Watching Avatar in 3D

Ok guys, this is not a review, I just decided to write about it since i've got so much time in my hands and gotta get into the act of blogging again. Might as well tell you about something I just did recently.

Last Weekend, I paid RM18.50 for a ticket at GSC One-Utama to watch Avatar with Soon Yang and Daphne.

 
 As I've never paid so much for a movie ticket in my entire life, it better be good.

Not just good. LIKE DAMN GOOD!!

Its not surprising to me that I went ahead to watch the movie at such a price because I mean, a movie does not just gross US1 Billion without actually being good. I mean DAMN GOOD!!

Some say that you should watch Avatar in 2D first then go to 3D, but then, I mean seriously if i really wanted to watch it in 2D, there's always the DVD to depend on. I know in my heart that i'll never get another opportunity to watch it in 3D. My TV can't do 3D so...I watched it...Its a 2 and half hour movie..Enjoyed every bit of it..

Also another point to add is that I've always had the misconception of watching 3d behind a glass with blue and red film just like this..

But what you actually get is like something that looks like real glasses.

The only problem of watching it in 3d is that if you are already wearing glasses like I do (not for 3d purposes of course), it may be a bit difficult to wear another glass (3d glass) on top of it (nuff said!) which is annoying I suppose.


All I can say is..

Its really good!!A good mixture of romance, action, and science.You know its a good movie when you do not want to get out of the movie to take a piss or waiting for the movie to end and hoping for more...I think you get what I mean...So for all you dvd goers out there, Trust me, if you're reading this, watch in in the cinema..Its worthwhile..

Here's a glimpse of it...

Happy New Year!

If there was any day where I can update my blog,

today is THAT DAY!!

Because today, we celebrate Federal Territory Day!! Here's how this day works. If you're working in KL that is your office is literally in KL as long as your address does state 'Kuala Lumpur', you get that DAY OFF!!

But if you're office address says something else like 'Selangor', than sorry pal, just forget about this day altogether.

Anyway, here's my latest update since the start of the year and i'm gonna talk about what I did on New Years Eve.

I told myself that i'm gonna do this post today and I'm GONNA DO IT!!I know its been a month back but helll..i'm still gonna do it!!

This year I started the New Year again with some of my closest friends back in Penang. Every year, we would celebrate New Years at home because of the idea that celebrating up at happening spots like Upper Penang Road or Esplanade or some formal events would always turnout to be horrendous and at the end never turning out to be fun.

Some say that one of the problems would be finding a car park and even if you do find one, it would be so crazily overpriced that it would create an upset in your tummy not to say, a hole in your pocket to begin with.

Some also say that even if you do find yourself in a nightclub, it would be so packed with people that is nothing different to squeezing yourself in say a box to be shipped into another country. It would give you a taste of how exotic animals are illegally transported to another country.

Some also say that even drinks would be over priced on that day and when I mean over priced I don't mean like by a few cents or something but probably by the double figures. Its like buying a proton at the price of a Bentley or so to speak..

Some also say that with all the crazy revellers around, you would never know whether your car is safe enough to defend itself when its been targeted for extra decorations by these revellers.


Anyway, a few of us decided that celebrating at home has always been a better way to welcome the New Year.

Here are some pictures.

 Picture with the guys...At the heat of the moment hearing the "1 Malaysia Song", we all were taking pictures so fast that Tiam did not even have a chance to swap his cake for a glass of champagne to take pictures with.

Picture of the girls that came...

This is Dr. Yong Lin! She Saves Lives in General Hospital! She works sometimes for 48 hours straight. Makes me rethink how hard i'm working when I use to complain that I only get like 6 hours of sleep a day.

Last but not least, if there was anyone you guys should thank, it would be Tiam! He kind of pushed me to hold a party, so...yeah..THIS ONE IS FOR YOU!!!HAHA...Hope you enjoyed it...

I guess thats all I have to share in pictures. Thank you guys for coming!Its always been great to have you guys around to celebrate with. Would like to take this opportunity to wish you all on my blog and all my dear existing readers,

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Can't wait to see how we gonna do it in 2010? I hope to be updating this blog more often..wait a minute...


I SAY IT EVERY YEAR!!!HAHA

Open Eyes.

* Wai Jia is 2 weeks into her holidays, on an attachment to a mission hospital at a jungle in Kalimantan. She writes from a place with wireless connection (in a jungle, yes) and will be back in a week's time.

"The key to obtaining our requests from God

is to appropriate them, by faith,

at the very moment we make them.

Doing this sets us free

from continuing struggle or anxiety and brings us into

inner rest."

- Faith to Live By, by Derek Prince

Perhaps, there are just some things in life which we shall never fully comprehend, some things which seem too uncanny to be mere coincidences, which make us feel small in the hands of a really big God.

The past week has been for me, like the experience of a blind man seeing for the very first time. Terrifying, awesome and overwhelming- all at the same time. This is why:

Before arriving at the jungle hospital, I had prayed for God to use this period to refine His calling for my life. Because of my love for O&G, I was excited to learn all about women's health and childcare in the rural setting. Medical school has given us 4 months from February till May to pursue whatever specialty we enjoy for exposure, and I decided to use my holidays as well (this period now) to learn about medicine in the setting of rural missions. Little did I realize that instead of sharpening my call in O&G, God did the one thing He does best, and pulled the carpet from under my feet.

