Baby miracle.

Have you ever felt like a situation was impossible, too big for you, and then decided not to try at all? Because after all, trying requires effort, and a certain amount of faith which requires putting oneself on the line.

When I received the email, I am ashamed to say that I felt just that way. Josephine, the missionary who gave up her life to help needy women and children in Nepal, had written to me about a little 4 year-old girl named Alisha.

Dear Wai Jia,

Greetings from Nepal!

I have a little girl name Alisha , she is about 4 years old. She was born with hearing impairment and despite several visits to the doctor in Nepal to fix a hearing aid, she is still not able to hear. I am wondering if we can rally a group of doctors in Singapore who will be willing to help her. I wonder if by performing an operation, she will be able to hear better. I think she has the potential to speak but is unable to due to her hearing problem.

I am praying about helping her and her mother. Her mother is a single mother with 3 children to look after. I hope to help her reduce her burden by seeking treatment for Alisha. I will try to raise funds for their air ticket and other expenses.

Much Love,

Jo

A few days ago, Jo shared with me that this idea came into her mind as I'd previously shared Qing's story with her, about how a group of Singaporean doctors had rallied together to help this girl from China who had been brutally disfigured by acid to see and face life again. If they did it for Qing, could someone do it for little Alisha too?

To be honest, a weary thought flitted into my mind, "Rally a group of doctors here to help her? I know I had shared with her Qing's story but it was a doctor himself who arranged it. I'm not sure if I can help, I'm only but a medical student- what are you expecting me to do?" I truly had little faith in the situation. There are hundreds of needy people out there, what can I do?

I thought the situation was quite improbable, unrealistic even. I wanted to turn her down, tell her I wasn't optimistic about helping her, tell her that there're too many needy people out there and well, we just can't go that far for each of them- it isn't realistic. Don't you know how difficult and expensive it will be to fly Alisha in and out of Singapore? Don't you know how expensive the entire procedure will be?

Looking back, I certainly deserved a good throttle. I forgot, that we must do our best to help one person at a time, one soul at a time. Whoever God brings to our doorstep is who we must love. No matter if there're 9 billion people in the world. No matter. I was deeply skeptical about the whole ordeal, and goodness knows what it was which possessed me to reply instead, "Sure, Jo. Rest assured I'll do my best to see what I can do."

It would take a miracle, I thought, for Alisha to hear again.

Dr. G, an extremely well-connected doctor with a big heart for God gave me a number of an ENT(ear, nose and throat) surgeon to call. This surgeon gave me hope because his secretary gave me a date to speak with him personally. He was famous in Singapore, well known for his skill. After waiting for his reply for several weeks, and calling his office only to be received by his secretary again, my heart sank to the floor when she finally confessed to me, "Ah yes, I did speak to him about it. But... er... well.... er... he's too busy for the rest of the year."

Too busy. I had waited and prayed for weeks only to receive a let-down.

I was disappointed. Still quite in shock, I asked Dr. G for the number of another doctor, Dr. K.

Dr. K was more cordial. I called him during my lunch hour. His warmth over the phone assured me of his humanity. After I had explained the situation, however, he said, "Sorry, this is not my specialty. Why don't you contact Dr L from X hospital. She'll help you."

"Could you link me up with her? Perhaps give me her contact number?"

" Go through her secretary. Or you can find out her email on the Internet," was his brisk reply before he hung up. Appalled by his lack of concern and apparent disinterest, I lost my appetite. After what had happened with the previous doctor, I suddenly became outraged and discouraged. Did they not realise what they had just done? But thank goodness he called me back 2 minutes later, almost sheepishly, as if he had realised the gravity of his doing and after he had sensed the sheer disappointment in my voice.

"I'm so sorry, Wai Jia. Let me link you up with Dr L. This is her number, contact her, yes? I'm sure she will help you."

But by that time, my hopes had dwindled. I had waited, prayed, made several phonecalls and sent many emails to various doctors, only for all that to come to nothing. Have we really worked our whole lives in the name of helping the needy, only to become too busy to serve the people who need us most? I don't have the right to judge- perhaps they are busy helping others too. But it certainly made me think and wonder how our choices and reactions can shape and change us.

By this time, my faith store had diminished. In my head, I was crafting an apology letter to Josephine already: I'm sorry about Alisha, Jo. I tried my best.

Sometimes, you may just be one shot away from succeeding.

For Dr. L's voice was enthused with passion and love when she heard my plea. "Oh wow, I've been praying to God to please send me someone like this to help for ages! I'm so glad you called. Thank you for the opportunity!"

My heart sang with joy at her response. I had met someone with a heart of gold.

Even then, we were far away from reality. A hearing implant would cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. The operation itself would cost tens of thousands, even if Dr. L waived her surgical fee. Was it possible?

"Don't worry, Wai Jia. Rest assured I'll be taking over this case. I'll fly to Nepal to do the operation if need be."

I remember thinking before, this would need a miracle. A miracle God provided indeed.

So 4 months later, you can imagine how amazed I was to see little Alisha right in front of my very eyes.

Little Alisha, though deaf, is incredibly intelligent and communicative through her expression and creative gestures. In a world of silence, she would smile, chuckle and imitate adults with curious glee. Within minutes, she had wooed all the nurses and medical staff at the hospital.

Her operation was supposed to be on Thursday, just 4 days ago. We were all set for the operation which would change her life. But because of a chesty cough, the anaesthetists have postponed her operation to this coming Thursday instead.
It is just as well, for it so happens that I would be doing my Anaesthesia module in the same hospital, and assigned to be in the operating theatre. This means I would have the chance to witness her operation!

It amazed me, truly, to be humbled and shamed by my own lack of faith. I learnt, that for all we are worth, we very often do not fathom nor see how on earth we could possibly provide for the needy. We very often do not wish to go too far for a single soul. But perhaps, all we need to see is how we can do little things in little steps of faith. Perhaps, that is all that is needed for us to partner with God, who brings circumstance, money and the right people into perfect cosmic cooperation. It is He who eventually makes the miracle.

So don't ever look down on what you can do for others. Don't ever doubt your ability to be useful for God, or helpful to the needy. And most importantly, never doubt the ability of God to put people, money and circumstance together, even when you feel your hands are tied in an impossible situation. I am learning, that though we may feel unsure about our part in solving a problem, we can certainly be sure of what God has called us to do, and put our faith that all things will work for good. We may only care about large-scale projects, but God cares deeply, even for and especially the individual.

Just remember, that when you feel like throwing in the towel, you could just be one try away from success. We can't save the whole world, but with a little bit of faith, we certainly can change one life at a time.

If you can't feed a hundred people, then feed just one.

