The Miry Clay in the Potter's hands goes through the sculpting of His hands and the furnace of His fire to become His jar of clay. For noble purpose or the ordinary, He alone rightfully decides. Of grime and mud, only the Loving Potter will take & create, only the Skillful One will make a masterpiece, only the Faithful will strive to keep it soft till the end.
I commented to Arthur the other day how I
noticed that Asian news casters and psychologists were “used” to cover/ comment
on the recent Dallas shooting on WGNN, because it was a “neutral race” in this
saga. It would seem wrong for a black person to cover the assault on their
race, and too loaded for a white person to do so.
A “Black lives matter” protest passed me
by as I walked towards the train station. One of the banners that caught my eye
read “Asian Americans against police brutality”.
Six years ago, I would not have noticed
these things. My “racial radar” would have been completely insensitive and I would
have taken pride in being “color blind” (ie. I see each individual as he/she
is, and not making much about his/her color). And now, thanks to the Multicultural
Counseling class in Trinity, my time here in the U.S as a minority and a few
jabbing experiences, my racial/cultural journey has begun.
I sometimes lament the loss of my “color/gender
innocence” because sometimes it’s all about being politically correct and it
becomes the overwhelming lens through which things/people are assessed.
Nonetheless, I am grateful for the heightened awareness and sensitivity that I
have. A few key lessons I think I’ve learnt so far are –
Own
my blind spots: admit that I don’t understand the other culture/race. I am
not them, I have not been in their shoes and I do not know what they are
going through. Despite being human or maybe having had similar experiences,
I have no right to assume – not how they think, not how they feel nor how
they should respond. I don’t know how the Malays or Indians feel in
Singapore, nor the Blacks and Hispanics feel in the U.S. And
sometimes I may have discriminated against them knowingly and unknowingly.
Empathize:
even though I don’t understand, I have to try and empathize. They can feel
marginalized and discriminated against even if there was no intention to
do so, they have the right to be angry, they are entitled to feel. They
can have the space and safety to lick their wounds. Do not justify, their
emotions matter and they are real.
Celebrate
and love as God would: Imago Dei. Remember that they are made in the image
of God, lovingly formed by our Heavenly Father, created to reflect His
beauty. He gave us color, He gave us culture, He made us different. Despite all our imperfections, there can be unity in our diversity for at the very least we share
humanity. Look into their eyes, get to know them and love them as our
neighbor. Love, even if they might the enemy.
During one of our morning devotions, I
was telling Mya about Jesus dying on the cross for us. She looked serious as
the picture of Jesus was kinda sad, but it was clear from the look in her eyes
that she did not understand what dying meant.
Why would she? How could she? And a part
of me wishes she never has to understand or grasp what death is.
“Mya, Jesus died on the cross for us. You
see He is pain-pain.”
“Pain-pain!”She frowned and looked concerned, she is
getting it, a little.
“Yes, He endured pain-pain for us so that
we do not have to be pain-pain. He died for sinners like us and took the
punishment for us.”
Punishment – another big word that drew a partial blank.
“Yes, He was punished for us and had a
time-out from His Father. Not because He was naughty, but because we were. It’s
like you were naughty and was gonna get a time-out, but Jesus say He’ll do
time-out for you so you do not have to do time-out!”
She nodded. She understood time-out.
And a time-out He got. “Aloi, Aloi, why
have you forsaken me?”
The pain and the time-out, so that I the sinner
do not have to bear the Father’s wrath for me and be separated from Him.
The cross and the death, so that
I can be justified and washed clean by His blood. So that I do not have to die the death that should have been mine.
The resurrection, oh the resurrection! He
defeated death and it has lost its sting – and we will never need experience
the full deadness of death, ever. Hooray!
***
This is one of my favorite reflections on
the cross. Extracted from Max Lucado’s “He chose the nails”.
History only has one
main event. Mankind’s timeline is dotted with important moments, the spark of
the first flint, the rolling of the first wheel.. who dares to minimize these
events, but who dares compare them with the cross? History only has one main
event.
Scripture only has one
main event. Others matter- but only one is essential. Moses will give you directions
for the wilderness, but no solution for your sin. David’s defeat of Goliath may
reduce your timidity, but only the cross prepares you for eternity. Scripture
only has one main event.
And even in the life of Jesus,
there is only ONE main event. For if there is no cross of Christ, then there is
no truth to Christ.
And when it comes to
your life, the same is true. To remove the cross, is to remove the hinge-pin
from the door of hope, the door of your hope. For if there is no cross, there
is no sacrifice for sin. And if there is no sacrifice for sin, how will you
face a sinless God? Can you cleanse your own sin?
