Answered Prayers

I've been just reading over my blog entries of the past few months and I smile at the roller-coaster of feelings I have described! From the frustration and worry of my pre-departure days to the anxiety and excitement of my early days here, then the irritation and despondence of settling in and the exhilaration of finding my feet :) Above all, I realise once again how faithful God has been. Every prayer I had listed in my journal on the night before I left Singapore has been answered in loving ways. 

#1 I prayed about my knee. I wrote, "Father, please help me to enjoy my time in the US by healing my knee. I want to go on walks, go trekking. I don't want to be the old woman with the bad knee holding others up." My knee has not completely healed but the pain is a lot less and my almost-daily evening walks along the trails around the place I live are a highlight of my day...

Lake Artemesia, a trail walk I enjoy

A creek just behind The Varsity where I live

#2 I prayed about having friends an about my flatmates. Like a teenager I wrote, "I'm anxious I won't have a friend, Abba." and "I'm anxious about my flatmates. I know You have already chosen them. Lord, help us to help each other..." And my friendship with J & L has been great! We have connected so well, we look out for each other and we enjoy each others' company! As for my flatmates, we are from Singapore, Finland, Argentina and India and we get along better than the UN!

My Singapore 'kakis'

My apartment mates!

#3 I wondered about where I would live, whether my room would be dingy and cold... but no, it is sunny, open and after I did it up, a pretty place I look forward to coming back to! 

My blue-green themed room!

#4 I told God, I was anxious I wouldn't be able to cope with the studies and would struggle to complete the capstone project. I wrote, "Father please give me a conscientious, kind tutor who will help me craft a good project and put me in touch with good contacts." I am blessed to have Dr McA who is the kindest, most good-humoured, humble and caring tutor I have ever met!

#5 I wrote "Abba help me to use the 123 Fulbright days to the fullest. Fill the days with learning, experiences, friendship, travel, enjoyment and growth Help me to find blessings in each day." Then I forgot about this prayer, but 2 weeks ago, I was prompted to do just that - to begin a 100 Days of Gratitude album on Facebook!

#6 I prayed for Christian fellowship. I asked, "Where will I go for encouragement Abba? You will provide encouragers for me, won't you?" and yes, I have been blessed with MCF and the dedicated ministry of the pastor Jeff Warner. It took a lot of courage to call him up and to go to church on my own, but Jeff and his wife Dawn have been nothing but kind. It took me a whole lot MORE courage but I have joined a Growth Group (which is how they refer to their cell groups) AND I have signed up for the church's Fall Retreat! Now THAT is pretty scary for me. But I know I had to step out in faith and I know God's step will rise to meet my foot. I know this is how He will answer my prayer #7 - "Abba may my Fulbright days be days of growing closer to You. Help me to have a closer walk with You and may these days be an oasis of remembering Your goodness to me."

These are my Growth Group leaders :)

And the Lord has watched over my household too as I prayed #8 "Abba, I ask for Your protection over my family, for your eyes to be upon J & R." All has indeed been well, very well - apart from a cockroach invasion :) Two days ago, I couldn't stop squealing when C called to ask for our blessings before he proposed to J ... 

My future son-in-law who ticks all the boxes :)

There is a verse in the Bible that says "Test me in this," says the LORD Almighty, "and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it." I have read it and wondered what it would feel like. I have not had such a phase of life before. But now, as I sit with my journal open before me, I know I would be foolish and ungrateful if I did not praise my God , my Abba who heard my fears and comforted me.

In the past, I used to feel fear when things went well. I would not celebrate or share good news because of a superstition that drawing attention to one's good fortune would in some way attract the unwanted attention of evil spirits and that good news would be followed by sorrow. When children passed exams or if others had commented on how cute a child was or congratulated someone on good fortune, the practice was to perform a ritual to get rid of 'the evil eye'. This ritual involved taking a handful of dried red chillies, salt and mustard seeds and then circling one's hand three times around the person who might be the object of 'the evil eye'. Then the person would be asked to spit into the ingredients and the ingredients will be thrown into fire. Of course the fire would flare up and splutter, but this would be taken as proof that an 'evil eye' had indeed been cast and that the curse had now been broken. 

It took me a long time to shake off that baggage. Every time things went well for me, I would wait for the 'inevitable' sorrow that would follow. And of course when I looked for something I would find it. I am emerging from the shadow of that fear of blessings. I am learning to accept the good and the bad from the hand of my Father. I am learning not to fear, to know that God is good. I am happy and I can say 

 "My soul makes its boast in the Lord;
    let the humble hear and be glad... 

I sought the Lord, and he answered me

                                                       and delivered me from all my fears."

To My Readers If You Exist

I have decided to limit access to this blog. It's been around for a while and I like writing it though I am not as frequent now as I used to be when I started it. Mainly that has been because I write in my journal more - where I don't have to be as circumspect as I sometimes have to be on a public platform. 

But circumstances have changed. I started this blog when first J then R went abroad and I felt I had not told them all I wanted to. I felt I needed to share who I was before they became young women of lives of their own. But my daughters' lives have changed. They now have private lives and thoughts that I do not want to be accessed through my blog.

More importantly, I have changed. I do not want to keep a blog describing just my travels and my external life. Increasingly I find myself going deeper into myself. Some days I feel I am on the outside of Vara, knowing why I said that or why I felt a spurt of sadness or why I didn't care. And I have become afraid I might become too honest and hurt someone without intending to. I'm afraid I wouldn't care because what I had felt had been true for me. And I want to be able to write without wondering what my nameless, faceless reader would think of me.

But I know there are readers I can trust; readers who know me as I want to be known and love  me anyway. So, if you read this blog, and you think you might still want to come by now and then, don't be hurt or surprised if you find the blog closed. Just let me know and I will give you access willingly. I will lock my blog on 30 Sept 2012.

Ir-responsible

What I love most about these days is the irresponsibility. Well, no, that word may not have the right connotation, but I can't think of what the opposite of 'responsible' is, so that would have to do for now :) I love not being responsible. I love waking up in the morning and knowing that if I didn't want to, I needn't do a single thing that day. I love not budgetting.

Perhaps this is a phase of growing up I just missed out on. While I was in school, I felt a sense of obligation; I was reminded on every possible occasion that my sisters were paying for my education. I didn't have carefree days in the Institute of Education because those days consisted of lectures in the morning and teaching in the afternoon - so that meant marking and preparing for lessons during spare time. When I got into university, there was again the awareness at the back of my mind that I was there on a govt scholarship and I needed to keep my grades up. Being accepted into the very first Direct Hons programme didn't help matters at all, because I spent all my time studying and writing papers, always, always conscious of the fact that I needed to keep up a B+ average to stay in the course.

