Focus Needed Elsewhere

My blogging life must be put on hold for a while . . . probably for a week or so. I will, however, still have my regular Wednesday post about my son's RAD diagnosis and how I've been coping with that over the years.

I'll fill you in a bit more on what's going to be taking up most of my time these days--but until then, I'm going to keep you all in suspense.

It's nothing major . . . just something I've been putting off for a whole year now, and it needs to be done! Strike that last comment. It actually is pretty major, which is why I'm finally doing it!

Have a great week!

What I Need (according to Google)

Want to do something completely useless, yet amusing, today? Go to Google. Type in your name, followed by the word "needs" and post the first 10 sentences that come up. Thanks, Heather, for the idea to do this.

Here are my top 10 "needs" according to Google :

1. Kim needs to take off the gloves.
(I'm not wearing any!)
2. Kim needs to focus on her kid, she has problems . . .
(I'm trying, I'm trying!)
3. Kim needs some Guinea pigs.
(What?! I already own 4 dogs, 1 cat and 2 lizards . . . I think that's enough pets!)
4. Kim needs service.
(Don't we all?)
5. Kim needs to shut up.
(Okay . . . but you don't have to be so rude, Google!)
6. Kim needs a plumber.
(No joke! With our recent septic tank issues, this is so true.)
7. Kim needs to talk.
(This one they got right. I always need to talk. But in #5 Google told me to shut up.)
8. Kim needs some hints.
(Yes, on child rearing, laundry, cooking ideas and much, much more.)
9. Kim needs your action.
(Action required: read my blog; leave a comment; do this Google test on yourself.)
10. Kim needs to be thanked.
(Oh, really? I think I'm the one who should be doing the thanking. Thank goodness this is over!)

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Socks with Feet that Walk & A Cooking Crisis

I don't know about you, but I've got a serious laundry issue that has followed me all the days of my laundry life.

Why is it that socks which start out as pairs when they go into the washing machine, turn up without their partner by the time they get out of the dryer? Do they have their own built-in feet that help them walk away and hide from me? What gives?

I bought the boys each 3 pairs of Spiderman socks about 3 weeks ago, and this past week when I did laundry there were no more matching pairs for these socks. I've searched the boys' bedrooms, making sure that they didn't miss the laundry bin when they tossed their socks, but no, they're not there. They aren't in the washing machine; they aren't in the dryer. Where have all these socks gone?

I'm so frustrated by this!

Thank goodness summer weather is now upon us and we can start wearing sandals. My sock issues can go away for a few months now. But then everything will start up again in fall.

On another note: I'm getting tired of cooking. Okay, maybe it's not the cooking I'm getting tired of. It's knowing what to cook that's getting to me. It's halfway through the afternoon and I've got no ideas about what to make for supper tonight. It doesn't help that we need groceries, but we don't exactly live near a supermarket, so I'm stuck with what I've got until the weekend. Then I can buy some groceries . . . Oh, joy! (Grocery shopping isn't exactly my favorite pass time). What are you making for supper tonight?

Eat Your Shirt

Mitchell, my seven-year old son, has what I consider to be a nasty habit. He chews on the collars of his shirts. Yesterday before he went to school, I had the following conversation with him:

Me: "Mitchell, I'm giving you this shirt to wear today. Do you notice that the collar is completely free of chew marks?"
Mitchell: "Yes."
Me: "Will it still be like this when you get home from school today?"
Mitchell: "Yes."
Me: "Okay, buddy. I'm counting on you to leave your collar alone today, okay? I love you."

End of conversation.

Well, when Mitchell got off the bus after school and walked into the house, the first thing I noticed was his shirt collar. Not that I was purposely checking that out the minute he walked through the door, but it was kind of hard not to notice. The collar had a piece chewed out of it about 2 inches by 4 inches in size. This is the biggest "hole" he's ever made in his shirt! I was flabbergasted. When I asked him about it, he smiled and said, "I couldn't help it." He said sorry and that was about it.

Later that evening I informed Mitchell that if he continued to chew on his shirts, he would have privileges taken away, namely, the ability to drive the new kid's quad 4x4 which we bought on EBay recently. We are expecting it to arrive this week, and I know that he will be very upset if he's not allowed to drive it.

Today Mitchell's shirt for the day began free of chew damage. He himself told me that he was not going to chew his shirt at school today, because he doesn't want his quad privileges taken away from him. When he got home from school . . . no chewing! I didn't think it would be possible, but apparently he's more aware of this chewing habit than I thought. I was thinking he was doing it without thinking, which he probably was to some degree, but he managed to make it through the day without destroying his collar! I am so proud of him!

This morning I researched this topic on the Internet, and confirmed my suspicions about what the underlying cause of this behavior is: stress, anxiety, fear. What he's doing is considered a "tensional outlet" (other examples of this include hair-chewing, nail-biting, sucking on clothing). Even though Mitchell appears to be confident and secure, I suspect that deep down inside, he isn't. He just started at his new school in January, and I think, despite how well we've been led to believe he's adjusting, internally it's not going as well as it appears. The advice from the child psychologist on one of the sites I visited said to ignore the behavior and it will eventually self-remedy. My talking to him about it and nagging him apparently will make it worse. However, she did suggest, for an older child, to use a rewards system as incentive to quit. I think my consequences for him chewing on his shirt sort of fits that suggestion; I'm not going to make a sticker chart or anything like that . . . I'm just going to keep praising him on the days he makes it without chewing, and reward him with riding the quad or with whatever else seems appropriate at the time.

