His Perfect Strength in My Many Weaknesses

I've been quiet and contemplative for a time, because life happened in spite of my tenacious attempt at denial!  A word of wisdom here.  When one has to concentrate on denial, the attempted purpose is lost.  As I focused on denying the fact my health was deteriorating, denial became impossible.  For a time, my effort at denial took all the creative energy I had, and it still failed.  The time of the red walker was short lived.  So, as I sit here in a wheel chair, I'm back to blogging . . . and thinking about how truly thankful I am, for the respite I enjoyed from this old nemesis called MS.

Nearly eighteen years ago, I realized natural remedies, mainstream medicine, and faith were not all compatible, even though our society says otherwise.  A choice had to be made, so I stopped using mainstream medicine with pharmakeia, including OTC products.  Since our Heavenly Father created herbs, and Scripture tells us to be anointed with oil, it seemed clear that natural remedies and faith could be complimentary.  Through the years, I've been surprised to receive so little support from the "faith" community, but for many of those years, I was greatly blessed with wonderful health from our Heavenly Father and to enjoy great strength and mobility.  Those who have been discouraging, apparently do not realize, there is still no cure for MS.  The fact that there is still no cure, made the decision to leave mainstream medicine and pharmakeia, even easier.  It's not like I'm missing any major advancement in modern medicine!  But more importantly, I left mainstream medicine and pharmakeia based upon Scripture and faith.

Although I'm not thrilled to have an MS exacerbation, it's not as bad as it could be.  I've been diagnosed and experienced exacerbations for nearly 4 decades, but the protection from an exacerbation through a certain period of time has been beyond wonderful.  My previous exacerbation began in 2000 and the prognosis was not in the least bit hopeful . . .  I was in my wheel chair until July of 2001.  I married in March of 2002, thinking a ministry partnership would unfold.  I sure missed that by a mile . . . but even in that, I chose denial for a time.  By fall of 2003, the reality was obvious, and with no end in sight, the stress began.  I was done, but the Mr. refused to leave.  Now, if G-d was a person, He'd have most likely just fired me; but His ways are not our ways.  Since then the thought has crossed my mind several times, that without His grace, He could have just left me to my own devices or even killed me in judgment, but He allowed me time to ask forgiveness and get busy in His plan.   He still led me relocate, and I thought that might end the marriage, but it continued through the move.  When the entire truth finally came out, I was devastated; in that the marriage still stood.  As I was establishing the homestead, I contemplated how in the world someone could want to stay with someone they didn't desire, and how someone could intrude and stay without sharing the dream of the other person.  Stupidly, I attempted to talk to the Mr. about it, but . . . well I already used the proper adverb, so enough said there.

In less than two years of relocation and establishing the homestead of learning, Mr. B fell ill, ill unto death.  I did intercede on his behalf in prayer as did many, but the care taking on his lengthy road of recover fell squarely on my shoulders.  I look back on that and realize Father really did pour supernatural compassion and strength in me.  The time of recovery, literally took years.  In those years, I tended to him, managed the homestead, wrote books and blogs, hosted a radio show, enjoyed visits from my grandchildren through their school breaks, and relocated to a larger acreage.  Without supernatural strength, I couldn't have done what I did, nor received the help that I did!  Through all that, my health was amazingly good!  My parents did make a few extra trips to visit and help through that time and I remember when my Mom told me I hadn't looked so good in years.  I thought to myself, and it still brings a chuckle.  So, stress and exhaustion are quite becoming on me.  I'm so glad I didn't say it, though, because the reality is, it was the supernatural strength of The Almighty radiating from me.  His strength shining through my weaknesses!

Through Mr. B's recovery time, I was given the opportunity to host a radio show about simplicity.  The time of the radio show was great, but ministry, running a larger homestead, maintaining websites and Q&A pages took a lot of energy.  Nearly everything mentioned in the previous paragraph took place in those years of radio.  Through this time of high energy, high activity, I truly realized G-d hadn't fired me.  All in all it was a very fulfilling time for me.  It was a wonderfully busy few years, but I knew something had to give, so . . . I gave up the radio show . . . and a few months later started a natural health business.

The next pivotal year was 2012.  Not long after writing "Can We All Be Wrong?" one of my daughters read it and announced she and her family would be relocating to work with me, not only on the homestead, but in ministry.  Even through that highly stressful ordeal, Father kept me strong, but some of the old symptoms were subtly and sporadically reappearing.  I fell and broke my wrist, but it was an "explainable accident," so life went on.  I was also becoming aware of the spasms when exhausted, and a few of the other old symptoms were appearing randomly, but I kept moving.  Then there was the huge "break down" with my daughter.  At the point she left, we became officially estranged, and still are, nearly six years later.  That was very stressful, but Father gave me Scripture and a time to grieve.   It wasn't much more than a month after she left, I fell again, breaking my arm and rebreaking the wrist I'd broken earlier in the year.  Through this same time, the health of one of my oldest and dearest friends was failing.  Her sister asked me to come celebrate her fiftieth birthday. In the drive up there, I noticed some issues with my sight, but I wrote that off to infrequent long drives, highway monotony, and sadness.

As winter of 2012 turned into 2013, I wrote another book, and through that time, became painfully aware that my legs were becoming affected.  Yet, I still said nothing and kept moving!  By 2013, Mr. B was ready to participate in life, once again, so he began to help with some of the chores.  By the end of that year, my elder daughter noticed, my gait was not normal, and my strength was not what it had been.  She and I had a couple of glasses of wine and decided to chalk it up to getting older!  Since that time, the stairs became more difficult to navigate and the falls and injures increased, while my energy level fell out from under me.  I did have a wonderfully productive year in 2016, and published another book in '17, but balance and walking were becoming difficult.  So, I got a pool for therapy!  It was wonderful!  I still maintained my usual activities, but I began downsizing and cutting back.  I didn't have enough energy for everything I usually did while trying to maintain denial!

Now, Father has allowed me to be seated, for a time . . .  I've said all this to say this.  It was only by His power and His strength that I was able to do all I did this past decade.  And . . . the time of remission while not seeking mainstream medicine has been the longest I've every enjoyed!  MS and denial are definitely weaknesses, but as promised in II Corinthians 12, His strength is perfect in our weakness.  There are plenty of weaknesses in my life.  He's already shed some light on what is unfolding, but I have to give thanks that He kept the MS at bay through Mr. B's illness and lengthy recovery, and He gave me the strength to do radio and write books. I'll interject here, that as a rule, most of my serious writing is done while seated.  I can't even imagine where I'd be now, if the MS had crashed me through Mr. B's illness.  We'd probably both be in a nursing home, arguing about having to be roommates.  I don't even want to think about that!

HalleluYah!  I still have my own private room at home.  Father kept me strong as I had to face the truth between my daughter and I, as well as between Mr. B and myself.  Graciously, Father allowed me the time to grieve so I could move on.  Even through my own denial, He kept me safe, and I was able to put so many things in place that can be managed from a seated position.  He even allowed me to receive an all terrain power wheel chair, so all the chores on the place can be accomplished.

