Yes, I’m kicking and screaming. Yes, it does feel like my teeth are being pulled out - and I can tell you what that feels like both literally and figuratively!

God is putting little beacons of light in my path. Admittedly, they are hard to use because my frustration and anger are great and my walls are very high at the moment. My soul feels like my body does when I’m growling through my 30th (girl-style) push-up. One foot in front of other other, numbly, feeling like stopping, yet trusting that the ground will not collapse underneath me.

I’m praying that the Lord will keep working in my heart, and I am begging Him not give up on me.

This was sent to me from my mother-in-law< - check out her new blog!):
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Daily devotions for 06-21-2008:

Title: How to Do the Job You Don't Really Want To Do
Author: Elisabeth Elliot
Book: A Lamp For My Feet

Certain aspects of the job the Lord has given me to do are very easy to postpone. I make excuses, find other things that take precedence, and, when I finally get down to business to do it, it is not always with much grace. A new perspective has helped me recently:

The job has been given to me to do.
Therefore it is a gift.
Therefore it is a privilege.
Therefore it is an offering I may make to God.
Therefore it is to be done gladly, if it is done for Him.
Therefore it is the route to sanctity.

Here, not somewhere else, I may learn God's way. In this job, not in some other, God looks for faithfulness. The discipline of this job is, in fact, the chisel God has chosen to shape me with--into the image of Christ.

Thank you, Lord, for the work You have assigned me. I take it as your gift; I offer it back to you. With your help I will do it gladly, faithfully, and I will trust You to make me holy.
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On Sunday (15 minutes late to church, but we made it in time for the sermon!), Rev. Dr. Don Stone was our guest pastor and he gave an exposition on Romans 6. From the sermon, this quote made it to my feeble notes: “There are no shortcuts in the cultivation of character.”

The sun came up today after all.

This morning, I promised my friend Mary that I would:

-Sleep
-Eat

Mary, whose husband was in Iraq for a year, said that those were areas she struggled with, too. Obviously, when basic needs aren’t taken care of, they affect all other areas of life.

She suggested developing a bedtime routine for myself - planned downtime, followed by going to bed at a reasonable hour. This could be tea, reading a book, etc. It’s hard to get “cozy” when the house is a sweltering 94 degrees at bed time, but last night, it got down to the 50s (so nice!) and I was able to wear a comfy sweatshirt to bed.

For breakfast, her tip was to make oatmeal in a mug so that it’s more portable. Mary makes single serving salads and puts them in storage containers a few days in advance for lunches. She also recommended yogurt smoothies for a another portable meal idea.

Before I met my husband, I went through a terrible breakup a little over a year before.

Granted, I was 15 (going on 20) at the time — and yes, teenagers do fall in love, for real. I won’t say much about this person, because it’s really not the point, and we have both moved on in life and found people better suited for us. However, I’ll never forget the feeling of loneliness that happened after the breakup and lasted, well, until I met Tom.

Having gone through that desert, I firmly told Tom that I would “never get married, and never have children”. (The account of how we met can be read here.) It was my way of putting up a boundary around my heart to protect myself from feelings from abandonment, loneliness, hollowness, and sheer insanity. I knew how dependent I could be upon a relationship, and I never wanted to feel those feelings ever again. I hated myself for entertaining such hurt.

It was Tom’s calm response to my defense, “I understand. But, I want you to know that I like spending time with you and that if that’s all you’re willing to give me, I’ll take it,” that got through to me and gained him entrance to my fortress.

Yet, here I am. Feeling the feelings that I was trying to protect myself from. He’s still alive! We’re still married! It’s just that my soul’s so happier when Tom’s around.

When the fortress walls go up, it’s hard to even let my kids in. “What do you want me to do? There’s no blood on your cut! Go AWAY from me and PLAAAAAAAAAAAAY OVER THERRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEE!”

Today was the most beautiful day. It was in the 70s, and there was just enough breeze to stimulate the senses, but not enough to lose a hat. The children played in the freshly mowed yard (thank you, Andrew!) while I weeded and planted all day. (My friend Debbi from church calls weeding, “exercising dominion.” I like this. I chanted this in my mind, sounding as if casting the Patronus Charm, while I pulled the stubborn ones.)

