Schooled

Since my husband's heart surgery (triple bypass, July 2010) I have watched with happiness and moderate amusement as he's incorporated less stress and more enjoyment into his life.  I shouldn't have been surprised that his love of music played into it.  Now mind you, about all he can play is anything electronic, or mechanical in the case of his beloved Edison.  He did a little trumpet in high school, but that's really it as far as an actual instrument.

One of the results of this is an increasing collection of media.  At first it was lp's, also known as 78's.  That was ok.  We've had a traditional turntable for years.  Then one day I noticed a huge box on the front porch.  I started to take it in only to realize I needed a hand truck - the sucker was heavy!  Turns out it was a pristine condition TEAC reel to reel tape deck that once served a radio station.  He'd practically stole the thing on Ebay. 

"What are you going to play on that?" I asked.  He just grinned.  And proceeded to hook it up and whip out a couple of tapes.  The sound was phenomenal, Mancini probably didn't sound that good playing live.

"Ok, that's fine.  I can live with that - just please throw out those eight track tapes that came with the reels."  He only nodded that he'd heard me.

Now mind you, in redneck Alabama where I grew up eight tracks were a scourge. My only memories of them were of raunchy tears in your beer country music and piles of dirty ones laying in the floorboards of pickup trucks along with empty chewing tobacco pouches. This was NOT something I wanted in my house.

More boxes have come and gone since then. Knowing he won't buy anything unless old Abe Lincoln gets squeezed real hard I don't keep track of what he's doing.  Evey day I hear what I've come to consider "vintage music" - sounds from the past that shaped America, sounds that our children would only recognize from commercials with no understanding that what they are hearing shaped two, and in some cases three previous generations.  I'm hearing history - big band, 50's, 60's and 70's elevator music, a lot of classic gospel, a bit of jazz - the list goes on.

This morning I heard something that hit a nerve -  Summertime from Show Boat.  My dad used to sing it, and he did it great justice.  I've always loved that song, partly for the good memories it invokes, partly for the sheer haunting beauty of it.  I found my sweetheart and told him how much it meant to me only to be laughed out of the room.

"It's from a tape of great American music . . . . . and it's an eight track"

No Moss on this Rear

A few years ago I heard a snippet of a talk on the radio that really, really, caught my attention.  The speaker was recalling an old preacher man speaking to a him and his peers, a group of fresh faced college boys who had yet to experience life beyond a dorm room.  The talk went like this:

(Imagine a elderly voice with a couple of rocks thrown in for graininess)  "You know, most Christians sit on their rears year after year and say,  'God, show me an open door!', and they sit with moss growing on their rear.  But not me.  I say "God, if you don't want me going through that door you better close it!',  and there aint no moss growing on this rear"

My Becky and I loved it and adopted it as a motto which soon turned into a life principal.  She went on to a college in the far north, married a great guy and together they are looking and working toward of life of service to others as they complete their studies.  No moss there.

Here on the farm, you'd think things would ease up a little with all the kids gone, but that doesn't seem to be the case . . . you see, these wonderful doors keep opening up . . . and God keeps holding them open.  I love it and have seen some truly amazing things in 2011.

In May I fulfilled a life goal of ministering to the homeless with my Cindy through her church in Memphis.

I saw God start a new,  long prayed about chapter in her life. That was wayyy cool and there's more to come!

I've had opportunity to minister in other unexpected capacities.

My bee business has adopted a charity/ministry organization.

Wonderful, smart, talented and gifted people have come alongside me in learning and working with bees.

I've embarked on a dream of becoming a Master Beekeeper along with two friends.

I think I've taught more than I ever have.

My 16 year old sidekick is becoming a leader and a teacher too.

My grandmother heart is starting to awaken at the possibility of an adoption.

Amazing internet sales after a candle went viral.

More opportunities to fill in for my Extension Agent Mentor.

Blessed reunions with people from my past.

Meeting two favorite authors -  one a high school role model, the other a new found treasure.

I'm sure there are others and I may come back and add more later.  I mostly just wanted to get this written down while it was fresh on my mind so I don't forget 2011 as the "No Moss" year.  What's really ironic about that is that I've got TONS of moss left over around here from Becky's wedding!

What a Week!

I've been sighing a breath of relief since Friday as the orders finally started slowing down.  I know that probably sounds a bit strange coming from someone who promotes, promotes, and promotes, but seriously, I was not prepared for the influx of orders that came after Etsy sent out my Primitive Skep Candle  in an Etsy Finds email.

Don't get me wrong - NO COMPLAINTS, in fact, if anything I'm blown away by the awesome power of internet adverting, and even more that Etsy considered me a seller worthy and capable of handling the honor. Now that I've actually said that, I think Etsy's endorsement may be the better of the two.

Regardless - I've given up the 24 hour candle making in favor of more sustainable volumes, and am increasing by volume capacity by taking up mold casting at the same time.  This is an adventure I have dreamed of for years and after collaborating with my good friend Phillip G, who made my awesome Tree Branch Candle mold, the time is right.

