Another milestone...

I remember telling myself that I cannot let every entry be about Mya! Being a mother is a huge part of my identity, but not the only one. Yet, I find myself falling into that pattern. And surprisingly, I'm ok with that!
She broke into our world, and is a constant source of inspiration by her sheer presence. Authors and poets have written about far lesser things, so I shan't stinge on this well of love, beauty and joy. :) Even if it's the littlest of things, it's still worth remembering.

Today marks another milestone, we sent Mya to our baby-sitter's and left her there for more than 6 hours. Not that we've not left Mya with family or others before, but in those cases, she's usually home or at Grandma/Grandpa's; and Mummy and Daddy is not too far to rush to her side.
Today, she's out of her comfortable surrounding, and both Daddy and Mummy are at work. So she's there, learning to live and survive, without us close by. I'm so proud of her, but still, my heart was torn a little. Another step she's taken further from us. 

Many more milestones will come for sure - rolling over, sitting up, eating, tasting, etc. Sometimes, I find myself urging her to get there faster - especially when Mah-mah checks in, or when I hear other 4 month olds already getting there.
But my good and faithful Arthur reminded me... Every new milestone is a chapter of her life closing, and there's no turning back. We've not savored the past 5 months worth of golden moments as they deserve, why will we want her to grow faster? Ouch.

“Every milestone is a bitter sweet melting pot of pride that they are growing and getting smarter, and sadness that they can’t stay a small, chubby and innocent baby forever.”
I read this on another mummy's blog the other day. She captured this nagging feeling that I have so eloquently. Growing pains, is not experienced only by the child - the parent hurts as much too.

How can I...

How can I hold her tighter
How can I kiss her more
How can I cuddle her closer
How can I love her more

How can I squeeze her tighter

How can I tickle her more
How can I hug her closer
How can I love her more

Maybe when she’s older

Maybe when there’s more of her
Maybe after we’ve shared a thousand giggles
Maybe after we've hurt each other a million times
Maybe I’ll know then what I cannot imagine now
I can love her so much more

Happy 5 months, Mya! Our lives have been brighter because of you. We love you so very very much!

 

 Wahahahaha.. :)

 

Update

“Every calling is great when greatly pursued” ~ Oliver Wendell Holmes

This is a timely reminder as we stand at the cross-roads this year. Whether or not to take a new role for my work, what Arthur will do, what does our next 5-10 years look like… And you weave into that – where we will stay, should we rent or buy, how we will provide Mya with the best care… There were so many permutations, combinations and options, and we talked each of them to death in the last few weeks. Whilst not everything is clear at this time, I thought I’d provide an update.

Arthur was offered a part-time position at the Orchard Network. It cannot be clearer how God has given him favor with the pastors and leaders there. We/he had not tried to be particularly active in church, nor trying to hard to “get onto people’s radar”; and yet God opened the door for Arthur. And amongst those who interviewed him,

Hutz (the one who hired  him) said, “Arthur, you do not have to prove yourself to me. I hired you because of who you are”. What grace!
Bill Bradish said to me, “your husband, Arthur, is a very special person. He is a very special man.” He was so profuse in his praises of Arthur, that when he finally realized he was talking to me (not him), he apologetically added “you are a special lady too”. Yeah right ;)
We pray that Arthur will greatly pursue the present call on his life, and work and serve in grateful response to the trust that was given.

As for me, we did decide for me to take the new role at work. It’ll likely be more responsibilities (ie. more work and more stress), and possibly mean a little less flexibility (though I still plan to fight tooth and nail, to work from home 2 days a week – I realize that is very important for my state of mind). But I figured that since Min will practically be out for the rest of the year, and much of what’s on his plate will likely fall onto me; I might as well do the same thing for more money. The extra cash will also help us pay off school debts faster, so we can be free to join a mission agency, when that day comes.

It was a hard decision, especially in light of Mya. I’m so thankful for all the advice that was given. I cannot say that I’m proud of the decision, but at least I think I’ve made my peace with it. I can only pray that we will have the courage to step away from a cushy corporate job, the day God calls us to do so.
Meanwhile, I pray that I can greatly pursue to call to be a working MOTHER, to the glory of God.

And for little Mya... Our prayer every day is for her to know the One who greatly pursued her, and respond to His calling on her greatly.

Mama!

I'm really tired, and am just about ready for bed. But I have to make note in history..
My little Mya may have just called me Mama for the first time! It may just be that she's learning to make the "ma" sound. But she wanted me. In the midst of the tears, she cried "mama.. mama..", and quietened only in my arms. I think she knows what she's calling out.
Awwwww... I LOVE being her Mama! Mama Mia (Mya)! :)

Parenting Pouts

There are gender differences, culture differences, family differences and personality differences. The last two are enough to cause quarrels between the most like-minded couple in their first few years of parenting; but you add the first two – it’s no wonder why there hasn’t been a lack of blow-ups between Arthur and me. Second weekend in a row where we wasted precious non-working time squabbling.  

