Lost Beau.

I cannot deny there is not some pride when I claim that Nine West, Topshop, Zara and Coach have no hold over me. But I am beginning to realise it is not what we decide that has no hold over us which makes us strong, but finding out what it is which is our weakness and attacking that spot directly. At the end of the day, we are all weak. At some point in some part of our lives, temptation beckons. It is different for each of us, and it is the magnetic strength binding our moral compass to God's heart which keeps us pointing in the right direction.

There've been lots of middle-aged people in my cycling group who've taken to "looking after" me, because I'm their children's age. So when they heard I had been instructed to shop for a bike for my Christmas/birthday present, the whole army was mobilised to search for my new beau. Stealing me out from hospital during lunch time, one of my cycling buddies' dads drove me to a well-known bike shop. It was a spontaneous, unplanned offer through a text message that fine morning, and how coincidental it seemed to be that I had brought my gym clothes and running shoes to work that day because I had intended to run. They came in perfectly handy when I tried out the bikes. It would have been impossible with my dress. Thank you God, I said, as I felt He had arranged things in His perfect way.

I had bought my present bike off the rack at such an unbelievable rate so I've been riding on a bike which doesn't fit, with the brakes one palm-length out of my reach. Yes, dangerous, but enough at the time to decide if I was serious about roadcycling long-term, hence the offer now for a new, well-fit bike as a gift.

There he was, stunning. A handsome headturner. A ladies' charm, now dumped by his previous woman who had now bought a new bike. He was red, black and white, a beautiful carbon steed, extremely lightweight, with top-grade parts, great wheels. As I changed thankfully into my gym clothes and got on it, everyone saw that this second-hand animal was the perfect fit for me. Everyone laughed when I got on it and said, "Wow, for once I can reach the brakes... !" He was going for less than half its original price, a great deal. Friends who know me well know how picky I can be- this time, everything seemed to fit. There was no reason for me to say no. He was within the financial cap I was given.

All the reasons to get it flooded my head as level-headed friends (even those my parents' age) egged me on. "It's definitely a worthwhile investment. No doubt about it."

I don't think I have ever been happier and sadder at the same time. As we left, everyone was sure about the deal. "If it were for my child, I would have gotten it immediately."

Pressure built up behind my eyes as we drove off. For what it was, it was an excellent, worthwhile buy. It was a perfect fit. It would last. It was going for less than half its original price. I knew it was within my means-all I had to do was ask for it. But it was also a four-figure sum. Two thousand five hundred dollars. It's original price was around 5 to 6 thousand. I told you, roadbikes don't come cheap. Ten-thousand dollar roadbikes aren't uncommon. Most bikes in my cycling group cost at least 3 to 4 thousand dollars.

How can I spend or choose like this when God has called me to serve the poor and needy in the mission field? You tell me.

It's not as if the money saved from this will be donated to them, you know. God wants to bless you too, Wai Jia. There's nothing wrong from making a worthwhile investment. Your body is a temple. Or you can use the money from selling your present bike to donate to needy children, and then buy this one guiltlessly. Don't be so hard on yourself.

But it's not just about the money. It's about the principle. How do I invite the poor into my home and let them see my bike? How do I ride it without feeling embarrassed? How do I live with knowing that my bike is the equivalent of sending a class of children to school? I know the money saved will still not go to child sponsorship etc, but I believe the choices we make shape the kind of people we become. I would be a hypocrite to buy Kate Spade and say that it would have no effect on my living frugally in future.

But it's a gift, you know. And it's within the cap. You like it so much.

I know.


I have wept so many times because I told God that for missions, I would give up the most precious of things to me if need be- marriage, having a family, things which pierce my heart like a sword through flesh. I would even give up missions if God tells me so. So what is a bike?

Nothing, you say. Just like how I say it's nothing for me to give up Loui Vitton because I don't even like or desire it. But wait till something you like comes along, something that you can have and is within your reach but must choose not to have comes along, then perhaps, the painful, insufferable meaning of Consecration may make itself a little more real and personal to you.

I love to ride. It felt so good in my hands. For once, I could feel how effortless and smooth gear-changing could be. It was so comfortable. I could just imagine myself riding miles and miles without pain or discomfort on this beautiful thing. It is so close to being mine. I just need to open my mouth to ask for it.

Call me stupid. But I just... can't. Well, not unless God makes it so plain to me that it really is a gift from Him I cannot refuse.

So as we drove away, and for the next few days thinking about it, it was difficult to hold back my tears. The tears were not just from losing the bike, but from realising how terribly my flesh and spirit warred with each other, and realising how God's love can have so much power over me to make me kill my flesh and resist what is visibly material, for something more invisible, more divine.

5 years ago, I would have bought it. Quite hastily too. It is so hard to find something you likeso much. So hard to let go of such a good deal.

Even Grandpa Zhou said, "Yeah, get it. You can afford it."

Perhaps only the people who share my same heart for missions will truly understand.

One of my mentors who is an obstetrician and who served the needy actively in developing countries in her younger days texted me, "Sometimes God gives us small decisions to make before the bigger ones. Knowing God is your utmost priority now as your service to Him comes later. What is the main purpose of Man?"

That broke me. I just... could not bring myself to think about owning the bike anymore. Why I felt so down, stayed up at night to think about things and cried so much about it, only God knows. It wasn't just letting the bike go which sobered me. I realised, that the day I set my life apart for God, I also made a consecration. And that means drawing a line somewhere, a line which other people don't necessarily need to draw, and don't understand. This bike lay outside that line, and the worse part was that it was within my reach. It also made me think about my many other purchases I'd made over the years which should not have been. I cried, also because I felt God had set me up. He had made it so that I had so "coincidentally" brought my gym clothes so I could really get a feel of how good this beautiful vehicle felt in my hands. He wanted me to taste how good it really was- and then have to let it go.

I don't hate Him for it. I love Him even more.

I want to take God up in this. He has been faithful to me every time. He has always known how important style and beauty is to me. Of course He knows- He made me. I'm vain, period. Yet I have always been blessed by good bargains and brand-new hand-me-downs, at times I least expected. He gives me evening dresses which I like (Do you know how incredibly picky I am?)when I only thought but never mentioned it to anyone, and only when I decided I would not buy one because it wasn't worth it.

More than blessing us with material possessions, He cares more about the state of our hearts.

This issue isn't about the bike, or the money. It's about the process God wants to take my heart through. After all, in future, we will have the ability to spend, but it takes great valour and self-control to settle for a modest wedding instead of splurging, takes great faith in God to live frugally instead of lavishly. I know, God wants to bless us- but we must love Him back too.

During a talk last week, we learnt about Integral Missions, missions outside the rural mission field. Integral refers to "integrity", it means being consistent about God in all aspects of our lives. I don't want to be known as a someone with a heart for missions in the hospital and at school, but a flashy biker in my cycling group. Our lives must be consistent. We must be people of integrity. I cannot claim to want to do missions and buy this bike for myself.

I know my cycling friends who went with me to the shop will surely call me foolish.

Aunty Ay said, "The foolishness of God is wiser than the wisdom of men. There's nothing wrong with wanting a great bike. If your earthly dad can offer you one, how much more your Heavenly Father would be happy to get you one with His unlimited means! It's just a matter of timing- wait on God, delight in Him and you'll know His peace and provision in a wonderful way. Wait and see, trust Him!"

And it was only much later when I explained to Grandpa Zhou why I could not buy it that he finally confessed, "Actually, if you really want to serve the poor and impact people, you first have to be an example to others and know what it is to live modestly."

I'm trusting you in this, God. I'm going to wait.