-Mother Teresa

'He defended the cause of the poor and needy,

and so all went well.

Is that not what it means to know me?' declares God.

- Jeremiah 22:16

*Little Alisha's operation fees would have cost hundreds of thousands because of the cost of the hearing implant. After a special request was made to the implant company, however, the cost has been greatly reduced. Nonetheless, the operating fees etc still amount to $32'000, even after waiving the surgical charges. She is still $15'000 short.

If you would like to make a donation to help little Alisha hear again, please send me an email at waijia@hotmail.com

so I may link you up with the necessary contacts.

God bless you.

Cheers.

They say old habits die hard.

Perhaps it is not so much the habits themselves which bind us to them, but the familiarity and comfort we find there which makes us run back to them, no matter if they are good for us or not. Very often, they aren't anyway.

Like a child running back to his mother's arms, what feels familiar always feels good. But there comes a time where doing so may no longer be appropriate, and running to the right place, back to God, will require new courage, new trust and new faith. Just like how it takes a great deal of commitment and faith for an alcoholic to find his solace elsewhere, many of us probably require that same steely inner strength to turn away from old coping mechanisms to someplace new, someplace unfamiliar, but ultimately better for us in the long run.

In the face of depression or stress, can we choose to pray instead of smoke, excercise instead of binge, call a friend or journal instead of feeding on pornography?

While the stronger part of us is eternally seeking renewal and rebirth, the weaker part shall forever strive to crawl back to the past, dragging our growth down like dead weights. There is a war between spirit and flesh. Unless we consciously and doggedly refocus our efforts on what is newer but unfamiliar, we will forever stagnate. Will we not?

When you look into the mirror, do you see part old, and part new? Does it frustrate you.

I was looking into the mirror just the other day when I found myself surprised at just how much my body has changed. It is vastly different from when I was ill with anorexia 2 years ago. In fact, it is different from any other time in my life. For one, I don't ever remember myself ever having calves or thighs this muscular (in girl terms of course). I don't remember my body ever looking this way, nor my skin being so tanned ever in my life. I also don't remember my weight ever being this... high. Ever since I've started cycling, swimming and running on a regular basis, my weight has been climbing. And though I try to remember that muscle is, after all, thrice the density of fat, it is still psychologically a frightful event for a member of the female species.

Suddenly, I became afraid of and exasperated with my body. I became confused and angry with myself. On one hand, I can't thank God enough for helping me find a genuine joy in sports, find genuine friends who are real gemstones to train with and befriend, find genuine freedom in enjoying recreational sports as God-given gifts instead of being enslaved to them. On the other, the old self was seething with jealousy inside, determined to rob me of this joy, as it constantly reminded me how different and therefore ugly my new body was, and challenged to put it down.

It's too bulky. Look what roadcycling has done to your thighs. Look what long distance running has done to your calves. Look at what swimming has done to your shoulders and arms. Look at the number on the scale- you're a whisker away from being sixty kilos. Now weren't you better off in the past?

Better off? Like when I was ill, you mean?

I am learning, temptation will always be there. We will always have the choice to turn back to our old ways. I know it will only take a moment of folly, insecurity and weakness to make ruin all I've taken to come this far in recovery. It will be too easy to to revert to my old ways of self-deprivation. Running to Ed is, or rather, was my natural coping mechanism, something I was comfortable with. After all, Ed was familiar.

But I am learning, that while human beings have a natural tendency to return to the old, we don't have to, especially when we realise God promises us life afresh with Him.

Today, I received an unexpected email from a sender who made me jump in my seat. It was a well-known senior surgeon whom many of peers admire who had got wind of this space and sent me his thoughts. It got me thinking.

Dear Wai Jia,

... I've recently come across your Kitesong blog and

wanted to thank you for your courage in sharing the journey you are on... ...

The turbulent conflicts you have shared remind me

how obediently you are allowing yourself to be a new wineskin:

stretching and trustingly accomodating

even the uncomfortable bubbling up and

overflowing of the maturing new wine being poured into your life.

In the words of Keith Green,

keep on keeping your heart's wineskin 'new', 'soft' and 'oiled'!

Thank you! ....

Blessings!

J

There is a story in the bible about God telling people not to put new wine into old wineskin. (Wineskin is often made of goat's skin and was used to contain wine in the past.) This is because when new wine ferments in the old wineskin made of animal skin, it produces so much gas that it causes the old vessel to rupture, ruining both the original container and the precious new liquid.

It made me think-are we not like that too? Parts of us have matured, moved on and grown wiser. Yet, when we allow our old mindsets to continue to dwell in us and ferment, are we not creating an opportunity to hijack ourselves, to ruin ourselves completely again?

This evening, I was using my artist's eye to critically examine my body in the mirror, so surprised and also ambivalent at how different it is now when it suddenly struck me- that my newfound security in God, in myself and in my body is the new wine God has been pouring into me. And unless I throw out that old wineskin (that old familiar picture of a sickly-thin body which my old mind desired and was comfortable running back to), my new wine shall war with old wineskin till it ruptures, the precious new wine God has poured within me shall spill and all shall be lost.

Perhaps, growing is really all about trusting God to make us who we were meant to be. Trying to be in control can often be a hindrance.

I remember how I used to try to control too many things, and try to achieve too many things by myself to find some sense of security. Running longer and longer distances on my own was a form of gaining some sort of control. I was always too tired. Yet, when I learnt to let go, not only did God teach me how to cycle, He released an entire community of friends to me who gave me newfound heights of liberty, joy and peace to run, swim, cycle guiltlessly with and reach levels of achievement I never, ever would have reached myself. Last Sunday, my 2 marathon-enthusiast friends took me on a neverending trail. We ended up completing my longest distance ever, something my too-tired, too-individualistic, too-frail body would never have been able to do in the past. More importantly, it wasn't the distance we covered or the timing within which we completed it that mattered, but the company, the friendship we shared. Somehow, when we focus on what's important, God takes us further than we ever could imagine.

Instead of being fairer and lighter, training has made me darker, more muscular and heavier- attributes not nearly most girls desire. Today, on the first day of school after a one-week break, I was exasperated by some of the insensitive things which were said to me by teasing boys again. They take it as affectionate teasing, a form of unrelentless amusement, not nearly as amusing to me at times though I try to graciously laugh along. But over the week, spending time with Am has really affirmed me in many ways. Being treated like a lady and being occasionally pampered by him has been a blessing, to say the least. So I am learning, that it is my own mind which I must try to change. I must no longer hold on to the old mind of insecurity, and hope that they will someday see how unhelpful and sometimes plain mean their comments can be. For rootedness in God is unshakeable, even in the face of the most heartless of teasing. With God, I can turn the other cheek to be hit again without resentment.