This morning I got a message from Jeanette, another Etsy seller,  at The Play Date blog.  She has featured the skep candle in a beautiful collage on that site - a first time honor for this farm girl. After reading her inspirational posts I'm most anxious to get started on the mold casting - like I said, the time is right. 

Choosing Color

"I don't do white."

I felt the room around me kind of pause. The words were spoken to a young lady of color behind the counter of a fast food chain. She had just waited on some other customers of like skin tone and they were silent too. It was a bit awkward as I realized what just came out of my mouth.

You have to understand. I'm a 50+ Caucasian woman, somewhat overweight, obviously not a youth, and obviously suffering from a serious case of foot in mouth disease this day.

The young lady and I were trying to work through some logistics to get my order right. The restaurant only offered packaged dinners - I wanted something different and was trying to explain to this girl why I did not want a biscuit with my fried chicken.

And that's when the awkward statement came out of my mouth.

The long and short of it is, I'm giving up white foods. White flour, white sugar, white pasta, white rice, white potatoes. I'm sure there are some others I need to give up, but that's the big five for me. It's not that I can't have breads, sweets, pasta, rice and taters - I will just have the superior forms and not the inferiors that have become staples of the American diet.

So far so good. I don't know if I'll even be able to tell a difference six months from now, but I do know it won't hurt.

So yeah, I don't do white.

What's in a Name??

Her life was a wreck. She was sick. She was broke. In fact, she was broke because she was sick, and she was still sick thanks to a medical community who didn't have a clue about what was wrong with her, let alone how to help her. And she was desperate.

What do you do when you're desperate? You do desperate things. For her this meant throwing on enough powder or face paint or hair gel or whatever to fain wellness and mingling with a mob hoping she wouldn't be noticed.

Her purpose gave her strength enough to make her way through the crowd. She knew that if she failed she had nothing left but to go home and die. She was so sick she might not even make it home to die. This was it.

At last she found what she was looking for. She stooped down, reached out, then stood up . . . whole, and well.

There wasn't even enough time to feel a flicker of joy when her heart trembled at hearing an authoritative "Who?" She knew it was her. This wasn't supposed to happen, she had thought to do her deed and get out of of there.

A moment of confusion ensued as the mob stopped and tried to figure out what happened. Then the voice spoke again, "Somebody touched me". This time it was personal - she was being called out.

There was nothing to do but to come clean then and there. This dear nameless woman, fell trembling before the One who had made her, and then made her whole. All she could do was pour out her story before Him and hundreds of onlookers.

Jesus's next words not only gave her permission to rejoice in the new life she was given by touching the hem of His garment, but even more so in a new relationship with Him. Her faith in Jesus Christ, not some ethereal idea of something greater out there, but a real faith in the very real Jesus Christ, a faith that called her to action, had made her whole. The "Who" that was singled out as a "Somebody" was now a "Daughter", instructed to go in peace.


Taken from Luke 8:43-47

From Beemusement 101

My Sister Bathsheba

I’ve come to realize this week that one of the reasons I like Bathsheba so much is that we have so very much in common.

Both of us were wronged by a very well liked and popular person.

Both of us had our hearts ripped out and stuffed down our throat.

Both of us were blamed in the other person’s sin.

Both of us endured whispers of ignorant waggling tongues.

And both of us chose to remain silent about the incident and let God handle it.

I love the fact that both God and Solomon vindicated this incredible woman. Even David, who sinned against her, publicly took responsibility for his actions, something that never happened in my case. Her son . . HER son, was chosen by God above his elder brothers to sit on the throne of David. Solomon publicly honored her to a place no woman had ever achieved in Israel’s history. Not only did he set her beside his throne, in essence declaring her his equal, but he wrote about her. How many women have aspired to be the Proverbs 31 woman without realizing that they were aspiring to Bathsheba’s godly character?

I love the fact that she is the only female Old Testament type of Christ. What an honor! What a legacy!

Today I feel the ignorant whispers again. I feel the serpent tearing at the scar tissue of old wounds. And I feel close to Bathsheba. I’m glad she endured to the end. She gives me hope.

Looking Ahead

It's been a while since I wrote about bees. Yes, I still have bees and I love them very much. This is a busy time of year for beekeepers. Even now wild mustard is growing on the sides of the road and it won't be long before we see dandelions pop up in our yards. These are all fresh food sources for the little honeybees who have been cooped up inside all winter long.

Right now I've got about 250 honey supers in my yard waiting for me to clean them. They're not mine, but belong to a beekeeper friend of mine and I get the propolis in exchange for going through them. It's a trade I'm happy to make.