And with tears in my eyes and a heavy heart, I'm going to have to let this go. This beautiful, lightweight, gem of a chunk of metal go.


Because You have been faithful, always, and I have always had enough.

"For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom..."

- 1 Cor 1:25

"What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to

the surpassing greatness of knowing God,

for whose sake I have lost all things.

I consider them rubbish,

that I may gain Him and be found in him,

not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law,

but that which is through faith in Him—

the righteousness that comes from God

and is by faith... "

- Phil 3:8-11

"Yet God longs to be gracious to you, he rises to show you compassion.

For He is a God of justice.

Blessed are all who wait for him."

-Isaiah 30:18

Posts Delayed

Hey guys,

Sorry for the poor updates. Will be updating soon....

from,
GiN

Head and Shoulders.

We all have insecurities. They are dark things lurking at the back of our minds, lying dormant. Like cobwebs, they gather silently but surely and crowd out what ought to be fruitful space. And then, like a predator on the prowl, they can catch you off guard, and devour your spirit with savage ferocity. I have a bag of them.

I met Mr. Ho yesterday, the one teacher who made the single biggest impact in my life. He asked me, "How does it feel like becoming a doctor in one and a half years time?"

I looked at him, laughed while trying to hold back tears, and said, "I'm going through a crisis of faith, sir. It's tough."

Few will admit it, but most of us don't feel adequate as we are. It takes so much to be a good doctor. You need competence and compassion- neither will do without the other. In our bid to conquer knowledge, we enter into rigorous training. Yet, it is the same training process we must endure and battle against, in order not to be dehumanised by it. You have to be sharp and amicable, even through a 36-hour shift, remain calm and understanding towards patients in the middle of the night, and alert enough to report the situation to your seniors. You have to be meticulous, on your feet, conscientious, compassionate and warm. All at the same time. I had one patient tell me once when she complained about a doctor who had brushed her aside, "I know you fellows are tired, but we all know doctoring is a tough job. If you can't do it, they why be a doctor?"

Such are the demands in the hospital.

My insecurities lie in my uncertainty of becoming a capable doctor. I don't know if I'll ever be up to it, if I'll ever be a good one. My absentmindedness bothers me, sometimes drives me up the wall. My insecurity of not knowing enough bothers me- I happen to work with a group of people who are extremely intelligent. I worry if I study enough, or if knowing too much has desensitized me. I sometimes wonder if my personality and genetic make-up were made for the study of medicine. I hate that someone once told me I ought to be doing something else. I hate the fact that people never do guess that I'm doing medicine, always appear shocked and feel the compulsion to express it by having to confirm my reply. A typical list of guesses of what I do run from doing arts, social work, teaching, journalism... and when I finally tell them I am a medical student, I cringe to hear, "Really? Oh you mean you're becoming a nurse?" It is then that every fibre of my being resists the urge to strangulate, because I know it is not just my pride that has been wounded, but that my insecurities have been stirred up.

I don't have anything against any other profession. I happen to respect nurses, teachers and social workers a great deal. The people I respect most come from these walks of life. I know it is just my insecurities playing these comments up, making me feel less, small, inadequate.

The insecurities are talking back in a shrill voice: Do I not give you the impression that I can be a doctor. Is it that difficult to believe that you have to ask me twice to confirm my profession-to-be? I know, that my anger lies not in their error, but in my own sense of inadequacy. My reaction only tells me how I feel toward myself, and gives me insight and reason for self-reflection. One voice is screaming incapability, while the other more rational one coolly defends All-roundedness.

Every day, the two voices battle it out.

So last week, feeling burnt out and tired from doing too many things, while I was rushing about and taking time off during our free time at the hospital to visit a patient at his home because he requested to see me, I lost a notebook with my Paediatrics notes. After feeling menopausal for about ten days already, it was the straw which broke my back. It wasn't the first time I had been absent-minded, and it was then that all those insecurities about my ability to become a good doctor poured into my head like a flood. I just... broke.

Competence and compassion. You have to have both. Absentmindedness is not in the equation. Heavy-hearted, my eyes that weekend were sore from tears. It was just a tiny incident, but it was the last straw.

It's funny. God seems to have a particular love for the broken-hearted and discouraged.

That afternoon, I went to see a paediatric patient. He, only 2 years of age, had been warded for days, because his eyes, tummy and legs had swollen up terribly. A few days ago, in my desperate attempt to find a patient for my written case assignment, I approached his mother, Mdm S, to interview her, only to be faced with a weary look. It was obvious that hoardes of students had interviewed her already, and she wanted rest. But she was very kind, and said she would give me ten minutes. I started to throw questions at her the way Mdm H had said other medical students had, and at once, stopped myself. This should not be the way. She is not my case write-up, she is a human being. As soon as I reminded myself of that, we built up rapport instantly. Ten minutes became thirty, and I had a good time playing with her son. I learnt so much that day, and she, too, found great solace in sharing her concerns with me about her son's condition, which was likely to relapse.

So that afternoon, on the last day of my module at that hospital, I went to say goodbye. Mdm S chatted with me for a long time. She could tell I was heavy-hearted, too. I told her I lost a notebook, a very precious one, as well as a hundred-over-dollar library book. As God sent me as an angel to her, she too, was a source of great encouragement to me. That evening, she texted me, "It is a blessing to know you too. God works in mysterious ways. I am afraid of becoming bitter and depressed through these tribulations but somehow, He is still holding me. Angels must be around me, I'll need to trust and let God. I will also pray for you. Remember, all you need is a willing heart to touch lives. God uses the simplest to fulfill great works... I can see no less in you!"

I learnt, that none of us are fully equipped in our callings. We fall short, we have failings, but it is through the journey with God that we become equipped, and learn to trust that He will see us through. All He needs is a willing heart. "Man looks at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart."- 1 Samuel. I am learning what Mdm S told me, that Man looks at our abilties, but God looks at our availability. The more inadequate we are, the more adequate He will be for us.

Still, I was a wreck. And as if God knew I needed an extra dose of encouragement, He sent a patient from my previous Obstetrics & Gynaecology module to pour His grace over me. Mdm H has delivered her premature baby safely, finally, and was back to visit her baby, Xi En, in the Special Care Nursery. She came specially to find me, and surprised me with a paper bag of chocolates and a Thank You card.

I learnt, that our insecurities are simply what they are- insecurities. We forget, that they are often ungrounded, and how easily these monsters will turn at the sight of a sword of truth. But we must be brave to wield it. We must be on guard to guard our minds, so nothing breaks our spirits. We must. Even if it is our very own friends or loved ones who say things which may hurt us.

Yes, I am not perfect. I don't know everything. Maybe I can study harder. I ought to be less absent-minded and more alert. I know I don't look like a doctor. I know I do a lot of things other than medicine. I know I giggle a lot, and that outside the hospital on any day, you'd guess I were a pre-school teacher instead of a surgeon.

But I am learning, it doesn't matter.

Because when we do our best in Him, God will take care of our abilities. As long as we do our best and ensure our availability to Him to allow God to work what He needs to in us, things will work out eventually. We may not be head and shoulders above the rest in the eyes of the world, but when we let God make us into the best we can be, surely we are our best in His eyes. I am learning, that the doctors I know who change the lives of many, who turn communities around and impact societies, were hardly the ones who topped their class. I am trusting that God made me precisely this way for a reason. Yes, attention-deficient, adrenalin-pumping, arts-loving me for a reason.

Thank you Mdm S and Mdm H, for believing in me. And thank you God, for sending angels to affirm me with words of encouragement, from the very people you called me to serve in the first place.

"Remember, all you need is a willing heart to touch lives.