I'm not thrilled with my current status, but I'm so thankful for the time I've been given and for the fact, it didn't happen earlier!

https://www.yahoo.com/news/anthony-bourdain-reveals-pictured-harvey-135508461.html

Comparing and Questioning is Inevitable

This blog topic has been rattling around in my brain for awhile now.  Interestingly, it simply must leave my head today.  Yesterday was the day most married couples celebrate and commemorate the day they said, "I do."  I don't celebrate it, but I don't really make an adverse point of it, either, usually.  Today is sad, in that I no longer have enough emotion about this issue to even feel angst about it, although with the sorrow of "nothingness" I am feeling a bit of regret.  I've never been married so long, and felt so little to celebrate.  When Mr. B stated in regard to the marriage, "he "planned to just ride it out," I felt the last of the angst.  Once I got past that, I gained perspective.  The "bonds of holy matrimony" are much different than the bondage of a marital contract.  One is sharing a life and the other is "serving life."  Does it feel like a sentence?  Absolutely!  But then, I have privilege on good behavior, and unlike prison, when my good behavior is questionable, Mr. B just chooses to not deal with me at all, so either way, win/win!  What I have learned through the years is apathy is regarded as "good behavior" while emotional displays are deemed bad.  The great thing after all these years, is I no long have an emotional investment.  That seems so strange to realize.  Which has brought an interesting line of thinking to the forefront that I used to do my utmost to keep buried or at least on a back burner.

I have a seriously shameful marital track record.  Some of that is based upon poor choices for the altar while a couple of them are just genuinely my fault.  Unlike many divorced people, I do not and cannot say all the men were bad.  Well, a few of them were, but not all.  Three of my ex-husbands were good men, but sadly we were not a good couple.  I didn't think I was a horrible wife, but at the time, do we ever think we are the problem in the situation?  To be honest, I wouldn't go back to any of my previous marriages, because Scripture prohibits returning to an ex-husband if a woman has remarried and divorced again or been widowed.  Yes, marriage after divorce is outlined in Scripture!  Many denominations believe that one should not remarry after divorce and although I don't actually agree with that blanket statement, at this point in life with a string of failures, I can say remarriage after divorce may not be best for everyone.  That's not the point today, though.  A person can remain in a failed marriage while still being productive, but that's when the memories and the comparing may begin . . .

Obviously when a number of years have passed, the good memories are intensified and the bad memories have faded, so another very good point in being obedient to Scripture to not reconcile after another marriage.  I've seen folks remarry after divorce and I'm guessing within a month, both parties remember all the details of what led to the divorce!  I honestly don't know what all my ex-husbands are doing now, but I do believe the good ones are happily married or in quality companionship relationships.  All of my exes were considerably older than I was and as of this morning I'm sitting at 60, so everybody mentioned is on social security and medicare.  The thing is, and I know from my own history, I've never given a longing thought to an ex-husband . . . until this prolonged situation.

Granted, in my younger years when things were difficult, I regrettably called it quits, but in this situation, things became difficult hours after the wedding, and there is no way out now, except death . . . Which makes one's old memories much more vibrant and valuable . . . and oh, how they are!  I'm in no way saying my current husband is a bad man, but he is the one who chose to reject me.  He let me know very early that, as it turned out, he did not desire me as a wife, yet insisted that we not divorce.  I knew his pride was fragile regarding another failed relationship, so I endured, hoping we'd find an quiet, amicable way to go our separate ways, but . . . When his illness and disability came into the picture five years after the marriage, I knew all hope of a divorce was gone, and by that point reconciliation was certainly not a desire on either part.  So, I have gone on all these years, simply as a prop to make him look the way he wants to appear . . .  Although void of companionship or marital intimacy, I've been able to live the life I was called and ordained to live, outside of a marital relationship while still in a marriage.  I don't have to keep trying to do what just isn't attainable.  I live as a single caretaker, who doesn't date.  Given the circumstances, I don't think I'm sinning.

In the early days, my mind wandered at times, to merely recuse myself from whatever potential intimacy might be looming to transpire at the time.  That first lesson came easily on the honeymoon and went on from there.  I may be the only woman whose fantasies actually involve my own absence . . . but in the past 15 years my mind shifted; and in the absence of any attempt at closeness for so many years now, my mind has wandered to the "what ifs" of yesteryear.  Not that I would go back, but just the fact that I did make some good memories with someone!  With those what ifs, has also come the memories of "what was" and what made the good times, probably better than they really were, but some of the good times and good memories were genuinely good.  Thus the rub . . .  I don't dare speak of what I think, therefore, spending much time thinking on these memories is probably not a great idea.

Never, in the history of my relationships, have I ever compared men . . . until now.  People are simply different and we are all different at different points and ages in our lives.  Mr. B gave me some wonderful insight, several years ago, when I was very concerned in my dealings with another individual.  Dealing with this individual was always unstable and certainly lacked trust, but I didn't want to hold a grudge either.  I asked aloud, "I don't want to hold a grudge, but at what point does repeated forgiveness turn into setting yourself up?"  His response was clear.  He said, "If there's no change in behavior, remembering is not a grudge, it's wisdom!"

And so it is, all these years later, there's no grudge, but simple resignation to the fact we share an address.  I am sorry, however; when I think of good times in marriage, those memories have nothing to do with the current situation.  I do have to say, though, unlike the bands above with "the sentence" ALWAYS and FOREVER engraved; my wedding ring set is gorgeous!

True Confession of a Peculiar Princess

Scripture uses the term "peculiar" as a very good and special description of the people of The Most High.  Of course, our society has a different, somewhat negative definition, and truthfully, both definitions fit me.  My Heavenly Father calls me peculiar, in a very good way, because His Son has made that happen.  Our society calls me peculiar, because I march to a drumbeat most do not hear.  It's at this point in life, however; I'm not marching so well . . .

I've been giving the idea of becoming 60 some serious thought for a few months now.  I'm not going to be an "old lady" in a red hat, or an old lady dressed in purple, although I may wear those vibrant colors . . . I'm going to be sporting a red walker, while my silver locks are adorned with a tiara! 

I truly wanted to be vibrantly healthy at 60.  I was hoping for a much better year than last . . . I got so much accomplished in 2016, and then literally fell flat just as 2017 rolled in.  I got over the first fall, pretty well.  I never missed chores or even a day's milking, but the second fall was another matter, entirely!  For a time, life came to a screeching halt.  I literally couldn't get up and down on the milking stool, so a very dear friend helped me dry off Annabelle.  He offered to continue milking her, but I told him we needed to dry her off, as I knew this recovery was going to take some time.    Between you, me and the fence post, I didn't expect it to take THIS MUCH time!  There were a few days, the only thing that didn't hurt was my right pinkie and it has a scar from years ago . . . The road to recovery was rockier than the gravel road that leads here, and it had more ravines.

The bruises have diminished and most of the bones are back in place, but the MS has been ugly.  I can honestly say, for the first time in nearly 20 years out of mainstream health care and off of pharmakeia, I've had a temptation or two.  The thought of just one day pain free has crossed my mind, more than once; but then I'm reminded the pharmakeia doesn't heal MS or even eliminate the pain, it just numbs my brain.  With my body needing extra rest and my brain not being numbed, sometimes my mind has wandered back to the years I wasted . . . back when I had energy and a stable gait, but I simply can't focus on the past and keep the vision in sight.  Father's grace truly is sufficient.  He forgave me for those wasted years.  I've been blessed to meet a great many people who also struggle with chronic illness and autoimmune disease.  I want them to know, they still have purpose in this world!  And I continue to pray and seek natural formulas, that folks may become free of pharmakeia.

In this year of injury, MS exacerbation, and chronic pain like I've never felt before, I've come to realize; stoicism is not the answer.  I can't just grit my teeth and push my way through some of this.  After 12 years of running a homestead with a walking stick, I have to move on to a walker, if I want to keep moving.  I think for a number of years, folks just saw my walking stick as a sort of "prop" for my image, but deep down, I knew I needed it for the balance.  That fact was confirmed nearly six years ago when I fell and broke my arm while walking without it.  My son-in-law could always find me, by where my walking stick was leaning . . . and I can assure you, this walker will be hard to miss.

I can't say the tiara will be a daily part of my attire, but on days I forget who I am and Whose I am, it will be a nice reminder.

