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A Sustainable Saturday – Keeping the Plastic Out of our Oceans and Streams

“O God, have pity, for I am trusting you! I will hide beneath the shadow of your wings until this storm is past. I will cry to the God of heaven who does such wonders for me” (Psalms 57:1-2).

As Thanksgiving Day just passed here in the U.S., we now enter the delectable week of leftover meals of turkey and ham sandwiches (if you consume meat, of course), and re-heated potatoes, stuffing, squash, turnip, sweet potato and green bean casserole. We always make too much, wanting to have extra for that unexpected guest…or simply to have those leftover dishes for quick and easy meals over the next few days. We’ll do likewise for the coming holiday season. Whether you celebrate Christmas, Yule, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, or another holiday, there will likely be at least one other family gathering to share a special meal together…and this, too, will likely produce another mountain of leftovers.

And another mountain of plastic waste heading to our oceans and streams.

Plastic wrap and single-use containers often get displayed in supermarket flyers right along with the sales on stuffing mixes, cranberry sauce and turkey. For convenience sake, we buy them in large quantities the same day we go shopping for food for said gatherings. The reasoning is that folks can use them to take home those leftovers. They’ll keep everything fresh and clean, and nobody has to worry about returning a host’s favorite bowl or platter.

But what happens after we get those containers home?

As I’m a frugal fanatic, those leftovers usually get eaten. By Monday, Mom and I will probably be sick of stuffing and squash. Or my chickens and ducks will have had a feast of their own on whatever we don’t eat (minus any leftover meat that Mom does not consume). However, no matter how careful we are, sometimes containers of food get forgotten in the back of the fridge. A few weeks from now, we may find a container whose fuzzy, green appearance gives not the slightest hint as to what it once contained in life. I hope not, as I am cognizant of the fact that food waste in our landfills actually exceeds our plastic waste (14% versus 12% of plastic waste (Cunningham & Cunningham, 2015, pp. 476-477)), but it does happen from time to time. Either way, eventually, there will be wads of cling wrap and/or plastic containers entering recycle bins and trash receptacles across the U.S.A.

The former raises an “ah ha!” moment in many. If you are recycling it, what’s the big deal? However, some forms of plastic cannot be recycled, especially if there are layers of materials involved, such as in paper cups designed for both hot and cold beverages. And, as many of these containers and wrappings have been used to store food, even with careful rinsing, the aromas cling. If not carefully contained at the curb, they may get invaded by wildlife who scatter it everywhere in their search for something to eat. Gusts of wind, either from nature or passing traffic, may tip over a receptacle and/or blow lighter materials about. And, if you’re one of those people who doesn’t bother to properly rinse your recyclables, once they get to the recycling plant, the Zero Sort machine kicks them out and into a waiting garbage truck to be sent to the landfill. All is not perfect in the world of recycling. (Google The Pacific Garbage Gyre to find out where a lot of our plastic waste eventually ends up)

I have fallen far short of my goals of Zero Waste this year. As always, part of it stems from other family members not being on board with it, part of it my own inability in disciplining myself in whatever new behavior I’m hoping to adopt. I’ve wasted a lot of time talking, explaining, telling people about plastic waste…only to hear the response that everyone else does it so it doesn’t make a difference.

But every effort we make, makes a difference. It may be a small one, but we’re telling the world that it matters. The lives of sea creatures and birds and possums and raccoons…and countless other species of life matter. Our own health and well-being matter…because what so-called lesser creatures consume, we also consume.

So this year, knowing I cannot control the amount of plastic waste my family produces simply by telling, I decided to lead by example.

I always have tons of canning jars around the house from preserving whatever I produce in the garden. So I packed up several of the wide-mouth quart jars in a reusable shopping bag and toted them to my aunt’s house. When the meal was over, and my aunt was asking everyone if they wanted to take some of the leftovers home so they didn’t go to waste, I ran out to my car and grabbed the bag of canning jars. Though she offered the use of some of the plastic and/or aluminum plates she’d purchased for this express purpose, I politely thanked her, then told her I’d rather use the canning jars. I then filled the jars with what she’d offered. She watched me and then admitted it was a good idea because it was cheaper than buying the plastic wrap and single-use containers, which have gotten expensive.

