Life Goes On

My tear ducts have been getting a lot of exercise lately. I don't think I can rival Judy Ann Santos in the lachrymal olympics but I've recently signed up for the race. My most recent work-out just happened today, at the office.

(I was considering to relate here what happened but am deciding against it. It still stings a bit. Let me just say that with my immediate boss gone, and with me in charge, I had to straighten out kinks in some work concerns, which involved me writing a Denmark-bound apology letter and reminding our relatively-new security guard of his duties.)

This I am learning:
I could mask the bitter taste of pills with chocolate but there's nothing to sugarcoat feelings of frustration and hurt.

As I cried out to God how I upset I was, it was like a dam suddenly burst: all the other feelings swelling in my heart flowed, and mixed with the salty tears. Like a puny creature shaking its fist at the Creator, I challenged God:

"You are not fair God, because . . . Powerful? So how come You did not . . . "

(On hindsight, it was only by the incredible grace and infinite love of God that I did not get struck by lightning the instant I uttered those words, or even thought those accusations against the Almighty. My surge of bravery--or impertinence?--came from the fact that God sees our heart, and there's no point in lying about how I felt anyway).

The rest of the day was spent with me on catatonic mode--breathing yet barely functioning. It's a miracle I still had some work done. I was placated by the sober realization that in this fallen world, things go wrong.
In relationships.
In our affections.
In urgent fedex deliveries.

Yet life goes on.

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A more positive message is what I imagined would appear as my first entry as I take on my own thirty-day blogging challenge (Yes, I'm officially starting!). But I've let this be. This is real life. Besides, there'll be twenty-nine more days to write about.