I am the oldest of four children in my family. Because I'm the eldest son, my parents doted on me. But I was the one who troubled them the most.

Master Cheng Yen once said: "Educate your children with Buddha's wisdom." But most mothers, like mine, spoil their children. She gave me whatever I wanted. For instance, when I was a student, I once asked my mother to give me NT$100 (US$4) for pocket money. She refused and said: "I gave you $100 yesterday. Today I can only give you $80." I retorted coldly, "I won't take it unless you give me $100," and I turned away abruptly to leave. My mother then chased me down and begged me to take the $100. I wasn't the least ashamed of myself back then, taking for granted that it was my parents' duty to support me.

During middle school, I started hanging out with a group of bad friends. My parents were extremely upset by my behavior, but they couldn't do anything about it.

I took my book bag to school with me in the morning and carried it home at night without even opening it during the day. At that time, I felt content wasting my days away. Not until I graduated from high school and tried to find a job did I realize that I had studied too little.

I finally found a job after some painful searching. But my job, which involved lots of paperwork, gave me a headache because I didn't know how to write. Fortunately, my supervisor and colleagues took good care of me and tried to acquaint me with my work duties. So I gradually got on track.

My parents thought that once I started working, my lifestyle would get back to normal. But on the contrary, I went from bad to worse. I first learned to smoke out of curiosity in junior high school. It felt good, so I kept on smoking. After a long time, I developed a habit of smoking two packs a day. Everyone knows that drinking often follows smoking, so I began to drink as enthusiastically as I smoked. I also loved to drink in the company of bar girls. I was generous with my money, never hesitating to give big tips. All the bar girls had nicknames, like "Jen-jen" or "Nana." They liked to see me because I visited frequently and spent so much money. They nicknamed me "Beautiful Money."

Every day I ate, drank and caroused with prostitutes. My evening usually started at two or three in the morning. On the average, I didn't go home 20 out of 30 days each month. And, of course, I wouldn't forget gambling. I loved all kinds of gambling games * poker, dice, and many others. If I won, I wasted the money on fancy food and alcohol. If I lost, I told lies to borrow more money. Whenever my colleagues heard that I wanted to borrow money, they knew that I had lost money gambling again. Sometimes I threw temper tantrums after I lost. I yelled at my mother, as if she were the one to blame.

One day, my father became ill and was sent to the hospital emergency room. At that time, I was drinking with bar girls and singing karaoke. Another time a thief broke into our house. I was busy playing mahjong and didn't find out about it until the people in my office told me the next day. Because I was the oldest son, my parents had expected a great deal from me. Instead, I grew up to be a black sheep. They frequently blamed each other for my failures. My attitude was that no matter how much they quarreled, I would still stay the way I was. I never thought of repenting.

About four or five years ago, I heard that there was a Buddhist nun who had founded a hospital in Hualien. I wanted to find out more about it, but each time I went to Hualien on business, I got drunk and lost the opportunity to visit that nun.

Then, one day in April 1990, I was listening to a radio program called "The Tzu Chi World." A member was narrating her beautiful, fulfilling personal experience in the Tzu Chi Foundation. Because I had already wanted to go to Hualien, I was drawn by her story and kept listening. I used to be busy eating and drinking and didn't even have time to watch TV. I don't know what prompted me to listen to the radio. Perhaps it was just my good fortune .

I was touched by the radio program and thought it might be a good idea to donate some money. After all, I didn't care much about spending money.

I called the Tzu Chi Taipei branch office to find out how to send donations. The office introduced Sister Shih Su-yin, a Tzu Chi commissioner, to me. Sister Shih first asked me why I wanted to donate money. "To do a good deed, I guess," I said.

"How wonderful it is to have such a kind heart! Do you know anything about Tzu Chi?"

"Not much."

Then she told me about the history of the foundation and Master Cheng Yen's mission to deliver people from suffering. That was when I found out that the Master in Hualien had done so many things. Sister Shih told me more about Tzu Chi whenever she came to collect my monthly membership fee. She showed genuine concern for me by frequently stopping by on her way to other businesses to encourage me to participate in Tzu Chi activities. So I started identifying myself with Tzu Chi missions and activities. One day, Sister Shih asked me, "Would you like to go to Hualien to have a look at the headquarters and listen to the Master teach?" I accepted the offer.

In Hualien, I saw that the nuns in the Abode of Still Thoughts led an austere lifestyle, living on their own income. To avoid waste ("to appreciate one's blessings" in Buddhist terminology), they even ate the leftovers in the kitchen after visitors finished their meals. I was quite ashamed of myself. Compared to the nuns, I had done nothing worthwhile.

Eventually I had the opportunity to meet Master Cheng Yen herself. She was a tiny person, with straight shoulders, a thin face that reflected strength, and clear, gentle but radiant eyes. Although it was the first time I'd ever seen her in person, I felt as close to her as to my own family. At that moment I couldn't hold back my tears. I don't know why. Perhaps I was really moved by something for the first time in my life. The Master said: "Your ability is as strong as your will!"

Although I was only a small potato, I became committed to doing my best to share the Master's heavy responsibility and to regard Tzu Chi's charity work as my own. Later I joined Sister Shih's group and the Tzu Cheng Faith Corps. At that point, I officially entered the Tzu Chi World.

