Tracey Marley

My life is so completely real that it surprises me when I go somewhere and someone I don’t know comes up and says, “You’re the woman who wrote that book!” It’s always exciting to hear from a reader, but I want to make something perfectly clear. The romantic stuff I write comes from somewhere deep inside my imagination, not because it’s the day-to-day norm for me. Combine that with the fact I’ve always felt that it is important to live a transparent life and you’ll get the reason as to why I’m writing this.

Humility is an important mark to find in any leader. I believe you should practice what you preach to the best of your ability, allowing Christ to enable you where you yourself do not have the strength to stand consistently and repent when you fall. So that’s what I try to do. I’m not perfect, don’t claim to be and don’t plan on attaining that coveted status this side of heaven. I am very much a work in progress as is my husband, my children and my life in general.

It was on one such night that I was experiencing some of this “progress” with my husband that I realized we had a long way to go when it comes to us having a storybook romance. I had spent a long day at the computer working on the intricate details of some relational struggle my characters were having and naturally I was drained.

My husband came home from work and after supper, he presented an idea. Now don’t get me wrong. I love my husband—dearly. He is a smart, intuitive and unselfish man who can be romantic at times but he’s also bad to get on these tangents where he gets wild ideas. Crazy ideas. Because of a recent trip into a natural health food store, I was scared to ask exactly what his latest idea was.

Not put off by my reluctance, he explains. “Ear wax removal.” Since my head had been clogged up for weeks with sinus pressure, I realize in some weird and twisted way my husband is trying to meet my needs. Chad goes on to present two candle-looking type things and explains that you stick one end of the tube in your ear, light the other end and the flame will draw the ear wax up, out of your ear and into the hollow candle-like tube. “We can share them.”

I look at the package, seeing that he was too frugal to buy me my own set of candles or the pretty scented kind. Instead, he bought one pack of the plain-janes and wanted to split them. There was one candle for him, one candle for me and halfway through, we were to switch ears. Whatever. We share everything. Might as well share a set of gigantic Q-tips too.

I’m fine with the idea until we move to the kitchen where Chad starts to search out a paper plate. Once he finds it, he proceeds to poke a hole in it. He pushes the candle through the hole so that it looks like a sword with an oversized protective shield around its base.

“It’s okay,” he says, seeing my expression. “This is perfectly safe. I’ve checked it out with a pharmacist buddy of mine. He says he does it all the time.”

“Uh, huh. What’s the plate for?”

“To catch the ashes.”

“Ashes?” My greatest fear is fire. I have a lot of hair and immediately I can see my head going up in flames.

Chad fills a cup with water and heads to the living room.

“What’s the water for?”

“Just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“I don’t know. Just in case of an accident, I guess. The directions say we need it.”

My expression turns to one of horror. “The directions actually say that! And you’re still going to do this? Are you crazy?”

“No! The directions didn’t say what the water was for, just that we needed it. I’m sure it’s just a precaution. You’re head is not going to catch on fire.” Chad continues to set up a place on the couch with pillows while I continue to worry and hate that he can read me so well. “Don’t worry!” he reiterates. “I promise you. This is perfectly safe. I’ll even go first.”

He goes on instructing me where to sit so that he can place his head in my lap, conveniently in front of the TV.

I do what he says but before I take the candle-sword he is offering me I tell him, “You know this pretty much puts us past the point of no return in the romance department, right? I mean it’s Friday night and here we are on the couch removing each other’s ear wax for entertainment!”

He tenderly looks into my eyes and firmly replies, “Just light it!”

Please don’t forget that I’ve been working on a romance novel all day, which means I’ve been examining the chemistry between men and women, trying to come up with appropriate dialog that portrays deep emotions while keeping everything in line with a plot.

Suddenly catching my husband’s head on fire doesn’t sound like a bad idea. “Oh, by all means, lay down,” I say, offering my lap for the scene of the pending crime.

