"You Better Come On In My Kitchen....."

This is the best soup I have ever “thrown together.”  It was inspired by Cassoulet.  I told Ken that, & later, he referred to it as Carcass Soup.  Because I was throwing it together, the measurements are approximate. I didn't want to forget what I had done, so I made notes. Hope you enjoy this soup that we have christened:

French Carcass Soup

5 boneless skinless chicken breasts cut in cubes

About 10 oz. bacon, cut into 1” pieces before cooking

2 small onions, chopped

2 jalapeños - seeds removed & chopped

1 yellow pepper chopped

3 carrots, sliced

About 8 oz. mushrooms, quartered

2 cans great northern beans, drained

2 bulbs roasted garlic (cut top of garlic bulb off, cover with olive oil, salt

About 1 cup total of the following fresh herbs:  rosemary & thyme (soft leaves removed from hard stems and stems discarded), italian parsley leaves, chopped

2.5 cups chicken broth + about 1.5 cups water (or you could just use all chicken broth)

Start by putting the garlic in to roast.  Cut top of garlic bulb off, cover with olive oil, (sea) salt & pepper.  Wrap in foil leaving only a little room for steam to escape.  Bake for 45 minutes in a 350 degree oven.  Then uncover the top of the bulb and bake an additional 15 minutes.  After the garlic has cooled a little, you can either scoop the softened cloves out with a knife or squeeze them out.  Before adding this to the soup, I mashed the cloves a bit more to make smaller pieces.

Cook chicken and bacon in pot together until both are browned.

Add onions, jalapeños, yellow pepper and carrots and cook until softened.

Add herbs, chicken broth, water, beans, and mushrooms.

Season to taste with sea salt and lots of pepper.

Cook with lid on until mushrooms are done (or until the roasted garlic is done, if you are waiting on that!)

Add the roasted, mashed garlic, and stir in.

Top with freshly grated parmesan cheese.

"And we'll all sing hallelujah....."

The first time I heard Sacred Harp singing, I wasn’t especially impressed.  I wasn’t exactly repelled, but it sounded a bit haunting and strange.  Let me clarify that the first exposure I had to Sacred Harp singing was the trailer for the documentary, Awake My Soul.  Those who have sung Sacred Harp in person will understand how much a video pales compared to the live experience.  According to the website of Shape Note Singing in the Twin cities:  “A Southern singer once said he would travel miles to sing this music, but wouldn’t walk across the street to listen to it.”  The purpose of Sacred Harp is participation.  It’s not a performance.

Fast forward a few years.  During this time, my children have grown up to the point that I don’t have to wait on them hand and foot.  This metamorphosis brings on all kinds of things such as (sometimes) being able to complete a sentence or actually contemplating doing something other than changing diapers, doing laundry and trying desperately to hold my sanity together.  I thought about joining a choir or singing group, but the time, travel, and financial commitments (not to mention the audition!) were somewhat intimidating.  Having sung in choirs in high school and college (and the twice yearly church choirs for special occasions), I really enjoyed singing.  I wanted to find a way to sing with a group again, but I figured it might be down the road somewhere after my kids were all grown.

Then I got my second exposure to Sacred Harp singing.  A Facebook friend (who I actually did know in real life but who had moved to the South - lucky woman!) posted a video of her family at a Shape Note singing!  I was so surprised!  I had no idea she did that.  Although I was still a bit skeptical about the music, that time something was different.  I thought, “I want to try this.”  I think I also saw an opportunity to sing with a group for which I did not have to audition.  I saw the video shortly before traveling to Atlanta to visit my family, and I determined to go to a “singing” while I was there.  I was sure I would be able to find a singing because Georgia and Alabama are the “hotbeds” of Sacred Harp music.

During my trip in June of 2013, my sister and I attended our first singing.  The people there were very friendly and wanted to make sure that everyone had a turn to lead the singing or at least to choose a song.  When we walked in the room, I only knew that the music was acappella, that the singers sat in a “hollow square,” and that there were four different shapes for notes called fa, sol, la and mi (I wasn’t even sure which name corresponded with which shape).  I had never seen any kind of shape note singing book before.  Of course my sister and I were the first people who were asked if we would like to lead a song!  I think those in the group thought we were just being shy or polite when we declined.

One of my favorites from the Sacred Harp song book.  The notes are written on the staff like "normal" music but they also have shapes.

