Two hours before our wedding, Steve, my husband-to-be, was frantically tearing through stacks of boxes in our new home, searching for hunting permit applications he had to turn in that day. "This is important!" Steve said to me over the phone.
I was at the church, my wedding dress half over my head. As my mother held the phone to my ear through all the layers of lace and organza, I reminded him the photographer was taking pictures before the ceremony.
"I'll be there," he promised. "Just tell me where you put my box of hunting stuff!"
After that episode, it should have come as no surprise my beloved and I had different interpretations of the vows we exchanged that day. I took his promise to love only me to mean exactly that. Steve, however, thought the promise referred to forsaking other women--not hunting.
As a new wife, I was determined to share Steve's passion for hunting. So when he invited me to go elk hunting not long after our wedding, I was euphoric. I was sure whatever made him happy would make me happy. After loading our jeep, we drove for six hours, every mile taking us farther from civilization. He really wants to be alone with me! I thought happily.
Source: Christianity Today | Kyria.com | Mayo Mathers
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