We go to extreme measures for love. We do what we must to pursue it, maintain it, preserve it, hide it, save it, retreat from it, attain it, and, ultimately, forgive it. Perhaps most love isn't what we imagine. Maybe we love the most when we commit acts of self-sacrifice. Maybe we are forced to leave most love behind to make room for our own personal growth. When was the last time you let go for love? Not OF love, but FOR it? When has your most painful decision been motivated by compassion? And, most importantly, was it worth it?
