On this Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, one day before Barack Obama is to be sworn in as the 44th President of the United States, I feel like writing something as cheerful, though not as masterful or eloquent, as the 1963 "I Have a Dream" speech given by Dr. King, a pastor, a Nobel Laureate, and the anointed martyr for the civil rights movement.
Small wonder, Obama's presidential idol is Abraham Lincoln. Dr. King picked up what Lincoln had started a century earlier. From the Emancipation Proclamation to I Have a Dream, two milestones are sandwiching 100 years. The hard fought ideal of abolition movement set in motion the freedom of a beleaguered people of color. Not just any color, but the color of black, the God-given, dark-tanned complexion of the people of African decent. In the midst of the Civil War, Lincoln guaranteed Union-wide freedom of African Americans who were in servitude. It then took the spirited outcry and civilized decry of Dr. King and others to help end the racial segregation. Dr. King paid the ultimate price by pouring out his life as a drink offering on the altar of freedom's temple.
As if time is faster forwarding, forty years after Dr. King's assassination, Barack Obama won the Presidential election as the first African American, sealing a momentous victory in American dream and evolving Americanization.
Tomorrow, Barack will swear in with the same Bible used by Lincoln, under the gaze of millions of well wishers and TV/internet spectators, not to mention the ultra tight security details. A nation has indeed taken a giant stride by choosing a son begotten by a black father and a white mother. The once divided Union now finds its perfect harmony within one persona. Barack Obama epitomizes the age-long struggle for racial equality. It is now up for the new Obama Administration to deliver the message of hope, not in pre-election sound bytes, but in parcels of tangible benefits to millions of displaced and distressed people of all colors, who find it increasingly harder to put bread to their family's dinner table or get affordable health coverage.