And if there is no cross
of Christ, there is no resurrection of Christ. And if there is no resurrection
of Christ, how will you live again? Will you push back your own grave?
Forgiveness of sins,
deliverance from death, these are the claims of the cross. Let there be no
mistake. The cross is not an event in history, it is THE Event of History.
Thank you God for the cross. So I’ll
cherish the old rugged cross, till my trophies at last I lay down. I will
cherish the old rugged cross and exchange it some day for a crown. Hallelujah!
My precious miss Mya is providing me with
much comic relief, awesome wonder, exasperated worries and tears these days. Here
are a couple of her quotable quotes…
“I want to do it myself” – one of Mya’s pet
phrase of late. Climbing into her car seat, getting up and down the bus for
church, squeezing her toothpaste, opening the door of the fridge, climbing up
onto the bathroom sink, reaching for something on the top shelf (she would
reverse any attempts to make the object easier to reach, and then go for it
again herself)… No, don’t help me! I'm Miss Independent!
“Don’t
cut it!” – Mya likes her apple, pear, strawberry, orange, bread… whole. Don’t even try
giving her half of a banana, she will go bonkus. She went through an entire bag
of apples all by herself, biting into each one of them and refusing to let me
slice even one.
“Three more … ok?” – M&Ms, raisins,
Kai-Lan, Dora, Veggie Tales… She says it with her voice slightly raised and big
eyes rolled upwards and sideways at “ok?”, like Miss-know-it-all. Like any toddler, it does not really stop at 3. She is getting pretty good at negotiating.
“That’s Mya’s Daddy” – Mya blurted out
when she saw Arthur hold Elliot one evening.
“How about let’s leave Didi in the crib?”
– In midst of all the hugs and kisses that she showers on Elliot and her
wanting to hold and burp him; a sure sign that the transition to being an older
sister is not all roses.
“Don’t leave me Mummy…” – This one got to
me instantaneously when she first said this, shortly after i came back with Elliot. I missed time with Mya throughout
the 9 months of pregnancy, and then had to be gone to deliver, and then be gone
again for the bilirubin saga… I wasn’t the only one who noticed. This is used more
recently when she wants me in her room when she goes to bed.
“I am a beautiful princess..” – she
sings, twirling round and round in the living room. Yes, you are my beautiful
princess, precious. Don’t grow up too fast now, I love you!
I love the way you hang on me like a
koala, the way you study the things around you, how expressive you are when
you’re hungry or uncomfortable – all the tiny and big noises that you make, how you're on the verge of smiling, how you love nursing, how you perk up at your daddy's voice…
And as much as I love you now, I look
forward to loving more of you and getting to know you better as you grow. I
love you, buddy!
I started this post (below) in the first week of
Elliot’s birth but never got around to finishing it in time. Although the content might
seem dated now, it seems fitting to remember at this milestone...
Bilirubin Saga
Even when we were in the midst of it, I knew this
was just going to be a small blip in the big scheme of things. However, it did
not stop me from wrenching when I saw how much blood they had to draw from
Elliot’s little feet for the bilirubin tests; or bursting into tears when I got
a call from the doctor to go back into the hospital with the newborn for
phototherapy, just a day after being discharged.
Once we got in, it was a continuous cycle of being
in the “UV incubator” for 2-3 hours, nursing/feeding for 15-3o min (I tried to
sneak in as much time to hold Elliot as I can, but the nurses kept me on task),
changing diapers, checking vitals, and drawing blood every 6 hours; for the
next 40+ hours.
There was a short reprieve when Arthur came with
Mya and my mother for a visit. We were able to sneak in watching “Big Hero Six”
and “Inside Out”. It would have been harder to bear if not for the visit and supportive
nurses. Thank you God for working everything out!
This saga gave me a newfound respect for parents
who have to go through harder things with their children. I don’t know how they
do it. I am sure God will give us what we need to rise to the occasion, but I
don’t know how I am going to stomach stitches, broken bones, surgeries, … And
my heart broke when I saw pictures of a refugee feeding her son with a milk
bottle on the ground. This sure sets waking up every 2-3 hours in perspective!
Squirt
Nick Parker (The Parent Trap) called his
daughter Haley “Squirt”. It was cute and I contemplated that as a nickname for
Elliot for a while, especially since the movie is one of Arthur and my all-time
faves and we watched it together when we were in the hospital for Elliot’s
birth.
That is, until the “projectile motion”
caught me by surprise. Needless to say, it was nixed as a possible nickname
contender as it proved to be too loaded and close for comfort.
I don’t mean physically. I’m losing
patience and not being very kind with the rudder in my mouth these days. First
it was my dad, and now with him gone; I find myself being short with my mother
who has been nothing but an angel serving us tirelessly in the last few months.
