Up, up, and, uh.....down.

“LET’S DO IT!”

You know that moment in a movie where someone makes a daring statement and then there’s this long moment where you know that the writer of this film planned on building up this incredible hype that either something awesome or disastrous is going to happen after that frozen millisecond?

That happened.

Then the ceiling fell on top of me.

The whole ceiling.

All of the tiles.

All of the things.

Boards.

Dust.

Spiders.

Asbestos.

My husband and I had been discussing caving in (ironically) and getting a large flat screen TV. After looking desperately for a projector set-up that would have the mounting ability in our basement (DESPITE THE STRANGE LAYOUT OF THE CEILING, HARDY HAR HAR) we decided that not only would it be cheaper, but also a lot less stress to purchase instead a glorious Smart TV, because people who do that are just that: SMART.

When I say we decided, I don’t mean at the same time.

As usual my husband responded with a large purchase with his familiar “THE TRIBE HAS SPOKEN LET US DO THIS THING WHILST HENCE THE LORD HAS BLEST US THIS THINE CHILDREN OF THE KINGDOM” while I sat in the background with eighteen calculators, our W-2’s, the Wall Street Journal, and a bowl of cereal (cereal is not relevant here, but you need to understand how I work) to make sure everything in the budget lined up A-ok.

After weeks, nay, MONTHS of mulling over numbers, discussing pros, cons, benefits, repercussions, endless Netflix and Hulu Plus possibilities, I came to the epiphanous conclusion that if the time to do it was near, then the time to do it was NOW. This moment happened right before that magical millisecond, and to be even more detailed, the moment happened as I had a full plate of baked fajitas and a glass of tea and had just plopped down on the couch in our basement.

“LET’S DO IT!”

There’s always a creak. A creak happens in films, books, life-changing moments when everything you love, the foundation of the building in which you sit/stand, is about to self-annihilate.

<CREAK>

I had barely that millisecond to look up as 35 12x12 inch tiles came crashing from the ceiling and on my head.

It was sad that the moment following was me wondering how much drywall I could consume with my fajitas that didn’t require a hospitalization.

“You ok?” -My husband, so sweet, calls from upstairs.

“Oh yes….though the Lord has spoken my dear.”

It took a few hours of my husband drilling those tiles back into our ceiling fixtures while convincing me that this was not a sign from our dear Lord and Saviour that we should not get a television because Jesus doesn’t do that and Jesus probably likes video streaming and I need to not make every instance such as this spiritual because the decision to trot to Wal-Mart or Best Buy for our next electronic escapade is not priority under the hand of our Father.

It was hard for me to separate. I always try to look for a sign. A huge, ceiling explosion kind of sign for the Lord to tell me what is a good idea and what is a bad idea. If I can blame it on God anyway, then I really haven’t made a good or bad decision either way, right? Responsibility is off of me, what could be better?

That’s unfair, expecting God to come through the clouds and point us in the direction of our next Amazon purchase, instead of assuming rightfully that we were given the discernment and critical thinking we need for our day to day decisions…..or do we just not want that responsibility?

The Lord guides our paths, speaks to us in ways we don’t expect, but don’t blame Him for your lack of discernment or for your forgetfulness that sometimes He is just a still, small voice.

He doesn’t always fall through the ceiling, and we shouldn’t expect Him too.

Puppy Love....

“Look! There’s a Great Dane!”

“What?”

“The humane society. They just got a Great Dane mix! His name is Hershel! Oh he is SOOO cute! Wanna check him out???”

“Yes please.”

The conversation that changed our lives.

We stumbled into the humane society, ignorantly blissful as we awaited the presence of the world’s most photogenic Great Dane mutt. He pranced into the waiting room we were sitting in and jumped on my lap. It hurt….he was huge….but how sweet! He held onto me in a canine embrace for almost twenty minutes. Wow….WHAT A BLESSING FROM THE LORD THIS MUST BE….he was beginning hospice therapy dog training…..I’m a hospice nurse….he’s house trained…..hooray for that…..he’s a Great Dane mix…..we wanted ANOTHER Great Dane mix….he’s wonderful with children and other dogs….we wanted a playmate for Tank! This must be God! This must be Jesus! He has led us here! He has given us this gift!

