Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking,
it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
And now faith, hope, and love abide, but the greatest of these is love.
What a load of crap.
Love is cleaning up the chunks. Note: My daughters Lilly and Lulu contributed to this axiom in the last few weeks with their pukefest.
Love is finding someone to tolerate and be tolerated by, day after day, week after week, year after year.
Love is never having to say, “I’m sorry for checking out that chick (or dude).”
Love is managing expectations.
Love is letting your daughter use your favorite sweatshirt as a diaper because you’re stuck on the highway in a snowstorm on the way home from a weekend in the mountains and you ran out of pull ups and she has diarrhea.
Love is