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Open Eyes.

* Wai Jia is 2 weeks into her holidays, on an attachment to a mission hospital at a jungle in Kalimantan. She writes from a place with wireless connection (in a jungle, yes) and will be back in a week's time.

"The key to obtaining our requests from God

is to appropriate them, by faith,

at the very moment we make them.

Doing this sets us free

from continuing struggle or anxiety and brings us into

inner rest."

- Faith to Live By, by Derek Prince

Perhaps, there are just some things in life which we shall never fully comprehend, some things which seem too uncanny to be mere coincidences, which make us feel small in the hands of a really big God.

The past week has been for me, like the experience of a blind man seeing for the very first time. Terrifying, awesome and overwhelming- all at the same time. This is why:

Before arriving at the jungle hospital, I had prayed for God to use this period to refine His calling for my life. Because of my love for O&G, I was excited to learn all about women's health and childcare in the rural setting. Medical school has given us 4 months from February till May to pursue whatever specialty we enjoy for exposure, and I decided to use my holidays as well (this period now) to learn about medicine in the setting of rural missions. Little did I realize that instead of sharpening my call in O&G, God did the one thing He does best, and pulled the carpet from under my feet.

I had a love-hate relationship with Ophthalomology. I like the subject very much but I'll never do it, God. Because of my many fears, I determined in my heart that I would never pursue it. It's too technology-intensive to be of any use in the rural setting anyway-I made excuses.

After seeing one eye operation after another in the rural community here, seeing how incredibly versatile and portable eye surgery can be, and travelling to the village with Dr. Steve's team, however, my eyes were unveiled.

Dr. Steve gave up a life of luxury and a lucrative 12-year practice in USA for a life of simplicity in a Kalimantan jungle to serve the poor, uprooting his family and travelling to villages to restore sight to the blind.

His life helped me to see how it is not external temptations visible to the eye, but the invisible, inner sanctity we guard which determine the kind of life we can lead to serve others.

What an uncanny coincidence it was for me to meet Dr Edy too, an ophthalmologist and Dr. Steve's partner, who was well known in the mission hospital for his obstetric skills too. "As a doctor in the mission field setting, you can most certainly be involved in a wide variety of fields. As an ophthalmologist, you can still deliver babies. But as an obstetrician, I don't think you might ever do eye surgery. It's a very specialised skill."

Suddenly, I was filled with that familiar longing to get my hands on a scalpel to heal a blind eye. I saw very clearly how one doesn't need to be an obstetrician to do simple deliveries or uncomplicated Caesearean sections- it is a basic requirement in many mission hospitals.

I remembered the Ophthalmology attachment I had cancelled off my list, remembered a comment someone had once posted here questioning why I didn't think Ophthalmology was useful to the poor, remembered how many people had told me not to narrow my options so soon, and regret started to well up within me. A melancholic, lost feeling came over me.

Had I been too rash to forgo my attachment in Ophthalmology, God? It's a pity I'm too late. This is too competitive a field, and without an attachment, the chances of me entering the specialty in future may just be too slim.

I wanted to turn back time.

That night, I couldn't sleep till 2am, and awoke at 4am with a heavy spirit. All I could think about was the mistake I had made, how I was now too late, and how I had given up, too soon, an option which was so incredibly useful to the poor. How blind I was, I thought.

A friend travelling with me commented that I needn't worry, that God would put me in Ophthalmology if He really wanted to, anyway. That night, however, a story on this prayer site I visit every night, entitled Prayer Plus Action, stirred my spirit within me. It talked about how even as we pray, we need to take action, too. God won't move the mountain if we sit around like couch potatoes. Are you telling me something, God? Something niggled at me.

The next day in the car, as we drove up to the village clinic, Dr Steve shared a piece of writing for the day, 20th January, from his prayer book. Almost as if it were freak coincidence, it was the story about God asking a blind man what he needed from Him. The story challenged us to think about why we need to learn how to pray specific prayers, even though God knows our every need.

Dr. Steve read:

Perhaps it is so that when the answer comes we will clearly see how His will differs from our own limited vision. Perhaps it is so we well remember, having voiced our request, to give thanks when it is granted. Perhaps the asking and receving witness to the world in a way that the presumption of providence would not. We wonder why God has not met a certain need. Our first step, often neglected, is to be specific. We must ask.