I am learning, that throughout this entire process of trusting my body and mind with God, of becoming more secure in Him, and being more comfortable with who I am and not just what I do, God has been refilling me with new wine. And I must learn to embrace the new wineskin He is giving me too.

Lest I yearn for old mindsets and crave for the very thing which could destroy me.

For God also said to them, "And no one, having drunk old wine, immediately desires new; for he says, 'The old is better.'"

The old always feels more comfortable.

"God loves you Wai Jia. Don't ever allow the devil to lie to you and rob you of His faithful promises. You're a beautiful girl."

So I'm not going to be afraid to enjoy running, swimming and cycling. I'm not going to be afraid to enjoy brownie and ice-cream in the company of people I love. Sixty, is just another number.

So here's to new wine and new wineskin. Cheers.

" And no one puts new wine into old wineskins;

or else the new wine will burst the wineskins and be spilled,

and the wineskins will be ruined.

But new wine must be put into new wineskins,

and both are preserved."

- Luke 5: 37-38

Macaroni & Cheese.

"I learned that providing assistance to the needy requires

deep understanding of the need

and is often personally costly -

it requires sacrificial understanding

and sacrificial service.

I need to

"wear their skin".

-Bob Synder

Till now, I'm not quite sure what it was exactly which made me so angry and grieved and agitated at the same time. Perhaps, until we ourselves are in another person's skin, we shall never fully understand the pains, deep sense of inferiority and anguish of the poor.

This one-week holiday has been an extremely fulfilling one, one in which I have had the time and space to truly enjoy spending time with and thanking the people I love, and have been so grateful to. After having been so deeply touched by the people whom I train together with, people who've literally and metaphorically gone the extra mile to help me to road-cycle well, and encourage me in my training and journey in life, I finally had the chance to invite 4 of them to my home for a simple dinner I cooked for them. Salad, macaroni & cheese, wine, baked salmon and brownie with ice-cream. The best item was Company. It meant so much to me to be able to spend the entire afternoon cooking for them- they have taught me so much.

After the dinner near 11pm, however, as I walked 2 of my friends home past the train station, I packed some pasta for Grandpa Zhou and passed a box full of it to him.

"Zhou yeye, ni hao. Zhe shi wo de peng you, jin tian wo qing ta men zai wo jia chi fan, wo qin zi xia chu. Zhe li you yi xie shi wu gei ni." Hi Grandpa Zhou, I invited some of my friends over for dinner at my place tonight, here's some pasta for you. Here're 2 of my friends- meet J and Am.

He was so grateful. " Oh, this is tong xin fen (macaroni)!" he said, "Ah, I shall put them in soup."

"Oh no no, don't do that. It's macaroni & cheese. You eat it dry like this- it's cooked already."

"Don't you put macaroni in soup? OHHH... you mean it's STIR-FRIED (gan lao)."

"Er.... yes. Sort of!" I smiled. "Grandpa Zhou, I'm walking my 2 friends home now, I'll come look for you later."

As my 2 friends and I walked away, Am sniggered, " Old man. He probably doesn't even know what macaroni & cheese is, doesn't even know how to eat it! Put it in soup? Did you hear that? Haha! Geez. What an old man."

I cannot say that my heart didn't feel a sting at the moment. Am and Grandpa Zhou were both my friends.

When I returned to Grandpa Zhou, he told me all about his great day at church leading a song session for the senior citizens, before asking me a barrage of questions.

"I want to ask you a question, Wai Jia. Do we need to give money to God? Is it really true that it says we must give God 10% of our money? What if we have no money, like me? Or if we have no income, like you?"

" Of course we have money, Grandpa Zhou. You have a small income in your box over here, and I have an allowance. It's not a didactic rule that we have to give money to God. He doesn't need our money- it's just a privilege on our part, an act of trusting Him with what He has blessed us with. "

"Oh. Well, I happened to tell my friend who has a meagre monthly income of $400 and who donates $40 monthly to church that he ought to save the money for himself."

"What? Grandpa Zhou!"

"What! He's no money for himself. Why should he donate to others? Look at me, what do I have?"

" Grandpa Zhou. Have you heard the story in the bible about the poor lady with only 2 coins? She gave all she had. We will never have enough money. It's an act of faith. We entrust a portion of what we have to God because we trust that He will provide. Giving is an act of love. "

I don't know why but at this point, I became very passionate about what I was saying. Something inside me actually hurt, because while I believe it is comparatively easier for me to say all this because I have never known Grandpa Zhou's kind of poverty, this season, I have had to learn much about my own stewardship of money, and I have had some painful lessons to learn. I'm broke now, completely and utterly broke for the rest of the year- from sponsoring one too many children in Borneo, Sri Lanka and Africa, and from paying for Grandpa Zhou's hospital bills. I don't understand how little subsidee someone like Grandpa Zhou is actually entitled to for his illnesses.

"My friend earns so little! Look at me, I'm so poor too. What is there for me to give?!"

" Of course you have something to give. We all do! But it's a matter of the heart's attitude. There's no point in giving if we feel forced to. God doesn't need that kind of money. Look," I said, "Look at how God provided for you for your hospital bills and your meals. Did this money belong to you? If your friend has the faith to give his money to the church to support other poor people, I don't think you should stop him... I think you can pray for God to provide for his needs."

"What if say, I have absolutely no income? Zilch?"

"Then you can give God your time. Your precious service."

I was very enthused at this point, though anguished too. It cut me close, because giving Grandpa Zhou my time at the end of a busy day, spending an hour talking to him even in hectic times and helping him with his bills at the expense of not having enough at times to spend on myself were little sacrifices I had to and was willing to make. I gave up my time and money. Because of principle, I gave up buying a bike I could have easily got. Over the dinner, my cycling friends (who are all working already and much older than myself) all talked about the bikes they owned, their latest buy- how I wished I had one too. But meeting Grandpa Zhou has changed me so much. I weigh every haircut and expenditure against his hospital bill. I have been struggling in recent months to keep within my allowance, and to have a taste of what missionary life could be like in future. I cannot say all my financial choices were wise ones, but I can safely say they were done out of and because of faith in God's provision for me. And in His own ways, He did.

"It's all about having faith in a God whom we trust, Grandpa Zhou." I was emotional about this. It cut me real close.

He changed the subject. "Then let me ask you," he jumped to another question. "Why should I get baptized? I don't want to only because my family shares a different faith. But I believe in God right here."

"You don't have to," I said. "You're not any less in God's eyes if you don't. Baptism is a ceremony, a symbol of faith, that's all. But if you're holding back because of certain hang-ups, then, it doesn't seem quite right to me."

