Happy Easter

It's late. The boys have been asleep for an hour or so. I should be doing Easter baskets, but I've been just surfing the net. We colored Easter eggs earlier and read the story from the toddler Bible on the death and resurrection of Christ. I feel so lucky to be able to share this with my sons, at least 2 of them.

Anyways, I found Christ in 2004. Easter is still a time of reflection for me. I am not only reflecting on what Christ did for me....but on many other things. I've been taking an abuse recovery class through my Church. I did a lot of healing before this, but healing in Christ is a whole different experience. I can't help but reflect upon Easter's that I had growing up. One of the biggest problems I have is that I don't remember most of my childhood. I don't really remember any Easter's growing up. I have some vague memories of coloring eggs and receiving baskets from my Grandma. Nothing explicit. Some say that I have blocked all of the memories out because it's too traumatic to remember. I suppose there might be some truth to that. Although, I've heard a lot worse stories than mine and people remember.

So what happened.....I guess the story should start now.

My mother and father met and slept together and my mom ended up pregnant. My father did the right thing and married her. They were married for a couple years. I don't remember much about him except that my step-father (whom my mom married shortly after they were divorced) always wanted to kill him. The last time I saw him I was 7, I think. It was in the K-mart parking lot in Sparks, NV. My mom was telling him we were moving to Los Angeles. He never paid child support, never really had anything to do with me. I know he has more children, which means I have half-brothers and sisters out there, probably in the Reno area. Maybe someday I'll try to find him/them. The idea of him not wanting me has been enough to keep me away from him so far. That and the thought that it would break my step-fathers heart. Although, I haven't spoke with my step-father for over 7 years.

My earliest memory is of a dream I had when my mother and father were still married. It was a dream of giant pickle chasing me down a hill. My whole family laughs about it. I used to. In my teens I began wondering if it wasn't really a representation of early sexual abuse. I don't suppose I'll ever know, but I will always wonder. Of course, it could have been just an over indulgence in pickles :)

Well, off to put Easter baskets together. God Bless You all!