As the years passed, R would occasionally rebel against the bondage of his employment. I endeavored to convince him that we were in the promised land. I had already convinced myself. I was bold and tireless in my manipulations.
Untended weeds spread quickly, almost imperceptibly.
The new home was no longer new. I knew it would be impossible to change it into what I wanted. Even if we did, it wasn't where I wanted. Why not put R's carpentry skills to use? I reasoned.
We found the lot and the house plan. Sold the home that had seen two young people fight for their marriage, grieve the loss of a child and a father, and welcome a baby girl into the world. We crammed all the stuff into a tiny apartment where we spent the next 18 months navigating the obstacle course of boxes containing our old life. Boxes waiting for our new life were soon stacked among them.
We poured the foundation of our house and cemented R's future in a job he despised.
If it's possible to test God's patience to the limit, I did. He finally pried my hands from my ears so that I could hear Him speak about the hurt I was inflicting upon my husband and my daughter, and even myself. He told me enough was enough. He started weeding my heart.
My oft-chronicled journey toward peace & simplicity commenced. I learned to let go of things, except one. I was still hiding the key to R's chains in my pocket, clutching it until my knuckles were white. Every time he mentioned breaking free, I assured him we were where God wanted us.
Isn't that what the Israelites thought about Egypt?
I was standing my ground. Little did I know God was about to pull the rug out from under me.
(from the archives)