Four Days Seems Forty

Four days seems forty. The past days of my stay in Manila were like days of retreat, of silencing my system for a while and listen to the loud silence in the place that saw me grew: my home.
I am sick. I was diagnosed to have Upper Respiratory Bacterial Infection. I don’t know how to translate that in English; though manageable it still doesn’t make my situation comfortable.
Rest is the home-court advantage. There’s no place like home. Nothing beats staying on bed for hours doing nothing but rest.
While at home doing nothing, I thought about home. I missed the house. If only it could tell stories, it would narrate how I grew, it would recount the times I fell and was helped to stand, times that I sinned and was redeemed, it would tell my vocation story.
Conversations interested me once in the four days, one’s about God’s forgiveness. Why would God let people sin in the first place and then forgive them? Why would he not just make the world a better place for everyone? Answers came everywhere. God respects our freewill, a gift that cannot be taken away because God doesn’t retract whatever He creates. He never contradicts his Being. He is Perfection at its perfection.
Just some two days ago, I realized that I have been stuck for a long time to the state of waiting, the most boring part of everything. I wait to see beauty again as I shed myself to the gloomy and sad moment at present. I wait to see hope, the same hope I held on some months ago. I wait for love to cover everything.
I persevere.