When I was a kid, my grandma used to plant crops in our backyard. I, her self-proclaimed sidekick, would always accompany her doing basically anything but helping. Just kidding! I do help, especially when it’s time to water the plants and crops or when it’s time to harvest. But in between the planting and harvesting was the nurturing.
We would go there everyday, and she would just loosen the soil, pluck out the weeds, and just observe them. While she was doing that, I would play with the dirt, build a fire and pretend to cook, or just make a tiny village out of soil.
We would be there until she decides she’s done. Sometimes it takes just less than an hour, sometimes we’d be there for hours or until it gets a bit dark.
One day, while we were on our regular gardening duty, a neighbor who was probably in her 30s-40s back then (forgive me, every adult in their 30s-50s looked the same to me as a kid), passed by. In the province, passing by a neighbor meant catching up and having long conversations.
Their voices were soft and quiet, but I overheard what they were talking about. Back then, I didn’t understand it, but what the lady said left a lasting mark on me. I never forgot her words, and now that I’m an adult, I understand them so much better.
Here’s how the conversation went non-verbatim.
Grandma: Tiwala lang sa diyos, di man habang buhay… makaguruginhawa man gud kita pag abot san panahon.
Lady: Makulugon man daw yun madi. Akay man gurang (uwaton) na ako masakit pa man gihapon.
Basically, my grandma was saying that we should trust God, that hardship won’t last forever, and that things will get better one day.
And the lady said that what my grandma said hurt. “If that were true, why is life still so hard even now that I’m old? It’s been so long. Why has nothing ever changed?”
At the time, I was so confused. Why would she feel hurt when my grandma was just trying to encourage her? It wasn’t until I grew up and faced the same harsh realities of life that I finally understood. I now understand —not just her words but the lady herself.
I get her now. I realized just how much encouragement can hurt in the face of your greatest disappointments and hardships. It hurts because you want what they’re saying more than anything, but you just can’t see it happening.
It hurts because you know that they can only say those things because they’re not in your situation.
It hurts because it seems like everybody else is moving forward, yet you stay stuck, and it feels so lonely.
Hope hurts. It hurts to keep expecting something only to be met by disappointment time and time again.
Looking back, I realized just how strong she was to be able to admit that it hurt. I wish I’d known then what I know now. I would have given her a hug. I would have cried for and with her. But I was just a kid, and I didn’t know. I had no idea just how much weight she was carrying inside her. Oh, the joy of ignorance.
I left my hometown more than 15 years ago, and I heard of her passing long after. I really don’t know how her life was in her later years. But I hope she’s lived a good life after that meaningful conversation with my grandma. I just hope and pray that she is in a better place now. I hope that she is now resting, laughing, and enjoying life on that side of eternity.
Meanwhile, I will keep doing my best with the borrowed time I have on this side of life. I hope she knows that there is at least one more person who’s truly seen her and now understands her on this level.
I will try to be as strong as her and admit that it hurts, and I will add to that truth. I will keep going and keep hoping despite the pain. Encouragements can hurt to hear, and hoping can hurt even more. But I will keep my hope in Jesus despite it. I will keep believing that I will taste and see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.
P.S. I don’t know if my grandma still remembers this. I’ll ask her when we meet on a Sunday for church.