The Connection Corner

A daily source of encouragement and inspiration to connect your heart to hope and faith.

Catching Butterflies at the Grocery Store

1 Thessalonians 3:12-13 — And may the Lord make your love for one another and for all people grow and overflow, just as our love for you overflows. May he, as a result, make your hearts strong, blameless, and holy as you stand before God our Father when our Lord Jesus comes again with all his holy people. Amen.

I’m standing in the grocery store at 6:42 p.m., staring at a row of rotisserie chickens slowly turning under heat lamps.

My phone buzzes. It’s my husband, Chris.

“Will you grab one on your way home?”

I laugh at how much we think alike.

We’ve been together fourteen years. Back then, we stayed up until two or three in the morning talking on the phone. We whispered so no one else in the house would wake. We talked about everything. And nothing. And everything again. There were butterflies. So many butterflies.

Now, sometimes the only thing we text each other is, “Good morning,” and, “Did you remember the chicken?”

And that may not sound romantic—but it’s something better.

Because somewhere between those late-night conversations and this grocery store aisle, our love grew up. Life filled in with jobs, kids’ schedules, responsibilities. And yet, the slow burn of love proved stronger than the sparks we once chased.

We learned to pivot. To communicate differently. To love in ways that weren’t flashy—but were faithful.

It’s tempting, when relationships shift, to assume something’s wrong. But sometimes change doesn’t mean love is fading. Sometimes it means love is maturing.

Scripture actually prays for this kind of growth:

May the Lord make your love for one another and for all people grow and overflow… May He make your hearts strong.

Did you catch that? Love isn’t meant to stay small. It’s meant to increase. To overflow. To strengthen hearts over time.

Some days you won’t have the energy for fireworks or grand gestures. Love isn’t always butterflies. Sometimes it’s steady. Durable. Quietly committed. Sometimes it looks like grabbing a rotisserie chicken on the way home.

And this isn’t just about marriage. It never was.

This kind of growing love spills into friendships that don’t talk every day but still show up when it matters. It spills into faith that doesn’t always feel electric but stays rooted. It spills into families learning to forgive again and again.

In whatever relationships God has placed in your life, there’s an invitation today: keep loving right where you are. Trust that God is growing something faithful, durable, and good in you.

Because when He grows the love, it doesn’t just survive—it overflows.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

Where have you seen love mature in your relationships over time?
Are you mistaking steadiness for stagnation in any area of your life?
How might God be growing your heart stronger through everyday faithfulness?
What is one small way you can let love “overflow” to someone this week?

February 13, 2026/by Bri Dunn

The Call I Was Afraid to Make

Daily Devotional, Tammi Arender

Romans 12:16 — Live in harmony with each other. Don’t be too proud to enjoy the company of ordinary people. And don’t think you know it all!

I hadn’t said his name out loud in months.

Life kept rolling—work, errands, small talk—but every time his name came up, I skipped it like a song that hurt too much to hear.

I hated the state of where we were. So I did what I knew to do.

I prayed.

Every day, I laid it at Jesus’ feet, asking God to fix what felt beyond repair. And prayer was the right thing to do. But deep down, I knew something else too—action mattered. Some responsibility was still in my court. Praying felt faithful… but acting felt terrifying.

I couldn’t pick up the phone.

In fact, I blocked him.

I told myself it was for peace. For space. But if I’m honest, it was fear dressed up as wisdom. Blocking him kept me safe—from hearing something I didn’t want to hear, from having to be wrong, from having to be humble.

Months passed like that.

Then a mutual friend called. She mentioned his name, and I couldn’t hold back the tears. She didn’t scold me. She just looked at me and said gently, “Tammy… this can’t keep going. Y’all need to talk.”

She was right.

So I unblocked the number.

And I called him.

He didn’t answer. No script. No backup plan.

Five minutes later, my phone rang.

It was him.

There wasn’t a debate. We didn’t replay every detail. But we both said the hardest, holiest words:

“I’m sorry.”

Not because everything was instantly resolved. Not because we suddenly agreed. But because the relationship mattered more than being right. And humility spoke louder than a thousand arguments.

It reminded me of Romans 12:16: “Live in harmony with each other… Don’t be too proud… and don’t think you know it all.”

Harmony doesn’t mean sameness. It doesn’t mean pretending nothing happened. It means choosing humility over pride. It means laying down the need to win so love has room to breathe.

Maybe there’s a name you’ve avoided. A conversation you’ve postponed.

The smallest surrender can open the widest door.

You don’t have to fix everything today. But loosening your grip on being right? That’s often where Jesus does His best work.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

Is there a relationship in your life where pride has quietly built a wall?
What might humility look like for you in that situation?
How does Romans 12:16 challenge your instinct to protect yourself or prove your point?
What is one small, courageous step you could take toward harmony this week?

February 12, 2026/by Tammi Arender

Fixing What Grief Broke

Brenda Price, Daily Devotional

James 1:27 — Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you.

The bench had been broken for so long most people forgot it existed.

The park itself is lovely. Trees line the paths just right. Dog walkers pass. Joggers move along the trail. Flowers burst with color. The swings swing. The slides slide. Everything works—except that bench.

Its slats are split. The leg sags. Weather has worn it thin.

An older man comes to the park most afternoons. He walks slowly, hands folded behind his back. He stops at the broken bench, lets out a small sigh, and turns away. Day after day, the pattern repeats.

Across the park, three teenage boys dominate the basketball court. They joke, miss shots, argue—but one day they notice the man. He lingers at that broken bench like hope is leaning on it. They realize no one else seems to care.

They could ignore it. That would cost them nothing.

But caring would cost time, effort, and attention.

They talk, shrug, and finally one says, “We should fix it.” And the rest is history.

They gather wood, borrow a drill from one of their dads, and watch a few YouTube videos on how to repair a bench. When they’re done, it looks sturdy. Not perfect—but solid. It can hold weight again.

The next day, the older man returns. He stops like he always does, but this time he stays. He lowers himself carefully onto the bench and relaxes his shoulders. A smile spreads across his face.

The boys wander over. One asks if he likes it.

The man looks at them for a long moment. Then he tells them he used to sit there with his wife before she passed away. He thanks them for giving that place back to him.

They didn’t know they were fixing that.

Now he can sit there for hours, remembering the life they shared.

No one else seems to notice. Dogs walk. Joggers pass. Life moves on. But something sacred has happened—because those young men stopped long enough to care.

And that’s love doing what love does.

It sounds a lot like what James describes: “Pure and genuine religion… means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you.” — James 1:27

Real faith is practical. It’s sacrificial. It chooses “I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” It notices broken places and quietly repairs them—without applause.

Because love does great things without expecting great attention. And bright lights don’t need spotlights.

So today, choose that kind of love. The world is still full of broken benches—waiting for someone to stop long enough to care.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

What “broken bench” have you noticed in your everyday life but felt tempted to walk past?
How does James 1:27 challenge your definition of what real faith looks like?
Where might God be inviting you to choose compassion over convenience?
How can you practice quiet, unnoticed love this week?

February 11, 2026/by Brenda Price