infiniteperspective.net

Don’t you sometimes wish that you were given a book entitled “How to Live”? Think about it: Upon birth, each of us receives a personalized manuscript detailing directions on how to negotiate life. Each hardbound edition with letters inscribed in gold tells each individual what path to take and what the consequences are of each courses of action. This way we wouldn’t have to keep on guessing whether the decisions we make are sound or not.
Take cancer patients like me, for instance. Perhaps chapter two of my custom-made copy of “How To Live” would read: “Be warned that at 26 years old, just when you are quite successful in your career and you’re ready to start a family of your own, cancer will come visiting.” I wonder how my parents would react to that when I was born back in 1979. I suppose they’d scour every book and ask physicians about cancer. Of course, since medical breakthroughs in cancer treatment back then were not as advanced as they are today, I suppose they’d get so depressed, expecting that they’d surely lose me at such a young age. Then they’d probably treat me like china and not allow me to have a normal childhood, with the hope that the prediction would somehow reverse itself. Of course, when I would come of age, I’d surely think twice about acquiring a boyfriend or a husband and well, should the pressure of love be too much to resist, I’d doubtless just get married but would never, under any circumstance, have a baby. I’m sure my parents would work doubly hard to earn more money and save a lot of it for treatment. They’d also probably think twice before giving me the younger brother and the still younger sister that I have now.

Then again, imagine the endless bouts of melancholy that we would have been subjected to. I’d most certainly miss being a normal kid and would have to endure being fussed over at the slightest fall. I’m also equally sure that I would not have been allowed the opportunity to travel and see other lands at quite a young age. I’m sure I’d have preoccupied myself with thoughts of dying that I would not have entertained the idea of loving. And despite the financial abundance that such a warning might bring, the mental torture would probably bring anguish enough to make everyone in the family unravel psychologically, spiritually and physically.

I suppose the mystery of life lies in the unexpected twists and turns that we meet along the way. Just when we though that the road is paved and smooth, we encounter a bump that forces us to take a detour to some rutted, potholed street. And yet the beauty of it is that before we stumble upon that roadblock, we are able to have a life. We are allowed to laugh, to cry and exist the way we want to. These minor detours also sharpen our wits and fuel the innate human drive for survival. Such huffing and puffing may seem terribly inconvenient, but they actually serve their purpose.

In dreadfully confusing times, I pray to God for clear-cut signals. Last night, I actually said: “Lord, short of appearing to me and telling me the exact thing to do in this situation, please give me crystal clear signals on what to do next.” Well, He hasn’t actually whispered in my ear to do this or that. Neither has He appeared to me with a host of angels commanding me what to do. He has also stopped heaven’s printing presses from printing me a personal copy of “How To Live.” But somehow, there’s clarity in the future strides that I am about to take. I can only surmise that life’s ultimate wonder lies in the assuring touch of God’s hand in my heart.

Now that’s as clear as any signal anyone can get.

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.