So, anyone else out there have a similar struggle with their kids chewing or sucking on their clothing? Do you think what I've got set up as incentive to quit is appropriate for a seven-year old? What would you do in this situation? Ignore it? Take him to the doctor? Implement another plan? I'd love feedback.

DOG RESCUE ACRES

Roca: part German Shepherd, part Golden Retriever

Okay, this is getting to be ridiculous. But I wouldn't have it any other way. We've become a bit of a "dog rescue" here at our acreage. As soon as any of our friends with big dogs found out we were moving to the country, one of the first things they asked us is if we'd consider taking their dog from them in order to give it a better life. Me, being a huge dog lover, had a hard time saying "no" but at the time we said we'd first have to see what it was like for us on the acreage and let them know at a later date, after we had time to adjust to country life.
When we moved to the acreage 4 months ago, we had 3 Bichon Frise dogs. Since then, one of those Bichons, my beloved Sasha, has passed on to doggy heaven. Our other two Bichons are primarily house dogs, although they do love to explore the great outdoors and get into a bit of trouble. Our male Bichon, Harpo, recently had a few encounters with a skunk that had moved into our yard. Thankfully, Wayne was able to dispose of the skunk over the weekend, but Harpo still is a bit "skunky." I found something that works better than tomato juice to combat the smell. You mix a combination of mostly vinegar and a little water, spray that onto the fur and work it in. Then give a bath and the smell is mostly gone. Less messy than tomato juice and way more convenient!
Anyways, since Sasha died, we've obtained a two-year old Golden Retriever named B.J., from a family that lives in the city. They paid $800 for him, but willingly and gratefully gave him to us for nothing. His previous owner was the original inhabitant of our acreage (when he was a child--he grew up here), so that's kind of cool. They've come to visit B.J. and they're so thankful that we're giving him a good home.
Yesterday we became the proud owners of a second big dog named Roca. Roca is my best friend's dog, and they live in the city, no longer able to give Roca the attention and exercise he requires, so they asked us if he could come live with us. At first we were a bit skeptical, not because of having "another dog" but more so because we weren't sure how the four dogs would get along. Well, they're getting along just great. And because Roca is older (he's nine) and wiser than B.J., I think he's going to help B.J. settle down a bit.
It's only been a day, but it's already evident on Roca's face that he is happy. B.J. is too. They both seem to be smiling.
There is one other dog we could have access to if we want. Another big dog . . . a German Shepherd. But I'm thinking that four dogs is probably enough for me to handle right now.
Over the weekend we priced out chain link in order to build a dog run/kennel, just for those times that we need to keep the dogs contained in the great outdoors. The boys really like the dogs, but B.J. in particular is very playful and doesn't realize his own strength. He jumps on the boys and knocks them down, which they don't like. Having a dog run/kennel will help keep everyone happy.
So that's the story of Dog Rescue Acres. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want more dogs. I do. I love dogs. But right now I think this is enough. Getting more cats is next on the agenda. They're coming in June . . .

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make
you something else is the greatest accomplishment.”
~Ralph Waldo Emerson~

Biblical Time Machine

The Parting of the Red Sea

During family devotions last night, we read of Israel's initial escape from Egypt, followed by their amazing journey across the Red Sea. God's performance of this miracle forever changed the course of their lives. This miracle allowed them all to survive, crossing to safety, with their enemies perishing in the stormy waters behind them. (Exodus 13:17-14:31)

I wish I could have been there to see it all happen. There are so many Bible stories I would love to have been a part of, but the parting of the Red Sea ranks in my top 5. Imagine witnessing and being part of this miracle! It would have been such an intense, adrenaline-filled escape from Pharaoh and his army! Scary, but exciting.

What about you? What Bible story do you wish you could have been a part of? Please leave a comment and let me know. Maybe you'd even like to blog about it!

Photo credit: biblia.com

Survivor Men!

Mitchell and Tyrone in "The Great Outdoors"

My boys are addicted to the outdoors. We've had amazing weather here over the last several days, with today being a little bit cooler, but still . . . the boys just got off the bus and haven't even come inside yet. As soon as they were ready for school this morning, they headed straight outside to play until the bus arrived the pick them up. I suspect that this will be their regular pattern from now until the end of June.

I'm so very grateful for this place we call home. Despite our water and sewer issues, God is good . . . all the time! The happiness and joy I see in my boys as they play Survivorman, MacGyver, or Little House on the Prairie while they're outside in our huge yard, far outweighs the challenges we've experienced of late.

I imagine the remainder of their afternoon will consist of them playing, me calling them in for supper (which they'll protest about) and then asking me if they can go outside again as soon as supper is done. They just don't seem to get enough! But I'm glad. They get along much better when they play outdoors for some reason. And their imaginations run wild. I love to watch them play.

Now, if only I could get motivated to tackle all my yard work that awaits me! I enjoy the outdoors too, but not as much as my boys or my husband. I want to make this place more beautiful than it already is, but that will entail long hours of gardening and yard work. Hopefully I'm up for the challenge.

