After church yesterday, I surprised you by taking our family to Elephant Bar for their Sunday brunch. This was a big deal because you love to eat out, but we try to save money by not eating out often. I hope you felt special. I think you did because you talked about our brunch a lot yesterday.
You weren’t the only one who enjoyed it. Our oldest daughter loves Elephant Bar–whenever we decide to eat out, she votes to eat there. On our way to the restaurant, I told you what we were doing, but not her. As we pulled into the parking lot, she saw the restaurant, hung her head, and said “I wish we could eat at Elephant Bar.” (What did she think we were doing in the parking lot for Elephant Bar? Taunting her?) “We are,” I replied. She brightened up immediately.
When I talked to our pastor later that day, he asked how I was doing. “Great! I took the family to Elephant Bar for brunch.” “They deserved that,” he replied. “They did. They give up a lot because of me.” He agreed. I’m sorry, honey, that I can’t take you to restaurants all the time–financially, we’ve sacrificed so much to pursue my dream. I wish I could treat you like a queen, lavishing you with expensive gifts, taking you out all the time, etc. But even though I can’t do those things, I can still treasure you–by guarding you, fighting for you, giving of myself for you, caring for you, etc. If I did the former things without the latter, you wouldn’t feel loved. And if you had to give up one for the other, it’s obvious which you’d choose. In the end, you wouldn’t want me to spend inordinate amounts of money on things we don’t need, given that we could use the same money to (for example) feed the hungry or spread the Gospel. (Having said that, I’m not opposed to taking you to Elephant Bar once in a while.)