Argh! I wish there was a way to think before speaking! Sorry Mummy and thank you for being so patient with me.
And predictably enough, I haven’t given Arthur
the easiest of times. And I’m not sure what’s legit and what is me being a
crazy and difficult wife any more. Maybe I’ll wish I would take the below back
some time later, but now I just need a space to rant – with my sister is
halfway across the world and I have “no friends I can call” (at this unearthly
hour, and I’ve talked to Jesus already)!
“Thank you for being at Leverage. It was
special for me that Elliot was there, and even more special that you were there.”
– why would you thank me for doing something that I want to do, or do you not
believe that I want to be there “on my own”/ as much as you want me to? And you
know the last part is not true, at least I don’t believe it to be. You wanted
to show off Elliot and it’s his first physical outing to church, what could be
more special than that?
“I cannot tell when you like people or
just tolerate them”
– am I so difficult that I don’t like a lot of people and
just tolerate them? Am I that difficult to read, really? And in the context of
having couple friends, what does it matter if I like them “on my own” or “because
of you?” Eventually I have to like them enough for there to be a friendship,
right? So what if I become friends with them through you? Plus, I made and have
friends apart from you, no? I don’t wonder that with you (ie. Liking my friends’
husbands/ boyfriends), you have a higher bar for me? Or you don't trust me enough?
I miss many friendships from Singapore
(they’re my childhood friends! And I still have them virtually…), but I am not
living a “lesser social life” here in the States. I need no sympathy.
And then, at least I went to you when I had
beef with you, but you would rather tell the church connection card that you need
prayers for our marriage problems? Seriously?!
Despite speculation that he will arrive early,
Elliot "held in there" until our scheduled induction. I was 6cm
dilated that morning when we checked in around 7:30am, and Nurse Diana
exclaimed, “how is it that you have not given birth already?!”
“Well, I’m glad that I will today!” I replied.
**
On our drive to the hospital, I reflected that I
did not have very much “anticipatory excitement”. I was super looking forward
to meeting Elliot, and was filled with joy that I would see him face to face
soon. But other than the physiological symptom of sleepless nights the week
prior, I was not “counting down” like Arthur nor had butterflies in my stomach.
Maybe it was the fact that it could have happened
any day and I did not want to get my hopes up and down on a daily basis, my
coping mechanism was to make preparations so I would be ready; and then live
each day as “normally” as I possibly could and not think too much about the
event happening. “When it happens, it happens” was my mantra.
I wonder if this would not be a good parallel
whilst waiting for Jesus – whether after this life or for Him to come again in
this one. Get ready and be prepared (this can mean so many things as shown by
the parables, but I posit that at the very least is to know and have a
relationship with Him), live each day on earth that He has given as faithfully
as possible in the “now but not-yet” reality, and then look forward to the joy
of seeing Him face to face (so that any loss associated with death or regrets
associated with missed opportunities is counted as gain).
**
Things proceeded very smoothly in the hospital. They
started me on the oxytocin drip at 8am, Dr. Lee came to break my water bag
shortly after and then the contractions began. They got stronger progressively
and by 9am, I was ready for the epidural.
I made it a point to share with them my experience
with Mya’s birth – the anesthesiologist was careful not to give me too strong a
dose because of my height, and I was literally watching the clock so I can push
for more epi every 15 minutes. So this time around, they gave me a stronger
dose which worked like a charm. Other than pins and needles in my legs, I hardly
felt the contractions. I was even able to watch “You’ve got mail” with Arthur
and take a short snooze.
Slightly past 12pm, I felt more pressure and called
for the nurse who did not come.
And at around 1pm, Nurse Diana came in to check on
me. “Oh! The head is right there! Ok time to push soon!” She paged for Dr. Lee and made the necessary
preparations.
Dr. Lee came in at around 1:25pm. I pushed once and
then was told to wait for the next contraction. When the next one came, I pushed
hard twice and Elliot was born at 1:33pm! Because he came out too fast, Elliot
was a tat bruised in his face.
9lbs 1 oz, 22 inches. He was a big baby, but he
seemed so little to me. Welcome to the world my son, my little Elliot. I love
you, all of you, every bit of you, so very much already.
Susan shared this song with us and it could not
come at a better time. Thanks honey for “bugging the forgetful me” to listen to
this!
"I Get To Be The One"
Well hello,
Little baby.
Your eyes have never seen the sun
You should know
Little baby
That I am the lucky one
I get to be the one to hold your hand
I get to be the one.
Through birthdays and broken bones
I'll be there to watch you grow
I get to be the one.
Don't feel alone now,
Little baby.
