We sat in the cool sand under an overcast sky and started to dig. We moved sand around looking for shells and then started to fill buckets in an attempt to build something. When the bucket could hold no more sand, I turned it over and lifted it again to reveal a small column standing there amidst the shovels and seashells. My daughter saw the beginning of the sand castle, grew excited, and then stepped on it, turning my work to rubble. She looked up, pleased, and asked, "Daddy build another sand castle so I can knock it over?"
Sure, my love. For you I would build a thousand sand castles.
This is what we do for people we love. We're willing to build and rebuild and then build again and again and then a few more times. We're not working with stone or marble when we're working with love. Our materials are fragile human hearts and delicate emotions. Often, each crumbles under the weight of everyday life, busy schedules, and the pressure to be perfect.
And when something falls apart or doesn't go as planned, if we're with the people we love, we stoop low again and start to build. We're not interested in doing work that will last for millennia; we do the work that's needed to make it through today because when we love somebody, all we want to do is spend tomorrow with them.
Love is not the thing that motivates us to create something that strangers will know us by. Love is the thing that compels us to do everything so that those who mean the most will know how much we care.