So these Fulbright days feel to me like a second chance. To do the things many people did during their university days that I just did not have the courage - or the irresponsibility - to do. I do my readings, but I don't stay up late to ensure I have finished ALL the recommended readings. I do the assignments, but it doesn't matter because they don't get graded. I don't feel the burden of juggling teaching, administrative work, running a household and mothering that I felt when I was doing my Masters. This time, I am in university to enjoy student life - books, cafes, conversations with friends, time to travel, unwashed laundry, trashy tv, drinks at night, meals-for-one, the jangle of pop-Christian-Hindi songs in the apartment. Irresponsible living.

Making It My Own

During orientation in DC, Holly, from IIE told us that we will need to be comfortable with ‘structured ambiguity’. I didn’t think more about the phrase then, but in the last week since we came to UMD, I realise there was wisdom in that caution.

I am not yet sure of the classes I am going to attend, but I have some idea of what the classes are likely to be. I know which school I will be attached to and the names of my partnering teachers, but I haven’t met them yet and don’t know what I will be doing in the school.

The past week has been a time of adjustment and I have had to struggle with my natural need for order. I realised yesterday that I liked just staying in my room. Perhaps it is the order I have created; the safety. And I have been doing more of that – creating structures. I have a weekly schedule – when I will do grocery shopping, when I will clean my room. I know where to look for the bus schedules. I know how to get to the DC sights from my apartment. I learnt how to use Dropbox so I can store my notes and photos. I have walked to the ATM and withdrawn money. These seem like small tasks when I compare them to all I used to do in Singapore. But each small success has mattered.

This morning I made it to my Faculty Mentor’s room for an appointment at 9am and spontaneously accepted his invitation to visit his class on Storytelling. He told a tale from Limba (now called Sierra Leone) – of how a chief’s daughter was stolen and then rescued by 5 ‘strangers’ – a spider, a rat, an anteater, a chameleon and a biting fly. At the end of the story he asked us – with which of the ‘strangers’ did you identify? To me it was the chameleon. Because he was The Adaptor. And that is who I want to be at this particular time – the one who fits in, who doesn’t stick out, the one who doesn’t need to ask for directions, for help.

As I stood outside the Chemistry building after the class, the thought came to me – I knew where I was. I knew in which direction to walk to get to the library, which direction to take back to the apartment. I knew what I had to do this afternoon, what errand I needed to run and how to find directions to get to the shop I needed to go to. I don’t have to stay in my room.

Not Today

I have had a quiet day today. I intended to. I decided to take this one day to just slow down and to allow the hours to pass, without an incessant need to fill every unforgiving hour with yet another experience, or opportunity or learning. There seems to be a frenzy among some of the others here to DO something - shop or travel or attend a concert or sight-see and often I hear how we must make the most of the opportunity we have. Some days I agree. But when I woke up this morning, I didn't want to DO; I just wanted to BE. I know there are 365 things to do in DC, but today I am not in the mood for any of them.

I think my mood is affected by my lack of sleep. And I am irritated by the lack of connectivity. The internet connection in my room is really bad and I spent a good part of this morning just trying to surf. I am in the students' work room now and the connection isn't any better so I don't know if it's my laptop that is the problem. Or maybe it is because the kids are all using PCs, I don't know.

I wonder at my own inertia. This is what I have wanted to do for so long. To study abroad, to travel, visit museums, read. Yet right now all I want to do is find a good book and a cafe. I hope this is just part of the culture shock and that this feeling will soon pass. I can't put a finger on it, I can't name it. It isn't homesickness. It isn't quite depression. I feel disengaged - like a receiver taken off the cradle. Not willing to connect. Not today.

Sleepless in College Park.

It's 1.40am and I'm wide awake. I just got back into my room after an emergency evacuation at 12.30am. I'm furious because I feel so helpless. Every night we are at the mercy of idiotic kids who shouldn't be allowed to live here unsupervised. Every night since Moving In Day last week, the students have been yelling, puking, stomping down the corridors and dragging furniture around in their rooms from around 11pm till the wee hours of the morning. It has been a week since I had a good night's sleep. 

I don't know if this is just culture shock but I am really miserable from just not being able to sleep. I am so fed-up with these kids. I'm fed-up with the uni for putting us up here. I'm fed-up about the fact that there are 5 guards on duty and they have absolutely no power to do anything or say anything to these kids.

The Eagle has Landed :)

I am amused by my own title :) Yup I am in the land of West Wing, Coke, Apple, Google, Kate Spade and Cookie Monster. Soon I too will find "amazing" and "awesome" experiences :) 

We landed around 3.45pm (US time) on Tue 14 Aug and had a fairly eventless customs check. Ironically the one person in our group who had the least luggage was the one who got called aside for a spot check! I am so thankful that WY's dire warnings of having to open all my suitcases didn't materialise :) We met the 2 Fulbrighters from Morocco at the airport and shared a shuttle bus to the hotel.  We are at Key Bridge Marriott and I absolutely love the super comfy bed! Must say I had a good night's sleep! Today, as good Singaporeans, we went shopping at Fashion Mall at Rosslyn. We also ate at dc cupcakes which was a major yummmmm :)

We have been meeting the other Fulbrighters at mealtimes - so far we have met the 3 Fulbrighters from Argentina, one from Finland, 3 from India and of course the 2 from Morocco. I need to get ready soon for the evening reception where we will meet all the rest, including the US teachers who are going abroad.

Just a quick note to those of you who read this blog. Because it is quite hard to even keep up one blog, I'm going to be less frequent on this one, but have set up a different blog for my Fulbright experiences. That one will be more politically correct :) This one will be for my private rants and shopping confessions.

Ohayou Gozaimasu

If you haven't guessed already, I'm in Narita Airport, enroute to Washington DC. Getting here was traumatic. I have no idea what came over me. My best guess is that I had one of those woolly days when it feels like I have brain fog.

Would you believe I packed for 4 days and was still packing right up to half an hour before I left? I have no idea what happened! I couldn't seem to choose what I needed to pack and when I tried to get rid of stuff I couldn't decide what to leave out. In the end I left a bunch of winter clothes for J to bring when she visits in Nov.

