Love, Like Sourdough, Rises with Care

My husband and I don’t make a big spectacle of Valentine’s Day. If we do anything, it’s usually a card, and he brings me flowers—not because of the holiday, but because he knows they bring me joy. He’s thoughtful like that all year round.

Today, as I was feeding my sourdough starter, I found myself thinking about how accurately it mirrors love, relationships, and marriage.

Love, Like Sourdough, Requires Care

Creating and maintaining a sourdough starter is like nurturing love—it requires patience, consistency, and a willingness to let go of what no longer serves in order for something stronger to grow.

At first, love—like a new starter—is fragile, unpredictable, and in need of careful tending. You feed it with trust, time, and presence, watching for signs of life, for bubbles of connection to form. Some days, it thrives; other days, it seems sluggish, demanding more attention. But you keep showing up, knowing that love, like wild yeast, needs space and time to develop.

And then there’s the discard—the parts you let go of, not because they were never valuable, but because love, like sourdough, must be pruned to grow. Old habits, fears, and ego-driven defenses are shed so that something new and resilient can take their place.

Tending to Love Over Time

Oh, how my husband and I have waded through each of these phases over the years. Even after 15 years together, there are moments when our love feels fragile and unpredictable, requiring careful tending. There are times when the demands of schedules and the mundane rhythm of life pull us apart, leaving our relationship feeling sluggish. In those moments, we have to intentionally pour into one another, to stoke the embers, to fuel our growth. And then there are the seasons when we’re in sync, thriving, and effortlessly rising together.

But love doesn’t just happen—it takes intention, presence, and the choice to show up daily.

The Hardest Part: Letting Go to Grow

The number of times we’ve had to discard parts of ourselves and our marriage to grow—both individually and as a couple—feels immeasurable. The habits we’ve had to break, the defenses we’ve had to lower, the egos we’ve had to lay to rest (which, let’s be honest, might be the hardest part). It has been brutally painful at times, and at others, it has felt nearly impossible.

We’ve wrestled with whether or not we were willing to let go of certain parts of ourselves in order to pick up something that would better serve each other. It’s an ongoing process—one that asks for surrender but rewards us with a love that is more whole, more sustaining.

The Feast That Follows

We’ve waded through the depths, when the “sourdough” was far from beautiful, when all odds seemed stacked against us. And we’ve feasted in the seasons when it was thriving, when all the effort and patience culminated in something nourishing and deeply satisfying.

Love—like sourdough—isn’t about perfection. It’s about choosing to put in the work, day after day, because the bounty it yields is worth it. When tended to with care, love rises, expands, and sustains not just the two of us, but the life we continue to build together.