A Perfect Day

There was a day this week that I must truly describe as perfect.  The perfection was not in me . . . but rather the atmosphere, the tasks, and the glorious fragrances that surrounded me that day were truly perfect!

Designing the perfect strawberry bed has been no simple task.  This part of the country was known for strawberry production "back in the day," but every success story I've heard involved families with several kids picking strawberries, and selling them off of the back of a truck when the tourists headed for the camp grounds.  I'm not looking to make a fortune off strawberries, just a nice patch that produces enough to enjoy in season and make some preserves.  I had finally succeeded at the old place, with a nice patch that produced a few gallons a year, but this place has been a challenge.  It's rockier and it's drier.  The goats and chickens are down right inconsiderate, when it comes to little fenced off patches for gardening projects.



This year I implemented a new plan.  I truly believe this one is a gift from Abba.  If it works, I'll know it is!  Since strawberries do need to be surrounded by straw, I envisioned a natural raised bed that met the needs of the plants themselves, as well as offering a comfortable height for me.  Raised beds virtually eliminate the need to weed and this meets that criteria, as well as providing the cover that will be needed for winter.

I can't say how many years this project will hold up, but even as the straw breaks down, it can either be replaced, or simply allowed to "hit ground level."  The only perk that will be lost in that case is the height of the bed for my convenience.

Upon completion of this project, I came indoors smelling like fresh dirt and bedding plants.  Wheat straw has a nice aromatic presence as well.



  I realized there was enough time to let my hair begin to dry before I'd have to pin it back to do chores, so I headed to the shower and enjoyed a few of the fragrant products of the Land of Goshen.  I got out of the shower smelling "Squeaky Clean" and Mane Taming!

While my hair was drying I was able to work on a few leads and articles for this week's edition of the Goshen Gazette and enjoy the beautiful fragrance of the neighbor's honey locust trees in bloom.  The aroma of honeysuckle filled my office as the gentle southern breeze wafted in the window.  As I type, I imagine the new earth will smell something like this . . .

As the evening shadows began to fall, I pinned back my hair and headed out to the milking parlor.  The girls are just wonderful, they meet me at the door, and mostly take their turns in calm fashion.  The smell of alfalfa hay and the fresh warm milk is unmistakably pleasant in the milking parlor, and lingers long after milking time is completed.  With the windows open, the pleasantness of the milking parlor gently hovers at the kitchen window and rustles through my last project of the evening.

Everything was smelling so good that day, I just couldn't resist the idea of a larger window box in the kitchen.  As the night sky settled over the Land of Goshen, I transplanted some more herbs for the kitchen window.  Even after washing my hands, the fragrance of basil and rosemary lingered on.  As I headed to bed, giving thanks, I realized in my own imperfection, Messiah has made it possible for us to enjoy and be blessed in His perfection and the perfect creation of our Heavenly Father.

Style

In a very enjoyable conversation I had the other day with a friend, we discussed hair color and fashion.  I can't speak for her, but let it be said, I am quite the fashionista!  I have received compliments on the same style for nearly twenty years, now.  I've worn the same type of skirts for so many years, they came back in style!  Good news today, I discovered my healthy shoe style is back on the shelves as well.

This is not self-deprecating humor.  I truly do like the style of clothes I wear, and I hate to shop . . . As for my shoes, I mentioned that in my last book, "Wilt Thou Be Made Whole?"  I wouldn't call it a shoe obsession, as G-d simply called it idolatry.  I had a different pair of shoes for every outfit and every occasion!   The Creator of the universe informed me, it was a form of idolatry.  Plus, He had given me a very specific dream about a pair of shoes to I was to make, as I was praying to be able to walk again.  

I've spent a couple of seasons in a wheel chair due to MS, but glory to Abba, it's been several years since the last bout.  I know I've mentioned my balance is not great, but this particular shoe, that at one time I found so ugly, has been all I've worn for several years now.  When I first saw the Birkenstocks, I wanted no part of that shoe, but that was what the shoe in my dream looked like.  Now those wide strapped clunky sandals are my primary shoes.  Most of the time I'm barefoot, and a month or so in the winter, I need boots, but 11 months of the year, in public I'm in those sandals, yet I digress.

As my friend and I were talking, the Scriptural reference to clothes and shoes not wearing out came into the conversation.

What a blessing it is to still be wearing clothes that I bought in a Thrift Store over 15 years ago.  My town shoes are well into their second decade, but my chore shoes do wear out.  I think I've been through three pairs of chore sandals as I enter my tenth year of homesteading.  Considering the fact, at this time, my chore shoes do still wear out, I can still find replacements, and I'm believing when the time comes that believers cannot buy and sell without a mark, the chore shoes won't wear out til my work here on earth is done!

