Because real love rarely wears clean boots.
Imagine a white-fenced farmhouse, warm in the golden hour.
Woods whisper off to the side.
A lone cow stares across the field like she owns it.
It’s the kind of scene you’d call romantic—
a quiet, glowing stillness.

But step closer, and the dream gets messy.
You swat mosquitoes,
catch the sour whiff of manure,
feel the thick heat on your neck,
and step in something soft and foul.
You sit with soup in hand
as a neighbor’s truck roars up the gravel drive.
Dust settles like uninvited seasoning
on your lunch
and the sheets flapping on the line like dreamcatchers.
We used to do Valentine’s Day.
But over time, it felt more like a performance than a celebration.
Once, I brought Lindsey flowers.
She smiled and said,
“Why are you giving me dead things?
Give me a plant.”
So I did.
What I know of romance now is quieter.
It’s a swaying hug in the kitchen—
our version of dancing,
because when we tried the real thing,
we stepped on each other’s toes
with accidental precision.
It’s dirt under our nails from gardening side by side.
It’s pausing mid-disagreement over a new gadget—
“Where exactly is that money coming from?”—
and then praying together before the day gets away.
It’s buying her something she’d never get for herself,
and knowing she’ll see the charge
before I get a chance to explain.
It’s tea and Scripture at sunrise
while the world scrolls and shouts.
Romance isn’t the absence of mess.
It’s the presence of something stronger—love that keeps showing up.
Romance, as I’ve come to know it,
isn’t tidy.
It’s boots off at the door,
gravel in the cracks,
grace in the quiet space between us.

We’re still learning the rhythm.
Still finding the music.
What’s your version of messy love?
Leave a comment below or share it with someone who needs to hear this today.
Tags: romance, real love, Christian marriage, country life, rural wisdom, messy love, quiet affection, shared work, poetic prose, spiritual formation, beauty in the ordinary, faith in daily life
Nice pic 💯
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This is such a true picture of real love, in the mess and the madness.
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How sweet and real this sounds perfect. Don’t buy me dead things but me a plant is adorable. Wonderfully penned Dean and such a sweet outlook on romance
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Thanks, JAM. I read your post too—beautiful.
Those small acts that whisper, “I see you, love you, know your name”—yes.
Looks like we’re walking some of the same roads in this season of life.
I appreciate your presence here.
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I’m glad to be in such good company on these roads in life🫶🏼
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You know Lindsay’s question made me laugh!🤭 It shows she loves living things to grow than dead flowers. Very clever and practical. I love your thoughts, Dean. I’m late to discover you’re a great painter.
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Thank you Hazel. It is nice to have your company here. Your writing is rich and insightful. I am blessed by it.
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I turned notification form your blog just tonight. I’ll be updated by your posts from now on. My pleasure, Dean. Thank you so much for your kind words, too
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