There is no discrimination, in suffering

At one point in our lives, we’ll experience pain in some form. When the pain is so unbearable that the only prayer coming out of our lips is “Help me, God!” don’t stress over the fact that it’s not lengthy or theologically rich. In those moments the very help we receive is God himself in the person of the Holy Spirit. This presence can be through a particular person, thought of hope or strength, a book someone was inspired to write just so you can find courage through reading it, etc.  Here’s one of my own experience during one of such unbearable painful moments in the past.

Quote from my future novel.

“Laying in bed was the new activity I reluctantly had to accept, chained down by the mystery of unbearable pain. This pain brought along a certain amount of fear at times. But then there was a level of pain I’ve achieved where nothing but silence reigned, no questions, no reasoning, no fear, only silence. It’s in this horizontal position with a face washed by tears that I saw my bed expend quickly suddenly holding millions upon millions of broken diseased infested (physically or emotionally) humans. Their faces also washed in tears, millions upon millions of tears. People of all ages, from every nation, both genders and from all sorts of belief backgrounds. Holy Ghost in the shape of motherly presents sat, tears in her eyes, next to me ever so gently wiping my brow. I found temporary relief every time she did that and I was very grateful. I was not mad, angry, demanding answers or asking questions, because I saw how much God cared for me and her presence by my side day and night was constant. I don’t feel alone. She didn’t have to say one word for I understood every emotion or thought she exchanged with me. In her eyes, I saw how she mourned every single one of us, not just me, and on the bed of suffering, there wasn’t discrimination. It was equally devastating for her to see our suffering. Her heart was wounded and her face was burdened by our collective suffering, an emotion she felt far deeper than we’ll ever understand. Silent, loyal and everpresent by the side of suffering and pain she sat and wiped our sorrows softly.

I had no strength to finish a fragmented prayer I began, but she did it for me by looking deeply into my soul through my eyes and uttering the most intense pleading prayer without as much as parting her lips. But I could hear it. I didn’t understand the strange language full of color and sounds no human being will ever understand or utter. But I knew this was Trinity’s language and I only heard it from the outside, but there was an inner depth I could not hear or see but somehow know it was there. The language was meant for them that much I understand, on behalf of us, their children, whom at one point or another chose to divide among themselves driven by fear and hate. Our choice. Not theirs. A set of chains called “human will” were wrapped around her hands. Every hateful act against one another added more tears and pain to the bed of suffering which began to groan with a fresh wave of pain affecting all of us and her. I looked into her eyes but she didn’t hate us for hurting her. She loved us. Because we were her children.”

I felt the need to add this fragment now before the book is being done (maybe in a couple of years), because some of us may need to read this today.

God Bless:)

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