Married Or Not… You Should Read This Husband’s Story

 

When I got home that night my wife served dinner. I held her hand and said, “I’ve got something to tell you.” She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.

Suddenly I didn’t know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking about divorce. I raised the topic calmly. She didn’t seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, “Why?”

I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, “You are not a man!”

That night, we didn’t talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Jane. I didn’t love her anymore, I just pitied her.

With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it to pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources, and energy but I could not take back what I had said. I loved Jane now.

Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.

The next day, I came home late and found her writing something at the table. I didn’t have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast after an eventful day with Jane. When I woke up, she was still at the table writing.

In the morning she presented her divorce conditions. She didn’t want anything from me, but needed a month’s notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month, we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple; our son had his exams in a month’s time and she didn’t want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.

This was agreeable to me, but she had something more. She asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day. She requested that every day for the month’s duration, I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door every morning. I thought she was going crazy, but just to make our last days together bearable, I accepted her odd request.

I told Jane about my wife’s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. “No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce,” she said scornfully.

My wife and I hadn’t had any physical contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, “Daddy is holding Mommy in his arms.”

His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the living room and to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly, “Don’t tell our son about the divorce.”

I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus. I drove alone to the office.

On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn’t looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying. Our marriage had taken its toll on her, and for a minute, I wondered what I had done to her.

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me. On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing. I didn’t tell Jane about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.

She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, “All my dresses have grown bigger.” I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, and that was the reason why I could carry her more easily.

Suddenly it hit me. She had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head.

Our son came in at the moment and said, “Dad, it’s time to carry mom out.” To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the living room, and to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly, just like on our wedding day.

But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, “I hadn’t noticed that our life lacked intimacy.”

I drove to office, jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind. I walked upstairs. Jane opened the door. “Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore.”

She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. “Do you have a fever?” she replied.

I moved her hand off my head. “Sorry, Jane,” I said. “I won’t divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of our lives, not because we didn’t love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day, I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart.”

Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away. At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The saleswoman asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, “I’ll carry you out every morning until death do us apart.”

That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face. I ran up the stairs only to find my wife in the bed – dead. My wife had been fighting cancer for months, but I was too busy with Jane to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and wanted to save me from any negative reaction from our son, in case we push through with the divorce. At least, in the eyes of our son, I’m a loving husband.

The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. It’s not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves.

So find time to be your spouse’s friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. Have a real happy marriage!

Read more at http://www.sunnyskyz.com/feel-good-story/1125/Married-Or-Not-You-Should-Read-This-Husband-s-Story#IXUoJLhzMbZHoHXU.99

Life is like a cup of coffee.

 

A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor. Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life.

Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups – porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite – telling them to help themselves to the coffee.

When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said: “If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups have been taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress.

Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups… And then you began eyeing each other’s cups.

Now consider this: Life is the coffee; the jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and the type of cup we have does not define, nor change the quality of life we live.

Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee. Savor the coffee, not the cups!

The happiest people don’t have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything. 


Live simply. 
Love generously. 
Care deeply. 
Speak kindly. 

~Unknown

Elderly carpenter wants to retire but is given one last job, learns a very valuable lesson

 

 

An elderly carpenter was ready to retire. He told his employer-contractor of his plans to leave the house-building business and live a more leisurely life with his wife enjoying his extended family. He would miss the paycheck, but he needed to retire. They could get by.

The contractor was sorry to see his good worker go and asked if he could build just one more house as a personal favor. The carpenter said yes, but in time it was easy to see that his heart was not in his work. He resorted to shoddy workmanship and used inferior materials. It was an unfortunate way to end a dedicated career.

When the carpenter finished his work the employer came to inspect the house. He handed the front door key to the carpenter. “This is your house,” he said, “my gift to you.”

The carpenter was shocked! What a shame! If he had only known he was building his own house, he would have done it all so differently.

So it is with us. We build our lives, a day at a time, often putting less than our best into the building. Then with a shock, we realize we have to live in the house we have built. If we could do it over, we’d do it much differently.

But we cannot go back. You are the carpenter. Each day you hammer a nail, place a board, or erect a wall. “Life is a do-it-yourself project,” someone has said. Your attitudes and choices you make today, build the “house” you live in tomorrow. Build wisely!

Remember…
Work like you don’t need the money.
Love like you’ve never been hurt.
Dance like nobody is watching.

“To the world you might be one person, but to one person you might be the world.”

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11 Very Short Stories About the True Power of Love

Sometimes, life produces the kinds of situations and events that no Hollywood scriptwriter could ever dream up. Comical, ambiguous, unpredictable, tragic — life is such a multifaceted thing. But whatever happens, there’s always space for love, kindness, happy occurrences, and simple wonder.We at  gathered together 11 very short stories, but yet powerful stories that will hit you right in the heart.

