Some nights ago, as I was on the MRT, I saw a woman with her child. Nothing special about them, apart from the looks in their eyes. The woman was around my age perhaps, she was carrying her baby son, and also a large sized bag. She seemed barely able to manage carrying both, but thankfully she found a seat in the MRT. Her face shows that she had probably had a tiring day. Indeed, a very tiring day it seems. She looked a bit sad. Her son, who was most likely not more than 1 year old, was a handsome little boy. He, too, looked rather sleepy. Nevertheless, his eyes looked around, curiously, as every baby boy of that age would. He seemed rather confused, or something, but definitely not a happily contented baby look. It was 11.30 at night, and one just can't help but wonder what might have been the matter, that a young woman would take her baby and a large sized bag, as if they were on the run, out on the MRT so late at night.

I can’t really describe that well, but they somehow reminded me of myself and Raphael… some 2-3 years ago. Especially the look in their eyes. Somehow, that night, the old wounds in my heart was torn open once again. The more I looked at them, the more intense the pain I felt.

I cried.

Somehow, I felt as if they are going through similar trials which I faced 3 years ago. I felt as if I could sympathize so well with them, that it hurts so much. Perhaps, I was just too imaginative. But to imagine or witness someone else having to go through a similar experience I once had, was heartbreaking. Especially for the innocent child who couldn’t do anything but wonder what was not right. The innocent has always been the victim. The more I looked into the little boy’s eyes, the more it reminds me of Raphael, 3 years ago. I may not notice it then, but people tell me that he was somehow “lacking” in something.

My memories took me back to 3 years ago. Running away from home, with bruised arms and legs, and bleeding head and torn lips, still having to carry my child with me to safety, not having a clue of where to go; definitely can’t be considered a pleasant experience. Nor would I describe it using the word “exciting”. The experience involved more of a mixture of feelings. Fear, intense sadness, anger, without any self-worth. But the most intense was the feeling of helplessness, and fear of the child’s well-being. Only God, and a person who has experienced the loss of dignity would know how painful it is to be in such situation. And moreover, the feeling of having your innocent child, who is entirely dependent of you, helplessly connected to your fate, was extremely painful. The feeling of helplessness, not being able to provide, not being able to make your beloved child happy as most other children are, threatened to lose the child to violence… a similar kind of fear which I somehow sensed from the woman with the child.

I couldn’t figure out a thing to approach them, or possibly offer something… anything at all if it could make them feel any better. I reached my destination, and got off the train. I felt rather lonely, for I realized that noone could ever fully comprehend what I have been through. Not even my other half, who was with me that night. Such is the case for anybody else. Personal experiences are more powerful than theorized “should-be feelings”. Perhaps this was God’s selfish way of keeping each one of us in constant need of Him, for only He alone understands our innermost being… Or probably it would be more appropriately described as His love – the reckless and selfish part of it, as every serious lover would be familiar with.

It also came to my thought, that we are most of the time so superficial. We live in a superficial world, which values only external appearances up to a limited depth. We are so in love with our own problems (which most of the time, are a result of our own exaggeration of something out of nothing), that we failed to notice how blessed we are.

For the woman and the child, I could only wish them all the best. And should they indeed experience the trials as what I have thought, I plead with God that He would deliver them through, as how He had previously delivered me to abundant peace, for only through extreme turmoils that the heart learns of peace.

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