Yesterday I cried because I read this:
God didn't make a mistake when He created you.
As I thought He did.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Because of who You are
Because of who You are
It was a rainy day when the sky was weeping. I threw my sight out of the window and I saw her again. She was looking for something in the rubbish dump; the slippery land burdened her crippled leg. Her shabby clothes were all soaked wet, let her trembling in this chill cold night- Alone. The dirt on her face couldn’t hide the wrinkles on her pale face, not even the overwhelming sorrow could be hidden under the pouring raindrops. Later, she managed to find some paper box to make her a temporally shelter, for this merciless night. No one ever notice her presence, even they did, they just walked pass her; couples huddled up close to each other and sheltering under lovers’ warmth, a business man talking on the phone and cursed the raindrop split on his branded coat. A hysterical housewife was crying on the staircase begging her husband don’t go away, while a spoilt kid was throwing a tantrum over his parents in this fuzzy raining evening. My effort to look for a smile among the crowd was in vain. Unexpectedly, I saw this lovely curve at the edge of her lips. Thinking of this might be my hallucination, thus I rubbed my eyes before I took another glimpse on her- the old lady beside the rubbish dump. Yes, it was true that she was smiling. It was the sweetest smile that I’d ever seen before. Not because she rejoiced over the half-eaten frozen hotdog she found, it was she had a visitor. It was a homeless dirty stray dog. The old lady generously shared her only begotten food with her little visitor. And most importantly, she smiled all the way through.
For your heart will always be where your riches are.
It was her. She might be poor but for sure she is the richest among all. I was more than ashamed
of myself seeing the old lady. Closed my bible, I looked at the reflection of the mirror.
Who am I?
I glanced at my eyes, I remembered he once said I have the brightest eyes in the world, and I believed. No longer were they shiny, but swollen with tears. The day when our lips met, I thought he was the one but I never know that our hearts never join. His fingers once combed my black long hair now holding another girl’s hand. I remembered the days when we were jumping praising Him, and later on both of us walked away forgot His name. That day, when I met him kissing another girl at the backyard of the church, he was still wearing the cross. If a knife could pierce through my heart, betrayer twisted it within my flesh and smirked at the oozing blood.
I was fifteen when he said he loves me and I ignorantly believed in him. He was the Prince Charming among the youth, and I foolishly thought that I could be the princess. Perhaps I could blame Taylor Swift’s Love Story of its imaginary space for romance, or maybe I should curse the bottle of cheap wine and heat at the moment, for giving the pregnancy test kit double pink strips. My pregnancy symptoms couldn’t be hidden from Dad; after all, he is a doctor. On the same raining evening, both of Dad and Mum quarrelled over my pregnancy issue. Neither of them willing to admit their failure as parents, since they are well-known as devoted Christian in the church. Teen pregnancy was such a great embarrassment for the family, and this was what they concerned about.
The 6th commandments stated that: Do not murder.
Dad taught me the Ten Commandments while I was still attending Sunday school. Yet he was the one who suggested abortion as the solution, my heart sunk when I overheard the conversation. Mum wanted me to be sent to Australia so that no one would question anything about me. They were afraid that their position as cell group leaders would be affected by my shameful conduct. The atmosphere was clouded with selfishness. That time, they were both wearing platinum cross. The cross was still shiny but it looked so strange to me at the meanwhile. Suddenly I felt like I was not known them so much that I thought.
Who are they?
Burst in tears, I ran out from the house. It was the deadly evening, when the sky was still crying. I ran down the street when tears and rain had blurred my vision. I heard someone was crying for help, it was she holding an unconscious little girl in her skinny arms. Her little face was as pale as a white paper and long term malnutrition caused her body shrunk. It might be the darkest night in her life, where no hear her, more accurately, people in the city chose not to hear her.
Could somebody help my daughter?
I walked past her and I stole a glance on her. She was hopeless as I did. Her shriek in the stagnant air echoed in the rain, where no one offers her a helping hand. I was one of the deaf.
Who cares?
No one would ever hear our cries, in this dark season. I ran down the street headed to his house and begged him to settle the mess; sadly I was stormed out from his garden like a stray dog. All of his lovely promises withered like the flowers out of the sudden, my world darkened in the midst of heart-brokenness. Before I lost my consciousness, I saw a car speeding on my way...
It was the second time I met her. I was lying on bed in hospital. I looked out from the window and I saw her plucking some white flowers from the garden. Her face was like a zombie, she must had been hit by a terrible tragedy. Suddenly a familiar scene popped up in front of me.
