This one falls under the category of be careful what you wish for. I mean… I knew I wanted a marriage with God at the center. Here’s how it plays out…
“I like this. I really like it. We should do this more often, honey.” My husband kicked his feet onto the dashboard and reclined his seat until it touched our daughter’s toes behind him. He flipped open a magazine and wiggled his eyebrows at me.
From the passenger side.
Because I was driving.
A marriage with God at the center is counter-cultural
I don’t like driving. I much prefer to hand my husband the keys and let my thoughts drift out the window. That’s been our unspoken arrangement since I met the guy. But last week, on our way out the door for a 45-minute trip to visit friends, he was tired so I offered to drive. And now our happy system is in jeopardy.
“What are you saying? I thought you liked driving.” I crinkled my forehead and glanced sideways at my husband.
“But this is great! I can lay back and relax, catch up on my reading. You should drive from now on, wifey. You’re a great driver.”
“Yeah? That’s like telling me I’m really good at doing the dishes. I’m not falling for it.”
Darn it, I like the passenger seat.
Sometimes.