Septic system update: We had the pump on our septic tank replaced today. $842.70 later, I can now do laundry, run the dishwasher, have a shower and flush the toilet if I so desire. Thank goodness! Unfortunately, more expenses await us in the future. But, God continues to provide. We just found out today that we've been approved for a home equity line of credit, so that if disasters like this happen in the future, we won't have to panic about where the funds are going to come from to pay for our expenses.

I said it before and I'll said it again: God is good . . . all the time!

Oh, Crap!

Before I begin, I must advise my readers that I'm not normally one to use language that would be considered profane. "Crap!" is the closest to colorful language I choose to speak. Hopefully you will not take offense to my title. Once you read on, you'll understand why I chose it for this particular post.

It was a regular Sunday night. The boys were in bed. Wayne and I were relaxing. I decided to check out the condition of the basement family room, since we've had really warm weather here over the last few days. In case you haven't read my post from a couple of weeks ago regarding my experience with water extraction, I'll fill you in a little bit.

Once the snow started to melt around the house, a high level of groundwater (we assume) began to penetrate the basement floor, thus causing wet carpet and a bad odor. What I've been doing to remedy the problem up until now is extracting water several times a day with my carpet cleaner. After the initial discovery of the problem, we seemed to have everything under control. The weather became a bit colder and therefore the melting snow wasn't as big of an issue. That is, until this past weekend. The temperatures were summer-like and although most of the snow has melted in our yard, the groundwater has not ceased its existence. Since it appeared that more water was seeping in again this weekend, I went back to my water-extraction ways in full force.

With it being a Sunday, I didn't really want to deal with water extraction. But after assessing the situation, I realized I had no choice in the matter. In order to stay one-step-ahead of the problem, I decided, at 9:00 p.m., to do a bit of water extraction. Initially, all was well. But after an hour of extracting water, carrying the container that holds the water up the stairs, dumping it in the sink, and then starting it all over again, and seemingly not making any progress, I went to check out our "water room". Our "water room" is an area in our basement where we have our pump, reverse-osmosis system, water softener, and plumbing apparatus that connects to our septic tank, which located about 10 feet from our house. The discovery was grim. At first I didn't realize exactly how grim, but once I saw the flood that was emerging from our sewage system equipment, I knew that my biggest fears about living on an acreage were about to become a reality. Our sewer had backed-up!

I called Wayne to help me. A heated discussion ensued. We both went into a bit of a panic mode. This is normal for both of us. We're both very intense (and might I add, passionate?) people, and this crisis was just a bit more than the both of use could handle at that moment in time. But, it didn't take long to calm down and set into action. We knew we had no time to waste! We had to work together as a team, or the damage would be too much to bear.

My method of extracting the flood water would no longer be effective. There was too much water. I commented to Wayne earlier that the water I was extracting out of the carpet didn't smell like it normally did. It smelled "sewery" (I know this isn't a word, but sometimes I make up words to fit the object I'm trying to describe). At the time we didn't really think too much of it, but obviously that was a warning of what was to come.

Upon inspecting the septic system, we realized that for the past hour, everything I had poured down the drain was now back where it started . . . in the basement. Talk about futility!

At this point it was 10:00 p.m. Wayne went to get his shop vac; I got as many old blankets as I could in order to soak up the water that was escaping into carpeted areas that hadn't been previously affected by the groundwater. The shop vac worked more quickly than my carpet cleaner, but I decided to keep using it because it better than nothing, and I couldn't just stand around letting Wayne do all the work.

We worked on this problem for three hours, trying our best to rid our basement of more water . . . sewer water! Yuck! Because we couldn't use our drains any longer, all of the extracted sewer water had to be hauled up the stairs and dumped outside. I'm not sure how many trips up and down the stairs I made; I think I lost count at around 25.

By 1:00 a.m. everything was back to normal as normal could be in this particular situation. We knew we'd have to wait til morning to call our insurance agent and septic tank specialist.

I woke up in the middle of the night to a horrible stench. It must have just been a bad dream or my imagination, but I wandered the house, sure of the fact that raw sewage had emerged in a new location. I checked on the boys to make sure they were safe and sound--they were. I went back to bed, praying that there would be an end in sight to this madness!

As soon as the boys awoke, I gave them the run-down: no running water down the drains; no flushing the toilet; no playing in the basement. They seemed to be interested in all that had happened in its entirety, but honestly, I did not want to re-live it, so I spared them the gory details. Now I'm re-living it by posting about it, but this is therapy for me.

Our septic system was flushed out early this morning. We can use the drainage system minimally. But I'm still carrying water out in pails after I've used it for anything, just to be on the safe side. Our septic system will be repaired either tonight or tomorrow. Until then, we live without the convenience of so-called "modern" plumbing. An insurance adjuster has already been here to assess the damage; however, he's given us no hope of having a legitimate claim. I'm not sure what his reasons are behind that, but apparently we don't have the right kind of drainage system in our basement which meets their standards for a claim. Oh, please! I'm not sure if getting an approved claim is going to be of that much benefit anyway. Our deductible is $1,000 so we've still got to dish out a lot of cash on our own before we can even get any insurance money from them. We'll know in a weeks' time whether or not our claim is valid.

