A Taste of Honey

So.... after a day of "wool and wild honey" at Hedgerow Farm near Bishop, GA, I am relaxing in a lavender bubble bath pondering bees.

The name , Debra, means "A bee" in Hebrew, English, and Biblical baby name books.  I have also seen it further described as "seeker" and "truth seeker", describing the Judge Deborah in the Bible.  Maybe this is why I have always had a fondness for bees, demonstrated in my preferred choice of stationary, books, hand towels, and decorative pins.  This bee fondness, has not extended to their honey product.  But, I wanted to learn more about these fascinating creatures!

On this day, our book club was enjoying a 'field trip' to round out the study of Margaret Feinberg's Scouting the Divine  my search for God in wine, wool, and wild honey.  Arranged by our study leader, Dena, we drove 2-1/2 hours to visit Hedgerow Farm, the indescribable home of her brother's family.  Our gracious host, sister-in-law, Lisa Douglas eagerly welcomed us and endured endless questions as we mined her knowledge and experience.

While one group took a carriage ride, the rest of us met Rosie, the guard and companion dog for a cow and her calf as we walked the road to the bee hives.  I noticed there was one hive on the left side of the road, sheltered by trees while the remainder of the hives were grouped on the right side of the road along the tree line.  I asked if these bees had done something wrong, as they appeared to be living "on the wrong side of the road".  She laughed, telling me they were Russian bees,  whispering the queens were nasty bitches...then she spoke of the Italian bees, which most around here descend from, and their mating habits with any drone around, some feral. There is no way the breed stays pure, which is not an objective, anyway.

After another group of carriage riders and lunch, we visited the sheep.  Lisa referred to them as "Jacob sheep", the same as the sheep in the Old Testament.  They were so different from the sheep we raised on our farm in North Dakota and was I used to seeing on car rides.  To me, their faces were goat-like and they had horns, some two, some four.  Of course, we could not get too close, being a group of 8, without them changing direction.  One 4 month old sheep, Clyde, saw Lisa as Mom and clung to her at times.  His sheep Mom had started butting him at birth, in rejection they feared, so Lisa had bottle-fed him.  We were able to get close and feel his coat, so pretty and wavy almost to a relaxed ringlet and so soft.  These type of sheep do some shedding as a natural self-shearing, but Lisa still has shearers come out to finish the job.  She spoke of having to find the right shearer, who wasn't too rough with them, who took his time and was gentle.  She shared how she chose names and why some were tail snubbed and some not.  We learned there is a logical reason for everything and even her naming process is an aid for remembrance.  The love and care for her sheep was evident in how she spoke of them and how she spoke to them.  The words Gentle Shepherdess come to mind when I think of Lisa with her sheep.  Of course we were given much more information than I can write here!

After walking through the orchard and gardens, pausing to admire the brickwork and hearing the story of the fences, I stopped on a fire ant home.  Lisa was my deliverer!  As I threw off shoes and socks she ran for the unscented ban deodorant, which I rolled all over.  She then had me chew plantain leaves and spread them around my ankles.  I had no problems after that.  Earlier, we had rubbed lemon balm leaves on our arms and legs and squirted ourselves with lemon balm water to fend off mosquitos, which worked beautifully...things I will need to plant and use.

Up at the house, I notice a quart jar about 2/3 filled with a dark honey and asked if it was from her bees.  She said it was the end of last years honey and she would give us some.  (unlike some beekeepers, she only collects once a year)

 

 I confessed that I had never tasted their treasure, after she started filling little jars, but my husband would love it.  She said that I would be surprised at how often she has heard that and urged me to take a taste...she said it was more a connoisseur's honey as it is less sweet...not from clover, but from some other sources like lavender and some other types of flowers she named.

Feeling brave now, I tasted some of Lisa's honey and I loved it!  Like a wine, I slowly let it move around in my mouth and swallowed a melody of blends.  Tasting the honey was like smelling a variety of blooms.  There was not one I could identify, but all together they were a symphony in my mouth!

