Like the pain of labor, the experience of suffering can force you to draw inward-to process and struggle and walk it out. It can be a lonely and often solitary experience. Like a birthing room, there are special people allowed inside this sacred little world where something beautiful and powerful and glorious and messy happens. New Life happens inside-bursting forth new and slippery and making itself known with a loud cry.

For nearly the last three years, I've been inside a world like this.

My son's labor was induced. And it took more than a day. So on day two of labor, when my co-workers thought I would be all done with labor and happily cuddling my newborn, the kind HR lady from work called my hospital room. I had fought my way to 3 centimeters and was grim and miserable when the phone rang. I remember hearing my husband answer the phone and say, "I'm sorry, she's in labor at the  moment. Can I take a message?" What a surreal and funny thing to say! He told me who had called and that she had called to get our baby's name and birth weight so she could email all my co-workers and share our happy news. Our baby wasn't there yet. We didn't have a name and gender and birth weight to give her. We didn't have happy news yet. I was still in labor.

There are times I have struggled to find words to say here on this blog. I've done my level best because I love and care about you beloved readers and I felt such pain because I felt I did not have much to offer. Years ago I started this blog because I was bursting at the seams to brag on God and tell you all he had done for me and urge and encourage you to take the next step forward with God toward the healing and wholeness I am convinced he wants to give you...to give all of us. But in the  2 years following my husband's adultery, since I was so busy completely rebuilding my life, I wasn't ready to offer every time people asked. People called. Good people called and emailed me to give me special invitations to speak...radio appearances...live speaking opportunities...and I wasn't ready.

I did say yes to three interviews because they were done over the course of a couple of days and I didn't feel put on the spot. And they were good and beautiful experiences. Thank you Matthew Paul Turner , thank you Pastor Matt and thank you Anonymous Pastor. It was an honor and a joy to talk with you. I did say yes to many of the emails and requests for coaching calls if I felt ready to address their topic of concern. Some, not all of them.

I felt so torn. Torn because these were exactly the kind of opportunities I had prayed for and so desired, because these opportunities would allow me to meet more dear people and share my story with them. I felt like I was letting the inviters down. I felt like I was letting the untouched audience down. I felt like I was letting myself down. I felt like I was letting God down. Such anguish.

At this important Change Point, a dear friend offered me such love and wisdom.

From the day I announced my divorce due to my husband's adultery, Eryn-Faye Frans gave me words of comfort and love and told me she was praying for me. Known as Canada's Passion Coach, Eryn-Faye told me she would be traveling to the States and asked if we could meet when she was in my hometown. Of course I said yes. Over glasses of iced tea, I poured out my story and described my dilemma: thankful for opportunities to offer but being forced to admit to myself that I wasn't ready to offer all I was being asked to offer.

"Well", she told me with such a nonjudgmental calm spirit, "it seems to me that those who get the most growth out of a painful season are the ones who embrace the season, embrace the pain, and be where they are until they aren't there anymore. Giving yourself permission to be there and acknowledging that's currently just where you're at. That's the only way to really grow and learn all you're supposed to learn from the situation."

She gave me permission.

I was in.

Because it made sense. It was congruent to my heart and who I am. See, I never do anything halfway. So that's why I felt such anxiety. Because encouraging other women full steam ahead was not something I could devote such a large part of my energy to at the moment. And the state of doing something halfway bothered me. Greatly.

At this Change Point, I made Building My New Life the thing I did full steam ahead not halfway.

And I learned that sometimes doing halfway was okay. Sometimes doing 25 percent was okay. It's called enduring. I endured.

For all the invitations I said No to, the things I said Yes to were so precious. SO PRECIOUS. Every time a woman shared her story and asked for coaching and I was able to offer the woman I was coaching something from my heart that helped her, that felt like gorgeous treasure to me. I felt so humbled and happy, I felt like I could pay her.

After a few such experiences, I began to understand why my Spiritual Director would sometimes thank me at the end of a session. Why my Counselor would sometimes thank me. Why my Pastor or Coach would sometimes thank me. I actually asked the Pastor, "Why are you thanking me? I come in here and cry all over your office and use up your Kleenex why is that a thankable moment for you?" He looked at me with warm eyes and told me it made him happy to see someone really give God permission, really go for it grow for it. He said seeing that gave him joy.