In the meantime, we've been advised to have the carpets professionally extracted and cleaned, plus we've got to remove the lower 2 feet of drywall from around most of the perimeter of our basement and replace it. I'm expecting a complete carpet replacement as well sometime in the future, but with such a high deductible and not a lot of extra cash flow right now, we may have to suffer with the musty smell and damp carpets for a while. I know, I know, it's not healthy. Trust me, I've done my share of Internet research on the risks of a damp basement.

Now, I know this is a really long post, but I must end with this morsel of a story. Our sermon in church yesterday was entitled, "Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People?" I really enjoyed this sermon. At the time of its delivery, I was soaking it all in. So was Wayne. Little did we know what was about to ensue less than 24 hours later!

I don't consider myself to be good. Well, not good enough to be spared from life's problems. I've always accepted adversity to be God's way of building my character. But having the words of the sermon run through my mind as I was cleaning up sewage water in my basement (of a house we just moved into 4 short months ago), was God's way of helping me through it all. One thought in particular was, "Recognize who is giving us our blessings. Look at the source." Basically what that means is, that even though trouble comes our way, blessings still abound. Yes, the house is causing us difficulty right now, but right before supper last night, Wayne and I were discussing how happy we all are to live on an acreage, and how much fun the boys are having. We affirmed each other in our decision to move out here. Four hours later I was on the verge of cursing the very house that I had just been praising.

To conclude this post, I'm going to provide you with the seven points from the sermon. Without going into any detail (that would be a whole 25-minute sermon to write out--I don't think so), here they are:
1. Who are Good people? ~ Romans 3:23-24; Romans 7:18-20
2. Veiled Blessings ~ James 1:2-6; 1 Peter 1:6-7
3. Sin and Suffering ~ Romans 5:12
4. So that God's Glory might be revealed ~ John 9:1-5
5. Valleys often lead to the mountaintops
6. Keeps us from thinking we can do it by ourselves ~ Exodus 14:13-14

MY FAVORITE THOUGHT FOR THE DAY:

7. Faith is believing God is sovereign even when we don't know why bad things happen
~Book of Job; 2 Corinthians 12:8-10

Marble Chiffon Cake

This article is my submission to the blog challenge sponsored by Bonnie, CWO's monthly columnist for Bonnie's Kitchen.

My mom discovered this recipe about six years ago. She made this cake for family birthday party and it was a huge success! I now make this cake frequently. It's one of my personal favorites. It's light and fluffy and oh-so-delectable!

I usually serve it with ice cream, whipped cream or the cocoa glaze recipe that is included below. You can present it however you want. But whatever the case, it's an awesome cake, if you're willing to take the extra time and effort to make it.

Enjoy!

MARBLE CHIFFON CAKE
1/3 C. cocoa
2 T. sugar
1/4 C. water
2 T. vegetable oil
2 C. flour
1 1/2 C. sugar
3 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 C. vegetable oil
7 egg yolks (room temperature)
7 egg whites (room temperature)
1/2 tsp. cream of tartar
2 tsp. vanilla
3/4 C. cold water

Combine cocoa, 2 T. sugar, 1/4 C. water and 2 T. oil in small bowl until smooth; set aside. Combine flour, 1 1/2 C. sugar, baking powder and salt in a large mixer bowl; add 1/2 C. oil, egg yolks, 3/4 C. cold water and vanilla. Beat on low speed until combined. Beat 5 minutes on high speed. With clean beaters, beat egg whites and cream of tartar in another mixing bowl until stiff peaks form.
Pour batter in a thin stream over the entire surface of the egg whites; fold in lightly, using rubber spatula. Remove 1/3 of batter to another bowl; gently fold in chocolate mixture. Pour 1/2 of vanilla batter into ungreased 10-inch tube pan; spread 1/2 of chocolate batter over vanilla batter. Repeat layers; gently swirl with knife for marbled effect.

Bake at 325 degrees F for 65 to 70 minutes or until cake springs back when lightly touched. Invert cake over heatproof funnel until completely cooled. Loosen cake from pan; invert on serving plate. Spread with Cocoa Glaze if desired. This cake can also be served with whipped cream or ice cream.

COCOA GLAZE
2 T. butter or margarine
1/4 C. cocoa
3 T. water
1/2 tsp. vanilla
1 1/4 C. icing sugar

Melt butter; stir in cocoa and water. Cook, stirring constantly, until mixture thickens; do not boil. Remove from heat. Stir in vanilla. Gradually add icing sugar; beat with whisk until smooth. Pour glaze over cooled cake allowing it to flow down the sides of the cake.

Expiration Date

When Mitchell and Ty were visiting their grandparent's house this past week, they got to watch one of their favorite game shows with Grandma, The Price is Right. I'm not sure what the attraction to this show is, but they like to watch it. It's just something they do with her.

So, while were were having supper the other night, Mitchell suddenly stated: "The guy from The Price is Right (referring to Bob Barker) is quitting the show soon because he's going to expire."

"Expire?" I said.

"Yes, expire." said Mitchell.

I replied, "I think you mean retire."

"Oh, yeah. Retire." Mitchell confirmed, grinning.

