The children were fast asleep upstairs and we sat on our couch watching the television screen, when a car commercial came on. Within that moment, both of us recalled the accident almost two years ago. Still driving a borrowed vehicle, we knew that we were pushing the limit on it.
The commercial made us laugh, a bittersweet song. He told me about all the places he wants to take us and I believed him. I knew his passion for the road. The kind that takes us to see the first snow fall an hour and a half out, just to stand outside and feel it. Soft and fragile in our hands.
To escape was to drive away for him. Away from the instability of a small business and into the roads of direction. It was hard, hard in a sense that it took away more then our money but his joy. Now, to survive meant to endure and that was the bottom for him.
I listened to him as he recalled all the details of the car he wanted and all the things that would come with it. And, as I sat there listening I found myself doubting his perfect dream. I thought he was being ridiculous. Ridiculous or not, I did acknowledge that men were created a certain way. They were absolutely fascinated with motors, action and speed. Who was I to say what we needed? I know nothing about cars.
Trusting God means trusting your husband. To know that he is the leader of your family and that God is the leader of him. To respect him as you respect the Lord. To follow him and stand by him in all of his decisions and all of his dreams.