or Taking Deuteronomy Seriously
Deuteronomy 24:5 reads as follows:
If a man has recently married, he must not be sent to war or have any other duty laid on him. For one year he is to be free to stay at home and bring happiness to the wife he has married.
It’s taken a couple weeks, but I think this concept has finally kicked in for me.
Anyone who knows me well knows that I have a hard time being less than frantically busy, 24/7. In fact, my friend Brian told me 6 years ago that he hoped I’d marry a laid-back man who would sit me down on the couch and tell me not to do ANYTHING for an evening every once in awhile. I think his perception was wise.
As the summer began I felt guilty whenever Mike and I weren’t both productively employed. And then I would feel guilty at the end of the day when I couldn’t look back and see a trail of accomplishments a mile long. That was functional for awhile, because Mike had dozens of hours of practicing to do to prepare for a competition recording and I had dozens of things at home to organize since school was over. But now our house is painfully well organized and Mike’s sent off a great recording to two scholarship juries. So what next?
We sleep in later than we mean to, we go to bed early because we’ve got nothing left to do, we have friends over almost every night and sometimes for lunch too, we watch TV shows that my home school heritage would cringe at (read: The Simpsons), and I nervously say, “OK. What are we doing?” and Mike doesn’t typically have an answer.
I don’t know why that Deuteronomy verse popped into my head the other day, but it did, and then I realized what a blessing it is that our primary source of income this summer is a dozen “gigs” between the two of us, paying an average of $200 each. It’s not much, but we’re still making rent payments on time. It’s precious that neither of us has a traditional job for these few months. We have time to enjoy each other every day and live the life of leisure, like we’re independently wealthy (except for the part where we don’t have any money).
After all, we’ll never live like this again. There will be jobs, and years and years and years of school, and a pastor’s salary and a family’s bills, and people that need us–probably even little people that need us at 2:30 a.m.
So here’s to months of peaceful, blissful, lazy, unemployed honeymoon.