Crack Prevention

I have always wanted to have a home in the country.  With a really big yard and room to run or picnic or whatever my little heart might desire to do.  It always sounded so tranquil.  Like a peaceful, simple place to thrive on the inside of my ever-frenzied heart.  Quiet enough to hear the quiet.  And thrive in the life of who I've been called to be.  Having grown up in the country, my husband shared this dream with me, wanting to someday return to his roots and have his children grow up with that kind of lifestyle as well.  So three years ago when we moved back home after nine and a half years of learning how to be grown ups and out on our own, we bought a home in the country.  And it has been great.

But a few weeks ago when I mowed over a snake (YES A SNAKE!) in my yard, I started to rethink this whole living in the country thing.  That is, until my sister told me that she find snakes all the time in the brush around their house.  My sister, who lives right smack in the suburbs of an extremely metropolitan city.  So I apparently will need to just get used to the snakes(?!?) and continue living the dream.

That said, however, there are some things about city living that I do indeed miss.  Sidewalks, for example.  And being able to run to the store for some milk, or bananas, or shampoo, and be home within the hour.  But one thing alone tops that list.

Target.

So when we moved away from the city and entered country life amid Amish neighbors and boisterous bovine, one of the places I missed the most was ... well, it was Target.  Seriously.  I used to go there to wander.  Especially when my kids were toddlers.  I would follow my nose through every clearance section in our (then) local Super Target and amble through every department, just to browse.  Ahhh, just remembering it makes me want to go change into khakis and a red t-shirt while holding a scanner of some sort and declare happy greetings to every passer-by (i.e. my kids and husband).

Well, today after an appointment in the city of LeBron, I got to return to that beloved retail kingdom.  Something I haven't done in months (due to the inconvenient location of the nearest Target).  Along with the wedding gift for which I had gone, I snagged some frivolous much needed items in the $1 section, as well as some $3.24 pajama pants on clearance.  Yeah, I know!  And I had so much fun that I decided to stop at the Old Navy I knew I would pass by on my way to the interstate that would lead me home.

Upon entering Old Navy, I heard the most adorably bright pink summer bag calling my name from the clearance section.  So I picked it up and carried it around as I browsed the other clearance items, all while evaluating my need for such things.  But I heard nothing else calling my name, so I started to make my way to the cashier.

That's when I heard another voice.

It wasn't the voice of those great metallic flats I saw or the really cute sundress I passed.  It was, rather, the voice of reason.  The voice of truth.

It reminded me that frivolous spending does not make a vigilant wife of me.  Because spending our money wisely is something that my husband and I work very hard at.  Together.  We budget together monthly.  To spend every dollar on paper before we actually spend it.  And, even though the bag was only $7, and the pj's were only $3.24, and the $1 items were only, well, $1, it all adds up to more money than dishonoring my husband is worth.  In fact, there is no amount of money that could pay for the crack in our unity that such a purchase might cause.  And, although my husband would still love me and probably make jokes to dismiss my frivolous spending while teasing me about my "bag lady" status, if I bought this unneeded (but adorable) bag, I would be doing just that...making way for cracks in the foundation of our marriage. 

And I am a vigilant wife.  And vigilant wives do not make way for cracks in the foundation of their marriages. 

So I shushed the call of the adorably bright pink bag, and I hung it back up where I got it.  Then, listening to the voice of truth, I turned on my heels and walked out.

Because no bag is worth a crack in my marriage.

Not even an adorably bright pink summer one.

 

***Wanna' be a vigilant wife too?  Here's how it works... Leave a comment here about your husband and one way you choose to serve him today or this week. Or, if you have a blog, get your permalink for the post you'd like to share (a permalink is the URL to a specific blog post) then paste it into the nice little McKlinky thingy right here so other people can read and be encouraged by your vigilance. I also ask you to kindly link back to here so that your readers can read more vigilance stories.