Jacko is Sicker, but Liquor is Quicker

Little Lucy-loo is feeling much better than she did last weekend, but now Jacko-roo is under the flu's black cloud. Jack has mostly been cranky and barfy, while Lucy has been enjoying the marathon of children's shows on the TV. The silly part of this whole ordeal is that I'm thrilled that he's thrown up in the toilet—twice! Dude's growing up. No more carpet messes for us, in that regard.

And for some reason, I can't stop thinking about the following little anecdote.

The guy I dated right before I met Caleb was a recovering alcoholic. That was part of the reason we broke up, but it was mostly because he was needy. And I'm not into needy guys. For how tough I like to act, I find being the constant "rock" of the relationship difficult.

He had served an LDS mission in Canada before his drinking days. Anyone who has known any kind of religious missionary has probably been showered with stories of spiritual experiences. I myself never served a mission, so I try to live vicariously through those who have and am drawn to any kind of story regarding a mission. Silly, miraculous, scary—I love them all.

The most faith-affirming story that my former boyfriend had to offer was uninspiring, at best. One day, he had consumed something that was questionable in the expiration-date department. His stomach was twisting in knots, but there were still many people that needed to be served that day. He prayed to Heavenly Father, wondering what he should do. He felt a strong urging to drink water—LOTS of water. After he did, he threw up and felt much better. The end.

He spoke with such reverence about this story; I could barely hold in my guffaws each time he told it. From his two-year mission, he held that ONE experience as his sign that the church was true? Okaaaaaay.

If you are looking for religious peace this holiday season, I hope you do not lean on that story.