When You've Done All You Can Do . . . Stand

It seems this blog is often a venting place . . . Sorry, but I figure I'm not the only daughter of the King whose crown becomes askew, so I share the trials of a princess.  Sometimes life is a royal pain!

It's now too cool to get in my pool, but in this, I have found the most wonderful chiropractor.  Well, I think he is.  I've only seen him twice, but he's not one of those "in the system guys."  He is actually working for his patient, which makes me happy, and of course chiropractors are NON-pharmakeia.  Win/Win!  Until I could no longer get in my pool, daily, I had no idea how much pain was still lingering from my fall several months ago.  Then there's the rain that comes in it's season here in the autumn.  I can now, forecast the weather with greater accuracy than a degreed meteorologist.  On a positive note, I have developed some wonderful pain relieving formulas for the Land of Goshen, LLC.

With my new found chiropractor, came his warning that I had some terrible misalignments, etc. and should take it easy the next couple of days, AND there would be discomfort!  His warning was strong enough that he even said he'd see me on the weekend, if I needed him . . .  He repeatedly mentioned the fact that I'd done more damage by "toughing it out."  Oh, I'm definitely one to persevere . . .  Gritting my teeth and denial are two of my best coping methods.  Schedule and accomplishment are more important factors than pain.  So, in my time of "taking it easy" I've done some serious soul searching in regard to the difference between grit, denial, and faith.  Pain is very much linked to our memory, so I've also, sadly let my mind wander into some dark old days, but when I realize it, I try to quickly change my thinking.   

Thinking is good, but it must be well directed and with purpose.  I've not felt good enough to get any real thought provoking projects started, so there's been what I call "too much free time."  I just hate it when I feel too bad to even read for very long, but for several months now, every position grows painful in less than 30 minutes.  Sitting has been the absolute worst, but now, I have specific instructions to not overdo and mess up my treatment.  I've given enough thought to various topics to realize, I do better if I don't let myself "think in free fall!" 

Our Heavenly Father gave us wonderful things to think about.  He is wonderful to not only think about, but commune with and it is only in His presence that I have found any serious relief from pain.  I've also had to hear some rebuke and admonishment regarding my denial and grit, which has often been rooted in the flesh.  Ouch!

So, as I have repented for trying to handle my injury "in the flesh" and repented for letting my mind wander in dark past places I didn't need to go; my body is adjusting to "being still and knowing that He is Elohim."
Be still, and know that I am Elohim . . . Psalm 46:10a
Through this I have really come to realize, I was trusting in my own determination to continue my homestead activities regardless of the pain and toll on my body, not to mention the distraction of my mind and neglect of my spirit in the painful exhaustion.
And thou shalt love YHUH thy Elohim with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment.  Torah and Messiah

A Warrior Princess

The spiritual battle is real, and it intensifies before the High Holy Days.  I personally believe the adversary receives entirely too much credit for the works of the flesh, which are diametrically opposed to the workings, fruits, and gifts of The Holy Spirit.  The battle is real!  Living in a divided house, I'm reminded frequently, of just how very real and distinct the line between the leading of the Holy Spirit and the works of the flesh truly is.  Sadly, it seems, some days, I straddle that line in dealing with Mr. B.  The truth of the matter is, just like Samson, I allow myself to be bamboozled.  Sometimes I'm battling the flesh, in the flesh . . . to which there is no victory!

I'm not going to delve into the sad sorry past, as it is what it is, but through the course of this long tedious battle, I've changed.  I believe it's for the best, but since we are on opposite sides of the battle, it doesn't always make for "easy negotiations" and there'll be no concession for peace . . . I've already been that route.  I nearly lost my salvation over that.  Regardless of what you believe about hell, I can tell you, the idea of spending eternity with someone to whom you are unequally yoked is the most vivid description of "hell" I can imagine!  I've jokingly described my marriage as being "like a bad date that simply won't end."  We ran out of small talk in 2005.  By the time he became disabled in 2007, I knew divorce was not an option, and yet I digress.  Let's get on to the heart of the matter.  There is a spiritual battle and for many of us, it's not about good vs. evil, but G-d's plan vs. social expectations!

This is not to brag, but Mr. B knows he's got it made.  Father has blessed me with several talents, so when it comes to low maintenance and high productivity; I'm basically . . . a catch!  He's married to a minister, an author, a business woman, a natural health practitioner, and a back to basics homesteader, who; while pushing 60 still gets a few compliments on her appearance; while I'm married to a guy who . . . thinks a lot of himself.  Although he did quit working at the age of 51 to "keep Sabbath," then changed his mind; he has been legitimately disabled since he was 56.  I, on the other hand; still have to work quite hard to cover all the bases, plus keep my obligation in regard to the marital vows I made.  What I had hoped would be a partnership ministry is really a front line battle, with the front line between the two of us.

He likes to look active in front of others and to be honest, the biggest battle I face, is trying to be tactful without being hipocritical.  There's simply no reason to air dirty laundry in front of my guests.
The only time he has shared in the Sabbath observance is when I have a guest or guests . . . which makes for a very strange and strained circumstance.  He can and has fooled a few of the "church ladies."  At any rate, I found it interesting after yet another Sabbath alone, he wanted to just start the new week like we had something to share.  Having been withdrawing from his attempts for the last several weeks, I finally, overtly explained my decline of conversation over a glass of wine and simply prepared dinner.  Within moments, I was accused of complaining while he was simply "trying to ride this out."

Here's where it gets tricky for me, as to which side of the line I was to respond.  Although I truly do want to be pleasing to our Heavenly Father, when Mr. B mentioned "just riding this out" as in tolerating the marriage until one of us dies . . . Like "til death do us part" is a sentence!  I felt a bit of a Bette Davis response rising up in me . . . something to the effect of riding it out . . . "it's going to be a bumpy ride!"  Thankfully, I bit my tongue on that one and simply stated, "Well, cowboy, to say 'riding out a marriage' is nothing more than waiting for one of us to die.  Even knowing a divorce is not possible, that's just not a concept I choose to embrace."

I am coming to understand when someone has turned their back on the One True G-d of the Living, death becomes a very stark reality and the sad end of a sorry life.  I cannot imagine looking at life in the way he does, and I'm so thankful that I don't.  The spiritual battle is real and it begins in the heart!  Not caring about another person's goals or happiness, while just waiting to die seems like such an empty existence.  That's not living!  Although, I'm seeing it up close and quite personal, just existing in America, is quite common.  How many in this country are trying to fill a void with gadgets or addictions, or just buying their time with entertainment?  How many folks are still looking for companionship, living by the old cliche, "misery loves company?"  How many have never met our Creator?  How many have turned their back on our Creator?   The battle is real and it is a battle between life and death.

I call heaven and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing: therefore choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live:  Deuteronomy 30:19

The Princess Life

As a child of the King, I definitely delight in my life as a princess.  Scripture refers to us as a "peculiar people" and some folks in my circle of influence point that out as well . . . I've been blessed to not have to strive for peculiarity, in that I never caught on to average mainstream, before following Messiah in Torah Covenant.  I truly love the life and service, Father has called me to live.  I do have to take care, however; in that it's easy for me to get too busy and not spend as much time with Father and Messiah as I should . . . Father created us to be human beings, not human doings!  A covenant life in Messiah is not all rainbows and glitter, but  my worst days now, are better than my best days used to be and for that I am very grateful!

