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Love Values for Its Twists and Turns
爱因艰难而珍贵
They knew that they had moved many people with their love, and they had been given the greatest gift of all. They had the gift of love. And it’s never known where it will land.
他们知道，他们真挚的爱情打动了许多人，他们也因此收获了最珍贵的礼物——爱情。爱情会在哪里停歇，你永远都不会知道。
Where Love Lands
爱的港湾
Diana Chapman
No one knows where love’s wings will land. At times, it turns up in the most unusual spots. There was nothing more surprising than when it descended upon a rehabilitation hospital in a Los Angeles suburb—a hospital where most of the patients can no longer move of their own accord.
When the staff heard the news, some of the nurses began to cry. The administrator was in shock, but from then on, Harry MacNarama would bless it as one of the greatest days in his entire life.
Now the trouble was, how were they going to make the wedding dress? He knew his staff would find a way, and when one of his nurses volunteered, Harry was relieved. He wanted this to be the finest day in the lives of two of his patients—Juana and Michael.
Michael strapped in his wheelchair and breathing through his ventilator, appeared at Harry’s office door one morning.
“Harry, I want to get married,” Michael announced.
“Married?” Harry’s mouth dropped open. How serious was this? “To whom?” Harry asked.
“To Juana,” Michael said. “We’re in love.”
Love. Love had found its way through the hospital doors, over two bodies that refused to work for their owners and penetrated their hearts—despite the fact that the two patients were unable to feed or cloth themselves, required ventilators just to breath and could never walk again. Michael had spinal muscular atrophy; Juana had multiple sclerosis.
Just how serious this marriage idea was, became quite apparent when Michael pulled out the engagement ring and beamed as he hadn’t done in years. In fact, the staff had never seen a kinder, sweeter Michael, who had been one of the angriest men Harry’s employees had ever worked with.
The reason for Michael’s anger was understandable. For twenty—five years, he had lived his life at a medical center where his mother had placed him at age nine and visited him several times a week until she died. He was always a raspy sort of guy, who cussed out his nurses routinely, but at least he felt he had family at the hospital. The patients were his friends.
There even had been a girl once who went about in a squeaky wheelchair who he was sure had eyed him. But she hadn’t stayed long at the center. And after spending more than half his life there, now Michael wasn’t going to get to stay either.
The center was closing, and Michael was shipped to live at the rehabilitation hospital, far from his friends and worse, far from Juana.
That’s when Michael turned into a recluse. He wouldn’t come out from his room. He left it dark. His friends drove more than two hours to see him. But Michael’s spirits sagged so low, no one could reach him.
And then, one day, he was lying in bed when he heard a familiar creaking sound coming down the hall. It sounded like that same, ancient, squeaky wheelchair that girl, Juana, had used at the center where he used to live.
The squeaking stopped at his door, and Juana peered in and asked him to come outdoors with her. He was intrigued and from the moment he met Juana again, it was as though she breathed life back into him.
He was staring at the clouds and blue skies again. He began to participate in the hospital’s recreation programs. He spent hours talking with Juana. His room was sunny and light. And then he asked Juana, who’d been living in a wheelchair since age twenty—four, if she would marry him.
Juana had already had a tough life. She was pulled out of school before finishing the third grade, because she collapsed and fell a lot. Her mother, thinking she was lazy, slapped her around. She lived in terror that her mother wouldn’t want her anymore, so on the occasions when she was well enough, she cleaned house “like a little maid”.
Before the age of twenty—four, like Michael, she had a tracheotomy just to breathe and that was when she was officially diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. By the time she was thirty, she had moved into a hospital with round—the—clock care.
So when Michael asked her the big question, she didn’t think she could handle the pain if he was teasing.
“He told me he loved me, and I was so scared,” she said. “I thought he was playing a game with me. But he told me it was true. He told me he loved me.”