That first singing was a bit overwhelming.  Some of the songs can go quite fast and it is hard for a newcomer to keep up; but I enjoyed it enough to want to try it again.  However, I would not get another opportunity to attend a singing until February 2014 - a convention in St. Paul with over 100 people attending.  I thought several times, when the harmony was so beautiful and the words so moving, that surely, there must be something like this in heaven.  This is where I learned how crazy some people are about Sacred Harp singing.  There were people there from Chicago and Iowa and Michigan.  O.k. that’s a bit of a drive, but not too extreme.  There were also people there from Seattle and Georgia - a bit more extreme.  Imagine my surprise when I found out that there were people there from Ireland.  Yes, Ireland!  They came to St. Paul to sing Sacred Harp.  Wow!  At the end of the day it was announced that we had sung about 80 songs!  Still, I could have gone on singing.  I felt that day as I often feel after a singing:  “When can I do this again?!”

After attending a short shape note singing workshop, I discovered that it was finally possible for me to start attending the regular Tuesday night singings in Minneapolis.  This is when I started to become a bit of a Shape Note nerd.  Copies of the music are available online along with innumerable YouTube videos  of the songs (video quality ranges from HD in a lovely room to the back of someone’s shoulder throughout the whole video which is shot with an old, grainy camera).  By singing along with these videos while looking at the music, I have been able to learn so much.  If I am actually familiar with the song, it is a lot more fun for me to sing it when I go to a singing.

I try to make every Tuesday night singing that I can.  My youngest two children faithfully come with me.  They mostly listen, but my youngest actually sang for about 30 minutes one night.  I started going to these singings when the weather was still yucky, so some nights there were not as many people there.  However, as spring has finally started to make some progress, the number of people at the singing has increased, and things have really gotten to be amazing!  The room where we sing is about 30’ x 20’.  Some nights there are 40 - 50 people singing!  Everyone is singing with their whole heart and voice, and sometimes I think the roof is going to come off!

Another thing I find interesting about this music is the varied cross section of people who participate.  There are all ages from children to grandparents.  There are all “types” - hippies, business people, middle aged moms, college students, senior citizens, artsy types, liberals, conservatives.  Additionally, although the songs are Christian, those who sing the songs represent a wide variety of spiritual beliefs (or non-beliefs, as the case may be).  As one singer said, “You don’t have to believe what these songs are saying in order to sing them…..but once you get to singing them, it’s kind of hard NOT to believe it!”

Sacred Harp singing is definitely not for everyone.  I have thought often lately of a critique that my high school chorus director once gave our performance.  She complained that, “everybody sang their guts out.”  Well, that’s pretty much what you do in Sacred Harp!  You don’t see crescendos and decrescendos in the music (although sometimes the song leader can direct people to sing more softly or loudly).  It can get loud, especially in a small room, but it’s not painful.  However, the sound covers “a multitude of sins,” which is especially helpful for us newcomers who are mostly sightreading everything,.  Although it’s not for everyone, I think everyone should experience it, even if you decide it’s not for you.  Personally, I boast a 100% success rate that those whom I have brought to a singing have all said they would definitely do it again.  (I have only brought 3 people, but still my success rate is 100%.)

Visit http://fasola.org/singings/ to find out about singings all over the U.S., Canada, the U.K., Germany and Ireland (I know there are singings in Poland too, but they are not listed on this website).  There is also enough information throughout the website to give you a good background in Sacred Harp (i.e. enough to not be totally clueless if you go to a singing).  However, I would highly, highly, highly recommend that you go to a singing (if you enjoy singing, that is.  If you don’t enjoy singing, it would be a bit pointless).  Don’t worry if you don’t know anyone there.  You don’t have to stand around and make small talk.  In fact, there is not much time for that as you are going to be busy singing.  Make sure you bring water.  You’re going to need it!

In addition to giving me a chance to just show up and sing with a choir, Sacred Harp has given me a link to my past.  I’m told that my grandparents sang Sacred Harp in their younger days.  I never heard them sing it, and I didn’t grow up singing it.  However, I’ve often wished that I had had a chance to know my grandparents when they were younger, to know what they had been like before age and illness took their harsh tolls.  I’m thankful that I get the chance to do something that they did...and maybe they’re still doing it in heaven.  I hope so.

What's so funny 'bout peace, love and understanding?

