A man holding up a drink for his wife while their two children watched expectantly. They didn’t look like tourists; they didn’t look very well-dressed either. The woman had a scarf on her head, perhaps for the sake of modesty. She bent down twice to drink; the other members shared the drink afterwards. They are probably not well-off; but the family seemed to be close to each other. Perhaps a south asian family living in Hong Kong?
I don’t know their story. But for sure there is a story there. It is not easy for south asians to make a living in Hong Kong. Even sending their children to school is a problem. They often find it difficult to fit into main stream schools with strong emphasis on the Chinese language. But English School Foundation schools and international schools are expensive and not easy to get into. So they often end up in one of those English medium schools with relatively poor academic performance, with limited options.
Life may not be easy, but certainly not without meaning. The love between man and wife, among siblings, among parents and children, among relatives; the joy of success; the anguish of setbacks - certainly would mean a lot to them.
Life itself is purposeful. There is no doubt about it. There is life not because some inorganic substance became organic, not because some lifeless substance suddenly acquired life, not because some low life form elevated itself into a higher life form, ..., eventually resulting in this family fascinating me with a little act of affection. Each step in this enormously long string of events would be miraculous. And miraculous is the right word for the way in which God created life. For a purpose. For us to find out.