Category: Prayer

Appreciation, Christianity, Faith, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Homesteading, Prayer, Religion

The Hurt of Wanting

Lisa Burbank

“Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s house. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife, nor his male or female slave, nor his ox or ass, nor anything else that belongs to him.” (Exodus 20:17)

My friends and I used to have an expression when we really wanted to go somewhere or do something: we wanted it so bad, we could taste it.

So what does “wanting” taste like?

It’s that sharp little tang on the tip of your tongue. Almost like when you prick yourself with a needle or a safety pin. It’s that little jab that reminds you of…something. It fills the soul with dissatisfaction, a dissatisfaction that stings and bleeds.

I’m sort of there right now.

What is it I want?

To be free of debt…and to have that homestead of my dreams that completely sustains me. I know I’m working towards it, but that doesn’t stop the longing from time to time…which isn’t completely wrong in itself. To want better in life may be a natural inclination but, when it hurts, that pain actually pulls us farther away from those dreams…and from Him.

When I see someone else living a lot closer to my dreams than I am, that’s when I feel the sting, that safety pin jab that somehow seems to quiver upon my upper lip…so bad, I really can taste it. It’s not a pleasant feeling, this jab. And it certainly doesn’t fill me with God’s peace. That’s really what homesteading is for me: peace. Yielding to the “jab” seems sort of counter-intuitive. Perhaps I should yield the control of said dreams to God; I might get there faster and in ways I could’ve never imagined…without tasting the “jab”.

May God bless you & keep you!

Abuse, Animals, Appreciation, Christianity, Cooking, Enlightenment, Environment, Faith, Family, Forgiveness, Friendship, gardening, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Healing, Herbs, Homesteading, illness, Nature, Prayer, Self-esteem, Self-improvement, Yoga & Fitness

A Trip to the ER Prompts Some Serious Soul-Searching

Lisa Burbank

“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its taste, with what can it be seasoned? It is no longer good for anything but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.” (Matthew 5:13)

First of all, I have to say that anyone who is still in denial about climate change in the face of this present heatwave, needs to have their head examined. It no longer matters the why it is happening; it IS happening. Period. If we can, we need to slow it down because temps of this magnitude are killing people and animals and the earth. If you have children and/or grandchildren, this should matter to you. Because they are the ones who will suffer the consequences of our inaction to address this issue…

I do not handle heat well. I jokingly tell everyone that my dream home is in Alaska. That is partly true. “Partly” because my stereotypical vision of Alaska is of snow and ice and cooler temps; I’m a fall through spring kind of gal. Give me crisp, fall temperatures and I am unstoppable. Three feet of snow outside? As long as the woodstove is going, the animals safe and snug in their barn, and I’ve got a good book, a cuppa tea and a couple of felines to cozy up to and it’s the ultimate. But I don’t fly–at least if I can avoid it–so such a move would mean an almost total separation from me and the many people I care about. That’s the part of the statement that would be untrue; I would not like to be that far away from those that matter most. I have enough family and friends scattered about the world that I seldom, if ever, get to see. While I might consider relocation from time to time, Alaska would be a bit extreme. We’ll save it for the bucket list of places to visit in the future; I’m not sure I would want to live there. (wink)

But that’s neither here nor there and getting a little off topic: the ER (Emergency Room)…

I do not handle heat well. I never knew how accurate that statement was until two weeks’ ago.

What has become an ordinary day for me started with the usual protest as the alarm went off. I don’t remember if it was a good night of close to 7 hours of sleep, or the more common 6 hour squeak. My body craved more, but I finally dragged my butt out of bed, wincing as the plantars fasciitis worked itself out along the hobble down the hall. Meditation, blogging, some early morning gardening have all gone the way of the Conestoga lately; yoga only sporadically entering into my morning routine. I may have done some yoga that morning; it’s a bit hazy right now…and probably always will be. I do remember running–literally–through the morning feeding/watering routine, yelling at chickens, ducks, goats, etc. to get out from underfoot because I’m running late as usual…and then the now-routine guilt trip that ensued, making me pause at least long enough to scratch a few heads and apologize for my mad-dash through life. The usual hour-long drive into work and also now-routine soaked-to-the-gills-standing-before-the-fire-cooking-in-three-layers-of-period-clothing-in-90+ temperatures followed. Only this time, I kept catching myself as the room spun a little before my eyes. My co-worker, a lovely volunteer named Diane, kept suggesting maybe I should sit down for a minute, drink some water. I did. Frequently. But more visitors would come and I’d be up again. This was the fabric of my day. And has been since this heatwave started. When the day finally ended, though I had been careful to keep drinking water throughout the day, I could definitely feel the effects of heat exhaustion. Another co-worker–this one a junior intern (high school student working at the museum for the summer) hailed me as I walked to the parking lot. I turned to greet this young lady and nearly toppled over; I barely caught myself in time. When I got home, it was blessed relief to feel the AC running. I took my time with evening chores, getting an early jump on feeding so I could get to bed a little earlier. My body needed rest. And I knew it. I’d be okay with a good night’s rest. Really, I would.