Justin, my 16 year old sidekick, went to Auburn University with me today for the annual Beekeeping Symposium there. With around 400 in attendance, it's the most that have ever gathered for a bee event in this state. With about two thirds of them being new beekeepers, it said a lot of GOOD about the state of beekeeping in Alabama. We split up for a lot of the sessions, him taking more beginner courses and me learning everything else I could. What follows are highlights and a string around my own finger to help remember everything!

First up this morning was a request to do the children's program at the State Beekeeper meeting next October - twice. This will be a pleasure. I've done lot's of children's programs, love kids and have a fun presentation. (Dancing anyone?) It looks like I may be sharing some research on the business end of things I'm currently doing too.

The Master Beekeepers Program excites me. Alabama is actually working on a program for this and once it's finalized and implemented I should be able to be grandfathered in for at least 80% of the qualifications. Dreams do come true!!! Since Justin is getting bees this year he'll be able to go through the program in about 3 years as well starting as an Apprentice. I'm excited for him.

Soap - with as many soap classes as I've sat in on you'd think I'd have made my own by now, but that's soon a thing of the past. I've got a hot process batch in the works and invested in a mold, so we're on the way. No more melt and pour.

AHB . . . Africanized Honey Bees. We were SO UPSET in our part of the state to learn of the death of our GA neighbor last fall from these devils. Well, it turns out he had collected swarms from Central Florida and taken them home to start his own bee business . . . . . if you know anything about Florida's feral bee population and even a hint of the magnitude of this poor soul's mistake . . . The good news is that ALL of his colonies were eliminated so we should still be a few years out on that problem.

And while we're on that topic our local association should be having an important guest speaker the next few months to address that issue since our corner of the state could very well be first to have to deal with them.

Next week I'll start working the hives in preparation for spring honey flow. Between feeding, swapping brood chamber and splits I've got my work cut out for me. My commercial friend will be teaching me to graft as well. While the jury is still out on which queen rearing method I'll finally settle on, I'm just thankful to be back at this threshold for this year. Life is good. Bring on the dandelions, bring on the bees!

Leviticus Rocks

In this morning’s reading Leviticus 5:1 shook me to my core. It’s not that I’ve not read it before, it was more like this time it read me.

And if a soul sin , and hear the voice of swearing, and is a witness, whether he hath seen or known of it; if he do not utter it, then he shall bear his iniquity.

We had just talked about swearing and using God’s name in vain at the Jail on Sunday. We even read through the Ten Commandments to get it straight. And here it was . . . if you hear swearing, you are guilty.

One of my sons once told me “Leviticus rocks” while going through that class at Word of Life. To me it had mostly been dry, priestly procedures so I had to ask about this new revelation. The bottom line – no matter how hard we try to be clean and guiltless before God, it’s impossible. For the priests, even unknowingly brushing your foot against a dead bug made them unfit to serve – and how would they know?? The certainty of uncertainty forces us to depend on the mercy of God.

So learning that even hearing swear words was somewhat of a slap in the face. I felt like Isaiah: Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts. Isaiah 6:5

We hear them everywhere – on the street, on the job, on the phone, tv, movies, music, the list goes on and on. To some degree there’s no avoiding it. I had to think back over the times I heard my Lord’s name used wrongfully and how it affected me. And I had to repent of the iniquity I bore in even hearing my God and my Savior maligned in that manner.

And I had to consider why swearing, i.e., using any part of the Trinity’s name lightly is wrong.

1. It usurps God’s authority. Of course we know that anybody using God’s name wrongfully in no way displaces the authority of heaven . . . except in that person’s heart at that moment.

2. It makes false presumptions about God’s character.

I’m sure there are other reasons, but those are the two big ones for me.

Consider Shelomiths’s son. She was a Hebrew woman married to an Egyptian man who left Egypt with Moses. We’re not told how old their son was, but at some point after the Ten Commandments he swore using God’s name. The conclusion of that matter shook the Hebrews to the core much like Pearl Harbor or 9/11 shook the national mindset of our country. The young man was executed by stoning, you might say by Levitical rocks, literally. The Jews became so protective of God’s name that it’s pronunciation was lost to the general population and only passed down from one high priest to the next as he lay dying. That’s pretty serious. To this day orthodox Jews who fear God will not write out the word “God” as I’m doing here.

The big question I face is “Where to now?” How am I to respond? What will I do if someone misuses my Lord’s name in my presence?

The easy answer is to avoid people and situations where that could happen. There’s merit to that. There are many places and situations to be avoided. Avoiding people though? No – people need Christ, and how can our feet be beautiful (Romans 10:15) if we run from them instead of to them? There’s one idea, one glimmer of possibility that has come through this, and that’s to use the situation should it arise. As a follower of Christ I should be offended to hear my Lord’s name taken in vain, but rather than express personal insult, confront the offender in genuine love and humility for their own good. People don’t care how much you know but they do know how much you care. So love the sinner – open a dialog to present the gospel, to present Christ to them. It may be the very reason that God, in His sovereignty and providence had you in a Leviticus 5:1 opportunity to begin with.