10 very short Stories About the True Power of Love

 

  • Today, two days after my partner’s funeral, I received a bouquet of flowers which he had ordered for me the week before. The note read, “Even if the cancer wins, I want you to know that you’re the girl of my dreams.”
  • Today I won a court case that lasted a very long time. 14 months ago, I found out that my neighbor regularly beat his dog. So I kidnapped it, and I was arrested. I spent a lot of money on the trial, but today, when I woke up and felt the warmth of my shaggy friend at my feet, I knew it had all been worth it.
  • My daughter came home from school and asked me where she could learn sign language. I asked her why she wanted to, and she replied that there was a new girl at her school who was deaf and only knew sign language, and she had no one to talk to.
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  • Today, I chose the wrong number and accidentally sent my dad a message saying “I love you,“ which was meant for my husband. A few minutes later I got a reply: ”I love you too. Dad.” It was so touching. We say things like that to each other so rarely.
  • In our school, just like in every other one, there’s a girl who’s more popular than anyone else. She’s unbelievably beautiful and intelligent, and all the boys would do anything to get her attention. But she spends all her time with just one boy: her little brother, who has autism.
  • My grandfather and I were looking through some photographs when we stumbled upon an old shot of him dancing at a party with my grandmother, who had died several years before. He put his arm around me and said, “Always remember that even if something doesn’t last forever, it doesn’t mean that it’s not worth your time.”
  • I worked as a consultant on how to raise children for 15 years. Later I ran into one of the kids I’d previously worked with. He’d been a difficult child, always getting upset and angry at life. One time, I drew him a picture of Superman and wrote a message about how superheroes never give up and always win in the end. That little boy is now a fireman, and he saves people’s lives. We chatted for about half an hour, and before parting he opened his wallet and showed me the picture of Superman that he’d kept all this time.
  • I have diabetes. Two years ago, my mom died and I adopted her cat, who’s called Kit. Recently, I woke up at 3 am when Kit sat on my legs and started meowing. I’d never heard him do this so loudly and persistently before. I got up to take a look at what the problem was and suddenly felt very weak. I grabbed my glucose meter to check my blood sugar level. It had fallen to 53, and the doctor had told me that the normal level was 70-120. Later, in the hospital, I was told that if Kit hadn’t woken me up, I wouldn’t have woken up ever again.
  • A large stray dog followed me from the subway almost to my apartment front door. I was getting nervous. Then suddenly a man appeared in front of me with a knife and told me to hand over my wallet. Before I had a chance to react, the dog had lunged at him. He dropped the knife and ran away. Now I’m safe at home, and it’s all thanks to that stray dog.
  • Recently, I dropped into a secondhand bookstore and bought a copy of the book that was stolen from me when I was a kid. I was so surprised when I opened it and found it was the very same stolen book. The first page had my name on it and my grandfather’s message that he had written when he gave it to me. He had written, “I really hope that many years later this book will once again fall into your hands, and you’ll read it again.”
  • Today, I found an old hand written note my mom wrote when she was a senior in high school. On it is a list of qualities she hoped she would someday find in a boyfriend. The list is basically an exact description of my dad, who she didn’t meet until she was 27.

Self Esteem – About Outlook

 

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One day not too long ago the employees of a large company in St.Louis ,
Missouri returned from their lunch break and were greeted with a sign
on the front door.
The sign said: “Yesterday the person who has been hindering your
growth in this company passed away. We invite you to join the funeral
in the room that has been prepared in the gym.”
At first everyone was sad to hear that one of their colleagues had died,
but after a while they started getting curious about who this person
might be. The excitement grew as the employees arrived at the gym to
pay their last respects.
Everyone wondered: “Who is this person who was hindering my
progress? Well, at least he’s no longer here!”
One by one the employees got closer to the coffin and when they looked
inside it they suddenly became speechless. They stood over the coffin,
shocked and in silence, as if someone had touched the deepest part of
their soul.
There was a mirror inside the coffin: everyone who looked inside it
could see himself. There was also a sign next to the mirror that said:
“There is only one person who is capable to set limits to your growth: it
is YOU.”
YOU are the only person who can revolutionize your life.
YOU are the only person who can influence your happiness, your
realization and your success.
YOU are the only person who can help yourself.
Your life does not change when your boss changes, when your friends
change, when your parents change, when your company changes.
Your life changes when YOU change, when you go beyond your limiting
beliefs, when you realize that YOU ARE the only one responsible for
your life.