No, it’s not exactly the reason behind my bringing the canning jars, but ecology and economy go hand-in-hand. The less we spend on things we don’t really need, the less we send to the landfills. This is true for pretty much everything. And, even if we can’t get everyone on board about plastic waste for the sake of our planet, saving everyone a few pennies can be an incentive. The end result will be the same: less waste overall.

May God bless you & keep you!

Works Cited

Cunningham, William P. and Cunningham, Mary Ann. Environmental Science: A Global Concern, Thirteenth Edition. New York, NY: McGraw Hill Education, 2015.

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We’re Hurting…It’s THAT Simple

“I walked by the field of a certain lazy fellow and saw that it was overgrown with thorns, and covered with weeds; and its walls were broken down. Then, as I looked, I learned this lesson: ‘A little extra sleep, a little more slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest’ means that poverty will break in upon you suddenly like a robber, and violently like a bandit” (Proverbs 24:28-34)

My overgrown yard is intentional. Any thorns found come from stands of wild blackberries that I allow to grow–albeit with some pruning and careful maintenance to keep them from completely overtaking everything else–and the “weeds” are actually wild herbs like mullein (Verbascum thapsis), dandelion (Taraxicum officinalis) and red clover (Trifolium pratense), all of which have medicinal properties and are allowed to grow for that reason.

However, the above piece of Scripture does play into the common mindset about a yard that is seemingly unkempt: that the person who lives in that particular home is lazy. We never stop to consider that they are struggling in some way. They could be elderly with no children or grandchildren to help them (or maybe it’s their kids and grandkids who are too lazy/busy to help…). They could be disabled. They could be overwhelmed with bigger responsibilities–like an aging parent, whose home they are taking care of in absence of their own. Maybe they’re single and struggle to keep up alone. They could be a young couple fallen on hard times…or an aging couple with health issues. And, in each of these cases, they likely cannot afford to hire out. There are myriad reasons why someone’s home may not be ready for the cover of Better Homes and Gardens‘ magazine. Yet we judge…as the author of this Proverb did.

No, it’s not really a criticism of the Bible itself. I’m guessing, because He knows our hearts, that the subject who prompted this Proverb was truly a lazy body and slept all day, not getting a lick of work done. And, in my present struggles, I can honestly admit to allowing overwhelm and despair to win-out in the ambition department, from time to time, as I struggle to get back on my financial feet. But we cannot use this Scripture to judge every single soul whose dwelling is less than our stellar expectations. Such a judgment smacks of, well, judgment but also, materialism.

Who decided what is “pristine” and what is “unkempt” in our society? Why does the rolling green, blunt-cut lawn, with its host of chemicals polluting our soil, our water supply, even the air we breathe, constitute acceptable when the unkempt space, one that seldom sees even a carbon monoxide-guzzling lawnmower, equals unacceptable? That pristine lawn, sadly, smacks of prestige. It’s a carryover from the English monarchy who had rolling green lawns surrounding their estates. However, England’s climate is more suitable for such…without the costly (in both dollars and environmental costs) expense of maintaining that lawn.

And, sadly, this mindset carries over into every other aspect of our lives. How often–and I’m owning my bad in this department myself–do we judge that person because they’re standing in line at a food pantry or breadline? By the low-income neighborhood they live in? By the clothes they wear? The car they drive? Or the public transportation they use because they can’t (or refuse to) afford the cost of an auto of their own? How often do we make assumptions based upon religion, color of skin, gender identity, country of origin, or even one’s weight? How often do we write a chapter of another person’s story with our judgments and assumptions?

Back in 2008, I worked three jobs + treated clients in Reflexology, Reiki, and Touch for Health to stay afloat. I lost the first part-time gig in late-2008, the full-time, corporate position in November 2009, and six months’ later, the part-time gig at a laundromat. This was during the economic crash. My clients also felt the pain of that crisis and stopped coming in for treatments. Thankfully, President Obama extended unemployment benefits to 99 weeks while struggling to create jobs for people. We’re only now starting to feel the benefits of those efforts…and we’re still seeing mostly part-time, minimum wage, seasonal and/or temporary positions (at least here in New England). However, even with the extension of benefits, I was forced to live off of my 401K while I continued to search for work to sustain me and mine. I found plenty of the aforementioned part-time gigs but they haven’t been enough to keep me afloat. I was forced to rely on mortgage assistance for a number of years. Finally, in 2017, I found a full-time position. It required a long commute, which ate up any money I might’ve been able to save for a rainy day, and was barely above minimum wage, but I loved what I did. The mortgage assistance had just run out, and I had made my first full mortgage payment without the assistance, when I slipped on the ice and fractured my shoulder. Now I’m behind on mortgage payments again…and it doesn’t look good. I worked a seasonal job throughout the summer. Now I’m working a temporary position, which looks promising on the full-time spectrum, but I’m not banking on anything yet.