Anyway, I'm on transit now and on my way! Que sera sera! What God wills will be! :)

Mixed Feelings

In 8 days I will be leaving for the US. I can't believe July has whizzed past and we are almost a week into Aug already! It feels a lot like I'm waiting for the first day of school. Travelling with 2 women I hardly know, meeting 18 strangers from different parts of the world, sharing an apartment with 2 other women... There are just too many new encounters awaiting me.

I will be landing at Washington, D.C on 14 Aug and 3 days of orientation await me. I think we will be taken on a tour of the city one one of those days. That will be nice. We are then transferred to the University of Maryland, College Park on 18 Aug. I will be living in the student apartments called The Varsity, sharing a flat with 2 others. We ballot for our flat-mates and we don't get to stay with the Fulbrighters from our own country.

The university hosts have been very kind so far and conducted a pre-departure survey to ensure our needs would be met. One of the questions was - what are your 3 top concerns? I said - my knee, whether I would make friends and the cold :) On hindsight my answers seem juvenile, but those really are my top concerns :)

My prayer is that God will watch over my comings and my goings. I trust He has already chosen my flatmates for me. I trust my knee will not trouble me and that I would be able to finish my project! Thus far my mind has been on the places I will visit and the experiences I will have. Maybe I should expend some mental space on my project asap! :)

It is a strange feeling - trepidation, a little anxiety, some excitement, a touch of fear, lots of bravado.

After Work

Especially when I'm extremely busy, my habit of procrastination kicks in with a vengeance. That's when I take computer breaks to surf for holidays or to check my email :) This week I have been surfing to consider options for a Masters degree in Guidance and Counselling. I figure if I do this part-time it will take me 3 to 4 years to complete it and that will be about the time I will retire and I can start another career.This option has been in my heart for a while now and during Family Camp I was humbled by the number of people who shared deeply with me. I feel I need to prepare for a new season. I sense a settledness, as if it is time to stop looking at my pain and failings and to reach out to others in pain. I keep thinking of Paul who asked God three times to remove the thorn in his flesh and when God's answer was 'no', he stopped thinking about it and set about doing God's work, accepting simply that God's grace was sufficient for him. I am no Paul, but I also feel it is time to accept God's 'no' and to move on. It's time to set down my burden and carry others'.

Remembering Appa

Today, I thought of my father a number of times. The second week of June often brings memories of him because his birthday was on 10 June - often this was close to Father's Day - and coincidentally he passed away on 15 June.

This year, I travelled up to Kuala Lumpur on the 10th of June and naturally when my sister and I started talking, the conversation turned to him. M claims that my eldest sister and I were my dad's favourites. I'm not sure I remember being singled out for any such special treatment, but when I think of him, I have a sure sense he loved me. 

Mixed up with that feeling, however, is a strong sense of guilt. Because I also feel I failed him. 

I know I disappointed my father when I married D. My dad was very proud of me. I think my accomplishments were always bigger in his eyes than in mine or anyone else's. He was proud I earned a scholarship to pay for my school fees in Singapore, he was proud I had a bursary to pay for my university fees. He was proud I was a teacher. And when I told him I wanted to marry D, it was the first time I saw pain in his eyes. 

He and my mother had come for a visit to my sister's house in Singapore when I told them. The three of us shared a room that night before I left the next morning to return to my rented room, and I heard him sighing and talking in his sleep. He hardly slept that night. The next morning as I prepared to leave, he told me, "Did you think I am useless and cannot find a groom for you? You have stabbed me in the back." Those were the harshest words my father ever said to me. I have not forgotten those sorrowful words in the past 28 years.

I wonder now at the callousness with which I left that day. How wrapped up I was in my youthful love that I did not stay and at least listen to my father's pain. I wonder what dreams my father had had for me. I wonder what future he had imagined for me. And I wonder if I did the right thing. Every year, when I read Fathers' Day messages in the newspapers and on Facebook, there is a sadness inside me, a regret - for the pain I once caused; for the apology I never made.

Even to Old Age

This morning I looked, really looked, at the bottles and jars of lotions and creams on the shelf in my cupboard. And smiled to see how all of them had one thing in common - they were all labelled "firming" or "anti-wrinkle" or "anti-aging" and my favourite, "age defying"! 

Unfortunately, my body does not seem to have heard the message. Since church camp I have been more aware of the truth that I am growing older. Perhaps it was sharing a room with young C; perhaps it was the ache in my knee that doesn't go away and limited me from some activities; perhaps it was Rod's reminder that we are "jars of clay".

But since church camp, I have been thinking (among all the other thoughts) that I need to shift gears, change the lens I view the world through.

A few months ago I wrote about my anxiety over my ministry with the young adults in church. Wondering what on earth I was doing, turning up on Wednesday nights, but not really achieving anything.

But after listening to Rod at the Leadership Seminar on Sat and during the church camp, I learnt two important lessons - church and ministry are not about meeting my needs and service isn't about counting.

I realise I have been hung up on the idea of leaving a legacy and living a life that counts. I think I had, have, a sense of my own mortality. Especially as it becomes more difficult for me to walk quickly or to carry a baby for as long as I used to be able to, I feel older. And every time I feel that, I have an urgent desire to squeeze more into my days, to learn, to try something new, to make my life count. When I was teaching, I had a sense of satisfaction almost every day. I knew I had made sense of something difficult for my students, I had comforted, I had challenged. But since I left school, work doesn't give me the same sense of satisfaction. Leaving teaching coincided with the season when my daughters left to go abroad and suddenly, there was no one left to nurture - no students and no children.

That's why I decided to serve with the young adults in my church in 2006. It's been 6 years now and I have been thinking over and over again - what have I achieved? Who have I touched? And I kept drawing a blank. To be honest, I did start looking for new areas to serve in. Together with 2 colleagues from work I have set the ball rolling to volunteer with the Singapore Children's Society. I figured I would go where there was a need.

But God has shown me through Rod and C, my room-mate, that ministry is not about 'doing' but 'being'. That service isn't about meeting my needs, but about me meeting the needs of the church. That service isn't about numbers - not how many young adults I have mentored - but about faithfully turning up and letting God make His Divine Appointments.

So, my daughters, I have a new lens for the years ahead.  When I am discouraged again, I will remember Ps 71:18

"So even to old age and gray hairs,

O God, do not forsake me,

until I proclaim your might to another generation,

your power to all those to come."

God counts in a different way.

My Father's Comfort

Church camp was profoundly moving. I wondered, before I left, what I would do during the long afternoon breaks between the morning sessions and the evening sessions. But in the end, I needed those quiet solitary afternoons to just sit and think and journal.

