My husband and I have been happily married for twenty-five years.
We’ve got five kids, and our second son, Jack, has autism.
Joe and I have had our share of arguments about important things, like curfews for our teens and the best ways to save money.
We’ve also disagreed about the little things, like whether to wash a frying pan by hand or how to park in the garage.
There have been times when we went to bed feeling angry.
We’ve given each other the silent treatment, too.
About two years ago, a neighbor saw Joe teaching our kids how to hang Christmas lights. Out in the cold, he twisted those colorful lights until the branches sparkled.
She turned to me and said something simple yet impactful:
“He is a good man.”
Since then, I’ve kept that thought in mind whenever I start to feel frustrated or angry.
Whenever I feel tempted to hold onto a silly grudge or see the frying pan left on the stove, I remember: he is a good man.
He’s not perfect, and neither are we.
But that realization changed everything.
He always knows how to make me laugh.