Showing posts with label On relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label On relationships. Show all posts

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Beasts and Idiots :D

I couldn't help but post this up when I saw it a couple of days ago- This is hilarious on so many levels!

1. In my trio of girlfriends, we picked for one another "Disney princesses" to represent ourselves, just for fun. One of us was Ariel, because of her love for dance and music; one of us was Pocahontas, for her love of the great outdoors, and they picked Belle for me, because she dreams big dreams :)

2. Check out the glasses! Great for taking exams!




3. And I received a particular song lyric from someone today, taken from a song by U2.

(hurhur, very funny, mister.)

Every beauty needs to go out with an idiot
How can you stand next to the truth and not see it
Oh, a change of heart comes slow


- I'll go Crazy if I Don't Go Crazy Tonight,

by U2

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Everlasting Joy.

* Wai Jia has just completed 2 surgical exam papers and will be embarking on 180 brain-numbing multiple choice questions tomorrow morning. She is thankful for all your prayers and support during this time. She is also going through a season in her life sorting out new matters of the heart and seeking God about them.
This post was written early this morning after she'd finished her lot of studying.

"Much of our modern philanthropy is based on
the motive of giving to the poor because they deserve it,
or because we are distressed at seeing them poor.
God never taught charity from these motives:


He said, "Give to him who asks you," not because he deserves it...
We can always find a hundred and one reasons for not doing so,
becuase we will trust our own reasoning.
But who are you?
Do you deserve more than other people the blessings you have?"

-adapted from Studies in the Sermon on the Mount,


by Oswald Chambers




I was surprised at my reaction. It was first to say no, I'm sorry. I can't help you. Help yourself. This has happened before and you need to learn how to get yourself out of the pit. It was then that a blast of realisation hit me in the face and knocked some sense into me.

It was M, the orphaned girl whom I'd met at hospital before, the one who was abandoned as a child in the Philippines, had suffered the guilt of "causing" her Singaporean foster mother's death since she was 14, and been wandering outside by herself bumping from odd-job to odd-job with recurrent admissions for her severe skin condition since then.

"I'm so sorry, Wai Jia. I'm stranded outside. My pay check for $500 comes only next week and I've no money in my transport card. I'm really really sorry but could you help me? Could you transfer $10 into my account? Please?"

When I saw her number on my phone, I half-guessed that it would be for money. I hesitated for a long while before picking the phone up, half hoping she would give up and hang up. She didn't. I was preparing for my final exams and wanted to say: Look, stop being so dependent. You can't keep calling me for money. The last time, you called me for twenty dollars and now this?

She could be a phoney. A trickster. Just finding an excuse to cheat me, right? Or so that's what people would tell me.

But I remembered, that the last time she asked for twenty dollars and I brought her instead to the Community Services division of my church, she brought all her documents to prove who she was, where she was born, how she was fostered and where she was working. I remember looking at all her documents in some shame and awe because some part of me didn't believe that dramatic life story she shared with me that day.

But it was all true.

Just the day before, I was reading my Oswald Chamber spiritual study guide, something I've decided to embark on to stay rooted in God during my exam period. It wrote:

"And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles.

Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you." -Matthew 5:40-42



I remember being convicted by it. Now, God was prompting me to do the same. It wasn't about the amount, but really, about the attitude of my heart. Did I really think that all my life, all the help I had got from others was that which I deserved? Were they not extended to me out of the grace and compassion of others? And now, when faced with the same choice to help the "undeserving", did I feel I'd the right to judge their situation on my lofty place and lecture them about their financial insufficiency?

My best friend, a girl with dreams of becoming a longterm missionary as well, was studying with me when M called. How much does she need, she asked. I can help.

It was then that what I had read the day before became real to me. When we go the first mile for others, it is often from our own strength. But when we go the second mile, it is not for their sakes nor ours, but from God who lives within us.

Something more divine kicked me out of the house to transfer the money to her account. Twenty instead of ten. Two miles instead of one.

Not everyone will agree with the decisions I made. And that's okay.

Last night, as I sent a friend who came over to study with me to the train station, I saw Grandpa Zhou.

"Oh, Wei Jia," he said. " I have something to tell you. My feet, they became swollen again and I'd to see the Chinese sinseh."

"The sinseh?"

Sinseh. It means Traditional Chinese Practitioner. My heart sank.

"Yea, he's very good. It was $50 and he says I've to go back and see him again to be fully cured. He makes a lot of sense. He told me my tummy is "cold" and that's why my feet swell. You don't learn this in Western medicine, right? Yea, but he's good. Okay okay, you may not agree, and that's okay."

"Who's paying for your fees?"

"I borrowed. Didn't use the money you gave me because I know that's for all my follow-ups at the hospital. I won't have enough for this sinseh so I borrowed."

I was aghast. I had heard stories about Traditional Chinese Practitioners swindling people before. I heard about some of them charging exorbidant fees and dispensing steroids mixed with herbs, or chanting spells over patients, or giving patients false hopes. I had the last straw when my mother's fractured hand was being wrapped superficially with a piece of flimsy cardboard after she decided to see a sinseh and it took me ages to convince her she needed to go to the hospital because the sinseh had reassured her. The glaring X-ray of displaced fractured bones would have put the sinseh to shame. Since then, I've always been wary of them. That anger never quite dissolved.

So I was furious when he told me that. His feet were swollen because of the anti-hypertensive medication he was taking for his high blood pressure. It was a transient side effect. It would pass. We had gone through this before. But no, he said the "cold tummy" logic made sense, and he truly believed the sinseh was brilliant.

I wanted to hit my head against a wall.

But I also remembered one of the hardest and yet most important lessons I had learnt from the mission field. That is, never to impose our expectations and standards on the poor, because the love we share with the poor ought not to be conditional.

If I decide to give money to say, Africa, and the people from the organisation decide to use it to build latrines instead of schools, then I respect them for it; If I give money to Smokey Mountain and they decide to build more homes in the trash dump instead of revamping the whole site, then I respect them for it, because that is their home, not mine. When one decides to give, one must make the decision to give with respect, with allowance for autonomy to be exercised by the recipient, and if not, perhaps it may be better not to give at all. What makes my "first-world" mind think I know what's better for them? Do I have the right to bring my colonial uppity better-than-thou attitude into my giving and so-called philanthropy?

"I also want to ask you, after what I said to you that day, are you angry with me?"

That day. Yeah, sure I was. About three weeks ago after my birthday gathering, Grandpa Zhou had gone on and on about my friends who had come for my gathering. He knew one of them was trying to win my heart and went on a home-run shooting him down.

"Someone like you should be with someone else, someone who can give you Eternal happiness! How much do you know this person? How far apart are you two? I just don't want you to get hurt."

He went on and on, but didn't realise, that all his words already did that day.

Yong yuan de xing fu. Everlasting happiness. He kept repeating that over and over. He wanted me to have yong yuan de xing fu.

"Hey, actually, why don't you consider L? You know, he actually likes you. Really, he does!"

That really frustrated me. I guess having a bad day at school and struggling already with a myriad of emotions just added to the brew of emotions simmering inside.

I know, why take him seriously, right? Other people may think, he's just an old man. He's just an old busker sitting by the roadside. But he is a special friend. And for some reason, maybe because of all the other things that I was going through that period, and my sensitivity to this topic and what I felt God was speaking to me during that period, I was affected by what he said. He had voiced all my insecurities about relationships, about the one which had surfaced itself in my head, and the insecurities were all those which God had Himself convicted me that I should let go off.

"Yes," I said. "To be honest, I was rather angry. And I also disapprove of you going to see the sinseh."

"Okay," he said. "Sure. I'll find a way to pay for it."

"I have to go," I said. "I've another exam tomorrow."


It was then that he whipped out a piece of paper.

"I wrote this for you, Wai Jia. This is my prayer letter for you. I wrote it out so that I can pray for you every day, twice a day. So that I can follow it and not forget to pray about anything for your life."

He showed it up to me and read it aloud.