I have my little treasured jar in the kitchen and as my bubbles are starting to disappear, I am just wondering what a half teaspoon would do to my lavender bath, to my skin, to my senses....  "Nah!" my taste buds yell, "What a waste!" and I know I will cherish every small spoonful and work up elaborate plans when to do so and with what foods (Lisa gave me some great ideas!) and drinks, and settings, and with whom I will share....

Oh, I can't stand it! Mysteries await!  I actually like honey!

KITE FLYING

O what a beautiful day, Lord!
How the gentle breezes sway
The lush, new leaves of trees
causing the sunlight to tease
Running to and fro across my table.

No breezes came this weekend, Lord.
We were hoping some you'd send
For a-kiting we would go
With two grandkids in tow
And oh what fun we had planned.

Now the breezes are here, Lord.
But grandkids are not near
With kites still on my mind
Flying with Jim, I may find
To be a new plan of fun today.

The Dear Dozen

We got a phone call the other day. 
Number 12 is on the way!

Jim was talking with Sarah and I just heard conversation snatches.  I got the scoop when he said goodbye and he got scolded for not giving me the phone to congratulate her.  He said it was not planned.

Well, many blessings aren't.  In fact, God gives to us more abundantly that we ask!  Most of my plans are changed by God's plans.  Did I plan on that flat tire today?  No, but it happened in town and I ended up needing four new tires.  So....when I make that drive to meet my sister at Callaway Gardens tomorrow, I won't get a flat on the highway.  I am taken care of.  God's plan.  His plans are always higher than mine!

So, getting back to this baby.  It was always in His plan and will be a great blessing after the surprise wears off the parents.  Now, as Sarah said, I know why I dreamt of sewing another quilt a few nights ago.  I woke up wondering, what the heck?  There's no new baby...still I had a feeling of urgency.  Go through your materials, threads, clean the machine, get ready!

We are so blessed!  We have five wonderful children (in 5 different states) who love God and many  are involved in a ministry as a lay person or by profession.  We have 11 wonderful grandchildren in 4 states that we are lucky enough to see at least once or twice a year.  (We get to see the kids in Georgia and Kentucky more often, as they are within 2-7 hours of driving distance.)  But besides seeing them and loving them, we have the honor of going to the Lord in prayer for them.

May God continue to bless:

Ted and Robin Bailey and their children Natalie, William (Will), Lydia, and Anika in Washington;  Jeremy and Tracy Tjon and their children Owen, Briggs, and Gage in Minnesota;  Bert and Sarah Parham and their children Temperance (Tempie), Joseph (JJ), and their little bundle of joy due November who live in Kentucky;  James and Jamie McCullough and their children Rainie and Reagan in Georgia, and Rachel McCullough in Virginia and her future mate and children.

You see, there will be MORE than a Dear Dozen....Rachel has yet to begin!  (And who knows about the Tjon's and McCullough's?)  Oh, we praise God for our quiver-full of grandchildren!

Representing my church... and dog owners?

I was out walking my dog, 8 year old jack-rat Belle, the other day.  I had 3 grocery bags tied to the leash handle, as some days are a 3 bag day, and was wearing my bright orange Southside Baptist Church tee. This was unusual for me, as I usually steer clear of bright colors on my dog walk, preferring old white t-shirts from my 'fishing clothes collection'.

We were on a one-bag day as we neared the elementary school.  The kids were out in full force, doing timed runs with the P.E. instructor shouting encouragement and stopwatch readings through a megaphone.  Now, the children at this school have seen Belle often enough and been corrected often enough, but I let it go today as they yelled to me when they passed the fence. "Hey. Nice chihuahua!"  "I like your chihuahua, lady!" "What a cute chihuahua!"  But besides that, a few looked me in the eye and said "Hi!".   They usually just talk about Belle or to Belle.  I thought I recognized them but maybe some of their many faces were separating out and bcoming distinct in my mind.  Or, perhaps it was the shirt and they recognized their church!

