Retreat Journal 5

Day 5 (Dec 31)

9.00am - wokeup & breakfast

9.30am - reading

11.00m - cleanup

11.30am - talk to Crys

1.00pm - Lunch

Things are winding down on the last day of my self-imposed retreat. All things unchanged, I have reached a decision. I am not going to Colorado Springs. I gotta write to tell the missions organisation that they can stop talking to their lawyers and accountants, stop working on the work permit, and stop making queries to the US immigration and Malaysian US Consulate. And they can keep the company car too. In a way I feel bad I have to tell them this - what a damper on all the buildup over the past few weeks.

But I believe it is the right decision.

CONCLUSION
The basis of the decision did not hinge upon the cost of going, where the funds would come from, whether my health could take it, how much I would be "missed" by family and friends, or any personal cost of such a move. I guess I am never much of a practical person when it comes to these details.

The sole basis of my decision is the belief that God has called me to study and teach His word. I am not called to any geographical location nor to any particular people. I am just called to be faithful in doing what I feel is of most importance right now. And despite being fortunate enough to have been gifted in several areas, I see the most valuable and critical contribution in studying, teaching and expounding doctrine of instruction to body of believers. It hasn't been so clear until now.

So I will stay and continue to freelance and also integrate witness and work. And trust a trustworthy God Who provided and continues to do so.

Retreat Journal 4

Day 4 (30 Dec)

7.45am - Wokeup

8.30am - Swimming

9.40am - Breakfast (leftover noodles from previous dinner)

10.15am - Leave for church

1.00pm thereabouts - Lunch

5.15pm - Returned from long lunch

6.20pm - Leave for dinner

8.00pm - Dinner

12.00am (31 Dec) - Returned from dinner


Today's sermon was about the making of vows. Actually I had no intention of going to church this week, but due to the outworking of circumstances, I found myself at the service. Back to making vows - the last vow I made with God was one of a bargaining nature. Out of desperation being stranded alone outside the Indira Ghandi airport in New Delhi in the thick of the 1996 winter, I struck a deal with God. I said if He would "save my entire family", I would go wherever He sends me.

One year later I left for the Doulos, and subsequently to a 2-year commitment with Operation Moilisation.

Two years after I made the vow, my parents and late maternal granny was saved within two weeks of each other. Granny wanted to be baptised immediately!


CONCLUSION
God definitely kept His end of the bargain, although it was me who had the gall / foolhardiness to approach Him dictating my own terms in my vow. He is Creator and yet He "layan-ed" (entertained) such ridiculous arrogance from a creature. I am just like a flower that is here today and gone tomorrow. The more I realise my insistent candour, the more I am grateful for His grace... one just needs to look at the children of Israel who perished in the desert to appreciate the longsuffering patience of God.

I think God would want me to make a decision that best reflects His character in Philippians 2:6 - 8. If I would allow God to crucify me without pity, He can raise me beyond measure (v 9). I pray He will make me lose taste / yearning for the things of this world; and long for the things of eternity. I pray to be kept sane / hidden until the day arrives. I pray that more than just doing His work on earth, I will grow to love Him more and more as the Worthy One.

Retreat Journal 3

Day 3 (29th Dec)

8.00am - wokeup

8.30am - trapped inside the condo unit because Crystal mistakenly took my set of keys

9.00am - started to worship on the piano

9.30am - Crystal returned and I went swimming

10.30am - Cooked pasta brunch

11.30am - Reading Tozer and NKJV

11.45am - Worship on piano

4.35pm - Finished worshipping on piano. 2nd attempt at reading...

6.10pm - Going for dinner at godbrother's house


I did not have any 'great revelation' today; I merely worshipped the Lord with my instrument. I have almost forgotten what a divine privilege this is. There was no constraint of time, of being watched... or anything else. It is just God and myself. He alone is great and worthy.

I had tried to read all afternoon, but somehow my mind got so distracted. I was just drawn to the piano. Once my fingers hit the keyboard, the rest was history. I didn't realise the passage of time until it was... 4.30pm! Aaaaaaaaaaarggggggggghhh!!!!!!!

CONCLUSION
Seeing the day not over yet, I will say it is still early to sum up. Initial thoughts - Apart from God nothing matters. Nothing, not fame, status, relationship, health, money, security in houses, cars, etc... not even civilisations or empires can stand the ravages of time. All will lapse in the light of eternity. One by one, we will slip into eternity and nothing... NOTHING that we have built or achieved will stand, apart from the stuff done in obedience to God.

Then... am I living in obedience? Am I being a true disciple? Are the things of the world losing their value in my esteem? If so, then do I have the inner peace and a calm rest that characterised the saints of God? Is my life one that is self-denying (at the parts that matter) and God-pleasing? Can God have His way in me? Will I allow Him to crucify me without pity so that he can raise me up without measure?

Ah.... life and its endless quest for the Almighty!

Retreat Journal 2

Retreat Day 2 (28th Dec)

8am - Wokeup

9am - Meditation

1pm - Lunch

3pm - 7pm - Last minute shopping for presents

7pm - Dinner

9pm - 10.30pm - Email and blogging


What makes a true disciple? The one who sees the Lamb who was slain (Rev 5:6) seated on the right hand of God, and will follow Him everywhere He goes.

Christ was crucified entirely - from head to toe. There is not one part of Him that did not go to cross. And He did it for me. For me. FOR ME.


CONCLUSION
If I can help it, I won't want to carry my cross. But Jesus requires it. It may not be the same magnitude as His cross, coz His burden for me is light and His yoke easy. I have it good. The path ahead may be fraught with dangers and suffering, and there is always fear at the door waiting to creep in to arrest the soul. Can't give in. Got to cling on to a trustworthy God Who says He cares and has overcome all that is necessary for my victory.

Retreat Journal 1

Why a retreat?

Reason #1: Need an answer on a decision, in particular - is God really calling me to CO Springs?
Reason #2: Need respite from people in my house
Reason #3: Need respite from year-end madness
reason #4: Need direction for life

Pre-Retreat Day (26th Dec 2007)
Returned from Christmas party the night before. Took the LRT to Asia Jaya from Wangsa Maju. Stoned and groggy from lack of sleep the last couple days. The last of Christmas activities is over... finally I can concentrate on the retreat.

4pm - Went out with May to Curve and 1U... chilling out.

10pm - Arrived at Crystal's and settled in.

11.30pm - Read John Piper's "Marks of a leader" and Point #9 on the grave responsibility of a bible teacher cut me like a razor-sharp stone. (Hmmm... could something be brewing here...?)




Retreat Day 1 (27th Dec)

Finished reading John Stott's "Calling Christian Leaders" and his exposition on 1 Cor 3:12 - 14. Here is what I understand: The foundation of the church is Christ. Then the building is built either with gold, silver, etc... or with hay, wood and straw. Gold and the like are likened to true doctrine taught; and the straw stuff is anything short of balanced theology and pure doctrine. Depending on what is taught, it will affect the church eternally - for good or otherwise.

Which brings me to these questions:

What am I building with?

What are my motives?



CONCLUSION:
God has called me to teach and be a steward of His holy Word. It is a weighty responsibility and I am held in serious accountability.

Waiting

I am blown away.

After being "highly recommended" by a friend to be the Asst. to the President in this missions publishing organisation in Colorado Springs, USA, my weekend turned into a roller coaster ride!

First there was the enthusiasm of my friend who of course, to some degree rubbed off on me. Secondly, I had to reply the query from CO Springs and renovate my CV to be sent off. But mostly, it was the intrusion of my home routine that shattered my momentum. I had been at home 6 years, all these while wishing I would somehow be out in global missions again. I had sunk deeper and deeper in the freelance work-church searching quagmire. I had lived for the future all these years - waiting, hoping, praying for the ONE chance to get myself into missions once again. And then I arrived at some conclusion... I had almost given up hope. I had decided to "be all here" back home. I had decided to be centered. Mebbe I am supposed to be spending the remainder of my life back home in a limbo. Mebbe all that God had done and invested in me are meant to be lived in obscurity back home. Sigh...

Suddenly KAPOW! Co Springs happened.

My radar started to light up. Is this a calling? Being assistant to the President is certainly not a job for the unfettered and frisky me, but the other opening of Writer / Editor post is right up my alley. Dare I hope again?

So the weekend was spent thinking, praying, wondering. Mostly wondering. I sent in my CV, it was the most honest and lucid one I authored. I wanted to debunk any myths about me being over-qualified just in case my friend had oversold me. It is better to come clean on the onset than allow people to second-guess.

Close friends (people who know me, me) expressed caution. They feel an ENFP like me should be working directly with people and ideas. For me, the matter is out of my hands. I am praying that if it be God's will, that He opens the doors. If not, then I am happy to take 'no' for an answer.

