Thanks all, for the good thoughts. Being older parents has some downsides- like getting accused of being her grandparents, having slumber parties with 3 or 4 extra girls, we can't wait for the teenager rebellious years-uhhh, but we take it all in stride. Katya will be 12 years old this summer- she gets A's and B's in school, loves art and drama classes. She stopped speaking all Russian within six months of coming home- which I remember like it was yesterday. She came into our home and ran down the hallway and turned left into her bedroom ( like she knew) and saw the toys and dolls on her bed ( from wife's adoption shower at work) and she threw up her arms and let out a big exclamation in Russian- the translation of which must have been- "I've hit the jackpot!".
I want to hear a love story
by 1975 36 Replies latest watchtower beliefs
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Lozhasleft
Its such a lovely story Moshe. All credit to the hearts of you and your wife. You've changed her life forever for the better. Excellent.
Loz x
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flipper
DAGNEY- What a wonderful story. I'm so happy for you my friend that you've found real love! Awesome.
Well , as some of you know Mrs. Flipper and myself met on E-Harmony.com over 5 years ago. In October it will be our 5 year Wedding anniversary. We are very happy that we both found " the right one " after so many years. I was 46 when we met and she was 51. E-Harmony matches you up on 29 points of familiarity so you get matched with someone who has your same values, similar interests, and yes- even similar humor. etc.
We had both been on the dating scene for some years and due to us both being really " giving " people - we both always attracted people who wanted to use us without giving much back to us in return. So we both got tired of hooking up with loser girlfriends or boyfriends and both joined E-harmony about the same time in 2006. The thing that impressed me with Mrs. Flipper's write up about herself on E-Harmony was her total honesty. She mentioned she had rough times in the past with losing friends in death, or a dishonest boyfriend - but that she had moved on from it and carried on in life. That little bit of honesty coupled with her ability to " move on " in life really impressed me big time.
I drove 60 miles to meet her on our first " coffee date " . We had communicated through E-mails and phone for about 2-3 weeks first. Well, the " coffee date " was a success and we ended up having dinner as well and walking up and down the old street in her Gold rush town looking at shops and antique stores ! I asked Mrs. Flipper if she would like to go with me to see the next night a Led Zeppelin cover band playing near where I lived . She said " Yes " ! as she loved Led Zeppelin like me ! So we went to the bar and had a great time , she came over to my house- and we've been joined to the hip since !
She really loves my grown son ( a non-witness ) and he loves her as well. She never had children in her first marriage years ago - so that was somewhat easier ( a lot actually ) as I had dated women before with children at home still. Much easier when they are grown up.
We have shared many common interests. Love to hike in the mountains, camping, gardening, have similar tastes in music, listen to it live & on the stereo. We both love playing Scrabble , watching the S.F. Giants ( baseball) , both of us love animals, have 2 cats and 2 dogs . We both love living in the country in the mountains and we both detest heavy traffic in the cities.
I proposed marriage to her on a hiking trip in the mountains after dating 6 months ! It was at a high mountain lake with awesome red mountain peaks above and a meadow around the lake ! I got down on one knee , she said yes, and we both cried like baby's. Tears of joy.
We married in October 2006 and my JW mom and dad love her to pieces. Which is a great thing. They accept us for who we are. We've had our challenges with my two grown JW daughters, but the happy times and wonderful life we share together far outweighs any negatives which occasionally occur. But isn't that how real life works ? We look forward to many more happy years together, health permitting. Hope you enjoyed our little " romance story "
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Robdar
Loz:
I just knew that my Mr Wonderful, my soulmate, love of my life, was around the corner.
I loved reading your sweet love story. Isn't it amazing how you could feel your future beloved getting closer? It's almost like a supernatural experience and is very hard to explain to somebody else. I truly think our souls have knowledge that our brains do not. Somehow you just know that the love of your life is coming.
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Robdar
Dagney,
Life and love is strange and wonderful.
Oh yes. Yes, it is.
It always gives me goosebumps when I hear of similar stories to mine. I am so happy for you that after 30 years you are finallly connected with your soul mate. I truly believe if love is meant to be there will be no denying it. It will come no matter how long it takes.
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sizemik
The Nightingale and the Rose
'She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses,' cried the young Student; 'but in all my garden there is no red rose.'
From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.
'No red rose in all my garden!' he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. 'Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched.'
'Here at last is a true lover,' said the Nightingale. 'Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told his story to the stars, and now I see him. His hair is dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his lace like pale Ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow.'
'The Prince gives a ball to-morrow night,' murmured the young Student, 'and my love will be of the company. If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. If I bring her a red rose, I shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will have no heed of me, and my heart will break.'