My parents faithfully took me to church.  They sent me to a Christian school until I was in 9th grade.  We did not do a lot of “family devotions,” & learning catechism was not a practice in our church, but I could never doubt my parents’ faith.  Every morning I would find them reading the Bible and praying together.  EVERY morning with few exceptions - and they have been married for 47 years.  Growing up in the deep south, the odds were almost unbeatable that I would end up in a Baptist church.  My grandparents had gone to Baptist churches and probably my great grandparents too.  I’m sure my parents had never known anything else.  I really don’t know how the Baptists do it, to be honest.  Somehow the words come from the pastor that we are “saved by grace alone,” but the message still involves an awful lot of “works” and “making a decision.”  I spent many years of my life under two very heavy burdens.  

Burden #1:  I often wondered if I had “really meant it” when I “prayed to receive Christ.”  In Baptist circles, becoming a Christian is seen as more of a one time event.  One minute you’re on the jet train to hell; then all of a sudden you decide to pray a prayer and ask Jesus to be your savior and forgive your sins.  After that, everything is supposed to be different.  Everything is supposed to be better.  There is even a kind of “your troubles are over” mentality.  I often wondered if I was really a Christian.  I’m sure the altar calls that we had every Sunday didn’t help matters.  Every week we would come to the last part of the service when we would sing one of several “pleading” sort of hymns such as “Just As I Am” or “Softly and Tenderly Jesus is Calling.”  (I always liked this last one because of the one line at the end that said , “Calling, Oh, Sinner come home.”  The note of the “oh” was supposed to be held longer, but it seemed everybody had their own idea of exactly how long it was supposed to be held.  Still, everyone seemed to be trying to stay together which resulted in the sound of “Calling, OOOOHHH, SSSSSSSSSSSSSSinner, come home.”  It always sounded like there were a bunch of snakes in the church, but I digress.)  The pastor would stand at the front of the church waiting for people to “walk down the aisle” to the front of the church.  People were supposed to go up front if they wanted to join the church, if they wanted to become a Christian, if they wanted to be baptized or if they wanted to “rededicate their life.”  (The latter meaning, I believe, something like “I have failed to be perfect.  I’m sure I could do better if I just tried harder.  Maybe getting up in front of the whole church will make me do better.”)  I said the pastor stood at the front of the church waiting, but that was not all he was doing.  Sometimes he was looking like he was praying.  Often he was looking around the congregation as if he were looking for someone to come down the aisle.  Usually between every verse, he would say things like, “I believe there is someone else here today who needs to make a decision.  I believe we should sing one more verse.”  Every week I would wonder if I were the one who needed to walk down the aisle.  After all, the pastor kept saying there was “someone else.”  I remember that the quality of the service (and the church too, for that matter) seemed to be judged by how many people ended up at the front of the church after the altar call.  Consequently I had little peace and lots of guilt.  I wondered why I kept doing things that were wrong if I were really a Christian.  Maybe I didn’t pray the prayer right.  Maybe I needed to “rededicate my life.”  

Burden #2:  Witnessing.  To a Christian, witnessing means telling other people about your faith in Christ in the hope that they will believe in Christ as well.  I know now that God is the one that calls people to believe in Christ.  The Bible tells us that no one can come to God unless the Holy Spirit draws (persuades) him. (John 6:44 “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him.”)  This does not mean that as a Christian I don’t talk about my faith, but it does mean that what someone believes or doesn’t believe is up to God, not up to me.  I know that now, but I didn’t know that for most of my life.  I remember a youth minister that taught that every encounter we had with anyone was a “divine appointment.”  He taught that it was our responsibility to share our faith with anyone and everyone we met at any given time.  If we failed to do this, that person’s eternal destiny was on our hands.  We were told that one day we would stand before God and anyone we knew that we hadn’t “witnessed to.”  Would say to us, “Why didn’t you tell me about God?  Now I have to go to hell and it is too late.”  I spent many hours feeling guilty about the many “divine appointments” that I had botched.  I had those several hours with someone in an airplane, and I hadn’t talked about my faith.  I had those 3 minutes in the elevator with someone, and I said nothing about God.  There was that classmate sitting across the aisle, and I had no idea whether or not she was a Christian.  Why didn’t I witness to her?  It was an awfully heavy burden to be responsible for so many people, especially since I am naturally a rather shy person, and many topics of conversation are hard for me to bring up, especially one as controversial as my faith.