Tale Of 4 Wives – A motivation for Us all

 

Tale Of 4 Wives - A motivation for Us all

 

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The story goes about a rich man who had four wives at the same time. He loved the 4th wife very much and adorned her with rich robes and the finest delicacies. He also loved his 3rd wife. He was very proud of her and was always showing her off to his friends. But he always feared that she would leave him for another man. He loved his 2nd wife too. She was considerate, and helped him out whenever he was in trouble and needed advice. His 1st wife was a very loyal and capable partner, who never tired of waiting on him and caring for his household. But, sad to say, the merchant did not love her and scarcely even noticed her.

One day he fell ill and was dying. Fearing the loneliness of separation he called his 4th wife and asked her whether she would accompany him since he had lavished so much upon her. “No way!” she replied. The answer sent a dagger to his heart. He then asked the 3rd wife whether she would accompany him in view of the love he had given her. “No ” she replied. “Life is too good over here. I’m going to remarry after you die”. His heart sank! “Perhaps my 2nd wife will not be so cruel”, he thought. So he said to her, “I’ve always relied on your help and you’ve never turned me down. Now I need your help again. When I die, will you follow me and keep me company?” She replied “I’m sorry. This time you are beyond my help! I can only go as far as the cemetery with you.” This crushed him.

Suddenly he heard, “I will live with you. I’ll follow you wherever you go.” He looked up and there standing before him was his 1st wife. She was lean and haggard and looked terribly undernourished. He was terribly grieved at the sight of her and regretted that he hadn’t taken more care of her whilst he had the chance.

There is a moral to this story, and it reveals a truth our ancestors taught in many parables. The 4th wife is like our body. No matter how much time and effort is spent in making it look good, it will never accompany us when we die. The 3rd wife is like our possessions, status and wealth. When we die our possessions are left to others. The 2nd wife is like our family and friends. No matter how much they care for us, they can only accompany us as far as the cemetery when we die. But the 1St wife is like our soul, which cannot be separated from us and which we can easily neglect.

An Open Letter to Those Who Are Overwhelmed (and Not Sure What to Do Next)

Once upon a time there was a woman who had been lost in the desert for three whole days without water.  Just as she was about to collapse, she saw what appeared to be a lake just a few hundred yards in front of her.  “Could it be?  Or is it just a mirage?” she thought to herself.

With the last bit of strength she could muster, she staggered toward the lake and quickly learned that her prayers had been answered: it was no mirage – it was indeed a large, spring-fed lake full of fresh water – more fresh water than she could ever drink in her lifetime.  Yet while she was literally dying of thirst, she couldn’t bring herself to drink the water.  She simply stood by the water’s edge and stared down at it.

There was a passerby riding on a camel from a nearby desert town who was watching the woman’s bizarre behavior.  He got off his camel, walked up to the thirsty woman and asked, “Why don’t you have a drink, ma’am?”

She looked up at the man with an exhausted, distraught expression across her face and tears welling up in her eyes.  “I am dying of thirst,” she said, “But there is way too much water here in this lake to drink.  No matter what I do, I can’t possibly finish it all.”

The passerby smiled, bent down, scooped some water up with his hands, lifted it to the woman’s mouth and said, “Ma’am, your opportunity right now, and as you move forward throughout the rest of your life, is to understand that you don’t have to drink the whole lake to quench your thirst.  You can simply take one sip.  Just one small sip… and then another if you choose.  Focus only on the mouthful in front of you, and all your anxiety, fear and overwhelm about the rest will gradually fade.”

 

open-letter-overwhelmed

Do not ruin today with mourning tomorrow.”
― Catherynne M. Valente

Your turn…

Challenge yourself today to focus solely on the sip (task, step, etc.) you’re actually taking.

Honestly, that’s all life is – small, positive actions that you take moment by moment, and then one day when you look back it all adds up to something worthwhile – something that’s often far better, and different, than what you had imagined when you started.

So please leave a comment below and let us know:

What’s the one small, positive action you are going to focus on today?

Also, if you haven’t done so already, be sure to sign-up for our free newsletter to receive new articles like this in your inbox each week.

 

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An Open Letter to Those Who Don’t Feel “Good Enough”

Once upon a time there was an elderly woman who needed to walk down to the river every morning to fetch water for drinking, cooking and cleaning.  She carried two buckets with her, filled them up at the riverbank, and walked back with them to her rural cottage home.

One of the buckets was newer, perfectly sealed, and held its water flawlessly.  But the second bucket was older and contained a few thin cracks that would leak water onto the ground as the elderly woman walked.  By the time she arrived home, typically about one third of the water in the second bucket had leaked through its cracks.

One day, on the walk down to the river, the cracked bucket – who had always felt like it wasn’t as good as the other bucket – said to the elderly woman, “I want you to know that I’ve been leaking water every morning for the past several years.  I’m so sorry for being cracked and making your life more difficult.  I understand if you need to replace me with a better bucket.”