He continued to defend himself. It was strange- he kept asking me over and over, wanting my answer to change, as if some tumultuous force were tossing and turning within him, unable to give him peace.

" Look, Grandpa Zhou," I said, finally exasperated, tired from explaining to him after a long day. "My responsibility is not to convince or convict you. That's God's job. Mine is to love you, and to share God's love with you. The rest, is between you and Him. You'll have to seek and ask God yourself."

He changed the subject again. " Who are those people. What do they work as. What are their names. How do you know them," he asked me in merciless interoggation, referring to my 2 friends. Two days ago, Am had met Grandpa Zhou for the first time. Am says a lot of people think he is very arrogant because he is known to speak too frankly, but I love him the same because he is my swim coach, and I think I've had a glimpse of who he is on the inside, underneath that muscular hulk of a hard, hard man. When Am came to my home that night and entered my room, saw all the photos of the children I had visited all over the world plastered all over my room, read my article about Grandpa Zhou in Herald magazine and as I shared what was on my heart with him, he actually teared. A big grown man like him. And he asked for that magazine (Pg 12&13) because he wanted to keep that article. He wants to come with me to church this Sunday. I want to believe he said what he said about the macaroni & cheese in affection, not scorn.

I answered Grandpa Zhou patiently at first, but when I saw how doggedly he was asking me question after question, in greater and greater detail, almost to ridiculous extent, I asked pointedly and almost in frustration, "Why are you asking me all this, Grandpa Zhou? WHY DOES IT MATTER?"

He blinked, went silent, then said, "Because I think... these people do not look at me the same way you do."

"Don't say that, Grandpa Zhou," I said very firmly, in my no-nonsense tone. We had had this conversation a million times before.

"Your boyfriend, he might not approve of you mixing with people like me."

"If my future boyfriend thinks so, then he obviously won't be my boyfriend any longer." Tears dammed behind my eyes. I seriously meant it.

"Your husband may not think of people like me the way you do. He may despise people like us. " he said dejectedly.

" God will most certainly not give me a man like that," I said with complete certainty. "And I most certainly will not marry a man like that." Tears continued to well up.

"How about that boy who used to like you, that Mister Y who saw you associating with me. To tell you the truth, I think Mister Y and your 2 friends just now don't look at me the way you do. I am just afraid, your associating with me would make them despise you. They would think.... otherwise of you. Have a different opinion of you because of me. "

" Mister Y and I didn't work out because I didn't like him for other reasons, not because of you." I was exasperated, truly. "Do other people's opinion of you matter to me? Do you really think I care how people perceive the way I see you?" By this time, I was not only exasperated, but agitated as well.

" I am just afraid, that they don't look at me the same way you do."

" Why do you think I care what people think of me!" I was angry by this time.

"I am just afraid you don't understand. That I am dragging your face down into the ground. I am just afraid you don't understand the ways of this world... I am afraid that, that..."

"Grandpa Zhou!" I said, finally angry. Angry. " WHY are you asking me all these questions!"

I was in tears. My heart was still stung by my friend's scorn to Grandpa's Zhou reaction to macaroni & cheese. They were both my friends whom I loved. At once, I finally blurted out. "Do you really think I care what people think? Don't you think our love for God supercedes this? Yes, it isn't convenient. Yes, maybe it isn't conventional or easy or convenient for me to love you, just like the way it isn't easy for you to tithe your money at church or get baptized, but since when was loving God easy? What is there in this world of any worth that doesn't require dying to ourself? That doesn't require some sort of sacrifice? Do you think it really matters to me what other people think? Stop this, Grandpa Zhou. You are hurting me saying all of this! You are really hurting me. Ni zhe yang jiang shang tou le wo de xin."

After all these months, was he still not convinced why I "associated" with him? Associated, why did he use such a word?

I blurted out all that in a moment, and all of a sudden, I just wanted to cry. I did, finally, because it cut so close.

Didn't he understand he was precious to me, too? I thought of all the times we sat by the train station under the stares of strangers, the time he first rejected me, the times he used to curse God and the mean things he said to me, the time where Mister Y and I sent food to his home, the time where he finally softened his heart toward me, the time where he came to love God with tears streaming down his cheeks, the time where he sang to me in Hokien and Cantonese dialect song after song which he had learnt at church about loving Jesus... ... and wrote down notes for me so I could play the same songs on my flute. He even gave me his precious music lyrics so I could have his favourite church songs too.

"It's just that I don't understand... " He went very, very quiet, then said softly. "... why someone like you would love or even bother about someone like me."

"BECAUSE OF GOD. BECAUSE HE LOVES YOU. BECAUSE I LOVE YOU," I said, in love and anguish and exasperation and certainty.

Silence and tears.

He said very softly. " Did you ever feel it was God who told you to talk to me?"

"Of course."

" Because I always sit here, asking God why, oh why did I meet you. Do you know, that I used to hate God so much. And you just swung by into my life... I'm so very old already. Haha, do you know, do you know no one, absolutely no one has treated me the way you have. To think I would meet someone like you in my old, old age, after so many years! Do you know I treat you like my own kin, my own granddaughter. I keep asking God, how it was possible for me to meet you. I wonder how I even came to believe Him. Now I love God so much, Jesus has really changed my life."

Silence and tears.

"I'm sorry I made you so sad... ... Jia Jia, don't cry anymore. I'm sorry. Every time you sit here, we should be joking and laughing."

"I'll pray for you now."

"For understanding and insight. For God to speak to me about all my questions about money and baptism."

"Indeed."

"I'm so sorry, Jia Jia. Please don't cry anymore. I feel my tears coming too. Go home, it's late."

"Goodnight Grandpa Zhou. Enjoy the macaroni & cheese. Don’t put it in soup, eat it as it is. Love you. ”

Grandpa Zhou's music lyrics- "Jesus is so good"

"That is just what God did - He wore my skin -

in order to solve the dilemma of my debt of sin.

As Jesus, He became human flesh,

living the life of a common man.

Then He suffered the ultimate price, death,

in order to provide the only possible payment t

hat could erase my indebtedness to God

- amazing!"

-Bob Synder

"Since the children (mankind) have flesh and blood,

God too shared in their humanity

so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death-

that is, the devil-and free those who all their lives

were held in slavery by their fear of death.

-Hebrews 2:14-15 NIV

The Art of Contentment.

" I can resist anything except temptation."

- Oscar Wilde

Perhaps, our greatest gain is not is not in gaining anything new, really, but gaining the contentment in what we already have. For the more we gain and strive to obtain, the more we shall strive for more. Perhaps, God's way of teaching us is blessing us only after we have learnt the secret art of contentment.