It was rather a long “road to recovery.”  When I look back at my life, I see that God has used everything, even my mistakes (He’s had a lot to work with. :) )  The first step was when God brought me to understand at last the depth of my sin.  For much of my life I had mistakenly believed that as long as I wasn’t drinking alcohol or having sex outside of marriage and as long as I read my Bible every day (because otherwise God would be disappointed with me), I was not such a horrible sinner.  If you don’t know the depth of your sin, you cannot understand the magnitude of your need for a savior.  Through difficult circumstances (whose details I will kindly spare you), God brought me to realize that I was truly a sinner, that I truly could not do right apart from him.  In Jeremiah 17:9, the Bible says, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked..”  My heart had indeed deceived me to believe that I would go to heaven one day because I had prayed a prayer to “receive Christ”, because I had read my Bible every day, because I had prayed hard enough, because I  had served in church.  This deceit had put me in a state of constant doubt.  Was I doing enough?  Had I done things “right?”  When God caused me to realize that I could never, ever do enough, that I could never, ever do things “right”, only then did I understand that  I have absolutely no hope of anything but eternal punishment unless I absolutely throw myself on the mercy of Christ.  For the first time, I had peace in my faith.  If everything were up to me, of course I could have no peace.  If it were up to me to keep God’s commandments, I would always fail.  If it were up to me to witness in the right way and “save” enough people, of course I would always fail.  In trying to explain this, I am reminded of two excerpts which our pastor reads during every Lord’s Supper / Communion.  (The whole text can be found here:  http://www.rcus.org/index.php/worship/directory-online/211-direct-supper)

First, let everyone consider by himself his sins and accursedness apart from Jesus Christ, so that he may be dis­pleased with himself and humble himself in the presence of God. Second, let everyone examine his heart as to whether he truly believes this certain promise of God that all his sins are forgiven only for the sake of Jesus Christ. Third, let everyone search his conscience whether he is determined to show his gratitude to God the Lord all the days of his life by walking uprightly before Him.

We confess our dependence for pardon and cleansing upon the perfect sacrifice of Christ; we base our hope of eternal life upon His perfect obedience and righteousness

At last it’s nothing about me and everything about God.  That is why I can have peace.  I don’t have to earn God’s love and forgiveness.  I NEVER COULD.  My only hope is to throw myself at God’s feet and say, “Have mercy on me.  I can offer you nothing.”  I do not deserve any forgiveness or any mercy.  But God who is the personification of mercy gave his only son, Jesus Christ to suffer the blame for all my sins.  Maybe I never killed anyone.  Maybe I never robbed a bank, but all sins are the same to God.  Sin is disobeying God.  There are lots of ways to do it, but each one is still disobedience.   

God is perfect.  He makes no mistakes.  He knows everything.  He is all powerful.  He is absolutely in charge, and He does not owe me any explanations.  Many people are familiar with the story of Job in the Old Testament in the Bible.  Job was a very blessed and wealthy man who went through more trials than most of us can imagine.  If you read, starting in Job chapter 38, you will see that God teaches Job that He (God) is in charge, and that we really have no place to ask questions.  For example, in Job 38:4, God says, “Were you there when I laid the foundation of the earth?  Tell me, if you have understanding.”  There are many things that I don’t understand, and God has taught me to be at peace about that.  In fact, it is much easier to be at peace when I know that God is in charge and that it’s o.k. for me not to understand.

My prayer is that my experience will cause you to think. I believe that faith is a process, not a one time event.  Although I heard about God from my earliest years, it still took over 20 years for God to bring me to the whole truth, and I am still learning.  “For it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”  Philippians 2:13  I pray that God will draw you to His truth and His peace.

The Rest of the Story

Sometime after my last dog post, I finally DID get around to asking my dad about why he decided to bring Darlin' home. Here is what he e-mailed me:

Darlin' was the main one that pushed the decision.

As I observed her seeming to appeal to other people as they went to their cars, I hung back until everyone left then called her over & spoke to her. She responded & I couldn't help but feel sorry for her, she was pitiful. I was thinking, well, there's nothing I can do. When I opened the car door to get in, she voluntarily jumped in on her own & just sat down on the floor of the passenger side & looked at me as if to say, "let's go home". I couldn't resist so we drove home & I was sure that Mom could not resist either. When I pulled into the carport I tooted the horn & motioned Mom to come out. When she looked in & saw her face, it was love at first sight. You may remember we tried to find out if she belonged to anyone & was lost. I posted a flyer at the Marta station but we never could find anyone looking for her. It was after that that we decided to take her to the Vet for exam & we felt a confirmation that surely, God must have sent her to us.
(Even now, this recollection brings tears to my eyes.)

So, in the words of Paul Harvey, "Now you know the rest of the story."


And I might add that my dad can now say that he has contributed to a blog.



Thanks, Dad.

