30 ROCK — “Hey, Baby, What’s Wrong?” Episodes 605/606 — Pictured: James Marsden as Criss — Photo by: Ali Goldstein/NBC

The serenade.  It saved a rough 10-year-anniversary.

I’m not going to leave you with any illusions here.  We post fun pictures.  We laugh, but moving cross-country with our whole lives up in the air, it wasn’t easy on the ol’ marriage.

But thankfully we are now in our house.  We are starting to settle.  And we aren’t the only ones that just moved into town.  IKEA just rolled in too.

Our 10th Anniversary arrived the week after we moved.

That first day that we got the kids all in school – IKEA…it beckoned, and we marched right on over.  Thus the trouble began.

Our anniversary had been the day before.  I’d played it cool.  I was mature.  I let the little things slide.  But now, now the idea that he hadn’t gotten me a gift – it nagged.

Even when you are trying hard not to feel let down, not to compare, not to expect, it creeps round every corner and nags from crevices you didn’t know existed.

I couldn’t blame him.  I hadn’t done much more (…and he has had an awesome surprise or two up his sleeve in the past, so he had some carry-over bonus points, right?), yet somehow I was weaker than the disappointment that kept rising up.

It was an ugly thing and I felt defenseless.  I didn’t see this ending well…

But don’t.  Don’t underestimate my man.

So there we were in that enormous store where NO ONE is overwhelmed.  The sheer meatball-tinged-warehouse-air brings peace and harmony to every couple?

After the cell phone died, after we’d lost each other, after a communication blip about budgeting, on top of my inner-anniversary-turmoil… Somehow, mystery of all mystery (you hear my sarcasm, right?), in that place, I was the one overwhelmed in the corner of the warehouse.

Yep, that was me parking my rear on the concrete floor, in the corner, pulling down my sunglasses.  I’d let it all catch up with me.  I was melting.

That’s when my man opened his mouth.  In his best Russian accent he sang,

“Baby, stop right there.
Let me clear the air.
Baby, look into these eyes.
Let me apologize.
I know what you’re thinking of.
You think, “Where is the love?”
But the love ain’t gone.
It’s here where it belongs.

I know what you’re waiting for.
Well, you don’t need to wait no more.

(chorus)
I can give you anything you want.
Give you anything you need.
I’ll make your dreams come true.
Give you anything you want.
Fulfill your fantasies.
I’ll make your dreams come true.

You want a unicorn?
I’ll give it to you.
You want a puppy dog?
I’ll give it to you.
You want an ice cream cone?
I’ll give it to you.
You want a mortgage loan?
I’ll give it to you.
You want a satin pillow?
I’ll give it to you…..”

08 I'll Get You What You Want (Cockatoo in Malibu)

It’s a muppets song, okay. But do not, DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF THIS SONG, FOLKS.

He won my heart all over again!

Didn’t matter that he’d forgotten to get an anniversary gift.  The stress of the week melted into laughter.  This guy!  This guy is never afraid to make a fool of himself.  There he was, telling me that he’d like to buy me that chair I wanted….but I’d kinda been too pouty to hear him until he said it in his muppet voice.

Sometimes you just need the muppet voice to fully understand the situation, right?

Here’s to the man who is unafraid to live out loud, to speak light into the dark corners, and here is to the moments where we put aside the grumpiness, the sad things, and just let go and laugh!

Praise God for 10 years of defying the odds together!

• living in 5 places in 4 weeks (or 6 depending how you count it)…with the dog,
• the arse through the glass thing,
• no nursing help for weeks,
• forgetting medical formula,
• the thorn in my flesh that this left arm is, tapping me on the shoulder every time I wrap a diaper round, buckle a strap, prep dinner…
• getting a ticket 2 days ago
• trying to sell the house back in North Carolina
• the thousands of decisions about renovating the new place
• paving pathways for the boy in tough places
• the delays that will have us out of our home for weeks yet
• and the STRESS that comes with keeping a marriage and fam running on shifting sands…

It’s nothing but God’s grace sustaining.  It’s his miraculous hand holding, in the ticket being dismissed, a friend providing formula, sleep returning, a house to stay in, family to help…

…and there it is – I look down and see the white puddle.

Is that an audible hiss in the air, as I deflate?

The creamy milk lies in drops between the wheels and the shoes.  My boy is walking round, exploring in his gait trainer (a walker thingy), and it’s formula on the kitchen floor, dripping down the leg, pooling in the sock, soaking my boy’s shirt.

And it’s enough to make me crumble.  “Maybe things aren’t so amazing.”

It’s a reminder – even his little piece of independence is dependent.

Just a 1/2 turn of a tube and the food pumps ON him, rather than inside his tummy.   …and I suppose it’s something else to clean, and somehow it’s much more – a reminder of the thing that is so much a part of us that we don’t see it – that my boy can’t eat, can’t walk, can’t speak, all because they didn’t test the super yellow babe …but STOP.

Before the balloon has let out it’s last breath, I plug the hole.

This is warfare too.  A battle is being waged here, for my soul, for joy, for home.

In this move, in the mega, in the minutia that feels mega…I can be at home, I can wipe the mess, I can kiss my boy, and I can grab hold of the joy set before me.

I choose joy.  I choose wonder.

I choose to celebrate the sunrise of that smile on my boys face, the giggling girls, the beds we have to sleep in, and the hands of help, the formula that we almost didn’t have.

Thanksgiving is the pathway to HOME, the pathway to the Father.

When my own children whine, I feel further from them.  When they are blind to the ice-cream, and complain about the sprinkles, it’s hard to want to take them for another treat.  I need them to learn to see the first gift before I can give more.  …and I know that if I let them keep whining, I’m only teaching them to be miserable.

I choose to dwell in the thanks, to speak to my heavenly father about the thorns, but not to whine, not to forever be dwelling on the puddles.  I choose to see the lush gardens all around me, one thanks at a time.

The war will always wage. The wonder and the puddles will always stand, side by side.

Let’s wipe up the mess and play, shall we?

Enter his gates with thanksgiving
    and his courts with praise;
    give thanks to him and praise his name.

Psalm 100:4

Better is one day in your courts
    than a thousand elsewhere;

Psalm 84:10