The stuff Lindsey does for me shows her true love. I hope she

“The stuff Lindsey does for me shows her true love. I hope she knows I’d do the same for her – even if I’d do a much worse job.”
Thus spoke Rob Burrow, the valiant warrior of the field, who faced the silent storm of illness with a heart full of gratitude and grace. In these words, drawn not from triumph but from tenderness, he unveils the essence of love—that it is not grand gestures or flawless strength that define devotion, but the quiet acts of care, the steadfast presence, the willingness to serve even when one’s hands tremble. Through humor and humility, Burrow reminds us that love is the courage to give, even when the body weakens, and the strength to receive, even when pride would resist it.

The origin of this quote lies in Burrow’s own life, after his diagnosis with motor neurone disease (MND) in 2019. Once a fierce and agile player for the Leeds Rhinos, he became trapped within a body that could no longer move or speak freely. Yet from this seeming prison rose a light brighter than ever before—his enduring partnership with his wife, Lindsey. As his illness progressed, Lindsey became his caregiver, his companion, his voice, and his strength. Burrow, seeing all she endured for him, spoke these words not as lament, but as thanksgiving—a testament to a love that grows even as the body fades.

What he captures is the sacred reciprocity of devotion. When he says, “I’d do the same for her—even if I’d do a much worse job,” he speaks not merely of affection, but of humility. He knows that love is not measured by perfection, but by intention. In the great symphony of life, it is not how skillfully one plays the part, but how truly one gives oneself to it. Burrow’s humor—light, self-effacing, and tender—reveals that love’s beauty lies in its imperfection. The desire to serve, even when one cannot, is the proof of love’s depth.

Such love has been witnessed across ages. Consider Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor, who once wrote that “a man’s worth is measured by the worth of what he loves.” Or recall the story of Antony and Cleopatra, who chose loyalty to one another over the power of empires. But above all, think of the countless unnamed lovers and caregivers—the mothers tending to their ill children, the partners sitting through the long night beside the hospital bed—who show, through their endurance, that love is service made sacred. It is a daily choosing, a vow renewed not in words but in deeds.

Burrow’s reflection also carries a deeper truth about gratitude. In a world that prizes independence, many fear to depend on others. Yet he shows that there is honor in receiving love, just as there is grace in giving it. To accept care without shame, to let oneself be helped, is to acknowledge the unity of human hearts. For in love, there is no debtor or creditor—only the shared exchange of strength and tenderness. “True love,” he tells us through his example, “is not the absence of suffering, but the light that makes suffering bearable.”

And yet, there is something heroic in Burrow’s gentleness. His words rise not from despair, but from joy—the joy of knowing that he has been loved beyond measure. In his humor and gratitude lies the wisdom of the ancients: that even when life strips away all power, the soul can still shine with affection. His love for Lindsey, and hers for him, transcends the frailty of flesh. It stands as a beacon for all who walk through hardship together, reminding them that compassion is the truest form of courage.

So take this lesson, O listener of hearts: love is not what you say, but what you do—and sometimes, what you endure. Let gratitude be your response to care, and humility your gift in return. Serve those who need you, and when your strength fails, allow others to serve you. For in this giving and receiving lies the divine circle of love. Rob Burrow’s words, tender and human, remind us that to love truly is to honor the spirit, not the body. And when we act from that place of selfless devotion, even our smallest deeds—however imperfect—become the greatest expressions of love.