"Created To Be His Help Meet" - My Thoughts

My best friend, Jocelyn, sent me a copy of "Created To Be His Help Meet" by Debi Pearl.

Wow. 

I feel like an older woman sat me down and went through each one of the scriptures pertaining to women/wives and showed me exactly what I was doing incorrectly in my marriage. 

Not like my husband and I have any real problems, but small, little things, like nagging, being manipulative, even in a passive way...you are truly practicing for divorce!

The book teaches principals like being obedient to your husband and reverencing him.

This freaks a lot of women out. Obeying a man? Showing him reverence and respect? No matter what? Doesn't that relinquish a lot of control?

Yes. Yes it does.

This principal has truly opened my eyes. For example:

When my husband and I discuss something, and I express my view on the matter, when he says, "I understand what you're trying to say but I feel like this is the way this needs to happen" ...then accept his authority on the matter and submit. Joyfully.

No sulking. No "nose stuck up in the air" attitude. No riding him to change his mind. 

Simple acceptance.

Because, isn't our marriage supposed to mirror the Messiah and the Assembly?

Since when does the Messiah submit to us and our whims? Never.

BUT -- He does honor our requests and fulfills our needs as He sees fit. Because he loves us.

The same goes for my husband and I. Because I trust, obey, reverence, delight in him, he will, in turn, love and cherish me. He will not be bitter to me and he will do anything he can for me, when he feels like it is the right thing to do and when its in his power.

I don't have to wait around on my husband to do as I say, or submit to my will before I will obey him. That's not what I'm commanded to do. 

My husband is my headship. The Messiah is his headship. And Yahuah is His headship.

There is a hierarchy. Yes, Ephesians does say to "submit to each other in reverence to the Messiah." And that is true! But, that does NOT negate that we, the wives, are supposed to obey, submit ourselves to, and reverence our husbands.

That, in turn, means that they must love and not be bitter towards us!

I read a few "feminist" reviews on this book and I laughed a whole lot. I can see that they are so afraid to obey the man in their lives. Whey can't they trust the Father to lead the husband?

It is not our job to change him. What an amazing concept!

I found this book to be a wonderful tool and in the few days after reading it, I have already seen a change in my life and attitude. My husband is very, very happy. 

I am happy to say that I understand that my high calling of wife and mother IS truly the highest calling. Being a help meet is a wonderful thing. :)

How the Sabbath was "Changed" to Sunday

When was the Sabbath changed to Sunday?

Can you find that change anywhere in Scripture? How about history?

Daniel spoke of this change: 

Daniel 7:25, "And he shall speak great words against the most High, and shall wear out the saints of the most High, and think to change times and laws: and they shall be given into his hand until a time and times and the dividing of time."

First off, lets read what Yah says about HIS Sabbath:

Exodus 31:13 Speak you also unto the children of Israel, saying, Verily my Sabbaths you shall keep: for it is a sign between me and you throughout your generations; that you may know that I am YAHUAH your ELOHIM that does set you apart.

The Sabbath. Is a sign. Between HIM and YOU. So that YOU MAY KNOW. That HE is YOUR ELOHIM. ...get that?

You can follow ALL the other commandments and be of any other belief system. But the Sabbath is HIS sign.

Following?

Leviticus 23:3 Six days shall work be done: but the seventh day is the Sabbath [seventh day] of rest, a set-apart convocation; you shall do no work therein: it is the Sabbath of YAHUAH in all your dwellings.

Now, what about the New Testament? 

WHERE do we find the change? Does it say ANYWHERE, point blank, "The Sabbath has been changed to Sunday"?

No sir.

There are only EIGHT verses in Scripture that point to the 1st day. The ones that are pointed to for Sun-Day worship are:


1 Corinthians 16:1-2

16:1 Now concerning the collection for the saints: as I directed the churches of Galatia, so you also are to do. On the first day of every week, each of you is to put something aside and store it up, as he may prosper, so that there will be no collecting when I come.

Does THIS do away with the Saturday Sabbath? Can't see how. Next.

Acts 20:7 -8

And on the first day of the week, when we were gathered together to break bread, Paul began talking to them, intending to depart the next day, and he prolonged his message until midnight. And there were many lamps in the upper room where we were gathered together.

Scripturally, a day begins and ends at sundown. The sun had just gone down. There were LAMPS in the upper rooms. It was dark. They were simply EATING after the Sabbath. It was the 1st Day...because it was night time! AND he was going to depart "the next day". He wasn't going to go to church in the morning. He was going to travel to his next destination. 