The End of an Era

Today is a glorious spring day. The sky is clear. The weather is warm but not hot. It's the last day of classes for my 2 older kids. Tomorrow is officially the last day of school, but we are spending it at a class field trip to a water park. Part of me is ecstatic. Part of me is relieved. The homework especially has been a burden - sometimes I think MORE of a burden for me than for my kids. But part of me is very sad. Today is the last day that I get to have my 5 year old "Kuscheltier" all to myself. ("Kuscheltier" is the German word for stuffed animal, but it literally means "cuddle animal." We have called him this almost since he was born because he is so sweet and cuddly.) This year has been such a blessing and ,like most blessed times, has flown by. I will always be grateful for this opportunity to really get to know my third child. He is very independent and plays well by himself. This was wonderful when we were homeschooling because it allowed me to focus more on the 2 kids that were actually "in school," but it also led to many days when I really didn't spend time with him. This year the 2 older kids went to school for the first time, and S. became my right hand man. He has been "my helper" on a myriad of errands, doctor appointments and days of working at home. We have enjoyed many fun park trips, picnics and hikes. We spent many days reading and watching "The Lone Ranger" on the couch after I fractured my back. I have treasured every minute I have spent walking anywhere and holding his hand. But next year, he is going to kindergarten. This is especially hard because I have never sent a kid to kindergarten before. For most people, the third child is probably easier to send to school as they've already sent two others, but my older two did kindergarten at home. I think one of the hardest parts of parenting is throwing yourself totally into the relationship with your child, but yet knowing when and how to let go.

I have been praying that God would help me to be a good steward of the time He has given me. He is thankfully answering this prayer in a number of different ways, but one of the ways is certainly by helping me to realize how little time I really have with my children. 18 years seems like an awful long time when your baby is born, but now I suddenly have one child who is already half way there! I find it so difficult sometimes to truly make the most of every minute I have with them. I'm sure fellow parents can relate to those nights when you are absolutely about to drop & are afraid you will totally go ballistic if the kids stay up 2 minutes longer. I hate it when I barely have the energy to pray for them & kiss them good night, instead of patiently answering the questions they sometimes voice when I am ready to leave them in their beds and collapse.

So, here I am about 3 weeks after I originally started this post (speaking of time management..... :) ). Last night I actually watched a whole movie in one sitting. I don't usually do this because it gets too late. Last night I was trying to catch up on folding laundry. This may give you an idea of how behind I was. Ken was busy working too, so I watched the movie "Mamma Mia." I wouldn't exactly call it a great movie. As they say in Minnesota, "It could have been worse." But there was a scene that brought tears to my eyes, oddly enough relating to this same subject. Just to give a context to anyone who hasn't seen the movie, Meryl Streep's only daughter is about to get married. The video is for the song "Slipping Through My Fingers" by Abba (of course).

Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while
The feeling that I'm losing her forever
And without really entering her world
I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter
That funny little girl

Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time

Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table
Barely awake, I let precious time go by
Then when she's gone there's that odd melancholy feeling
And a sense of guilt I can't deny
What happened to the wonderful adventures
The places I had planned for us to go
(Slipping through my fingers all the time)
Well, some of that we did but most we didn't
And why I just don't know

Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time

Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture
And save it from the funny tricks of time
Slipping through my fingers

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Schoolbag in hand she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile


Thank you, Father, that we can at least touch the time as it slips through our fingers.

From apathetic to obsessed

How has this happened? I, the person who wanted nothing to do with any kind of pet, have now become obsessed with finding the perfect dog. I know there is really no such thing, but I have to believe that there is a good match out there somewhere for our family. Maybe I'm just consumed with the search itself. For some reason, I find Petfinder completely absorbing. There are so many different kinds of dogs, so many different breed mixes, so many different stories of where they have come from, how they ended up in rescue, so many different personalities. In a way it reminds me of our house search. It really became a habit. After we put the kids to bed, we would go online to the MLS website and look at houses. It was really hard to stop once we got started. Even months after we had found our new house & even moved in, I would still sometimes catch myself thinking, "Let's see what houses are online today." Maybe it's comparable to gambling addiction. Somehow you believe that that big jackpot is just around the corner. Maybe there will be the perfect, affordable, too good to be true dreamhouse in our favorite neighborhood online today. New houses pop up all the time. It's hard not to keep looking. I feel the same way about the dogs. Maybe there is that cute, housetrained & crate trained dog who loves kids, walks well on a leash and is easy to take care of. Maybe there is one who would really be a joy to have around, one that would make any extra work worthwhile. I guess this same feeling is what makes garage sales, thrift stores, Craigslist & Ebay so popular. You never know when or where you might find that once in a lifetime deal. I am hoping that we might find that once in a lifetime dog......or at least that I will be able to spend a little less time on Petfinder. :)