On Valentine’s Day, Juana wore a wedding dress made of white satin, dotted with pearl beads and cut loose enough to drape around a wheelchair and a ventilator. Juana was rolled to the front of the room, assisted by Harry, who proudly gave the bride away. Her face streamed with tears.
Michael wore a crisp white shirt, black jacket and a bow tie that fit neatly over his tracheotomy. He beamed with pleasure.
Nurses filled the doorways. Patients filled the room. An overflow of hospital employees spilled into the halls. Sobs echoed in every comer of the room. In the hospital’s history, no two people—living their lives bound to wheelchairs—had ever married.
Janet Yamaguchi, the hospital’s recreation leader, had planned everything. Employees had donated their own money to buy the red and white balloons, matching flowers, and an archway dotted with leaves. Janet had the hospital chef make a three—tiered, lemon—filled wedding cake. A marketing consultant hired a photographer.
Janet negotiated with family members. It was one of the most trying and satisfying times of her life to watch the couple get married.
She thought of everything.
The final touch—the kiss—could not be completed. Janet used a white satin rope to tie the couple’s wheelchairs to symbolize the romantic moment.
After the ceremony, the minister slipped out trying to hold back her tears. “I’ve performed thousands of weddings, but this is the most wonderful one I’ve done so far,” the minister said. “These people have passed the barriers and showed pure love.”
That evening, Michael and Juana rolled into their own room for the first time together. Michael and Juana knew they had moved many people with their love, and they had been given the greatest gift of all. They had the gift of love. And it’s never known where it will land.
My One and Only
我的唯一
Keith Green
It was all started when I was in high school, I still remember my love one. I am not sure if it is puppy love or first love, but I know deep inside my heart that I still remember him.
At first we were bus mate, and schoolmate too. I was in 1st year high school and he was in second. We still don’t know each other before, but later on when I was sitting in front of him in the bus, he used to talk and tease me, which makes me angry with him. I used to say that I hate him but later on... I only eat my words. One day when my best friend wanted to see what I wrote in my diary, I was reading it in the bus and without noticing the guy whom I hate was sitting back of me with his buddies. He was peeping and reading the things what I wrote in the diary. I looked sharply at him and put the book down, then my friend who was in front of me that she has read what I wrote there that love is BOG, BOG, BOG in my heart. He was hearing it and suddenly without my knowledge he stood and snatched the diary from me! Whew! What he did was to read the book so loudly where everything was written there about love! Goodness! I was so shocked that I was screaming just to get it back. I couldn’t believe it, because he’s the most intelligent student in my school and he’s the representative of our school too. Then after the bus dropped me to my house there I felt that I was so flushing hotly that my cheeks were so red! There, I realized that I have a crush on him!
Sports date came, and he was the champion for C group boys for running. Whew! Wow! I was really amazed when he runs, because he always come first in running and he runs like a wind. That day I felt more feelings for him. I used to write him always in my diary, but mostly he always went to another place because of interschool quiz.
I cried that time, because I was missing him so much, that I wish one day he’ll like me too. Then one day I just heard that he likes me! My god, I nearly faint! Rumors spread that in the bus we always fights for simple things like teasing, because I use to call him nutcracker which makes him so mad at me, and I always teased him for his pimples and about his using facial cleanser which made my whole bus mates burst out laughing, and he was blushing, and then one fine day the rumors spread that we both are loving each other! Whenever we cross our paths we just look each other casually, but my hearts beats fast because he looks at me so intensely which makes my heart tremble. I used to be always so naughty that time. One day I decided to ask my friend to write a love letter in language of German I loved, since we both are from different nations.
My friend wrote it, and in the bus I asked him to read the letter for me. He read it and explained what was written, and I know the last word written there was just I love you, but he told me that the last word means “I love you” which makes me blushed! Oh even though I know that he wasn’t the one who wrote it, but it seems like he is telling it from his heart!
But not all the love story has happy ending...
