An Interesting Dream

Most of my dreams seem fairly insignificant.  I do have a few that I recognize to be of spiritual significance, but I really don't have all that many memorable dreams.  I do, however; dream in color.  Having now used three sentences to say nothing, let's get to the point.

I dreamed I was speaking to a group of young women.  In the dream I was aware that all of these young ladies had some sort of inferiority complex in regard to their appearance and/or shape.  The group, as I remember, was basically average.  No one was dramatically beautiful or intensely homely.  The young women were not what I would call obese, but all indicated they were not pleased with their weight or their appearance.  They were all in search of "something" that would make them more attractive, which was to be the topic of my presentation.

As I spoke, I produced past photos of myself through the years.  This would be very out of character for me, in that I consistently hated to have my picture taken, always feeling fat and ugly.  With each photo, I gave my age and basic life circumstances at the time.  The presentation was somewhat interactive, so the girls made comments and asked questions throughout.  With each explanation on that trip down memory lane, a different girl would raise her hand to offer some sort of acknowledgement or insight.  It was amazing how many of the girls just couldn't understand why I had such low self esteem in those photos.  I responded with the same question and comment to them.

In the dream I seemed so natural and relaxed, which in and of itself is odd . . . One photo, stood out amongst all the others.  It was a wedding photo in which I was so thin, my complexion was ashen.  They asked me how I felt about myself at that time, and I answered honestly.  It was the one time and last person who made me feel desirable, but . . . I was really sacrificing my health to be that size and more importantly, by then I realized, I was counting on him to make me feel like a woman.  Ultimately, when the new wore off and it was time to just be a couple, I blew it.  He loved me, or at least tried to love me, for who I truly was.  My youth and weight made no difference to him, but my inferiority complex was so deep, I couldn't grasp that.   As I shared that with the girls, they fell contemplatively silent.  I could see their wheels turning.

In sharing the last wedding photo, I shared with the girls that I truly thought I "had it together" spiritually, emotionally, and was physically comfortable in my own skin, until . . . my honeymoon was a disaster and I found myself hanging on by a thread, spiritually.  I clung to Messiah.  Many times over, I found myself quoting the Psalm about the Rock that is higher than I.  Something had to change, and I was obligated to my circumstances.  It would take me a full 10 years to realize my self-image was not based upon how someone else, that man, looked at me.  In 2012, I looked in the mirror, finally happy with the reflection looking back.

As I moved out from behind the podium, I stood there 57 and full figured, and simply stated.  "I like myself the way Abba created me to be.  Being content is beautiful!"

Getting My Hum On

I've sort of wandered away from music and that's not been good, but it's been so hard . . .  I've let the enemy steal from me.  Musical talent is certainly not my long suit, but I do or I should say did have a song in my heart and was usually humming.  Years ago, I prayed to be able to play the piano in a little country church.  Adonai answered that prayer, and that's where I met my last husband . . . Music just hasn't been the same since.

Mr. B has perfect pitch.  So perfect, apparently, he can't be bothered with actually serving in some sort of musical ministry capacity.  He is, however; perfectly aware if I hit the wrong note or don't include enough notes.  So music waned severely for me.  I did have a small sound and broadcasting system, and several CDs, that played continuously, but he tweaked it, so it doesn't work anymore.  After taking forced piano lessons and school choir growing up, it hasn't taken much criticism for me to just avoid the keyboard all together, and you know what.  That's not anybody's fault but mine.

Upon giving up keyboard and CD sing alongs, I began humming.  I used to go into the Tabernacle alone and play and sing, but I don't do that anymore, and I should.  I can't blame others for what I'm simply choosing to not do.  Even though I'm not terribly talented, I truly miss music, but I just can't bring myself to not worry about who is listening.  My self-consciousness is quite deeply rooted.  I've told myself that being self-conscious is still a focus on self, but I haven't made much headway.