Even if I get the position, there’s no guarantee that my mortgage company will do another modification to get me right-side up again. So I’m socking away every spare penny I can earn to try to keep foreclosure from happening…but it’s not easy. And I’ll admit to being scared down to the very tips of my toes. I feel like I’m in a race that maybe I can’t win.

Maybe He doesn’t want me to win this one. Maybe He wants me to relocate. Maybe He has plans for me to be somewhere else and that’s why I’m no longer thriving here.

I get asked that one a lot: why don’t you move if things are so rough where you are?

The answer is simple: if I had the kind of money it would require to start over, I would also have the kind of money I need to catch up on my mortgage. And, with everything in default, how likely are my chances of buying another property in another state where I don’t have any job at all? And rents are just as prohibitive. This is a farm. I have animals to consider. I have my elderly mother living with me. Trust me…the free spirit would love to find land somewhere, put up a tiny cabin and live completely off-grid. Maybe, as I save and squirrel everything away, if push comes to shove, I’ll have enough to buy that piece of land.

But that’s a big “if”. I’m not banking on that either.

So I’m hurting right now. And the blog posts have been spotty at best. I feel like they’ve been a constant variation on the same theme most of this year, and if I hate redundancy, I don’t wish to bore my readers by catering to redundancy…in any form. So, I’ve refrained.

But maybe that’s where I’m wrong.

Writing this blog post this morning has actually been a sort of therapy. I can pour out my heart. And, while it may backlash somewhere along the way, or repel others (I’m thinking of that breadline I mentioned in the beginning…), I’m laying myself open anyway in the hopes that someone will read this and know of a resource I hadn’t considered that might help me get back up and running. Keep me in your prayers. Or, at the very least, please share the Go Fund Me campaign link that I’ve included below. Perhaps it will reach the right person willing and able to help…with my heart-felt gratitude for each and every prayer, share, suggestion, etc.

We’re not meant to struggle alone. We’re meant to be a community. Yet, when we’re hurting like this, we tend to retreat inward…as I have been doing. Though I cannot see the faces of my readers, my head is down in shame that somehow I have brought this all upon myself. Somehow, I caused a financial crisis throughout a whole nation…or intentionally hurt myself so I could “get a little more sleep, a little more slumber” and fold my “hands to rest”. But there is no rest in my heart right now…only angst.

May God bless you & keep you!

https://www.gofundme.com/manage/9fymzf-medical-leave

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Treading Uphill

“It is God’s privilege to conceal things, and the king’s privilege to discover and invent. You cannot understand the height of heaven, the size of the earth, or all that goes on in the king’s mind” (Proverbs 25: 2-3)

I keep telling myself, as I continue to face the very real threat of foreclosure on my home, that He has a plan. I also keep reminding myself that He must be bringing me here again because there was something He wanted me to learn the last time and I didn’t get it.

Or do it.

Maybe this frantic, trying-to-run-in-every-direction-to-stop-the-flood is what He’s telling me to give up, to trust Him with.

Or maybe it’s the part of me that wants to curl into a ball and shut out the world. That part of me has perpetually won out over the last 10 years. I’ve hidden in books, in movies, in YouTube videos. I’ve neglected housework, yard work, my own personal needs, etc., because as the adult child of an alcoholic, I know it’s a sure-fire way to keep the world out. I can recognize this on a subconscious level; it hasn’t been a conscious decision. But while experts say knowing what the problem is is half the battle, it seldom changes. The neglect now stares me in the face as “overwhelm”. Perhaps He’s using this season of want and need to heal another layer of that childhood. And by my inactivity, I haven’t been getting the memo.