Waiting.

There are no accidents...

Uncanny.

Two-and-a half hours ago my friend Josephine died from lung cancer. She had been in pain for a long time. Finally, she has found her rest in Jesus. At about the same time, I just finished blogging about death (see previous post). Mere coincidence? The Creator of the Universe holds the reins of time and space in His hands. Nothing escapes His attention.

Jo leaves behind her two girls and husband James. They were my friends from church and used to open their house for small group gatherings. We had been out of touch for a while, but the bond remains.

The sting of death has been removed, but numbing loss kicks in. I mourn.

Lessons from a Ciku Tree

I woke up this morning to the fresh, crisp, dewy air and the green of the lush, leafy ciku tree outside my window. It is more than 10-years old. The fruits are in full bloom, the tree peppered with hundreds of little brown fruit. Most of them are in different stages of fruition - some are merely budding, others are ready to fall from their stems to the next stage of decay.

I thought about death.

Seriously, that is not a distant prospect where my parents are concerned. What a horryfying, bewildering and sobering thought - all in the same instant! I wonder how I am going to handle the situation when it happens. I am afraid of my own unpreparedness. Would I be helpless, lonely and pathetic? Would I continue to trust God and obey Him? Would I, faced with my own mortality, succumb to the fear that has plagued men since Adam?

Hard to say. This article from John Piper sheds some perspective into the matter. Knowing how to live and knowing how die sums up the lifework of the one who believes in Christ and desires to live for Him. As it is, it is challenging enough trying to live a Christ-filled life. What more learning how to die in a Christ-glorifying manner?

I look at the ciku tree in my garden. For all its different seasons - fruitfulness and barrenness, and those that are in between, it never really took a lot of effort to grow... the elements took care of that. And when it is time to die, the tree will do just that. Its purpose spent, its presence had brightened the earth in its duration of life.

The Creator of the Universe, same Person who created the tree, will also tenderly help me to expire when my time is done on earth. The hows-and-whens are merely details. He will determine the time, location and procedure - all elements weaved by His powerful hands.

My ciku tree looks like it still has many good, sturdy and fruitful years ahead of it. And God willing, if I were to have the same, may those years be characterised by deep roots, strong branches and bushy leaves where fruits are aplenty in its season; and where birds can find shelter.



For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. - Paul, the Apostle

Pleading the Fifth

A weird sense of deja vu swept over me as I sat on the sofa between my mom and dad tonight. There I was, with bible resting on my lap waiting for the service to start while my parents, with their cool composure and the rare word exchanged between them, gazed passively in front. Their eyes hardly met.

You could have shot me, but the scenario was exactly the same one fateful day back in 1998. The location was different, so was the furniture and circumstances... but the level of dysfunction was the same - my parents were in the midst of an uneasy truce which had characterised most of their married life (at least as much as this kid could recall) as they were seated together waiting for an evangelistic dinner to begin.

That night my parents gave their lives to Jesus.

Today, almost a decade later, they were still unable to let go of the major parts of their differences that had plagued their marriage. Sad, but true.

Tonight as we sat on the sofa and listened to the sermon, my dad and mom responded. Pretty much the same way as they did 9 years ago. They seemed to have taken positively to the teaching on sin, forgiveness and letting go of past hurts and tresspasses. They went out for prayer.

The cynic in me would dismiss this as another passing flight of fancy on my parents' part, but the hopeless optimist inside still wants to hang on to the little shred of hope there. I believe God has an active plan and purpose for people like my parents - aged 70, stubborn, opinionated and quite impossible to talk to sometimes.

We shall see.

On my part, I just have to remember, remember and remember the Fifth Commandment - honour your father and mother that you may live long in the land your Lord God had given you.

OK, ok, ok.

Swipe of Mercy

It was not as if I was going to pray about the matter. I've had enough. Nine-and-a-half months of playing nurse and maid to my mom's hyperchondria finally took its toll. The strain was showing in cracked and tensed family relationships. Not good. Not good at all. Since nobody did anything to improve the situation... and I had exhausted all avenues, I decided on one course of action - move out. And there I was, plotting and planning on how to set up office in the new location, stuff to buy, etc etc... when in one swift swipe of mercy, my plans were derailed.

My mom came into my room. We had a talk. First one in a long, long time where we actually talked and she did not dodge the real issues. We struck a deal - she will seek counselling and return to church / cell group, whereas I will continue to stay at home and help her through her new decision.

God again reminded me of what He told me 6 years ago... that I should be back for my family. It was no coincidence either that I was teaching Titus Chapter 2 this week, where in this gem of an epistle, Paul wrote to his protege on the instructions for various groups in the church. For the women, the younger ones in particular, Paul emphasized a primary calling to build, nurture and nourish their families. Our homes are a vital part of our calling and witness to the world.

But it is not easy. It is never easy to live Christ, especially in your own family. Nevertheless, God's grace is sufficient.

So my mom and dad will go for counselling tonight (yay) and we shall see what God will do in the days ahead.

A Race to Run

I had time. So much time. In fact for the past couple weeks, all I had been doing had been (gasp!) letting time slip past my grip as I fretted and got frustrated. I had hit a rough patch and there seemed to be no getting out. As the condition deteriorated, I sank deeper into my own fabricated thoughts... thoughts of uselessness and wasted opportunities. Thoughts of what could have been. Thoughts of just forgetting what I had believed in thus far and concentrate on catching up with the trappings of life. I wondered who will take care of me in my old age... of retirement. Of accumulation of immediate pleasures. I wanted to just for once, think only about myself and my own interests.

Wow.

It is dangerous where your thoughts can lead you.

Some people have asked me what I expect out of Christian life. (I honestly dunno what kinda question that is, but I guess if it is asked, it somewhat deserves an answer). I actually thought long and hard. Obvious 'benefits' like eternal life / heaven aside, Christian living... or authentic Christian living, for most part, is risky, sacrificial, has no guarantee of success and basically drives one to what constitutes an early grave. History attests to those who had been tortured, killed, quartered and suffered mostly for what they treasured as the imperishable belief in an invisible God.

We are pilgrims passing thru'...

My answer, I guess, is not PR-polished. It may even sound cliche. but then again, in our weary world of media overload... what isn't?

I want to finish my race well. Life is just too darned short to be spent on something else. But my problem is, I may not always know what makes a good runner. And I keep making mistakes. I wonder how many times I can get up again, dust off the dirt and keep running. Poets say we weave the tapestry of life. I say... just let me reach the finish line with faith still intact.

Jesus, running is not my second nature, I am sure you know that. Following you is risky. But if ever there was a race worth running, it is because you promised to be there too. That makes all the difference.

My Way or His Way

Life hardly goes the way it is expected, yeah? I am glad. Or else there will be very little room for adventure and anticipation.

The trip to Chiangmai had all the makings of a tour holiday - inland guided tours operated by agents, eating local food, getting around the city getting (partially) fleeced by songtheaw* drivers and wandering around the streets in a truly touristy manner clad in our bermudas and sneakers.

Lai Peng was the super tourist maxxing out on her time and budget. I was the laidback antagonist who wanted nothing better than just sitting down having a chat over a drink with anyone I could grab. Not such a fantastic combo. But we managed without tearing each other's hair out.

The highlight of the trip (actually it became a highlight only today, after the arrival of an email) was getting re-connected with a friend. My friend is a missionary whom I met 4 years ago while she was still attached to an organisation in KL. We met briefly, had a deep connection and parted ways when she went off to seminary and then abroad. We never kept in touch. Then, to my utter suprise, it turned out she was staying just a few doors away from my host in Chiangmai!

We exchanged stories and brought each other up to speed on our respective lives. We really only had a couple hours' worth of real conversation, as the rest of the trip had been one activity after another. Actually the trip had been good for me, I met so many missionaries and it really reminded me of the years I was doing cross-cultural missions abroad. I missed those times and yearned for them. In fact, I lived most of my years in KL after 2001 wanting to go back to the field and longed to "be of service to God" in that manner again. I saw myself as a field material person, and was already prepared to die in my assigned field.

But that was naught to be. At least not for now.

After I got back from Chiangmai, I received a missive from this friend. What she wrote really touched my heart in places I didn't expect. The email read:

" Dear Michelle, it was a real surprise to see you in Chiang Mai too. Now I really believe that God led us to know each other 4 years ago, and that was not a coincidence. Through your sharing it has brought me the confirmation that I am here is not for mistake. This is part of His divine plan in my life. Because recently I have been asking God that why am I here and is this is a mistake of my choice or....?????? Thanks Michelle for bringing the comfort for my heart."