Zephaniah 3:17 spoke to me some time back as I saw that Abba sings over me.  I truly do want to bring pleasure to Him, and singing seems to be significant.  It's time that my joy in YHWH overflows into joyful noise!  Recently, however; I've noticed myself humming, once again.  He doesn't require perfect pitch or four part harmony, just a joyful noise.  That I can do!

When "They" Forget

Do you ever have one of those days or weeks, or even months, in which the folks you deal with forget "they" are dealing with royalty?  What do we do, when that happens?  I've pretty much run the gambit on reaction and response and I am here to testify today, a soft answer that requires no further discourse is, of course the best, as it turns away wrath.  I can also testify today, I don't always choose that, but I always regret when I don't.  I now have a confession to make that I really do think could get the better of me . . . I'm not opposed to receiving the silent treatment.  Way back when I was a new bride the seventh time around, Mr. B told me the worse thing I could ever do to him, was to give him the silent treatment.  He asked me to please never do that, it was just so hurtful.  Imagine my surprise when I soon experienced the silent treatment from him.  At first, I wanted to get angry, and did; knowing he was trying to be mean, but in time a light came on!

When people do what they don't like done to them, they are acting out of their own unhappiness or shortcomings, and not necessarily something the other person has done at all.  The opposite of "the Golden Rule" is the "Tarnished Brass Rule" and many people these days, live by that!   Rather than doing unto others what they'd like done to them, they do unto others, that which most offends them . . . It happens more often than we realize and the lesson I've learned in this, is clear.  I don't want to live by the "Tarnished Brass Rule" even when I'm dealing with someone who does.  The temptation is, of course, right there!  To yield to that temptation would be disobeying the words of Messiah, therefore; it would be sin . . . is sin, has been sin.

Surprisingly, most of the big religions have some form of the Golden Rule, and yet the world tends to operate by what I now call, the Tarnished Brass Rule.  The Tarnished Brass Rule is upheld entirely too much.  So many are determined to get even, seek vengeance, and make a point, while treating others as we'd like to be treated goes by the way side to make our point.  I've found myself in a strange situation just the past few days, and there have been a few times I've yielded to the temptation to operate by the Tarnished Brass Rule.
I've repented, asked forgiveness, then turned right around and behaved tarnished again!  What a struggle it's been, but I've also come to a realization.

The only way to remind myself and those who forget they are dealing with royalty, is to behave like the royalty that I am, and that means even when faced with the Tarnished Brass Rule, the Golden Rule is the rule of my King.

Late Bloomer, Coming of Age

Finally, what I see in the mirror is a reflection of who my Creator made me to be, and I like it.  He's still working on me, I haven't arrived, but I'm happy with the light in my eyes, the laugh lines in my countenance and the permanent furrows in my brow from thinking.  Granted I have some wear and tear that I'm not so proud of, but that's all in the past, the distant past, and the only time that comes up is by virtue of the adversary.  As I looked in the mirror this recent birthday, I was happy to see the injuries from my fall were healing nicely and appeared to be leaving no scars.  I was beyond delighted that Abba had comforted me through that difficult time of recovery while I was trying to keep up and tend to newly arriving livestock.

As I looked in the mirror, the single regret I had was that I had not appreciated the way Abba created me, sooner.  All of the things that had made me stand out in the past, are a part of who I am and I'm just so sorry, I was always trying to diminish my uniqueness and fade into the wall paper.  I am who I am.  I am a tribal, earthy woman, who is creatively practical, and a noticeable presence.  My hair is long and silver and I have no desire to dye it or cut it.  I like what Proverbs says about silver hair.  I like what Paul said about a woman's long hair.  It does feel glorious!   I've been self-conscious about being brown and buxom for over 40 years, and suddenly, at 57, it's great!  There really is a point to this, beyond "loving my self" in print.  I got to thinking what an insult it must have been to our Creator to always be trying to change His handiwork or not being content in my own skin.

