Moving On Up?

“Let not your heart be troubled. You are trusting God, now trust in Me. There are many homes up there where my Father lives, and I am going to prepare them for your coming. When everything is ready, then I will come and get you, so that you can always be with me where I am.” (John 14:1-3)

The Herbal Hare Homestead may be moving. In fact, I believe it is almost a certainty. I’m not sure where. Or exactly when. I definitely don’t know how but I feel like He has been conking me over the head repeatedly, one hardship after another here, to finally light that fire under my backside so that I start actively looking.

And planning.

And taking one step after the other, trusting Him to see us all through.

A couple of weeks ago I received a letter from the local zoning officer. One of my neighbors complained about my roosters crowing. And they don’t like living next to ducks either.

Now before anyone jumps in with recriminations, before I ever brought chickens, ducks, or goats to this property I contacted the zoning office and then a zoning attorney. Strictly speaking, this is considered part of the commercial district of town, even as the whole town is zoned agricultural. However, after reviewing my deed, the attorney determined I didn’t need to get a variance or anything because the property has grandfathered use. He did warn it could be challenged but, to safeguard that, I wrote a letter detailing my plans here, made copies, and got each and every one of my neighbors’ signatures that they were okay with me raising these animals. I promised not to include a buck as they smell bad. I also have a doctor’s note stating that I’m supposed to be drinking goat’s milk.

Fortunately, I save everything.

Unfortunately, we have new neighbors. They didn’t sign that letter. And I get it…even if we were here first. The country is NOT as quiet as one thinks if one has never lived in the country before. And I will not be the first homesteader to be adversely affected by the city-slicker-turned-country-wannabe.

Ironically, there was no mention about the goats in their complaint. It was the crowing of roosters and, apparently, the occasional honking-quack from some of my female ducks when the males are being overly-amorous that my new neighbors are protesting.

We also have a new zoning officer, who is a delightful woman, and we hit it off immediately. She raised sheep until her husband’s passing last year; it liked to have killed her to give them to another farm but she was unable to care for them by herself, owing to some health issues of her own, so she was sympathetic to my plight. But she also has a job to do. Having worked for a local municipality last fall as a temp, I got to witness first-hand the b.s. stories people fabricate when they knowingly violate a zoning regulation. I think the new zoning officer thought that’s what I was about when I called her in response to her letter and told her I’d had a zoning attorney out here 11 years’ ago. When I was able to show her the doctor’s note and the signed letters from all of my neighbors stating they approved of my raising these animals, I saw her expression change to one of even deeper sympathy…and a sudden willingness to push back against these complaints. This was not the usual b.s. but someone who actually took the steps to do this all legally and ethically…and who willingly allowed her access to inspect the premises without giving her a hard time about it (That’s the key, folks! Work with, not against…even if the outcome isn’t exactly what you’d hoped it would be).

She read the letter, checked each address to ensure that each of the homes directly affected were included, then inspected the barn (I hadn’t built or added another building but re-purposed one that already existed here when I purchased the property in 2001). She inspected the animals, too, and wrote in her report that they were happy and well cared for. As she was a farmer previously, there was a moment’s pride that she found no fault with any of them. Though there is no pond here, there is a large kiddie pool for the ducks with a ramp for easy access in and out of it. There’s a 6-foot chain link fence to keep them all from roaming off-site…and for keeping predators out. That Chester (goat) came over and immediately rubbed his face all up and down her leg for affection said volumes about how well they are cared for.

Will she be able to swing it so my babies can stay?

There’s no way of knowing just yet. And she did say the roosters would have to go but, if I showed a willingness to comply with this one part of it, this new neighbor might relent about the rest. But, there’s a big part of me saying, do I have to go through this every time I get a new neighbor??? Do I have to perpetually fight to keep what matters most to me outside of faith and family? And, to be honest, I regard my animals as part of the family.

So I’m looking further afield, further ahead.

The animals may go to a friend’s farm as boarders until I can scrape together enough for that relocation. I’m thinking Maine, upper-state New York, Vermont…maybe Tennessee (though I would hate the heat!), as my brother and his family live there so we would have family nearby. It would be nice to see them more than every couple of years when we can afford to travel. And I will be looking for farm land…or at least a property that is actually zoned for agricultural use, or maybe an unincorporated town where there aren’t any zoning regulations. They’re few and far between but it’s worth looking into.

Of course, my main concern is how to finance all of this. Before the pandemic, I was staring foreclosure in the face owing to an injury in January 2019, a subsequent job loss, and the inability to find full-time work again to sustain us. My credit sucks…no polite way to say it. But, even if I get to keep the animals here, that issue still exists. Will I be able to save the home? Will He provide that job at the last moment? Or will He slide everything into place once I set my sights in the direction He wants me to go?

Because that’s how He works.

When you obey His commands, when you follow His direction, He moves those mountains completely out of the way. So, now I wait, and I do the work I must do in the interim, and in the meantime, I ask for everyone’s prayers. This ain’t going to be easy…

May God bless you & keep you!

Inner City Memories

“Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven; blessed are they who mourn for they shall be comforted; blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth; blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they shall be satisfied; blessed are the merciful for they shall be shown mercy; blessed are the pure of heart for they shall see God; blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called children of God and blessed are they who persecuted for the sake of righteousness for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven” (Matthew 5:3-10)

I spent the first twelve years of my life growing up in a predominantly white community. I had one neighbor, a little girl a few years’ younger than me, who was biracial…and, in the first grade, one Asian classmate. That was it. Then, in December of 1978, my family moved to downtown St. Louis, Missouri.

To say I had a bit of a culture shock would be an understatement. However, the culture “shock” quickly proved to be a positive one.

I remember walking into that 7th grade classroom at Clay Elementary School shaking in my shoes. More because I was an inherently shy kid and being assertive, or outgoing, while being singled out as the “new kid” yet again, was not something I was looking forward to. But, yes, there was likely a dialogue of racist rhetoric running in the background, too. Though I loved all of my grandparents very, very much, one of my grandfathers loved to say that “we don’t mix colors.” He would’ve had a coronary to find out he had Hispanic and Portuguese blood in his veins (an aunt of mine only recently found this out).

