Return of M

I am not hugging people with my words these days. I am throwing daggers into people's heart. The sharpest daggers. Cold blooded. They pierce the heart and cut it up.

I wonder if my brother has noticed this change in me during the fast.

God is bringing back the past, but I see them with the blood now. First, L, and now M.

She has changed to a degree. A hardness in her face, which I observed while she was on the phone. A few more greys -- but I still possess more. A few more negative comments about my Cantonese.

She told me my Cantonese has gotten worse. I told her, albeit in more words, that my Cantonese has gotten worse because I am with her.

She still touches me as if boundaries were nothing to her. She still serves loyally.

Everything suddenly made sense. All her behavior and comments. The child. The smoking. She's trying to earn something she can never earn on this earth. She's so insecure.

I saw that in her eyes. This was a different look. I see it in A sometimes. These two girls are peas in a pod.

The words I spoke made her cry, twice. I told her in English who she is, her true identity. She is a daughter and a princess. God loves her with a jealous and furious love that man could never provide. She can never earn this love; nor will this love ever be taken away. She has nothing to prove in Christ Jesus.

The first time, I also expressed how uncomfortable I was around her and how I was glad our meeting weeks ago had been cancelled. I told her I only felt a modicum of safety with Inti by our side.

The second time I added how I had loved her two years ago and would accept her and her circumstances. I had changed in the ensuing period. But God's love is even greater for he would always accept her for who she is in Christ Jesus. God sees not only her physical beauty but the beauty inside her heart. Write all that on your heart, I told her.

In the moment, inside the Sheung Wan MtR station, I should have paid more attention: she was a child again. She puts the scarf over her mouth first. Then she tilts her head forward. She looks in my eyes. Her arms are beside her. I am holding her by the arms and imploring her. Tears come out.

She has been in these situations before. I should not be her parent. Only by the spirit can I be a vessel for advocacy.

I was too terse and dismissive of her sorrow. She was really sorry for how she made me feel. She did not know how these words were coming from her mouth. I should have openly forgave her. Instead, I was dismissive to the degree that I said she did not hurt me.

I do not know if I will see her again. Praise God.