Sunday School is where parents leave their little children while they attend church. It is a place of jubilant song, uninhibited laughter, and energetic dance; a place of teaching and learning; a place of bright colours and simple fun. One beautiful day, I will wake up to find myself grateful and joyful, teaching a class of my own- but for now, I help out the teachers in their lessons, and learn the tricks of the trade along the way.
Last week, the eight year-olds learnt about the value of Patience. It was nearly the end of the class, and everyone was starving. The teacher, endearingly addressed by the children as Aunty L, brought out a bag of yummy strawberry-filled biscuits and asked if anyone wanted one. Hands shot up into the air like fireworks.
"But how about if I told you- that if you could wait a little longer till the end of the class, and forgo this treat, to receive a better gift at the end... Would you still want this strawberry biscuit?"
An exchange of gazes. And then, a resoundingly bright and unanimous- "NO!"
Aunty L opened the bag of strawberry biscuits and the aroma tickled everybody's noses as it was being passed around. Nobody took a single one.
Perhaps it's been a while since I taught little children- the last time I did, I was in Nepal... but their maturity surprised me. Their trust in Aunty L's promise amazed me. They waited patiently in wide-eyed wonder, and soaked up the simple lesson like a morning waffle drenched in maple syrup.
" I want all of you to wait here patiently while I get your present. Jiejie (Big Sister) Wai Jia will keep an eye on you and tell me who behaved and who didn't."
Her return was accompanied by squeals of delight, which rang into the air like a thousand silver bells, as Aunty L brought back tiny bite-sized ice-cream treats. The children went wild with simple joy and gratitude. Tiny squeals of laughter burst randomly like bubbles.
And there I sat, watching them silently, smiling, as each of them filled me with their infectious euphoria. Class ended, and each scrambled off with chocolate-covered grins.
Sometimes, to receive something better, we need to wait. Waiting comes with trust. It comes with hope for the best, trust in the Person, and faith in the outcome. And if it's God we can trust, then it's always worth the wait.
I thought of the depression I sank into when A Taste of Rainbow didn't happen "on time", amidst other things. I thought of my impatience while Kitesong was being published. I thought of the discouragement that simmered slowly as the project idea for turning Kitesong into a video animation on a CD for further fund-raising purposes fizzled out, and when the building project for the orphanage was delayed.
Depression, discouragement and despair- because of dwindling hope, unsteady trust, and wavering faith.
A week ago, the missionaries from the orphanage in Nepal returned to Singapore for a conference and invited me to their gathering. Because of the political upheaval and other delays, I learnt that the building project was scheduled to a later date. The past two years of waiting, however, did not go to waste. Time gave them the opportunity to revisit the drawing board, remould their ideas and sharpen their vision; Time gave them the reward of receiving more funds; Time gave them the luxury of watching the orphaned girls grow up, and realise the importance of establishing a ministry where the older girls could find work and earn a living in hospitality and tourism- perhaps by expanding the project and building a cafe, or a hostel, in addition to the much-needed orphanage.
At about the same time I learnt of this, I received news that the song for the Kitesong CD had just been composed. After a year and a half of waiting since its conception, it was ready. After a year and a half of seeming inactivity from both sides, I received news from two ends of the earth within the same week. We are to go review the CD for the first time in a few days.
One and half years of seemingly doing nothing. One and a half years of seeming inactivity. One and a half years of waiting, simply.
But Time was in control, and God in control of Time. The two groups of people, one in Nepal and one in Singapore, coincided in perfect timing- God's timing.
I never quite understood what people meant when they said to trust God's timing. What does it mean to trust Somebody you can't see and who doesn't know the urgency of things? But... does He really not?
One and a half years, of me spinning, falling, sinking, climbing, healing, and walking again. One and a half years of learning what it means to find God not just in Big Projects, but in tiny things, like living every day like your first and last; of learning what it means not to be strong all the time, but to confess your vulnerability and ask for help; of learning what it means not to tie oneself to the pride of worldly achievements, but to root oneself in what the eye cannot see- the important things in life.
One and a half years- seemingly, but most certainly not wasted.
I thought A Taste of Rainbow would happen this year, 6 months ago. It didn't. I thought I would have recovered 6 months ago. I didn't either. One day at church, 6 months ago, as the heavy burden of holding on too tightly to an unpublished book lay upon me, a missionary I had never met before came up to me and prayed aloud, "You aren't in the season of bearing fruit yet because there is still a season of Pain you have yet to walk through. No fruit will be borne- yet. But when it does, it will be on schedule, in God's time, and you will be so amazed. You will be so amazed."
Looking back at his words, I'm amazed already at how they strangely forebode the excruciating healing process I walked through soon after in Therapy, how they may strangely forebode the future, in good Time to come.
It was a good thing A Taste of Rainbow didn't get published then. I wasn't healed; I didn't thoroughly go through the tough journey of Therapy; I wasn't ready for the next Big Thing. I didn't know humility, didn't know meekness, didn't know self-worth. Six months later, I see how these fruits, in the cold of winter, have been borne, and are still ripening, slowly. So perhaps these are the fruit of the spirit which are to be borne, never mind if Rainbow never becomes reality- because part of the lesson is about letting it go. Not in resignation and despair, but in hope, and in surrender to God's timing.
One and a half years of waiting. Just, waiting. Six months of watching time pass. Just, passing. Minutes of time being lost through the cracks. Just, being lost.
Perhaps we forget that in God's understanding of eternity, a year is but a breath in the air.
Are you in the Waiting Room, too? Itching with urgency, perspiring with anxiety, swelling with frustration? Do you not trust that the greatest works are done because of Waiting?
So this is what waiting on God means.
Trust, hope, and faith. Ice-cream, and chocolate-covered grins.
I have learnt, and I am learning- that sometimes, to receive something better, we need to wait. Waiting comes with trust. It comes with hope for the best, trust in the Person, and faith in the outcome.
And if it's God we can trust, then it's always worth the wait.
Because all things become beautiful in His time.
" To everything, there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven...
He has made everything beautiful in His time."
- Ecclesiastes 3:1, 11
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