God of My Tomorrows

When I accepted Christ in 1991, I was the only Christian in the family and I struggled to even keep the faith. Yet I wanted to do BIG things for God – to serve, to lead, to do mission work!

The everyday reality, however, was that after teaching and completing my administrative tasks, I had only enough energy to tend to my own young children. My life was divided between my students and my children and it did not seem as if there was any more that I could fit in. Daily quiet times were mostly 10 minutes before the children awoke in the morning and I had to get ready to go to school myself.

When I first read the paean of the Proverbs 31 woman, I decided that God made some women Super Women and the rest, Just Plain Ordinary. And I knew which category I belonged to. I could barely keep things together and just reading the list of tasks this accomplished woman managed to do exhausted me. Make bed coverings? Please. I was prepared to pass up on all the accolades. It was okay if my children did not rise up and call me blessed, so long as they rose up and went to school. The unnamed woman of Proverbs 31 made me feel inadequate.

Yet one line stayed with me - “Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come.” (Prov 31:25)

This was the one quality I envied. To be able to ‘laugh at the time to come’. How does one do that? In the days ahead of me were school exams, an incomplete post-graduate degree, a strained marriage, paycheck to paycheck budgeting. I didn’t think I could serve God, let alone laugh at the future.

A shift in my understanding came when the pastor of the church I was attending at that time introduced the congregation to the Spiritual Exercises of St Ignatius. This connected deeply with me because as a Literature teacher, I had taught the poetry of Gerald Manley Hopkins, a Jesuit priest. Suddenly, a favourite poem, “As Kingfishers Catch Fire” made deeper sense to me.

“… the just man justices;

Keeps grace: thát keeps all his goings graces;

Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is —

Chríst — for Christ plays in ten thousand places,

Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his

To the Father through the features of men's faces.”

There was no special work that God blesses, no special work that meant I was “serving God”. 

In God’s eyes, I was Christ! All I was called to do was “keep all my goings graces” – my teaching, my interactions with my students, my parenting, my daily chores. Scrubbing stains, reading to my children, correcting my students’ essays, invigilating exams ... All my “goings”, “to see God in all things”, doing whatever I was doing each day of my life.

In waiting to be called to do “big things” for Jesus, I had neglected to notice that many women who had an encounter with God were just going about their daily life, doing what their roles called them to do that day. The Samaritan woman was just going about her daily chores (albeit at an unusual hour) of drawing water for her household. Then she met Jesus. Lydia was meeting with other women at a riverside (Acts 16: 13 – 15). Then she met Paul and came to know God. Just every day happenings, but God moments.

At that season of my life, when I was longing for grand plans, God had called me to serve Him by serving my family, my friends, my students. Serving small. There came a time when I could do more – teach Sunday School, lead worship, edit the church newsletter, and later after I moved to SJSM, to mentor young adults, to write, to facilitate the ‘Search for Life’ course. Recently, I started a book club with some women; we meet once a month and we share our lives. But I did not do all those things at the same time. As the seasons of my life changed, the tide of service ebbed and flowed.

There were some months when I could not “do” and just had to “be”, when I just needed to tend to myself – to be the hurt traveller by the road and be ministered to by the Good Samaritan. Then in other seasons, I obeyed God when He said “to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God (2 Cor 1:3-4)”.  I learnt through the years, that “Christ plays in ten thousand places / Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his”.

Twenty three years later, my family has changed. A 30-year marriage ended. Babies grew up and became brides. There are still tomorrows ahead of me that I wonder about. Work and parenting that defined so much of who I was have changed. But my God has not changed. He is still the One who taught me that Peter walked on water only when he kept his eyes on Jesus. The One who bends down to listen to me (Ps 116:2) while I tell Him my fears, my wrongs, my dreams, my hopes and cry my tears. The One who keeps account of my tears, erases my slate clean and gives me a new morning every day.

I have learnt how one laughs at the future. It is by doing the one thing I can do now, for one person, today, in the name of Christ. It is by trusting the God of my yesterdays with my today, and my tomorrows. I've made my peace with the Proverbs 31 woman :)

My Sadness Is Mine

I have decided that there is one thing I will never say to a grieving person: "There are others who have it worse than you".

