(Looking back at our journey, one year later. Scroll down to read Part I first.)
A bigger home needs more stuff.
A sinful heart will rationalize anything to get what it wants.
More stuff isn't free. Despite the beauty of R's craftsmanship, a carpenter's salary wasn't going to finance all the stuff we had to have. The answer was clear, at least to me. I wasn't subtle in my attempts to persuade my husband that gaining a job at the paper mill would give us the life we deserved. He submitted himself to the long process of application and testing. We were so happy when he was finally called for an interview. The day he was hired was cause for celebration. We were giddy with anticipation of a better life.
R was the first to feel the chains. He began to resent a job that didn't allow him to use his God-given talents and required him to work ridiculous hours. He grew restless. His conversations were peppered with words of another career path. He was eager to shake the dust of the current one from his shoes. He talked of unpacking those school books.
And I? I was comfortable. I didn't hand him the key to his chains. I simply cleansed the wounds caused by his resistance, washing them with my words instead of the Word. Occasional bandages kept us from having to examine the depth of the cuts.
The weeds that had grown in my heart appeared to be beautiful blossoms, but they were choking the life out of my husband's dreams.
To be continued...
(from the archives)