There is the fear of oneself, of making mistakes, getting hurt, losing control. But this year, as I crinkled, burned and rose again, I am amazed by the courage You have taught me. A heart of fear you have taken away, and replaced it with a lion's. Because of You, I can dream again, hope again, set my sights on goals for the next year.
I would like to:
- Dance again, the way I dance in my own room, but not in my room. I want to be comfortable with my body again, and feel the music go through my heart, into my veins and out of my hair. I want to perform again on a stage someday, with courage, for a meaningful cause.
- Learn how to speak proper Hokkien to converse with my patients. And be unafraid of failure, of not getting the accent perfect.
- Learn how to type with more than 3 fingers.
- Learn to play my flute properly, learn to enjoy music again, practise because I've been given the chance to, because God's given me this present.
- Bike safely, without killing anybody, or myself, in the process. (Got into three accidents on my second biking trip, during which I panicked and lost control when an entire stampede of rowdy malay boys, drunk on carelessness, whizzed by me recklessly. My roadbike and I fell romantically into a ditch, with its gear chains undone, and my waterbottle and cell phone performing a somersault in the air in a perfect trajectory before landing on the ground with a dismantling clunk.)
- Be more meticulous, organised and alert. Ever since I can remember, my sister would chide me about my spilling things over dinner, my forgetfulness, clumsiness and propensity for accidents. Part of my mind's always on a cloud, or a flower petal somewhere, quite the dreamer, yes. And being an adult means sometimes you just can't have that. I love surgery, love the operating theatre, and I want to learn to be fully present, there. It won't happen overnight, but I want to try- want to try without fearing failure, over and over.
- Speak up, boldly. Because I need to as a doctor-to-be. I used to be so outspoken- I'd speak my mind, precisely, like a arrow to a target. Then, I became ill, lost confidence, became unsure of myself, afraid of being embarrassed, of being repeatedly corrected, and my voice got swallowed in my gut. Those who read my writing shall never imagine how terrible my speech can be in comparison. Sometimes, one feels like a fraud.
- Be more thick-skinned. Because the only way to learn and grow, I've reckoned, is to have hide as thick as an elephant's.
- Serve humbly, because you've shown me it is possible- you, you and You. And I want to love others in need the way you loved me when I needed someone, too.
- Love bravely, because love is brave. Because life is short and I don't want there to be words unspoken between us if one of us were taken away tomorrow. A lifetime is too long for me to wait to say thank you and an overdue "I love you" in heaven. Because it's not okay to run away if someone chooses to love me, and not okay to keep everyone at arm's length because of fear.
I would like to love bravely, dance bravely and Live bravely, even with failure always hovering in the horizon, beckoning to ridicule with a mocking audience, ready to scorn, ready to pounce, ready to dig into every inadequacy... and yet still love, dance, live fully.
Still explore, experiment, try. Still dare to take the leap with my eyes closed, but with my heart wide open, ready to embrace, to get burned, to... fail. Ready to take chances, take risks with loving people, even if it feels oh so scary. Will you love me back?
Because cycling could feel like the best thing on earth, like gliding on top of a honey-glazed rainbow. Because Love could just be round the corner.
And because, if you never try, you just never know. Ah, God loves surprises.
"Be strong and courageous.
Do not be afraid or terrified because of them,
for the Lord your God goes with you;
he will never leave you nor forsake you."
-Deuteronomy 31:6
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