Was I being covetous of what He'd given others and how He'd made them?  Without a doubt, I could be a little lighter, not in skintone, but weight wise, however; I cannot be a size 6 without being self abusive, and unhealthy.  There's absolutely nothing wrong with fuller figure sizes, and for those like myself, not all bodies are a perfect match top and bottom, either.  There's nothing wrong with different sizes between a top and skirt, or altering a dress to accommodate our figure.  Scripturally, we are called to be modest, but thankfully, model sizes are not required.  I read an article this week about the CEO of Abercrombie & Fitch.  He says he doesn't make large sizes because he doesn't want his clothes on imperfect bodies.  Here's a quote from one article   . ". . . A lot of people don’t belong [in our clothes], and they can’t belong. Are we exclusionary? Absolutely.”   I'm happy to be excluded and I wouldn't encourage kids and grandkids to want his clothes either!

Back to being gracious and grateful regarding our Creator's handiwork.  This is not a new age notion that we must all love ourselves, but more importantly to be content with what G-d has given us, including our body.  I wish I'd have appreciated my uniqueness sooner.  Unfortunately, like so many for so many years, I bought into the social definition of what it is to be beautiful, and the pressure to have the perfect body.  I don't need physical perfection when I've been blessed with the presence of the One Who is Perfect.  He's placed in me a wholeness that I didn't even understand a person could have.   He made me specifically for a purpose and a plan.  Nobody else can be who He made me to be!

The Best Birthday in Years

Birthdays have never been easy for me, and I'm not talking about aging.  My birthday made me uneasy as a child.  It was a day focused on me, and being the center of attention has always made me uncomfortable.  As an adult it was easier to have my birthday alone, and play it off as "just another day," but it wasn't "just another day."  Being alone with nobody looking at me, was my birthday gift to myself!  That's what I wanted!  I do appreciate the effort of others, but it was always just truly painful to be "looked at."  As I got older, I loved the fact my birthday celebration would be relegated to the nearest convenient weekend or even better just a card and phone call.   My recent birthday, 57, became very freeing of something I've carried around since my worst birthday as an adult, my 44th.

We should celebrate life, as well as assessing accomplishments and goals, and a birthday serves as a good mile marker in life for each of us.    I now see, however; why birthday parties in the Bible are rarely mentioned and the ones that were, ended badly for someone . . .  When planning my last wedding, we chose the day before my birthday.  When discussing it, I told Mr. B, I wanted to get married before my birthday or wait until after his . . . but we'd both already been married in June, so we should then wait until July; his response was succinct.  He said I was too logical to be looking at it so emotionally and illogically.  I shrugged and said, "Well, if I'm usually logical, will you just cut me some slack on this one?"  I was thinking we would marry in July, before he made the life changing statement.  He said, "Let's get married before your birthday.  If we don't keep moving forward, we'll start going backward."   I can't count the number of times, I've rethought that discussion, as our constant direction has been consistently backward and perpetually moving away from the covenant vow.

I'd already shared with him, my desire to spend my birthday alone, or not on display, and he seemed to understand that, so here I think an anniversary/birthday back to back he'd protect me from ever having to be the center of another birthday party.  I got it partially correct . . .  On the evening of March 4th, the day before my 44th birthday, we exchanged vows.  I had no idea I'd be in the ladies department of Wal-Mart at midnight ushering in my 44th birthday.  Nor could I have realized that would be the highlight of the day.

After the guests had left our wedding, he suddenly wanted to go to Wal-Mart to purchase a nightgown for our "special night."  I had purchased a tasteful negligée at Dillards before the wedding.  Nothing amazingly sexy, and it was on clearance, but it was nice, a great price, and had a gorgeous robe . . .  As I stood in Wal-Mart watching him look through the chintzy sleepwear, a thousand thoughts raced through my mind.  The one that just kept "sticking" turned out to be worse and truer than I could have ever imagined.  Although I'm low maintenance and appreciate a good bargain, I'm about the farthest thing from "off the discount rack" you can get.  He was used to a much different type of woman than the one he had just married, and in the coming months, the recounts of his sexcapades would prove that.