Those who join the Faith Corps are required to observe Tzu Chi's ten precepts, which include five Buddhist precepts and another five instituted by the Master: 1) no smoking or chewing betel nuts, 2) no gambling or speculation, 3) obey traffic laws, 4) respect your parents and be moderate in speech and attitude, and 5) no participation in politics or demonstrations. We all know that it is difficult to quit smoking and drinking. But I was determined to join the Faith Corps and get rid of my bad habits. Tzu Chi was a charity organization, and nobody forced me to join. So if I wanted to be a member, I certainly needed to follow its rules. Besides, quitting smoking and drinking would be good for my health. The Master said: "In doing things, we need to take action right away. We must not give ourselves excuses to postpone till tomorrow what we should correct today. If we find excuses for ourselves, we will never change our bad habits." This rule applies to quitting smoking or drinking.

Smoking, drinking and gambling. These bad habits made up my past life of indulgence, and it wasn't easy for me to switch to a normal life immediately. I went through an inner war, and it was hard to fight on. Whenever my friends invited me to go out, I would agonize over whether or not to go. Fortunately, I was determined not to go. I refused my friends each time they invited me. After a while they stopped asking.

After I joined the Tzu Chi Foundation, I started recruiting new members and collecting donations. I began with my colleagues and friends, telling them everything about Tzu Chi. In my office, my colleagues' perception of me hadn't changed. When I asked them to donate money, they said: "This guy is really tricky. Now he's found a new way to get money." In the beginning, few people wanted to donate money to the foundation through me. But slowly I managed to touch others by first redeeming myself. My colleagues began to realize that I had mended my previous bad ways because I had become a real Tzu Chi member. They also identified with the contribution Tzu Chi had made to society. So more and more people accepted my invitation and became Tzu Chi members.

I feel content because I've learned a great deal by visiting the poor. Without these visits, I wouldn't have realized that there were so many people suffering in our society, and that I was very fortunate to be blessed with what I had. Without personally witnessing the suffering of the poor, a person can easily ignore what he hears.

I remember one particular visit to a poor family. The father was only 30-some years old. He had been paralyzed from the waist down in a car accident and had been bedridden for a long time. Two big bedsores had developed on his back. His wife had to work day and night to support the family. They had a 10-year-old daughter. While most children her age enjoy a fun childhood, this little girl had to cook and do all the house chores in the morning, go to school, and then hurry back from school to feed her father and change his diaper at noon. I saw no childlike innocence or light-heartedness on her face. There was only despondency.

In contrast, I've never lived in hardship, and I've never cooked, washed clothes or served my parents. I once shamelessly told my friends that I was a good son because I let my parents serve me.

My mother began feeling sick after she retired from work in August 1990. The doctor thought that she had a stomach virus, and prescribed medicine accordingly. She consulted four or five more doctors, but the illness didn't go away. When the true cause was finally found, her kidneys had already wasted away badly. She had to undergo dialysis.

After consulting several doctors, we decided to do the dialysis at home. We set up a dialysis ward in our house. At first, my mother vomited frequently because her body couldn't adjust to the dialysis. She was even hospitalized a few times after going into shock. Her spirits were very low during that period. She complained that she wouldn't have retired if she'd known that she would get sick. She felt that she might still be in good shape if she had a full-time job.

I tried to console her by saying: "Since you're sick already, why not accept it peacefully? Compared to those who suffer from stroke or paraplegia, you're very lucky. They're bedridden, while you can move freely like a normal person when you're not undergoing dialysis. Plus, you should feel good that your son has changed so much since he joined Tzu Chi. We all need to be grateful to the Master."

Seeing that my brother (who dropped out of school in the United Kingdom to return home) and I were dedicated to caring for our mother, the doctor offered us new equipment designed especially to perform dialysis at night. However, my mother's government health insurance didn't include coverage for the equipment. Also, because people whose kidneys don't function properly have lower red blood cell and hemoglobin counts, they need to receive injections to stimulate hemoglobin growth, and they must also eat highly nutritious food.

Consequently, my family's expenditures increased. My mother gave me her savings passbook and asked me to withdraw some money. I gave the bank book back to her and said: "What's a son for?" Although this was a common statement, it had special meaning for my mother because I, her son, used to know nothing about filial piety. But I'd changed since I joined Tzu Chi, and my mother and I now felt very close to each other.

Mother used to do all the household chores. After she became sick, I felt that, as her oldest son, I should bear the responsibility. So I woke up at 5:30 each morning to wash clothes, shop for groceries, and cook.

I used to think shopping was easy. You go to the market, pay, and bring the food home. However, I found out that it was much harder than that. I often didn't know how to cook the food I brought home. I once peeled a squash before cooking it, and another time I cooked a melon without peeling it. I used to wonder how come my mother had so many chores to do. Now, because I do the chores myself, I realize that there are always more chores than one can handle. Now I understand what professional women go through.

My mother's illness has made me understand the meaning of the phrase: "Those who can work are blessed." This is how I cheer myself on whenever I encounter obstacles in life. The Master once said: "Our life is made significant by its ups and downs. When adversities come, we should accept them willingly and struggle to overcome them. If we have to finish a job whether we like it or not, why not finish it happily?"

My father recently told me: "Now you are the pillar of our family. Don't work too hard. Don't exhaust yourself."

I replied: "As long as I do everything with a happy heart, I won't feel tired no matter how much work there is to do."

I meant what I said. I don't feel tired even though I get up early every morning to do chores, hurry to work, collect Tzu Chi membership fees during noon break, and hurry back to cook in the evening. Instead, I feel content. This wasn't possible during my previous life of debauchery.