Here, There, Everywhere.
I am not a religious person. At the very most, I would maybe say I am a "spiritual" person. Many Christian friends are upset that I am not a "believer". Some insists that one learns morals by going to church, but I am not a churcher-goer. Given how my life has played out, some think God clearly loves me and has been watching over me. They got really mad after I told them about this incident that happened over twenty five years ago when I was studying in France . . .
I was a poor student surviving solely on a scholarship. I had no family but only a few friends I met on campus. My boyfriend was very far away in Washington, D.C. I could not afford too many train tickets, not to mention owning a car. I did not speak much French and was experiencing a lot of discrimination on campus from the faculty, the administration as well as fellow students. I was isolated. I never not expected my two years in France to be that hard. As the Chinese saying goes, every day felt like a year. I was depressed.
Every once in a while, I would go to Paris to buy some Asian groceries items to soothe my homesickness. The trip was quite an endeavor because it involved a 30-minute walk downhill from the school and climbing over a high stone wall before getting to the train station in the valley for an infrequent train to Paris. It took almost two hours to get to Paris Chinatown. To return to my dormitory, I reversed the process, carrying my provisions like a mule up a steep wooded path.
It was a crisp, gorgeous early spring day, but my heart was heavy. I had just been given failing grades for two classes. To this day, I do not understand how I could get an overall grade of D (Fail) for classes that were 80% group assignment (for which I got an A), plus 20% participation (arbitrarily determined by professor to be a D). Their only explanation was: "Given the level of your French, I do not believe you could possibly participate in the process. Someone could have done the homework for you." The more I tried to appeal, the more determined they were to flunk me. Justice was not on my side. My future was doomed.
With the heavy stuff in my backpack and my hands, I was not excited about returning to school. Yet, I had nowhere else to go. I needed to just tough it out so that I could go home with my degree. I looked up at where I was heading on this path in the woods and saw a magnificent scene: The grass was just emerging from the ground. Above the lush green grass, there was a layer of dainty bright yellow wild flowers. And then, atop the yellow flowers, there was another layer of lovely purplish blue wild flowers floating mid air. Everything was picture perfect like a fancy postcard. It was stunning.
As I was admiring this wonderful view in awe, I heard a gentle voice in my head, "Nature is beautiful!" Before I could even react, an angry, resentful voice kicked in, "But why does it have to be in France?" Within a split second, the calm, serene voice came in again, "Why not in France? God is everywhere!"
That, literally, stopped me in my tracks. "What is going on with me? Am I hearing things? Am I having a religious moment? What does it mean? Am I going crazy?" I don't normally freak out easily, but that did freak me out big time. I almost ran my way uphill to my dorm room. For days, the last line I heard kept echoing in my head. "What is happening to me???"
Some of my friends are angry that I have not become a convert and start going to church. They think the message is clear. "God is reaching out to you. I am so jealous!" a friend said.
I still do not go to church because, to me, the message is clear: God is everywhere.
I was a poor student surviving solely on a scholarship. I had no family but only a few friends I met on campus. My boyfriend was very far away in Washington, D.C. I could not afford too many train tickets, not to mention owning a car. I did not speak much French and was experiencing a lot of discrimination on campus from the faculty, the administration as well as fellow students. I was isolated. I never not expected my two years in France to be that hard. As the Chinese saying goes, every day felt like a year. I was depressed.
Every once in a while, I would go to Paris to buy some Asian groceries items to soothe my homesickness. The trip was quite an endeavor because it involved a 30-minute walk downhill from the school and climbing over a high stone wall before getting to the train station in the valley for an infrequent train to Paris. It took almost two hours to get to Paris Chinatown. To return to my dormitory, I reversed the process, carrying my provisions like a mule up a steep wooded path.
It was a crisp, gorgeous early spring day, but my heart was heavy. I had just been given failing grades for two classes. To this day, I do not understand how I could get an overall grade of D (Fail) for classes that were 80% group assignment (for which I got an A), plus 20% participation (arbitrarily determined by professor to be a D). Their only explanation was: "Given the level of your French, I do not believe you could possibly participate in the process. Someone could have done the homework for you." The more I tried to appeal, the more determined they were to flunk me. Justice was not on my side. My future was doomed.
With the heavy stuff in my backpack and my hands, I was not excited about returning to school. Yet, I had nowhere else to go. I needed to just tough it out so that I could go home with my degree. I looked up at where I was heading on this path in the woods and saw a magnificent scene: The grass was just emerging from the ground. Above the lush green grass, there was a layer of dainty bright yellow wild flowers. And then, atop the yellow flowers, there was another layer of lovely purplish blue wild flowers floating mid air. Everything was picture perfect like a fancy postcard. It was stunning.
As I was admiring this wonderful view in awe, I heard a gentle voice in my head, "Nature is beautiful!" Before I could even react, an angry, resentful voice kicked in, "But why does it have to be in France?" Within a split second, the calm, serene voice came in again, "Why not in France? God is everywhere!"
That, literally, stopped me in my tracks. "What is going on with me? Am I hearing things? Am I having a religious moment? What does it mean? Am I going crazy?" I don't normally freak out easily, but that did freak me out big time. I almost ran my way uphill to my dorm room. For days, the last line I heard kept echoing in my head. "What is happening to me???"
Some of my friends are angry that I have not become a convert and start going to church. They think the message is clear. "God is reaching out to you. I am so jealous!" a friend said.
I still do not go to church because, to me, the message is clear: God is everywhere.
May the guardian angels with you always!
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