I’d be enjoying the moment when a moment of inspiration would occur:

“Maybe we could go out on the motorcycle tonight!”
Oh yeah, Tom’s not home.

“I’ll call Tom and see if he wants to do burgers on the grill for dinner.”
Tom’s still not home.

Thomas (who was also inspired by the day, building forts and practicing “swords and crossbows”): “You don’t understand mom, the guy had this special power and he could…”
Me: “How about you go talk to….shoot… never mind…”

Obviously, someone is missing.

It’s not that I am ungrateful for Tom’s job! In a time of economic recession, we are still on our feet. Sure, it’s in a humble way - my furniture has holes in it, my dining set is completely mismatched, we have a hole in our porch, we can’t run the vacuum and the fans at the same time, the trim is peeling, and we live with “features” (like the few remaining windows with weights in them) from 1910, and we all have beds that are either broken or are too small for our bodies - but we are not starving, and we’re happily living within our means. I am very thankful for a job that stimulates my husband’s beautiful mind. I am thankful for the co-workers who have become close family friends.

By the way, I know all the “right answers”:
“Be thankful your husband has a job.”
“It could be worse - your husband could be in Iraq for a year with your brother in law.”
“Stop complaining - there are many single moms out there who are under a lot more stress than you.” “You need to be more dependent on God, and less dependent on your husband for happiness.”
“You’re obviously not praying/trusting in God enough to be feeling this way…”

These are the thoughts shame me as the tension builds up and I am short-tempered with my kids, when I am tired the next day from avoiding going to bed until I collapse, when I must call a babysitter just to run errands, when I am the third wheel while spending time with couples at church picnics, when I feel like I can’t breathe I’m so overwhelmed.

Fear gets the better of me and I worry that something terrible will happen, as punishment, to put me in my place.

My natural tendency is to just push forward, and “do the next thing”, as Elisabeth Elliot would say. Only I think I do this on my own strength more often than not. I don’t know how to move from relying on my strength to God’s strength. I don’t want to just cope, I want to suffer well! But, prayers asking the Lord to work in my heart end in me crying for my husband.

The smell of his skin left when I washed his pillowcase. (Washed sheets. After I finally crawled into bed last night and found that my baby’s crawling around on the bed earlier in the day left a nice surprise for me - the inside gel chunks from a diaper seam that opened up. Artificially congealed pee, all over the sheets, all over my black night gown.)

He’s still alive. He’s just been bleached out of my bed.

Thomas is going through a “girls have cooties” phase.

Thomas and Tabitha were upstairs drawing pictures. Thomas drew robotic animals. Tabitha’s drawing was of Dora the Explorer, decked out like a princess.

The following conversation erupted as it came down the steps:

Thomas: “Because I HATE girls!”
Tabitha: “How can you hate girls when THEY ARE THE ONES THAT MAKE YOU BREAKFAST?”

(Hate isn’t an edifying word. We need to work on this! But, I needed to get the giggles out of my system (!) before we address “hate” during prayer time tonight )

“circle, circle
dot, dot
now you’ve got
the cootie shot”

Yesterday, just 30 minutes after Tabitha fell 6 feet from a tree onto her belly, Aiden came ran into the house and was screaming, “A squirrel bit me!”

He said, “I was staring at the squirrel, and he was staring at me.”

Apparently, squirrels don’t like to be stared down.

Moments after hanging up with the pediatrician, concluding that Tabitha would be okay without medical intervention, I called them right back to say we’d be bringing in Aiden!

The squirrel walked over and brushed its tail against Aiden’s leg, he said. Aiden picked up his foot to back away. The squirrel “was very strong” and bit the bottom of Aiden’s bare foot. Aiden apparently punched the squirrel in the face, and the squirrel scampered back to the tree. (I didn’t find out this detail until I was putting Aiden into bed later that night, and he said, “Did you find the squirrel mom? I punched it so hard that I think I killed it!”)

There was a little bit of blood on the bottom of Aiden’s foot, and a small puncture, a tad smaller than a pencil eraser. I poured rubbing alcohol over it, and then scrubbed it with a alcohol-doused paper towel.

Tom called in from the airport - he was coming home from being overseas - just as we were leaving to go to the pediatrician.

Grandma Becky met us at the pediatrician’s to sit with the other kids in the lobby while I took Aiden to the exam room.

