Part One: Life is a Journey, so Keep Moving Forward

Mr. Sexy is back at work after two months of disability leave. In October he injured himself throwing a tire into the back of our truck. Two months later the pain in his back only worsened causing sleeplessness, increased irritability and a lack of functionality in every day life. He then made the decision to work from home. But after a few weeks, as we finally started getting answers about his injury, it was suggested by his doctor he officially go on disability leave.

I do not believe in chance. Everything happens for a reason. Our pregnancy. His injury. Going on disability leave. Heading back to work. Timing can be everything. During this chain of events, timing was everything. In the moment I knew it, and looking back I see it even more clearly.

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My Dream Job

“You should have gotten a degree in entrepreneurship,” Mr. Sexy said as he carefully strapped his neck brace on.

“Why?” I was standing in oversized sweatpants and t-shirt, rubbing Save My Skin on my growing baby belly.

“Becasue you’ve got the right mindset for it.”

I looked up and smirked. “Well, I was supposed to be an amazing Weather Girl.”

Mr. Sexy laughed. “I knew you were going to say that.” He was done fiddling with his neck brace and was now coming into the bedroom.

“Isn’t it interesting?” I commented. “I grew up with one man telling me what he thought I could be. And now there is this other guy in my life who tells me I can be so much more.” I was talking, of course, about Mr. Sexy. Neck brace and all.

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Heart Day breakfast, 2015

Heart Day breakfast, 2015

I don’t feel bad that my Valentine’s Day wasn’t full of romance and special surprises as I am accustomed to on these special days. I didn’t spend time feeling sorry for myself, scrolling through date night pictures on Facebook while I spent the day watching TV with Mr. Sexy and trying to keep the kids from driving me crazy. I just felt bad when I would hear the quick, tight breaths coming from Mr. Sexy, telling me he was going through yet another moment of intense pain that his medications were not taking care of.

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We Are “That” Couple

Valentine’s Day is a love-hate thing in our culture. At least, that’s my viewpoint from the multitude of facebook posts and bloggers and tweets and insta-peeps and everything else. That’s why I really liked this:


Awesome. Sauce. So true. In the spectrum of things, Valentine’s Day doesn’t have to be the worst day of the year. Unless a pity party is something you enjoy. And if I’m being honest, I throw myself one of those from time to time.

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The Day She Left Us

Today is another post written by Mr. Sexy.  He is such a hoot and I hope you enjoy reading his perspective of what happens when I leave him and the kids.  Alone.  For two whole nights. 

July 23, 2011

Mrs. Sexy and I haven’t spent much time apart since we’ve been married.

About two years ago I had to spend three weeks in Hawaii for the Navy Reserves. But besides a night here or there, we have pretty much been at each other’s sides…

Until this past weekend.
Let me explain:
Our church’s annual women’s retreat came around and for the first time, the Sexy family budget and the Sexy family schedule worked together so Mrs. Sexy could go.
I was stoked. Not because I wanted a weekend without the wife, but I knew that without her there to distract me, I would get things done on our house. (and of course I thought she would enjoy it)

Yes, that meant I would be taking care of all 3 kids for the weekend, but come on, how hard could that be?

First off, let me say that I am not the kind of man that comes home from work and slouches down in front of the television waiting for dinner to be served. I pride myself that I don’t spend all of my energy at work. So, when I come home, it’s time to turn on the overdrive and see where I can help out. Cooking and cleaning are not far removed from my everyday life.
The weekend began with a drive to Mrs. Sexy’s meet-up point with a little excitement and hesitation of what the weekend would bring.  Even though the kids didn’t say much as she departed, the 20 minute drive home was a somber one. The usual loud music and ‘singing’ at the top of our lungs was not on anyone’s mind.
As we pulled up to the house, spirits changed a bit with the promise of Mac-n-Cheese and corn dogs for dinner. (Only healthy eating when dad is in charge!)  While I cooked, Michael and Marie made themselves busy outside while Denai patiently waited for dinner and made it known every five seconds through her lovely wailing how hungry she was.
 Dinner went off without a hitch and only half the kitchen was covered in Denai’s dinner.
Off to bed they all went.
I spent my night restless with all the things I planned to do the next day. I knew Mrs. Sexy would be shocked about how much I got done and would love the progress made on our house.
Not much sleep that night.
Because it was Saturday the lovely little ones decided to sleep in until 6am.  I was determined to start the morning right and promptly got the kids up and dressed for the day.  I broke the news that our normal Saturday routine of free pancakes at a local restaurant would not be happening so Michael decided it was a good time for a breakdown. I didn’t handle that well.
I should have started with coffee.
By 8am the kids were enjoying my version of free pancakes and eggs.  The miniature critics approved.
Now, it was time to get started with the projects.
My goals:
        Detail clean the Kitchen
        Setup up Living and Dining areas and remove all boxes
        Setup kid’s room with bunk beds, crib, dressers and move in all kid stuff from garage
        Clean up outside of miscellaneous stuff that accumulated during the move
        Organize garage so we can park in it
        Make butter
        Find other small projects with my free time…
I sent Marie and Michael out to explore after breakfast and put Denai down for a nap.
This was going great.
I started organizing the kitchen for cleaning and put the cream in the Kitchen Aid to get the butter going.  I randomly heard cries from Denai’s room protesting her nap. With the butter going and the kitchen organized I set out to get the living and dining room cleaned out and setup.
After about 2 hours of wailing and no napping, I decided that it was ok for her to miss one nap and brought her down to ‘help’ me.
With a 17 month old running around, the heavy lifting had to stop, so I tried to entertain her and clean up at the same time. You should know, at work I am the multi-tasking king, but I guess at home that is limited to 2 things at a time…ok, maybe one.

