Loving Better

Rainy Sundays, The Day After Valentine’s Day, and the Quiet Work of Agape

There is something sacred about a rainy Sunday.

The sky softens. The noise settles. The world feels like it has exhaled. And today — the day after Valentine’s Day — the roses are slightly tilted, the chocolate boxes half empty, and the performance of romance has quieted.

What remains?

This is where “loving better” begins.

Not in the glitter of a single day, but in the ordinary, rain-soaked moments that follow it.

Valentine’s Day often celebrates eros — the passionate, romantic love that thrills and sparks. But the day after invites something deeper. Something steadier. It calls us toward agape.

Agape love is not flashy. It does not demand applause. It is patient, enduring, and generous in spirit. In the Christian tradition, agape is the highest form of love — the kind that reflects the heart of God. As described in 1 Corinthians 13, it is the love that is patient and kind, that keeps no record of wrongs, that bears and believes and hopes.

Agape is the love that shows up on rainy Sundays.

It looks like making breakfast slowly and staying at the table a little longer.

It looks like checking in on a friend without needing anything in return.

It looks like choosing gentleness when irritation would be easier.

It looks like forgiving — even when no one posts about it.

Loving better is not about loving perfectly. It is about loving consciously.

The day after Valentine’s Day is honest. It asks: Who are you when the spotlight dims? Who are you in the quiet? Who are you when loving requires patience more than passion?

Rainy Sundays are teachers. They remind us that intimacy is cultivated in stillness. That love deepens in consistency. That safety is built in small, repeated acts of care.

For those of us who are healing, who are rebuilding trust, who are learning to receive and give love more softly — loving better may mean slowing down. It may mean refusing intensity that feels like chaos. It may mean honoring steadiness over sparks.

Agape invites us to love from wholeness, not hunger. And that begins within.

Because loving better also includes how you speak to yourself when no one else is around. It includes the grace you extend when you fall short. It includes the way you tend to your own heart on a quiet Sunday afternoon.

Love is not proven in grand gestures alone. It is revealed in posture.

So today, let the rain fall. Let the world move more slowly. Let your love be less performative and more rooted.

Valentine’s Day may celebrate being chosen.

But the day after celebrates choosing — again and again — to love well.

Reflective Thought:

On this rainy Sunday, ask yourself:

Where in my life am I loving out of habit instead of intention? Do I offer myself the same patience I extend to others? What would it look like to practice agape — steady, generous love — in one small, concrete way this week? Am I loving from fullness, or from a desire to be filled?

Sit with your answers.

Loving better is not loud work.

It is sacred, steady work.

And it begins right here.

Doing Brave,

Michelle 🌿💛🌿

©️Intimately Worded, Michelle.