Sometimes I feel like what we really love and what we act like we love are two different things. It is often in tragedy that the two worlds unite. I know what I really love; most people do. If asked, most people could give you a good list of what they really love. It would start with family and morph into hobbies as the list went on. When it comes to what we love the most, we are all the same. The names will change but it is the same. People are who we love the most, second only to God.
So here's the question...if we know who we love the most, why is it so easy to live like other things are more important? Like time. Or personal space? Or hobbies? Or being right?