One day, I heard that he likes another girl which makes my heart break! In the bus, I used to make him jealous of me by saying that I have a boyfriend. I made it, and he was jealous! Then examination came. I was really broken—heart when I saw him waiting for a girl in the gate! I cried, because of his caring for dating girl. Five days before the exam came, he told me in the bus that he’s going to his country! My god! I can’t believe it he’s leaving me! The last day in the school and in the bus, I took a picture of him in my own camera! And when he went down in the bus I told bye... and then I still can’t believe that he’s gone.
To tell you we both are in the same bus, same school, we both are born on the same year. That was HAMLET! By Shakespeare I was the dancer, and he’s Hamlet. I can never forget my one, my only one. He dreamed about me so many times! He even include the poem A KISS IN THE RAIN in his dream and we both composed a poem for each other, I composed a poem for him “ONLY YOU”, and he composed a poem for me “SHE’S MINE”. I still can’t forget the happy unforgettable moments once we shared! Oh, nostalgia—
Mr. Right
如意郎君
Lynn M. Lombard
When I was younger, I used to dream of finding Mr. Right.
After each heartbreak, I would wonder how long it would take me to find him. I didn’t realize it then, but each relationship taught me a lesson and brought me one step closer to true love. It went something like this:
Tony and I walked down Bloomingdale Avenue holding hands. His friend was with us and suggested we kiss goodbye. I said okay. Tony’s eyes became the size of golf balls, “I can’t believe you said that!” (And not because he was not looking forward to the kiss). So with one quick peck on his lips, I headed for home. When I dumped him a few weeks later, I thought he was going to hate me for life. He tattled on me to the teacher each chance he got, making me cry and look like a baby in gym class. Tony taught me that boys can be jerks, even bigger ones if you break their heart.
In seventh grade, I had a crush on Billy. His hair was longer than mine, and he was missing a few front teeth, but each time he smiled at me, I melted. With a locker right next to mine, he would pick on me everyday, but I never quite got the hint that there was no future for us. What did Billy teach me? He taught me that no matter how much you drool over a guy, it won’t make him drool back.
In tenth grade, I fell for a guy who had previously shown interest in my sister. How stupid is that? He came over to my house a few times, hardly talking to me at all as he sat there in my family room. We would write each other notes in school, the scent of his cologne lingering on each letter. Not long after, my sister began to like him too. He was the one and only guy we fought over. What he taught me was invable—no guy is worth two sisters fighting.
My first “real” kiss happened with an out—of—town boyfriend, whom I didn’t see very often. When I realized I didn’t like him quite as much as he liked me, I dumped him over the phone (what a heartbreaker I was!) and cried because I felt so bad. I learned form that relationship that if one like the other more, it will never work.
After all these lessons, I had doubts that I would ever find Mr. Right.
But a year later, I was reacquainted with a man whose smile and kind words always flattered me back in high school. When we saw one another at a graduation party on a rainy, warm night in July, I felt my heart skip a beat. Somehow, I knew he was the one. We instantly found ourselves comfortable with each other and my doubts were put to rest.
I’ll never forget the day when we were sitting in my driveway in his truck, saying our goodbyes after spending the day together. Doug put his hand on my cheek and in a serious tone, said, “Someday, I’m going to marry you.” I had no doubt that he was right. Today I share his last name and I couldn’t be happier.
When I think back to Tony, Billy, and the rest of the boys, I smile. If I was able to go back and change a thing, I wouldn’t. Each relationship was an essential part of my life, there to teach me a thing or two about love. It also taught me that it’s okay to be picky about the people you date. Finding Mr. Right takes patience.
And I’m the proof that good things come to those who wait.
Appointment with Love
爱的约会
S. L Kishor
Six minutes to six, said the clock over the information booth in New York’s Grand Central Station. The tall, young Army lieutenant lifted his sunburned face and narrowed his eyes to note the exact time. His heart was pounding with a beat. In six minutes he would see the woman who had filled such a special place in his life for the past 13 months, the woman he had never seen, yet whose written words had sustained him unfailingly.