One of the many things I appreciate about 'Search For Life' that I facilitate is the wisdom of letting a person "grieve her grief". This means I sit quietly, I don't reach out to hug or touch the person, I can put a tissue box within her reach, but I don't put a tissue in her hand. Instead I wait and then I ask permission before offering a tissue or a comforting hand. The first time I heard this instruction, I felt it was a cold, heartless thing to do - to let a person sit there crying. But I have since learnt the wisdom of this. Many times, we don't allow people to "grieve their grief". A tissue is pressed into your hand and it sops your tears. A touch can inhibit. But sitting in a circle just grieving gives a person freedom from pretense, freedom to mourn. 

Telling someone "think of others who have it worse than you" diminishes the grief, negates it, trivializes it, infantalises it. It is a way of telling someone, your grief doesn't matter. But it does. Every sadness matters. Whether the pain and sadness come from a lost wallet, a grazed knee, a divorce or death, that pain matters. 

Yes, there can be disproportionate grieving, and yes, sometimes we do have to help a grieving person 'move on' as too much grief carried for too long can cause serious harm and take its toll on us as well as others around us. But knowing when to do this requires discernment. 

I think, maybe, we carry a mental checklist that decides some sadnesses are lower on a scale than others. Maybe even that some sins are on a lower scale than others. But just as a sin is a sin and the gravity of all sins is the same in the sight of God, I believe, every tear is the same to God as well. When the Psalmist says "You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in a bottle. Are they not in your book? (Ps 56:8), I believe that means every tear I cry. That  God did not pour out the tears of anger, or tears cried over harsh words and saved only 'big" tears like those cried over losing a loved one. 

So, yes, I have many blessings and much to be thankful for. Yes, there are people who have lost far more than I have. Yes, there are people who have experienced greater injustices and pain than I have. I will cry for them too. But for now, for a while, I need to grieve my grief. 

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."

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.

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.

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.

My Sketchpad

You know how we talk about choosing to view the glass as half empty or half full? My natural tendency is towards the former. But I have over the years learnt to recognise this in myself and after the initial hand-wringing and doomsday prognosis to make myself explore what a more positive outlook could be. This is a habit of mind that I struggle with a great deal. I tend towards whinging, complaining and "I-told-you-so"s. I know my daughters will happily concur :) 

So this year appears to me, so far, to be one of those not-so-good years. R's friend, P, has a theory that years that end in prime numbers are better years - I have been thinking over my past years ever since she made that pronouncement :)

The main reason that makes me feel this way is my empty planner. I have events and meetings lined up for Jan and Feb, and then zilch. Those empty months trouble me. It is as if this year will come and go and I will have nothing to say for 2012. I will not have a significant event that will help me recall, "That was the year when I ..." Then I remember 2010 was like this and I think to myself maybe P is on to something :)

But now the wiser Vara is in attendance. And I remember that if 2010 was empty at the beginning of the year, there was a reason for it and the emptiness gave me space to deal with the curve ball that was thrown at me. And I remember that I learnt the value of unplanned time and spontaneity during my trip to Melbourne in Sept 2011. 

So, I choose to say - 2012 looks to be a year of promise. It is a sketchpad with the picture already drawn in invisible ink. And my Father will colour it in, one page at a time. Maybe it will be a page-turner of a year. Maybe it will have some blank pages. Maybe sometimes I will colour outside the lines instead of waiting for God. Maybe there will be ink blots.

We will just have to wait and see, won't we? :)

I Deserve It

J and I went away last weekend to Penang. I needed that break after all the days and nights of preparing for the Launch. Coming back to work on Tue I realised I was the only one who had taken a day off and had a break. The rest of the people in the office had turned up for work on Monday!

I felt a little guilty actually to see so many tired faces around me on Tues, but that feeling didn't last long. I am glad I planned ahead and took leave. I am glad I made arrangements to physically leave Singapore. Even though all J and I did was sleep, lie in bed, eat and watch tv desultorily, it still felt like I was a world away from work and that helped! 

