inhumane humanity

i started writing a blog post this morning about something fairly inconsequential (frustration with my 'love' life), but left to go to an IDHA homeownership education class. in the span of 12 hours, my perspective has changed.

some context:

my father's older brother (my uncle) has Alzheimer's disease. his wife (my auntie) is also physically ill. their adopted son (my cousin Jae Won, in his later 30s, below, second from right) has also lived with a congenital disease. all of them have been homebound for decades.

it's always been difficult to connect with them (they live in Chon-An). they are ill, poor and far from Seoul; it's been difficult to care for them in any significant way. and because it's so uncomfortable to visit them and communicate with them, i admit that i hadn't done a good job myself. i only visited them once while i was living in Korea.

...

this evening i learned that Jae Won left a note saying, "Oh God, why can't i be healthy and normal like other guys?" and committed suicide.


...

you know,

i spend my days sweating over budgets, reports, public policy, personnel issues, funding and partners. i sweat it when my friends waste my precious time, or when good guys ask me out, but not the right guy, or when i half-heartedly visit churches.

and then i wonder: when did i stop remembering about life's fragility? when did i become so robotic in the human experience? when did suffering become an "issue" to tackle? when did i forget what it means to live in hopelessness, in a fallen world?

when did i get so damn comfortable?

sometimes, humanity is so inhumane. this is a prayer for light where there is darkness.