Out of the blue yesterday Dave said the sweetest thing to me.

Him:  I was thinking yesterday how thankful I am for you.  I’m in charge of one thing.  Going to work.  You’re in charge of so much.  Our finances, grocery shopping, meal planning, cooking, the children, teaching the children, the car, the house, cleaning, laundry and all the household stuff and probably a lot more.

I was incredibly thankful and rather humbled that he verbalized this to me.  Because honestly, this last week was tough.

Our water heater went out and I was in charge of that too.  Dave had days and days of long meetings at work which made him incommunicado. While I spent the day calling plumbers and boiling water I grumbled.  I grumbled that if June Cleaver was ever in charge of the water heater or if Mr. Cleaver took care of it. I silently bitched that I wished I was the husband instead of the wife.

With a cursory glance with feminist era colored glasses, the role of the husband is definitely the easier one.  He has one hat.  Provider.  And I have so many.  My hats could dance circles around his hat.

When I really thought about being the husband, I am so incredibly grateful that I am not one.

Yes, he’s the provider.

Every day he gets up, earlier than he wants to, and goes to work.  On the days when he’s not feeling a 100%, he still goes.  On the days when its 30 degrees outside he goes.  On the days when a little body attaches itself to his leg and begs him to stay home, he still has to go.  Every day.  If I don’t want to do my job, I don’t have to.  I can cancel all my plans and reschedule them for tomorrow or next week.  It’s not the end of the world.  I can call in sick, and some one will step up to the plate and make a pb&j sandwich so that the younger guys won’t starve.  I’m not saying that my job is any less important, but that the amount of dependence on my job is much less.  Let’s be honest, most times a well-qualified nanny could replace many of my duties.  If I up and decided to stop grocery shopping, I’m sure that Dave would start ordering our groceries online and have them delivered.  If I never restocked the toilet paper, though someone would have an uncomfortably awkward time, it would get done.  Even if an 11-year-old had to walk to the store, I’m sure we wouldn’t be out forever.  Yet if Dave decided to stop working, our means of existence would completely change.

But it’s so much more than just being a provider in monetary means.  By providing for us, day in and day out, without lapse and without complaint, Dave provides a sense of security and safety.  I know, that in the event that Dave lost his job, we’d be okay.  I know that he would take care of us. We might develop a love for beans and rice, but we’d be well taken care of.  This blanket of security that he has laid over our family gives me such a sense of peace.  It calms my over-anxious heart in times without renters, in times of a bad economy, in times of more month than pay check.  The silent, reliable example of hard work ethic is one that will shape our sons into being good providers for their families.  It gives our daughter an example of what she should expect from her future husband.

While providing so well for us, he gives me the freedom and ability to become a better wife, mother and person.  Each day that he goes off to work, I am thankful. I am grateful for the opportunity and I don’t want to squander it. Each day, I try hard to make the sacrifices which he makes for us, worth it.  And in that one thought, that one sentence, I realized that all of my hats could never even compare to his one hat. Each responsibility, each job, every call to the plumber, every trip to the grocery store, every toilet I clean, I do because I am so thankful for his provision for me.  There is no greater gift that he could ever give me.  I am so blessed to be able to stay at home. I am so blessed to be provided for so incredibly well.  I am so very, very appreciative to have a husband who strives to love and care for me as Christ loved the church.

I am so thankful that I am the wife, and not the husband.