Joy.

I’m not much of a cynic, but even then, I accept that in the rat race of life, one has to accept the harsh reality that the fast and strong will always leave the slow and weak behind. It’s just the way things are. Or is it?

Since the incident, and a period of avoiding cycling because of the emotional sting, it was difficult to ride with my cycling friends again, who’ve become so strong and fast because of their 4am-7am cycling regime 3 times a week. D, whom I affectionately call Batman, and J have persistently been inviting me for rides.

“I don’t think I wanna join yall tomorrow,” I said, with regards to the public holiday round-island 80-kilometre ride, “I’ll be too slow and I’ll get left behind by the pack.”

“Hey, if you don’t ride with us tomorrow, I’ll hunt you down and burn you alive,” said Batman. That’s just his affectionate way of speaking.

Over the months, Batman and J have become so fast that they’re always leaders of the pack. Yet, they’ve always shown me much love and concern, always looking out for me and teaching me ways to improve. So I agreed to ride, but was so slow at one point that I could see no one in sight.

It was then that I felt discouraged. I felt lousy-my brake pads were rubbing against my wheels the whole time because it was faulty and no one could fix it- so I rode 80 kilometres against resistance. The fast and strong will always leave the slow and weak behind, I thought. Cycling is teaching me the realities of life. I felt cheated by my friends who kept assuring me that I would be able to keep up. I felt crummy that they had gone ahead and dropped me. I remember reminding myself of the stark realities of life- that at some point, everybody has to go it alone, and the slow ones will always lose out. I remember feeling defeated because I had been determined to find Joy in riding again after the Incident. And it was just at point where the sun was scorching and my legs were burning and my emotions were at an all-time low and I felt the tears building behind my eyes that Batman suddenly came from behind me, “Ey, we were waiting for you back there."

We rode on, with myself relieved and burning with shame that I thought he had left me behind. But it was only much later when we got wind that J was miles behind, because she had been waiting for me at a gas station and hadn’t seen me pass her. As Batman and I waited at the bus-stand for her, he said, “You gotta push yourself more, Wai Jia. You not gonna improve if you don’t push yourself.”

With my emotions all over the place, I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. “My brake pads are faulty today, D- Im riding against resistance,” I muttered.

“Then CHANGE YOUR BIKE! When are you going to CHANGE YOUR BIKE!”

It was then that I had to turn away because the tears just gushed out like a waterfall. I realized, that at the end, I was, am still human. Just as how I am 100% convinced that giving my new bike up for Alisha was what God wanted me to do, I became 100% aware of my human-ness and pain of losing it. Waiting at the bus-stop for J, I was angry that I was so slow, angry that my brake-pads were faulty and couldn’t be repaired because repairing them would cost more than half the cost of my bike since my bike cost $350, angry that I had caused Batman and J to slow down so much because of me. They are riders in the professional league- and I had deprived them of a perfectly great ride. I was angry, because for all my determination to enjoy my present bike, I realized that the decision –still- hurt. Later, when Batman found out about Alisha, he said, “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

J came, she smiled. And we rode on. I was very silent, and put on my sunglasses so she wouldn’t see my tears. She’s been a dear elder sister to me, always believing in me and encouraging me in all my endeavours.

When we finally got home, she wouldn’t let me go. “If you don’t tell me what upset you today, I won’t run or cycle with you anymore.”

I laughed in between tears. “That’s like a death threat!” J and I train together 3 to 4 times a week, and meet up for dinner occasionally.

“Yea, I mean it.”

So I told her about how bad I felt about them waiting for me, about how painful riding –still- was to me. I felt stupid, because surely I would seem like a fool to have made a sacrifice and now feel the pain. To which she paused, and said,

“Wai Jia, firstly, I want to tell you that what you did with your bike money was a great thing, okay? If you asked me, or anyone else for that matter to do something like that, I don’t think we would have been able to do it. In fact, this is something you should be proud of.

Secondly, yes, how well you ride is partly about how good a bike you have. But more impostantly, it depends on your legs. Ride, keep riding. I know you have this phobia of being slower than us and hence you’ve avoided some rides with us. But if you don’t ride, it’ll become a vicious cycle. The reason why we keep asking you, over and over, is because we enjoy riding together. If we weren’t prepared to wait for you, why would we be so persistent to ask you week after week?

Thirdly, waiting for you is no big deal. I got to meet some nice people because of that today. It was refreshing. So I don’t want you to feel bad okay? What’s important is enjoying the journey. Keep riding, ride with us.”

Silence.

“Sounds like I’m lecturing you, eh?” We laughed, even though I was in tears by then.

“Thanks J. ”

I learnt, that in this long journey called life, we need one another to enjoy the ride. What’s most important is not how fast or how strong we are, but how much joy we have in the friendships made along the way. J chooses to train with me, even though she’s a marathoner and in a completely different league. Only love can go this far. Batman has his own macho way of showing love, “Ey, don’t make me threaten you. Join us okay.”

Today, we rode again on our weekly Saturday ride. Yes, after 80km yesterday, they were still roaring to go. I was the slowest one. I was so slow that I’d to ride a third of the journey back myself. They rode ahead, only because I feel comfortable riding alone on familiar routes. But I was happy.

Underneath that cloudy sky feeling the wind caressing my fringe and feeling so free and thankful, I had a revelation- that sports, and that self-made ego, had completely lost its hold on me. I realized, that I now enjoy running, cycling and swimming so much more, and perform so much better in each of them because of the relationships God has blessed me with along the way. I would never have learnt how to roadcycle if not for my friends, would never have joined the Joyriders group, and would never have improved so much if it weren’t for J, Batman and many others; When I first met Amos, I could barely swim a lap of freestyle without feeling breathless but because of his continual affirmation, this week was the first time I did 25 continuous laps of freestyle; And if it weren’t for J, who constantly eggs me on in training 3-4 times a week with her and who sets a good example for me by enjoying both the quantity and quality of her food, I would never have made so much improvement in terms of stamina, and Recovery.

It is because of her company, her lavish love for me and her friendship that I will be doing my first half-marathon next week. “I’ll be with you all the way, don’t worry. And I’ll push you too, ha, ” she said, with a twinkle in her smile.

So it's not true that the slow and weak become forgotten and abandoned. That’s what love does- it takes the laws of reality and turns it around. It turns sadness into joy. It makes the long journey worthwhile because of company.

Thank you Batman, and thank you J, for reminding me to ride joyfully, to enjoy every journey we have together. And thank you God, for making the journey, in spite of its ups and downs, so enjoyable, truly, because of the angels you place in our path.