I'm blessed to be a country girl princess, so I have a bit more freedom than my urban and suburban dwelling sisters.  Truth be told, town would be a very difficult transition for me, and a big city would be overwhelming.  Growing up in the country, I was just sure there was a city girl longing for the rat race, but that's just not who I was created to be.  When I entered covenant with Father, it wasn't long until I heard . . . "land with a well."  I was single then, and wasn't sure I'd be able to manage, alone, what is now called a "homestead."  As it turns out, I remarried.  Then had not been "farm living" two years when he became disabled, so . . . I learned very quickly "I can do all things through Messiah, who strengthens me."  I also learned I had a Moses temperament that needed check.  For a time I know I sounded like the children of Israel in the wilderness, yet Father forgave me.  And I've grown spiritually to the point, I've been able to let go of my expectations and bringing glory to the Father is more important than speaking my mind.  Yet I digress . . . back to the beauty of being a country princess.

With spring comes the spring arrivals of such cute baby goats.  In a matter of days, they are frolicking.  With the exception of tomato and pepper bedding plants, the garden is in by early March.  I usually spend my birthday barefoot in the garden.  By April there are fresh salads . . . without tomatoes, but the greens and radishes are ready!  Early May brings the most wonderful fragrance wafting in my kitchen window.  You haven't lived until you've smelled the combined fragrances of strawberries ripening and honeysuckle blooming!

In my opinion, the sunrises of spring are the most beautiful of sunrises and autumn sunsets exceed the other seasons.   There is no sound like rain falling on a tin roof, and I still enjoy my rainwater rinses after washing my hair.  The dew often looks like sparkling jewels in the grass and there are a number of rainbows that follow afternoon showers, so in a sense this life can be described as  "rainbows and glitter."

Much of the summer can truly be described as "peaches and cream" and blackberries!  The garden is just a wealth of fresh veggies and the orchard is coming along nicely, not to mention the amount of cream on a gallon of fresh milk from my Jersey cow.  It's such a blessing to watch the jars of veggies increase through the canning season.

With such a mild winter, last year, there has been one down side to my lifestyle as a country princess.  The mosquitoes and ticks have been horrible this year!  What's a princess to do?   First, I'm praying for a winter that is not so tick friendly!  "Pest Rejection" formula from the Land of Goshen and extra Vitamin B-1 has been effective to repel mosquitoes.   The "Pest Rejection" does help against the ticks as well, but it is not 100% effective, so I sip on a nice glass of Chardonnay while picking ticks.  

A Princess Kind of Day

Lately, I've found myself noticing other mature women . . . wondering if they are older, younger, or about my age.  Yes, I admit it, pushing 60 has challenged me.  Not that I'm dreading 60, but rather, I've noticed it seems to be the determining age that sets health and activity level for the rest of one's life.  From what I've observed, there are those who are still active at 60, and there are those who are markedly older, and slowed down dramatically at 60.  I don't plan to stop at 60, but this last injury still has me in recovery mode.  Oh, I'm milking, and gardening, and canning, and the usual, but it feels different this year!  I've also added water exercises to my daily regimen, which has helped tremendously.  I have always used a walking stick on the homestead, but I now have a town walking stick, as well.  Does it make me look older, I don't know and I don't care.  I'm not worried about appearance, I just want to stay active.  I plan to be a vivacious 60!

Last week, I took a short day trip to the Cherokee nation.  I just love being there!  Although I am truly grateful to live where I do, I very much love Oklahoma.  Unlike so many Americans, my great great grandmother was not a Cherokee princess, because the Cherokees have chiefs not kings; therefore no princesses.  If someone's great great grandmother was the daughter of a chief, then someone's great great great grandfather was a chief.  Now, that's an exciting heritage!

In traveling, there are always stops to be made . . . and at every stop, the gentlemen were just wonderful!  Doors were held open for me.  Does this make me feel old?  Not at all, it makes me feel pretty and feminine.  I love the differences between the sexes and take delight that chivalry is not dead.  Even once, a gentleman who had already exited before I got anywhere near the storefront, actually went back to open the door for me.  More than one young man called me Ma'am, and that never offends me.  It doesn't make me feel old at all.  It reminds me, some people are still raising their kids to show respect.  I like it!

One particular incident, could have been just a bit awkward, as a gentleman and I nearly ran into each other as we exited our designated rest rooms.  After our awkward "oops" he just clearly and openly declared, "You are a beautiful woman."  I thanked him, and he went on to tell me how beautiful my skin tone is, my eyes, and then launched into his opinion of my hair.  As it turns out, his wife grayed early and wanted to cover it, but he persuaded her to leave it natural, as he found it just beautiful.  So, his parting words to me were, "Don't ever color or cut your hair, it's beautiful!"

If there were such a thing as Cherokee royalty, I had a princess kind of day.

Ten Years Ago Today

written July 31, 2017

Interestingly, I didn't think it would hit me the way it has . . . Thankfully, after that day, ten years ago, I just never gave it much thought, but today it suddenly hit like a ton of bricks.

I made the conscious decision to sign a paper that would save another person's life, so I was told . . .  but in that signature, I also signed away my hope to ever be loved in this life.  At that time, life was not about me, and my expectations had to simply go away.  I certainly didn't want to shirk my responsibility, but at that same time, I felt the hope to be loved, simply die.  It truly is physically painful, but that day there was a more critical situation for two other people.  Oddly, those two other people really didn't even like me much, but they needed me, they needed my signature, and they needed my servitude that would last a lifetime.  As a bereaved mother, myself, I knew I didn't want Mr. B's elderly mother to experience that horrific pain, and as I considered the five years I'd been with him, it became very clear that . . . he was afraid to die.

The signature I gave was a surgery consent form for Mr. B.  The date on the consent form he'd signed had expired, as his condition had been too grave for surgery.  The first night in the hospital, he was placed in a medically induced coma and I was not allowed to stay in his ICU room.  He continued to decline.  The next day, however; I was in there the entire day and night, except through shift change, in which time I raced home to do chores and return. Having brought and placed my prayer shawl over him, I read Scripture aloud through that night, and by the next morning he was showing improvement, but the sorcery of American science is persistent.  I refused to sign the consent form that day, as he simply was not strong enough to withstand such an invasive and lengthy procedure.  I told the doctor, he needed another day to gain strength.  Well, that didn't set well with Mr. B's family, but nothing I'd done ever had, so I stood by my decision, and the surgeon accepted it.  Through that day and night, Mr. B did gain some strength.  By four the next morning, the powers that be, brought in the consent form.  The surgery would take place about 18 hours later.

Instead of the nice tidy divorce I'd asked for a few months earlier, I was signing on to become his caretaker for life.  So many potential surgeries had been mentioned that I carefully went over that consent form with the surgeon and even crossed out a few vague statements of consent, consenting only to the surgery Mr. B had first agreed to, which was a total amputation of his left leg.  Necrotizing fasciitis is vicious!  Flesh eating bacteria, as it is commonly recognized, wasn't in the headlines back then, as it has been more recently.  Through the surgery, they took extra liberty, leaving three more open wounds to include the removal of his birthmark . . . presumed to be infection.

In looking back over the years, Father has blessed me greatly through this.  Mr. B kept track of the bandaging, which; according to him, lasted 18 months to the day.  He got back to driving in about a year.  Daddy extended the back porch to give him access to the publishing bus, and by 2013, Mr. B was gathering eggs.  In that time, I had my moments of murmuring and k'vetching . . . and a few meltdowns, requiring repentance; but in that time, I also learned a great deal and received a great many revelations and gifts from our Heavenly Father.

I've learned American religion appears to believe our Creator needs a great deal of human help.  Although, in these recent years, I've been blessed with some wonderful friendships, I've also learned to live without needing human appreciation or approval.  I've learned the difference between being meek and being a doormat.  I've learned to walk in the confidence of Messiah.  I've learned, what other's think of me, is none of my business and that I am called to be busy about my Father's business.

