I don't have enough words to express how grateful I am for a husband who works hard. He works hard at his job - running a company, dealing with customers and staff, making decisions that affect lives every day. He does not let his job control his life, but he is fully invested in the responsibilities he has been given.
He works hard at home, too. While we're a team around this joint, he handles the stuff that is beyond my physical capability or desire (such as climbing on the roof to access the gutters), makes sure our cars are in good working order, mows the grass even when he'd rather be watching college football, and checks out things that go bump (or scurry scurry) in the night (although thankfully, that's a rare occasion). I recently wanted to clean the vacuum and couldn't figure out how to get it apart, despite successful past endeavors with other machines. I'm sure the last thing he wanted to be doing at 9 p.m. was helping me dismantle a machine that, according to online reviewers, wasn't designed to be taken apart. When finished, he looked at me and said, "We're not doing that again."
He works hard as facility manager at church, too. With an aging building, there's always something that needs to be repaired and a limited budget requires creative solutions. He's a good leader and what he can't do, he's able to enlist others to help.
He works hard on behalf of his family - and not just in a roof-over-our-heads sense. He and his sister take turns attending doctors' appointments with his parents. He offers advice and insight to our young adult children. He has always been a steady rock in their lives, really all our lives. He is a patient uncle.
He doesn't take a lot of time for himself, but I'm glad when he has the chance to enjoy a bit of downtime, putting miles on the Mustang or getting a Hannah hug. I'm thankful for his work ethic and that he gives his best no matter what he's tasked to do. He's a great example to all of us.
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