God uses the simplest to fulfill great works...

I can see no less in you!"

-Mdm T

"I understand that tough challenges lie ahead of you.

It won't be easy being a doctor, furthermore a good doctor.

We all fall and are imperfect.

But I strongly believe God will give us the strength to go thru the trials...

Strongly believe that you have a special place in God's heart and

you will turn out to be head and shoulders above the rest...

May God bless you with wisdom, a discerning heart

and a life partner in time to come! :) ... ...

- Mdm H

Yes.

I think in the past, I would have no qualms about saying how opulence sickens me.

But I've met enough wealthy people, people who live in grand houses with a handful of cars, who also give generously to missions and do plenty of volunteer work and start-up projects for the underprivileged, to realise that while I may not choose that lifestyle, I have no right to place my judgement on others. It's easy to say how sinful it is to be rich. It is harder to see riches in context and to withold one's judgemental eye.

It is true, the bible says it is harder for a rich man to enter heaven than a camel to go through the eye of a needle. And I'll have to be honest with you, that being in the company of the extremely wealthy makes me shifty and uncomfortable. While it is not wrong to be rich, perhaps it is how material possessions have the potential to have such a strong hold over us which makes us slaves to our flesh and grieves God. Perhaps that is why every missionary doctor I have met has warned me against buying a car in Singapore. It is a hefty possession which ties you down too much, they say.

I have been in a dilemma of late. Now that my year-long dream of finally being able to own a better bike (as a gift for Christmas and my birthday) is so close to being fulfilled, it may be still, so far. Now that I have the choice of choosing, I am beginning to see how challenging this entire process may be. Roadbikes don't come cheap, and I have the choice to choose something really expensive, or something far more... modest. This hasn't been easy. For while plenty of friends are recommending me really good models (which come with prices to match), I haven't been able to imagine myself owning something so... is lavish the word?

I don't want to pretend to be modest. Now that I have choices, I would very much like that Orbea, thank you very much. But I am agonised. I almost feel terrible just imagining owning such a lavish possession. I keep wondering, why do I need something so costly, even though it is of a good quality? What would Grandpa Zhou say? How would I feel if God took my new bike away suddenly-say it got smashed, or someone stole it, or... I had to give it away? Then what? How would I react?

People keep telling me to keep my options open, that it's a worthwhile investment to make once and for all. To be fair, they say, it's not as if the money I saved from not purchasing one would go to the poor, because it is a gift. A mindblowing piece of advice I got from someone I respect was that we ought to learn how to receive blessings, too. But perhaps the soundest advice I've received, is to ask God about what He thinks, because surely it is the process which He wants me to go through that I may learn lessons from. In the end, there is no clear right or wrong answer, no black and white, only a consistent and persistent listening to God's still, small voice.

And as silly as it sounds, I will have to ask, God, what would you have me to choose?

I am afraid, of what the choice I make would turn me into, or how the choice I make may reveal the kind of person I really am inside. I don't want to be another proud biker with an (gasp) expensive vehicle to flaunt.

Many months back I had a bizarre dream. I dreamt that I was so proud of my existing bike that I brought it to a train station and parked it there for all to see. And then when I returned, everything on it was dismantled. All the accessories were stolen. Only a pathetic frame was left behind. I woke up with a very clear message in my head- that just like all our possessions, my bike belongs to God. All we have belongs to Him. They are gifts which require humility and gratitude to steward. In the dream, my bike was still there-not all of it was stolen, and I took it as a warning for me never to take God's gifts for granted, and never to boast about them.

This feels as difficult as buying a car. Or ninewest shoes, ha. Not that I've had experience in either.

All my life I've been blessed. Perhaps one of the biggest blessings is never having (or not yet, at least) that feminine desire to own branded things. It is not my personal achievement, but indeed, God's grace to me. Nonetheless, it does not mean the time will never come where I want to buy a Coach bag, though I hope the day never comes. And the hardest part would be that I would have the means to do so but would have to choose otherwise. Just as how I may have to make my choice this time.


Oh God, please don't make me buy a Polygon roadbike. (A Polygon bike may be the equivalent of Bata shoes in the local shoe context- a prudish, mainstream brand that is fairly good and reliable.)

God has always been faithful, even in the littlest and seemingly most frivilous of things. The truth is, He cares about us, even in deep and simple ways. He knows our very human needs, too, and doesn't think them too silly. I remember wanting to buy an evening dress for a flute performance at the end of the year, or for wedding dinners, because I didn't have one but I knew it would cost too much. Spending a hundred dollars for a piece of cloth you wear on a night where you try to suck in your abs to look good just doesn't make sense to me. So I waited, and waited and waited, and there was still no sale.

But lo and behold, on our last day during our Sri Lanka mission trip, when the local people took us to the department store, I found the last piece of a perfect dress which I liked tremendously, which cost no more than 30 Singapore dollars. The prices were very very affordable there even though they were from genuine hoity-toity brands because it was manufactured locally. And here comes the hilarious part, it was only when we had left and paid for the merchandise that I realised I had genuine made-in-Sri-Lanka Calvin Klein in my hands. Calvin Klein for 30 dollars. Thank you God.

I never told anyone I was looking for a dress-it's one of those silly, girly things I put at the back of my head. But God loves to bless us. And just 2 weeks later, Aunty Ay from church told me to drop by her place because she had an old evening dress to give me. I tried it on, a beautiful white silky dress with beautiful Japanese butterfly motifs. It fit perfectly, and I absolutely loved it.

And when God desires, He loves to bless doubly. Sometimes, we just need to wait.

When I was Sri Lanka, my team leader told me something very seriously, "Sometimes God witholds certain things from us because we're just not ready for them. If He gave them to us when we demanded them, we would have perfectly ruined it. Just ruined it." I knew she was talking about relationships really, but I think it applies to all the other things we ask Him for, too. I remember wanting to upgrade my bike very early on in the year, and now that I've smashed around my existing one from one too many falls while practising on it, I can completely understand how I would have ruined a perfectly brandnew bike if I had insisted on having my way without having improved on my bike-handling skills. I would have just ruined it.

Shoes. Clothes. Pedicures. Bikes. Stupid, frivolous things which always throw me into a war between my spirit and flesh. But He cares about these things, even these things, yes. And in the end, He sorts things out, but not before He sorts our hearts out.

So perhaps I ought not to worry too much. Perhaps more than anything, this is a time where God simply wants me to purify my motives, to examine my material inclinations and to wait for Him, to trust Him with my desires.

And if He so desires to bless, or to withold for my own good, then to that I must surely say...


... Yes God. Even if its a Polygon.

photo by Wai Jia

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink;
or about your body, what you will wear.

Is not life more important than food,

and the body more important than clothes?...

Look at the birds of the air... your heavenly Father feeds them.

Are you not much more valuable than they?
Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?

"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. .
...
If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire,
will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?

So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?'
... your heavenly Father knows that you need them.

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness,
and all these things will be given to you as well.

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.

Each day has enough trouble of its own.

-Matthew 6:25-34

Slowly does it. (edited)

Perhaps, it is some form of pride, prejudice or stupidity which makes us overestimate ourselves, and makes us go faster than we ought to. Sometimes, going faster helps to stretch our abilities, inculcates discpline and strengthens our character. But sometimes, it makes us... less.

Each time I am around them, I feel my eyes opened in a different way. I look at them and become inspired. Having suffered from spinal cord injuries from dramatic accidents, or being polio survivors, many of them have tasted pain, suffering and prejudice. Some were born with polio. One suffered 7 gunshots in an armed robbery in America. One had an injury fighting as a soldier in his native country years ago. They had lost use of their legs, but their determination to put their minds, spirits and arms to good use put many of us to shame. Not only do they do so for themselves, but for others, too. Many of them are motivational speakers, and do much to try and help other children/youth with disabilities to find new life in sports.