Dr. John evaluated the wound and then looked up information about animal bites and rabies. The “Red Book” said to contact the local health department to assess the risk for the biting animal to see if there were cases of rabies being reported for that species. However, the Chester County Health Department was closed for the evening, and without enough information to make a decision as for what to do next, yet still within the 24 hours needed to immunize Aiden if necessary, we were sent home.

That evening, I called our pastor and asked him to please pray that Tom and I would have wisdom as we made decisions regarding Aiden’s health.

Pastor Strawbridge recommended that we call a fellow member of the congregation, Dr. Knepley who is the State Veterinarian for Pennsylvania, to help us have a broader perspective of the situation in order to make a more informed decision.

Knepley handles over 400 cases of animal rabies each year. When I described the behavior of the squirrel, he said that it was actually “normal behavior” for a squirrel who felt threatened - a warning bite. A rabid squirrel, however, would have to be pried off it’s victim as it would have continued the fight, quite viciously.

Squirrels rarely are rabid. Their treetop habitat is somewhat isolated from other animals and they are on a different sleep schedule than nocturnal animals that typically carry rabies, such as raccoons and skunks.

While Chester County notoriously led the nation for the number of confirmed rabies cases in 1988 and continues to have a significantly elevated number of rabies cases in comparison to other parts of the world, there has only been one known case of a squirrel having rabies in all of Pennsylvania - seven years ago. According to Knepley, a man was attacked while raking his yard. The squirrel was so relentless in its attack that neighbors had to pull the squirrel off of the poor guy. This is the characteristic behavior of a rabid squirrel - not one who backs down at the punch of a four year old.

Knepley also said that rabies was a “fragile virus” and that soap and water would likely kill it - but I practically “pickled” any germs on Aiden’s foot, even ones from seven days ago, by putting cleaning it with rubbing alcohol.

The Chester County Health Department returned our pediatrician’s call the next day. They that they had no cases of rabid squirrels to report. Dr. John said it seemed unlikely that the squirrel had rabies and she left the decision up to us saying if we chose the rabies vaccinations, that would be okay with her, too.

There have only been a few cases of people surviving rabies, said Knepley. All but one resulted in the person being reduced to a vegetative state. The least effected survivor, a little girl, had loss of some motor skills, but miraculously was otherwise was unscathed. She had been administered the vaccine just before the onset of the rabies symptoms. It was not soon enough to prevent the virus. At the first signs of rabies, she was put into a medically induced coma to prevent convulsions - and with rabies, I’ve read that people can die from the convulsions alone.

Rabies doesn’t always show up right away, either. Here’s a story of a man from the 1908 NY Times who was barely scratched by the tooth of a rabid puppy, and didn’t show signs of having rabies until nine months later, just before he died of the virus.

The decision isn’t one we took lightly. I begged God for wisdom, as this situation certainly is out of my league. Three experts - the Health Department, The official State Veterinarian of Pennsylvania and our Pediatrician - gave the same, clear answer: “We are leaving the decision up to you, but if it were my child, I would not immunize them with this scenario.” (The pain and side effects from the shot are apparently not something one would wish on another human being - although I have heard that an entire family in our church had to be vaccinated because a rabid bat was found in their home, and I have not asked how they tolerated the vaccine.)

And so, I am praying that the decision to not immunize Aiden - because alcohol was applied to the wound immediately, because it is extremely rare that squirrels carry rabies, and because the behavior of the squirrel was “normal” for a squirrel who felt threatened - was the right one.

We are praying that if there is a rabid squirrel in our neighborhood, that it would show up - as sick animals are quite noticeable to discerning humans - and that we would know in time to immunize Aiden if necessary.

While I’m mostly hopeful, I am admittedly still a little frightened. Death from rabies is unspeakably horrific.

As bizarre as this story may seem, I wasn’t surprised that it happened to my curious son. He is quite daring, with no sense of danger whatsoever. When he was little, we nicknamed him “Danger Mouse”. I love him very much.

What can I say? I miss my Tom.

When the wisps of a neighbor’s cigar, combined in the spring breeze with the lilac blossoms and freshly cut grass (because everyone was restfully mowing their lawns) reached my nose this Sunday afternoon, it made my heart just ache for my husband.