So, I say to you, each of you dear precious women, and a few husbands too....THANK YOU. Thank you for allowing me to sow into your life. Seeing you go for it and grow for it gives me so much joy! Thank you for being used by God to teach me that every time we give God permission in our lives then we at some later point will have something precious to offer someone else.

Even now, in this single-again season that I thought would never happen to me. I get it. I understand that my brain and my heart did not disappear because my bed is currently empty. Everything I learned as an awakened sensuous wife is still there in my heart. Plus a lot of other beautiful trans-formative things God did and is doing in this season of suffering. Things I'm only now beginning to understand.

Here's what I've gleaned so far....

be where you are
Surrender is where you say yes to what your life is requesting of you and mean it . Embrace the current season that you are standing knee deep in. (thank you Eryn-Faye Frans for teaching  me this!) Embrace where you are and make giving God permission to teach you grow you and heal you your number 1 priority. Be humble. Be teachable. Do whatever it takes.

receive godly counsel
Surround yourself with safe godly people who love you and whose heart you trust, check in with them on a regular consistent basis and do what they say. Deliberately intentionally put yourself into the care of safe people. If you later find you cannot trust them, or if what they ask you to do seems really wrong to you, then fire them and hire someone else and get busy listening to them. Do not try to negotiate a major life change lone-ranger style. You will go up in flames if you try to do this by yourself.

offer what you can
If you can't offer a gallon, offer a sip. Just offer what you can.
There's a song by Amy Grant called Shine All Your Light that says this very well...
like sand on a mountain
rain on a fountain
shade on a shadow
a breeze in this tornado
do what you can
clap with one hand
shine all your light in the sun

The first time I heard that song, I loved the melody but the lyrics mystified me. That was before I was schooled in the way of suffering. Now I understand that in God's economy, he demands our all. And he is satisfied with our all. Even when our all feels tiny to us. When our all all looks tiny to other people. When the widow gave 2 tenths of a penny in the offering plate, Jesus said it was the biggest offering. Because it was her all. Oh the dignity and glory of that! My tiny offering is not just enough. Not just acceptable. It's precious. Precious! So is yours.

your heart is reason enough
As much as I love and enjoy offering my encouragement strength and hope to you dear readers, I learned a very important lesson in this season of suffering. My heart is reason enough. When going through difficult seasons it can be inspiring and motivating to think once I get through this I'm gonna have so much more to offer someone else and that's true. But sometimes the pain is so great and the loss is so deep you think you're never gonna have something to offer anyone ever. And in those moments, Grace says " Your heart is reason enough. If you never hold the microphone again if you never write a blog post again, this is between you and me. Will you give me permission to do my thing in your heart? Will you let me heal you? Will you let me carry you through? Will you still be my girl even through this time of pain and tremendous heartache? If you never talk about it to anyone ever. Never write about it. Never speak about it. If all you ever gain from this is to live free before me, will you do it?"
Yes yes yes yes yes yes.
Being useful is fabulous. Redemptive. Rewarding.
But we are loved beyond our usefulness. (thank you Leigh Barkalow for teaching me this!)
When looking for a reason to persevere, my own heart is reason enough. I love Shula too much to bail on her.

an undeniable, non-negotiable, bedrock love for the savior will get you through when nothing else will
How much do you love him?
Are you willing to be his no matter what?
When God was doling out blessings in the Old Testament, he said to Abraham  I am your exceeding great reward. When I first read that years ago I thought oh well how ethereal and intangible is that??. Now I understand.
My Jesus-our beautiful proprietary sense of belonging to one another- I am his and he is mine- that is my most precious treasure. And when he has brought you through. When you love him like that, the thought of not being his is unthinkable. "Lord to whom should we go you alone have the words of life."

So what am I doing now?

I'm doing life with people who love me. I live a majority of my life in regular normal everyday life having one-on-one conversations with people that I love. The majority of my time and energy is not in public ministry like speaking or twitter or blogging. I share when I have something to share. In the meantime, I'm busy living. This is really working for me.

I'm writing fiction. The short stories of fictional couples working through a Change Point that sometimes appear in a blog post...I'm writing longer versions of those. Some of them will become novels.

I'm saying yes to more coaching opportunities. And I'm thrilled for the woman I have the privilege to talk with. I celebrate God's goodness when I hear the hope in her voice and see the light bulb go off over her head in a coaching session or hear the joy in her voice when she tells me her couple time with her husband is a lot easier and a lot more fun.

