Born Again 

I would often wake up at a critical point in my dream, struggling to remember that my mother was really gone. I had been given no opportunity to make up for this loss.

By Lang Wei

In my childhood memories, the skies were always grey and overcast.

I was born on a very poor small farm. My parents had to rise early and work long hours. Even then they could provide us with little more, than our basic needs. I am the middle child of three sisters and it is not surprising that in many ways, I was to some extent neglected by my parents. From my earliest years I had been rather an introverted child with very low self esteem. In this kind of love-deprived environment, books became my only friends.

My childhood and teenage years went by mostly in a mood of quiet despondency. I went diligently off to school each day and helped with the household chores at home. Whenever I had free time, I would go down to the small local library not far from our farm, where I could escape into a world of books and fantasies of days to come far from my present cold environment. .

When I became the only child in our family to pass the college entrance examination, I earned myself a certain respectability. Later on, in the workplace, my quiet hardworking personality gained my boss's attention. My work was recognized, and my subsequent promotion brought me much satisfaction and pleasure. Self-confidence and pride began to grow inside me. I felt that the dark stage of my life had passed and that now my future was in my own hands.

However, the pleasure I gained from my work did nothing to help rid me of my grudge against my parents. When I was growing up I had occasionally been aware of my parents' love, but we had become used to a relationship of mutual coldness. Because of my higher level of education and my youth, I had become very proud of myself and looked down rather condescendingly on my parents. Their marriage was not doing well due to their differences in education level and personality, and now their relationship was in the process of disintegrating completely. My mother's personality was like mine, easily depressed and stubborn. She was ashamed to admit that the marriage was in trouble, and she became increasingly unhappy and depressed. Although I felt for her, I made her feel even worse by criticizing her rather than showing sympathy.

My mother's health finally gave way and she was admitted to hospital with an inflammation of the esophagus. I comforted myself that it was just some simple complaint, and to evade my sense of guilt, I immersed myself in my busy job. I enjoyed being praised by my colleagues and boss for my efficiency. Just a few months later my mother passed away. It came as a surprise to her that her life was so quickly coming to an end and she did not even have final words to leave with us.

I remember when we three sisters went to the hospital after receiving the news. Our mother had already been placed in the morgue. That rainy March day as I sat, tearless, on the hospital staircase, I felt a sense of hopelessness, and that my relentless fate had at last caught up with me. I felt completely unable to accept the reality of the unchangeable facts. My idealistic world had collapsed. I had lost my sense of direction. Who could tell me the meaning of life? 

My mother was a good person who had always worked hard. She had started work at eighteen, yet even after 32 years, her savings and retirement funds were not sufficient to pay off her medical expenses. Other than her fancy name of "excellent teacher," all she had left those who knew her was sadness and emptiness. Her delusionary persistence in her unsalvageable marriage had brought nothing but disappointment, regret and finally depression leading to her death. Can a life just end like this, so simply and finally ?

In my heart I could not help putting the blame on my mother herself. But worse still, I found it hard to forgive myself. I gave up my good job which had been so envied by everyone else, and went off to another city to start my life anew, in the hope that this might bring me inner peace. But over the next few years, my feelings of guilt persisted. I used to have a recurring dream in which I saw my mother struggling in her illness, and myself trying with all my power to save her. Often I would wake up at a critical point in my dream and then struggle to remember that my mother was really gone. I was left with no opportunity to make up for this loss. Thinking of my mother, I would find myself envisioning the final end of my own life. In the dark stillness of the night in my rented room, I would weep alone.

I had come to the realization that a successful career could no longer be my sole goal in life. Marriage, too, is so fragile, and even a life rich in material things could never fill the vacuum in my heart. I felt a sense of helplessness at my own weakness and my inability to control my own destiny The ugliness of human life, including my own, made me depressed. Guilt and emptiness gnawed at me like a worm, leaving only an empty shell.

Coming to know Jesus was to be the turning point in my life. I remember when I first accepted the invitation to go to church. I went along to church every Sunday after that. My outward appearance might not have changed, but my heart gradually grew. The group of Christians I met at the church may have dressed simply, but joy and peace overflowed from their hearts and touched me.

The first time I attended the fellowship, one sister arrived late since one of her immediate family had just passed away. She was grieving but she had assurance that the person had gone to heaven. Another sister I knew well would never skip the meeting, no matter how tired she was after work. Although she was poor, she would never consider making more money if it meant abandoning the truth she believed in.

I could see their faith and the influence that Jesus had on them. They really trusted Him. They could willingly put to one side the things that the world counts precious, but they were persistently and with joyful and peaceful hearts pursuing after something else. What was this "something"? Who was this "Lord" they called upon? I began to long to know the words of Jesus.

What kind of peace did Jesus have in His heart that allowed Him to drop off to sleep in that small boat in the middle of a storm? What kind of power did He have that enabled Him to change water into wine and to raise the dead? How could He humble Himself to go to the cross in order to save the world? What kind of heart did He have for the world?

And He loves me too? 

Through the Bible, He told me: "I have the power to control every thing in heaven and on earth. I have come back to life from the dead. No matter what kind of person you are, I have never despised you. Come to me. I will wash away all your sins and relieve you from all your burdens. I will give you My heavenly peace. I will give you the most precious gift of all: eternal life."

Really? I can gain the peace I long for, and that perfect love can become mine? I need no longer fear death, but freely enjoy life in all its beauty ? I see the answers in the sincerity in His gaze. I clearly feel His comfort in prayer. He said, "My promise to you is forever true." And "You may trust me. I have overcome the world."

It is only through coming to know Jesus that one person can really come to know another person. I finally let go of my resentment and blame towards my mother and I forgave my father. I confessed my sins to Jesus and was set free in His love. From spiritual poverty, I have become rich in God's grace. To have Jesus is to have every thing. I have passed out of the mists of my past.


The author is from Canton, China. She lives in Toronto, Canada where she works in a bank.