Rearranging Tom’s cigar collection backfired as a “fix”. After carefully examining the cigars for several minutes, I caved. I needed more. I couldn’t resist lighting one up and smoking it for myself.

I chose a Macanudo Gold Label, as it had the mildest scent and because it was smallest in my husband’s humidor. My guess is that it was just a little over five inches in length. (While my hands are not dainty, they are characteristically petite.)

Even without much to compare it to, as this was only the second cigar I’ve ever had in my life, I know this was a good cigar. It burned evenly and slowly. The feel of the wrapper was smooth to the touch. Part of me wanted to almost take a bite out of it, it’s texture was so pleasing to my tongue. It’s golden color was naturally beautiful.

The flavor was soothing. Mouthwateringly classic, even. Perfectly woodsy with a spicy undertone, yet somehow sweet like the pleasant scent of distant flowers in a quiet forest. Present, but not overpowering. If it wasn’t so late in the day, I would have gladly shared my palate with a cup of black coffee. I think the contrast of the coffee would have made the tobacco taste even sweeter.

As I smoked, the fragrance evoked warm memories of sitting on the front porch with Tom - what I was truly craving, even more than the smell or taste of a cigar. For this, there is no such thing as a satisfying “fix”.

When Tom called me tonight, he mentioned something about having some wine with dinner. Wine isn’t something Tom usually orders. Between my cigar and his wine - swapping each other’s vices at the same time unaware - I’d like to think we got to share a moment together this evening after all.

BTW: A slightly altered version of this blog entry can be found here.

Last night, my brave husband decided to teach me to drive a *standard transmission using his nice shiny black Mazda 3.

(Honestly, I much prefer a motorcycle. The gear-shifting pattern is more intuitive to me.)

While I didn’t cause any traffic accidents, I did have a few moments where I felt like I wasn’t sure what to do next - how to choose the correct gear from neutral when coasting around a corner, for example.

I also stalled at a green light. Behind me was a silver car whose driver was communicating their lack of patience by revving the engine. I started the car and made a second attempt. As I was getting ready to take off, I noticed in the rear view that car was trying to go around me - and there wasn’t much room for this. It made me nervous. I pulled my foot off the clutch too fast and stalled the car again.

My husband calmly reached up and turned the rear view mirror so that I couldn’t see the car behind me. I was able to start the car and take off. Once we got going, he straightened the mirror.

As I was crossing through the intersection, the driver behind me decided that I was too slow in the takeoff and he gunned his engine and zoomed around me before the nose of my car passed under the light. Given that there was on-coming traffic and I would have been stuck in the middle if someone would have hit him as they blindly came over the crest of the hill, it was a little frightening.

This morning, as I was thinking about this incident - which happened in the span of a minute or less! - it underscored for me how difficult it is to focus on the task at hand when we are concerned about people who are watching. Fear of man is quite a stumbling block!

Colossians 3:23-24
Whatever you do, do your work heartily, as for the Lord rather than for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the reward of the inheritance It is the Lord Christ whom you serve.

Proverbs 29:24-26
He who is a partner with a thief hates his own life;
He hears the oath but tells nothing.
The fear of man brings a snare,
But he who trusts in the LORD will be exalted.
Many seek the ruler’s favor,
But justice for man comes from the LORD.

Galatians 1:10
For am I now seeking the favor of men, or of God? Or am I striving to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a bond-servant of Christ.

*The first time I attempted to drive a standard transmission was my Dad’s boxy white Chevy Blazer, complete with custom Navy blue pinstripes, he purchased from my uncle.

Since then, my friend Elly once allowed me to spin her car around in a K-Mart parking lot, but other than that, sans the Eliminator, my uncoordinated self has stuck to automatic transmissions.

Random Resources

Mechanical Stuff:

How Stuff Works: Manual Transmission
How Motorcycles Work

Mental Stuff:

When People Are Big and God is Small

My father once told me that people are like pendulums. If they are even-keeled, they will swing a little to the left and a little to the right. They more passionate and exuberant they “swing”, the pendulum swings back equally as angry/depressed.

My daughter is a perfect example of the latter. She is way hyper-cheerful OR dramatically crying into her pillow or making death threats towards her brothers.