Those of you who have not known me for a long time are probably wondering about the dog photos at the beginning and end of this post. I found them in one of my photo albums and scanned them in. On the back is written "Darlin' '92." I think I was about 15 when my dad brought her home from the park and ride. He had gotten off the bus that day and gone to his car. When he opened the door, she just hopped in! She had been shot in the leg with a bee bee gun, and of course, she was filthy. I'll have to ask him why he decided to bring her home. (My parents have never been one for impulsive decisions. Even ordering at a restaurant is a monumental event for them!) He tried to find an owner, but no one claimed her. He took her to the vet to find out whether or not she was healthy. He found out that she was healthy and probably about 9 months to 1 year old. The vet fixed her leg, and we got her cleaned up. Maybe she knew she had been rescued. Maybe she was just one of those dogs that make people want to have dogs. Of course, she wasn't perfect, but she was a joy to have around. She had free run of the house, and we never worried that she would tear up anything. Her greatest sin was probably when my mom had some pastries on the open oven door. I suppose the temptation was too great. When no one was looking, she took one and went very guiltily into the next room.

I have read a number of times that it is not a good idea to pick up a stray. I would probably agree. I guess the reason I bring up Darlin' is that I know it's possible to have a dog that we would enjoy..... which is probably a lot of what makes it hard for me to give up the search.

Dog Parenting Failures

Well, at least we can say we tried. At first, things seemed to be going well with the dog we agreed to foster to adopt. He looked just like we were hoping for. He was friendly, didn't beg for food, didn't have accidents in the house. He had energy but wasn't bouncing off the walls. He seemed friendly & seemed to listen to our commands. He had that adorable way of cocking his head when I spoke to him, as if he were trying to understand what I was saying.

The first night we put him in his kennel, he whined and barked off and on all night. We weren't too surprised, since apparently he didn't sleep in a kennel at his former home. The second night, he carried on for about 10 minutes, but then settled in for the night. Each night it got better. One night, he barely "complained" at all. We were so impressed (not to mention relieved :) )!

I was so proud of the way he listened to my commands when we were out for a walk. We passed by 3 other dogs, and each time, he responded to my correction and totally ignored them! Wow! What a great dog!

But then came some incidents which I thought put me in a position of having to choose between the dog and my children. Although he mostly responded to the kids with wags and kisses, there were a few times that he growled at them. It was not an "understandable" type of growling - such as that they were touching his food, taking away his toy, teasing him etc. A few times he nipped at them. I don't think that nipping is actually the best word choice here, but I don't really know what else to call it. He didn't hurt them. He didn't break any skin, but he did direct his mouth toward them in a scary way. Each time the kids looked so confused - why is this dog who is supposed to love us acting this way? The worst time was when he actually nipped at my daughter's stomach - enough that we could see marks. This makes even less sense as she has been the primary person who has been getting his food ready every day. You know what people say about biting the hand that feeds you.....

So, I talked to a couple of people at MN Boxer Rescue. They were very helpful. They told me that this behavior was perfectly trainable (or untrainable, as the case may be). They told me that I could take him to a trainer (who is at least 45 minutes away) and she could stop him, guaranteed. They told me it might take one time; it might take 5 times, but he could be trained out of this behavior. He is a smart dog. That is obvious. I'm sure he CAN be trained to stop this unacceptable behavior. However, my God-given responsibility is to put my children before....well, before most things - except God and my husband. I thought about my poor daughter who got bitten (although, thankfully, not seriously) and is afraid of the dog. He stares her down suspiciously, even though she is the one who is feeding him. She has asked several times if she can try to pet him again to see if he will nip at her (bless her heart!), but I don't feel right about giving her permission to possibly get hurt again. (O.k., I just have to throw in that just now as I was typing, my youngest child came in and the dog just nipped at him!!) I can't imagine saying to my daughter, "I know this dog is being mean to you, but we are going to take even more time away from you to work on training this dog. He will learn not to nip, but in the meantime, you will just have to be in danger until we can get him trained." I'm sure that many animal lovers would call me heartless and selfish, but surely any parent can understand that my child has to come first.

The dog is beautiful. He can be very sweet. I'm sure he will do great with some training (and in a home without small children). But we are not the ones for this job. Thankfully, there are other fosters more dedicated than we are. In a couple of days, we will be able to hand him off. It may sound heartless, but I can't wait.