'Here indeed is the true lover,' said the Nightingale. 'What I sing of he suffers: what is joy to me, to him is pain. Surely Love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the market-place. it may not be purchased of the merchants, 'or can it be weighed out in the balance for gold.'
'The musicians will sit in their gallery,' said the young Student, 'and play upon their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng round her. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her;' and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.
'Why is he weeping?' asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.
'Why, indeed?' said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.
'Why, indeed?' whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.
'He is weeping for a red rose,' said the Nightingale.
'For a red rose!' they cried; 'how very ridiculous!' and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.
But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student's sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.
Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.
In the centre of the grass-plot was standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it, she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.
'Give me a red rose,' she cried, 'and I will sing you my sweetest song.'
But the Tree shook its head.
'My roses are white,' it answered; 'as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want.'
So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.
'Give me a red rose,' she cried, 'and I will sing you my sweetest song.'
But the Tree shook its head.
'My roses are yellow,' it answered; 'as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student's window, and perhaps he will give you what you want.'
So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student's window.
'Give me a red rose,' she cried, 'and I will sing you my sweetest song.'
But the Tree shook its head.
'My roses are red,' it answered, 'as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year.'
'One red rose is all I want,' cried the Nightingale, 'only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?'
'There is a way,' answered the Tree; 'but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you.'
'Tell it to me,' said the Nightingale, 'I am not afraid.'
'If you want a red rose,' said the Tree, 'you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart's-blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine.'
'Death is a great price to pay for a red rose,' cried the Nightingale, 'and Life is very dear to all. It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?'
So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.
The young Student was still lying on the grass, where she had left him, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes.
'Be happy,' cried the Nightingale, 'be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty. Flame-coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body. His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense.'
The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are written down in books.
But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches.
'Sing me one last song,' he whispered; 'I shall feel very lonely when you are gone.'
So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.
When she had finished her song the Student got lip, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.
'She has form,' he said to himself, as he walked away through the grove - 'that cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling? I am afraid not. In fact, she is like most artists; she is all style, without any sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for others. She thinks merely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish. Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice. What a pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any practical good.' And he went into his room, and lay down on his little pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time, he fell asleep.
And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.
She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the topmost spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. Yale was it, at first, as the mist that hangs over the river - pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree.
But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. 'Press closer, little Nightingale,' cried the Tree, 'or the Day will come before the rose is finished.'
So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.
And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the rose's heart remained white, for only a Nightingale's heart's-blood can crimson the heart of a rose.
And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. 'Press closer, little Nightingale,' cried the Tree, 'or the Day will come before the rose is finished.'
So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.
And the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.
But the Nightingale's voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.
Then she gave one last burst of music. The white Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The red rose heard it, and it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold morning air. Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams. It floated through the reeds of the river, and they carried its message to the sea.
'Look, look!' cried the Tree, 'the rose is finished now;' but the Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.
And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.
'Why, what a wonderful piece of luck! he cried; 'here is a red rose! I have never seen any rose like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name;' and he leaned down and plucked it.
Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor's house with the rose in his hand.
The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.
'You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose,' cried the Student. Here is the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it to-night next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you.'
But the girl frowned.
'I am afraid it will not go with my dress,' she answered; 'and, besides, the Chamberlain's nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers.'
'Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful,' said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cart-wheel went over it.
'Ungrateful!' said the girl. 'I tell you what, you are very rude; and, after all, who are you? Only a Student. Why, I don't believe you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain's nephew has;' and she got up from her chair and went into the house.
'What a silly thing Love is,' said the Student as he walked away. 'It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy and study Metaphysics.'
So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.
- Oscar Wilde
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Robdar
Another love story:
My father was home on leave and attended a dance with a woman he had dated before he joined the Air Force. My mother happened to be at that dance with the man she was dating at the time. My father took one look at my mother and forgot all about the woman he had brought with him to the dance. He went over and started talking to my mother, which didn't please her guy friend too much. Anyway, long story short, mom and dad wound up leaving the dance together to go get a Coke. At the soda fountain he asked my mother if he could see her again. Mom told him she would love to see him again and so the next night my dad came calling.
They saw each other everynight for the following week. On the night before dad was to return to base in California, he asked my mother to marry him. Even though they had only been dating 8 days, my mother said yes. So, they picked up my grandmother (dad's mom) and his best friend for witnesses and then went to a Justice of the Peace to marry them.
They have been married for close to 53 years.
I almost died laughing a couple of weeks ago when dad told me, "Your mother may gripe my ass at times but she is still the sweetest thing in my life. She is my soulmate."