A College Seeress' Diary

The Weeping Tree

Dear Jesus,

The cliche beginning for informal letters, as I was taught in my primary school, is to ask after the welfare of the recipient. You know, 'how are you?' and all that beating about the bush.
Should I even ask? I mean, how does one ask if the Almighty God is doing fine?
I know you're always fine. Oh, maybe except for your tears for the countless who keep rejecting you by the second, heading and tumbling down unknowingly to their eternal doom.
Writing it alone is depressing. How do you cope bearing such burden all over again in Heaven where all there should be is peace and bliss?

Alright, let's jump into the real issue. Today's issue.

Portia slowly recovered from what the doctor at our infirmitary called a cold fever. Even though I knew she hated it, I heavily helped her through most of her duties.
Number one, cooking (she hardly ate for three days and then when she even had the appetite it was for something so outrageous. Gosh! I think my cooking skill has upgraded a notch). Number two, laundry (all glory to you Lord that Sapphire is blessed with a laundry service room else I'd have been stuck with scrubbing her hard and black clothing with my bare, cute hands). Number three, keeping her on track with her academics, through none other than brother John Walker.
Whew! That was the hardest part of all. And I'm sure you're wondering why I have suddenly turned pious, putting the brother title before his full name. 

So, John came visiting at evening with legitimate reason for those three days. You should have seen how meticulous I organized the room. One would think I was expecting a governor. What would happen if for instance you told me you'll come to visit me physically one day? OMG! I would spend the first five minutes hyperventilating.

Portia was always looking a bit brighter and active whenever he came, if she wasn't sleeping. John would help her write her notes and we would have small talk with him.
And as a wise standard, I made sure to leave the door open. You know, just in case any teenage hormones decide to crop up and spoil everything. I'd take no chance. Nah-ah. Not gonna trick me, devil. Oops, sorry Jesus. This entry is directed exclusively to you. We can rebuke the devil in other editions.

Gradually, Portia got better. She was able to catch up fast and even got a good grade in the test that was conducted on the very day she got better enough to get back to class.
She did seem grateful for the care she received. What only you and I know, is that each night when I was sure she was deep in sleep, I always knelt by her bedside, praying and sometimes weeping as your hand, O Lord came upon me to intercede for her soul.

Naturally, I knew I deserved my beauty sleep. She didn't deserve love one bit—not with her attitude, but neither did I. Oh the love you have for the worst human. Makes me marvel.

Now that she's stronger Lord, I'm still wary, not wanting to trust so easily. I barely know her and somehow I have this slight paranoia directed her. I know it's not safe for me to feel unsafe about the person I am literarily vulnerable to. However, all it took me was to remember the ghostly face I saw that day you opened my spiritual eyes.

Jesus,please help me.

Back to me, I've been feeling kinda drained and stressed lately. The only place I find solace and a quick dose of strength is in your presence. But then the vicissitudes of school life will come and suck out all the strength I have received.
It's a maddening cycle and so far as I have seen, we haven't even started the real work.

You'll even notice how uneven and far-spaced my journaling has been.
I've been so busy. With nothing.
Ever fiber of my being yearns for you Lord, but I always feel this restraint. Please help me. I don't want to drown. I don't want to slip. Would you please hold me up?

The christian family I have joined have actually been helpful. With their constant follow up and pure openness I realized that this bond of love in you is a universal bond that cuts across worldly barriers.