Hanukkah: The Hidden Truth Teaching Review

Hanukkah is nearly upon us!!  Read my Archived Teaching Review BEFORE you purchase any Hanukkah paraphernalia. I can get easily distracted by adults and children in front of me at the teachings, so I like sitting near the front.  I am usually in the second row.  That way I am assured I won’t miss a bit of the verbal and nonverbal message.  Read more

Choosing Sides

A situation with Floyd during the 2017 Basketball Finals made me think of repentance.  Repentance means to turn from sin and turn to righteousness.  Floyd was sitting in his favorite stuffed chair, with snacks on the table, waiting for Game 5 of the NBA Read more

What is the Reason for the Season?

As a child, only once, did I question the honesty and integrity of my maternal Grandma. Even then, when I reflected on all the facts, Grandma was absolved. I remember the incident as clear as if it were this morning. I was playing in the front room (living room) and our German neighbor, Mrs. Raymond, came up on the enclosed Read more

Faith Means Action

The six weeks between June 22nd and July 30th 2013 were loaded with change, chaos, miracles, and a lot of stepping out in faith. For two years, Floyd and I had been hoping and praying that Yehovah would make a way for us to move from Alabama to be near Charlotte, NC. We wanted to be a part of the Read more

Pet Enticed into the Arms of a Neighbor?

In the fall of 1995, Floyd and I (before children) purchased a home on 5 acres in Ypsilanti, Michigan. The house needed cosmetic work: vinyl siding and repairs to the upper porch. Early one morning, a construction worker found two abandoned kittens on the road and brought them to me. I immediately took them in and gave them food Read more

Secrets in the Buffet Drawer

My father's mother, Grandma Berry, as we called her, was born in 1909. Grandma was divorced when my dad was about five and later married Gerald Berry. He was a kind, easy going man that worked at one of the Ford plants in Detroit. I remember his metal lunch pail. It was black on the outside and shiny metal gray on Read more


Folly with a Fawn: My Pioneer Experience

Many mornings I awake and have no idea what will happen to me before I return to bed that night. Well, one unsuspecting morning, I arose and did the usual tasks. I made up the beds; got breakfast for Joel, 9 years old, and Ruth, 8 years old; taught them school lessons; fixed lunch; taught more lessons; etc. You know, the usual.

Joel and Ruth at Homeschool Science Fair

Joel and Ruth at Homeschool Science Fair

Floyd , my husband, had retired from Chrysler in 2004.  

Floyd at his retirement ceremony. He worked 31 years, 48 days and 3 hours; needless to say he was GLAD!

Floyd at his retirement ceremony. He worked 31 years, 48 days and 3 hours; needless to say he was GLAD!

He was currrently working at job he loved, a part-time cook and caterer at Sauder Village. It’s an Historic Village in northwest Ohio in the rural town of Archbold. Eric Sauder, the “you assemble” furniture maker, recreated a Village dating from the 1600’s to the 1900’s. Floyd catered for weddings, conventions and cooked in the Barn Restaurant.

The Barn Restaurant at Sauder Village

The Barn Restaurant at Sauder Village

That day, he was scheduled to start work at 2 PM. A little before 2 PM, Floyd called. This was unusual for two reasons. First, Floyd is not a phone talker. Second, he frowned on talking on “company time”. So I knew immediately that something was up.

Read more

Posted on by Shar in Animals, Courage, Food Preparation, Mistakes 19 Comments

SQUANTO — Part 1 of 2

When we moved from Michigan to Alabama in 2008, the auctioneer ran newspaper and internet ads for us that said:

Everything for sale: real estate, art work and a three-legged goat!”


It all started the first Saturday in November, 2006. We were just about ready to leave home, in Morenci, MI, for the two hour drive to Detroit for the annual Family Harvest Dinner for my mom’s side of the family. In previous years, this dinner had been held on Thanksgiving Day. However, there were a number of relatives that couldn’t come or didn’t arrive until late because they had to attend Thanksgiving Dinners with their in-laws, cousins, and kinfolk on “the other sides” of the family.

Before the Family Harvest Dinner was changed to late October/early November, Thanksgiving was an excruciatingly long day for our immediate family.  The routine started with a roasted duck breakfast at my dad’s mother’s house on the west side of Detroit.


Mom and Dad at his mother’s house for Thanksgiving Breakfast, circa 1990.

