Why Love Requires Action: Valentine’s Day Reconsidered

Valentine’s Day is a polarizing holiday. There are those who L-O-V-E it, and those for consider it a Hallmark holiday, one best skipped. But maybe it’s not the holiday itself that’s the issue, but the way we choose to interpret Valentine’s Day. Maybe we need to broaden our definition of love. And maybe we need to reconsider how we show up for it.

Love extends beyond romance

Most of us have experienced the romantic Valentine’s Day. The lavish dinner, the flowers, chocolates. And it’s wonderful, albeit fleeting. The next day we’re back to life as usual.

This is a missed opportunity. Every single day we have the opportunity to show up for others, people for whom we feel all kinds of different love (from friendship to community). We connect with them, briefly enter their lives, and maybe even express empathy for what they may be going through.

We feel badly for a friend going through a hard time, what do we actually do to help ease it?

Do we go beyond empathy into the realm of kindness? Sometimes, yes. But there’s still often a big gap in how we show up for others in ordinary days, in small ways, when no one is keeping score.

Empathy is important but incomplete

I’d go so far as to say it is not difficult to be empathetic. It is a feeling. Kindness requires more of us. Kindness is active and requires a corresponding action.

Empathy is awareness. It’s the ability to understand or feel that a friend may be hurting. Kindness is what happens next. It’s the decision to act on that understanding. To invest time, attention, and effort in a way that makes life a little easier or warmer for someone else.

Most of us are empathetic. Far fewer of us consistently practice kindness. Empathy reflects emotional intelligence. It signals that we are paying attention, that we understand struggle, that we care. We say things like “I get it” or “That sounds really hard.”

One is passive, the other active

But empathy alone is passive. Being empathetic lets us remain emotionally aligned without being personally inconvenienced. It lets us feel connected without changing our behavior. And often, especially when life is busy or draining, it becomes the place where our care stops.

Think of it this way: Empathy notices pain. But it is in our response to our empathy that we generate kindness. Kindness responds to empathy.

Why kindness is harder

Let’s face it, we’re inundated with opportunities to feel empathy. Stray dogs, deportation, global poverty. But empathy exists only within us. It does not touch the homeless dog, the frightened immigrant, the starving child.

It requires an act of kindness to actually touch the one struggling. It requires effort. Inconvenience. Often, discomfort.

It asks us to do things we hadn’t planned on doing. To follow up when it would be easier not to. To remember details that matter to someone else. To show up when there’s no immediate payoff and no public recognition.

Kindness costs time. It costs energy. Sometimes it costs comfort. This is why it’s easier to feel empathy than to practice kindness, especially over the long haul.

The hard truth: We’re often least kind to those we love most

Many of us extend our best manners, patience, and consideration outward. We’re careful with coworkers. Polite with acquaintances. Thoughtful with strangers. And then, with the people we love most, we let those habits slide.

We assume closeness equals understanding. We assume our history equals instant forgiveness. We assume love doesn’t need maintenance.

But familiarity doesn’t reduce the need for kindness. It increases it.

The people closest to us live with the cumulative effect of our tone, our inattention, our half-listening, and our postponed follow-through. They are the ones most likely to feel the absence of even small, kind acts.

When we notice our partner is struggling with their workload, do we actively pick up some of their household duties? Do we make their favorite meal? When we see your neighbor shoveling snow with a knee-brace, do we show up with a shovel?

What love through active kindness actually looks like

Kindness isn’t dramatic. It’s rarely Instagram-worthy. And it doesn’t announce itself. It looks like remembering, and acting on, what matters to someone else.

It looks like doing the thing you said you’d do, even when no one reminds you.

It can be as simple as saying, “How’s it going?” and actually waiting for the answer. And then digging a bit deeper.

Don’t just text a struggling friend, asking, “How are you doing?” (knowing you’ll get “I’m good” back). Follow up with, “Really? Are you?” You might be surprised at the outpouring that comes next.

We are not comfortable with pain

We’re uncomfortable witnessing another’s pain. We feel empathy but we often stop short of the effort and discomfort it requires to offer kindness. Sitting with a grieving person is not easy. But that simple kindness can make all the difference to them.

Just showing up for another during tough times is more impactful than we realize. It seems that lately I’ve had more conversations with people (friends and near-strangers, alike), who say they’ve never been more alone than when the worst happens. A job loss, a death. People, often those who you felt closest to, seem to disappear.

Why kindness matters more than ever right now

Many people are carrying more than they let on. Stress, uncertainty, grief, exhaustion, worry about the future. We sense this. We feel it. We empathize. But empathy alone doesn’t lighten the load.

Kindness does.

A small act of kindness, done deliberately, can create steadiness where things feel fragile. It can restore trust, soften distance, and remind someone they are not alone. And I propose we try to think on this when Valentine’s Day rolls around. Yes, it’s great to celebrate romantic love. But it’s perhaps even greater to extend the reach of L-O-V-E with acts of kindness, delivered to those who need it most.

Love, made visible

Empathy is a beginning. Kindness is a practice.