Chad proceeds to light the candle and my eyes enlarge with surprise. The simple wax tubing stuck in my husband’s head becomes something of a roaring road flare once put to flame. It’s crackling and popping and the flame is several inches high with a bright blue base. Instantly I become alarmed. I can’t imagine the instructions not mentioning this. That means he probably didn’t read them or at least not very thoroughly.

A few seconds pass and after I see that the candle isn’t going to explode in our faces, I get used to holding the torch. I settle in for the wait because although the flame is high and intense, it’s a slow burn. This was going to take a while. Jeopardy comes on and we watch while trying to ignore the kids (ages 3 and 4 at the time) who continuously run over to the couch and ask why daddy’s head is on fire.

A few minutes later, time stands still as we hear an unfamiliar sound at our house. Ding dong, it rings.

We both are motionless in silent disbelief. Was that what I think it was? It was a sound that was so full of unreality, it actually sounded deeper in my ears the second time I heard it. Dinnnng donnnng.

I look out the living room window and get the feeling of being watched. There are no blinds on our front windows—none whatsoever—and we’re sitting directly in front of them with the lights on. There is someone standing on our front porch watching this scene unfold? Unbelievable. Who can it be?

“Blow it out,” I hear from somewhere under the Styrofoam plate in my lap.

It doesn’t matter who it is. Suddenly I can see this scene from another person’s eyes. It looks completely ridiculous and I start to laugh. I mean really laugh. In fact, I start laughing so hard I can’t breath.

“I…can’t!” I heave between gasps, trying to blow out what looks like a stick of dynamite.

Chad yells this time. ”Blow it out!” he commands.

“I……can’t…..breathe. How…do…you……..expect me….to blow it out?”

With a huff, my husband jerks the candle out of my hand, jumps off the couch and blows it out himself. Thick white-gray smoke fills the living room and stinks something horrid. Now I know exactly what the water was for. Extinguishing the flame.

Chad goes to the door and I hear Carlos, a member from church, standing on the other side explaining that he’s brought something by for his pastor to sample. Carlos is a terrific cook and Chad loves to sample his concoctions; in particular the ones involving beans.

The next time I’m able to look up, smoke is still billowing out of my husband’s head as he stands in the kitchen sampling a piece of papaya as if nothing were wrong.

“Hmm. This is good,” Chad says to Carlos who is still in the doorway. Carlos is quiet. ”Uh, Pastor Chad, what were ya’ll doing? We could see the flame from the window.”

Great. A whole host of onlookers, I tell myself. I truly appreciate Carlos’ generosity, but at this point I’ve slithered into the floor and still can’t breathe for the smoke and round two of the fit of laughter Carlos’ accountability has caused. I see the headlines flash before my smoke-filled eyes: Pastor Chad Busted for Smoking Dope on the Living Room Sofa.

I hear Chad trying to explain to Carlos what we were doing and that it was not illegal. Carlos looks around the door to see me in the floor. At that point I’m crying from the lack of oxygen in my system. I’ve gone for what? Five minutes without air?

Carlos squints. “Is she crying?”

On those words my laughter finally burst into something audible. I too offer up an explanation of how he’s managed to walk in on one of the craziest scenes of my life and call us out in question. We all got a good laugh but later that night Carlos called back.

“Pastor Chad,” he says again on the phone, “I still don’t understand why you were sticking paper in your ear and setting it on fire. That really removes the wax from your ear?”

My guess is that Carlos went home and tried this thus underlining the important truth I pointed out at the beginning of this story. No matter how glamorous someone’s life can appear, don’t be deceived. Reality is what’s really happening behind closed doors or should I say blind-less windows, and the value of a lesson learned in humility can never be overestimated. Try hard to practice what you preach, be quick to admit a fault and be precise in your speech. After all, there is always someone watching…and trying to mimic.

“We put no stumbling block in anyone’s path, so that our ministry will not be discredited” 2 Corinthians 6:3 NIV.