That Christian journey I took nine years ago

I know I am still alive when I am capable of crying till my eyes puffed up. It may be nine years ago but sometimes, like now, something will trigger off that dam which floods.

Lent always do this to me. So, in a way, I am glad that I do feel the sombre mood. Glad that a strong person like me who never cried a tear in front of anyone did it when the Lent thoughts overwhelmed.

It is part of being a Christian. If I had not had a son who died, I would not have turned to Christ. I would not be able to feel how Mary, the Mother of Christ felt when they sent her son to death.

I wouldn’t be able to understand what ‘carrying the cross’ means. I wouldn’t be able to feel what pain feels.

So, yes, inspite of all that, I feel rejoice. I feel gladness. I feel the embrace of God.

I was just reading up some very old posts I wrote in 2005 till now. Everything is still vivid in my mind. Usually, Easter is not so close to May 1st. Easter usually falls much earlier.

This year, it is so close to May 1st. The significance of Good Friday, Easter and May 1st are what made me Christian. It was on Good Friday that I gave up believing in my old faith and grasped Christianity. It was Easter the following year that I embrace Christ. It was May 1st of 2002 that my son Vincent died.

It is not a good thing to hang on, cling to and cried over something that happened nine years ago. In fact, I don’t do that. But sometimes, I allowed myself to be human.

We Christians see tears as cleansing the soul. It is only when we feel weak that we learn to depend on God.

Now, I recalled those dreaded days when I have nothing else to hang on to. It is only the belief in Christ that allowed me the will to live and trust that my son, though dead, is still alive with Christ.

I am listening to Don Moen ‘Our Father’ now. Oh how I cried day after day and only soothed by this song. I do not know Christ then and that’s the closest I can connect.

Grieving over the death of my son has been one road that I chose to walk alone. I can’t stand the sympathetic looks my relatives and in-laws gave me. Others can’t understand and made it much worse. If not for my belief in Jesus Christ and the God that I never knew before, I suppose it would have been hell.

But God loves me, I suppose. I walked on.

So, I rejoice in God’s loving embrace. I have never stopped believing in God. I never forget how glad I was that God turned my broken life after the death of my son to what I am today. My four other children are all so wonderful. I guess they are such lovely kids because of that tragedy too.

My three older boys had a chance to learn what caring is. They cared for Vincent. Measuring the cocktails of medicines Vincent had to take to keep him alive. Adjustiing the oxygen machine. Help to watch over him so that he didn’t turned blue while I take a bath.

My youngest boy was born after Vincent. But he too knows he had an older brother. He would be the perfect play partner if he had not died because they are only 2 years apart.

So, yeah, thank God. It is Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter and then, going to be 1st May. It hurts still. But then, it’s me, the obnoxious one. I can survive anything.

Probably, I will forget these feelings when I wake up tomorrow. There is so much to live for and so much to do.

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