“Blessed is he who has regard for the weak…”
-Psalm 41:1

"In Your prsence is fullness of joy."

-Psalm 16:11

Criteria number two.

Sitting on the train by myself, travelling from west to east on the long way home from the National University Hospital, that's when it always hits me hardest- that I wish for a particular type of company. I hate the interminably long journey home alone, across the island after a long day's work, having so much to say but having no one to share it with. And it's only been lately that I realise, that I had so much to be thankful for to him. It was only for a season, but it was beautiful, nonetheless.

It was only recently that I learned to cherish what you did for me. I think I never realised, till now, how big a part you had in helping me overcome that very trying period of my life, how sincere you were in doing so. You tried so hard for me, and often went the extra mile to make me... happy. Somehow, you always knew what did-the eloquently-penned long letters, the spontaneous calls to watch a play or a concert or go for a run to watch the sunrise, the poetry and portraits and sketches you did for me late in the night to give me the next morning (the bleary-eyed next-day-you was always funny to see), the offer to give me not just a lift somewhere, but a spin (because you know car rides at night are a special childhood memory), the unpredictable visits to my home and unpredictable frequent gifts of many kinds (I loved it when there was no occasion), your earnestness to know my parents... and most importantly, the words you said which were always so affirming, encouraging and kind, chosen carefully because you know how much words mean to me. Because you are a writer too. I liked it that you happened to live a fifteen-minute walk away from my home, so I had company on the way home.

And of course, I kept saying no thanks, kept telling you I didn't need a lift/visit/spin/chat/movie/jog/trip to the art gallery, kept trying to tell you in various civilised ways to scoot off and let me be... but you asked anyway, in all sorts of creative ways. The only reason why flowers never came was because I made it pretty clear that I wanted lines to be drawn. But ha, how you messed those lines up for me with your poetry and paintings and random surprises. You probably didn't know, how you scared the daylights out of me.

Things didn't happen the way you intended. It wasn't the right time. I suppose I was... am... too proud too-some part of me was always ready to unmask a hypocrite of some sort. I was afraid of how forthcoming you were, at a time I made clear I wasn't ready, even though I silently admired your courage to put yourself on the line. I was too afraid of your forthcomingness to feel thankful for you then, afraid of how you made me feel, and where those feelings might take me, us. I wasn't sure what it was you wanted from me. I was really stressed out. I almost felt I was being stalked, especially when we "bumped" into each other on my way home from taking Grandpa Zhou to the doctor that day. I just wasn't ready. I set so many boundaries because I was so scared.

And it's only recently, just in the past month, on my way home on lonely train rides from another long day at the hospital, that I realised, just how much you did for me, how far a distance you went for me, just to help me through and make me... happy. I realised, after having so many male buddies who enjoy making me the subject of their banter and teasing, that I cherished the fact that you made me feel respected as a lady from beginning till the end. You always defended, protected me, and made me feel beautiful. Even in the times I was dressed shabbily in my spectacles and big T-shirt and college shorts when you chose to pop over. Just want to pass you some CDs, it's no big deal. You always said it was no big deal, like it was the easiest and most natural thing to do.

Tomorrow will be my first time performing in a concert playing the flute. I know you would have come if you could, or at least you would have prayed for me, told me something poetic which I could fix my mind on so I wouldn't think about being anxious. But no one I know is coming to watch me, mainly because I figured everyone's too busy so I didn't ask.

Only now, I realise I'm thankful for the memories you left behind for me, for what you did for me. I still have that collection of beautifully written letters and lovely paintings. I realised, that you helped me learn a lot about myself too- of how impossibly judgemental I can be, of how I need to let go and trust God in this area of my life.

Last weekend was the first day I started talking about you again after so long- I realise, I have more to thank you for.

Aunty Ay asked me what "my Criteria" was. My answer surprised the both of us, because the way I prioritized certain things was telling.

" How come your Criteria that 'he must be someone who loves me' is Criteria number eight, not number two?" (Criteria one is to find someone who loves God.) "Don't you think that's far more important than all the other criteria you've placed above that? And maybe you should be more open to how God guides you instead of limiting God with all your other criteria?"

"What do mean 'limiting God'? Isn't it important to find someone with the same calling as myself? I mean, that's what all the long-term missionaries tell me."

" People will advise you based on their personal experiences. And maybe that's their personal experience. I'm not saying mission work is bad, or that you should forget about it. I'm saying maybe you can review your criteria. After all aren't 'loving God' and 'loving you' most important?"

"Yes, but so is having the same calling, right?"

" Sometimes, God leads us to places we never imagined. Our callings for to serve the poor may be very real, but the context and the means may change. If you're open to God's guidance, He could take you to places you never imagined possible. But if you miss His plan for you because of your tunnel-vision, because of your idea of what medical missions or what your partner should be, then it would be a pity, wouldn't it?

"Wait. So you're saying it's okay to be with someone who doesn't necessarily want to be a long-term missionary in a developing country serving the poor? You're saying I shouldn't have a list of criteria, which is what everybody has been telling me I should have?"

Silence. "Well, Wai Jia."

"Whoa, whoa whoa Aunty Ay. Now this is a first. Hang on for a moment."

"I'm not putting down mission work. I'm just saying, be open Wai Jia. Keep your heart open. God sometimes has different plans for us. And we mustn't miss His adventure just because we weren't open to His leading us elsewhere. Why should you be afraid of liking Ophthalmology? What if He wants you to be an eye doctor instead of an obsetrician?"

And then tears began to well up in my eyes because it was then that I realised, that I could not put God in a box, because the unexpected always happens. And it was then that I realised, that maybe, I don't trust God enough- hence, the many expectations and fears and fences.

I never expected to have met you. I never expected you knew exactly how to make me feel loved and beautiful. I never expected that you would want to do mission work as well, that you were even more artistically talented than me, that you were so much more knowledgeable than myself. And people ask me why it didn't work out then. Well, I didn't expect that it was the wrong time and in spite of it all, you were -still- the wrong person.

I never expected to take a fancy to Ophthalmology, because of how comfortable a lifestyle it provides, how technology-intensive it is, and how specialised it can be- all factors which aren't mission-field friendly, or so I think. I like O&G (Obstetrics and Gynaecology) so much partially because of my impression of its usefulness in a rural setting.

But I forget, that far more important than the question of what I can do for God and the poor, is the question: God, what would you have me do? It never struck me, that perhaps, that question was far more important than all my other questions, impressions and fears.

And I forget, that far more important than all the list of Criteria I have, is the Criteria God has for me. It never struck me, that perhaps, being found by someone who loved me was far more important than all the other criteria like having to love the poor and mission work and having some sort of artistic sense and some sort of a theological degree... et cetera et cetera et cetera.