Lieutenant Blandford remembered one day in particular, during the worst of the fighting, when his plane had been caught in the midst of a pack of enemy planes. In one of his letters he had confessed to her that he often felt fear, and only a few days before this battle he had received her answer, “Of course you fear... all brave men do. Next time you doubt yourself, I want you to hear my voice reciting to you, ‘yeah, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.’...” He had remembered, and it had renewed his strength.
Now he was going to hear her real voice. Four minutes to six.
A girl passed close to him, and Lieutenant Blandford stared. She was wearing a flower, but it was not the little red rose they had agreed upon. Besides, this girl was only about 18, and Hollis Meynell had told him she was 30. “What of it?” he had answered. “I’m 32.” He was 29.
His mind went back to that book he had read in the training camp. Of Human Bondage it was; and throughout the book were notes in a woman’s handwriting. He had never believed that a woman could see into a man’s heart so tenderly, so understandingly. Her name was on the book plate: Hollis Meynell. He had got hold of a New York City telephone book and found her address. He had written; she had answered. Next day he had been shipped out, but they had gone on writing.
For 13 months she had faithfully replied. When his letters did not arrive, she wrote anyway, and now he believed that he loved her and that she loved him.
But she had refused all his pleas to send him her photograph. She had explained, “If your feeling for me has any reality, what I look like won’t matter. Suppose I’m beautiful. I’d always be haunted by the feeling that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of love would disgust me. Suppose I’m plain (and you must admit that this is more likely), then I’d always fear that you were only going on writing because you were lonely and had no one else. No, don’t ask for my picture. When you come to New York, you shall see me and then you shall make your decision.”
One minute to six ... he pulled hard on a cigarette. Then Lieutenant Blandford’s heart leaped.
A young woman was coming toward him. Her figure was long and slim; her blond hair lay back in curls over her delicate ears. Her eyes were as blue as flowers, her lips and chin had a gentle firmness. In her pale—green suit, she was like springtime come alive.
He stared toward her, forgetting to notice that she was wearing no rose, and as he moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips.
“Going my way, soldier?” she murmured. He made one step closer to her. Then he saw Hollis Meynell.
She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a woman well past 40, her graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump; her thick ankled feet were thrust into low—heeled shoes.
But she wore a red rose on her rumpled coat. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly. Blandford felt as though he were being split into two, so keen was his desire to follow the girl, yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned and upheld his own; and there she stood. He could see her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible; her gray eyes had a warm twinkle.
Lieutenant Blandford did not hesitate. His fingers gripped the worn copy of Human Bondage which was to identify him to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, a friendship for which he had been and must ever be grateful...
He squared his shoulders, saluted, and held the book out toward the woman, although even while he spoke he felt the bitterness of his disappointment. “I’m John Blandford, and you—you are Miss Meynell. May—may I take you to dinner?”
The woman smiled. “I don’t know what this is all about, son,” she answered. “That young lady in the green suit, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said that if you asked me to go out with you, I should tell you she’s waiting for you in that restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of a test.”
Love Is Difficult
爱是艰难的
Rainer Maria Rilke
It is also good to love: because love is difficult. For one human being to love another human being: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been entrusted to us, the ultimate task, the final test and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation. That is why young people, who are beginners in everything, are not yet capable of love: it is something they must learn. With their whole being, with all their forces, gathered around their solitary, anxious, upward—beating heart, they must learn to love. But learning—time is always a long, secluded time ahead and far on into life, is solitude, a heightened and deepened kind of aloneness for the person who loves. Loving does not at first mean merging, surrendering, and uniting with another person (for what would a union be of two people who are unclarified, unfinished, and still incoherent). It is a high inducement for the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become world, to become world in himself for the sake of another person; it is a great, demanding claim on him, something that chooses him and calls him to vast distances. Only in this sense, as the task of working on themselves (“to hearken and to hammer day and night”), may young people use the love that is given to them. Merging and surrendering and every kind of communion is not for them (who must still, for a long, long time, save and gather themselves); it is the ultimate, is perhaps that for which human lives are as yet barely large enough.