There is something about hotels I absolutely love. Yes I know I have said it before, but hey! this is my blog so I can repeat myself! :) We stayed at a lovely hotel called Lone Pine. It is an old colonial building that has been turned into a hotel and the staff were among the friendliest I have ever met in hotels. Our first night was a bit of a disaster though because the hotel was the venue for a Chinese wedding and we had to endure the kaoaoke cacophany till 11pm because being an old colonial building the windows had louvre shutters instead of thick glass doors. Mercifully, our second night was quiet.

One of the perks of growing older, I think, is that I have learnt to enjoy the pleasures of life. Once I would have postponed taking leave till others took theirs. Once I would have thought long and hard about the wisdom of spending money and flying to Penang and staying in a hotel. But now, I know, I answer to noone but God and me.

Collision of Cultures

So I finished working out in the gym. Went to the hotel locker room, got my stuff out of the locker and headed to the shower. Caucasian lady walks out of a cubicle on my left, completely naked. Door on my right opens and Chinese lady walks in from the pool with a 6 year old boy in tow. All four freeze. Boy's eyes are as big as saucers. Caucasian woman gives a little wave and cheerily says "Oh sorry my dear" and walks into shower cubicle. Chinese woman shakes her head, drags boy into toilet cubicle, berating him in Chinese - not sure for what - for staring, may be? And I think, "wow, what just happened here?" :)

My Father and Me (2)

Maybe it was my last entry that got me thinking of my father so often this past week. Maybe it was the fact that June is always associated in my mind with my father because his birthday was on 10th June, Fathers' Day falls on the third Sunday in June and he passed away on 15th June.

My father was 90 years old when he passed away and 50 when I was born. My earliest memory of my dad is actually of him singing me to sleep. I remember lying face down on his chest, feeling his chest rise and fall with his breathing. I remember the feel of the soft worn white cotton singlet under my cheek and my father's hand on my back as he patted me to sleep, singing a lullaby he made up. This song was essentially a stringing together of the vowels and consonants of the Tamil language!  On some evenings, instead of singing, he would recite the months of the Tamil year.  And that is how I learnt my Tamil :)

My dad's last years were not comfortable ones because he had Alzeimer's. I wish I had not been so busy, so far away in Singapore. I wish I had made more of an effort to visit him. During my last visit, he was convinced that R who was six then, was me. And he was confused as to who I was. I remember visiting him in hospital and he kept asking me what day it was, what date it was and I cried to see him looking so lost. Immediately, he asked me "Why are you crying? What do you need? Do you need any money? Have you eaten? Don't cry." And I felt six again.

I didn't get to see my dad before he passed away and that is a sadness I carry. I had heard he was ill, but I did not know how ill he really had been. I would have liked to have said goodbye. My sister tells me he did not recognise anyone at the end; she says that to console me, that in practical terms, my absence did not make a difference. I like to think my father knew how much I loved him; because I know, without a doubt, that my daddy loved me.

My Father and Me

It's Fathers' Day today and we had our usual prayer for dads during church service. But instead of the usual blessing by the pastor, today a dad was invited to pray for the fathers. 

His prayer touched me, because it gave me an insight into fatherhood - which, I admit, I had never spent any time thinking about. I have only ever thought about what it means to mother children, the joys and challenges of motherhood and what kind of a mother I was being to my daughters. But before today, I had not tried to look through the eyes of a father. And I realise, fatherhood is no less challenging.

I remember my own father fondly. Lately, I have also begun to wonder if my sister and I had lionised him, but nevertheless, I know my father was a bigger influence on me than my mother was. 

Interestingly, when I think about my father, the first values and pictures that come to mind are all to do with money. From him, I learnt the importance of thrift and hard work. I remember he gave me a tiny notebook when I started school and in it he taught me to write down every cent I spent from the 50 cent allowance he gave me. My first set of accounts! My dad was an accounts clerk so I suppose he was teaching me the most important life skill he knew... 

At the start of the week, my father would give me a 50 cent coin. He never gave me any combination of coins to make up 50. It was always one big 50 cent coin and I remember feeling really reluctant to part with the coin and receiving many small coins in return after a purchase. Somehow it had the feeling of breaking things up :) At the end of the week, I would have to show my father my little notebook in which I had written down every purchase I had made. 

