November 12, 2013 – A beloved’s lost kept my soul downhearted. Fasting and sleep-deprived nights, I shared in her death. It kept me from those grins, paper works and gaiety.
‘Twas a weeklong of prayer wrestling, indeed. Questions overshadowed my coping mind against regression of those times when a simple text message could have helped her change that deceptive act; or of our last life talk together when I could have uplifted her more.
But the last thing I heard from my fellow friend were the words, “We lost her.”
I died in tears. They knew I wouldn’t accept the thought. That my memory would disregard that insert, and make believe it didn’t occur. But that would be the carnal of me. Woe to me, if that were.
Tears gushed in as I couldn’t help myself from staring my bedroom ceiling. I was hopeless. And time to time, I could imagine how my meek and lovely friend was enduring those hopeless and depressive moments in her wilderness.
Trying to divert my sadness, I tried to enjoy myself. Not going anywhere but just be homey with my own bloodline. Even abstained from talking with others and just find joy in the simplest matters at home, I tried them all.
It was an initial reaction after learning that her family was one of the major factors of her lost.
I sought for my own, traced how I grew up and asked God to heal my own pains in my household. From the growing comparisons, mutual bitterness to day-to-day envy, I asked Him to melt them down.
Unwanted, she was. With that weakened soul after her burial, I tried to rest but ended asking my mom about it at home.
Never thought my mom would be able to identify with her. I learned my mom’s childhood heartaches, when she was given away to a relative due to financial challenges.
I felt my mother’s tenderness and boldness. She herself decided, that though such pain she experienced while growing up away from her family and with those judging eyes persecuting her, that she would build a lovely home and nurture her own family with love and caress.
And she did. I am a fruit of her decision.
After listening to my mom, I prayed to smile away my tears and learn from my friend’s death and my mother’s choice.
God shifted my saddened heart to a grateful one. He reminded me How He placed me in a family, that though differences exist, still loves and cares for me just as I am.
Honestly, I can still feel my heart bleeding in its grief and pain. I didn’t just lost a friend but a comrade in this spiritual battle.
In laughter or in mourning, God reminds me that He gives and takes away.
I had to let Mylene go.
And go through this upward journey in peace with my Lord.
This has been my first blow of such in my lifetime. And I am reminded that in every heart’s doorway we enter, God has plotted a story. Before we knew that we’re done with the pathway, a purpose should be fulfilled and not be put in vain.
We all have a purpose to each and everyone we know. And we must fulfill it according to God’s will.
To whoever, whatever, whenever or wherever He takes us, may He use us as His vessel, set apart for His glory.
So if someone cleanses himself of such behavior, he will be a vessel for honorable use, set apart, useful for the Master, prepared for every good work.
-2 Timothy 2:21