"Dear God, please protect your precious daughter Wai Jia. Please help her to become a good doctor to help the poor and needy. Please help her in her studies, please watch over her and please grant her everlasting happiness in her relationships and "heart matters". Please bless her with Everlasting, Everlasting Joy. Amen!!



I looked at him reading the letter. I thought of M, who had asked me for ten dollars. I then saw his receipt to the sinseh and realised he had gone to a fairly reputable one at Eu Yan Seng and not some bomo. I thought about all the money I had spent on physiotherapy and sports massage for my own injury, and all the money God had blessed me with on my birthday through the generosity of others and about what I had learnt about respecting the poor, and not judging them even though we may not agree, and finally felt at peace.

I had exams the next day but some things in life are just more important than another paper. After all, I am studying to serve the poor. I went home, put his medical fees in a red packet and wrote him a note on a little card which I redelivered to him.

I wrote, Thank you for your earnest prayers for me. Don't worry about me, God will protect me and take care of my 'Everlasting Joy'. May He bless you with good health."



"Love God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” -Mark 12:30-31

Over the past few days, I had been thinking about my attitude towards the poor. Have studying for exams consumed me so much I have no time for them? I thought about the two men sleeping on the park bench along my running route, and about an elderly lady who picks trash to recycle (who works as what we call a karang guni) who has been phoning me to ask for a place to stay and who has refused my help to refer her to shelters because she wants "her own place"... and wondered if my heart had grown cold.

I learnt, from these two experiences, that I find it impossible to love the poor with my own capacity- I am judgemental and emotional and proud.

But God is big enough to break my heart of stone and to teach me, that the spring of giving is not impulse or inclination, but by the divine inspiration of God, and a choice to love not man, but God Himself.


We wriggle and twist and compromise and think,

" It is absurd; if I give to every one who asks, every beggar will be at my door."

Try it.

I have yet to find the person who did so who did not realise

that God restrains those who beg. "

-Oswald Chambers

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Killing the dragon.

It was just the other day when my close friends joked, "Babe, your birthday celebrations are even longer-drawn than Chinese New Year... Chinese New Year lasts for 15 days, but yours seems to last longer than that!"

So it was true. They celebrated and made it special so many times that M asked me, "CAN YOU BELIEVE YOU ARE NOT 24 YET?!"

It's been exactly a month since I celebrated my 24th birthday (early). Today, two gifts arrived at my doorstep. One, in the form of a lovely package and card and more money for the causes I support; and two, a letter which made me tear.

I guess, this year really is a year of daring to have greater faith, and daring to step out of my preconceived notions into greater adventures.



"I just feel I want to say a few things to you... about relationships, love and marriage. And no, I'm not trying to change your mind on anything that you may have decided for yourself... I just want to know that you've had an opportunity to see another perspective on the subject.

Having lived through several stupid mistakes and learned from them, I am a firm believer that love is a decision. I don't mean to say that it's purely rational/logical and that feelings can come later, because that would be regressing or falling into the pit of undervalueing God's gifts of emotions and spiritual sensing. What I am saying is that because God is love and because God chose the man-woman relationship (courtship and marriage) as the ultimate representation of His spiritual relationship with us and there are precious secrets hidden in this that cannot be found elsewhere...

Do not mistake me. I am not saying your life is incomplete if you aren't married. I am saying that unless directed by God to be celibate, marriage is a wonderful thing to desire and work towards. And trust me, it will take a lot of work. After all, it is about two flawed and sinful and selfish people coming together to attempt to build life together, and the road isn't easy. But the beauties of this strange experience- two becoming one- are myriad and deep and multifaceted, and I am convicted that nothing can match it.

Think of it: it's not simply physical, but something that happens in the spirit world, that God no longer sees you as two, but as one. Now what does that mean? How does that translate into individual paths? And yet, you are still unique individuals in His sight. Does this help you begin to understand the mystery of the trinity we describe God as?

As I have said before,
God opens many doors and windows to us in this life- not always as directives or commands,
but sometimes simply to bestow His largesse...
and sometimes, just to test if we will make our choices
from our own preconceived notions or if we will ASK HIM.

The road ahead of you is going to be full of excitement, and I pray that you are clearly led in every aspect by God. This is how you will find your greatest joy and fulfillment in Him, because true surrender to God's calling is not always about pleasing Him- it is sometimes also in finding pleasure for ourselves in what He has chosen to give."

A close friend asked me out for a long early morning run today. We were talking about life, and she said to me, "You need to have more faith, Wai Jia."

"But I can't help this anxious feeling inside. It's so... unnerving. There're so many question marks, no answers, and everything is up in the air."

"Yea, but you gotta deal with it. It's a timely lesson to learn that there're many things in life we can't control, and this is one of them. Just have faith, things are going to turn out fine. At the right time, everything will fall into place."

And in the evening, came another letter in the form of an email:

Do you really believe if we seek, God will provide a way? Do you also really believe that God knows of our needs and knows how to take care of us like He does with sparrows?

So here goes, 2011 is going to be a year of having greater faith, of stepping into things larger than I can conceive, and a year of killing the dragon.


Keep on asking,
and you will receive what you ask for.
Keep on seeking,
and you will find.
Keep on knocking,
and the door will be opened to you."
-Matthew 7:7

Monday, February 21, 2011

Exciting and Frightening.

A very long time ago, one of my teachers Mr. Ho told me before, that marriage is the closest model to God's love for us. I remember being very surprised and doubtful when I heard that.

The wife of a paraOlympian spoke with me today (they are both my friends), during a short break I took from studying, sharing the love story of her life with me. Then she asked me what I was afraid of.

I said, I don't know.

Then I read a quote, of which I could totally relate to as well when the word God is replaced by romantic love.



"We are strange and lovely creatures.


We can ache for God tremendously

yet find ourselves getting nervous if God gets too close.


After all, the closer God gets,

the more we hear the call to be divinized.


It is both exciting and frightening to hear that call.”

— Macrina Wiederkehr

Ephesians 5:22-24

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Not Blind.

*name changed to protect identity

"Oh yea, my wife doesn't talk to me anymore. Since I had this, she's pretty much left me by myself."

"Oh," I said. "I see."

Last Friday was the last day of my time as a medical student in the hospital wards. From now, we are barred from seeing any more patients as our final examinations are coming up. They include the recruitment of real patients from the wards, and hence, any attempt to be around patients from now will be seen as cheating.

Last Friday, Uncle Wee* spoke to me for a long time.

"Yea, sure. I would love to tell you more. Help you to be a good doctor. I speak to many many students all the time. Come, sit down. I'm here because of back pain. Very, very painful. I sound like I'm normal right? Haha, I'm in a lot of pain all the time. Morphine doesn't help much!"

Back pain. It sounded innocuous enough. Perhaps it was a slipped disc. But further questioning unravelled a story which wrapped itself round my neck and gripped me.

"Oh, and er, this."

He pointed to a few jelly-bean shaped lumps on his forehead.

"And this," he pointed to a darkened reddish patch on his arm. "And this, too- all over my body. This part's a little reddish cos of previous radiotherapy."

It was everywhere. Enlarged lymph nodes and radiotherapy marks. That only meant one thing.
"Yea, I got lymphoma. Long story, you want to hear? Cos of my medication for my kidney transplant. I had chronic nephritis when I was 9 years old, kidney failure when I was 30, so I paid $200'000 to buy a new kidney. Have you heard of cyclosporine? I take it to prevent my body from rejecting my kidney."

Cyclosporine. Why of course.

I know its side effects well. Obesity, gum enlargement, excess hair growth, hypertension, high cholesterol, diabetes, gout, possible seizures. But also, more maliciously, an increased risk of skin cancers, liver cancers, lymphomas and osteoperosis- which explained his terrible back pain from a compression fracture.

"Did you fall?"

"No, I didn't. But my doctor says my bones are so weak. I'm only 50 plus, but because of cyclosporine, my doc says I've the bones of an 80-year old. I sat down one day, heard a click in my back and there it went. I've been in constant unbearable pain since then. My pain score is 10 out of 10 all the time without morphine."

We talked a lot more. I looked into his eyes and saw peace.