We all burst out laughing. Too funny.

Missing My Boys

Since it's Easter break in the school system here, my boys went to spend a few days at their Grandparent's house, together with one of their favorite cousins, Kelsey. She's 12 years old and they absolutely adore her! I'm going to go pick them up later today and then we're heading in to the city to watch Happy Feet, followed by supper out somewhere. Kelsey is going to spend a night at our house, which the boys have been looking forward to for quite some time. It should be fun!

While part of me enjoys the short break from my boys, I find it very difficult to be away from them. A couple of weeks ago they had a day off from school at the end of the week and were at their Grandparent's then for a few days . . . this Easter visit wasn't in the original plan, but since my parents offered, the boys really wanted to spend more time there. That's great for them, but kind of lonely for me. And on Friday we had a visit with Thomas, whom we hadn't seen for a couple of months (he lives in another city). I miss him too.

Wayne has been very sick since Thursday, with a severe cold/sore-throat/fever/chills/body ache type illness. Unfortunately, some of of Easter weekend plans were adjusted in order to accommodate his sickness. He went into work yesterday, but I know it was tough on him. He's working the evening shift this week and next, so he leaves the house at 3:00 p.m. and doesn't get home until 1:00 a.m. (sometimes later). Yesterday he was in bed all day prior to going to work, and then in the evening he was gone, so I was getting pretty lonely out here in my big old house.

It's times like this that I ponder a couple's decision to deliberately not have children. My children bring so much life and love into my life, I couldn't imagine my world without them. My boys are young, but I already dread the "Empty Nest". So much of my day revolves around them, I wonder how I'll manage once they are permanently not living here. I'm getting sad so I'd better quit writing on this topic.

Have a great Tuesday!

A Bag of Rocks

In a recent post I mentioned that my stepson, Thomas, has Reactive Attachment Disorder. Over the next month or so, I will make an attempt to shed more light on this diagnosis, but before I do that, I thought it would be relevant to share the following thoughts with you. I didn't write this, but it may as well have been me. It pretty much sums up the way I've felt for most of my life as Thomas' mom. However, at the moment, by God's grace and power, I no longer feel like I'm carrying around this "Bag of Rocks." It's hard to believe I once felt this horrible, but I did:

"When you carry a bag of rocks around, day in and day out, you will inevitably become tired. No matter how far you walk, how hard you work, how much you try, you are still tired. Even sleep is ineffective, because you are sleeping with your bag of rocks, and when you wake in the morning you continue throughout the day carrying the bag of rocks.

Some people would ask, "Why not just let go of the bag of rocks? Stop carrying it around with you, just put them down. Can't you see that would make it easier?" But, you see, I am afraid that if I let go of the rocks there will be nothing left. The rocks are all that I have, all that I have carried with me throughout my life, all that I trust. Certainly, carrying these rocks around makes me tired. But being tired is familiar, and safe. Would you let go of all that you have in the world, if you were not certain that by doing so you would gain more?

And yet (the irony is) we cannot have the certainty of more, until we let go of what we have. As long as I am carrying this bag of rocks, my arms are much too full for me to accept anything else. Even when you offer me a bag of feathers I don't dare to take it, for how can I trust that the load you are offering me is truly a load of feathers without opening the bag? Others have offered feathers, but given lead. How can I know that the bag you offer is not heavier than my current burden unless I let go of my bag of rocks, freeing my hands to open your bag? And I cannot let go of my bag, for if I put it down it might be taken from me. Or, even worse, I may find that my arms ache far too much for me to pick up the bag again, and then I would have nothing.

Can you understand why I would despair? You ask me to give up all that I believe that I have, all that I believe that I am, and yet I cannot. The fear of having nothing--of being nothing--is far too great. You want me to give up my hatred, my anger, and my pain (but most of all my pain, for the hatred and anger are mere masks for the grief and fear I hold inside). It will make me better, you say. And yet, how can I trust you, without first giving up all that I am holding on to? And how can I give up all that I am holding, if I do not trust you? Can you not see the confusion I am living with, the overwhelming fear that controls my actions? Can you not see why I push you away? Why I cause harm to myself, and to you? Can you not see why I am afraid?

Please understand, I don't want it to be this way. I do want more, I really do. Perhaps you may have noticed how hard I try, before the despair seems too much to bear, before I give in. If only I could give up these rocks, I would have peace. I would be happy. I want to believe it, but I can't. So I continue walking, dragging my bag of rocks, and wishing for something I can never have."

The mother of a child with Reactive Attachment Disorder wrote this in an attempt to explain to her therapist why she was holding on to so many of her destructive behaviors so stubbornly. She finally found the courage to let go of the bag and try something new--and yet at times she still goes back to that bag of rocks, because it is so familiar and safe, and the new ways are still uncomfortable and scary.

She hopes perhaps that this analogy can help parents of children with Reactive Attachment Disorder understand why it is so difficult for their children to trust, and why they fight so hard against what their parents can clearly see is best for them.

Word Origin: Easter

While I was decorating Easter eggs with my boys this past week, a discussion started regarding the word Easter. The boys wanted to know why Easter is called Easter. How is Easter connected to the death and resurrection of Jesus? I myself was wondering the same thing.