Suffice to say, I have been challenged and silenced (again) by the quiet ways of the Lord. I had my mind and heart set on returning to the field, God showed me He had better use of me elsewhere - though He is not telling me where and when. Yet. It is a hard pill to swallow. It is not really that I should dictate terms in the service of God. It is His work, to be done His way, in His time and at His pleasure.


May we all, Lord, be found doing what gives You most pleasure.

Chiangmai

Yes, Chiangmai here we come! In less than 24 hours, LP and myself will be eating lunch there with our friend Elisha. Not really excited, but kinda looking forward to it. I would prefer a more relaxed break, but LP wants to do everything and anything within our 8-day trip. Oh well...

Things in the itinerary - trekking, temples, tribal visits, kayaking (?), eating, lepak-ing. At some point I would like to join the Wycliffe people and suss out their work too. We shall see. Elisha picks us up from the airport and the lepak-ing will start immediately.

O' Little Child

Moon Len got safely married yesterday. It was a casual dinner at Mum's Place in Damansara Perdana. Nice and cozy. The only people I know there - besides the bride's family - were my high school buddy Mee Yee and her husband. Food, drinks and lotsa chatting going on. And of course, we behaved just like we would when we were 15 years old. Given, we have all grown very different in our professional and domestic lives, each going through our own paths for the past 22 years, but when we got together, it was Form 3 all over again. Bunch of bratty yakking schoolgirls! (I feel sorry for the husbands... for what they had to endure).

School friends represent a part of us that never really dies, no matter how deep the years try to bury those memories. It was a time where the concerns of money, career, and family were seen through the other side of worry. How innocent those days were, and how much more we should treasure them - not as a bygone era of naiveity, but as a time where we were at our truest uninhibited selves, brandishing our dreams and waiting to soar.

And how much more we need to remember, that in each of our mature and old(er) selves that little child never dies.



Threesome



Minus the bride...

One Trip Too Many...?

I finally did it.

Told Sook Ching I am willing to be part of the November Myanmar mission trip should anyone drops out. Should that come to pass, this will be my 2nd short-term mission trip, and fourth trip abroad this year! Shikes... no wonder I am broke! Anyway, no one has dropped out yet, so I am kinda "safe" for the moment.

Been re-reading Tozer's "Born After Midnight". Great stuff. Tells you how you are the sum of all your voluntary thoughts, ie, thoughts that come to mind when you are free to think of whatever you want. How astute.

I've been thinking a lot about life. The brevity of it. And lately, I just can't seem to focus my thoughts on God, especially after the "drugging session" of two weeks staying in bed due to the flu. I was so zonked that I could not really orientate my mind to the stuff at hand, even a week after stopping the antibiotics. This is terrible. They should ban those stuff, or shoot people who propagate them!

So here I am back to the grind... Bible study classes every weekend, a wedding coming up, stories to finish, people to catch up with and... housechores! Dreaming of settling down in Toronto, walking down Younge St and generally vegging out.

I miss my friends in Toronto, Vancouver, Virginia. England. Nepal. I miss those heady missions days. I miss backpacking. Miss throwing caution to the wind and packing up at a moment's notice. Miss the first flush of wonder at the discovery of a new place. Night busses. Hostel lockers. Friendly strangers.

God! Is this what happens at mid-life????

Back to Life

Alright. I came back with vengeance today. Woke up really early, drove myself to Taman Tun Park for some mean morning exercise, went wet marketing, returned home to cook for my niece before she left for school, washed my car, sneakers, did the laundry and some housechores - all before noon! Good, good! At least I am putting that injured / pained / weak hand to use again, and of course I wanna see how far I can stretch it.

Now that the chores are outta the way, it's back to work again... gotta conjure up this story on Vietnamese Coffee Culture for Flavours. Shikes! And I haven't started! AND there's this other piece to spice up for Weekender... Sigh, how many ways can you jazz up a dry, flat, boring story? Sometimes I wonder if I could really stop writing (no, I don't think so... it's just too much a part of me, and I s-t-i-l-l enjoy it.)

So I am probably not going to be that famous and dedicated writer in glasses sitting in front of a typewriter with a cigarette butt sticking outta her mouth and stained coffee mug nearby (this was the strange notion I had of myself while growing up); but minus the cigarette, typewriter and famous parts, I think I've come pretty close.

There. Life is not perfect and CTS still sucks, but it is still darned good compared to what comes in second.

Brewing some Vietnamese.

Two Months

August and September were months of extremes, if you ask me. Firstly there was the sense of a post-mission low after 3 glorious weeks in Port Dickson and Hanoi leading the OM team. It was a great, although unevnetful trip where 'grand action' was concerned. We were instructed to play tourists whilst we had prepared to dig trenches. Oh well...

Then there was of course, there was my adopted father's visit from Virginia Beach for almost a week. A totally shameless 'makansutra' outing. The binge continued with my birthday bash(es). This yeah was tremendous! I was eating non-stop with friends, family and more friends! (The last meal is lunch tomorrow with my buddy... almost one month after my actual birthdate!). I am truly blessed.

Then came the lowpoints. I had fallen ill. Was in bed for 12 days, drugged and drugged again. Not fun. Anymore sleeping and bedsores will peek outta my skinpores! Sigh. A-n-d then, my left arm started acting up... nerve pain! Yikes. This time round it had all the classic symptoms of CTS and freaked me out big time. I was walking around with a bent elbow and clawed hand, probably resembled the person who inspired Frankenstein had it not been already written. Great.

So today I am taking it easy (again!). Sigh... hasn't worked much since August and September's gonna be over soon. Next week I will be in Chiangmai and won't be back till Oct for a shoot.

Life continues...

Back!

Yay, I can blog again!!!!!!

I cannot believe I survived so long without.

My blogger ran into an error snag since erm... July in Hanoi when I tried to post, and since then the flurry of unending activities (travel, guests, sickness, etc) kept me busy - really busy - until now. So, thanks to Allan (who fixed the error in my blogger) I am now back in action!!!!

(Allan, in the meantime has gone to LaLa Land... methinks the all the hard work fixing up blogger has gotten the best of him...)

So now, there are lots to catch up on...

... in the next posts.

Kicked Out

Two days ago, I went for my last bible class. It was final. I was getting kicked out. There was no way they would let me back in after being absent for three times consecutively; not even when the reason of my absence was to lead a mission team abroad.

The Bible Study Fellowship is a superb study, and what worked for me was the sense of discipline it instilled during my 7-year study with them. Every week for 7 years I would go to the lecture and get the notes. Every day of those years I would be doing homework on a particular passage or text.

Unbeknownst to me, those days, weeks and years of study were really very foundational building blocks in spiritual growth. I wouldn't really trade them for anything.

So in a way it is good for me to leave the class, in order to make way for many on the waitlist whom are trying to get in and enjoy the privilege of studying and understanding God's truth for themselves.

And it is also time for me to teach and share what I have gained.

Avner Complex.... not!

Shikes.

Double shikes.

Methinks that's really all I can say about not blogging for ...(gasp!) almost two weeks since the last post! Other than the fact that not much has happened - my hard disk with all those wonderful Tokyo pixs can't be posted coz there was a connection flaw; the wound where they stitched up my arm after the surgery spawned into a huge, fat caterpillar scar (my friend suspects its coz of the Vit E), my arm - nerve injury returned; I suddenly had a deluge of jobs (good news for paying off Hanoi trip); I discovered I had an eyelash allergy; watched Fantastic Four and Transformers (the latter was surprisingly entertaining); and both my toilets need fixing.

Oh yeah, I finished George Jonas' "Vengeance" in two days. Pageturner it was, at least for me. Even after I had watched the Spielberg version months before; about a hit team led by "Avner", sent to hunt and assasinate the terrorists whom the Mossad were convinced had perpetrated the Munich Olympic massacre in 1972.

Strange that in a twist of circumstances, the book should end up in my hands. It actually belonged to a friend who loaned it to his friend, who incidentally kept it for a long, long time before returning it when her employment ended. From one hand to another, the book was passed to me. I happened to have some time to kill while waiting for my car to be serviced and opened it. Once I started, there was no stopping. Until two days later, that is...

What captivated me, more than the intrigue of international espionage, was the blow-by-blow account of the Munich massacre - the brutality and spine-chilling account of how the Israeli athletes were slain... the evil face of terrorism - and later, the paradoxical concept of retaliation by the "victims" themselves. Terrorism, counter-terrorism... are they any different? Doesn't both sides comprise people with the same fears, dedication and weaknesses?

To a micro extent, it drew me back to my task at hand. Hanoi. The thought that occupied me mostly was how to get everyone there and back in one piece. To tell the truth, this thought concerned me more than "what kind of impact" we were going to make there. That I leave to God. Tell me my focus is wrong, or that I am not trusting enough, etc etc... but what really concerns me is that I am taking some people to a strange place and I am in a way responsible for their safety.