"I know a lot about cyclosporine. I know all my complications now are because of it. Come, I show you- see my gums? See my radiotherapy marks behind my ear for my lymphoma? Not everyone gets these side effects, but yea, I did. Stage 4 of cancer already."

He talked about his life, his job, his wife. There was no trace of bitterness. "When things like that happen, one must be determined. Yes, there is chemotherapy and going in and out of hospital... But life goes on- look at me." He smiled. "The will is very important. My two children are my main motivating factors."

He looked out of the window.

"But just a word from my experience, you don't have to take it from me okay? Love doesn't last," he said. " When you're in courtship, love is so strong that it blinds you. My wife married me knowing I had kidney disease. Love is blind, my dear. Love is blind. But after marriage and children, things become different. Ever since I got lymphoma, my wife has not talked to me. She has not visited me once at hospital. What to do? Life goes on."

Love is blind. Where have I heard that before. But is it, really?

Our conversation was both deeply enlightening and traumatising for me, on many levels. I was trying very hard not to cry. It also brought to my mind a couple I had met less than a year ago.

He was a special speaker invited to my church. From afar, he was quite a sight. He was a tall, formidable man. But half his face was badly scarred, his right hand was a stump and his greying hair was a sparse combover. He spoke about his thrill-seeking life as a young man, how he chased after fast cars, hot girls and his one consuming passion- skydiving. One day, as a young man, his plane crashed into a mountain and burned. He was right under it and just freeing himself when his engine exploded. Since his lifechanging near-death experience, he started to believe that God existed and was giving him a second chance. Since then, he has become an inspirational speaker and pastor.

Next to him stood a beautiful woman. She was old, yes, but she aged beautifully. She was a dancer. I looked at her in quiet admiration as I imagined how much she must have gone through to see her husband get injured and then heal. I imagined her devastation that the handsome man she married was no longer even a shadow of his former self in terms of appearance. To be fair, he was hideous. You would not walk past him without being startled.

Much later on, I was even more shocked to learn that she met and married him after his accident. She married him this way.

Love is blind? Really?

I say she went in with eyes wide open. Perhaps, she even married him because of it.

Once I asked a group of my medical friends what they would do if they found out their partners had a serious debilitating illness. It was a sobre conversation, even more so because of our medical background. We understand and have seen the severity of illnesses, and how they take lives away. I also remember asking, if they would consider being together with someone if they knew they had a longterm illness to cope with. Like lupus. Or a kidney transplant. Or polio.

Some of them were honest and said they would not consider anyone who was obviously a healthcare liability.

"I mean, it just doesn't make sense," said one.

I suppose, it doesn't.

It reminded me of paraOlympian Gregory Burns, whom I had trained with and participated in triathlon races 2 years ago together with his teammates. He had polio and cannot use both his legs, but is an internationally acclaimed athlete, painter and inspirational speaker. His lovely wife is a photographer and exudes radiance and beauty.

It reminded me also of a young mum that Js told me about the other day. During a young-mums get-together, she said she met a lovely young mother in a wheelchair, probably no more than 35. She was an avid sportswoman who was struck by lightning during sailing. Since then, she has been paralysed tummy down. She probably is unable to relieve herself in the normal way we do. Her then boyfriend married her. They have a child.

The night of my birthday gathering, my special speaker Dr Darren Chua (a doctor who suffered a debilitating stroke soon after graduation) waved me goodbye as he waited for his wife to pick him up. Till today, he walks and performs actions with considerable difficulty, as one side of his body was paralysed, though he has made much progress. He shared with me, that his wife met him after his stroke.

It reminded me of Pastor S, whose wife married him knowing all the conseqences of his longterm steroid therapy from his lupus condition. Obesity, recurrent infections, osteoperosis, hair growth, high blood pressure, limb-wasting, cataracts, glaucoma, depression... That did not stop them from serving the underprivileged in rural parts of China together. They are a close-knit family of 3 now.

It reminded me of some people I know in relationships, where one of them has lupus and the other, in a different relationship, a genetic condition. Lupus can predispose one to recurrent abortions, among many other things. It's treatement, steroids, has a multitude of obvious side effects. Neurofibromatosis can cause seizures, eye problems, skin problems and bony deformities. I know these couples well.

Were they all blind? Did love put a veil over their eyes, cloud their sound minds?

I mean, it just doesn't make sense. Or does it?

Why, I'm sure they faced ridicule, and pressure from their friends and family. Were they ready for such a "liability" for life? Were they ready for the complications? Some conditions affect fertility; some treatments predispose one to cancers and infections in future; some, like a facial surgery, are simply too hard to hide from ignorant onlookers.

Were they all blind? Was love blind?

Once, someone chided me, " You better make sure you find someone who is of equal standing or higher than you in every way. So he doesn't become a liability."

To which I replied, " I see. And who is to say a rich, healthy man will not die of a car accident, or contract stomach cancer, or have an affair with another woman?"

Till death do us part. Who is to say who will develop cancer, get into a debilitating car accident, or be struck by lightning later on in life? What would happen then? Like Mr. Wee, would they then be abandoned? Here's the news- 1 out of 3 Singaporeans will die of cancer.

Do we choose who we want to spend our lives with based on liability, rather than character factors?


If so, then we should all go for genetic tests, and strike off people with genetic predispositions to certain conditions. Shouldn't we all stand in a line declaring what medication we take, and sort ourselves out according to liability strengths. Shouldn't I be striked off because of my history of anorexia- after all, what IF it recurs?

Yet, who am I to judge. If it happened to me, could I do the same too?


I don't know. It is easier to maintain one's high moral ground when argueing theoretically. Being in the medical profession heightens one's senses to so many things- we see scores of people suffering from late-stage cancers, infections, chronic illnesses, traumatic accidents, devastating injuries... to the point where I understand why some of my medical colleagues would seriously think twice about marrying someone who was ill to begin with. I suppose, most, if not all of us would.

It's very painful to think about. It's even more painful when you've actually seen the worst of so much, and helped to manage their treatment.

It's painful to see patients in palliative stages, who have the conditions your loved ones have. It is difficult hold back tears when interviewing very sick patients with illnesses you know your loved ones have and may progress into. It is depressing to read medical journal articles about poor outcomes, and potential future complications of their medication. I have had to fight tooth and nail not to cry in front of patients as they shared their stories with me, as I think of loved ones who may also progress to that stage of the disease someday, sometime.

Mr Wee said, "Can you see yourself going through all this with the person? Love, it dies you know. It dies after courtship, and marriage and children."

I ask myself sometimes- could I do the same? It makes me wonder, what runs through the minds of people when they say, "in sickness and in health"? Were they blind? Did they know what they were signing up for?

What would you do? Walk away, walk into it with love blinding your vision, or would you be able to, like these courageous and faith-filled people who saw beyond the decay of flesh and reality, walk into love with eyes wide open? Could I do the same?

I don't know.

We see far more florid diseases than a normal person ever should. We know far more about the complications, and consequences of illness and treatments than we ever should. We have access into medical publications and journals which we don't want to read, because they would break our hearts. It is no wonder that illness, or the possibility of illness, scares us to death.

They say love is blind. But I wonder, if it is not courage, indomitable resilience and formidable faith which have opened the eyes of these brave spouses.

What were they thinking?

Perhaps, it is not that they were blind, but that they went in, with eyes wide open, because they saw what the eye cannot see.

What would you do.


http://asofterworld.com/index.php?id=642



"Not all flesh is the same:
People have one kind of flesh, animals have another,
birds another and fish another.
There are also heavenly bodies and there are earthly bodies;
but the splendor of the heavenly bodies is one kind,
and the splendor of the earthly bodies is another.
The sun has one kind of splendor, the moon another and the stars another;
and star differs from star in splendor.

So will it be with the resurrection of the dead.
The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable;
it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory;
it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power;
it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.
- 1 Cor 15:39-44

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Valentine's Day advice from the old man.

