I don't talk much about it, and I don't have any success in this particular life experience, but I do know a thing or two about marriage . . . I have cumulative experience in EPIC FAIL! Suddenly though, in this past couple of weeks, I've gained a new perspective, and revisited an old one.
Marriage, even a bad one is still a covering. Years ago, I was so sure the last one was going to be "the one." Well it is . . . the last one! Even though Mr. B and I are not one in spirit, there are many benefits this situation affords regarding the service to which I'm called. Once I realized my old exit route, divorce; was not an option in this case and got over my sniveling and whining, I began to see things differently. This past couple of weeks, I've gained amazing new insight. When I listen to other women discuss their lifestyle and marital considerations, I really have it pretty easy. Mr. B. doesn't want to deal with me most of the time, which means I have a great deal of time that is unencumbered. As long as I fix meals and keep the laundry clean, I can spend the rest of my time on the work to which I'm called. It's almost like being single, except, I've finally recognized the marital perks.
In setting up this community, there is nothing hindering any newcomers from coming aboard. Men, women, singles, couples, there is no appearance of evil, and no reason for misunderstanding. If I were single, with the way things are in the world today, I wouldn't be able to establish this community. Certainly no single men could come on board without dowry in hand . . . I don't have that kind of faith, and I don't know any men who do either. Then there's the whole gay presumption issue now, so the same gendered ministry team would still raise questions. Single women offering ministry beyond children would not be well received either, and this is quite remote for people to bring their children and drop them off for a Bible lesson . . . so, it's all starting to make more sense. It would be great if I was already part of a team, but since this is Abba's plan, He already knew and continues to know how it will unfold. He really doesn't have to keep me clued in.
Being in an undivorced, spiritual nonunion, there aren't the social expectations and awkwardness in the advances of potential suitors . . . yes even at my age. LOL The social engagements or family obligations of actually being a couple are frequently avoided. This is kind of like living in a dorm with no common interests . . . I can't speak for him, but I'm very thankful he wasn't all fired-up mega-mess like so many were back then. I didn't get dragged through the Word of Faith movement or the Mega-church Motivational stuff. Even though he really hurt my feelings in the beginning, it was a relief when the truth came out. At first it seemed rather odd, but it's been this way so long, it actually seems right for the plan.
This "arrangement" has also served to protect me from folks who are not to be here, that came scoping their opportunity. There will be no "take over" of this mission. I'm still believing for a 5 fold ministry to gather and I've got the round table ready. In looking at marriage in Scripture, many of them were simply arrangements for a bigger purpose . . . This princess is ready to host a gathering. Singles, couples, it doesn't matter. The foundation is in place that there will be no appearance of evil, and only expectations of service to Abba.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Sunday, August 24, 2014
I Got to Help!
Once in a while being a princess gets even more special, if
you can imagine that! A couple of months
ago a friend called and asked me if I had any goat milk. When it comes to goat milk, my reputation is
spanning a fair radius by now. A
gentleman drove over 40 miles for goat's milk for a litter of pups. My Daddy always brings a cooler to take some
home to NE Kansas with him, and now my goat's milk has been taken into Oklahoma for a very
special project.
When my friend came to pick up the milk, he shared what had
happened. He said he was brush hoggin'
along the road, when a mama deer came out of the edge of the timber. He said, he could tell by the way she looked
back, she had young. He stopped and shut
off the tractor. Apparently, she was
trying to divert and lure something away from her young. My friend said he just sat silently watching,
as she ran and looked back, then darted in front of his stopped tractor and
into the road. Sadly a car came around
the corner and the mama deer was killed instantly. So, my friend fired his tractor back up and
went to check to see if his instinct was correct. It was correct and then some.
There in a little “nest” was snuggled not one, but two brand
new fawns. They were so new, their
hooves were still soft. He called his
wife to bring him a box, but wouldn't tell her why until she got there.