Of course, I know that all will turn out as purposed (Rom 8:28) and a good understanding of that purpose is necessary to ease the taut between the tensions.

As the day draws nearer, I find myself, eager, and yet unprepared. Though I have prepared all I possibly could. I have told people a million times that a flexible attitude is the greatest asset. Yet to what extent should I allow flexibility? What kinda decisions would I be making when we are out there, decisions that could affect another person's life? What kind of mistakes are deemed too costly?

Wisdom, yes. Courage, I need plenty.

On one hand, this could be seen as a girl scouts' outing. But as it is, nothing is ever what it seems on the surface. God's ways are not man's ways. There is a sudden rush even as I type this, a feeling of that hint of the unexpected, the danger, the risk; and yet knowing that God will not allow more than what we can bear. Would I be a good leader? I really dunno, hey, I am just doing this because I was asked to volunteer, ok?

Whatever happens- good, bad, ugly - one thing is for sure. We are all moving one step nearer to understanding the call and destiny in Christ.



How we get there.... is another story for another post in the future.

Hiccup-ed

Shikes.... I had not blogged since coming back from Tokyo... have a good reason for it too - I got an external disk to store all my stuff but there was a connection problem with the port and I could not get it to work... AND all my photos are inside! So... since I've somehow gotten the thing to work, there will be some furious blogging coming up soon. (Yeah, yeah, yeah...)

Living in a Fishbowl

Less than a week ago, I met my cousin at the wet market. I needed her help to choose a yam for a pork dish I was making, and hence looked her up at the meat section. My cousin is in her 50s, has three grown-up kids and helps her butcher husband at his stall.

We got talking. She asked me about what I had planned for the future. "Have you set some savings aside to at least buy yourself a house or somewhere to stay in?" she asked, concerned that I would grow old and end up on the streets.

"Nope. I don't worry much about these things..."

She gasped, "No, no... you m-u-s-t prepare for it," she insisted, and continued to tell me the benefits of property ownership when suddenly, she stopped herself short.

"Oh, I forgot that you are a Christian," she said. Then she continued, "and therefore you have a different direction in life. You are preoccupied with something else..."

She seemed pretty satisfied as she concluded her own opinion about me, and did not push the matter any further.

I was gobsmacked. I had never talked to her about my faith, as we never really had the chance to talk to each other over the years, despite staying relatively closeby. So I was surprised she said what she did.

Boy, you'll never know who's watching you.

Serious Blessing

When God blesses, the unbelievable happens.

Just Tuesday afternoon, a bright and sunny day at that, my friend Crystal called up and asked, "Hey, you wanna go Japan next week?" I went like, "Huh? You mean eat at a Japanese restaurant, right?" She said, "No. Do you want to go to Japan next week?"

I was still in a blur. I mean, how do you respond to a question like that? Besides, I was mired deep in work, re-drafting scripts and profiles, cooking, going to the wet market, doing the housewife gig...sigh.

"So do you want to go or not?" Crystal jolted me back into reality... "We can go watch the premiere of Pirates of the Carribean 3!"

"What??????" I almost shouted over the phone. "Premiere? In Tokyo? Holy Flip! YES!!!"

Turned out Crystal won the grand prize of the Buena Vista-Channel V contest, so both of us are going to the Nippon Budokan to watch Pirates 3, all expenses paid plus Tokyo tour thrown in and meeting the filmmakers and actors in person. Wow!

All that happened at 3pm. Ninety minutes later, I was the last person at the immigration counter renewing my passport. I was 5 minutes late and had to plead and beg them to process my passport that day itself. They did. Then it was a flurry of activities to apply for the visa, plan the trip, reschedule my work, etc etc.

I didn't sleep much for the next two days. This is a serious blessing from God. The visa didn't cost me anything, I discovered Disney has sponsored the entire trip and we needn't worry about a thing! The package tour included accommodation at the 5-Star New Otani Hotel, a day's tour of the city and of course, the red carpet premiere with the main cast of Pirates along with moghul producer Jerry Bruckheimer. Then there is the River Cruise Dinner after the premiere! The entire trip would have cost us more than RM9k each and now we are only paying RM700++ per pax for the airport tax and insurance!

I think I can die.

Just the last couple months there has been steadily mounting pressure from home. Mom fell sick and slipped into hyperchondria, my family seemed to be falling apart in terms of communication and getting along with each other. I started to take care of my mom and to cook. Dad's temper grew from worse to intolerable. Everyone had extra things to do and we are not really taking it too gallantly, I admit. Just when things threathened to boil over, Japan burst into the scene.

My take? God knows our needs, and He knows how much we can take. He knows what we are made of. Just as I was about to break, God came in with a wonderful, unexpected surprise in the form this trip. How He cares! There is no doubt that His hand is in my life - through the crappy times and the good ones. I serve a wonderful, caring and intimate God Who cares deeply and gives the right gifts at the right time.

So now I am furiously printing namecards (gotta pass one to Bruckheimer when I get the chance!), changing money, getting my work stuff outta the way so I can go next week! Not planning to buy anything coz it is too expensive, but definitely gonna take loads of pictures!

How we wish our friends Ivy and Gracey can come with us too!!!!! (They had to work and there were only tickets for two). But they wished us well and asked us to buy a tonne of stuff for them when are there. :)

So there! In less than 48 hours we would be onna plane heading East. Excited. But still got work finish off... and people to meet before flying off.

Life is good.

Because God is great.

Selective Memory

"How can it be..." asked Gracey, "that you can remember Bible verses, but cannot even recall what I told you couple days back?" We were both sitting in her car, on our way to a slumber night on the eve of Labour Day holiday.

I suppose I am getting old. And old (ok-ageing) people have decaying grey matter. And it's a matter of time before one becomes really selective of things to retain in that cranium cavity of limited storage capacity.

"Well," I began, "I think I have..."

"Selective memory" we both chorused. And laughed.

It is true. As my brain groans under the pressure of information overload, it goes into automatic overdrive and keeps only what it thinks is important. OK, what I think is important.

So I need to be reminded of appointments as they get nearer, I forget where I left my things and I am kinda generally absent-minded about the nitty-gritty of daily life... all at the expense of attempting to be sharp and incisive in slicing and dividing the Word of Truth.

It is a wonderful trade-off.

Good Kinda Thickening...

"I never saw Genesis quite that way before," Allan said last Saturday, during the end of our year-long study on the first book of the Bible. It was a year of postponed studies, missed appointments and arguements over discussions. It was also a year filled with attempts to study God's word in a disciplined manner; of fellowship and of bonding.

How quickly that year passed.

So when I posed the question, "Do you guys wanna continue studying the Bible?" it was met with an enthusiastic "Yes!" But... I said... if we were to continue into Year 2, they would not have it so easy any longer. They were threathened with MORE homework, which of course, meant heavier preparation on my part.

LP and Allan each took like 5 seconds to vote "aye". I really wanted to pat them on their backs and congratulate them. It has not been an easy year, and just to make time for Bible study was a challenge every week. Both had super-duper work commitments which took them away for hours and hours. And when they are finally free over the weekend, Bea's family commitments had to be juggled and thrown into the mix. Not easy indeed.

So, now we are on to Year 2. Just like that. We will inductively study the book of Philemon before going to The Life of Moses (Exodus - Deuteronomy).

Then all of a sudden, another friend expressed interest to join the study and even offered to open up her house for it! Hmmm... the plot thickens... but some thickening are of the good kind. :)

Revealed...

I started a serious study on the book of Revelation six months ago. It began with much trepidation, namely because I did not want to get sucked into any of the several views that had been used for years to interpret it. It was a Catch 22 situation - if I do not attempt to study it, I will not even have o-n-e view.

Hence I started by just observing the text, aided by my tutor, an experienced Bible teacher who was willing to meet me one-on-one to impart her knowledge.

Revelation is the last book in the Bible and actually, it should be named The Revelation of Jesus Christ, becoz that is what the entire book is about. Forget about Left Behind junkies and the myriad upon myriad tonnes of material available in bookstores with titles like Armageddon and Unlocking Last Days' Prophecies, etc, etc. Just study the text the way it is presented. Don't complicate life.

Revelation is not as confusing and intimidating as I first thought it to be. All that was needed was an understanding of the type of literature it is, its purpose to the original reader, and the historical context in which it was written.

Of course the various ways of interpreting it still hold sway, depending on which camp you happen to fall under. But in its gist, Revelation was written to Christians undergoing persecution, along with warnings and exhortation. In a nutshell, "we win!"

Revelation is special as it encompasses 4 major kinds of literature of its day - epistles, apocalyptic, prophetic and historical. One common approach to this book is to pin down a 'date' or 'event' in which we use to interpret Last Days. This approach is not only faulty, but dangerous as it reduces the book to a formulaic almanac of sorts. It is not!