As midnight turned into morning, after voting and telling his mother he'd gotten married since she had already stated she wanted no invitation and would not attend, we headed to one of the grandest Old Hotels in the midwest; only to have the day end very anticlimactically . . . Not only was this birthday horrible, I was trapped out of town with a man who was more than obviously not desirous of me, and thanks to the restaurant scene in "When Harry Met Sally" my marriage was now on a very firm, dishonest foundation . . .  Definitely the worst birthday of my adult life!  I'd made some bonehead decisions in my late teens and early twenties, but this caused me to doubt the very foundation of my faith.

As the years moved from my forties to my fifties, I asked politely, I cried, I begged, I demanded, I even gave an ultimatum one year . . . to have a birthday in which I was simply left alone, but it all fell on deaf ears.  I finally came to realize, what I wanted simply made no difference to this man.  He could look at me, he could look at my tears, he could hear my cries, and simply stare back in cold disregard.  He simply did not care what I wanted.

This year, I took the bull by the horns, looked at myself in the mirror and said to myself, "Self, it's up to you!  You can keep whining for what you wanted all those years ago, or you can embrace a new desire!"  To that, I realized, I can have a positive day, a productive day, if and when I do not give someone else the power to ruin my day.  Since we are not equally yoked and joined, we are not one.  With that, I decided to go to the goat auction and if he tagged along, it would not make or break my day.  Naturally, Mr. B insisted upon going and having lunch out.  It wasn't my first choice, but then again, I don't have to cook, and realizing my birthday is finally just no big deal, I agreed.  When I went to the restroom, he informed the waitress that it was my birthday, so at no cost or effort on his part, long after the lunch crowd has dispersed, I received a nice birthday dessert, which I graciously shared . . .  There was no crowd staring, no cameras, just a simple reality that my life has moved on and it's seriously time to just focus on what is important!

I'm setting aside and allowing all the past failures to be just that . . . The Past!  My focus, now, is to spend the rest of my life and energy on that for which I have been given talents and gifts.  At 57, I'm 18 years younger than Abraham when he received his call and 23 years younger than when Moses saw the burning bush!

What's A Princess to Do?

Realizing Purim and Hanukkah are not Feasts mentioned in Torah, I consider the style of celebration to be optional.   Some "Christian Hebrew converts" feel entirely too pious to even consider observing them.  While many traditional Jews go all out in celebration with extravagant costumes and desserts.  I guess, as usual, I fall somewhere between or perhaps outside of both.  On the Hebrew Gregorian calendar conversion, my date of birth fell on the 13th day of the 12th month back in the year of my arrival and that date just happens to be mentioned a couple of times in the book of Esther.  Knowing how easy is it to make spiritual matters about ourselves and our own interpretations, I try to tread lightly.  Purim, for me, is a time set apart to celebrate the power and deliverance of our Heavenly Father when we stand and in boldness speak out.

I don't participate in the full costume portion of the celebration, as that feels a bit like a Halloween knock-off or Mardi gras, but if my children were home, we'd have a "royal dress up day."  I used to have a tiara that was included in my hair style for the day.  Since Purim is not a Sabbath, there's just nothing that says "Princess" like accomplishing my everyday work wearing a tiara.  Sadly, in the last move, my tiara came up missing, and it's yet to be found.  I keep thinking I'll find it, or buy another, but that just hasn't happened, so this year I took a different approach.

Purim actually aligned with my birthday this year on the Gregorian calendar, so this year I decided to dress up  for the occasion.  I do make special cakes for each of the Feasts as well as the extra celebrations, but I'm not suggesting that to be doctrinal.  Cakes are not essential and Scripture even warned of the Israelites baking cakes in idolatrous rituals, so spirit check on that one . . . I don't bake often, so the difference between a regular meal and a feast at my table is, a feast includes dessert.  It's nothing more significant than that. Back to this recent Purim.

