When Your Husband Doesn’t Care

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.

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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.

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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.


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Jenny Rapson
Jenny Rapson is a follower of Christ, a wife and mom of three from Ohio and a freelance writer and editor. You can find her at her blog, Mommin' It Up, or follow her on Twitter.