Bearing in mind that it is written for the specific purpose to encourage Christians under persecution to have patient endurance and to be overcomers, Revelation has been largely misunderstood due to its nature as prophetic literature and also the fluidity of its pictorial language.

However, rather than hindering it, the visually-heavy language of the book actually paints a glorious landscape of Christ in His second coming. No more do we see Jesus as "meek and mild". Here He is the King and Judge. The author Apostle John, now in his 90s, wrote the book while being a political exile for his faith in the tiny island of Patmos. The last time John saw Jesus, the Lord washed his feet, died on the cross, arose and was caught up in heaven. That was almost 60 years ago. Now John is old and bent and a prisoner. When Jesus appeared to him, John fell face down in fear. This Jesus is totally different from what he remembered. This Jesus had hair that was white, eyes like fire, face like the shinning sun and voice of many waters.

(To appreciate the situation then, Christians were persecuted under the Roman Empire with Nero and then Domitian. The persecution often involved killings of Christians for sport a'la Gladiator where those who refused to renounce their faith were fed alive to hungry lions while the bloodthirsty stadium crowd cheered on.)

Now imagine being a Christian during that time. You are hungry, poor, naked and worse... going to be lion fodder soon. Just because you won't say "I am not a Christian" in the presence of some Imperial bigwig. There only way out for you is a cruel death in a public execution. Your friends and family deserted you. You are totally alone.

And in this instance Jesus appears to you. He says..."I am the Alpha and Omega" (I am the Beginning and the End).

Imagine how much that meant to the original reader.

In the light of God's greatness and glory, our sufferings matter so little. It is us who need His grace, for we suffer but for a short while, compared to the rewards of eternity! For when that Day comes, when the cosmos melts down and the mountains and the sea are no more; when the sky is rolled back like a scroll; when all the inhabitants of the earth run to the caves and plead for the mountains to fall on them (rather than to face the wrath of God), those who have suffered and awaited long for His coming will be able to sing... "It is well with my soul".

Come, Lord Jesus!

Mission team to...?

Ok. Here is the question... do I lead a mission team to Thailand, Myanmar, Vietnam or rural Malaysia in July?

The "spiritual" answer: Pray about it and let God decide.

The "carnal" answer: Look into affordability, the condition of my health and what kinda job opportunities that would be foregone.

My answer: I dunno. For the moment.

The team participants will consist mostly internationals and the assignment is a two-week outreach in any of the countries designated above. And if I don't know Operation Mobilisation any better, I would be thinking it would be a guided mission tour. However, experience strongly attest to the contrary - with nights out in the open airports in the bitter cold, missed trains, busses, non-existent time to prepare programs (hence the flexibility to "just wing it" is a great asset), and tendency to gravitate towards Murphy's Law - anything that goes wrong WILL go wrong.

So it never ceased to amaze me how our human foibles can actually accomplish God's plans. I mean, He doesn't wait for us to get it right... and in fact, He often times lets us get it totally wrong... so that His marvels can be shown. Hey, let no flesh glory in the work of God, man!

So I have no idea what my team is gonna be like. I have no inkling what the schedules are, nor what I will be in for during the three weeks (one-week conference + two weeks' outreach) in July. But hey, God has not let me down yet, and I know He never will. Whatever the future's gonna hold for this team of His is anyone's guess. But I have a strong feeling that someone will be touched, changed and challenged to consider world missions as their path for life.

And that is why I am going.

Gluttony to the maxx!

"What's so great about Sitiawan that you'ld go there twice in 3 months?" a friend asked.

Now here is a question I half-expect, especially from urbanite friends who would think the only thing notable about that settlement near the coast is their birdnest trade. Actually birdnest is only one of the many food products this enterprising community came up with over the years.

There are the famous Kampung Koh chilly sauce, mee sua and soy sauce to name a few. So when we went up to Gracey's house to continue our erm... "Makansutra" escapade during last Chinese New Year, we made sure we emptied our stomachs for the long haul eating session.

Crystal and I took a bus up to the Sitiawan bus stop, where Gracey was supposeda pick us. However before she could arrive, we already crossed the street to check out the Cendol stall before it closed for the day. And it was a good thing too, because we just managed to get the last bowl of special Cendol with glutinous rice. Phew...

Then it was eating, eating and eating all day long for the next two days, even when we arrived at Ivy's house in nearby Teluk Intan. Words exhaust me, but suffice to say that we were disgustingly, shamelessly fed, and fed well too. Of course, other than eating we saw some sights... the ahem, Leaning Tower of Teluk Intan (pix) happened to be one of them.

































Anyway, we we really delighted to find the friendly neighbourhood ice-cream man peddling his ware! Haven't seen this kinda sight for like... more than 2 decades!!!! We all stuffed faces with double-scooped ice-cream in between our eating sessions.






















And after all that eating, Gracey and I burped in satisfaction... while waiting for the next meal.

No Melanoma!

The biopsy results are out.

That patch on my arm is a bundle of spindle cells, what the doc diagnosed as micro-fibroma. Benign but recommended to be taken out sonnest possible.

Yay.

But I would have to refrain from using my left arm for another month after the operation on 12th April. Which means no swimming or driving until mid-May. :(

Still, I am happy its not melanoma.

Some Skin Less

`

A couple of weeks ago I went for a skin biopsy and MRI one day apart from each other. For me, it was a first time for both procedures, although I had a biopsy done few years ago prior to a lumpectomy. The skin biopsy was done at the dermatologist's request since there was a strange mole growing at the back of my underarm near the shoulder joint. The procedure involved extracting a slice of skin where the mole is, and sewing the incision shut.

I hadda go under local anaesthetic for this, so I promptly arrived at the hospital's minor operating theatre one cheerful weekday morning, aptly armed with Michael Griffith's "Take My Life". (That is a good book to read should you want to get serious with your faith).

The dermatologist called me in, told me to change into the hospital gown, took photos of the mole and told me to lie down on my side on the operating table. She then spread the big sheet of surgical paper on the mole and started to poke it.

"Does this hurt?"

"Yeah."

"OK, I'll give you the jab now."

"Ouch."

She started poking the other parts and it hurt too, so she gave me a second jab. By the time the second injection sank in, I lost all sensation and wouldn't have realised she was cutting away at my skin had it not been for the scraping noises.

Well, there was an uncomfortable silence. I was lying on my side with a paper covering my shoulder and dermatologist behind me carving out my skin. So I did what I always do when I am nervous / bored. I asked questions.

"What's that red socket on the wall for, eh?"

"What red socket?" asked the dermatologist, amid scraping noises.

"The one next to the normal white one."

"Oh, that's for blackout emergencies." the staff nurse butted in.

"Really?" asked the dermatologist.

"Yeah, all operating theatres have an alternate energy supply."

"Oh, I didn't know that," said dermatologist.

Well, I sure hope she knew what she was doing to my skin. When she was done, I had three stitches which came off two days ago, leaving three rather ugly needle holes. The biopsy results will be out tomorrow.

POV inside a Coffin

"Oh, oh... what did I get myself into?" I wondered as the nurse clapsed a cage across my face, locked my head in position and began to press a button to slide me into the MRI tunnel. All around me were crackling and buzzing noises. I was strapped to the sliding table, hands and feet unable to move. Can't even scratch my nose or slide my bangs. Felt like a science-fiction movie gone terribly wrong.

"Don't worry about the noises inside, ok? It's normal" the nurse coo-ed in her most reassuring tone. *Sure, now where have I heard that before?*

"How long am I supposeda be in there?" I asked.

"Thirty minutes."

What? Thirty minutes immobilised inside a coffin contraption? What kinda nonsense is this? Why wasn't I told this earlier? I waited three months for this appointment, and in between that the hospital called me twice and made me wait another 90 minutes in the waiting room prior to the procedure and no one told me it would be like this???

Somehow I didn't think the nurse / radiologist would be jumping in eager anticipation to hear what's on my mind, so I kept quiet, swallowed hard and hoped that my nose wouldn't itch for the next half an hour.

"Hold on to this," she said, pushing a call-button device into my hand, "press if you need anything."

It was so cold. Sterile. The nurse spread a blanket over me. I started to slide into the sinister machine that opened up to swallow me whole. The examination room disappeared into the far horizon at my feet. I was totally inside the belly of the machine. Tunneled-in. Trapped.

Man, if I were to ever have a first-eye POV (point of view) of what its like to lie inside a closed coffin, this would come really close. It is deadly silent. For a moment. Then a buzz pierced the air. Then humming. Crackling. Then all at once there were noises all around me! It was deafening, and I admit, unnerving.

I started to think about being inside a real coffin. Death is a reality for all, but no one really cares to think seriously about it. It is a certainty that we move closer to everyday, whether we like it or not.