What if God never intended for me to do mission work in that sort of setting? What if I was meant to marry someone way out of my imagination? And what if I missed the purpose of my life because I was too busy trying to fit myself into the goal I had mapped out for my life instead of asking God?

Those memories you left behind for me made me realise that perhaps, Aunty Ay was right. And I wondered aloud if your love had done me more "harm" than good because you certainly set the bar far higher, and it would be an inevitable yardstick. To that Aunty Ay said, "No Wai Jia. He most certainly ought to love you that much."

"Really?"

" Of course. You're in a different place now and you've come a long way. 'Being loved very very much' shouldn't be Criteria number eight."

Till today, I'm confident that we weren't meant to be. My decision is still the same, and I hope you feel that too. But sometimes, on public transport by myself when my moodiness sets in, I wonder if I'd ever meet anyone quite like you again. Someone who could love me in a way I could understand, who affirmed me with words, and who would come at a time I was more ready.

Lately I learnt, that perhaps, for all the Criteria in the world, the first two would have to be to love God, and to love... me.

Everything else, including et cetera et cetera et cetera, comes later.

I am learning, that it takes courage to be loved, and to love. I am also learning, that God works in unexpected ways. We cannot limit Him by telling Him too many specifics. Sometimes, we just have to let go and let things happen.

And I learnt, finally, that if someone like you comes along again, I think I just might be, a little more ready, to let him love me, and love him back too.

Trust in God with all your heart,

and lean not on your own understanding;

in all your ways acknowledge him

and he will make your paths straight."

-- Proverbs 3:5

Open hands.

* Warning: This post may be offensive.

I was just struggling between my love for O&G (Obstetrics and Gynaecology) and a whimsical fancy to Ophthalmology (Eye) when I attended a talk by a theologian/O&G PhD graduate today and realised, that nothing could ever replace that special place O&G has in my heart.

He came to talk to us about the topic on the sanctity of life, and I knew it would be something close to my heart.

Abortions, how I hate that word. I hate it, because it makes a mockery of the women who, in spite of great pain and anguish but through much faith and trust, keep their babies who may be preterm (and have health implications later in life), may have birth defects or may die anyway. I hate that word because it makes me wonder what I would do if I learnt that my baby was abnormal. I hate it because of the terrible social and economic consequences not allowing it brings.

There are now much fewer people with certain types of abnormalities, due to the fact that people are now going for more abortions. Disallowing abortions for ethical reasons is a utilitarian nightmare. Why should it be wrong to abort a baby if we knew it was going to die anyway? Why should we subject a child to a diminished quality of life, knowing the implications of his abormality? Why should we consider a child with severe mental retardation a person if he is no more than a human being without any cognizance? These were the tough questions we discussed today, in light of understanding what the sanctity of life means.

After a friend raised these pressing questions, I shared about how an obstetrician once shared with me about a patient of hers who had such respect for God's creation and such trust in God's provision of strength that she carried a baby to full-term with the knowledge that it would die days after birth anyway. Every day after the baby was born, she would bring her other children to the hospital to visit her dying newborn and tell them that was their sibling whom God had blessed them with, if only for a short while. Her decision spoke volumes about the extent of her respect for God's creation, for her trust in God to see her through such a trying period, for her receiving every pregnancy with thanksgiving. I often wonder what I would do, how I would react.

At the end of the talk, I asked, "It's so easy to comment on how unethical it is to perform an abortion, even more so if the fetus is found to have a non-lifethreatening defect. But in the face of a low-income patient living in a one-room flat with 3 or 4 other kids to support, and knowing that even a simple defect could mean hundreds of thousands of dollars, staged surgeries and special education... how can I ever convince myself or her that not having an abortion would be the better choice?"

I am learning, that it's easy to own the moral high ground when one is in a socio-economically and circumstantially privileged position.

To which the speaker replied, " We live in a fallen world. There is no perfect system. But as far as possible, we can try and restore it to what it should be. Don't you have money to share? Can we not rally around such patients, refer them to surgeons willing to waive fees, support their righteous decisions if they choose to make them, help them raise funds? We cannot force our decisions upon others, but when they choose the righteous ones, can we not support them?"

After which he shared story after story of how he had helped several Filipino children he had met on overseas trips with heart defects from birth, to have a chance at a new lease of life by arranging surgeries for them here. He even went as far as to bring one child to Singapore at least 3 times for follow-up care after his heart surgery.

What a fool, you might say. What a waste of time. What a sorry and unproductive waste of resources. Sure, I might agree with you for a moment. I mean, why spend $40'000 on Alisha right, when all that money could be spent elsewhere?

I am learning, that our world is not perfect and hence we often make imperfect decisions to solve our complex problems. But to make a real difference wherever we are, we have to go against the norm, go out of our way, go the extra mile, in order to impact others, one life at a time. It is up to us to decide if it is worth it.

And as he shared about how he had brought child after child he had met while doing humanitarian work to Singapore for surgery, and told of how we ought to love the world one person at a time, and go the extra mile for needy patients, tears started to gush out of my eyes as I thought of Alisha. Wait a minute, wasn't this exactly what she had taught me to do?

"But how is it possible for us to help all our patients?" I asked.

"That is up to us, up to an entire community. Have you heard of being openhanded? Look at my hands when I spread my fingers out like an open palm. I only hold what is enough for me. Everything else, flows out past my fingers to others. Only take what you need- everything else can be given away."

Suddenly, it reminded me of my bike and Alisha. I know deep in my heart, that if I didn't give up that money for her operation, surely someone else would have donated the money. But deep down inside, I felt this was just God's small way of putting me through a test, His way of preparing me for greater sacrifices in future.

I am learning, we don't need a lot of things- it is society which makes us believe so. If only we all just spent on what was just enough for ourselves, surely there would be enough to go round.

Abortions are not just the problem of the immoral or irresponsible person. It may sound ludicrous, but perhaps, to some extent, unborn children are our responsiblity, our collective responsibility to help and to save, too. Does my spending choices affect my ability to give to the needy? This is something I have been challenged to think about.

I am learning, that I must learn to live on less, to love more and live larger. I am learning, to open my hands and let the gold-dust fall through my fingers.

Have you learnt to open your hands?

" There will always be poor people in the land;

therefore... be openhanded...

to your poor and your needy in your land..."

- Deuteronomy 15:11

"She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy."

- Proverbs 31:20

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you;

Before you were born I sanctified you..."

