Year of The Dog

It's Chinese New Year and my phones haven't stopped ringing! Relatives, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends... the killer calls are the ones from a couple time zones apart, waking you up with enthusiastic "Xin Nien Huai Le"s while you grope around trying to place the receiver on your ear.

If that doesn't prove a health hazard, the monster eating sprees would soon settle that score. Food, food and more food! Increasingly, Chinese New Year has become an excuse to just pig out shamelessly (and thereafter forking out another bundle of moola to gorge our bodies in super slimming therapies to rid the guilt). How much more decadent can we get?

Anyways, I didn't eat much this year coz I was still recovering from flu, plus the fact that I wasn't in the mood for celebration. I've got a couple of angpows though, so that's not too bad. And I could see some good things happening - three of my aunts have responded positively to me taking them to church next Sunday (I hadda wrench them out from their very tight weekend mahjong schedule). I mean, these are aunts who had seen how impossibly bratty and spoiled I was as a young child.... so I guess they wanna check out just what kinda institution could "religionise" a person like me. Whatever.

Today I gotta get stuff from the market so we could cook for a deluge of relatives coming tomorrow, on top of my cousin and his girlfriend who's staying overnight tonight. I love having people around the house (so long as they don't try to matchmake me).

This being the lunar Year of the Canine really brings back wistful
memories of my three dachsunds, all of whom died in the same year. Two were run over by cars, and one died of old age. There were many visits to the vet and I wished I had known about dog insurance back then. Just that pet insurance wasn't very popular. These days, people are more market-savvy and would definitely shop around and compare to settle for the best pet insurance in town.

But hey, Chinese New Year is the time for celebration, rejoicing and of course the big feast!!! And who knows, I may recover and get myself Dachshund #4.

Weekend Rant

Conversation between two friends.

MY: It's the year of the dog. That means it's "our year". We are old farts.

BT: But we have been old farts longtime ago, buddy.

MY: True, but I sure didn't feel like one till... ok, till I had that darned carpal tunnel flipping syndrome, ok? At least I thought I was still immortal...

BT: ...till the delusions dissipated. Wake up, woman! We are old, old! In medieval times we would have had grandkids at our age.

MY: In medieval times we would have died from childbirth, too. Or worse, from some bubonic plague and childbirth. I dunno which is worse - dying young, bloodstained and naked with bad skin, or dying old with botox and bad skin.

BT: Either way you still die.

MY: Yeah, but I sure want to make my life count! I mean, I am an old fart and still haven't done all I am supposed to do!

BT: Aren't you supposeda wait for God's timing?

MY: Easy for you to say! You're not the one in stucksville (or should it be "sucksville") wondering if you'll ever go out to frontline missions again!

BT: As far as I know, Abraham waited plenty years before heading out to the unknown yonder.

MY: Excuse me, Abraham also had plenty of property, not to mention camels and whatever animal-stock while on his wandering circuit.

BT: So now you want some camels?

MY: Very funny... but come to think of it, a new set of wheels wouldn't hurt...

BT: But would it help?

MY: I guess not. (Beat.) No amount of material possession would, not when it is merely used as a substitute for a deeper hunger. Thing is, I have been out of action for 5 years. And that's a mighty long time! I've been waiting for open doors all these while and... I am tired! I will get old and frail and unable to be of any use anymore!

BT: Hmmm...for that, I think God will imprison you a while longer.

MY: I really hate talking to you...

Dear God, when I get impatient, help me to understand that ultimately, it's not my will nor desires that matter.

Relinquishing Control

I have only responded to altar calls in my new church ("new" as in the present one I am attending, of which I had become a member of, and am currently worshipping in) two times.

Number 1 happened years ago when I was hopelessly lost and drifting in a sea of confusion after an upheaval of faith. Number 2 happened today. It was a simple message, a call to go to missions, and it basically spoke to every part of me. Usually I would be sceptical and wary of making an emotional response (especially during altar calls), but today, none of those things came to mind as I got out from my seat and ran the distance to the front of the stage. There was no conflict or whatever of that sort as I whizzed past the aisle. All I was thinking was: "I really want to be prayed for... I am commiting myself to this thing, come what may... and if I perish, I perish... so help me God."

As I got out, I saw that I was the only person out there. In a congregation of 2,000 people, I was the only person in front, where every pair of eyes (that'll be 4,000 eyeballs, thanks for the math) were watching. Great job Michelle, always ending up being a spectacle when it is least desired. Anyways, it was too late to pull back (nor did I intend to), so I walked right up to the front of the stage and basically avoided looking at the musicians right in front of me, just in case I find them staring back.

