Painting love

Picture : Love hurts by Alephunky, on deviantart.com

As I was growing up, I was taught to recognise what is right apart from wrong. I was told to do the right things, but when I questioned the ones who taught me when they did what was wrong, the typical answer I received was, " You will understand better when you are older". At times, they admitted the offenses which were clearly wrong, but yet never ceased to defend their actions by rationalizing as far as they could. However, the standard advice I received from them was , "It is wrong to do this".... And yet I could never comprehend how it was justified for them to do it.

As a young adult who is confident of having a much mature mind and heart (in comparison to the child I used to be), much of the things they did (and still do) is still a puzzle to me. I must admit that the temptations to indulge in such incorrect and ignorant actions is a reality that is more eminent to adults than it is to children. I acknowledge my own imperfections and realise my own faults. It is impossible to be faultless in all our actions. Yet, the difficulty that I struggle with ( though I have come to accept to some degree) is the ignorance of such actions. It is hard to see why full grown men and women , who are wise enough to teach their kids what is right and what is wrong, refuse to acknowledge their own offenses and be open to a transformation of the heart. It hurts even more to helplessly watch the ones we love fall into wrongdoing.

I write out of my own personal frustration and anger. I do not disregard my own faults and imperfections. I am no saint. In fact, I see their failures as my own, reminding me of my shortcomings as a witness of truth. It just hurts when we watch the ones we love in pain because of their own actions. It hurts when at times, all that we can do is be an example; a counter-current that flows against a wave of ignorance. Sometimes, it feels hopeless. And almost all the time, it breathes painful anger into the heart.

Why am I angry? Is it because I can never see myself in such situations? I don't think so. I have been in situations that in some aspects are a lot worse. I have made mistakes that leave scars which never dissappear. Yet, I can't help but be angry at their actions. Could my anger be caused by a loss or lacking of the things a child would expect from his upbringing? Could it be that deep inside I have still not gotten over the fact that they could have done it better? Perhaps. But even as I write this, I am reminded of the love I was given as a retribution for the loss that I have experienced. I guess what really causes all the frustration is the inability to share this love with the ones that I deem dear.

The painful part about loving a person is to put away all selfish desires and to allow the beloved to take priority above oneself. At times, this means accepting their mistakes and quenching the thirst to voice out my frustrations. It may not mean that we overlook a wrongdoing, but it does mean that we allow time to think prior to taking action. And even when there is a need to say something, loving a person means not to voice out our own frustrations, but rather, to provide loving clarity, which would be impossible to do with a heart full of anger. It hurts to look beyond the anger and frustration. It hurts to give when we do not receive. But it hurts even more to give (even upon receiving) to one who takes without remorse.

It is difficult to love a sinner.... but such love has been shown to me. At times, my dissapointments and frustrations are like a cover or a seal on a container that is overflowing. I fail to share the love and forgiveness that I have received..... and it hurts even more when my failures themselves are forgiven.... To me, it is a continuous battle against selfishness. A journey towards selfless love. The road may be long and winding, but I have within me a picture of the final destination. I know what love looks like. My only prayer is that I may portray it for those who are yet to see...especially the ones who are dear to me. It is a challenge to paint love.