As we drove up the bumpy road filled with potholes, I closed my eyes and, to my amazement, began to pray silently and boldly for God to show me what He wanted me to do, and for an attachment in Ophthalmology. I prayed specifically, for the university to consider my last minute request for an amendment, and for an ophthalmology professor to take me in, even though I knew it was likely too late. Is that specific enough God?

The odds were against me. Applications had closed. Students applying for Ophthamology attachments apply months in advance to get a place. The only time I could make it for the attachment was in February, which is in less than 2 weeks. What chance did I have? Still, I prayed. What Dr Steve shared that morning and what I had read the previous night tugged hard at me. Almost foolishly, I emailed the university and a professor. Prayer Plus Action, I thought.

If anything happens, it'll have to be you, God. My friend tried to comfort me- Just because you don't do an attachment in the eye centre doesn't mean anything.

That afternoon when we got back from the eye camp at the village, I realised my roommate had locked me out. It was strange almost, for she'd always remembered to leave the key behind for me. Exasperated and tired, I went to the doctors' office, closed my eyes to pray, then turned my bible open to Hebrews 11:1-"Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." The word “seen” suddenly leaped out at me, and it almost felt as if God were speaking to me. Have faith, I felt a powerful force telling me. It seemed that for this whole season, this was the message God was teaching me.

Somehow, the little things which my eyes were opened to within the short time frame seemed a little too uncanny and jarring to be mere coincidence. I tried to brush it off, and thought to myself that I was paranoid, or thinking too much into things.

Just as I was reading through that chapter on Faith, the same friend called out to me, “Wai Jia, come out! Rainbow in the sky!”

I had goosebumps immediately. Right there, in front of me, was a half rainbow in the grey sky, right outside the doctors' office of the missions hospital.

I stood there for ages, speechless and in shock, till the beautiful arc faded away into the sunset.

Faith. Rainbow. In the bible, the rainbow represents God's promise.

My second book, entitled A Taste of Rainbow (hopefully to be published next year), begins with the quote on Faith on its first page (Hebrews 11:1). The day I had finished writing the first draft and showed it to a friend, there was a rainbow in the sky, right before us, too.

Suddenly at that moment, I felt a divine assurance that something greater than myself was at work, something I could not understand nor comprehend. That evening, after I saw the rainbow, I received an email from the staff at the university office saying they would "make an exception", just for me. Nonetheless, chances were slim that an eye doctor would take me in at such short and late notice.

Two days later in a village church during Sunday School, the bible scripture for the day read:

" I, God, have called you in righteousness, And will hold your hand.

I will keep you... as a light...
To open blind eyes, To bring our prisoners from the prison,
Those who sit in darkness from the prison house.

- Isaiah 42:6-7"

I remember feeling stunned, disturbed and amazed reading that. Another 'coincidence', maybe? When I shared what had happened with Dr Steve and his wife, they both, too, were shocked. No, we don't think what has happened is silly or mere coincidence at all. Please tell us how things go, it looks like God's really speaking something special to you. Pray, wait, and trust God completely.

Interestingly, I spoke to the lady directing the public health programme for women and children's health in the rural areas surrounding the hospital and was surprised to realise how she, too, thought Ophthalmology is a field full of potential to serve the needy, "because though the eye is very small, a person is paralysed, physically, emotionally and mentally when he is blind. When you do serve as an eye doctor, Wai Jia, remember to open their spiritual eyes, too."

A few days later at chapel in the hospital, someone sharing about the uncertainties of tomorrow reminded me of how we can only walk one step at a time, for we know not what the future holds. But surely, God knows best and we needn't worry. The needs in both eyecare and women's health among the poor are great, but surely God has a plan and will make clear my path when the time comes.

a baby whom I helped to insert a feeding tube into.

She's many weeks born premature,

and was sent to the witch doctor for a week before being sent to our hospital.

Days passed without news from the Eye Centre.

One evening, my friend asked me to watch the sunset with her. As we walked to the field, I saw another rainbow, very faintly, just above the hills behind the hospital. Somehow, a great peace called Faith descended over me. It was a naive faith.

