I Can Do All Things Through Messiah, Who Strengthens Me

I've repeated this passage from Philippians 4, several times in my life; but the other day, it literally rose up in my spirit and not only came out of my mouth, but coursed through my body.

There have been occasions in which I've asked YHWH to please give me the strength He endowed upon Samson.  Those were events in which, of course great strength was needed.  I never held the usual perception of Samson.  I didn't picture him to be some sort of power house or Mr. Universe kind of guy.  I picture him to be sort a scrawny little odd ball, not so amazing in his physical appearance or in his "way with women . . ."  I'm sort of like how I picture Samson, only the fluffy female version, in that I'm not a picture of physical perfection either, and I was just noticing in the last few months, how much harder it is to get the lids off jars and how much heavier the canner seems.  So, what happened the other day has no other explanation, except the power of YHWH.

I went out early Sunday morning to make my chore rounds, as usual.  "Everyone" greeted me as usual and were in their usual places enjoying their grazing.  I let the chickens out, made sure everyone everyone had water and gave Azalea access to her hay for the day.  Poor Azalea has to be fenced off from her hay for the night, as she will not even sleep to keep eating . . .  I finished chores and came in to begin my day of publishing the Goshen Gazette.

One of the hay bales had toppled over, just since I'd made my rounds.  I went out and to my horror, Velvet was not greeting me at the gate to tell me something had happened.  I walked all around the pasture and timber calling her and realizing another goat, Nova, was also unaccounted for.  My heart was truly sinking as I considered with dread, what may have occurred.  Those bales weigh over a 1000 pounds and it wasn't 1/2 gone.

I headed toward the truck, hoping I'd be able to drag the hay bale and tried to prepare myself to face something I knew I did not want to see.  Meanwhile, Mr. B. headed for the 4 wheeler.  He said it would get better traction than the truck.  I was good with that, as I tried not to think about the circumstances.  The rope went around the bale but was placed to catch under the edge of the bale in one spot, as it became taut.  As the 4 wheeler spun, that one lip of the bale lifted just enough that Nova sprang out of there like a Jack-in-the-box.

My arms literally flew in the air praising YHWH and thanking Him for that amazing miracle.  This was a little pygmy goat under a big round bale of hay which was too heavy for the 4 wheeler to drag.  This is no light weight 4 wheeler, either, it's a Yamaha Kodiak.  As I moved closer to that bale, I became aware of my own claustrophobia and just cried out to YHWH that I didn't want Velvet to suffocate under that horrendous pressure and weight.  YHWH saw my heart.  I know she's getting older and I'm semi-prepared to face her final days, but I didn't want her to go that way.

I've had Velvet longer than any other goat on the place.  Velvet lived at the other place, she moved with me!  So many memories I have, include that silly little goat, and they began to flood my mind.  I used her photo just this last week in my Sabbath greeting on Facebook.

The rope was still taut, keeping just a lip of that bale off the ground, enough to get my hands under it.  I was so focused, I really didn't even realize what was happening.  The next thing I knew, I had the west side of that bale propped up on my knees and my little Velvet had clearance to come out.  She was drenched in her own sweat, panting, and very unstable in her stance, but she was alive!

Answered Prayer

I waited for an answer to a specific prayer for two years.  I didn't take it before the Throne every day, it was simply a request for an opportunity.  It was nothing earth shattering.   Really, most would probably believe it to be very insignificant, but it was something that was important to me and even though I didn't ask repeatedly, YHWH answered it with a very unexpected opportunity!

A couple of years ago, an acquaintance was looking to rent a tiller or use one.  I volunteered to loan him mine, but it came with a condition.  He could borrow my tiller.  I'd fill it up before he left and send a gas can with it, but rather than replace the gas, I'd prefer that he just paid me for the gallon or whatever he used.  He knew immediately why I requested that.  The gasoline in our state all contains ethanol and it wreaks havoc with small engines and the rubber hoses.  I buy my gasoline on the reservation.  My people know corn was created to be food . . .

