Ron and I built our dreams when bell-bottom pants and disco were the norm. Captain & Tennille sang Muskrat Love as we planned our future. Ron's eyes danced in the lava lamp glow as he dreamed of owning a classic Corvette, with me riding next to him as we drove off into the sunset.
We planned to make our dreams come true. The evidence of success would be a candy apple red Corvette on our second wedding anniversary.
Life doesn't always work out as planned. A recession was our graduation gift and a second anniversary pregnancy replaced the Corvette. Twins sent the Corvette skidding into the future. The dream glimmered if classic cars pulled beside us at stoplights. Ron cracked the window, listened to the growl of the engine, and smiled with each rumble. Another pregnancy and Ken was born. With the hit movie Corvette Summer out in theaters, Ron dreamed of finding a wrecked Corvette to restore. Music lessons, instruments, braces, and doctor bills sent the dream speeding into the future once again.
At holidays the family kept the dream alive by giving Dad a new Corvette book. Everyone suggested that he go for a test drive. Ron refused, claiming, "If I don't drive it, temptation dies." His eyes no longer danced. Ron was lowering the window less and he found excuses to avoid the Corvette lot.
My heart broke every time I saw his dreams get a little dimmer.
"Please God," I prayed, "give Ron a Corvette." I knew it wasn't a holy, save-the-world, and bring us peace kind of prayer. But I also knew that God wants us to bring all our prayers to him. My heart yearned for God to bless Ron because of what a good and faithful husband and father Ron was.1