Her parents were divorced, and she started to work part-time while she was still in middle school. Life brought her many frustrations and she changed jobs many times. She knew well the bitterness of life, but her tears were shed only when no one else could see. It is very difficult for young people today to understand her painful experiences.

A Miserable Childhood

Childhood should be a carefree period when children can play happily and without worry. However, I wasn't so lucky.

When I was born, my father was already almost sixty years old. Although I was not a boy, my father was still very pleased to have a daughter in his twilight years. Later, my sister was born, and our family of four depended on the small business my father ran. As far as our material welfare was concerned, we were considered well-to-do, but there was a shadow over our spiritual life.

The happiness of our family changed when I was in the first grade. For a long time, my father and mother had been quarreling. First they only used their mouths, but later on they used their fists. My father even hid the rice so that my mother had nothing to cook. Unable to stand this misery, my mother left home, leaving my sister and me to live with my father.

Children of single parents always receive less care, but my father was an old-fashioned man who knew nothing about keeping house or raising children. Sometimes we ate and sometimes we didn't. My body became dirty and smelly, and my hair was full of lice. No one would play with me.

Without friends, I felt very lonely, but I pretended not to care. I said to them, "Who cares? I don't want to play with you either. When I'm alone, I'm free to do whatever I like." As a matter of fact, I went to great extremes to protest their indifference to me. For instance, if I wanted to eat something, I would steal it. If someone said something against me, I would fight with him or her. In the evening, when other children went back home, I lingered or even slept on the street. I became notorious for my rebelliousness. The parents in our neighborhood warned their children, "If you play with her, I'll beat you."

When I was in the sixth grade, my father became blind as a result of a failed cataract operation, and he could no longer run his business. Fortunately, we had an old house which we rented out. This income barely kept the three of us alive. In order to take care of my father, my sister had to quit school after the third grade.

I was second to last out of fifty-two students in my class, and the last was a mentally retarded student. Even though I did poorly in my studies, when I saw my classmates going on to middle school, I told my father I wanted to go too. However, he had very old-fashioned concepts. "What's the use of further studies for a girl? After graduation, you'd better learn some skill, such as hairdressing or sewing."

But I was very persistent. Finally my father said, "If you want to stay in school, you'll have to support yourself."

Failing at Work

Since my father had agreed, I got part-time jobs during the summer and winter vacations to earn my tuition. I tried quite a few jobs, such as washing dishes in a restaurant, baby-sitting, working in an electronics factory, selling box meals, and delivering newspapers.

When I think about selling box meals and delivering newspapers, I am filled with bitterness. I remember the place where I sold box meals was in a commercial district of Taipei. More than a dozen stalls sold box meals there, and competition was very keen. It was a real challenge for an inexperienced fifteen-year-old girl like me. Although I shouted "Box meals, delicious box meals" like the others, very few people came to my stall. I watched as other vendors sold out. One day, I only managed to sell one box. A few days later, my boss said to me, "If all my salespeople were like you, I'd have to close my business within one month. Don't come back tomorrow."

I left the restaurant with tears in my eyes. Walking the streets, I had no idea where to go. "What shall I do?" I asked myself. "It's so simple to sell box meals, yet I can't even do that well. What else can I do?" I had lost all my self-confidence, but to pay the school tuition, I still had to find some other work.

This time, I found a job delivering newspapers. I thought all I had to do was to deliver the newspapers according to the addresses. There was no competition and it was much simpler than selling box meals. I thought I should be able to do this job well.

Unexpectedly, I was fired again after a few days. Subscribers complained to the newspaper agency that they weren't getting their newspapers, and their neighbors complained about receiving newspapers when they hadn't subscribed to them. I found out that I had been too careless. I delivered a newspaper to the third floor when it should have been delivered to the fourth, or I took one to No. 10 instead of No. 12.

All those blows seriously damaged my self-respect and gave me an inferiority complex. I thought I was useless, the trash of society. I didn't dare talk to people or try to get along with them. I was afraid they might make fun of me. When people asked about my family, I didn't want them to know the truth. If they knew the truth, they might look down on me. So I made up stories. I told them how good my family was and how my parents loved me. I even said my mother would get up in the middle of the nigh to pull up my comforter. But I couldn't remember which lies I told to whom. Finally the truth came out and I made a fool of myself.

