I’ve been thinking deeply about the question, What do I love? For much of my life, I equated love with emotion. I believed I loved the people I dated, because what I felt was intense, consuming, and exciting. But marriage changed my understanding. It taught me that what I once called love was often just emotion dressed up in longing.
Like most people, my initial attraction to someone began with appearance — what my eyes observed first, what stirred my senses. Many relationships start this way: we see someone, we feel something, and we call it love. But physical attraction alone cannot sustain a life. It fades, and when it does, many women are left holding their emotions, believing they were in love when they were really in love with the feeling.
When I met my husband, I was attracted to him — that part was real. But I didn’t love him immediately. That came later, through the slow accumulation of his actions. He was an excellent provider, attentive to my needs, thoughtful about my interests, and committed to making sure I never lacked anything essential. He showed up for me. He cared for me. He supported me. And in those steady, consistent acts, love took root. It wasn’t a rush of emotion; it was the reality of who he was to me. Love came naturally because he embodied it.
Over time, I realized something important: love is like a cake, and emotion is the icing. The icing is sweet, delightful, and beautiful — but the cake is the substance. Emotion enhances love, but it is not love itself. Love can exist without the icing. Emotion can exist without the cake. They go hand in hand, but they are not the same.
I never truly understood love until I came to know God. For years, I said, “I love You, God,” but they were just words — declarations without depth. My love for God grew the same way my love for my husband did: through evidence. God was there for me. God showed up for me. God forgave me, comforted me, guided me, and never abandoned me. God became my unconditional friend, companion, counselor, and source of strength. I came to love God because God loved me first. I cannot give God anything, yet I do experience and express gratitude, appreciation, and reverence — and those feelings are the emotions that rise from the truth of who God is. The emotions are the icing. Love is the cake.
This understanding also shapes how I think about what I love in life. I love teaching — not just the act, but the platform it provides. Teaching is not confined to a classroom; raising children is teaching, mentoring is teaching, and guiding is teaching. What I love is the work of giving, of showing up, of shaping lives. I love watching children grow, transform, and eventually step into the world carrying pieces of what I poured into them. That is love in motion. And yes, emotion is wrapped in there too — pride, joy, fulfillment — but again, emotion is the echo, not the foundation.
So can you love without emotion? Absolutely. Love is a choice, a commitment, a truth lived out in action. And can you feel emotion without love? Without question. Many people mistake emotional intensity for love, but emotion alone cannot sustain a relationship, a calling, or a life.
Love is relational truth. Emotion is the echo of that truth.
Love is what we do. Emotion is what we feel.
They walk together, but they are not twins.
After the experiences above, I finally understand the equation: Love is the substance. Emotion is the scent. One grounds you. The other moves you. Together, they create the fullness of what the heart can hold.
