12 Stone: A Corvette Marriage. Hold tight to your knickers.

Our church, 12 Stone, has asked couples to submit "marriage breakthrough" stories as part of our current series on marriage. Because we know that God is using us (always has been), we couldn't ignore his whispers to submit our story. Only when we went to submit it, we learned that the online form has a 350 word limit. We giggled. If only we could sum this up in 350 words. 

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.

Our Story.


We were married on August 12, 2006.

The day was planned out perfectly. Every detail. Every single moment. The only hiccup was that a monsoon hit the tiny coastal island where we were getting married just minutes before we were to be married. As a result, we got married in the dark, pouring sweat from lack of AC in the tiny historic chapel. We danced. To a tiny boom box powered by a backup generator because the DJ couldn’t play his music due to lack of power. We ate finger sandwiches, because the resort lost power and couldn’t cook our shrimp and grits. The cake melted from the intense heat. The preacher got stuck in the elevator. The fire department came. It was an absolute disaster and it was absolutely beautiful. We danced. We smiled. And we laughed.

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.

True Story.

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.

3 weeks after Coop was born, Chris went for a routine physical. As you can imagine, at this point, we had come to realize that there was just about nothing “routine” about our sweet marriage. A week later, he was diagnosed with cancer.

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.

Mid chemotherapy, Chris’ gun case went to trial. It would have been over sooner, but it had to go through the Supreme Court. Of course it did.

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.

“The rain came down. The streams rose. And the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. Matthew 7:25