Why I Appreciate My Spouse
My husband’s been in Wisconsin since Wednesday, and until Friday afternoon, I took great pride in the fact that I could manage just fine without him.
My three daughters and I read books, baked muffins, played outside in the cool November air. But then my middle daughter heard the knock. I was in the back of our apartment, packing for a trip. I wasn’t sure she’d actually heard anyone, so I walked down the hall toward the kitchen, and through the front window, I saw an old red truck.
I glanced through the French doors and saw a thin man with a baseball cap and a chunk of chewing tobacco in his left cheek. Since I hadn’t believed my daughter had heard anyone, I hadn’t taken the time to wash off my green clay mask. But the man saw me in the glass, so I had to walk toward the door.
Sliding it open, I said, “May I help you?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m here to fix your split unit.”
Someone had already come out to fix our split unit two weeks before. Plus, the man and his truck didn’t have any source of professional identification. I told the man I would call my husband to check.
I called him, but he didn’t have good service. I texted him. As I waited, I told the man I thought it was fine. To my surprise, he took this as an invitation to slide open the door and come into the house. My two younger daughters—four and one—stood in the kitchen, looking at me. I was still wearing the green face mask because I wasn’t about to take my eyes off of him long enough to wash it off.
The man moved his chunk of chaw to his other cheek. “Where’s your thermostat?” he said.
“Right there,” I replied. “On the wall.”
He walked across the carpet in his boots and pushed some buttons. I decided to make the girls lunch. I took a knife and laid it beside the stove. I texted my husband that I really should have a gun.
The man told me the unit’s motherboard was broken, and he would check to see if we had a warranty. My husband, meanwhile, texted that the company had been supposed to call before coming out. But at least the man was supposed to be there. He even produced a file and some papers with our address as proof.
The man turned out to be married and dryly funny, relaying horror stories about the hoarders he’s encountered on his job, and how he would’ve died from electrical shock if his partner hadn’t hit him with a board and knocked him from the stove.
Still, after he left my middle daughter reached out and took my hand. My middle daughter isn’t like my firstborn, who loves to be carried around even if she’s half my weight. I looked at her, and my heart ached a little, seeing how clearly my husband’s presence is needed in my daughters’ lives. Not only that, but my husband’s presence is needed in my life.
My husband and I have spent most of the past ten years side by side. First, we worked together in our grocery store, then he sold the grocery store, and we “homesteaded” for two years in Wisconsin (I put that in quotes because we would have starved to death if we’d been relying on our garden and chickens), and now, my husband divides his time between packing bags in the warehouse and building our house on the hill across from it. I know that this proximity is such a gift, but these five days have made me appreciate him more because his absence clearly shows the role he fills.
My husband washes 80% of our dishes; he does homework with our firstborn daughter; he takes her to school and picks her up far more often than I do. Sometimes, he gets up with the baby if I’m comatose (or just playing possum). He provides the money and pays the bills.
He takes care of us in so many ways, and I’m grateful that I get to be his partner on this beautiful journey of marriage that teaches us how to love our spouse well, and with that imparted knowledge, we can then know how to love the world.
Can you list four ways you are grateful for your spouse?
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