A few days ago, you were leaving for a work trip and couldn’t find your glasses. I laughed as you frantically checked every room in the house while I retraced your steps from earlier in the day and quickly found your glasses. As I handed them to you, you asked me where I found them and I just smiled and said, “That’s why you need me.”
A few weeks ago, you woke up late for work. You threw open the closet door to grab a pair of pants, only to realize you had worn your last clean pair the day before. “If you need work clothes, they’re clean and hanging up downstairs in the laundry room,” I said. You thanked me and I just smiled and said, “That’s why you need me.”
A few months ago, you realized you forgot to send in important paperwork regarding the car. “I went ahead and took care of everything,” I told you. When I saw the look of relief on your face, I just smiled and said, “That’s why you need me.”
A few years ago, you walked beside me down the long road of infertility. You were there through the countless tests and doctor’s appointments, and listened as I questioned why God would make us go through this. You felt the same way. You were just as frustrated and disappointed as I was, but you remained hopeful when I wanted to give up. Your hope inspired me and I smiled at you and said, “That’s why I need you.”
Several months ago, you saw me at my lowest as I struggled to fight an invisible illness you didn’t understand. You listened as I poured out thoughts and feelings I was ashamed of, but more importantly, you listened without judgment. You saw me at my worst, but you knew what you were seeing wasn’t the real me. Your strength carried me in my weakness and I smiled at you and said, “That’s why I need you.”
A few months ago, someone took words I had written and used them as their own. I was more than frustrated. You wanted me to make sure I got credit for what was mine, and I just shrugged it off. That’s when you went to battle for me. Honestly, my words being stolen didn’t matter as much to me as the fact that you were willing to fight so hard for me. You continued to fight until you won and I told you that you were my hero. I smiled at you and said, “That’s why I need you.”
And now, even after years of marriage and even more years of friendship, I still need you. I know it may not seem like it most days as we’re caught up in this season, this whirlwind, of raising little ones. We struggle to connect, we struggle to communicate, we struggle to find time for each other, we struggle to really listen to each other, we struggle to stay awake after the kids are finally in bed, and most days we struggle to have a simple conversation without being interrupted.
But know this: in this season, I still need you. Even if it doesn’t seem like it and even if it doesn’t feel like it. Because this season will be gone before we know it and when it is, I’ll need you even more.
I’ll need you to constantly reassure me that our kids will be OK when they’re finally out of the house and on their own. I’ll need you to be there when we question the decisions they’re making and when we couldn’t be more proud of the men they’ve become. I’ll need you to hold my hand at their weddings, as they recite their vows, and as we welcome daughters into the family. I’ll need you there for the grandbabies (if we’re lucky enough to have them) and all the spoiling that goes along with it.
I’ll need you as we find ourselves with an empty nest, as we finally see each other surrounded by calm and quiet. I’ll need your shoulder to cry on as I ache to be surrounded by the noise and chaos again, as I long for the days I never thought I would miss. I’ll need you as we get to know each other again, as we find ourselves in a new season where we’re not needed nearly as much, except by each other.
Right now that season seems so far away, but we both know when it comes to our children, the years feel like days and the days feel like minutes. No matter what season we’re in, please never doubt that I want you by my side for each and every second. Then and now. Today and tomorrow.