The camp speaker was Dr Rod Wilson, a psychologist who is now the President of Regent College in Vancouver. He and his wife Bev are raising their adopted daughter, Jessica, who is a high-functioning autistic with frontal lobe damage. At camp, Rod shared the pain of raising their daughter, a struggle that continues till today; as Rod put it, "it's been 25 years of pain". The stories Rod shared were moving and I am awed by this couple who knowingly adopted a special needs child, after years of childlessness, in obedience to God. Their faith and their acceptance of their pain - seeing God IN their pain - challenged me in a deep way.

In his pain, Rod has asked hard questions - "put God in the dock". And he encouraged us to ask those hard questions ourselves. He said at one point, "People ask me - can Jessica be healed? And I answered, Bev and I - WE have been healed." And it struck home for me that that was true for me too. 

I too have my "Jessica story". A pain that will not go away, will not get better, a person I will need to carry for a long time. But through that pain, I have been comforted and I have been encouraged. I have grown and seen more than I would have if life had been all I had imagined. I have thought deeper, felt deeper. And through my tears God has stripped away my conceit, my shallowness; showed me my insecurities; taught me to have honest conversations; ask hard questions. Taught me that a life worthy of Christ is one that hungers for depth and authenticity. Is there pain? Yes. But when I hurt, when I fall, my Father kneels down and puts His arm around me and comforts me. The pain does not go away, the wound is still there. 

You may see my wound; but I feel my Father's comfort.

Off to KL

I'm off to KL tomorrow. I'm taking a flight ahead of the buses that leave on Mon morning so that I can spend a night with my sister. Then I'll check into the hotel with the rest on Mon evening.

I'm feeling a little less anxious now. I always feel better after I have written out my feelings and faced just what it is that is bothering me. Also, I attended the Leadership Seminar conducted by the Camp Speaker Dr Rod Wilson at church this morning and I'm really looking forward to hearing more! 

I haven't packed yet - better get round to it soon! I leave early tomorrow morning for my flight at 10.30am. If I take my laptop along, I will blog during the week. If I don't, then sayonara till next week! Hmmm. I wonder what mood I will be in the next time I write :)

Knotted Up

Would you believe I have a tight knot in my stomach because I’m thinking of the church camp next week?

I feel 9 years old again, coming down from the classroom, entering the school canteen and not knowing where to sit while I eat my bread with butter and sugar.

I am 18 and sitting alone on the swing outside at my class’s graduation party because in my jeans and t-shirt I don’t fit with my classmates who are now in dresses and shirts and dancing to music I don’t know.

I’m 29 and tongue-tied at a group interview for a leadership post and wondering how the others could effortlessly interject and make conversation when I needed time to think about the question the interviewer asked.

I’m 35 and Rita is furious with me for staying in my cabin and avoiding the hordes of students and teacher colleagues on a 3-day school cruise trip.

At 55, I don’t seem to have changed much. Why then am I going?

It’s the pull of the theme of church camp – “Brokenness”.

Changing Faces

This evening we finally bought the dining table. Yes, now we have a place to dump our things on when we get home and a place to leave mail to pile up unopened :) 

Just as we were leaving the shop, I picked up a pretty cushion that I thought would go well with the tangerine wall in our hall; and D said wistfully, "We should have kept the old cushions and not given them away. I could have kept them in the car and when we drive up to Malaysia the girls could use them to nap." I looked at him incredulously. Truly, I think in his mind, my daughters haven't grown up. They are still 10 and 6, curling up each in one corner of the car, or one in the lap of the other, asleep on the pillows we bring with us on our road trips while he drives. 

But our next road trip is not going to be the same. We will not even all fit into the car, and if we decide to drive up to Malaysia, we would probably have to hire a 7-seater SUV. My family has grown - older and bigger. My family has changed - we eat different food, we speak English rather than Tamil, we take turns to watch different programmes on TV, we have different rhythms to our days. 

Come July, my family sitting round the dining table will be different from my family that sat around our old one when we first moved into this apartment in 1998. I pray, in deep ways, it will still be the same.

To My Friend Who Hurts For Me

Dear friend who asked me why I forgive and how I carry on - I can't explain. Maybe you will hear the answer here... Thank you for calling. Thank you for caring. I owe you.

Pre-departure

Today, finally, I completed the tedious process of filling in the forms I need to submit for my impending trip to the US. There still remains the step of scanning and emailing them, but at least the bulk of the work is done and the medical check up is complete.

The medical check up was the most tedious of the processes. In the time it took for me to get my medical history checked and the vaccinations and tests done, I could have flown from Singapore to Melbourne - or Tokyo! 

I would have been in a much worse temper if I had not been so entertained by the staff at this clinic :) There was the nurse who begged me, "Don't scold me ah" before she thrust a needle into my arm; the receptionist who misspelt my name, then corrected it and forgot to save the correction and proceeded to print appointment slips out for me 5 times before she realised why my name continued to be misspelt; and my favourite - the doctor who urged me "Try to remember the exact date of your polio vaccination" and gazed at me hopefully despite me telling him that I was one year old when I was vaccinated.

I'm glad it is done though. I pick up the results on Fri and send off the forms. The first pre-departure wheel has been set in motion!

Grief

I'm feeling quite shaken and saddened by the news that a good friend of mine was murdered last Sunday by her son. She was just a year older than me and we were in the same cell group in church. MJ had a hard life to say the least. She married early and it was a marriage filled with abuse and violence until she plucked up the courage to leave. She even gave away her youngest child for adoption because she couldn't bring herself to abort him like her husband wanted her to. MJ also was dogged by poor health and struggled financially. Yet her faith in God was strong and no matter how hard life was for her, she never doubted the goodness of God.

At the wake yesterday, I was struck by how her children had grown and it brought a fresh realisation of just how many years had lapsed. We were a group of 4 women in that cell group 3 decades ago and I've not been in another cell group since where we shared our lives with such intimacy and trust. We had been led by an American missionary, but when she left, we struggled to keep going. Eventually I moved and lost touch with them. I'm grateful that MJ's sister and another of my friends from that cell had taken the trouble to track me down. I had not read the papers in a week and had not seen the report of the murder nor the obituary. I'm thankful I had a chance to pay my last respects and to grieve. 

Many times when I had been overwhelmed by my life struggles, I had thought of MJ. My troubles pale beside hers and I know of no other woman who has been as strong as her. Many times I have heard MJ say she wishes she could go Home. She finally has.

Back Home

Does anyone still read this blog I wonder. I knew it has been a while since I last wrote but I surprised myself when I realised that I hadn't written in a month!