After 9 hours of sleep–a luxury for me and usually unheard of–I awoke to the alarm and sat up in bed to shut it off. The room spun completely out of focus. That’s not good. Carefully, I reached over to grab my cellphone and turn off the ever-increasing volume of a mechanical rooster crowing. I sat for a moment to get my bearings, head pounding. Then, hobbling down the hallway again, I found myself holding close to the wall to keep my balance. The stairs were a nightmare; I clutched the banister tightly and went down one step at a time, stopping to be sure my foot was firmly planted with each step. I considered calling into work. Then, stubborn, I persisted in getting ready for the day; I can’t afford another day out. I ate breakfast. The room kept spinning even while I sat to eat. I clutched counters, tables, chairs, whatever was in reach as I fed cats, rabbits and Smoky the Cockatiel. I zigzagged across the barnyard with buckets of water and feed, a different sort of panic entering the surprisingly gentler requests not to get underfoot this morning. I clutched the rooster tractors for support as I fed them. And finally made up my mind that maybe I’d better go to the ER because this dizziness was not going away and this was a bit more than mere heat exhaustion.

When I got back into the house, a whole half hour had passed in what would normally be a 10-15 minute job and I wasn’t even dressed yet. Running late? That would be an understatement. I made the call, pulled a skirt on over the cut-off leggings I wore to bed and got in the car.

Yes, you read that right…

Probably not the brightest decision I’ve ever made…

Don’t try this at home, kids…

When everything spun out of focus at the foot of my driveway while I was looking back and forth to make sure no traffic was coming, I probably should’ve pulled back in and called someone to drive me (an ambulance??). Again, do NOT try this at home, kids. Amazingly, and only by the grace of God, I managed to drive to Day Kimball Hospital all in one piece…and without injury to anyone else. Their parking lot became a bit of a challenge though. I found a space right next to the staircase leading up to the ER doors. Again, I clutched tightly to the banister, this time with two hands and pulled myself up each step. Like the barnyard, I zigzagged across the road that runs between those stairs and the sliding doors of the ER, and hugged the walls to the check-in desk.

Day Kimball Hospital has never moved so fast. There was a wheelchair behind me before I’d even finished telling them I thought I had heat exhaustion. I can also tell you that allowing orderlies to run you down to triage when all the world is spinning crazily before your eyes is a little like when Captain Kirk orders, “Warp speed, Scotty!” Just this blur of lights flashing by and before you. I’m not sure how I managed not to toss my cookies. They hooked me up to an IV and then another when that one finished. In between, they did a CAT scan to make sure I wasn’t having a stroke. At some point they fed me juice and graham crackers. I slept most of the day. I did a lot of praying, too. When I wasn’t sleeping, or praying, I was answering texts from my supervisor, who had messaged me as soon as she got the message I’d left on the call-in line, saying that I was heading to the ER for heat exhaustion. I was also doing a lot of thinking…as much as anyone can when their butt is burning from reclining on one of those wonderful gurneys for 7 hours’ straight (chuckle).

But it’s no laughing matter.

I am lucky.

I am lucky it wasn’t a stroke. I am lucky not to have passed out coming downstairs, feeding livestock, behind the wheel. I am lucky not to have hurt anyone in my travels. I am lucky to be alive.

I lost all of my electrolytes. Though I drank plenty of water, I did not replenish things like potassium and zinc; instead, they were getting flushed and sweated out. A sports’ drink, or Pedialyte, or even some orange juice from time to time would’ve helped. Not having incurred an incredible amount of sleep-deficit and stress would’ve also helped.

Those 7 hours, plus the 5 days’ enforced convalesce that followed, gave me a lot of time to reflect and think…as well as bear the brunt of family and friends’ fury that I didn’t wake, or call, someone to help me. Asking for help from time to time is not a sin passed bearing. It does not make me weak. Or a failure. Or any of the other insults the Adversary whispers through my brain. In those 5 days, and all of the days that have followed, as my body has rested and my equilibrium slowly restored (almost), inside, has been another sort of re-calibration.

“Those that matter most,” climate change and the environment, my homestead and all of the creatures who share it with me, this blog and my writing, herbs and natural health, my faith–these are the denizens of my attention and care. This is what matters most. This is what makes me, me. This is what brings me joy in this life. And I’ve been neglecting all of them…while also being a bear when dealing with all of them, human or humane. This infernal heat has only excerbated the bear-like personality; stress, sleep-deprivation, and living life like an out-of-control robot created this grizzly. Adding to the stress has been the incredible guilt that my reaction to even the simplest pleas for my time and attention has elicited. Changes need to be made. Better care taken of myself so that I can be here to share this life with family, friends, and pets, so I can write those stories, paint those pictures, work this homestead and worship the God of my heart is what needs to be changed. I can no longer keep this breakneck pace–especially in this heat–without serious consequences.

So I am slowly, painstakingly, removing the stress-causing entities in my life while my body still struggles to find that balance again. What matters most? My therapist and I have been working closely on this ever since. I’m learning to say, “no!” to some of the demands on my time that are not necessary. I’m learning that it’s okay if I finish that homework assignment a little late. I’m learning to even say, “no!” to that serpent-like voice that pushes me beyond endurance to be the perfectionist with everything…and snickers more guilt into my consciousness for a day off spent relaxing with a book, or watching a few videos, instead of working outside in the heat. My health is more important. And filling my time with those I love, and doing what I love, will go a long way towards improving that health and well-being.

This “salt” lost her flavor in more ways than one. Though my faith cautions against selfish behavior, in this case, selfishness, in the form of doing what it takes to be healthy again, is necessary.