I thought about death that day inside the MRI machine, and I am thankful that I know for sure I could still crawl out of that tunnel when the 30 minutes are up. But what about those who may not even have the 30 minutes to live?

Life is too short. Like vapour. When it is my turn to lie in a real coffin, I don't want to be leaving behind a trail of regret and sorrow of what might have been. And I am really grateful I still have the time to play my cards right.

The results of the MRI came out.

Everything's normal.

Watch the Lamb

The first time I heard this song I was in a cabin onboard the Doulos in '96. Some crewmates were miming to it, and my first thought was: "I have to listen to it again!" The lyrics were strong, powerful and piercing. I quickly decided that I wanted to learn to mime this song too. I did.

I don't remember how many ports we stopped and the number of times we performed it, but it seems like this haunting melody has been with me forever. Everytime I sing it (we have to know the lyrics before we can mime), I am brought back to the cross. Again and again.

The song is sung from the perspective of Simon of Cyrene, whom the Bible described as the person who carried Jesus' cross for him on the way to Golgotha where the crucification took place. (One little thing here is that, although no one is actually able to attest to the racial origin of Simon of Cyrene, he was believed to be darker-skinned as Cyrene was part of North Africa). It is also believed that his two young sons Alexander and Rufus later became well-known in the Christian community in Rome.

To me, this song is a slice of an ordinary life colliding with a great and painful moment in world history. It brings out, blow-by blow, the cruelty of the cross and the terrible price it exacted on Jesus. May we never forget what it cost Jesus to bring us back to God.

Tickets and A Theological Moment...

A credit card company was giving out free movie tickets in return for usage above a certain amount, at a roadshow I helped organise last year. The tickets were admission for the premiere screening of a summer blockbuster, and hence were much coveted.

I saw how people queued up early and rushed to redeem the tickets, even to the point of carelessly charging their cards just to get a shot at the screening. And I saw how their faces fell when they were told the tickets had all been given out. They walked away with their heads lowered. Just because they missed the window timeframe for the redemption.

Redemption is of course a commercial term, used in ancient times for the buying and selling of commodity, mainly for the transaction involving slaves. It particularly refers to the purchase of a slave in order to set the slave free. In that sense, it is the most wonderful word in all Christian vocabulary. Jesus' redemption of us from our sins have made us free from the slavery of sin and death.

As I looked at the crowd who thronged the movie ticket redemtion counter that day, I saw faces lined with hope, anticipation and excitement. They wanted the tickets, they were willing to wait, beg, steal or borrow for them!

What a stark contrast to people's reaction when the offer of Christ's redemption is made to them. (No clambering here for the first place). Truly we do not value nor desire God, eternal life and all those invisible things promised in the Bible. We don't care for the free ticket to heaven. We have lost all sense of affinity for those things, being conditioned by the flesh. We make excuses and console ourselves, all the while headed for hell. And we chose to do so.

American theologian Jonathan Edwards opined that our choices are determined by what we think is the most desirable course of action. So why don't men choose God? Has sin has so blurred their vision that they do not consider righteousness to be the way of personal fulfillment?

I am a movie freak. So I fall into the category of the lesser beings who would 'kill and maim' for the movie tickets. And it is a constant battle to choose between what my minds thinks is most desirable, to what the Word says is best.

And yes, I did manage to get tickets to the premiere screening. They were given to me without being asked.

Surviving Spiritual Responsibility

What happens when you become a parent?

Ask any parent and they will tell you how their lives had been turned upside -down (in a good way) in that irreversible rite of passage.

But what happens when you become spiritual parent to your parents?

Ah.

(This is not a trick question).

What I find amazing about following Jesus is that life continues to throw curveball surprises. Never a dull moment with God. So I find myself in this situation where I am (reluctantly) a spiritual parent to my mom and dad. By spiritual parenting I mean being the person who is concerned and overseeing their spiritual state and a constant presence around them where they are reminded of their allegiance to Christ.

The great thing about this is that I can be myself in speech, behaviour and responses while attempting to live my life in Jesus the best I can. They see my struggles, outbursts and failures and they witness first-hand how Jesus catches me everytime I fall. A real-life drama played out daily at home. With no commercial breaks. Reality shows don't get any more original than this!

The suckky thing is that they have strong opinions formed over their collected lifetimes of over 100 years... and lifelong habits are hard to change. I have to remind myself of that everytime I get frustrated when they don't seem to register that God's ways are worth following. Everytime I try to prod, encourage and persuade I get this retort: "So now you think you know more than us about (whatever)...?" At which point I usually just clam up after feeling the futility of it all. (I really shouldn't... God's word has the power to change people... but in reality I often wonder if it works with my family).

I think the best way to survive spiritual parenthood to your own parents, esp if they are really old, is not to expect too much. Expect God to work in them somehow, but don't even put a timeframe where results are concerned. If God has called to such a role, the burden is His and He will bring along the real, lasting transformation.

Mole in the Arm

"Hey, what's that thing on your arm?" my friend asked over lunch two weeks ago.

"Nothing, it's just a mole." I replied.

"Looks like an awfully big mole..." he continued.

"Yeah, it grew."

He suddenly turned and looked at me, concerned. "You better get it looked at."

"OK."

Of course I forgot all about it. It was just a tiny mole about a year ago when I first discovered it... or maybe slightly longer, I don't remember. Anyways it is tucked on the far end back side of my arm and usually would not be noticeable unless I have a sleeveless shirt on. To my surprise, it had grown to about an inch in diameter.

Yesterday another friend saw it and asked the same question. When I replied her, she turned grave. She has had surgery to remove a neck tumour, a hysterectomy and now discovered another tumour on her jugular. She insisted I saw a doctor about the growing, painless, hairless mole on my left arm.

So I called my doctor friend. He sounded worried when I told him my symptoms and will help me locate a dermatologist at the hospital. I'll speak to him again tomorrow, and hopefully find out how to maneuveur my way around this derma-adventure.

I thought about dying. I imagined various scenarios - bedridden, sick, funeral. I could visualise it... only up to the point where I know Jesus would open his arms and welcome me Home. Nothing beyond that.

I cannot imagine heaven. What it would be like... what the colours would be, what kind of songs would be sung there, how the saints of old would look like, what my new body would be... and what would Jesus be wearing.

Isn't it weird that people think Jesus walks around in a long, white flowing robe? We are so conditioned by the impressions of artists throughout the ages. I won't be surprised the Jesus I finally meet looks nothing like what I have seen. In the same vein, here is a piece on the relevance and dangers of religious movies. "...films cannot be used to present the Scriptures visually without becoming idolatrous. Not only are the images historically false (they are conjured up from the imagination of a screenwriter of director) but they must also conform to the mechanics of the medium (acting, cinematography, art direction, music, sound effects, etc) which are designed to manipulate the senses and emotions for dramatic purposes..."

Jesus can only be whom He is described to me in the Word.

Starting the New Year

Yes, yes, yes.... the CNY madness is finally over! At least for me la. There're about 5 more days before Chap Goh Mei arrives to mark the end of the celebrations for the year of the Golden Boar, but I am already back at work. Things are slow of course, which is a blessing coz my mom still needs a lot of attention.

Just yesterday I spent the entire morning and afternoon driving her to Assunta again to get her tests done. Turned out she has urinary tract infection and we are still awaiting the results of her tumour marker. By the way, the prices in private hospitals defy the law of gravity - just urine and blood tests made us poorer by RM420!

While waiting for her results, I drove to the bank and of course, with the wonderful town planning system in State PJ, there was not a single parking bay available. Circled the area for 45 minutes before finally landing on an empty lot behind a row of shops. Went straight to the customer service centre in the bank - was told to wait to be served while 2 new accounts were being opened. I filled out a form and handed it over to the bank staff, who told me I should hand over my passbook as well. Oh darn, the thing is in my car. At this time a crowd was swelling around the counter. So I told the staff to keep my line while I go bring the passbook. She said ok.

When I returned to the counter I was told there was now an additional 2 more new accounts, courtesy of the lady who was behind me in the line earlier. So now I hadda wait for 4 new accounts to be opened before I could be served. I c0mplied since I did not want to kick up a fuss.. 40 minutes of standing later, I was about to be served when another lady stepped up to the counter and asked the staff, "hey, can you serve me first, I am only going to collect my chequebook..." The bank staff was about to attend to her request, when I firmly demanded to be served. And when I put up an angry front, I got served.

The wheel that makes the most noise gets the grease.

Such a sad state of affairs...

My Father(s)

I have four. One biological, two adopted and One starts with a capital F. When I was 29 I learnt that I had problems relating to #4, simply because I had a distorted perception of how a father should be.