The elderly woman smiled.  “Do you really think I haven’t known about your cracks this whole time?” she asked.  “Look at all the beautiful flowers that grow on the path from my cottage to the river.  I planted their seeds, but every morning it’s you who does the watering.”

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REMEMBER:

Feeling good enough in life, in work, in business, and in our relationships has everything to do with how we personally judge the cracks in our own bucket.  Because we all have a few cracks!

But are they cracks that wreck us, that taint us, and that ruin our experience and desirability?

Or do our cracks water a trail of flowers we haven’t even stopped to appreciate?

Choose to see the flowers through the cracks in your own bucket – choose to see how it’s exactly those cracks that make you good enough – and your whole universe will shift!

THE 92-YEAR-OLD, PETITE, WELL-POISED AND PROUD LADY, WHO IS FULLY DRESSED EACH MORNING BY EIGHT O’CLOCK, WITH HER HAIR FASHIONABLY COIFED AND MAKEUP… PERFECTLY APPLIED, MOVED TO A NURSING HOME. HER HUSBAND OF 70 YEARS RECENTLY PASSED AWAY, MAKING THE MOVE NECESSARY.

 

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After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, she smiled sweetly when told her room was ready. As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I provided a visual description of her tiny room, including the eyelet sheets that had been hung on her window.

“I love it,” she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old having just been presented with a new puppy.

“Mrs. Jones, you haven’t seen the room …. just wait.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with it,” she replied.

“Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not doesn’t depend on how the furniture is arranged, it’s how I arrange my mind. I already decided to love it. It’s a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice; I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do. Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open I’ll focus on the new day and all the happy memories I’ve stored away, just for this time in my life.”

She went on to explain, “Old age is like a bank account, you withdraw from what you’ve put in. So, my advice to you would be to deposit a lot of happiness in the bank account of memories Thank you for your part in filling my Memory bank. I am still depositing.”

And with a smile, she said: “Remember the five simple rules to be happy:

1. Free your heart from hatred.

2. Free your mind from worries.

3. Live simply.

4. Give more.

5. Expect less

Source: Lucy Taylor

She Writes An Awesome Rebuttal Post After Being Shamed Wearing This…

Written by Brynne Huffman

Ok here goes. Read this. It’s long. I don’t care. I don’t want sympathy. I don’t want compliments. I want action. Read it.

Women. Please, I beg of you PLEASE do not tear each other down. There is so much hate in the world right now. Rape culture. Hating Islam. Hating LGBTQ. No more hate.

Today I put on a pair of mid-thigh denim shorts, a flowy white blouse, flip flops and left the house to run a couple errands.

Let me pause for a moment to tell you it took some courage to both purchase and wear said shorts because my legs, while tan from swimming and muscular from dancing, are (1) not where I would like them to be and (2) are not up traditional beauty standards (read: Photoshopped) because cellulite.

My second errand of the morning was a drop off at the UPS store. I stood in line between two women. Woman #1 in front of me was about sixty. As I took my place in line behind her, she smiled and complimented me on my tan and my hair. We chitchatted about the weather and children until it was her turn at the counter.

It the spirit of paying it forward, I turned to Woman #2 behind me and smiled. Woman #2 was probably about 30-35, very attractive, about a size 8, wearing a shirt that says “COEXIST”.

She says: “Your hair really is amazing. ::cocks head to side:: “You should probably rethink the shorts though.”

Yeah. Read that again.

My face instantly flushes, not out of embarrassment but anger. No, not anger. Rage. This as my head slowly tilts to the side. If you’ve seen me really angry you know what I mean.

My fists clenched up. I know this because I felt my nails digging into my palms. So many things ran through my head. Because I don’t have time to get arrested today, what came out was this:

“You should probably rethink your shirt.”

I turned around and ignored her until I left the store. I wanted to say more but was afraid, of all things, that I would start crying. All I wanted to do was go home and change my clothes. And THAT made me angry.

Gender doesn’t matter.
Race doesn’t matter.
Religion doesn’t matter.
Sexual orientation doesn’t matter.

But fat?
Apparently fat matters.

And I’ll go a step further and say it especially seems to matter as an actress. Matter more than talent. Than attitude. Than pretty much anything else. Because fat girls are not believable heroines, ingenues, or objects of sexual desire. But that’s a whole other post.

Listen, people.

Especially women.

Plus sized doesn’t necessarily mean unhealthy.
Plus sized doesn’t necessarily mean lazy.
Plus sized doesn’t mean ugly or undesirable or untalented or uncoordinated or LESS. THAN. HUMAN.

You might have an issue with my body. I don’t. And I’ve worked very hard past judgmental family and friends, past divorce, past depression to NOT have an issue with my body.

Women. Do not tear each other down.

Celebrate each other.

Every day.bryn