The Art of a Good Marriage by Wilfred Arlan Peterson

 I heard this today at a wedding today and thought it was beautiful….

Happiness in marriage is not something that just happens.
A good marriage must be created.

In marriage the little things are the big things.

It is never being too old to hold hands.

It is remembering to say “I love you” at least once a day.

It is never going to sleep angry.

It is at no time taking the other for granted; the courtship should not end with the honeymoon, it should continue through all the years.

It is having a mutual sense of values and common objectives.

It is standing together facing the world.

It is forming a circle of love that gathers in the whole family.

It is doing things for each other, not in the attitude of duty or sacrifice,
but in the spirit of joy.
It is speaking words of appreciation and demonstrating gratitude in thoughtful ways.
It is not looking for perfection in each other.

It is cultivating flexibility, patience, understanding and a sense of humour.

It is having the capacity to forgive and forget.

It is giving each other an atmosphere in which each can grow.

It is a common search for the good and the beautiful.

It is establishing a relationship in which the independence is equal, dependence is mutual and the obligation is reciprocal.

It is not only marrying the right partner, it is being the right partner

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High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, –and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of –Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air…
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

by John Gillespie Magee, Jr

Is heaven in the yellow pages?

Mummy went to Heaven, but I need her here today,
My tummy hurts and I fell down, I need her right away.
Operator can you tell me how to find her in this book?
Is Heaven in the yellow part, I don’t know where to look.
I think my daddy needs her too, at night I hear him cry.
I hear him call her name sometimes, but I really don’t know why.
Maybe if I call her, she will hurry home to me.
Is Heaven very far away, is it across the sea?
She’s been gone a long, long time. She really needs to come home now!
I really need to reach her but I simply don’t know how.
Help me find the number please, Is it listed under Heaven?
I can’t read these big words, I am only seven.
I’m sorry operator, I didn’t mean to make you cry.
Is your tummy hurting too, or is there something in your eye?
If I call my church maybe they will know.
Mummy said when we need help that’s where we should go.
I found the number to my church tacked up on the wall.
Thank you operator, I’ll give them a call.
 
 by Donna Groleau.

The day God took you home

I’ve been given this to read at a funeral….

You never said I’m leaving
You never said good-bye
You were gone before I knew it
And only God knew why

A million times we’ve needed you,
A million times we’ve cried.
If love alone could’ve saved you,
You never would have died.

In life we loved you dearly,
In death we love you still.
In our hearts you hold a place,
No one else will ever fill.

It broke our hearts to lose you,
But you didn’t go alone.
Part of us went with you,
The day God took you home.

Anon

 

The cost of pain

Nothing can make up for the absence
of someone whom we love,
and it would be wrong to try to find a substitute;
we must simply hold out and see it through.
That sounds very hard at first,
but at the same time it is a great consolation,
 for the gap, as long as it remains unfilled,
preserves the bonds between us.
It is nonsense to say that God fills the gap;
God doesn’t fill it, but on the contrary, he keeps it empty
and so helps us to keep alive our former communion
with each other,
even at the cost of pain.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

I did not die

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.

– Anonymous

Update:

I’ve been sent this link: – http://www.businessballs.com/donotstandatmygraveandweep.htm  which means this poem is believed to be by Mary Frye.