Thankfully, some other people trickled in after that. One guy I've seen several times in church came and stood beside me. When I saw him I instinctively gave him two thumbs up. He reciprocated. (Must have been a sight, two people in full view of the entire congregation giving each other finger signals.)

Some people prayed for me (two ladies, to be specific). I got prayed for by a second lady coz I didn't leave the altar after the first prayer (I didn't know I was supposed to).

So, this is it. The entire thing is basically in God's hands. My arms still hurt, but heck, I'll take pain over loss of sensation anyday. I am so thankful my hands are still functioning, if somewhat painfully. Some people don't even have that luxury.

Meaning in Pain

Executioners of that day drove their spikes through the wrist, right thru the carpal tunnel that houses finger-controlling tendons and the median nerve. It is impossible to force a spike there without crippling the hand into a claw shape. Jesus had no anesthetic. He allowed those hands to be marred and crippled and destroyed. (In His Image, Dr Paul Brand)

It is good to be able to type again, no matter how briefly it may be. Heck, it is good just to feel the keys on the (newly-installed, 2nd-hand) ergonomic keyboard. After weeks of being misdiagnosed with carpal tunnel syndrome/ arthritis/ fibromyalgia; I am glad to be back in action, thanks to my mother who took really good care of me. She should consider a career in nursing.

Pain is a terrible thing. Or it can be a wondrous gift, depending on which perspective one happens to be swaying towards. On one hand, it is a situation no one wants to encounter but which everyone does, in one form or another. No one is exempt. Pain visits your body, emotions and mental faculties, gnawing where it matters and leaving a trail of vivid memories.

But is there meaning to pain?

Ah... the age-old medical question! In physical terms, pain is an in-built human mechanism that naturally triggers a warning when something goes wrong with our bodies, or when certain areas need attention. Talk to a leprosy patient and he will tell you how he wished he could feel pain. I know because I shook the right stump (what had remained of his hand) of one such person and saw the shocked reaction on his face. I guess he didn't see that gesture coming at him. He had lost his left arm, some parts of his face and his right palm because he was unable to feel pain.

In fact, pain is a gift that not many people appreciate nor ask for. Many would seek explanation for medical issues associated with it, and the lucky ones will find a diagnosis. Others live with it. And sometimes it goes on for years. Ask me why a loving God would allow His children to suffer and I definitely would not be able to answer satisfactorily. But note: It is exactly the love that is God that allowed the cruelty of the cross - raw, non-edited, on-your-face. It is something the natural mind finds hard to comprehend. It is grasped by faith, a total reliance and belief on a Person and on that Person alone.

Wait and Ponder

As of today, I will not be using my arms anymore, not unnecessarily anyways. *sigh* (my friend Crystal is typing this post) I have a few more hours til nightfall, so I can actually drive myself home, bring a book to a friend, umm.., return money to another friend (who actually paid for my wrist splint) and eat my meal without being fed.
I HATE CARPAL TUNNEL SYNDROME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Complaints aside, what is God teaching me through this? Do I actually need more pain in my life? Hmm, maybe I do. First, my right arm was gone, then my left arm decided to follow suit. Great. One of the things about pain and suffering is that the more you get it, the more you get used to it. It's a sick way of being positive but I guess compared to the pain and suffering that Jesus went through, what I have is peanuts (not that I want more...)

So I walked through the bookstore today and the horrible thought struck me, "What if I permanently stay this way? I would be totally dependant on someone else to drive me around, type out my thoughts, open the car door for me... AARRGGHHHHH

*Another sigh* So I read all these books on pain. On suffering. Our humanness. But to go through it is another thing altogether. And it would help if it doesn't hurt that much to hold up a book to read either. Always told God that He had better take me home than to allow me to remain on earth as a vegetable. But I guess I shouldn't be dictating the scene of my martyrdom, huh?

Being incapacitated on both arms, although not entirely, is a new experience and a new kind of imprisonment. Seeing how much I value freedom, this has got to be the lowest of the lowest pit. Ugh. But God has a plan, God has a plan. Maybe this is a time for me to rest. Not just physically, but to really slow down in every area of my life and wait. And ponder.

*Sigh*

Retirement Town?

Maybe. It's a great place to spend an undisturbed quiet weekend, but not terribly thrilling for city slickers used to nocturnal excitement and bright lights. Sleepy town of Bagan Dato, Perak, West Malaysia.

Raw Palm Fruit

Shaggy and husky stuff on the outside

...can be removed to reveal the naked fruit...





...up close.

Pain and Suffering

The thing about being disabled is that beyond the frustration, pain and inconveniences, one learns to adapt. Whether it is a temporary setback or a permanent condition, the adaptation curve of course, largely depends on one's attitude.