He already had the fawns up in the cab of his tractor, but the box made for a cozy afternoon for the three of them . . .
He already had the fawns up in the cab of his tractor, but the box made for a cozy afternoon for the three of them . . .
When I heard how new they were, I suggested he also take some
colostrum. I always try to have
colostrum on hand for emergencies and this certainly qualified. He thanked me and asked if I had a goat I
wanted to sell. I told him no, but I'd be
happy to keep him in milk for this project, even loan him one.
He called the Conservation agent for his county to report a couple of baby deer, explaining the circumstances. He proceeded to tell the agent, he'd called a friend and the deer had received goat colostrum as well as taking to the bottle of goat's milk quite well. The agent was quick to offer encouragement, saying, "You had to do what you believed G-d wanted you to do. Take care of them until they are weaned then offer them their freedom.” The agent then added, “If they were less than two days old, they will probably not leave your goat herd, until the buck “hears the call of the wild.” The doe will probably just stay with the goats.” My friend assured the agent the deer were less than 24 hours old when their mama was killed.
He called the Conservation agent for his county to report a couple of baby deer, explaining the circumstances. He proceeded to tell the agent, he'd called a friend and the deer had received goat colostrum as well as taking to the bottle of goat's milk quite well. The agent was quick to offer encouragement, saying, "You had to do what you believed G-d wanted you to do. Take care of them until they are weaned then offer them their freedom.” The agent then added, “If they were less than two days old, they will probably not leave your goat herd, until the buck “hears the call of the wild.” The doe will probably just stay with the goats.” My friend assured the agent the deer were less than 24 hours old when their mama was killed.
I was truly honored when he mentioned he had called a woman,
who had just what those babies needed.
I've since gotten to see them.
They are beautiful and just about old enough to be weaned. How thankful I am that Abba allowed me to
play a small part of this “rescue operation.”
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Pet Names
I have a confession to make. When I was a young princess, I dreamed of a relationship/marriage in which my husband would use names of endearment when speaking to me or about me. I'm realistic, I wasn't expecting it all the time, but I hoped . . . somebody would call me, "baby." I'm not speaking of intimate moments, and it didn't have to specifically be "baby," but just spontaneous random expressions of affection.
A friend wrote a blog a couple of weeks ago on the subject of love, that I found very insightful and positive, but it also got me thinking in a negative vein about love or the search and definition I've had. In my younger years before I began following Messiah, I was very selfish in relationships. I wasn't the materialistic kind of selfish, but emotionally. I worked, I didn't demand a princess life; far from it actually, but I wanted to be appreciated and shown that appreciation with pet names of endearment, but I never told anyone. That's not entirely true, as I told a few fellas along the way, who were "just friends" as we discussed our hope in partners, but never considered each other as that potential person. Yet, with the men who I actually planned a life with, it was never mentioned, and that was selfish. It was as if I set them up to guess what would make me happy.
All these years and divorces later, it seems evident that I don't seem to be the kind of woman that evokes the thought of a pet name of endearment in the mind of a gentleman. The few men along the way who did use pet names, were seriously not my type, so . . . that blog got me thinking of my "selfish settling . . ." Because that's exactly what it was. Not that a pet name should be the foundation of a strong relationship, but it caused me to look in the mirror and ask an horrible question. How many people did I hurt and how many lives did I influence negatively by my participation in relationships in which I did not belong?
Not that I'm so important, but some bad timing and wrong relationships have markedly affected the world. Abraham springs to mind, regularly on that subject. King David is mentioned as a man after Yah's own heart, but Scripture also gives details that his household, at times, was hell on earth. I entered into covenant knowing, there would be a void, yet I said nothing. Who did I think I was?