I remember the first time I broke the one rule my father had about money - never borrow. Never. My downfall was chocolate milk. One adventurous and greedy recess, I bought a whole bottle of chocolate milk to drink. To my horror, I got no change back after giving my 50 cent to the drink vendor! I was terrified because I now had no money for the week and worse, I would have to record one big purchase in my notebook! My dad would know! 

In my desperation, I asked my friend Maheswari (oh how well I remember her name and her face to this day) to lend me 50 cents. And she did. The week passed uneventfully, the purchases were recorded, the notebook was inspected, no chocolate milk was mentioned anywhere...

But my day of reckoning came. Because the next week, my personal Shylock asked me for her money back. Many years later when I read the line "O what a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive...", this was the incident that came immediately to mind. Because that was when my dance of deceit and counter-deceit began.

I couldn't return Maheswary her money because every cent I spent needed to be recorded and even if I gave her back 10 cents at a time, what was I going to put in my book? It amazes me now to think back and realise the strange adherence to truth - I couldn't bring myself to lie to my father by inventing reasons that could have covered up the cents that could have been trickled back to Maheswary. Yet, I had broken the cardinal rule my father had set for me. Just one rule - and I had broken it. [Yes, this is the account of my personal Fall. The symbolism didn't escape me :)]

The final crunch came 2 weeks later, when tired of my evasive behaviour, Maheswary brought out her secret weapon - if you don't return my money, she said, I will tell my father. The terror that created in the heart of an 8-year old, I cannot describe to you. Maheswary's father had a black moustache and he rode a motorbike. My father was 58 and drove the car very slowly...

I was rescued from being thrown into the debtors' prison at the age of 8 because I sidled up to my mother that night and simply said, "Amma can I have 50 cents?" And my mother said "Go take it from my handbag." That was it. The end of my weeks of misery, my weeks of falsifying accounts, my weeks of terror at the sound of a motorbike. 

To this day, I have an aversion to debts. I agonise when I see J's telephone bill lying on the table. I can't wait for the day the mortgage on my flat will be fully paid. And for 6 months now I have been putting off starting on renovation plans for the flat because I can't bring myself to take out a renovation loan. 

I wonder if my father ever knew about this incident. But he taught me a life skill that has helped me a great deal, as a student, as a young adult in my first job, as a wife and and a mother raising a family. I have progressed today from notebooks to an Excel spreadsheet, but budgetting has helped me keep my head above waters all my life.

And as I think back on this Father's Day about my dad, I also wonder what I would have done if my mother had not given me the money. I don't quite know why she did that. Maybe she was distracted by the television show she was watching. Maybe she didn't quite hear what I said. Or maybe she too had been given a notebook and she knew the folly of  the misspent 50 cents. :)

What's Next?

On Wed, B asked me, "What do you see yourself doing next?" He was quite startled by the alacrity with which the plans came pouring out, I could tell :)

There was a time when I used to agonise about what I could do. But as I grow older I have become more aware of what I am best at and what I struggle with; I am surer about the gifts God has blessed me with; and I am more confident that working from my strengths and saying no to what I do not enjoy doing really is wiser.

And so I know these are what I want to be doing... I want to retire as soon as I can, even before I hit the mandatory age, because I don't care if there is another promotion or not. I want to go back to school and get a post-grad degree in Counselling. I want to be an adjunct teacher and get back into the classroom with the kids I love. I want to spend more time with the Young Adults ministry in my church and take time to mentor and disciple them. I especially want to mentor the young teachers and help them keep the love of teaching alive despite the hard time they have in school. I want to form a support group for young dating and married couples - just open up my home for these couples to meet and talk and work through the joys and worries of marriage with others so they know that life can be puzzling or hard but it can be handled with the help of others. I want to help with the Pastoral Counselling ministry in my church and have the time to listen to hurting people because I know we are all made of struggles and strengths. I want to enrol in a theological college and dig deep into God's Word. I want to spend time in the mission field and teach English and train teachers. I want to travel and open my home to young people who travel, maybe by running an informal B&B. I want to write, in my blog, maybe a book, maybe a collection of devotionals, maybe a memoir for young teachers. I want to be a grandma and love my grandchildren to bits.I want to read the books I have bought and stacked on the shelves with the thought 'one day...'.

