Supplemental Benefit 2: Someone with whom to Share a TV Series Addiction

I haven’t had cable for over two years now. In fact, I haven’t even had television reception. So, the opportunity for me to become addicted to any TV shows has been non-existent. Movies have always been my preferred choice of entertainment by a long shot. That is, until Scrubs.

At Blockbuster a few weeks ago, Nic and I decided to rent the first eight episodes of the show instead of the latest new release for a change. The result: complete and utter addiction. We haven’t been able to stop. It’s television cocaine. We plowed through the first season’s twenty four episodes in a few days. And for Christmas, my brother bought us the complete second season on DVD (which is, for some reason I still can’t understand, unavailable at Blockbuster). While I’m sure I would have enjoyed the delightful series by myself, it’s so much better having your loved one right there with you, just as addicted, rooting for your favorite characters, laughing at the same moments, sniffling at others, and so on. In fact, we love the show so much, we just slide a mattress out to the middle of the family room and watch episode after episode when it’s Scrubs time, which is basically every night straight until we finish a season. We’re just about through the second season on DVD, so the mattress will be hidden again until we locate season three and sit through all the episodes like Star Wars geeks sitting through the entire saga in one sitting.

The humor. The tears. The character development. The favorite moments. We get to share them all together. It’s just another one of those little supplemental benefits you don’t think about when you originally consider popping the question. Or if it is, you need stop watching television and pick up a book or two.

One last little side note. If you haven’t seen Scrubs yet, just watch the first couple shows. You’ll be hooked.

I'll Take Humility for a $1000 Please.

A year ago last December, Jonathan and I were just beginning. We had been dating only a few weeks when Jonathan told me about his “word for the year.” The idea is to choose a word, ideally a characteristic of God or Christian principle, and let that one word be your focus for the year. Jonathan’s word was stewardship, and the year before, patience. It seemed like a simple enough concept.

So, one sunny December afternoon, while driving with the windows down, the birds singing, wind blowing through my hair, I uttered these fateful words: “Lord, all the good things I am, are because of you, all the things I like about myself are the qualities you have given me. May I always appreciate that gift. May I always be humble enough to recognize who You have made me to be...” and it struck me… “Lord, I ask that humility be my word for the year.” And there it was. I had unknowingly sent my life in a completely different direction.

You see, God is always willing to answer those prayers—the break me, grow me, humble me prayers. So suddenly there I was dating Jonathan and every ounce of my self-esteem, it seemed had been sucked out of me. My usual self-confidence was wavering, my insecurities were mounting. Within weeks of praying that prayer I was fired from two jobs. I had never been fired from a job in my life. Soon after that, in a desperate move to “makeover” myself I cut off all my hair. I cried. Each morning when I stepped to the mirror I would fight back tears. How did this happen? Why did I look like a boy elf? Why, in my engagement to my future husband, was I looking and feeling my very worst?

Relationships with close friends began dissolving. Tensions grew between me and people I truly loved. Again and again, the Lord reminded me of my need to persevere and to recognize that my value was not tied to my job, or my haircut, or even my relationships with friends for that matter. It was all Him. And moreover, He was preparing me for marriage in a way I was unable to fully see... yet.

Kathy, my mother-in-law, at one point during this time asked me, “How is everything?” I thought for a moment. “Well, it feels like my life is falling apart. But Jonathan and I are great.” And there was the reality. In the midst of my ugliness, feeling beaten down, even hopeless at times, Jonathan was always Jonathan. While I was sad, grumpy, lacking confidence, and tired, he was supportive, encouraging, loving, forgiving, and patient. Our relationship never suffered. It flourished. God took my brokenness and started rebuilding. He took my willingness and began renewing. The process is not over. The year is not over.

I have discovered more and more ways that the Lord desires to grow me in my humility, most of them through my new marriage. I quickly realized that my heart and desire to serve Jonathan is linked explicitly to my desire to humble myself. My desire to humble myself is linked wholly to my view of myself against God. If I am nothing except for the wonderful things He has made me, well then, even when it does not feel like it, I am quite beautiful indeed, just like Jesus and Jonathan tell me.