- Jeremiah 1:5

* Thank you for your love towards Alisha. Her cochlear implant will be switched on only in a few weeks time after the inflammation from the surgery has subsided. She is still as playful as ever. Thank you for your generosity, for opening your hands. It has given her a chance to hear and lead a normal life.

Measure for measure.

Perhaps, all things really do happen for a reason.

Today, everything seemed to come full circle. And after so long, I finally understood.

Kitesong. My bike. Anorexia. Alisha. The doctors. Money. People like you who visit this space. They all seem like such disparate things. But today, they were all weaved together, intricately, beautifully and seamlessly.

Just 4 months back, I hadn't much hope that any of us could help Alisha. Things seemed rather bleak for her. Just 3 and a half months back, I hadn't a clue just who I was sitting next to during the fundraising dinner, just how remarkable Ms K is. Just 3 months back, I hadn't any idea that my bike would have anything to do with this little 4-year old and her future or my dreams. Today, it all made sense.

"Yes, do come over. Would you like to come to my dialysis centre? Looking forward to meeting you," Ms K said.

During that fundraising dinner 3 months ago, I sat next to a woman who doesn't work in the traditional sense of the word, but who gives her life to needy patients and impacts lives one at a time. During another fundraising dinner I attended last Saturday when I made an appeal for Alisha's case, my professor who heard my appeal told me, " You must apply for funding for Alisha through this foundation/trust- I know the lady who owns it. She will most definitely help you." Little did I realise the person behind this trust was the same woman I had sat next to, and whom I met for coffee just a month back. How could I not have seen God's hand in this all.

So today, I, together with Jo (the missionary), Alisha and her mother Maili went down to visit Ms K at the dialysis centre she runs for needy patients. There she was, in simple down-to-earth clothes, in a humble setting of a heartlander area, smiling and talking to the many kidney patients who were on their routine dialysis treatment. This was the woman I had heard so much about. When I saw her, watched her and listened to her tell me story after story of the lives of the people she had touched, my hair stood on end- for though she had every opportunity to live a life of extravagance because of her background, she chose to live with others in mind. There she was, in simple, humble, down-to-earth clothes and a genuine smile, being greeted heartily by the elderly uncle and the smiling, toothless auntie hooked onto the dialysis machines."So, tell me about Alisha."

And we did. Jo told her about her social enterprise helping destitute women in Nepal, about the many cases of meningitis each year which robs children of their sense of hearing, leaving many developmentally delayed, autistic and abandoned, about how she had noticed Alisha being exceptionally intelligent in spite of her deficiency.

And as we chatted, Alisha happily ate her biscuits dipped into warm milo,

and happily amused us with her very expressive antics and gestures. Here's a picture of her scrunging her face up in mock agony and gesturing how the implant was put behind her left ear.

We went hysterical with laughter watching her gesture her experience to us in her world of profound silence.

" What you've done for her is amazing Josephine," Ms K said. " The amount of time, effort and love you've poured out into helping Alisha, and especially in following her post-operative therapy through is astounding. I will most definitely like to support the remainder of her treatment costs, as well as her future therapy needs. My only condition is that she gets good followup."

Today, everything came full circle. It was as if, after such a long journey of walking through so many disparate points, all the dots came together, and today, when the last dot was joined, I could finally see the big picture from God's perspective.

Having to grapple with letting my wants and my bike go for the needy put me in a place of deeper involvement with Alisha. That opened the door for an open appeal to the doctors in my circle, who linked me to Ms K, whom I would not have been able to meet up so easily with today if it had not been for my publisher's wife who introduced me to her.

Soon after the agreement was made, Jo had to take Alisha and her mother to the hospital for their implant check-up. It was then that Ms K asked me, " So, did you bring your 2nd book along for me to see?"

My 2nd book. A Taste of Rainbow. The book I wrote about courage and faith, to raise awareness about depression and also, eating disorders. It's been on the shelf for more almost 2 years now, since its conception. Looking back, I could see why God stopped it from getting published- I was still journeying toward recovery and put too much of my self-worth into it. The aim to get it published became a god in itself. God made it very clear to me that His promise would stand, that it would eventually be published- but in His own time and own way, in 2011- and not at my whim or demand. The therapists in Singapore General Hospital (SGH) working with people with eating disorders confirmed it too. 2011.

Today, after Jo and Alisha left, Ms K looked at my paintings and writing for A Taste of Rainbow and said, " I like it. It has a good message and a good cause. How can I help? I'm willing to fund it. The next time we meet, let's get together with the people from SGH."

God never fails when He promises. Did you know, that the day I finished the first draft of A Taste of Rainbow, I saw a rainbow in the sky. In the bible, a rainbow signifies God's promise.

If I had not listened to God and given up my bike, I'm not sure if all that happened today would have happened. I'm not sure if all the dots would have joined to form this remarkable picture which I am seeing now. I gave up two-thousand and five hundred dollars, but was given in return a far greater measure. Two weeks ago, Aunty Ay wrote to me, " Wai Jia, God will honor what you did for Alisha- He is no man's debtor and will return to us measure for measure, pressed down and overflowing."

I thought she was merely trying to comfort me. Now I see how it is true.

Perhaps I am thinking too much. But perhaps, it's true, that everything happens for a reason.

To those of you who donated money to Alisha's cause, and even took pains to raise money from your friends before getting in touch with me, even though I'm a complete stranger to you, I just want you to know, that your little sacrifice will go a long way. You may not see it now, you may even think your efforts were all wasted, were all made in senseless fruitless compassion since we've found such a generous donor to cover all of Alisha's fees, but someday, you'll see the dots all joined together. Someday, this small effort of yours will build something in you that will reap its harvest much later in life. And when it finally happens, you'll surely say, Ah, I finally understand.

God will never shortchange us. He is no man's debtor.

Thank you for all your love and compassion.

However small a contribution you think you made,

just remember,

that it impacted not only Alisha's life,

but more importantly,

your own.

Someday, all your seemingly senseless little acts of love

will all make sense.

"Give, and it will be given to you:

good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over

will be put into your bosom.

For with the same measure that you use,

it will be measure back to you."

-Luke 6:38

"And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God,
to those who are called according to His purpose."
-Romans 8:28

What the eye cannot see.

"Happiness cannot come from without.

It must come from within.

It is not what we see and touch or that which others do for us which makes us happy;

it is that which we think and feel and do,

first for the other fellow

and then for ourselves."

- Helen Keller

Have you ever watched butterfly-lovers flitting against a piece of blue sky on a crisp sunshine day? The fragile glass-winged creatures whisper in the wind before they disappear so completely into nothing. If you try to touch or chase them, they disappear even faster.