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Appreciation, Compassion, Faith, Gratitude, Healing, Homesteading, Love, Nature, Prayer, Religion, Scripture, Self-improvement

Wry Neck in Ducks

Lisa Burbank

“O God, my heart is ready to praise you! I will sing and rejoice before you.” (Psalms 108:1)

One of the new ducklings has something called wry neck. I’ve been raising ducks since 2010. That’s not an incredible amount of time but still, this is the first time I’ve encountered wry neck. I tried getting a better picture but Whimsy, as this little darling has been christened, cannot hold his/her head all the way up. It lists to one side. (Not sure if that comes through entirely in the photo below…)

There is also a picture of Whimsy in the background (right) in this photo:

Whimsy eats and drinks okay but, according to every source I have read on this condition, the problem is vitamin deficiency. So I made a trip to the feed store after work on Sunday and picked some up. It’s really easy. The vitamins are in powdered form and get added into their water supply each day. And it’s totally safe if the other chicks and ducks consume some of the vitamin water. It’s only been a couple of days and I am already seeing less of a list and an easier time getting around. Again, it hasn’t seemed to inhibit Whimsy’s ability to eat or drink but his/her balance does get thrown off from time to time and he/she spooks more easily than the others so I’m hoping for some significant improvement soon! (He/she because Whimsy is still covered in down so not real easy to sex him/her yet.) Keep Whimsy in your prayers…and cross all fingers, toes and anything else you can think of. Apparently, it is a common condition but it hasn’t been for this worry wort of a homesteader.

Praising God for a new learning experience and praying His will is also a speedy recovery.

May God bless you & keep you!

Appreciation, Bereavement, Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Compassion, Faith, Family, Friendship, Gratitude, Grief, Healing, Love, Memories, Prayer, Religion, Scripture, Spirituality, Understanding

An Unexpected Gift

Lisa Burbank

“There is a right time for everything: A time to be born, a time to die; a time to plant; a time to harvest” (Ecclesiastes 3(1-2)

This is actually one of “those” posts again. The cycles of life and death are never more apparent than when working the earth, working close to the seasons, as one does as a farmer or homesteader. I have been eagerly anticipating the birth of a few ducklings as Dixie Duck has been setting some eggs over the last few weeks. She hatched one yesterday morning. I found the tiniest but most perfectly formed duckling lying on the floor outside of the nest. I wanted to weep. After all this time, with Dixie and I both worrying and waiting and, again, eagerly anticipating.

A stillborn.

It is surely one of those “Why?” questions I hope to ask God someday. I know I’m not supposed to question His wisdom, His plans. But seeing such a tiny life that never got the chance was heartbreaking. Moments later, I also said “Goodbye” to Connie, my New Hampshire Red hen. Truly, Connie was only 3 years old and should have been in the prime of her life. She snuggled down in the hay the night before last, tucked her head under her wing as always and simply went to sleep. I suppose I couldn’t have asked for a kinder end. But I wonder what sort of illness or injury might her stoicism been hiding for she exhibited no sign of either. And there were no signs of having skirmished with either a fellow chicken or even the hoof of a goat.

(Miss Connie is in the lower right corner of picture)

I’m going to hold in my heart that she went to care for the little one, Little Duckie, as I christened his/her remains, on his way to eternal rest. So little and cute, he/she needed someone to care for them. And Dixie, being the only female duck on the farm, elected to stay. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Of course, I also said “Goodbye” to a human acquaintance this week, too. A gentleman who used to greet people at church and also serve as an usher was found on March 21st on the floor of his home. He had suffered a coronary; his 86 (I think; give or take) year old father found him. And my heart goes out to him. I worked with Don at the dealership (the father, not the son); we also share the same parish. I can’t imagine the pain of losing one’s child, no matter how old (Stephen was in his early-60’s). To make matters worse, his mother recently broke her hip. My heart, my thoughts and my prayers go out to this family. When I see the loss and the struggles of others, I often wonder what I’m complaining about in my life.

And yet, there were two unexpected gifts during the memorial service for Stephen on Monday. First, the strength and apparent serenity displayed by his mother. Oh, I’m sure inside a storm was raging over the loss of this child she sheltered for 9 months in her womb, raised to be the fine gentlemen so many of us were blessed to know. But the joy on this woman’s face…it was easy to see that the eulogies given by both Father Ben and Father Elson were of great comfort to her. Again, I don’t know what was truly going on inside but, to be able to display such grace outwardly, when all of your world is crashing down around you, is a faith worth striving for.

And, yes, Father Elson. That was the other unexpected gift. If you’ve been following my blog for a while, you know that Father Elson was transferred out of our parish back in November. I had been away from church for some weeks due to a conflict with my work schedule and came back with a shock to realize that Father Elson had left. I tried hard not to mind that Father Ben now stood on the altar. And, in truth, Father Ben is proving to be as much of a blessing as Father Elson. However, my heart broke just a little thinking I had never gotten the chance to say “Goodbye” to him and wish him well on his future endeavors. He gave so much to our parish, breathed so much life into it, that he will be forever missed. So it truly was a blessing to see him standing on the altar again, giving this eulogy. His first words were that he had loved Stephen. You could feel the warmth and gratitude such words meant to all of Stephen’s loved ones as it was apparent that he meant them. Though it was a sad occasion that brought him back to our parish for the day, it was good to see him, to talk with him and, yes, to wish him well as he journeys back to India today. Though he was just getting over the flu, his trademark smile still lit up the church and the altar. In finally saying, “Goodbye” in another way, I realized just how much I have grown to love this young man…as a friend, as a brother in Christ, as a priest and spiritual leader in our community. Father Elson is not the reserved and somewhat distant priest I remember from my childhood. He’s warm and welcoming and as down-to-earth as anyone could wish. Whatever parish that receives him in the future will be truly blessed, indeed. And I give thanks to our Father in Heaven for the many years we were graced with this man…and for the new chapter that is beginning with Father Ben. In all fairness, he seems cut from the same cloth.