My friend's wife suffered a series of minor strokes last week. She had platlet complications as well as diabetes and high blood pressure. We prayed in the face of a very scary situation. She bounced back, and will be discharged from hospital in a couple more days. She lost motor funtion on her left body though, and will have to go through extended periods of physiotherapy.

I have lost the full use of my right arm for close to 3 weeks. First it was frozen, and when it thawed out it hurt when I moved my wrist. Practically lost my ability to grip. People prayed for me too, but my condition seemingly got worse. I figured this was the "forced rest" that my body needed, although my brain keeps psycho-ing it to push the limits just a little bit more.

Adapting to a disablement is never easy, even when it is not serious. Frustration and anger may be initial responses as nerves and tendons gang up on you, especially with looming deadlines and gazillion other things to do. Stressful.

Then acceptance dawns. That one is not immortal after all, that one day (nearer now than before) we all die and what remains is how we have lived - either for ourselves or for God. Then you start to look at people in a different light. You see beauty in places you've never really appreciated them before - in a deformed child, in a badly-burnt victim, in a multiple sclerosis patient. No, you don't just see beauty in them, you identify with them. For a moment, you actually know how it feels to live in an imperfect body.

Does it take pain and suffering to open our eyes? And our hearts? Granted, pain and suffering mean different things to different people, but one thing binds us all in common. We flee from suffering like it is the plague.

It would take longer for my friend's wife to recover than it would for me. For that, I am thankful. But more so for the fact that I've had the chance to partake of this side of humanity that is (understatedly) unpopular and shunned, that many obhor and avoid. And was able do it because Jesus had gone ahead of me.

School's Out!

Two village girls taking a breather from playing. Its the school holidays and their parents are at work. No better time to get into mischief...

Wisdom

As Os Guinness puts it:

As we get older, our reflexes are slower and our powers of retention smaller, and we certainly have no more idea now of what the future may hold. But a large part of wisdom comes from the accumulated experience of knowing what the future will not hold, and that vital wisdom increases as we get older. In other words, comprehension and wisdom improve even as memory falters. Wisdom is a matter of the quality of what we know, not the quantity.
--- (Prophetic Timeliness - A Challenge to the Idol of Relevance)

How comforting.

Seat With A View

Advance booking required for this seat



Grand view but you need to fit in here

And be constantly excited by the sight of raw food

Starting Young

Blissfully innocent and completely curious, this little girl tagged along with her parents while they shopped at the evening market during the fasting month of Ramadhan.

Rising From Mud

Was it worth getting stuck in super-mud (soft, coastal muck that sticks to your feet like cement), feeding 20 mosquitoes on one arm and risk getting camera lens wet in the drizzling rain to shoot a half-ripened pineapple in the middle of a village field?

Yes.

He Cares

Finished studying the book of Ruth this week. Good exegesis, but personally I found it bordering on the stuff romance books are made of... you know, widowed woman who "just so happened" to glean at elibigle bachelor's field, caught his attention, found out he was a kinsman-redeemer (a relative who in ancient Israel was responsible for the welfare of his relatives), hatched a plan to propose and eventually married him. Ahem.

In a nutshell, that's how God providentially cares for his people (in this case Ruth, as a foreigner, didn't even qualify). But He cared nevertheless. Makes me think of how His grace had worked and provided for my life, even at times when I didn't acknowledge or wanted Him to be around.

I do see Him around, though. In many instances in my life. One of them is during dinner. Mealtimes can tell you a lot about a family. I never really had that chance while growing up coz our family stayed apart - I was at the babysitter's, my brother with granny, dad was away for very long periods and my mom worked till late. Oh, we had meals together during festive seasons, and even that felt wierd. Made me long for my companion the tv (or books) instead.

But a strange (and wonderful) thing happened 2 years ago. My brother and his small family moved back with my parents and we started to have meals together, every night. In the beginning it was surreal. Here we are, all grown up and doing things we didn't get to enjoy while we were kids. Of course it was awkward at first, conversations were stilted and uncomfortable, but after two years, this practice slowly crept into our lives and took root.

Now conversation flows freely (most times), and dinnertime has become the most important part of the day where everyone pauses to thank God for His blessings. God is honoured at the dinner table. Guests who eat with us are are often blessed, even as it is our privilege to have them.

What a contrast! In the place of swearing, yelling and violence, we now have peace, kinship and care. Our family is the first amongst both maternal and paternal clans to experience this kind of goodness. My take? God's invisible hand has been working behind the scenes all these while after all...

Breaking Fast

Woke up at 4.30am to eat leftovers from the earlier day's supper, along with some friends. Well, at least it beats having cheeseburgers...