That night, I received another email:

Dear Ms Tan,
I am pleased to inform you that Dr S, Consultant, has just confirmed

that he is able to accommodate you for an elective in February.

The Glaucoma team already has a few students with them, however,

they are happy to include you in the same glaucoma research study that you refer to below.

Please call me or email if you have any concerns.

I slumped back into my chair, quite stunned for the night. I didn't know how to react. All I knew was that through a series of little experiences, I learnt big lessons about the power of prayer and faith. It does seem like something to scoff at, doesn't it, but I learnt, that God speaks to different people through different means. I thought it was quite funny too, how it was an obstetrician who had recommended me to visit this mission hospital, and she who had advised me to "keep an open mind" with regards to my future.

I'm not saying I will be an Ophthalmologist. The truth is, nobody but God knows. All I know is that for now, I will keep an open mind, open heart, and open eyes- to whatever He might want to reveal my eyes to. My feet must follow where He guides me to, even to places I feared treading, to places I had not imagined myself going to. If God has called me to serve the poor, surely He will be faithful to see me through it.

With open eyes, I now see more clearly indeed, that rainbows and miracles and answered prayers don't just happen in stories, but truly, are very real indeed.

"Blessed is he who remembers the poor..."

-Psalm 41:1a

“Faith is the substance of things hoped for,

the evidence of things unseen.”

-Hebrews 11:1

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I See.

*Today is Day 9 of my trip at a mission hospital in the middle of a jungle hospital with wireless connection in Kalimantan.

" Faith enables us to 'see the unseen'

and thus to endure

when the visible world offers us no hope for encouragement."

- Faith to Live By

by Derek Prince

I remembered it scared me so much I wanted to close my eyes and will it away.

During my short exposure to Ophthalmology during my curriculum, I had taken a fancy to the subject. The poetic nature of making blind eyes see and the beauty of the intricate eye surgeries had drawn my heart to the subject. My family and close friends had advised me to keep an open mind with regards to Ophthalmology, but what I had heard about the Eye Centre scared me, and I willed my interest away.

“It’s a money-making business.”

“Oh yeah, you’re guaranteed a good life.”

“Haven’t you heard? That’s where all the money-grubbers flock to...”

I was afraid of myself, afraid of the possibility of me becoming so rich and comfortable that I could forget about missions altogether. I could end up making hundreds of thousands in a private practice, spending my time going for facials, pedicures and spas.

What I didn't want to admit to myself, was really how petrified I was by what I had seen at the Eye Centre. The well-dressed doctors, Gucci bags, Ninewest shoes and diamond rings caught my eye, and the realisation that these material things, too, held a strange enchantment for me scared me. I was afraid to come face to face with my own materialism, and afraid of where it may lead me. I was afraid of coming face to face with the realisation of my superficiality, that other people may stereotype me as a money-grubber if I pursued Ophthalmology, and afraid of my discovering my insecurity, that people might not see me as a real doctor.

I knew I liked Ophthalmology- I had dreamed of going to villages to perform cataract surgeries on blind patients. Because of my fears, however, I closed my eyes to that possibility and directed my gaze to obstetrics and gynaecology (O&G) instead. What I don’t see, I will not want, I thought. And so I chucked it aside. Ophthalmology is too technology-dependent to be useful for missions, I said to myself.

I was sorely wrong.

This week, on an outfield trip to a clinic in the village, my eyes were opened to what I had been blind to all this while. Dr. Steve Anderson, an ophthalmologist from USA and who now heads Global Eye Missions, opened my eyes to a field I had closed my eyes to too soon. After giving up his lucrative 12-year private practice and life of luxury, he came with his wife and 3 children to come stay in the jungle hospital to train local doctors to prevent and treat blindness among the poor.

“Over 300 million people in the world are visually impaired and 40 million of them are blind, Wai Jia. 80% of blindness is avoidable and 90% of the blind are from developing countries. Cataract surgery is a 20-minute operation that can reverse blindness and change lives dramtically... Come with me for the eye camp in the village. I want you to see for yourself how incredibly valuable Ophthalmology is to the poor.”