I had a love-hate relationship with Ophthalomology. I like the subject very much but I'll never do it, God. Because of my many fears, I determined in my heart that I would never pursue it. It's too technology-intensive to be of any use in the rural setting anyway-I made excuses.

After seeing one eye operation after another in the rural community here, seeing how incredibly versatile and portable eye surgery can be, and travelling to the village with Dr. Steve's team, however, my eyes were unveiled.

Dr. Steve gave up a life of luxury and a lucrative 12-year practice in USA for a life of simplicity in a Kalimantan jungle to serve the poor, uprooting his family and travelling to villages to restore sight to the blind.

His life helped me to see how it is not external temptations visible to the eye, but the invisible, inner sanctity we guard which determine the kind of life we can lead to serve others.

What an uncanny coincidence it was for me to meet Dr Edy too, an ophthalmologist and Dr. Steve's partner, who was well known in the mission hospital for his obstetric skills too. "As a doctor in the mission field setting, you can most certainly be involved in a wide variety of fields. As an ophthalmologist, you can still deliver babies. But as an obstetrician, I don't think you might ever do eye surgery. It's a very specialised skill."

Suddenly, I was filled with that familiar longing to get my hands on a scalpel to heal a blind eye. I saw very clearly how one doesn't need to be an obstetrician to do simple deliveries or uncomplicated Caesearean sections- it is a basic requirement in many mission hospitals.

I remembered the Ophthalmology attachment I had cancelled off my list, remembered a comment someone had once posted here questioning why I didn't think Ophthalmology was useful to the poor, remembered how many people had told me not to narrow my options so soon, and regret started to well up within me. A melancholic, lost feeling came over me.

Had I been too rash to forgo my attachment in Ophthalmology, God? It's a pity I'm too late. This is too competitive a field, and without an attachment, the chances of me entering the specialty in future may just be too slim.

I wanted to turn back time.

That night, I couldn't sleep till 2am, and awoke at 4am with a heavy spirit. All I could think about was the mistake I had made, how I was now too late, and how I had given up, too soon, an option which was so incredibly useful to the poor. How blind I was, I thought.

A friend travelling with me commented that I needn't worry, that God would put me in Ophthalmology if He really wanted to, anyway. That night, however, a story on this prayer site I visit every night, entitled Prayer Plus Action, stirred my spirit within me. It talked about how even as we pray, we need to take action, too. God won't move the mountain if we sit around like couch potatoes. Are you telling me something, God? Something niggled at me.

The next day in the car, as we drove up to the village clinic, Dr Steve shared a piece of writing for the day, 20th January, from his prayer book. Almost as if it were freak coincidence, it was the story about God asking a blind man what he needed from Him. The story challenged us to think about why we need to learn how to pray specific prayers, even though God knows our every need.

Dr. Steve read:

Perhaps it is so that when the answer comes we will clearly see how His will differs from our own limited vision. Perhaps it is so we well remember, having voiced our request, to give thanks when it is granted. Perhaps the asking and receving witness to the world in a way that the presumption of providence would not. We wonder why God has not met a certain need. Our first step, often neglected, is to be specific. We must ask.

As we drove up the bumpy road filled with potholes, I closed my eyes and, to my amazement, began to pray silently and boldly for God to show me what He wanted me to do, and for an attachment in Ophthalmology. I prayed specifically, for the university to consider my last minute request for an amendment, and for an ophthalmology professor to take me in, even though I knew it was likely too late. Is that specific enough God?

The odds were against me. Applications had closed. Students applying for Ophthamology attachments apply months in advance to get a place. The only time I could make it for the attachment was in February, which is in less than 2 weeks. What chance did I have? Still, I prayed. What Dr Steve shared that morning and what I had read the previous night tugged hard at me. Almost foolishly, I emailed the university and a professor. Prayer Plus Action, I thought.

If anything happens, it'll have to be you, God. My friend tried to comfort me- Just because you don't do an attachment in the eye centre doesn't mean anything.

That afternoon when we got back from the eye camp at the village, I realised my roommate had locked me out. It was strange almost, for she'd always remembered to leave the key behind for me. Exasperated and tired, I went to the doctors' office, closed my eyes to pray, then turned my bible open to Hebrews 11:1-"Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." The word “seen” suddenly leaped out at me, and it almost felt as if God were speaking to me. Have faith, I felt a powerful force telling me. It seemed that for this whole season, this was the message God was teaching me.

Somehow, the little things which my eyes were opened to within the short time frame seemed a little too uncanny and jarring to be mere coincidence. I tried to brush it off, and thought to myself that I was paranoid, or thinking too much into things.

Just as I was reading through that chapter on Faith, the same friend called out to me, “Wai Jia, come out! Rainbow in the sky!”

I had goosebumps immediately. Right there, in front of me, was a half rainbow in the grey sky, right outside the doctors' office of the missions hospital.