" You need to find someone who can love you even at your worst.
Not just someone who sees all the good bits in you and are fascinated by them.
That's nothing.
Cos on the outside, I'm sure you're easy to love-
you're always doing all these good things on the outside.
True love, well, true love needs a track record.
One year is nothing.
Last night, you threw a fit at home and I was disappointed with you, okay.
Having a bad day means nothing to me, young lady-
- I have bad days all the time.
But hey, I've got a 24-year old track record with you
and that means something."
- from the one man in my life I know I can always count on- Dad, on True Love.


Some days, I wish I were less of a skeptic. But I have too many guy friends and have heard too many of their beer conversations about women to continue wearing rose-tinted glasses. Why do I end up backpedalling in fear every time I think of a Possibility.

Roses are the only flowers I hate, really. (For many reasons.) Till today, I find it so strange how a diehard believer in faith, hope and miracles can be such a cynic when it comes to romantic love for herself.

Because yes, though it might be hard to imagine, I'm not loveable at all when I throw a cranky, noisy, hypoglycemic fit at home. With housemanship coming and 36-hour work shifts 6 times a month, I know I just might have more crazy fits to come :(

Thank you for loving me at my worst, Dad, when I'm spoilt and unreasonable, and when it's that time of the month, and not just when I get an award, or when I'm nice or when I'm serving other people. Thanks for truly loving me.


Cheers to a 24-year track record!

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Pry.


She's not even sure if she believes in that kind of love for herself.

It would have to take nothing short of a miracle, to pry her ears away, and her heart open.

Friday, December 31, 2010

Snowflakes.

“As a snowflake falls, it tumbles through many different environments,”
an Australian science writer named Karl Kruszelnicki explains.
“So the snowflake that you see on the ground is deeply affected
by the different temperatures, humidities, velocities, turbulences, etc,
that it has experienced on the way.”


Snowflakes start off all alike;
their different shapes are owed to their different lives.


Life has a funny way of turning its back on us, or so it seems.

We plan, we scheme, we devise. We pen down grand plans, draw detailed blueprints and roll out scrolls of flowcharts. After all, what's life without purpose? And what better way to pursue purpose than to manifest it in the form of meticulously thought out plans?

Hence, new year resolutions, I presume.

Last year at this time, I planned and hoped for many things. Amidst a list of things, I wanted to get my driving's license, finish an Olympic distance triathlon and marathon, travel to India to a mission hospital with one of my pastors, and pick up oil painting. I also resolved to eat more ice-cream.

I accomplished none of the above. Final year in medical school proved too busy for driving lessons, I experienced my first sports injury just before race season started, I ended up travelling to Smokey Mountain in Philippines instead, picked up pilates and ate more healthily.

Life, seems bent on ruining our most well-thought plans. And perhaps, God has His reasons, for this constant gust of wind determined to throw our feet off this tightrope seems to be the very thing which helps us to continually cling onto Him as our lifeline. And that, in itself, is most precious indeed.

This year, I resolve not to make any more new year resolutions. (Irony intended.)

Instead, I would like to reflect upon how I have changed in the past year, and my prayer for the new year ahead. After all, we, like snowflakes, seem to constantly change along our journey through space and time. Buffeted by strong winds and carved out by varying experiences, we morph and change in ways we least expect, for nothing in our most meticulous planning can predict how the air currents might be. We plan, only in vain. For we can never control how we turn out exactly, can never plan our full course. Yet, in the end, all snowflakes melt into the ground.

I am learning, that in the same way, perhaps, as long as our lives are guided by a constant force, we need not bother to plan our lives in such exhausting detail. Because we can trust, that no matter how bad the winds and how cold the currents may be, Gravity promises our descent and return to where we came from. At the most sublime point of our greatest beauty, having travelled through life's long journey from above, and having been refined by harsh environments, we then perish and melt into God again.

So this year, I'm not going to say what races I must join, what places I must go, what things I want to accomplish. Rather, I want to say I'm ready to follow the gravity of my life, to be more grounded in God, and to come that much closer to folding into Him.

Planning is inevitable. It is a merit, most times. But I want to plan in a way that gives respect to time, space, and the most important force of my life.

This year will be rough, I know. There will be great transitions. If all goes well, I will begin the gruelling life of a junior doctor and my skin might hardly see daylight. But I know, the harsher the winds, the more beautifully one surely will evolve to become, as long as one trusts the force that carries one on his journey.

This year, some highlights included:

- receiving my new bike, Faith.
- being humbled and experiencing emotional and spiritual growth through my hamstring injury
- my reinforced calling to the poor and needy through a visit to Smokey Mountain
- the completion (finally!) of A Taste of Rainbow
- a nomination for an award, which took me many weeks to have the peace to go through with the application
- enjoying medical school in a way I never thought possible
- my learning to forgive people, and realising I need to learn to forgive more.
- realising that God is teaching me to let Him drive
- believing that perhaps, romantic love really does exist if we give it a chance, and isn't such a sham if we let God do the picking.

Next year, my prayer is to:
- learn forgiveness, because I have been forgiven. (I discovered that my sensitive nature also translates into nursing old bruises for long periods.)
- rekindle my love for my patients, because stress and sleep deprivation can take a huge toll on one's basic bedside manners.
- continue to love God and know Him more. (This doesn't mean doing more projects, but instead, means learning to be more gentle and patient, which I am often not.)
- and perhaps, to let someone else love me, too.

There're many things we can't predict, but there's one thing we can:

That no matter how bitter the weather and how frosty the environment, God will make something beautiful out of our experiences, as long we let Him.

a photo given to me by a friend in Canada, of a tree in his backyard.


To all you readers, thank you for walking through 2010 with me.

Thank you for all your emails, text messages, and comments, which have been great encouragements in my journey towards God.

I hope that in some small way, this space, too,

has blessed you and brought you closer to

::where we came from::

and where we will eventually return to.

Blessed New Year to you.



"For the final truth about snowflakes is that they become more individual as they fall—

that, buffeted by wind and time,

they are translated, as if by magic,

into ever more strange and complex patterns,

until, at last, like us, they touch earth.

Then, like us, they melt. "


- The New Yorker, by Adam Gopnik




Tuesday, December 28, 2010

No turning back.

Now that the year is ending, my finals are nearing and I'm moving on to a different chapter of life, I just want to give thanks for the past 5 years of my life in medical school.

Just lately, some people have been sharing with me about difficult stages of life they've been going through, and wondering if they would make it through. It reminded me of how different I was 5 years ago, and how indeed, God can use our trials and struggles to strengthen and refine us.

Once upon a time, I was prone to insomnia and anxiety, insecure and unfit, depressed and in despair, wondering how on earth if it would be possible to ever graduate. Once upon a time, things were so bad I thought ending things would be easier and that I might never make it through. Once upon a time, I thought my second book would be junked and God would turn out to be a hoax.

But today, I sleep like a lamb every night, I take exams with the perspective that I've passed them already, I've picked up triathlon, and I've never been more excited or motivated to graduate to become a doctor.

I really am excited.

Today, I just want to thank God for how He's changed me, from a hopeless rag doll to someone hopeful, from someone who always needed to look to someone else for comfort to someone who can put her confidence in Him. Things have changed, in ways which I thought were impossible, and I'm just amazed. Because just some time ago, I thought it was impossible.

I come from a background which doesn't really promote positive thinking. I ended up pushing myself harder than I ought to, beating myself up harder than I should, and believing that divorce, separation and conflict were the norm rather than the exception. But church changed all that- I started to believe in a God who believed in me, ended up enjoying the flow of work and play and started to see that loyalty, commitment and love, while not perfect, are real things that can happen to real people. Only lately, because of how my eyes were opened to 2 special couples at church with interesting histories, I think, finally, I've started to believe in romantic love again- if only a little.
That's a real big step for me.

God, You changed my life and gave me hope.

At one point, I wanted to end this all. Today, I am in awe at this newfound joy in marvelling at the study of medicine and this newfound hope and faith in a future which is uncertain and scary.

At one point, I bashed love. Today, I think it is possible.

At one point, I thought God was a meanie. Today, I know He is a loving teacher, someone who makes dreams come true. If all goes well, A Taste of Rainbow should be launched in February.