It has been a tough two months. The renovations are finally done and we are back home. Most of the boxes have been unpacked and the new smell of paint and varnish is slowly dissipating. It feels like home but doesn't look like home - and that feeling takes some getting used to. We have had to make do without a sofa for a week - it finally arrived this evening - and we are still without a dining table and study tables in the girls' rooms. The project gulped down more than I had budgetted and I feel a pang of anxiety every time I look at my bank account. 

In many ways the house has turned out as I had imagined it. I promised myself two luxuries - a rain shower and a reading nook. I managed to get the first one fixed but the second wish will have to wait till other necessities (such as the above-mentioned dining table) are in place. Some things have turned out to be heartaches. My interior designer seems to fail in getting accurate measurements done. That seems a little like saying my tailor seems to fail in cutting in a straight line, but that has indeed been a repeated failure. As a result, the microwave oven doesn't quite sit snugly in its shelf, the vanity counter he made for my bathroom was too big and we had to move it to the kitchen instead, but worst of all, I can't open my wardrobe doors because he didn't get the measurement of my bed right :) He also built a platform I asked for a bit too high and as a result I have to fix window grilles lest someone falls out of the windows that have now become dangerously low. Sigh.

So my renovation saga isn't over. There are still things to fix and furniture to buy; cartons to be unpacked and clothes to be put away. But it feels good to be home.

In Christ Alone

I am loved by God. He met me when I was dispirited yesterday and reminded me that His eye is on me. And my heart is full today, remembering how He uplifted me through the worship songs at the Saturday Evening Service and chided me through Joshua's sermon.

Joshua preached on Matt 14:22-33.  It was a sermon that met a deep need in me for reassurance and comfort. Using the story of faltering Peter, Joshua outlined how we could have faith - (i) Recognise His voice and ability; (ii) Risk in response to His call; (iii) Retain my focus on Him; (iv) Rely on His rescuing hand.

And God reminded me that like Peter I had taken my eyes off God and was looking at the wind and waves of renovation costs and aching knee. He reminded me that when His eye is even on the sparrow, would He take His eye off me, His beloved one, created in His image and ransomed with the blood of His Son? He asked me, can not the One who enabled ordinary men to feed 5000, enable me to pay bills? Surely the One who enabled Peter to walk on water, can heal my knee? And Jesus chided me, "Dear child of little faith, why do you doubt?"

So I trust.

"In every victory, let it be said of me
My source of strength,
My source of hope
Is Christ alone."

Hard Pressed

Is there a word to describe to describe  a mixed feeling of trepidation, anxiety and sadness? That's where I am now. The renovation costs are mounting and I realise I had a pathetically naive estimation of costs when I started. The costs have gone way past my budget and I have dug deep into my meagre savings. My flat has become a hard-to-please monster and the performance bonus that made me so happy a month ago has vanished in its deep belly.  And still the work is not done. With every stage of the renovation, new problems seem to surface and yes, I regret having started this project. 

Dragging my spirits further, I have developed pain in my right knee. It is the dreaded osteoarthritis and ligament damage as well. I have spent the last week going first to a GP, then an orthopaedic surgeon in NUH (never again will I see him!) and yesterday a pain management specialist. I had a session of radio-frequency therapy and physiotherapy and am now sitting in bed with my knee taped. I have been told to rest and come back for another session on Monday.

I am feeling overwhelmed. Every day there are decisions to make for the renovation - do I want the light switches relocated? Do I want the window handles replaced? Where do I want the heater to be placed? What are the dimensions of my oven? my fridge? my microwave? Then of course there is work and with my recent promotion I know I am expected to seek out new responsibilities or initiate new ideas. No one makes allowances for personal life crises to affect professional work. The higher up you move, the more you are expected to be able to maintain an even keel. But I am not wired like that. My life flows over. 

When I was feeling particularly overwhelmed last night, I read in The New Paper about a 78 year old woman with bad knees, who has no job and has 6 sons in prison. She eats one meal a day and walks with the aid of an umbrella. And I was reminded that I am still blessed. I have a God to turn to - Jehovah Jireh, my Provider who has always given me enough; and Jehovah Rapha, my Healer, who surely will see me through. But it is a challenge to choose to rejoice in the Lord and trust Him. My pain and the rising bills seem more real than God right now.

Strange Me

Come tomorrow, we would have been in our rented flat for 2 weeks already! I still am not familiar with the neighbourhood and have told myself that this weekend, I must make an effort to walk around.

I have adjusted in some ways and yet to adjust in other ways. I still find the flat too small and there are other things that irk me - the shower is a trickle, my bed is flat against the wall and I don't like climbing over the bed to get into it, there is no place to hang the laundry and it sits propped up on bamboo poles in the middle of the kitchen.

What has surprised me, however, is how I have grown to like my long morning commute! It takes me an hour to get from the flat to my workplace, but I am invariably able to get a seat on the bus, and I have time to think. It is a pleasant journey as the bus meanders through Kallang, Beach Road, Shenton Way and past Vivo City till it arrives at Alexandra Road. I find it a soothing, reflective start to my day. I read my Bible on my iPad, I meditate (I confess I once fell asleep), I pray, I think about my work and generally arrive at work in a benign mood. I realised this only today, when I got a ride to work. You see, I had to have a conversation! That was it! I couldn't be myself with my own thoughts. And I arrived at work snappy and edgy.

How strange I am. I wonder if I will become an eccentric old lady, living alone with the curtains drawn and the door padlocked. Maybe I will shout at people who knock on my door and have no friends. What a terrifying thought :)

Fraying

I am very saddened by the latest scandal in Singapore. More than 44 men arrested for having paid sex with an under-aged girl. It has made me startlingly aware that you can never know the true nature of a human being by his public persona. The Bible says only God knows what is the true sum of each man and this saga has affirmed the truth of this. Three of these men are men I have seen in their very public arenas; 2 of them educators. And even now, when their guilt has become apparent, I find it hard to believe that they would have descended to this level. It is a shock every time I see their faces in the newspapers.

My heart aches especially for their wives and children. How much they must hurt, how betrayed they must feel, how much shame in having their family lives put under public scrutiny. And I feel deep anger - at these men who are successful in the eyes of the world, blessed with opportunities far beyond the reach of the average man, yet unable to live a life of simple integrity and dignity. I feel anger at the young girl, destroying her life and the lives of others, for the sake of money. And the mastermind behind it all, preying on the weaknesses of greed and lust.

