The Magical Properties of Limonade and My Husbands Chest
Today was one of those days. My dog pooped all over the nursery, my computer shut down, my to do list got lost, and I fell apart and got basically nothing done. I spent the majority of my day crying out to God and googling how to fight depression during pregnancy (the best answer was by John Piper and not specific to pregnancy: singing—specifically the Psalms).
And Psalm 31 did save my butt today. But my day didn’t get better until my husband came home. He walked in the door and I started venting and raging to explain how terrible my day was, and in his wisdom he told me to stop and calm down and would I like to cuddle on the couch?
So with my face squished against his pectorals, he asks me why I’m still sad. I tell him it’s hard not to cry and he gives me permission, because he knows that somehow, when my tears soak into his shirt, their sadness disappears and is replaced with all the comfort of knowing my lover loves me and is here by my side. I am so thankful God gave me the amazing husband He did. Like seriously.
But this story displays a significant weakness in my faith. Earlier in the day when I sought comfort from the Lord, why was I not listening to His wisdom tell me the same thing? And why was the knowledge that my heavenly lover loves me and is here by my side not enough to stem my flow of tears? I pray that my faith grows strong enough to feel that same comfort sooner in the day.
Oh, and to top it all off, and rehydrate me from my crying, my husband has introduced me to mixing limeade and lemonade to create the most refreshing drink of all time. Proof that God is good? I think yes.