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

When In Doubt

Lisa Burbank

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amen!

REFERENCES

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

Animals, Appreciation, Christianity, Compassion, Family, Healing, illness, Introvert, Love, Scripture, Self-esteem, Writing

The Need for Solitude

Lisa Burbank

“Don’t be selfish; don’t live to make a good impression on others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourself. Don’t just think about your own affairs, but be interested in others, too, and in what they are doing.” (Philippians 2:3-4)

Yup, that title does seem to contradict the passage from Scripture that I shared today. But it’s relevant.

I’m my worst enemy. I beat up on myself constantly, feeling selfish for taking a couple of hours each morning to write…because that’s what I do. That’s what makes me, well, me. I’ve also been feeling guilty for going to bed a little earlier, rather than sitting up with Mom (night owl), that I might get up early without sacrificing sleep. I feel like the bad daughter for getting together with friends by myself…even when Mom reassures me that I should be getting out with my friends once in awhile (Mom doesn’t drive, by the way).

But you know what I’m starting to realize?

I have less time and consideration for others when I don’t take those all-important times for myself. I catch myself zoning out at work when others are talking. I have to curb the rise of impatience when Mom, who has been home all day alone, anxiously relays the latest coronavirus news she read online. My time with the animals becomes the bare minimum of feeding and watering, maybe a quick scratch behind the ears, before I “escape” behind a book or a YouTube video. I snap. I huff out a breath of impatience. In short, I’m as prickly as a hedgehog on steroids, leaving everyone else hurt and bewildered by my inattention.

I’ve blogged about being an introvert before. I am often a chatterbox with those I’m closest to but, even with loved ones, an endless barrage of people-time makes me physically ill. I’m not a snob, or anti-social; it’s just part of being an introvert. Crowds make me feel lonely. Constant socializing feels overwhelming. I’m learning more and more how important it is to find a healthy balance so that quality time with loved ones truly is.

Now, if I could only silence that obnoxious tape playing in my head that tells me how horrible I am for needing that solitude. The way I see it after proofreading this, the real selfishness would be to give the hedgehog a few more steroids.

May God bless you & keep you!

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

Ramadan Mubarak to All of My Muslim Brothers and Sisters

Lisa Burbank

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

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

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

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

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

But I digress…

So what is Ramadan?

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

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

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

REFERENCES

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

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

F-F-F-Foolin’

Lisa Burbank

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

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

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

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

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

April Fool’s!

May God bless you & keep you!

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

Happy Passover

Lisa Burbank

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

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

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

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

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

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

May God bless you & keep you!

19th century, Abuse, Addiction, Alcoholism, Animals, Faith, Forgiveness, Homesteading, Poverty, Prayer, Religion, Self-esteem, Self-improvement, Spirituality

The Pain of Fear

Lisa Burbank

“He does not fear bad news, nor live in dread of what may happen. For he is settled in his mind that Jehovah will take care of him. That is why he is not afraid, but can calmly face his foes. (Psalms 112: 7-8)

Fear kept me here in Connecticut back in 2008. And fear is what has kept me “stuck” ever since.

You see, back in 2008 I left work on a Friday, traveled up to Maine with over $30K in my 401K to use as a down payment on a property there. It was 6 and 1/2 acres, no zoning regulations, and the only building requirements were I had to dig a well and septic system, and the house had to be a minimum of 600 square feet. I was planning to build no more than that minimum, but I was willing to comply. It was a beautiful piece of land down a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. I started proceedings with Bangor Savings then came back to work on Monday to find that my 401K had been wiped out as the Great Recession plowed its way through. I had only $3K left. I was forced to back out of the deal.

I kick myself now. Surely, there could’ve been another way. Or another property that would’ve worked just as well. Why did I let my heart get so set on one place that I neglected to look further afield? Worse, though I lost first one part-time job 4 months’ later, the full-time position another 10 months’ later, and the second part-time job about 7 months after that, the severance pay and unemployment benefits would’ve been sufficient to sustain me while I built that cob house I was aiming for had I stuck it out. But, by the time I lost the full-time position, I had already approached the zoning attorney here in CT and gotten his okay to raise small livestock here (poultry, goats) and so, I decided this was home, this was familiar and safe.

I stayed.

And I cannot help but wonder what my life would be like now had I gambled a little bit, trusted Him more with my future.

Sadly, it has been the story of my life. Play it safe. Stick with what I know. And fail by not trying. By letting fear of the unknown guide me rather than walking by faith.

Despite being an ordained minister, I honestly haven’t learned how to walk by faith yet. Not entirely anyway. Sure, He’s done so much to show me that He does care, that I can trust Him. But I’m the doubting Thomas all over again. If He doesn’t paint the way there, I’m stagnant. I like a certain amount of surety in my bets. And it is the most painful place to be. Yes, I get the theory of walking by faith, but my heart doesn’t truly believe. It forever whispers back that I’m not worthy. And I fear both the success and the failure of my dreams.

Growing up in a household with abuse and alcoholism, faith, trust, reaching out for more, or seeking to better one’s self are all tinged with an underlying sense that you do not deserve even life’s most basic needs. You abuse yourself by choosing less than optimal situations because of this belief. There’s an underlying sense of apathy, too.