He came and got the tiller, per our agreement.  When he returned it, he offered me too much money.  I said that was too much and I didn't have any change.  He said keep it, he didn't have anything smaller.  So, that was how it went.  Then, sadly, our region experienced some drought and when I asked about his garden, he used the adjective "epic" in front of the word fail!  It was at that point, I really sought YHWH.  The money wasn't a huge sum, but I felt bad and told Abba, I felt bad.  I asked for an opportunity to "make things right."

Considering it all started over a garden idea, as I posted photos of garden produce, I offered to share the excess with folks nearby, but no takers.  He and I even chatted a time or two about he "just might" check with me through "such and such" season, but in two years, he didn't.  We'd inadvertently run into each other once in awhile in town, but no opportunities ever presented themselves, and although I didn't voice the prayer repeatedly, YHWH saw that it stirred in me every time I ran into this gentleman.

Glory HalleluYah!  The opportunity came.  There was a post that someone was looking for farm fresh eggs, I commented that I knew where there were free range hens that didn't eat GMO grain and gave a price.  The next thing I read was a comment from my tiller friend.  He asked, where, and I responded, my place.  He said, he should have remembered.  So with that we made some tentative plans for him to purchase eggs.

Now, here's where it really gets good.  I realized I was going to be in town before the week-end, so I mentioned to him, I could bring them by, if he liked.  I put them in a cooler, took care of business and when I got there with two dozen eggs, he of course reached for his wallet.  I've noticed that about men.  Their arms go opposite directions, in a transaction.  With one arm they reach toward the item and with the other toward their back pocket.

It was then that I said, no charge.  He began to rebuff, but then I told him, "I prayed for the opportunity to give him 'his change' from the gasoline and this was the answer to my prayer."  He accepted that and thanked me, and shared the circumstances with others.  Considering the fact that money has no eternal value and no one had been wronged in the situation; yet He still answered my prayer, clearly tells me He truly is concerned with every detail of our lives.

I just love being the daughter of The King of the universe!

Ain't No Way to Treat a Lady . . .

If I'm not mistaken, this was the title of a Helen Reddy hit, nearly forty years ago.  This blogsite may offer just too much introspection or cover topics that some in our society believe should remain undiscussed, but I've seen and heard, the world view is quite vocal and the "agenda machine" is willing to reach out and discuss everything, so I'm feeling led to do the same.  Here's the warning:  The revelation began in the bath tub.  As a rule, I'm a shower person, but I was feeling drawn to draw a bath.

Just as I was about to run bath water, the phone rang.  The gentleman from whom I buy hay called and said, after his two bulls had gotten in a tussle causing some significant damage to his truck, it was back up and in good repair.  It was too wet to get out and make hay, so he'd bring over the couple of bales I needed.  This area has gotten over a foot of rain in less than 3 weeks, so saying it's too wet to make hay, means it's really muddy in the pasture, too.  My hay man is only about twenty minutes away, so my bath was postponed; and I went out to move livestock and open gates.  This place sits high, as the terrain goes, so he didn't think there'd be any problem.  Other than a couple of ruts, things went pretty smoothly.  We got the hay transaction accomplished, he left, and I once again headed to my bath.

As I washed my face and arms, I realized, why my lifestyle is better suited to a shower.  I don't go barefooted when it's muddy so I can take my sandals off at the door, and I knew I'd gotten my clothes dirty, but I had no idea just how grubby I'd actually gotten in all that mud!  I remembered back to a time when my grandchildren were younger and would just get filthy here on the place.  The term of endearment, "grub muffin" was coined, but so far only one grandchild has maintained the interest to continue that title.  Now, I see where she gets it.  As I pondered my own life and interests, I could easily see why men would not be so interested in a woman like me, and I thought again of my granddaughter who is so much like me.