Do you hear me singing you a song
I can't wait to show you
Little baby
How to crawl
How to walk
And how to run
I get to be the one to hold your hand
I get to be the one.
Through birthdays and broken bones
I'll be there to watch you grow
I get to be the one.
How does someone so small
Hold my heart so tightly
I don't even know you
I love you completely
I get to be the one to hold your hand
I get to be the one.
Through birthdays and broken bones
I'll be there to watch you grow
I get to be the one to hold your hand
I get to be the one.
Through birthdays and broken bones
I'll be there to watch you grow
I get to be the one.
“How are you feeling?” I’ve often been
asked throughout the pregnancy. I never know how much people really want to
know, and what they expect to hear.
Did they want to hear about my morning
sickness, puking and heartburn in the first trimester?
Were they “satisfied” with my “it’s going
as well as it could be” response?
Was it too much information to tell them
about my hemorrhoids, body aches and sleepless nights this past week?
And judging from their laughter, I guess
these few analogies hit home-run...
“I’m stomping around like an elephant and
waddling around like a duck”
“I’m competing with the snail here…”
I’m quite content if the conversation
about my pregnancy just ends there. But sometimes, the envelope is pushed and I
can tell from my shorter fuse that I’m gradually losing my humor about the
situation. So bear with me as I air some of the mental conversations that I do
not always articulate –
The
second baby does not always come faster. I had to induce Mya at 37 weeks,
so by all standards, this little one is “later” already. And I do not want
to have any false hopes for the labor, though I pray that it’ll be smooth
and fast. I had been 4cm dilated for 2 weeks, and now I am 5 cm dilated.
The baby could come anytime, or not till next week.
Some
may wonder about our decision to induce. But I am really really really
glad that we decided to induce next Wednesday (ie. 27th, 3 days
before the due date on the 30th). Coz you know, the due date
does not mean anything, and the baby could well come past the due date. I
think I would be a lot more impatient and go crazy if I did not have a “concrete
end date” in sight at this point.
I
am huge, the largest I’ve been and will be hopefully – I did not go this
far in my pregnancy with Mya. So yes, I don’t just look like I am ready to
pop; I am ready to pop. I have been for the past month. But the timing is
not up to me is it? All I can do is to trust God’s timing.
As
for “feeling something/contractions”, does that matter? I’m still not in
labor.
Sigh I have been such a whiney mommy this
time around, and it will totally be my fault if I have a whiney baby. In any
case, we’re in the home stretch now. I’m mentally prepared for Wednesday
afternoon’s induction, and am feeling a lot less impatient. Maybe because most
of my mental energy is now diverted to dealing with the incisions made to
remove the blood clots from my hemorrhoids.
What an irony that I am counting so
little of my blessings for a relatively smooth pregnancy this time around. Lord
forgive me! Though, any day/moment earlier will be a bonus/ grace – Let Your will
be done!
Always be killing sin or it will be
killing you ~ John Owens
Last Thursday night’s Leverage session
was about battling temptation. The application was for us to identify a sin,
stalk it and kill it. Starting with identifying the top 3 sins during this
season of my life.
The first one came to mind almost
immediately. Laziness. I’ve opted to sleep instead of reading God’s Word on the
train, almost every day last week. Not good.
Then I was stuck identifying the next
one. I’m sure there are plenty of ways I’m falling short of His glory (not
loving God and my neighbor enough, not sharing the Gospel more, etc…), but I
had trouble coming up with something “more active” that I can or want to
actually work on to address my recent spiritual dullness.
So I joked with the group that, well sloth
is certainly a big one coz now I’m even too lazy to come up with the second
sin. I thought it was a pretty good joke but in reality, it’s not very funny.
The paradox of holiness is such that the
more holy you are, the bigger the sinner you are. Screwtape’s strategy to leave
me cruising is obviously working pretty well.
But God showed me the next day that He
was not done with me, and is still at work in me. Praise the Lord! The “thorn
in my flesh” arrived on Friday in the person of my father, and there has been
so many ways that he’s holding up the mirror to my face and showing me how
impatient, ungracious, judgmental self-centered and dishonoring to him I am.
I shall not go into specifics that I may
end up “justifying my sin”. But I pray
and hope that this is just a transition period, and I will learn how to love my
father and enjoy him in the short time that he is here. To confess, stalk and
kill these sins; and put words and theories into action.
The silver lining to it all is that the
Holy Spirit convicted me, and allowed me to see the sin in my ungodly response to
him. All that in light of my self-righteousness on Thursday! It took less than
24 hours to take me down from my higher ground. I am truly thankful for
glimpses that He will complete the work that He began in me, so that I might be
with Him in eternity. God have mercy on me!