After middle school, I went to a vocational school. I studied in the evenings and worked in the daytime as an office girl in a platemaking company. An office girl was not very well respected. My boss treated me as if I were his private maid. I not only had to do different things in the office, but I also had to clean his villa in the suburbs. It was really a hard job, but I never complained because I didn't want to get fired again. Being jobless was not a pleasant experience. I told myself, that no matter how hard it was, I had to carry on. I worked in that company for three years, until I graduated from vocational school.

An Arranged Marriage

The year I graduated, my father passed away. Since there was no one else we could rely on, my sister and I went to live with our mother. My father had forbidden us to have any connection with our mother after she left our home. However, we still had deep feelings for each other, and my sister and I visited her secretly.

When we went to live with Mom, she was just about to get remarried. My stepfather had three sons and five daughters. He hoped that I would marry one of his sons. He gave me their pictures and asked me to choose one.

I was nineteen then. I was always afraid of losing another job, and my father had suddenly passed away. I never knew what would come next and I felt very insecure. I longed for something steady and secure in my life, so I agreed to get to know his youngest son. Later on, we were married. So mother and daughter married father and son, binding our two families tightly together.

After the wedding, I found that the family was in disharmony. My husband's sisters and brothers were not on good terms with each other. My husband frequently got in the middle of their disagreements, and when he didn't know what to do, he would stay away from home for days at a time.

I had originally intended to have a stable home, and that was why I decided to marry so early. I never expected that the marriage would make my problems even more complicated. If I had known that before, I would never have agreed to the marriage. I worried about my husband's sudden disappearances, and hatred grew in my heart. I hated my husband because he couldn't give me a stable home. I hated my mother even more, because she hadn't taken care of me when I was a child, and then she had brought me into a family with such complicated problems, where I suffered physically and mentally.

I never thought that my mother was in an even more awkward position than I was. Her heart ached as though it was being crushed by a stone, but I never considered her position. On the contrary, I was full of hatred for her. I didn't even want to call her "mother."

My mother had been connected with Tzu Chi for a while. Every day she was very busy, and she didn't seem to care about her children's behavior.

My Mother Prevents a Divorce

I thought I should get divorced. I couldn't stand the spiritual torture at home any longer. Since nobody cared whether I lived or died, why should I stay at home? Why should I stoop to compromise? Mother knew I was thinking of getting a divorce. She suggested that I visit Tzu Chi in Hualien.

For several years, I had been rebelling against my mother. If she wanted me to turn to the west, I went to the east. I had never been obedient to her. However, this time I made an exception for her.

Still, I didn't accept her advice right off. She had to urge me again and again. "The scenery in Hualien is very beautiful," she said. "You've never been there. Why don't you go and enjoy yourself?" I'd heard about the beautiful scenery of Hualien, but I'd never had a chance to go there. Besides, I'd stayed in this dull home since I got married. I did need to go out to breathe some fresh air and relax a little. With this in mind, I agreed to go to Hualien with my mother.

At the Abode of Still Thoughts, the spiritual home of the Tzu Chi Foundation, Mother tried to take me to pay homage to Master Cheng Yen and ask her for instruction. However, I had no intention of seeing Master Cheng Yen and listening to her teaching. I thought I already knew what she was going to say. She would say something about my mother and advise me to be obedient to her and try to understand her. This wasn't what I wanted to hear. To avoid meeting with the Master, I just walked around enjoying the beautiful landscape.

Although I didn't see Master Cheng Yen on that trip, I gained some understanding about Tzu Chi. It was a good organization that was helping a lot of poor people, and a lot of people were joining up. I thought it might be a good thing to go along with the others, if only to get out of the house. When I got back home, I started to raise funds for Tzu Chi and became an apprentice commissioner. In 1990, I was certified as a qualified commissioner.