We rounded the front and went along the far side where there was a line of trees and vines, cut back a bit for extra parking along the school field.  It was here, in the long grass, along the tree stand, where Belle had a need.  Not usually venturing into 'wilderness', I usually left IT if not out in the open and in tall grass.  For some reason, I looked back at the field and saw two girls who had stopped and were watching us.  Feeling instant shame for the thought to leave it, I untied a bag, put my hand in it, and bent to scoop up Belle's deposit hearing both the girls..."Euwww, she's picking it up!  Euwwww!".
At that point they were encouraged to "Pick it up, girls!" and as they began jogging, I heard one remark to the other,  "And she goes to Southside like me!"

For the rest of our walk, I wondered if the story would be retold by her on Sunday and if it would be told with pride that a church member picks up after her dog or told with exaggerated disgust as the gross things dog owners have to do...and a warning....when she's a greeter, don't shake her hand!

Memories of Mom

I am missing my mom today.  The last time I called to talk with her, she gave the phone to Ken, my step-dad and he didn't feel like talking.  I will try again today.

I was looking through an old journal I was keeping on my cookbook bookshelf, as I had started recording recipes in it...when I came upon an old entry:

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11/21/2004

"Mom had a TIA this afternoon and is in Innovis, Room 522.  The CAT scan, compared to one taken a week ago, shows nothing of significance - no change, that is.  She was dehydrated so has IV's for fluids.  Her veins were pretty shot from the prednisone, so they blew a couple on one arm before they found one on the other arm.  She's crying - doesn't want to be here.  She's lost 20 pounds in less than 3 weeks...absolutely no interest in food now.  Can't even take her crackers with her pills so gags them down and spits them up later because of her empty stomach. 

Dan said, "Ma's not having fun anymore."  She's also lost interest in the daily paper.  These sound like the same 'warning signs' we got from Hospice when Dad was dying...like the progression of death.  I know it's not the same, it just reminds me of that time, with Dad.  Mom's been in a wheelchair now for a week, due to her feet.  She always had a great capacity for pain and I wonder if her 'weakness' was more than that, perhaps her feet bothered her long before the sugery?  It's true, as Pam said, Mom is now leading Ken's ideal life because she doesn't have a choice.  If she did, she'd do more and go places.  She would manage her own money and at least get cards and send them late for her kids and grandkids birthdays.  That was Mom.

I miss my best friend who I could talk to about anything.  I'd often ask for advice and she'd give it to me but never tell me how to live my life, what to do, or how to feel.  I miss her hugs and kisses and her telling me she loves me.  I miss my favorite traveling companion...we shared a sense of adventure and loved to shop together and see new places, meeting new people.  I miss my book reviewer.  We'd read new books and share them or let the other know not to bother, as our tatstes were similar.  We didn't go for romance novels, but liked the Best-Sellers lists and mystery& suspence or history.  We also enjoyed spiritual and fantasy readings...as in The Harry Potter books and The Left Behind series.  Mom loved Stephen King, too, and we read The Green Mile together when it first came out in installments.

Since I'd moved away, we sometimes had long chats over the phone and it really was like being down the street...popping in anytime for a cup of coffee and some chit chat.  I miss my Mom so much!  I'm here in Georgia, working at the church and living with a good husband. I'm traveling, meeting people, making friends and I know my Mom is in a dirty, smelly apartment, sitting in a corner of a dirty, smelly couch - possibly still in her PJ's - watching mindless TV.  I don't know what she's thinking but maybe she's able to 'turn it off' and just be numb to keep from jumping out of her skin with extreme agitation and the rage of not being able to communicate.  Maybe she's found a way to cope.  maybe she's sad that she doesn't get calls like she used to.