And so I did. Villager after villager streamed into the clinic, set up in the middle of the jungle. The village chiefs had told them we were coming and lined up expectantly. Some had blurry vision, some were blind, some had eye injuries. Dr Steve, together with a local doctor he is training, screened the eager patients one by one, scheduling needy ones for surgery.

On the previous day, Dr Steve had invited me to be in the operating theatre with him, and I saw how fast, cost effective and efficient eye surgery can be, and how life-changing it can be. 20 minutes is all that is needed to remove a cataract which makes an eye blind. One’s vision is restored almost instantaneously. The elderly blind no longer need to be ostracized, the middle-aged blind need not lose their livelihoods, and the younger women no longer need to turn to prostitution in desperation. For the first time, I was truly awed by the gift of making the blind eyes of the poor see.

"Portable microscopes have made eye surgery so accessible to the poor, even in villages. Have you heard of Dr Ruit? Look at the amazing work he's done."

It’s amazing how thrilled one can be just to regain the gift of sight. We watched a video of an elderly lady seeing again, and it was both heartwarming and hilarious to see the withered woman dance and leap with joy. She was beside herself. It was at the village clinic, when I saw the smile of a woman who was given a pair of spectacles that I realised how simple and beautiful it was to restore another's sight. I didn't need to be a hot-shot doctor to do that, what I needed was a willing heart to serve the needy. I had a choice not to do it in a place already teeming with Ophthalmologists, but in places where people desperately need eyecare.

a villager with poor eyesight who had just been given a pair of spectacles

I realised, that I was scared, and out of fear, fixed my eyes on O&G because I thought Ophthalmology offered me too cushy a world and a universe of material things which might discourage me from my true calling. (O&G has far less cushy lifestyle- think waking up an unearthly hours.) And what an uncanny coincidence it was, too, for me to meet Dr Steve's partner, an Indonosian Ophthalmologist who is well-known in the hospital for delivering babies and doing Caesearean sections. "In a missions hospital setting, an ophthalmologist may still be required to deliver babies and look after women and children, but an obstetrician will not be able to do cataract surgery."

I felt God opening my eyes to help me gain a wider perspective, so I wouldn't limit my options so soon.

What I saw reminded me, that really, we needn't let what we see paralyse us with fear. It doesn't matter if Prada, Gucci or Kate Spade catches my eye. For when the visible world offers us no hope for encouragement and becomes potentially distracting, faith is God's divine gift to help us refocus and endure, so we reach our dreams in the end. Faith in the unseen, has the power to dispel fear. As long as I continued to focus my eyes on God and the poor, He would lead me to where my heart belonged, be it in Obstetrics and Gynaecology (O&G) or Ophthalmology.

"Don't be afraid, Wai Jia. Have faith. Whatever you choose will certainly be useful to the poor. Just stay close to God, follow your heart and everything will fall into place."

Ah, I see.

" For the things which are seen are temporary,

but the things which are not seen are eternal."

- 2 Cor 4:18

Special place.

Staying here amidst the flora and fauna has been as refreshing as a shower in a cold waterfall on a hot summer's day. There's just something so special about this place that I can't put my finger on. Each person has their own reason for being here, their own mountains they've had to overcome before arriving, and their own unique story.

Staying at the hospital observing the doctors scuttle in and out of their clinic rooms attending to the multitude amazes me in a way I cannot describe. They're busy, they must be tired; Because most of the equipment is second-hand or donated, they often have to contend with second class technology, balancing it with more astute clinical judgement; Sometimes, the power gets cut off (even in the middle of surgery) and everyone is thrown, if only for a moment, into pitch-black darkness. One has to cope with the stresses of uncertainty and have the fortitude to overcome unpredictable situations. Working in a missions hospital should be just as, if not, far more stressful than working in a top-class hospital. Yet, the quiet warriors plough through the day with steadfast patience- there is tiredness but never weariness, a smile never far from the edges of their lips.

There is something so different in the air here. Perhaps, it is everyone's presence in this place itself which glues the entire community together. There is an unspoken understanding that each person had sacrificed something, had left loved ones behind, had made a firm and weighted decision in order to live a different kind of life- one of meaning and purpose, no matter if the world thought they were stupid.