It is an open secret that Vanity sits pretty in the lives of most, if not all girls. There comes a phase in every girl's life where she has the desire to perm, straighten, colour her hair, and doll herself up. It's a natural phenomenon, the way spring gives way to summer. And as more and more of my friends did all these things, and I worked alongside very good-looking people, I won't deny I did not feel a little pressure to want to look as good too, whatever good means. In the past month, I very nearly coloured my hair, and very nearly did something drastic to it.

Vanity and temptation. Covetousness and pride. What dangerous, dangerous things.

I have nothing against having a treat for oneself. But I do believe that the intentions behind them are important. I knew mine came from a source of insecurity, and hence, exercised self-restraint not to hurt myself further by doing anything else to change myself. Ever since I started training and eating right again, my body has changed significantly, and I have been, like a teenager, learning to be comfortable in my new body. I am significantly heavier and (fortunately or unfortunately) more muscular, and am learning to be secure in this body and good health which God has blessed me with.

Incidentally, or perhaps, very divinely, amidst the stress of coping with Paediatrics, adapting to my new frame, struggling to fight against previous haunting comments and my self-doubt about my calling in medicine, desiring to be as "pretty" as the very good-looking people around me, and feeling generally low, I had my first skin breakout in my life around the same time.

It was terrible. Nearly everybody noticed and commented on it. I wanted to put a bag over my face and hide.

Somehow, I knew there was a lesson to be learnt somewhere. It was about learning to see what was important, and letting go what was not. It was about learning to be thankful for my new body (larger but certainly much more athletic), instead of worrying about the frightful number on the scale; It was about learning to be content with the way God has made me (big hair and heavy bottom and all), instead of wanting to look like everybody else; It was about learning to be prudent with money, instead of spending it all on myself.

Sometimes, I just imagine myself standing in front of God showing Him all my receipts from splurging out of insecurity- that is usually more than enough to keep myself in check. Other times, however, I must admit I question God and wonder why other girls could have the liberty to spend so much money on themselves, to pamper themselves without batting an eyelid, why I didn't feel free to do so for myself. Don't you know I'm vain too, God?

Here's a glimpse into my selfish, petulant conversation with God.

But I am learning, that this season is about learning to be secure and content with oneself, in spite of everything and anything around us. I have a big frame. It's just the way I'm made.

Are you insecure about something about yourself too? Are you willing you let it go?

Last Sunday at church, the message was about us being freed from the hurtful labels people had placed on us. Being someone who is frequently teased in school and inadvertently hurt at times in my insecure places, I had a lot of letting go to do. Right after I did, I felt so free. I was glad I did nothing to change my hair, and happy that I found peace.

But the story doesn't end here. As I walked out, a lady, M, stopped me and brought me to one side. "Wai Jia, I want you to know that God loves you very very much, and He wants His radiance to be on your face. I want you to come to my place at work sometime, I just want to bless you."

I had only spoken to her but once. I barely knew her, except that she was a nice lady who once gave me her namecard and said to me, "Keep up the good work and keep writing, Wai Jia."

As soon as I got home, I had a look at her website. My jaw dropped and I panicked. I knew what she meant then. M had invited me to her place, a high-end boutique providing luxury services for women. I texted her immediately, saying that I am a student, appreciated her concern for me very very much but am unable to afford such privileges."

"No worries, Wai Jia. I am fully aware of that. Just come, relax :)"

It's my study break now, so I went to visit. When I reached her shop, I stood outside for a good whole minute as I braced myself to enter the high-end boutique. It was a GUCCI of sorts, a shop in a league of its own. You know the scene in the movie Pretty Woman where Julia Roberts stands outside a shop because she can't afford anything inside? I felt just like that, only worse. I was nervous about entering. When I finally did, about ten perfectly suited Stepherd-wife women in perfectly coiffed hair were waiting at the desk, each ready and all set to serve. I blanked out, thought they would eyeball me and surely look me up and down at once, as I wondered how in the world I got there. I gulped and finally squeaked, "Is... M here?"

As she sailed out to meet me and ushered me into one of twenty rooms, hidden away in a spacious maze behind the shop, I was amazed at the numerous luxury facilities, pampering services and boutique high-end fashion items on display. She could tell I was shocked, and very, very stressed indeed. Why am I here.

As she reassured me, I went into the room, in which I was treated to the most phenomenal and relaxing facial and massage treatment. And I nearly cried as I thought about how God again made Himself faithful to me and showed me the abundance of His blessings. It was when I told Him I was willing to let this sort of lifestyle go for something deeper, simpler and more divine, that He chose to bless me with an experience I myself, or most of my peers, I suspect, would never be able to afford at this time. The treatment was worth around $200.

I was in tears. And when it was over, I asked M why. Why she would do something like this for me when she barely knew me. She only knew me through the church service where Pastor introduced Kitesong to the church.

"Because you love God so very, very much. But I always felt that something was weighing you down. I just want to bless you, Wai Jia. May His radiance shine on your face, always."

So I left in tears. My skin is so much better now, by the way.

Last night, I dreamt of myself getting a new bike. It was my dream bike. One month after the incident, I realise I'm still not quite over it. As I've decided to trust God to work things out, and to provide for me in His ways and timing, I am learning how to trust that when we follow the path of divine simplicity, we can grow so much closer to God. When we resist our worldly desires, we can sometimes unleash the power of God's abundant grace and love to us.

I am learning, God is not a scrooge. He blesses us in ways beyond our imagination. In ways that can make us cry and laugh and dance and blow our minds.

So I'm going to learn the art of gratitude, and thank Him for everything I have. Big, frizzy hair, an almost 60kilo body with very heavy legs, and a bike which is too big, but definitely worth riding, still.

Because contentment, like God's love, is oh so sweet indeed.

" Godliness with contentment is great gain."

-1 Tim 6:6

Take Heart.

People are usually good at what they like. But this is not always the case. The more challenging the task, the less this rule will apply. Having a passion, however, does place you in good stead to rough out the tough patches. Nonetheless, when self-doubt assails, a great deal of faith is often required.

"You couldn't answer my cardiology questions. Do you find Paediatrics very difficult? And why so? Cardiology in Paediatrics is very logical. Is something bothering you- because you're not keeping up."

That shook me like a weed in a galestorm.

4 weeks into the module hating cardiology because of how terribly complicated I found it to be, my professor saw through my deficiency immediately. Very unluckily, during a bedside teaching session, I was asked to do a cardiology examination on a patient with a complicated heart condition and couldn't perform well.

That was 4 weeks ago, when my mood, self-esteem and confidence in Paediatrics had crumbled into tiny sprinkly bits. I loved the subject, loved the patients, but unlike O&G (Obstetrics and Gynaecology), Paediatrics didn't come easily to me. I had to try very hard to be on a par with others. As the exams neared and my non-academic commitments continued to weigh down on me, it became a greater challenge each day to fight off despair, discouragement and self-doubt about my calling.