Then we went to the Family Harvest Dinner that was about 35 miles north. Then back to the west side of Detroit to Floyd’s (my husband) mother’s house for a family dinner with her siblings and then to Janet’s (Floyd’s sister) house for another dinner. Janet’s husband, Alfred, always insisted on her cooking a full dinner at their house…for the leftovers! THEN, we traveled another few miles to  Frannie’s house (my father’s cousin) for another dinner – mostly desserts; Frannie’s husband, Lester, could throw-down on 7-up cake, and sweet potato pies. When the day was over, we were as full as a ticks and very tired.

Deer tickI never paid much mind to the phrase, “full as a tick”. However, when we moved to Alabama in 2008, we all got bit by ticks; the cats and dogs got bit too. The fattest ticks were on the animals because they couldn’t readily get them off. The ticks looked to me that they had swollen 10 times their normal size when they were engorged with blood.

Now back to the story.

 I was the last of the family remaining in the house. I heard commotion outside and then I heard Floyd yelling, “Shar, Shar! Come quick! Squanto is down!” I hurried through the kitchen and out the back door. I could see our white Nubian goat, Squanto, in a heap on the ground. Joel (eight years old) and Ruth (seven years old) were upset. Floyd was perplexed, wondering what to do.


These were some of our goats playing in the pasture.

 I was the “country” person among us. Floyd and I were both born in Detroit. We moved to the country because we wanted an open safe place to raise children. Floyd was still “citified”. I had embraced the country life totally. Before we knew about eating according to Bibilical instructions, I had even approached Floyd about getting on the local police’s “road kill” list. Floyd was horrified, “You must be mad! You don’t know how long that meat has been on the ground!”

 We’ll only take meat in the winter time, that way if it’s on the road for a while, it will be frozen. We could get it ground up for hamburgers and meatloaf.”

 Shar, you’re crazy! I wish I would eat some meat off the road!”

 You get the idea.

 OK, now back to the scene with Squanto. I looked at Squanto and saw that his right hind leg was bleeding. Floyd and I went back in the house. I exchanged my faux fur, heels and “Sunday-go-to-meeting” dress for work clothes. We slid Squanto onto a tarp and lifted him into the back of our van. Squanto was a full size, heavy goat. He probably weighted about 120 pounds.

 Joel and Ruth were very attentive to their beloved goat. Ruth kept Squanto calm by rubbing him and scratching him behind his horns.

Ruth, 8 years old; Joel, 9 years old.

The Vet said it looked like an injury from trying to jump over the fence and getting his leg caught. She gave him an injection and sent us home with four more daily injections to be given under the skin on his neck. She also instructed us to change the bandage daily.

 If you have been following this story, you know who was giving the shots and changing the bandages.

 Well, we had to cut our trip to Detroit short. We had planned to stay for three days, but now we had to be back after only one night.

The shots went well and the leg began to heal. After the last shot, I left the bandage on for two days instead of the daily dressing change. Well…, when I came to look at the leg on day six, it was turning black and had an awful smell. I yelled for the troops to come and put Squanto in the van. We had to go back to the Vet.  

When I went into the house to get my purse, I hurriedly called the meat processor. I wasn’t intending to let all that meat go to waste. I wanted to have my ducks in a row if gangrene turned out to be localized and not running all through his body. By the time I got to the van, Joel  and Ruth were pleading, “Mama, can we get a leg for Squanto?” I tried to be calm and realize that this was their pet, but no way was I going to pay for a goat prosthesis!


Goat Prothesis?!! I remember Mr. Tom in Jenkinsville, SC that had a “peg-leg”. He is standing with my Great-Uncle.

 I had bigger concerns on my mind…trying to convince Floyd to eat Squanto. I calmly and quietly said (so Joel and Ruth couldn’t hear), “I wonder if gangrene is localized or systemic? (PAUSE….) If it is localized, I already called Pettisville Meats. They said they could process it , if we shoot it first.”  

Floyd spun around in his seat with a wild look like he couldnt believe that he was married to me or much less know a person such as me. “You have lost your mind! I ain’t eating no gangrene goat.”

 “We don’t know for sure that gangrene is running through his blood.”

 “Listen, gangrene or not, I’m not eating that goat!”

 The decibels were at a crescendo; Joel and Ruth were panicking. “Mama, Mama, we can’t eat Squanto!!”

 Floyd lowered his voice and said with a citified finality, “If you take that goat to Pettisville Meats, I will never eat your ground meat again as long as I live!!”