This doesn't do away with the Sabbath. 

Our Messiah was constantly attacked about Sabbath keeping. They said he was breaking the Sabbath. Messiah NEVER broke the Sabbath according to YAH's laws...only by the laws that the PHARISEES made up themselves. 

Now...lets look at HISTORICAL PROOF for the change from Saturday to Sunday.

Every why it's called Sunday? Lets look at ancient Sun-Worship in Rome!

The video explains in full. It's only 5 minutes long.

After watching this, I have no idea how anyone can be convinced that our FATHER'S SABBATH DAY that HE SET APART is not to be followed. Are we going to continue to cherry pick which of the 10 Commandments we follow? 

Discovering the Difference Between Birthing Experiences

I just wanted to post something really quickly about enjoying childbirth.

I love giving birth. I love labor.

I have told this to people and I've gotten all sorts of looks. And it made me wonder, "Why is that?"

But then I realized that my experience is TOTALLY different from most women today.

Here are some differences:

Me: I was surrounded by people who loved me and who encouraged me through labor.

Them: I was either alone or with a doctor.

Me: I could eat and drink as much as I wanted.

Them: I couldn't eat/drink anything -- was hooked up to an IV.

Me: I was in the comfort of my own home, able to move around as I wanted. I could lie in my bed, sit on a birth ball, walk around outside, get on my hands and knees, squat, kneel on the couch, etc.

Them: I was on my back. For hours.

Me: I got in and out of the shower/birth tub. As soon as I hit the water, I was relaxed.

Them: There was no option to be in water.

Me: I took 9 months to teach myself relaxation techniques including changing position, vocalization, chanting, and imagery.

Them: Medication was my only means for relaxation.

Me: We got to listen to the baby intermittently with a fetoscope/doppler, so I wasn't strapped down.

Them:  I was strapped to my bed with a monitor on my belly at all times.

Me: I could use the bathroom whenever I wanted.

Them: I had a catheter. 

Me: I could speed up labor by kissing my husband!

Them: ....what?

Me: I could sway, dance, rock on a ball to help me be in tune with the power of my contractions or "surges". It felt like a super powerful wave that I just had to ride and be one with. And then when it was over it was over.

Them: It was super painful because I couldn't move and wasn't encouraged to be "one" with my contractions.

Me: My midwife was so supportive, was always with me, and said amazing affirmations like, "It can't be any bigger than you because it IS you."

Them: My doctor arrived at the very end of labor and didn't' offer any loving support.

Me: My birthing environment was dimly lit with soft voices and music.

Them: My hospital room was bright and noisy, with strangers coming and going all the time.

I can see now exactly WHY so many women don't own their birthing experience -- I wouldn't want to talk about the experience they had either, if it were me!

I also understand that the end prize is your baby, but the WAY you labor and the WAY you birth truly defines the relationship you have with that child.

You can enjoy birth. YES -- it CAN be painful, but the pain is just you.

Are you afraid of yourself? 

The Birth of Rowan Scott Sloan

The Birth of Rowan Scott Sloan – November 17^th, 2011 – 10:49 pm

(I thought I would share the birth story of my son. I wrote this days after Rowan was born.)

Early labor began in the evening when my contractions started feeling closer together and quite regular – ten minutes apart. I tried not to get excited since I was over at my husband’s parent’s house for dinner that night, but since I had some bloody show that morning and some throughout the day, I just had a feeling that this was it.

We left their house around 8:00 at night. I called my midwife, Christine, and let her know what was going on. She advised me to eat, drink and then sleep – I’d need my rest. 

And boy, she wasn't kidding. 

So we got home and I really tried to go to sleep. Eventually, I really needed some support, so she sent her apprentice Betsy to my home to help me out. These contractions were like nothing I’d ever experienced before, starting quite low and pulling up.

After several hours later, Christine arrived. We tried a few different positions to manage the pain and then a few more to really get labor going. By this point my back was killing me, so we did a robozo technique to re-align the baby within my pelvis. It felt like his head was turned at an odd position and this really did the trick.

Night turned into day and labor still seemed to be going slowly. I was at 5 centimeters (I think) and labor had no real defined pattern, even after 24 hours. This really discouraged me. Even further discouraging was the fact that even when I got into the birth tub labor slowed down further, but really did take the edge off of the contractions.