A typical day at the hospital starts with waking up before the sun rises, going to the wards to interview and examine patients, attending bedside teaching sessions and lectures, attending clinics or sessions at the Operating theatre if it's the day for surgery. Sometimes there is night duty till late at night or the next day, and one can be absolutely drained from the day's work, especially if the hospital is far away from home. I plodded on, determined to do my best, and spent a lot of time with patients in the hospital.

Medical exams are... interesting. They involve interviewing and examining real patients (yes, they are hired to sit in for our exams) in front of examiners, coming to the right diagnosis within minutes and answering questions hurled at you by them on the spot. They can be absolutely nervewracking, especially if one encounters an examiner with a caustic tongue.

In times of great stress, I found it difficult even to continue with my routine of training, leading bible study, serving at church. I wanted to stay home to study instead, to pull up my socks. After all, aren't studies priority? It was an intense struggle to balance my commitment to work and others. But somehow, God assured me that this was a time of s-t-r-e-t-c-hing for me, that He wanted me to learn the pain of commitment and endurance, that it takes trust and faith to believe He would see me through.

So I went for bible study, even though I was afraid to at first, and enjoyed myself.

I went back to hit the books, and became determined to enjoy that too. The greatest challenge was fighting off the haunting curses which suggested I wasn't good enough for this, wasn't going to make it through.

Somehow, God knows our thoughts. It is in often in our time of utter helplessness that He makes Himself most real to us.

One night before the nervewracking clinical exam:

" Just go in with ease and a postive spirit,
I think you should have no problem.
I had personally witnessed you in action before. Will pray for you.
Enjoy it and let it flow.
Imagine, you'll only be taking this one particular exam once in your lifetime.
Take it in your best stride,

God is with you!

-Love, Mdm S

"All the best Wai Jia. I'll pray for you.
You're not just a student being examined tomorrow.
You're a doctor and these 3 patients in your exam cases trust you to care for them and diagnose them well.
Imagine if one of them is God.
How would you serve him?
That will give you confidence and set you on the right path.
Have faith!"

- Mr. Ho

That gave me great courage, and a peace which surpassed my understanding. Somehow, I knew I just had to trust God- that He would equip me in whatever He had called me to do.

I got a tough case, perhaps the toughest for the day. And of all cases, it was a cardiology examination. The patient was 8 days old. A neonate's heartbeat can be up to 160 beats per minute. In heart failure, it can be even higher. Each heartbeat consists of 2 sounds- a slight aberration in either may herald more ominous signs. By listening to the nature, loudness and location of the sounds, called murmurs, on the chest, one must be able to tell what has gone wrong in each of the 4 chambers, 4 valves and 4 vessels of the heart. Amazing, isn't it? Ha, one will laugh only till one is forced to be the one to diagnose!

The baby was crying. Putting a stethoscope on a bawling baby is like listening to a rock-music radio pressed into your ear. The heartbeat was incredibly fast. It was difficult hearing the heart sounds themselves, much less the murmur. I ought not to have heard it. I ought to have panicked and melted away on the spot. But amazingly, I did hear it- even though throughout my entire Paediatric module, I must have had the chance to listen to only one or two heart murmurs of this nature.

This is a baby with Pulmonary Stenosis, I said. I say this because I hear an ejection systolic mumur, loudest over the pulmonary area radiating to the back, without a split second heart sound. I think this baby has Tetratology of Fallot.

That was when I knew God had planned this exam case just for me. During my Paediatrics module, my tutor lamented at my poor grasp of cardiology, and suggested I was weaker than my peers. I wondered if I was competent enough for the rigors of medicine. I doubted myself. I wondered why others seemed to find it easier. I wondered if I was daft.

I am learning, that just because we face challenges in our callings, does not mean we weren't made for them. It just means, we need to try harder, persevere, and allow our characters to be developed through those trials. It doesn't mean we're stupid, or less. It doesn't mean God isn't fair. It doesn't mean He wants to see us fail.

It simply means, that when we fall, we need to learn to fall forwards.

I enjoyed the exam very much. All 3 cases went very smoothly. At the end of the day, I discovered that some of my other peers who got the same case could not make the appropriate diagnosis- and I know, it was not because of my great intellectual ability or competence that I came through, but simply, God's way of encouraging me that if He set me on this journey, He would see me through. I knew He prepared the cardiology case for me because had I got any other exam case and passed, I would have simply reasoned that I just got lucky.

Perhaps you feel lousy in whatever you're doing. Perhaps like me, you often wonder if you were made for your work, even though you love what you're doing so very much. Maybe like me, deep down inside you never feel like you're good enough for the job. Maybe other people think so too, and tell you so. I'd just like to say how much God knows that, and how much He will equip you along the way as you continue to have faith- both in yourself and Him. But faith is crucial, and it is the sword which breaks the curses which naysayers hurl at you.

When you feel like you're rock bottom, either in your work or in your mood, don't give up. It is merely part of training. Somehow, God will see you through, equip you to be competent in whatever He has called you to do. Why wouldn't He?

So take heart, no pun intended. You'll be okay.

"...He who began a good work in you

will carry it on to

completion..."

-Phil 1:6

It is well.

"Hey, haven't seen you in long while- where's your new beau?"

"I've decided not to get a new bike anymore. Not now, anyway."

"... ... What? But why not?"

Have you ever felt ashamed of something that you wanted? It could be just a thought, a harmless, fleeting thought. Maybe a nicer wardrobe, better hair, a sharper mind, newer things. Maybe it's within your means to obtain them too.

But perhaps sometimes, we lose more of ourselves trying to gain what we do not have, and might not have been meant to be ours. Perhaps sometimes, it was meant to be ours, but just at a later time.

It took me a whole month to start cycling again after that incident. A whole month to deal with what I had discovered in myself, and to listen to what God was teaching me through this.

We will never have enough. There is always something bigger and better out there, an attractive lifestyle which beckons us like a harlot. A perm, a manicure, nicer shoes. Nothing wrong with them, but do we know when to stop? Why did we start? The temptation of self-gratification and wanting more, coveting more can mould us terrifyingly. Our choices shape who we are.

Have you perhaps, at some point, been partially unhappy with who you are, and what you have- or don't? Do we keep wishing for gifts we do not have, and pester God for them?

I know I have.

What we have may not be perfect. But perhaps, it is what God wants for us at this time. I don't believe He's a scrooge, but I also believe He cares more about our characters than things. Learning to be thankful for and content with simplicity, may just be the most precious gift of all.