What’s that old expression? When the going gets tough, the tough get going? Every successful person I know, when faced with adversity, places their trust in Him (or whatever their concept of God/Source), and forges resolutely forward anyway. They stand and fight. They do their level best not to succumb to despair. Does that mean they don’t have their moments? Of course not! But I have to stop waiting for that perfect moment, the perfect conditions. They don’t exist…at least not on a human level.

On His level, it’s all happening in perfect time. Maybe I simply have to trust in that…and stop trying to read His mind. If He wants me to know His plans, He’ll tell me…if I’m willing to open my heart wide enough to let Him in.

Yes, you heard the resistance in that statement, too.

I fear He’s leading me away from here. That’s not inherently bad. The cost of living in Connecticut is abysmally high. And full-time, good paying jobs are few and far between. If you find one, hang on to it!

However, the majority of my family lives in New England. How can I miss the 4th of July celebrations at Uncle Ernie’s? Or holiday dinners with the aunties? Ditto for my friends. What if I never attend another fiber fest with Karen? Or dine with Katie or Kellie? What if Donna and I never visit LaSalette Shrine together again and laugh at our youthful foibles? My church community is here. I love Father Ben, my fellow Lectors and Eucharistic Ministers, my friends in the choir. I have a farm full of pets here. It would be extremely difficult to relocate with them–not impossible, but near enough. And I’m not low-life enough to shelter them. I rescue, not abandon. But, if things keep going in this direction, there’s a very real part of me stressing and worrying that this may be my only option in time. Then there’s all the little things that constitute a life already established: doctors, veterinarians, my therapist, mechanics, the folks at the local feed store who know my order before I even get to the counter. It would take years to build those sorts of relationships again. And I’m worried, with my curl-into-a-ball tendencies, if I’m really up to the task.

Of course, I know if He wills it, He’ll give me the strength to be “up to it”. And, while it would take as much in the financial department to relocate, re-establish, as it will to get out of hock, I know He’ll provide that, too.

On the flip side of all this, my brother’s visit two weeks’ ago was a painful reminder of how much of his life, his children’s lives, I’ve missed. And the missed opportunity to truly bond with my sister-in-law. The week spent together was wonderful and I’m so happy my brother has found such a lovely woman to spend his life with. I love them all but we seldom see each other due to distance. My best friend of all lives in Missouri, as do countless classmates, friends, and family, too. I can surely homestead somewhere else. And, Lord willing, maybe even better than I’ve been able to do here. My property is small, which limits what I can do here. Maybe He’s leading me somewhere where those dreams He’s put on my heart have a better chance of being realized.

At the very least, He’s given me work to do. I ask you all to pray for me for the strength to see it all through.

May God bless you & keep you!

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Gratitude for Community

“Is there any such thing as Christians cheering each other up? Do you love me enough to want to help me? Does it mean anything to you that we are brothers in the Lord, sharing the same Spirit? Are your hearts tender and sympathetic at all? Then make me truly happy by loving each other and agreeing wholeheartedly with each other, working together with one heart and mind and purpose” (Philippians 2:1-2)

I’m feeling so grateful today. My church community is helping out with my situation and words cannot describe how grateful I am. There’s been an onslaught of emotions: hope, joy, relief…and, yes, even a little shame and embarrassment. The last vestiges of an attempt to hang onto pride…or maybe the adversary’s feeble attempts to keep pride’s hold on me.

But Jesus will always be stronger. God’s got this. So, take that, adversary!

There’s something to be said for community. Maybe that is the lesson He wants me to learn (above and beyond the pride thing…).

I’ve always dreamed of living like a hermit in the woods, the whole “Walden” thing. My dream home is in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nature, and living like it’s still the 19th century. Maybe there’s something to it. Solitude and simplicity are needed for a healthy life balance, but without fellowship with others, what’s the point? And even Henry David Thoreau wrote about visitors to his little cabin in the woods. We need both. If I can hang on to this place, or if He wants me to sock this money away for a potential move, either way, I want my homestead to be a welcoming place: for family gatherings; for friends sitting around a campfire at night; for prayer meetings; for knitting, sewing, quilting circles; for clients to have their treatments; for hosting classes about herbs, 19th century skills, and no-dig gardening…and even a refuge for those caught in the eye of their own personal storms.

