Hospital Musings

There was a moment in my life where I thought things couldn’t get any worse. But it did. My life was crumpling, my soul was shattering, my heart…well, for a time, my heart thankfully was intact. It was the strength of will, the strength of my heart that carried me through a moment of trial until it, too, was broken. Now I’m not talking about any one of my experiences here in the MOMUSA ministry. This was a time when my life was heading to hell, emotionally, and, yeah, spiritually.

I had two uncles who supposedly committed suicide when I was very little. I grew up in the shadow of bitterness and anger within my family because of these situations. I had two cousins (well, one of them is actually also an uncle) who were stabbed to death. One died because of a gang fight we were involved in. The other one died by the hand of a relative who in his drunken stupor lost control. Both their deaths filled me with anger, frustration, and hatred.

I was very hateful growing up. Revenge was constantly on my mind. Hatred. The pain of losing my cousins, my "pwipwis" was so great and overwhelming. They're gone and there's nothing I can do about it. I was a very bitter child, especially during my high school days. I was also sad for most of the time, ironic for one with a name such as mine. You see, I take great pride in my family and the island that I represent, an island reputed to be the home of bravery and manliness. I take pride especially in my family. All my cousins know that I got their backs. All of them know that I will stick up for them no matter what. Come to think of it, I’d lay down my life for anyone of them.

I know a lot of us like the idea of gangbanging and stuff. I grew up in a family where gang fights was a like a national pride. For a time I was walking around with a gun stuffed in my beltline, and a small knife in my back pocket. Forgive me if I am getting a little specific. I need to share this. People need to know. I was in a situation where I helped an uncle escaped from the cops after beating up on another guy. Now, don’t misunderstand my intentions here. I am not bragging about any of this. I am actually very regretful that I didn’t listen to my Mom and Dad and walk away from it all. I rue the day that I did not heed listen to their advice or just baske in their care, which was always there. Mom and Dad, if by chance you are reading this, know that I love you and I miss you. Forgive me. My life will always carry scarred memories from those experiences, and although the burden is released upon Christ, I will have to live with those memories etched in my mind.

Why am I saying all of this? What’s my point? What am I getting at? I grew up in a very dysfunctional family. I’ve experience the pain of losing communications with parents, rebelling, trying to do things my way, my own way. The way I think things ought to be done. I know what it’s like to be a two-face liar. Church people see me as dutiful obedient pastor’s son. Others, my hang-out buddies during those times, see me for what I truly was: a criminal, a vandal, a very hateful guy. I know what it’s like to bear a burden so great, it hurts. But, yet, too proud to admit it.

When I was laying on the hospital bed "crying and feeling sorry for myself", that fateful Saturday morning, I realized that there are others who bear the same kind of burden that I use to carry. Pain, sadness, anger, and bitterness were once a part of me too. I realized that there are others whose pain is much bigger than my “angioedema” eyes.

Let me chill with the sob story and point to God who deserves all glory. Maybe you are feeling my conviction. My truest intention is to point you to God's Holy Inscription: the Bible, especially to Christ, his Son, who died for our sins. He took away my pain and the ugly depiction which my life was portraying. Come to Jesus. Experience his love. Enjoy his presence. Be free. Jesus said, "Cast all burdens and worries unto me and I will give you rest." May you experience this rest that Jesus gives. God bless!

Happiness Lodge