I don’t know what to say. Maybe it’s the hormones, I just get set off at the most unexpected moments. Maybe it’s my pettiness and pride. Maybe it’s the lack of security – Arthur thinks I’m too insecure about my parenting as I get too emotional about it. Maybe, it’s because it’s a new journey for us. Maybe it’s the transitions and adjustments. Maybe it’s 4 months, and my OBGYN warned me about post-natal depression. Maybe, it’s a combination of a thousand things, who knows!

I expected the fights, but I forgot how tiring they can be. It’s one thing to lack vision, but another to lose hope, and another to just wanna be numb and not think. I’m tired of talking, and I hope that my forgetfulness will serve me well to not remember anything by next weekend.

But one thing I want to take away, is to be a stronger mother for Mya. Time to take out my mama tiger claws to protect my little cub with more finesse, fewer tears and without apologies!

Lessons Mya taught #3 & 4

Lesson #3 – “Honor your parents….”

People say that when we become parents, we will appreciate our parents more. I wondered if there was something wrong with me, when I failed to appreciate that sentiment since Mya was born. But today, I finally felt it. Keenly and acutely.

Daddy and Mummy went back to Singapore today. As the paradox of relationships would have it, I missed and treasured them more these last 2 days than any day in the last 3 months when they were here. The help that they (especially Mummy) extended, the support they gave, how she unconditionally served us, how tenderly and lovingly she took care of me and Mya… Reliving the times we had together is bittersweet. Saying goodbye was harder than I thought, and I miss them so very much already.

And as I project the tender loving care I have towards Mya, on them; I felt my parents anew. I never got to see or know them when I was a baby. But seeing them with Mya now, I know a little better what they were like with me then. It pains my heart to think that Mya would not know or remember these times her grandparents had with her. But at least I do. I guess that's one of the beauty of grand-parenting. It is food for the parent's soul too.

I’m so thankful to at least be reminded now of the love and tenderness that my parents have towards me. It’s not easy to remember that in the midst of Asian subtlety and conservativeness – Mummy still told me not to cry, even when she knew those tears were for her. I can only pray that God will help me hold onto these feelings, the next time I squabble with my parents. :p

Lesson #4 – Leaving…

 

I asked Arthur yesterday when we’ll be moving Mya to her room, so that I can prepare myself emotionally. He probably thought I was joking, but I wasn’t.

After cleaning out the guest bedroom this afternoon, and rearranging the furniture; Arthur suggested we move her today since things are ready. I bawled.

“But I’m not ready for her to leave yet!”

“But she’s just in the room next door.”
“I know, but I’m just not ready to say goodbye to her sleeping in our room.”

The tears worked, and little Mya will get to sleep in our room till next Friday.

Someone once surmised that what it means to be a parent is to teach your child to live without you. Another told me that parenthood is a journey to prepare them to leave and be independent. It’s so hard, too hard. I’m not ready for Mya to grow up yet.

How did the Father send His Son to earth? Jesus’ cries on the cross wasn’t the first time the Father felt apart from His Son. Surely not. Surely His heart ached a little on Christmas. But yet, He sent His angels to sing and rejoice. How great the Father’s love for us!

In my daughter's eyes...

My Daughter's Eyes - Martina McBride
In my daughter's eyes,
I am a hero,
I am strong and wise,
And I know no fear,...
But the truth is plain to see,
She was sent to rescue me,
I see who I want to be,
In my daughter's eyes

In my daughter's eyes,
Everyone is equal,
Darkness turns to light,
And the world is at peace,
This miracle God gave to me,
Gives me strength when I am weak,
I find reason to believe,
In my daughter's eyes

And when she wraps her hand around my finger,
How it puts a smile in my heart,
Everything becomes a little clearer,
I realize what life is all about,
It's hanging on when your heart has had enough,
It's giving more when you feel like giving up,
I've seen the light,
It's in my daughter's eyes

In my daughter's eyes,
I can see the future,
A reflection of who I am and what will be,
And though she'll grow and someday leave,
Maybe raise a family,
When i'm gone I hope you see,
How happy she made me,
For i'll be there,
In my daughter's eyes

 

 

The Promised Messiah

I shared a Christmas devotion at Sedgebrook, from Luke 2 in the perspective of a mother, the other night. Since it was a "3 point sermon" (as Londa affectionately coined), I will be creating 3 posts out of that. So here's the first one. Have a blessed Christmas my very dear friends.

The Promised Savior from the line of David

 

The first thing that jumped out to me is that Jesus is the Promised Savior from the line of David.

In the beginning of the passage, we see Joseph, who is from the line of David, going to the town of Bethlehem because of a census. The author Luke added these two simple facts for very significant reasons.

In the Old Testament, God promised His servant David, that He will establish His eternal Kingdom through his descendant (2 Samuel 7). And through Micah the prophet (Micah 5:2), God promised that a ruler for Him will come from Bethlehem.

So by mentioning the simple facts that Joseph (who is Jesus’ earthly father) is from the line of David; and that Jesus is born in Bethlehem; Luke is making a point.