But, you know what?

The moment I walked into that classroom, my classmates put me at ease.

Okay…maybe not the first moment. I will confess, for a split second, the culture-shocked introvert started hyperventilating just a little as several black students popped up out of their seats and came over to me: Who are you? Are you a new student? Where are you from? Welcome! Though this was not my first time being a “new” kid, this was the first time anyone had ever made any immediate overtures to talk with me and get to know me. Most of the time I just got stared at like maybe I was a python thrown into a cage of rabbits…or, being as I was the shy one, maybe I was the rabbit thrown into a den of pythons. However, it was Chandra and Rita and Janice who found me an empty desk (our teacher was out on sick leave and they were waiting for the substitute for that day), and then plied me with all of the necessary textbooks and school supplies I would need for this next phase of my academic life. Though my initial reaction was to draw inward (again, introvert!), there was so much warmth and kindness coming from each of my new classmates, both black and white, that I quickly relaxed. That same day I also started rejecting the notion of “not mixing colors” or seeing people whose skin tone may be different than mine as being different as people. I’ve realized that the only difference is our experiences.

Over the next 6 years, I shared classrooms with both black and white students, Asian, Hispanic, Latino, Indian (both from India and Native American), as well as being taught by men and women of each of these. My life has been the richer for it. And, when my immediate family moved back East a year after high school graduation, I came back with a very different attitude about life, about people. I’ve become something of an anomaly to my extended family. It makes for some heated discussions sometimes but, while I’ve shied away from too much political or social discussions here on this blog, I don’t usually shy away from it in a setting where I know everyone and feel relatively safe. The only thing I may be guilty of is silently telling myself to back off at times when the conversation becomes too heated and continuing to argue will only make matters worse. I have to remind myself that not everyone has had the experiences that I have had. Not everyone has had the chance to get to know people from all walks of life, from diverse neighborhoods and school districts, from diverse cultures, religions, and backgrounds.

In light of everything that has happened in the last month or so, I can’t help thinking that we need to cross those cultural barriers. We need to pop up out of our collective seats, no matter where those seats are, and extend the hand of friendship to everyone we meet. We need to have those difficult conversations and expect that from time to time they may become heated. The only way that we will ever end the systemic racism that plagues this country is to listen to the voices of those protesting it. What are they saying? What is it really like to be black or brown in America? And, on the flip side, are there any negative experiences that white friends and relatives may have had that have brought them to a place of fear and distrust? That last may be hard to swallow but we all have something to bring to this discussion. The only way to put an end to this plague once and for all is to be honest with ourselves, and with each other, and to openly share what’s in our hearts and minds. We can do this without name-calling, or judgement, and respect each other’s truths.

I have been blessed. From the moment I walked into Mrs. Borden’s 7th grade classroom, to each and every time that I have met someone who is “different” and found, as I got to know them, that we weren’t so very different after all. We all want love and acceptance and the right to live as free and equal citizens of this nation. We all want to walk down the street, or browse in a store, without being molested…or worse. We all want to feel safe in our schools, our places of worship, and in our homes. When one of us hurts, we all hurt.

It didn’t offend my God to paint such a vivid palette of people…and how boring would it be if we were all exactly alike, carbon copies of each other? Instead, each of us brings something beautiful and special to this tapestry of life. Just as we all hurt when even one of us hurts, we also all have something to rejoice about when we allow love and compassion and respect for each other win out.

May God bless you & keep you!

White History

“One of the teachers of religion who was standing there listening to the discussion realized that Jesus had answered well. So he asked, ‘Of all the commandments, which is the most important?’ Jesus replied, ‘The one that says, ‘Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is the one and only God. And you must love Him with all your heart and soul and mind and strength. The second is: You must love others as much as yourself.’ No other commandments are greater than these.” (Mark 12:28-31)

I have hemmed and hawed enough. And, by doing so, I am part of the problem here in America.

I’ve often answered the discrimination against the impoverished, how our society automatically assumes that someone who is poor brought it on themselves, that they are lazy and do not want to work. However, I seldom answer our society’s systemic racism…even though I have been aware of it since I was a very young girl.

An aunt of mine recently did the swab test with Ancestry and, through some further research, discovered that the ancestor we were always taught had sailed into Canada out of France, actually was Spanish and sailed out of the Azores. We have some Spanish and Portuguese blood running through our veins, along with the French, but the French came later as those Spanish and/or Portuguese ancestors married French-Canadians. They also married into the Mohawk tribe along the way. Once they get to New England, we find some Narragansett as well. However, that French blood, along with some Polish, Russian, Scots-Irish, English, and German won out in the gene pool: I am as close to fish-belly white as it is possible to be.

I tell this because, as someone of fair skin and eyes and hair, I am not subject to the level of discrimination that my black and brown brothers and sisters deal with on a regular basis. I don’t have anyone redlining me when I apply for a loan/mortgage. I don’t have store clerks watching me too closely when I shop. I don’t have outraged people assuming when I apply for and/or receive government assistance that I’m here illegally. I typically don’t have a lot of generalizations lobbed at me either. Sure, I am a woman. Traditionally, I do not earn the same wage as my male counterparts, even when doing the same job with the same qualifications. I may hear the occasional old-timer saying how I should find a “nice” man to take care of me. However, despite some parallels that tend to smart at times, I don’t presume to know what life is like here in America for my black and brown brothers and sisters. To say that I do would be the biggest slap in the face that anyone could offer.

But I can witness to something that has been bandied about a lot here in the media since the murder of George Floyd last week: the history of America as told in our schools through the eyes of white historians.

I have an old history book on the shelf. It’s not a Board of Education approved copy. I doubt it was ever used in a classroom here in the U.S., but it is a good reference source. I wanted something that I could refer to about various points in our written history that typically don’t get taught in our schools…or even as a point of common knowledge.