God, thank you for my church.
Thank you for helping me believe in myself,
and to believe that a 180-turnaround is possible.
Thank you for helping me believe
that with faith, hope and love,
miracles really do happen.

I've decided to follow You, and there's no turning back.

Picture by Ian Ho, modelling/concept by Wai Jia



"I have decided, to follow Jesus...
No turning back, no turning back..."
- No turning back

(my favorite hymn)

Friday, December 24, 2010

(Edited with pictures) The Power of Love.

Are you a gift sort of person? I mean, is that your love language? If it is, Christmas is probably a busy time for you, and perhaps, a time of emotional highs and lows, too.

A couple of weeks ago, I read a book from church about the hardships of marriage. The authors are husband and wife, and illustrated the challenges in communication between a couple.

The husband used to buy flowers for his wife frequently after work, swinging by the florist outside his workplace, thinking to himself proudly, "How many men would actually still buy his wife flowers after all these years?" He did this frequently, expressively, but grew to resent that his wife started showing less and less appreciation. He stopped buying them altogether, resenting even passing by the florist and one day, sat his wife down and haha, said he "wanted to talk". (Which is great by the way, because it's usually the woman who "wants to talk" and the man who dreads it.)

And they do. And the wife says, " It's because everytime you give them to me, they look half dead. And you go on to tell me each time what a great deal they were, how many extra flowers you got for your buck. It makes me feel they were got out of convenience, and I feel cheap."

Silence.

And he replies, "So you want me to drive an hour downtown to Bloomington during the busy lunch hour so I can get em fresh, get the same flowers at about 5 times the price wrapped in a wrapper which says Bloomington so I can give the same thing to you?"

To which she replies, "I think you're beginning to understand a little of what Romance means."

I sighed at this story. Because it only goes to show how much grace we need to love one another, not on our terms, but on somebody else's. I could totally relate to how the wife felt. Totally. I would've felt the same-every woman wants to feel valued above all else by her man. But the man had already gone out of his comfort zone to buy something out of his "practical" mind such as flowers for her.

I suppose, love, when wrapped in a gift, can only release its full measure of power when both it's giver and recipient meet on the same levels.

Recently, I was a little offended by a gift which obviously looked like it was a pass-on, and then later, on reflecting upon myself, realised that perhaps I was guilty, too.

I was slighted. Petty? Maybe. But I suppose, no one likes to feel like a convenient salvation army garage sale, good for second-hands only.

Simmering a little, because I like to think I spend effort writing and making cards and buying thoughtful presents with the person in mind, I then thought of the many children in Smokey Mountain, in Nepal and in many other developing countries this Christmas who might be jumping gleefully with joy at bags of hand-me-downs and collected clothes from people like us who don't want them anymore. Do they feel second-rate, too? Or do they feel privileged even to be considered "second-rate"?

Once, I met a missionary who related a story about a toaster to me. She said she was hurt during a collection event for missionaries, when people donated really awful things to them, thinking that they were fit for use by them. One of them was a toaster, which could only pop up not two, but one slice of bread because one side was faulty.

To be honest, I didn't see a big deal in it. I even thought she might have been a little petty. After all, isn't a faulty toaster better than no toaster at all?

But now I understand. I understand what charity organisations mean when they say they're tired of receiving broken things, or things which were put in their collection bin that you might have to be pretty close to Einstein to figure out what their use might be.

The truth is, no one likes to feel second-rate. A gift often represents what you feel about the person's worth, and no one likes to feel like they were cheap, or that you thought they were.

So each time I clear my wardrobe, I've begun to throw more things out, and started learning to give away things I actually liked to organisations that needed them.

At Smokey Mountain this Christmas, the church there organised a treat for a thousnd kids by ordering Jolibee (their equivalent of Mac Donalds) for them, hired the red and yellow bee mascot to entertain them, and gave out shirts, slippers and groceries to families. A large sum was raised- 14 USD per child. They had their once-a-year treat of spaghetti and chicken nuggets, compared to their usual meagre meals of lentils and cheap rice.

Too extravagant? Some would think so. Generous? Perhaps. Is calculated love still love? I don't know.





I am learning, that sometimes, the power of love is magnified and multiplied when an element of sacrifice is present. That one hour's drive to Bloomington? Yea, that's what I'm talking about. That sweater you kinda like but know you haven't worn for months? I had to remind myself that it could be put to better use when I passed it to the scrawny uncle who mops the lifts at my block. He was so cold that day.

Not that one ought to have high standards for gifts given to one. After all, it's often the simple, thoughtful things like a text message or email which melt our hearts, aren't they? But I have been challenged, to give out of sacrifice, and not out of convenience.

But I have been guilty. I have bought stacks of books at book sales, to give them out through the year to people. But you know what? They never feel the same. They never feel as special. Because very often, those were "could-do" gifts and not "WOW, for me?" gifts.

Yet, even the recipient's attitudes play a part for love to blaze like a firework. A friend shared with me yesterday about a garage sale at her church, organised for needy families. While some had sacrificed things they loved to bless others, there were those who simply bought items simply because they were cheap, even though the bicycles were too big for them, or the rollerskates didn't fit.

Love, is a precious thing. I am learning, it needs to be given, and received with care and gratitude. I am learning, that we ought not to exult in feel-good self-righteousness at our altruism since it is the recipient's response which determines how much love is actually conveyed successfully. I am learning, that one also ought not to be offended at gifts- do we not believe that our lives are already filled with good things from God? Are we not secure enough in His love for us? Why should we doubt our worth based on what we receive?

Just as I took a break from writing this post, I found a package for myself on the table, wondering who it could be from. This is from the inspiring mother of one of my paediatrics patients (the cutest little 3-year old boy) whom I'd met more than a year ago, who even till today still prays for me. Thank you so much for the beautiful necklace. It matches what I'm already wearing today perfectly. I love it, but I love your beautiful, gentle spirit more :)






To all my friends and family, thank you for everything that you have blessed me with. Beyond gifts, you have blessed me with your time and love, encouragement and support. Who cares about pass-on gifts when we have one another.


Above all, perhaps we can be thankful for the greatest gift of all that God gave us on Christmas, thoughtfully bought, at the highest cost, with the greatest sacrifice.

That's the power of love.

Merry Christmas.

"...for you were bought with a price:
glorify God therefore in your body."
-1 Cor 6:20

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

The Driver's Seat.

"Have you noticed, that... your life has been very... challenging?"

I knew she was on to something. And I knew, she was about to help me discover something magical, something that smelled refreshing and nostalgic and ancient and fresh. So I stayed on track, trying to catch a whiff of the trail.

"Yea, I have. But what am I to do?"

Silence.

"So, what are you saying?" I asked, smiling a little, not wanting to sound confrontational.

"What I'm saying is, I've noticed that your life seems to consist of climbing one mountain after the next, and all I'm wondering is, whether you feel tired, and if you exercise enough self-care. Like what we talked about at our last session."

We were on the topic of my next book. About it going to be published soon, about the difficulties which came with it and which will come along with it. We were talking about my upcoming final examinations, my ruminations about how my previous illness had taken away what I wished it hadn't. We were talking about that recurrent topic in our conversations, about that melancholic sense of lonliness inside of me because of my desire to do missions and to live my life differently.

"So how does doing all these things make you feel?"

"I mean, I guess I feel fulfilled. But to be honest, sometimes I do feel lonely. I mean, on the outside it looks great. Like, people think I have it all together- studies, community service, friends etc. But hey, I only got 24 hours in a day, so something's gotta go- I end up doing a lot of "purposeful" things. You're right. Sometimes, I get tired. And it feels lonely. But I mean, I've come to accept it- because, I feel called to do this sorta thing."

"Sure."

Silence.

"But I guess, part of the roller-coaster bit of my life, part of my previous illness was because I tried so hard to be in control. There're so many factors in life- I can't control the results of my studies, I can't control my future residency, I can't control what people think of me, I can't control where I'll be headed next, so the eating disorder was the best way for me to feel in control."