May God bless you & keep you!

https://www.patreon.com/theherbalhare

Christianity, Faith, Gratitude, Healing, Homesteading, Prayer, Reflexology, Reiki, Religion, Self-esteem, Spirituality, Touch for Health, Writing

How to Let Go and Let God

Lisa Burbank

“Now to Him who is able to accomplish far more than all we ask or imagine, by the power at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.” (Ephesians 3:20-21)

I know nothing is greater than God. But, for some reason, I continue to take back the struggle, thinking, for some unfathomable reason, that I can handle things better than He can. Or maybe that scarred and abused little girl inside of me is still envisioning a vengeful God ready to strike at any moment. So, when I pray for that help, there’s still a part of me holding back, protecting myself from further harm.

I’m not worthy. He doesn’t love me. I have to earn His love…and I haven’t earned it. I’m not good enough.
I’m asking too much. Those gifts are for other people, not me…etc. etc. etc.

The proverbial tapes play over and again in my head. How do I shut them off long enough to ever get ahead? To find that promised peace?

Well, maybe the answer’s in the question: I. See? I’m still trying to take control. I can’t shut off the tapes that the enemy plays. But He can.

Of course, I have to ask. And some days, I’m so mired in my Bad Luck Schlepp-rock mood, I can’t see beyond that proverbial forest through the trees. It’s only after I’ve wallowed painfully in “wowsy wowsy woo woo” for however long that I even think to ask sometimes. Really?

And then there’s those days when everything just seems to get heaped upon me by the shovelful. In truth, that seems to be a steady theme in recent years. And, while it may sound as if I’m still wallowing in that self-pity, the truth is that I’m sinking fast. And I’m hoping that this sinking is part of His plan for that something so much greater that I keep hearing about.

Maybe if I swallow that infernal pride…so, here’s the rub:

Over 10 years ago I started homesteading here. I was still working in the corporate world then but also working two part-time jobs and taking clients in reflexology on the side. That being said, it didn’t leave me much time for homesteading endeavors but, somehow, I still managed. Along the way, I started thinking about relocating. I set my sights on Maine. One Friday I got in the car and drove to Maine with enough money in my corporate 401K to put a down-payment on a piece of property. I came back on Monday to find that my 401K had been pretty much wiped out. This was the start of the Great Recession. I had to let the property go. Shortly thereafter, I lost one of the part-time gigs; there wasn’t enough work. Then 10 months’ later, I lost the full-time corporate position as a part of a corporate downsizing; my position was outsourced to another country. Then 6 months’ later the second part-time gig let me go as they couldn’t afford to pay any help anymore. And, of course, with so many others in similar situations, the reflexology dried up, too.

Still, I was at least able to collect unemployment. And I remained hopeful that I would find something new to sustain us (me and the homestead, of course).

One year went by. Then two. The 99 weeks of unemployment insurance dried up. Despite the loss of the 401K mentioned earlier, I had re-built it considerably before the corporate position ended. I lived on that for another 6 months while still looking for full-time employment.

And then the 401K ran out, too.

By then, I had two seasonal, part-time jobs (all that I could find at the time) and had started a pet and farm sitting business. Clients were spotty; not too many people were traveling for their own economic reasons. But the occasional call came through. I started building a reputation as a reliable person. I also began getting a few clients now and again in Reflexology, Reiki and Touch for Health.

Despite all of this effort to stay afloat, I missed one mortgage payment. And then another. To make a long story short, I eventually received a foreclosure notice. It was a near thing but I managed to get into a mortgage assistance program with my state’s housing authority. They put me back topside and I’ve been making steady payments to them every month for 5 years. They, in turn, are sending those payments to my mortgage company. This is, sadly, a loan that I will eventually be amortized into a new mortgage payment once I’m working full-time and able to make the payments on my own.

And, yes, I am working full-time again–finally–but what I earn is not quite enough for that refinance.

With the two hour commute, the college courses to earn my degree (another hopeful endeavor), etc. I gave up pet and farm sitting. It wasn’t steady enough and my time has been severely curtailed with everything else in my life. I’ve also nixed the holistic health practice as the rent for a room in a spa, insurance premiums, and re-certifications make it more a drain than a fill. But, again, I’ve been making steady payments and staying on top.

Or so I thought.

I received another foreclosure notice again. It appears the mortgage company raised my payment due to tax and insurance increases and, though I sent the housing authority notification of the change, they have not adjusted accordingly.

I’m ready to give in to despair. But I also feel a calling to use this hardship as a way to build my faith. I’m going to trust Him. I’m going to trust that He has this, that He will work it for some good. And, in saying, praise Him even in this storm. But I feel a bout of “wowsy wowsy woo woo” settling over me again. Blessed be the name of the Lord!