So, inquisitive minds sent me off to do some research. Here's one of the better articles I found, explaining how the word Easter is connected to what I consider to be the most important religious holiday of the year.

artwork: He Lives by Simon Dewey

What is the origin of the word Easter?

Just as there are many traditions surrounding the celebration of Easter, there are many stories and legends surrounding the origin of the word Easter. To some, it is the history and celebration of spring; for others it is a day to remember deliverance; for many it is the celebration of new life in Christ. Let's look at a few explanations:

Eostre - a pagan Anglo-Saxon Goddess

This mythical figure is said to have been the goddess of the sunrise and the spring. She is the Teutonic goddess of the dawn. The direction of the sunrise, East, is named for her. In Norse mythology, the name is spelled Eostare. Another considered the Norse/Saxon goddess of spring is Ostara. Eastre is believed to be an ancient word for spring.

Pesach - the Passover

While pagans celebrated the rites of spring, the Jews celebrated Passover, the anniversary of the day God delivered them out of Egyptian bondage. God had demanded the firstborn male from every household, but had promised to pass over any house with the blood of a perfect lamb smeared on its doorpost. He then commanded the Jews to remember their deliverance through the ceremony of the Passover. Pesach is the Hebrew word for Passover. Its position in the Jewish calendar coincidentally corresponds to the beginning of Spring.

Easter: An Early Celebration of Christ's Resurrection

Another idea involves the history of the Frankish church (Germans who settled in Rome during the fifth century). Their the celebration of Christ's resurrection included the word alba, which means white (the color of the robes worn during the resurrection festival). Alba also meant sunrise. So when the name of the festival was translated into German, the sunrise meaning, ostern, was selected, likely in error. One theory is that Ostern is the origin of the word Easter.

Throughout Scripture, God speaks of the Sacrificial Lamb. Beginning in Genesis 22, we read of God's command to Abraham that he sacrifice his son Isaac, the son of God's promise. When Abraham obediently raises his hand to sacrifice Isaac, God stops him. He is satisfied that Abraham is a man of great faith. When Isaac asks his father "Where is the lamb for the sacrifice?", Abraham replies, "God will provide Himself the sacrifice." Many believe this was the first foreshadowing of the time when God Himself would become the sacrifice for all the sin of man, through the person of Jesus Christ.

Christians believe the deeper meaning of the Passover involves this sacrifice, as Jesus himself was crucified on the Friday of Passover week and resurrected on Passover Sunday. Because He is seen as the ultimate Sacrificial Lamb, anyone who accepts the gift of His sacrifice is said to have His blood on the doorposts of their hearts. Therefore, when the final judgment comes, God will pass them over. In Christ, those who believe are set free from the power and penalty of sin.

Origin of the Word Easter: What does it mean today?

More important than the question of how the word Easter originated is what it means to us today. When you think of the word Easter, what do you see? If you see bunnies and baskets of chocolate eggs, you are missing out on the richness of this day, considered by many Christians to be even more significant than Christmas. Easter, to Christians, is actually Resurrection Day - the anniversary of the day Jesus rose in triumph from the grave, claiming victory over death. Because He lives, so can you and I, through simple faith in Him. God provided Himself the sacrifice. Thanks to Him, you and I have the hope of eternal life with Him. Won't you trust in Him today?

Credit to www.allabouthistory.org for this article.

Artwork: Abide with Me by Greg Olsen

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Consider the Cross

Artwork: Road to the Cross by Brian Jekel

When I see the cross you carried
to the crest of Calvary
The symbol of your suffering seems beautiful to me
On a day filled with injustice, when the cup you drank was bitter
All that I can see is love whenever I consider

The cross, the cross, the precious old cross
where you took all my sin and you covered the cost
And apart from your mercy my gain is loss
when I consider the cross, oh when I consider the cross

So take all of my successes any honor I have won
I lay down everything thing here before what You have done
'Cause my life is not my own now, Lord I see You as the giver
and I will spend eternity so grateful to consider....

I will dwell upon the crown you wore, the nails that caused your scars
All other scenes will pale beside what's burning in my heart...

Belinda Smith and Sue C. Smith
2004 New Spring Publishing, Inc. ASCAP/Bridge Building Music, Inc./BMI
(admin. by Brentwood-Benton Music Publishing, Inc.)

Time to Clean House!

My house is an absolute disaster right now. I'm not sure how or when it got this way. Little messes here and there have just been building up all week, I guess. My boys are now on an 11-day Easter holiday and so I know the messes will continue. But before that all begins, I need to thoroughly clean the house. My floors need washing; I need to dust; I need to tidy up the kitchen; clean the bathrooms and so much more. I don't mind untidiness so long as everything is clean.

After the housecleaning (or maybe as a break for me from cleaning), I'm going to decorate Easter eggs with the boys. They've been looking forward to doing this for weeks, and since we've got a very busy weekend ahead of us, we are going to decorate eggs today. Otherwise, Easter will be over and we won't have decorated eggs yet! That would be sad for the boys.

Okay, so my dusting cloths and mop are calling my name. Gotta go!

My Ideals of Motherhood Got Tossed Out With The Dolls

This article is my submission to the blog challenge sponsored by Darlene Schacht , Author of The Mom Complex.