They say happiness is like that- elusive, especially so when chased. What makes you happy? Things, people, work? Or a combination of them all.

I thought it was hilarious when I was assigned to teach my Sunday school class of 7 and 8-year olds about the subject of being thankful, just as I was struggling with it. Somehow, I knew God's lesson to me about my bike wasn't over just yet. How I find myself being comforted, inspired and nourished by the very lessons I am assigned to teach. "Be joyful always, pray continually, and in everything give thanks..."- 1 Thess 5;16-18a. That was yesterday's lesson.

As I taught my kids about thankfulness through role-playing, and sharing my personal anecdotes on previous mission trips, I felt a part of my heart, which had been shifted out of its original place, being settled back into where it belonged.

"Children. What does it mean to 'be joyful always, to pray continually'? This is very hard to understand, can someone explain to Jiejie Wai Jia?"

"IT MEANS BE HAPPY! ALL THE TIME!"

"IT MEANS PRAYING AGAIN AND AGAIN!!"

"... Hm... But Jiejie Wai Jia, when Mummy scolds me, DOES THAT MEAN I HAVE TO BE HAPPY TOO?"

"No dear, God gives us feelings and it's not wrong to be sad. But after feeling sad and telling God about it, and after making our corrections... we can be happy again yes? Okay, children, I need a volunteer." Hands shot up. I picked little Tim.

" Imagine Tim here is a poor, scrawny boy who lives in a mudhouse and has no clothes to wear okay? And one day, a little angel sends him something." I make Tim close his eyes while another child pretends to be an angel, flapping its wings, and takes an old shirt from me and presents it to him.

Tim plays his role very well and appears very happy to receive it.

I repeat the scenario with different children, with each child, however, getting a nicer and nicer shirt each time. I come back to Tim and asks him how he feels about his faded, oversized T-shirt.

"A bit jealous," he says candidly, "Now, not as happy." And understandably so.

Don't you sometimes look at butterflies and wonder why they're so far away? Why is it that other people seem so close to them, and have what you want? What makes you happy.

Even as I was preparing for the lesson all week, the whole incident regarding Alisha, the cheque and my bike kept flashing in my head over and over. I realised, that God was teaching me the lesson in such a profoundly personal way so that I could deliver that message to the children, too.

Being in my Opthalomology module now has opened my eyes to many things I wish I didn't have to see. It is well-known that opthalmologists are a different breed of doctors altogether- Rich, is taken to a different level altogether. And many aren't afraid to show it. I realised, that I too, could become like one of them. I could buy more and more expensive things, and still want more. I could justify my expenses with all my hard work. I could marry an opthalmologist. I could earn a lot of money and be too comfortable where I am to do medical missions in a developing country.

There is something in this department which scares me. I could work and buy, buy and show, and never be happy.

Or I could learn to live on less, way below my means, and learn the priceless gift of thankfulness.

Perhaps the key to being joyful always, is truly to be able to give thanks for all things.

On Saturday, the day before I taught the lesson on thankfulness, a friend pulled me along to shop for a brand-new bike with him. We were in this branded store, with him putting his eye on the latest fashion and myself being surrounded with all the road-bikes which would have served my every desire just a few months ago.

Suddenly, just standing there, I suddenly realised, that there was nothing, absolutely nothing, in that shop which I wanted. That very morning, I had gone for my usual cycling training with my training group, with their expensive roadbikes and all, and had thoroughly enjoyed it. Determined to be content, I had willed joyfulness into existence, even with my present bike. Suddenly, in that shop, surrounded by objects of desire, I realised, that truly, without them (perhaps even precisely without them), I was at peace and happy.

I don't know if my journey with my bike had any bearing on God's unfolding of plans, but that Saturday night, during a medical missions fundraising dinner, I made an appeal for Alisha. A man came up to me to give a thousand-dollar note. Another thousand came in today. We collected five hundred dollars from all the students there.

And finally, I met a doctor who linked me up via email with a woman who owns a Trust to help needy patients. It was only last night that I realised that by divine appointment, she had sat next to me during the fundraising dinner where Kitesong was featured, and we had had coffee together just weeks ago. "I will be happy to help. Will also sort out the post cochlear arrangements with you before committing as this will be very important to ensure the success of the implant."

Money. Perhaps, how it makes us happy really depends on how we use it, and on whom we use it on. Whether we fold them into paper butterflies to be taken by the wind, or used to bless someone else. I am learning, that the things which satisfy come for free.

They are also often invisible to the naked eye.

Opthalmology will bring good money. A few of my friends say I could be very good at it because of how much fine work eye surgery demands. I am attracted to it because unlike O&G (Obstetrics and Gynaecology), it will give me time and space to write, paint and continue teaching children. But I am afraid- of who it might make me become. Unlike my teacher Mr. Ho who has infinite faith in my moral strength, I am not sure if I am capable of holding my ground. There is something about the seeming ostentatiousness about the specialty which disturbs me at the moment. (But I must add a disclaimer, that this is a stereotyped generalisation.) I am afraid of wanting what I see, and becoming who I did not intend to be. I have to keep reminding myself, that while my eyes are opened to endless possibilties of worldly riches here, what is truly important is what the eye cannot see. God, what do you want me to do with my life?

At the end of my Sunday school lesson, I shared with the children Alisha's outcome and how God had provided people- people like you, to help and love her. The children remembered her story.

And then came the question -again- which surprised me in such a profound way. "Jiejie Wai Jia, so do you have your bike now?" 2 weeks ago, another child had just asked me that, and I had to muster enough strength before answering it.

This time, my answer came with much ease.

"No dear. I don't. But I'm happy. I truly, truly am. Jiejie Wai Jia has learnt to be thankful for whatever she has. Some children don't even have bicycles, right? Why should I complain?"

It was at this point that little Tim raised his hand and said, "Ya, Jiejie Wai Jia, I don't have a bicycle too!"

"Come children, read with me our verse for today before we end our lesson,

' Be joyful always, pray continually,

and in everything, give thanks.' "

" ... you who have no money,

Come, buy and eat...without money and without price.

Why do you spend...

... your wages for what does not satisfy?

Let your soul delight itself in abundance..."

-Isaiah 55:1-2

Anti-Climax

It was at the fundraising dinner where I bumped into a doctor whom I hadn't met in a while. She often calls just to check in on how I'm doing, and guides me along medical school.

" Wai Jia, it's so good to see you! How're you doing?"

"I'm really enjoying myself, Dr. S- I think I've found the second love of my life!"

