I moved aside and watched our twelve-year-old van pull into the driveway. My wife opened the door, smiled, and told me she got the job. Putting the basketball down, I hugged her and told her I was proud. The job was a part-time evening and weekend position at the local country health food store, a good fit considering my wife’s interests. But deep down, a sense of sadness and partial defeat rolled over me. The ten-year period leading up to this moment had found my wife solely focused on homemaking and homeschooling our three children, a responsibility so demanding that few ever attempt it—even fewer see it through. But there we stood, eleven years into our marriage, resigned to the fact my single income was starting to fall short. Not due to any pay decrease,

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