Marriage is Like a Box of Chocolates
In just a few days, we’ll be celebrating Valentine’s Day.
Couples will be going out to dinner, exchanging gifts, giving cards, and yes—sharing plenty of chocolates. There’s something sweet about it all, whether this is your first Valentine’s together or one of many.
And as Valentine’s Day approaches, I find myself thinking back to our first Valentine’s Day together.
Antwon had planned a special dinner for me and was coming to pick me up. I remember walking out of my parents’ house holding his gift, feeling good—outfit chosen, hair just right, everything exactly how I wanted it.
Right before stepping off the porch, I turned back toward the glass screen door to take one last look at myself.
And that’s when I slipped on the porch.
What makes this even better is that Antwon didn’t actually see me fall—because he was looking down at his phone. Completely missed it.
He only realized something had happened because my sister was standing inside the house behind the screen door, bent over laughing. That’s what finally caught his attention.
When he looked up, there I was—on the ground.
His gift in the snow covered grass.
My heels in the over side of the yard.
Snow everywhere.
The fall itself? Very clear.
What happened after that is a little fuzzy.
Not exactly the Valentine’s Day moment I had planned.
Sometime later—at dinner, or maybe in the car afterward—Antwon gave me my gift.
It was a Build-A-Bear teddy bear dressed in scrubs. I was in nursing school at the time, so of course he went that route. He had even named him Dr. Love.
I loved it and still do.
At the time, it felt sweet and playful—exactly what love looked like in that season. What I couldn’t have known then was how much that little bear would come to mean over the years.
Marriage Is Like a Box of Chocolates
Marriage really is like a box of chocolates—you never quite know what you’re going to get.
When we step into marriage, we picture the sweet pieces first. The easy ones. The ones that feel predictable and joyful. What we don’t see coming is the order life delivers everything else—or how often love asks us to recover, laugh, and keep going together.
When Antwon and I got married, we chose 1 Corinthians 13 for our save-the-date cards:
Love is patient. Love is kind.
At the time, those words felt hopeful—sent into a future we believed would unfold gently. What we didn’t know then was how deeply we would come to live them.
Love Is Patient
Patience has a way of showing up when no one’s watching.
Sometimes it looks like walking through loss together at the slow pace grief requires. In our first year of marriage, we lost our daughter, Alana, and patience became something quieter and steadier than we ever expected—learning how to carry sorrow side by side.
And sometimes patience looks far more ordinary.
It looks like Antwon stepping over—and often gathering—my shoes scattered throughout the house, returning them to their place without sighs, commentary, or fanfare.
That kind of patience may not make it into sermons or Valentine’s cards, but it matters just as much.
Because patience isn’t always loud. Often, it’s silent love practiced in hallways and living rooms.
And over time, that kind of patience makes room for something else to grow.
Love Is Kind
Kindness lives in that space.
It shows up not just in big moments, but in the words we choose—and sometimes in the words we intentionally don’t.
I would love to say I always get this right.
That I always pause before responding.
That I always choose the gentlest answer.
That I never feel the urge to have the final say.
But I’m still growing.
Before choosing to become a nurse, I actually wanted to be a lawyer, so a good debate still feels familiar. I can make a strong case. I can present a convincing closing argument. And if there’s an opportunity for a well-timed clap back, I’m at least tempted.
Love, however, keeps teaching me something different.
Sometimes kindness looks like listening instead of responding.
Sometimes it looks like restraint.
And sometimes it looks like keeping your mouth shut—even when your argument is solid.
Because love isn’t about winning the conversation.
It’s about protecting the connection.
Love Bears All Things
Love bears all things isn’t just about the hard seasons—it also carries the joyful ones.
Love bears our family.
It bears bringing each of our three sons into the world and carrying them home from the hospital. It bears learning how to be parents, growing alongside our boys, and figuring things out as we go.
It bears school years and sports schedules, homework at the kitchen table, early mornings and late nights, and all the ordinary moments that come with raising three boys.
It bears cheering each other on as we’ve grown in our careers, stepped into new roles, gotten involved, and built a full life together. It bears trips we’ve taken, memories we’ve made, and milestones we celebrate as a family.
And it also bears the harder seasons.
Loss. Health challenges. Disappointments. Caring for loved ones. Seasons that stretch us and require more patience, grace, and flexibility than we expected.
But love doesn’t choose between joy and hardship—it carries both, sharing the good and the heavy together.
Love Endures
Enduring love doesn’t need an audience. It usually isn’t the part that makes it to social media. Enduring love looks like staying up late to help with math homework.
Getting up early with a child who needs extra help that morning. Figuring out who’s rearranging work to take a kid to an appointment or stay home when someone’s sick.
It’s the quiet teamwork of marriage and parenting—the back-and-forth, the adjusting, the choosing—that shapes everything.
Marriage really is like a box of chocolates. Some pieces are sweet. Some surprise you. Some take a little longer to chew.
But you keep reaching back into the box.
You keep sharing it.
You keep choosing it.
Sixteen years in, love is still doing its job—day in and day out, including Dr. Love.
P.S. Hope you enjoy this picture of our youngest with Dr. Love. These days, he’s his favorite snuggly—and most nights he’s falling asleep with that bear right beside him. It’s sweet to see a Valentine’s Day gift from sixteen years ago become part of our everyday life now. Love really does have a funny way of coming full circle!
