He’s never given me a birthday present. Not once.
The first year we were married he bought me a Christmas present (a washer and dryer) but that was the one and only time that Christmas arrived with a gift.
When I told him that I was going to be switching our diet around to help me with health related issues, his response wasn’t so much, “Anything you need, dear, count on me to be there every step.” It was more like, “As long as you still make me potatoes, white bread and chocolate cake.”
He sometimes helps with the dishes, if I get way behind, but the entire time he gives me mini-lectures on how/why I wash dishes wrong. (I have since banned him from helping me with dishes. Though I wonder sometimes if that was his goal.)
I could probably go on, but the point of this is not to bash my husband. It is to say one simple thing:
I love his imperfections.
Want to know why? Because… I’m a terrible housekeeper. I’m overweight. I forget important things all.the.stinking.time. I can be lazy. When I’m reading a book, I’m pretty sure the house could burn down around me and I wouldn’t notice. I forget to switch the laundry. Quite often. I’m… well, you get the point.
I am imperfect too.
And I love that we match right up. All his imperfections and all mine. And together we get the chance to learn grace. Grace for each other and grace for ourselves.
I don’t want to be compared to some girl who never lets her house get dirty, makes a gazillion dollars a week, wears a size 6, and never hides with her nose in a book. So, I won’t ever compare him to the guy who always buys the perfect gifts, happily eats romaine lettuce wraps and washes dishes with a smile on his face.
We’re just two imperfect people, him and I. We’re just the same.
And I love him for it.
It’s easy to list our husband’s faults with frustration, but have you ever listed them with thankfulness? Thankfulness that he is no different that you. That his imperfections give you the chance to offer grace.