Holding On (Part II)

I knew I wasn’t in a condition to drive last night. I was at the traffic light as the hot tears started to well up in my eyes. I quickly dabbed on them before they trickled down my face, trying hard to be strong. I saw the dude in the white car in front of me peering back through his rearview mirror. Maybe he saw, maybe he didn’t. And I couldn’t risk him or anyone else for that matter see me in such state.

As the lights turned green, I immediately sped off. Cutting in front of the dude in the white car, purposely staring straight ahead, avoiding to look his way. I travelled along the same road that took me to school… to and fro for four years of my high school life. The road that had brought so many sweet and bitter memories. But I couldn’t let what was bugging me ruin that night. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t ruin it for anyone, not even myself.

As I parked my car, I took a while before climbing out, pulling myself together. At that same moment, a Satria GTi came and parked right behind me. They were my friends. I waved frantically and they waved back. And we hugged. And God, how I needed a hug. I was so well treated and welcomed that everything that bugged me banished for the fleeting moment I was there. It was so much comforting to be around them knowing that I wasn’t the only one pedalling through life’s obstacles. And even though we shared only a fraction of what went on with our lives, we knew that there was much more to each and everyone’s stories. Upon leaving, we hugged yet again and for another evanescent period of time, I figured that things will be alright. That we’d pray for each other and knowing that one would be there for the other no matter what.

And so when things go wrong and out of place, when bitterness is striking like fired bullets, return to Him. For He is the source of all complacency. I know that all too well. And so should YOU. I drove home feeling slightly better for maybe somewhere out there… someone is praying and watching out for me.

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares. –Henri Nouwen


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