We all bid him Godspeed. May the good work of Lincoln and King find fuller fulfillment in Obama and the innovative American people.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
感受中国四篇 (China Trip Reflection)
（一）天津篇
子弹列车快如其名，最高时速逾三百公里。短短25分钟，连通京津。微笑自如的乘务员，送给每个乘客一瓶来自西藏高原的矿泉水。
送给老人家的书，据说审阅过半。金融海啸，成了姐妹花饭前的议题。美国佬如今不得不谦虚学着点，恶补社会主义计划经济的课。中国人现时骄傲，看来不仅因为京奥。
充满乡音的主祷文，结束每日晨祷会。北方杂粮，是难得的养生佳品，填补时差挖的墙脚。
寒冷的步行街夜市，并不少游客光顾。赵四小姐对当时痛失爱子的少帅及时而多情的安慰，都陈列在早年宣教士开设的宾馆里。
狗不理的世纪承传，继续发扬光大，一个值五元。加上香酥的麻花，都由大哥他慷慨买单。
“市政府，国务院，帮帮您的子民”，巨幅请求高挂在大楼前，吸引路人的眼球。
据说某保洁工替某楼顶暴发户打扫完房间与厕所，染上黄山归来不看岳的综合症，恨不得把自家的寒舍给烧了。
不平等与心怀不平，是社会的一个写真。
（二）湘鄂篇
还给弟弟的钱，摇身一变成为我自己身上的衣裤。免债无论如何都是恩典。
父亲的坟，又爬满了敌不过星星之火的茅草。墓碑上的亲眷名字，被岁月之水洗得褪了色。母亲那边，还要再等一年才可树碑立传。湖北的姐夫，躺在自留地的下面，无声提醒那次越洋话别。
活着的人们，继续认真地花自己与别人的钱，洗头洗脚。唯物主义的国家，把身体保健提到了无微不至关怀每一个原子的细腻境界。心灵深处的呐喊，淹没在嘈杂的搞活经济的人流与物流里。
两位28年不见的高中同学，相遇在班主任老师的家里。欣闻另一位喜欢读书思考的同学，已经积极参加教堂的聚会。
初中生一天十三个小时在学校啃书本。周末还要补习（据说开补习课的许多老师平时学校上课多少留了一手，补习课本也需要到指定商店购买。师道尊严，了有新意）。上网一查，在美国的儿子郑重向他的朋友们宣布，他推迟写家庭作业。中美两个社会还真是两重天啊。
仍然逍遥自在过田园生活的三姐夫种的橘子，如今卖不出好价钱。理由让人很无奈，据称来自四川灾区的有些橘子，长了死人身上的虫。此橘固非彼橘，但消费者如何辨别得清。三鹿毒奶事件还未结案，吃得保守点总是上策。
（三）成都篇
胡主席访问灾区的日子（事后从新闻里才得知的），我第一次落步蓉城。还真是人杰地灵的好地方。咱媳妇小时就在那里呆过两三年。据表哥密告，如今的酒量，得益于儿时的训练。成都话，特别养耳，尤其是从屡次考倒我们脑筋急转弯的九岁小妹口中说出来。
研经与主日聚会，挤满了顶楼的公寓。从世界屋脊下来的弟兄，第一次见到准岳母。
宽窄巷子，旧貌新款。与大表弟一家坐下来，慢慢地品一杯让人晚上难以成寐的茶。容让配备放大镜的挖耳工进进出出，搬走一些本来就不该久留的垃圾。最妙的是，细长的挖耳工具还能发出悦耳的颤音。表哥与小表弟陪游景里，已然相当西化的天地。一东北来的大学生侍应，毕业后准备去广州谋生。剥茧抽丝，工序堪称一奇。丝绸果然来之不易。
公园里的出租小屋，摆了三具自动洗牌码牌的麻将机。算是平生首次看见这种已经几年老的高级玩意儿。七舅把屋子全天租下来了。三位老人陪我玩了若干回合，我手气不差，赢多于输。午饭后慷慨激昂解说福音奥秘的当儿，屋内花盆突然快速震荡了几秒钟（原来北川当时发生了四点九级地震）。小舅出人意料，晚饭中当众背诵主祷文。文革期间，他斗胆看禁书，包括圣经。劝他去教会，他自恃清高，说那里传得不地道。
一群基督徒矢志重建灾民的心灵，正积极调动远近各地的教会来认领参与。
跟川大学子谈论如同推石上山的生物制药的现状与前景，更喜闻年青人对福音饶有兴趣。次日上午专开一堂布道，并邀多位祷告接受主，表哥亦同祷在列，何等福气。
（四）北京篇
宴请五舅全家并新婚不久的表弟，以及清华读研的侄女，并分送福音书本与小册子。查证属实，全国各地家长给孩子的老师送礼不送钱，已经蔚然成风。
先后作客几位海归弟兄姐妹的家中。他们如同被上帝移栽的香柏树，为主发旺放光。
最后的晚餐上，见到一位24年未谋面的大学同学。他几年前信了主，在不同教会转了一圈，近入安息日会。席间由他率先巧妙开火，展开了一场神学之争。此行从教导护教开始，到实战练兵结束。
离京前，带领内弟和弟媳并家政（来自重庆的阿姨保姆）祷告接受主。中国之行，于是画了一个相当完美的句点。
我满满地带上亲人们的祝福（包括食品礼物），赶回来为妻子庆生，更为岳父母喜庆金婚。
子弹列车快如其名，最高时速逾三百公里。短短25分钟，连通京津。微笑自如的乘务员，送给每个乘客一瓶来自西藏高原的矿泉水。
送给老人家的书，据说审阅过半。金融海啸，成了姐妹花饭前的议题。美国佬如今不得不谦虚学着点，恶补社会主义计划经济的课。中国人现时骄傲，看来不仅因为京奥。
充满乡音的主祷文，结束每日晨祷会。北方杂粮，是难得的养生佳品，填补时差挖的墙脚。
寒冷的步行街夜市，并不少游客光顾。赵四小姐对当时痛失爱子的少帅及时而多情的安慰，都陈列在早年宣教士开设的宾馆里。
狗不理的世纪承传，继续发扬光大，一个值五元。加上香酥的麻花，都由大哥他慷慨买单。
