Fruitful Love: Anomalies and the Anatomy of Belonging
“But the Spirit produces love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, humility, and self-control. There is no law against such things as these.”
Love as an Everyday Practice
Sitting in the school hall, waiting for the awards ceremony to start, I browse the programme to look for my eldest daughter's name on the list. I find it. And in that quiet moment, I am immediately reminded that we are anomalies.
As individuals and as a family. All four of us. My kids, my wife, and myself.
It makes me pause and think about what it means to move through the world when you don't quite fit the template people expect—and what that reveals about the way we practise love.
The Architecture of an Anomaly
Love is a foundational place to begin looking at human character, yet it is often misunderstood. It is a word we use freely, often with great confidence, but when we stop to consider what we mean by it, things become a little more complicated. We love our families, our friends, our work, and the things that bring us joy. We speak about loving our neighbours, loving ourselves, and loving the world we live in. But do we always understand what we mean when we use the word, and does the way we express love always reflect what we truly feel inside?
Perhaps love is something we feel, something we learn, something we do, something we choose—or a cocktail of all these things.
Growing up, I got used to the fact that my family was a bit different in the community where we lived. Furthermore, as an individual, I felt different from the rest of my extended family, and as a unit, we felt different from the people surrounding us. For me, the experience was often awkward and uncomfortable. Maybe I wasn't that different; maybe my imagination enlarged it disproportionately. Nevertheless, that persistent feeling remained.
Apartheid ended in South Africa in the early 1990s, but when I met my wife two decades later, in the 2000s, being a mixed-race couple still attracted attention. Wherever we went, we were noticed. Along came our daughters, and the same held true for them. Not only are we easily recognisable, but our general behaviour—the way we live our lives and approach the world—is different.
It took me a long time to learn that loving myself meant becoming comfortable with being different. I am finally starting to fully embrace it. I hope that happens much sooner for both of my daughters, so they can experience the freedom and joy that come when you stop fighting who you are.
For us as Everyday Mavericks, this realisation feeds into every area of life. Perhaps true love begins, in part, when we stop trying to force ourselves and others into moulds we were never meant to fit.
The Mirror of the Neighbour
In Matthew 22:39, Jesus offers a command that lies at the heart of human relationships: “Love your neighbour as yourself.”
I've often wondered whether we give enough attention to those last two words: as yourself.
We usually read this as an instruction to look outward. We think about how we should treat people, how we should care for them, and how we might become more generous in our relationships. But what if those two words also invite us to look inward?
What if the way we relate to ourselves influences how we relate to everyone else?
If we are constantly critical of ourselves, struggle to accept our own shortcomings, or believe that we must earn the right to be loved, could those patterns affect how we see and treat others? Could the patience we learn to extend to our own struggles make it easier to be patient with someone else's? Could becoming more comfortable with who we are help us make room for people who are different from us?
Of course, it isn't quite that simple. People who struggle to accept themselves can still love others deeply, and being comfortable in your own skin doesn't automatically make you a loving person. Perhaps self-love is not a prerequisite for loving others, but one of the places where we can learn something about the kind of love we want to practise.
And what happens when we struggle to extend that same acceptance to ourselves?
Just recently, I had to fight off some 'stinking thinking'—wondering if life is really worth it. If my life is worth it. If the decisions and sacrifices I've made are really worth it. If our different approach to life is worth the friction.
We live in a world full of rigid expectations about how we should look, what we should achieve, how we should behave, and what success is supposed to mean. In modern life, money plays an important role. We want to sustain and improve our lifestyles, meet our responsibilities, pay our bills, and provide for our families. These are real concerns, and we cannot simply wish them away.
But then I look at my daughters and remember what can so easily get lost in the noise of everyday life. My eldest is standing on that stage, and my youngest is growing and thriving in her own environment. Watching them navigate life with confidence, strength, and peace doesn't answer every question or remove every difficulty. But it does bring me back to what matters, and reminds me that the value of a life cannot always be seen in the things we can count.
May I suggest that doing well in life is less about hitting external targets and more about reaching a personal, quiet acknowledgement of your own worth? Perhaps it is about learning to accept who you are, while continuing to grow into who you want to become.