The Silver Privilege

This article was already in the works, when a couple of confirmations unfolded throughout this week.  I bought a goat last week.  She is an interesting addition to my herd, but even more so, dealing with her through the purchase made me so very aware of the privilege I've been granted.  Then a couple of younger ladies in social media were discussing the dangers of chemicals in hair dye, I chimed in, one thing led to another, and I posted a photo that resulted in many chiming in.  I really enjoy my long silver locks.  I hadn't realized how it has enhanced, not my appearance so much, as my presence!

The young couple who sold me the goat were a delight, probably just a few years older than my eldest granddaughter.  This goat was not exactly a calm creature, and they'd sold her kid the day before, so she was desperately needing to be milked.  I knew she'd be a handful by myself, so I asked if I could go ahead and milk her out while I was there.  The young bearded gentleman graciously agreed to that, so within two minutes, I had her by the horns, and he was going to milk her.  It was then, that he just stopped and looked me directly in the eyes and said he would feel better if he was the one wrestling her to hold her still.  We changed places, his wife offered to get me a milking stool.  I declined her kind offer.  I realize this all sounds probably rather mundane or even boring, but it was just nice to be treated so courteously, and well, not old, but respected.  

When I was younger, my open friendliness with men was often misunderstood.  I didn't realize it at the time, though.  I knew the difference between being friendly and flirting, and I only tried flirting a couple of times.  I was terrible at it!  I haven't even considered being flirtatious since I became a believer, although there were still times, my friendliness was misinterpreted.  In my fiftieth year, it all changed!  I'm guessing it changed before that, but I was in such a miserable relationship, I didn't think anyone even looked at me.  My year of jubilee had an extra bonus.  I had been a grandma for years, but suddenly, it seemed everyone viewed me as a matriarchal figure.  A woman with silver hair that says, "y'all" can call everyone "Sugar" and nobody takes offense or makes advances . . .

I can be friendly, gentlemen can be friendly, and there's no need to be presumptuous.  The folks in my age group and circle of influence are busy sharing photos of grandchildren and speaking of practical matters and things of spiritual significance.  We can joke and we can be serious and we can simply appreciate the goodness of our Heavenly Father.  Younger men treat me with such respect, like a mom, a grandma, or an auntie, depending upon their age and stage in life.  And as for the disrespectful folks, reaping and sowing catches up with everyone . . .

Not everyone gets to enjoy their fifties.  Many don't even see their fifties.  And not everyone gets to enjoy the silver privilege.  In one of the conversations on social media, there was a hair stylist participating, so I asked her the going price of a dye job . . . Her quote was the same price I paid for the milk goat.  A dye job lasts 6-8 weeks.  This new girl will be giving milk for months, YHWH willing; produce offspring, and more milk.

Being blessed with gray hair feels like being wrapped in the book of Proverbs.  I am so thankful for the silver privilege!

Knocking the Dust Off

The opportunity to accompany a talented vocalist presented itself recently, and the reality was, I wasn't ready.  Another one of those situations in my life, that it's simply time to "get over it and get on with it."  I'm not terribly talented musically, but as a kid, I had to take piano lessons.  All these years later, I can't play anything, except songs of faith.  I can play traditional Hebraic, Christian hymns, and southern Gospel, not perfectly, but I can keep the crowd in the same key.  That's the only music I can play though.  I can't play show tunes, I can't muddle through classical, and jazz and rag are out of the question.  I can play music for Abba and that's all, but I haven't been doing that as of late, and that is changing.

Here, I'm praying for the Five fold ministry to gather, and I've been seeking about hosting some of the Feast Days, down the road, but I'm not doing what it takes for me to be ready.  I can't help but wonder how many things we "pray about" without doing what we can do to prepare.  It's something so simple in all of my preparation for the troubling times ahead, and yet I rush past the keyboard a dozen times a day.  Today, I didn't rush by it.  I took the time to play a few songs.  Clearly, I need practice, but that's within my power to do!  

YHWH has blessed me with many talents, and I wouldn't exactly say music is one of them, but by that same token, there are many gifted vocalists who can't read a note, and I can read music.  The fact that it breaks down between my eyes and hands can be changed with practice.  Whether it's a G-d given talent or a learned ability, it was G-d who gave the opportunity to learn this ability to read music.  When I spend some time at the keyboard regularly, I am also able to offer a pretty decent chording accompaniment, by ear.  One more reason to not rush past the keyboard in all of my preparation.

I used to hum continuously, and once in awhile break out in song, but I let a rude comment and some overbearing criticism stop me.  It dawned on me today, I was singing and playing to praise Abba, not entertaining critics.  I don't know why I let that stop me . . . I've confessed my sin and repented.  In this case repentance is easy, I just have to stop not playing the keyboard and stop not singing!  HalleluYah!  

Scripture says to make a joyful noise.  That I can do!  I've even thought "Joyful Noise" would be a great name for a Hebraic Gospel group.