The boys that I work with in Don Bosco Boys Home are not the regular type of boys. Most of them come from dysfunctional families and even some have nothing to call a family. The experiences that I hear from them dwarf the little hassles that I went through growing up. Call it strange, I admire the courage the boys possess in facing life and struggling against the torrent of misfortunes.
You’d see them now smiling with eyes twinkling but behind these lie the still unsaid burdens that no one could hear unless one listens.
I gave one afternoon talk before them and advised them to be careful with their words. Wounds from verbal abuse run deep and all of them know it. The body could recover from a bruise but the heart could not, no, not even through time. All of us have our own share both in the receiving and giving ends of verbal warfare but how much time do we give ourselves in thinking twice before the next flurry of hurting words come out of our mouths?
I had to take aside one boy one afternoon. Apparently he was teased and bullied and he didn’t know just how to express the anger building inside him. All he could do is run away from the situation and unload his frustrations unseen. I felt pity for him and I tried cheering him up with a glass of buko juice. But I also felt pity on those bullies who, unbeknownst to them, are just repeating the very things they had received from badmouthing and insult.
It’s all a cycle of hurts that must simply stop. To react is to add to the momentum of the wheel of hate and everyone is run down by everyone’s hate. It is pathetic, humanity killing itself by passing to the next person the hurts no one wants to receive.
Healing starts only by the truthful acceptance of the hurt. By this we become human.
But healing is completed by the selfless act of forgiveness and love. By this we become divine.
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