Dear husband, 

Thank you for putting out fires over the phone. 

These days are hard. I am home all day, every day with the kids, 24/7 with no real break (unless you count hiding in my room or in the car with dark chocolate—even those stolen moments are just moments). I get jealous because you get to leave. Your job is considered essential. And it really is. I couldn’t do what you do. And I know how important your work is.

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But I’m human and prone to sin and right now, jealousy seems to be my vice.

When the baby won’t let me put him down. When one of the kids yells at me because I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to schoolwork. When I offer the umpteenth suggestion and it’s still met with “I’m bored . . .” 

When I feel like I just can’t do it anymore, I reach for my phone. 

Half in anger, half in desperation I text you, or maybe even call if it’s really severe. I vent, complain, whine, lament—whatever you want to call it, I know it’s not pretty.

I come to you on fire with the flames threatening to consume me. 

You could ignore me, after all, you have work to do—essential work. You could answer with your own frustrations of how my interruption is costing you valuable work time. You could fan my flames by telling me to deal with it, after all, it’s my job. 

But you don’t. 

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Instead, you listen. You let me vent every last detail of what’s got me hot. You ask questions calmly, helping me search out where the fire began in the first place. In love, you help me see the initial spark and work with me to make a plan to move forward. You let me feel the heat of the fire, but you don’t let it burn me. You pull me away and help me refocus. You cool me down so I can return to my work as mom with more patience than before.

And, eventually, when I apologize for bothering you, you douse me in grace. 

You don’t forgive me—instead, you assure me I’ve done nothing wrong, that I’m not in need of forgiveness. And the fire I thought would consume me has dwindled into a few small flames. I no longer feel like stirring up the coals, instead, I’m ready to watch them turn to ash.

I don’t thank you often enough for putting out my fires over the phone.

In the middle of a global pandemic and a season of too much togetherness in our home, these fires flare up often. I’m so incredibly grateful I have someone to call, someone to text, someone to count on. With every fire you put out, love grows brighter. You are not only an essential employee, but an essential husband, dad, and over-the-phone firefighter. 

Kelsey Scism

Kelsey is a former language arts teacher, mother of five, principal’s wife, and most importantly a Christian loving our Lord. As a teacher, she loved inspiring and encouraging her students. Today, she finds inspiration in the everyday moments as a stay-at-home mom and hopes to encourage others along the way. You can check out more from her at or follow her on Facebook and Instagram @lovingourlordtogether.