THE BEAM OF LIGHT
The soft and gentle hands of my mother was probably the first contact I had with humanity. As she lifted me in her arms, I let out a powerful crybeing thrilled, surprised, and frightened at the same time by thefathomless love conveyed through those first few ecstatic moments ofcontact with someone who loved me immensely.
As I grew up, I realised that my mother's immense capacity to loveextended over all the members of our family. The same hands cooked ourfood, the same hands combed my hair, and the same hands rocked me till Iwent to sleep. For us, she was like the beam of light that brings themessage of life and hope of freedom to convicts in captivity. Her verypresence was like the comforting presence of God; it reminded me that Godis at the heart of all life.
Over three decades have elapsed since I had the first contact withdivinity in the form of humanity. The hands that had cuddled me shallnever touch me again. I shall always miss the beam of light that gave melife, but I know that in a small way I've been allowed to touch the hem ofmystery--- the mystery commonly known as God.
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