I feel as if there are suddenly many cracks showing. Such scandals used to be few and far between and teachers were rarely in the news for such scandals. My friend says there always were such goings-on but that because of the internet it is harder to hide these days. Maybe she is right. But I also wonder, has the calibre of our teachers changed? Has the moral fibre weakened? I don't know. But my heart aches for the innocent victims - the wives, the children, the students who once looked up to these men. I wish I could do something or speak some words of comfort to them. But I can't, so I pray.

Sometimes I Think I'm in a Sitcom

I spoke too soon. Last night, I felt things had settled and in smooth gear. This morning, as I was preparing to leave for office, I turned on the washing machine. 20 minutes later when I went to wash my coffee cup, I realised to my horror that I had not checked if the outlet hose had been placed in the draining pipe and that a pool of dirty water was quietly collecting on the kitchen floor! As I hurried to find towels to mop the mess up, the inlet hose fixed to the tap gave way and water started spraying every which way! It looked like a scene out of a sitcom but there was no laugh track.  Result: a pile of wet laundry left in the machine, soggy towels left in a heap on the window sill, a slippery soapy floor that I hope neither J nor C slip on, and a disgruntled snappy Vara who was half an hour late for work today. Sigh. Worse than being angry with someone is being angry with your own stupidity :)

Displaced

I don't quite know where the last two weeks went. Since I last blogged, C came, we packed and moved and unpacked and finally I have internet access again. All because I decided to embark on renovation of my flat. 

We moved into our flat in 1998, when R was 8 and J was 12. They have long outgrown their rooms and no longer love the purple, yellow and green hues of their rooms :) The cupboards have been bulging and as I climbed in and out of it daily, I had begun to deeply regret the bathtub I had installed when I was a sprightly 40 year old ;) So the decision was made. 

Almost every evening for the past few weeks we have been de-cluttering the flat and I marvel at just how much I had accumulated over 14 years! Because the renovations will be extensive, we have had to move out into a temporary rental flat which is across the island in Aljunied. The flat is tiny compared to ours and I obsessed many nights over whether our stuff would even fit into the flat. 

Moving day (on Sat) was stressful but my part-time helper Jona was a wizard who came on Sun morning with her friend and set the whole place in order in a matter of hours! I missed Easter service which made me very sad, but there was so much to be done to make the flat livable.

So it has been 3 days since we moved in now and we have all established a delicate ecosystem of living. C has been such a blessing, pitching in to help unhesitatingly, and invariably cheerful no matter how trying the situation! It has been an eventful few weeks; we are in a neighbourhood I have never even visited, learning new routes to work, figuring out where the shops are. In a way, C and all of us are on even ground; we are all learning about this new place. Much as I regretted it on Sat, come Tues I am beginning to think things aren't too bad!

Introvert Paradise

I was leafing through my old journals a few days ago and found an MBTI analysis I did long ago in 1994. I was quite amused to see my Introversion score - unbelievable :) I also came across pages I had photocopied from Tim Lahaye's temperament analysis that characterised me squarely as a Melancholic! 

I know there are many Christians who believe such personality analyses are un-biblical and I don't know enough to say whether personality analysis borders on the occult as they claim, but I do know that these two analyses helped me a great deal to understand myself and to work at making different choices. 

From LaHaye's book, I recognised Melancholic traits in myself such as my tendency to catastrophise, my tendency to see worst-case scenarios first, my mood swings. I still struggle with these aspects of my personality but one major effect of accepting Christ has been learning to forgive myself when I revert to these behaviours especially in times of stress. I have also learnt to embrace the Introvert in me without feeling like a misfit. And to share with others the truth that I don't know how to make small talk, that I can only spend 2 days at Club Med before the extroversion of the GOs gets to me, that I really do enjoy having a meal by myself and a book, that I cannot for the life of me THINK when I have to work in a group :)

I think it is telling that right after returning from a weekend away with my dear friends, I went on a 2D1N holiday to Bintan by myself. It was a quiet, solitary weekend - introvert paradise :) 

The best part of my trip :)

My friends ask me if it was awkward. It could have been. Twenty years ago I wouldn't have done it. I would have felt as if every eye was on me as I sat down to dinner by myself.  But now, I liked that I had a table to myself, that I could read my book without chatter, that I could watch other people at the restaurant and make up stories.

Chicken in avocado sauce with fresh mozzarella and a lime margarita ;)

I think turning fifty is beginning to have more and more privileges. I am learning to recognise what pushes my button; I am learning to choose a kinder response instead of retorting the first hurtful thing that comes to mind; I am willing to give people the benefit of doubt because I want them to give me the benefit of doubt as well - like Mini who said at brunch today in response to a thoughtless comment from Rita - "I know you mean something else because what you just said isn't like you."

The trip gave me time to think and read and journal.

And the two books I had taken with me, gave me clarity in different ways. I realised anew that I was like the elder son in the Parable of the Prodigal Son quick to climb the moral high horse, wanting the wrath of God to descend on those who have wronged me. And I realised afresh that I am loved by a prodigal God who loves me extravagantly, without counting the cost and pleading with me to forgive and embrace the lost sons like He has. And I realised that I too am made of glue - when things fall apart, I long to put it all back together; the desire to bond, to adhere is there in all of us and we do it to different degrees of success. 

I had a good getaway. And for a while now, I have been at peace with myself.

JI Mamis in Melaka

I had a great weekend! Together with 3 of my friends, I went to Melaka, which is a town in Malaysia, about a 3 hour drive away. It was a departure from the usual because instead of Rita who usually drives us, this time it was Shamala at the wheel. 

Yay! You did it Sham!

I love the company of these friends. We have known each other for close to 20 years and what I appreciate the most is the honesty of our friendship. We don't cover up our struggles and we know each other's quirks and personalities. We know we aren't perfect and we don't pretend to be.

Checking in to Casa Del Rio

Melaka was a great deal more interesting than I had expected. I don't know if it is a deliberate tourism strategy, but there was a distinct emphasis on nostalgia and a celebration of a past way of life that fascinated me. 

The Library at the hotel - dark wood shelves, heavy damask chairs, tea & coffee and lots of books!

Our hotel was easily the most luxurious I have ever stayed in! Good thing the cost was shared by the 4 of us :)

Courtyard of Casa Del Rio

Pavilions @ Casa Del Rio

 I absolutely loved the hotel :) The service was excellent and we had an awesome rain shower in the toilet. I could have stood under it for a long long time. The hotel had a quirkiness that I had not seen in Malaysian hotels before... From the 555 books in the rooms instead of the usual hotel stationery...