So I'm not getting a new bike anytime soon, not till God gives the go-ahead. I'm happy with my mane of hair. I'm going to spend the next one-week vacation reading biographies of doctors who made a difference, and be thankful for the privilege to pursue medicine, however painful the System may be.

Learning to take joy in our lot, whatever it may be, may just be the greatest gift of all.

"Whatever my lot,

Thou hast taught me to say,

it is well it is well,

with my soul."

-Horatio Spafford

" Incline my heart... not to covetousness,
Turn away my eyes from looking at worthless things.
And revive me in Your way..."
-Psalm 119:36-37

My Name Is.

" If I evaluate myself in terms of my usefulness,

assess my worth in response to how much others want or don't want me,

I find myself defined by a label,

squeezed into a role.

It requires assertive, lifelong effort

to keep our names in front.

Names not only address what we are,

the irreplaceably human,

they also anticipate what we become."

-Run with the Horses

by Eugene H Peterson.

Of late, my module in Paediatrics has forced me to come face to face with things which I thought I would never have to. Perhaps it explains my broody moodiness over the past 2 weeks.

Medical school. It has not been what I anticipated it to be. A lot of people ask me what it was which triggered the bout of clinical depression in my first 2 years of university- I never have a good answer because a lot of things happened which contributed to it. But looking back, I believe one of the factors was losing my name, sense of identity and placement, in a vast, vast space called medicine.

In the hospitals, no professor calls us by name. You, Medical Student, what is your answer? Hurry up, we don't have all day, you either know it or you don't. We are functional entities, foot soldiers beneath an armour of a white coat and face mask, liabilites to the healthcare administration, dirty words spoken only in hushed tones before patients and nurses. We are Medical Students.

You, Medical Student, come here. Take this blood pressure, set this plug. Make yourself useful.

Those who do know us by name remember only but briefly, if only to do a procedure, before we leave for the next module in a different hospital altogther. What's your name? Wai Jin? Wai Xia? Whatever, call the next patient in.

We keep moving, keep resettling. I miss having that long-lasting teacher-student relationship. I miss being called by my name. We are moving into dangerous ground without knowing it- for our labelling others because of a minor inconvenience is an assailment on our humanity. We call on others for their function, and no longer for their innate worth, their unique qualities. Is that why so many doctors call their patients by their diseases, and bed numbers?

Have you talked to the Multiple Sclerosis yet?

How did we come to this place? We were not like this at the start. I have met few doctors whom have earned my respect and awe, hardly any who know me as a person. The System does not allow for such time. My struggle with Paediatrics made me realise how desperately I need someone to believe in me, made me admit that I learn best with a mentoring style, with someone who cares for me and sees my potential. Because I very often don't.

Medical school is not what I thought it was. In the middle of our Paediatrics posting, we were assigned to prepare for an ethics debate. I cannot describe that sense of bitter surrender and cold disappointment that hit my face, when I saw that few took it very seriously at all. It was seen as an interference to our module. We have our clinical exams in a weeks time, and I understand why studying would take precedence, because I'm trying my best to keep afloat too. But it made me wonder what I had thought the medical curriculum was when I applied for medical school- dynamic, holistic, patient-centred... and how far from reality it really is. Almost 3 quarters of the class was absent when we were given a soft-skills lecture on patient communication. You wouldn't dream of that happening had it been a talk on Endocrine disorders or something more academic. It was a good series of lectures, and I wished all 250 of us had been there.

Neurofibromatosis Type 1. Diabetes Mellitus Type 2. Spinal Muscular Atrophy Type 3. Have you talked to them yet? When did diseases become our patients.

We not only label patients, but ourselves too. We bring destruction to our humanity when we introduce ourselves as Medical Students instead of our names. It is as if that is what owns us, our function.

Good morning, Dr Lee. I am a Year 4 Medical Student-can I join you in your clinic?

You can sit behind me. I'm very busy, no time to teach you. Just watch, you can leave early if you want.

Walking along the corridors of the wards one day, feeling defeated by my inability to present a polished cardiac examination, I suddenly missed having a teacher or mentor to turn to for encouragement and help. I missed having someone who knew me believe in me. I missed being known as who I am- a holistic human being who has likes and dislikes and a whole life outside the hospital, having dreams waiting to be shared with a mentor who can guide and lead me. I missed being in Mr Ho's literature class, where windows in my head would flutter open as winds of inspiration and the wild, wild world of ideas and endless possibilities would fly down the corridors of my head and open doors which I never knew existed, to secret gardens filled with things of awesome wonder. I suddenly missed it, and an old, casual comment about my faring better had I pursued the arts instead of medicine cut me deeply.

It is both my greatest strength and most crippling weakness, to allow words to have such a formidable hold of me. It only takes an unthinking, callous word to haunt me mercilessly, for weeks and months on end, and an affirming one to see me through the most tumultuous of storms. The labels and demands stick, while the affirming words are few and far between.

Medical Student, how long have you been here? Don't you know what causes Scarlet fever? Group A Streptocococcus, remember that. How can you not know this? Geez.

I saw an article in the papers a few days ago on an interview with the Dean of the new Duke NUS Graduate medical school here in Singapore. I stared at that page for a long time, and realised how very much I love medicine. How very much I look forward to going to the hospital every day because there's something new to learn, because there're new patients to talk to. How very much I like it even though the curriculum isn't perfect, even though consultants and nurses often treat us as if we are perpetual hindrances, even though I fumble, even though sometimes I do find it so very hard and trying, even though at times I do feel so very lonely going home near midnight from night duty, even though I do cry sometimes as I wonder if I was made for this, and feel tired and stupid and inadequate and incompetent, most specially in this time doing Paediatrics, which has been the most challenging module I have ever encountered. And it was at that moment, I realised, that as much as I am born an artist, where beautiful prose and paintings are to me what pornography may be to others- a desperately visceral desire, I may have gone to do journalism, or teaching, or social work, or graphics design or advertising... but I would have graduated, and still applied for the Duke-NUS Graduate Medical School anyway.

After I shared a little of what was troubling me, L said to me, "Why do you care what other people say or not say about you or to you? Do they know your thoughts 24/7, how you are like deep down inside, your desires, your hopes and dreams? Who's to tell you you're better off someplace else?"

I was angry with myself. I was angry because of the kind of doctor and person I am becoming- unbecoming. A product of a nameless, faceless curriculum where you are judged on your performance, and known by your name only after decades of trying to prove yourself.