I'm serving my guests at the store and celebrating their victories. It makes me want to fist-bump God when I get an email ten days after an order is received that says: "Oh.My.God. Best.Anniversary.Ever."

Since I am currently celibate (you know I will always view this season as temporary) I'm pursuing every righteous way to thrill my senses that I can think of. Any suggestions?  Some of my favorite ways are sailing so fast it makes me whoop and holler and ballroom dancing with my partner holding me close enough that I have been known to bliss out and miss a step because he feels so good.

I'm writing workshop curriculum. The next time somebody offers me the microphone, I'll be ready.

Would you be willing to pray for me as I write? I'd really appreciate it.
How would you like me to pray for you?
And beloved lurkers, it would mean a LOT for me to hear from you. Now is a good time.

Love you all,
Shula

If I could tell the world who I am and what I want, this is what I would say.

She loves the Lord with all of her heart and has made the conscious decision to let the Lord Jesus have his way in her life.

She loves her son, her family, her friends with a passionate devotion, makes them a priority in her life. She wants to love her man like this too.

She is an unashamed complete godly horndog. Has a strong desire for sex, both as romance and as raw uninhibited fucking.

She has such a high regard for the creative power of free sexual expression that she will only fully release her eroticism inside the boundary of marriage and within that boundary every pleasure is delightfully welcomed.

She is generous with her heart, her energy, her money, and her time.

She has tasted suffering and allowed it to make her compassionate.

She draws great joy from cultivating and offering her beauty. She is a regular at the nail salon and hair salon and her Bible study girlfriends help keep her heart beautiful.

She owns an ever-increasing collection of lingerie and fuck me shoes.

She is equally at ease in a boardroom with a CEO or conducting a training class wearing a hard hat. She's a leader in her field with established expertise in her profession.

She is an excellent cook and hostess who makes her guests feel special and at ease.

She is quick to laugh and eager to serve.

She has a sweet singing voice and a soft hand to hold.

She is eager to be chased, taken, loved, adored, pursued and taken care of.

She wants to be respected and cherished at a deep heart level by a man who loves the Lord first and has signed a blank check with his life, loves her second, and invites her to inhabit a place of honor and priority in his life.

She wants her man to truly see her and treasure her for her self, not just for what she has or what she can do.

She wants her man to love her son, recognizing that her son already has a great dad and that the sweetest impact he can have on her son's life is to show him by example what it means to love a woman.

Her strength and achievements do not make her impenetrable.

Quite the contrary, she is eager for a man's strength to invade her tenderness physically emotionally and spiritually.
She is loyal to the end and good to the last drop.

She is all woman. She is very real. She is waiting.

You know how kids go thorugh growth spurts? They eat and sleep a lot and then next thing you know their jeans don't fit. Well I've been going through a growth spurt, in a different way. Emotionally, spiritually, relationally. And my jeans don't fit either, but it's because they're too big.
I am amazed at how emotional eating is just so much less a part of my life, and how my appetite has decreased overall. In the midst of tremendous transition and sometimes painful growth, I'm feeling more accepted and loved than ever.
How do you experience acceptance and love?
Who pours acceptance and love into your emotional cup?
If you feel accepted and loved, how does that affect the other areas of your life?
Is it easier to care for your body and heart when you accept and love yourself?
Then how does this self care, self acceptance, self love affect your relationships with God and other humans?
If sex is giving your self, then what kind of self do you think you're giving?

I'm looking forward to sharing with you some of the good changes that are taking place in my heart. Some posts will come sooner than others. Good art percolates in the heart. Love, Shula

I miss you all. There are so many things I can't talk about. Just wanted you to know that I'm still here. I am currently going through what may be the most devastating time of suffering and refining I've ever had to walk through. I will be okay. You know me, I will do whatever it takes to push through to healing. And you know me, after I receive a measure of healing, I'll be so eager to share that story with you. In the meantime, I'll share other stories. If God never does another thing for me, His generosity is unquestioned. I am blessed. And I will be loved. And so will you.

Held,
Shula

Thank you Sue, for giving me this song.

I stopped by one of my favorite Mexican places this morning. A cute little joint that is open for breakfast. I needed to refuel after my workout at the gym and it wasn’t far from the home repair store I had to visit next. After ordering a plate of cheese enchiladas and chicken fajitas, I headed for the dining area to pick a table. What I saw next stopped me in my tracks and left me with a tingling feeling in my chest. Two lanky young men in army fatigues were at a nearby table, polishing off breakfast.