The little girl...
My body was still too weak to move after severe bleeding for being knocked down by a car. I nudged the nurse changing my bandage, asking her about the lady. Frowned with impatience between her eye brown, still she answered.
Her daughter passed away, on the same day you are admitted into hospital. She had asthma attack; most probably she could be saved if someone did Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, I mean CPR on her. It was too late when someone sent her into hospital.
My heart sunk upon hearing this. I couldn’t help to relax my facial muscle when I saw two figures walking into the room. Dad gave a sign to the nurse to leave us room for a confidential conversation. Dad coughed discreetly, before he started.
Chloe, God had settled everything for us.
He pointed a finger to my abdomen. I would never forget the disgusting smile on his face. I was in an emotional conflict to know that I had lost my baby.
Everything is so perfectly planned. You were knocked down by a car and rushed to this hospital. Coincidentally, I was on duty that time. Without anyone notice, I aborted it from your uterus. This issue would be swept under carpet forever. God is good, ain’t He?
A wave of confusion hit my mind. Too many things happened at the same time. Few hours ago, I was pregnant and her daughter still in her arms, alive. Now my womb was empty, so did her arms. All had gone, like the flower in the garden; here today and gone tomorrow, a wave tossed in the ocean or vapour in the wind. Now no more...
Time passed and I never meet her until that raining evening. I took out a fine decorated box; it was my necklace with a gold cross pendent. It was given to me ever since I was born. I thought I had found my identity in it, but I was wrong. The bible never mentions about a gold cross, what I know is it was stained with Jesus’ blood. It is ugly and heavy, and Jesus has bore it for me. I took out my beautiful cross on it that day when I realized this shouldn’t be in this way.
I am greatly humbled by the love God has for me, though His people are truly disappointing in their conduct. Somehow this old lady, perhaps never heard about Jesus, never been invited to church, or Easter dinner, had shown me what love is.
She reminded me who am I.
I am a sinner saved by grace.
I took my umbrella and a plastic bag with apples and bread. I have ears but I was deaf, I have eyes but I was blind, I had a gold cross on my neck yet I had no Christ in my heart. I had lost a chance to tell her about Jesus, and clearly I know there wouldn’t be any second chance every times.
In the raining evening, I walked to her with this prayer in my heart: I want to meet her in heaven.
It was a rainy day when the sky was weeping. I threw my sight out of the window and I saw her again. She was looking for something in the rubbish dump; the slippery land burdened her crippled leg. Her shabby clothes were all soaked wet, let her trembling in this chill cold night- Alone. The dirt on her face couldn’t hide the wrinkles on her pale face, not even the overwhelming sorrow could be hidden under the pouring raindrops. Later, she managed to find some paper box to make her a temporally shelter, for this merciless night. No one ever notice her presence, even they did, they just walked pass her; couples huddled up close to each other and sheltering under lovers’ warmth, a business man talking on the phone and cursed the raindrop split on his branded coat. A hysterical housewife was crying on the staircase begging her husband don’t go away, while a spoilt kid was throwing a tantrum over his parents in this fuzzy raining evening. My effort to look for a smile among the crowd was in vain. Unexpectedly, I saw this lovely curve at the edge of her lips. Thinking of this might be my hallucination, thus I rubbed my eyes before I took another glimpse on her- the old lady beside the rubbish dump. Yes, it was true that she was smiling. It was the sweetest smile that I’d ever seen before. Not because she rejoiced over the half-eaten frozen hotdog she found, it was she had a visitor. It was a homeless dirty stray dog. The old lady generously shared her only begotten food with her little visitor. And most importantly, she smiled all the way through.
For your heart will always be where your riches are.
It was her. She might be poor but for sure she is the richest among all. I was more than ashamed
of myself seeing the old lady. Closed my bible, I looked at the reflection of the mirror.
Who am I?
I glanced at my eyes, I remembered he once said I have the brightest eyes in the world, and I believed. No longer were they shiny, but swollen with tears. The day when our lips met, I thought he was the one but I never know that our hearts never join. His fingers once combed my black long hair now holding another girl’s hand. I remembered the days when we were jumping praising Him, and later on both of us walked away forgot His name. That day, when I met him kissing another girl at the backyard of the church, he was still wearing the cross. If a knife could pierce through my heart, betrayer twisted it within my flesh and smirked at the oozing blood.