I sighed, it was hopeless with Floyd .

Now to deal with the prosthesis, I told the kids that it would probably be too expensive, but we would see what the Vet had to say.

The Vet came to the back of the van and examined Squanto. She confirmed Squanto had gangrene. And yes, it was running all through Squanto’s body. Floyd looked at me like I was a nut case and he was the only sane person in the family.

Floyd had never said so, but he never would have purchased a “goat prothesis”. He had remained quiet and non-committal and let me take the heat from the kids.

Well, with some reservation, I asked about the prothesis. I exhaled deeply with relief when the Vet said there were no goat protheses. The kids were sad. She also said there was no guarantee that amputating the leg would solve the problem. She had known cases where the gangrene continues up the leg and several operations would be required with no hope the goat would survive.

I see that goats can get a “peg-leg”!!

I asked how much it would cost to put down the goat and dispose of him. The kids were yelling some nonsense about taking him home for burial. The Vet said $35.00.

Read Part 2 here

Posted on by Shar in Animals, Courage 6 Comments

Coffee Enema Journal

Thursday, January 27, 2011


Dear Dr. Jeff,

Day One of my Liver/Gallbladder Flush (LGF) went very well. I drank the whole quart of salt water flush without getting nauseated. The kidney castor oil pack was relaxing and the coffee enema was a bit awkward but painless.

This was a miraculous outcome because I have been terrified of the “coffee enema” since the day of my scan* last week.

Dr. Jeff Hazim

Dr. Jeff Hazim

During the scan, when you marveled that I asked whether I needed a detox and then the scan said I needed a LGF, I began to feel wise, in-touch with my body, and having special intuitive powers for about 7 seconds. It was at that point that I asked if the LGF involved an “enema”. Sure enough, you gave me the wrong answer and the gray and blue clouds of despair and dread began to move in.

I was anxious beyond belief waiting on the detox instructional protocol to arrive by email. When I saw that it was “23 pages” and what seemed to be complicated procedures, I sat it on my desk. It took me two days to process my anxiety and dread to actually read it. While it sat unread on my desk, I knew in order to survive the week of detox, I needed a plan of attack and I must relinquish most, if not all, of my household responsibilities.

First, I went to the calendar and cleared a total of seven days starting on Wednesday, January 26, 2011. However, right before the start date, I did have a meeting on January 25th with Ms Social Worker from the foster/adoption agency. Floyd and I are planning to adopt again. Our two children, Joel and Ruth, were adopted as infants when we lived in Michigan.


Joel and Ruth, 1999.

Second, I approached Joel (12) and Ruth (11) with the unread “23 page” protocol in my hand, flipping the pages.

I need a no stress, well a low stress seven days next week. (I remembered that all the “no stress” people live in the cemetery.) These procedures are going to take a lot of my time and I need to be calm in order to get through this.”

They eyed the “23 page” of instructions and the I mean business look in my eyes and my don’t try me demeanor. Simultaneously, they said, “Yes, Ma’am.” and quickly backed away.

Earlier in the day, while carrying the instructions that detailed the “coffee enema”. I asked Floyd, “If your scan with Dr Jeff said you should take a Liver/Gallbladder Flush, what would you do?”

Floyd hesitated and said, “Well if I needed it, I would.”

Now, I have known Floyd and all his family since I was five years old (His uncle married my aunt.) and we have been married for 21 years. So, what he was really saying was, “If Dr. Jeff told me I would die that week unless I took a LGF, then I would take one.”

Now normally, I would have been all over him like “white on rice” psycho-analyzing him and making connections between his denial and the reluctance to do the LGF and his high blood sugar and the possibility that it could result in him becoming disabled, bed-ridden and leaving me to care for him with the extra burden of working through my anger at him because he didn’t take a LGF that would have prevented all this hardship on top of my having to raise two children without the benefit of an able-bodied husband. HOWEVER, I was so depressed about the “coffee enema” thing, that I just said, “I understand”.

So next, I asked for Floyd’s help. I said, ”Floyd, I’m going to need some help. I don’t think I can handle cooking and all these procedures at the same time. I need to have a clear space to relax my mind and just rest.” He looked at me and saw my pitifulness and cheerily said, “No problem honey, I’d be happy to help.”

I wondered, if behind his willingness, he was thinking, “I’m glad it’s you and not me!”.

