Real Love Looks Like More Than Valentine’s Day
When I think about Valentine’s Day, my first thought is…capitalism.
Not in a cynical, bitter way. [Insert side eye]. Just in an observational, “why do we suddenly need to produce proof of love on February 14th?” kind of way.
I love romance. Romantic comedies are my favorite movie genre. I absolutely believe in love. But the pressure to package it into flowers, candy, and dinner reservations on one specific day has always felt…incomplete to me.
Real love looks like consistency. Real love looks like showing up when it’s inconvenient, unplanned, or ordinary.
I’ve always wanted my kids—and honestly everyone around me—to feel loved on random Tuesdays, quiet Sundays, and chaotic Wednesday afternoons…not just on Valentine’s Day.
Real Love Looks Like Creating Traditions That Fit Your Life
This year for Valentine’s Day, I’ll be doing what I’ve done the last couple years—taking my kids out to eat and making it a cute little date night for them.
Nothing extravagant. Just intentional.
They love the candy and cards they exchange at school. They love picking the restaurant. And truthfully, they just enjoy the time together.
Last week, their school hosted a daddy-daughter dance. Their dad was able to travel in for it, and they were both thrilled. My son also got some one-on-one time during the visit. It reminded me again that love isn’t always about proximity — sometimes it’s simply about showing up when it matters.
Not perfectly. Not constantly. But intentionally.
Real Love Looks Like Letting Your Kids Become Themselves
A few months ago, my daughter announced: “Mom, I don’t like piano. I want to play the drums and rock out.”
There was no internal struggle for me. Just pure delight.
Prince is my favorite artist of all time, and watching his live performances growing up meant watching Sheila E. command the drums with power, femininity, strength, and confidence. All things I already see blooming inside my daughter.
So this Valentine’s weekend, instead of candlelit dinners or roses, I’ll be taking her to her very first drum lesson. And honestly….that feels like what real love looks like. Supporting who your child already knows they are.
Real Love Looks Like Dirt Under Fingernails and Seeds in the Ground
In the backyard, my aunt and the kids have started preparing the garden again after a couple years off due to surgeries and travel.
She proudly calls herself the head gardener and refers to the kids as her assistants. I love that for her. And for them.
I play almost no role in the gardening itself—unless you count videographer and family historian. But I love the ecosystem it creates. I spend a lot of time in the backyard doing yoga, breathing, unwinding, and simply existing in the quiet. From that space, I watch birds land, bugs hum, soil turn, and eventually food grow.
Real love looks like feeding people from something you planted with your own hands…and the pride that comes with it.
Real Love Looks Like Divine Timing and Familiar Faces
Four years ago my friend and brother from another mother, Omar, introduced me to the Hot Chocolate Run, and we have participated in it each year.
What makes it funny—and honestly a little divine—is that despite the thousands of participants, we somehow always end up crossing paths.
This year, over 7,000 people participated in our race. We didn’t coordinate meeting up. We rarely do. Yet somehow, right in the corral ahead of us stood his sister and niece—close enough to shout and laugh before the race even began.
Later, after finishing, grabbing our snack trays, and sitting in the beautiful winter sunshine (the best race weather we’ve had yet), who casually walks by?
Omar.
At this point, I just laugh at God. Because real love looks like trusting that your people will find you—even in crowds of thousands.
Real Love Looks Like Running Toward Finish Lines You Once Questioned
This year’s race felt different.
We weren’t even sure we would participate because the run happened only seven months after my uncle’s stroke. We walk together about three miles five days a week, so I knew he was strong enough. But race terrain is different. Uneven pavement. Hills. Crowds.
Still, he never doubted it. In fact, it was his idea that we run the final stretch into the finish line together.
Since his stroke, I find myself watching him a little closer. The pharmacist in me. The nurturer. The daughter figure. The woman who loves deeply.
I try not to hover. But awareness has become part of my love language now. Real love looks like quietly paying attention…without taking someone’s strength away from them.
Real Love Looks Like Having a Village That Lets You Breathe
The night before the race, my mom kept the kids overnight so I could rest and recover afterward without immediately switching back into mom mode. That gift felt like a deep breath.
I don’t know if my village is unique or special compared to anyone else’s. I just know this: I have people I trust to love my children in my absence. And that kind of peace is powerful.
Real Love Looks Like Growing Up and Growing Deeper
The older I get, the more my definition of love leans biblical. Love defined by what it does. Patience. Kindness. Not jealous or boastful. Not self-seeking. Enduring. Steadfast.
In my twenties and thirties, love often felt emotional and reactive. Now, it feels intentional. It requires grace and letting go of ego. It requires choosing commitment over convenience.
Real love looks like staying. Looks like returning. Real love looks like evolving.
The Kind of Love That Doesn’t Always Look Cinematic
There are no violins playing in the background of my life. There are kids arguing about who did what. Garden dirt under fingernails. Finish line sweat and paper cups of hot chocolate. Travel and logistic schedules. Homework reminders. And laughter in between it all. And honestly? That kind of love holds my life together.
BTW: “Hold a true friend with both hands.” – African Proverb
I’d love to know — what does real love look like in your life right now?
Other Post You May Enjoy:
Love Is Still the Assignment: Choosing Love in Everyday Life
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