“市政府，国务院，帮帮您的子民”，巨幅请求高挂在大楼前，吸引路人的眼球。
据说某保洁工替某楼顶暴发户打扫完房间与厕所，染上黄山归来不看岳的综合症，恨不得把自家的寒舍给烧了。
不平等与心怀不平，是社会的一个写真。
（二）湘鄂篇
还给弟弟的钱，摇身一变成为我自己身上的衣裤。免债无论如何都是恩典。
父亲的坟，又爬满了敌不过星星之火的茅草。墓碑上的亲眷名字，被岁月之水洗得褪了色。母亲那边，还要再等一年才可树碑立传。湖北的姐夫，躺在自留地的下面，无声提醒那次越洋话别。
活着的人们，继续认真地花自己与别人的钱，洗头洗脚。唯物主义的国家，把身体保健提到了无微不至关怀每一个原子的细腻境界。心灵深处的呐喊，淹没在嘈杂的搞活经济的人流与物流里。
两位28年不见的高中同学，相遇在班主任老师的家里。欣闻另一位喜欢读书思考的同学，已经积极参加教堂的聚会。
初中生一天十三个小时在学校啃书本。周末还要补习（据说开补习课的许多老师平时学校上课多少留了一手，补习课本也需要到指定商店购买。师道尊严，了有新意）。上网一查，在美国的儿子郑重向他的朋友们宣布，他推迟写家庭作业。中美两个社会还真是两重天啊。
仍然逍遥自在过田园生活的三姐夫种的橘子，如今卖不出好价钱。理由让人很无奈，据称来自四川灾区的有些橘子，长了死人身上的虫。此橘固非彼橘，但消费者如何辨别得清。三鹿毒奶事件还未结案，吃得保守点总是上策。
（三）成都篇
胡主席访问灾区的日子（事后从新闻里才得知的），我第一次落步蓉城。还真是人杰地灵的好地方。咱媳妇小时就在那里呆过两三年。据表哥密告，如今的酒量，得益于儿时的训练。成都话，特别养耳，尤其是从屡次考倒我们脑筋急转弯的九岁小妹口中说出来。
研经与主日聚会，挤满了顶楼的公寓。从世界屋脊下来的弟兄，第一次见到准岳母。
宽窄巷子，旧貌新款。与大表弟一家坐下来，慢慢地品一杯让人晚上难以成寐的茶。容让配备放大镜的挖耳工进进出出，搬走一些本来就不该久留的垃圾。最妙的是，细长的挖耳工具还能发出悦耳的颤音。表哥与小表弟陪游景里，已然相当西化的天地。一东北来的大学生侍应，毕业后准备去广州谋生。剥茧抽丝，工序堪称一奇。丝绸果然来之不易。
公园里的出租小屋，摆了三具自动洗牌码牌的麻将机。算是平生首次看见这种已经几年老的高级玩意儿。七舅把屋子全天租下来了。三位老人陪我玩了若干回合，我手气不差，赢多于输。午饭后慷慨激昂解说福音奥秘的当儿，屋内花盆突然快速震荡了几秒钟（原来北川当时发生了四点九级地震）。小舅出人意料，晚饭中当众背诵主祷文。文革期间，他斗胆看禁书，包括圣经。劝他去教会，他自恃清高，说那里传得不地道。
一群基督徒矢志重建灾民的心灵，正积极调动远近各地的教会来认领参与。
跟川大学子谈论如同推石上山的生物制药的现状与前景，更喜闻年青人对福音饶有兴趣。次日上午专开一堂布道，并邀多位祷告接受主，表哥亦同祷在列，何等福气。
（四）北京篇
宴请五舅全家并新婚不久的表弟，以及清华读研的侄女，并分送福音书本与小册子。查证属实，全国各地家长给孩子的老师送礼不送钱，已经蔚然成风。
先后作客几位海归弟兄姐妹的家中。他们如同被上帝移栽的香柏树，为主发旺放光。
最后的晚餐上，见到一位24年未谋面的大学同学。他几年前信了主，在不同教会转了一圈，近入安息日会。席间由他率先巧妙开火，展开了一场神学之争。此行从教导护教开始，到实战练兵结束。
离京前，带领内弟和弟媳并家政（来自重庆的阿姨保姆）祷告接受主。中国之行，于是画了一个相当完美的句点。
我满满地带上亲人们的祝福（包括食品礼物），赶回来为妻子庆生，更为岳父母喜庆金婚。
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
祭母 (Remembering Mom)
母亲离世两年了。
思念情切之时，我曾打开网上搜索引擎古狗的地球卫星图，想从高空俯瞰母亲安葬的坟地。可惜分辨率不足，我只能看到洞庭湖西边的家乡地貌，蜿蜒的澧水，井字的田园，和乡间的公路。更清晰的画面，我只有从记忆的深处去提取了。
母亲走的那个周末，我本来要去加州开会的。但周间心里突发感动，于是给弟弟挂电话询问母亲的病情。弟弟干脆拍了几张照片，电邮给我。那瘦骨嶙峋的身体，因为肿瘤而烂穿的腹壁，让我揪心难忍。父亲去世时，我还在县城读高中，来不及与他诀别，抱憾连连。我当即决定改变行程，赶紧回国看母亲。后来知道，那是上天赏赐的最后一次见面机会。
经过一天一夜不眠的转机换车旅行，我赶在周五后半夜回到家乡。母亲因为知道我要回来看她，据说连续两晚都不愿合眼，在盼望中等待。与年初时相比，母亲健康大大恶化了。跟弟弟商量好，天亮后我们送母亲再一次住进医院。
周六晚上，母亲躺在病床上，毫无睡意。那夜，我为母亲守睡，与她交谈，宽慰她。
夜半，我拖著不无疲倦的身子，走出病房，来到院子，换气提神。没有星星的天幕显得格外的黑沉沉，给人难以名状的压抑感。儿时的第一间茅草房，就在医院前方河堤边的农田上，如今早已荡然无存，代之以改革开放后兴起的栋栋乡镇新居。医院门外五岩桥下，孩提时代的我与弟弟常在黄昏时分结伴前往，捡拾当日被桥头小贩挥刀砍下的甘蔗头。兄弟俩羞于被人笑话，把那些丢弃的甘蔗头顶在夹肢窝里，贴身藏好，匍伏穿过红花草籽田，回家一起分享劳动的收获。