Helping Fungus by volunteering with the handcyclists has been utterly enjoyable. The handcyclists participate in races mainly to raise awareness for the sport, and to reach out to others who may turn to it as a form of rehabilitation from their disability. But because it is extremely dangerous for the handcyclists to race in a triathlon amidst other faster, able-bodied cyclists, volunteers are needed as biking escorts to ride in front of and behind them to provide air cover.

Perhaps it is our pride which often makes us think, that it is always us who makes the sacrifice, always us who needs to slow down for others who need our help. So I was amazed when I biked with Michael, one of the handcyclists with polio, as I discovered how hard I had to push myself to keep up. He had improved tremendously over the months since the previous race, and my legs, tired from training during the previous 2 days, soured in agony as I pushed ahead. I even had to chase him at some points, as he overtook another handcyclist in good speed. I knew that it was not only Michael, but myself too, who was pushing himself within healthy limits. And it was thanks to him that I, too, felt a sense of accomplishment at the end. For without him, I would not have pushed myself that far, would not have been inspired to even try that hard anyway. I only pushed myself that far because I could see how how important it was to ride closely behind him as a safety marshall, how dangerous it was for him as other cyclists raced irresponsibly close past him.

I learnt, that what we think of as "slowing down" for others, may actually be bringing ourselves further than we would've otherwise. I wouldn't have had the determination to push myself otherwise.

I also learnt, that it is often our friends who make the distance shorter, who make us go faster than we would have done ourselves. But I also learnt, that there is such a thing as going too fast.

I was shocked when it happened. An experienced triathete on his (probably) ten-thousand dollar roadbike zoomed towards us from behind and at a dangerous, narrow bend, refused to slow down for the handcyclist and us. It was obvious he was a competitor, and being a safe or friendly rider was not his priority. On that bend as he tried to overtake us, I gasped in utter shock as he shouted his presence to everyone to steer clear, and on that fateful bend, came so close to me that his torso shoved against mine as he zoomed past me. We were just a hair's end away from a terrible, terrible crash. He could've crashed into me, who could've crashed into Michael, who could've crashed into the other biking escort in front. How close were we to a nice bloody mess on the side of the road because he was going too fast at the expense of others.

It made me rethink my priorities, made me take stock of how we use what God has given to us for His purpose, and also, its potential for evil.

How do we use what we have to bless others?

In some way, it is a sacrifice. After all, volunteering to be a biking escort is certainly different from taking part in your own race. When the crowd cheers, they are cheering the handcyclist on, not you. You are merely an escort, a safety marshall looking really un-cool in a fluorescent vest here to perform a duty. It always humbles me, to wonder if we can go through life the way God requires us to, meekly, humbly, without trumpeting nor fanfare.

I believe God has a way of speaking to us. One Saturday as I was cycling, I saw someone fall out by the roadside. She was a cyclist who had fallen ill halfway and could ride no further. I had looked forward to a good workout all week. I wanted to ride on. But God told me to stop, told me to listen, to ride with her slowly till she got to safety. She needed someone to go slow for her, and He wanted me to learn the lesson of going slow for someone else. I did, and felt a divine presence with us as we rode safely and slowly back. I understood, that being able to use my legs, and overcome my decade long fear of cycling was not a right I owned. It was a gift from God, a blessing to share with others. So I made a new friend, and learnt a new lesson that day.

As we rode back, she looked at my bike and said the same thing I had heard over and over from countless other cyclists, " Your bike doesn't fit. It's too big for you. " And I smiled, bittersweetly, because I knew already. But it is a gift from God, even if it costs a tenth of what most cyclists I know own. I never deserved it in the first place. God has blessed me with legs, and He even gave me a chance to cycle, to get to know the handcyclists and many lovely friends... why should I ask for more?

I believe it wasn't coincidence when it was that same evening that I heard the question which I had given up on. It completely floored me. God has His way of blessing us when He has birthed in our spirits what He wants us to learn. " Hey, we want to get you a new bike for Christmas and your birthday. You look around till then and let us know, okay?"

Silence.

"Say that again?"

It was then that I made a decision that everything we have must be used to bless others. That the gifts and talents we have been given are not so we can finish the race fastest, but so we can bless others with them. Because when we do, it might surprise us to know that we went further, pushed ourselves more, gained something of eternal value, had more fun and achieved what we would never have if we had pushed on headlessly and hurriedly by ourselves.


After all, the handcyclists, though "slower" than the rest of us, have blessed me in ways more deeply than they could ever imagine. "

Fungus asks me, "Why don't you do your own race yourself sometime?"

"I will someday, Fungus. I just like biking with you guys, that's all."

Because you've taught me so much.

Fung and I

The handcyclists from HAS (Handcycling Association of Singapore)

and all the volunteers

" Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit,

but in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than himself.

Let each of you look out not only for his own interests,

but also for the interests of others."

-Phil 2:3-4

Roger Federer Nike Ad

This is so hilarious!!

Tall Order.

No one likes to be last. It's always better being first, or is it?

When I first started cycling with Joyriders, I was intimidated. After all, I had only learnt how to cycle (much less on a roadbike) for a few months. I was always at the back, slinking behind as other people zoomed ahead of me. The feeling of being left behind as a line of elite cyclists roar past you is a desolate one. You try your very best to catch up- your adrenalin is pumping, your legs are turning sour with pain, but the group speeds off, further and further away, and you are... dropped.

Being dropped. It's a terrible feeling. You're all alone, with no one to encourage or cheer you on. And worse, the fact that you're not in a group means that extra effort is required to push against the strong headwind by yourself.

But I ride with the Joyriders, joyfully now, because I've met so many people who've touched my life there. Friends like Big A always looked out for weaker, slower, newer riders like myself when I first joined the group. He's very, very fast, but he's what we call our Guardian Angel because he takes care of others. I could never fathom why he would be so patient and encouraging toward us, instead of speeding ahead with the fiercely competitive group. (After all, in sports, it is all about Pride. I've seen elite cyclists snub their noses at slower riders, and Big A has shared with me some nasty experiences he has had with proud sportsmen too.)

So I always ask Big A why. To which he always replied- "If we are good at something, we should always help others who need help." Without him, I never would have continued cycling after being dropped so many times, over and over. One thing I know, he never dropped me.

No one likes to be left behind. No one likes to feel like they are slow. Do you?

That day, I received a phonecall. "I'm sorry I can't train with you on Thursday. I'm going for the Florida Championships in November. This is a very crucial training period for me, I hope you understand."

"Yes," I said. "I understand. It's all right, I fully understand."

After all, how could I not? M was going for the Florida Championships, an international triathlon where the best of the best would be competing against one another for top spots. He had come in first in his category for his last race. So when he said he couldn't meet me for a ride on Thursday because he had his own training to do, how could I not understand?

But my heart sank, still. Even though I didn't mean for it to. There was an awkward moment over the phone. What was unspoken but very straightforwardly-conveyed was- I was too slow for him. My rational mind hardly allowed for me to feel sad, but I cannot say that it did not sting a little, still.

The reality of life hit me at that moment, very starkly, that the slow ones in life always get left behind. Few, like Big A, go the distance to ride back and cheer them on.


Ever since I learnt how to cycle and started participating in races, I learnt the importance of being willing to be slow, not just as a cyclist, but as a person living life.