In the midst of shopping, food, beautiful
decorations, family traditions, gifts and all the holiday fun, it’s almost too
easy to let the Christ of Christmas “slip through the cracks”.
The Christ of Christmas who is the reason
for this day.
The Christ of Christmas, my precious Lord
Jesus.
The Christ of Christmas who came down
from glory to live in miry dust.
The biggest Gift wrapped in humility and goes so easily
unnoticed.
The Christ of Christmas Day.
***
Last Sunday, Pastor Colin quoted Donald Macleod who said, “There was a unique bond between the Father
and the Son arising from the fact that the Son was uniquely lovable and the
Father was uniquely affectionate. God could not have made a greater sacrifice.
His love is astonishing precisely because at this point He put the world before
His Son. The statement ‘God gave the world for His Son’ would evoke no wonder,
but ‘God gave His Son for the world,’ borders on the incredible”…
And Pastor Colin went on to elaborate – So look at this love of Christ! God so loved you that he gave his only
Son for you. Here is the Father face-to-face with the Son he loves. He did not
give up you for his Son. Hegave up
his Son for you.
Thank you God for giving up Your Son for me. I don’t know
how You do it, but You did so that I can be like Jesus and call You Father.
Thank You.
***
My new song for this Christmas – The
Shepherd’s Lamb
A stable bare,
a starlit sky,
and under Heaven’s watchful eye
a miracle in manger lay,
the Lamb of God upon a bed of hay.
The first news of this glorious birth
was told to those of little worth,
who left their flocks,
as angels said,
to find the Lamb of God in manger bed.
The shepherds paused at stable door,
looked on the Lamb and in Him saw
their own Good Shepherd, born a Lamb,
themselves the flock within the Shepherd’s hand.
With shepherds gaze in wonder on
the mystery of Heaven’s plan:
The Shepherd, born to live with us,
is born to die for us, the shepherds’ Lamb.
We found out today that we're having a boy!
There is a feeling of unsettledness in midst of the joy.
And i know that's precisely why
God has given to us this little guy.
A reminder to trust Him more than we think we need,
Holding tightly to His hand in this unfamiliar terrain.
"What will I do with a boy? How will I raise a man?"
(Not that we have the answers for Mya)
We'll try to follow and rest, as He unfolds His plan!
A few days back i thought, God knows who we need.
Prayed, for me to not have a will and Yours be done.
It has been a long silence and I
apologize for that! To play catch-up on the time lost, here’s a brief log of my
favorite Mya-memories. It might be a little mundane to read, but pardon this
mother who is trying so hard to hold onto all the moments for as long as she
can. The gems fade away too quickly in time. And just for fun, i peppered it with some of recent my frivolous movie "out-ings" or should i say "in-tings" or "movie-ay-cation".
Late June
We went to Singapore to visit the family,
and play tourists in the sunny island. It was so fun to watch her play at all
the water parks, swimming pools and water fountains. It was also great to have
help while battling with fatigue and morning sickness.
Mid July
It was our goal to gradually wean Mya
over the next few months. It involved much tears, bribes and distraction. But I
think she’s getting it. No more middle of the night nursing, and she could just
sleep in bed with me without wanting something else. It felt good that she just
wanted to be with me, and not for something that she wanted.
Late July
Arthur went away to Colorado last weekend
for a French House reunion. What was initially a “I hope I’ll survive the four
days with Mya myself” became a special time that I am afraid to forget.
I loved going to bed beside her every
night, and waking up to her tiny face.
I loved spending time with her at
breakfast, at lunch and at dinner; at the park, in the store and by the lake. I
loved it when she tried to be silly and make me laugh.
She made the four days seem almost too
easy, and for that I am thankful – to God, to all the help I got and to her. I also did a Sandra-Bullock romantic-comedy weekend (whilst "pinning for Arthur". Gotta keep that love tank up. It was fun. Any suggestions for the next "thematic" movie weekend?
Saturday, Aug 1st
She stood on top of the flight of the
steps, and called out “Weixiu!” in her loud voice. It was the first time that
she called my name, even though she’s been calling her daddy “Honey” for a while
now. She picks up on what we say, she really does!
Saturday, Aug 8th
Mya fell out of her crib the day before,
and that was our sign that she needed to graduate to her big bed. I was also
hopeful that this will mark a new season of her sleeping, with the promised
land being “sleeping through the night”! So Arthur set up her new den.
She still ended up in the bed with us for
that night, because Arthur brought her in. He could not bear for another
milestone to be over so soon.
Sunday, Aug 9th Singapore
National Day
She slept in her bed all by herself till
the morning! It has not happened consistently yet, but there is hope! And she
ate the Singaporean curry chicken. You go girl! I love your wide palate, and
let’s keep that growing!