He is telling his reader that Jesus is David’s descendant and He is THE Promised Messiah. The Promised King of God’s eternal kingdom. The Promised Savior – who will save all from sin and death. Jesus, the Promised Savior is born!  What good news!

I must confess that I often take the good news of God saving the world for granted. I forget to meditate in my mind and feel in my heart – the good-ness of God in saving me! But I was struck afresh by the good-ness of this good news recently.

I was holding Mya in my arms the other night. And as I look down upon her face, I was overwhelmed by the beauty and purity embodied in this little baby. I know she is a sinner. A little one. But a sinner nonetheless. Even so, she was this picture of perfect innocence, peace, beauty and purity. 

Suddenly in an instance, I saw her life flash before my eyes. She will grow up, and experience pain and suffering in this broken world. A result of sin in this world, the sin of others, and her very own sin. And she will experience death – the death of others, the death of her parents (us) and loved ones, and her own death.

It broke my heart. How can such purity and beauty be stained by pain and suffering? And how can such peace and innocence be ravished by death? My heart ached so badly. I don’t want her to experience any of that. I wish I could protect her from all the pain. I don’t want her to suffer. I don’t want her to experience death. I felt very strongly and clearly – “I hate pain. I hate suffering. I hate death”. Yet, alongside these feelings, was an unmistakable helplessness. There was NOTHING I can do about these inevitable experiences that Mya will have.

When Arthur came by and learnt what was causing me to cry, he comforted me saying, “There is someone like you, you know. Someone who hated pain, suffering and death. And He hated them even more than you. But the difference is, He could do something about it, and He did. This is why God had to send His son. This is why Jesus had to come. This is why we have Christmas. So that we’ll have a chance at eternity with Mya.”

Indeed. Christmas is God not letting sin, pain, suffering and death have the final word. Christmas is Jesus doing something about that, so that we can have a chance to be with our loved ones, in heaven forever. What good news! Thank God for the Promised Messiah from the line of David!

 

 

 

The Night Before Christmas

This is one of my favorites this year...

Lessons Mya taught #1 & 2

Thence begins my education in the “school of Mya”. I’ll be chronicling the lessons that my little one will teach me (or rather God will teach me through her), and here are the first 2 lessons..

Mya sometimes wails loud and hard, as she’s on the changing table. And I mean loud and hard, like the sky was falling. She’s hungry, and there I am struggling to finish changing her diaper, and put her clothes back on. 

“But little one, you know that no matter how long or how loud you wail, Mummy can only nurse you when I’m ready right? I need to put on your diaper, and your clothes; wash my hands and settle down with the nursing pillow. So wait child, please. Please don't cry so hard...”

Lesson #1 – No matter how we loud and hard we wail at God, shake our fists or stomp our feet; He will only give us what He wants according to His own timing and will.

Although I love nursing Mya, and it’s great for building a bond; but I’m not sure if I like being known as the “milkmaid” or “cow” to her. I can rarely carry or burp her when she is awake, without her bouncing her head around, looking for the “milk machines”. 
To be honest, I’m getting a little jealous of the fact that Arthur and Mum can put her to sleep better than I can; and they get to carry her “without her wanting something from them”.

Lesson #2 – Going to God in prayer only when I want something, is like Mya being in my arms “only for milk”. If I’m a little jealous in only 5 weeks, how does God feel being treated like the “milk machine” our whole lives? Why can’t we just sit in His arms, rest in His presence, play with Him, and just simply BE with Him? 

Happy Halloween!

Ok, I’m a few days late. I had wanted to post something on October 31^st but time got away from me. How was that possible? :p

For the record, my little Mya’s due date was October 31^st. And that had generated a fair share of fun and predictable conversations in the past 9 months.

The nurse who broke the good news to me excitedly exclaimed, “you are going to have a Halloween baby!” And that was how I told people in the preceding weeks as well, “I’m going to have a Halloween baby!”

Responses fell into the following categories –

“That’s easy to remember!”

“How fun! You should consider painting your tummy orange during delivery.”

“Oh don’t say that! Let’s hope she comes one day before or after, then she’ll be an All Saints’ Day baby instead.”

With the last response forming the majority, I eventually answered the question “when are you due?” with the standard reply “I’m due on October 31^st”; allowing their response to guide the subsequent conversation.

“Oh Halloween!” – “Yeah!” smilingly, and silently proud that I was not “superstitious” and not want a Halloween baby. If I had given it more thought then, I would probably have answered “That will surely be a treat!”

“Maybe she’ll be an All Saints’ Day baby!” – “Yeah, babies rarely come on their due date. So she may miss Halloween and be an All Saints’ Day or a November baby.”

Of course, Mya came much earlier than October 31s.t. And I am mighty glad she did.

Not because she “avoided Halloween”;

Partly because with her at 7 pounds 7 ounces at 37 weeks, I will get even more comments of me being “big and ready any time” and her being a “big baby” if we waited till full term;

But most of all I cannot imagine what the last 3 weeks would be like without her. Although she’s only eating, pooping and sleeping these days (pretty much like a pet, as Michael Card described); I’ve loved every single minute of it. 