When I became a commissioner, I had to visit the poor, collect donations and do volunteer work at Tzu Chi Hospital. In the hospital, I saw so many suffering patients, especially those in the ICU, with so many tubes on their bodies. They were so helpless and in so much pain. My stubbornness and obstinate ways were gradually softened. However, my hatred for my mother did not diminish.

Other Hands, Thoughts of Mother

In April 1992, while doing volunteer work in Tzu Chi Hospital, I went to see a woman who was afflicted with cancer of the uterus. She looked very happy to see me. I asked her, "How come nobody is taking care of you?"

"I have two daughters about your age," she said sadly. "But they are both working in Taipei. They are very busy and can't come to see me. I pray every day, but still I'm terrified of death. I can't face death by myself. Lying here all alone, I'm afraid, so afraid."

As I talked to her and tried to cheer her up, I looked at her closely. She looked so much like my own mother-about the same age, the same worn-out face, sunken eyes, rickety body... When I held her hands together to chant "Amitabha" with her, I found that her pale, feeble hands were the same as my mother's...

As she clutched my hands, an image suddenly came to my mind. One day many years ago, my mother wanted to hold my hand. I thought she was just pretending to be affectionate and I didn't accept her offer. Instead, I pushed her hand away and told her I didn't want to hold her hands. I could see the disappointment and sorrow on her face. The hands of the woman in front of me were like my mother's. Why was I willing to hold her hands but unwilling to let my mother hold mine? Why did I hate my mother so much? Why was I so cruel to her? Why? I was filled with painful memories and limitless regrets.

On the way from the hospital back to the Abode of Still Thoughts, other volunteers were singing a song called "A Bodhisattva's Heart":

A bodhisattva's heart is a mother's heart.

A bodhisattva's hands are a mother's hands.

They feed you, they hold you,

They love you with all their hearts...

I couldn't go on. My eyes became hazy and my cheeks were wet with tears. Finally, I could no longer hold myself in and I cried uncontrollably.

That evening at the Abode of Still Thoughts, I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking of my mother. I remembered those days of my childhood when she was still at home. Didn't she feed me and hold me as I learned to walk? A mother's heart is a bodhisattva's heart. What kind of heart was mine? Mother did so much for us when she was young. Why, in her old age, did I treat her like an enemy? I could go to far-off Hualien and take care of total strangers. Yet when my own mother was sick in bed, I wouldn't walk the few feet to her room to ask how she was. I wasn't a filial daughter. Was I qualified to console other people's mothers? Would I wait until my mother could no longer see or hear me to tell her I was sorry?

Mama, I Was Wrong-Please Forgive Me

The telephone receiver felt heavy in my hand as I dialed the familiar number. I still hadn't decided what I would say.

"Mama..." For many years I'd been unable to call her that. I couldn't go on. All I could do was cry.

"Pei-shan, what's the matter?" Mother asked anxiously. The warm sound of her voice called up so many feelings that had been submerged for so long.

"Mama, I miss you," I choked out through my sobs .

She didn't seem to have understood me, and she again asked with concern: "What are you crying for? Aren't you feeling well?"

Like a cicada molting its skin, I struggled to shed years of obstinate willfulness. Finally, I managed to say the words that had been hidden in my heart for so long: "Mama, I was wrong before. Will you forgive me?"

I was surprised by her reply. "Silly girl! I've already forgotten everything that happened in the past. You just be a good volunteer there at the hospital. I'll take care of everything for you at home. Don't worry about anything that happened before. So long as you're happy, I'm satisfied."

It took me ten minutes to say those few words through my tears. But when I hung up the phone, I felt a warmth in my heart that I hadn't felt in ten years.

When I remembered the past, I saw that because of the hatred in my heart, I was unfilial to my mother, I kept myself away from my husband and I beat my children. The whole family was under pressure because of me and there was no harmony or warmth. After I joined Tzu Chi, I tried to help hospital patients and to bring them happiness and confidence, but actually I learned from them that I was still a useful person whose existence could make a difference in this world. That is what Master Cheng Yen meant when she said: "When you take care of others, you save yourself. Therefore, you must be grateful to those who have received your help."