My friend that I love so much he calls me Sis and I call him Brother, had just deployed for parts unknown and seeing those young men in army green gave me quite a shock. I immediately began to sob, sat down at the table next to them, ripped off my sunglasses, buried my face in my hands and let the tears come. Love, fear, separation and longing rolled off my cheeks in warm salty tears. “Ask them to help you” came the warm loving thought in my mind that I knew was Himself talking to my heart. I pressed a napkin to my eyes and swallowed. “Excuse me, Sir. Can you help me please?”. They turned and looked at me calmly waiting until I regained my composure enough to speak. The one nearest to me, a lanky blonde with an honest Kansas farm boy face, said “Yes ma’am?” I took a deep breath. “Seeing you two is quite a shock. My brother just deployed from Germany to parts unknown. I saw him last before they moved to Germany. I don’t know where he is, I can’t know. And I didn’t get to hug him goodbye when he deployed, since he deployed from Germany. Would you mind? Could I give you a hug?”

He immediately stood to his feet and held out his arms. I embraced him, taking in his cologne I didn’t recognize and aware that my cheek that I pressed against his neck was wet with tears. At arms length again, I held his gaze for just a moment. “Thank you. I feel better now.” “You’re welcome, ma’am. And good luck to your brother.”

They left immediately. As they walked outside the restaurant, I saw through the window as they climbed into an enormous black dually truck-a total wildatheartmobile. I smiled at this and sighed. I did feel better. Peace replaced the shock and grief in my chest and I turned my attention toward breakfast.

I was not hungry, per se. But I knew I had to eat right after a workout. I managed to eat about one third of the Tex Mex delight the smiling olive skinned cooks had prepared for me. After one last spoonful of salsa verde and rice, I knew I couldn’t eat another bite.

And then I realized what a little golden moment this was for me-the woman who used to eat her feelings. Instead of overeating in an addictive unhealthy attempt to squash my emotions, I had let the tears come, been humble and vulnerable enough to ask for help and receive it, and then found to my grateful delight that food didn’t have an emotional hold on me anymore. It was just fuel. Thank God.-Shula

PS Please pray for Michael and Angela

Y'all know how much I love to cook. To me, cooking is edible art. And love is the most important ingredient.

We have some dear friends we have not seen in months, almost a year, even though they live 45 minutes away. We had planned and rescheduled several times to have them over and finally made plans for them to come share a meal at our home today. When I invited our friends this third time, I had no idea that my presence would be required in Corporate America today.

Delighted Husband picked up some Boston Market drivethru and set the table. Our friends who had offered to bring dessert, picked up some brownies from a grocery store bakery and a carton of ice cream. We ate as soon as I got home.

And you know what, y'all? It was a delightful meal. It wasn't the food. The food was was alright, but I was mostly too tired to eat. It was the love.

I love me some bling, no doubt about it.
But diamonds my best friend?
Nuh-UH!
The human connection of a friend's love and encouragement trumps sparkle every dang time.
But what if I got both? At the same time?
SuhWEET!
And that, my darlings, is exactly what happened.
My girlfriend Cocotte nominated me for the brilliante blog award.
Thank you darlin'.

I pass it on to Howard at Rebel By Nature who always manages to leave me slackjawed in amazement at the deep, beautiful, yet earthy things he has to say. Love ya, Howard. You're a good man. A soulful writer. And a true artist with a camera. Blogdom is a better place with you in it.

Y'all, I have figured out I can do this job and still remain a soft, loving, reasonably sane woman. Well, not figured out. I experienced it. Oh goodness, lemme just tell you the story.

Ever since I started this corporate gig, I have been increasingly crabby and grouchy and dare I say bitchy. Yes, bitchy. I was running on empty and you know what that is right? A recipe for disaster. I felt under so much pressure, and my emotional bank account was so overdrawn.

In my old job which didn't pay much and was often frustrating as hell, I worked from home. So I was free to put things into my day that fed my soul. nourished my heart. Stuff like long walks out in nature powerwalking my way down a jogging path with nothing but green and the music in my ears. Stuff like having the house all to myself during the day and going into the gameroom and cranking up the stereo, pushing back the furniture, and dancing and singing my little heart out. And you know how you dance when nobody's lookin'? I danced like that. I would start out dancing like I danced in dance class and then passion would take over and I would just whirl all over that room! I'd feel breathless and alive and fabulous.