I've also received an answer to a prayer I prayed back in 2001.  I asked Father if He would please show me His heart . . . He has, to the point I can barely take it.  I have come to realize how painful it is to love people and not have that love returned.  I've learned how very painful it is to give my absolute best, and have it rebuffed.  I've also learned, I probably wouldn't have learned any of this, had it not been for what transpired ten years ago.        

      

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.

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.

A Salvation Issue

A particularly dark time of my life brought me to the point of questioning one of the last of my religious holdings, to the point I feared for my very soul . . .  I used to believe that marriage ranked right up there with Sabbath in earthly order.  I even believed marriage after divorce was acceptable and according to Torah, it is, but that doesn't mean it will fit the cultural norm of western ideology.  It also doesn't mean it's a good idea for everyone!  If a man doesn't love a woman enough to protect her, and provide for her, then she must not let him lead her away from Messiah and Father.

Going into this marriage, I just knew YaH had called this marriage to Mr. B., at least I thought He had.  Everything was so simple and seemingly perfect, until it WASN'T!  And it all happened so quickly.  I was sharing with someone recently about my "Woman at the Well" testimony when I said, in a matter of a moment, our whirlwind courtship and marriage, went from "sizzle to fizzle."  It wasn't just a tense honeymoon or rocky start, it went from enjoyable times, interesting outings, and late night talks to a living hell, almost instantly.  The honeymoon was a matter of endurance . . . Sharing a marital track record with Liz Taylor, I've been on more than my share of honeymoons and this one was shocking!  In trying to get settled into married life, the times I left his/our home to drive in tears, back to the Mission were too numerous to count.  So the doubting began . . . Did I hear YaH?  In the early years through the Torah reading about divorce, I cried and pleaded with him, but . . . he continued to reject me while refusing to grant a divorce.  I still had not faced the fact, he simply wasn't interested in actually living what I preached, but rather preferred the appearance before others and the benefits of my blessings . . .

Once the doubting began and the Mission attendance began dropping, the questions in my mind began to multiply.  For a time, I was even counting on Mr. B for faith and encouragement.  Dark times, indeed! The call to relocate came, and I did know that was from YaH, so I set out in obedience with the hope that either we would get on the same page or he'd back out of the move, while I went on.  Neither of those things happened.  Well, I was sinking, so I guess there were times we came close to the same page, but I just tried to hang on to YHUH.  Actually, YHUH hung on to me, but then it got darker . . .  There seemed to be NO light at the end of this dark, dark tunnel.  I still hadn't acknowledged the divided house.  Why would I?  I knew what Scripture had to say about a divided house and here I'm called to blaze a trail and build a homestead!  I did continue to repeat to myself Jeremiah 29:11 and Romans 11:29, but John 6:66 and Hebrews 6:6 would also cross my mind on occasion.  This went on from March of 2002 until September of 2007.  There were times I was terrified that the dark tunnel was actually a bottomless abyss.  Through those five and a half years, I wrote three books as well as maintaining my online ministry, and publishing a monthly newsletter; yet on occasion I would still allow the fiery darts of doubt from the enemy, shake my faith to the core.

In September of 2007, following a horrific ordeal with Mr. B's health, I received a phone call from his mother.  Interestingly through the time of Mr. B's health crisis and the years of recovery that followed, not once did anyone in his family actually offer to help care for him and visited only once, the next year.  There were plenty of phone calls, however; to check on his progress and advise me on his care.  Back to her phone call . . . She informed me that I would just have to accept that he and I believed differently and he would do his thing and I could do mine!  Now "my thing" was already in place when he and I met,so it was in that instance I realized and accepted that the house was divided.  In that instant I was freed from trying to be "one" with him, and knew, the only reason he would not divorce me is that he did not honor Deuteronomy 24.  The problem was his rebellion, not my failure. He had rejected me and told me he did not "desire me" as a wife.  This was the one marriage, I knew I had definitely given 150% and covered it in prayer.  I may not be legally single in this country, but I am spiritually free.  I am Mr. B's chef, laundress, and caretaker . . . basically a domestic servant, but nothing more.  I'm rockin' this submissive wife deal!  I'm not free to have a social life, but I am free to be busy about my Father's business!  Considering the gifts Father has given me and the accomplishments He has brought in my life, being associated with me is an ego rush for appearance sake, not to mention "easy street" for Mr. B.

So, now, here it is over fifteen years since that fateful decision and ten years since he became disabled; and so many amazing things have happened in my life.  It would be nice if I were a part of a tangible team here, but the reality is, I think it's easier to just "put in my time" on the expected obligations and get on with what I really love.  The most important thing, however; is to finally realize the religious browbeating regarding marriage is not in Scripture, nor does it belong in my own thoughts.  I am gifted and talented to do many things, but I'm a failure at marriage and I confess that. Even if I'd given up my relationship with YaH and Messiah, Mr. B had already rejected me right after the "I dos."  I just can't even imagine the horror of losing my salvation over a sham of a marriage.

How many things in life do we give entirely too much effort and energy, when someone else has already made the decision, that it will make no difference?  I truly have been blessed beyond measure in every other area of my life!

But seek ye first the kingdom of Elohim, and His righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.  Matthew 6:33

Another Chance

I somehow knew, deep down, when I declared this year to be the year I would not tolerate intentional disrespect, the tests would come . . . I'm just a little over half way into this declaration and in the beginning, it got down right crazy.  People that have barely spoken to me in months, even years, were suddenly in touch.  Folks that insisted upon a "parting of the ways" religiously, are back wanting to chat.  I'm a bit shocked at my own responses.  I haven't hung up on anyone or thrown anyone out, yet . . . but; the very first thing that crosses my mind in these regular occurrences is:  'The clock is ticking on this year.  As of now, it's half over!  I don't have time for this.'

I've gotten far too old and let too much go, to miss experiencing just one year of not inviting disrespect.  I just want a little taste, then I'll go back to the rejection, judgment, rude comments, phone games, and all the stuff that goes along with our current American society, and my status therein.  In this particular life, however; I've come to ignore name calling, being categorized and labeled, and generally in dealing with certain situations, I tend to have what I call my "shoulder shrug / eye roll response.  I'm developing boundaries when someone insists upon participating in my projects or visits my place.  I'm always open to a better idea, and sometimes it simply makes no difference, but I've also come to a place of accepting their choice to be negative and even watch them go away mad.  There are things in life that really are disturbing and painful and while I do feel sorry for negative know-it-alls, I don't take their words, personally.  I like to think it's maturity and wisdom, but it could just be apathy . . .

Social media has been a good training ground for me.  Most of what I consider to be a bit outlandish can just be ignored, which is so much better than situations in person, where they can see my expression.  My poker face just isn't what it used to be, but I don't really mind just openly shutting down in front of rudeness, either.  I had a dream not long ago, and the participants were becoming a bit agitated, myself included.  Since I do have the history of the other individuals storming out when I do something that annoys them; in the dream, I simply asked, very straight faced, if I needed to quietly do those things they find annoying enough to storm out . . . then I awoke.

I'm not, for a moment, kidding myself that I will receive respect from some individuals, and certainly not from those who haven't shown it all these years, but I am adamant about not receiving disrespect, this year. The rude disrespect can wait until next year, or who knows, at the end of this year, those who find me worthy of disrespect may not be speaking at all.

This may sound rather harsh, but I've discovered the joy in not being included.  I've come to the place in life in which I really don't regret the absence of "another chance."

Acceptance

I'm not by nature, a distrusting soul, but I've learned, trust is not to be handled lightly or given indiscriminately.  This isn't about distrusting known liars, as that is just wisdom, but rather the need to accept the fact we all just do not see things the same way.  I can't possibly expect someone to make the same decision I would, in a matter in which they don't hold the same view.  People make decision based upon their perspective and we don't all share the same perspective.  It is wrong to expect someone to make a decision based upon a view or value they do not hold.

