Many of you have been our prayer warriors and our champions over the past 6+ years, and for that, we are forever grateful. Each and every one of you who has been along for this crazy ride is so very special to us.
We love you all.
Here goes nothing. Rev your engine. Hold tight to your knickers.
We were married on August 12, 2006.
Our guests kept waiting for us to fall apart, but we never did. We were married, we had each other, and that was all that mattered. In that instant, God’s Grace swept over us and carried us.
Little did we know that this lesson was going to be an integral part of our marriage for the next 5-6 years.
Soon after we returned from our honeymoon, Chris got sick. Really sick. We didn’t know what was wrong. The doctors couldn’t even figure it out. In the meantime, he broke his back (Rugby players are not in fact, made of steel). During his recovery from major back surgery, his company closed. their. doors. And just like that, another tiny monsoon hit our marriage. But we laughed. We ate Raman noodles. And we laughed.
After months of unemployment, Chris landed an incredible new career with a marketing firm who represented Glock, the handgun company. He flew out for his first business trip one early Monday morning in October. He got to Hartsfield, went through security, and accidentally forgot that he was carrying a loaded handgun. In his backpack.
Monsoon? Um, yes please. I’m telling you, we couldn’t make these things up if we tried.
Turns out “accidentally” forgetting that you have a handgun in your backpack while checking in for a business flight, does not, in fact, sit well with the TSA people. He was arrested, booked in Clayton County, and his frantic (now pregnant) wife did the only thing I knew how to do. I made two phone calls. The first to Kevin Queen, our campus pastor, the second to a good attorney.
And we laughed.
We experienced the greatest joy in all the world during those next few months. We welcomed our firstborn son, our little pistol britches, Super Coop, into this world. But not without a near death delivery experience. And we laughed.
We cried. We hit our knees. And we got swept away by God’s amazing grace once more.
That year was the hardest year of our marriage. Seeing Chris fight the good fight was one of the most humbling experiences I have ever had as a wife. From the second he was diagnosed, we prayed that God would be glorified. “No matter what, God, be glorified.” And He was. Oh He was.
By the grace of God, the case was finally resolved. I watched my bald headed husband stand in that court room, chemo port and all, tears streaming from my face, and knew that God called us to be courageous. He called us to walk with Him and to make his Power known, no matter what circumstances we were dealing with.
The day before Chris’ last cancer treatment, his brother was killed instantly in an automobile accident. 2 days before his 30th birthday. Again, we hit our knees.
The next few years were quiet. For the most part. As quiet as a quiet moment is in the Davis house.
In January 2012 we discovered we were going to be parents once again. We were filled with joy, overcome with God’s grace once more. Little did we know that we would soon lose our baby girl before we would even get the chance to meet her.
Our marriage is absolutely beautiful to me. It’s not perfect. It’s not always glamorous (clearly). No matter what kind of chaos may find us (because it will), we always know that God is sovereign. We know, in our heart of hearts, that He has brought us to (and through) such extreme circumstances all to glorify Him. And that is a mighty beautiful thing.
We have never driven a Corvette. Or done donuts together. But every single time we see a roundabout, we take an extra spin…or 3...or 7.
And we laugh. Always have, always will.