Salty Coffee
咸咖啡
Trinity Bluce
He met her at a party. She was outstanding, many guys were after her; but nobody paid any attention to him. After the party, he invited her for coffee. She was surprised, so as not to appear rude, she went along. As they sat in a nice coffee shop, he was too nervous to say anything and she felt uncomfortable. Suddenly, he asked the waiter, “Could you please give me some salt? I’d like to put it in my coffee.”
They stared at him. He turned red, but when the salt came, he put it in his coffee and drank. Curious, she asked, “Why salt with coffee?” He explained, “When I was a little boy, I lived near the sea. I liked playing on the sea... I could feel its taste salty, like salty coffee. Now every time I drink it, I think of my childhood and my hometown. I miss it and my parents, who are still there.”
She was deeply touched. A man who can admit that he’s homesick must love his home and care about his family. He must be responsible.
She talked too, about her faraway hometown, her childhood, her family. That was the start to their love story.
They continued to date. She found that he met all her requirements. He was tolerant, kind, warm and careful. And to think she would have missed the catch if not for the salty coffee!
So they married and lived happily together. And every time she made coffee for him, she put in some salt, the way he liked it.
After 40 years, he passed away and left her a letter which said:
My dearest, please forgive my life—long lie. Remember the first time we dated? I was so nervous I asked for salt instead of sugar.
It was hard for me to ask for a change, so I just went ahead. I never thought that we would hit it off. Many times, I tried to tell you the truth, but I was afraid that it would ruin everything.
Sweetheart, I don’t exactly like salty coffee. But as it mattered so much to you, I’ve learnt to enjoy it. Having you with me was my greatest happiness. If I could live a second time, I hope we can be together again, even if it means that I have to drink salty coffee for the rest of my life.
A Moving Letter to My Wife
写给在天堂的妻子
Frank Fields
When Christian Spragg’s wife Joanne gave birth they were full of excitement... until she died just hours later. In a moving letter, Christian tells why he’ll make sure their daughter Ilaria knows all about her mum.
My darling Joanne,
I still remember the conversation we had just a month before our baby daughter Ilaria was born.
Out of the blue you asked me how I’d look after her if anything happened to you. I remember telling you not to be silly but you were serious. “I’d just want you to tell her often how much her mummy loved her,” you said.
“And to tell her what sort of person I was. And make sure she’s clean and tidy and eats her vegetables!” Now I’m so glad we had that conversation. And I hope I’ve done things as you wanted.
I just wish with all my heart that you were here to enjoy all the special moments we’ve shared since you were taken from us.
The memories of our time together are so treasured for me now.
You used to laugh when I said I fell in love with you the moment we met but I did. I saw you in a nightclub and finally gathered the courage to ask if you’d like a drink. I couldn’t believe my luck when you said yes.
I asked you to be my wife in Venice.
We splashed out on a gondola ride, giggling to ourselves. I remember you tilted your head up to the sun and told me that this was one of the best days of your life. And when you walked down the aisle I knew I’d married my soulmate, “the one”.
When we found out you were pregnant we were ecstatic and soon we discovered it was a girl and spent the months running up to the birth getting the nursery ready.
Every time our baby kicked you’d grab my hand, put it on your tummy and say, “Can you feel her, Christian? She’s so lively!”
You wanted to call our daughter Ilaria after a family friend you’d met in Venice. You found out that in Latin it meant “always happy.”
We saw Ilaria before she was born. We had a 3D scan where you can see your baby’s face—she was beautiful.
I am so thankful we did that now. When you went two weeks past your due date the hospital near our home in Bolton wanted to induce you. It’s hard for me to think straight about what happened next.