I had a lot of freedom in my schedule for quality time with my girlfriends, several of which I'd have lunch with on a regular basis. I had a nourishing encouraging support group that I was a part of. The group was led by a woman therapist and we slowly worked and grew our way through several books and workbooks like Boundaries and Healing for Damaged Emotions. And y'all know, I want to live right and be healthy and I need all the help I can get. And there was SO much love in that room as we all fought and grew together. Cause growing, real changes in the heart is a struggle, and you needs lots of people who love you who celebrate your little victories and hold you hand when you need to cry.
So, yeah, I didn't make much dough, but I had a really good world.

And then I got this corporate gig downtown.

And all the things in my life that nourished me went away.
And the pressure on me and the demands of me increased.
And the time! The sheer force of hours.
Cause I'm back in cubicle land. and for nine hours a day they want me to sit still and be quiet. And I'm me. Miss Dance-Joy-Vivaciousness. Trying to be quiet. And it's so hard for me to be still it nearly bout makes me ache. Oh, and did I mention, my dance class closed for the Summer? So really, all these lovely nourishing things in my life went away.

But the money is so good. I mean, I've made more, but I've certainly made less and this job allows me to pitch in on some financial goals that are really important to Delighted Husband and me. Paying off debt for one thing. And start up capital for my new venture for another. So I was in this gig for the duration.
And dying on the vine.

And ya'll know how unreligious I am. and while I enjoy the social, community aspect of church (and hey they also have a great band) my primary way to connect with my spirituality has been my singing, my dancing, my nature walks and bike rides.

So I was socially spiritually and emotionally overdrawn. I was a mess.

Okay I'm getting to the good part, I swear. I just wanted you to know how bad it was.

So this week, I remembered I had music on my pocket pc. It had been so long since I listened to music on my pocket pc, I mostly use my mp3 player, I had forgotten. But I'd heard everything on my mp3 player over and over, it was my workout list for the gym and I didn't think I'd find my get sweaty fired up music comforting.

So I did "play all" just to see what was there on my pocket pc.

And oh, you guys, it was Chris Rice. An instrumental from The Living Room Sessions. Savior Like a Shepherd Lead Us. Now as I told my girlfriend Pro Deo Sum on the phone today, as much as I complain about growing up in a Christian home, I am really glad I grew up hearing and singing the old hymns, because back in the day the people who wrote hymns were people who lived lives of struggle. We're talkin' big time suffering here, people and those lyricists knew what it was like to feel your soul had sprung a leak and the next gas station was 15 miles away. They knew. So these hymns speak comfort to me like nothing else. So I listen to dear Chris Rice play this hymn, and he has such a light touch. I mean, when Chris Rice does a hymn, if his music were cooking it would be a light garlic sauce that enhances the flavor of everything else and doesn't cover it up. Not your ponderous old Granny music. Light and airy and graceful. Are you followin' me here? I'm doing my best to describe the song because I don't think I can find it on you tube. Anyway, so there's the song. And the gyst of the lyric is "Jesus please be our good shepherd and take good care of us cause we're weak and we're hungry and we're sheep so we're limited in our ability to do anything about it."

When I heard this song, I heard all this comfort that I wasn't feeling. I remembered all the amazing spiritual moments I'd had on the jogging path. And I sat there in my cubicle. And it was like pressing your nose against the glass and seeing this happy dinner party going on inside without you. I heard love. I heard intimacy. I heard connection. I heard joy. I heard togetherness. and I wadn't gettin' any of it. And it just tore me up. So I closed my eyes, and I thought, "Jesus I miss you so much I can hardly stand it. In fact, I can't." And instantly, He was there. When I opened my eyes, I saw my computer screen and heard nice music in my earphones. When I closed my eyes, I saw this movie in my mind of Jesus standing before me, looking—as he always does in my mind's eye—like my brother Brian, with Celtic green eyes beaming with love and looking at me with such delight. I blinked back and forth a couple of times, stunned in a happy way. I opened my eyes, I'm smack dab in the middle of soulless Corporate America. I close my eyes, and Jesus is holding my hands and looking into my eyes with such love and we are dancing like children up and down the aisles of cubicle land. -SW

PS
Oh and tomorrow morning, I'm loading up my bike in the shagmobile and I'm hitting the bike trails. Oh yeah!