医院二楼突然传来一阵急促的婴儿啼哭声，一个新生命就在这个黑夜里诞生了。我的思绪又重回儿时。从母亲早年的回忆里，我明白她与我出生时的那声啼哭都来之不易。她有三个哥哥一个弟弟，另有两个妹妹生下来就被溺了。母亲差一点逃过同样的厄运。乡下那时有溺女婴的邪恶习俗，虽然人人知道，每个人都必须有一个母亲。外祖母看见生下来的第一个女孩，如同稀世珍宝，决定瞒天过海，对外祖父谎称生下来的又是一个男孩。终究纸包不住火，半个月之后外祖父发现真情，好几周生气不与外祖母说话。母亲就这样侥幸活下来了。后来，她的两个妹妹刚生下来就在外祖父的严格监督下被淹死在提前准备好的水桶里。
母亲二十几岁，丈夫就病故了。她与三个幼女相依为命。六十年代初自然灾害时期，穷得揭不开锅的日子，母亲不得不讨米逃荒。我父亲命运同样多舛，五十年代初因渎职罪被抓去坐牢，妻离子散。九年劳改回来，经好心人撮合，重组家庭，生下我和弟弟。我心里非常清楚，是父母遭受的诸般苦难，赋予我生命的契机。
我停下脚步，盘算著母亲与我来人间一遭，都属小概率事件。无数的偶然，组合成某种必然。如今，母亲行将离世，我伴她走最后的旅程，心里不胜唏嘘，感慨万端。
记得母亲告诉我，虽然医院离家不到百步路，但我出生是在家里，由北边山峪里来的接生婆助产。按照乡下规矩，接生后需要给首位到访的客人吃一大碗煮鸡蛋，免得客人因招待不周而故意回家大吃大喝，把好吃懒做的恶业传染给孩子。据说那些鸡蛋煮熟去壳后，需要在新生婴孩洗干净的屁股上来回搓滚过。这种老掉牙的古怪习俗多为后人所诟，罕有沿袭的了。
父母亲尽了他们最大的努力，来哺育我和弟弟。除了田里的香稻，自留地里的小麦玉米，记得前院菜园里还种了几样果树，包括柚子，李子，桃子，梨子，栗子，覆盆子，后院满地都是甜脆的香瓜与菜瓜。某个大热天，我回家神兮兮地告诉母亲，说有一个人恐怕快要渴死了，因为他坐在医院前面的公路旁，竟然双手捧著一个北瓜在啃（我们当地称南瓜为北瓜）。母亲听了禁不住大笑，说娃仔我还没见过大世面，那人吃的名叫西瓜。母亲一席话，说得我口水都快流出来。我暗自发奋读书，长大后到外面闯世界。如今年盖不惑，算是养儿方知父母恩。今年母亲节的谢亲晚会上，儿子在与朋友们一起预先录制的录像里，歪著脑袋，以调皮的口吻，感谢爸妈给他提供衣食之需。我后悔自己小时候没有这样感谢过自己的父母。
我们还小的时候，家父脾气暴躁，时常打骂母亲。有次大吵后，母亲差一点寻了短见。母亲后来告诉我，她夜里哭著往当地一个堰塘里走，水越来越深，到她脖子时，她停下来，想了许久，终于不忍心撇下两个小孩不管，就一身湿渌渌地走回来了。
医院的大门嘎吱开了，一位老人被背了进来。我尾随而去。他被安置在我母亲的斜对门。老人身体很不舒服，但原因不明。 我为他按手祷告。
在那个暗夜里，充满的是母亲临终前的呻吟，婴儿出生后的啼哭，老人不住的哎哼。一代过去，一代又来，无数人都阅尽生老病死这几幅人生图画，但不知有多少人得到了超越苦难的真诀。我面对苦难，唯一可做的，就是向天幕之上的上帝祈祷。
周日上午，我入睡大约两小时后便被叫醒。大姐告诉我，母亲快不行了。我急速赶到医院。接下来的三个多小时，我第一次长时间紧紧握著母亲的右手，抚著她的额头，一直眼睁睁地看著她，不时挥泪为她祈祷，用嘶哑颤抖的喉咙唱圣诗。母亲已经不能说话了，靠著氧气在呼吸，用眼睛与我们亲人默默地交谈。母亲心里明白我们对她的依依不舍，眼角静静淌出了热泪。临走前不久，母亲的眼睛明显失神了，开始模糊。我永远忘不了，周日午后两点十七分，她老人家最后的一次呼吸，好象时钟突然停摆，江河突然断流，日月突然失色。是的，母亲走完了地上八十二年的艰辛旅程，息劳归天了。 我跳起来，有一种大悲中的大喜，绝处逢生的释放。世纪之交时，母亲曾第二次来美看望我，并受洗归入基督。
我一手怀抱母亲的遗像，一手举著木头十字架，与弟弟一起，缓缓地走在抬棺的八位汉子前面。吊唁送葬的队伍，再一次走过那熟悉的路。过得水渠，来到安葬母亲的地方，就是水库后面山脚下的第二个老屋场。那条水渠，曾记录母亲对我无微不至的关爱。我小时候体弱多病，某夜发高烧，父亲不在家，母亲背起我去医院看急诊。为要越过当时没有小桥的水渠，母亲不得不把我放下，然后挽起裤脚，让一双从小被裹的小脚，战战兢兢地踩到流水里，再把我抱过去。
如今，母亲已经越过了死河，被接到永恒的天家去了。安息吧，妈妈！我们再会有期。
思念情切之时，我曾打开网上搜索引擎古狗的地球卫星图，想从高空俯瞰母亲安葬的坟地。可惜分辨率不足，我只能看到洞庭湖西边的家乡地貌，蜿蜒的澧水，井字的田园，和乡间的公路。更清晰的画面，我只有从记忆的深处去提取了。
母亲走的那个周末，我本来要去加州开会的。但周间心里突发感动，于是给弟弟挂电话询问母亲的病情。弟弟干脆拍了几张照片，电邮给我。那瘦骨嶙峋的身体，因为肿瘤而烂穿的腹壁，让我揪心难忍。父亲去世时，我还在县城读高中，来不及与他诀别，抱憾连连。我当即决定改变行程，赶紧回国看母亲。后来知道，那是上天赏赐的最后一次见面机会。
经过一天一夜不眠的转机换车旅行，我赶在周五后半夜回到家乡。母亲因为知道我要回来看她，据说连续两晚都不愿合眼，在盼望中等待。与年初时相比，母亲健康大大恶化了。跟弟弟商量好，天亮后我们送母亲再一次住进医院。
