Snoring and Husbands

I have had some sleepless nights over the years – not to blame my husband’s snoring.  But when I can’t sleep – there it is.  And it only manifests itself after he’s had a weary day – not one of those sleep apnea problems.

In the early years of marriage, I’d kick him, tell him to roll over, listen to his nighttime angry outbursts which he’d never remember the next morning.  So all was well.  But it get’s boring.  There has to be other ways to deal with it.

I must insert one little story of my friend who also kicked her husband while he was in bed.  Not because he was snoring, but because he wasn’t rolling out of bed and getting ready for work.  She kicked him hard enough that he landed on the floor.  Only then did she realize he was entering a diabetic coma!  I have gone from terror to hysterics with that story.  I guess she saved his life with that one kick and realization!

Over recent years I’ve tried other tactics than kicking.  I’ll pretend I’m a little bug climbing up his leg.  That will make him roll over.  Other times I increase pressure on one spot of his arm or leg to make him want to get away from it.  Voila.

But now that I’m in a hospital bed and he’s out of reach, creativity is needed!  I’ll mimic his snores; I learned he has about 4 different ones.  He’ll snore, I’ll snore the same tune.  Sometimes I’ll snore in a different order.  That quiets him for about 20 minutes. 

I’ve tried Seth’s technique, which I’ve observed from camping out with him and bunches of other noisy snorers. He will cough really loud – that does stop the snorers for awhile – but wakes up the rest of us.  But it works fine with just Dave and I.

The other night I sang to Dave.  I have a favorite child’s book called There Were Ten in the Bed.  Rather than reading it to my kids, I would sing it.  It’s about a little boy with 9 stuffed animals crowded in bed with him.  My serenade to Dave:  There were ten in the bed and the little one said, “Roll over, roll over” – this part I sing LOUDLY – “so they all rolled over and mouse fell out – plunk….. and on and on it goes until they’ve all rolled over and are out of the bed.  Of course, the little boy reconsiders, because he’s lonely and they all jump back in bed with him.   This song has worked, and adds to my "dark of the night" amusement, when he actually would roll over.

So wifeys out there.  What works for you?

Catalina Surprises

Running from port to starboard, our hair blinding us from the ship’s full force ahead entangled with the ocean breeze, Marta and I caught the banister-side exhibit of the dolphins’ silvery undulating display.  It was the mid-eighties and we decided to get away to Santa Catalina Island, off the coast of Southern California.  The boat trip, three hours long in those days, did more than just bring the laughter of a surprise Sea World show, it made me seasick.  I knew that would happen.  What I didn't expect was a crisis of faith.

Every sea adventure or mountainous car trip will make me green.  I’ll arrive, be sicker, and finally recover.  Always will be that way, unless I’m pregnant. It’s the funniest thing that boat trips and curving roads actually worked in my favor with morning sickness.  However, days of pregnancy have long since passed me by.  It has made me ponder if “drunken sailors” are just that way, drunk, so they can better handle the wild sea.  Does his stumbling gait become straight arrow at sea? Do these types of sicknesses always reverse each other?  Do two wrongs make a right, in issues of the stomach? 

Anyways, back to the island boat adventure.  As we often did whenever we were together, we made a friend, a guy who was traveling alone with his bike.  Our conversation turned to spiritual things – a topic always on our heart.  Our love for Jesus was real.  We were always curious if everyone knew who He was.  We wouldn’t want anyone to miss out on Jesus and how He has expressed his love for humanity.  That part was all good. 

But a bit later, as Marta and I talked alone, we ended up questioning something about Jesus that our conversation with this young man had ignited.  I wish I could remember now what that pivotal query was – I just know we were both stymied.  In the past one of us could come up with a reasonable explanation for the other’s new issue.  Not this time.  The wonderful thing about faith in Jesus, is that there is always room for questions.  God is never afraid of our doubts.  We both realized a freedom in our faith to tackle each apparent inconsistency that showed itself.  But this time we were in a panic.

We landed.  I eventually recovered from my seasickness in our hotel room, and then we decided to take care of our questions, rather than head out and enjoy the island.  We found a telephone book and wrote down the addresses and phone numbers of all the churches in Avalon.  I think there were actually four Christian churches on that scrap of land.  We called each of the numbers and got one live person and three machines.  The live guy said he was on his way out – maybe another day?  It was a Saturday - pastors’ day off?  Avalon is small enough to walk around in just a few minutes, so we headed out to find the churches.  At the first one, the pastor happened to be doing some yard work.  He apologized and said he simply had no time for our questions; the second church was just empty.  The third guy had already told us he wasn’t available, so we headed to the fourth and last church.  There we struck gold.