And perhaps that acceptance can help us make more room for others to do the same.
The Currency of the Soul
This raises a deeper, uncomfortable question about how we evaluate value in modern life. Do we subtly tie our love for ourselves—and our love for others—to the perceived value we ascribe to them, monetary or otherwise?
In a society driven by financial metrics, it is easy to slip into evaluating human worth by a bank balance, a credit score, a job title, or a net worth statement. We praise financial accumulation and quietly discount those who struggle or choose a different, less conventional path.
But is a credit score or a bank account ever a valid way to measure the value of a human soul? And if we use those figures to determine who is worthy of respect, admiration, or love, what kind of love are we actually practising?
When we tie our self-worth to our net worth, every financial setback can become an identity crisis. We tell ourselves that until we achieve a certain status, we are incomplete or unworthy of care. And when we apply that same standard to others, our love risks becoming transactional—offered more freely to those we perceive as having value and withheld from those we believe have less to offer.
True love challenges this way of valuing people. It recognises that a person's dignity, character, and capacity for goodness cannot be captured on a balance sheet. Money is a tool for living, but it is a questionable measure of a human life.
This doesn't mean money is unimportant. Providing for our families, meeting our responsibilities, and working towards greater financial security all have their place. But perhaps we need to be careful about confusing the resources we have with the worth we possess.
What might change if we stopped measuring people by what they own, what they earn, or what they can do for us, and started paying closer attention to who they are and how they treat others?
The Courage to Be an Anomaly
Being different does not mean we are superior or uniquely special. But there is enough deviation from the average for us to regard ourselves as anomalies.
Crucially, love reminds us that being an anomaly doesn't make us better than anyone else, nor does it make us victims. It simply makes us human—worthy of love and respect, and capable of offering that same love and respect to others. Showing love means being open to kindness, offering empathy, and recognising that every person is navigating their own struggles, regardless of their social standing or bank balance.
When we become more comfortable in our own skin, perhaps love can transform from a defensive struggle into an open door. We no longer need others to change just so we can feel secure. We may become more willing to let people be different, to question our assumptions, and to recognise that there are many ways to live a meaningful life.
What if love is, in part, giving ourselves and others permission to exist without constantly demanding proof of perfection or financial success?
And what if belonging doesn't require us to become more like everyone else, but simply to find ways of living alongside one another with dignity and respect?
Ripples on the Open Water
When we learn to accept ourselves as imperfect, evolving human beings, that self-compassion may also influence how we treat the people around us.
If we know what it feels like to be judged, love might teach us to be more thoughtful about the judgements we make. If we understand how much pressure we place on ourselves, love might encourage us to be careful about the burdens we lay on others. And if we are learning that we don't have to become somebody else to be worthy of affection, love may help us give others the freedom to become who they truly are.
That doesn't mean love is passive compliance or that we must agree with every choice. Love is not weak. Sometimes love requires difficult conversations, honest feedback, or firm boundaries. But love can change the spirit in which we approach those moments. Can we disagree without reducing someone to the opinion we dislike? Can we offer kindness without expecting a payout, and receive kindness without immediately suspecting an ulterior motive?
There are interesting connections here with psychology. Research on self-compassion suggests that the way we respond to our own struggles is associated with aspects of how we relate to others, including empathy and prosocial behaviour. That doesn't mean self-acceptance automatically makes us more loving, or that we must first learn to love ourselves before we can love someone else. But it does give us an interesting question to explore: when we become less consumed by fighting ourselves, might we have more room to notice what others need?
Love is not just an emotion or a personal feeling; it is also an active contribution to the world. Through our work, our daily decisions, our conversations, and the way we treat strangers, we are constantly adding something to the world around us.
For us as Mavericks, this brings us to a simple way of thinking about love in action: letting our lives be a net positive.
We cannot live without receiving from the world—we depend on shared systems, resources, and the kindness of others. But love asks us: what are we giving back? Are we adding value, peace, and grace to the lives of the people around us, or are we continually extracting from them?
