Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Painful Memories
Last night as I tucked my tired body into bed, strange memories came back to me. Not so pleasant, not so nice. It's been years, but the pain is still there whenever I think about it. I guess I am still waiting for the apologies which will never come.
What's a Church suppose to be? Full of love, care and concern, happiness and encouragements. I remembered the times when I first went to Church; some happiness and some tears.
Last night were flashed back of the times I was bullied in Church. I joined the Church when I was around 8 or so. I wasn't popular, maybe because of my size or maybe I didn't like to talk much. There seemed to be a gang of children that was having fun, and yes.. I wanted to be part of them to. However, blending in was hard. Often I was the outcasted.
Once, Leonard and gang kept our bags away. I don't remember why, maybe my friend and I told them off or something like that. We couldn't find our bags, we were panicky. Later on the teacher had to get Leonard to bring the bags out. That sunday was to celebrate my birthday.
The tables where all the children sit for meals during Church camp were always full with others, not a space for me. I get to sit when they didn't want someone to sit with them. They taught younger kids to call me names; I laughted along with it but tearing inside me. Gathering at nights were made unknown to me.
Once we cycled during Church camp. I rode near to Gracia and soon after she fell. I was blamed for cycling near her. When I tried to talk to Leonard, he screamed at me and told me not to talk to him.
I brought a guitar to Church when I was older. To get it tuned, to learn some skills. I rushed out of the room going somewhere with the guitar in my hand. I returned only to hear from Valerie "Did you see the way she ran out with the guitar...." I heard those, but it's enough to hurt.
During worship practices when I sang out of tune, requested for something more, thinking, planning.. I get weird stares and people talking. So, in their dictionary it's wrong to "speak" for God?
Hurting smses, hurting words, hurting actions. Might have been forgotten by most who did it.. I forgave, but won't forget. I won't forget, so that I know that people are not perfect.
All because I don't laugh along, all because I don't think the same, all because I want to be me, all because I came in late, all because I wasn't quite the same as the rest. All these pain came from the ones I thought would be the bestest friends, all these came from the ones I have known for years. Well, it's gone. But the scars remain. As long as the scars remains, the pain will still linger for some time. Whenever the memories came, the pain will bring a tear.
After all these years, many things changed. Strangely, I see almost the same thing happening to young children like what happened to me. Boycotting, bullying, outcasting... Is this the tradition? Or because it's what was picked up from the older ones; us?
What's a Church suppose to be? Full of love, care and concern, happiness and encouragements. I remembered the times when I first went to Church; some happiness and some tears.
Last night were flashed back of the times I was bullied in Church. I joined the Church when I was around 8 or so. I wasn't popular, maybe because of my size or maybe I didn't like to talk much. There seemed to be a gang of children that was having fun, and yes.. I wanted to be part of them to. However, blending in was hard. Often I was the outcasted.
Once, Leonard and gang kept our bags away. I don't remember why, maybe my friend and I told them off or something like that. We couldn't find our bags, we were panicky. Later on the teacher had to get Leonard to bring the bags out. That sunday was to celebrate my birthday.
The tables where all the children sit for meals during Church camp were always full with others, not a space for me. I get to sit when they didn't want someone to sit with them. They taught younger kids to call me names; I laughted along with it but tearing inside me. Gathering at nights were made unknown to me.
Once we cycled during Church camp. I rode near to Gracia and soon after she fell. I was blamed for cycling near her. When I tried to talk to Leonard, he screamed at me and told me not to talk to him.
I brought a guitar to Church when I was older. To get it tuned, to learn some skills. I rushed out of the room going somewhere with the guitar in my hand. I returned only to hear from Valerie "Did you see the way she ran out with the guitar...." I heard those, but it's enough to hurt.
During worship practices when I sang out of tune, requested for something more, thinking, planning.. I get weird stares and people talking. So, in their dictionary it's wrong to "speak" for God?
Hurting smses, hurting words, hurting actions. Might have been forgotten by most who did it.. I forgave, but won't forget. I won't forget, so that I know that people are not perfect.
All because I don't laugh along, all because I don't think the same, all because I want to be me, all because I came in late, all because I wasn't quite the same as the rest. All these pain came from the ones I thought would be the bestest friends, all these came from the ones I have known for years. Well, it's gone. But the scars remain. As long as the scars remains, the pain will still linger for some time. Whenever the memories came, the pain will bring a tear.
After all these years, many things changed. Strangely, I see almost the same thing happening to young children like what happened to me. Boycotting, bullying, outcasting... Is this the tradition? Or because it's what was picked up from the older ones; us?
# . Grace Eleora Loo : 6/20/2007 02:35:00 PM