Slowing down for others means being patient to teach someone something you already know without making them feel stupid about it. It means sacrificing your time, effort and pride for another. Slowing down means being willing to be (gasp) dropped for the sake of someone else. It's not easy, especially when you know going on the fast track would improve your own performance, give you a chance at winning a medal.

Fungus once asked me before why I enjoyed volunteering as a biking escort with the handcyclists so much during their races- "Why don't you compete in the races yourself? Don't you feel better going faster, and completing your own race?"

Ever since I started cycling better, God's been teaching me the humility to slow down for others. He's been teaching me, that his purpose for me in sports is very different-my body was not made for speed. But his gift to me of finally being able to cycle (after having a bike phobia till I was 21) because of the love, support and help of many others, requires me to pass on that love and help to others too. Big A has taught me, that there is so much more to being first, and fast. Because when we slow down for others, God births in us something far more valuable than any medal.

It is called character.

I told Fungus, that there is no meaning to cycling, or to life, if done without purpose or heart. There is no meaning in completing a race alone, if not done from a position of humility, and a heart to love and help others too. Some of my best rides were the slower ones, because I had time to take in the scenery and encourage someone else. They were memorable because of the encouragement I received along the way. The charity ride 2 weeks ago left me very badly sunburnt because we rode rather slowly under the hot sun, but riding with Dr William Tan and my friends for a good cause was a thoroughly memorable experience.

But I must admit, I am selfish, too. Now, I ride much faster than before, and I have been been guilty of dropping others to catch up with a faster group ahead. I have been guilty of feeling irritated in class when someone asks me a question, of which I think the answer is obvious. I have been guilty of feeling so even though I have been hurt before by another's prideful response implying that I ought to know the answer to such a simple question.

The fact is, no one likes to be slow. And most of us struggle with slowing down for others. It is all a matter of pride.

The next day, M texted me, "Sorry, I felt I was being prideful regarding the ride. When would best work for you? God is teaching me to let Him work in my life."



Sometimes, going slow means inconveniencing yourself. It means a sacrifice on your part. It means humility. And it also means doing so in a patient, loving way that doesn't make someone else feel bad.

It is a tall order.

But it also means gaining a reward no top-speed can ever win you, it means gaining a type of fulfillment in character that no physical traning can ever bring. And in the end, perhaps the greatest achievement is in knowing that it made a difference in someone else's life-that joy is inexplicable.

So tomorrow, Big A and a group of us will be biking escorts for the handcyclists during the trifactor race. We are going not because we are altruistic, but because we have a lot of fun doing this together. We had a lot of fun the last time.


I am learning, that those who are first, may be so in the world's eyes, but God sees things differently. His prize is different. I am learning many things from them, still.

"So the last will be first, and the first last.

For many are called, but few are chosen."

- Matthew 20:16

Processed.

"You have what?"

"Yeah, I still have 4 bullets inside of me."

Fungus had asked me to join him and 2 other handcyclists for a night training session- they needed an able-bodied rider to look out for them on the roads and act as safety marshall. As we rode back with our aching limbs, he said, " Because of the bullets inside of me, I have pain shooting up inside of me all the time."

Sometimes it gets quite bad. He didn't show up once on our regular rides because it got too bad.

But just because he has pain shooting through his entire body all the time, doesn't mean he stops training, stops dreaming of joining the Paraolympics in 2012 in London; Just because we don't know where our interests may lead to doesn't mean we leave them to rot, and give up our talents, give up dreaming. I learnt over my attachment to the psychiatric department some months back that just because the relapse rate for alcoholics is sky-high doesn't mean we give up treating them, or that people should give up seeking help.

I am learning, that just because the present doesn't give us assurance of the future doesn't mean we don't even try. That just because the outcome may be the same, we neglect the lessons to be learned along the way. That it is process which guides us to the end which matters far more than the end itself.

There are many roads to the same end- the longer, less convenient one paved with more suffering inevitably has more treasures along the way.

For what is the point of earning medals, overcoming our vices and achieving our goals if they make us proud and covetous? On the other hand, what does one lose in gaining discipline, focus and perserverence; what does one lose in allowing the suffering of alcoholic rehabilitation to mould one's character and bring one to yet another milestone in life; what does one lose in pursuing one's interests, luxuriating in the unique way which God has made each one of us and learning how to bless others with them?

We can get to the same destination, but is it not what we pick up along the way which matters more? We can drive a swanky car, but how do we drive it using money earned from abortions? "For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul?"- Mark 8:36

Some time back, I got into a bit of trouble at the hospital, for standing up for a mentally-ill patient in what appeared to myself at the time a breach of patient's rights. I could not bear to stand and watch the scene unfold as to do so would be to tacitly support what was done at the moment, which to me, was ethically unacceptable. Yet, I was afraid- afraid of being judged before my classmates, of being embarrassed, of being thought as trying to be a hero. I suffered a terrible struggle within me before finally making myself heard, my tiny petrified voice shivering in the procedure room like a withered leaf in a galestorm, knowing the terrible implications which would follow after overturning The Immutable Laws of the Universe by challenging The Terrible Hierarchy of The Medical Kingdom, especially since I was in the class of The Minions. But I could not do nothing. So I did what I thought was right- to make a stand. The managing team was shocked at my... perhaps audacity would be a fitting word.

The patient received the due treatment but things became sticky after that, and a couple of meetings were needed to clarify, explain and diffuse the situation. I had expected to be dismissed or reprimanded, but the students-affairs doctor was fair and just, listening to both sides. In the end, the misunderstanding was clarified, my concerns and feedback addressed, and we were assured of the patient's best interests.

My stand was that just because the outcome would be the same does not mean we overlook the process, forgo the basic human compassion or dignity a human being deserves and over-ride the requests of the patient-at that point, the patient expressed the same view too; their stand was that since the outcome would be the same, efficiency would have to be priority, no matter what lay between them and the final destination, for every often, delays in treating mental patients can lead to worse outcomes. It was a very, very intense and difficult situation for all sides.

I have no doubt the managing team had the best interests of the patient at heart, and I have deep respect for the work they do- the conflict lay simply in the tension between the utilitarian/realist/them versus the foundationalist/idealist/me. And it also lay in the fact that I was asking Why in a place where nobody asks why simply.

My question to them was if the manner in which what was done could have been different. The dilemma was that the utilitarian would argue that sometimes an iron rod serves better, more efficiently.

I am learning, that Efficiency is both a powerful and terrifying word because of the kind of people it makes us.

I kept wondering if I should have done what I did, said what I said, after knowing how much hoo-hah and inconvenience this matter had caused among the staff. Fortunately, my peers weren't affected-most don't know what ensued. I kept wondering, kept going through the situation in my head over and over...but the same ending played repeatedly, still. Had I not spoken up for the patient, or had chosen to speak up only after what I thought to be unjust had been done, I think a part of my heart would have hardened and died forever. Had the incident been played out a million times, I think I would have done the same thing, because not doing so for whatever reason at the time would have compromised my values, the same values which I brought into the medical interview room when the board interviewed me and which I hope to carry throughout the rest of my medical career, for myself, for my patients and for the people around me. Not doing so would mean I was more comfortable to hide in the crowd than to stick out to be what might seem to others, an alien.

I got myself into a bit of hot soup, but I learnt a lot through the process, things which I will treasure for a long time and which I would not have gleaned had I chosen the easier, more cowardly option of unquestioningly accepting everything going on around me. Perhaps I could have reacted differently, but replaying the situation over and over, I could not quite see any other way which would have been true to what I held on so strongly to- values of respect and humanity.

