Behind Closed Doors: WHY WEEPEST THOU?

THE day I saw a young lady breaking into tears was still far from what I had earlier dreamt of in life. I had dreamt of love, fame and glory in a world awaiting me on the other side of the hill. I had just had a glimpse of that world calling deep “carry on, you’re on the right track,” when I saw a young woman down in tears. She bent on her knees with her hair and beautiful eyes beneath the lap of a young man who seemed less concerned about the potful of tears pouring down his feet. The girl wept, and wept and wept! I almost intervened to ask what hell had befallen the couple on such a beautiful ground. But the young man signaled me to close the door behind my back and make immediate plans of leaving them alone. I obeyed his wishes, picked my books from the room and proceeded to the university library to continue pursuing the world that I dreamt of.

When I came back to the room to have our supper, I found my roommate celebrating. He was so excited that he could greet anyone who passed by our room which wasn’t his usual behavior. So when I amazingly asked him why he was instead excited yet I had seen his girlfriend in tears with her head glued to his lap, he continued to laugh. I almost thought he had ran short of his normal senses until when he uttered a statement that, “She’s finally gone!”

“Gone where?” I asked immediately.

“What a relief!” exclaimed Katuuramu, who was my university roommate, “She has finally walked out of my life?”

I could not believe what my ears were hearing from Katuuramu’s mouth. I had again thought and dreamt as young men do; of love, fame and glory. But I was now shocked to extremes that one was jubilating that someone had walked out of his love. It ironically sounded ridiculous. So where is love? I asked myself. Why the hell am I then spending sleepless nights burning the midnight oil? I thought all love, beauty, fame and glory reside at Makerere University Kampala! But how could my roommate chuck his girlfriend in a twinkling of an eye without regard to the tears she poured before him? Will I ever risk myself again to seek for love if people just repulse it? I didn’t pay my attention to any possible misunderstandings that might have been the causes of the lovebird’s break up.  But deep down in my heart, a still small voice told me to keep my eyes on the look for any groaning woman and wipe her tears with my veil.

I committed my life to hunt for weeping ladies but they were found only at funerals. Others screamed on top of their voices behind closed doors during nights. But I feared to intervene in such cases because I knew they were in safe custodies of their husbands. So I kept myself dedicated to the process of hunting for only ladies crying softly. However my mission seemed to be destined to a dead end since almost no weeping woman crossed my eyes even after finishing my undergraduate studies.

Years came and passed at a terrific bat, but the tears of Katuuramu’s x-girlfriend kept groaning deep down in my soul and kept me restless. It was until one day my friend Andrew sent me a mail with another copy sent to a lady named Peace. The name caught my fancy and curiosity. “Probably I was looking for peace! Peace not only for my inner being, but for the rest of humanity including the women folk. I decided to seek for Peace, and not for tears. But how would I reach out those who are caught amidst emotional turmoil without peace? I asked myself such questions until I chose to look out for them by hook or crook. So one evening I wrote a message to the lady whose name I knew was called Peace, but whose face I had never seen. I wrote:

“Dear Peace, this is Michael (KPC Cell E1E3A) Bweyogerere-Ntebetebe. This is to wish you a MERRY CHRISTMAS and a HAPPY 2008. I am so blessed that I got your e-mail address from Andrew. He is a very good person. And now I am confident that we'll always keep in touch through 2008. My heart's desire is to share lifetime experiences with someone.

“Sometimes we go through deep waters, sail on top of the highest peaks and pass through fire; but we still remain lonely. I know God loves us. But we haven't genuinely received the love of people. On the contrary ourselves, I think we should also learn to love others. But it is hard for some of us because some people find it difficult to understand us. And they are right, because for example personally I rarely disclose my heartaches or joys to anyone. So I really need someone (probably you) to share testimonies, experiences, ins and outs etc via e-mailing or other means, for God's glory. Thank you Joseph and kind regards. Michael”

My eyes were kept in anticipation of what would come out the bush into which I had thrown a strange stone. Four days down the road, I received an amazing message from Peace reading:

“Hullo Michael –

“Praise God!!  I don’t know how to say this –but I was in tears when I read your mail…. So touching!!

