When a man loves a woman
她翻開(kāi)另一頁(yè)，補(bǔ)充道“他熱情、幽默、善良、穩(wěn)重”。對(duì)于這個(gè)與她共同生活并相愛(ài)了大半輩子的人，她這樣寫(xiě)道：“他總會(huì)在我需要的時(shí)候陪伴我?！?BR> My friend John McHugh is always telling me things, things that younger men need wiser, older men to tell them. Things like whom to trust, how to love, how to live a good life.
Not long ago John lost his wife, Janet, to cancer. God knows she was a fighter, but in the end the disease won their eight-year battle.
One day John pulled a folded paper from his wallet. He'd found it, he told me, while going through drawers in his house. It was a love note, in Janet's handwriting. It looked a little like a schoolgirl's daydream note about the boy across the way. All that was missing was a hand-drawn heart and the names John and Janet. Except this note was written by the mother of seven children, a woman who had begun the battle for her life, and very probably was within months of the end.
It was also a wonderful prescription for holding a marriage together. This is how Janet McHugh's note about her husband begins:“ Loved. Cared. Worried. ”
As quick with a joke an John is, apparently he didn't joke with his wife about cancer. He'd come home, and she'd be in one of the moods cancer patients get lost in, and he'd have her in the car faster than you can say DiNardo's, her favorite restaurant. “Get in the car,” he'd say,“ I'm taking you out to dinner.”
He worried, and she knew it. You don't hide things from someone who knows better.
“Helped me when I was sick.” is next. Maybe Janet wrote her list when the cancer was in one of those horrible and wonderful remission periods, when all is as it was—almost—before the disease, so what harm is there in hoping that it's behind you, maybe for good?
“Forgave me for a lot of things.”
“Stood by me.”
And then, good service to those of us who think giving constructive criticism is our religious calling: “Always complimentary.”
“Provide everything I ever needed.” Janet McHugh next wrote.
Then she'd turned the man she had lived with and been in love with for the majority of her life. She'd written:“ Always there when I needed you.”
The last thing she wrote sums up all the others. I can picture her adding it thoughtfully to her list. “Good friend.”
I stand beside John now, unable even to pretend that I know what it feels like to lose someone so close. I need to hear what he has to say, much more than he needs to talk.
“John,” I ask,“ how do you stick by someone through 38 years of marriage. ”let done the sickness too? How do I know I'd have what it takes to stand by my wife if she got sick?“
“you will,” he says. “If you love her enough, you will.”
One morning, a young monk gets up to clean up the courtyard and sees the fallen leaves from the ancient banyan are everywhere, he can't help worrying and look at the tree to sigh.
For his sorrow is on the toppest, he throws down the broom and rushes to his master's room ,then he knocks on the door to plea for interview.
His master hears it and opens the door, when he sees the disciple's worried look, he thinks something takes place, so he hurries to ask him:" My disciple, what does you worry about so much in the early morning? "
The young disciple is full of doubt and tells him: "Master, you persuades us to be diligent to cultivate our moral character and grasp the truth day and night, but, even I learn them well ,it is hard to avoid to die. Till that time, so-called me, so-called Dao, aren't they just like the defoliation in autumn or the deadwood in winter? and they will be buried by a heap of loess?"
After hearing it ,the old monk points at the ancient banyan and says to the young monk:" My disciple ,you don't need to worry about this. In fact, the defoliation in autumn and the deadwood in winter will climb back to the trees silently and become the flowers in spring and grow up into the leaves in summer at the time of autumnal winds is blowing strongliest and the snow falls down most heavily."
"Why don't I see it?"
"It is the reason that there isn't any view in your heart, so you can't see the bloom ."
Facing the withering defoliations and imaging they will be in bud, it needs to have an immortal of spring heart, an optimism of heart.
There are always some miseries you will meet in your whole life and strike you when you are unprepared, but we don't need to worry day after day for the arrival of this day, and feel sorry to yourself.
Treating the life with the attitude of the optimism, it can not only dissolve the agony and misfortune , but also bring a kind of pleased mood to you everyday and make your life bright and flourishing .
As long as the view is in the heart, aren't the paths full of fragrance of flowers everywhere?