For as long as I can remember, I've always wanted to be a mom. I played "house" and dolls until I was 12 years old, maybe even 13. I loved imagining that I was "the mom" and I had all of my dolls lined up, ready to become my children, ready to be named, ready to "come alive".

My imagination allowed those dolls to become real to me. And when my playing "house" was over, the dolls just got put away or left out for next time.

In my teen years I did a lot of babysitting. I had lots of nieces and nephews with whom I played with and took care of. In church I helped out with Sunday School, Vacation Bible School and AWANA. As I encountered my days in Bible College my ministry experiences almost always involved children. I also worked at summer Bible Camp. Up until recently, I was the Director for the Under-Two's Ministry at my church. My current church ministry is working at a kid's program called Club J, as well as welcoming and registering the Gr. 1 - 6 students into Sunday School each week. My last "job" was running a home-based daycare (until we moved 3 months ago). I'm currently employed by the local school as a substitute Educational Assistant. But mostly, and most importantly, I am a stay-at-home mom.

Because of all my past experience working with and caring for children, I wasn't the least bit surprised when I fell in love with two men at once . . . my husband Wayne, and his son, Thomas. Yes, when I got married at the age of 24, I became an "instant mom" to a six-year old. God sending these new "men" into my life seemed perfect at the time. I embraced, wholeheartedly, my new role as wife and mother. Prior to proposing, Wayne asked Thomas what he thought of me. His response: "I like Kim. I don't want to marry her. But you can if you want to." The priceless honesty of a child!

When we married, Thomas didn't really have a mother figure. His biological mother quit exercising her visiting rights when Thomas was about 3 years old. My husband has had full custody of Thomas since he was a one year old. Thomas is now 16 years old and last year he saw his mom again for the first time in 13 years. What we had hoped to be a healing process for him has actually caused him a lot of pain. Unfortunately, his mom has cut ties with him again and we're not sure if and when she'll ever attempt to build a relationship with her son.

My attempts to "become" Thomas' mother were mostly futile. For all intents and purposes, I have been his mom for the past 10 years. However, in the biological sense, he's not mine. In the emotional sense, he's not mine. Or maybe I should say, I'm not his. He has a diagnosis of Reactive Attachment Disorder, as well as ADHD, Conduct Disorder and Oppositional Defiance Disorder. If you know the slightest bit about any of these disorders, you will rightfully conclude that we've had our share of challenges.

I have wished so much that he were biologically mine--that his dad and I were the ones to create him, because I know Thomas' life would be so different right now if that were the case. So much of his pain could have been avoided if only the early years of his life would have been different. But that is not the case, and therefore we manage the best we can with the resources available to us.

I'm not going to attempt to go into all the details surrounding the events leading up to our current family status, but the fact is, Thomas does not live with us anymore. It has been almost 2 years since he's lived in our home, and we've faced many challenges and struggles that I honestly did not sign up for when I got married. Don't get me wrong . . . I love this child very deeply and I do not regret marrying Wayne. But had I known exactly what the challenges were that lay ahead of us, I don't think I would have believed that I could handle it all. But by God's grace, I am still here today. Our marriage is strong. Our family is strong. We still have regular contact with Thomas and we'll always be his parents. Mitchell and Tyrone will always be his brothers. We are still involved in his life and hope we always will be.

Motherhood, whether it comes to you naturally, by adoption or as a step-parent, is never easy. My idealistic view of being "mommy" to my dolls was thrown out the window many years ago. The reality of being "mommy" to real, live, human beings is much more challenging than carrying a doll around. Obviously! Being a parent is by far the most challenging thing I've ever faced in my life. However, it is also the most rewarding thing I've ever done. I love my role as a mother. I wouldn't change it for anything. The love I have for my boys goes so deep, it hurts.

Now having said that, I think of how deeply our Heavenly Father loves us! The love that I have for my boys is just a drop in the bucket compared to how much God loves His children. The love He has for us is almost unfathomable to me. But I grasp on to what I can, knowing that my Father has a plan for my life. Part of that plan is to be the best mother I can to my boys, whether they reside under my roof or not. I am so thankful for the joys and challenges my boys provide in my life.

Thank you, God, for giving me the awesome responsibility of being a mom. Thank you for blessing me with three incredible sons!

Life's Unexpected Moments

This article is my submission to the blog challenge sponsored by Art Bookbindery, "Empowering Writers to Self Publish."

The original post, entitled, "Sentimental Bathroom", was published January 27, 2007.

