They say it’s a beautiful thing. They write songs about it, and those tunes climb the charts. It’s the subject of poetry, art, movies, books, and people make a career out of finding it — for themselves and others.

Love.

Loving.

For as much as we seem to think about it, you’d suspect it’s not as fleeting as it seems — that it would be more plentiful, more strong, more protected.

But look around. Good examples of it feel too few and far between. Many put on a good show, but not even the best facade or collection of materialistic goods can heal what’s broken or bring the magic back. It can fool your friends and family, but not for long. Inevitably, the house lights illuminate what’s been hidden and brushed under the rug. All too often, the curtain falls on a love lost, a love neglected.

When we see good love, we recognize it in a heartbeat. We see it for what it is: protective, solid, respectful, humble, patient, radiant and magnificent. We hope for it for ourselves, we look in awe at two people who are in it for the long haul and, if you’re like me, you say a little prayer for them, too. A prayer that it lasts as long as their breath does.

Unfortunately a long marriage isn’t always a good one. Similarly, a new marriage in this day and age isn’t automatically destined for failure, despite what many think. Some might be jaded when it comes to love, but I think we all enjoy a good old-fashioned love story as much as the next person. And when we see it, we praise it, rally around it and embrace it.

They are so rare.

Tonight, I realize that I agree with the songs, and with each bit of art that has ever placed it on a pedestal over time. It is a beautiful thing. I’m thankful for my parents and the loving example they’ve set, and I’m thankful that so many around me have believed in it and taken the plunge. It gives me hope that they’ll spread more love throughout the world as a team than they ever could have solo, and for more love, I’m grateful.