Tag Archives: Cherry Coke

welcome to the suck.

I had the *best* week ever.

It started off right with a baby-less due date. Things did take a very promising turn when my friends snagged me away for a morning of pedicures, lunch, coffee, and window shopping.

And then.

Then.

Then I pissed off my husband in such a way that it’s a wonder he acknowledges my presence.

I don’t say that because I want sympathy or I want to talk about why our fight started. I say that because married people mess up. They hurt each other sometimes. And they argue. And they don’t always see eye to eye. And they make mistakes–or in my case, failures. And they lose their tempers. And they get annoyed and upset and sad, and every other emotion that you can think of.

Being married is not always fun or romantic. It’s really, really hard to be a godly wife or husband when you’re seething mad at one another. It’s even harder when you have to put on a smiley face and go out into the world and be around people together, or worse–out into the living room and be in front of your kids together.

We’re going on day 6 of crankiness, snappy-attitudes, frowny-faces, and crossed arms. But God has a wicked sense of humor–I know for a fact that He has fun jacking with me and Caleb. Case in point: yesterday afternoon we discovered that we had lice all up in my house–specifically on me and one of my children. And also the dogs got sprayed by a skunk. Again.

Awesome.

So guess who stayed up until 2:30 a.m. greasing and de-licing my head? Through his anger, straight through his disappointment and irritation–Caleb tenderly and patiently picked nits and bugs out of my slimy hair for 3 hours. You know–kind of how Christ loves the church and stuff.

Pretty sure God is laughing so hard He shot Cherry Coke out of his nose. I’m also pretty sure God drinks Cherry Coke.

It is purely by His grace that the two of us are still married. The short version of our life together so far? 5 horrible years of an alcohol-fueled hell, followed by weight gain and weight loss, anxiety and depression, craniosynostosis and skull surgeries, medical bills and layoffs, 2 lost babies and several royal screw-ups by yours truly.

We are here.

Sometimes it feels like we are out in the deep, deep ocean and the waves are slamming us down under the surface and we’re getting saltwater shoved up our noses and our eyes sting, and whenever we’re able to come up for air, rain is coming down as hard as it can, and we can barely breathe or stay afloat.

Sometimes the waves are just choppy enough to be adventurous and fun.

And sometimes the ocean is calm and glass-like and we can see our toes underwater and enjoy the sunset.

Our marriage is always changing. We are always changing. I can’t say I don’t hope the worst is behind us. Hard times suck. But we don’t call it quits when we’re in a storm–we hold onto each other tighter.

For better or for worse.

….

So to recap, my husband is aggravated with me, my parents will be here in a week, I have lice, and my house smells like skunk. This is real life. One day, when the water is calm again, I’ll laugh my head off about it.

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But, Godddddddd.

Is it bad that Mia knows the words to every Eddie Money song ever made? I don’t think so. The girl loves her 80s music, and I feel it’s a fair compromise since I can’t very well listen to Kesha in her presence– unfortunately, I have to come up with fake lyrics about cherry coke set to the tune of “Blow” on my own time. (“Let’s drink some cherry coooooooo-o-o-o-o-o-oke!”…No? Okay fine.)

Cheyenne blessed our lives that much more a few weeks ago by introducing us to Punk Goes Classic Rock. Thanks to these way-more-amped-up covers of already-awesome songs, we can rock out like no other. And we do. Mia and I also like Neon Trees’ “Your Surrender”, and upon comtemplation, I know exactly why it’s so catchy: think the Neverending Story song. Now you’ll never be able to separate the two ever again. You’re welcome.

With all this punk rock pop business all up in our car, imagine my surprise when Mia demanded I leave the radio alone so that she could sing along to a quiet Christian song called “Blessings”. I’ve heard the song before–many times, in fact–and I know all the words.

We pray for blessings
We pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering
All the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love is way too much to give us lesser things

‘Cause what if your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You’re near
What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

We pray for wisdom
Your voice to hear
We cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt your goodness, we doubt your love
As if every promise from Your Word is not enough
All the while, You hear each desperate plea
And long that we’d have faith to believe

When friends betray us
When darkness seems to win
We know that pain reminds this heart
That this is not our home

What if my greatest disappointments
Or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can’t satisfy
What if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are your mercies in disguise

Cheesy as those lyrics seem right here in my post, it’s a good song. And there was something about Mia and Merrick’s sweet little voices singing them in the backseat that caught me off guard. Before I knew it, I was verklempt. Choked with emotion and whatnot. Tears streaming, nose running. Talk amongst yourselves: It was not pretty.

How many times have I prayed for things like strength, and wisdom, and peace, and understanding? We touched on this very subject last week in Sunday school in a lesson the teacher started out by saying “Be careful what you wish for”–right on. Did I fully expect God to deliver when I asked for these things? Yes, yes I did–except I really thought God would just be all “Boom–wish granted.” Instead, my husband lost his job, or my son was born with a skull deformity, or I would battle depression, or I had a miscarriage, or the wheels straight fell off my 97 Saturn with 252,000 miles. My kids spent most of their days going bonkers and driving me to the brink of insanity. The teenager hit the fan and Cheyenne became sort of impossible to deal with. You know–fun stuff like that.

And at the time, I did not appreciate these happenings as what they might have truly been–blessings. (There it is.)  God has managed to give me what I asked for, by way of each and every one of those struggles. Instead of granting wishes, God gave me the opportunity to gain strength, wisdom, and understanding. It’s annoying sometimes, but it’s also genius, really. I’d never hold onto lessons that weren’t hammered home by some catastrophic event. I’m not stubborn; I’m just inattentive.

And after I pondered that thought for a minute, God hit me with this here: What about Cheyenne? What was that all about, God? What if my teen pregnancy was an answered prayer? Because as  mom I could totally see it: “Dear God, please let my teenage daughter make it through high school alive and out of any major trouble.” And God was like “Boom–done. I will saddle her with a baby at 15, and that will be that.”

Or how about my most recent prayers: “Dear God, please let my husband find a job that he likes. Please help him with his bible reading and please strengthen his faith.”

It was revealed to me not too long ago that Caleb is seriously concerned with the stability of his job, even more so than normal.

Deep breath.

Okay, God.

I learned this in church last Sunday, even though God has been trying to get me to hear it for some time now: Being a christian and having faith does not mean we will drive nice cars, or live in the best neighborhoods, or wear new clothes from the mall. It doesn’t mean that we will be able to follow the career path that we would like for ourselves. Sometimes God calls us to step way outside the box and do every thing completely different than what we’re used to. And it’s so. scary.

Do I continue to pray for these things for my husband? Yes. Do I neccessarily know how God is going to deliver? No, but I have to trust His methods of choice. So what if we get to enjoy some lean years? So what if I have to drive the Saturn through another horrible heat-wave-laden summer? Who cares if my kids have to rely on scholarships and the military to pay for college? That’s just part of it! So me and Caleb will be retiring when we’re 90–what the hell else are we going to do when we’re old? Tool around the house and fart?

And here’s God’s promise: Don’t worry about a thing, because every little thing is going to be alright.

Oh, that’s Bob Marley’s promise? Well, he’s right, anyway.

I wonder if there’s a Punk Goes Christian album. Because that would just about beat all.


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