“Indeed –I’ve having been going through deep waters … actually went to “Hell” one week in November!!!   & came back ……But I am back & in full gear!!

“I thank God for who you are- Keep up the good spirit & work!!! You can reach me on 0773/212125- or 0772-same. Be Blessed. Thine”

As I was still in jubilation for at least having made a woman cry as she read my mail, the same woman sent me a thrilling story that left me intrigued to continue finding out what was really behind all this. I am must confess that I am very poor at reading, especially stories from strangers. But my curiosity was propelled to the next level as I curiously read through Peace’s story as follows:

Wow……….A real keeper this one is!!!

We were the only family with children in the restaurant.  I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly sitting and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, 'Hi.'  

He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray.  His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment.

I looked around and saw the source of his merriment.  It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map.

We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. 'Hi there, baby; hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster,' the man said to Erik.

My husband and I exchanged looks, 'What do we do?' Erik continued to laugh and answer, 'Hi.'

Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, 'Do ya patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo?  Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo.'

Nobody thought the old man was cute.  He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed.  We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments.

We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door. 'Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,' I prayed.

As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's 'pick-me-up' position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man.

Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love and kinship.  Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder.

The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back.

No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time.

I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm commanding voice, 'You take care of this baby.'

Somehow I managed, 'I will,' from a throat that contained a stone.

He pried Erik from his chest, lovingly and longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, 'God bless you, ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift.'

I said nothing more than a muttered thanks. With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car.  My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, 'My God, my God, forgive me.'

I had just witnessed Christ's love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes.  I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking, 'Are you willing to share your son for a moment?' when He shared His for all eternity.

The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, 'To enter the Kingdom of God, we must become as little children.'

Sometimes, it takes a child to remind us of what is really important. We must always remember who we are, where we came from and, most importantly, how we feel about others.  The clothes on  your  back or the car that  you drive or the house that you live in does not define you at all; it  is how you treat your  fellow man that identifies who you are.

 This one is a keeper.

'It is better to be liked for the true you, than to be loved for who people think you are......

With thanks to Tanya Johnson

After reading the story, I realized that my mind had been tickled. Many people are out there looking for love, I thought. But it is so unfortunate that most of us are so selfish with our love. We do not want to give it away, yet we always yearn to receive it. Where shall humanity ever be able to give out genuine love? For my sake, the love one shows to a stranger is equal to the love that Christ showed the world thousands of years ago. It is the same love which is still streaming through the world today. The love bought by blood. So I immediately responded to Peace’s mails with another one which I genuinely wanted to wipe her tears away. It read:

“Dear Peace, God’s name be praised because of you. It is now beyond my wildest dreams that just my words in a mail could make someone break into tears of joy! Goodness!!! But God works in mysterious ways and His love is beyond fathoming.

“I am very sorry dear Peace for the turmoil you went through in November. I am so puzzled that you sank to the deepest horrible corners of hell but still survived. But God has you in the palm of His loving hand, and His loving-kindness is from generations to generations.  For real, I am feeling so restless about that fate worse than death which befell you! Dear Peace, what really happened to you? But glory to God that your storm is over now and everything in the garden is becoming lovely for you. Thank Him for every second that passes by every moment of every day.

“Personally, a few months back I encountered a terrible accident in Kiboga that left over 6 people dead. I survived narrowly and spent 3 days in coma at International Hospital Kampala. After coming back to life, I realized that I wasn’t that special to survive such a tragic accident, but it was God’s mercies that I should live a little longer to fulfill the mission He bestowed on my heart in the world of the living. So I count it all joy, that even on my sickbed before finding my feet, God’s still small voice was communicating to me that we should always make His works known to the world. So I am now a recovering testifier.

“Dear Peace thanks so much for availing me with your telephone contacts. But I am afraid to say that I don’t know why I am so poor at communicating by phone! However via e-mail I always try my level best to keep my loved ones posted. But my line is 0752290078, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and 366 days a year! By the way, thanks a lot for that story about the wretched unattractive dirty man whose loving arms embraced a beautiful innocent but wise baby, in front of a nervous mother! It was really intriguing. Where do you get such stories Peace? I wish you could send me more of them. However I am longing for your own story much more. Thanks dear and please keep in touch. With Love, Michael.”