Short Inspirational Stories About Love

As a newly-wed, the memories of a sweet and simple wedding has passed. But has it carried along with it that love which has existed between them long this wedding? Has the throbbing pulse of love, tenderness, affection vanished after the wedding night? This was a woman who exhibited all the ingredients of true love. Indeed, she had a firm grip of the rules of the game in her marriage life; she was diplomatic and considerate toward her husband.

This was a story narrated by the Messenger of God, Muhammad (peace be upon him), to his companions The Prophet said: “I inquired from a certain woman whose husband was a woodcutter about how she treated her husband and she explained as follows:”

Inspirational Love Story Of A Woodcutter’s Wife

She revealed that her husband was a woodcutter – That he used to gather woods from the mountains. He would then send them into the market to sell. She said he then used his earnings to buy what they needed in their home. This woman then narrates how she used to bear with her husband that sort of hardship he had to go through for the sake of their livelihood. She also did feel (within her) the severity of the thirst he had to endure in the mountain – that almost always scorched her throat too.

Due to this, she always made sure she prepared for him a good drinking water – so that anytime he came back, he would find it readily available. She emphasized that before her husband comes home, she would tidy up the home – keeping every thing in their rightful place – then set the table.

Then she continued: “After all these, I then put on my most beautiful dress – waiting for his return and, as soon as he enters, I would welcome him in such a manner as a bride would do for a bridegroom with whom she was deeply in love. I would do this in a total subjugation of myself.” She then intimated that whenever her husband needed rest, she would aid him unto it; then when he needed her, she would fall into his arms (allowing him to play with her) in such a manner as a father would play with his little girl.

This poor and hard-working woodcutter of a man had to endure the scorching sun of Arabia up in the mountains, just to be able to fend for his family. His loving wife did her part in providing him with a relaxed and convenient ambiance. To be sure, there are still other men who would go to that extent to earn their livelihood in order to support their loved families. How about the women? Would they also as well, try to reciprocate the hard work done by their husbands in order to keep their families intact?

Flirtations between a man and his wife are an indication of the continuation of love. After all, love is like a flower, that needs to be watered constantly. The “water” for this flower should be flirting with each other. The Prophet of Islam, Muhammad (peace be upon him), described a man who shies away from having fun with his wife as cruel.

I See Why People Mistake Him For My Father- A Narrative

I never bothered to call him, and he didn’t either. What would we have to say to each other over the phone, anyway? ” Do we miss each other, honey? Or do you miss our daughter Nadia?” I just knew he would be coming to see Nadia off. She was going to go abroad. I needed to see him face-to-face anyway, look him in the eyes to see if I see any remorse, any signs of regret or shame. The doorbell is ringing. Nadia is talking on the phone. Before I even ask her to know who is on the line, I open the door. My estranged husband, Mr. Ambrose Al -Hassan, alias Mr. AA, is trying to embrace me. I slam the door on his face.

“Hello, Amanda, where is Nadia?” He shouts from outside.

“She’s on the phone in her bedroom.” I say. I walk into the kitchen to turn off the cooker. I hear him say as he keeps insisting I should let him in.

“She’ll be fine where ever she goes.” He says.

“Spare me, would you, Mr. AA. I’ve got a lot to do right now before Nadia’s departure.” Upon a second thought, I open the door. I hear him enter the living room. Feel him standing behind me. When I turn to face him, I realize he is looking tired and washed-out. He looks much older than sixty-five. He is only 45. Five years older me. I see why people often mistake him for my father. But at the moment he just looks pitiful. Like a stray and hungry dog. But I don’t feel sorry for him one bit, because he’s not a stray dog. He’s the man who left me for another woman without any reason.

“I will go to Church with you tomorrow to meet Pastor John Walters.” He cries out.

“What did you just say?” I ask.

“I wish to meet Pastor John Walters, for counseling for my behavior. To stop it. So I never have to leave you again. I didn’t mean to do what I’ve done.”

“Are you coming to see Nadia off or you are coming to put up with me?” I say.

“I can’t leave this house again.” He says.

“You’ll have to, when I call the cops.” I say.

“Please don’t, Amanda. I’m begging you not to, please. It could destroy my reputation. The reputation I’ve worked so hard to maintain.” He pleads.

“What reputation? Your reputation of being addicted to fast women and fast cars? You should have thought about your reputation before¬†leaving me for the third time. You only need me when you’re in trouble or broke.”

“I did think about it.”

“Oh, you thought about it, and your brain gave you the go ahead, is that so?”

“No. I mean, I wasn’t literally thinking properly when I used to do all that I did. That’s now the whole issue.”

“What in the world would compel you to do what you did. Are you not a practicing Muslim man who is supposed to know better?”

“I don’t know.”

“And then keep doing it?”

“Amanda, I honestly don’t know.”

“Think about it for a moment! If you don’t know, who the hell does?”

“Eh! Are you now dating one of those actors?”

“What did you just say?”

“I mean are you now having an actor boyfriend?”

“I guess so.”

“Oh, really!”

“Are you jealous?”

“I’m not jealous. Just asking.” He just shakes his head.

“You’ve appetite for actors. By the way, where is that actor of a guy?

“He’ll be coming today to see Amanda off.”

“What? To see my daughter off. Is out of his mind?”

“No, it’s rather you who is out of your mind.”

“I’m going to wait to see who this guy is.”

“You’ll surely meet him. He’s a true lover. Not your kind.”

“Don’t annoy me further.” He says.

“I’m not afraid of annoying the day light out of you.”

“I know that. But I keep hoping you’ll not. Look. Amanda, what I did to you in the past is regrettable and I want to get help.”

I fold my arms, wishing they were baseball bats, so that I punch him in his face.

“I know the magnitude of what I’ve done to you. It was wrong, and I can promise you that it will never happen again.” He says.

“Oh so you expect me to believe you just like that?”

“Yes. I am pretty sure about that.”

“Let me ask you something, Mr. AA. Did you do this to your other women, too?”

“Yes, but I’m not going back to any one of them again. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Oh, so you want come live with me again?”

“Yes. Pretty sure”

I try to stop the tears, but I can’t control it. I wish this was all just a bad dream, and when the alarm bell rings, it’ll all be over. I loved this man hard, but right now, I don’t love any part of him. He used to make me feel protected and safe. Anytime he came back to me after having been dumped by his other women, I accepted him back. Not this time again. All I want right now is for him to leave Nadia and myself alone.

“Get out of my face and out of here before I call the cops.”

He picks up his walking stick and jacket on the sofa. He waggles out of the door. It’s the last time I will ever see him.

Was it terribly inconsiderate of Amanda to send away the man she loved so dearly? And why should Mr. AA even bother going back to the woman he left on three  occasions? Could he be trusted this time?

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