Fatigue is a powerful force and it takes something equally powerful to counteract it.
Beauty.
Delighted Husband and I have been working some long hours at our respective jobs. Both of us feeling a fatigue of unusual intensity. Fatigue is more than sleepyness or the sense of needing to sit down and catch your breath after an intense game of basketball. Fatigue is a bonewearyness of body and soul. This is what we're dealing with.

We arrive home and after sending one last important email I step away from the computer and walk with him toward the bedroom. We cuddle and he tells me about his day. About the stresses and strains of daily work life. I listen and blurt out sympathy and indignation. Our companionship is sweet. Two best friends sharing the victories and griefs of the day. Suddenly, he rolls on top of me. I blink in surprise. Then smile at what he says next. Then smile at what he does next.

Companionship, love, marital play all satisfied, hunger is the next need in line. He heads for the kitchen to make himself a bowl of cereal. That is one of the most adorable things about him I think—how Delighted Husband is pushing forty and still enjoys a bowl of colorful cereal with the unabashed gusto of a little boy. I prefer more substantial fare, and find the thought of sugary cereal on an empty stomach deplorable.

I doze and luxuriate until my stomach starts to growl. I close my eyes and remember waffles. I remember when my Daddy used to cook on the nights my Mama had to work late at her floral shop. That's right. I get the business owner bug honest. And her store was there to offer beauty and joy to women as well. What a heritage. So on nights Mama was working late into the night like Santa's elves to bouquet-ify an entire wedding party, Daddy would make waffles. Waffles. I hadn't had waffles in years.

I ambled into the kitchen, nearly stood on my head in front of the island cabinet, and dug out the waffle iron. While it was heating, I opened a box of whole wheat bisquicky stuff and whipped up a batch of waffle batter. I'm pushin' forty myself and my waffles are more carb-healthy than Daddy's but the thought still counts. I anoint my waffle with real butter and maple syrup—not even sugarfree stuff, the real McCoy—and take a bite. I swallow and sigh and think "God bless us all every one." I listen to my audiobook and savor the waffley bliss. By this time, Delighted Husband is in the gameroom playing Wii. The chirpy happy music and roaring car engine noise tells me he is off to the races with Mario Kart.

Having savored my waffle, I want something lush from the protein category. I know just the ticket. I whip up a batch of eggs the way Friend Dennis makes them. Spicy and seasoned just right with mushrooms and cheese. I remember the first time he cooked these eggs for us on the first morning of one of the vacations Friend Dennis and his Dearly Beloved took with me and Delighted Husband. I remember how special it was to have someone cook for me. Me the one who loves to cook being cooked for and how cared-for that made me feel.

And I feel cared-for all over again. Remembering the meals my Daddy and my friend cooked for me, I feel it and taste it all over again, and I feel nourished body and soul.

Such simple pleasures. Such beauty. And I experience the wonder of feeling nourished and satisfied instead of hungry and fatigued. Simple things will get you through, my friends. Simple rest. Simple play. Simple food. Simple love. Wow, do I feel better.

Oh! I feel all better today. And I want to tell you why, and how God did it, and how we helped. Because I think knowing this will help a lot of people.

The last week was kind of a blur. All of us at the SW/DH household coasted into the driveway on fumes. Empty tanks--emotionally, physically, you name it. And Delighted Husband and I knew we both had to work Saturday and we were just flatlined about it. Could barely fog a mirror at the thought.

I remember thinking "God help" and I don't even think it was that coherent. But God heard. And God knew exactly what to do. (this is one of my favorite things about Himself) God sent my friends.

One friend sent me an email that said essentially, "Please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm worried about you. You're working too hard. It's fine for you to be excited about this new calling God has invited you to, but you have to honor yourself and your family with the pace in which you do it." Wise man. And Grace of God I did not let my pride get in the way of hearing him. And Grace of God I did not let my pride get in the way of hearing Him. Cause they were singin' a duet. No doubt about it.

Another friend called me to check on me. After a few hiccups and interruptions I finally started to tell him the story of the last few days and the condition I was in because of it. Frazzled. Tired. Excited, but with an increasing sense of fatigue that had started a feeling of lowgrade panic. He listened--patiently, sympathetically--telling me that he and his wife had been praying for us. Then he smiled (I could just hear it through the phone) and said, "You know us guys, we have this tendency, this need, to want to 'fix it'. And even though I've listened sympathetically, and I think you feel supported, I just have this male need to offer a suggestion. Can you humor me?"