"Absolutely."

Silence.

"So do you see, how you've compartmentalised God? Like you give Him control over this, this and this, but not over that, that and that? And because of that, do you see how you tend to climb your own mountains, one after another, to experience that temporary high? But they're barren mountains. They're all barren. All that unecessary drama was from you driving by yourself because you feared that God would take you elsewhere you feared you wouldn't be able to cope."

Epiphany moment.

"Yea... you're... right."

Do you, like me, struggle to be in the driver's seat? Do you fear the change in scenery, the feeling like you don't know where you're being driven to, and if you'd be taken to a place where, gasp, you might not be able to cope?

I know I do.

I've always striven to be behind the wheel, so I think I know exactly where I'm going. The truth is, even with both hands behind the steering wheel, we never do. How can we, for only God knows our futures and our lives. The ironic part is, we, in our ignorance, in spite of our best intentions, then often drive ourselves up mountains that we were never meant to climb.

"Why do you want to drive up barren mountains, when God wants to bring you to lusher, grander, more beautiful mountains on the other side? Has it occurred to you, that perhaps, in spite of all your fears about not knowing where He might take you, you may very well be driving yourself up a far more difficult terrain than what He has planned for you?"

I thought about my previous illness, my publishing journey in writing and illustrating books as well as my self-striving in terms of training in triathlon. I saw the common pattern of how my own ideas of success became my own stumbling blocks- caused me unecessary afflictions, anxiety and injuries. It was time-consuming and on restrospect, silly.

God wants to bring us to grander scenery- why do we fear? He wants to take us on the best ride. His cross for us to bear may not be as big as the ones we impose on ourselves.

"So yea, continue to let go. Let Him take over the wheel."

Towards the end, I brought up an issue which I had been thinking about a great deal over the past few months. About a friendship which I wanted to cut off and abandon because I was too afraid.

"I mean, this is crazy. What's going to happen?"

"Precisely. You don't know. Let God decide, let Him drive. Because when you do, you'll feel a sense of freedom."

"Aw man, no. You don't understand, this is a mountain coming. You said that my life is full of roller coasters, didn't you? This is, for sure, going to be a huge mountain and He's driving me right into it! I haven't been able to stop it, He drove me right into it!"

"Who said life was about avoiding mountains?"

"Ah, I see. So it's about climbing the right ones."

"Exactly. And as far as I'm concerned, this is the one opportunity where you can finally give God the chance to show you that He's a better driver than you."

Okay God, I'm getting out of the driver's seat and onto the passenger seat. But before you take off and hit the road, let me fasten my seat-belts. I know you're a safe driver and will never let me come to harm, but I know, you're a much bigger adventure junkie than I could ever be.

Let go. Let Him take over.

And hang on tight.



“For this is God, our God forever and ever;
He will be our guide even to death.”
- Psalm 48:14

Monday, December 6, 2010

Rain on me.

It's like leaving clay out in the sun.

What was once mouldable and pliable becomes rock solid, and when faced with harsh elements, fragments into pieces.

I guess, I didn't see this day coming. But when I sat down yesterday, with the pile of work and unstudied material before me and realising just how much I've missed spending time with God, I wrapped my fingers over my heart and found it... hardened.

It's hardened without me even knowing it. Who put it out in the sun?

I suppose, what they said about growing up and becoming a junior doctor really was true. That the process would either draw one crazily close to God or drive one away from Him. The routine of work, the fatigue from the hours and the constant demands of the world (sometimes unreasonable ones) erode one's core unconsciously, constantly. I came home from church yesterday, still angry at certain people at home and at work regarding certain situations which I had felt completely wronged about, and started to cry.

It didn't used to be like this. Once upon a time, I sorted these things with God every day. Every day, I put my heart of clay out to be watered and soaked in His love so that it would be soft and pliable, so that He could even out the creases and wrinkles put there by harsh words, unconstructive critique and the wear and tear of this world. It was painful being kneaded, but oh, the next day brought new hope and freedom, to be a new masterpiece.

Then surgical internship came with its crazy hours, and preparation for the final exams came. Day in day out, I plodded along to the song of this crazy world at its crazy pace, allowed the elements to weather my heart and hardly took time to allow God to water and soften and knead out the roughened places.

I found myself on a Sunday afternoon, bitter and frustrated and tired, and full of putrefying anger and resentment at him, her and you. I wanted to shout at someone, say it wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair. I wanted to scream and say I deserved an apology, that what was done was horried and unjust. I wanted to say God, how can it be like this? Aren't you seeing this? Why aren't you putting a stop to this? How can it be that people can be so... frustrating?

I wanted to draw a line and cut these people off from my life. And all that made me wonder- How did I get to this place?

How did I become so angry. And it scared me, because I knew at that moment, that my heart had been hardened. I just didn't want to care, didn't want to try anymore. I just wanted to go away by myself and hide under a tree so I could study another chapter about colon cancers, surgical procedures and liver conditions, away from the grating elements of this world.

It's been too long. I'm sorry, God.

Last Sunday at Sunday School, the little children learnt about keeping their hearts soft and tender, like the ploughed soil of the earth, so that good seed could grow in it and flourish. We learnt about saying sorry, and about being receptive to You. What had happened to my plot of soil? I was certainly not feeling anywhere close to saying thank you or sorry. A hardened heart builds strong fortresses.

I know you've never left me, and I'm sure you know I've never once thought of leaving you, too. But why is it then that on a Sunday afternoon, when finally, time has availed itself and unfolded before me, that I find myself crinkling up and hardening into a rock, a fireball, a seething, empty whirlwind?

I want to be soft again, God. I want to look at patients, even the angry, whiney and demanding ones at 4am in the morning, and be genuinely concerned with their lives. I want to look at the people who have caused me hurt and suffering and be able to bless them, instead of being mad. I want to put all this anger aside and say, it's okay, you had a bad day and you took it out on me in an unacceptable way but you didn't know how else to vent it out but nobody's perfect and it's okay.

God, I can't do this alone. Come, rain on me.





“Today, if you hear his voice,
do not harden your hearts.”
-Hebrews 4:7b

"In your anger do not sin:
Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry..."
- Ephesians 4:26

Saturday, December 4, 2010

The Yellow Line.



*This post may be offensive.

When I saw this photo, I stopped. I just knew, it was the cry of millions and millions of girls and women who kill a part of themselves everyday, consciously or not, to stay on that fine yellow line which society draws for them.

If you are female, I am sure you, like me, will resonate with it.

Once, I used to hate my body. At one point, I hated it so much that I fell very, very ill. But now that I'm well, and constantly check on my thoughts and habits to make sure I never go down that slippery road again, I've come to discover, that even the normal baseline of self-acceptance and self-consciousness among the majority of females is light years away from a place of freedom and abandoned love.


We are so self-conscious.


I grew up with boys. At any one point, I think I had more guy friends than most of my girlfriends did. Perhaps it was just that I really enjoyed running around with guns and bows and arrows and pretending to a be a superhero with them. Or maybe it was that when I wanted to be Sleeping Beauty I always kept it secret because I was too much of a tom-boy to admit it. And when we grew up, we just stayed comfortable around one another. Anyhow, I was often teased, and I grew, unfortunately, to become astutely aware, perhaps a little too much, of the male psyche.

That made me afraid. Because I learnt that most boys, even if they're my buddies, don't know how to respect a real woman. Few men do.

Last Sunday, on the front page of the papers, was the headline "Anorexia at 8". It looks like that thin yellow line has left its mark on our children, too.

Damn it. Have we lost?

Have we forgotten that we were each made differently, that our source of security and love comes not from the approval of others but from ourselves and God? Have we forgotten that a real man would love us for who we are and not how much we weigh? And even though it's great to live a healthy lifestyle and eat nutritiously, how many of us know that that by itself doesn't get you Jada Pinkett's body?

I exercise. I should know. Trust me, that body you want doesn't come from a healthy lifestyle. It's called having good genes, a celebrity lifestyle and a personal trainer with a full-time training programme. The body that we try to obtain comes with awkward self-consciousness, painful self-denial and unrealistic cheating.

