In today’s Gospel (Matthew 9:36-10:18) Jesus’ heart is moved with pity for the crowd in front of him because people felt troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd. I recently read the words of one woman who was on the brink of divorce. I believe Jesus sent the Holy Spirit to her through the words of her mother. This changed everything for her.

I almost filed for divorce last Tuesday.

I was sitting in my car, staring at the divorce paperwork, convinced that “the spark” was gone. I felt numb. I drove to my parents’ house instead — seeking a place to hide, or maybe just looking for an excuse to delay the inevitable – my divorce.

My parents, Margaret and Jimmy, have been married for 52 years. They are the kind of American couple you see in old photos: he’s a retired foreman who speaks in grunts; she’s a retired nurse who runs the house with quiet efficiency.

While Dad was out back tinkering with his old truck, I sat at the kitchen table and asked Mom the question that had been burning a hole in my chest.

“Mom,” I whispered, watching her fold laundry. “After fifty years… are you actually still in love with him? Or are you just… used to him?”

She stopped folding. She looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read — somewhere between pity and amusement. She didn’t answer immediately. She just patted my hand, smiled a tired, knowing smile, and went back to the towels.

I left an hour later, frustrated, feeling like she didn’t understand the modern need for “connection” and “passion.”

But when I got home, my phone buzzed. It was a long email from my mother. She isn’t tech-savvy, so seeing her type this much was a shock.

I sat in my driveway and read it. By the end, I was weeping.

Here is what she wrote:

“My darling girl,

You asked me today if I still love your father. I didn’t answer you then because love isn’t a soundbite I can explain while folding sheets. But I want you to know the truth.

It makes me smile that you ask this. Not because it’s a silly question, but because the answer is complicated.

Do I love him like I did in 1972? No. If you are looking for butterflies in the stomach, or the nervous energy of a first date, or the fireworks of a Hollywood movie… then no, I don’t have that.

But that isn’t love. That is adrenaline.

Love, after a lifetime together, isn’t the explosion. It is the roots.

It is no longer the feeling that shakes you up; it is the certainty that holds you down when the world tries to blow you away. It doesn’t make my heart race anymore; it calms my soul.

It doesn’t make my hands tremble; it gives me the strength to get out of bed when my arthritis flares up.

In this house, there are no big surprises anymore. We don’t do grand romantic gestures. We have something better: We have rituals.

It’s the coffee pot starting at 6:00 AM exactly, because he knows I need it hot. It’s the small, silly arguments we have about how to load the dishwasher or who left the porch light on. It’s the way he instinctively pulls the blanket over my shoulder when I cough in the middle of the night. These seem like boring, trivial things to your generation. But they are everything.

At this stage of life, I don’t need a man to buy me diamonds or take me to Paris. I need a man who listens when I say my back hurts. I need a man who just hands me a tissue when I’m crying over the news, without asking why. I need a man who doesn’t leave the room when I’m depressed and don’t even like myself very much.

And your father? He does that. Without fanfare. Without asking for a ‘thank you.’ He is simply there.

Loving someone for fifty years isn’t like the romance novels. It’s more like developing a secret language that no one else on earth speaks. It’s a way of looking at each other across a crowded room and knowing exactly what the other is thinking, because you have shared the same bills, the same worries about the kids, the same grief when we lost friends, and the same stubborn will to keep going.

So, to answer your question: Yes. I am still wildly in love with him.

But not with the boy I met at the diner in ’72. I am in love with the life we built. I am in love with the peace that comes from knowing that, no matter how crazy this country gets or how hard the storm blows outside, he is my shelter.

Don’t look for the fireworks, honey. Look for the person who becomes your home.”

I turned off the car. I tore up the divorce papers on the passenger seat. I walked inside to my husband, who was sitting on the couch, looking just as tired as I felt.

“Do you want some coffee?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I’d love that.”

It starts with the butterflies. But it survives on the roots.

Spend some time today reflecting on these words. Please share my Message today with as many people as you can, young and old. These words can help make so many marriages better. Invite them to subscribe to:   www.TreatsfortheSoul.org.   They will thank you for the invitation.

DEAR GOD, HELP ME TODAY. GIVE ME STRENGTH WHEN I’M WEAK, LEND ME A SHOULDER WHEN I NEED TO CRY, AND HELP ME UP WHEN I FALL!