Mya's First Week

It’s been 9 days since little Mya entered our lives. It’s unbelievable how quickly the days have flown by.

Even with a baby who sleeps 80% of the time, there are still many stories that she co-writes with us. Stories of – nights when she has kept us up, times when we feel frustrated and helpless when we are not able to figure out why she is fussing, her strong kicks and air punches when we’re changing her diaper, lessons “learnt on the job” (like breastfeeding and when to pick her up); and not to mention the “perks and pains” of having my mother help me with (enforcing the) confinement, the uncomfortable healing process from the delivery, and the list goes on. 

But still, the broader theme is that Mya has been an incredibly sweet baby. There are more nights when we have to wake her up for feeding than nights when she kept us up, and when she cries there is usually a very good reason – that she’s cold, hungry or uncomfortable from a dirty diaper. She feeds easily, though she seems to have recently added a short routine prior to latching on. She makes all sorts of cute sounds and faces in her sleep, and only few of them really require attention. And even when she is wailing at the top of her lungs (praise God for the healthy pair!), she blesses us with a pout that is so distractingly adorable; it’s almost impossible to get upset with her.

Yet in the midst of the love, joy, excitement, occasional fatigue, and wide-eyed wonder; the overwhelming feeling that I have these days is a combination of heart wrench and nostalgia.

I look forward to her growing up, but this means that the precious days of her being an innocent little baby are numbered. She will not remember any of these first few days (well, technically years) of her life, but they are surely etched in Arthur and my memories forever. Her chubby cheeks, her facial expressions, her stretches, the way she waves her hands in the air and moves her fingers, and the many “little nothings” – have all meant more than so many somethings. We will cherish these days that will pass all too quickly.

Looking upon her angelic countenance, it breaks my heart that such purity and beauty will have to experience the broken-ness of this world and worst of all death, some day. I hate death! What have I “brought upon her”? To bring her into this world to suffer? Thankfully, Arthur reminded me that this is exactly why Jesus came. So that we can all be together in eternity together forever on that day.

Although it’s been only 1 week, I’m already counting down to the day when I have to go back to work. I thought it will not be that difficult, and things might change then; but at this point, I’m dreading having to leave this little one behind. The only thing that brings me comfort is that she will be in the safe hands of her daddy and Daddy.

I know that these “best possible forms of heart wrench and nostalgia” allow me to touch in a minuscule way the Father’s heart. It blows my mind how He will give such a sacred gift to a creature as depraved as I. I guess this helps me taste a little of God’s abounding love and compassion to His creation and children, but I cannot help but wonder if He looks upon us with the same tenderness as we “grow up into adults” and how does He do that from age to age for all eternity? Maybe that’s why.. let the little children come to Him!

I’m 32 today!

When I was 31, I did not think it possible for me to be more godly, grow that much wiser, have more love in my heart, or be too ruffled in good and bad ways by life experiences (for truly, there is nothing new under the sun). By my own standards, I thought I had “all I needed for the rest of my life”. Sure, I’d grow a little each year; but no more quantum leap experiences or growth in areas that matter.
Yet standing at the end of my 32^nd year and the beginning of my 33^rd, I would be a fool not to see how wrong I was wrong. Still, the Faithful Potter is molding me in ways unimaginable.

People jokingly say “be careful what you pray for! Testing will surely come when you ask for patience.” I was tired of feeling like an “ok” Christian. Sure, I am a sinner, but I struggle with the “honorable sins” that are common to man – I can never be perfect on this side of heaven, can I? So I asked Him to convict me of my sin, not expecting much of it.

When He showed me the impact of my sin and pride on those around me, how foolish I was, how prideful I was when correction came, and how far I had drifted from desiring holiness and pleasing Him; I knew He answered my prayer. It’s painful and uncomfortable; but strangely comforting at the same time. He was not yet done with me. He still wants me to grow in godliness and wisdom, I was still His.
O may I live in the fear of the Lord and love Him in the days ahead!

I will learn even more about love when I meet my little one 5 days later. But what this pregnancy has taught me most about love in the last 8 months; is what Arthur meant when he vowed to love me “in sickness and in health”.

He cared for me and served me willingly – rushing to my side when I was throwing up, massaging me almost every night and going to the doctor visits with me. When I was stricken by all the morning sickness, itching and bodily aches, he did everything he could to make me more comfortable and took care of the household chores. He was my shoulder to cry on when the misery became unbearable. He was my rock and cheerleader when I was worried or scared. He still is all those things, one of God’s best and greatest gift to me. It’s amazing to see how a heart-ful of love can still yet grow fuller.
O may I cherish, love, serve and help Arthur become his future glory-self (Meaning of Marriage)!

We’re standing at the edge of so many things in our lives right now. About to plunge into the world of parenting, and groping in the fog trying to discern what the next step after Arthur’s graduation might be. In the midst of feelings of anticipation, trepidation and excitement; are also deep longings to be close to my loved ones (if only I could pack them in my bag and take them wherever with me!), a sense of loss accompanying the gains (losing “life just as a couple” when we welcome our little girl) and clearly some cluelessness. How could one feel a mix of so many different things at the same time?

