Sometimes I think of the future, I think of how my house will be, how my kids will grow up to be like.
I will buy them books more than toys, so that they will know how to be patient, how to self-learn, how to value knowledge. I will be an example of generosity, so that they will see how much money one can have does not decide how much to give. I will teach them to respect others and to see others as humans despite races. I will spend time with them and give them much of my attention, because they are worthy.
I just have so many things I wish I could so for them and with them. I will take them to dance. I will teach them to cook and spend money. I will tell them about God and about a man who died for them…
Because I have never had those lessons during my childhood. I needed help but got none.
When I do reflection on my life, I see so much of it is from my family. Many of my traits are genetic, and I can clearly see where the bad characteristics come from. I believe in generational sin, because I believe the circumstance that one is raised up in define a huge part of who one can be. But I also believe that one can break through those limitations and form new habits than can change lives.
For the most parts of my childhood, I find myself being apart from others in my family. I love reading and writing. I am an introvert. I was born having only cousins that are ten years older or younger. I live only with my family and rarely see my relatives. And after all I was criticized for not being sociable, for not wanting to participate in gossip talks and only wanting to listen. I was lonely, at home, and I intentionally set myself apart from others.
Then I started living by myself and found all ways to improve to be better every single day. I learn to set time for God, only to go back in a house forgetting who God is except on Sundays. I learn to read, only to go back in a house with none sparing a single second to read. I learn to put away my phone and social media, only to be surrounded by those who sit around the kitchen texting.
I am lonely.
And I really wish things will be different. I thought my way was right, and I hoped others would learn from it. That’s when I start dreaming about my children and about how I will make their lives different. That’s also when I realize I have a sister that I should start taking responsible for, because it seems that no one will love her the way a kid should be loved.
But it’s hard. It’s hard when others refuse to be better. It’s hard when all you can offer is help, but the help that needs each other’s participation.
My world shatters. I will be too selfish wanting to just live the life I want with the good and bad habits I have. I know I will. But I don’t think there is a good point for trying to be better but ignore the others.
Reversed culture shock. It’s real. It’s too real that I cannot even believe it can be true. I wake up in this confusion.
I find myself reading more than ever before because that’s where I find quietness. Peace.