By Josh Loudermilk | Columnist
I am thankful today for the sunshine. Yes, it is pretty, and I admit, there is a hint of autumn in the smug Florida air. It feels nice.
I also am thankful for the sun on a more practical basis. I am a proud owner of a 1998 BMW 323 convertible. Why am I proud? Simple — no car payment! Yes, it must be cared for, and it has a few hiccups. But there is no payment, and this makes me very happy.
However, there is a small problem with my car: I had a crack in my plastic back window. Feeling industrious and full of courage, I decided that I (mighty Josh) could replace that window myself. Armed with a razor knife and with the enlistment of my wife, Melissa, I cut the window out.
That was easy. That was also like three months ago.
I still have no back window. I did not take into account how difficult it is installing a new plastic window with Gorilla Glue and staples. Needless to say, I have no back window. No big deal.
However, I decided to fix my air-conditioning, which only sometimes works. I opened the fuse box on my car and started moving junk around and trying to find the faulty break. I did not find it. Nope. Instead, I managed to destroy the fuse that controls my power windows.
Yep, I have no power windows or back window. So, today, I am thankful for two things. I am thankful for sunshine, and I am thankful for my Apple App that shows live radar, so I can drive home around the storms.
Life is good. Rather, God is good!
The reason for such optimism is the accidental discovery: a cure for depression! Melissa is on the mend from her recent cancer surgery, and her mom has been able to be with her during the day when I am at work (huge blessing). So, often when I get home, she is ready escape the home/hospital ward.
Armed with $20 from her mama, we drove to a neighboring town and splurged on a delicious dinner. But, she was in constant pain, and Chloe, our 18-month-old, was being a pill at the restaurant. After a quick dinner, we avoided glances from irritated patrons and our sweaty little girl, who was in the middle of a meltdown, and snapped her non-compliant body into the car seat. Throwing her magical blanket over her head (usually her blanket calms her down), we climbed into the front seat with our crumpled dinner remains stacked in Styrofoam containers pitifully between us.
We went to Kmart. I am not sure why. When you have toddlers, a trip to Kmart can be a treat. Forget romantic dates — just get us out of the house.
Melissa’s pain was increasing, and the screaming kid in the back wasn’t helping. Oh, the kid was angry! Angry is not the right word. Chloe was demanding, much like a terrorist. Melissa and I were her hostages as we tried to understand her demands through grunts, screeches and screams.
Fumbling through the store, we found shoes for Chloe. Then, standing in the checkout line, I saw it. Next to me, on a tree, dangling there for me to see — bags and bags of cotton candy. It was pink, purple, yellow and bluish green. Should I splurge? Heck yeah! I bought a bag and hid it from the family until we got into the car.
It was would be my secret weapon.
We left the store, and Melissa, with a expression of pain and exhaustion on her face, mumbled the words, “Please take me home and shoot me in the … Hey! Is that cotton candy?”
My wife’s eyes danced. Chloe went from screaming and pulling at her diaper in the child seat and froze. I am not sure, but somehow a rainbow came out of the bag as I opened in slow motion. Though it was faint, I do believe I heard angels singing the Hallelujah chorus.
Melissa grabbed a piece of purple fluff, and with tears in her eyes, let the cloud of goodness melt on her tongue as her body relaxed into the seat. Chloe, too, was checking out this weird substance, and I am sure all of this information was being stored in her long-term memory.
We ate that bag of cotton candy as we drove the back way home. We sang songs, moved to the beat of the music on the radio and, for half-hour, we were living in the moment — and with no talk of pain.
Yes, cotton candy cures depression.
The God who gives us sunsets, sunrises, autumn breezes — also gives us Cotton Candy. God is good.
Think about it.
Josh Loudermilk is an inspirational speaker/comic and available to speak at your church, group or event. He, his wife, Melissa, and daughter, Chloe, live in Walden Lake. You can reach Josh at email@example.com.PochtaBrut