I must confess, I am an activist, and I am used to bringing myself trouble when making a stand. I would rather make the stand and take the risk than not at all. I remember I once forgo-ed the opportunity to defend a patient because I was afraid of He Who Is Too High to be Named- it saved me a lot of trouble because who knows what would have happened had I challenged His Highness in front of everyone, but I will never forget that incident, never be able to explain my cowardliness to stand up for what I had thought was right. There were other incidents during other attachment postings too, events which left me feeling dead and jaded about the medical profession, times which I wished I would have stood up to say or do something.

Perhaps this foolhardiness will never wear off. And for some silly reason, I hope it does not, either, even though I know I risk getting into greater trouble someday.

Conflict brings opportunity for discussion, for depth, for exploration. I think it is a worthwhile path to take, albeit a less convenient and painful one.

To be truthful, as I walked home from the hospital, I felt really crummy inside after receiving a call that the doctor from the student-affairs department wanted to see me the next day. The word which had gone round among the staff was " Student tried to stop procedure: First time in History."

I felt damned, doomed to die in embarrassment the next day. And as I sulked, I suddenly remembered what an author (MP Prof Thio Li-Ann) had shared with me at her book launch some months ago. She didn't really know me but after a short chat, told me to read the book of Jeremiah of the bible.

Like the prophet Jeremiah, she said she recognised that I, too, like Jeremiah, had the heart of a whiner because of the sense of haven God had placed in my heart and my earnestness to watch that haven being played out in reality. Jeremiah was stoned for standing up for his ideals and for righteousness. He also had a thoroughly miserable life because of it. I remember being very shocked when she said that, because she has been the third person in the last year to tell me that they saw Jeremiah's life in mine.

Trust me, this isn't easy to swallow- Jeremiah had a hard life- he was stoned and trodden upon for standing up for what was right, and his life was full of pain, tears and sorrow because of it. The book of Jeremiah speaks to me and stings me in many ways, not least because people have spoken it over my life, but because God had spoken directly to me about it too. A few months back I bought a book called Run with the Horses because ha, I liked the title and cover page, only to realise it was about the life of Jeremiah too.

And now that I've discovered my love in Obstetrics and Gynaecology, I am beginning to see how, in trembling and fear, how I may be "stoned" for the rest of my life for making certain stands about abortions and the rampant unethical practices that human beings have come up with to own and discard children like commodities. I even once considered not doing O&G because of what treacherous ground it is, even tried to convince myself I may find something else to pursue, something where I wouldn't need to stick out like a sore thumb for making a stand.

So that afternoon, in tears for a bit because of fear, I read the first chapter of Jeremiah.

In fear of being stoned, Jeremiah had pleaded with God, "Ah, Lord God! Behold I cannot speak, for I am a youth!" I felt the same way that day, feeling thorougly stupid and worried that I had screwed up big time. Me and my big mouth and my stupid activism.

But God told him, " Do not say, 'I am a youth,' For you shall go to all to whom I send you, And whatever I command you, you shall speak. Do not be afraid of their faces, For I am with you to deliver you."

So I straightened myself out and chided myself for being such a coward. If I had stood up for what I had thought was right, then what was there to fear? But facing a panel of doctors can be awfully scary, especially when you know you have crossed The Untouchable Line. So I read it, over and over.

Two sessions of talking with the doctor in charge of student affairs. Some glares from staff who had misunderstood my intentions. A couple of email correspondences. And finally, resolution. And through it all, my trusting in God to stay calm enough to explain myself and defend my values because of those few verses I had read.

I learnt a lot from this experience-the challenges and implications of dealing with mentally-ill patients, the dilemma and trauma and physical assault which hospital staff have to deal with, the armor of valor which they continue to wear in spite of such a thankless and difficult job. I learnt that right and wrong is not as clear as black and white (please don't go away thinking our healthcare staff do not treat our patients right-they do the best they can in the way they know how, and as I said, right and wrong is often in shades of grey.) I learnt that there are many ways to put the patient's best interests first- and that can vary from person to person, depending on what ideals you hold on to.

But I also learnt that healthcare professionals have feet of clay. That they are human, and therefore imperfect-myself included.

But would I have done things differently? The answer still remains, no.

Because then, I would have betrayed the values which I so claim to live by, shortcircuiting the process which, when worked through, reveals lessons and truth and depth which grows the spirit to explore, question and to better ourselves as a medical community...

... for an outcome which, yes, no doubt would have been the same anyway.

But you see, it's the Process which counts. Just because the outcome is the same doesn't mean we can't choose to do things differently, allow the process to shape and mould us.

After the drama ended, the doctor conveyed to me:

Thanks Wai Jia for your mature email. I have spent some extra sessions to diffuse the situation, things are okay now... Thanks again - you are good student. I can tell you care a lot for patients and that is much to be desired. Have a good career.

-Dr A

Even if I had the chance to, I wouldn't have changed a thing.

"Dear Wai Jia,

thank you for such a wonderful Teachers' Day greeting.

I'm not sure I deserve all yr kind words

as a lot of the credit goes to ur own strength and perserverence.

Uve been a great student and I pray that you continue to be moved by passion n the heart.

I still rmb abt ur sharing of how speaking up for a patient's plight got you into trouble.

I hope you never forget that moment : ) "

-Mr Raymond James Ho

Don't allow the world's praise to attract

Or its blame to affright you

From the discharge of the duty

You owe - to God, to yourself

Or the souls of those about you.

God will take care of your reputation

If you make His glory

And your own duty - your sovereign aim.

- William Booth,

founder of The Salvation Army.

Jeremiah 1:7-8
But God said to me,
"Do not say, 'I am a youth,'
For you shall go to all to whom I send you,
And whatever I command you, you shall speak.
Do not be afraid of their faces,
For I am with you to deliver you..."

Kites and Dreams.

I dream all the time. I just, can't stop dreaming. It is what keeps me alive every day.

I'm not proud to admit it, but my mind is very often drifting towards a rainbow or resting on a daffodill. Like a cloud, it's always moving, shifting, taking on new shape and form in the likeness of a new ideal, a new aspiration. Sometimes I share my dreams, sometimes I don't. But I just, can't stop dreaming.

Lately, I think I heard God's calling for my life. It just sat so well and peacefully within me. I have for a long time loved medicine and children. I learnt that I love O&G (Obstetrics and Gynaecology), love women, teaching children, and writing books. I was agonised, however, by the fact that O&G is such treacherous ground (think having to deal with abortions and ethics and mother-and-child life-and-death issues on a day-to-day basis). I was agonised by the fact that I couldn't see how my medical background would help me teach or serve children better directly-somehow, I never saw myself as a paediatrician. But when I saw the tree filled with hundreds of caterpillars while we conducted the children's camp in Sri Lanka, I felt as if God was speaking to me, that my love for children and teaching them was not an accident, that they were caterpillars with potential ready to be unleashed and transformed into butterflies. He gave me a sunday school class at church for a reason.

So it was then that my dream birthed and blossomed. For a long time, I kept all my kites under wraps in the back of my closet, as the nightmare of untangling the knots of kitestrings unnerved me. But as we walked by the ocean in Sri Lanka, and God presented this image of the sky to me, just like in the last page of Kitesong, I truly felt He was telling me, that it was time to be brave to dream again. That it is noble and lovely to dream, as long as we trust God with them ultimately.

Just like how when my dream to write a book to raise funds evoked feelings of excitement, joy, trepidation and peace, this too, released in me a cage-ful of butterflies.

I think I've found my calling in life- to serve needy women and children in underprivileged nations.