Why is this important?

Because our history books typically prop up “heroes” such as Lt. Col. George Armstrong Custer, for example, without telling the full story. How did they get to be “heroes”? What did they do? And, as with any story, debate, etc. there is always another side. Still using Custer as an example, what was it like for the Native Americans who were, at best, displaced by him? Do our Native American brothers and sisters view him as a “hero”? And have we ever asked our Native American brothers and sisters why?

The history book I have is The Oxford History of the American People. It was written by an Englishman named Samuel Eliot Morison in 1965. It is older than I am. However, as we have a long history of purely “white” history, I’m thinking it still has some relevancy in showing how our history lessons are often slanted in one perpetual direction.

According to Mr. Morison, Custer “liked and respected” the Native American people (Morison 751-752) yet his book says nothing about the Washita Massacre, for example. It says nothing about how Custer’s 7th U.S. Calvary attacked Black Kettle’s Southern Cheyenne camp on the morning of November 27, 1868 in what is now Oklahoma. And it wasn’t all “braves” that were massacred. It was women and children and the elderly. Does that sound like someone who “liked” and “respected” our Native American brothers and sisters? I didn’t learn about this through any history class. Ironically, it was through an episode of Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, which got me curious enough to do some independent research into this little-known episode in our history.

It was a Danielle Steel novel, Silent Honor, that brought attention to the Japanese Internment camps here in America during World War II. After the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, Franklin D. Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066 that led to the FBI first rounding up 1291 Japanese community and religious leaders, “arresting them without evidence” and freezing their assets (Wikipedia). Later, some 117,000 people were relocated to facilities in Montana, New Mexico and North Dakota. Japanese Americans–and most of them were American citizens–were detained in overcrowded barracks without proper plumbing or cooking facilities, and there were armed guards making sure they did not leave without permission. And, yes, I know Wikipedia isn’t the most reliable source of information but it is a good jumping off point for learning more.

Ironically, the American frontier image of ranchers, cowboys, etc. lassoing cattle comes directly from Spanish landowners in Mexico who taught local Indians how to herd cattle and ride horses (Livingston 1). They called them vaqueros, after the Spanish word for “cow”. A good portion of our Southwestern states were part of the spoils of armed conflict with Mexico. While I found a mention of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which promised Spanish and/or Californio landowners in this newly acquired territory (present-day Arizona, California, Nevada, New Mexico, Texas, Utah and some parts of Colorado and Wyoming) the same “full enjoyment and protection of their property as if they were citizens of the U.S.” (Wikipedia), it does not teach about how most of these former citizens of Mexico lost their land claims in lawsuits before U.S. state and federal courts. In short, we swindled most of the ranchers of their lands.

While I do remember reading about such legendary black leaders as Sojourner Truth, Frederick Douglass and Rosa Parks in my high school history classes, this particular book does not mention them at all. And most history books tend to gloss over the very real struggles that black leaders have had to make for each new freedom gained. For how many decades did black Americans have to use a separate bathroom, water fountain and/or library, etc. than white Americans? Before Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on that bus in Alabama, how many black Americans, no matter how tired, sick or aged, gave up their seats rather than face certain consequences? And how often do we hear how “they” are different than us somehow, as if we don’t all bleed the same, throughout our conscious dialogue each day?

Again, it would be a slap in the face for me to say that I understand or can comprehend. I cannot. However, I cannot be silent anymore either to the disparities that I have seen between one group of Americans versus another group of Americans. There is only one race. And that is the human race.

If we’re going to teach our students about American history, shouldn’t it reflect the wide tapestry of humanity that is America in the first place? Shouldn’t that history impartially teach us how it was for each and every culture that has, and does, grace these shores?

May God bless you & keep you!

Works Cited

Livingston, Phil. “The History of the Vaquero.” American Cowboy.

Morison, Samuel Eliot. The Oxford History of the American People. Oxford University Press, 1965.

Steel, Danielle. Silent Honor. Dell Publishing, Inc., 2007.

“Washita: Part I.” Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman. The Sullivan Company, CBS Entertainment Production, 29 April 1995.

Wikipedia. Internment of Japanese Americans, n/d.

Wikipedia. Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, n.d.

A Plea for the Anti-Anti-Vaxxers

“The wise are promoted to honor, but fools are promoted to shame!” (Proverbs 3:35)

I’m struggling here. I know the whole vaccine thing is a heated debate. However, I’m a little disturbed by some of the stories I’m hearing about the upcoming Covid-19 vaccine potentially being mandatory. They may just be “stories” but…

Hell, NO!

I am even more concerned about the abuse heaped upon those of us who choose not to get vaccines. We’re labeled selfish, insensitive, arrogant. I’ve even heard of people being physically accosted for their stand.

Yes, I understand the need to protect against another future pandemic. I understand that, in most cases, vaccines save lives. And I’m not necessarily an “anti-vaxxer” in the usual sense. I mean, I was vaccinated as a child against polio and small pox, and a host of other diseases, just like everyone else. If I had children, they would have gotten those vaccines just like every other kid. And, though there’s some controversy about the potential side effects of these childhood vaccinations, none of those side effects is death. These diseases kill…as does Covid-19, in some cases.

However, back in 2015, I had a bad reaction to a tetanus vaccine. I spiked 105 degrees, wound up back in the ER…and spent the next two weeks in a constant state of panic that I was going to die. The headaches that made it so I couldn’t even open my eyes; the serious brain “fog” that has never entirely left me; the constant fever surges, and the uncontrollable shivers that shook me, even as I burrowed under multiple quilts in 90+ degree temperatures, were terrifying. My doc believes that I had a reaction to either a preservative, or a carrier, not the tetanus vaccine itself as this was not my first tetanus.

But how can I be sure?

My doc also said that the next time will potentially be worse…and that those same preservatives/carriers are used for most vaccines, including flu, pneumonia, and shingles. Again, there is no way of knowing for sure. So I now wear one of those medical bracelets. Inside is a little card that says, “No TDP/TDAP, No Vaccines!” because the next time, I may not be merely terrified about dying. I am not a human guinea pig. And nobody else should be either…unless they choose to take the risk that they will be okay with any new vaccine.