The last preparation was to write an hour by hour schedule of each day.day schedule By Monday, January 24th, each ounce of the drinks, each supply needed and each procedure was allocated a time slot. (It was perfect until you informed me on the morning of Day One that the water of the salt flush could not be included in my daily water requirement! So back to the drawing board to recalculate the ounces of water needed for each time slot.)

OK, by Tuesday morning I was ready, but still very depressed with the thoughts of the “coffee enema”.

In the afternoon, Ms Social Worker came for the 3-4 hour session. A good part of the session was discussing some of the horrific things that happen to children that bring them into the foster care system and some of the things the child does not share until well into the foster/adoption placement. 

I was already moody and depressed; the vivid descriptions given by Ms Social Worker brought on a tsunami of additional depressing thoughts. I’d catch myself holding my head in my hands nearly touching the table we were all gathered around in our library. I wanted to escape the room and the evil world where these horrible things were happening.

Once, when I caught myself again holding my head with my hands over my eyes, I sat up straight and noticed how Floyd was quite involved in the conversation. All I could do was nod and grunt some responses. But here was my husband, the man of few (or no words) giving informational responses: “The taser the grandfather used on the kids is called a cow prod.”

Asking probing questions: “Why do you think the District Attorney didn’t seek prosecution against the son of the City council member?” 

And follow-up questions:  “Did the insurance company pay the foster mom each of the three times the foster child burned down her trailer?”house on fire

That was just another depressing blow to me. I wanted this conversation to be over and he was prolonging it!

On top of that, this was the man that you had to pull phrases, much less sentences, out of. This was the man that often I would bare my soul and he would just look at me wondering what I wanted him to say. This was the man that on several occasions, when we were arguing about the lack of communication between us, I would end the one-sided conversation by quoting from Dion Warwick’s hit record, “If anyone had a heart they would take me in their arms and love me. Why won’t you?”.

If Floyd and Ms Social Worker were on television and the sound was turned off, folks who know Floyd would just know she was a sports announcer and they were discussing the Super Bowl!

train coming at you

Help! Help!!

Now, I’m about to die in the dark pit of depression. I have thoughts of the Perils of Pauline where the villain, dressed in an all black ¾ length suit jacket, black pants and a tall slim black top hat, has tied her to the railroad tracks and the fast train is approaching. All Pauline can do is struggle against the ropes and yell.

But, I’m struggling to keep my body still and trying to suppress my screams. I can think of no way to politely ask them to “Shut-up!”. If I blurt out my emotions, Ms. Social Worker may falsely believe I’m unstable and unfit to adopt children. Floyd would be highly embarrassed and would demand I go immediately to bed after calling you and saying that the “coffee enema” was too much for me to take (really too much for him). So, I suffered through the session.

That night I prayed for:

  1. Courage to start the seven days;

  2. Wisdom to do each task to perfection. The “23 page” protocol had a ridiculous statement that if you can’t hold the enema, just release it and boil more coffee and start over! There was not going to be any repeats on this ship!

  3. AND the ability to like “coffee enemas”.

Now, that last one was a stretch. However, in my life I have learned that Yehovah is a gracious and generous giver. When we moved to Alabama in 2008, we prayed for a house with 3 bedrooms, 2 baths and some land that we could afford. Yehovah blessed us with 5.02 acres with two houses (we rent the second house), 3 bathrooms in the main house and a sandy creek beach on the other side of our wooded area – all for $45,000. It would never have entered my mind to have prayed for that much. So I’ve learned to enlarge my faith, my obedience and my prayers.

Dr. Jeff. at the beginning of the story, you see that Numbers 1 and 2 were answered.

Well this morning, Floyd got up before me and got Joel and Ruth up to feed the animals and get ready for Homeschool. I could hear him saying my usual mantra, 


My family!

Wash, put on lotion, deodorant, do your hair…”.

Then he walked back into our dark bedroom and gave me a back-rub (going in the correct clockwise manner) and asked if he could bring me anything.

At that moment, I knew I liked “coffee enemas!”



*Scan:  “Using the body’s natural energetic field, a communication link is established between the patient and the computer via the ZYTO hand cradle. Through this connection, ZYTO sends stimuli and then records the body’s response. This conversation is called biocommunication, and it provides insights into health and wellness.” https://www.zyto.com/

Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow; it empties today of its strength.  ~Corrie Ten Boom

When you look at your life, the greatest happinesses are family happinesses.  ~Joyce Brothers



Posted on by Shar in Courage, Family Life, Health and Wellness 6 Comments