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It’s the day before Valentine’s Day. Love day. The day the world tells us to pause and notice our beloved.

I’m sitting in a cozy café, sipping a latte and thinking about love and what that word really means to me.

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Our pastor has been teaching on intentionality these past few weeks. Last Sunday his message was directed toward singles, and one of his points was autonomy in a relationship. The ability to be fully yourself. To do your own thing. To grow independently while still being deeply connected.

That one made me lean in and whisper yes.

Brian and I have been together almost 37 years. We’ll celebrate 34 years of marriage in August. Typing that feels ridiculous. How have that many years passed?

We started dating at 16. Married at 19. And then the years just… filled in.

We are not the same teenagers who stood in front of our family and friends all those years ago. At 19, I had no idea who I was becoming. I hadn’t developed my style or my interests. I didn’t know I would love writing. Or travel. I had never picked up a paintbrush. I had never made anything with my hands. I had never lived on my own. I didn’t know how to cook, keep a home, grow a garden, or raise a family.

All I knew was that I loved this boy and he loved me.

What I didn’t know then was how beautiful it would be to grow into yourself alongside someone who lets you.

That, to me, is love.

Not control. Not possession. Not shrinking. But space.

Without even realizing it, my husband has given me the gift of becoming. He has supported me financially while I’ve figured out what my next steps were. He’s funded my hobbies. He’s quietly cheerleaded me by sharing my work with his coworkers. He’s fixed my nonstop technical issues. Answered my endless business questions. Listened to me vent about frustrations and fears and failures.

As I sit here reflecting, it feels simple.

Love is safety.

First Corinthians says it best. Love is patient and kind. It does not envy or boast. It is not proud. It does not dishonor others. It is not self seeking. It is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs. It rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

We don’t always get it right. Far from it. We have our spats. We can be selfish. We can be sharp with each other. That’s real life shared under one roof for decades.

But there is something sacred about knowing someone so well that you can buoy them when they start to sink. That you instinctively step in when their arms grow tired. That you stand in the gap.

So today, on the day before love day, I’m thinking about that person in my life.

And I wonder who that is for you.

A husband. A mama. A sister. A best friend.

If you have that person, maybe instead of buying a thing, you give them your words. We live in a world of consumption. But the most valuable gift we can give is our truest thoughts. To tell someone how they have made you feel safe. How they have given you space to become.

That might be the real celebration.