The guys of my generation were taught the green to be desired was paper and a respectable career was one in which they didn't get their hands dirty.  Land ownership was fine, but working the land was not a desired career.  The mantra was "work smarter, not harder."   These days, however; the times they are a changin'.  The men of younger generations are realizing the value of the soil.  Industry doesn't hold the same appeal or promise it did for the older generations.  Some of these younger guys are realizing,  rather than a dead-end career or uncertain employment to pay off student loans; working the land and using their talents, is in fact working smarter, not harder!

Back to the perspective of this dirty princess.  Being a seven year old "grub muffin" is adorable, even now at 14 she can pull it off for a bit, but a 55 year old, not so much . . . And so I thought of this crazy feminist movement our society produced, and even though the ERA never came to fruition, many women have positioned themselves to compete with men, and it's become expected for a woman to work like a man, even if she doesn't earn like one.  Yet, to be able to "have it all," seems to render so many to still be quite unhappy.

I, on the other hand realized, and will share this information with my grandchildren and anyone who will listen.  The Proverbs 31 woman probably got dirty on occasion.  I'm guessing Ruth got dusty, maybe even perspired out there in Boaz's field.  I can honestly tell any young lady, the right man will appreciate your interests and love who you really are.  It's okay to get dirty, if you get cleaned up afterward.  The right man might even be out there getting dirty right along side of you, well actually; with the right man, it will be the other way around.

My message to young ladies is, a woman can work with her hands, she can work the land, and she can still be a lady.  As a matter of fact, Proverbs 31 gives quite an amazing list of what a woman can do and is capable of, and in that she is praised and called blessed.   A man worthy of respect will appreciate a capable woman, even if she needs a bath before she makes dinner.

Bitter Sweet Acceptance

Last week I spoke of beauty from ashes, and I am very grateful for the opportunity to be a daughter of the King, but I've gained a fuller perspective.

As a young girl, I used to cry out to G-d at night.  I wanted to be all the things I wasn't.  I didn't want to be so different from other kids, and I wanted to be grown.  I did well in school, scholastically, but not socially.  I was different, but I didn't understand the gravity or the blessing of that difference until recently, very recently.  I remember being called horrible names at school.  I was even slapped and hit.  I told my mom, but she didn't think anything should be said, so I said nothing at school, and nothing more at home about it.

I remember as desegregation took place, I thought I would finally not be so different, but I was wrong again. I was brown, which meant I wasn't white and I wasn't black and so the comments and the exclusion didn't stop.  Then I met Messiah, but only met Him, I wasn't yet following Him.  I did learn to be religious, though; and in a strange sort of way, that made the feeling of being so different, somehow, less painful for awhile.

I was a good student, so I hid myself in my studies and my religious beliefs.  I didn't know of the real relationship with Messiah that was possible or the indwelling of the Great Spirit of our Creator, so I struggled and I tried for a time, and then I simply gave up.  The day, I realized YHWH still loved me, and introduced to me the concept of an actual relationship, my life was changed forever . . .  but also, in some ways, I'm still who I was.  For a time I thought it was my lack of surrender or spiritual immaturity, but it was my understanding that was flawed.  My uniqueness and my social awkwardness is a gift.

I'm friendly, but I am still socially awkward, and so are a number of young people.  Many people lack the self-confidence this society promotes, and that is not necessarily a bad thing for those of us who do lack.  We are promised the strength of YHWH in our weakness and I've been blessed to experience that, but more importantly, YHWH has used my weakness to demonstrate His strength.

My granddaughter who has visited has CP.  She's mildly affected, but it is noticeable.  Clearly, kids being what they are, just small humans, are not always gracious in their treatment of her.  These are different times in which we live, and her skin tone is much lighter than mine, but her uniqueness also draws sometimes negative attention.  She refers to herself as an "outcast."  I was able to hear the things she was saying and to offer her comfort in the things she must face.  I'm very proud of my grandchildren.  I greatly enjoyed her visit, and I am literally thankful that I know what it's like to be what she calls an "outcast."