A Broken Hallelujah, A Shattered Praise

About a decade ago, when I moved back home to care for my dad in the end stages of liver cancer, my dad and I had gotten into an argument as we often did those days.  He was irrational and I was frustrated and stressed from the worries of my future and the fatigue of being his caregiver.  I remember how the neighbors laughed at overhearing our family discord and I thought how callous people are and how foolish is all of life.  And, it made me conclude that the majority of people are not idealists with lofty ambitions to better humanity and help the plight of the suffering, but  rather, petty, self centered, greedy beings here to satiate their own immediate needs which includes only their own kin and kind.  A decade later, as a mother of a child with special needs, I reflect back on that time and wonder to myself what chance in hell my son has in the world.  It is no wonder the world has all the problems that it does which seem insurmountable; humanity is not this noble race of people who are yet capable of divine ambitions.  We are slaves to our own biological imperative, the law of nature which can be cruel and merciless.  On a radio show, I learned of a type of wasp that would take "hostage" a cockroach for months as its larvae suck all nutrients from the cockroach's body until it dies as a shell of emptiness.  And, I wondered how a loving God could create such an evil mechanism for life as this?

And still, I cling to the hope of an all loving being that cares for everyone and is available to everyone who needs spiritual nourishment.  I've given up the hope that this God can solve all our problems and heal all wounds; no, the only assurance I have is that He loves us unconditionally until the ends of the world and I have accepted that that is enough.  It has to be enough for all other expectations lead to despair and disappointment.  "Hope is the bane of the idealist."

So, I can still sing and praise God albeit the song is tinged with a hue of melancholy and all I can sing is a "broken hallelujah and my offering is but a shattered praise".  It may not sound the prettiest but I refuse to give up hope that He listens and consoles me in my darkest hours.