I cannot help but think that, despite not knowing where He is leading me, or what He is leading me to, He has made it very clear that He is leading me away from here. It’s been a constant struggle to make ends meet. One repair after another that I haven’t the means to address. This is the second time since the recession that I’ve stared down the face of foreclosure. And now I am faced with these zoning issues where finding another attorney to help has been a lesson in futility. Of course, this is where I think to myself, Lord, if you truly are leading me away, can you give me a nudge in the right direction, please? My finances are in shambles. How will I ever do this? And, yes, I know I’m not supposed to question His intentions, or plans, but will everyone forgive me if I tell you I’m only human?

I do know one thing though: if this was truly where I was meant to be, I would be thriving here instead of feeling beaten down and, yes, apathetic about the future. Because the future is not here. The future is somewhere else.

Maybe I should make a shout out to anyone reading this and ask for your prayers, kind thoughts, positive energies that I might finally get these feet to walk by faith…one step at a time. If I can get these feet to finally move, maybe I’ll be able to prove that Thoreau was right:

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

I sincerely hope so.

May God bless you & keep you!

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

Falling Behind

Lisa Burbank

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May God bless you & keep you!

Animals, Appreciation, Bereavement, Brothers & Sisters, Compassion, Faith, Family, Friendship, Grief, Healing, Holidays, Homesteading, Memories, Nostalgia

Hindsight is Always 2020

Lisa Burbank

“Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where then your victory? Where then your sting? (1 Corinthians 15:51-55)

I don’t believe I am alone in saying this has been one of the most challenging years we have ever faced: A contentious election; conspiracy theories of wide-spread voter fraud; a deadly pandemic; the worst economy since The Great Depression of the 1930s, and a whole new meaning to the phrases “2020 vision” and, to reiterate the title of this post, “Hindsight is always 2020.”

As midnight creeps ever closer on this December 31, 2020, the only place I ever want to see 2020 again is through hindsight!

Of course, my inner-Pollyanna still looks for the silver lining: many of us have also renewed our appreciation for what matters most. As we sheltered in place, we got to rest, to read a few good books, enjoy the company of immediate family, pets, and find creative ways to occupy our minds and bodies.

I pray that everyone reading this is hale and hearty, and that somehow, some way, you are still standing strong. We WILL get through this challenging time.

And, as the tradition I started last year for New Year’s Eve, this last post of the year also remembers in a very special way those faces that will no longer grace The Herbal Hare Homestead…except in our hearts and the memories we keep deep inside.

My uncle, James Kimble, passed away in January. Sadly, by his own hand. He was 58 years old.

My Auntie Anne Marie Heon passed away due to complications from Covid-19, as did a family friend’s boyfriend, Richard.

A childhood friend, Paul Shelton, passed a couple of weeks’ ago due to a heart attack.

Technically speaking, none of these people ever physically visited The Herbal Hare Homestead; all of them lived in other states. However, they were loved and, again, will live on in our memories.

As for residents here, we lost quite a few beloved furry family members: chickens Goldie, a Buff Orppington, and Crow, a Black Austrolop; my first goat to be lost, Domino, who succumbed to heat stroke, and two beloved felines: my Pearlina Wilhelmina, who suffered cardiac arrest while being given sub-Q fluids by our vet, and Priscilla, who was found a couple of weeks ago on the floor of the rabbit room, also a stroke. And, though she was only here for a little over a week, Dolly. Dolly was a stray cat that showed up just before winter. I finally trapped her and took her to the vet for shots and testing to make sure she was healthy and, sadly, the vet found that she was having trouble breathing, there was an irregular heartbeat, and she was ancient. All of her teeth had fallen out, she was well beyond motherhood, and she had been lucky to have been carried as long as she had on the heart issues he detected. The kindest thing was to put her down. Still broke my heart.

I hate saying “Goodbye!”

Somehow, I believe this time next year will see me saying “Goodbye!” to the current location of The Herbal Hare Homestead as we search for new digs. That breaks my heart, too, as all of the aforementioned pets, and more, are buried here. But the fixer-upper house needs far too much TLC–more than I can give it, and it has become unsafe. I can no longer afford the mortgage payments. And, with the new neighbors raising Cain and Abel about zoning regulations, there’s no reason to fight in the first place. It is time to move on. Maybe we’ll bloom better where next we are planted.

In the meantime, may auld acquaintance be forgot, etc.

May 2021 be a better year for everyone…Happy New Year, my friends! May God bless you & keep you!

Pearlina Wilhelmina (white cat with black patches); Priscilla (tortoisehell laying across back of chair, her daughter, Emmylou, is the Russian blue tuxedo on the right)

Domino

Bereavement, Brothers & Sisters, Christianity, Compassion, Faith, Family, Friendship, Grief, Love, Memories, Nostalgia

The Cycles of Life

Lisa Burbank

“And now, dear brothers, I want you to know what happens to a Christian when he dies so that when it happens, you will not be full of sorrow, as those are who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and then came back to life again, we can also believe that when Jesus returns, God will bring back with him all the Christians who have died.” (1 Thessalonians 4:13-14)

My heart is heavy yet again.

