Author Amy Krouse Rosenthal once wrote an online dating profile—for her own husband. Why? Because ten days later, she would die.
Her viral post, her selfless, sacrificial words, shook me to my core. It moved me so deeply that I decided to write my own version as a gift for my husband for our upcoming anniversary. My husband is still alive—we’re mostly still well. Let’s hope for a million more years it stays that way.
His name is Shawn Hanrahan, though honestly, that doesn’t matter much. During courtship, he’ll answer to any cutesy pet name you give him. Sometimes our daughter will shout his given name—“Shaaaawn!”—if Daddy doesn’t respond immediately. She gets that bold, bossy streak from me, and he never complains.
That’s the thing about him. He doesn’t mind doing for others—even when manners are misplaced. He’ll do anything for his family. When I was pregnant and later struggling with intense food aversions, I stopped cooking. Shawn ran for carryout… a lot. Drive-thru dining at its finest. He never complained—well, maybe once about the cost of fake fast food meat—but he served it to me with a smile because that’s him: a serving man.
That’s his love language, and you get used to it. Sure, he’ll give words of affirmation or quality time if you ask, but mostly, you get action: a full tank of gas, a clean house, pictures hung with precision. Over the years, I realized it’s less about grand gestures and more about the care someone gives behind closed doors. He lifts burdens silently, asks nothing in return, and gives you the freedom to become who you’ve always wanted to be—while walking beside you every step.
He’ll be your best passenger. Just promise to be a safe driver.
When I wanted to quit my job—twice—or dreamt of writing, staying home with our kids, traveling, or sneaking away for girls’ nights, he said yes. Even when intimacy waned—thanks, hormones—he waited patiently for me to return.
In our early suburban years, I told my sister I felt lonely. She said, “Why? You’ve got a best friend living in your house.” And she was right. Sometimes it’s easy to overlook him, to take his generosity for granted. But he is a steadfast friend. He listens, even if he struggles to find the perfect words. He’s on your team, always. He’s steady, a floater—happy wherever life places him. And that kind of partner? What woman wouldn’t love that?
Do what you want—just don’t take advantage.
He might fall asleep without saying goodnight. He might open your car door. He will love his children more than himself—and you even more. He won’t overthink, so you’ll never have to worry about jealousy, boredom, or the small worries that make life messy. If you ask him to pray, he will. If you don’t, he will anyhow. He likes clean cars, apple fritters, golf, giving advice on clothes, working hard, and providing for his family. He’ll give you the world—if you let him. I hope our children grow to be like him: even, steady, and most of all, serving.
He has the biggest heart, literally and figuratively. When it stopped—twice—he simply carried on, without complaint, without fanfare. A quiet, ordinary life some might overlook—but I’ve had the privilege to witness it, and it is nothing short of extraordinary. How one human being can give, sacrifice, and love so fully is beyond me. I’m not built that way. Neither are you.
Magic like this man doesn’t happen often. Stand in his presence. Be still if he prefers it that way. And feel what it’s like to be fully seen, fully loved, without condition.
Now that, my friends, is indeed a miraculous marriage.
