These days I find myself reflecting on fierce and mighty love: the kind that steps up, stands strong, and marches alongside, no matter what. A love that stares down monsters, thrusts a lantern into the deep of night, and holds on tight to the rope when life’s storms threaten to overwhelm everyone.
My spouse calls it “top-of-the-mine” love, where, if one were trapped at the bottom of a mineshaft, they could be confident—even if the operation failed—that at least one person on the rescue team had tried everything, even against the odds, to get them out safely. And they would aspire to do the same if the situation were reversed.
It is not necessary to be buried alive to experience this kind of love, nor to be engaged in a rescue to offer it. Fierce and mighty love is not limited to grand and magnificent acts.
