
Yesterday, I was surprised that my CF teacher asked me to come in front of the altar in our school chapel to a faith sharing… I was really shocked and nervous! I don’t know what to say and where to start. I found out later on that my classmates forgot to inform me that I will be the one to share in front of the class. I went forward I flashed a wide smile and said, “I’m not ready and I don’t know how to begin”, but of course the main purpose why I was there standing in front of them is to share something… then I started it by sharing my own experienced in life… It goes like this “I grew up in a broken home” then I struggled to hold back my tears. Yah every time I recall about my past, I can’t help but cry…
My first eight years were the painful years of my early life. I was only one year old when my parents separated. As I grew up I began to search for love, guidance and comfort. My mother was a caring, affectionate woman with a heart full of love but because of financial difficulties and being a single parent she was forced to leaved us and go abroad to work.
I remember something that happened frequently in my early years. Many times I found my mom in a corner all by herself, in tears. “Mama, why are you crying” I would ask. She would pretend that she was fine, but I knew differently. She was crying for my father. Whenever I asked when my father was coming home, my mom got a far away look in her eye and always gave the same answer, “Someday he will return”.
Our family never heard anything from my father. Whenever his name was mentioned by our other family members, they will say how bad he was for abandoning his wife and children. My mother was different in her attitude about my father. She kept waiting for him to come home someday. But someday never came…
Looking back after all these years I remember how I sat in one corner and thinking it was all a bad dream, a nightmare from which I would soon wake up and find that my family is whole again…
Sharing my painful experienced in life in front of my classmates was the moment that pain and hurt filled my heart again.
When I was eight years old I became a born again Christian. That moment on I started to seek for an answer by reading the bible. I can still vividly remember how I talked to God and cried in soft sobs, “God if you are really true can you give me a father”? Even after all these years I cannot describe the pain I felt or find the words to express. All I knew that time was I wanted a father, nothing more. A father who will support and guide me in my early stage of life…
I thought God didn’t answer my petition. It took many years before I understand why and realized that God answered my prayer because He gave himself for me to be my father. Even without the presence of my real father, God let me feel that He is guiding and protecting me every steps of my way. Until now I can still feel His love, a love that even my father cannot give. He filled all the emptiness in my heart that I had learned to forgave my father and let go of my past. . .