O God, ground our hearts and minds in You as You lead us into the next season as a family!

Thank YOU God for this day, for all that You’ve done for and given to me in Christ. I celebrate YOU as I celebrate this birthday. Happy Birthday to me!

The 3rd Trimester

I’ve tried so hard not to say “I’ve had such a difficult pregnancy”. Because I know no pregnancy is a walk in the woods; and I’ve heard many times the good advice “don’t believe the horror stories, God made the woman’s body to be able to do this, you’ll be fine”; and I wish I was one of those women who could pass on the good cheer of loving being pregnant.

But truth be told, I cannot help but feel validated when people say “you’ve had a difficult pregnancy”. Not because I liked being the damsel in distress, or the attention lavished upon the sickly heroine in Korean dramas; but because I can finally rest from my fight to be positive about my pregnancy experience. I may not have the “worst story in the world”, or the “hardest pregnancy” (and trust me, I’m don’t want to have that honor); but I don’t have to normalize or trivialize what I went through.

For the record and those who have not heard, I’ll be delivering on 11^th October (Friday) 3 weeks ahead of the due date 31^st October. Yes, the baby will be induced – more on that later. Before all the fanfare of welcoming our little baby into the world, here’s how these last 2 months went down…

So I got infected by Poison Ivy one weekend while working in the yard with Dad and Arthur in Decatur.

Aside: I’m still not sure how to process this one, because I had specifically thought “I don’t want to play the pregnancy card and not go out to help!” Perhaps the lesson here is to learn to more about the “dangers of the great outdoors” and to be more careful and less foolhardy during pregnancy; but I’m not sure if my mantra is a bad one to have. One thing for sure, I’ve learnt a great deal about “leaves of three, let them be”, what to do after working outdoors, etc. Gotta make this painful lesson count!

Due to the pregnancy, my immune system was suppressed. So the Poison Ivy infection did not flare up till a week later. And by that time, it had gotten into the bloodstream and the irritation got referred to other parts of the body (which manifested itself in a different kind of itch and spotty bumps on other parts of my body).

After numerous sleepless nights, a great deal of itching and scratching, use of home/ OTC remedies (like ice-packs, aloe-vera gel, calamine lotion), several doctor visits to the OBGYN and Dermatologist, blood test, a skin biopsy, multiple treatments (including oral steroids, topical creams, bleach baths), and many times sitting on my bed and breaking down in tears; God finally gave me relief from the poison ivy and referred allergies. 

God has been truly merciful, for He knows what I can bear. What has remained from this episode are patches of scarred skin and spotty bumps on my body and limbs. At another time, this vainpot might have been worried about how she’d look- but knowing that God had “protected my face” (for that might be more than what I can bear :p), protected the baby, delivered me from this painful and itchy episode; I can honestly say the scars are reminders to be of how good God is to me right now, to have delivered me from itch! I see them, and cannot believe that I am not scratching till blood is oozing out of the pores.

One major cause of the persistent itch after the Poison Ivy cleared up, was my elevated bile acid levels. The doctors diagnosed this as “Cholestasis of pregnancy”. There is statistical correlation of this condition and still-births, so the doctors have recommended inducing the baby at 37 weeks (almost full term, and the major organs of the child are developed). So this is why we’re doing it next Friday!

Every birth is undoubtedly a miracle, but it really hit home that if God will give us this child safe and sound, healthy and alive; it is nothing less than His grace and mercy, love and compassion on us. Life and health is NOT “normal” in this fallen world cursed by death. Whilst we entrust her life to the only One who can keep it, and we are looking forward to meeting our little one soon; I must acknowledge that there are many moments in a day when I wonder how she is doing inside. Until I see her face to face, and even for every day of her life; I will be praying for God to keep her safe in His arms.

Anyway, as if the 6 weeks long struggle with all my bodily sores is not enough, I was inflicted with hemorrhoids. It wasn’t just swollen veins because of all the pressure in that area, there were multiple blood clots as well. Sigh! I will not go into how difficult it was to sit down or have bowel movements. Thankfully, my doctor skillfully removed them. Although healing from a cut in that area is by no means fun, the good news is that it’s healing slowly and surely.

I’ve gone back and forth whether or not to blog about this - it's not a particularly encouraging piece. But it is part of my journey, a significant episode in this important life event, and something that He has used to give me empathy for those who struggle with physical ailments.

So thank you for listening to me “whine”, thank you for letting me know that you care, and thank you for  your prayers. And I also want to say thank YOU God, for being there.

Redeemer

I’ve always loved the song “Sing to Jesus” by Fernando Ortega.
“Sing to Jesus, Lord of our shame, Lord of our sinful hearts, He is our great Redeemer”.

It might be because of the melody or the lyrics. But it dawned on me the other day, that I like it so much because this song captures one of my favorite ways to “relate to Jesus”, and a key theme of “my story in His Story”. That He is my Redeemer.

Yes, He is my Lord, my Savior, my Shepherd, my Friend, my Husband, my Life… All of which are eternally true, and had hit home in unique ways during different seasons. But He as my Redeemer, had been a key and recurring theme.