But I will say this. Next year’s word: joy.

"That's Married Life."

What people don’t tell you about marriage is that life keeps on happening when you say, “I do.” What I mean is: stuff keeps going wrong, work still sucks sometimes, the bills keep coming in the mail, etc, etc, etc. I think that, before that beautiful day, I thought life would somehow just change the next day. You know, the type of change you expect when you graduate high school, venturing off to college and into adulthood.

But that’s all wrong.

This past couple weeks has consisted of one thing after another thing after another thing breaking or going wrong. First, Nicole’s truck. Then, the toilet. After that, the kitchen sink. And then, our car. More significantly, Nic’s had some health issues and she has to go see the doctor. Of course, this all had to fall right smack dab in the middle of December, the month of presents, presents, and, did I mention presents? (If you’re reading this family, it looks like you’ll all be getting some very nice cards, accompanied by “thoughtful” presents. And if you feel so obligated, you can make checks payable to the Too-Much-Crap-In-One-Month-Cottrell Fund.)

Last night, Nic and I went to dinner at the Cheesecake Factory, sort of as an unspoken last meal until late January. It was scrumptious. Occasions such as that always make the meal taste better. Sitting there next to each other, we leaned our heads on each other’s shoulders, we ate well, and we laughed. We talked about how nice it is to know that, no matter how difficult things may become at times, we have each other to “lean on.” I didn’t break into song and dance even with the cue, because Nic verbalized it better. We have each other to “bear one another’s burdens.” Exactly.

If all this stuff wasn’t enough, this morning, we both woke up sick, the car turned out being more expensive than estimated, and I smell like vitamins. Flinstone vitamins. I don’t know how it happened. I just pulled my shirt out of the closet today and, after trying to locate the smell for a while, I realized the smell was not actually trailing, but it was on me. I’m not sure which little artificially flavored character I smell like—Fred, Barney, Wilma, Dino, Bam Bam, maybe just the collected smell of all the vitamins in a single bottle—but when it’s one thing after another like Nic and I have been experiencing lately, eventually, you just have to stop and laugh.

And the laughs just keep on rolling. Tonight, after I picked up Nicole from work, we walked into the house with a great big surprise waiting for us. As Nic turned the corner to enter the kitchen, she looked into our lounge and gasped. She stopped me and said, “Jonathan, pray before you enter this room,” quickly followed by, “Can I just tell you what happened.” Quite unfortunately, our water heater had begun leaking everywhere. It’s nothing a 16-gallon ShopVac couldn’t cleanup after three hours. Nonetheless, it was just a little too much at that moment. No worries, though, Nic and I are doing well, camped out at my parents’ house, mooching from my mom’s extremely well stocked fridge, just like old times.

As I told my mom about all the, shall we say, exciting events of late, she quickly said, "That's married life," to which I responded, "No. It's just life, and we happened to be married." I mean, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health is all ringing a little truer right now than we would have hoped in our first two months together. But this stuff could happen to anyone. And somehow, despite the fact we don't think it could get any worse (and we don't want to jinx ourselves), the worse is much better than any better would be on my own.

"Then the eyes of both of them were opened..."

Remember all those habits and idiosyncrasies you had when you were single that didn’t seem weird at the time? Yeah. Well. I’ve come to realize that I had a lot of those. And I still do.

For instance (and this is a big for instance), every time I finish showering, I proceed directly to the toilet, where I wipe myself. Yes, my butt. I won’t go too much into the details, but I always feel like that region won’t fully dry without a good up-and-down wiping. Even though I have done this for years and never thought that much about it, the first time Nic caught me still dripping wet from the shower, squatting, fingers holding onto a big clump of moist toilet paper, wiping myself, I pitifully whimpered, “Crap.” Actually, it sounded more like, “crap…” She said it looked as if I was about to cry.