You see, it’s all about choice. And that’s what a free society is all about.

No, I do not wish to harm anyone in any intentional way. I do not wish to spread this virus further. I wear a mask and gloves out in public; I wash my hands thoroughly. I clean door knobs and steering wheels, etc. with Clorox wipes. I’m staying home except for necessary trips to the grocery store, the feed store, etc.

But I’m not getting a vaccine. For me, it would be the equivalent of playing Russian roulette. And I’m not much of a gambler.

I recognize the fear; I truly do. We have this invisible enemy that we should all be working to defeat…and yet, we’re attacking each other instead.

Perhaps because our fellow human beings are more tangible than a virus.

Again, I’m not really an anti-vaxxer. I’ve had vaccines and, with the exception of that “bad” tetanus 5 years’ ago, there’s been no harm done…and I’ve avoided deadly diseases. I am certainly not telling anyone not to get the vaccine once it is available.

However, for all of the people who get in someone’s face and start ranting and raving, and even threatening someone, for not getting a vaccine–whatever that vaccine may be, or their reasons for not getting it–please stop and put yourself in their shoes for a moment. If you’re reading this, please consider that maybe this person has had a similar reaction as the one I shared here today and they fear more for their life with the vaccine than without it. Maybe they’re not being selfish at all.

May God bless you & keep you!

Stay tuned…

…our regularly scheduled program will be back as soon as I’ve finished my final exam this week! =)

Stay safe, stay healthy…May God bless you & keep you!

Prepping

“Finally the day came when the Lord said to Noah, ‘Go into the boat with all your family, for among all the people of the earth, I consider you alone to be righteous. Bring in the animals, too–a pair of each, except those kinds I have chosen for eating and for sacrifice: take seven pairs of each of them, and seven pairs of every kind of bird. Thus there will be every kind of life reproducing again after the flood has ended. One week from today I will begin forty days and nights of rain; and all the animals and birds and reptiles I have made will die’. So Noah did everything the Lord commanded him.” (Genesis 7:1-5)

The lights keep flickering. The forecast is for heavy rains (check) and high winds (also, check) with potential power outages. This last may be a “check” before the day is out. We’re still in the middle of a pandemic that could take the lives of hundreds of thousands in the U.S. before it is done. Our economy has been nearly frozen. Millions of jobs have been lost; mostly part-time jobs were to be had before the pandemic shutdown. Groceries are flying off the shelves. Ditto for toilet paper and cleaning supplies. Economists are predicting a depression that will rival the 1930’s. On a personal note, foreclosure has been eminent here at The Herbal Hare Homestead since last year’s battle with the icy driveway.

I’ve been “playing” at homesteading over the last 5-6 years. Financial struggles have left me on the fence about truly investing the time and energy into developing this place into the self-sufficient enterprise that I have envisioned. Confidence issues have gotten in the way, too. As has a personal struggle to get Mom on board with some of the more extreme projects.

Thanks to Covid-19, Mom is actually the one suggesting prepping. Working together, I know we can make this work.

As for the back mortgage payments, I’m considering swallowing my pride and filing bankruptcy so I can start clean again. At present, I am still employed. Albeit, it’s part-time employment but, if I do the work while I’m at home with this enforced quarantine, by the time work starts back up again, I may have a few supplemental incomes ready to roll.

My biggest obstacle though is myself. Yes, I procrastinate. But, more, I have a tendency to lose focus. I’ve never been tested, but I would be willing to bet, that I have some form of ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder). I do have anxiety issues; that can rob you of focus all by itself…and may be all there is to it. So, for the last week that I’ve been MIA on this blog, I’ve been creating detailed outlines about my homestead and where I want to go; about my writing; even about this blog and the direction I am hoping to take it, the content I am hoping to share as the days, weeks, months go forward. I’m even writing multiple blog posts on the weekend to copy and paste in WordPress each day so that I have time for all of the many endeavors I’ve set for myself. It will give me more time with my book instead of an either/or writing habit. You see, I want this blogging thing to remain sustainable. I also want to finish my book. And, once I’m back to the “day” job, it won’t be sustainable to do both…unless, of course, I write everything on the weekend. So, that’s the start of it.

And what about my faith? You ask.

Somehow, I don’t feel that prepping, as much as one is able, for disaster(s) is a sign that I’m losing faith. Just look at Noah. I feel that this prepping is an outward expression of obeying the warnings He is putting on my heart.

Our healthcare system is broken.

Our economic system is broken.

Our housing system is broken.

Our educational system is broken.

Our election process is broken.

Even, and especially, our government is broken…no matter what side of the political aisle you stand upon.

Almost all of this brokenness stems from a.) A love of money and materialism, and b.) An inability to truly live the teachings of our faith, which is to love our brothers and sisters as ourselves. Perhaps it’s because so many of us don’t have any self-love. I’m not talking about cultivating a selfish heart, nor am I talking about narcissism, but a healing, appreciating kind of love that values “self” as a child of the Creator. Today, any outward expression of belief is frowned upon in our modern society. It might offend some people. So we leave it at the door.

Yet the non-believers can belittle and post their hateful rhetoric on social media…or spout it on the boob-tube on a regular basis.

I’m done with it.

I’m not ashamed of my God.

Nor of a renewed determination to live more intentionally, more sustainably…and, of course, more faithfully.

And, while it may seem crazy to invest myself in an—for all practical purposes—uncertain future here in Connecticut, I’m trusting Him. He has a plan. For my life. For your life. For even a frightening pandemic and its subsequent shutdown of all things “normal” in our society.

May God bless you & keep you!

A Break from Coronavirus and Wednesday’s Weed Walk

“Now the report of [Jesus’] power spread even faster and vast crowds came to hear Him preach and to be healed of their diseases. But He often withdrew to the wilderness for prayer.” (Luke 5: 15-16)

The last few days the introvert went into a sort of hibernation from, well, this enforced hibernation. Too much information, too much “in-your-face” news coverage–both accurate and inaccurate–regarding this coronavirus pandemic. And, of course, our media, our government, etc. has set out on a course to make it all political. It became sickening.