I was truly hopeful in my last attempt at marriage, as he did speak of spontaneous expressions of affection, but that was apparently just talk. He had an expression, "attababy" which he used a couple of times referencing me. Unfortunately that's the term he uses when someone messes up, much in the same way the cafeteria erupted in applause when someone dropped their lunch tray at school . . . So many things I thought I wanted or needed in a relationship, have simply lost their appeal and given way to purpose completely outside of a relationship. My current circumstances do not afford a reprieve or respite and certainly offers no terms of endearment, but this life is temporal and I have an everlasting promise. All overcomers have a new name, that our Heavenly Father has chosen. My Bridegroom has a special name for me!
He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches; To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it. a promise in the Revelation
A friend wrote a blog a couple of weeks ago on the subject of love, that I found very insightful and positive, but it also got me thinking in a negative vein about love or the search and definition I've had. In my younger years before I began following Messiah, I was very selfish in relationships. I wasn't the materialistic kind of selfish, but emotionally. I worked, I didn't demand a princess life; far from it actually, but I wanted to be appreciated and shown that appreciation with pet names of endearment, but I never told anyone. That's not entirely true, as I told a few fellas along the way, who were "just friends" as we discussed our hope in partners, but never considered each other as that potential person. Yet, with the men who I actually planned a life with, it was never mentioned, and that was selfish. It was as if I set them up to guess what would make me happy.
All these years and divorces later, it seems evident that I don't seem to be the kind of woman that evokes the thought of a pet name of endearment in the mind of a gentleman. The few men along the way who did use pet names, were seriously not my type, so . . . that blog got me thinking of my "selfish settling . . ." Because that's exactly what it was. Not that a pet name should be the foundation of a strong relationship, but it caused me to look in the mirror and ask an horrible question. How many people did I hurt and how many lives did I influence negatively by my participation in relationships in which I did not belong?
Not that I'm so important, but some bad timing and wrong relationships have markedly affected the world. Abraham springs to mind, regularly on that subject. King David is mentioned as a man after Yah's own heart, but Scripture also gives details that his household, at times, was hell on earth. I entered into covenant knowing, there would be a void, yet I said nothing. Who did I think I was?
I was truly hopeful in my last attempt at marriage, as he did speak of spontaneous expressions of affection, but that was apparently just talk. He had an expression, "attababy" which he used a couple of times referencing me. Unfortunately that's the term he uses when someone messes up, much in the same way the cafeteria erupted in applause when someone dropped their lunch tray at school . . . So many things I thought I wanted or needed in a relationship, have simply lost their appeal and given way to purpose completely outside of a relationship. My current circumstances do not afford a reprieve or respite and certainly offers no terms of endearment, but this life is temporal and I have an everlasting promise. All overcomers have a new name, that our Heavenly Father has chosen. My Bridegroom has a special name for me!
He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches; To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it. a promise in the Revelation
Sunday, August 10, 2014
A Perfect 10
There is a lot in the news regarding health care this week and this edition is following the news, so here we are, even the Peculiar Princess has a perspective to report.
Health care in this country is reportedly the most expensive and least effective of developed industrialized nations. I've had a number of opportunities to test where I really stand and I can tell you, I prefer to remain standing! Recovering from falls with broken bones has been the most trying experiences for me. Broken bones produce instant visceral responses along with immediate failure of use. The memory of my broken arm twice in 2012 is still quite vivid. The first time, I was unloading a goat in a crowd of folks and being the grandma, I was making sure all the kids were in a safe place. The goat saw a slim opportunity to jump. In all fairness to her, she planned to jump over me, but I'm taller than she figured. She didn't clear my shoulder, but hit with enough impact to knock me down. It was just a freak accident.
At the moment I hit the ground, the signs of a break became evident. First nausea hits like a snap, then even lying flat dizziness ensues, and of course, the injured appendage doesn't function properly, if at all . . . Then the cold sweat began. By the time I did gather myself up and got to the gate, I couldn't raise my right arm. The goat needed to be milked and she was wild. So, my buddy-in-law held her while I milked one handed. Then it was time to milk the regular herd. My grandchildren did that, while I sat and cradled my arm. My buddy-in-law went in the house and got a bag of frozen peas or corn. I keep two bags of store bought veggies for such an occasion. When I put the ice on it, I fell apart. That's the other thing about a broken bone, once the physical shock wears off, there is the emotional shock.