I was unable to trust God, nor any male authority figure. It had been a prevailing condition throughout my life and I was unable to change it. It was an intensely heartbreaking discovery, as it meant amongst other things, I had arrived at an impasse in my relationship with God.

During the months that followed, I was a walking zombie - the lingering effect of being shaken to the core. I ate, slept and went about my business in a perpetual daze, not caring (unable to care) much what happened to myself nor those around me. This revelation left me injured and totally vulnerable.

Memory was kinder in the years that passed. I soon learnt that time can somewhat numb the pain, though not fully eradicating it. I realised that God has placed godly adopted fathers in my life, showing me through tangible means that His Fatherhood is different. There were other godly men and husbands which were strewn along my path too, slowly wiping out the distortion, giving life and newness to what was once maimed and wanting.

Then God brought me home - charged with this new awareness - to face my dysfunctional family. It is not the easiest thing to do, but then we were not promised ease of life and comfort. In fact, just the opposite is to be expected; for those who aspire to live a godly life should be prepared for persecution (2 Tim 3:12).

My perception of Fatherhood is constantly being challenged, namely because I live in an environment which demands it. I see the disparity between what I know to be truth and what I experience. And as the saying goes, experience is a powerful teacher.

Living between the tension.


Obedience is better than sacrifice or any other rational excuses.

Housemaid-ing Season

If I ever wanted to know how a foreign maid feels in a Malaysian household, I would have asked our former maid Asti. But nope, no chance of that ever happening now since she's gone, and every other able-bodied female in my house is knocked out by this vicious viral fever... I am left alone to tackle all the household chores. How wonderful.

So every morning I wake up to clean and prepare food for my fever-ridden niece, my sick family, and the other members of my family who aren't sick. Then in the blink of an eye the afternoon would be upon us and there's lunch to prepare. All too soon, dinner will arrive. Cleaning, marketing, cooking, nanny-ing, driving on errands.

I am tired. I am really tired.

I salute those housewives who juggle all these and still maintain their sanity, of which I am precariously hanging on thin shreds (and I am not even a housewife). But after all that drudge and crap, there's this relief... joy... when everyone comes home at night and gathers and eat. The effort of the day just seem to melt away.

Oh dear, I sure hope I am not losing it.

The Day I Survived

This is such a weird day.

Woke up early to check my mom outta hospital. Still groogy after yesterday's fever antibiotics. Arrived hospital at 9am-ish. Walked to the ward while talking on the phone. Before I knew it, I stepped on a small patch of water on the floor, slipped and fell on my back. The nurses rushed to me. They hoisted me up and put me on my mom's bed nearby. The doctor arrived and asked me if I needed attention. The ward sister came to take down my details (in case I needed hospitalisation).

OK, enough embarassment already.

So I shoo-shoo-ed them away (by telling them I was perfectly fine) and after a while, proceeded to a quick brekkie at the cafeteria. Had a slice of marble cake, one milk tea and one Milo. Mom called and said she would be able to check out the same day.

Yay!!!!

BUT we hadda wait. OK, I can wait. One hour passed, two hours... and meanwhile, I was developing symptoms of having a seizure attack. Not good. Not good at all.

I went back to ward nurse to ask for a bed. She said the hospital beds were full but there're some seats at the corridor I can use, or else there's also a wheeled stretcher without brakes. I opted for seats. When I saw those single rattan chairs, I groaned. The're no way I can lie comfortably on those.

So I cramped myself in feotal position and snugged into two single chairs facing each other. It was really awkward and I was uncomfortable, but it was better than no lie-down place at all. I switched positions several times but they were all equally uncomfortable. Meanwhile, my phone kept ringing.

I don't know how but I managed to get some sleep. Too soon, my phone rang again, and it was my mom saying it is time to pay and check out of the hospital. After some ding donging here and there, we finally checked mom out at 3pm, six hours after I had arrived at the hospital.

I was too weak to drive, and WL hadda bring us all home. Left my car in the hospital carpark, and I went home to cook porridge for my mom and myself, before taking my long overdue fever medicine and zonking off till 6.30pm. Then later I hadda retrieve my car from the carpark (but not before dropping by to visit Mrs Tan, the 98-year-old stroke victim from my mom's ward). Mrs Tan's daughter was with her, and she even agreed when I suggested to pray for her. Good, good, good. I may visit her some more in the near future.

Disguished Opportunities

It was a visitors' party at my mom's hospital room. First there were LP and my dad, followed in quick succession by my aunt and uncle, then my cell hosts, and then my mom's cell members before finally, my cell members came and took me out for dinner.

In between there was this very stimulating conversation going on between the patient in the next bed and I. She was almost in tears when I told her about God's provision in my life. Later I shared Christ with the patient in the far end of the room. She is 96, her lungs are hardened and she practically lays on bed as good as a vegetable but I spoke to her in Mandarin anyway. She looked longingly at me, her eyes welling up with tears. She tried to move her arms every time I touched her (I noticed that her relatives would visit, shout at her and not even touch her). I asked her to repeat the sinners' prayer with me even though she can only say it in her heart.

There is so much hope to be given to a waiting world.

My mother's hospitalisation may be seen as a mishap to some, but for those who perceive, there has never been a better opportunity to share the Gospel.

Today's Reading : Romans 1:16-17

Frog in the Pot

I am terrified of frogs. Even slaughtered ones. Being Chinese, it is to my embarassment that I have only hesitantly nibbled at the famous Frog Legs with Ginger and Spring Onion dish. And even after that I felt like fumigating my mouth for 2 weeks.

The most horrying experience I had with frogs was when one hopped and latched itself on my calf while I was walking on campus in Hawaii. I screamed and screamed in terror, ran and flagged helplessly. It was such a traumatic experience I don't even remember how the critter finally un-stuck itself.

I hate frogs. Dead or alive.

So when I hadda buy frogmeat in the market today to double-boil it for my hospitalised mom, I made sure I was 2 feet away from the cages filled with live frogs. I quickly made my purchase. The butcher was laughing away at me whilst she grabbed one fat belching frog, clubbed it senseless and continued with the slaughter.

I did not know how my face looked like at that moment, but the butcher's expression while looking at me was one of glee, maybe she was somewhat tickled at the tortured face of a reluctant buyer.

I took home three headless, skinless and webless frogs. The blood was still on them. Cleaned the carcasses up using a pair of disposable chopsticks and a cleaver. My brother and dad were not much help, they just stood and laughed at my fear of contact with dead amphibians. After much effort, one-and-a-half frog(s) ended up in the crockpot with slices of really bitter bittergourd.

I pity my mom who's gonna drink that.

Night Out

It is also confirmed that I will be staying with my mom at the hospital tonight. Just got back home to pack a few things and head straight for Assunta again. Mom's got a single room and there's an extra armchair-bed for me. Tomorrow I gotta head for the market really early to get er....

1. Frog meat
2. Baby bittergourd

This is so that I can go home and double boil them stuff with a bowl of water and serve them to (poor old) mom! Apparently this concoction worked wonders on my friend's friend.

Nat tested negative for dengue. Phew... at least her parents can sleep soundly tonight.

To Hospital, To Hospital...

It is confirmed. My mom contracted dengue. Her platlet level is still ok, at 205 per 1000, and the GP says to wait for further tests. But I am checking her into the hospital tonight. At her age, anything can happen. She's worried sick, and rightly so I guess.

Right now we are packing her stuff for the stay. I will prob stay in with her for the night, depending on circumstances. Tomorrow I will be making this herb concoction which is supposedly good for her immune system.

I had better brace myself for the home - hospital - market - home circuit.

Nat is also having fever for the past 5 days. Now her parents are concerned it may be dengue as well. Heck, I am also feeling under the weather the past coupla days...

Just a wild thought - if all of us have dengue it may be easier as we would all be admitted at the same time and can still see each other....

Yeah, right.

Gotta get under the Wings

Dengue. The word escaped from my mom's mouth as she got into the car to break the news to me. OK, so it's just suspected dengue since she had non-abating fever for 5 days running even with antibiotic intakes. But the doctor wasn't taking chances, especially since she's already 70.

She's worried, about her health, hospital stays, bills, household matters, etc. My mom's a constant worrier, even when she's completely well. I try to un-worry her. In any case, the results will only be known in about 2 hours' time.

This news could not have come at a worse time. Already I am struggling "being at multiple crossroads" in my life, and this process usually saps all the energy outta me.


Today's Reading: Ps 91

Sulking Corner

Went for the OM meeting and I probably never felt so ...disappointed... in a long time. Because my plans and expectations were not met. Frustrated because whilst I had "put my life on hold" all these years in view of going out again, I find the doors still firmly shut. Angry because nothing is going the way I hoped it would.

