On my drive home yesterday from work, the sun was setting on my left, leaving a beautiful orange flame around it that faded into pink rays.
It was also pouring - my vision obscured by droplets, fog and the windscreen wiper doing its job. The clouds beyond the pink were a gloomy grey, taking up most of the sky.
And then I looked to my right, and saw a rainbow, just hiding in the other corner.
I kid you not.
I started to ponder on the day I had, the conversation outside the ward that I carried with Aunty C (note previous post) who was delighted to see me again. She told me about her life, about her husband's life, how they've moved across countries, how they've fought cancer, how he's losing so much strength now in the last few days of his life.
I suppose, I felt then ever so thankful that I have some semblance of conversational ability in Cantonese.
And yet, for me, someone who gives and receives love and expresses myself best through words, I was extremely frustrated with the restricted vocabulary that I had.
There was so much that I thought that I wanted to say to comfort this woman who is about to lose everything she holds dear.. but as I type this now, I realise, that maybe in situations like these, there are just no words.
She lovingly smiled at me, with a look of resilient grace - proof that she has experienced absolute hell and made a decision to still capture whatever little seeds of joy came her way. She held on to my arm and thanked me for everything, and walked on back to the battles she had to keep facing on her own.
...
How can one dusk contain so much existence?
How can one soul contain so much emotion?
...
I tried to examine what it was that I felt from the whole experience, and just in life now in general.
I feel.. frustrated, that I can only do so much for other people. I feel a desire to go beyond the responsibilities dictated by my job. I feel compassion, a burden in my heart when I have to watch others suffer. I feel fearful of the pain and the grief that will strike hot when the worst happens. I feel honoured that the little child in me has somehow grown to become a doctor who can stand with people in their most vulnerable moments. I feel grateful for the people I could speak to in the moments where my heart was so heavy, people who understood, or people who just reminded me of goodness once again. I feel sad that my job predisposes me to have to face so much death and dying. I feel strengthened, that I am learning so much in this season. I feel encouraged to keep striving to be the best doctor I can be. I am joyful, that love still wins every time, even when circumstances fail us.
I feel blessed that I get to do life with a God that walks me through every hurt, every disappointment, every tear.. and reminds me that there is so much more in life than this, and to make it count.
Like that dusk, now permanently ingrained in my mind - elements of joy, goodness, gentlesness, sadness, fear, hopelessness, desperation all in one sunset, and in that far corner - a hope, that tomorrow will be better. In its wholeness, it was absolutely beautiful.
To feel, is a uniquely human experience to me.
Not that I particularly have much experience being anything but human.
It was also pouring - my vision obscured by droplets, fog and the windscreen wiper doing its job. The clouds beyond the pink were a gloomy grey, taking up most of the sky.
And then I looked to my right, and saw a rainbow, just hiding in the other corner.
I kid you not.
I started to ponder on the day I had, the conversation outside the ward that I carried with Aunty C (note previous post) who was delighted to see me again. She told me about her life, about her husband's life, how they've moved across countries, how they've fought cancer, how he's losing so much strength now in the last few days of his life.
I suppose, I felt then ever so thankful that I have some semblance of conversational ability in Cantonese.
And yet, for me, someone who gives and receives love and expresses myself best through words, I was extremely frustrated with the restricted vocabulary that I had.
There was so much that I thought that I wanted to say to comfort this woman who is about to lose everything she holds dear.. but as I type this now, I realise, that maybe in situations like these, there are just no words.
She lovingly smiled at me, with a look of resilient grace - proof that she has experienced absolute hell and made a decision to still capture whatever little seeds of joy came her way. She held on to my arm and thanked me for everything, and walked on back to the battles she had to keep facing on her own.
...
How can one dusk contain so much existence?
How can one soul contain so much emotion?
...
I tried to examine what it was that I felt from the whole experience, and just in life now in general.
I feel.. frustrated, that I can only do so much for other people. I feel a desire to go beyond the responsibilities dictated by my job. I feel compassion, a burden in my heart when I have to watch others suffer. I feel fearful of the pain and the grief that will strike hot when the worst happens. I feel honoured that the little child in me has somehow grown to become a doctor who can stand with people in their most vulnerable moments. I feel grateful for the people I could speak to in the moments where my heart was so heavy, people who understood, or people who just reminded me of goodness once again. I feel sad that my job predisposes me to have to face so much death and dying. I feel strengthened, that I am learning so much in this season. I feel encouraged to keep striving to be the best doctor I can be. I am joyful, that love still wins every time, even when circumstances fail us.
I feel blessed that I get to do life with a God that walks me through every hurt, every disappointment, every tear.. and reminds me that there is so much more in life than this, and to make it count.
Like that dusk, now permanently ingrained in my mind - elements of joy, goodness, gentlesness, sadness, fear, hopelessness, desperation all in one sunset, and in that far corner - a hope, that tomorrow will be better. In its wholeness, it was absolutely beautiful.
To feel, is a uniquely human experience to me.
Not that I particularly have much experience being anything but human.
And in the midst of all those emotions, I was thankful to feel so alive, to know that with each breath I am really living, that every experience and every heartbreak will make my heart stronger, yet softer altogether.
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