There's Dr H and Dr Mel (whom we affectionately call Ibu, which means Mother) who gave up promising careers in the cities to head the jungle hospital. They've been here for the past 20 years, serving not only the poor, but taking time and effort always to look after the junior doctors and hospital staff, throwing house parties, driving them hours away to town on weekends... simply because, "we don't want the junior doctors to feel lonely. They have no family here, so we are their family, you know." It was yesterday that I found out, that Ibu, who cooks and hosts us, drives us around, laughs and jokes and mothers us on top of caring for patients at the hospital and supervising the junior doctors, had been diagnosed with a late-stage breast cancer. Even now, she is undergoing chemotherapy- we realised, that all this while, we never knew because of the wig she wears.

Today, she threw another feast at her home with simple but wholesome food, and she did not wear her wig. Thus is the level of trust, community and friendship amongst the doctors. Hierarchy loses its meaning here.

Why didn't she return to the city? Why does she and Dr H continue to stay?

There's Dr Hussin and his wife, Dr Wiwik. They married each other in medical school because they both had a heart for the needy. They've stuck around in the jungle hospital for more than a three decades, spearheading community outreach projects in villages, and starting more than 70 satellite clinics all over Kalimantan. When they were waiting for the right someone, did they not question that they may not ever find the right person?

That day, when I shared with him my fears and doubts about the great sacrifice of doing medical mission work full-time in future, Dr Hussin told me, " Sacrifice? What sacrficice?" He smiled a strange, fatherly smile, "There is no sacrifice, Wai Jia. All these years, God has blessed me far more than I could ever imagine."

"But how about loneliness? Dont you ever get lonely here? I mean, your friends and family... there're all far away."

"Ah, does this not then draw us closer to God? Imagine how He felt when He left heaven to walk, talk and be with us, just so he could participate in our suffering."

There's Dr Steve, who left a 12-year lucrative career in his private practice in Ophthalmology in the USA to bring his beautiful wife and 3 children to stay long-term right here in the middle of nowhere just so he can help the local doctors start up an eyecare centre. Thousands of people suffer from blindness because of cataracts, and the many eyecamps he has helped to lead have relieved many of this needless suffering. Compare Minnesota and a jungle in Serukam, Kalimantan. There is nothing here- no cinemas, proper schools, cities, public transport... there is nothing here but a jungle, and more jungle. They homeschool their children. But why?

"There're other things to do, you know. We love it here, really. Yea, I know we left behind certain things. And people can call us stupid or foolish. But wow, being supported as missionaries to do this sort of work has just brought our family so much closer together, and ourselves so much closer to God. There is just nothing else we would rather do."" His eyes did not lie.

And of course, there's Dr G and his wife Becki, whose parents were the ones who built the hospital from scratch, as well as the hydroelectric plant 10 miles away to power the hospital. Dr G said he had never wanted to be a doctor- the last thing he wanted was to take over his parents' work because that was exactly where he grew up in- the jungle. But after seeing how great the need is among the poor, he simply decided he had to return to the place he had grown up in. "Ah. Why do I stay here?" he asked whimsically, " That's for you to find out in the next 3 weeks."

Today, as Dr Yo introduced me to his patients with a smile on his face and attended to one patient after another with such tenderness and joy, as Dr Steve patiently tried to communicate to his patients with the limited Bahasa Melayu he spoke, as Ibu Mel lovingly taught me how to put a feeding tube into a 29-week old premature baby who had been brought in by a couple who had seen the witch doctor, I suddenly understood, with such crystal clarity, why I joined medicine, and why I wanted, still want to be a missionary doctor.

Something deep inside tells me, that in spite of all my worries and fears, doubts and anxieties, the very thing that called all these doctors to this remote place on the earth, which awakens them each morning to serve with such commitment, joy and freedom, which calls them to add and not subtract from humanity, is also the same thing which calls and is still calling me to a place like this to serve in the future.

There is something in the air here, something which adds and not subtracts, something wholesome, true and real here.

It is a special place.

Dr P visiting his dying patient,

speaking to her in perfect Bahasa Melayu

We are here to add what we can to life,

not to get what we can from it.

