Words to Live by (1)

"This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of Nature, instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy."

- George Bernard Shaw

I Wish I had Known That..

It matters what you put in the centre of your life. When I was young(er) I think I built my life around many other things. And it has taken me many years to realise the truth of Yeats’ words: “things fall apart / the centre cannot hold”…

What are the hollow centres I have held dearly?

At one point, I put a person in the centre of my life. My decisions were affected by how he perceived each situation. I defined myself by his approval. I valued myself based on his validation of me. But, no human being can take the burden of being the centre of another person’s life. So I realised, men have clay feet and weaknesses, and when I only looked at myself through his eyes, I saw myself as less than I was.

I also put work in the centre of my life. Burying myself in work was a relief. I got a ‘high’ from doing a job well – there was affirmation, monetary reward, a promotion… But, the students’ performance at exams became the definition of my self-worth. How good a teacher or leader I was depended on how well the school did in any one year. And I suspect I started becoming a monster. Irritated with my teachers, short-tempered with my students. Working longer hours that kept me away from my children. Frazzled and wanting to do better and better.

Then I put my children at the centre of my life. I spent time reading up on parenting, looking for new experiences for them to try, making them my reason for being. And they truly gave me much joy. But children must not be made to bear such a burden either. For then I started to pour on them all my dreams and desires. Wanting for them what was important to me and not what they needed. And the children had to bear my sense of failure – am I a bad mother? Why is her baby more friendly and out-going than mine? Why hasn’t my daughter started reading yet? And then I became the dreadful creature – a martyr-mother. Long-suffering and insufferable.

The worst was when I put myself in the centre - when I decided I had to take care of No.1. I thought that was the best way to deal with hurts, rejections, disapproval. I thought I needed to take care of my own needs, protect myself and to hell with the world. Oh, but this was the worst of all. Because then I swung between periods of superiority when I thought how much better I was and periods of abject inferiority because some one else was smarter / prettier / thinner / richer / happier!! I lapped up praise and approval and when there was any criticism, I would receive it deeply, thinking over the words again and again, alternating between anger and indignation because I could not bring myself to accept that I could have made a mistake; because that would have hit at the heart of me.

Now at 50, I am at peace. And my favourite reminder to myself is Rule #62: Don’t take yourself so darn seriously!

And what have I learnt now that I wish I had known at 25? That when I put God in the centre, all things will come together. That He is strong and faithful and unchanging and He never fails me. That when I do my work for the Lord and not for men’s approval, I am able to work with love and humour and not because I want to please my earthly bosses or because my work success defines me. That when times are good I have learnt to thank Him and when times are bad, I know He is right there drinking from the bitter cup with me. That because He has made me lovingly and carefully, in His eyes, I am beautiful. That my children are a gift from Him and He has trusted me to raise them to walk with Him in His ways and He asks nothing more of me as a mother than that. That I am loved by God despite all my messed up choices. That I will survive come what may because “I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that He is able to guard what I have entrusted to Him for that day” (2 Timothy:12).

It is so gloriously freeing when you don't keep looking over your shoulder and wondering what others think of you! Ultimately it is just God and me.

Amos

Amos has been on my mind since I talked about him on Monday. Got a ride back from Changi from Joshua and happened to ask him whether he had ever visited the Changi Chapel. And that led to how I had gone there and of course it was because of Amos.

It's been so many years.But still whenever Amos comes to mind, I feel a sadness that lingers. A sense of deep loss. He wasn't outstanding as a student, but he taught me how to make peace with death.

What made me write to him when I saw in the papers that he was sentenced to death for drug possession? I don't really know. I think it was the memory of his smiling face, the way he shushed the class so I could teach. He was such a big help to me in my rookie year in JI when I was struggling to make the transition from teaching in a junior college to teaching in a centralised institute.Would I have ever succeeded in conducting a proper lesson if not for him? I don't know. It was also because of the memory of him standing with all the basketball boys, getting scolded for something he did not do, but getting scolded anyway because he had to stand by his friends.And then smiling at me to show he had no hard feelings.

That was the Amos I remembered and that was the Amos he was to me until the end. I used to wait for his letter so anxiously because I never knew when he would stop writing. And the most precious letter of all was the one where he wrote to say he had accepted Christ. He subsequently decided to be baptised a Catholic but it is enough to know that he found God. My final visit to Changi to see him, the funeral, his sister's visit to give me back my letters and the book he left me - all sepia memories now.

But yes, he taught me how to die. He taught me that when you have made peace with God, you can let go with dignity. He taught me that family and friends matter. And he taught me that no matter what choices a human being makes, you shouldn't give up on him.