I have a dream. Of building my own Women's and Children's Hospital in a developing nation and practising O&G the Right way. (Yes, I believe performing abortions for reasons other than the fetus causing maternal harm is Wrong. And I know I must be prepared to be slammed for taking that stand for the rest of my life because righteousness invites persecution. I am not sorry for this stand.)

I dream of building that hospital in a developing place where women and children are hurting, and of founding an orphanage right next to that place, so women who want abortions have the option of putting them up for adoption, instead of going for illegal, septic abortions and dying of septicemia. This helps to alleviate the social issues involved. I dream of someday implementing public health programs to educate families about the importance of contraception, the sanctity of life, to alleviate problems of malnutrition and child/women abuse, and to strengthen families. I dream of doing surgery for women and children, especially simple ones such as cleft palate surgery.

I dream of writing and painting more books to raise funds and awareness for causes I believe in. I dream of putting my paintings in a gallery someday to raise funds for a needy cause somewhere.

It jolly well sounds impossible, doesn't it? It's so big a dream. Practically speaking, I can't do O&G, Paediatrics and Plastic surgery (for cleft palates) all at the same time either,

But it's not entirely impossible, either. Doctor Miguel has transformed communities through medical missions, and is doing it till this very day. Together with her husband who is a pastor, she is helping communities in rural Philippines through the well-known Agape Rural Program. Dr Tan Lai Yong has done it, and is doing it now, still. He has published several books to raise funds for numerous tree-planting and community-sustaining projects in remote parts of China, blessing people with leprosy, HIV and the poor and needy.

Families-just of late God put this burden in my heart. For I realise, that most of our social problems today are largely due to family units gone wrong- explain orphans and abuse and dysfunctional people. Lately, I submitted another book to my publisher, in the hope that it may be used to raise awareness and funds for a cause pertaining to strengthening family units. I'm surrendering it to God, and have decided that even if nothing comes out of it, I must trust in His plan and timing. I have learnt, that we must never think we want to do good more than God does.

I dream of doing medical missions with my family in a place God has called me to, to serve other families. I dream of staying there over a good number of years, and cycling to work maybe. I dream of staying in a place where there is an ocean.

I dream of never ceasing to dream.

These dreams are so big, so idealistic, and so very very far away that I know they would only but invite scoffing and mocking. I am beginning to realise, that a lot of what I do and think has invited jeering. But perhaps the best thing is this, that no matter what people say, I still can't stop dreaming.

I have little, silly personal dreams too- about having having a new bike, one that is lighter, faster and which actually fits my size. One which I can one day ride in overseas races with handcyclists to raise funds for a worthy cause. I dream of completing an Olympic distance triathlon in my lifetime. I dream of sailing someday in the wide open ocean. I dream of learning how to horseride.

I dream of someday finding someone who really understands, loves, encourages and believes in me, whom I can partner to do God's work, and whom I can understand, love, encourage and believe in, in return.

I dream all the time, I just can't stop dreaming.

Because you know, dreams really do come true. Even if they're big, far-fetched ones. The thing is, I'm not believing for them to happen because of what I'm capable of, because I can't. But God is infinitely bigger than any of our wildest dreams, and He most certainly cares more about the poor and needy than any of us put together. God knows what needs to be done. But when we trust Him enough to ask, a spiritual miracle takes place. That act of faith unleashes a power far beyond our imagination- the impossible becomes possible, and we will awed by the magnitude of His abilities, and humbly come to know that it was not us, by God who moved the mountains and shook the earth. We just need to trust, that when we ask, He listens, and will invite us to participate in His adventurous work- but in His time and in His way, not by our terms or standards.

My journey through Kitesong has humbled and chastened me much. I learnt that God is more concerned about orphans than I ever will be. I learnt that when we want to make things happen, we must trust in God's good and perfect timing, and learn to be patient. I learnt that in the long run, only God can be our eternal fuel, not human goodness. And last but not least, I learnt that while we can dare to dream big, dare to ask, dare to have faith, at the end of the day, we must be willing to surrender and accept God's will for us and the world, and not whine about dreams which may be coloured by self-glorification, or selfish desires, and not be overwhelmed by disappointment. We must trust God that He knows best.

After Kitesong, I don't think I can ever stop dreaming. God, how did you make this happen? How did you make a little girl's dreams come true? And the dreams of many other children in developing nations?

After 3 and a half years, we have come full circle finally. Thank you for giving these underprivileged children in Nepal a better chance at education, at life, and a chance to dream like you and me, too.

Dear sister Wai Jia,

Greetings! How are you?

Hope you are very busy for your daily duties, we too are also busy always in our daily life.

We are not forget you and praying for you.

All our Sophia children are doing well.

We have 30 girls with us, so continue to pray for us.

We are very happy and praising God for His goodness for all of us.

After a very long time we are writing to you but you are in our heart always.

Even though we are physically far away from each other but you are always in our prayer. We know that your heart and prayer for Nepal Ministry is there always in God.

Your prayer, support and many other things not goes into vain

because God answer our prayer and

He bless us with new house for Sophia Home.

After long renovation we all shifted already in new Sophia Home from just last week of August 09.

Just we would like to thank you from our bottom of our heart

that thank you for your support in every areas of our ministry.

Please find the simple picture of new Sophia Home.

Thank you once again and
may God bless you richly.

Uncle S and Aunty G L

We're free to dream, because it's God, not us, who makes things happen.

Thank you for your love and support.
More than $100'000 has been raised for Sophia's Home and the children have now moved into a new premise they can finally call their own.
No longer do they need to keep shifting homes because of high rental issues,
so they may finally put their hearts to studying well.
Funds raised from the Kitesong DVD will continue to support youth in developing countries,
so they may have a better chance at achieving their dreams in life.
The new Home is near the children's school, and a large field where they can play.

Thank you for giving them a chance to dream.

“ Finally, brothers, whatever things are true,

whatever things are noble, whatever things are just,

whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely,

whatever things are of good report,

if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy-

meditate on these things.

The things which you learned and received and heard and saw in me,

these do,

and the God of peace will be with you."

-Phil 4:8

Topsy Turvy.

When I was invited to give a short sharing about Kitesong during the fundraising dinner last Sunday, I didn't know what to say. I found it most difficult to compress all that God had done in my life through this journey in the 2 minutes which they gave me. Feeling rather out of place as well as being the youngest person in such a posh hotel amidst a sea of tai-tais (slang for middle-aged married ladies) in their glittery dresses, expensive jewellery and make-up, and wealthy businessmen, I tried my best not to appear awkward without make-up in the simple black cotton dress my sister had given me a year ago.

My mind went blank when I got on stage, and though people were very encouraging with regards to the little bit which I shared, I think if I had a second chance to say it right, I would have liked to share how things are really not what they seem. God is topsy-turvy, you see.

On the surface, it seems as if I did a great thing for the under-privileged. In truth, it was not me, but my publisher and his wife, the entire missions society, the missionaries who have poured out their lives for the poor and the generosity of many people who made the fundraising to build a new orphanage for the underprivileged children in Nepal possible. On the surface, it seems as if I am what the world may label a "good" person. In truth, not a single one of us can truly be "good"- I struggled with pride, greed and vanity through the entire process- I believe the root of anorexia is a form of warped pride. On the surface, it seems like I am a sensible, mature, compassionate person. In truth, I suffered from a people-pleasing complex.

You see, God is absolutely topsy-turvy. Topsy-turvy because even though we're so broken and imperfect, He often likes to lavish His love on those who are weak, flawed and wretched. If you have a peek in the bible, He always liked to involve the most unlikely people in great adventures and phew, am I relieved to know that!

