I never should have gone to that darn house. It was something I did on my own... without the Lord's guidance. How many times did I pray painstakingly each time before making a tiny decision. And now the big decision which felt so urgent, I didn't just blow past Him, I straight up insisted on my way. He gave it to me after I had already made up my mind. I begged Him and He relented in my hardness of heart.
It was the second house in a row that I wasn't supposed to live in. Meaning, I trudged forward without seeking my Father's will. Now I don't want to pass along any blame, but I didn't make these decisions alone. In fact, if anything this makes me more culpable: I wanted to please him. I wanted to give him his way. I didn't want to hear him complain about parking, neighbors, barking dogs, or crime. As if moving away from the big city wasn't enough. Now I let him move me... us... our entire family, into total isolation. To make him happy.
It's a bad pattern I've repeated for ten years now. Ten years I didn't stand up when I felt I should. Ten years of denying myself for what I convinced myself were Godly purposes. A woman accepts her place of submission. She has a quiet, gentle spirit. She does not cause arguments.
But what do you do when you're so far gone into pleasing your husband that it's taken you so far from God? Not in an overt kind of way but in a subtle way, so that you don't even realize you're not on the right path anymore till you're so far down a hill all you can do is look up at where you'd come from.
I was deceived. Where does the deception end? Do I know anything yet? I want to think that I've learned. I try to make a narrative of my sufferings so they're not useless, so they tell a thoughtful story. But what about when I'm still suffering? What about when I realize, even through the separation and the heartache and the ruin and the loneliness, I am still, still trying to make him happy.
It was the second house in a row that I wasn't supposed to live in. Meaning, I trudged forward without seeking my Father's will. Now I don't want to pass along any blame, but I didn't make these decisions alone. In fact, if anything this makes me more culpable: I wanted to please him. I wanted to give him his way. I didn't want to hear him complain about parking, neighbors, barking dogs, or crime. As if moving away from the big city wasn't enough. Now I let him move me... us... our entire family, into total isolation. To make him happy.
It's a bad pattern I've repeated for ten years now. Ten years I didn't stand up when I felt I should. Ten years of denying myself for what I convinced myself were Godly purposes. A woman accepts her place of submission. She has a quiet, gentle spirit. She does not cause arguments.
But what do you do when you're so far gone into pleasing your husband that it's taken you so far from God? Not in an overt kind of way but in a subtle way, so that you don't even realize you're not on the right path anymore till you're so far down a hill all you can do is look up at where you'd come from.
I was deceived. Where does the deception end? Do I know anything yet? I want to think that I've learned. I try to make a narrative of my sufferings so they're not useless, so they tell a thoughtful story. But what about when I'm still suffering? What about when I realize, even through the separation and the heartache and the ruin and the loneliness, I am still, still trying to make him happy.