God willing, that's what I want to do. God willing, that will be next...

Piecing Together the Jigsaw

I'm reading Boundaries by Cloud and Townsend and I'm amazed at the wealth of insights I receive every time I read and re-read it. I wish I had read this book earlier in my life; but I also wonder if I would have been able to appreciate its truths then. 

I believe God brings me to certain points in my life when jigsaw pieces that had been scrambled before suddenly fall into place. I had this experience once before, when I did the Search for Life course in church in 2008. Now with this book, I am piecing together different aspects of my life again.

The term "boundaries" is usually misinterpreted and many of us (myself included) tend to think we have boundaries in place, in the sense we are not doormats, we behave, and we conduct our lives with a measure of decorum. But I am thankful to Joshua for asking me to read this book, for it has opened up a whole new dimension of self-awareness for me.

I have realised how I have not drawn boundaries in my marriage. I understand why I feel a need for approval from people. And I understand better, the times when I felt resentful even when I was "doing the right thing". These have been huge learning points for me, and after the Bible and Covey's 7 Habits, I will list Boundaries as a book that has had a life-changing impact on me.

I need time to unpack the impact of this book on me. And to censor what I am going to share :) I know you share my excitement over the book, R, and I am hoping you get round to reading it too, my dear older daughter :) I have discovered that I can never discover all of me!

"he was, but one..."

I was reading a post by a young friend on Facebook, and I recognised a familiar angst, frustration. Unlike the legendary 7-year itch, many young teachers feel a 5-year itch. It is a point at which you have learnt enough of the craft and content to be comfortable in the classroom; but it is also the point at which you would have had time to assess your successes and be in a position to evaluate the impact of your work. Many young teachers feel a lack at this point: what have I really achieved? Does my work matter? What have my students really learnt? Surely there is more to life than this?

Having walked this path, it is a crossroad I recognise. In a way, the Ministry of Education also recognises this and there are processes in place to ensure that those who are more able are offered job rotations or promotions round about their 4th year of teaching, to keep them learning and not stagnate. 

But there are sometimes many who don't get such an opportunity to grow, or choose not to take the path, and instead contemplate leaving the profession altogether. I am very aware that each person is called to walk a different path, but it saddens me when effective, caring Christian teachers leave. Because I ask, who then do you leave the children to? Who will take your place? 

It is sad that the more effective and caring a teacher is, the more quickly he / she gets burnt out. And if the caring teachers who are willing to go the extra mile, and the next mile, and the next mile, leave, then the ones left in our schools might well be the ones for whom teaching is just a Mon to Fri job that ensures a paycheck. 

So, my young friend, yes, there are injustices in the world. But as Jesus said, you will always have the poor with you. Will you always have that opportunity to have these students in your class for you to model Jesus to? The injustices of the world were there before you became a teacher and they will be there after you retire. But how long will you have that 14 year old in your classroom,  maybe thinking about the latest gadget and wishing your lesson will end, yes, but still, in your classroom. Looking at your face, feeling your hand on his shoulder, listening to your words and experiencing the presence of Christ in you in a far deeper way than you will now realise.

So I say to you, don't give up. Remember Abraham. Remember God says "he was but one, when I called him, that I might call him and bless him" (Isa 51:2). 

You and I are "but one". But the same God who saved the nations through the obedience of one, will multiply your efforts. The same God who sent his One and Only to save generations, can and will bless your students therough you. You will never know till you see His face, how he has used the faithfulness of "one".

Time and Tide

Somehow I have a feeling that the usual rhythms of the year are going to be interrupted for me in 2011. In 17 days, R will be going back, and for the first time, I actually bought her a one-way ticket because she isn't sure when she would be able to come home next. That in itself feels strange for I realize her June semester break and Nov summer break had become markers for me. With C in Nicaragua and not sure of his break times, J's leave periods are up in the air too at the moment. Add to that the fact that I don't really have a handle on the work ebb and flow at my new work place, and the year seems a fluid one.