I'll use a couple of my personal examples which would be easy to follow into general society.  Our health and our finances are two rather large areas in everyone's life.  I'm not talking about vanity or the love of money, but simply the management of both, varies dramatically between people, and we do depend upon our bodies and most of us feel the need to pay our bills.  It's not a matter of skepticism or cynicism when we do not trust another person or government to manage our health or resources in the same way we do.   Realizing they simply have a different way of handling these matters should keep the issue from becoming a wedge, at least among individuals.  We cannot burden someone with a decision they cannot make or should not make for another person.  Nor should we impose our choices on another . . .

I do not adhere to Big Pharma in any way shape or form.  I do not seek medical attention for anything in my life.  I would go to a chiropractor or reflexologist if one were available, but no professional in mainstream allopathic medicine and no pharmakeia.  Although this is a general statement, and I'm sure there are exceptions, I do not trust nurses, because society has redefined a Scriptural term.  Nursing was a Biblical profession, that no longer carries the original meaning.  Nurses in Scripture worked for one family or one person for a lifetime.  Now nurses work for their employer, often a "care" facility or a pharmaceutical company, a doctor, and always the state that issued their license.  The patient is at least third on the list of priorities . . . Clearly a far cry from Deborah in Scripture.  Doctors answer to the AMA, insurance, and represent Big Pharma, so I do not feel my best interest is actually their top priority.  Now, my stand on this one issue, if I were anyone at all, would be discredited by 98% of our society, including my family.  Therefore, I choose to keep my health matters, private.

I carry a copy of health choices in writing in my wallet, just in case some sort of incident took place publicly and I was unconscious or in a situation in which I could not verbalize my wishes.  I do not expect everyone or anyone, for that matter, to share my view, but I do expect them to honor my decision for myself.  Having been in a situation in which I errantly trusted family, I have since put my choice in writing and would not contact them in case of emergency.  I've told Mr. B, in case of severe illness, he is not to notify family until I'm recovering or ready for burial, whichever is the end result.  I'm not mad at them for not agreeing with me, I just know that and accept that fact.  So my health is my business, between my Heavenly Father and myself, and trusted to no one else.

I also mentioned finances.  My parents are quite secretive about their finances and although I don't talk much about my net worth and cash flow, I do share budgeting and saving ideas when asked.  My kids are very open about their spending habits and they clearly don't align with my style.  I'm not a wealthy woman by this society's standards, but I truly do live quite well with very little expense.  I don't have a mortgage.  I raise most of my food.  My home is all electric and I have a well, so basically I have a monthly internet charge and electric bill.  I'm enjoying some benefits of wind and solar energy, so the bill for electricity is actually reduced from what it used to be.  I got rid of my television years ago, so there's no cable or satellite bill.  My business isn't on the New York Stock Exchange, but it pays for itself.  This is another area of life that folks need to realize, may or may not be a trust issue, but each generation handles finances differently and could clearly be interpreted to be a matter of trust in any given situation.

My parents have stated they have some sort of Trust and I guess no one knows what's in it, until after they die, or maybe it's just me that's not in the know . . . For whatever their reasons, they'd rather trust a stranger and that suits me well.  This way, any discrepancy or problem will not fall on my shoulders.  I'm still a bit ambivalent about what I need to do to get my final affairs in order, but I don't think it will require a Trust Fund.  I remember a few years ago when one of my kids was acting like they were going to be a part of this ministry project, but . . . much change just continued to be introduced.  I finally looked at her and said, "Shouldn't I be dead before you talk about implementing all this change?"  Which, of course, made me realize, without a protege in ministry or Divine Intervention by the Hand of the Almighty, which could include the Second Coming; this place will likely be sold after my death.

So, although I wouldn't trust my health or bank account to be handled the way I do, by anyone I know, it's not a matter of distrust, but just "acceptance."

When Your Best Just Isn't Good Enough

I'm well aware that I am not the brightest crayon in the box, nor am I drop dead gorgeous, but I am a daughter of the Most High.  All my life I felt, if something was lacking, it had to be me . . . and I should try harder, jump higher through the hoops, and meet demanded expectations.  I began getting a taste of another kind of living some years back, but it was so foreign to me, it was awkward.  Then in 2012, I was faced with compromising my beliefs to meet the demanded expectations.  I couldn't do that, regardless of the cost, and the cost was immense!  It wasn't just a one time incident, either.  The defaming continued until, well, there's just no going back.  Actually, the relationship wasn't all that great before, but I learned a valuable reality about myself that has forever changed my perspective.  Strained relationships need to be managed, but kept at a reasonable distance, rather than embracing.  There's no need to be harsh or unkind, but there's absolutely no reason to keep trying harder.

Since the age of 43, I've learned this in every relationship I've had from marriage, to family, to friendship, to social media; and the discovery has been remarkable.  My perspective is just all together different.  When I've genuinely tried my level best and prayed for greater understanding; I can just let go and be done.  It's not about being angry, it's not about a grudge, it's about accepting the fact that my best just isn't good enough and there is no "trying harder" if you've already given it your best.  It's time to shift that "trying harder" energy to acceptance, and I've done that in so many ways these past few years.  It's been so freeing and energizing!  In accepting the rejection or other's disappointment in these relationships, I've discovered how freeing it can be, and how exhausting it was to try to suit them.  

The old saying "you can't miss what you never had" completely fits my new understanding and acceptance.  The idea that trying harder will gain acceptance is just an illusion.  When one gives up the illusion, it's easy to see you can't miss what you never had.  

If one's best isn't good enough for the relationship, it's not really a close relationship, and that's all right.  Not every relationship is meant to be close, long term, and great.  Some folks just come into our life for a season or for a specific reason.  It is unfortunate, however; when the relationship with a spouse, or child, or parent is not so good; but it's not the end of the world!  If a spouse tells you they don't find you desirable, but they don't know why; that's not your problem.  Take a step back, take another look and you may realize just how mutual that non-desire is.  If a grown child, not a teen, because most teens will say it, but if a grown child tells you you're the worst parent in the world, believe them.  A good parent wouldn't have raised an adult person that would say such a disrespectful thing.  Since the formative years are over, there's no going back and trying again, so just shrug your shoulders and redirect your effort.  If a parent has told you, they'll never be proud of you, they probably won't.  Don't worry about it.  According to Scripture all we are responsible to do is to honor them.  So be sure to remember their birthdays and mother and father's day and go on with life.

A Special Year

Realizing "the jury" is still out on whether or not we should celebrate birthdays, I do enjoy taking note of the milestones and I like cake.  I like to assess the last year for accomplishment and not to dwell on disappointment, but acknowledge what I'd just as soon not experience again.  I also like to look forward to things I'd like to accomplish, Elohim willing.  So, here it is, a week after my latest milestone and I'm feeling quite blessed and energetic about the plans that appear to be unfolding.  I've faced a few facts about myself last year, which made room for some new and exciting challenges.  As I read last year's blog about my birthday, the awareness that much has gone into place toward practical preparation just washed over me.

The last couple of months have been filled with activity toward the latest "project" in practical preparation and as I walked into my office the other day, I simply smiled to myself and thought just how much I do feel like Abraham or Moses.  Although I'm not yet 75 or 80, 60 is on the not so distant horizon and I'm just now getting a real glimpse of my call in the bigger vision.  Forty years ago, I was on the threshold of adulthood, thinking I had a plan, and I was simply clueless.  All these years later, I can look back and see how merciful YHWH has been.  Regardless of what happens, this year is going to be special!  According to the Gregorian calendar, I was born in 1958 and I am now 58 years of age.  I've been granted more years than many, and given a life I certainly don't deserve.