I’ve blogged before about how I crave solitude like flowers crave the sun and rain. And it’s true. I’m the classic introvert. Too many people, too often, and I start to feel a little sick at heart. I retreat inward. Not because I’m anti-social, but because that’s how it is for an introvert. For an introvert, too much social time quickly becomes overwhelming. We enjoy time with our loved ones, and even strangers, but the introvert greatly needs that balance between solitude and socialization to keep recharging.

However, over the last decade, I’ve taken solitude to a whole new level. Some of it has been the 2 years of unemployment, followed by 8 years of severe underemployment. When socializing equals an event that requires an entrance fee, I’ve often had to reconsider. Some of it though–most of it–has been the depression that often comes with that same unemployment/underemployment. Due to a lack of steady and adequate funds, the house, the grounds, even myself, have started looking neglected. There’s also a lot of emotional baggage attached from the last “romantic” relationship I was in, that was anything but romantic, that has had me drawing the curtains tight and shutting out the world.

And, boy, does the adversary feed on that!

In many ways, though I’m not living in the middle of nowhere, I’ve allowed myself to become almost as isolated as if I was living in the middle of nowhere. And isolation is defeating. The neglect becomes indifference becomes more depression becomes more neglect becomes more indifference…until the effort to dig yourself out of this vicious cycle becomes so overwhelming, you don’t know where to turn, where to start. That’s where the hopelessness sets in.

And loneliness.

Despair.

Even bitterness.

Thank God, literally, for the fellowship He’s blessed me with! It started with certain friends and co-workers reaching out with a helping hand over the last several months. This time, it was a church member who saw my Go Fund Me campaign and brought it to the attention of our priest. And, truly, though the financial help is a blessing and appreciated, the true blessing is knowing how many people out there care enough to help. I’m overwhelmed…but in a good way.

I’ve been sitting back here, feeling sorry for myself, indulging the adversary with my “cares” and “woes” and getting nowhere in life. Today I’m feeling hope for the first time in a very long time. Yes, there’s still a risk of losing the homestead. I still missed the deadline for the second installment on the modification trial period and I don’t know where that leaves me. However, I’m that much closer to meeting the back payments owed. Or to engaging an attorney who can help me get back on track again. It’s help to tide us over until I’m working again…or to help us start over on a new homestead. I’m leaving it in His hands to decide, praying for His guidance regarding the best course of action.

Our God truly is an awesome God. Thank you! To everyone who has been moved to help, to share, to pass along the information. I don’t feel quite so alone anymore. And that’s the greatest blessing of all.

I hope everyone reading this is as blessed with community as I am.

May God bless you & keep you!

gofundme.com/9fymzf-medical-leave

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Down and Out

“I am leaving you with a gift–peace of mind and heart! And the peace I give isn’t fragile like the peace the world gives. So don’t be troubled or afraid” (John 14:27)

I want to believe those words. I want to believe His grace is sufficient for this particular trial. I want to believe that He has something special planned at the end of it all.

But, today, I’m down and out for the count.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll find the way to bounce back up again. I hope so. Right now the fear and anguish in my soul is almost more than I can bear. Proof that there’s still fight left in me that I can feel such emotions, such protest, but, if I’m meant to go through this, if there’s something He means for me to learn that I didn’t learn the first time around, there’s a part of me even fighting that.

So much for laying it at the cross. But what other choice do I have? All of my efforts have gotten me nowhere. But where do I go from here? What does He want me to do? To go?

Losing the house, the land, I can bear. It’s potentially having to re-home the animals if I cannot find a farm where I might board them until I get on my feet again…and, of course, for a fee that I can manage in my current situation. My heart is breaking at the thought. And, at the moment, I’m not feeling God’s love. I’m feeling His anger. I’m feeling the punitive “father” that reflects the neglect of my biological father and the abuse of my stepfather. “Father” for me has always implied mistrust. Is He trying to heal this once and for all? Or is this going to cement it once and for all in my heart that the word “father” is equivalent to a dirty swear word?

No, I don’t hate men, and certainly not fathers. There are good ones in the world. I’ve just never known that love…at least not without personal cost. And you’re never too old to need that love–His love.

Right now, I really need a healthy dose of it. And as many prayers as I can get.