May God bless you & keep you!

Addiction, Christianity, Environment, Faith, Forgiveness, Gratitude, Homesteading, Prayer, Religion, Scripture, Self-esteem, Self-improvement, Spirituality, Writing

Heart’s Desire

Lisa Burbank

“For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from you; it is the gift of God; it is not from works, so no one may boast. For we are His handiwork, created in Christ Jesus for the good works that God has prepared in advance, that we should live in them.” (Ephesians, 2:8-10)

I am struggling to put words to the page this morning. I gave up social media for Lent, not my blog; I don’t consider them the same thing. The idea was to give myself a little more time for writing. And, for the most part, it has worked. I’ve been able to put those 3 pages of my book together each night and I’m starting to see some real progress. That pushes me forward. And yet, the enemy of my soul keeps tempting me with those little pop-ups that say, “You’ve been tagged in a photo, a video, a post on Facebook by so-and-so.” What photo, video or post??? Inquiring minds want to know. And what further proof of how addicting social media really is!

I am determined not to break my Lenten vows this year.

No, it won’t make a difference in my salvation (please read the bit of Scripture at the start of this blog post). But it is a vow made to God. It’s like when Jesus was in the Garden of Gethsemane and some of his apostles, who were supposed to be keeping watch, fell asleep. I don’t want to fall asleep on this watch.

And so, I carry on.

However, the enemy certainly has some persuasive arguments. Like, it’s okay if I peek at that message as long as I don’t proceed to read the feed on my Facebook page, or someone else’s Facebook page.

Nope. Not working.

I’m still resisting…even if the temptation’s still there.

Ditto for the 3 pages of book each night. Last night was a push after spending 8 hours working on my final paper for class. The night before I actually fell asleep a few times over my notebook. I don’t have the time I used to have at the dealership so I have to squeak my book, blog posts and even quality time with the animals here on the homestead in around a 2 hour daily commute.

But still, I carry on.

I’ve been good about the music videos, too. In fact, I haven’t watched even one since the Lenten season started. I do miss that. As most of the bands I watch on YouTube are contemporary Christian, listening and watching their videos can be a nice little pick-me-up at the end of the week. The saving grace–no pun intended–is that I’m not getting so immersed in them that I neglect everything else.

Like writing.

Or homesteading.

My two heart’s desires.

Of course, for someone whose religion doesn’t follow any Lenten obligations, it may sound as if through these Lenten vows I’m still hoping to earn my way to salvation.

Nope.

If that were the case, we’d all be doomed. Lenten vows are often like New Year’s Resolutions; they keep for a week or two and then, as the struggle becomes too great, we often allow them to fall by the wayside. However, it is a good means of incorporating more awareness of Him in our daily lives. And that’s the best habit we can cultivate of all.

By the way, I have broken my vow to abstain from sweets: I had a frozen yogurt frappe on the way home from work the other day (complete with a single-serve plastic-lidded container and a straw; bad me!) and I couldn’t resist the free maple popcorn being offered for grabs at work. That doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying to resist future sweets; one can always readjust and reaffirm one’s resolve.

However, the measure of this broken vow may not necessarily be on the scale of one’s faith, or dedication to one’s vows, but on the scale of a different sort. Talk about your addictions.

May God bless you & keep you!

Appreciation, Christianity, Faith, Frugality, Gratitude, Healing, Prayer, Religion, Scripture, Self-esteem, Self-improvement, Spirituality

Thou Shalt Not Steal

Lisa Burbank

“Surely I, the Lord, do not change, nor do you cease to be sons of Jacob. Since the days of your fathers you have turned aside from my statutes, and have not kept them. Return to me, and I will return to you, says the Lord of hosts. Yet you say, “How must we return?” Dare a man rob God? Yet you are robbing me! And you say, “How do we rob you?” In tithes and offerings! You are indeed accursed, for you, the whole nation, rob me. Bring the whole tithe to the storehouse, that there may be food in my house, and try me in this, says the Lord of hosts: Shall I not open for you the floodgates of heaven, to pour down blessing upon you without measure?” (Malachi 3:6-11)

When you’re economically-challenged, tithing often presents a quandary–especially when your trust levels, whether for man, woman, or even God, are minimal at best. No, that isn’t to say that I don’t trust God, per se. It’s that I seldom trust that I am worthy enough of His love, His grace, His mercy. However, the above passage of Scripture says “nor do you cease to be sons of Jacob”; it does not say something like, “that is, all of you except Lisa”. I could take this literally, as I would be a daughter, not a son, but that’s neither here nor there. The truth is, He loves us and He will never cease to provide for us.

Why doesn’t this truth ever truly settle into my heart? I spend half my life feeling as though I have to earn His love, His grace, and His mercy–something none of us can ever do; it is already freely given–and falling short of the mark every time.

It’s a bit of that proverbial beating-one’s-head-into-a-brick-wall scenario.

I am economically-challenged. Though I work full-time now, I’m still standing on, well, not a mountain of debt; I’m actually quite frugal, but what little I have amassed is still looming. And, of course, I’m looking further down that track and seeing “student loan” ready to broadside me in a couple of years. (Yes, I do tend to be a worry wart..) The full-time gig is relatively new, only since August. Before then, it was 2 years of unemployment followed by 5 years of seasonal and/or part-time gigs. It’s going to take some time to re-coup. And that chronic worry wart keeps expecting a ton of bricks to rain down or the bottom to drop out from under me.

