Enchanted

Remember growing up watching animated Disney movies?  The ones with the happy endings? Well to relive your childhood, I suggest you watch Enchanted.  It's very clever how they incorporated like EVERY Disney movie EVER in this movie.  You may need to watch it more than once to catch all of the nuances.  But besides that, it is a happy story of how love once again reigns above all that is evil ;)

My Substitute Teacher

Back during my freshman year of high school, we had a substitute teacher for my English class who had a nice story of how she met her husband. We had been studying Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet in class, which prompted a question of Romeo and Juliet's age when they got married and how improbable it seemed that two people who were so young could fall that deeply in love.

Our substitute teacher then told us her story. She had met her husband when they were both 13-years-old. They started dating in the 8th grade and surprisingly continued dating all through high school. Upon graduating high school, they both went on and attended the same college. They decided to get married during their junior year of college, when they were both 20 years old. In a world of cynicism, here's an ending for you. At the time she told us the story, she was 58 years old, and still married to her middle school sweetheart.

Incredible story. To this day, it is a story that still gives me hope that love can endure regardless of what other bad exists in our society.

SHMILY

My grandparents were married for over half a century, and played their own special game from the time they had met each other. The goal of their game was to write the word "shmily" in a surprise place for the other to find.

They took turns leaving "shmily" around the house, and as soon as one of them discovered it, it was their turn to hide it once more. They dragged "shmily" with their fingers through the sugar and flour containers to await whoever was preparing the next meal. They smeared it in the dew on the windows overlooking the patio where my grandma always fed us warm, homemade pudding with blue food coloring. "Shmily" was written in the steam left on the mirror after a hot shower, where it would reappear bath after bath. At one point, my grandmother even unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper to leave "shmily" on the very last sheet.

There was no end to the places "shmily" would pop up. Little notes with "shmily" scribbled hurriedly were found on dashboards and car seats, or taped to steering wheels. The notes were stuffed inside shoes and left under pillows. "Shmily" was written in the dust upon the mantel and traced in the ashes of the fireplace. This mysterious word was as much a part of my grandparents' house as the furniture.

It took me a long time before I was able to fully appreciate my grandparents' game. Skepticism has kept me from believing in true love-one that is pure and enduring. However, I never doubted my grandparents' relationship. They had love down pat. It was more than their flirtatious little games; it was a wayof life. Their relationship was based on a devotion and passionate affection, which not everyone is lucky enough to experience. Grandma and Grandpa held hands every chance they could. They stole kisses as they bumped into each other in their tiny kitchen. They finished each other's sentences and shared the daily crossword puzzle and word jumble. My grandma whispered to me about how cute my grandpa was, how handsome and old he had grown to be. She claimed that she really knew "how to pick 'em." Before every meal they bowed their heads and gave thanks, marveling at their blessings: a wonderful family, good fortune, and each other.

But there was a dark cloud in my grandparents' life: my grandmother had breast cancer. The disease had first appeared ten years earlier. As always, Grandpa was with her every step of the way. He comforted her in their yellow room, painted that way so that she could always be surrounded by sunshine, even when she was too sick to go outside. Now the cancer was again attacking her body. With the help of a cane and my grandfather's steady hand, they went to church every morning. But my grandmother grew steadily weaker until, finally, she could not leave the house anymore. For a while, Grandpa would go to church alone, praying to God to watch over his wife. Then one day, what we all dreaded finally happened. Grandma was gone.

"Shmily." It was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of my grandmother's funeral bouquet. As the crowd thinned and the last mourners turned to leave, my aunts, uncles, cousins and other family members came forward and gathered around Grandma one last time. Grandpa stepped up to my grandmother's casket and, taking a shaky breath, he began to sing to her. Through his tears and grief, the song came, a deep and throaty lullaby. Shaking with my own sorrow, I will never forget that moment. For I knew that, although I couldn't begin to fathom the depth of their love, I had been privileged to witness its unmatched beauty.

S-h-m-i-l-y: See How Much I Love You.

Pass this on to some of your friends and tell them how much you love them, for there may not be another day that you will talk to them.

author unknown

In Love and War

A story from my grandmother: (names and locations have been changed to preserve anonymity)

Charles and John were best friends as well as next door neighbors. The two boys were the same age and attended the same schools. John had a sister 5 years younger named Mary, who would tag along with the boys on their adventures from time to time. As they grew older, Mary matured into a beautiful young lady that Charles became very fond of. For years, Charles wanted to tell Mary his feelings for her, but he felt he had nothing to offer her and so he kept his feelings to himself.

When Charles and John were 22, World War II had begun and the U.S. was drafting soldiers and sending them off to fight overseas. Charles wanted to see Mary before he left, wanted to tell her how he felt for fear of never making it back home to see her again. Charles waited for Mary to walk her home after school one day when he saw her walk out laughing and giggling with another young man. Assuming that there was something going on between Mary and the young man, he left without talking to Mary and went overseas to fight in the war.

Charles made it back 2 years later. He found out from her family that she was working as a secretary and still single. He made it a point to go to her and finally tell her how he felt. He had gone to surprise her after work one day when he found out from a co-worker that Mary had left early to get ready for a date. Charles decided that he had bad timing and decided he would leave Mary alone. Mary eventually got married 3 years later, as did Charles and they both led good lives. Mary gave birth to 3 children, and Charles had 2 of his own.

20 years later, Charles, walking in the streets of New York City, ran into Mary. They stopped and decided to grab a cup of coffee together. A flood of feelings that Charles had for Mary came rushing back to him, and he could hold it in no longer. Charles told Mary how for years he had longed for her, that he had always wanted her to be more than just his best friend's younger sister. How during the times he was fighting overseas, it was the thought of her that gave him the strength he needed to survive and come back home. How he had waited for her after school that day, how he had come by her office when he returned, how for so many nights he had hoped to have a chance to tell her how he felt. Mary was crying steadily as Charles told her this. For all these years, she had never known that Charles had these feelings for her. Yet, when she thought about it, she knew that life would have been good with Charles, perhaps even better than the life she was living now.

As their conversation came to a close, Charles gave Mary a hug and told her that he would always love her. The two then parted ways, never to see each other again. Mary lived her life with her husband and kids, and Charles lived his with his wife and children.

The End.