The day began to wear on and I was getting tired fast. I was so close…surely the baby would arrive by sundown. But as the day began to end, there was only more and more pain. I was at 7 centimeters and still nothing – until my water broke. Christine suggested that if nothing happened and I didn't progress by 8:00 pm that we should transport to the hospital for some pitocin and an epidural. My husband and I discussed this and finally came to the conclusion that this was the best idea.

And this was when the hard part began. 

(In retrospect, I had no idea that I was in transition at this point, the shortest and hardest part of labor. Everything up to this point I could handle. In reality, if I hadn't have been so scared to go to the hospital and just RELAXED, the pain would have eased up considerably.)

Not only was I completely upset by the idea of not giving birth at home, I was in the most pain I had ever experienced in my life. While everyone around me rushed to get things together to take to the hospital, I writhed around in the birthing tub, completely unable to relax during or in between contractions. Jenifer, another friend who had come to help with support, pet my head and my back while I cried and screamed for it to be over.  I couldn't imagine going on any longer. In retrospect, this was when transition began – the hardest but shortest part of labor.

We finally loaded up into the car. Scott was driving, Betsy was in the passenger seat, and I lay in the back seat bundled up in blankets, holding a pillow. I tried singing up and down the scales to calm my nerves, but every time a contraction would begin, I would feel this insurmountable urge to force all of my energy down towards my bottom and vocalize deeply. Trying to hold this back was impossible.

We went down the interstate, finally reaching downtown in about 45 minutes. As we arrived at the hospital, Betsy helped me into a wheelchair and we let Scott, my husband, park the car. I was vocalizing a lot as we entered the emergency room’s triage. Everyone stood up to look at me. The “medical professionals” all looked dumbfounded as I shouted that I was 9 months pregnant and couldn't take this any longer. 

Little did I know – I was pushing!

Eventually, someone paid my pleads some attention and hurried me into a room to change my clothes. The doctor must have been some sort of idiot because he said he “felt a bulging bag of waters” when he checked me, but they had obviously already broken in a big way before we left the house over an hour ago. The baby’s head was right there. I could feel it myself.

Still thinking I was at 7 centimeters, I begged for an epidural as they transported me up to labor and delivery where Christine was waiting for us. I’m not sure how I got up onto that table, but once I was there, I suddenly realized that Scott was not present – where was he?!

The doctors insisted that they put my feet in stirrups, but I wouldn't let them. My instincts told me to get up on the table and squat, as un-lady-like as that sounds, but I had to settle for chin to chest, with various people supporting my feet.

Just as I started pushing some more with more and more fluid rushing out of me, my husband made his way into the room. I had never felt so relieved in my life to see him just then. I begged for an epidural again, but thankfully, I didn't need one. (Remember -- women are very susceptible to suggestion during transition. You're kind of in another world. I'm very blessed to have had my support team there to remind me that I didn't need drugs to do this.)

Apparently during the car ride, I had progressed to 10 centimeters. I could push! So that was what my body was telling me to do when I was in the car, that’s why it was hurting so bad was because I was trying to hold my body back. If only I had relaxed, I probably could have had the baby right then!

So I began my work. Focusing all of my energy downward, I pushed during each contraction – about three times each. All the doctors in the room were trying to direct my pushing, but I told them all to be quiet, leave me alone, and not to touch me. Maybe they were a little offended that I was listening to my midwife’s guidance to just listen to my body…but I didn't really care.

Pushing was amazing. It felt like I could really utilize my pain and turn it into an active force. With each contraction I felt my baby being pushed down lower and lower, until I could feel him right at my tail bone!

My midwife suggested that I reach down and feel my baby’s head with my hand. I was reluctant at first…I almost didn't remember that I was actually giving birth to a child – my child; but when I did reach down and feel the top of my baby’s head, I was already in love. I closed my eyes as I focused on pushing my baby the rest of the way out. I could hear my husband, Betsy, and Christine cheering me on. It was the most exhilarating thing ever.

With just a couple more pushes I felt the greatest relief in the world – no more pain. Lo and behold, there was a baby laying on my chest…a little boy, Rowan Scott Sloan. My midwife was so amazing, she wouldn't let any of the doctors or nursing staff announce the gender.

The doctor “in charge” wanted to cut the cord right then. My husband insisted that we waited until the cord stopped pulsating, so my son could have all of his blood – there is a month’s supply of iron in that magnificent cord blood that I was determined would belong to my child.

The doctor waited a few moments, but then approached the cord again, this time with scissors behind his back! My husband, my dear, darling, brave husband stood in between me and the doctor and would not let him cut that cord! After several minutes passing, Rowan’s cord finally stopped pulsating, and Scott cut the cord himself.

