I was an inconsolable freak last weekend.  I was so angry that I let my anger eat me and let my emotions control my actions.  I chose to respond in a negative way, even hurting my boys.  And God forgive me, I saw in their eyes the fear and confusion.

I went out for a walk.  I want to stop myself from destroying my sons’ trust in me.  I tried to look for hope.

What is hope?  I once read in Nick Vujicic’s Limitless that hope is where dreams begin.

It is the voice of my purpose.

I was angry because he seems to have no dreams for us.  He couldn’t even fulfill a simple promise.  I am doubly annoyed and frustrated because he is ruthlessly insensitive.  He doesn’t just care.  But because of my anger, I hurt my boys, too.

Going out of our abode made me realize that though I may not be able to control what he does, I could control how I will respond. I could talk to him in a very calm way or just let him be while I keep my temper.

I cried to a friend.  She may not be there to literally offer her shoulder for me to cry on, she texted me something so inspiring.  She told me not to give up.  That miracle has been known to happen.

So I will not give up on hope.  I may not have a clue on what lies ahead, but it is better to act on life than simply let life act on me.  And when I act in life, I should act with love and patience, with wit and hope –  the very same acts of kindness my boys have known me capable of doing.

I returned home that afternoon.  I hugged my boys and said my sorry.  My firstborn cried and kissed me on the cheek.  He reassured me that he loves me still despite everything.  My second son hugged me so tight and those warm embraces spoke of forgiveness.  And it was Big Bunso who questioned my irresponsible actions.  “I got confused .  I didn’t know why you suddenly went wild.  I thought of two things — we didn’t do our chores or because you were angry with papa.”

My boys understood everything.  I could talk to them when I am feeling so hopeless and their love would make everything bright and hopeful again.

It is indeed from my boys that I can get my strength.  It is because of my boys that I still hope.

And if I get tired and frustrated, I may let my emotions control me — risking my good relationship with my children and lead me to some self-destructive behaviors — or I may choose to stay still.  My dear friend advised me:  if I am tired, doing nothing in the meantime is not a bad thing at all.

This is my confession.  That once upon a time, I stumbled.  I almost lost hope.

The world I live in may be in chaos.  But I should not give in to despair.  Because I have three beautiful and forgiving boys who would uplift my battered spirits, love me dearly, and remind me forever that hope never dies.

* July 22, 2013/ Another of those writings inside the box.  A constant reminder as well to this mother not to give up on hoping.  I now have four boys and it seems my hope from before is slowly showing great results. 

admberlin