May God bless you & keep you!

https://www.gofundme.com/f/9fymzf-medical-leave&rcid=r01-156707024092-4fb3fb58787b443d&pc=ot_co_campmgmt_w

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Laying Everything at the Cross

“Keep your eyes on Jesus, our leader and instructor. He was willing to die a shameful death on the cross because of the joy He knew would be His afterwards; and now He sits in the place of honor by the throne of God” (Hebrews 2:12)

After Saturday’s widely-publicized meltdown, I went outside and attacked the giant multi-flora rosebush climbing over the back fence. And “attacked” is definitely a good word for it.

I pruned ruthlessly.

It pruned me of blood just as ruthlessly.

I look like I’ve just narrowly escaped a particularly nasty cat fight but I can now walk under the multi-flora rosebush without losing even more blood…and a thorny branch’s worth of hair. This particular stretch of fence line has been a problem “child” as the ducks and chickens know I can’t get underneath the rose bush to check the fencing. Now I can. I found an almost-duck-sized gap in a low spot underneath; I shoved an old cage in front of it for now and will find something more permanent going forward.

I also found several bird’s nests in the upper reaches of the bush…and delighted in them. I should probably add that this bush has been allowed to climb up and over the 6 foot chain-link fence. Despite its invasive nature, I allow it to stay as it does provide shelter for the birds, shade for my chickens and ducks in summer, and beauty for all of us when it blooms. And my goats had a feast on the leaves I pruned off (Really guys? There’s THORNS!!). It simply needed a good trim to keep it manageable.

Somewhere along the way I lost the anger and angst that so overwhelmed me earlier that morning.

Maybe it was finding those bird’s nests in the bush. Maybe it was watching the new ducklings exploring the world outside of the pen they and their Mama have been in since they hatched for the first time; they’re finally big enough that I don’t have to worry about them slipping through the gate jamb or even the chain-links(!). Maybe it was marveling over the goats’ delight at the new “treat” awaiting them with each cut of the loppers…thorns and all. Maybe it was retrieving a few dozen eggs from the nests and watching Miss Opal, one of my Buff Orpington chickens, streaking across the yard, squawking loudly, in celebration of those eggs. Either way, I found myself laughing often, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air, and the warm company of my beloved pets. Such a sense of peace settled over me. It was bittersweet, in light of my current situation but this is home.

And I’m not losing it.

It may not be this particular plot of land in the end but the farm and I will survive, together, intact, some way, somehow.

I may sound determined. I may also sound unrealistic and delusional. But I’m not giving up.

I bought this property with a husband, now an ex-husband. Two incomes can handle it; one income will always struggle…unless I can find a way to pull in enough income to equal what two could do. Maybe that’s out there somewhere. Or maybe He’s giving me a much-needed shove to look elsewhere. If this was where I was meant to be, I’d be thriving.

Or maybe He’s telling me I need to learn how to thrive wherever I am, however I am.

Either way, God has this. He knows where I am, what’s happening in my life, in my heart, in my thoughts. God has a plan. There’s a reason He’s brought me around full circle to this place of uncertainty and fear. I don’t know what it is. And I haven’t stopped being scared shitless. But I’m surrendering my will to His. He’s brought me to this place one more time; I’m trusting Him to carry me through it.

May God bless you & keep you!

PS I would also be delighted, and ever in your debt, if you would share the Go Fund Me campaign link below in your blog, your social media sites, etc. The wider I cast my net, the greater chances for that miracle I’m so in need of. 😉

https://www.gofundme.com/f/9fymzf-medical-leave&rcid=r01-156682970061-1e1042ab1d164daa&pc=ot_co_campmgmt_w

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When All Hope Seems Lost

“I waited patiently for God to help me; then He listened and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out from the bog and the mire, and set my feet on a hard, firm path and steadied me as I walked along. He has given me a new song to sing, of praises to our God” (Psalms 40:1-3)

I have one week to come up with $989 for the next mortgage payment or the homestead goes into foreclosure. The current job has cut me back to 12 hours’ per week; the previous job wouldn’t have kept me up-to-date either. I had an interview for a position yesterday. It’s another part-time position, but one that I can work while continuing at the greenhouse…provided they don’t decide I’m seasonal and I lose even the 12 hours in the coming weeks. I start training for the new position on September 16th; I don’t get paid until after training. Then the money is decent and will, hopefully, keep us afloat. But it’ll be too late for the homestead…unless the mortgage company is willing to negotiate another modification.

