Anticipation

I'm looking forward to this weekend, particularly, to this Saturday. My church has organized a Quiet Day and I need one. I like the venue that has been chosen - it is opposite the Botanic Gardens and I hope we will be given time for solitary walks. That is one thing I miss about not being in College Park, MD, anymore - the long, winding, quiet paths around the lake. 

I walk here too, but in all the paths around my neighborhood the traffic noise is never absent and that distracts me. 

I'm looking forward to this Quiet Day. I have a number of things on my mind and I know what I need is uncluttered time with God. There is a restlessness in me, a disquiet. A longing for open space. I don't understand it. The house has enough silence, but the silence of my home is a sad one. I need to escape it and to listen to God without my regrets whispering in my ear. 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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. “

My Rock in Clay

I have been asked by a dear friend of mine to speak at a gathering of Christian educators on Saturday. I said yes, because I couldn't refuse to share the story of God's grace in my life. But as the day draws nearer, I'm filled with doubt and ask myself what could I possibly say without sounding like a zealot or an indulgent navel-gazer or a pompous modern-day Pharisee...

There is a song we sing in church which starts "My Saviour, Redeemer, Lifted me from the miry clay..." and that is exactly how I would describe my experience with God. I imagine the stickiness, the wetness of a swamp of clay and the hand of God reaching in and firmly pulling me out of a way of life that seems so distant now. 

If I were honest, I would admit that the clay is never far off. It is quite easy to fall into the muck again. There is a saying in Proverbs 6:10-11 that I think of every time I hit the snooze button on my alarm clock in the morning - "A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest - and poverty will come on you like a thief and scarcity like an armed man." It's true - I tell myself, "just ten minutes more, just a short five minutes" and the next thing I know I have overslept and I rush to work without my morning prayer or Bible reading. I know it's like that with major issues as well - I say to myself, "just this one time" and soon one thing leads to another and I am either daydreaming or involved in gossip or reading another chapter of a story book instead of my devotional ... It can go on. The clay is always wet at my feet.

So I wonder what I will say on Saturday. The real work of Christ in my life is too private for  public sharing. His faithfulness, protection and provision to me will remain known only to a few. My life in Christ is not public - I have no ministry in church, no gifts of healing or worship or exhortation or intercession or prophecy. My Christ just holds me together and gives me daily bread and enough hope, love and trust for one day at a time. My Christ gives me one spot of solid rock to stand on in the midst of the miry clay. 

Mission Station: Singapore

My sister and I were talking on the phone today - I don't go visit her as often as I should - and she was reminiscing about her career as a teacher. We both agreed that the best part of teaching really was when old students remember you fondly. It is that which makes you feel your work has been worthwhile, that it is more than a paycheck.

Some of my students have stuck. They talk to me about their dates, their marriage plans, their children... And it is a privilege to continue to be part of their lives. Last week, a bunch of students I taught in 1996/7 met for dinner, got to reminiscing and my name came up. And they called me to give me two hours' notice before they turned up at my doorstep at 10pm with chocolate ice cream, a wife and a toddler and hearts full of memories. An evening like that makes me feel I am blessed.

Increasingly, however, I have been feeling a sense of dis-ease at the number of young teachers who leave the profession. It is a tricky situation for me as many of these teachers leave for what should be considered a noble purpose - to serve as missionaries in far flung countries. Yet, every time one more young person says he / she is resigning, I am disappointed. The question that screams in my head is - "Who will stay?"

What is it that appeals about teaching English / Maths / IT skills in a remote Asian village with the chance to share the gospel ? That those children might not hear the gospel? Neither will many children in our schools. That the government in these countries forbids proselytising and therefore the endeavour seems exciting and dangerous? That's not very different from the local situation. What would working in these rural areas for 5 months achieve that teaching day after day, connecting and getting to know one's students cannot?

I wonder how much of the desires of these young people is for escape from the mundane rather than a call to the wild. The poor are here in Singapore too. The ones who struggle to read and count are here too. The ones from broken homes are here too. Wouldn't the chances of the gospel being understood higher where the children speak the language, are able to read the bible and ask questions? Yet, young teacher after teacher wants to go to China or Tibet or Timore Leste or Laos or Africa to teach children who are struggling with the alphabet while children who can read are left safe in their comfortable Singapore homes with other teachers who have no interest in their souls.

The young teachers tell me they hear a call to go. I pray and wonder - doesn't anyone hear the call to stay?

I Know You Love Me

 

"Even when I fail You, I know You love me." Who else Lord, but You?

Encouraged

I have a meeting with a poet this morning. I googled him to prepare for our meeting, so I won't be an ignoramus, and learnt this is his favourite quote: "Nada te turbe, solo Dios basta" (St Teresa of Avila).

It means - "Nothing shall disturb you; God is enough." 

I like this man already.

Why

Sometimes, I wonder - if I had lived in Biblical times, who would I have been most like? I wonder if I would have even followed Jesus, because I would have been suspicious. I would have questioned; I would have scorned. 

I hope, though, that Jesus would have sought me out like he sought out the Samaritan woman at the well. And if He had, I know I would have been Martha, rushing around getting things done - not the Mary that I like to think I would have been.  And I understand dear doubting Thomas - I can almost hear myself saying exactly what he did, "unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe". Such disdain, such foolish self-confidence, I know I am capable of. 

On Sunday, I befriended a visitor to church and there was a moment, when she asked me, why did I become a Christian. And I missed the opportunity of that moment. I was tongue-tied. I couldn't explain. The Bible says, to always be ready to give a reason for my belief. Yet, at that moment, all I could say was "It's a long story". Because it is. It's a long story of a God who chased after me, a God who loved me even when I scorned Him, a God who intervened and turned me away from sin, a God who continued to hold me even when I doubted, when I faltered, when I failed Him. 

I've been thinking of that moment these past two days and wish I had had an answer ready for her. But I can't rehearse. That seems too glib. The words don't come out pat. I need to tell her, I am a Samaritan woman who has sinned again and again because I was searching for Someone to trust, believe and  hope in. I am Thomas who doubts and yet, has Him telling me again and again, "Do not disbelieve, but believe". I am Peter, who says "I do not know him" yet never have Him leave me. I am Gomer, faithless, yet wrapped up in Love. That's why.

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...

Mismatch?

Finally, I have come to the end of the first run of my training workshops. It has been 5 long weeks. Yesterday, the last day of my workshop, I don't know who was happier - me or the participants :) 

I think I have identified what it is that makes me feel dispirited and joyless in my new job. I think it is because in the past few years,  I have deliberately been cultivating a life that is more about thinking than doing, more about connecting than telling, more about saying yes to life rather than yes to work. Then just when I thought I was going to move forward in this journey by doing more of what I love, which is teaching, I realise I have actually moved back. I have moved back into a life of working without asking why, of doing without reflection, of valuing speed more than deliberation.

I think the life cycle I am at does not match the life cycle of the organisation I am in. The organisation  is new, needing to grow quickly, needing to make an impact. What it needs are people who are eager to be pioneers, to be trailblazers. I am not. I am at a life stage when I want to be retrospective, when I want to make sense of life, and use my life experiences to mentor and guide the younger ones. I feel like Moses at the end of leading his wandering flock, not Joshua waiting to charge in with the flock. To Joshua the Promised Land was one of opportunity and promise. To Moses the Promised Land would have meant the reward for his toils.

I wish I knew how to manage this mismatch. I know where I am is part of God's design and purpose. I know I am called to do my work as unto the Lord and not men. I know I can trust God. I wish my heart would listen to my head more.

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!