Grandpa’s house, the family house of my mom’s side of the family, is like our second home, its doors always open for us in laughter or in sorrow.
One night I and my sister came for our regular visit; we were greeted at the doorstep by Christmas lights shaped like a miniature tree, flickering in the dark like stars of varying colors. Aunt M did a pretty good job decorating the house – the Christmas Spirit was very much alive.
We stepped into the well-lit living room to find grandpa sitting on a black leather sofa chair, his cheerful disposition, a light on its own, brightening up the place even more. My cousin then tells me that he walked all the way from his room, a mere few steps away, to where he was seated with the supervision of his caregiver. Aunt L’s ecstatic Facebook comment from a month ago as we showed her a photo of grandpa standing upright with a cane echoed in my mind: “Papa can walk again! Praise the Lord!”
My thoughts brought me back to the time when he got ill, bedridden, and helpless a few months ago, memories of which I’d rather forget. But after all those days and nights I secretly cried to God, He finally showed me that there is indeed redemption. I smiled an incandescent smile as I carried an inexplicable joy in my heart that has been scarred countless times.
The noise grew faint and my mind fell into silence as my gaze was fixed on the Christmas lights flamboyantly changing in colors; they reminded me of life.
Originally posted at http://www.teckler.com/en/Irenewrites/Starlight-205404