Saturday, Aug 15th
Something that Mya loves saying these
days is “I love it! I love it! I love it!” And at some point today, her “I love
it” became “I love you” – mummy! I could not squeeze her hard enough.
We gave her some Kahlua vanilla ice-cream
shake in the evening, and she could not get enough of it. It was so funny and
her delightful “I love it!” made it hard to resist giving her the next mouthful.
Don’t report us for starting her so early!
It was pretty mild and very delicious. Even I could not get enough of it.
It’s funny, I was watching the movie “Words
and Pictures” last night. Here I am, trying to use words to describe these
pictures in my mind.
If I could capture everything on reel all
the time and be able to watch them over and over again, it might be enough. But
as it is, words are all I have to help me etch these memories forever in this
space.
Oh and about movies... did i mention that I finally watched Austenland, and LOVED it, and am having a little JJ Feild fan-crush? Could Mr Nobley really replace Mr Darcy? Maybe it's time for me to watch Pride and Prejudice again.
I’ve started watching A.D The Bible
continues. I’m sure the show took much creative liberties. But it definitely
stirred things in me that I’ve not felt before, reading the Bible all these
years.
In the first 2 episodes, which were centered
around the disciples’ response to Jesus’ crucifixion and ascension, it struck
me anew just how terrified the disciples were. Especially after Jesus’ death,
they were fearful for their own lives – not to mention the state of confusion,
hopelessness and grief they were in. Claims that they would have stolen Jesus’
body could not be more incredulous. How could anyone even believe that?
In painting the broader picture that
sometimes in not immediately obvious from the Bible if one does not have a too
fertile imagination, the show is causing me to spend a little more time
thinking about the physical context when I read the Bible now.
The show needs a villain, or should I say
villains. Any sympathy that I had for Pilate was completely decimated by the
show. I don’t know much about Pilate’s life, aside from what is in the Bible;
and I’ve often sympathized with the spineless coward. He was a victim of the
wicked mob.
But how the show filled in the blanks
about his character, political agenda and role after Jesus’ death to cover up
His resurrection, made me think that my sympathy was misplaced. He was evil,
and deserved to be remembered as the one whom Jesus suffered under every time
the church recites the Apostle’s creed.
Last but not least, well, I’ve been
dragging my feet to watch the last 2-3 episodes. Mainly because it is so
violent (disclaimer: my threshold is pretty low) and it’s causing a real
heaviness when I watch it. The last time I watched an episode, I could not bear
to finish it in one sitting because it was just too much. Sure, part of it
might have been for visual effects and viewership. But there is more than an ounce
of truth in all that violence during that time, isn’t there?
All the flogging, beating, throwing into
prison, persecution and killing that are recorded in the Bible. It’s not just a
word on a page. Blood splattered, flesh split, bones broke, many crucified,
people died – horribly. It was violent, terribly and horribly violent.
Jesus said, “Do not suppose that I have come
to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace but a sword”. (Matt
10:34) I often forget that the peace that God came to offer between Him and
mankind, does not always translate to there being peace on earth.
I need to offer a word of caution to
myself, to be careful and not let the visual images from the show sink too
deeply and unhelpfully color how I read the Bible in the future. But may God
help me and everyone watching the show, know Him better, love Him more and know
the costs that were paid for us to have the Gospel today.
My stash of “pretty” paper bags were
recently disposed of by Arthur, without my knowledge. He did not think we would
be having a conversation about it. But he’s wrong.
I was/am upset about it, but not THAT
upset.
Upset enough to stop him in his tracks
and demand a conversation when I discovered the “horrific truth”.
Upset enough to not share his amusement
nor appreciate his attempts at being “cute”. And I still do not see the humor
in the situation.
Upset enough that I could not talk to him
for an hour, and possibly gave me the energy to do my first 30 minutes run in 2
years.
Upset enough that I am on the verge of an
online shopping spree just to make me feel better.
Upset enough to make him promise to not
throw away any of my things without checking with me in the future.
I
did not know I need to explicitly state that “respecting each other” also
meant we do not throw each other’s things away.
It’s
not a fair comparison, but his actions reminded me of a certain uncle who
likes to throw his wife’s things away, including food in the pantry that
is perfectly good. Needless to say, that uncle is somewhere up there in
the “crazy people in my life” list.
Not that upset because, I know in the big
scheme of things, this does not really matter. It’s actually a little frivolous
because they are but a stack of shopping and gift paper bags. Not that upset
because I would be fine without them, eventually.