I am also thinking about what I can look forward to this year. So far, the big milestones seem to be work related - a workshop presentation at a conference in May and the official launch of ELIS in Sept. I also have a commitment to help with the writing of my church's 40th anniversary commemorative book and to be trained to help as a Facilitator with my church's Pastoral Counselling Ministry. Otherwise - a blank year! 

The big project that I should embark on, but have a panic attack every time I think about it, is renovation of my house. I've found interior designers I can work with, I have approved of their preliminary plans. But I fight shy of putting down the 10% deposit needed. That seems so final! And I baulk at the thought of getting packers and movers in, of finding financing, of finding temporary accommodation, of supervising the renovation process, then the process of moving back in, unpacking. Whoa! I feel the familiar heart palpitations even writing about it :)

As I think about the coming year, I remember feeling 2010 was a blank canvas too. But looking back, I see that because of that blank calendar, I had space to handle the storms and sadness that came my way last year. And I wonder if the blank calendar was God's gracious provision for me... Perhaps, my loving Abba knew I needed head space, needed the familiarity of routine work, needed the cover given by comforting office colleagues and time to meet with friends and grieve... 

And now, 2011 is a new chapter. And I am comfortable with the blankness. If there are blank spaces, I know God intended them for a reason. If there is a rush of work, I know it is a period of fruitfulness that God has blessed me with. The phrase God has given me for this year is "Hold lightly and release with love". I am not even going to pretend to know what that means. But I know I can trust my God.

My Desert Song

I first heard the phrase "a desert experience" from an old gentleman in 1997 who came to my school to ask if I had a temporary teaching position available for him.  He was past 60 and I was reluctant to hire him as I wasn't convinced he could handle the students we had. It was the beginning of the year when we traditionally had large numbers of Pre-U 1 students who had no intention of staying once the 'O' level results were announced. And because they had no intention of staying in the school, they broke every rule they could. 

But I was desperately short-handed and I agreed to hire him, thinking I would keep him till another more suitable temp teacher came along. But in two weeks I realised it was a disaster. The students in his class were having a ball of a time. They would walk in and out as the mood took them and they took advantage of his penchant for story telling by taking every chance they could to distract him from the lesson planned  for  the day. I knew I had to let him go, but I felt really bad because I could see that he was trying hard and that the job meant a great deal to him.

When I told him we could no longer emply him, he said nothing for a while. Then he asked me, "Are you a Christian?" I braced myself for some sort of appeal to common religious bonds, but that was not on his mind. He said, "God gives every child of His a desert experience. The Israelites wandered in the wilderness for 40 years and that strengthened them as a nation and they learnt to look only to God. I have had many desert periods. Now is one of them. I thank God for it. It is a privilege." That was all.

I have not met him again since then. His name was Mr Thomas John. And I have come to believe that our paths crossed that once because of that one message God wanted to give me. I had come out of a desert experience in 1993 - 94 and it was a time when I was struggling with many 'why's. Hearing his simple acceptance of the desert experience without question taught me a lesson in faith and trust.

Today, those words came back to me in a new way. It is a day when I feel dry, alone and un-needed. The re is a new loneliness these days that I find hard to shake off.  I remember the miles after miles of brown, sandy dunes I saw in Israel and I find it hard to think of how people walking there day after day could give thanks. But that is what God calls me to do. To rejoice, to give thanks, to declare victory. Especially when I can't see the promise of an end.

I love this song!

Who Tells You the Truth?

I have been thinking about this since J and I talked about it on Sunday... Should the truth be told? Why? Sounds like a GP essay topic, doesn't it? :)

I used to find it hard to tell the truth, especially when it concerned telling unpleasant truths. I also found it hard to tell the truth about how I was feeling and I admit that I have chosen to take the easier way out of situations by lying or mitigating the intensity of what I really felt. It is a hard thing to do - telling the truth - and many people (me included) cop out, because telling the truth is often hurtful.