In observing this day,  I'd planned to watch "One Night With the King" after sunset the 4th, but already aware that staying awake through movies is virtually impossible, that plan was tabled.  Dinner was nothing fancy, but dessert was included.  After a slice of red velvet cake with a glass of wine, I'd hit my limit of celebration for the evening.  I awoke quite early, while it was still dark, to read the book of Esther.  Even at 3am, it really wasn't all that dark; as the full moon was so bright, there were moon shadows and the rooster was already crowing.  What a lovely way to greet the morning!  This was going to be no ordinary day.   Giving thanks for the day, I loaded a couple of goats for the auction, then later donned my costume and headed to town.  Being new to a full costume for Purim, I stayed in theme for the day.  I dressed as a middle aged farm woman heading to a livestock auction.

The goat auction really does have a cotillion atmosphere for me.  I don't make all that many purchases, but in the thousands of permanent buyer numbers, the auctioneer remembers mine.  Yes, it feels special!  In reality, my number is probably somebody's birthday or part of his phone number or address, but it feels special, none the less.  This night at the auction, I had a couple of specifics in mind, but no rush to settle for anything.


 Having chosen to use Bible names this year in the new herd arrivals, I continued that theme with the auction arrivals as well.  It only made sense when a big beautiful Oberhasli doe with regal horns, entered the ring with a little one in tow, I was probably looking at Esther . . .  Sure enough, and on the way home, I was pleased to discover her little one could potentially be the new herd sire.  I'd actually been looking for the last two years for an Oberhasli cross buck and was definitely wanting one for this coming breeding season.
Yah willing, the arrival of little Mordechai means the search for the herd sire has officially been accomplished.


 

Perspective

This week, I learned that my reflection in the mirror could actually look worse than my already low opinion of my appearance.  The morning after my fall, I realized it was more serious than I first thought.  I felt the pain of a broken nose, but there was more.   I also knew there were some serious injuries on my right leg and left side of my rib cage, but those injuries didn't affect my appearance . . . so much.  The banged up face looking back in the mirror, gave me a new perspective.  As I stood there surveying the damage, thoughts of a different nature came to mind.

Returning to my memory was a comment I had made to YHWH just a few weeks earlier.  Through a time of remembering the "not so good old days" of an abusive relationship and mainstream healthcare dependence, I simply thanked Abba that He had brought me through those days and I regretted having lost my "original" nose to abuse and reconstructive surgery.  I'm now believing, once the swelling subsides, the old tribal proboscis will be restored.

When I saw the injured place on the side of my face, a deep sense of gratitude and appreciation washed over me.  Just above my cheekbone, less than an inch from the outside corner of my eye, and a fraction of an inch from my temple is a contusion about the size of a quarter.  I'm not sure what I hit, but I am so thankful, whatever I hit hard enough to leave that injury, did not hit my eye or temple.  There is a cut under my lower lip that looks like it was probably done by my upper teeth.  Also included was a laceration on the bridge of my nose, broken skin down the side of my nose, including nosebleeds for days, and a scrape over my eyebrow.  In all of that, though; none of the injuries even remotely looked like stitches were needed.

When I spoke with my friend regarding the arrangements for her husband, I did have just a moment of wishing I didn't look so rough to be attending, but it wasn't about me, so . . . end of that thought.  Undeniably, I do look a little rough right now, I'm still the same person I am when I'm just my usual not so glamorous self.  As I consider my bumps, scrapes, contusions, and pains; I find myself truly looking forward to being restored to my "old me."  As it turns out, my old uninjured, unswollen self isn't so bad after all.   I didn't realize what a superficial perspective I've had of myself.  I'm thankful to have this new perspective.