I was angry with myself: The children in the wards are battling against debilitating diseases; some have been the object of abuse; some are at the mercy of a family torn apart and have come to seek shelter because they have no other option; some have been diagnosed with illnesses they will have no idea of comprehending till they reach their adolescence and realise in resentment how far they are from a normal life; some are adults already but still in paediatric wards, living decades of their lives behind a sickening illness, never having talked or swallowed before; some have deformities so bad they are bed-bound, don't even have a proper face and are being taken care of by their elderly parents who are in their sixties already... and here I was struggling with... trying to overcome the next academic hurdle, trying to come to terms with my very material self, trying to overcome my low self-esteem at times, to fight against a system which is tearing me down, to juggle work with church and bible study leading and other commitments and feeling so completely overwhelmed by my inability to cope with this all.

I was angry with finally coming to terms with these ugly truths about my education and what it's doing to me, how I've allowed the System to take away my name and personhood and replaced it instead with what ought to be a name held with pride and honor but has been denigrated into a nuisance- Medical Student.

Medical Student, stand aside, we're busy now. Talk to you later. (Shove.)

A few times when I tried to introduce myself and ask the doctor politely how to address him, I was greeted only with a curt, "You don't need to know." I find it painfully ironic that the only time I remember having my name noted down was when I was seen to be causing trouble in the hospital while trying to make a stand for a patient.

I was also angry with myself for coming so far from the girl I knew years ago, who hardly cared about materialism and was happy with simplicity. I was angry that I was becoming a doctor, someone called to serve the poor, and had contemplated wanting a bike so ridiculously expensive. After that incident, still stung by shame, I have lost interest in cycling this season.

In desperation, I texted Mr. Ho. 5 years on, he still knows me like his friend and student. I just didn't know what to believe in myself anymore. I was afraid of not passing our Paediatrics exam. I didn't know what I was good at. I was afraid of my future, of who I was becoming. And I was exhausted of being a label, tired of being dehumanised in a curriculum which is supposed to teach you humanity.

I remembered how ordinary I was when I first entered college, and how different I had become simply being under Mr. Ho's wing. Like he does for each of his students, he saw potential in me, and developed it. I suddenly came to a humbling realisation that all this while, I have been functioning below my maximal potential because of how I have allowed this System, these terrible voices and labels in my head, and the things people say erode what Mr. Ho had birthed in me many years back in our classroom where he taught us Chaucer and literature, where he saw me not for who I was but who I could be, where he saw me as a person, and not just another student passing through college. I came to point where I had to admit, that for all my independence and self-sufficiency, this road is too hard to journey on without encouragement from someone special to me.

After school, Mr. Ho and I used to sit outside the staff room underneath the umbrella tables talking about my essays. I would write and submit one or two extra every week, and he would go through them painstakingly with me. Then, we would talk about how I was coping. I think he might have been the only one who knew how unhappy I was being vice-president of the students' council. We would talk about history, and literature, and the holocaust and good books and God and life and famous people and forgotten things and me. He always asked. He allowed me to ask. He never made me feel stupid. He would feed me a juicy bite of an answer, and then inspire me to read more, know more, desire more, independently.

In the hospital, most of us are, very often, afraid to ask. We are often told to "go find out for yourself". I remember being told, by more than one doctor in fact, Medical Student, don't ask a question like that. You're not required to know this for your exams. Don't give yourself more trouble than you've got.

What happened to the world being our classroom, what happened to the preciousness of inquisitivity?

I am afraid of who I may become and am haunted that I may not be cut out for this, Mr. Ho. I love going to the hospital every day, I love Paediatrics, but this going is too tough. What is it doing to me?

" Hello my dear Wai Jia. It's funny how things work. I was just thinking of you yesterday and how I can't wait for you to graduate cos you'll make such a wonderful doctor. Take heart: the struggle towards the exams will be hard but you're doing this not for yourself but for the benefit of the future patients including children who will be in your loving care.

Your friend is right in some way because you are a humanist and they don't teach you to be one in medical school because systematically speaking that's not a very efficient model. There is tension always between cool professionalism and emotional investment.

But the amazing thing is that it is these doctors, like you, who feel about dignity and respect for the individual, who give the profession it's beauty and who give us all, your patients, hope.

So you are special because you're artsy, and goodness knows we need more people like you in the profession. So go hit the books for all our sakes and believe in yourself for your won sake and I'll buy you ice-cream after the exams are over if you promise to get in touch then, k?"


I was queuing up for food when I received his text message and the tears just fell uncontrollably.

This is how I know God is watching over me. Why I think teaching is the most inspiring profession of all. Why I must continue to press on on this long, long road even though its scorching and tiring and altogether discouraging at times. Why I will continue to read literature, visit art galleries, paint and pursue writing. Why I must still try my best for my Paediatrics exam next week. Why I must be determined to believe in myself the way Mr. Ho does in me and study well for what God has called me to, even as I press on in this arduous journey called medicine.

And why I will continue to stick to my resolution to always introduce myself by my name to a doctor, nurse, or patient, whether he remembers or listens or not.

Hello, my name is Wai Jia. I'm a Year 4 medical student. Can I speak with you?

"Anything other than our name-

title, job description, role-

is less than a name.

Apart from the name that marks us as uniquely created and personally addressed,

we slide into fantasies and live ineffectiely, irresponsibly.

Or we live by sterotypes in which others cast us

that are out of touch with the

uniqueness in which God has created us,

and so live diminished into boredom,

the brightness leaking away.

Names call us to become who we will be.

Names mean something...

A name recognises I am this person and not another.

The meaning of a name is not in a dictionary,

but in a relationship- with God."

-Run with the Horses

by Eugene H Peterson.

Little things.

As much as I love children, Paediatrics has not been an easy posting, not least because of the many other issues that seem to be surfacing in my life and demanding to be dealt with this season.

I've been a little down lately, just not quite myself (this will have to be for another post). But it never fails to amaze me how God always seems to know when we need a little encouragement.

E is Mdm S's little boy, who was the charm of the wards back at the previous hospital we were at. He suffered from a terrible condition which made him swell up all over, but has thankfully recovered now.

Thank you, God, for the little things you give us each day to sustain us.

Hi Wai Jia,

E just turned 2 today!

Am feeling very happy and blessed and want to share it with you.

How are you doing? When're your exams?

Please take good care of yourself. Anyway, God will also take care of you ;)

Prayed for strength, perseverence

and wisdom for you.

Keep smiling.

Love.

-Mdm S

Swamped.

Will pick up her writing pen only after she's more confident of passing Paediatrics. Too many demands from different people in too short a time, and too little of herself to go round. Too many voices in her head eroding her insides. It's been a rough 2 weeks.

But thank you WL, for the beautifully hand-made gift and lovely card. And thank you WH, for going the extra mile for me to help me with my work. What you did for me last Sunday, I will never forget, and never be able to fathom except understand it as God's goodness to me through you.

God, thank you for angels along the way.