Have you ever felt like love is something you have to chase? Like it’s reserved for other people, but somehow always out of reach for you? I used to think love had to be grand, something you had to fight for. But more often than not, love just shows up—quietly, unexpectedly, in the places we least expect. It finds us in the middle of our hardest days, in the cracks of our guarded hearts, in the spaces where we least believe we deserve it.

I’ve had my fair share of heartbreak. I’ve known the weight of disappointment, the sting of betrayal, and the slow unraveling of trust. There were times I convinced myself that shutting down was the safest way to move forward, that guarding my heart meant protecting it. That if I stopped expecting kindness, I wouldn’t be let down. But love has a way of slipping through the cracks, gently reminding me that it never truly leaves.

I also know what it’s like to believe otherwise. When the people we trusted the most become the source of our deepest wounds, when love is given conditionally or used as a weapon, when every open hand has felt like a setup for another letdown—it’s hard not to wonder if love was ever real to begin with. Pain has a way of convincing us that kindness is temporary, that people will always leave, that warmth is just another thing that can turn cold. But love doesn’t disappear just because we’ve been let down. It doesn’t stop existing just because we’ve experienced the kind that hurt more than it healed.

Love keeps showing up. Sometimes in grand gestures, but more often in the small, quiet moments. In the stranger who holds the door open when I feel invisible, as if they somehow see the weight I’m carrying. In the nurse who stayed by my side at my most vulnerable, her presence offering comfort beyond words. In my children’s laughter—the kind that bubbles up so effortlessly, reminding me that love doesn’t have to be complicated, that it can be pure and unfiltered.

It’s in my family, the ones who love me despite my sharp edges, who anchor me when I feel like I’m drifting too far. It’s in my clients, who extend grace when I fall short, teaching me that patience and understanding are love in their own right.

And then there’s God—steady, unwavering, patient. Even when I pull away, even when I question, even when I get it wrong, He still shows up, reminding me that I am seen, I am loved, I am held. That I am never alone, even when I feel like I am. That I don’t have to be perfect or whole to be worthy of love.

Love isn’t always loud. It doesn’t always come in the ways we expect. Sometimes, it’s a small moment of understanding when we least deserve it. A kind word when we need it most. A warm meal placed in front of us, a deep breath after a long cry, a friend who calls at just the right time. A stranger who sees you—not just the version of you that you present to the world, but the one who is quietly struggling underneath.

For so long, I searched for love in the grand gestures, in the declarations, in the moments that felt big enough to prove its existence. But I’ve learned that love is in the details. It’s in the pauses between conversations, in the way someone listens, in the way life keeps offering us kindness even when we’re not sure how to receive it.

Sweets, I know how hard it is to believe in love again when life has given you every reason not to. When you’ve been hurt, when trust has been broken, when the ones who were supposed to protect you became the reason you built walls, it’s easy to feel like love is something distant—something unreliable. But love doesn’t disappear just because people failed to hold it well.

Love keeps showing up. It’s in the unexpected phone call when you need to hear a familiar voice. In the friend who stays when words fall short, reminding you that presence is its own kind of love. In the moments when, even in your loneliness, the world still finds a way to remind you that you are not forgotten.

So, Sweets, even if trust feels fragile, even if love seems like something that happens for others but not for you, know that love is already on its way to you. It’s in the small, quiet moments. In the people who see you when you feel invisible. In the grace that finds you when you least expect it. Love isn’t lost—it’s just waiting for you to notice.

Because love isn’t something we have to chase. It was never lost to begin with.

Until next time,

Magnolia Tru