Last night was amazing. You were better than I could have ever dreamed. I’ve never felt so loved, so cherished as I did in that moment. You know the one–when you took that clawing, jabbering, awake one year old who was using me as a jungle gym at 1:00am, got out of bed, and let me sleep.
Us moms get all of the credit sometimes. Sure, we grow the baby inside of our bodies, sustain the baby with nourishment made by our bodies, and spend our days washing the baby’s clothes, cleaning the baby’s room, and feeding the baby’s family.
But if it weren’t for a husband like you, I would go crazy.
The rest of the world doesn’t see you get up at 1:00am to wrestle the baby that I wrestled all day. Most people don’t see you put aside the work you need to do so you can focus on your family for the moment. And no one saw you that time you stayed up with a sick kid so I could get some much needed rest.
But I see, and I am grateful.
I am grateful your actions show me every day that you are in this marriage for the long haul. For better or for worse. And sometimes I am definitely worse. Like when I don’t greet you at the door after a long day at work because I am too preoccupied with finally getting that basket of laundry folded. Like when I get too caught up in meeting our children’s needs all day and am left with nothing to give you. Like when I pick the wrong times to nag you about something on your “honey-do” list. Like when I approach you with a financial concern in a way that makes you feel inferior as the provider for our family.
I’m sorry for all of these things.
Not so much for the actions themselves. I know that you understand I am human, that I make mistakes, and that you love me anyway.
But I am sorry that the attitude of taking you for granted could ever enter into my way of life with you.
I once saw a painting that depicted St. Joseph in the foreground smiling and comforting baby Jesus in his arms while Mary slept peacefully in the background.
That was you last night. And so many other times. You are my St. Joseph in so many ways. You are my hero, but never expect to be. You are by my side through thick and thin. You not only strive to accept God’s will for you, but also to accept God’s will for me.
I am honored to be walking this path to holiness with you. It is in those hidden moments of strength–those moments of truly putting your vocations of fatherhood and marriage first, that you lift me up and make me think that it is, indeed, possible to become a saint.