This afternoon, out of the blue, Tab was a WRECK. She was crying because she no longer liked the black-lace overlay on her bright pink “princess” (fancy Easter dress way on sale, couldn’t pass it up for dress up!) dress. In the middle of talking about that, she said she was hungry. She was ANGRY (stomping, yelling) because I ate the last piece of spaghetti pie (in all fairness, we split it for lunch and she ate the larger of the portions). So, I prepared a glass of chocolate milk for her. Still mad that I had eaten what was my lunch, she pouted, cried and refused to say “thank you”. I gently talked to her about having anger and discontentment in her heart. (She does understand these things… little twerp constantly points out these characteristics when she sees them in others… and then we talk about grace, mercy and overlooking!) She agreed but would not confess them to God.

I sent her to her room for a nap and prayed that the Holy Spirit would work in her heart.

She did not sleep, but she went from sobbing (and not getting attention for it) to contemplating.

Thirty minutes later, she came down a new little girl and said she was ready to talk to God. We prayed and she readily sought the Lord’s forgiveness. She asked for the milk, and said thank you. A free Highlights Hidden Picture puzzle with stickers came in the mail today. I let her do that for fun.

To avoid exasperating her, and creating a situation where she is overwhelmed and tempted to sin, I do try to keep her fed (she is strong, and sturdily built), hydrated and rested the best I can. I try to avoid exasperating her with school work, as she is five years old and does 2nd grade work - very bright! This is not to say that I walk on eggshells with her, it’s just that she tends to be more sensitive to physical discomfort than some of my other children.

I do think I handled it okay today (goal of seeking forgiveness and changed attitude was achieved), but I’m wondering if there are specific things I can do to more head off such mood attacks before they get out of hand?

Any particular soothing or thought provoking phrases that would diffuse a tense situation?

Any encouragement for me from moms who have been through this? Particularly, how to keep the trust/confidence/friendship as a little girl with this personality hits adolescence?

And yes, I do believe in using the rod as outlined in Shepherding a Child’s Heart.

Thank you for taking the time to respond!!

If I can ever be of encouragement to you, please let me know!

Much love,
SJA

This is from The Homeschool Lounge:

Some of you may have some experience with this, and (while that hurts me to think you’ve lived with it) I need a little help from those who have had some real success!

For those who have had a child who could fire up and respond in anger quickly, I’d love to know more about some of the Godly responses and tools that helped you through it.

Please consider this is a boy about the age of 7. He can become easily frustrated, and it builds rapidly. Sometimes we don’t see it coming, and even when we do, I often say or do the wrong thing.

Help?

Thanks in advance!

Hugs to you, Jennifer!

After experiencing similar anger/tattling/conflict/fighting problems, I decided to incorporate The Young Peacemaker into our day by doing a page or two each morning for our devotional segment of school.

Studying the topic of peacemaking preemptively, instead of only talking about it when there is an anger outburst, has made a huge difference in the atmosphere of our home by reducing the number of kid-conflicts. Reducing, not erasing! We still have at few each day! But, because the foundation has been laid, they are easier to work through than before.

My seven, five, four, and three year old are doing a fantastic job of memorizing the verses for each chapter (we do about a chapter a week).

If you put good things in your heart, good things will come out of your heart. Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks. (Luke 6:45)

There is even a resource page dedicated to using The Young Peacemaker as part of homeschooling.

I hope this helps. I certainly have learned a lot from doing The Young Peacemaker with my kids - and I’m a moderator at PeaceGals.com! It certainly gave me a new perspective when training my children vs. talking to adults about the same topic!

Much love,
SJA

The Young Peacemaker is a powerful system that parents and teachers can use to teach children how to prevent and resolve conflict in a constructive and biblically faithful manner.

The system emphasizes principles of confession, forgiveness, communication, and character development, and uses realistic stories, practical applications, role plays, and stimulating activities.

Although the material is designed for 3rd through 7th grades, it has been successfully used with preschool and high school students.

The lessons in The Young Peacemaker may be summarized in Twelve Key Principles for Young Peacemakers:

1. Conflict is a slippery slope.
2. Conflict starts in the heart.
3. Choices have consequences.
4. Wise-way choices are better than my-way choices.
5. The blame game makes conflict worse.
6. Conflict is an opportunity.
7. The Five A’s can resolve conflict.
8. Forgiveness is a choice.
9. It is never too late to start doing what’s right.
10. Think before you speak.
11. Respectful communication is more likely to be heard.
12. A respectful appeal can prevent conflict.