她翻開(kāi)另一頁(yè)，補(bǔ)充道“他熱情、幽默、善良、穩(wěn)重”。對(duì)于這個(gè)與她共同生活并相愛(ài)了大半輩子的人，她這樣寫(xiě)道：“他總會(huì)在我需要的時(shí)候陪伴我?！?BR> My friend John McHugh is always telling me things, things that younger men need wiser, older men to tell them. Things like whom to trust, how to love, how to live a good life.
Not long ago John lost his wife, Janet, to cancer. God knows she was a fighter, but in the end the disease won their eight-year battle.
One day John pulled a folded paper from his wallet. He'd found it, he told me, while going through drawers in his house. It was a love note, in Janet's handwriting. It looked a little like a schoolgirl's daydream note about the boy across the way. All that was missing was a hand-drawn heart and the names John and Janet. Except this note was written by the mother of seven children, a woman who had begun the battle for her life, and very probably was within months of the end.
It was also a wonderful prescription for holding a marriage together. This is how Janet McHugh's note about her husband begins:“ Loved. Cared. Worried. ”
As quick with a joke an John is, apparently he didn't joke with his wife about cancer. He'd come home, and she'd be in one of the moods cancer patients get lost in, and he'd have her in the car faster than you can say DiNardo's, her favorite restaurant. “Get in the car,” he'd say,“ I'm taking you out to dinner.”
He worried, and she knew it. You don't hide things from someone who knows better.
“Helped me when I was sick.” is next. Maybe Janet wrote her list when the cancer was in one of those horrible and wonderful remission periods, when all is as it was—almost—before the disease, so what harm is there in hoping that it's behind you, maybe for good?
“Forgave me for a lot of things.”
“Stood by me.”
And then, good service to those of us who think giving constructive criticism is our religious calling: “Always complimentary.”
“Provide everything I ever needed.” Janet McHugh next wrote.
Then she'd turned the man she had lived with and been in love with for the majority of her life. She'd written:“ Always there when I needed you.”
The last thing she wrote sums up all the others. I can picture her adding it thoughtfully to her list. “Good friend.”
I stand beside John now, unable even to pretend that I know what it feels like to lose someone so close. I need to hear what he has to say, much more than he needs to talk.
“John,” I ask,“ how do you stick by someone through 38 years of marriage. ”let done the sickness too? How do I know I'd have what it takes to stand by my wife if she got sick?“
“you will,” he says. “If you love her enough, you will.”
One morning, a young monk gets up to clean up the courtyard and sees the fallen leaves from the ancient banyan are everywhere, he can't help worrying and look at the tree to sigh.
For his sorrow is on the toppest, he throws down the broom and rushes to his master's room ,then he knocks on the door to plea for interview.
His master hears it and opens the door, when he sees the disciple's worried look, he thinks something takes place, so he hurries to ask him:" My disciple, what does you worry about so much in the early morning? "
The young disciple is full of doubt and tells him: "Master, you persuades us to be diligent to cultivate our moral character and grasp the truth day and night, but, even I learn them well ,it is hard to avoid to die. Till that time, so-called me, so-called Dao, aren't they just like the defoliation in autumn or the deadwood in winter? and they will be buried by a heap of loess?"
After hearing it ,the old monk points at the ancient banyan and says to the young monk:" My disciple ,you don't need to worry about this. In fact, the defoliation in autumn and the deadwood in winter will climb back to the trees silently and become the flowers in spring and grow up into the leaves in summer at the time of autumnal winds is blowing strongliest and the snow falls down most heavily."
"Why don't I see it?"
"It is the reason that there isn't any view in your heart, so you can't see the bloom ."
Facing the withering defoliations and imaging they will be in bud, it needs to have an immortal of spring heart, an optimism of heart.
There are always some miseries you will meet in your whole life and strike you when you are unprepared, but we don't need to worry day after day for the arrival of this day, and feel sorry to yourself.
Treating the life with the attitude of the optimism, it can not only dissolve the agony and misfortune , but also bring a kind of pleased mood to you everyday and make your life bright and flourishing .
As long as the view is in the heart, aren't the paths full of fragrance of flowers everywhere?