I’m not sure they will.

And, yes, I’ve read “The Secret”. I know about manifestation. Maybe there’s something to it. Maybe it’s “Pshaw!”. Maybe there’s too much angst in my heart for the basic principles of “The Secret” to work. Either way, I’ve also read the Bible numerous times. I know what my faith tells me I should be feeling, thinking, doing.

And I’m coming up empty.

Maybe He has something bigger in mind for me down the road. I hope so. Maybe this new something will be the dream homestead: off-grid; enough acres to grow my own hay; room for more goats to start my brush clearing business; a greenhouse for growing food and spices, such as turmeric, cardamom, ginger and others, year-round for sale. Maybe the new something will provide room enough that I can provide a forever home for animals that have been abused and/or neglected. Maybe the new something will allow me to plant an extensive herb garden that I can teach from…and a backyard habitat to help mitigate the destruction modern-day progress has made of the natural world.

You see, when I’m down and out, I escape into my fantasies (or a book…and endless YouTube videos (sigh)).

I keep thinking, if I could only get back on my feet again, I would be unstoppable. But I’m drowning in debt and doubt and fear and futility.

Yes, futility.

I feel like all of the efforts I have made in the last 5 years to improve my credit rating, to pay down the debt, to build up the homestead to be a working endeavor have been in vain. Granted, the latter has been half-hearted out of fear that any efforts I make might also be futile if I eventually lose the property. The result has been over-grown and overwhelm. I keep spinning my wheels and getting nowhere. I don’t know what to do. I keep asking Him to take the reins, to drive this train wreck of a life, because I have no more fight left to put it back on track again.

I’m down.

I’m broken.

I’m done. Stick a fork in me.

And, underneath it all, I’m scared shitless. I thought I was done with this 5 years’ ago. How the hell, why the hell have I come around this full circle?

And, yes, I’m almost done with the woe-is-me-feel-sorry-for-me pity-party. I’m not so sure about the intermittent crying jag that’s running interference in the background. And I can’t promise there won’t be an F-bomb lacing this post further along…I’ll try to refrain.

I’m asking, but from where I’m standing, the answer seems cruel.

I’m seeking but I’m not finding.

I’m knocking but the door’s not opening.

And, most importantly, I’m angry. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to fall. I didn’t ask to fracture my shoulder. I didn’t ask to be jerked around by the previous company regarding the necessary time out to heal. I didn’t ask to be backed into a corner so that I was forced to resign…even if, in many ways, it was a blessing in disguise. Despite this desperate situation.

What’s that expression? When the going gets tough, the tough get going. I’m just not sure in which direction…except He’s asking me, I think, to go through this. Again.

I’ve been paralyzed by indecision over the years. Even after I righted the mortgage (or so I thought), I continued to waver. I’ve wanted to relocate. But I’ve got a lot of years in this house. Sure, it’s rundown and needs a ton of work, but it’s home. I have friends and family close by…even if they seldom call or come to visit. I have a church community that I’ve been active in and that I love. I’m close to the current job, even if it is part-time. I have a vet that I also love, who has been kind and caring and has given great care to my animals over the years. This is my world.

It’s familiar.

It’s comfortable.

And I’m not 25 anymore. I am the poster “child” for proof that the older you get, the harder it is to change, to uproot and leave everything beloved and familiar.

Again, He’s asking me (I think) to step out of my comfort zone and trust Him. Really trust Him.

I have trust issues even on a human scale.

So where do I go from here?

The song, “What If I Gave Everything” by Casting Crowns is running a steady monologue in my head. What if I did give everything? What if, despite this seemingly impossible situation, I poured my whole self into building the homestead of my dreams…wherever it lands? Or even if it winds up staying where it is? To hell with the toe in the water. What if I plunged in right here, right now? What if I stopped waiting for the perfect conditions to be that “unstoppable”? And, more importantly, what if I stopped trying to reason everything out with my limited human understanding?

Maybe the only thing really stopping me is, well, me. Somebody, please, push me out of my own way (heavy sigh).

May God bless you & keep you!

Works Cited

Casting Crowns (2016). “What If I Gave Everything.” The Very Next Thing. Beach Street Records.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/9fymzf-medical-leave