Cleaning and entertaining her didn’t go well.

It was finally lunch time and I got the kids setup for lunch. Instead of eating with them I figured I would take this time to move in the dressers and get the heavy lifting done.
Meanwhile the butter was still churning. Halfway through my Saturday and 0 tasks completed.  But it was ok. After lunch the older ones would continue to play and Denai would take a nap.
It amazes me how we can lie to ourselves.
After lunch I tried again with the nap and Michael and Marie went back outside.  I knew this was my only chance to eat so I threw a sandwich together and ate it in less than 5 minutes.
Denai wasn’t having it.  The afternoon nap was a failure.
I told myself that it was fine and this would just make bedtime easier and I could get the kids room setup.  So I got Denai up and invited Michael and Marie to help with their room and bunk beds.
Spirits were high, but I was starting to get exhausted.  Every few minutes Denai was angry about something, so I put Marie on Denai duty and had Michael help me carry drawers upstairs. This worked well for the time being.  We got the dressers upstairs and started to put the bed together.
Michael wanted to help, but his way.
Denai was no longer happy with Marie.
Marie was done with helping Denai.
I was about done with the whole day.
Then, Denai fell and Marie watched.  We have seen this before and have tried to work on this with Marie, but this day I felt losing my temper was a better idea.
So, Dad was upset, Denai was upset, Marie’s feelings were hurt and Michael just wanted his bunk bed put together.
Finally, with the bunk bed put together I moved to Denai’s crib.
I was done. The kid’s room could wait.
The smell of sour milk and no butter after 8 hours helped me decide it was time to give up on that dream, so I just stopped the mixer and decided to clean it up later.  As dinner was rapidly approaching I realized I hadn’t even thought about what to do.  So I checked the bank account, whew! We had just enough for pizza.
With a quick run to Papa Murphy’s dinner was taken care of.
We painfully chose a movie to watch and enjoyed dinner.  I fell asleep 5 minutes after finishing my pizza although Denai made sure I didn’t miss a single movie moment.
After dinner, bathing and bed time commenced with no real incident although Michael couldn’t understand why he couldn’t sleep in his bunk bed with no mattress.
It was 8:01 PM.
On the Friday Mrs. Sexy left, I figured my evenings would consist of working hard and getting wrapped up with the day’s projects.  However all I could think about was how nice the bed sounded.
Sunday morning came too soon. I wanted to get the kids ready for Sunday school, but with the progression of the morning, I knew I would be lucky to get to the main service on time. I frantically put the house in the best order I could and got the kids ready to go.

Marie was wearing her normal everyday clothes with her hair in a quick pony tail.

Denai was wearing the same Sunday dress she wore last week.

Michael was wearing the shorts he wore on Saturday and was covered in dirt. (This I discovered as we entered the church)
I don’t even know what I wore.
During service I got a text from Mrs. Sexy saying they were headed back.
2 thoughts…

I didn’t even come close to completing my project list.

Who cares?

Before we picked her up we had a few more temper tantrums by all, but when we saw her again it was a big sigh of relief.
I prefaced this blog to say that I am not the typical lazy man and I do quite a bit of work around the house.  This weekend I realized how much work Mrs. Sexy does every day and how important it is to be a team without your spouse.
It may not be clear to all, but I can see the hard work she does each day and the fact that she has any energy for me when I come home is a miracle in itself.
Babe, let’s have another kid.

Disclaimer:  Mrs. Sexy did some line editing and is responsible for the pictures in this post. 

Broken Bondage

Mr. Sexy

Mr. Sexy and I got married three years ago. As time moved forward, Mr. Sexy moved slower and complained more. I could see the pain when he went to pick up our baby girl. Life struggles were being written on his face as his under eyes darkened and tension rarely left him. This tension would, at times, spin out of control. We both made choices we now regret. 

After three years of marriage, he is a changed man. 

My new term for him is, “bouncy.”  He smiles more and laughs easier. He now sleeps through the night – although he still tends to snore. His thinking is clear and he can smell the flowers he brings home for me as well as the weird musty smell in our mini van. He picks me up without wincing in pain and will rub my back until I fall asleep. This is the man I married.  