So I took a break.

For the last two days I’ve been working on some more character development for my book, fleshed out a potential short story, and submerged myself in one of the novels that I checked out two weeks’ ago to tide me over during this hibernation…and now I’m wishing I’d checked out the whole series because it was good and I’d like to continue on (Angie Sage’s Magyk, 2005, Harper Collins, Young Adult). I got back on the yoga mat (I’ve been seriously lax), the exercise bike, the inversion table and I’ve started meditating. I’ve also been paying more attention to my spiritual life, praying the rosary for the victims of this pandemic…which is all of us one way or the other…and praying for true leadership, for divine guidance for our leaders, when we need it the most. It’s been a grounding experience and I’m feeling better mentally, emotionally, spiritually.

I turned on YouTube this morning to catch up…and was pleasantly surprised that The Late Show with Stephen Colbert appears to be back up and running to some degree. A little laughter over the first cup of tea of the day can never be amiss. There was an added chuckle as Miss Goldie, one of my Buff Orpington hens, put her two cents’ worth in from time to time from her cage in the kitchen.

Miss Goldie has been acting rather lethargic lately. That’s really the only “symptom” I’ve had that there might be anything “wrong” so I’ve been checking on her a little more often and contemplating separating her from the rest of the flock, maybe even a call to the vet. It is not unusual for chickens, because they scratch and peck in the dirt, the compost pile, the barn floor, etc., I even had one pick some undigested matter from a dog turd many years’ back (Ewww) when they were allowed to free-range a little farther afield, to also pick up a parasite. Or develop some sort of intestinal worm.

However, I should have separated Goldie a little sooner.

I found Miss Goldie curled up on the floor of the barn the night before last, her head and beak a bloody mess. After the initial gut punch as I assumed the very worst, I reached to pick her up and she turned her head and chirped at me. The wounds were still running freely so I had obviously just interrupted what would have been curtains for Goldie if I hadn’t walked into the barn when I did. Chickens are notorious for pecking to death any of their flock who is sick, or weak, in some way. Though it has yet to happen to me, I know other farmers/homesteaders who have found an indistinguishable bloody pulp in the barnyard. I didn’t think Goldie had reached such a place but, apparently, I was wrong. I can only be grateful that things had not progressed to that level of cannibalism (yes, that’s exactly what they resort to when they sense a sick, or weakened, flock-mate; they turn into sharks. Incited by the scent of drawn blood, they will often keep going until there’s nothing left of the sick one).

Fortunately, there was more blood than wound once I cleaned her up. She wasn’t sure about sitting in my lap but she bore my ministrations and, after I got the bleeding stopped, I gently dabbed the wounds with my “bunny” salve. This is equal parts of comfrey (Symphytum officinale) and plantain (Plantago spp.). I use a double boiler, add the dried leaves, cover them completely with olive oil, and a lid, and brew it on low heat for 20 minutes (do NOT bring to a boil). It is then strained and, in this case, because I want a creamier consistency, I only put 1/2 to 3/4 squared of beeswax into the 4 oz. container I just strained the oil into and stir until the wax dissolves (please do NOT use your best utensils/pans for stirring beeswax…and NEVER try to wash them in your sink or dishwasher but take hot water outside and scrub/dissolve away the beeswax over a patch of dirt; you will never unstop your sink, or the lines in your dishwasher again…). And, as you can see from the pictures below, the plantain is NOT the banana-like fruit found in most major grocery stores. This is that little patch of “weed” or “crab” grass that we choke out with all manner of harmful herbicides (PS Please reconsider…even if you’re not an herbalist; many pollinators visit those long, spindly “flowers” reaching up in the middle).

COMFREY (Symphytum officinale)

PLANTAIN (Plantago major)

Anyway, after cleaning Goldie up, I also found an eyedropper and popped open a jar of strained spinach, zucchini and peas (I always keep jars of baby food on hand for such emergencies) and hand-fed her. Then I placed her in the cage with a bowl of water, and another bowl of chicken feed with some birdseed mixed in to try and tempt her to eat on her own, and a clove of garlic minced up to kill any parasites that may have started the whole issue. Yesterday, I repeated said process and actually picked up a piece of the minced garlic, opened her beak, dropped it in and then chased it down with more of the spinach mix.

My biggest concern has been her right eye. It was swollen shut when I found her, and for all of yesterday. However, in addition to eating on her own last night/early this morning, both eyes are now open. So there is hope. And I am grateful that Miss Goldie does not seem to have lost her sight by this ordeal…even if she does still resemble Rocky Balboa a little bit…in chicken form, of course.

As Goldie, hopefully, continues to heal…and get pleasantly spoiled with all the hand-feeding and handling…I’m going to keep hoping that our nation continues to heal as well. Though I’m not 100% sure how accurate each source is, it appears there is finally a flattening of the curve, as they say, in the spread of this coronavirus. This is not a license to become complacent, or to relax our vigil, in controlling the spread of Covid-19…anymore than this marked improvement in Goldie’s condition is a license for me to become lax in continuing her treatments. As signs of improvement continue to show, this is actually the time to be even more vigilant.

Stay safe.

Stay home, if you can.

Wash your hands frequently…as well as door knobs, steering wheels, etc. anything that might have some of those Covid-19 germs on it.

Keep the world in your prayers; He’s got this…He truly does.

May God bless you & keep you!

The FDA has not evaluated these statements. The information contained is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any diseases.