“WE’LL TAKE HIM.”

The single solitary action that changed our lives.

Hershel collided with our home life like a mad hurricane with a vengeance. We thought he was about to turn three. The vet told us in fact HE HAD JUST TURNED ONE AND WAS ALREADY SEVENTY POUNDS. “He’s going to get bigger!” Yay! Also, Hershel likes to jump fences. Any fences! Even fences you thought he couldn’t hurdle over! He also likes to tear things apart! Rugs! Shoes! Toys! Clothing! Door mats! And guess what??? He’s not house trained! Hershel seemed to have an underdeveloped, overexcited, highly anxious, miniature bladder that lets out small liquid explosions during times of stress, duress, happiness, when a walk was mentioned, when a walk was NOT mentioned, while he was eating, while he was sleeping, while we were eating, while WE were sleeping and anytime in between! He also is unable to urinate outside without the help of one of my plants being underneath him! We now have beautiful yellowish-brown shrubbery in our front yard! In two weeks I had 54 pounds of dog poop to pooper scoop! 54 pounds! Did I mention Hershel has gas that made me wish I was born in Chernobyl??? DID I? I should! Because he does!

Hershel loves to cuddle. What he also loves is to springboard off the person he’s cuddling if he’s done! My abdomen and thighs look like I’m part of Fight Club!

Did I mention he’s crate trained? And by that I mean he wales like an Irish siren when he’s cooped in his cage, until he figures out how to use his tongue to unhinge the cage and let himself out! What a blessing! This must be God! This must be Jesus! He has led us here! He has given us this gift!

The biggest problem with Hershel is he is the most adorable creature I have ever laid eyes upon secondary to my husband and also to Tank, our dear furry, white best friend who now shines as the greatest, most behaved dog this side of the Mississippi, and is now spoiled because of it. Hershel however is gentle, plays well with Tank, he’s now a part of the family.

I have said every night to Jeremey, “It’s time to Old Yeller him or sell him for parts.”

Jeremey has been patient and loving with Hershel. “He’s just a puppy, we’ll take him to training, he’s going to be ok, we just have to be patient.”

His kindness frustrated, nay MADE ME VEHEMENTLY INFURIATED at the fact that my husband continued to show compassion as the Devil’s advocate…UNTIL that glorious moment whilst I was having an emotional breakdown from him urinating on my favorite comforter that it happened.

He did it.

He crossed that line.

He overstepped his boundaries.

He peed in Jeremey’s peanut butter milkshake from Sonic.

Even with my prodding, Jeremey wouldn’t finish the milkshake.

HE HAD TO THROW IT AWAY.

YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO JUST THROW SONIC MILKSHAKES AWAY.

IT IS ILLEGAL IN THREE OUT OF FIFTY STATES.

Jeremey cracked at that moment. The color drained from his face. His vision blurred, his blood pressure rose, his heart rate dropped. Hatred stirred in his eyes.

“We’re going to take him back.”

I replied with,

“I CANNOT HEAR WHAT YOU ARE SAYING. I’M SHOWERING WITH MY CLOTHES ON BECAUSE HE PEED ON MY YOGA PANTS.”

We still have him.

Hershel’s still here.

He’s actually in his kennel right now, because he just ate an Xbox One controller.

Hershel had been giving me a rough time for awhile, Jeremey knew that, but it was only when it became personal that Jeremey saw the problem and dealt with it, waiting until the problem (aka the adorable mutt) had spilled over into his realm, into his life, that he wanted to deal with it.

Sin is kind of the same way. We let it happen all around us, we bask in its environment, we thrive in its atmosphere, but we only wait until it’s infiltrated in our personal lives that we decide we need to get rid of it.

By that time, it’s become a part of your family.

It’s a lot harder to get rid of.

Yeah, I did it. I equated my dog to sin. Idolatry. Gluttony. Lust.

Maybe we should have named him Seven.

Anyway, think about it kids. Nip that junk in the butt before it takes over.

We’re gonna keep him. Calm the heck down.