Here I am a sinner, for all the shame I carry in the past, the shameful acts I will commit in the future, for the sin I carry in my heart; He is willing to be associated with me, to be my Lord and Redeemer.

He redeemed me for God, redeemed me from my slavery to sin – so that I am no longer enslaved to sin and my flesh, but to Him.

He redeemed my past mistakes, and will redeem the mistakes I will make in the future – bringing beauty out of ashes, a song out of tears.

He does not want to be the Lord of a powerful army, of the best people, but He is willing to be the Lord of redeemed sinners, the Lord of me. That He will be willing to pay the price to redeem me from my shame, my sinful hearts, past mistakes and God’s wrath. He is my great Redeemer.

And as some of you may know, this is one of my favorite ways to think of my season in Beijing and relationship with Arthur; that He redeemed “the idol I made out of relationships”, the heartache and pain with the first boyfriend. He showed me how He redeemed the fallen state of creation and humankind, and brought something infinitely good out of the trials and suffering – the way only He could.

This gives me confidence to face the future, that no matter how I screw up, the Great Redeemer will always redeem His own.

I love the idea of redemption. It implies that there had to be something bad or broken or imperfect – and that is who I am. He does not just search for the diamond in the rough, or the unpolished pearl; but even in fragile broken pieces of clay, the Potter can mold and make a masterpiece out of it.

Come and see, look on this mystery 
The Lord of the Universe, nailed to a tree 
Christ our God, spilling His Holy blood 
Bowing in anguish, His sacred head 

Sing to Jesus, Lord of our shame 
Lord of our sinful hearts. 
He is our great Redeemer. 
Sing to Jesus, Honor His name. 
Sing of His faithfulness, pouring His life out unto death 

Come you weary and He will give you rest 
Come you who mourn, lay on His breast 
Christ who died, risen in Paradise 
Giver of mercy, Giver of Life 

Sing to Jesus His is the throne 
Now and forever, 
He is the King of Heaven. 
Sing to Jesus, we are His own. 
Now and forever sing for the love our God has shown.

Sing to Jesus, Lord of our shame 
Lord of our sinful hearts. 
He is our great Redeemer. 
Sing to Jesus, Honor His name. 
Sing to Jesus His is the throne 
Now and forever,  He is the King of Heaven. 
Sing to Jesus, we are His own. 
Now and forever sing for the love our God has shown.

Fernando Ortega

Frappuccino Froth

The Mr and Mrs had a “debrief” after we both vented our frustrations the other day.

Arthur asked if I would add a disclaimer to the other blog entry, since a few things I said were untrue. I said no, since that’s what I heard, or rather what I thought I heard.

I also trusted that my matured readers would factor in the many things that can go wrong in a couple’s tiff, and give the weaker one of us the benefit of the doubt.

He probably had to swallow his pride at the thought of being misunderstood, but since he did not press the issue, I thought I might clear the air a little, since he was so gracious about it all. J

Insight did make a huge difference when he let me into his head.

Out of the positive energy he had that day, Arthur decided to go along with the flow, by not declining a Frappuccino order, which he usually does.

So it’s not because he was trying to read me by saying yes, and ordering something that he did not want. Yay!

Evidently, his order of the Vanilla Bean Grande was not because he was trying to read me. But I spurned his efforts, by suggesting that he did such a poor job of it in my earlier post. This really bothered him.

In his defense, he acknowledged that he had deliberately laid aside his usual tendencies to put my preferences over his, and ordered the thing that jumped out at him on the menu. It melted my heart when I heard him say “of course I want to honor your preferences. It’s how I want to love you, serve you and cherish you”. I guess I like it when he orders what I like, and also when he orders what he likes. That’s how we get to love and serve each other!

Five years in, and “still” we get tripped up by a simple coffee order. 

Nothing like a little spice now and then, to give us some reality check. To not take our marriage and each other for granted. To be confronted with how sinful and self-centered I am, when my preferences are not met. And in this case, how even the best of intentions can be so easily twisted in this broken world.

I’m all for conflicts, for when constructively resolved, they help us grow and love each other better. Paradise is a garden that needs watering, care and tons of hard work. 

Frappuccino Frustrations

And so the Mr and Mrs stood in front of the Starbucks counter, trying to decide what to order.

“What would you like?” I asked.

“How about a Frappuccino,” Arthur replied.
“Ok, what kind?”
“How about a Vanilla Bean, Grande?”

Game to try something different, the order was placed. I guess what we were both picturing was some kind of coffee Frappuccino with vanilla bean flavor. But we could not be more wrong, when we were handed this huge cup of white stuff.

A few sips later, the drink ended up in the bin. Not that it was bad, just not my thing and not worth the extra calories. And Arthur wasn’t interested in drinking it.

The “perfectly innocent” Frappuccino became the perfect brew for the frustrations that ensued. What might have seemed like a perfectly “normal” exchange before ordering turned into a “marriage counseling case type of” conversation during the car-ride; which then looped in my head, to be psycho-analyzed over and over again in the last 24 hours.

