When Your Husband Doesn’t Care

I’ve spent a lot of years wanting this man to care, but there are a lot of things my husband doesn’t care about at all.

My eyes glance toward the clock on the microwave as I hastily finish up dinner. My husband will be home soon. He works hard, his hours are longer than most. We eat dinner later than most families, and I want it to be ready when he walks in the door, and in the end, it is.

But he doesn’t care.

And I’m thankful.

You see, dinner is on the table, but it’s not much. My meal plan had escaped me and it’s just meat and a vegetable. No salad, no side, I didn’t even have beverages at the table.

But he doesn’t care.

As a matter of fact, I’ve had to move all kinds of stuff around on the dining room table just to squeeze our plates and silverware on it. In my busy work-full-time-from-home life, the dining room table has become a “catchall.” I’ve not gotten around to putting things in their place today…or even this week.

But he doesn’t care.

As I watch him enjoying his meal and teasing our kids while we all eat, I realize there is a WHOLE DARN LOT that my husband simply doesn’t give a rip about.

He doesn’t care when I text him that I “literally cannot even cook dinner tonight.” He says, “Well let me take care of that for you then.”

He doesn’t care that I reach for the coffee pot in the morning before I reach for him sometimes. He doesn’t care that I text him frantically when I’m traveling alone and my anxiety gets the best of me. He doesn’t care when I sleep in on Saturdays. He doesn’t care that I sometimes retreat to our bedroom for an hour alone after dinner because I just need to not be needed for awhile.

He doesn’t care that I am a “Piler, not a Filer,” and that my half of our office is ALWAYS a mess. He doesn’t care that I can NEVER find what I need in our giant pantry and he always has to find it for me. He doesn’t care that I get mad too easily and take a chill pill way less often than I should.

He doesn’t care that I don’t  WILL NEVER have a “beach bod” and that the dark circles under my eyes are never going away. He doesn’t care that I let my toenails get way too long and that I take a sabbatical from leg-shaving all winter. He thinks I am beautiful.

He cares that I love him. He cares that I love our children. He cares that I love Jesus. He cares that I am ALWAYS doing my best, even when I fall short.

He cares that he is married to the girl he had a crush on in sixth grade. He cares about being my partner, my helper, as I am his.

And I am so, so thankful.

Jenny Rapson
Jenny Rapson is a follower of Christ, a wife and mom of three from Ohio and the editor of For Every Mom. You can email her at [email protected], or follow her on Twitter.

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