REFERENCES

Comfrey (Symphytum officinale) (n.d.). Yahoo Image Search. Image. Retrieved from: https://images.search.yahoo.com/search/images;_ylt=A0geKIwEuYReREsA1yZXNyoA;_ylu=X3oDMTEybzY4bXJpBGNvbG8DYmYxBHBvcwMxBHZ0aWQDQjk4NDdfMQRzZWMDc2M-?p=comfrey&fr=mcafee#id=8&iurl=https%3A%2F%2F2.bp.blogspot.com%2F-PIuJY1clecU%2FUBepNQAveYI%2FAAAAAAAAAcg%2FzTF_atb-HmE%2Fs1600%2Fcomfrey.jpg&action=click

Plantain (Plantago major) (n.d.). Yahoo Image Search. Image. Retrieved from: https://images.search.yahoo.com/search/images;_ylt=AwrJ6yvduYRe.NwAmChXNyoA;_ylu=X3oDMTEybzY4bXJpBGNvbG8DYmYxBHBvcwMxBHZ0aWQDQjk4NDdfMQRzZWMDc2M-?p=plantago+major&fr=mcafee#id=24&iurl=https%3A%2F%2Fi.ytimg.com%2Fvi%2FOntYFofcDMM%2Fmaxresdefault.jpg&action=click

Sunday Cyber-Service

“Remember to observe the Sabbath as a holy day. Six days a week are for your daily duties and your regular work, but the seventh day is a day of Sabbath rest before the Lord your God. On that day you are to do no work of any kind, nor shall your son, daughter, or slaves–whether men or women–or your cattle or your house guests. For in six days the Lord made the heaven, earth and sea, and everything in them, and rested the seventh day; so He blessed the Sabbath day and set it aside for rest.” (Exodus 20: 8-11)

So this feels just a little awkward…so I guess I’m on the right track. God loves to take us out of our comfort zones. He wants us to trust Him…even in the midst of coronavirus. Actually, I should amend that: especially in the midst of coronavirus. And, while this isn’t exactly a traditional service, I’m going to start by sharing a song by Christian artist, Zach Williams, called “Old Church Choir”. Though I can carry a tune myself, just for today, I’m leaving it to the pros. Let’s lift the somber mood of these past few weeks just a little bit:

For everyone reading this today, I hope that the prayers and Scripture I offer, even the music I share, will enrich your day, your week, and bring you solace and hope in a seemingly chaotic situation. Truly, faith in Something–Someone–greater than one’s self is the only thing that does bring hope in the face of chaos and adversity.

And the adversities we face today are unlike any that we have seen in 80, 90 years.

I don’t share that to overwhelm, or to spread further terror. It’s to bring this situation into perspective. There’s been so much anger masking fear and uncertainty, so much finger pointing–something of which yours truly has been guilty–and it only excerbates the situation…both in our hearts, and in our communities. Yes, we are seeing who the *true* leaders are, and those whose hearts the Adversary’s lies have settled into as well. And, no, they’re not the ones closing down even the churches. The officials that have closed nearly every door are doing so to save lives, to prevent the spread of illness. However, the Adversary is watching this, wringing his hands together at the opportunities he sees before him now that so many of us are not coming together in prayer, to receive Communion and fellowship, to confess our sins of the previous week(s), and to seek forgiveness. I say we pray without ceasing, giving praise to the One who is truly in control and has our backs in all of this, effectively binding those wringing hands from doing their dirty work. We have enough to contend with in Covid-19. That’s enough chaos for one community, one country, one world. And, without God, without a belief in Someone greater than ourselves, where will we find the strength to get through the weeks ahead and their endless challenges? Or to resist those adversarial lies?

Yes, you read that correctly: give God praise during this epidemic. He knows what He’s doing, and why. It is our job to trust Him, to believe Him, when He tells us He loves us, that He has our best interests at heart. Though it may not seem apparent at the moment, He does. He truly does. If we give in to the doubts, and I know it’s difficult not to at a time like this when so many are sick, scared, dying, but this is where He needs us to follow Him ever more closely. He needs us to be steadfast and stand together in solidarity with Him, to root out the lies and bring them into the Light, to bring comfort to those who are afraid, or have suffered loss.

You know, we talk about pulling together during this crisis. And yet, we are being asked, for safety’s sake, to stay apart. It seems a bit of an oxymoron but, while we may not be together physically, we CAN be together in our hearts, in our minds, in spirit…in Spirit. It is, in my opinion, the only way we will get through this crisis.

And that brings me to another point of this post. I’ve talked a lot in previous posts about being an introvert. Truly, it’s not all that difficult being an introvert in America. Our society encourages distance even when things are “normal”. Look at how we are structured. Most people travel to work solo. In fact, I know of plenty of people who look down their noses at people who carpool, or utilize public transit. The auto industry touts independence, freedom of spirit, etc. to sell their products. If you don’t have an automobile of your own, people are scandalized (I have first-hand knowledge). In short, we’re encouraged to be alone in our commutes. Though “tiny houses” are all the rage today as sort of a grassroots’ movement that is gaining some traction in the mainstream, our housing/construction industries push the mantra of bigger being better. Our streets are lined with countless McMansions, surrounded by acres of well-manicured status symbols of lawns that rob us of clean air, clean soil, clean water…even home-grown food so, if for no other reason, we do not starve during an epidemic. We’re disconnected from the earth, from our food, from the animals that sacrifice theirs that we might have life (oftentimes under horrible conditions). More importantly, we’re disconnected from each other. Again, in short, I see millions of “islands”. I get needing elbow room…and we don’t always find “good” neighbors, but in these Islands of Suburbia, we might never know. How many of us, when there isn’t a pandemic, have walked across those acres of useless grass to extend the hand of friendship to those whose multi-acres of McMansion border ours? And, sadly, even within the walls of those McMansions, we remain islands of humanity. Every child must have its own bedroom. We must have a man-cave, or a she-shed. Every human in the house must have their own bathroom, too. I suppose during a pandemic such as this one, we might conclude that the distance between us, even within our own communities, is a good thing to help slow the spread of infection. But do we know how to sit down as a family and share a common meal? Do we even know how to cook a meal without zapping it in a microwave? We’re not running off to countless after-school sporting events, clubs, extra-curricular activities right now. How has that changed the dynamics? Do we know how to entertain ourselves as a family? When was the last time we pulled out a board game? Or a deck of cards? When was the last time we prayed together as a family…outside of our church, temple, synagogue, or mosque? For those of you who have been sitting down together as a family to share a meal, a game, or a prayer, you are truly the wealthy during this crisis. And that’s something we can all appreciate, whether introverted, or extroverted.