All my adult life, I've been a sucker for obligations, but not this year.  I intend to walk in the integrity of Messiah.  If I give my word on a matter, I intend to keep it, but . . . and it's a BIG BUT.  I do not intend to give my word casually and I will not have someone put words in my mouth.  Most of my communication will likely be in written form, so I'm sure of my words.  When I'm wrong, I say I'm wrong and life experience has taught me, the less said, the fewer times I'm wrong.

I do have one goal that I hope is the will of YHWH.  I hope to be able to keep the fifth commandment while putting an end to something I've tolerated for as long as I can remember.  This year, at 58, I plan to ask my 74 year old mother to please stop telling me how I can or cannot feel and what I should or shouldn't say.  I also plan to have no further discussions regarding weight or diet with her.  She went on a diet and lost a significant amount of weight.  I tried to compliment her but rather than accept the compliment graciously, she informed me that I should go on a diet.  Hopefully, the fact that I told her I didn't want to go on a diet and I was happy the way I am will resolve that issue.  Considering the fact that she made her first comment about my weight 55 years ago, this time honored topic may not die so easily.  At any rate, I believe I'm up for the challenge and if not, I'll let it go to voice mail and return the call when I'm sure I'm prayed up . . .

According to the book of James, our plans are to be qualified with "if it be the will of Elohim."  Well, I have a few certainties in mind for the coming year.  Every morning that He causes me to awaken, I plan to be grateful, which I know is His will.  Everything He leads me to set my hand to, I intend to do with "all I got," which I know is His will, it's in writing!  This year will be special and while I'm not trying to sound selfish, I don't intend to participate in too many extraneous obligations or spend energy on distractions and drama.  I plan to be busy about my Father's business . . . which is also a guarantee to be His will.  It seems, the distractions and drama are how we miss His will.  I plan to present my body a living sacrifice, which is "my reasonable service" and to be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of Elohim.  

About Aging

 Although I have never seen Star Wars, nor the latest movie, I did find myself following the comments comparing the way Harrison Ford and Carrie Fisher have aged.  Our society seems to think men age better than women, but I disagree.  I believe we simply have a different standard by which we judge the sexes.  Some folks do age better than others, and while some may remain attractive, their health isn't necessarily better . . . The late Paul Newman is a perfect example of this statement.  We've allowed ourselves to be programmed by Hollywood, in that men can remain leading men throughout their careers, but a leading woman in her twenties and thirties is usually relegated to supporting actress by the time she hits her forties . . .

I believe this claim is really based on the premise that men are more visual than women, therefore a feminine youthful look is considered to be more attractive.  The truth of the matter is, there is a certain attractiveness in youth that fades as we age, but there is also a light of seasoned wisdom that comes with age which has a different but obvious attraction . . . in both sexes.  Statement of fact, unless a man is aging like Sam Elliot or Denzel Washington, we regular women notice the not so perfect traits of the aging average man, just like men notice our changes.  For the record, Steve Harvey and George Clooney are also aging well.  Obviously I'm using Hollywood as the standard of attractiveness for one simple reason, the names and faces are recognizable to most everyone, and if you don't recognize the name, they can all be "Googled."

We women are quite capable of assessing physical qualities and just like men, we do take note of the deterioration.  Now, this is not all men or all women, but I do think even though both sexes know deterioration does occur, most women would rather not be with someone who is in dramatically better physical shape than they are in.  We've all seen an older guy with a younger woman . . . and admit it, the first thought is, "he must have money."  If he doesn't have money, we begin to analyze what her issues must be . . .  I think our society has programmed or at least encouraged the thinking that a partner is an enhancement of one's own image.  Older men with younger women seem to think the younger woman gives them a more attractive presence.  I'm realistic enough and practical enough to know if I were on the arm of a man, two decades my junior, I'd just look old and silly.

At 57 years of age, I can see that everything on my body is not what or even where it used to be, and although some may still consider me relatively attractive, I'm never mistaken for 30.  I do think men have a greater confidence in their aging process, which may come across as more attractive, or in many cases ignorantly arrogant.  I can't speak for all women, and although we may not be as visual as men, we aren't blind!  I have been somewhat aghast at some folks who really seem to see themselves in a much better light than the rest of us notice.  I've seen middle aged couples that have caused me to wonder more than once, what one must have seen in the other . . . and then I see some who look very much equal in the way they are aging, be that well or . . . equally, not so much.  It's as if they have maintained the same speed and direction.

Sadly, I think our society has just become very superficial.  I know one gal who is always talking about physical appearance and considers herself to be quite attractive.  I refer to her with a special dichotomy.  She is "deeply superficial."  I do not consider myself to be a superficial person, and there is certainly more to a person than their physical appearance.  There is one trait that is absolutely necessary for me to find a man attractive and that is a good strong work ethic.  I don't care what color his hair is, or even if he has hair.  Nor do I care what he does, be it white collar or blue collar, but a work ethic is vital.  At this point in life, I'm blessed to know several retired men who retired from respected careers and remain quite active.

A gal named Donna Lou Stevens wrote a song that is not only entertaining and enjoyable, but speaks the heart of so many women.

Updating My Look

When the style you are wearing comes in and goes out a second time, it's probably time to consider just how long one has been clinging to their favorite outfit.

I've "enjoyed" the same style for nearly a quarter of a century . . . That statement alone makes me realize it was time for an update.  The fabric of my broom skirts has worn terribly thin, and many of them have become beyond repair, thus relegated to chore skirts.  I've discovered when cotton threads wear thin, eventually repairing them can actually cause greater damage, so I'm down to about three that are still pretty much fit for polite society . . .  I've gone with a cotton knit straight skirt now in solid colors.  I still like my colors and my layered top look, so the change isn't drastic, but after all these years, I have some new clothes.

I really hoped my clothes, like the children of Israel in the desert,  might not wear out for 40 years. Considering the fact that I've actually owned some of these skirts for more than 20 years, and I bought them at thrift stores and the Salvation Army, perhaps they are nearly that old.  I'd say they've held up well . . .  I'm also changing my head covering a bit, but my real point is, I've enjoyed having my own style rather than trying to keep up with the changing styles.  As mentioned previously, I maintained my style so long, it actually came back around, but the fabric quality of the new broom skirts just wasn't the same, and the price was really more than I could justify, so . . . change came.

My head coverings have changed through the years.  At one time, I had hats, then large bows, then scarves and kerchiefs, and I've always had a few feathers for special occasions.  In light of the fact that our nation is receiving Muslim refugees, I'm tending toward the head covering idea that "less is more."  I don't want to appear to be wearing a hijab, so the large scarves are being relegated to High Holy Day prayer "shawls" and feathers will no longer be just for special occasions.  As a Native American, I'm dark, yet with light eyes, which could result in the "privilege" of being racially profiled.  I believe the feathers will serve to cover my head, as well as offer the proper racial profile.  I'm not talking powwow headdress here, just a few feathers, daintily arranged on a barrette.

I've been having fun cleaning the closet and wondering if anything I am tossing is even worthy of donation, but if it's in good repair, share, I shall!  In this closet and dresser cleaning, I found some bras I thought I'd lost years ago in a move.  They were practically new when my size changed dramatically.  Since they were still built for buxom, I wanted them to go to someone who could really use the savings in a gift.  Full figured foundation garments are far from cheap!  I was, of course, hesitant to just post the offer on social media, so I prayed.  A friend popped into mind, so I simply asked her if she or her daughter wore that size.  She did, I mailed them, she called, and squealed with delight as she told me how pretty they were!  She was also thrilled in the quality!

