We talk about love a lot on the Infinitely Precious Podcast—and I know I return to the theme often. But some experiences ask us to see love again, to feel it more deeply, to remember that it is far more than sentiment or emotion. Recently, I had one of those moments.
Almost two weeks ago, I had the joy of officiating the wedding of my daughter and now son-in-law. From the moment I woke up that morning, something felt different. Time seemed to slow. Every detail—breakfast, gathering my journal, preparing for the ceremony—had a kind of richness to it. As I sat waiting for the day to unfold, it struck me: weddings are moments when the universe’s outer layer seems to peel back, revealing the shimmering reality underneath. And at the center of it all is love.
Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, one of my favorite 20th-century mystics, often spoke of love as the fabric of the universe itself—the divine energy holding everything in existence from beginning to end. In the first chapter of the Letter to the Colossians, in that ancient Christian hymn (Col. 1:15–20), Paul names Christ as the One in whom “all things hold together.” Beneath everything, woven into all things, is this sustaining love.
On the day of the wedding, that truth felt almost tangible. Standing before two people I love—one for her entire life, and one I’ve come to love over the years—there was something transcendent in the air. A divine spark. A sense of being fully present to a moment glowing with sacred energy. Love wasn’t an idea. It wasn’t a warm feeling. It was almost something I could touch.
And it made me wonder: Why do we only notice that presence in the mountaintop moments? Weddings, births, life’s great celebrations—they invite us to slow time and pay attention. They remind us that the fabric of love is always there, whether or not we see it.
But love isn’t limited to those extraordinary occasions. It shows up in the simplest expressions:
- the look of compassion from a stranger
- the quiet hand we offer someone in pain
- the greeting of a neighbor
- a morning cup of coffee
- lunch with a friend
- a room full of people we love
- or a room full of people we are learning to love
Love becomes tangible when we become present.
I think this is what made Jesus so compelling. Wherever he went, he was there. Fully. Loving the people others ignored. Listening with compassion. Meeting people in their grief, their illness, their hope. His presence made love real, visible, embodied.
Perhaps the invitation for us is the same:
to look for love, to slow down, to be awake to the moments that shimmer with divine presence.
Not only in grand celebrations, but in the sacred ordinary that fills each day.
My daughter gently told me not to feel any pressure about officiating her wedding. And truthfully, it wasn’t pressure I felt—it was presence. A sense that I simply needed to speak from my heart into that holy moment, and to witness the vows John and Hannah wrote for each other. Their words, spoken with intention and tenderness, were a reminder of how precious each moment of love truly is.
So here is my invitation to you, dear friends:
Look for love wherever you are.
Practice being present.
Let each moment—ordinary or extraordinary—be an opportunity to glimpse the fabric of the universe.
Because love is there.
Within you.
Around you.
Moving through every moment you inhabit.
And remember this always: You are infinitely precious and unconditionally loved for the gift you already are.
Until next time, be well. And look for love.
Infinitely Precious 