Not that upset because I am actually able
to look at myself from the outside and not go too crazy with the conversations in
my head. Not that upset because i don't think i'll start hiding what things in my closet to "keep them safe".
But still upset because he trivialized
what was important to me.
Upset because we’ve had those
conversations before, and he’s thrown many of them away over time, and yet, something
possessed him to to get rid of the entire stash in the closet.
Upset because well.. who throws someone
else’s things away without even asking?!
And upset because my Mother’s Day post is
hijacked by this need to get this off my chest.
So in loving memory of my paper bags, and
for the safety of my future stash...
I kept/keep them because I like them.
I kept/keep them because I use them. They
serve a purpose and they are not trash. Not every day but often enough – I went
through them just last month! And I would humbly submit that I get to them more
often than some books on our shelves! Which I have no idea when either of us
would ever touch them.
I kept/keep them because they are useful.
When I need to put Mya’s clothes away, when I need to give things away to
people (it’s better than a flimsy Jewel plastic bag!), when I need to haul all
the Christmas presents into the car. They are as useful to me as the zip-lock
bags we have, just for different size things.
Oh and for the record. I could replace
the books if they ever got accidentally treated as trash. And I could buy
zip-lock bags easily if someone ever felt compelled to throw the perfectly good boxes we have in
the drawer away.
But the shopping bags, one could not even
buy them. And even if you asked at the stores, they might not even if them to
you.
And the gift bags, there is usually a
face or an occasion behind each one of them. Or a the very least, a sentiment.
They came to me at Mya’s baby shower, for Christmas, .. And they had the
potential to carry my joy to the next owner.
RIP my paper bags. I am sorry you were taken from me and we had to
part ways without a goodbye.
Guess what Mya’s favorite vegetable is these days. “Raaadish, raadish, radish!” And like any "typical Asian" kiddo, seaweed is a close second.
What was an attempt to use up the Daikon radish in the fridge, became a huge win with Mya. I simply boiled the radish with carrots in a chicken, pork and canpoy stock. I would say it’s delicious though Arthur would probably beg to differ. Thankfully, Mya agreed with me. It was a “small price to pay” for me to share the soup with her, as I was on cloud nine with her getting closer to fulfilling her vegetable quota for the day.
As for seaweed, she likes it on its own, she likes it on her porridge. She likes the big sheets as well as the little crumbles. "Sweed? seweed? Seaweed? Please?"
***
I was told it was going to happen, and it finally did. Twice now. Mya fell down on her face, bruised her upper lip and sustained some loss of blood. Thankfully I only got to see the swollen lip and dried blood after the fact, and she healed pretty quickly both times. Still, there was a little aching in my heart to see her “injury” and know that this will not be the last time she’ll be hurt and I will not be able to protect from the pain in this life.
Thank You Jesus for giving Your life for us - that we may now live and get into heaven when we die. And thank You thank You for being alive! I love You.
We’re trying to teach Mya “please” and “thank
you” these days. It’s been a progression from teaching her to raise her hands
in the air, to say “up!” and now to suffix a “please” when she wants to be
picked up. She’s caught on but not without a few weeks of resistance. Oh child,
if only you knew the power of these magic words!
“Up please!”
“Ok Mya!” And she’s elevated off the
ground into our arms.
I’ve forgotten the beauty of this seemingly
mundane action until I was reminded by Tenth Avenue North at a concert
recently.
**
Arthur, Min and I went to the Chris
Tomlin and Tenth Avenue North concert at Willow Creek on Friday night. It was
our first outing without Mya in the last few months, thanks to Gina for
baby-sitting. Even though I was a sick puppy, my soul was well nourished;
and I left a bigger fan of these brothers in Christ than I was
entering.
It was good and necessary to be reminded
of God’s majesty, splendor, greatness, love and grace. How easily the human
mind forgets –
the God of angel armies is for us and who shall be against
us;
His hands that hold the stars also hold our weak feeble hearts;
the
staggering grace when His love ran red so our sins can be washed white; and
that
He loves us, He loves us, He loves us.
These are truths I know in my head, and
have somehow made small overtime in my heart. God knew what I needed to be
shaken out of my bird brain and chicken heart.
Back to the subject at hand, Tenth Avenue
North had us raise our hands during one of their songs. Mike said (something to
this effect), “We’re not raising our hands to show off or anything. We’re
raising our hands because this is what a child does when he/she wants to be
picked up by his/her father.”
Yes Heavenly Daddy, Up please!
**
May I not forget that I am that little
child wanting and needing to be picked up by my Heavenly Father, each time I see
Mya’s eyes looking up expectantly at me.
May I know the tenderness that God has
for me, that is a million times more than what I feel towards Mya in my best
moment. And at my worst, let me not take for granted Mya’s dependence and affection,
and always treasure this beauty that will not last forever.