Things might have turned out differently if the drink turned out to be what we expected/ hoped for. Eden was disrupted over a fruit, and peace was so easily disrupted over coffee - aka. when things don't go our way.

A humbling reminder of how weak we all are, how fragile the peace of our relationships. And marriage, continues to be hard work.   

I don’t know..

It used to be ok to say “I don’t know…”

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“I don’t know” – may actually be an answer reflective of the wisdom the child has.

“What do you want to eat today?”

“I don’t know” – depending on who your lunch companion is, he/she may relish the chance to decide. The other might retort “I don’t know of a place that serves I-don’t-know on the menu”; but that really is not too big a deal.

“What will happen after you graduate?”

“I don’t know” – this is both the brute truth and the faith reality Arthur and I are in. In some ways, we are waiting for God to tell us; so perhaps the more accurate answer is “We don’t know YET”. I think that’s a fine answer all right, for truly, how can mere humans know our future? We don’t even know what tomorrow brings!

It is usually fine with me to say “I don’t know”. It may be annoyingly indecisive to some, or coyly child-like to others (ok, maybe only me in my head), but then something happened at work the other day that forced me to rethink.

There was some screw-up, a technical glitch in implementation. I was asked “Why did it happen?”

“I don’t know. It seems like a human error to me. I asked, no one fessed up, so I just wanted to solve the issue and move on.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Is this acceptable to you that no one took ownership of the issue? We need to find out what happened so we can prevent it from happening again.”

Ok, I know what you are trying to get at. But a human error is a human error, and it is rarely made by this person. I have no problems confessing and taking responsibility when I made a mistake, but I cannot force another person to own up right?

In any case, I did not feel that bad saying “I don’t know” in that situation. But that triggered a memory.

“You have a gift of teaching! Now what shall we do about that?” Dr. Greggo said to me.

I instinctively smiled and blurted out “I don’t know”.

A part of me was trying to be humble (“really?”, blush) and coy (“aww.. that’s flattering”), and deflect the attention away from me (“ok, let’s stop talking about me and focus on the others around”).

And then I muttered something about doing some teaching during practicum, and see how God leads from there. Lame. It never happened.

It was affirming, really affirming, to have a teacher and professor tell me that I have the gift of teaching.

None of my short term mentors told me that, but then, none of them ever saw me in action.

A few other brothers and sisters who have sat through bible studies with me have told me that before; but while I was encouraged, I was slightly doubtful if they were just being nice.

So that encouragement and affirmation from the professor was God-sent. God used that most unexpected situation to erase any false humility or self-doubt that I had heaped upon that gift for years. I will hang on to this for the rest of my life, I think.

But then, there was the question “what shall we do about that?” The question rang in my ears, head and heart again.

Is “I don’t know” an acceptable answer? If a secular manager could not accept that, why will the One to whom we must all give an account at the end of times?

I am reminded of that servant who received one talent, and buried it in the ground because he did not know what to do with it. We all know what happened to that servant.

Someday, the question will become “what DID you do with it? The gift of teaching that I entrusted you?”

I know for certain that I do not want my answer to be “I don’t know”. It will not be good enough. It will be too late to see that what I’ve built was out of hay or straw, for it will be burned up, and I barely escape through the flames.

I beg to know, not only the answer to the question about the teaching gift; but all the other gifts that He has given to me as well – relationships of family and friends, health and time, work that provides, skills and passions for His Church, and even the struggles with holy discontentment about situations and things.

“My mind and heart is too small, my strength and faith too weak.

Will I be ready for the answers You have?

Dear Lord, please make me do what You will have me do.

I desire contentment, not in the answers in and of itself,

But simply that I have tried, to obey”.

I think about a favorite song of mine, one that I’d love sung at my eulogy…  

"When It's All Been Said And Done"

When it's all been said and done

There is just one thing that matters
Did I do my best to live for truth?
Did I live my life for you?

When it's all been said and done
All my treasures will mean nothing
Only what I have done
For love's rewards
Will stand the test of time

Lord, your mercy is so great
That you look beyond our weakness
That you found purest gold in miry clay
Turning sinners into saints

I will always sing your praise
Here on earth and in heaven after
For you've joined me at my true home
When it's all been said and done
You're my life when life is gone... 

May Memories and Musings

This one’s for May.. I’m late, but you were not forgotten.

Condolences to the Robin Family

The three little ones did not make it in the end. It must have been the cold, Mama Robin was not able to keep them warm enough nor find them enough food. We heard and saw them but for a day, and they went silent. A few days later, Arthur checked inside the nest and confirmed the sad sad news. Crazy Chicago weather, you took away three birdlings!

Although it’s been a month, I’m still saddened at the thought of the mother bird losing her young ones. Perhaps they’ll reunite in heaven? God, please?

Commenting on my Belly

In case you’ve not heard, “you’re showing!” then “you’re showing so much!” “You showed so quickly”. This is accompanied by intent stares and looks and smiles at my belly. You’re a woman too, surely you can understand this is not comfortable? I responded with “Yes, I’m pregnant. Of course I’m showing, what can I do?”