These are the notebooks my dad used to give me to keep accounts of my spending in!

to the subtle way in which the hotel suggested we shouldn't steal stuff from the room...

and the request to please not steal their towels :)

Our hotel was close to the Melaka town centre and I enjoyed the old feel of the Dutch architecture which has thankfully been retained.

At Melaka town centre

 Mani and I climbed up to the ruins of St Paul's Church where the remains of Francis Xavier are supposed to be buried. It's  a derelict building now but still has a quiet charm.

St Paul's Church

We were also close to Jonkers Walk which was the main heritage / tourist area and walking along this street was a trip down nostalgia lane for me! 

Jonkers Walk decorated to welcome the Year of the Dragon.

The "tok-tok man"! This is a hard malt candy that the vendor breaks up with a tiny hammer & spatula. Makes a distinctive "tok tok" sound :)

Eating 'chendol' by the river at a roadside stall

Ice batu! This is basically an ice lolly made with traditional flavours and eaten by pushing it out of a plastic bag :)

If not for the astronomic prices, I would say time has stood still in Melaka. My laments that I used to buy the ice batu for 10 cents instead of the dollar I was charged was met with a polite smile by the young girl manning the stall. I'm sure I wasn't the first one to say it to her. The 'tok tok' man was too deaf (or pretended to be) to respond to my shock at being asked to pay 5 dollars for what I used to pay 50 cents for. Ah well.

It was a good trip. And the JI Mamis are the best people to have made the trip with. I'm sure my daughters would have rolled their eyes and refused to eat the roadside chendol or the ice batu and asked when we could go back to the hotel :)

Where To?

I think it's time to move on from where I think I have been serving in church. I've been with the young adults in my church for more than 6 years now and I honestly don't know what I'm doing there. I asked to be with the young adults because I missed being around young people so much after I left teaching. But year after year has passed and I keep turning up on Wed nights, but I don't know what it is that I am supposed to be doing. This sense of frustration has been growing steadily in me. Once, no matter how hard pressed I was, I would put aside work and turn up for the prayer and cell time. Nowadays, when work pressure mounts up, I ask myself whether it is going to make a difference if I go, and the answer to me always seems to be, no. So I stay back in office or take the work home. I seriously wonder if I should volunteer with one of the many organisations that need befrienders instead. Or give tuition. Or join an adult cell. Or take up a course...

In Defence of Introverts

I attended a workshop today on the use of IT in the classroom. I was interested in the potential of a couple of new Web 2.0 tools that were shared in the workshop.

I am no Luddite, but I wonder if students taught in such technology-rich learning environments really learn more effectively as the IT evangelists claim. There seems to be widespread agreement that today's students are plugged in 24/7. They are called "digital natives" and it is true that I have seen a 3 year old swipe her fingers across an iPad. 

But are we creating a new pigeon-hole without realising it? Even as we claim IT allows students to be self-directed learners learning at their own speed, are we in reality ignoring the needs of students who really do learn better on their own, reading a book and writing down their thoughts?

I fear if I were in school today, I would be extremely unhappy because, no, I don't write collaboratively. I think on my own, I write in solitude. Group discussions tire me unless I'm in a group where everyone speaks their mind. I dislike pair work unless I have had time to think on my own first. Does that make me a selfish learner? I don't think so. I am happy to share my work and thoughts; but I need time on my own first to think my own thoughts.

I particularly like this talk that a friend pointed me to. I think the speaker makes excellent points. If we didn't have space and time to think, then deep, creative thoughts will be buried in chatter. Looking at my shelves of books, I challenge the proponents of IT to name me one author who wrote his poems or novels collaboratively on Mixedink! 

Jumping on the Web 2.0 bandwagon, I fear we will lose young people who could be capable of something deep, thought-provoking, meaningful and novel. I wish more people would listen to Susan Cain...

Motivated

I read 'Drive' by Donald Pink last year after reading a review of this book. This year, we are reading the book at work - as a sort of corporate book club? - and I wish I could send a copy to every leader in the govt or at least to the Minister of Education. 

The book discusses motivation and it speaks to me both at a personal level and at a professional level. 

Many times, after running a workshop, I have had teachers come up to me and say how much they enjoyed the workshop and how much they learnt, then there will be a "...but". "But my students aren't even motivated to come to school." "But how do I deal with unmotivated kids?" And I have never had an answer. More recently, I have been asking myself - where has my fire gone? Why don't I look forward to going to work? And reading this book again this year, with the ability to look back over the events of last year in the light of it, has helped me understand the frustrations I have felt.

In a nutshell, Pink says that management theories and conventional wisdom of the past decades have favoured the carrot-and-stick approach to managing people. A combination of incentives and disincentives have been crafted over the years to keep people working as well as to keep them in line. I think Singapore especially has got this down to a fine art with our performance bonuses, baby bonuses, demerit points and fines. Pink calls the carrot-and-stick approach Motivation 2.0. He goes on to point out that far from creating more of the desired behaviour and less of the undesired behaviour, this approach has done little to create change.

He argues compellingly, instead, that what is needed is Motivation 3.0 and he says that the key lies in giving people autonomy, mastery and purpose - giving people some element of choice, allowing them to work from their positions of strength and creating a sense of meaning and purpose in the work they do.

It is astounding that the research cited in this book has been ignored over and over again over the decades. I suppose it is somehow deceptively reasonable to accept that people would want the incentives of money, fame and power and that they would be deterred by disincentives of fines or shame. 

The book makes so much sense to me I feel euphoric every time I read a portion of it. It is as if someone has finally explained me to me. This is why I HATE performance ranking. This is why I just want to teach. This is why I would tutor kids FOR FREE! This is why I was so unhappy last year when tasks needed to be done or re-done without me knowing why. 

I hope the book will result in some real changes at my workplace. It's a promising sign that we are all reading it and discussing it once a month. What I'm glad about is that it gives us a common language that I can use to negotiate for the space and purpose I need.

I Shouldn't Have Stopped @ 2

Suddenly it is the end of Feb and it's time for R to leave. Makes me sad. 

It's a pity that just when I can enjoy their company as friends and adults, and don't have to yell or threaten to spank, my girls actually have one, if not both, feet out of the door :) J & R think I'm not ready to let go of them and let them be adults. I think I can't let go of the Mother in me. I think I was made to be one of those women who would have enjoyed a large family. At one level, I understand Angelina Jolie and Octomum, yes I do. 

Frustrating and tiring though it was when the children are young, there comes a time when our own adult lives slow down; and that's when we have time to really look at our children. Fortunately, I don't think I have made many mistakes - though my daughters take great delight in claiming to be psychologically scarred by my erratic parenting. 