The Slippery Slope

The Young Peacemaker uses a simplified version of the Slippery Slope to help children understand the various responses to conflict.

The slope is divided into three zones:

The Five A’s of Confession

Children, like adults, can learn to confess their wrongs in a way that demonstrates that they are taking full responsibility for their contribution to a conflict.

Four Promises of Forgiveness

Children can learn to forgive one another in a way that models the forgiveness they have received from God through the gospel of Jesus Christ:

These promises may be summarized in a poem that is so easy a four-year old can memorize it:

Today was the first day of the driving segment of my motorcycle class.

Above is a picture of the bike I rode in class: a silver, 2007 Kawasaki Eliminator 125.

The pace of the class was just right - it was challenging, but I gained a little more confidence with each skill I mastered.

Prior to this class, the only time I’d ever been on a motorcycle was as a passenger - once - on my father-in-law’s bike. I am tickled that I went from knowing nothing about driving a motorcycle to riding around in (go ahead, laugh!) third gear.

Admittedly, as I watched the instructor do the dry run, there were a few exercises that made my stomach feel like it does at the crest of a tall roller coaster. They seemed impossible for me to do. As I approached the course, I just took a deep breath and relaxed. I ended up doing just fine. (Everyone stalled a few times, so my stalling doesn’t count!) No crashes or bike-dropping to report.

There are two things I need to practice:

One, I have very small hands. I really have to stretch them to reach the clutch or the brake levers. The instructor said that I can put my wrist at the very top edge of the grips in order to operate the levers - this is a little trickier than it sounds! I really have to almost let go of the throttle or the left handle bar in order to squeeze the levers completely. Obviously, my hand isn’t going to grow, so I need to just be smoother in transitioning.

The second thing I need to work on is shifting. There were a few times when I felt like the bike was getting away from me. To compensate, I’d try to do the clutch/downshift and I’d lurch a little. Or, I’d be looking through a turn and would be trying to shift up a gear and would have trouble finding or feeling the gearshift through my boot and then would kick it more than what I needed to. Eek!

Again, though, in the last quarter of the class, I was much improved compared to the third quarter. Really, if I can do this anyone can. The instructors are so thorough and really coach the riders each step of the way. Exercises were followed by a discussion time during which we identified the skills we used and the instructors offered pointers.

About 20 minutes before the class ended, Tom brought the kids by to watch. It was so cute to listen to them talking in the back seats about mommy on the motorcycle - two “m” words that I never thought I’d hear in the same sentence, EVER.

UPDATE -April 5

Well, I passed the written test but failed the driving test.

My foot touched down in the middle of a “figure-8″ (which is done within in a very small rectangle on the pavement) and I went a few seconds over in the lap/sharp corner test (gaging speed before going around a sharp corner - apparently, I could have gone faster) . I passed the quick-steering around an object (counter-weighting) test and the “stop on a dime” test.

So… I’m really bummed. BUT, the instructor said that I did great and that it’s just a matter of having more practice.

To have a little perspective, Saturday was only the second time I’d ever driven a bike in my life. Many of the other students had been riding for years, illegally, and then were regularly riding their bikes since recently obtaining their permits for the class.

I’m not sure if I’ll take the PenDot test at the driver’s license branch or if I’ll retake the free class. Either way, I’m focusing on the Bradley Teacher’s Training for the next few weeks. The next motorcycle class opening isn’t until I get back from Florida anyway.

In the mean time, Tom’s once-frightening bike doesn’t seem so scary to me anymore and I think I’ll take it to a parking lot for a spin to see if I am comfortable enough to take it out in traffic. With my permit, I can ride during the daylight and without passengers.

What do I think about motorcycles now? If you know how to ride them safely, you won’t be as afraid of them. Ladies, if you are afraid of your husband getting a bike - may I suggest that you and he take the class together and see if it changes your mind Even if you are not the primary driver of the motorcycle, and plan on just riding on the back, this skill is helpful to know if you are ever in a situation where your husband is unable to drive and you are stranded somewhere with only a motorcycle to get help or go home.