The night before we officially called our new house at the acreage "home", I had a tearful departure with our main bathroom at the "old" house. Strange, yes. But I have a very good reason for being emotional about leaving the bathroom behind. It holds sentimental value for us because our youngest son, Tyrone, was born in this bathroom. No, this wasn't planned. We didn't anticipate a home birth. Ty was just too impatient to have a normal entrance into the world! But it's given me a story that I love to tell!
I woke up at 5:14 a.m. on June 5, 2001 with a mild stomach ache. I went to "assess the situation", and concluded that yes, the baby's arrival was imminent. It was my due date, so I wasn't surprised at all that labour may be starting. By 5:19 a.m. another pain was felt, this time more intense, so I woke up my husband and I called my parents to come stay with our other boys. My famous last words to my mom: "Don't panic about getting here. I'll be okay until you arrive." I knew it would take them at least 30 minutes to get to our house, and we had about a 20 minute drive to the hospital. So, theoretically speaking, we should have had just under an hour to get to the hospital and have the baby. Nice theory.
As we awaited the arrival of my parents, my pain became increasingly worse and more frequent. My husband, Wayne, kept saying, "If we can just get to the hospital before your water breaks, we'll be fine." Well, those were his famous last words, and about 10 minutes before my parents walked in the door, my water broke (it was clear, thank goodness), and at that point I knew I wasn't going anywhere. I could feel the intense pressure of the baby's head and I was barely mobile at this point. When my parents finally arrived at 6:00 a.m., I was in the bathroom attempting to put on a dry pair of pants, with no success whatsoever. Although I had previously concluded that I was never going to make it to the hospital in time to have this baby, I was still in denial, thinking that if I could just get these pants on, we'd make it. My mom walked into the bathroom and I said, "Forget it. I can't do this. I'm having the baby right here."
Prior to my parent's arrival, I told Wayne to get the What to Expect When You're Expecting book and look up the section on emergency deliveries. He got the book, found the section and read this phrase often: "If you have time . . . ", and then he'd reply: "We don't have time! What does it say to do next?" Looking back on it, that part of the experience was actually quite funny.
Wayne was already on the phone with 9-1-1 (or, back then for us in a rural setting it was 310-5000) when my parents arrived, and the attendant on the other end of the line attempted to guide him through the delivery process. But there wasn't time for that! My mom and I got down on the bathroom floor and within 1 or 2 minutes, I had pushed that baby out! There's no way any doctor would have allowed such a quick delivery (more for the sake of my body than the baby's), but I actually didn't even do too much damage to myself. Tyrone cried right away and my mom wrapped him up in a towel and handed him over to me. Wayne was just about to cut off the umbilical cord (as per the instructions of the 9-1-1 attendant), but our town's First Responders squad arrived and took it from there. They were amazing people, and I'll never forget all of their care and concern for myself and Ty as he made such a dramatic entrance into the world.
Ty's Apgar scores were both 10, and we were very grateful for that. Eventually MD Ambulance arrived and then they took over from the First Responders. I had to be hooked up to oxygen and intravenous before leaving our house, but I was able to hold my precious angel the entire time. He looked like a baked potato, wrapped up in a foil blanket to protect him from heat loss.
Wayne met us at the hospital and was present for the weighing and measuring of our 8 lb., 20 3/4 inch baby boy.
Tyrone was born at 6:07 a.m. From the time I first woke up with my mild pain at 5:14 a.m. until he was born was less than one hour! Yes, this was a surreal experience, and even as I write this, almost 6 years after-the-fact, it seems almost unbelievable to me.
As I reflect on this very scary, yet exciting moment, I'm reminded of how God views each precious life that is created. Life is so valuable to Him. He protects, guides and directs lives of those who put their trust in Him. And He gave us His baby son, Jesus, to provide the ultimate life for all believers: Eternal Life. Thank you, God! I can't wait!

Family Devotions are for Parents, Too!

For the past month or so, we've taken on a new adventure in family devotions, whereby we read from the series, The Bible Story by Arthur S. Maxwell, every night before prayers and lights out. This experience has been very meaningful for the boys, and there are many nights that I want to keep reading story after story, but since we all need sleep in order to function the next day, I put an end to it.

While the boys are eager to hear these stories each night, I'm just as eager. We started with Volume I (obviously) and plan to read through all 10 volumes in 2007. If we keep the pace we have been for the last month, this should be an achievable goal.
I love the way the stories are re-told from the Bible, beginning with Creation and ending with the story of Revelation. The language is "old" and sometimes I have to re-word things to make it understandable for the boys, but the stories are still enjoyable. The pictures are interesting and intriguing. I love looking at the pictures just as much as the boys do!
Something that I've been "convicted" of as a result of exploring this "new" devotional material, is how seriously God takes the Sabbath. We observe Sunday as our "Day of Rest". However, what I've been reminded of over and over is that I (we) haven't really made Sunday as holy as it should be. I've been known to carry on with Sunday as "just another day" once church is over and we're back at home. I'm not proud of this fact. And I have absolutely no excuse for needing Sunday as an extra day to get more work done, run errands, etc. I'm usually at home the other 6 days of the week (or a portion thereof). My goal is for our family to start making Sunday as holy as it was intended to be, whereby we actually take God's command to "rest" and actually do that. I don't mean I'm going to sleep the whole day away. I don't think that's all Sunday is intended for. There are other ways to "rest" aside from actually sleeping.
As we work through this issue together, I'm curious to see how it's going to affect our family dynamic. I think we're going to find Sunday our most anticipated day of the week, simply because we will get to enjoy one another more.

Preferred Movie Genre

Despite the topic of my last post, I just wanted to inform my readers that an Action/Adventure movie is not normally my genre of choice. I prefer Drama/Romance or Romantic Comedies, but sometimes I "give-in" to my husband's wishes and I watch his preference. Such was the case with Casino Royale. However, I will admit that once-in-a-while I don't mind some action.