At this point, she, a mother of 4 children, starts to squeal in excitement and I do too- partly because we're so excited to see each other after such a long time. She knows my first love is O&G (Obstetrics and Gynaecology).

So there we are, squealing, and I am noticing she's even more excited than me, she grabs my hands, with her eyes lit up and a big smile beaming across her face, and then I think she can no longer contain her excitement and she bursts out saying, "Who?! Who?! Who's this?! Wow!"

A cloud of confusion settles over me, before I suddenly realise we're on completely different pages. I settle down, with my hands still grasped in hers, and say,

"Opthalmology."

No more tears.

How far would you go for one person?

Whether we choose to admit it or not, most of us are, to some extent, utilitarians. Presented with a choice to give our time, money or resources to a cause which benefits a large group of people, or to give them to one individual, most of us would choose the former. It is only under unique circumstances, such as a specific and deep love for the one person, which compels us to lay more down, go further, give till it hurts.

After the cochlear implant surgery, I asked Josephine, the missionary, "Why do you choose to go so far for Alisha?"

Josephine had flown in with Alisha and her mother from Nepal, made a few trips to the hospital for the surgery only to have been rejected because of Alisha's cough/rash, taken pains to raise an exorbidant amount of money- for a child who could not hear, but is just one out of the many heartwrenching cases she comes across in her everyday life in Nepal. After all, Josephine runs a social enterprise recruiting destitute women, each one having their own sad story about their families and children.

"I mean, has anyone asked you why you try so hard for this one child? I mean, forty thousand is a lot of money, and even after the operation, she'll have to wait for a month for the wound to heal to see if the implant works, and she'll have to come for regular therapy sessions to learn how to operate the implant and to gradually adapt to a world of sounds."

"Because I truly felt God put her in my path. And if she were my daughter, I would want to do my best for her. Sure, I could send her to a school for the deaf and mute, but I wouldn't do that for my daughter."

How far would you go for one person?

Perhaps the greatest lesson I learnt was that in all things, there will always be a reason to give and not to give. There will always be a reason to splurge on yourself, and not on someone else. But whatever little we can do, we must do if God tells us to, because we never know the impact it can make on someone else, never know what riches God will lavish on us because of it- riches of joy and compassion and love.

Sometimes, this requires sacrifice.

During a bible study session last week, we learnt how the social injustices and disparities of this world are traced to the source of irresponsible stewardship. That means some people are dirt-poor while others are filthy rich because to some extent, we have not been socially responsible with what we've been blessed with. I thought about my bike, then Alisha, and then knew that no matter how some my friends can justify my buying a bike for myself "because you can't save world, you know Wai Jia, there're just too many sob stories out there", I knew it was the right thing to do. Most importantly, it was what God wanted me to do.

I would be naive to think that my bike gave Alisha the gift of hearing. The fact is that- it didn't. If I didn't donate the money, someone else would have, in due time. But our giving gives not only someone else a gift, it gives us something too- something worth far more than gold or silver.

So I thank each and every one of you who saw me through the past week. After crying last Sunday, I simply made a decision to consciously learn Contentment. After avoiding my bike for weeks, I deliberately enrolled myself into my own form of "Cycling-Rehab", ha, where I've decided to return to my regular cycling regime and am determined to find joy in what I have.

Thank you to those of you who wrote me emails and transferred money to Alisha, even though the amounts might seem, in comparison to $40'000, small. The fact is, smallness is decided by human beings, but only God sees through our hearts and decides how big our sacrifice has been. And with that, He is pleased. You have touched me so much, not merely because I'm amazed that you would reach out to Alisha even though you know neither myself nor her, but because you were determined to make a difference in someone else's life. Some of you aren't even working yet.

Thank you to those of you who sent me emails to encourage me this week. It has been a crazy one rehearsing to be emcee for my classmates' fundraising event as they sail round the world for charity next year, visiting Alisha, and attending meetings. I just want to say that they made a big difference, and it gave me strength to go back to cycling and being content, because at one point, I wanted to forget about the whole thing and stop cycling altogether.

Just to share one email which reminded me how amazing God is to weave strangers together, when we open our hearts to one another:

Dear Ms Wai Jia,

I read your recent essay on Alisha and would like to donate some money for her hospital expenses. I was wondering how I could go about this? Btw, I was wondering if I could wire a small sum to you as well to help with Grandpa Zhou's medical expenses. Is that alright?

I discovered your blog when I was googling this homeless travelling japanese poet/writer which I encounter at the national library, whose name I cannot recall now, and whom you had previously encountered and wrote about. It was a pleasant surprise to find the author of the blog to be one and the same as that of this little inspiring book (Kitesong) that my boss, prof Koh, had given to me for christmas. I've been following you ever since.

D

What a way to answer my prayer, God. For just last week, Grandpa Zhou and I prayed together for God to send an angel to help us with his medical expenses. And just in case you thought D was a hotshot banker, he's just a simple army boy with a heart of gold. And you've never even met me before.

So thank you D, thank you Normz, thank you to each of you for your kindness. And thank you J, for encouraging me to keep cycling even though I was depressed and finding excuses not to touch my bike, for your text messages of encouragement, for running and cycling with me because I hate to exercise alone, for coming especially to my place just to drop off a slice of cake from Bakerzin (you even remembered I briefly mentioned to you before I used to like that place), and to pass me a note which really touched my heart, because I think you really understood how much this whole incident hurt me and much I grew because of it. You may not believe in God, but I thank Him for sending me an angel like you.


As far as I went for Alisha, thank you for going that far for me too.

Yup, no more tears. We're going to ride like we used to.

" If there is among you a poor man... within any of the gates of your land which God is giving you, you shall not harden your heart not shut your hand from him, but you shall open your hand wide to him and willingly lend him sufficient for his need, whatever he needs...

You shall surely give to him,

and your heart should not be grieved when you give to him,

because for this thing God will bless you in all your works and in all to which you put your hand.

For the poor will never cease from your land;

therefore you shall open your hand wide to your brother,

to your poor and your needy,

in your land."

- Deuteronomy 15: 7-11

No Sacrifice.

"You still lack one thing.

Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor..."

-Luke 18:22

Perhaps, it is only when we recognise how nothing we have is truly ours that we can truly understand the meaning of gratitude and contentment, love and sacrifice.

I hadn't realised it, but even though I had peace, joy and clarity in making that decision to give the money meant for my new bike for my Christmas present to Alisha's operation , it was not without pain.

There is hardly any sacrifice worth making which does not hurt. How the flesh wars with spirit.