I'm also enjoying a bit of shopping in very short spurts, really thinking this may be my last make-over.  I'm going full on tribal, modest, and earthy.  At my age and the current conditions in the world, if this new style lasts a quarter of a century, it may be more than enough!

Regrets and Ripples

Several folks have seemed rather contemplative this season and many downright disappointed in some aspects of their lives.  I'm no exception.  Most of us have made some decisions before we were in Covenant with our Heavenly Father, and those consequences can be long lasting.  I have several regrets, and although I know I've been forgiven, the ripple of those regrets continue to surround my life, on occasion.

I must interject this, however; the ripples of regret no longer actively revolve around my life, but there are occasional reminders.  On a brighter note, even some of my less than good choices, have not all resulted in ripples of regret.  We might as well face it, very few of us have a pure testimony.  Mine is far from stellar, but at 36 my life changed, and it's never been the same.  Sadly, I've still made mistakes with regrets, while there are those who would continue to remind me and others of my ancient history.  My ancient history compared to the life I live now, is absolute proof of the power of YHWH to change a life.  I certainly didn't earn His love, but I am so grateful for His grace and mercy.

The life I now live and the stand I have taken has resulted in a great deal of rejection, but in reality, I wasn't ever that popular or well received, anyway . . . As I've considered this blog, I realized I was already failing in mainstream and certainly with relationships, long before I was rejected for my relationship with YHWH and lifestyle of following Messiah.  Apparently, when one is chosen, even before they realize it, mainstream just doesn't flow well for them.  A child of YHWH simply doesn't fit into mainstream society, and I think the choices they make outside of His will can be even more devastating than those who are not of Him.  Abraham's choice comes to mind frequently.   Getting outside of the plan when one is called of YHWH can have long lasting dire consequences.

Probably what is the most difficult for all of us who have come to the place of confessing our sins and regrets to our Creator, is the difficulty in watching others make the same choices or worse.  We want to save them the heartache we've had, but we have to realize, not everyone is called or chosen and we can't save anyone . . .  We can preach The Word, share a testimony and we can certainly pray, but hearing and applying is up to them.

I'm even sorting through what I believe about predestination and what that means as our lives move from our own path to His.  Some of the regrets and ripples were simply never meant to be a part of our life, and therefore when we do step into His perfect Will, we'll have to let go of some things and some people, or more often than not . . . they'll let go of us.  In becoming a new creation, this can cover relationship, careers, even geographical location.  Messiah said we must be willing to give up everything to follow Him.  Today, I realize, that also means giving up regrets . . .

Strength in Love

This is a struggle in my life.  As I observed the crowd following my Aunt's funeral I realized, even with the marital track record of Liz Taylor, I was once again alone.  The last family gathering in which I was accompanied by a spouse was in the 70's!  Our family is a hugging, say "I love you" bunch . . . well that side of the family is, and it is strengthening.  Although my Aunt's death was sad, all the phone calls back and forth always ended with, "I love you."  Unless my kids or grandkids visit, "I love you" isn't said in my home, except in my prayer closet.  Sometimes I tell the critters "I love them," but that's a different deal; although they do respond.

As the phone calls were exchanged, I had talked to cousins and Daddy, and although my cousins and I always verbalized "I love you," Daddy and I don't, except I did in one of the calls, and the silence on the other end was deafening . . . I know he loves me, but he doesn't say it; and verbalizing it wouldn't even be considered on my mom's side of the family.  Daddy's no spring chicken any more, well I'm not either, so it seems even more important.  I was so thankful to be able to recall two conversations with my Aunt the week before her funeral, and both times, as sick as she was, she ended the call with "I love you."  My last words to her, were those same three.  That is a dear and precious fact that I cherish.  Love is strengthening and to hear those words, priceless.  To speak those words, has become a part of my mission in life.

I still remember the day I realized Mr. B didn't love me as a wife.  It wasn't so much a realization, as his verbalization of such.  He doesn't want me, he no longer shares my beliefs, but he doesn't want a divorce, so it's simply loveless.  I could say I'm trapped, but that's not really the case, as I'm free to love others and say that frequently.  I'm not talking about dating!  I've already got a loveless situation, adultery certainly wouldn't improve the circumstances.  I'm free to just love, seriously without expectation, and without physical inference.  I'm a very friendly introvert and this loveless marriage is a protection, even if it's not preferred or the norm . . .

I have a husband who doesn't desire me as a wife, a mother who struggles in dealing with me, and a father who doesn't respond verbally to his daughter who said, "I love you," but Daddy shows his love in other ways, and accepting that is how I show my love for him.  Not everyone shows their love in the same way, and some folks simply don't seem to show love to others at all.  I've learned through the years, those people are to be pitied.  To be loving means we are called to love those who don't love us back.  To love others means we try to demonstrate our love for them in the way they feel loved.  Some folks like quality time, some quality words, while others enjoy knowing you cared enough to remember something special that was shared between the two of you.

I'm not really sure how I best receive love, but I do know I want everyone who crosses my path to know they are loved by our Creator and me.   I love to hear the words, "I love you," when they are genuine, and I guess I count them genuine, when I realize there is action with the words.

Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of Elohim; and every one that loveth is born of Elohim, and knoweth Elohim.  I John 4:7

"I Love You"

Those three words mean a lot!  Even though we know our Heavenly Father loves us and Y'hshuwah loved us enough to die for us, it's nice to hear the words audibly . . . Written throughout Scripture is definitely reaffirming, but still, we're human and we like to hear another human voice say it and preferably with meaning!  This past week has truly made me appreciate the value of those three words.

For the past several months, I've made a point of saying, "I love you" to people I minister to and with, as well as many I simply speak with.  I truly do love people, well some I have to try to love, but for the most part I do love people.  I'm just a bit awkward, introverted, and stoic, which probably comes across as socially inept, but . . . nobody sees me sweat.  This past week, however; has been a real eye opener in the value of love and hearing the words.  Love isn't just a word, it also involves action, and now this princess has to put her words into action!

My dear, Sweet Aunt Nina has died.  Not only am I really not ready for this, but years ago she asked me to officiate her funeral.  We were all in good health, at the time, so of course, no problem, but now . . . the funeral is imminent.  I am really trying to work through all my thoughts and words, as I choose just the right things to say in her memory.   She was an encourager, extraordinaire, and at every parting, she always said, "I love you."  So, rather than see her in the casket, as I prepare for her funeral, I'm seeing her in the background, telling me "You can do this!  I love you."  No, I'm not committing any necromancy and I have prayed for strength and asked others to pray for me, but it's truly who she was and I want to keep that image of her, especially as I prepare for a tribute to her.

At this time, I continue to push the thought out of my mind, that I won't hear that upbeat, slightly sassy voice again, in this life.  Her laugh was uniquely recognizable and her style was her own.  She was a confident woman, a strong willed woman, and stoic to the nth degree, yet somehow demonstrated a gentle encouragement with those around her.  She shared rather than drive or push.  I never in my life, heard her say to anyone, "You can't do that!"  That's not about morality, but about accomplishment!  She encouraged everyone.  

She "surrounded" her statement of "I love you" with encouragement, laughter, and sometimes a little too much stoicism to hide her own pain.  At times, something I've said or a certain mannerism has been compared to her, and I cherish those compliments more than I can say, so . . . to put action to my words of telling her "I love you," it's time for me to officiate the funeral she asked for.  She said no tears . . . I'll do my best to encourage all of us to remember her words of encouragement, and prayerfully put on a bit too much stoicism to hide my own sadness to fulfill her request.  I'm so thankful to have had two conversations with her last week, and both of them ended with those words to each other.

Nobody said "I love you" like Sweet Aunt Nina.