Let’s take a moment of silence for the things that have lost their lives under the grasp of the urinating beast: (Starting with most recent)

-The $60 Xbox One Controller

-My welcome mat

-My guest room comforter

-Jeremey’s Milkshake that didn’t bring all the boys, just a bladder-ridden dog, to the yard

-That pair of shoes

-That other pair of shoes

-The pair of shoes that were remotely close to that other pair of shoes

-Those slippers

-That dog bowl

-Anything we’ve ever loved

Peace out, my friends.

Matrimonial mischief.

If only people could hear…

“Kendra, are you in there?”

“OF COURSE I AM THERE ARE ONLY TWO OF US IN THE HOUSE WHO DO YOU THINK IS VACATING THE BATHROOM RIGHT NOW???”

:silence:

…

…

…

“Are you sitting squatty potty style? ‘Cause I saw you watching that Facebook video!”

End scene.

“I think I could’ve done better on the smoked chicken…I was going to add a barbecue glaze to it  and-“

“NO. NO. NO. STOP EVERYTHING YOU ARE SAYING.”

“What?”

“You don’t put barbecue sauce on chicken EVER. That’s offensive. You need to have a more sensitive pallet. You always add something sweet and savory like mango salsa or—“

“Says the woman who covered her chicken in ketchup.”

“It’s the golden brick of all things condiment. Shut your male mouth.”

End scene.

I feel if people heard our “marriage banter” they may worry for the mental safety of both of us as individuals. But it’s entertaining at best.

“Dang it! I forgot my ring.”

“Oh wow….I remembered a certain “til death us do part” in the wedding vows that APPARENTLY is probably going to go out the window when some Home Depot chickie starts to hit on whom she THINKS is a single dude walking around with his homely sister.”

“Babe you don’t have your ring on either.”

“Yes I do.” :covers naked ring finger:

“Now you’re just covering it and saying you have it on when you don’t.”

“I do have it on, I’m just holding it tightly because I am so in love with the visualization of our marriage that it looks like I’m covering it up but I’m not so focus on the road and stop judging your sweet wife.”

Then we grab each other by the hand and drive in sweet silence as we quietly judge the other for not grabbing the single simple significant piece of wearable equipment in the house symbolizing our unity.

End scene.

I always forget my wedding ring.

In the mornings, I wake up, and drink a pot of coffee.

It’s a small pot, so hush up and just listen to me for heaven’s sake.

Then I stare at the sink. If there’s anything in the sink, I do not rinse it, I take my ring off and throw it in the spatula holder and proceed to throw everything in the sink into the dishwasher after I let the dogs lick the plates clean.

ARE YOU STILL WITH ME? Because I’m just kidding. That’s disgusting.

I don’t put my ring in a spatula holder.

Haha! Again just kidding. I don’t eat on the same plates as the dogs. I know where they’ve been. I know what else they lick.

And then! I walk away with pride in knowing that I have accomplished one single wifely duty for the day.

And I leave the ring.

E’ertime.

E’er.

Time.

I love my ring, I just have attention deficit disorder and can never REMEMBER IT.

My husband is a genius and bought me a silicone ring that can withstand dishwater and is great for putting on gloves during nurse time.

It was fantastic. 

Wore it for several days straight.

When I took it off though, the skin underneath the ring looked like hamburger meat.

Not my finest hour.

Gotta space it out now.

At the beginning of our marriage, this was a big topic of conversation. I didn’t understand why it was so important to my husband when I forgot my ring, when he was lucky enough that I remembered to put pants on before leaving the house.

“It’s not about the ring or the cost, it’s what it signifies. How are people going to know if you don’t show it? If there’s not something they can see, then to those who don’t know you, it’s like it doesn’t even exist.”

Wow. Great thought.

See where I’m going? 

Of course you do.

This is Not-So-Single, Nursing, and Jesus blog now.

There’s got to be some of the Jesus in there.

My ring means a lot to me. What it stands for means everything to me. But he was right, if there isn’t something that people can visually see, to them it’s like that marriage doesn’t exist, unless I tell them about it.

The same is true for knowing Christ. I think most of us who have been in church have heard some type of analogy of the wedding ring signifying marriage and other things signifying our relationship with Christ, but let’s just talk about what people see in us, on a day to day basis, whether they be friends, acquaintances, or absolute strangers. If they can’t see anything in us, it’s like it doesn’t even exist my friends.

We’re missing out on a great opportunity.

Don’t leave Jesus in the spatula holder. :)