周六晚上，母亲躺在病床上，毫无睡意。那夜，我为母亲守睡，与她交谈，宽慰她。
夜半，我拖著不无疲倦的身子，走出病房，来到院子，换气提神。没有星星的天幕显得格外的黑沉沉，给人难以名状的压抑感。儿时的第一间茅草房，就在医院前方河堤边的农田上，如今早已荡然无存，代之以改革开放后兴起的栋栋乡镇新居。医院门外五岩桥下，孩提时代的我与弟弟常在黄昏时分结伴前往，捡拾当日被桥头小贩挥刀砍下的甘蔗头。兄弟俩羞于被人笑话，把那些丢弃的甘蔗头顶在夹肢窝里，贴身藏好，匍伏穿过红花草籽田，回家一起分享劳动的收获。
医院二楼突然传来一阵急促的婴儿啼哭声，一个新生命就在这个黑夜里诞生了。我的思绪又重回儿时。从母亲早年的回忆里，我明白她与我出生时的那声啼哭都来之不易。她有三个哥哥一个弟弟，另有两个妹妹生下来就被溺了。母亲差一点逃过同样的厄运。乡下那时有溺女婴的邪恶习俗，虽然人人知道，每个人都必须有一个母亲。外祖母看见生下来的第一个女孩，如同稀世珍宝，决定瞒天过海，对外祖父谎称生下来的又是一个男孩。终究纸包不住火，半个月之后外祖父发现真情，好几周生气不与外祖母说话。母亲就这样侥幸活下来了。后来，她的两个妹妹刚生下来就在外祖父的严格监督下被淹死在提前准备好的水桶里。
母亲二十几岁，丈夫就病故了。她与三个幼女相依为命。六十年代初自然灾害时期，穷得揭不开锅的日子，母亲不得不讨米逃荒。我父亲命运同样多舛，五十年代初因渎职罪被抓去坐牢，妻离子散。九年劳改回来，经好心人撮合，重组家庭，生下我和弟弟。我心里非常清楚，是父母遭受的诸般苦难，赋予我生命的契机。
我停下脚步，盘算著母亲与我来人间一遭，都属小概率事件。无数的偶然，组合成某种必然。如今，母亲行将离世，我伴她走最后的旅程，心里不胜唏嘘，感慨万端。
记得母亲告诉我，虽然医院离家不到百步路，但我出生是在家里，由北边山峪里来的接生婆助产。按照乡下规矩，接生后需要给首位到访的客人吃一大碗煮鸡蛋，免得客人因招待不周而故意回家大吃大喝，把好吃懒做的恶业传染给孩子。据说那些鸡蛋煮熟去壳后，需要在新生婴孩洗干净的屁股上来回搓滚过。这种老掉牙的古怪习俗多为后人所诟，罕有沿袭的了。
父母亲尽了他们最大的努力，来哺育我和弟弟。除了田里的香稻，自留地里的小麦玉米，记得前院菜园里还种了几样果树，包括柚子，李子，桃子，梨子，栗子，覆盆子，后院满地都是甜脆的香瓜与菜瓜。某个大热天，我回家神兮兮地告诉母亲，说有一个人恐怕快要渴死了，因为他坐在医院前面的公路旁，竟然双手捧著一个北瓜在啃（我们当地称南瓜为北瓜）。母亲听了禁不住大笑，说娃仔我还没见过大世面，那人吃的名叫西瓜。母亲一席话，说得我口水都快流出来。我暗自发奋读书，长大后到外面闯世界。如今年盖不惑，算是养儿方知父母恩。今年母亲节的谢亲晚会上，儿子在与朋友们一起预先录制的录像里，歪著脑袋，以调皮的口吻，感谢爸妈给他提供衣食之需。我后悔自己小时候没有这样感谢过自己的父母。
我们还小的时候，家父脾气暴躁，时常打骂母亲。有次大吵后，母亲差一点寻了短见。母亲后来告诉我，她夜里哭著往当地一个堰塘里走，水越来越深，到她脖子时，她停下来，想了许久，终于不忍心撇下两个小孩不管，就一身湿渌渌地走回来了。
医院的大门嘎吱开了，一位老人被背了进来。我尾随而去。他被安置在我母亲的斜对门。老人身体很不舒服，但原因不明。 我为他按手祷告。
在那个暗夜里，充满的是母亲临终前的呻吟，婴儿出生后的啼哭，老人不住的哎哼。一代过去，一代又来，无数人都阅尽生老病死这几幅人生图画，但不知有多少人得到了超越苦难的真诀。我面对苦难，唯一可做的，就是向天幕之上的上帝祈祷。
周日上午，我入睡大约两小时后便被叫醒。大姐告诉我，母亲快不行了。我急速赶到医院。接下来的三个多小时，我第一次长时间紧紧握著母亲的右手，抚著她的额头，一直眼睁睁地看著她，不时挥泪为她祈祷，用嘶哑颤抖的喉咙唱圣诗。母亲已经不能说话了，靠著氧气在呼吸，用眼睛与我们亲人默默地交谈。母亲心里明白我们对她的依依不舍，眼角静静淌出了热泪。临走前不久，母亲的眼睛明显失神了，开始模糊。我永远忘不了，周日午后两点十七分，她老人家最后的一次呼吸，好象时钟突然停摆，江河突然断流，日月突然失色。是的，母亲走完了地上八十二年的艰辛旅程，息劳归天了。 我跳起来，有一种大悲中的大喜，绝处逢生的释放。世纪之交时，母亲曾第二次来美看望我，并受洗归入基督。
我一手怀抱母亲的遗像，一手举著木头十字架，与弟弟一起，缓缓地走在抬棺的八位汉子前面。吊唁送葬的队伍，再一次走过那熟悉的路。过得水渠，来到安葬母亲的地方，就是水库后面山脚下的第二个老屋场。那条水渠，曾记录母亲对我无微不至的关爱。我小时候体弱多病，某夜发高烧，父亲不在家，母亲背起我去医院看急诊。为要越过当时没有小桥的水渠，母亲不得不把我放下，然后挽起裤脚，让一双从小被裹的小脚，战战兢兢地踩到流水里，再把我抱过去。
如今，母亲已经越过了死河，被接到永恒的天家去了。安息吧，妈妈！我们再会有期。
Life Happens
Little Jeremiah is born, to our collective cheers. Sister Wenyin went home, to the sadness of those who care about her.
