Intermission XVI: Death, Doubt, and Divinity.

Have finally finished off all seven volumes of happy rotter, and I must say, I enjoyed them more than i initially thought I would (here I sense the jester doing a peevesiesque whoop of glee).

So many deaths occur in there, with enough anguish and sense of loss written into the pages for it to hit me how fragile life is, both in and out of fiction. And then it struck me hard, all these thoughts of the brushes that my family's had with death and survived.

My earliest memory of such an incident was as a child of four, five, when I contracted a severe case of dengue. Those who know about it will remember that there isn't any surefire treatment for it. I remember my gran and my mum desperately making herbal (eeeuch) concoctions, forcing it down my throat daily. But that didn't help, if the doctor's gloomy warning to my dad was any indication. 

I have been told, and I believe, that I survived solely by the grace of God's mercy. And I have often wondered, what made Him grant my father, then a non-believer's plea? Perhaps how my father put his faith in Him, despite not truly knowing Him? Acknowledging His might and will, in saying 'I beg you, give her back to me, but if it's Your will to take her, take her?'. In any case, after prayers were said over me, I passed the night of reckoning unscathed, the virus having disappeared from my blood completely by the next morning.

And so my survival became the pivotal point of change in my parents' attitude towards Christianity. 

Thinking about all the times my mum's had brushes with death, it makes me shudder. Just recently, she's had a brush with another snake, only this time the idiot creature was hiding in the house. It doesn't come as any relief that it wasn't poisonous this time round; the last one she encountered was mildly venomous. And the time a top heavy branch crashed down onto the road right after her car passed, barely missing her boot? 

Sometimes, thinking about my dad going on trips overseas, my mum being on her own at home with only Doong as companion... it shakes me up, thinking of what could possibly go wrong. And then I mutter a quick prayer to God to watch over them, remembering that He's kept us all safe all this while. I betcha my parents do the same thing, except perhaps my mum's prayers will be much longer. 

But then the next time I hear news about a trip, the worry creeps back again, and I say another prayer, which calms my fears down for the meantime. Does that make me a person of little faith? Feeling fear and worry despite having known His protection and care all these years? Should I not worry, since I know He'll protect us anyway (that smacks of taking things for granted though)? Or is it only human frailness that makes us worry and doubt, despite everything He's done?

But I guess that's the very reason we run to Him. And hence, the very essence of our faith: leaning on Him because we are, essentially, very frail beings, and knowing His strength can and will support us all. 

Chapter Thirty-seven: Knocking You Off Your Pedestals.

Caught the end of a whiplash tongue

From one whose praises I might have sung

Why does it feel like stigma by association

Or is it merely just me imagination

I caught myself from sassing you back
And not just because I abide by tact
Or disdain to hit you with knowledge you lack
Now I'm just disgusted by your collective act

The words one gave, yesterday and today
Did all but give your sentiments away
Looks like you've indeed found your own kind
In my eyes tis fitting that like does like find

I poured enough of the bitterness that some did beget
The rash words I uttered in anger I do regret
Remain in there, as mere faces met
Or perhaps as lessons I'll never forget.

Chapter Thirty-six: A Fire to Warm Your Bones.

Once upon a curious world four wanderers lived, each in their own corner of the land.

Now then, in each of their own corners, these four had lived twenty moons or more, and indeed had felt joy, sorrow, and created their own share of havoc in their own day. And as the young are wont to do, they set out to travel down the twisty forest of living. And so they slung their weighty burdens over their shoulders and off they went away,  trying to find their paths while steering free of the brambles that grew over and around the way. 

Meandering and blundering through the tangles of the forest, two of these four came together, and in gladness they joined hands and walked forward together, yet going around in circles and losing their way. 

And yet another one, chasing a rainbow that appeared bright in the sky, found himself tripping on vines that lay across his path. Still did the rainbow tantalize him, for it appeared before him in all its glory, only to disappear when he stretched his hands to grab hold of it.

And the fourth wanderer, who was carefully exploring his way, found a wounded fox that he took with him as he journeyed, gently nursing it back to health. But alas, as stronger it grew by the day, the fox did leave the wanderer, and ran away. And so he was left alone, in the darkness of the forest's gloom. 

Tired of the shadows in the forest, the bramble-weary wanderers, while seeking shelter from the cold winds that blew their hearts cold, finally, wearily stumbled into a clearing.

And so sat they down to rest awhile, when they began to stoke a fire to warm themselves. Gently did the fire flicker, and grew stronger as the foursome fed it, till it became a warm glow that held them close.

And here this wanderer prays that they can keep the fire glowing, a fire not only of humans' making, that gives a warmth that will see them through the deepest chill. 

May the Father grant this prayer. Amen.