Today was the first day I rode on my humble bike again since my decision that day. I hadn't realised it, but subconciously, I had been avoiding cycling so as not to remind myself of what I had lost. I hadn't realised it, but with that joyful and determined sacrifice made, was pain, too. With that divine decision, also came a fleshly kind of sorrow.

A stranger I had met online on the triathlete forum became my friend and he asked to ride this morning. His name is KW, he's an Iron Man, and a very nice chap. And as we rode through the clean clear roads on a cool, crisp Sunday morning, he asked as we stopped at a traffic light, " Where d'ya get your bike from?" With one glance, he could tell it was oversized, under-geared, with vintage gear shifters. "Gonna get a new one soon?"

"No," I said, trying to sound light-hearted. "Not anymore."

I told him the story of Alisha. He smiled. We rode some more.

On the way home, the front tyre of my bike got punctured with a theatrical sound which demanded public attention. Some part of my tyre had come loose, swelled and burst. It reminded me of how my imaginations for a new bike had swelled to heady proportions and had now been burst. I thanked God for the visual allegory which finally allowed me to put words to the feelings that had been swirling haphazardly within me.

Shortly after our ride, I scooted off to church. It was then that the reality of what I had done suddenly dawned upon me, and embarrassed as I am to admit it, tears started to run down my cheeks. For days I had been making neurotic excuses not to touch my bike and now, I finally understood why- for with riding my bike again like I did this morning, I had to come face to face with the reality and consequence of my decision, to give up something of my heart's desire, which I had the means to obtain, the rights to own, for something far more surreal, sublime and divine.

Tears started to run down my cheeks, not merely over what I had realised I had given up, but also in awe of the person God had changed me to become, of the strength He had given me to stick through the decision. Our choices shape the kind of people we become, and I cried in knowing that He had helped me make the right decision, a decision that I myself would not have had the strength to make. I cried, in coming face to face with my materialism, and in mourning over a worldly possession lost. The two-thousand five hundred dollar cheque which could have gone to buying my dream-bike which I had imagined, prayed and pined over had been transferred to Alisha's operation and there was no turning back.

Stupid to cry, I thought. When she finally hears again, I'm sure I would laugh at my stupidity. (Her operation has been postponed due to a bad rash and cough.) But it hurt anyway. I didn't expect it, I thought I had been brave and gracious and strong to make the decision- but I cried at church nonetheless, with tears aplenty. And it embarrassed and amazed me to realise how sad I really was to know the Christmas & birthday present which I had been waiting for all year was... gone.

There is a story in the bible about a man asking God what he must do to inherit eternal life. He did good deeds, obeyed rules and lived a good life. But when God said to him, "You still lack one thing. Sell all that you have and distribute it to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me." The rich young man became very sorrowful. Someone else asked, "Who then can enter the kingdom of God?"

To which God replied, "The things which are impossible with men are possible with God."

Similarly, I knew it would have been humanly impossible to give my gift up for a girl I only met last week. I cried, in knowing that it could only be the love of God. For only love can make the concept of self obsolete, and demonstrate its full power through self-sacrifice. Only love loses nothing by giving and surrendering everything of itself. Only the love of God is big enough for that kind of sacrifice.

I suddenly realised, how it is the very thing dearest to us that God often wants from us- not because He is mean, but because He loves us. Yes, he does.

I realised and learnt, that I never deserved my present roadbike in the first place. I never deserved to meet a swim coach who tops his category in swim races in Singapore and in some international races who willingly coaches me for free. I never deserved to have met friends and family who supported, encouraged and took me further than I could have done by myself. So, what sacrifice have I then made for Alisha if nothing belonged to me in the first place, if everything I had was a blessing from God, and not a right to own?

I am not a saint. I am far from one. I can't believe a simple roadbike actually had a hold of me. I am embarrassed to know I felt so incredibly sad about it. I knew it was the right thing to do, yet it was hard. How the flesh and spirit war with each other. I cried, also in knowing that someday, it would not just be a bike I may have to give up for the poor, but very possibly my savings, my home, a comfortable life as a well-earning doctor in a cushy office, a car, marriage maybe. I don't know.

The past few days were not easy. I kept asking God whether my life was fruitful. In frustration, I even asked my family what was the point of my running and swimming and cycling, whether it was all a stupid waste of time. To which they replied, " I think it's important. You are learning character. That's why we support you." It was when I was wheeling my bike with a flat tyre back home, with KW sharing with me about his runaway from God, that I also realised, that God put me in this circle of sportspeople for a reason, that it wasn't a waste of time, that I had brought people closer to Him because of it.

Perhaps I cried also, out of fear that this would be the beginning of the many sacrifices I would be called to make in life for the poor.

But just so God could make His point on how abundant His love is for us, and how He knows my every need, He sent an angel to show me how very much He cares for our every need. As the year winds to a close, I will be emceeing, attending and hosting a number of fundraising and celebratory glitzy events, and was worried I didn't even have basic makeup to turn up looking decent. And just this afternoon, my dear friend J (whom I had met in my cycling group and has now become like a dear elder sister to me) invited me to her home, and gave me a truckload of branded makeup products and a brandnew pedicure set.

Bobbi Brown. SKI. Concealer, foundation, powder, skincare products, lipstick, gloss, brushes from famous brands and shops I would never dare step into. A PEDICURE SET from France- just when I had decided in my heart that I wouldn't ever pay for a pedicure for myself again.

Why, God? Why.

And I realised that in all things, everything happens for a reason. That in the name of love, no sacrifice is too big. That with God, mourning can turn into joy and sorrow into song.

And that truly, the things that are impossible with men, are possible with God.

And He said,

"The things that are impossible with men,

are possible with God.

Then Peter said, 'See, we have left all and followed You.'

So He said to them,

' Assuredly, I say to you,

there is no one who has left house or parents or brothers or wife or children,

for the sake of the kingdom of God,

who shall not receive many times more in this present time,

and in the age to come eternal life."

- Luke 18:28-30

*Alisha's operation has been postponed again due to a recent rash outbreak and chesty cough. She is still about $20'000 short. If you would like to help make a donation, please email me at waijia@hotmail.com and I will help to link you with the necessary contacts. You may also help by sharing her story with someone who may like to help her financially.

To those of you who have contacted me, thank you for yr kind donations. Your love amazes me. No gift is too small.

Ears to hear.

Very often, life is learnt backwards. It is only on the rare occasion that we find any answers to our questions to life circumstances. Why did this happen? Why did that have to result? What does it mean to hear God's voice? Does it even exist? We ask questions, but it is as if we are deaf, our ears unplugged only at the end when all is over. It is easy to suspect that some higher power might have set us up for this all.

Perhaps the truth is that life really is a set-up. Well, at least till we understand things retrospectively.

