The man you see above is digging a hole in our yard by hand, after working 13 hours, and driving an hour each way to and from work. Behind him you see the chicken coop he built by hand (with some help from his awesome wife), the fence he put up with his own hands, and even the clothes line he built and put up at the request of his nostalgic wife. That man has been my best friend for over 13 years.
He is not the man of my dreams.
No, the man of my dreams was not a man who was willing to work long shifts, and then come home to his five kids and wrestle with them in the floor and build lego robots.
He was not the kind of man who washed the dishes while I showered, just to surprise me.
The man of my dreams wasn’t the kind of man who struggled socially, but still put himself out there in effort to improve and be a better man.
The man of my dreams wasn’t the kind of man who adopts a bunch of children with special needs, and then works so hard to build or do anything he can to help them reach their potential.
The man of my dreams wasn’t the kind of guy who would go straight to work doing whatever it is he thought would make me happy, no matter the personal cost and exhaustion.
The man of my dreams didn’t forget birthdays, overlook romantic holidays, or come up flat on the romance side of things….yet tend to surprise his wife with a single rose and a kiss on the most random days of the year.
The man of my dreams wasn’t the guy who came to Christ 10 years after we were married, and took that coming to Jesus serious, and really changed his whole outlook.
The man of my dreams wasn’t intelligent enough to build a computer piece by piece, write a book, hold great conversation (sometimes lol), and still treat everyone with dignity.
The man of my dreams wasn’t the kind of guy that could tackle any car problem with a little youtube help, and manage to really do some awesome repairs.
The man of my dreams didn’t have rough callused hands, hands that were weather beaten and cracked, hands that told a story of hard work and love.
No, that wasn’t the man of my dreams. I couldn’t have dreamed up this perfectly imperfect man, because I had no idea someone as amazing as him could have been in existence. He isn’t perfect, but he is perfect for me. We argue, but our kids see what a wonderful thing it is for two people to disagree, and then reconcile with love and strength. I hope that he knows just how much I love and appreciate him.
I am so glad I didn’t end up with the man of my dreams.