If a nineteen-year-old young man came up to you and told you that he's going to get married before the year is out, what would your reaction be? If a young woman in college were to tell you she's engaged to be married before she gets her degree, what would your face say? For many of us, the answer to both questions is that we would certainly respond with surprise, and possibly, depending on how well we know the person, with dutiful dissuasion. But is this really our job? In fact, when it comes right down to it, is it even a good thing to encourage young people to postpone marriage into the late twenties? Society today has a very specific formula to be followed for individuals who wish to get married. First comes the completion of High School and the acquisition of a GED or equivalent. Then comes the search for a field and the pursuit of a four-year college degree or 一 though less smiled upon 一 a vocational school education. Next comes the entrance of the now socially-labe
There once was a man who carried in tow a burden of pitiable nature. The burden was not of great weight or size, but disturbing beyond compare, for it had once been alive. This man’s burden, which dragged behind him like a shadow, was the body of his beloved. She died—not in an accident—as many would suppose, but by her own choice, made in a moment of weighty despair. Following her death, the bereaved man went about his life, and the body of his beloved did too. When the bereaved took a meal, her body lay behind his chair. When he lay down, the body was there. When he rose up, the body rose too; not in life of its own, but in obedience to cords which stretched between the bereaved and his beloved. The cords were not of a physical nature, but were the kind of ties which connect two hearts and that are woven by four hands over the course of many sleepless nights. Years passed. The body which ever dragged behind the bereaved man became mangled and distorted from its rough contact with the