Saturday, April 6, 2013

家家有本难念经 Every home has a difficult pray to recite.

I post a plant which I found in the jungles of Singapore. The plant hardly blooms and the flower is very precious to me, because my friends' plants didn't bloom at all. The plant is like some bereaved parents. The flower blooms for one day and dies.

http://www.blackjungleterrariumsupply.com/Typhonium-divaricatum_p_1899.html


念经  Every home has a difficult pray to recite.

Today is the first Sunday after Easter. Last Sunday, my pastor talked about feeling sad. He thought of his first born son who had died. I was thinking, if  the pastor can feel sad, then it is OK for me to feel sad too. 

I don't feel sad any more, after I wrote my book "Diary of a bereaved Mother,  丧失儿子的母亲的一本传记" God gave me a different role. I no longer felt a need to be comforted, but I am able to comfort others. I belong to groups of bereaved parents and I use my experience to tell these mums and dads that it is ok to cry.

While writing my book, I cried all my tears. While I remember  writing and thinking 家念经, my grandmas, my aunties and then me. In the early days, I didn't accept this, I asked God, yes, everyone has a difficult prayer, but why is it mine is so much harder to recite.

Before my book, I already blogged about my 家念经, I found fellow bereaved parents. That was partly what instigated me to write my book. A News Paper journalist and a Television producer asked me why.

One evening, a cousin chatted with me on Facebook. We do not know each other well because I am much older than him. I had gone abroad while he was in his formative years. I had heard that his wife was barren, a stigma over there.

Our Grandma had lost 2 babies, his mum had lost one. He told me about the still born, and I thought he was talking about the baby his mum had lost. God told me to stop and listen. He was relating to the baby he lost.  He had not told any one before because society was not so accepting of people talking about their bereavement of a baby. He opened his soul and his heart. I imagine he was crying too. It was heart wrenching. The pain was excruiating.

My cousin has a 家念经 and it was not acceptible in the culture he was living to talk about it. I told him he could chat with me anythime.

I am glad I had left Malaysia to New Zealand where I can recite freely my
念经.

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