Life and death juxtapose. In fact, every second, two are reporting to this world, while two are leaving this world.
I remember the weekend before thanksgiving in 2006, when I rushed back to bid my final farewell to my mom. It was a Saturday night. The sky was pitch dark, without the slightest sight of any stars. Both my mom and I were awake throughout the night. It can be argued that we were holding vigil for each other.
Sometime past midnight, I walked out of the ward for a time of solitude and meditation. My childhood home used to stand in the middle of the rice field in front of the hospital before being forced to relocate to the foothill of the village. A newborn's sudden cry seared the quietness of the countryside, bringing me back from my reminiscing. An old man was carried in, moaning in pain. A frame of history froze in my mind: a new life came to the world, an old man was stricken with pain, my mom was racing toward the finish line of her life, and I was the witness of the moment of life and death.
Today, we are witnesses of another moment in the parting of life and death. May the Lord bless little Jeremiah and his family. May the Lord receive the soul of Sister Wenyin and comfort her grieving family and loved ones with the blessed hope that shatters all despairs.
Life and death juxtapose. In fact, every second, two are reporting to this world, while two are leaving this world.
I remember the weekend before thanksgiving in 2006, when I rushed back to bid my final farewell to my mom. It was a Saturday night. The sky was pitch dark, without the slightest sight of any stars. Both my mom and I were awake throughout the night. It can be argued that we were holding vigil for each other.
Sometime past midnight, I walked out of the ward for a time of solitude and meditation. My childhood home used to stand in the middle of the rice field in front of the hospital before being forced to relocate to the foothill of the village. A newborn's sudden cry seared the quietness of the countryside, bringing me back from my reminiscing. An old man was carried in, moaning in pain. A frame of history froze in my mind: a new life came to the world, an old man was stricken with pain, my mom was racing toward the finish line of her life, and I was the witness of the moment of life and death.
Today, we are witnesses of another moment in the parting of life and death. May the Lord bless little Jeremiah and his family. May the Lord receive the soul of Sister Wenyin and comfort her grieving family and loved ones with the blessed hope that shatters all despairs.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
上帝的粮仓
股市被恐惧描黑，
对冲十月的流行色。
大选前三天，
我朝圣金字塔山。
人到中年的脚板，
丈量午后的时间。
周公一万步陪走，
铺满落红的林苑。
仪仗队婷婷玉立，
穿一双千年石鞋，
披一身赤橙黄绿，
哼一曲何日君再来。
湖心孤岛在听，
邻山舞伴在跳。
列阵如同京奥千人绣花毯，
承应天光的普照。
老马不识途，
三军会师三脚石。
双枪老太七十有六，
稚龄童子扬名露西。
午餐或揣在胃里或忘在车上，
晚饭一律留待皇家大排档。
休管白宫新主，备战不必备荒；
数不清的叶子，是上帝的粮仓。
(注：周公，指Sam，随身携带计步器，是次登山共走九千多步。老马，指Stephen，不闻不问路途颜色标示的方向，全凭感觉与自信，曾一度轻言放弃，终于靠手机联络，才肠肌轱辘地摸到会合点，幸得洪兄预备的香酥鸡充饥。双枪老太，特指洪伯母。同行另有地质学者梦伯母。小露西，四岁，自个走全程，不劳累妈妈和怀抱小弟弟的父亲，精神最可嘉。露西，亦为金字塔山公园中一高地眺望景点名。三脚石，景点之一，三小石支撑一大石。三军，指至少三队人马，从两个方向包抄会合。皇家大排档，十号公路一餐馆名。上帝的粮仓，指生物圈内所有食物的最终来源，乃绿色植物光合作用之结果，绝不因股市萧条或白宫新主谁属而受实质影响。光合作用超过了生物圈内食物的总需要。秋叶零落，或许可以调整不必要的粮食过剩。)
对冲十月的流行色。
大选前三天，
我朝圣金字塔山。
人到中年的脚板，
丈量午后的时间。
周公一万步陪走，
铺满落红的林苑。
仪仗队婷婷玉立，
穿一双千年石鞋，
披一身赤橙黄绿，
哼一曲何日君再来。
湖心孤岛在听，
邻山舞伴在跳。
列阵如同京奥千人绣花毯，
承应天光的普照。
老马不识途，
三军会师三脚石。
双枪老太七十有六，
稚龄童子扬名露西。
午餐或揣在胃里或忘在车上，
晚饭一律留待皇家大排档。
休管白宫新主，备战不必备荒；
数不清的叶子，是上帝的粮仓。
(注：周公，指Sam，随身携带计步器，是次登山共走九千多步。老马，指Stephen，不闻不问路途颜色标示的方向，全凭感觉与自信，曾一度轻言放弃，终于靠手机联络，才肠肌轱辘地摸到会合点，幸得洪兄预备的香酥鸡充饥。双枪老太，特指洪伯母。同行另有地质学者梦伯母。小露西，四岁，自个走全程，不劳累妈妈和怀抱小弟弟的父亲，精神最可嘉。露西，亦为金字塔山公园中一高地眺望景点名。三脚石，景点之一，三小石支撑一大石。三军，指至少三队人马，从两个方向包抄会合。皇家大排档，十号公路一餐馆名。上帝的粮仓，指生物圈内所有食物的最终来源，乃绿色植物光合作用之结果，绝不因股市萧条或白宫新主谁属而受实质影响。光合作用超过了生物圈内食物的总需要。秋叶零落，或许可以调整不必要的粮食过剩。)
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Beautiful Life