If memory serves me, it was Jim and Noreen Sutherland, and he was pastor.  Maybe they were a bit older than our parents, but when you’re in your mid-twenties, anyone even ten years older seems a lot older, and they did seem a lot older.  They took us right into their apartment that was attached to the church, brought us some ice tea, asked about our lives, and then welcomed us to launch into our spiritual crisis.  They listened, opened up the Word, and gave wise counsel that settled our issues.  At their insistence, we checked out of our hotel, grabbed our backpacks and moved into one of their rooms.  Their apartment was actually attached to a whole dormitory.  I wish I could remember the history of that church.  I wonder if it had been a boarding school.  To make certain we sensed their concern for us they also asked us to join them for dinner, and to come and go as we wanted.  After that short, but very open conversation, they wanted us to feel like family. As I write this, it sounds weird for this day and age.  How did we know if they were trustworthy?  Would they kidnap us? Brainwash us?  Yet we knew the instant we met them that they were people of peace.

The next day, after church, they asked if we would run an errand for them.  It so happens they were a family that had lived on the Island for a long time.  Their real home was not the apartment on the church property, but a ranch home way back on the island, a place tourists could not readily visit.  They had a jeep and asked if we would drive out to their place, find their son, deliver something and pick up something else to bring back. 

Adventure!!  What?  Seriously?  We got to drive the dirt and dusty back roads of Catalina and not even have to trespass!  We saw wild life.  I’m remembering Bison… could it have been?  So long ago.  We were given keys or codes to get through one gate or another.  We felt such the role of privileged child.  Definitely privileged guests.  We had known them for less than 24 hours when they bestowed this gift upon us.

We more than kept in touch over the years.  We told them of increasing seriousness of our feelings for the guys we each ultimately married.  They wanted to meet these guys.  Marta brought Fonz. Separately, I brought Dave.  That trip was memorable too.

I decided to surprise Dave.  At the time I was working at a crisis pregnancy center.  The girls we served would sometimes end up in maternity homes for the duration of their pregnancy because their parents, not approving,  had kicked them out.  We would do our best to keep relationships going with the girls referred out.  One of the homes I worked with was in Long Beach.  I easily concocted a story to get Dave to Long Beach by asking him to meet with “the boyfriend” while I met with “the girlfriend.”

Dave’s parents were also complicit in that they packed Dave’s bag and sneaked it into the trunk of his car.   I already had the plan to get him to the dock. 

“Oh Dave, I forgot to mention that my friends, the Sutherlands, asked me to pick some things up for them at Costco, and put them on the next boat out to Catalina.  That boat is about to leave, let’s drop off their stuff, and then head out to see the kids.” 

As Dave opened the trunk to grab the goods, he was absolutely confounded to find his own suitcase.  The whole way to Catalina he kept asking,  “Well what about the kids we were supposed to be meet with, are we just going to stand them up?” 

“Sorry Dave, they don’t exist, I made them up.”

             

“And what about the Costco shopping, we didn’t grab it.” 

“No, that doesn’t exist either.  They’ve actually never asked me to bring them anything.”

“What will my parents think if I don’t come home tonight?”

“Umm, remember?  They packed your bag.”

Poor guy was confused all weekend.  But we had a lovely time with the Sutherlands.  Dave played piano for their church service.  We fit in quite nicely.

The Sutherlands continued to look for ways to speak into our lives and be an active part.  I ended up bringing my paid and volunteer staff from the Azusa Living Alternatives, to their church’s dormitory for a retreat.  Marta joined us to lead worship music.

When they were no longer able to pastor or live on the island, we heard they moved to Arizona, and later heard they had passed away.  But their hospitality lives on in our hearts.

A couple years ago Dave and I returned to the island so I could ride the new zipline, and celebrate the end of chemo and radiation after breast cancer treatment.  It was nostalgic to walk past that old church and get flooded with the memories of what the island really meant to me… Jim and Noreen Sutherland, who loved Jesus, and spread their love to a couple crazy, confused girls.