Nat threw a tantrum again today, because she wasn't allowed to go out with her mom to the shops. She cried and cried and when that didn't work, she turned around and demanded to have 'substitutes' in place of the thing she was denied. And to state a fact, everyone knows my niece takes after me very closely in temperament. She's definitely a female Chan.

I see a mirror image of myself as I observe her nonsense. Only difference is that we live 30 years apart.

I was so disturbed yesterday. I could not believe God would close the doors. Of course I knew He must have a better plan, a more important job for me here, or mebbe I am just not the person for that "mission job" out there. But honestly, I find it hard to accept that in His time and in His way He will reveal. Still I could not understand why, I could not wait, I wanted an explanation... and I demanded a 'substitute' where I spelt out the terms.

What cheek.

And I wonder why God doesn't speak to me? Why He is silent?


Surrender is so hard for the strong-willed.




Today's reading: Gen 32:22 - 32

Delayed Rebound?

These...




...were what I bought today. It's been 8 years since I bought anything remotely resembling them. Kinda stopped wearing makeup since I left my country and joined Operation Mobilisation... (missionaries are not supposeda be enamoured by stuff like this, so I reckoned).

OK, so why buy them now since I survived on borrowed makeup all these years?

Last Saturday's dinner was different. I mean, I've been to dozens of dinner events and gotten dolled up couple times a year, but something was different last week. I didn't realise it until I put on the makeup, checked the mirror and... man, it felt really good. I mean, I looked fine (ok, so I looked kinda good) and felt great.

I sure hope it's not a rebound syndrome from "neglecting my appearance" all these years. You know, swinging from one extreme to another and all that. Whatever it is, the stuff's already in the bag, ready for use.

Next: This Saturday's wedding!

Thorns Can Be Good

So. I seriously do not know what's happening to my body. Get sick once in an average of 2 - 4 weeks, a bone spur, loss of strength in arms, fingers, etc, anaemic and... I am forced to entertain the thought that immortality is grossly overrated. I may meet my mortal end sooner than I think.

Morbid? Yeah. Depressing? Slightly so. Only because I am none too entirely prepared for it. I turn 37 this year. Had some really fantastic life behind me, and I think I am richer than anyone I know coz I already have and done all that matters. However, one thing still leaves me stoked. The rush of seeing the light turn on in someone's heart and mind when they understand Truth.

Yesterday I was a wreck and feeling worse. An impending flu attack left me with terrific headaches, bodyaches and a sinister soreness creeping up my throat. I was frustrated, angry, defeated (being sick makes me this way). As I sought solace in my chatmail, a friend signed in. We exchanged pleasantries, jokes and then started talking about doctrine.

The discussion quickly picked up speed. She asked, I answered. I asked, she replied. In that flurry, something happened. A sudden illumination dawned. Truth visited her. A great work of the Holy Spirit.

God works any way He chooses, but it is in frailty that His strength is most evident... why then, are we so afraid of being weak? Of being helpless?

Grant courage Lord, as not to shy away from pain, from suffering and from the thorn where Your grace is sufficient.

Born Twice, Die Once...

What we fear is not death, but its process, Henri Nouwen tells us. He has a point there. We all know death is inevitable, but who - except those really old or terminally ill - would give the matter a serious thought?

My friend in YWAM is pushing 60, underwent several major operations, and had 4 friends die on her in the past 2 months (3 of cancer, and another - a young man in his 20s, committed suicide very recently). Shrouded in this morbid atmosphere, she awaits the biopsy results done on one of her breasts.

I have always admired this friend / mentor. She never married and was the one who forged the path showing me that abandoning all for God is not only examplery, but plausible... and ... desirable. A tremendously gifted Bible teacher, she has the rare quality of inspiring her students to want to dig deeper to uncover the truths marvelously encrypted in Scripture. She herself was a diligent student of the Word, a woman of practical wisdom and tender kindness. However, the one thing that made her stand out was her willingness to be vulnerable. To the point of baring her thoughts, like peers do, to me - someone more than 20 years her junior. What an honour and privilege. And what a great blessing.

It is this very distinctive child-like quality in her that reveals her deep, trusting and personal relationship with the Lord Jesus. For a person who's going nearer to the "other world" than she is to ours, she is beginning to ponder on the things that most of us tend to push aside.

Have I lived well?

Have I loved to my fullest?

Am I ready to meet God?

And so I ask myself these questions today too. And to my utter shame, I find that I am ill-prepared to even think of them. And yet, they are the most important questions I would ever have to answer. 1 Cor 3:12 tells of the different rewards Christians get when they meet God. Immediately, pictures of some tangible trophy comes to mind. But as any mature saint would explain, it is Christ Who is our great reward. Heaven is all about being with him in a way that is impossible while we are on earth.

Martha Snell Nicholson, the gifted poet whose verses had been used to bless many, wrote this before she died of long illness in 1957.

When I was an inarticulate child, if anyone had asked me why I was happy (despite the terrible illnesses), I would have replied, "Because it is all true about Jesus." And now, with the silver in my hair and my body bent and twisted, I can still think of no other way to express my joy rather than to say, "Because it is all true about Jesus Christ."

It is all true.

In life and death and the life everlasting.











Link

Year of the Pig(s)

What a way to start the New Year. Binge-ing and stuffing faces till drop. Two friends and I decided to spend the first two days of 2007 at their hometowns of Teluk Intan and Sitiawan. We had planned a Pangkor trip earlier, but last-minute calls back to work derailed those intentions. So while the reservations were canceled at the 11th hour, Gracey and Ivy said what the heck, we would still go somewhere for the holidays. With no reservations anywhere else (we actually didn't try... what's the point?) the girls decided to head homeward for a quick break.

31 Dec
Arrived Ivy's home in Teluk Intan in time for the NY Countdown. The streets were packed. We passed by the famous Chee Cheong Fun shop (opens 7pm - 7am) and the line was about 15 people long. Too many cars parked there. Decided to give the cff a miss. Reached Ivy's home after midnite. Ate supper, showered and zzzzzzz!!!!!

1 jan
Woke up to the bright sunshine in Ivy's room. Showered. And performed the necessary bodily functions. Brekkie waiting for us at Ivy's mom's stall at a coffee shop nearby... yay!!!! Had CCF and a bit of curry mee. Coffee (yes, yesssss!!!). Then to Gracey's house in Sitiawan. The minute we stepped outta the car, the BuBur Cha Cha was waiting. Happening...lotsa taro, sweet potato cubes and kidney beans in rich, sweeet coconut milk... my favourite! Then the table started filling out with fresh strawberries marinated in plum sauce (slurp!) and this fruitcake baked by a nun. After this inconventional spread of hors d'oeuvres, Gracey's mom took out the killer dish... her Ang Chew Mee Sua. Ok ok, some people may think it's confinement food, but this is actually a popular dish in the Foochow community, with males and females alike. We were salivating when the chicken pieces in the red wine soup was brought out. Munch assault! The vermicelli came. And I would have never guessed the carnivorous Ivy would enjoy this dish as much as she did.

Just as we thought we could not eat anymore, Gracey's dad returned with the famous local Kon Piah, this er - let's just call it a Foochow version of the pizza. The Sitiawan Kon Piah is really different from its Sibu and Kuching cousins. Eat and discover for yourself. Then we drove out to the famous Cendol stall outside the Indian Temple. By this time, my tummy made an overload protest. But I did taste the Cendol - very rich and fresh coconut milk.

Too soon it was dinner time. We were taken to this kinda out-of-bounds lesser-known-to-tourists restaurant, where we gorged ourselves on a feast of Foochow dishes, capped with Irish Cream Bailey's on the rocks. And you'd think people can't die from overeating...

After all that food, we needed to "work out" (to ease the conscience). So it was off to Teluk Batik beachwalk, and then to Lumut Esplanade. Then it rained, and as Gracey would say "so mangkuk", hence we got stuck at the mamak drinking Milo panas.

(I am reeling in disgust as I write this... can't believe what a pig I was).

Jan 2
The only snag to an otherwise perfect slumber experience was the irritating noise from Ivy's cellphone alarm! It rang twice and woke everyone else except the person who had it on. Food was waiting for us when we got up. Didn't even have time to brush teeth properly. Peanut dessert with whole peanuts cooked in glutinous gravy... something like that. Then fruitcake and... rambutans!

"No, no... we have to leave room for lunch" we pleaded. Then got entangled in this conversation with Gracey's dad for about 2 hours talking about comparative religions, etc. We extricated ourselves in time to meet Ivy's parents for lunch. Had another sumptous meal, and I quietly vowed not to eat anything again for the next 24 hours....

30 minutes later Ivy brought us to her friend's coffee shop and ordered us a bowl of Assam Laksa each.

Sigh.

We ate no more the rest of the day. And prob shouldn't for the rest of the year...