Cancer deprived him of his left hand, monthly chemotherapy caused his curly, bushy hair to fall out, and yet his cheerful, unsophisticated smile never faded.

It was a bright morning in August 1996. The marketplace in the downtown of Tunghsiao Township was bustling. A white car stopped in front of us. A skinny, baldheaded boy with one arm jumped out and ran to us with an exhilarating welcome. Lin Chung-min, the boy of 13 for whom we were waiting, was so conspicuous among the crowd. Yet he looked so well-balanced that I thought he had again become what he used to be.

Leading the Way

He insisted on leading us to his home, located in a small, remote village. "You'll never find the way without me," he said proudly. On the way, he waved to the truck drivers passing by and yelled joyfully, "Hey, I have guests today!"

Soon, we were out of the town. The blue sky was high above the rows of mountains. With a summer breeze blowing over our faces, we could hardly deny the blessings of nature. Jiggling and jolting, we found ourselves on a gravel country road. I knew I had already lost my way and that I was free from the pressures of the city on this beautiful morning. Just behind a bamboo thicket, an obscure path lay hidden. Chung-min pointed to the end of the path, where a brick house sitting on the hillside waited for our arrival.

In the small living room, just like in my own grandma's house , a Chinese scroll and old black-and-white photographs were the primary decorations on the wall. Chung-min's father got straight to the point, talking about his son's illness, but ignoring his presence.

The Heartbreaking News

Chung-ming grew up in a single-parent family. He is the youngest child, living with his father, grandmother, brother and sister. He had a happy childhood until a tiny cyst bulged on his left elbow three years ago.

If he suffered from a serious disease, it would be a cruel joke to this humble family with its meager income. Unfortunately, his doctor diagnosed him as having cancer. The heartbreaking news made the family's financial condition even more precarious, but it never shook this brave boy's spirit.

For three years, he rushed in and out of local hospitals and had four operations, but the tumor apparently enjoyed this malicious joke and continued to grow up to 30 kilograms [66 lb], thus weighing as much as the rest of his body! When he was referred to Tzu Chi General Hospital in March 1996, he accepted Dr. Kuang Shih-tung's suggestion without a second thought: to remove his left arm and shoulder.

"It was all your fault," interrupted Mr. Lin's friend. "You were such an idiot to believe in that weird spiritual mumbo-jumbo that only made his health worse. "

"What else could I do? I'd spent all my money." Mr. Lin sighed helplessly and lit another cigarette.

I kept my eyes on Chung-min, who always listened quietly with a broad smile. It seemed nothing mattered to him. After a silent pause, I asked, "What came to your mind when you were told that they would have to remove your arm?"

"It was great," he answered immediately. "The tumor was so puffed up that it would easily rupture and then a stream of blood would pour out. It was so scary."

I would never have thought that a functioning arm could have became such a horrible nightmare to this young boy. A few days after the surgery, he squeezed Sister Chang Shun-hua's hand tightly. "You see," he said, "I can use it with the strength of two hands." He thought that if a person had a pair of normal hands but didn't do anything good with them, he was no better than a handicapped person.

Indeed, he has never bothered his family even after the surgery. As usual, he helps out with chores and plays basketball, his favorite sport. He was very fond of a camera that Sister Chang recently gave him. He could not wait to show off the pictures he had taken. In the photo album, every picture revealed the happiness of school life and his distinguished appearance.

When I turned to the front pages, a lovely boy with bushy, curly hair captured my eyes. The picture was taken before the surgery and his inflated arm could clearly be seen. I looked at it closely, and suddenly I found that that boy was no different from the one in front of me right now, except for a little bit more maturity. In three years under the threat of death and the suffering of chemotherapy, his glistening eyes and brilliant smile never dimmed.

"At least I haven't lost my heart." He scratched his head. As young as he was, he had already learned to give up the rotten arm in order to survive, to let go in order to face his future life.

An Optimistic Good Boy

It was his unique characteristic of optimism that drew Sister Chang's attention when she met him last March during her volunteer service at Tzu Chi General Hospital. One morning, an 81-year-old lady was crying about her miserable life: her son and daughter-in-law had passed away and left behind three kids who needed to be taken care of. "Don't be so sad, Grandma." Here came a young child with his one arm pulling an IV stand. Looking at his hospital gown, Sister Chang thought that he must be a patient in the hospital. He kept consoling the old woman. "They would feel upset if they saw you unhappy. We should offer them blessings instead." Sister Chang was astonished that the clever young child had such wisdom.

"Do you think you're different from other patients in the hospital?" I asked.

"Yes, I think I'm happier compared to them," he replied.

"Why?" I was curious.

He thought for a second and then shook his head. Perhaps, the meaning of life had no need to be uttered, but was only to be seized at every moment.

Outwardly, the Lins did not change a lot after Chung-min got sick. All they hoped was to do their best to make him happy for the rest of his life, no matter how long it would be. "He's such a pest and always fights with me," said his older sister with tears in her eyes. "But he always looks so happy and I feel so sorry for what he's gone through. I love the little dear very much."

Vow to Help Others