- Sir William Osler,

the father of modern medicine

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The Importance of Having Fun.

*Today is Day 5 of my trip at a mission hospital in the middle of a jungle hospital with wireless connection in Kalimantan.

As much as I may not like to admit it, I think I’ve always been rather serious. I was taught that work was important, and everything else ought to fit itself around it. Growing up with a strict work ethic, having fun often felt guilty, and I never enjoyed playing card games, pool or bowling. Even after knowing God, I was still very serious. I prayed, I ran alone, I studied medicine, I counted calories. Even during my holidays, I went on mission trips.

Cycling, however, as well as staying here at the jungle hospital and being a part of the closeknit community, has taught and is teaching me how fun is not only important, but absolutely central to the heart of God.

Arriving in Serukam of West Kalimantan, I was full of hopes and dreams of helping the poor, aiding the needy and loving the lonely. Being my 10th mission trip overseas, I felt I had been more informed of the realities of a missionary’s life. Yet, how every trip teaches one new insights, and it didn’t take long before I was hit hard by another self-discovery.

I learnt, possibly for the first time, that I often don't quite know how to have fun. At parties, I am looking at my watch because I don’t like late nights. I don’t like to drink, not even a drop. I used to run, and only alone. Card games, small talk and playing pool bore me to death- I would much rather sit by the beach in pensive thought.

Little did I know how much of a hindrance this would be to being a good missionary doctor.

Mission work, unlike what I always envisioned, is not just about helping the poor in an under-developed country. These are very grand and very serious ideals indeed. Instead, I am learning how it takes many forms and comes in many guises.

Staying in a jungle hospital means being miles away from civilisation. This means that the doctors, from well-developed places like where you and I come from, have to adapt to being content with the simple pleasures of life. Going to town to buy your weekly groceries or to get a haircut means a five-hour drive up bumpy roads. Recreation means not going to the cinema or roadcycling or going to the mall, but spending your leisure time hosting visitors, extending hospitality to them, cooking up a feast and celebrating one another’s birthdays. Life becomes not just about what one does, or how high one can climb up the urban ladder, but about how much one can thrive, with joy and freedom, in a tight community in the middle of nowhere. Most of the doctors working here are on a one-year stint. Only two couples have stayed for twenty years, another one for more than a decade. Most cannot bear it.

One then realises, that learning how to have fun, then becomes not only important, but essential to being a missionary who can stay on for the long haul. Having fun, is as much serious humanitarian business as it is sitting in a clinic attending to a sick, needy patient.

Little did I realize that all this while when I picked up group roadcycling over the year, God was teaching me a profound lesson I never understood.

For cycling and its company taught me how to lighten up and to celebrate life. It taught me how to be relational, how to laugh and horse around, how it’s really okay to have more than one breakfast and how to stop counting calories. It taught me that taking time outside work, not doing work, actually creates time and this amazingly effervescent yet divinely ethereal substance called fun.

Seeing how the missionary doctors live and work here reinforced that lesson. They are always joking. Having fun is like breathing oxygen. For in a remote place miles away from civilization, living in a different culture with a limited community, recreation and resources, it is not only important but crucial to know how to have fun, how to while time away, how to belly-laugh and eat and make merry. It sounds complacent and decadent almost, but in the midst of a jungle far away from the comforts of home, it is an achievement to be able to enjoy life, and not to be utterly consumed or burnt out with the daily neverending demands and needs of the poor here.

There are poor people every day. There is always work to be done. What does one do?

Last night, as we celebrated the birthdays of 5 hospital staff, had a simple feast to introduce the visitors to the hospital (namely my 2 friends and I) and bid farewell to staff who were leaving, I learnt that celebrating life through having fun expresses the heart of God as much as treating a blind patient. The missionary doctors who have stayed here for decades are those who know best how to pick the best rambutans from the hospital yard, how to take a rendezvous to the city once in a while, cook up a feast for the community and throw a good party. Those who were too serious, always left.

So perhaps it may sound silly, that I’ve travelled all the way here with the intention of learning what it means to be a missionary doctor, only to learn my first lesson which is that of having fun.