I didn't need an Xray. I didn't need to see what G-d can see, the injury was evident and obvious. My daughter gave a little attempt to pressure me into mainstream treatment. She'd be the last person on earth I'd have take me to a hospital, but what came to mind was the fact, the details of the injury were not important, it simply needed time to heal. Our bodies are fearfully and wonderfully made. A hardness was developing in the soft tissue under the skin, like an internal cast. I wrapped it well to hold it and protect it, and mixed up a bit of pain killer . . . natural of course. In the event of a broken bone, a glass of wine is simply not enough!
I was amazed at the number of comments I received attesting to the need for surgical alignment for broken bones in folks past 40. Some day if they take Xrays through my autopsy, they may scratch their heads, but in the mean time . . . I never missed a morning or evening closing chickens, and still wrapped with my wonderful critter wrap from the farm store, in three days I was back to milking. I did keep my arm wrapped for a few weeks and there have been a couple of comments that it didn't heal exactly right after the second break, but all things considered. I can lift my pressure cooker and milk my goats. I do everything I did before I broke it. At this age, even if my arm had been surgically aligned pefectly, this body still would not be a Perfect 10!
Health care in this country is reportedly the most expensive and least effective of developed industrialized nations. I've had a number of opportunities to test where I really stand and I can tell you, I prefer to remain standing! Recovering from falls with broken bones has been the most trying experiences for me. Broken bones produce instant visceral responses along with immediate failure of use. The memory of my broken arm twice in 2012 is still quite vivid. The first time, I was unloading a goat in a crowd of folks and being the grandma, I was making sure all the kids were in a safe place. The goat saw a slim opportunity to jump. In all fairness to her, she planned to jump over me, but I'm taller than she figured. She didn't clear my shoulder, but hit with enough impact to knock me down. It was just a freak accident.
At the moment I hit the ground, the signs of a break became evident. First nausea hits like a snap, then even lying flat dizziness ensues, and of course, the injured appendage doesn't function properly, if at all . . . Then the cold sweat began. By the time I did gather myself up and got to the gate, I couldn't raise my right arm. The goat needed to be milked and she was wild. So, my buddy-in-law held her while I milked one handed. Then it was time to milk the regular herd. My grandchildren did that, while I sat and cradled my arm. My buddy-in-law went in the house and got a bag of frozen peas or corn. I keep two bags of store bought veggies for such an occasion. When I put the ice on it, I fell apart. That's the other thing about a broken bone, once the physical shock wears off, there is the emotional shock.
I didn't need an Xray. I didn't need to see what G-d can see, the injury was evident and obvious. My daughter gave a little attempt to pressure me into mainstream treatment. She'd be the last person on earth I'd have take me to a hospital, but what came to mind was the fact, the details of the injury were not important, it simply needed time to heal. Our bodies are fearfully and wonderfully made. A hardness was developing in the soft tissue under the skin, like an internal cast. I wrapped it well to hold it and protect it, and mixed up a bit of pain killer . . . natural of course. In the event of a broken bone, a glass of wine is simply not enough!
I was amazed at the number of comments I received attesting to the need for surgical alignment for broken bones in folks past 40. Some day if they take Xrays through my autopsy, they may scratch their heads, but in the mean time . . . I never missed a morning or evening closing chickens, and still wrapped with my wonderful critter wrap from the farm store, in three days I was back to milking. I did keep my arm wrapped for a few weeks and there have been a couple of comments that it didn't heal exactly right after the second break, but all things considered. I can lift my pressure cooker and milk my goats. I do everything I did before I broke it. At this age, even if my arm had been surgically aligned pefectly, this body still would not be a Perfect 10!