Why do international surveys show that a majority of women hate some parts of their bodies. Have we lost?

I admit, it has always been my legs. Then when I started doing triathlon, it became my sun-dried, chlorine-soaked hair.

Have you tried balancing on a thin yellow line with sky-high stilettoes without losing your balance? It looks easy, but it really is back-breaking business. Not to mention, dangerous, too. One constantly feels one is on the edge of a fall.

Perhaps, what we really need is to throw away those red stilettoes and those blood-red apples, start loving our legs and feet and hair and boobs and eat real food, and to take a brave leap forward to realise that there really is no consequence to not toeing that thin yellow line that society draw for us. It is about taking charge, and making a conscious choice every day, all the time.

It might not be the fault of the media, or boys. We cannot push the blame. It is simply a bad mix of their gawky adolescence or ignorance, our media-driven society and our terrible insecurity.

When will it take us to see that every part of us is beautiful and complete as it is.

When will it take for us to realise that God's love is enough.

When will we learn to sit back and say, God, thank you for ice-cream, and thank you for my strong arms and thunderthighs because they help me walk and run and carry kids and spin them round like a merry-go-round.


I am trying, too.





Photo by Ian Ho

Modelling and concept by Wai Jia

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Back.

"Today, today I lost.
But tomorrow, tomorrow'll be a better day.
Tomorrow, I'll be back."

-Dr Lee Kim En from National Neuroscience Institute, on rough days.


It's supposed to be my two-week study break. It's supposed to be a time of refreshment and restoration before my 1-month slavedriving surgical internship with 15-hour workdays and 36-hour calls begin next week, before we go all out for our final exams in March. But it was not to be.

"It's no wonder you're emotionally wrung out," said Jn, "It's just been one blow after another. Take some time off by yourself."

Jn is the therapist I still see from time to time, not because I'm still ill, but because I've chosen to follow-up with the team regularly even as my second book about my journey to recovery from depression and anorexia prepares for its launch. We've decided to use this time to work on some underlying deep-seated issues.

It was on Sunday when I was beginning to feel defeated, and the day seemed to unfold seamlessly into Tuesday and Wednesday before I saw Jn and had decided it was enough.

Sunday was a day of reflection and melancholy. Somehow, a part of me began to be acutely aware of how important Community is to us. Some part of me thinks my classmate, and many others in their final years of university, passed away due to lack of belonging in a Community. When I watched the video that day, what struck me was that the man found joy not merely through his achievements because that can be empty, but through finding himself in a community of people who supported his endeavours. It made me think about the initiatives I've been spearheading in the student body regarding raising awareness of and strengthening mental health support in the medical community. It made me recall, that at the time I was ill, I didn't have much of a community in school as well. It made me reflect, that though church, friends, professional help all played a role, the primary reason for my speedy recovery might just have been my finding a Community through my cycling and triathlon group.

Monday. For some reason, I couldn't get over the fact that you had signed up for the half-iron man, because I kept feeling like it was just the beginning of my losing a friend to the sport. Monday. I got a text-message from a lady in charge of student affairs at school, Ms Y, saying that she needed me to return to school because she had misplaced my photograph for an award submission and would like a photographer to retake a photo.

Tuesday. I woke up with a heavy heart- how could Miss Y have misplaced it? She had requested a stack of supporting documents which I had painstakingly collated a month ago- the deadline was this friday, what happened? Why was only the photograph lost? Didn't you ask me to pass them all to Ms S at X hospital so you would pick it up from her?

Tuesday. We decided to train together with another friend. I made the effort to accommodate to your timing and venue because I knew you needed to train. It was at a somewhat dangerous time, but I assumed that because we'd be in a small group, we'd be riding more safely. You assured me we would be going at an easy pace. But you were late, as usual, and as we rode, the two of you sped off into the distance, leaving me behind. There were many cars. You beat one amber light, without looking behind for me or waiting for me after. There were so many cars. I told myself it was okay, that perhaps, you were too focused. But that stabbed me- I felt this was just the beginning of training taking you away. Wasn't training in a group about Community? Wasn't it about looking out for one another and enjoying one another's company and encouragement?

Then you beat another amber light. That was enough, and I turned back. I rode all the way home by myself. Ele was with me, her trunk all curled up- she sat heavy on my bike and wept.

It didn't take long before you two discovered I was gone. I didn't pick up your call. I only text messaged to say that after being left behind at two amber lights, it didn't feel like my presence mattered. I think the two of you felt terrible, and very sorry. I don't know why it broke me so much to be left behind.

I cried a lot that day. Something deep in me just set off. The straw which broke the camel's back, however, was when after an hour's journey back to school after a tiring day, I found out that Ms Y had "misplaced" not only the photograph, but all the supporting documents which I had painstakingly collated and submitted for an award the school had nominated me for. She was very chirpy, apologetic in an unapologetic way. She hadn't realised that much time, effort, money and resources had been put into preparing those documents for her on time, which was a month ago.

"I'm so sorry," she said chirpily, " let me search for it now." Wait a minute, I thought, weren't you supposed to make a search for it before troubling me to make a special trip down? I waited for half an hour outside her office before she came out smiling, "I'm sorry I can't find it. I'm sure we'll find it tomorrow. But anyway, at least we have your photograph." She waved her digital camera at me.

I was appalled.

When I talked to Jn about this, I remember sharing with her my utter sense of loss at the traffic light, and the sense of betrayal. Why was it so profound? It's just two lights, woman. It's not like you can't take care of yourself. Suddenly I felt the entire sport was tainted. I didn't want to do it anymore. Suddenly, I saw the pride and competition and self-seeking and wanted to abandon everything and everyone associated with it.

Then the revelation came.

In psychology, one school of thought suggests that we tend to find ourselves drawn to relationships that help us to recreate the fallen aspects of our relationships with our parents in an attempt to "make things right". But because we are used to the old, dysfunctional interactional patterns of the past, we bring them forward to friends or partners, and into our future relationships. For a large part of my life, abandonment has been a huge issue. During certain significantly tumultuous periods in my childhood, I had felt abandoned by the predominant male figure in my life whom I deeply loved. As a result, my mind is primed for abandonment, because it what my subconscious expects.

"You look for people who give you the same stability as your childhood male figure did. But you often say or do things which erect barriers to protect yourself from being abandoned. Yet, your longing for community and approval is still there, and so this creates an inner conflict. So you reach out and backpedal constantly, and your mind constantly primes itself to prove that you will be abandoned because it's the only way it can perceive relationships. It's like a sensor for abandonment. And because of your fear of abandonment, you also sometimes abandon other people first."

Spot on. It explained many things- the profoundness of my hurt at being left behind, my neediness at times, and also, my fear of being in a relationship. My subconscious simply awaits the final moment where it can validate its expectation of being abandoned, again.

But God has a funny way of teaching us things. Sometimes, the process can be so hard. But as long as we look out for the lessons along the way, it is worth it. It is always worth it.

I learnt, that in order to progress, I must overcome this. I had told myself I would allow myself to get into a relationship after graduation, and I suppose, now till then would be a good time to prepare myself for a healthy one. I have to at least try. Try to stop pushing people away and put a stopwatch on how long they'll take before they leave me.

Wednesday was very interesting. I forgave my two cycling buddies and reframed my thoughts towards my Community. And in the afternoon, I had to meet a friend at X hospital. I was still deeply troubled by the "lost" documents. God, were you trying to teach me that I need not "earn" your love? Is this the same lesson you taught me through my injury? That I don't need an award to be validated or affirmed? I couldn't stop wondering, How did everything get lost? Didn't Ms Y ask me to pass them all to Ms S at X hospital so she would pick it up from her?

Ms Y from the university had told me the day before, " I hid it so well I forgot where it is."

I sensed something very, very fishy.

Suddenly it struck me, that I was in X hospital. And out of the kind of tenacious curiosity sometimes possessed by medical students, I decided to call Ms S to find out how my package got "lost".