But it is a breakthrough nonetheless. Yesterday, as we hiked up a mountain and ran all the way down giggling in the pouring rain, and sang and laughed together, and joked and smiled and poked fun at one another even in between seeing patients at the hospital today, even in the face of a large patient load, I think I learnt a little about the simple pleasures of life, the simplicity of living in a jungle, and the importance of having fun again.

* a picture I took during my morning run before ward rounds started.
The hospital is tucked neatly behind the trees to the top left of the picture.
The house you see is the church.

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Travelling light.

If I gave you a suitcase, what would you like to pack?

Some clothes, a novel, shoes? A home-made sandwich, a paintbox, a guitar? Perhaps rainbow sprinkles, a bicycle and a cat, maybe.

Beyond the basic necessities, there are just certain things we can't live without, or so we think. If you had a suitcase, just one suitcase, what would you pack?

Packing for my 3-week attachment to the jungle hospital in Kalimantan has been a process of self-discovery. I realised that what one packs, or hopes to, reveals a great deal about one's likes and dislikes, insecurities, addictions, and what is important to one's heart. What I wanted to pack, or not pack, told me a story of my character, or lack thereof, what I held onto tightly, and perhaps should not.

Suitcases are heavy, and they weigh us down on our journey in life. Travelling light, is therefore absolutely essential. Yet, each of us have different kinds of baggages, filled with different things we cannot let go of, revealing different stories about ourselves.

Of the extra things I packed, were my bible, colorpencils, sketchbook, inspirational reads and my journal- these things, I cannot live without. Of the extra things I brought, were my running shoes, sports attire and a photo of my cycling buddies- I would have liked to bring my bicycle too. Of the extra things I carried along, were muesli bars, dried fruits and my multivitamins-I would have liked to bring a carton of rose apples and strawberries too.

And God spoke to me, saying that while it is all good to be healthy and disciplined, I had to learn to let go, to travel light, to be able to surrender my routine, my schedules, my preferences so that I could accommodate to what the poor needed from me, so I could go further in life with Him without being weighed down by excess baggage.

Did you know, that the most innocent of things can be dead weight too? Like an inability to let go of sports, inability to try new foods or simply inflexibility. We just don't realise how much we are bound by routine and our own brand of comfort until we are forced to give them up for a reason greater than ourselves.

It made me realise that each and every one of us cling onto things which have a hold on us. Yet, to what extent can we let go of these things so very dear to our hearts?

This morning, I was really touched that 6 of my cycling buddies woke up before 5am to meet me for my last ride before I left. Each of them knew I would miss their company and said that they would await my return to ride with them again. Riding through the starlit city in predawn darkness, with the company of good friends, was more than amazing but even then, I knew it was time to let it go, and immerse myself in a season of asking God about His calling for my life with regards to missions, medicine and the poor.

I learnt from packing, that God blesses us with many a good thing in life, but there is only so much we can hold on to, so much that is essential. Anything extra we demand to carry at all costs will only weigh us down.

I can't take my bicycle with me. I can't fold my bed and my home into origami and keep it in my pocket. I can't take Roger, my dog, with me.

I learnt, that perhaps, travelling light is a lot about being able to let go, being flexible and being open to where God may be leading us. I learnt, that while we may be privileged to luxuriate in the sun-kissed blessings He has shone down on us, it may be wisest to accept that we can't store sun-rays, that we must be ready to let go of our treasures at anytime so that we are unbound by desire, free from slavery and liberated from routine.

I learnt today, while trying to pack a 3-week trip to a mission hospital in a jungle, that living wisely, is a lot about travelling light.

And perhaps, that may be the best way to travel. For in heaven, surely our suitcases are... empty, and oh, light as light can be.

Wai Jia will be in West Kalimantan from tomorrow onwards for 3 weeks. The missionary doctors tell her that there will be internet connection there (yes, in the jungle) so she hopes she may get the chance to share with you her journey- if not there, then when she gets back. Please write to her if you like :) She thanks you for all your love and prayers. May God bless you too.

Prayer requests:

that I may learn the art of travelling light with God,

to be able to hear what He has to tell me regarding His purpose for my life,

and to learn how to serve the poor,

care for the sick,

and love the hungry,

with much joy.

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