His story starts now: 

I lay there breathing heavy in a cold sweat; my mind, lost in a terror tormenting my soul. While my eyes move rapidly I hear the taunts and laughter of others berating me with insults of how pathetic and worthless I am. I awake in a panic, fighting through the fog, trying to discover if that horror is just another dream, or are my secrets now exposed to the world.

For many years this has been my nightmare.

What were my secrets?

Lust, worthlessness, pride, judgement and lack of self-control.

I will never forget the first time I discovered lust. I will also never forget the iron grip it had on me since I was a teen.

I am not able to recall where the feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness began, but I could sit here for days recounting stories of how those controlled me.

Racing thoughts threw blessings by others back into their faces as pride mastered my thoughts. 

I can do anything. 
I don’t need any help. 
I hate you for helping me.

If you were in my range of vision, you were judged.

On a scale of 1 to 10, you are a 2 so I don’t trust you. 
If you would exercise more you wouldn’t be so fat and disgusting.
If only you took care of your body then I would listen to you.
I don’t care if you are a child of God, you are ugly so I don’t trust you.

On the other hand;

Wow, you are hot!
What do I have to do to get you to like me?
What do you want me to do? 
I will do anything for you because my preconceived judgement based on your outward appearances told me I can trust you.

Good or bad, I threw away all self control and put forth all my effort into anything and everything.

Eat, eat, and eat.
Play, play, and play.
Drink, drink and drink.
Work, work, and work.
Spend, spend and spend.
Sacrifice, sacrifice, and sacrifice.
Workout, workout, and workout.

To what end? It didn’t matter. No limits. No boundaries. No wisdom.

Each one of these secrets – let’s just call them what they are – sins, gave foothold in my life. Since before I can remember satan’s mercenaries began to destroy me.

For many years I allowed the whispers of his demons to persuade my decisions and actions. But that wasn’t enough for him. His mission was to kill and destroy me, not simply lead me down troubled paths.

I must give credit to the influence of my family and friends.  Even through my stupid life choices, they were the voice of God guiding me back on the right path. Because of this, the enemy had to get more drastic. The question was, if berating me daily wasn’t going to destroy me, then what would?

My body.

I was in sports growing up and I remember being coached to breathe in through my nose and out my mouth. As a young man, my nose was so “clogged” I could never do this without gasping for air. Instead, I fought through the discomfort and did the best I could.

When I joined the Navy in 2002, they were determined to figure out why I couldn’t breathe properly through my nose. Twelve years later the best they ever did was diagnose me with Chronic Sinusitis. I went through two surgeries and every ENT medication I could think of with no resolution.

So I decided to live with it.

It was my neck that was killing me.  No, it was my back. No, my hips. My hands. My ankles. Name a joint and it hurt. There were no triggers and no explanation. I went to specialists from Texas to California to Idaho to Washington. They all had the same response: *Shrug of shoulders.* I have given so much blood in lab tests that I am convinced they are cloning me! (OK not really). The pain at times would be so bad in my hands that the simple act of picking up my cell phone felt impossible.


More accurately, my lack of sleep. I was diagnosed with sleep apnea with no medical explanation behind it. On a good night, where I was absolutely exhausted, I would sleep for eight hours with only waking up five or six times. On a normal night I would sleep for six hours and wake up at least every hour – if not more. Some nights I would just give up and stare at the TV.  This had been going on for 15 years.  Coffee was my drug of choice.

Three years ago, my wife and I read the book Spiritual Warfare by Karl Payne. Everything changed. You can read about her experience in the post: Gear Up: We are in War. Recently Payne held a seminar at our home church; we almost didn’t go, but what I discovered was that there may be more to my physical pain than the medical world could explain.

I had consistently lost battles with satan and his mercenaries.  I had given them footholds into my life, allowing them to wreak havoc in trying to destroy me.

It was time to fight with my Father’s authority!

Weeks later I sat down in my pastor’s office and we began to talk.  I was an open book.  There was nothing to hide because there was nothing to fear.

As he began to lay down the ground rules, my heart started to race and thoughts of mockery flooded my mind. Pastor instructed me to read Bible verses, establishing God’s authority over satan. I had no idea what I was reading and assumed my mouth and voice were making the right sounds. The noises in my head flooded any chance of understanding the words on the page.

Pastor and I began to work through the process.  My mind quieted except when answering questions by our pastor directed to the tormentors. There was no imagination, no work on my part. I simply stated what I heard.

After cleaning house of all satan’s mercenaries, I asked the Holy Spirit to fill any voids.

I was overwhelmed with joy and peace.


The joy was so pure, my eyes welled up with tears.

24 hours later I was still discovering little joys of life that I hadn’t had in more years than I can remember.

Today, I can still breathe clearly.

Today,  I have no joint pain.

Today, I smiled remembering the dreams I had last night.

I know the fight isn’t over.  I am developing tools to keep the ground I regained.

As a society we have become afraid to talk or even acknowledge the topic of spiritual warfare. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that not only is it real, but with The Father on our side, we have nothing to fear, but only to rejoice.