When I was a child, we were poor.
It was just my mother and me.
I think it was in first grade.
One day, my classmates gave me pencils as a present.
I don’t remember whether it was because we were too poor to buy them,
or simply because I was forgetful and often went to school without a pencil.
But I think my teacher may have spoken kindly for me, saying something like,
“He doesn’t have a father.”
In second grade, my mother remarried.
But my new father was someone I could not understand.
And I think I was someone he could not understand either.
Sadly, our hearts never truly connected.
We stayed poor for quite a while after that.
We lived in a small apartment, just one room.
The top shelf of the closet became my “room.”
I was happy about that.
But at night, I was afraid of the dark.
I couldn’t close the sliding door all the way.
When night came, I would start to cry,
even though I didn’t really know why.
The tears just wouldn’t stop.
I think that was when my dreamy nature began.
When someone asked me, “Do you want it?”
I would answer, “Either way.”
I couldn’t say “Yes, I want it” straight out.
I didn’t know how to lean on someone.
I think I was more afraid of being rejected than anything else.
Even now, when I see a child clinging happily to their father,
I find myself thinking, That’s nice…
Maybe the feelings we carry as children stay with us for our whole lives.
Because of that, even after I began to study the Bible
and learned about the “Heavenly Father,”
I couldn’t simply run to Him and depend on Him.
I didn’t even know how to approach a father in the first place.
I admire Him.
How wonderful to be loved by Father!
But I am like a child who stands quietly to the side
while other children rush joyfully toward Jesus.
And yet—
Jesus notices me.
When our eyes meet, He gives me a gentle wink.
Inside, my heart is so happy it feels like it might burst.
But I grow shy, lower my eyes, and look down.
Perhaps that is where I am right now
in my relationship with Father Jehovah, His Son Jesus, and me.
The word “faith” feels too big for me.
Honestly, it doesn’t quite fit.
I often think my faith is still like a child’s pretend play.
And yet—
For Jehovah,
for Jesus,
I could die.
That much is true.
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