May I always be that little child being
dependent on the Father, coming to Jesus and living in the Spirit always. God, up please!
I’ve putting off this blog post for some
time. Because it is hard to believe that he is gone. I am jealous of the memories
that we shared and had, and it is almost as if I’m giving a piece of me to
share them with another…
My friendship with Jung-Min started
almost a decade ago, in the summer of 2006. We were both sent to Beijing by
Thomson Reuters to set up the data operations center there, alongside many
others. It was a unique season.
In our first weekend there, we explored
the ancient city together. I remember sizing up this big Korean guy and
wondered if he was “any good”.
To my delight, I found that he liked to
eat and talk, did not mind me getting us lost and was married. I knew then that
this friend was a keeper.
Plus, he was really easy to please. For
him, ordinary food tasted great, great cuisine tasted “ this is AMAZING!” and
amazing delicacies were “this is AWESOME!” Food always tasted better around
him. Even 10 years later, he still talked about the noodles we had for our very
first hotpot together. He is such sentimental person who takes great delight in
simple things.
Living in the same service apartment,
taking cabs to and from work, working out and hanging out with Min and Erin daily
was good fun. There is never a shortage of good stories from him and with him.
Very early on, Min made it his mission to
chaperone my love life. He would often ask “Do you have a boyfriend?” I would always
say “no” and he would look like a sad puppy. And then he would ask again a few
days later. I guess things tend to happen fast with him.
Finally, one day I said to him, “maybe..
would you like to vet him for me?” He looked like he hit the jackpot. And of
course the rest is history.
Some might have questioned my wisdom in
asking Min, coz he’s not the most disagreeable person. But I knew he loved me
as a friend. That’s enough, and he clearly did right by me. J
Min was so generous with us. Be it
over-ordering at every meal, paying for many expensive meals (Peter Luger,
Trump Towers, Carmichael steak, Korean), treating our families even when we
were not there sometimes (in Beijing, New Jersey and Chicago), buying us our
first grill and keurig, etc. We all created so many fun memories together..
Even Medieval times!
Working alongside him in TR and
Morningstar over the last 10 years was great. He was my best friend at work. I’ve
not had one before him, and I’m not sure I will have another one after him, and
I don’t know if I ever want another.
We were confidantes, honest with each other,
always wanting the best for each other, always having each other’s back. He was
my advocate during the early turbulent months of transition to M*, and taught
me how precious it is that Jesus is my advocate.
He was also a wild card and it’s hard to
predict what would come out of his mouth. I affectionately say, “he asked the
most inappropriate questions” and say the “darnest things”.
He had this positive energy that was
infectious, and everything was a “can-do-it” with him, no matter how difficult
the task at hand was, even when he was fighting his epic battle with MDS.
Another precious yet difficult memory is
reading “Reason for God” with and talking to him about faith over lunches. It
was hard for a “good person like him” to believe that God will not allow him to
heaven, or his “all-inclusive attitude” to accept that that there is only one
straight and narrow path.
It is heartbreaking to know that though
he understood the Gospel, he could not accept it; and that meant that there
will always be a division between us when it came down to what mattered most.
He welcomed and found comfort in our
prayers, when we processed the difficult news about his health over the last 2
years. I pray pray pray hard that somehow Jesus got through to him during those
times. That in the deepest place of his heart, even when he could not longer
speak, he had cried out to Jesus and accepted Him as Lord and Savior. Please
Jesus, please?
I heard this song for the first time in
church today. I’m not able to share the hope in this song with him when he was
alive, I just hope that somehow, this is true for him in eternity. This might
be another song I’d like for my funeral some day…
I miss you Min, very very very much. I
love you, dear friend. Goodbye…
Arthur asked me over dinner if I'd have resolutions this year.
I told him, there are reasons why i stopped having resolutions for many years. Maybe it's the unconscious fear of failure, the chill of being held up to a checklist, the fatigue of having to try to accomplish something, the reluctance to jump on the bandwagon, ... Oh, so many reasons, so many excuses. None good enough to say stop trying though.
So, ok.. Here are my new year resolutions or rather hopes.
Connect
with God intentionally every day
Exercise
regularly – at least once a week
Date
Night monthly
Take
Lent seriously
Read
3 non-marriage books
Stick
to the budget
Work
on discipline and self-control
Experience
something new
Serve/Volunteer
for something
Watch
a movie I’ve always wanted to watch
Keep
a diary – at least one memory a day, blog monthly
Be
pregnant by the end of the year
Even if I accomplish nothing, i have something to look back to at the end of the year, and know what the thoughts of me now.