I was fifteen when he said he loves me and I ignorantly believed in him. He was the Prince Charming among the youth, and I foolishly thought that I could be the princess. Perhaps I could blame Taylor Swift’s Love Story of its imaginary space for romance, or maybe I should curse the bottle of cheap wine and heat at the moment, for giving the pregnancy test kit double pink strips. My pregnancy symptoms couldn’t be hidden from Dad; after all, he is a doctor. On the same raining evening, both of Dad and Mum quarrelled over my pregnancy issue. Neither of them willing to admit their failure as parents, since they are well-known as devoted Christian in the church. Teen pregnancy was such a great embarrassment for the family, and this was what they concerned about.
The 6th commandments stated that: Do not murder.
Dad taught me the Ten Commandments while I was still attending Sunday school. Yet he was the one who suggested abortion as the solution, my heart sunk when I overheard the conversation. Mum wanted me to be sent to Australia so that no one would question anything about me. They were afraid that their position as cell group leaders would be affected by my shameful conduct. The atmosphere was clouded with selfishness. That time, they were both wearing platinum cross. The cross was still shiny but it looked so strange to me at the meanwhile. Suddenly I felt like I was not known them so much that I thought.
Who are they?
Burst in tears, I ran out from the house. It was the deadly evening, when the sky was still crying. I ran down the street when tears and rain had blurred my vision. I heard someone was crying for help, it was she holding an unconscious little girl in her skinny arms. Her little face was as pale as a white paper and long term malnutrition caused her body shrunk. It might be the darkest night in her life, where no hear her, more accurately, people in the city chose not to hear her.
Could somebody help my daughter?
I walked past her and I stole a glance on her. She was hopeless as I did. Her shriek in the stagnant air echoed in the rain, where no one offers her a helping hand. I was one of the deaf.
Who cares?
No one would ever hear our cries, in this dark season. I ran down the street headed to his house and begged him to settle the mess; sadly I was stormed out from his garden like a stray dog. All of his lovely promises withered like the flowers out of the sudden, my world darkened in the midst of heart-brokenness. Before I lost my consciousness, I saw a car speeding on my way...
It was the second time I met her. I was lying on bed in hospital. I looked out from the window and I saw her plucking some white flowers from the garden. Her face was like a zombie, she must had been hit by a terrible tragedy. Suddenly a familiar scene popped up in front of me.
The little girl...
My body was still too weak to move after severe bleeding for being knocked down by a car. I nudged the nurse changing my bandage, asking her about the lady. Frowned with impatience between her eye brown, still she answered.
Her daughter passed away, on the same day you are admitted into hospital. She had asthma attack; most probably she could be saved if someone did Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, I mean CPR on her. It was too late when someone sent her into hospital.
My heart sunk upon hearing this. I couldn’t help to relax my facial muscle when I saw two figures walking into the room. Dad gave a sign to the nurse to leave us room for a confidential conversation. Dad coughed discreetly, before he started.
Chloe, God had settled everything for us.
He pointed a finger to my abdomen. I would never forget the disgusting smile on his face. I was in an emotional conflict to know that I had lost my baby.
Everything is so perfectly planned. You were knocked down by a car and rushed to this hospital. Coincidentally, I was on duty that time. Without anyone notice, I aborted it from your uterus. This issue would be swept under carpet forever. God is good, ain’t He?
A wave of confusion hit my mind. Too many things happened at the same time. Few hours ago, I was pregnant and her daughter still in her arms, alive. Now my womb was empty, so did her arms. All had gone, like the flower in the garden; here today and gone tomorrow, a wave tossed in the ocean or vapour in the wind. Now no more...
Time passed and I never meet her until that raining evening. I took out a fine decorated box; it was my necklace with a gold cross pendent. It was given to me ever since I was born. I thought I had found my identity in it, but I was wrong. The bible never mentions about a gold cross, what I know is it was stained with Jesus’ blood. It is ugly and heavy, and Jesus has bore it for me. I took out my beautiful cross on it that day when I realized this shouldn’t be in this way.
I am greatly humbled by the love God has for me, though His people are truly disappointing in their conduct. Somehow this old lady, perhaps never heard about Jesus, never been invited to church, or Easter dinner, had shown me what love is.
She reminded me who am I.
I am a sinner saved by grace.
I took my umbrella and a plastic bag with apples and bread. I have ears but I was deaf, I have eyes but I was blind, I had a gold cross on my neck yet I had no Christ in my heart. I had lost a chance to tell her about Jesus, and clearly I know there wouldn’t be any second chance every times.
In the raining evening, I walked to her with this prayer in my heart: I want to meet her in heaven.
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