Crazy Woman.

Sometimes it's best to face facts. I am a crazy woman. I even found the creek they named after me! Crazy about my kids, crazy about cub scouting, crazy about interior design (if I had the money for it) ... crazy, crazy, crazy! Lately, I have become re-crazy about this man who continues to amaze me. He still has the power to give me goose bumps and weak knees. Let me tell you a story about this man I am crazy over. It is only one of many. It goes like this:

It was my turn to drive. We had about 22 hours ahead of us. My husband had successfully driven us over the mountain I was not willing to drive over. Mountainous driving is a new experience I might attempt sometime when I don't have a minivan full of children. So we switched seats in a small cow town. I drove through the next three towns which were relatively close together. Like a good Midwestern driver, I noted that I had just over a quarter tank of gas to work with. We had just made several stops so I earnestly pressed past the last of these three towns without stopping for gas. I figured we'd drive fifteen to thirty miles to the next gas station and be fine. Well, evidently driving over desertous hills with the air conditioning on full blast burns up more gas than this flat lander could accurately estimate. Oh, and I should mention the fact that in Wyoming you might not see anybody for seventy miles. I drove fifteen miles, twenty miles, twenty-five miles, still no town let alone a gas station. The gas light came on. Oh, boy. We pulled off to take a picture of me in front of the sign which reads, "Crazy Woman Creek." I guess it was as good a time as ever to let the man know he might be walking to a gas station soon. Then we saw a green mileage sign up ahead. The next town was over forty miles away!

I was panicking, picturing my husband hitch-hiking or walking forty miles through the desert, cursing me with every step because his ignorant wife hadn't considered the emptiness of the Wyoming wilderness. Oh I know if our roles were reversed he would be getting his bum chewed on for several hours... or days. But, this ever patient man only chuckled and shook his head.

The happy ending is we happened across a gas pump at an RV park called the "Desert Oasis" and paid $5.00 a gallon because the pumps are only rented out to some construction company. I bought enough to get us to the next station, thanking Heavenly Father the whole time for blessing me with $5.00 a gallon gas and a husband that loves me no matter what "crazy" things I do.

It's funny how small events can, if we let them, open our eyes. Incredibly, insignificance can awaken something within us. We begin to see things differently. We see things we have missed or taken for granted. For me it's having his hand to hold. It's his enveloping hugs when I am scared, the ever calm reassurance when I am worried, or the stupid joke he shares when I need to lighten up. It's the patient, "Oh, Sarah" when I've done something ridiculous. It's the long talks about God, scriptures, politics, plans for the future. It's having his snores serenade me to sleep every night, his firmness to steady the children, his optimism to counter my pessimism.

So, thank you treacherous Wyoming desert! Thank you for teaching this crazy Midwestern woman that she can't drive anywhere in Wyoming on a quarter tank of gas. But most importantly, thank you for reminding her to be crazy about her ever-loving husband.