Dear Heavenly Father,

I praise you in this “storm”. We truly are at “war” with an enemy we cannot see. But I know that Your Eyes do see this “enemy” and You’ve got this! I praise You for that knowledge. I praise You for the knowledge that You are giving to doctors, nurses, first-responders, scientists, etc. to help heal those who are ill. I praise You, too, for protecting these healthcare workers from contracting the Covid-19 virus themselves; we need all of their expertise. I praise You for lifting every healthcare worker up, relieving their fatigue, and for giving them clarity when it is most needed.

I praise you for every grocery, pet and/or feed store worker, for every pharmacist, for every essential worker who is also on the front lines during this epidemic. I praise you for protecting them also, and the families that they go home to each night.

I praise You for our government officials. I pray that sound minds and compassionate hearts will prevail in this crisis. I praise You for guiding the hands of those who would lead…and showing us just who those people are. I praise You for touching the hearts of those who would profit from the sufferings of others that they might repent and seek You in all future endeavors, bringing Light, instead of the darkness that our world has become.

I praise You for lifting up the hearts of all people everywhere during this epidemic. Where hearts are hungry, provide them Your sustenance. Where hearts are frightened, give them courage. Where hearts are angry, bring them peace. Where hearts are in doubt, fill them with Your grace. And, for those who have lost a loved one to this illness, I praise You for comforting them in their hour of sorrow and loss. Help them to remember that when we are a part of the body and blood of Christ, we are never truly alone. I praise You for the hope that is forever Your name, in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Our Father, who art in heaven
Hallowed be thy Name.
Thy Kingdom Come, thy Will be done.
On earth, as it is in heaven.
Give us this day, our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses.
As we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
But deliver us from evil.
For thine is the Kingdom, and the Power,
And the Glory, forever and ever…Amen

May God bless you & keep you!

REFERENCES

Casting Crowns (2008). “Praise You In This Storm (live).” Lifesong (2005), producer by Mark A. Miller, Beach Street/Reunion Records. Neyolov. Retrieved from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ype1xE0wzsg

For King and Country (2015). “Shoulders (Official Music Video).” Run Wild. Live Free. Love Strong, producers Ben Glover, Matt Hales, Seth Mosley and Tedd Tjornhom, Fervent Records alongside Word Records. Retrieved from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TfiYWaeAcRw

Williams, Zach (2017). “Old Church Choir (Official Music Video).” Chain Breaker, producer Jonathan Smith, Essential Records. Vevo. Retrieved from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yOEviTLJOqo&list=RDyOEviTLJOqo&start_radio=1

What Happened to “For the People”?

“Giving preferred treatment to rich people is a clear case of selling one’s soul for a piece of bread.” (Proverbs 28:21)

I am struggling to find a positive spin on the recently agreed upon stimulus. The best I can come up with is “it’s better than nothing”. And I’m not sure that’s entirely true.

I feel like it’s 2008 all over again. We’re using the hard-earned tax money paid by We the People to bail out Corporate America again…and, likely, the money will only go to those corporations in the states that our current administration needs to win again in November. Said corporations will stay afloat, continue to monopolize the marketplace, force the smaller businesses completely out of business…or buy them out of hock and incorporate them. They will continue to pay their workers minimum wage, those workers that they decide to keep, as they will use this extra capital to automate away as many positions as they possibly can. It’s all about the Almighty dollar. In the meantime, we, the American people, must appear stupid in their eyes. Here’s a few measly crumbs–a whopping one-time payment of $1200–to tide you and yours over for however many months we’re forced to stay in quarantine. Yes, I know we’re also extending unemployment benefits. But, despite the loans and grants to small businesses, will it be enough for Main Street to stay open and solvent? Because staying open and solvent means they will also have to remain competitive against those corporate giants who have considerably greater resources than Main Street, USA…including lobbyists in Washington, D.C. who have far too many of our politicians in their hip pockets.

And, yes, I am angry and cynical…and trying desperately not to be. Despite the above rant, I am incredibly grateful that there is a stimulus at all…it really is “better than nothing”. But will it be enough to stave off what, for many, may mean total ruin? I want so badly to hold onto my faith that every American will get through this crisis, safe, happy, healthy. I want to believe that the majority of our politicians are inherently good and have the best interest of We the People at heart. And there have been some rather unsung heroes in the midst of it all.

And maybe that’s where my thoughts should go right now. Because, just as there have been politicians on both sides of the aisle who appear to be looking out for their own interests instead of We the People’s, there are some–also on both sides of the aisle–who have stepped up to the plate with boldness and compassion: Marco Rubio, Mitt Romney, Bernie Sanders, Andrew Yang, Andrew Cuomo and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, to name a few.

Actually, I’m amazed that the House and Senate were able to work together at all to accomplish as much as they did…even as I acknowledge that it won’t be enough in the long run. It is all too easy to imagine tent cities cropping up across America again…2008 regurgitated.

I hope I am wrong.

And, yes, I am breaking my own challenge of yesterday to spread hope. But I have trouble wondering why our government has no qualms about spending trillions of dollars to bail out corporations, but that same money is too much to bail out individual citizens as we do exactly what we’re being asked to do: stay home, stay out of public spaces, do our part to stop the spread of this Covid-19, etc. In the richest country in the world, we have an embarrassingly large number of our citizens living on the streets. Why are we unwilling to spend the money to ensure that the number of homeless doesn’t grow by leaps and bounds at the back-end of this pandemic?

