she never mentions the word addiction in certain company
In what may be a shocking confession to some of you, I attend church every Sunday.
(um, OK, God was just all "ahem...", and gave me a look like my Mom used to when I would go for seconds at dinner, all guilt and tear-inducing, so let me strike that "every Sunday" part and amend it to "...pretty much every Sunday, even when I'm running really late, and my Tool Man and the boys are all 'Yeah, we'll just meet you there.'")
Sometimes I get a little too wrapped up in the shiny things around me when I'm at church and I'm not always paying close attention to the sermon. This fact is quite evident here, a highly recommended post about the seduction methods employed by chickens that I jotted down while (finger quotes) listening to (finger quotes) a sermon based on the story of Daniel.
Anyway, for the past couple of weeks, we've been discussing ways to strengthen our marriages and relationships as part of a new sermon series, and each Sunday, we leave with a set of questions for us to discuss in our small groups. I've actually been paying attention in this series, and have left church eager to pin Tool Man down.
To discuss the questions for couples.
(Oh, God, I know! I am hilarious! All praise to you, Big G!)
Last Sunday we were at our small group meeting. This rag tag bunch is comprised of four other couples, a single man I'm trying hard to love like Jesus would but who really just annoys me right now, and our pastor and his wife. We were winding down the discussion when we reached the question "What's one thing your spouse could do for you to make this the best year ever?"
Tool Man, not a big Talker O' The Feelings, abstained from answering. Annoying Dude chuckled and begged off responding since he has no wife (hint: be less annoying, Annoying Dude). Others in the room gave standard answers.
Then my pastor spoke up.
"I've told Mary (shockingly, not her real name, but very Biblical) here that if she really wants to make it a great year for me, she should learn how to smoke meat," he said.
And while I'm sure it was purely innocent, Seth, the 14-year-old boy who lives inside me, reared his red-headed mug up, nudged me, and was all, "Heh. Smoke his meat. Heh." And then he burst out laughing. And so did I. And it was really cool. Except that no one else laughed. And that made me laugh more. Even when Tool Man patted me on the knee and that pat turned into him digging his fingers into my flesh, trying to get me to stop.
It'll come as no surprise that I was perhaps included in prayers at the end of the evening.
God is awesome, y'all.