And then the best one to top it all off “You look like a cylinder. So cute!” I did not know how to respond to that one.

Times like this, I seek refuge in 1 Peter 3:3-4 to focus on cultivating the gentle and quiet spirit, thankful that God seeks beauty within - even for me, Ms Roley-Poley.

Cooking for Pregnancy

One upside with this pregnancy is that it’s pushed me to try out different recipes, or rather experimenting more in the kitchen. I made my first pot of red dates and longan tea, first pot of radish soup (though I was told it’s not good for me), three cups chicken, conpoy porridge and dumpling noodle soup. This child clearly has Asian taste buds!

Contemplations on Womanhood

After finishing the Women’s study on “True Womanhood”, I am still perturbed and perplexed. It’s a pretty good material. I appreciate how it tries to deconstruct the impact of feminism on women today, and I understand that it has the modern American woman in mind. It has tried to focus on principles and emphasizing on us working out what it looks like in our individual contexts. Still, I am left with the same questions and bitter aftertastes.

The examples of women applauded were in the mold of “the missionary wife who did countless loads of laundry, cooked countless meals, played hosts to countless guests”, “the women who prayed silently and faithfully for their families and church”… I love these women and long to model after them. I also love that the church recognizes the unseen, and prizes things that this world does not. But YET, I find that much of the women material emphasizes “walking in the shadows”, at the expense of recognizing women who make a visible difference in different domains out of their commitment to Christ. It’s not really one or the other, is it?

And then there are biblical organizations that I believe in, that would not even allow men and women to be in the same Bible study, to prevent the awkward situation of women potentially correcting/ teaching men during discussions. Where is the line between correcting/ teaching/ encouraging? Ok, at least they are consistent; and not just applying things to the pulpit. But I do not believe this is a faithful application of the helper role that God gave to women!

And is it legitimate to say that because the secular workplace does not recognize God as authority, it is ok for a man to work under a female boss and for a Christian woman to be CEO of a company in those scenarios? How does one who desires to live out all of life under God’s authority; including the male-female relationship that God intends for us to have, do that in the secular workplace? Does an attitude of humility, respect, and “considering others better than yourself” suffice; such that no matter what position I am in, as long as I am not viewing another (man) in contempt, it is ok?

Convocation

Yes! I graduated! Yay!!! This deserves an entry all on it’s own, so more next time!

The first 3 months

It’s the last day of April, and I gotta get something in lest I miss a “month-print” on this space! Thanks to the reminder of my most faithful reader who has this as his home-page. *HUGZ*

Remember watching TV and the actress suddenly cusps her mouth, rushes to the toilet and faces head down into the bowl? The audience knows instantly “ah-ha, she must be pregnant!” What I never figured out, is if anything ever came out. I guess I must have thought that nothing did, because I was caught by surprise the things that could come out of me.

So quickly, so much, tasty some times, grouse some times, bitter some times. I guess my “favorite” is not having had any food, and then let the juices turn my insides upside down. It’s the least grouse in my opinion, at least I don’t have to taste my food twice over. By this time, I’ve gotten used to the routine – as Arthur puts it “my ritual before the toilet bowl”. Things are getting better. There are more good days than bad, but I am not completely out of the woods yet.

Then there’s the pull I feel in my thighs and occasional lower backache. It’s all about the posture, I tell myself. But I never learn until I feel the pain. And the fatigue, racing heart, and short breath; all forcing me to slow down because my body is working full time to help the little one grow. This past weekend, I had to put away so many of my bottoms because I cannot fit into them anymore. Oh too quickly! I miss the shorts I bought last summer!

We had a little scare yesterday when I saw blood in the toilet bowl. The nurse had warned me before that it might happen, and it might not be anything. But still, it did not stop me from feeling fearful for the one inside, or bursting out into tears at my desk. I hoped to God that He did not play a prank on us, for we have just “announced to the world” yesterday; and now to lose the little one at this impeccable timing. Oh God, thanks for being patient with me and my little faith!

Thankfully, Arthur dropped everything, drove all the way into the city to pick me up and go to the doctor’s to have it all confirmed that it was “nothing”. Thank you God for Arthur!

People say “miscarriages are common or normal”, but there is nothing normal or common about the pain and the fear. I don’t know how long I will take, to dare to get pregnant again should I have miscarried. It was reassuring when the nurses said “it is scary, and don’t ever hesitate to call whenever”. As a counselor, I felt empathy, affirmed and safe – that I was not over-reacting or crazy. But it raised another question of how do I “normalize negative experiences” without dismissing what the counselee is feeling?

No, I don’t want to be a whiney pregnant lady; be one of those who only pass down horror stories. I’m penning these down precisely because I don’t really want to be telling them only “bad things” when I talk to people! And I know they will all pass away when we hold the little one in our arms.

Yet, all these experiences are all part of the journey, my journey, our journey. The good and the bad. The ups and the downs. I did not know or experienced all these then, but now I do. Sure, every pregnancy is different. But to all the Mums out there, you are amazing! And so is my hubby :)