Mei, our pet dog, signaled her eagerness for a relief. I took her out to the front yard. Under her paws came the creaking of the first fallen leaves. Nocturnal singing by crickets filled the air in the early autumn night. Freight train whistled its way in the distance. The two-day old full moon silently relayed the light from the late morning Sun above East Asia.
Forty-four years ago to the hour, a crying infant boy slipped into this seemingly flawless wonderland unbeknown for the disquieting jumble and tumble of the day.
Life has been beautiful. Just look back and around.
The artists standing firm in the yard are painting themselves with self-made colorful crayons. Without peeking from outside, how do the artists know when and where to mint and deposit the load of pigments in their own gallery after the first inkling of the seasonal chill? How did the weavers stitch up their own green sweaters earlier in the spring? How did the florists arrange their name brand bouquet and enchant the buzzing insects with overnight brewed nectar from under their sleeves? How did the baker shops harness the solar power long before our energy crisis? Why did the vegetarians donate their own flesh as bread for the herbivores who then sacrifice for the carnivores who freely offer their corpses to the microbes? Who waved the magic wand in the beginning and breathed life into existence? Who decrees that life in such rich diversity must surrender the grip to longevity in its present shapes and forms?
A forty-four year old becomes a child of curiosity for a night. Knock. Knock.
The crickets are still singing their post-courtship love songs.
Forty-four years ago to the hour, a crying infant boy slipped into this seemingly flawless wonderland unbeknown for the disquieting jumble and tumble of the day.
Life has been beautiful. Just look back and around.
The artists standing firm in the yard are painting themselves with self-made colorful crayons. Without peeking from outside, how do the artists know when and where to mint and deposit the load of pigments in their own gallery after the first inkling of the seasonal chill? How did the weavers stitch up their own green sweaters earlier in the spring? How did the florists arrange their name brand bouquet and enchant the buzzing insects with overnight brewed nectar from under their sleeves? How did the baker shops harness the solar power long before our energy crisis? Why did the vegetarians donate their own flesh as bread for the herbivores who then sacrifice for the carnivores who freely offer their corpses to the microbes? Who waved the magic wand in the beginning and breathed life into existence? Who decrees that life in such rich diversity must surrender the grip to longevity in its present shapes and forms?
A forty-four year old becomes a child of curiosity for a night. Knock. Knock.
The crickets are still singing their post-courtship love songs.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Hope is the Surest Antidote of Fear
Fear is gripping the world. That is the dominating news today.
Who would not fear, you argue, when a big chunk of one's hard-earned savings in investment and retirement accounts have evaporated in a matter of days?
We worry because we can foresee a day in the not so distant future when we may lose our shelter and no food may be brought to our dinner table and not enough money is available to send kids to colleges. This is a typical and, I must admit, fairly reasonable worry of our time.
Let's talk about shelter first. True, if you, like me, have not paid off the mortgage, it is possible for us to default our loan and lose our shelter. We will have to rent a cheaper place or live on the street if homeless shelters are overcrowded and we have nowhere else to turn. Possibly, we may have to go to the mountains and build our own temporary shelter there (and breathe fresher air too).