Love is expressed in how we do our work, the care we take with our responsibilities, the patience we show when someone is struggling, and the way we treat people who have nothing financial to offer us in return. Love is even reflected in how we care for the environment and the communities we leave behind for future generations.
We may not change the whole world, but love allows us to transform the immediate space where we live and participate.
Perhaps we don't need to be extraordinary to make a difference. Perhaps the ordinary ways in which we care, contribute, and make room for one another are already changing the world in ways we may never fully see.
Returning to the Hall
Sitting back in the school hall as the applause fills the room, my mind settles into peace. My heart is filled with delight, and my mind is filled with gratitude. I am grateful for life. I am so grateful for my life.
By the end of the awards ceremony, looking at my eldest daughter on stage and knowing my younger one is flourishing in her own space, I find myself returning to those heavy, doubting questions. Even though both of them are in schooling environments that were not our first choice for them, they are making the best of it and, dare I say, succeeding. The answer that rises within me is a resounding yes.
Yes, the sacrifices matter. Yes, the different approach to life is worth the friction. And yes, a meaningful life can look very different from the version we are sometimes encouraged to pursue.
It makes me wonder about success. Perhaps it is subjective. Perhaps it is abstract, or maybe it is simply a feeling. Perhaps it is based on a personal set of standards, and maybe that's why I have so much trouble defining it. How do we measure success when the things that matter most to us don't always fit neatly into the measures used by the world around us?
Perhaps this is where love comes back into the picture.
Love doesn't demand that we fit a standard mould or achieve a certain net worth to live a meaningful life. Love can give us the courage to become more comfortable in our own skin, to extend grace to our own flaws, and to live in a way that enriches the lives of those standing right beside us.
Love is not a blueprint we master overnight; it is an ongoing practice of choosing understanding over judgement, contribution over extraction, and connection over fear.
A life that contributes more than it takes. A life that makes room for others to become who they are, while allowing us the same freedom. A life that leaves people and places better simply because we cared enough to be present.
Isn't that what learning to love is really all about?
Questions to Think About Together
As a community, I'd love to hear your thoughts on these questions as you reflect on your own journey:
In what ways have you caught yourself tying your self-worth—or the value of others—to financial success or net worth? How can we disentangle love from money?
In your own life, do you see a connection between accepting yourself and the way you love others? Has that relationship changed as you've grown?
When you think about your daily interactions, what does it look like for your presence to be a net positive in your home, workplace, or community?
Let's Keep the Conversation Going
These reflections are never meant to be a final sermon or a rigid set of rules. They are an invitation for the Everyday Mavericks community to pause, think, and explore life together.
I don't write as an expert who has it all figured out, but as someone walking this path alongside you, learning through the ordinary moments.
I could very easily have written this piece around 1 Corinthians 13, with its beautiful description of what love is and what love looks like in practice. There is certainly much to explore in those familiar words.
But as The Everyday Mavericks, we're interested in perspective. Sometimes, rather than revisiting what we already know, it is worth approaching a familiar subject from a different direction and asking what else we might discover.
I hope these reflections have sparked a new perspective in you, or at least given you something to think about. You may agree with some of what I've shared and question other parts of it. That's perfectly fine. The invitation is not to accept my perspective as the final word, but to explore the subject for yourself.
How have you experienced love in the messy, uncomfortable, or unconventional spaces of your life? Has learning to accept yourself changed the way you relate to others? And what might it mean for your life to be a net positive in the world?
Share your thoughts, stories, or questions in the comments below, or reply via email. I'd love to learn from your perspective.
Moving forward. Live curiously. Lead courageously. Life is worth living.
The Everyday Mavericks keep moving forward with intention.
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A Note on Our Process
AI tools are part of my editorial process. I use them to help transcribe, research, fact-check, proofread, refine and sometimes structure my ideas.
The experiences, observations, questions and conclusions shared here come from me. AI may help me work with the words, but it does not replace the thinking, experience or intention behind them. I remain the author and final editorial decision-maker.
Thank you for reading The Everyday Mavericks and for continuing to make this conversation worthwhile.
Kind regards,
Steven Wayne Nicholls
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