I imagine it’s a lot like Adam and Eve must have felt after sinning. In Genesis 3:7 it reads, “Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked…” That’s exactly how it felt. Not that marrying Nicole was comparable to the fall of man. It’s just that, when she beheld me in all of my naked, squatting glory, immediately, I knew using toilet paper to dry the hidden region of my body was totally weird. Neurotic. Just plain gross.

There are other examples, too. Like how every time I brush my teeth, I gag myself due to how far back I reach the toothbrush to rid my tongue of all the junk that causes bad breath. Or how I circle the house when I’m ready to leave and waiting on somebody (a.k.a. her). Or, how I shave the little hairs that spring up around my nipples like weeds in spring. Yes, these and many other strange things, no matter how strange and unusual they may seem, are all a part of the moy (half man, half boy) that is me. And while Nic, too, has some different idiosyncrasies and habits, I confidently state that they are nowhere nearly as strange as mine. And besides, I don’t think I would be allowed to tell about them here.

But, when I think about all this, I know that it’s just another intricate part of marriage. When you marry, you get everything. And I mean everything. The habits. The funny sayings. The irrational fears. The pet peeves. Even the weird little things that become a part of your loved one’s everyday routine. That may include butt wipe drying. It may not. But you know what? You keep falling in love despite that stuff. And the weirdest thing of all is, sometimes you may even find yourself falling in love because of that stuff.

Observations by Nicole C.

Jonathan told me the other day that he had started a blog for us, a place for us to write about our new adventures in marriage. I laughed and felt certain that he would supply plenty of material for the site. But then he told me that he was expecting me to contribute and add my own anecdotes and insight into “this marriage thing.” I figured, what the hey. If anything, we could get a few laughs.

Our Slumber Parties
Initially, everyone’s first question (besides “when are you having babies,”) is: “So how’s married life?” A question to which Jonathan quickly answers, “It’s great!” I, on the other hand, would say something more like, “Well, I don’t know exactly, we’ve only been married about a month. If anything, it feels like a slumber party.” And it does. Putting on our PJ’s, snuggling up next to each other (among other things), lighting candles and laying in bed talking and giggling well past our bed times—it feels exactly like a slumber party (only co-ed and legal). Waking up together in the early morning, snuggling some more, making breakfast on Saturday mornings, getting ready for the day together feels like you have gotten to have the world’s best sleepover with your world’s best friend. And you get to share in that joy everyday day and night.

Like Husband Like Wife
Jonathan and I pride ourselves in comparing our differences. We get a kick out of how truly different we really are from one another. Not until we were married though did even more of our differences surface. And not until we were married did we get to observe how the other person operates in their daily routine. Jonathan for example, I never knew, is a really bad looker. By “bad looker” I mean, he was the kid who would yell for help from his mom because he couldn’t find his socks, yet all the time they would be right under his left foot. Nearly four to five times a week (no exaggeration) Jonathan misplaces something; usually it’s his keys, and/or phone, and/or wallet. Upon realizing he cannot find them, he begins on what should be a search for the missing items, but what is actually just him turning his head from side to side, wherever he is standing, and then proceeding to call for my help in his search. During this time I actually walk around the house and almost always find the item in question within a foot of where Jonathan is standing. “You’re such a bad looker,” I’ll say.

Jonathan on the other hand, while being somewhat foretold of my love of sleeping before marriage, has become quickly inundated with earlier bed times, later sleeping-in, and more frequent naps. He has been a good sport, allowing me a nap when he would much rather be doing other things. He has retired to bed earlier than he would like and has overslept on a Saturday or two, all to be next to me.

Lately however, I have noticed both mine and Jonathan’s “bad looking” and need for sleep rubbing off on one another. I seem, for instance, to find myself misplacing, well… everything—my keys, my phone, my purse, my money. I call to Jonathan to ask him if he has seen the item in question, he grins and says, “You’re such a bad looker,” mockingly. Later that night, while watching a movie, he will fall asleep long before me. I’ll wake him and put him to bed. In the morning, he’ll hit snooze three times and mumble something about wanting more sleep. I pull him close and grin, think to myself “...and the two shall become one…” and I laugh.