I’m not worthy of “getting back on my feet”.

This is the voice I hear in my head each week. And then this bit of logic: I’m putting money in the tithe basket every Sunday and then going to the food pantry to eat on Tuesday. Isn’t that sort of like stealing from God? Suddenly, that 10% looks enormous…even though I might readily pay the same amount out for something frivolous. Yes, I’ve definitely fallen off the celebrated tightwad bandwagon of late, grown weary of the struggle to a point where some small voice says, “I don’t care anymore!”

Definitely the work of the enemy of our soul.

So, I posed this convoluted stinking-thinking about tithing to my pastor and the above passage is what he gave me to think on. It’s rather eye-opening. And re-affirming as regards our obedience to God. So I’m thinking I’ll do just that: try Him.

Besides, He’s only asking for 10%; we get to keep the other 90%.

May God bless you & keep you!

Christianity, Faith, Forgiveness, Gratitude, Healing, Homesteading, Lent, Prayer, Religion, Self-improvement, Spirituality

Lenten Vows

Lisa Burbank

“When you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites. They neglect their appearance, so that they may appear to others to be fasting. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, anoint your head and wash you face, so that you may not appear to be fasting, except to your Father who is hidden. And your Father who sees what is hidden will repay you.” (Matthew 6:16-18)

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday. I took my turn at the altar in church to receive the ashes that seal my promises to the Lord throughout the 6 week season of Lent:

1. I will write 3 pages every day of my novel. (This is a discipline-building vow; I’ve grown lax)
2. I am giving up all forms of social media (Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, etc.) except for the link between this blog and my social media accounts. In other words, people will still receive my posts through these mediums but I will not be checking my accounts for any messages or reading the feeds for 6 weeks (and I hope all of my friends see this so they’ll know I didn’t fall off of the face of the earth; call or write the old-fashioned, real connection way!)
3. I am limiting my music video viewing on YouTube to only 2 hours per week; some weeks I spend several hours on a rainy Monday afternoon instead of writing the aforementioned book or finishing up a homework assignment…and I won’t mention all the myriad chores piling up about the home and homestead.
4. No sugars outside of my daily cuppa tea

May God bless you & keep you!

Abuse, Addiction, Alcoholism, Appreciation, Faith, Gratitude, Healing, Heavy Metal Music, Music, Nostalgia, Prayer, Religion, Rock & Roll, Scripture, Self-esteem, Self-improvement, Spirituality

Rockin’ Religion

Lisa Burbank

“John said to Him, ‘Teacher, we saw someone driving out demons in Your Name, and we tried to prevent him because he does not follow us.’ Jesus replied, ‘Do not prevent him. There is no one who performs a mighty deed in My Name who can at the same time speak ill of Me. For whoever is not against us, is for us. Anyone who gives you a cup of water to drink because you belong to Christ, amen, I say to you, will surely not lose his reward. Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in Me to sin, it would be better for him if a great millstone were put around his neck and he were thrown into the sea’.” (Mark 9:38-42)

You know, I totally “get” why some people steer clear of organized religion. As a 50-something-year-old woman, I have certainly seen my fair share of hypocrisy and over-zealousness. And in more than one church. In my case, it seems to be centered on my choices of music:

The minister and his wife who visited our apartment in St. Louis when I was 14 or 15 years old, saw the posters of Kiss and REO Speedwagon on the walls of my bedroom…and came back a few days’ later with holy water to sprinkle around my room??!!? It’s a wonder I wasn’t traumatized away from any church right then and there (although I do remember refusing to go to that church again after they left…)

The Iron Maiden/Twisted Sister concert my Uncle Brian and I attended when I was 17 or 18 years old. Young Christians approached us, as we waited for my stepfather to pick us up, with pamphlets and warnings of fire and brimstone. They even questioned the hoop earrings I wore because one had a star and the other a half moon on them; they thought there was some “hidden” meaning to them. Nope. I spotted them in a booth at the local flea market one Sunday afternoon and thought they were pretty. End of story.

The uncle who had a conniption fit seeing “DOKKN” (shortened variation of DOKKEN) on my license plate because they were a metal band. He asked me what they sang and I made the mistake of listing one of their latest singles at the time, Kiss of Death. He immediately jumped to the conclusion that that was devil worship…until I calmly explained that they were terming HIV/AIDS as a “kiss of death,” a warning against promiscuity and what it could lead to (Brown, 1987; Hunt, 1988).

In later years, the minister who stated emphatically in a sermon that there was “no such thing as Christian rock”. I beg to differ. If the devil can quote Scripture to suit his needs, then surely God in His infinite wisdom and mercy can use even rock and roll to further His Kingdom.

I also “get” the excitement one feels being a Christian, especially when one first accepts Jesus as their Savior. You want to share your faith with the world, which is what we are called to do, but I am reminded of the words of St. Paul in 1 Corinthians 3:2: “I fed you milk, not solid food, because you were unable to take it. Indeed, you are still not able, even now.” Too often over-zealous Christians push and poke and prod because they don’t really understand that it is just that pushing, poking and prodding that often turns people away…not just from that particular congregation but from God altogether. It’s standard Psychology 101: the more you protest, the more they want it (whatever you’re deeming their vice); if you push too hard, or hold on too tightly, people sense a trap and run away. No, I’m not saying that we shouldn’t correct our brethren if we see them going astray; certainly the Bible tells us that is our responsibility. However, when we hammer incessantly, especially on a “new” or “young” Christian who is still finding their feet in the church about their lifestyle choices, we often close the very door we are trying to open. They’re still drinking that milk St. Paul tells us about.

