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.

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.

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.

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

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