Slowly I am learning to nag God instead of my husband. Because nagging my husband gains absolutely
nothing.
Every year we participate in the Angel Tree program at
church; this year the boys are old enough to understand what we are doing, so I’ve
been talking to them about raiding their piggy banks to pay for the gift. The trees went up Sunday, and on the way to
church I reminded them once again that we would be choosing a child to bless. Yes, I know we are not exactly in a position
of wealth…because we aren’t. Yes, I know
we can’t afford my own heart’s desire; to stay home with our kids. But I want my children to learn to give of
themselves, to give sacrificially.
My husband exploded. “Give,
give give. I’m tired of giving. Let someone else give.” The tirade continued into church. “We have tons of bills. We are one disaster away from poverty
ourselves, but OK, give the rest of our money away.” It was the old James, back with a vengeance. The accusations about my spending, the
complaints about how hard he works, the fury at the idea of giving something
away. I ignored him, because what else
could I do?
Arguing with him in that condition does nothing but create a
larger disaster, so I breathed a prayer and didn’t say another word. “God, if we are supposed to take part in
this, You will have to change his heart.”
We left church on Sunday without choosing an ornament, and
in the midst of a tirade about Violet’s sleepy cries from the backseat, he
turned the radio on and turned it up.
And lo and behold, the radio show was sharing the testimony
of a young woman whose entire life was changed by the mentor who sponsored her
family through Angel Tree. It was the
first time she experienced love in her young life…the first time she
experienced trust. As an adult, she
still breaks down in tears when she talks about what that gift meant to her.
She hadn’t yet finished her story when James muttered, “OK
fine. We’ll buy a damn gift.”
Which I think is code for “God’s got this.”
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