Thursday, October 06, 2011
It's not like you wish to die, but sometimes living when you know most of you inside has already perished. And sometimes, when your heart and beliefs have fully numbed from everyone else's consumption, God sifts a certain kind of unseen hope back in. By the grace and love of God, I've taken a larger appreciation for the subtlest things in life, my life in specifics.
You see, this is how I live it - with the little hope I breathe in, I have the strength and courage to have faith, and when faith kicks in, I am able to love the way love is meant to be given. And freely it should be.
For the past couple of years, or for as long as I can trace back in memory of recent years, I have been praying for my parents; not for their reonciliation (I let go of that hope nearly a decade ago. I told you, I've lost track of the years.), but for them to be able to move on and forward with wisdom, happiness and reflection. And that made me at peace, knowing that I am no longer oblivious to the concept of the non-dramatics of indifference.
Today, I am pricked with a shock from my conscience. A jolt of suddenness kicked in as I realised I may have been praying wrongly. Which child prays for their parents' divorce? God gave me the wisdom of seeking for what's best mapped out to them by Him, and not by my worldly knowledge of what's ideal.
My internal self is no longer as dark as it used to be. And this thriving fact brings me peace; a kind of comfort I don't think anyone else but me would understand. And this, I assume, is my relationship with God.
More than often, God sends people, and in my case a particular person, to help the unbelievers. He sent me Ben, and He sent me these wonderful 12 months of my kind of perfect. Don't get me wrong, I've never wanted something perfect. I've always wanted something rough and trying, so that someone imperfectly perfect would journey this arduous years with me, in complete harmony of the ups and downs. And Ben is "that one". Everyday that I am sane, I remind myself how fortunate and blessed I truly am, and how grateful I ought to be everytime I begin feeling stray inside.
Sure, the future doesn't look certain or sketched in details, but today's indefinitely a better future of the many yesterdays I endured and got through.
So thank you God, and thank you mum, and thank you Ben, for being floats when I was sinking, for being wings when I free-fell, for saving me from who I was.