I know I feel guilt, and so do my sisters.  Why do I treat her differently?  It's frustrating and I am stuck in mourning what WAS.  I am thinking of myself and so ashamed at what I have turned into.  I hear lots of things and sometimes get so mad at Ken and don't want to have to talk with him.  Then, when I do, my heart goes out a little to him, too.  He's lonely and missing Mom, too, and she's sitting right there.  What is the plan, God?"
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Well, since I had written this (about 7 years ago), Mom has learned to communicate better and although she has had more sugery and hospital stays, her spirits are generally pretty good.  She gets around with a cane and they are both living in an Assisted Living complex.  Her life is better than it was when they lived in the apartment.  Ken has had some health issues and even though he likes to complain, I believe he's glad they are in this facility. I don't get to visit often but I call and get to talk to her at least 50% of the time.  Mom turned 79 this year and has endured much better, under the circumstances, that I ever thought she would.  God is good and he is in control!

The Jagged Edges of Friendship

Everyone is touched by friendship.  It is a keen observer in our lives.  We can't really do without it well, but it sometimes seems more trouble than it's worth.  The problems in friendships could be people because friendships with animals seem so much more satisfactory.  However, when you get right down to it, 'satisfactory' is not a box beside our name that we would like to have checked.  We would rather risk the lows to experience the highs, because without one or the other, all we are left with is 'satisfactory'.

So, we weigh the worth of our experiences and needs against our future expectations.  After disappointments, betrayals, and lies...we try to forgive and trust again.  We try to accept people for who they are and we quit trying to shame them or shape-change them into a certain mind mold. 

We may try to evaluate the sum and total of our coexistance in each others lives to determine if the friendship is beneficial in any way, or salvageable.

However, I do believe when we do this, we must also check the balance of the scales in our greatest friendship.  Who am I to judge someone else?  Have I disappointed my Lord and Savior who actually gave up His life for me?  Does He want me to have friendships based on how I can benefit from them and what they add ot my life...or, does He want me to be the light-bearer in friendships and BE Jesus to others?  Does He not continually forgive me when I do or say something boneheaded?  Does He not show me mercy?

Lord, teach me to be a better friend, that people will see You in me!

Living in the Lull

I've felt without purpose for awhile.  In between my part-time jobs, I am anticipating the next.  So, I have been working, or looking forward to working, and planning how to work my everyday chores around my job.  Now, I am jobless...except for a courrier job for 3 hours two days a week.  Now, I have more time on my hands to do the projects I have put off...to clean...to 'home-make'.  So, why don't I?

I can't say I'm bored.  When there are so many possibilities of things I could do, and so many things that really need to be done, bored is just not right.  I clean a little, read a little, eat a little....but am still found wanting.  Why?

Perhaps it's the tenuous nature of our lives right now.  Maybe it's the unknown.  I don't think it's fear, for I know God provides. Could be guilt.  Guilt that Jim is looking for full-time work and I am not even looking could be blocking some of my daily joy.  I could be robbing myself of joy?  Well, yes, that's usually who does it...we do it to ourselves.

On our dog-walk this morning, the word LULL just rushed at my brain and penetrated!  I am in a lull, as in the lull before a storm where you can't really do too much or go too far because a storm is coming.  Something is coming, indeed, and I have much to do to get ready.  I have made a list of my own personal money-saving ideas and realized, if done properly, the savings can purchase TWO plane tickets for me and Jim.  Or, the money could go toward paying the cable bill for a year.  Either way, it's a start.

I am planning baby-quilts and looking at material, something that's been on hold while working.  I am picking up my writing exercises and looking at my violin.  Maybe that's what the lull is for...getting my creative juices flowing again.  There is much to do, achem...there is alot of FUN and JOY to be had...mine for the taking!

After the babies come, I will look for full-time work.  But, I will remain open to the voice of the Lord, who can change my plans to line up with His, in an instant!  Lord, continue to fill me daily and help me make good use of this lull!