But do not worry too much. Since almost everyone (except homeless people not living in homeless shelters) are already living in a real place, it is a logical corollary that the world has a place for everyone, if the street-living homeless will take up some of the underutilized or empty spaces. We can safely conclude that everyone has a place to live. During deep economic crisis, if banks and landlords insist that more than half of the world population must vacate from current homes and apartments, then I will assure you that the new homeless people will revolt and take over the world unless the governments step in to help the people. I know you still worry if only a third or quarter of the world population do not have a place to live and you and I are among them. Do not worry. We may form our own nation called the Republic of the Homeless. We may pick up where both capitalism and communism have miserably failed and build a utopia that truly love one another in hope and faith.
Next, food. I am the least worried on food. You see, the red hot Sun (not Sarah Palin) is still dutifully giving off light of comparable luminosity. The green plants (not the Full Frontal fashion models) are still dutifully performing photosynthesis. The whole ecosystem (bacteria, plants, animals including people) has been ultimately fed by solar powered photosynthesis. There is no near term crisis yet, not for another few billion years when the Sun burns up its hydrogen fuel. The food is here, there, and everywhere. I know we modern mortals have been accustomed to buying food from super food marts. But that is not the way of life for our ancestors and our animal friends and germ foes. We can grow our own green plants and animal stocks. Now you worry about cultivatable land. Worry not, for the land is yours, mine, and ours to plough and plant, according to the lyric of a most memorable Christian hymn that I heard when I came to USA. You still worry about the land, as if we will relive the cowboys' era of the great expansion to the West. I say, worry not, since we do not need a big acre of land to grow enough food for one family. Besides, we can always go back to the days of slavery and submit ourselves to the big landlords before the next peasants' revolution.
Lastly, college tuition. Why worry about it when we have to dwell in mountain caves or shelters and eat what we grow ourselves? We will push back the modern education by 500 years. My friends (as John McCain likes to address his audience), don't you want to live a life that is as archaic and romantic as the nomads in an environmentally friendly way? I miss my childhood days when I collected dog dung to fertilize the land.
I rest my case of argument. I hope we will regain our hope, the best antidote to any fear. We are afraid of the potential revision to our modern way of life. Screw the modernity. Let's go back to the future that has true hope, faith and love.
Barack Obama seemed to know what we would need by launching his presidential bid on the bandwagon of hope. Why has he stopped talking about hope now? We all need hope, all the more desperately.
Who would not fear, you argue, when a big chunk of one's hard-earned savings in investment and retirement accounts have evaporated in a matter of days?
We worry because we can foresee a day in the not so distant future when we may lose our shelter and no food may be brought to our dinner table and not enough money is available to send kids to colleges. This is a typical and, I must admit, fairly reasonable worry of our time.
Let's talk about shelter first. True, if you, like me, have not paid off the mortgage, it is possible for us to default our loan and lose our shelter. We will have to rent a cheaper place or live on the street if homeless shelters are overcrowded and we have nowhere else to turn. Possibly, we may have to go to the mountains and build our own temporary shelter there (and breathe fresher air too).
But do not worry too much. Since almost everyone (except homeless people not living in homeless shelters) are already living in a real place, it is a logical corollary that the world has a place for everyone, if the street-living homeless will take up some of the underutilized or empty spaces. We can safely conclude that everyone has a place to live. During deep economic crisis, if banks and landlords insist that more than half of the world population must vacate from current homes and apartments, then I will assure you that the new homeless people will revolt and take over the world unless the governments step in to help the people. I know you still worry if only a third or quarter of the world population do not have a place to live and you and I are among them. Do not worry. We may form our own nation called the Republic of the Homeless. We may pick up where both capitalism and communism have miserably failed and build a utopia that truly love one another in hope and faith.
Next, food. I am the least worried on food. You see, the red hot Sun (not Sarah Palin) is still dutifully giving off light of comparable luminosity. The green plants (not the Full Frontal fashion models) are still dutifully performing photosynthesis. The whole ecosystem (bacteria, plants, animals including people) has been ultimately fed by solar powered photosynthesis. There is no near term crisis yet, not for another few billion years when the Sun burns up its hydrogen fuel. The food is here, there, and everywhere. I know we modern mortals have been accustomed to buying food from super food marts. But that is not the way of life for our ancestors and our animal friends and germ foes. We can grow our own green plants and animal stocks. Now you worry about cultivatable land. Worry not, for the land is yours, mine, and ours to plough and plant, according to the lyric of a most memorable Christian hymn that I heard when I came to USA. You still worry about the land, as if we will relive the cowboys' era of the great expansion to the West. I say, worry not, since we do not need a big acre of land to grow enough food for one family. Besides, we can always go back to the days of slavery and submit ourselves to the big landlords before the next peasants' revolution.
Lastly, college tuition. Why worry about it when we have to dwell in mountain caves or shelters and eat what we grow ourselves? We will push back the modern education by 500 years. My friends (as John McCain likes to address his audience), don't you want to live a life that is as archaic and romantic as the nomads in an environmentally friendly way? I miss my childhood days when I collected dog dung to fertilize the land.
I rest my case of argument. I hope we will regain our hope, the best antidote to any fear. We are afraid of the potential revision to our modern way of life. Screw the modernity. Let's go back to the future that has true hope, faith and love.
Barack Obama seemed to know what we would need by launching his presidential bid on the bandwagon of hope. Why has he stopped talking about hope now? We all need hope, all the more desperately.
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