Monday, March 28, 2011
When I got home that night as 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. I want a 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% stake of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it into 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 for I loved Jane so dearly. 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 back home very late and found her writing something at the table.
I didn't have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Jane.
When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again. 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 ever morning.
I thought she was going crazy.
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 body 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 sitting room, then 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 to work. 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. 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 again.
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, 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 sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like 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 and I said to her, 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 said. 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 salesgirl 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 run up stairs, only to find my wife in the bed - dead.
My wife had been fighting CANCER for months and I was so busy with Jane to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me from whatever negative reaction from our son, in case we push thru 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 is 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.
Do have a real happy marriage!
If you don't share this, nothing will happen to you. If you do, you just might save a marriage.
Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.
The following list provides 11 ways to age well:
1. Honour the need to reflect on your life and experience, since it can be therapeutic.
2. Participate in some form of aerobic exercise like brisk walking which improves heart and lung functioning.
3. Learn an activity like Tai chi since it improves balance and have been shown to reduce the risk of injuries as a person ages.
4. Weight train to maintain muscle and bone strength.
5. Participate in fulfilling sexual activity to stimulate the sexual-reproduction system.
6. Eat more fruits and vegetables to maintain or improve digestion and to obtain critical nutrients to maintain health.
7. Eat a diet high in nutrient-dense foods and possible supplementation of B vitamins, particularly B12 and folic acid, to lessen the risk of undernourishment.
8. Use medications responsibly.
9. Get involved in your community through continuing education, volunteer work, religious involvement, political activism, and staying in touch with supportive friends and family.
10. Keep the mind active through engaging in regular learning, educational games, reading, or continuing education.
11. Drink plenty of water throughout the day to keep your tissues hydrated.
It is simple and easy to be happy. The hard part is convincing yourself, and getting past your own resistance to happiness.
You might assume that just because things are one way or another, there is no possibility of happiness. Yet that assumption is entirely mistaken.
You know precisely how to be happy, how to create the feeling of happiness within yourself and how to express it within any context. You've done it many times in a whole lot of different situations.
Your happiness does not come from the moment, or the surroundings, or even from the people around you. It comes from you, and from your decision to feel its positive power.
Go ahead and skip right over all those reasons why you can't be happy. Instead, think of the times when you have been happy and recall the strategy you've always used to bring that happiness to life.
Activate that very same strategy right now. And bring the positive power of your own happiness to this very moment
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Wat beteken dit om op God te vertrou? Geloof of vertroue in God beteken om nie een oomblik te twyfel dat Hy Sy beloftes sal hou nie en om daarna uit te sien. (Hebreers 11:1)
Soms voel dit dat, juis wanneer ‘n mens God die nodigste het, jy Hom nie hoor nie. Jy bid en dit werk nie; jy soek oplossings by Hom, maar Hy antwoord nie en jy smeek Hom vir iets wat Hy nie gee nie. Sulke tye is geloofsvasbyt-tye. Dis die tye wanneer jy nie moet ophou om na Hom te roep nie; dan moet jy aanhou antwoorde soek in Sy Woord en deur Sy Gees. Dit is wanneer jy Hom blindelings moet vertrou.
Dit is wanneer jy soos Robert Schuller moet verklaar: Ek glo in die son – selfs wanneer dit nie skyn nie. Ek glo in die Liefde – selfs wanneer dit nie bewys word nie. Ek glo in God – selfs wanneer Hy nie praat nie.
As jy in bewolkte tye steeds Sy lig sien, in afvoeltye jou Liefde aan God bly verklaar en in stomvoeldae on ophoudelik getrou bly ….. dan glo jy werklik. En wanneer jy so glo, gee Hy aan jou hoop. Ewigheidshoop!!!
This is a story written by a doctor who worked in Africa .
One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labour ward; but in spite of all we could do, she died, leaving us with a tiny, premature baby and a crying two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive; as we had no incubator (we had no electricity to run an incubator).
We also had no special feeding facilities. Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts. One student midwife went for the box we had for such babies and the cotton wool that the baby would be wrapped in.
Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly in distress to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst (rubber perishes easily in tropical climates)...
'And it is our last hot water bottle!' she exclaimed. As in the West, it is no good crying over spilled milk, so in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over burst water bottles.
They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways.
'All right,' I said, 'put the baby as near the fire as you safely can, and sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts Your job is to keep the baby warm.'
The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with any of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle, and that the baby could so easily die if it got chills. I also told them of the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died.
During prayer time, one ten-year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children. 'Please, God' she prayed, 'Send us a hot water bottle today It'll be no good tomorrow, God, as the baby will be dead, so please send it this afternoon.'
While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added, 'And while You are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she'll know You really love her?'
As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say 'Amen?' I just did not believe that God could do this.
Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything; the Bible says so. But there are limits, aren't there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending me a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever, received a parcel from home.
Anyway, if anyone did send me a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator! Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time I reached home, the car had gone, but there on the verandah was a large 22-pound parcel. I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage children.. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box. From the top, I lifted out brightly-colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored.. Then came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas - that would make a batch of buns for the weekend.
Then, as I put my hand in again, I felt the.....could it really be? I grasped it and pulled it out. Yes, a brand new, rubber hot water bottle. I cried.
I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could. Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, 'If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!'
Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully-dressed dolly. Her eyes shone! She had never doubted!
Looking up at me, she asked, 'Can I go over with you and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus really loves her?'
'Of course,' I replied!
That parcel had been on the way for five whole months, packed up by my former Sunday school class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator.
And one of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child - five months before, in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it 'that afternoon.'
'Before they call, I will answer.' (Isaiah 65:24)