Lo and behold, I learnt, that the package had never left X hospital. A month ago, Ms Y had told them not to mail it out yet. And along the way, she must have forgotten. " I hid it so well I forgot where it is" suddenly became embarrassingly humourous, at my expense.

Many phonecalls and emails later, I made my discovery quite plain and the staff at the university were both apologetic and sheepish for their lack of transparency, professionalism and honesty. I won't lie to you- I was angry. This had cost me a lot of time and energy. The forms had taken me hours to fill, the essays, days to write- during my busy internship period where I was hurried to submit them. I could not be certain if all my time would be wasted. There was no doubt about my appallment at the way things were handled, and how no effort was made to trace the documents when I had asked Ms Y repeatedly.

But I learnt a few things, and that was good enough for me. One, always to make a copy of any documents one submits; two, curiosity kills a cat but can sometimes tell you how another cat died too; three, it takes a lot patience, grace and compassion to deal with such situations in a godly manner. It would have been quite amusing to see myself kick up a fuss over a nomination. I decided against it. But I requested for a channel to give feedback to, and that my case be taken over by another staff, with a third party overseeing the procedure.

Through the past 4 days, I also saw God's hand with me, through my pain and agony. He wanted to show me, how I needed to work through the issues of abandonment in my life, how I needed to overcome it to build healthier relationships with people around me. He taught me forgiveness and humility, when I apologised to my 2 friends as well for turning back abruptly. He taught me resilience in dealing with terrible administrative glitches and the grace to rise above it. I felt God being with me- my friend at X hospital was supposed to meet me on Friday- if he had not changed the date to yesterday, I would not have been there and would not have got to the bottom of the Mystery of the Missing Package. (You can say that if God were really with me then this would not have happened in the first place, but I am biased- God is good, and I only found my package because I was there at the right place and right time.)

In the busyness of coordinating plans regarding mental health support in the student body, I have also been tired out. Last night, I also arranged for 4 friends and myself to take Grandpa Zhou out for dinner. When I got home, I got a loooong email from Ms Y trying to explain herself.

"It's no wonder you're emotionally wrung out," said Jn.

One of my mentors, Dr Lee Kim En from National Neuroscience Institute and a firm believer in the goodness of God once told us, "Some days are so bad that they make you feel defeated. It makes you feel like giving up. But tell yourself, 'Today, today I lost. But tomorrow, tomorrow'll be a better day. Tomorrow, I'll be back.' God's mercies are new every morning."

So I'm going to deliver my package personally to the school, give my feedback as graciously and matter-of-factly as I can, and just trust in God that things'll turn out all right. After all, He already knows about the outcome of the nomination. Perhaps, this may just be a journey of faith for me to understand that I do not need to earn His approval, that He is in control, that His plans cannot be foiled.

And I won't abandon triathlon. I will try to love more fearlessly, more securely. I will work with Jn on that, I promise.

For the past 4 days, I lost. But today, today, I'm back.



"Because of God's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness."

-Lamentations 3:22-23



Monday, September 13, 2010

In spite of it all.

I suppose that's the toughest part- to eat it all, love and hate, in a single bite. Sweet meat and bitter bones, succulent fruit and withered core, all at once. How does one love in spite of it all?

I suppose, that's the toughest part- to love God all the time all at once, even all the bits we find hard to digest, like the way He loves us in spite of it all.

I'll be honest with you. These few months haven't been easy. I've been mad at God for numerous tiny things accumulated over the course of time. At times, I was so mad I was ready to throw in the towel and say I was through with this. I've been giving Him the cold shoulder. You're unfair. You're silent when I need you. You see all these terrible things happening and people suffering and you let them happen. WHY.

Where are you. What are you doing with all your free time up there.

I was injured. I couldn't ride or run. My parents kept bugging me to "go out and see people", and to please "see someone your age in medicine". One of my ex-patients (a little 3-year old boy) kept getting re-admitted to hospital because of a chronic illness. His mother fought, is fighting so hard to keep things together and continue to trust in God.

I wanted to tell God how mad I was with Him for making us suffer this way. I wanted to tell Him it's unfair that I'm losing my friends, my closest of friends because they are leaving me and finding their other halves and I am sitting here patiently doing what I know I need to do simply because I know you've called me to the mission field and it's darn unfair that I can't ride or run or go out with people because of what you've done to me. It's unfair people go away after I'm upfront about missions. It's unfair that they're always so many patients at hospital. It's unfair we have to go on call for 36-hours without sleep taking blood and seeing people and resusitating patients and come home feeling wiped out. It's unfair that after submitting my paintings and writing so many months ago and them all promising that the project would be well underway and that they're on to it that I receive an email asking where my paintings are, and there is silence from everyone on the other end because everyone is busy. I'm tired of this writing and publishing and painting and waiting... I'm tired God, I'm emotionally drained. I don't know what to do or think because people haven't been replying to my emails and I have no one to tell but you and you keep telling me you're in control.

What control?

It frustrates me, God. It bloody frustrates me.

And Grandpa Zhou is asking me to join him for a mid-autumn festival charity dinner organised by a church near his home this Saturday night because the last time we met, I was feeling depressed and wanting someone to take me out on Saturday night to Dempsey or Starbucks to eat ice-cream and listen to music and read or draw or just, talk. And so he said, "Yar, you were feeling down right? So I'm asking you out on a Saturday night, please come for our event!"

But though I want to accompany him, I don't feel like going because I'm angry at You.

I'm angry.

I want to throw a tantrum. And I have. You're unfair. You frustrate me and you don't listen to me. You give me things, making me love and treasure them deeply only to take them away. And this isn't just about my injury, God. Your discipline hurts so bad. Why does it take so much to believe in you. Why are my hopes pinned on a kite gone astray.

I like fancy things too, God. I want to go for pedicures and perm/straighten/colour my hair like everyone else does and stay out late at night in fancy places. I want you to go away. Stop bugging me. Why do you keep bugging me.

I'm angry.







And it amuses me to see how mad I can be with Him, giving Him the cold shoulder on Friday nights and Saturdays when I'm feeling most alone and suffering withdrawal because I'm a workaholic and there's something about the sterility, bloodiness and neediness of the hospital which sedates and calms me, and yet feeling particularly tender and loving to him from Monday morning till Friday evening when I really need His help to draw blood from a patient whose veins are slipping from my fingers like runaway snakes. God, please help me. I need you.

How can we be so two-faced.

And I realise, we're like this every day.

Part of me is so bitter at you, in spite of all you've done for me. People look at me and say they admire the faith I have in you. But it comes with a price, and God, I don't know if I can keep paying it. I am hurting. And I know this is nothing but a big tantrum because I never deserved a such a nice bicycle and I never deserved to write and publish books, but will you please show me you are real and that you care. Just put me on my bike on a neverending road to a faraway place for a while with blue skies and yellow daffodils and hot green tea soy latte in a Starbucks mug.


I am learning-that that's the toughest part- to love God all the time all at once, in spite of what happens, in spite of how we feel, in spite of what we've lost. In spite of bitterness, pain and anguish. In spite of uncertainty and loneliness. I am learning, that that's the toughest part, to come face to face with reality, understanding that life with God isn't a bed of roses but an uphill climb, a constant challenge to believe that You're on my side fighting and rooting for me, and not an evil puppet master. Some part of me knows, nothing very much in this post makes sense at all.

I am learning, that that's the toughest part- to say I love you in spite of all that's happened, in spite of all that could happen. I guess I'm just frustrated that You're so silent, though I know it's more likely that you're praying for me and hoping I would be patient enough to see how much you love me.

You really love me?

And I guess the toughest part- is really fathoming how in spite of it all, in spite of my petulance and tantrums and hypocrisy towards you, you love us still, warts and all.

In spite of it all.


Please God, make my heart tender again towards you. I hate being mad at you.

I'm on 36-hour call again tomorrow.

"'Love the Lord your God with all your heart
and with all your soul
and with all your mind."
-Matthew 22:37
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
And lean not on your own understanding;
In all your ways acknowledge Him,
And He shall direct your paths"
(Proverbs 3:5,6)
 
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