Anthony and I, like many modern couples, text each other a lot. Most of them are mundane little messages about what kind of wine I’d like him to pick up at the store, or when we should be somewhere. Because we don’t live together just yet, we spend many evenings at my apartment and at the end of the night he makes the long trek from Capitol Hill to Falls Church, VA. Once he’s safely home, I get a text that goes something like this: “I’m home. I love you, Sara”, to which I respond, “I love you, too”. Either my thumbs are too clumsy for a touch screen, or there is something totally wrong with my phone’s internal algorithm, but for a while, whenever I would try to text “I love you”, the words would autocorrect to “I move you”. ‘Love’ became ‘move’.

Usually when this happened it was almost midnight, I was lying in bed half asleep and my exhaustion would do battle with my insistence on grammatical and contextual accuracy; this repetitive autocorrect was downright maddening.

But, under my annoyance awaited a really lovely reflection on what love does to a soul.

When you love someone it means that you move.

Now, movement for me is hard, at least movement from my established trajectory. I like routine. I like consistency. I like familiarity. Just ask any of my friends who have tried to get me to a restaurant or a movie outside my neighborhood. If I was called to monastic life, I think an established horarium would suit me just fine.

But, then came Anthony, and life began to shift. Back when Anthony and I first started to date, I remember thinking that as much as I liked this guy, there was no way I’d have the time to date him. My days always seemed to be filled with things to do, people to meet, places to see. The idea of fitting him into my already full life seemed like an insurmountable task. But, as I got to know Anthony more, my schedule shifted to allow for the time it takes to really get to know someone. Sometimes it was a conscious choice that involved some kind of sacrifice, but other times it was completely natural. The important thing is, the priorities in my life moved to make room for him.

Anthony moves all the time for me. He moves himself from his home in Falls Church to Capitol Hill to spend time with me. He comes to the airport to pick me up in the middle of the night. He brings me flowers. He challenges me. He inspires me. He moves me to become a better woman. And together, we move our hearts to make room for the other.

In a few short days, I will move down the aisle of a very familiar church to pledge my love and fidelity to Anthony for the rest of my life.

If you love enough, you will be moved by love toward your beloved.