I grew up with a very sacrificial father. As a child, it was evident when he would eat the crusts of our sandwiches when we didn’t want them. As an a high-schooler and adult, I have specific memories of him driving me around town for three hours because I needed to get out of a situation, helping me pay for college, always, always encouraging me even when it’s not great timing. I remember thinking, as I was growing up, “I will never find a man like my father.” It seemed unreasonable to find someone else on earth that sacrificial… then I met my husband.

There are some sacrifices that are big, ones that I notice and am eternally grateful for. Like when we go camping and wake up in 40 degree weather and he lets me sit in the heated car while he breaks down the camp site. Or when he skips hanging out with friends because I want to have dinner together. Or when he takes my car to the car wash for me cause I’m confused by all the buttons and the loud noises. Or when our refrigerator breaks and he goes out to buy me a mini fridge because I'm having a literal breakdown.

But then there’s the sacrifices I forget. The ones he does so often, I forget to appreciate them. Like how he does the dishes every morning. His mom laughs when I tell her this, because his dad does the same thing. Every morning, before he leaves for work, he does the dishes from the day before (keep in mind we don’t have a dishwasher). And then every morning I get to wake up with one less thing on my to-do list. A gentle reminder that he thought of me that morning and wanted to do something to ease my own stress.

He also is our dog’s best friend. I love my dog, don't get me wrong, but my dog loves my husband way more than she loves me. This may be due to the fact that every morning he hooks her up to his bike and takes her on a run. She lives for this. She looks at him like he’s her hero cause she knows he sacrifices his time for her as well. She's got a good sense about him.

And then there’s the emotional sacrifice I know he takes. Being married to a college student with high anxiety is no small feat. He bears it. He bears the grumpiness when I'm over-stressed. He bears the bossiness when I need help. He bears the tears and hyperventilating when I can't do it anymore. Even before we dated, he was the friend I went to when I was anxious because he would stop everything he was doing to help. He would take it on himself, unafraid of my fear.

I often tell my husband that when I grow up I want to be like him. It sounds silly but it's incredubly true. He is every bit as kind and patient and sacrificial as I try and fail to be everyday. And it comes naturally to him.

Dear Matt, thank you. I know it's no small thing. And yet I know you never think twice about it.