One study found that people who smile in childhood photographs

Hear the words of Jenna McCarthy: “One study found that people who smile in childhood photographs are less likely to get a divorce.” At first, this seems like a curious discovery, a playful observation of science. Yet beneath it lies a river of truth: the smile of a child is more than an expression; it is a window into the soul’s disposition, a reflection of resilience, openness, and joy. To smile in youth is to reveal a heart inclined toward light, and such a heart may endure life’s storms with greater strength, binding itself more firmly in the bonds of love.

The ancients knew well the power of early character. Aristotle wrote that the habits formed in childhood shape the destiny of a man, for the soul trained in virtue when young will carry its strength into old age. So too with the smile: the child who smiles easily has learned, perhaps through nature or nurture, to meet the world with openness instead of fear, with warmth instead of suspicion. When that child grows into an adult, their relationships are tempered by this same spirit, making them more likely to hold fast to love rather than flee from it.

Consider the example of Franklin D. Roosevelt, who even as a boy was known for his radiant cheerfulness, captured in photographs with an unshaken smile. Later in life, though stricken by polio and bound to a wheelchair, he carried that same spirit into his leadership. His optimism was contagious; his marriage endured, his nation endured, because he exuded a sense of possibility. The photograph of a child smiling is not trivial—it is prophecy of a heart that can weather sorrow without breaking.

But we must also see the deeper mystery: why should the smile of a child echo so powerfully into adulthood? Perhaps it is because the smile reveals a spirit unafraid of vulnerability. A child who smiles freely is one who has tasted trust, who has felt love, who knows the safety of belonging. Such a foundation weaves into the very fabric of their being. And when the storms of marriage come—when anger rises, when hardship weighs heavy—this spirit remembers trust, remembers love, and refuses to let the bond shatter.

Yet there is caution here as well. Not every smile is eternal, and not every photograph is destiny. The study McCarthy cites is not a law of fate but a signpost. For even those who did not smile in their youth can learn to nurture joy in their adulthood. Laughter can be cultivated, gratitude practiced, and the heart softened through effort. The ancients taught that character is not fixed like stone, but shaped like clay; so too can the spirit learn to smile, even if the photograph of childhood was solemn.

The lesson for us, then, is twofold. First, cherish the smile in yourself and in others, for it is more than a fleeting gesture—it is the seed of endurance, the anchor of joy that strengthens bonds across a lifetime. Second, do not despair if you were not one who smiled easily as a child, for you may yet cultivate it now. Practice joy as discipline; practice gratitude as ritual; surround yourself with those who bring laughter to your days. In so doing, you will build the resilience that preserves love.

So let this wisdom be carried forward: the smile is not just the curve of the lips—it is the shape of the heart. A child who smiles proclaims, “I trust life,” and an adult who smiles says, “I will endure.” And when two such hearts meet, their union is not easily broken, for it is forged not only in passion but in joy. Therefore, let each of us seek to live with a smile—not only for ourselves, but for the strength of the bonds we hold dear, and for the generations yet to come who will see in us the proof that love, fortified by joy, can endure all things.