And, yes, many in the rock and roll genre do glorify things like promiscuity, infidelity, drug use and alcoholism. There are many, especially in the metal arena, who flirt a little too much with the adversary when indulging in their theatrics, looking to shock and garner a bit of free publicity for themselves. I am certainly not defending their actions. And, yes, a young person, especially one with no religious background whatsoever, might be lured by the “coolness” of that theater aspect. It’s the same mindset that compels people to read thriller novels or watch horror movies. For the young, and often impressionable, that might not be a good combination. However, let’s also give kids…from 1 to 92 as the old Christmas carol says…a bit of the benefit of the doubt. For many, they’re just looking to relax, unwind and enjoy a bit of music.

I mentioned earlier about an uncle who initially freaked over a song title but calmed down and apologized when I explained what it really meant. I think that’s the key. If we’re going to pick apart every word, every movement, every nuance of entertainment, searching for the negative, we will find it. But, for the average person listening/viewing, is that what they’re getting out of it?

For me, though I’m pretty all over the place with music today (i.e. I listen to most styles of music, not just one genre), when I was a teenager, it was strictly metal (REO Speedwagon being the one exception; I was in love with Kevin Cronin…both as an artist and as a teenage girl with her first attack of hormones). I was growing up in a household with alcoholism and a stepfather who often became violent after imbibing and who wanted a bit too much to do with me, if you take my meaning. The loud, blistering guitars and earth-shaking drum sequences reflected the anger and confusion and the feelings of injustice churning inside of me. Banging my head to the music in the privacy of my own room; in the car; at a concert with friends seemed a healthier way to express that anger and confusion than acting out in some way…like hurting others, or hurting myself.

As for the lyrics, I really listened to them. I can honestly say, there were very few that I found “questionable”…even with a Christian background. And those that I did find questionable, I stopped listening to.

Despite everything that was going on in my home, I had a great-grandmother place a tiny Bible in my hand when I was born. Years later, I used to sneak into my aunt’s CCD classes to listen…because I wanted to know Him better. I remember receiving this pink rectangle of wood in CCD that had a pewter bust of Jesus mounted on it. It hung on the wall in my bedroom for years. Whenever things got really bad in our house, my 8, 9, 10 year-old self could be found kneeling before it…praying for the scariness to end, praying the only way I knew how; it’s the only thing that gave me strength to keep on keeping on. In short, I had a foundation of faith from a very young age. And I have always maintained that if my faith is so small and weak that a mere song lyric can tear it away, it wasn’t much of a faith to begin with.

Granted, there are many who do not have that foundation of faith. However, again, what are they hearing? What are they getting out of the music? Sometimes it’s not the lyrics but simply the music itself that lifts a blue mood or helps us to relax and focus on a task. And it means nothing more than that to the listener. In other words, maybe sometimes in our quest for saving souls, we take things a little too seriously. And that’s what pushes people away…instead of bringing them into the church, whatever the denomination. In short, whatever our religious beliefs, we cannot substitute our version of holiness and worship for someone else’s. Your time or method of prayer; the passages of Scripture that speak most to your heart; the religion you practice (Catholic, Baptist, Congregationalist), etc., are what work for you. They are a part of your personal relationship with Jesus. These are the paths God has led you down to worship Him. If there were any one perfect religion, then we would only ever have a Catholic church, or a Baptist church, or a Lutheran church. Not a Catholic church AND a Baptist church AND a Lutheran. We fight amongst ourselves about whose version of dogma and/or doctrine is correct and wonder, yet again, why so many turn away.

And now that I’ve had my little rant, let me get back on subject…

Music and ministry…or a rockin’ religion. Why is that a bad thing? Why would I not be able to maintain a close relationship with Jesus Christ just because Within Temptation CD’s sometimes spin in my CD player? We can substitute WT with Megadeth (Dave Mustaine’s born-again, btw!) or Ozzy Osbourne or Doro. And, these days, I’m listening more and more to some of those “no such thing” Christian rock bands: Casting Crowns, For King and Country, Francesca Battistelli, Lauren Daigle, Barlow Girl, MercyMe and Big Daddy Weave, for starters. Regardless, music lifts my soul. If the lyrics sung to it are messages of love, and especially God’s love, then I say, “Hallelujah!” If some of these artists are hitting mainstream audiences, crossing over into rock, pop and/or hip-hop genres, sharing messages of the gospel to those young ears–young ears who may never hear about Jesus from their parents, grandparents or any other traditional role model, then I say, “Amen!” They are not against Him, they are for Him. And we need the seed of hope they are planting for tomorrow.

A seed.

ONLY.

But what a seed! By singing about Jesus, and reaching millions through the medium of rock and roll, maybe, just maybe, it’ll bring some of those young ears into the church. And guess what? Once they are there, those vices–if, indeed, rock music could really be considered one–will fall away all on their own as Jesus touches their heart and they open themselves to the Holy Spirit.

