not feeling rested. Regular prayer life, yoga and Ayurveda practices, daily walks, and just some quiet time alone have fallen by the wayside. How did I get into this rut? Was it only from another snowball effect of job losses, injuries and toxic relationships that led me here? Or something more?

The campaign ads are correct that so many of our illnesses come from what’s in our food. I have Irritable Bowel/Inflammatory Bowel Syndrome, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and Chronic Epstein-Barr. Childhood trauma, and the stress that comes with it, certainly contributed to these conditions, but our food system played its part, too. Mom was a single mother for many years, struggling to get by. She married an alcoholic, who was forever losing jobs because he was hung over and “couldn’t” work before an injury permanently disabled him, so the struggle not only continued, but increased on the stress barometer. We lived on a diet of Campbell’s soup, Rice-A-Roni, Noodle Roni, Hamburger Helper, and white flour products.

We couldn’t afford better. And most families cannot afford better today. In fact, the campaign ads are also correct that it’s gotten worse since I was a kid in the late-60s and 70s.

The answer is to hold myself accountable for my choices, take baby steps, such as ordering a salad at a restaurant instead of “loaded” fries, or writing a blog post that doesn’t make a lot of sense…but doing it anyway. Taking these small steps, and slowly increasing, until I’m feeling more like myself again. And giving back by making healthier foods and supplements (i.e. herbs) not only a staple in my own life, but a cornerstone of this homestead.

Of course, prayer is the biggest answer. Giving it all to God, taking it to Jesus in prayer, giving Him my lazy, my lack of foresight, my tired, stiff body, and allowing Him to build a lighthouse to avoid those rocks in the fog is the best blueprint for success. He is the One “convenience” that gives the best quality of life. Ever.

May God bless you & keep you!

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!

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!