An Unexpected Gift

Psalm 138:8 (ESV) The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me;
your steadfast love, O Lord, endures forever.
Do not forsake the work of your hands.

I was three years old when I started to remember.

I was treading down the pebble wash staircase in my childhood home, holding on to a red Indian tapestry that my parents acquired from one of their travels to the Far East. At the bottom of the staircase was my sister, messy short hair, huge eyes, yelping in gibberish beyond my comprehension.

"Yaya Dory, what is wrong with her?" I asked her nanny.

"Nothing. She is mentally retarded."

I pitied my sister while I was growing up. She couldn't speak words and sentences the way I could. She said, "Tachoo" instead of "Thank you". Her awkward gait never matched my swift run and she went to a special needs school where the teachers taught her how to pour water, push her chair and button her blouse, skills that I could easily do as a five year old.

There were also times when she wet and soiled her pants, so the yayas who took care of her were always upset and burdened. Jhoanna also threw uncontrollable tantrums in public, so as I grew up, my pity grew into an uncontrollable and embarassing shame.

I also wondered why my sister was different. What went on in her mind? Why was her brain different from mine? Why couldn't she understand what adults were saying? Why couldn't she communicate the way others communicated? Why did she have to shout all the time?

I was also worried. What will happen to her when we grow up? What was the point of her life? She's never going to be able to work and live the life that other adults to. Why did God create her?

By the time I was six, I was determined to change the course of her life. My parents and I traveled to India, and during a visit to Mumbai, visited a temple where the elephant god, Ganesha, resided. As a child, I was fascinated by this god--his trunk, the majestic way he raised his head and his huge floppy ears. My parents acquired some holy water from Ganesha and hid it on the top shelf of their closet back in Manila.

One day, I climbed this closet, discovered the holy water, and decided to steal a cup. That night, while my sister was asleep, I sprinkled some holy water on her large droopy eyes, tall nose and high cheekbones. I prayed that she would be healed from what I perceived was her affliction--her mental handicap. I believed in my heart that this holy water was the antidote, the solution to her ailment.

I waited and waited. I waited until she woke up. She opened her eyes and hollered my name, "Shashashashasha!" Her eyes were bright and laughing. But no change.

I waited for a change the next day. "Tachoo, Shasha," she said as I handed her a stuffed toy.

And the next day, "Shashasha amoon amoon." Her hand demonstrating a scooping movement, her way of asking me if I was hungry.

I waited for a miracle to happen in my sister during the next weeks and months. It never happened. One day, I forgot that I hoped. I stopped waiting.

By the time I was nine, I didn't believe in Ganesha or any god. I didn't understand how He could create a being like my sister, who in my perception suffered so much. What was the point of her life? What was its purpose? She couldn't even say simple words like, "Thank you". She couldn't even feed herself properly and go to a normal school. How could God be so cruel? He had no power. Maybe He doesn't exist!

By the time I was in high school, I sought the answers to my questions in psychology: All our brains are wired differently. The causes are numerous. Genetics can play a part. Sometimes a difficult pregnancy. I learned about psychoanalysis, conditioning and play therapy. I put my hope in these antidotes. These solutions.

My major in college was psychology and during my last year, a professor encouraged me to teach because she observed that I understood how the minds of children work and I had excellent rapport with them.

I graduated from university and taught in a preschool a month after. The start of my current profession, a profession that I've been successful at for the past thirteen years.

"The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me;
your steadfast love, O Lord, endures forever.
Do not forsake the work of your hands."

The main reason that I am a teacher today is because of my sister, Jhoanna. Through Jhoanna, God planted the seeds of curiosity and care in in me. Through Jhoanna and me, God has blessed many children.

The Lord has fulfilled and continues to fulfill His purposes for Jhoanna and me.

Tachoo, Lord. Tachoo, Jhoanna.

Shoot a prayer:

Have you ever received an unexpected gift through difficult circumstances?

Ask God to speak to you today about His purposes that are beyond your current understanding.