In my ideal life, I would have had 4 children (err... and 2 live-in nannies).  My girls amuse themselves with trying out different names their 'siblings' might have been given to rhyme with theirs. [Thankfully, I never did have a boy - whom I would have blithely named Bharani, in the days before Google - because the girls and I discovered the other night that (a) contrary to what I believed, this is a girl's name, not a boy's and (b) this is actually the name of the astrological star of the Hindu god Yama, the god of death! J & R couldn't stop laughing :)] So, if I had had 4 children, I still would have 2 of them underfoot. That would help ease the transition, I think, for when the last of the 4 is ready to leave as well, I might have grandchildren ready to walk in! 

See - in the grand scheme of the universe it would have all worked out! Darn.

My Salvation Story

I had a blessed time at the Christian Educators' Prayer Meeting last Sat. I had been invited to share my story by Lucy and I am glad I finally had the opportunity to thank the many people who had prayed for me over the years. As usual, I had a knot in my tummy before I started speaking, and I was glad to have WY in the audience praying for me. I know you have heard it before, my daughters, but I love to tell the story :)

"I was brought up as a Hindu in a conservative Brahmin household. When in Gal 1:4, Paul describes his past zealousness in advancing in Judaism he could have been describing me. I was fervent in prayer, fasted regularly and fiercely protective of my faith. Then to my own amazement, in Oct 1991, I accepted Christ.  

I stand here to share my story with you, this morning, because I am grateful for Christian educators who cared enough to share the gospel that first saved me, then my children. In 1 Cor 3:6, Paul said “I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow.” The seeds were planted and watered and grown in me all within different schools. 

I heard my first gospel stories as a child in the Methodist Girls School in Klang, then in Assunta Convent in Petaling Jaya in Malaysia. My first bible was given to me by my classmate Andrew Chua in Sec 4 in Thomson Secondary School. He gave it to me for my birthday and highlighted the verse “Verily, verily I say unto thee, ye must be born again.” It didn’t make sense to me and coming from a Hindu background, I mistakenly thought he was referring to re-birth and wanted to be my friend in my next birth too! 

I didn’t read anything else in that bible other than that verse. But since Christmas 1991, I have been reading another bible given to me by my dear friend Wai Yin whom I met when we were both posted to teach in ACJC in 1984. We sat near each other and taught the same subjects. 

Wai Yin was easy to talk to and I enjoyed her friendship but I used to wonder how anyone could be so nice and not want anything from me. I don’t remember when Wai Yin offered to pray for me. But I began to share more of my life with her. I began using her God as a back-up when things went wrong. I would pray and also tell her to pray because there was something attractive about the way she talked to her God. And I noticed her prayers seemed to be answered. 

In the first birthday card Wai Yin gave me she wrote “I could wish you many things, but above all I wish you Jesus.” It made no sense to me but I began to be suspicious of her friendship. I began to think that this then was what she wanted from me. That the friendship was just a bait. Because I was convinced that Christians just wanted to add to their numbers.

But even when I blew hot and cold, she remained a friend. In 1985, we had to stay over as teachers in charge to look after the student participants at a Pre-U Seminar. During a late night conversation, she said she would be a bad friend if she did not tell me about her Friend Jesus. There was no warning of going to hell, there was no talk of Jesus being the only way. All I heard was the concern of a friend who had a map and knew the way and could not bear to keep quiet when she saw a friend lost and wandering. I told her rather rudely that my God was enough, but some disquiet stayed with me. 

You see, I had been feeling a stirring because of another reason as well. God was speaking to me through the subject I was teaching – English Literature. Many of the texts had Christian themes and in preparing to teach these texts I needed to do research and that is how I learnt the gospel message.

I taught Dr Faustus by Christopher Marlowe and I was haunted by the despair of Faustus who had turned away from God. I taught Metaphysical poetry – poems like ‘The Pulley’ and ‘The Collar’ by George Herbert and the Holy Sonnets of John Donne; I still love “Batter My Heart Three Personed God”. I taught the poetry of Gerald Manley Hopkins and after we did ‘As Kingfishers Catch Fire’ one of my students Tee Loon came up to me and said “Madam, how can you explain that poem so beautifully and not know my Christ?”  He says that day he decided to pray for me.  25 years later he is still a faithful prayer warrior for me and a mentor to my daughters.

In 1991, I was on no pay leave to do my Masters and I was offered a tutor’s post at NUS. As God would have it, I was asked to tutor Comparative Lit and the text on the list was the Bible. I tutored 2 groups teaching the Bible as literature, comparing Genesis, Psalms, Job and John and I think it was Galatians. We traced the themes of sin and grace, symbolism of sacrifice and blood, the poetic cadence of psalms. 

Then one evening, my daughter asked me for a story. And I began to tell her the story my mother had told me – of how Ganesh the elephant god got his head. J looked at me at the end of the story and asked me “But why mummy? Why can’t god get a nice head? I don’t like this story.” 

Something changed in me that evening. I looked inside of me and I realized I didn’t believe what I had just told my daughter. I was very frightened because I felt hollow. It felt as if a core part of me had changed. I wished I could read something, talk to someone, get some reassurance. 

In that terrifying silence inside me, I heard a voice deep inside me that said “These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life.” John 5:39! I don’t know how to explain it but it was as if pieces of jigsaw fell together. And I started crying. I knew then there was one friend I could call. Wai Yin drove over straightaway and we sat in her car in the carpark and we prayed. 

Today, as we gather in prayer, I want to encourage you - will you reach out to your fellow educators in friendship like my friend did. The work is not yours or mine. It is God who works in His time and in His way. But I’m thankful that one person cared enough and was courageous enough to share her Friend with me.

 I thank God for the Lit syllabus we had then and I wonder - are there opportunities for us just where we are to make decisions that honour God?

I thank God for my students who prayed for me and I wonder - can we look up at those placed in authority over us and remember their names when we pray?

I thank the teachers in Fairfield Methodist Primary School because both my daughters heard about Christ during Religious Emphasis Weeks in school. Will you be the ones who tells the story of Jesus to our children?

God in His wisdom according to His plan, has placed us wherever we are. Wherever, that is, can we in faith plant seeds or water the seeds others have planted?  In His love mercy and grace God will call His own in His time. He just wants loving and courageous hearts. 

In ending today, I want to share with you the same blessing, my friend shared with me many years ago: my friends, I could pray for you many things; but I pray for you, more of Jesus. “