Sunday, August 3, 2014
Preparation Includes the Perfect Accessory
I've noticed a number of new sites to purchase modest apparel, tzitizyot, and tichels [fringes and head coverings.] My every day clothes are holding up fairly well, which includes tzitziyot and tichels. Through the years, I've made a few skirts for the High Holy Days. The last one I made was for Sukkot. It kind of took awhile for me to register a fancy skirt with camping, but I like it. There is a place in Scripture which mentions a garment of divers colors worn by David's daughter, and the 45th Psalm speaks of dressing for the King. I made what I think is a beautiful and colorful skirt, added a vividly colored top as well as a contrasting bold silk over blouse. It may not be everyone's cup o' tea, but the very first time I read about Tamar renting her colorful garment; I realized in Messiah, I've been restored and wear my colors in grateful remembrance of that fact.
Sometimes I can get quite colorful so I don't accessorize a great deal. Back when I went places daily, I wore a watch, and sometimes earrings or a simple chain necklace; but I'm just not an accessorizing kind of gal. I'm just too hard on things. Rings, I like rings, but now that I'm a milk maid, that's not so practical. I'm sure "the girls" wouldn't appreciate rings on every finger, either. Yet I digress. I do enjoy dressing up for the High Holy Days for my King, who is the King of kings. I'm truly looking forward to a time of gathering and fellowship.
So many are preparing for end time events to unfold. As it's looking, rather than unfold, it appears civilization in general will simply unravel. I've given some serious thought as to how I would protect this place from what is prophesied. I won't! It will truly take the protection of Adonai to keep it. I don't even plan to stock up on ammo or think I'll be the winner in a big shoot out. I do know whatever the circumstances, I'll be alive until my numbered day. I'm thinking more along the lines of beasts of the field and not buying and selling. I can hunt and process meat, but how would I handle a hungry predator? The most interesting thought came to me. While we're all debating everything from clothing to the pre-trib rapture . . . yes, some are still holding out for that, I realized it truly is time to "get all Biblical!"
The story of David comes to mind, beginning with royal attire, but then came into view from another perspective from several sources, including the Voice of YHWH in my kitchen at my stove. The Ozarks has more of one particular commodity than Cabela's has bullets. The Ozarks has rocks, lots and lots of rocks. The perfect accessory for this princess to "get all Biblical" is a sling shot!
Sometimes I can get quite colorful so I don't accessorize a great deal. Back when I went places daily, I wore a watch, and sometimes earrings or a simple chain necklace; but I'm just not an accessorizing kind of gal. I'm just too hard on things. Rings, I like rings, but now that I'm a milk maid, that's not so practical. I'm sure "the girls" wouldn't appreciate rings on every finger, either. Yet I digress. I do enjoy dressing up for the High Holy Days for my King, who is the King of kings. I'm truly looking forward to a time of gathering and fellowship.
So many are preparing for end time events to unfold. As it's looking, rather than unfold, it appears civilization in general will simply unravel. I've given some serious thought as to how I would protect this place from what is prophesied. I won't! It will truly take the protection of Adonai to keep it. I don't even plan to stock up on ammo or think I'll be the winner in a big shoot out. I do know whatever the circumstances, I'll be alive until my numbered day. I'm thinking more along the lines of beasts of the field and not buying and selling. I can hunt and process meat, but how would I handle a hungry predator? The most interesting thought came to me. While we're all debating everything from clothing to the pre-trib rapture . . . yes, some are still holding out for that, I realized it truly is time to "get all Biblical!"
The story of David comes to mind, beginning with royal attire, but then came into view from another perspective from several sources, including the Voice of YHWH in my kitchen at my stove. The Ozarks has more of one particular commodity than Cabela's has bullets. The Ozarks has rocks, lots and lots of rocks. The perfect accessory for this princess to "get all Biblical" is a sling shot!
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