My love for rock music, even metal, has never fallen away…no matter how great my faith grows. In my youth, we really didn’t have a contemporary Christian, or Christian rock, genre. I do remember being in my early-20’s when I first heard Chritian metal artists, Stryper. I remember them being extremely talented artists but, to combine Christianity and heavy metal was unheard of before them. Instead, in those moments of scariness, when I knelt before that make-shift altar at home, and prayed, He often sent those answers to my heart in the form of a song lyric…because music always brought me joy.

I plan on having this one sung at my funeral someday. It is REO Speedwagon’s “Blazin’ Your Own Trail Again.” They do not mention God or Jesus at all but these lyrics helped to bolster a young, impressionable girl…who believed she might be going to hell for the fornication that was never her choice at all:

Sooner or later you will find a way
To feel like sunshine, even on a cloudy day
To feel like morning in the dead of night
Sooner or later it’s gonna be all right
Now don’t go thinking your life’s a mess
Rather start thinkin’ in terms of happiness
And it’s gonna happen
Just decide were you’re goin’
Get out in the open
And start blazin’ your own trail again
It takes time sometimes to figure out
That there’s nothing to worry about
And that there’s plenty to be thankful for
It takes time sometimes to know the score
See, everybody’s got a smile inside
So put it upon your face and wear it with pride
And it’s gonna happen
Just decide were you’re goin’
Get out in the open
And start blazin’ your own trail again

Songwriters: Kevin Patrick Cronin
Blazin’ Your Own Trail Again lyrics © Hori Pro Entertainment Group

Sometimes that loud, blistering guitar and earth-shaking drum sequence is the only thing loud enough to shut out the pain and loneliness and confusion long enough that one can get “quiet” and listen to Him speak.

May God bless you & keep you!

REFERENCES

Brown, C. (1987). “Kiss of Death.” Back for the Attack. Sony/ATV Music Publishing, LLC.

Cronin, K. P. (1978). “Blazin’ Your Own Trail Again.” You Can Tune a Piano, but You Can’t Tuna Fish. Hori Pro Entertainment Group.

Hunt, D. (1988). “Dokken & Co. Is Back for the Attack.” Los Angeles Times. Retrieved February 6, 2018 from: http://articles.latimes.com/1988-01-31/entertainment/ca-39417_1_don-dokken

Appreciation, Bereavement, compost, Faith, Gratitude, Grief, Healing, illness, Prayer, Religion, Scripture, Spirituality

A God of Love

Lisa Burbank

“Those who trust in Him shall understand truth, and the faithful shall abide with Him in love; because grace and mercy are with His holy ones, and His care is with His elect.” (Wisdom 3:9)

Yep. Still continuing on with this theme of God’s love. And why not? What better message can there be but that we are loved beyond our human capacity to comprehend?

Sometimes it’s hard to remember that He loves us when the bills are piling up; we lose a much-needed job; a major repair needs to be taken care of on a shoestring budget; a loved one is sick, injured…or has left us, etc. We tend to expect that, once we start walking with Jesus, it’ll be smooth sailing in our lives forevermore. But bills will still need to be paid; maintenance still needs to be done from time to time; illness, injury and, yes, even death, still exist. They won’t magically go away. This is where the expression “walk by faith” comes in. When these little earthquakes come into our lives, we should praise Him just as much as we are wont to do when life is smoothly sailing along.

That one’s a hard one to swallow…sometimes even for the believer. I remember the first time I read this, I questioned the wisdom of praising Him for the hardship. Wouldn’t praising Him for it mean that He might heap more adversity onto my head? What a horrible image! In essence, it is envisioning a God who sits there toying with us and delighting in our misfortunes. Why would anyone choose to follow such a deity? And more, why would anyone witness to others about such a god?

Maybe for the same reasons that people pick up another bottle of whiskey, snort another line of cocaine, or stay in an abusive and/or toxic relationship. Such a deity, that vision of someone toying with us and delighting in our misfortune, has more in common with the enemy of our souls. And, sadly, we humans have a tendency to gravitate towards the very things that are unhealthy for us, to be taken in by the lure…and the lies. We also tend to avoid like the plague the things that are good for us, such as eating healthier foods, exercising…cultivating a personal relationship with Jesus.

I am guilty as charged. I don’t always eat healthy. I get lazy about exercising. Sometimes I even neglect God.

The beautiful thing is He never neglects me.

Those little earthquakes I mentioned earlier? Oftentimes, they are God’s way of getting our attention, of asking us to realign our focus on Him…instead of the things of the world. They ask us to re-examine the course we are on and ask God to take control. Those little earthquakes–and especially the bigger ones, the hard-to-fathom-why-such-a-horrible-thing-would-happen-to-a-good-and/or-innocent-person–are also what the Adversary uses to try to separate us from God. It questions and challenges our faith. And it is then that the Adversary slips in his little worms of doubt. Sure, God can…and often does…use those little worms of doubt to bring about a greater love and faith in Him. It’s sort of like the worms in our compost bin. They’ll eat at our flesh, if we allow them contact with it for long enough, and cause us pain. But, in the right environment–such as God’s hand–those little worms can be used to create something wonderful and new:

Black gold, rich in nutrients for growing nourishing food for our bodies…or a faith so strong, so enduring, that it forevermore nourishes our soul.

Blessed be the name of the Lord.

May God bless you & keep you!