Christine showed me how to blow into my closed hand to create some pressure to deliver the placenta in one push. The nursing staff looked at me funny when I asked to see it before they “took it away”.  How could I not want to see the miraculous organ that nourished and comforted my child inside of me?

After almost an hour, Rowan initiated nursing himself. Now, a year and a half later, he is still nursing, four months into my second pregnancy. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I do wish I had given birth at home, away from the bright lights and the harsh voices of the hospital staff. But, it was still an empowering experience, especially since I really did tune out the doctors and the nurses – I had a wet washcloth over my eyes the majority of the time and only listened to the voices of my husband and birthing team! It was truly like the medical staff wasn't even there.

Rowan is the happiest most high-spirited little boy I've ever met. He’s all about exploring and seeing what he can get into! We live out in the country, where he can run and play. Being pregnant with our next child, I sincerely hope that we will be blessed with a birth at home. In my mind though, my home labor was truly mind-blowing, and the miracle of birth, wherever it may be found, is always just as special.

What's My Name Again?

"God". "Lord."

Did you know that these words are not written in the Torah, Psalms, Proverbs or the Prophets?

Do you know the name of your "God"? No, not the man-made title. But the name that he gave himself before all languages, ethnicity, or culture was formed.

His name is written almost 7,000 times in Scripture, but still, it never passes our lips.

With His finger, He wrote His Name on two tablets of stone. The letters are yad, hay, uau, hay and are read from the right to the left. In modern Hebrew, His Name is rendered יהוה. His Name is pronounced as “yah-oo-ah”. The shortened form of His Name is YAH. His Name is Most Set-apart. 

Isaiah 42:8 I am YAHUAH, that is My Name, and My esteem I do not give to another, nor My praise to idols.

Deuteronomy 32:3 For I proclaim the Name of YAHUAH, ascribe greatness to our Elohim.

Psalms 22:22 I make known Your Name to My brothers; In the midst of the assembly I praise You.

Isaiah 52:6 Therefore My people shall know My Name, in that day, for I am the One who is speaking. See, it is I.

Jeremiah 24:7 And I shall give them a heart to know Me, that I am YAHUAH. And they shall be My people and I shall be their Elohim, for they shall turn back to Me with all their heart.

Matthew 10:22 And you shall be hated by all for My Name’s sake. But he who shall have endured to the end shall be saved.

Acts 2:21 And it shall be that everyone who calls on the Name of YAHUAH shall be saved.

Acts 4:12 And there is no deliverance in anyone else, for there is no other Name under the heaven given among men by which we need to be saved.

Revelation 22:4 And they shall see His face, and His Name shall be upon their foreheads.

What Name do you call on when you pray? Only those calling on the Name of Yahuah (not 'names', not 'titles', especially not names given to the Pagan 'Gad') will be saved.

Are you afraid to use His Name because it's not socially accepted/people won't like you?

He named Himself. Men did not.

Shalom.

Sloan Homestead Update: Pregnancy and Chicken Chopping

Wow, I really haven't posted on here in quite a while! I just wanted to post a little update on what's been going on recently! Starting with the most important:

Baby #2 - I Love Being Pregnant:

So, we're expecting Sloan Baby #2 around Thanksgiving this year! My "due date" is actually on November 28th...so I'm either going to be HUGE on Thanksgiving or I'm going to be eating pumpkin pie in bed!

We are having a home birth -- with Little Loo we ended up transporting after 31 hours before maternal exhaustion became a problem...little did we know I was in transition, but hey -- now I know what to expect! 

I'm really looking forward to giving birth at home. Laboring at home was such a delight and actually bringing my child into the world in the comfort of home...I can't imagine how amazing it's going to be. :)

I think it's a girl. Please, let it be a girl. I'm so attached to her name: Ember Sloan.

Chicken Chopping: A Crazy Experience

These are all my chickens. A couple of months back, a week or so after I found out I was pregnant...I decided to slaughter one!

I built a fire, fashioned a grate, and boiled some really hot water to scald the feathers off of the chicken after it was dead.

There she is...hanging upside down for a minute to calm down so I can slit her throat. 

Sparing you the slaughtering scene...there she is while I'm plucking feathers and cutting her open to remove the innards. Unfortunately, I didn't know that she was just starting to lay again, so there was a production line of eggs inside of her.

The chicken after it was cooked, pulled apart.

Aaaand...the left over bones!