When I first made friends with God and hardly knew anything much about Him, He decided to use an angsty teen who suffered with lots of self-esteem issues to participate in the adventure He had in store, which comprised of a book, a trip to Nepal and a new orphanage for 30 children. But once I became proud, self-absorbed and let my big-headed self get the better of me, He broke me through a period of depression and physical illness, took away all the gifts He had blessed me with, so I could truly understand the meaning of gratitude and humility. He is topsy turvy because He likes to use those who are weak and simple in the eyes of the world, but hates those who bask in worldly adoration. He likes to use those who are broken, and hates those who self-exalt.

It intrigues me to know that when I was ill and struggling, the missionaries in Nepal too were facing much difficulty with purchasing land for the new building. And it was only after I had recovered, after I had truly grown, that their plans made new advancements. Their steam picked up when mine did. But it shouldn't amaze me, should it? To know that more than our works and ministries, God is far more interested in our characters, and growth.

Thank you all for your support and generosity. I cannot thank you enough for the many times you randomly put money trustingly into my hands "just to bless the children" or wrote the Home a cheque of hundreds or thousands of dollars. I cannot thank my publisher and his wife enough for giving me a chance, and for being so encouraging. I cannot thank my parents enough for loving me so much to let me go and pursue my dreams

And thank you God, for being just the way You are, topsy turvy.

10,000 Visits!!

Today is a proud moment for me. A PROUD MOMENT!!

Mrgin.blogspot.com has has finally reached 10,000 visits



10,000

that's right...TEN THOUSAND VISITS!!

since February this year.

May not be much since probably half of that amount probably came from me with my own self-obsession to read my own crap.

May not be much compared to the likes of popular bloggers who'd probably get that kind of figure per day.

May not even be enough to mix around with the popular bloggers due to the variance in class.

Its probably not even enough to earn through blogging to buy my desired CLS 55 AMG.



So why do i continue to blog?









I DO IT BECAUSE OF YOU!!

Thank you guys for visiting!Appreciate it alot!I hope you guys will continue to stay tuned to the latest updates of this blog though it may not be much too.

Happy Teachers' Day.

If I wasn't called into medicine, I would have been a full-time teacher. I love teachers, because of how they change the world one life at a time. They changed mine.

All the people who left significant imprints on my life and guided me onto paths which changed my life forever were teachers. The people who believed in me and gave me the encouragement to dream big dreams were teachers. The people who saw potential within me which I could not envision and who gave me hope to dare to have faith in myself were teachers. They were the source of what I am beginning to realise may be one of the greatest needs in my life, that is, encouragement.

I won't ever forget Mr. Raymond James Ho. Kitesong was dedicated to him, my General Paper and Literature teacher in junior college. More than teaching me, he inspired me. He taught us not just texts, but knowledge; he taught us not just how to score, but how to live; he taught us not just how to build a good CV, but to dream, and to dream big. I came from a mandarin-speaking background and Chinese school; I have never read the great classics of english literature because my serious self always preferred and still prefers non-fiction; in junior college, I was under a great deal of stress.

But Mr. Ho's life and personality inspired me so much that my appetite for reading grew overnight exponentially; his comments on my essays were so encouraging I remember I would write additional essays and leave them in his pigeon-hole over the weekend simply because I couldn't stop writing; in the afternoons we would talk at the umbrella-tables outside the staff room about life and history and the world and God, and he always left me in tears. So when I topped the standard in my general paper, I looked at him in disbelief and knew it was because of him.

He saw me not merely as another student, but saw each and every student in his class as an individual being capable of great things. He saw us each as a special person, as God's child. He truly loved us.

I believe, to a large extent, that Kitesong happened because of him, too. Just thinking about him makes me cry because I've never met a person so knowledgeable and humble, so incredibly loving and firm at the same time.

Perhaps the hardest thing for me about studying in medicine might be not having that precious teacher-student relationship anymore. Unlike before, there is no longer anyone to mentor, understand, nurture and encourage you. Every professor we meet has a thousand other things to do and patients to meet, and we almost never see them much again after the end of each module. We move on to a different specialty department and hospital within weeks. The teacher-student tie is tenuous, at best.

I miss you, Mr Ho. You have made one of the biggest impacts on my life, and on the lives of many, many others too.

I am beginning to realise how much encouragement means to me, how God has changed me from being overly independent to one who realises how much she needs to humble herself because she needs others, too. I am learning, how Words of Affirmation are my love language, and how Amos, Fungus and Michael were all spot-on when they said I had too little confidence in myself.

The first time Amos took me to train in the sea, he could tell I was stressed out by the strong currents. He pointed to a shore far away and asked if I could make it there. I had barely mastered free-style, didn't have a swimmer's stamina and with the high tide coming in, didn't think I could do it. Then he said, "It's okay if you don't want to, don't want you to drown ya. But I think you can. Of course I think you can." He gave me a thumbs up, his encouragement did wonders inside me, and then we did it four times.

During my flute exam, I remember I didn't have enough confidence in playing my scales. My teacher had a cold and couldn't show up to show me support as he originally intended. I faltered, and thought I wouldn't pass that section. I entered the exam hall hoping just to pass. I never expected, that had I had just a little more faith in my abilites, I would have scored a distinction. I just didn't expect to do well at all.

Last Sunday, the Methodist Missions Society invited me to give a sharing about Kitesong during their annual fundraising banquet. My mind was in a blank because I felt really out of place, and had it not been for the missionaries' encouragement, I don't think I would have known what to say.

I remember 4 years ago, it was Mr. Ho whom I first told about my silly idea about writing a book sometime and not once did he ever flinch. He listened to my ludicrous ideas and rainbow-coloured dreams coated with honey and sunshine with all seriousness. He always affirmed his students. Teachers teach, they encourage and mould and shape us. Mr. Ho did that for me, and more.

Being in medicine is so different. Consultants often put you down, to make you feel bad enough to study harder; people sometimes say disparaging things. It is part and parcel of medical training- we have come to accept it as a fact of life. I understand, that needing encouragement may be my greatest strength as well as weakness. As a writer, words are of great importance to me- and I am often broken or built through them. I cannot deny the immense power encouragement brings me, and how grateful I am for it. It is a weakness which makes me deeply cherish my few friends and ex-teachers who loved and love me by affirming me.

Just a month back, I met Mr. Ho while dining at a cafe. I stopped to chat, and as usual, he listened to me, asked me about my life and Inspired me all over again. He told me things which made me want to cry. He believed and believes in me in ways I cannot imagine anyone would. He truly understands my make-up and genuinely believes I will make a good doctor with a strong moral compass, truly believes I was made for this. He truly believes that I am a strong person. And it makes me want to cry because it reminded me of all the damaging words of disparagement I have been allowing to seep inside of me, all the hurtful things which people have said to me, either in insensitive jest or blatant frankness, and how it does no justice to the faith he, or God has in me.

It reminded me, that everyone needs encouragement to finish the race, and that I too, have a part to play in sowing good seeds into the lives of my children in Sunday school. The hurt which I have experienced reminds me too that we need to be careful with what we say, because God knows the hurt we can inflict on others with words. (Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing - Proverbs 12:18). This reminds me, that in some ways, we are all somebody else's teacher, too.

I am learning, that encouragement not only initialises me, it moves me till the very end. But I am learning too, that our greatest source of encouragement must come from our greatest Teacher, God Himself. We cannot let what our friends or what people say about us discourage us. And just as how teachers often see potential in their students, God Himself also sees us with His special lens. And if we only have faith enough to believe that He has good things to say about us, kind words to affirm us, and special things in store for us, perhaps we may find that we may achieve far more than we ever imagined possible too.

Happy Teachers' Day, Mr. Ho.