A Bit of LIfe Sharing

Many years ago I was jobless for a long duration and had not done enough to find a source of livelihood that would be adequate for my family's daily needs.

There wasn't enough money for food, for house rent, for electricity, for water. Then my wife became pregnant and the time for her to deliver the baby was fast approaching. I panicked.

I didn't have the face to borrow money anymore from relatives and acquaintances because I was neck-deep in unpaid debt.

There was a great burden on my shoulder and I was looking for anyone to share the burden with. I found no one.

One morning I roamed the city streets aimlessly, not wanting to think anymore. My mind was exhausted. My spirit felt defeated.

Without really meaning it, I found myself in the basement of a church where, I learned some time later, prayer meetings were regularly held.

The place was empty when I arrived. There were rows of seats there in a large open space lined on two sides with rooms that looked like offices. I sat in a pew at the last row, shoulders sagged, torso bent forward, head bowed down. I was nursing despair and self-pity.

After a while somebody showed up beside me. I must had been so lost in confused thought because I didn't notice the man's approach.

He said in a soft voice, "Good morning, brother. May I talk to you?"

I looked at his face. I saw a genuine smile and an air of gentleness in his person as he introduced himself. "Yes," I gave a delayed, hesitant reply.

"I was watching you from my office the moment you came in, and continued to observe you until you sat here. I don't mean to intrude, but it seemed to me that you have a great problem." I was looking at the floor when I nodded my reaction to what he just said.

"If you can share with me your problem, I might think of a way to help you." I don't know how to explain it, but those sincere words from a complete stranger suddenly removed some of my negative feelings that morning.

He sat there with sympathetic ears as I told him all the things that troubled me, occasionally nodding and asking questions when some of the things I said were not clear to him.

When I was finished, he calmly said, "I'm not in a position to help with your financial problem. But I know of some people who might be. By the way, have you approached your closest friends? Maybe those whom you haven't seen for years?"

For the first time in a great while, I found myself smiling. "Thank you, brother," I said to him.

"Are you relieved that you shared your burden with me?" He asked. "I am!" I exclaimed mildly.

His last words before we parted were: "You see, talking about your problem to a sympathetic listener has a healing effect."

The man was not a priest. He was, in his own words, an ordinary person like me, but he served in an office called Healing Mnistry. That was the first and the last time I saw him.

I keep looking back at that moment, when out of the blue one person voluntarily and willingly offered himself to be a trash bin for my emotional garbage. He must have done it to who knows how many other people besides me. I told myself, if I had my chance I would do the same thing he did one very low moment of my life.

Now is my chance.