Last Sunday, I was assigned to teach my class of 7 to 8 year olds at church about how God answers prayers. I shared with them how our requests are at times granted, at times not, and yet at other times, simply delayed. How do you explain the complexity of the multitude of factors affecting the final outcome- faith, intention, motives, timing, and of course the final wild card known as God's final say- to a group of children?

"Would you like to listen to stories today?"

"YEEEAAAAH!!!" They roared with delight.

I told them the story of Alisha, of which they listened with rapt attention. The whole idea of a little girl younger than them never having heard sounds before in her entire life seemed to grip them.

"So the doctors need money to put special tiny things in her ears so she can hear."

"SPECIAL THINGS? BUT ARE THEY WATERPROOF? SHOCKPROOF? ANYTHING-PROOF?"

" Yes, dear. That's why they're so very expensive."

All their faces were forlorn. How could it be that someone had ears which could not hear? I shared with them the little faith I had in the whole process and how much faith Josephine, the missionary, had. I told them how God answers our prayers when they are sincere and directed to help others. And when they heard that little Alisha was now in Singapore and would go for SURGERY, a word which triggered lots of quizzical expressions, they clapped in joy in the most endearing way.

"WOW. YOU MEAN THEY SEW STUFF IN HER EARS SO SHE CAN HEAR?!"

"Yes, indeed. That's what the doctors will do!"

I also decided to ask, "Since it is good to pray for and help other people, is it wrong to ask for things for yourself?"

Some shouted yes, while others shook their heads ambivalently.

"Can I tell you another story?" They nodded enthusiastically. I shared with them the story of how generous God was in showing me His abundant love even when I was whiny and petulant. "Jiejie Wai Jia's face was full of volcanoes" was my way of describing my bad skin breakout a few weeks ago, "and I felt so sad and ugly that I wanted to put a paper-bag over my face so I could hide!" They giggled even more.

"But a lady from church did something very nice for me after I prayed, you know. Look at my face now. Isn't it much better?"

The little charmers rejoiced with me. " SO God does answer your personal prayers too, you know. He really cares about you. But you know, sometimes, God also doesn't answer our prayers. Sometimes, maybe it's because something in our hearts is not right, or He wants us to learn something."

That was when I told them about my bike, how it is too big for me and how I have been wanting a better bike for months, how I was mad at God for setting me up to encounter a really beautiful one only to have to let it go even though it was within my means, how I just didn't understand. How they all gasped in comic horror when I told them my dream-bike cost a whopping two thousand and five hundred dollars, even though it was a worthwhile buy from its original six thousand dollars. I wanted them to know, that they weren't the only ones who wanted things they couldn't have. Big people have Wants with a capital W too. .

"Some of you told me just now how you really want a playstation, or a gameboy, or a pair of rollerblades. It doesn't feel good not to have them, does it? How many of you have been sad because Mummy or Daddy says you can't have something?"

Hands shot up.

"But sometimes we need to ask ourselves why we want them, and ask God whether He thinks we should have them. Yes? Sometimes, we may not understand why at that point, just like how I didn't understand why I couldn't have the bike, even though my own daddy said it was okay, said it was a gift for Christmas and my birthday."

And then I paused because I really needed to, because it was hard for me to listen to the words come out of my own mouth.

"... So after meeting Alisha, I told my daddy to give the money for my new bike for her operation instead. Because maybe, God showed me that very expensive bicycle I really liked and told me not to buy that so that we could give that sum of money to little Alisha. "


The silence which followed what I said spooked me, because my class of kids are vocal and rambunctious. It was then, upon looking at their downcast expressions, that I realised that they really felt for me. They didn't just laugh at my silly story, but these children really felt my pain. A little girl raised her hand up sheepishly.

"Yes dear?"

"So... ... do you have your new bike now?"

They all listened silently, eagerly. I could see, they were all awaiting with bated breath, expecting me to say YES, since all my stories always end happily.

"No dear," I said. I wanted to give her a hug. "But we trust that God has the best for us. Yes?"

I could tell they really felt for me, for each of their countenance fell.


I had to hold back the pressure building behind my eyes. I tried to be strong. My dream bike which I had imagined, prayed and longed and whined for for the past year was gone. Yet, a certain peace settled in my heart.


"So what did you learn today, class?"

"THAT WE NEED TO ASK AND PRAY IN FAITH!"

"THAT SOMETIMES GOD SAYS YES, SOMETIMES HE SAYS NO AND SOMETIMES HE SAYS WAIT!"

"And what did you learn today, Joshua?" This very serious and God-loving boy was very quiet throughout my entire lesson today. He had won my heart and swept me off my feet with his boyish good looks and impeccable manners since a year ago.

"Hm," he said very thoughtfully and deliberately, "that maybe I should ask God what He thinks about my asking Mummy for a pair of rollerblades. I never asked Him what He thought of me having rollerblades before. "

I suddenly realised, that just as how Alisha's ears would be "opened" this Thursday, it was because of her, too, that mine had been unplugged as well. Finally I could hear God's voice and partially understand why He set me up, why He took the trouble to put me through the whole ordeal. Suddenly I understood a little part of His heart for the poor, the meaning of sacrifice and living on less. Had the bike been any more affordable, I would either have bought it, or the amount given to Alisha would be smaller.

I know people hearing me tell this story might scoff. For perhaps, I'm looking too much into the situation- it's just a bike, what's the big deal? Why look so much into it? It hurts, nonetheless, if only in a human sort of way, but God's peace and joy surpasses it surely. And perhaps, I still really do want a better steed in spite of it all- I still have moments where I think about my decision with tears in my eyes. But maybe, I'm just still learning to hear God's voice, that's all.

Thank you children, for listening to Jiejie Wai Jia teach on Sunday. It meant a lot for me to share with you what I needed to let go. I learn so much when I teach you little folks. Thank you for feeling for me, and for being so interested always in what I have to share. Thank you for sharing with me what you learnt. I hope you apply these lessons in your own lives, and learn the quiet and precious art of hearing God's voice.


And thank you Alisha, for giving me ears to hear, too.

"He does not delight in the strength of the horse;

He takes no pleasure in the legs of a man.

He takes pleasure in those who fear Him,

in those who hope in His mercy."

- Psalm 147:10-11

"Set your mind on things above,

not on things on the earth."

-Colossians 3:2

* Alisha's operation is still $22'600 short, due to an extended stay here in Singapore. If you would like to help make a donation, please email me at waijia@hotmail.com and I will help to link you with the necessary contacts. You may also help by sharing her story with someone who may like to help her financially.