Yes, I know…follow my own advice. Breathe, just breathe. We will get through this…the same way we got through 2008. And, no, that statement really doesn’t inspire a feeling of hope either. Instead, I’m going to take it to the One who always inspires hope:

Dear heavenly Father,

I come to you broken, scared, listening to the lies of the Adversary robbing me of my faith when I need it the most…when I need You the most. I ask Your forgiveness for my dismay, my anger, and my impatience, and ask that You strengthen my faith in the midst of chaos. Help me to step up to that plate, to step up to the challenge of spreading hope during this time of darkness and despair for so many of Your people. For those who feel that despair, please give them the strength and courage they need to weather this “storm”.

For all of the families and individuals who are suddenly feel like they are without recourse, let the miracle of Your Son feeding thousands with just two fish be extended to them in their time of need. May they have enough healthy, nutritious food to feed their children and keep their bodies strong. May they find Your grace in the compassion of those debt collectors who willingly suspend payment until this crisis is over. May You provide them with work for their hands to do once the danger of this pandemic is over.

For our leaders, both in our government, and in the unsung heroes in our local communities, bless them with hearts full of love for their fellow man, and clear heads for finding real solutions in these troubled times. For the many, many individuals working in retail, who brave the risk of infection themselves, to make sure groceries and medicines are obtainable for all who need them, and for the factory workers, truck drivers, etc. who are keeping those supplies available, please watch over them, protect them, and their families, as they continue to serve their communities.

Father, lastly, I ask that You spread Your mercy over those who have been stricken with Covid-19. I ask that You stretch Your mighty Hand of healing over them, and bless the doctors, nurses, technicians, first responders and emergency workers, etc. who are working selflessly to care for those stricken with this virus. I pray that You find the medicine(s) and equipment needed to ease their suffering. And, for those whom You have called home, I ask that you comfort those they have left behind whose hearts are breaking for their loss. I ask this all in Jesus’ precious, pure and holy Name. Amen.

May God bless you & keep you!

Spreading Hope

“A cheerful heart does good like medicine, but a broken spirit makes one sick.” (Proverbs 17:22)

We are overwhelmed.

As a nation.

As a people.

As a world.

It’s like we took the flu epidemic of 1918 and The Great Depression of the 1930’s, mixed them in a bowl, tossed it into a microwave, and let it explode out. It’s all too easy to imagine martial law, and even the outbreak of another civil war, as fear and worry and, sadly, blame takes hold…and fights to stay.

There is no one person to blame for this. It simply is. We can charge that maybe this elected official, or that one, didn’t act swiftly enough, didn’t take things seriously enough, etc. I understand. How many times in the past has our media hyped up a flu virus only to have the hype be so much larger than the reality?

This time is different however.

We’ve never shutdown our whole nation over a pandemic before…at least not since 1918. Businesses are closing. People are out of work. We don’t know when we might safely return. And we have bills to pay. I get it. We all do…at least I hope so, even if we would rather deny it.

We also have loved ones who could easily be listed among the most vulnerable. Maybe they’re elderly. Maybe they have asthma. Or emphysema. Or COPD. Maybe they’re on dialysis or chemotherapy. Maybe they’ve had a spleen removed. Or struggle with diabetes or an autoimmune disease. Now is not the time to get overly optimistic. Such optimism, taking the stance that we can go out again in a couple of weeks, could put those loved ones at risk. Again, I get it. We still have those bills to pay, a roof to keep overhead, etc.

Please…breathe, just breathe. Worry is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to “do” but it doesn’t get you anywhere…even during a pandemic.

Despite this grim outlook, we really are all in this together. Though Congress seems intent on making this a political thing…no matter which side of the aisle we stand on…still, Congress members, our president, the White House, our local officials, etc. have all been risking their own safety to work round the clock to find a solution to these challenges. Have they succeeded? It may be too early to tell. I believe the efforts have probably fallen short of the mark. Do I trust that all of them have our best interest at heart? No. However, we haven’t seen either a health pandemic, or the risk of an economic depression, this strong in over 90 years. I’d wager our elected officials are as overwhelmed and frightened as we are.

If you’re reading this, you’re alive and, hopefully, still well. I’m going to also hope that, at least for the moment, you have enough to eat, a roof overhead, etc. If all of this is true, give thanks…to God, to Allah, to Buddha, Goddess, etc. It’s one day at a time, one step at a time. If you’re reading this, you also probably know someone who is taking this pretty hard. Pray for them and, if they’ll allow it, with them. Now is not the time to argue religious doctrine anymore than it’s the time to further political agendas. Do you have extra canned goods/non-perishables? We can safely put together care packages by washing our hands carefully first and then washing/wiping those cans and packages before packing them into a box, a tote, a bag and leaving them anonymously on the doorstep of a friend or neighbor in need. Make sure to include a note stating the precautions you took to keep everything clean. If you’re one of the people hoarding toilet paper, you might also include a couple of rolls of that (chuckle). By such selfless acts, we can inspire hope in those who are beyond scared.

Including ourselves.

Such acts of kindness make us feel better…which can actually boost our immunity. It also breaks the cycle of scarcity and want in our communities. It lets others know that their neighbors are watching, seeing their added struggles, their fear, and reaching out to help in the best way possible right now. It chases away the loneliness in our isolation, inspires hope for a new day tomorrow.

If nothing else, I am offering up a challenge to everyone reading this. If you are spending a lot of time on social media, you know that there is a lot of negativity being shared throughout. Instead of sharing the negativity, lets look for the news’ stories of the heroes in our communities. They may be few and far between, because coronavirus is getting the bulk of the coverage, but keep looking. If your mayor, your governor, etc. has stepped up to the plate in a way that is above and beyond the call of duty, share it. If you know of any programs in your state, or community, that might help those in need, share that information. Start a prayer chain via email, text message, etc. with those in your worship community, and share that. If your neighbor left that box of groceries on your doorstep, share it. And keep sharing it. It may not do anything to heal coronavirus, but it may be enough to heal anxious hearts and get them focusing on the positive. We will get through this! We’ve got to believe. Do you believe? Are you up to the challenge? I have faith that you are. Again, we’re all in this together…and together, we can be unstoppable.

May God bless you & keep you!