Since our conversation, I have been paying attention to the times I have not told the truth in the past 3 days. It is not a pleasant experience, hearing a lie come out of your mouth and recognising it, saying to yourself "ok that's a lie" and then saying it anyway....!!!! I'm not going to tell you the actual number of lies I caught myself telling, but I realise that on all the occasions I caught myself lying, it was either because I cared what the other person thought of me or because I was afraid of the other person's reaction. Once I lied (this was absolutely the worst one!!!) because I did not want the other person to think I was a bad Christian (hang head in shame, yes...) and twice I lied because I was afraid of the other person's anger.

Interestingly, not wanting to hurt the other person's feelings was not high on my list as a reason. And I asked myself why. Was I such an uncaring person? Surely it would be better to lie if telling the truth meant hurting the other person?

I think there are 2 reasons to this aspect of me. One - I am a teacher. It is important to me that others learn. There is no desire or intention in me to judge the other person when I point out things. Setting wrong things right, correcting misconceptions, pointing out alternative viewpoints, suggesting a better way of doing things - this is what I think I need to do as a teacher. An occupational hazard, I suppose.

Two, I feel, if the people around me don't tell me the truth I need to hear, how will I know? Who will tell me "you are wrong" or "you sounded arrogant" or "you should apologize" or "that doesn't look good on you" or even "you have put on weight"? Only people who love me. Only people who are courageous and honest and care for me more than they fear my anger or hurt. I have such friends and for this I am truly grateful.

The bottomline is this - it takes courage and love to tell the truth. Jesus said "I am the Truth." And every time He encountered half-truths and lies, He gently persisted till the truth emerged. Go and bring your husband He said to the woman at the well; go sell your riches and follow me He said to the young man; you won't have the courage to stand with me He said to Peter. I'm sure all of them cringed or felt embarrassed or got really angry. Yet Jesus spoke the truth.

I know I have grown because many people spoke truths into my life. Many of these truths embarrassed me or made me feel defensive or angry. But I also know that each person who spoke the truth I needed to hear was used by God to grow me and growth comes through pain.

There is another aspect to this, of course. And that involves how we receive the truth. If we lash out at the person who tells us the truth, if we belittle them, if we react by turning on them and listing their faults to get even, then, my dears, you will be lied to. Who speaks the truth to you? Cherish them, for they love you much. Because, only very few people will speak the truth to you without fear or favour. May God bless you with such friends :)

Man Watching

The title startled you I know :) But I have been man-watching, yes. Not in the same way that young girls man-watch. But watching to assess, to see for myself what I value. And I realise I have changed much.

When I was younger it was physical attractiveness that caught my eye. When I was a teenager, I once said something unforgiveable. My sister had a colleague who I admired a great deal. She was tall and beautiful, she dressed well and spoke with such confidence. I was an awkward, overweight teenager and I worshipped the ground she walked on, and very smitten by the fact that she was so nice to me. She did not get married for a long time and then one day she brought her fiance to our home and introduced him to us. He was clearly much older than her, overweight and balding. I actually became really, really upset. I ran into my room and was very angry with both her and him. She came in to say goodbye and to invite me to the wedding and I blurted out at her - "He looks like a monkey. You can't marry him. He is so old and ugly." To this day, I don't quite understand what made me say that. My sister shushed me and apologised profusely but I shamefacedly remember how gracious that lady was. She brushed aside my sister's embarrassment and said to me, "One day you will understand that he is a good man." It took me a long while to grow up enough to understand her words.

Now I realise I don't look at men who are dashing. The men who make me smile today are different. I like to watch men who carry their babies; men who sit in cafes and are lost in their books; old men who hold their old wives' hands; men who pray with their wives and children; men who celebrate their women; men whose eyes laugh. Blessed are the women who have found them.

Strength

"In the depth of winter
I finally learned that
there was in me
an invincible summer"

- Albert Camus

Time

" For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace."

- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

I love these verses. They give me perspective. They help me to look beyond the confusion, irritations, disappointments and pain of the day to day. They teach me not to be complacent or arrogant when all things seem to be going my way. And they teach me to wait, because God isn't done yet. Sometimes we build bridges; sometimes we have to burn them.