One of my earliest childhood memories is of hearing sounds. Not the loving caressing sounds mother’s make to little babies, nor even the chatter of brothers and sisters at home; but rather the shouting and yelling of hordes of children. For my childhood began in a convent as my parents had abandoned me. As I grew up, I was sent to school and lived in a hostel run by the sisters. Even at that age I realized the closeness and belonging that other children had towards their parents. As per the hostel rules, parents were allowed to come over at weekend and meet their children. As he weekend would approach, I used to wait for my parents, longing to see them and give them a hug, as I saw my friends do with their parents. With tears in my eyes, I would have my gaze fixed at the front gate hoping that they would come some day. But they never did. When I asked about my parents, I was told that they would never come, as they did not want me.
I felt lonely, forsaken and angry with my parents. As time went on I subconsciously developed anger towards God for having allowed me to grow up without parental love. Hurting deep inside myself, I channeled my energy and time into my studies and became a top student. I prided myself on my intelligence and independence, with never so much as a thank you to anyone, let alone God. I went to college in Shimla and had many friends from all parts of India. I looked up to them to fill the emptiness I had within me. In order to remain updated to the worldly standard, my friends and I would not miss a single ball in cricket matches, watch the latest MTV hits, get the latest fashions etc. I knew these pleasures were temporary but I depended on them to fill the void of a lack of love in my life.
In 1999 I attended a retreat in Kerala, a life in the Spirit seminar. The last day was the Baptism of the Holy Spirit session and as I progressed I could here people shouting and crying. The Priest leading the session explained that Jesus is present in the Blessed Sacrament. I wondered to myself why nothing was happening to me. He quoted from Isaiah 49:15 “can a woman forget her own baby and not love the child she bore ? Even if a mother should forget her child, I will never forget you” I was shocked; the words seemed to be spoken specifically to me. They burned a lasting imprint into my mind and heart. Tears welled up in my eyes and as I looked towards the blessed sacrament, I saw a figure, with arms outstretched towards me. It was Jesus and He also was weeping. Believe me friends, Jesus wept. He wept with me..He wept for me...I had a deep sense of being understood by someone at last. And not just understood; here was someone who was crying along with me.
From that moment I was a changed person and my relationship with Jesus has been growing everyday. He gave me guidance and strength to walk in His ways. I spent time with Him and the desire for worldy pleasure died down. I received the grace to forgive my parents and to pray for them and love them. I feel no pain now.