Occupy, occupy

Nothing is so unbearable to a man [sic] as to be completely at rest,
without passions, without business, without diversion, without study.
He then feels his nothingness, his falseness, his insufficiency, his
dependence, his weakness, his emptiness... (Blaise Pascal).

I really think so too, Blaise. How can we, bunch of do-ers as we are, ever reconcile the fact that in our innermost beings we are actually frail, insufficient, dependant and weak? We don't. We just ignore and hide it. By doing things.

My problem is that I am always doing something. Or thinking about doing it. Even in my emptiness, I still devise plans on the next project, next undertaking (worthwhile or not is another matter altogether). Blame it on the Type A syndrome, or high sugar intake, or grandma's super strong influence (she never seemed to stop doing housework - nor any work for that matter).

Hey, I dunno why I am wired this way, ok?

I do know however, that this weekend's photo shoot at the coastal village would be fun. Sure, it's work. But it's paid fun, so that's gotta count for something. In fact, the troops leave in exactly 6 hours. Can hardly wait.

Not Just Music

I watched the Eagles Farewell Tour (I) today with my godbrother. I have not done that since... forever. We used to play in the same band many years ago, he played the drums and lead guitar, Jason the bass, Jim would alternate on drums and the sound console, Bea on the piano, Su Yin on vocals, me on keyboards. We were a close-knitted group, hung out together most of the time, definitely had fun playing together, cared deeply for each other, etc, etc

At one point, I thought my existence depended on the music practices and the tea-drinking sessions that ensued. I hated the actual performance days coz it lacked experimentation and spontaneity. And I hated the fact that there was actually an audience listening and watching every move I made.

I left the band first. Sailed on a ship (amongst other things) and didn't really return till 5 years later. In between, Jim and Bea left too. Inevitably, we are all part of each other's memories. We may have grown apart or even estranged, but there is something in our relationship that just wouldn't die - despite the passage of time, opinions or new faces.

I hadn't asked them yet, but I suspect each of them - in their heart of hearts - harbour this desire to play together again. It was not just the music. It was the bond that was nurtured by hours of insane practices, between sheets of chord charts, fired by the passion to let the music soar. It was the sound of worship.

Yup, we will probably play together again. When the time is right.

Money Wheel

She was waiting for my friend and I. Medium height, hair pulled back in a ponytail, she adjusted her plastic-framed glasses and gave us a broad smile as we both sat down opposite her at the Indian diner.

My friend and I were prepared. Since the meeting was inevitable, we braced ourselves for the onslaught. And just like any hopeful recruiter, she was eager, motivated and dead-set on the belief that her internet business program would pave her way to financial freedom.

Sometime in the middle of the meeting her story disgorged – she still retained her corporate day job while trying to build a business to support her ageing parents and siblings. Her weekdays are spent working long hours and weekends occupied with business meetings. Commendable. I am surprised that after 4 million similar stories she still had my full attention. Actually, it was more of feeling sad for her.

My friend reckoned that it is “the system of this world” that’s the root of all these problems. She was reading Exodus, the part where Aaron and Moses approached the Egyptian pharaoh and asked for a 3-day reprieve for the Israelite slaves to make sacrifices to God. But the request backfired and the pharaoh was like, hey let’s make these lazy Israelites do more work, since they are paying attention to all these lies about sacrifice.

Are people hamsters? Trapped running on a tyrannical money-wheel that screams faster, faster, faster? How much productivity is enough? How much money is enough?

Sigh.

The brainwashing continues…Outdo! Outsell! Outrun! Out-think! Very soon it would be lights out, kiddo. And our lives would have accounted for little more than just having existed to make up the numbers.

Never had contentment been that elusive. Never had it been more needed.

Fatigue

In the past 24 hours, two guys (on separate occassions) whom I had not met in a couple months told me my face had turned green. As much as I appreciated their honesty, I didn't find their observation very flattering. Of course, it was tactless but at least it was the truth. I checked in the mirror. Disturbing. Sure, I had just recovered from a frozen arm and fever, but I hadn't realised my skin had turned to the colour of chrolophyll in the process.

Sheesh... I hate it when I tire easily and feel weak! There are so many things I cannot do (but would still attempt anyways). I felt so groggy today that I almost became a road menace while driving. Ugh. I hate it when my body doesn't obey. Hate, hate... think I need to sleep now. Too tired to think...

Left-handed Momentarily

Aaaargh! Lost use of right arm and now typing with 1 finger on left hand!!! Several possible reasons - Tennis Elbow. Writers' Cramp. Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. Stressed nerves clumped at base of neck.

Either way it is not good.