There’s an old country song called “Freedom of My Chains.“ It’s a sad song, of course, because the speaker has left the marriage to go off in search of something or other, but found herself in the end longing for what she had thrown away, longing for the freedom of her chains.

I married a good man; thus giving up certain freedoms hasn’t been that difficult. But I am glad that a wonderful tender grace of my marriage is a good deal of freedom; it is a grace we have given each other.

I am free in many ways.

I am free to be myself. My husband hasn’t tried to change what and who I am: my diverse sense of humor, my emotionalism, my introspection that bores even me, my excessive curiosity about some things and utter lack of interest in others, and my propensity for chitchat. He allows me all these things, although they are for the most part a complete antithesis of him.

This isn’t to say he doesn’t want me to stretch or grow. On the contrary, another aspect of my freedom is the freedom to become. Tony was not only glad for me to return to college but helped me, and he continues to encourage my involvement with anything educational or enlightening. He supports my teaching, writing, and lecturing-even though it has taken time away from him. In fact, and this kills me, he feels good about what I do, thinking it an extension of his own service to God.

We are also free to pursue our own interests. To his heart’s content, Tony can work in his yard and garden, tend to church responsibilities, fish, and golf. And I can take my time exercising and thinking, read until my eyes can no longer see the page, and type on the computer for days.

But we remind ourselves not to get too involved with our individual pursuits, because of the most important freedom we have.

We are free to reach out for comfort day or night, free to let the other “take over” for awhile (which was so nice when the kids were home), and free to make love on a whim (nicer now that the kids aren’t at home).

Bound and free—I love it.