Sunday, July 23, 2017

No Way to Treat a Lady

The stress has reached monumental proportion, as of late, in this divided house.  It began last Friday afternoon, as Shabbat was approaching.  Let me clarify, in a divided house, there is always a certain level of stress, but this past week . . . Oy Vey!  And there has been absolutely no one who would understand, if I tried to share my feelings of disappointment.  I've tried to share my concerns of this division with a few, along the way, but Mr. B can be likable.  How well I know that . . . I used to like him.  At any rate, it's not about a popularity contest, or even being honest or hypocritical with others.  It's just become a situation that really can't be discussed with anyone on earth, and that's okay.  Our Heavenly Father is well aware of the situation and I can pour my heart out to Him . . . and I do.

The past week was particularly difficult, in that the only time Mr. B spoke to me, was in front of others.  So the tension when we are alone is intense and has affected me.  This is where I don't sound so good in the story.  Father told me a couple of months ago that I resented Mr. B, and I realized I truly did.  All of the people who come here are my guests and he takes it upon himself to invade my time and space with people I like.  It used to be worse before I began homesteading, in that I was fairly high profile in that town, and he vied for every opportunity to be in the spotlight.  I didn't mind that so much, as I really don't care for the spotlight.  I do appreciate the fact that he, at least, does have "good guest manners," but the brat in me doesn't want to share my friends with him.  Sharing the spotlight was fine, but not my friends.  I've gotten to the point in this division that has endured well past a decade, I don't want to share time with him.  I do try to find things to appreciate about him, and he has gotten more involved in the maintenance of this homestead, but his involvement at this point just doesn't really touch me in a positive way.  That is my fault.  I've come to the point in life, I prefer no interaction with him, other than to prepare his meals and do his laundry.  Thankfully, ten acres affords us the space to work independently.

Stress is not good for MS, and the regular level of stress that I live with daily in this divided house has taken it's toll, for much longer than the past week.  Although I'd like to look Mr. B in the eyes and belt out the words to Helen Reddy's song, This Ain't "No Way to Treat a Lady," I can't.  His apathetic expression would only heighten my stress level and my potential response would undoubtedly require repentance.  I have to look at the woman in the mirror and repeat that song to myself.  Allowing another human being to define me and affect my atmosphere, my health, and my attitude is my problem.  It's also very unpleasing to my Heavenly Father, and my responsibility to change - repent.  Now here I have to repent and I didn't even say what was bouncing in my head . . .

Royalty establishes the atmosphere and I am a daughter of the King of the universe.  What have I been thinking to have allowed this?  He's treated me as an afterthought, or worse, since shortly after the marriage.  I'm not for a moment suggesting that I should be disrespectful to Mr. B., but the days of me allowing his opinion of me to define me, are over!  The days of his resentful attitude controlling the atmosphere of this home have come to an end.  Considering the spiritual division between us, now, it only makes sense that we'd have opposing views of everything.  It's a well known fact, women are to "create" the environment of the home . . . home and hearth are in the hands of women.  That isn't feminism or ERA, it's Proverbs 31.  So, as I prepare for Shabbat, I'm preparing meals, scrubbing floors, and straightening my crown.

Wednesday, July 5, 2017

In Reflection

Earlier this year, as I was washing the milk bucket and preparing the churn, I noticed my reflection in the kitchen window.  After chores, evenings are pretty quiet with plenty of time for contemplation, and so I did just that, as I went about my kitchen duties.  The realization that it's taken 59 years to become whom and what I was created to be, nearly overwhelmed me.  I felt such gratitude welling up in my spirit as a few specific Scriptures came to my remembrance.  The sudden revelation of an answer to a question that has plagued my mind for years became clear in the instant of seeing my reflection.  Also in that moment was the memory of my own words spoken from the pulpit on more than one occasion.  "Moses was 80 before he even started his ministry, and Noah was 500.  Nobody here is too old to be obedient."

From the time I was a child, I felt out of place, and looked forward to being 40.  I just knew that was going to be "my year."  In all honesty, 40 was the best year I'd ever had up to that point.  It was fantastic!  I'd been in ministry for about 4 years by that time.  At the age of 40, the MS went into remission, I had my first book signing in Barnes & Noble Booksellers, started the "Living Water 9th Street Mission," and received a word of Scripture that I knew was for me, out of the book of Esther.  Obviously, Esther 4:14 isn't exclusive to just one individual, but when it was spoken, it definitely rang in my spirit.

As looks go, I'm the Leah in a family of Rachels and Esthers.  Well, Leah is inaccurate, as I do get a lot compliments on my eyes, but I always knew I wasn't the pretty sister, and my daughters, nieces, and granddaughters are all very attractive.  Regardless of my appearance, I didn't have the confidence to ever "feel" pretty, or smart, or talented, and my weight complex had begun by the age of 3.  Folks always assumed I was older than I was, but at 40, my age and appearance seemed rather synchronized.   The years since 40 have not been bad, and although I was serving G-d, I still knew I wasn't in the "fullness of my purpose," and none of the years were as good as 40.  I'd begun to feel like 40 was just going to be a wonderful memory and be thankful that I'd had one amazing year in life . . . but at 50 my life changed.

The training for homesteading had come to an end, and I was moving to the "big place."  The reality that I was legally bound to a non-partner was now a looming bleak fact, and the time honored dysfunction of the family would become a glaring, unrelenting reality.  If all this sounds ominous, it was!  As it turns out, my full purpose was about to unfold.  2012, in the words of Dickens, "was the best of times, it the worst of times."  That year was definitive in nearly every relationship I have. I'm thankful to have made some good memories, but sorry that they are indeed, now, just memories . . . yet I digress.

There have been several Scriptural passages through the years of ministry that have had great meaning of application in my life, but last night, in looking at my reflection, I knew I was created to be a Titus 2:3 woman.  We all want to be a Proverbs 31 woman, of course, but my family was grown by the time I entered covenant with Father and I have no control over the way Mr. B feels, so although I am an early riser and self-employed, I just cannot claim the family relationship verses.

I have been blessed to do much of what is listed in Proverbs 31, but I clearly heard Titus 2:3 as I saw the grey haired woman in the kitchen window.  I know a number of things of value, especially in the nearly lost arts of simplicity, and I also can offer some trial and error to be avoided.  One of the greatest things I've learned in these past few years as an aging woman, is to pray Psalm 141:3, both in managing a healthy diet and dealing with people.

Set a watch, O YHVH, before my mouth; keep the door of my lips.