Snow is drifting and blowing about outside my window. There’s at least 10-12 inches on the ground, more still falling, and a prediction of up to 20 inches before it is done. Usually my heart delights like a little kid over a big snowfall like this. Instead, I keep thinking of a childhood friend: Paul “Peewee” Shelton.

Paul’s family rented the apartment above my family’s in St. Louis, Missouri about a year after we moved there in 1979. We were neighbors and friends for a number of years afterwards; have remained friends forever since. I went to school with his older brothers. His niece, Amey, played with my baby brother, Shaun. Our families went to Six Flags together and I saw my first concert–Johnny and June Carter Cash–with them at Six Flags. Our mothers became the best of friends, their birthdays a day apart, and every night (weather permitting, of course) like clockwork, the two of them would sit outside together on the stoop and chat about everything under the sun. They were like family.

They were family.

And always will be in my heart.

So that heart broke a little last night to learn that the youngest passed away yesterday. He’s younger than me. That just seems off balance for some reason. It’s hard for me to credit him as being 50-something (I’m 54; he was 2-3 years’ younger). I still see the gangly string bean of a boy who teased me throughout my teen years. I’m also reminded of a time–I’m not even sure how old we all were–but Peewee, as he was known then, had broken a window. It was an accident but, he was sure he was going to catch hell for it. He ran off and hid. When his mother got home I went looking for him. I found him sitting on the retainer wall by the basement door. He was still working off the mad, or fear, and told me to get out of there. I braved the mad to let him know she had said he wasn’t in trouble; she knew it was an accident. My heart went out to him in that moment of time. I’m guessing he was maybe 12 or 13. Later, he dumped the “Peewee” nickname, but I had to translate for Mom when I told her last night; she never knew his first name was Paul. He was always Peewee to her. She also caught herself thinking of him as that youngster, too; long distance will do that.

It sucks having loved ones scattered all over the country. One of the drawbacks of homesteading, or farming, is not being able to travel as readily as others; your animals always need care. I don’t begrudge it; they are God’s gift to me on this earth and they keep me going. But, when something like this happens, I wish I lived closer to hold a hand, to cook a meal for his siblings, to help them in whatever way I can to get through this hardship. They were always there for us when we were neighbors; it would be nice to return the love.

The best thing I can do from this distance is pray: for Paul, for his family, for everyone who loved and knew him…and at least offer my ear if they need to talk to someone who shares at least a little of their pain.

Rest in Peace, Paul Shelton…we will meet again. May God bless you & keep you! Love you always, my old friend!

Books, Christianity, Creativity, Enlightenment, Faith, God/Jesus, Gratitude, Healing, Memories, Music, Nostalgia, Open-mindedness, Rock & Roll, Self-esteem, Self-improvement, Social Media, YouTube

Another Chapter

Lisa Burbank

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

I turned 54 the Friday before Thanksgiving. I started my day with a cuppa tea and a steady stream of Weird Al Yankovic videos from YouTube.

Odd.

No, I wasn’t jonesing because, as I grow ever deeper into my 50s, I cannot help but grow more aware of things like aging and mortality………

Okay.

Maybe just a little.

But who couldn’t use a little humor on their birthday?

And, if I’m really being honest, I’ve always had a “thing” for Weird Al. He’s my brand of sexy. And, as he was a bachelor for quite a number of years, well, he’s not now, but hope bloomed steady in this heart for those numbers of years (chuckle). As if…

Sigh.

No, I’m not jonesing that he’s been a seemingly happily married man for some time now. I wish he and the Mrs. many more happy years. If I had to analyze my musical choices on the birthday, I would say, if any jonesing, it was the trip down memory lane that many of his videos evoked: Donny Osmond, Florence Henderson, Michael Jackson…so many of the icons of my youth grace his videos, or inspired them. So much so that the real jonesing flourished alongside the chuckles over his cleverly written, tongue-in-cheek lyrics.

Damn. I’m getting old.

Eventually I turned off the TV and headed upstairs to spend some much-needed time with my characters. And there I stayed, hacking out another chapter in the literary desert, praying that with God’s grace, this book will be one of many. Perhaps someday another individual will read a few chapters on their 54th birthday and feel some of the same emotions as I did watching Weird Al’s videos: hope, humor, awe, humility, nostalgia, and yes, even some low-key depression.

In the meantime, I have continued to ponder life. I’ve been looking back over the years. Seeing all that I’ve done, all that I’ve accomplished…at least in terms of academics. It’s time to put to use the college degree, the myriad certifications, and live the life of my dreams. There is no room in the heart of the faithful for fear. And I’ve allowed it to take root and stay.

Time to clean house.

Looks like my birthday spent with Weird Al had a bit of a cathartic effect, too. Here’s to another 54 years, give or take, and a merry heart finally ready to follow the path that God has been nudging me towards before it’s too late.

What dreams are you holding in your heart but too afraid to follow? Time to clean house and give the adversary the boot.

May God bless you & keep you!