My father would fix things around the house, chop wood, make sure we were warm. My mother would cook, mend clothes, pray for us. That was love.

This February 14th, I spent the evening reading Scripture and thinking about what love truly means according to God's word. Not flowers and chocolates - though those are nice - but sacrifice. Commitment. Choosing someone every day, especially on the difficult days when romance is nowhere to be found. 🙏

The world has turned love into a performance.

I prayed for my future husband that evening. Whoever he is, wherever he is. I asked God to keep him strong in faith, to prepare him for the responsibilities of family, to make him a man of true character. That felt more meaningful than any celebration 🕊️