I remember how it was so hard to love him. Standing even several metres away from him was in itself a daunting task. You see, he used to gloat at me with the aura of self-righteousness, self-respect and self-exaltation accompanying his presence. And he used to look at me with an air of disdain, a piercing stare that constantly reminded me of how much lesser I was as a person compared to him.

But that was more than a dozen years ago. Several days ago, I met him again. He greeted me, not with a handshake but a bear hug. I extended my hand to shake his warmly, but he simply ignored the extension of my hand and gave me a hug. Within less than a minute, he began sharing with me all that he had been through in the recent years and how he's now struggling with life emotionally, mentally, and physically. The torment in his life was real, I could feel it.

I never thought that I would now think of him with so much tenderness in my heart. There's something in me that shares in his pain and his brokenness... the man who despised me, and who has now become someone whose sorrow I share. I now whisper very intense prayers for him in my quiet moments.

All time belongs to the Almighty. He moulds and breaks lives, all at his appointed time, just so they'll turn to him in true surrender. He does it, just so that one life will be given to him; and so that he may in return give his abundance of life to that one life.