Sure!

"What I think you should do, is play. And do something really special. And get the whole family involved. And later, after the kids are in bed, in your own inimitable way, you should love your husband and let him love you."

And folks that's exactly what I did.

I called Delighted Husband and told him I was planning a night of fun and recreation and I wanted to know where he wanted to go out for dinner. A nice dinner. He was a bit surprized by the recommendation. Surprized in a good way. I mean I could tell his brain hadn't even been on the "how can I reward myself tonight" trajectory. Ding! Score one for Friend Dennis.
"Uh, wow, hon. What exactly did you have in mind?"
"Oh, nice dinner. Any place you like. And by any place, I mean you don't have to pick a place that can accomodate my athletic training diet. I'm going off-plan tonight. And I'm not the least bit worried about it. I hardly ate any carbs or calories earlier today anyway, but that's not the point. The point is you can pick the place YOU want to eat, not the place that it is the most likely source for non-breaded lean protein. Easy, baby. What are you hungry for?"
And he named the restaurant.
Done.
"What else do you have in mind?" his voice is a bit lighter now. Hope is growing.
"A movie in the gameroom. Something funny and lighthearted with the kids, and lots of cuddles during and afterward."
"Oh? Great! We should have plenty of Netflix in the mailbox."

Friends, I am delighted to report that--after a delicious dinner of casual yummy decadent food--we snuggled into comfy chairs and comfy couches and watched National Lampoon's Vacation. The classic one. The kids had never seen it and I hadn't seen it since college.

We laughed ourselves to the brink of goofyness and beyond.

There is something so healing and intimate about laughter. Laughing together. And catching the eye of someone you love and watching them get the joke and enjoying their laughter more than you enjoy your own. We did that all night long. Eyes sparkling, kids giggling, guffaws and belly laughs from Delighted Husband and me.

It. was. wonderful.

And at the end, when the the closing credits rolled, and the first line of the song was sung,
We went dannnncin, cross the U. S. AAAAAAAAA, on that craaaazy king's highwaaaaaaaay
I got up out of my recliner and said,
"Kids, it's time to dance."
"Oh no Mom, really. I'm fine. You go ahead and enjoy."
(translation: you go right ahead goofy mother I am waaaay too cool for that)
Before I can form a reply, Delighted Husband says "Mommy's right. Get up and dance."
Groaning and halfhearted shuffling, they dance, as I am twirling and laughing round the room.
Next thing I know, Delighted Husband is laughing and taking them by the hand and leading them in a silly squaredance. I grab two wrists and join in. We make a meandering circle, first one way and then another, with Delighted Husband leading the switch in a sudden haphazard motion designed to keep us too goofy to try and be graceful. I am laughing at full guffaw. So is Delighted Husband. One dear child is still being a pill.
Whiney voice:"Daddy's pulling my wrist. He's going to pull it OFF! Waaah waah gripe gripe"
I keep laughing and hug him close and sing along with the movie, "Well if you were dannnnncin, your wrissssst would not get pullllllllled."
By some small grace, they got it. Dear Child shook and chortled with laughter while still enveloped in my arms. Their shaking shoulders under my hands were one of the sweetest sensations I've ever felt.
We continued our Goofy Squaredance of Love until the song ended and the credits ran out. We were all high from the endorphins of laugh. It was glorious.

Delighted Husband went straight off to bed because he has to get up pre 6am.

Dear Child who finally danced asks me to stay in his room after tuck in "just to keep me company". He's not stalling to defer sleep. I can tell he really means it. I sit down on the Zepplin pillow in the corner of their room, and Dear Child crawls into his bed. I don't remember what we talked about, or if I even said anything at all. We were just happy and warmhearted, quietly breathing the same air in the room.
"I wish I could hold your hand."
"Okay, baby."
Dear Child scrambles out of the covers, wiggles down to the foot of the bed, lays his cheek on one hand and reaches for me with the other. I sit there, just breathing, calmly and silently, and hold his hand. I have to reach, and my delt starts to burn, but I don't care. My Alex P. Keaton too-cool-to-dance son, mumbles, "I love you mom" and falls asleep holding my hand.