Let’s hear it for the boy.

No, not my son. My husband.

I could say all the things a lot of people say about their husbands. He’s the love of my life, my soul mate, my rock, my best friend. Yes, while he is all those things, he is so much more than that.

We are two of the same when it comes to most things. But, oh, there are things we are so very different about.

I am not someone who speaks ill of her spouse. That is for a couple of reasons. One, I have nothing bad to say about my husband—not one thing. Take that however you please, but just know it is 100% the truth. Two, even if my husband did give me something to complain about, that is not something you should speak life into. I firmly believe Paul’s word in Ephesians 5:33, to honor your husband.

In the times that I see our differences showing, I find myself being grateful for those things that make us different.

My husband is one who checks everything—doors, rooms, etc, before leaving the house. I used to think I was cautious by doing that myself, but then he came in my life and I realized I wasn’t as cautious as I thought I was. So on the days that I am waiting for him to be done checking the house, how can I get aggravated? Because he wants to make sure our home is safe? I can’t fault him for looking out for our family’s safety.

My husband is the “fun” one in our family. Not to say I am not fun, he is just more fun. Our son already acknowledges that in his young age. He knows Daddy is always good for a laugh. He lights up as soon as he sees his dad enter a room. He sometimes wakes up when we check in on him while he’s sleeping and my husband cannot resist making him smile in those moments. Can I be mad that he doesn’t just stonewall our child because he “should” be sleeping? No, I can’t. I can’t be mad that they love each other so much.

My husband is someone who takes pride in the things he does. He isn’t a “good enough” person. If he does something, it is done right. So when he tore the ceiling out of the baby’s nursery because it was uneven and he couldn’t redo the paint on the walls and leave it the way it was, how could I protest? How could I fight that he wanted something to look its best because he was working on it? I couldn’t.

My husband stands by his word. If he says he is going to do something, he does it. If he offers a helping hand, he will be there if you need it. So, when someone calls him to take him up on his offer from two weeks ago, how can I be agitated? I can’t ask him to not be the stand up individual that I know he is because it might change our plans that day.

My husband doesn’t know where all the extra baby wipes are. He doesn’t know the log-ins to our online bills. He doesn’t buy birthday presents for our extended family. He doesn’t know where I keep an emergency stash of bottles for the baby.

My husband does always make sure my truck has gas. He always does baby duty so I can shower or go to the bathroom. He always shovels the driveway. He always takes the trash to the road. He always greets me with a kiss.

He does 80% on the days I can only do 20%. He takes care of the things I don’t think of.

He does all these things without thinking or hesitation.

He is the true definition of a partner to me. He makes every day better, brighter, and enjoyable. He finds joy in being the person he is and I think that person deserves all the recognition in the world.

So on the days where I am trying to rush us out of the house because we are going to be late and he still needs extra minutes to check lights and locks, or the times he makes the baby giggle instead of shushing him back to sleep, or when we have to push back our plans so he can help someone move something, or when he wonders where more wipes are, I check myself. I remind myself that this wonderful human being I am doing life with who does do things differently than I do sometimes—does them for the greater good. How blessed am I?

Originally published on the author’s blog

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Mia Nance

I am wife, mother, & full time working gal. I blog about my life and the things I love....or don't.

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