I stood there for ages, speechless and in shock, till the beautiful arc faded away into the sunset.

Faith. Rainbow. In the bible, the rainbow represents God's promise.

My second book, entitled A Taste of Rainbow (hopefully to be published next year), begins with the quote on Faith on its first page (Hebrews 11:1). The day I had finished writing the first draft and showed it to a friend, there was a rainbow in the sky, right before us, too.

Suddenly at that moment, I felt a divine assurance that something greater than myself was at work, something I could not understand nor comprehend. That evening, after I saw the rainbow, I received an email from the staff at the university office saying they would "make an exception", just for me. Nonetheless, chances were slim that an eye doctor would take me in at such short and late notice.

Two days later in a village church during Sunday School, the bible scripture for the day read:

" I, God, have called you in righteousness, And will hold your hand.

I will keep you... as a light...
To open blind eyes, To bring our prisoners from the prison,
Those who sit in darkness from the prison house.

- Isaiah 42:6-7"

I remember feeling stunned, disturbed and amazed reading that. Another 'coincidence', maybe? When I shared what had happened with Dr Steve and his wife, they both, too, were shocked. No, we don't think what has happened is silly or mere coincidence at all. Please tell us how things go, it looks like God's really speaking something special to you. Pray, wait, and trust God completely.

Interestingly, I spoke to the lady directing the public health programme for women and children's health in the rural areas surrounding the hospital and was surprised to realise how she, too, thought Ophthalmology is a field full of potential to serve the needy, "because though the eye is very small, a person is paralysed, physically, emotionally and mentally when he is blind. When you do serve as an eye doctor, Wai Jia, remember to open their spiritual eyes, too."

A few days later at chapel in the hospital, someone sharing about the uncertainties of tomorrow reminded me of how we can only walk one step at a time, for we know not what the future holds. But surely, God knows best and we needn't worry. The needs in both eyecare and women's health among the poor are great, but surely God has a plan and will make clear my path when the time comes.

a baby whom I helped to insert a feeding tube into.

She's many weeks born premature,

and was sent to the witch doctor for a week before being sent to our hospital.

Days passed without news from the Eye Centre.

One evening, my friend asked me to watch the sunset with her. As we walked to the field, I saw another rainbow, very faintly, just above the hills behind the hospital. Somehow, a great peace called Faith descended over me. It was a naive faith.

That night, I received another email:

Dear Ms Tan,
I am pleased to inform you that Dr S, Consultant, has just confirmed

that he is able to accommodate you for an elective in February.

The Glaucoma team already has a few students with them, however,

they are happy to include you in the same glaucoma research study that you refer to below.

Please call me or email if you have any concerns.

I slumped back into my chair, quite stunned for the night. I didn't know how to react. All I knew was that through a series of little experiences, I learnt big lessons about the power of prayer and faith. It does seem like something to scoff at, doesn't it, but I learnt, that God speaks to different people through different means. I thought it was quite funny too, how it was an obstetrician who had recommended me to visit this mission hospital, and she who had advised me to "keep an open mind" with regards to my future.

I'm not saying I will be an Ophthalmologist. The truth is, nobody but God knows. All I know is that for now, I will keep an open mind, open heart, and open eyes- to whatever He might want to reveal my eyes to. My feet must follow where He guides me to, even to places I feared treading, to places I had not imagined myself going to. If God has called me to serve the poor, surely He will be faithful to see me through it.

With open eyes, I now see more clearly indeed, that rainbows and miracles and answered prayers don't just happen in stories, but truly, are very real indeed.

"Blessed is he who remembers the poor..."

-Psalm 41:1a

“Faith is the substance of things hoped for,

the evidence of things unseen.”

-Hebrews 11:1

I See.

*Today is Day 9 of my trip at a mission hospital in the middle of a jungle hospital with wireless connection in Kalimantan.

" Faith enables us to 'see the unseen'

and thus to endure

when the visible world offers us no hope for encouragement."

- Faith to Live By

by Derek Prince

I remembered it scared me so much I wanted to close my eyes and will it away.

During my short exposure to Ophthalmology during my curriculum, I had taken a fancy to the subject. The poetic nature of making blind eyes see and the beauty of the intricate eye surgeries had drawn my heart to the subject. My family and close friends had advised me to keep an open mind with regards to Ophthalmology, but what I had heard about the Eye Centre scared me, and I willed my interest away.

“It’s a money-making business.”

“Oh yeah, you’re guaranteed a good life.”

“Haven’t you heard? That’s where all the money-grubbers flock to...”

I was afraid of myself, afraid of the possibility of me becoming so rich and comfortable that I could forget about missions altogether. I could end up making hundreds of thousands in a private practice, spending my time going for facials, pedicures and spas.

What I didn't want to admit to myself, was really how petrified I was by what I had seen at the Eye Centre. The well-dressed doctors, Gucci bags, Ninewest shoes and diamond rings caught my eye, and the realisation that these material things, too, held a strange enchantment for me scared me. I was afraid to come face to face with my own materialism, and afraid of where it may lead me. I was afraid of coming face to face with the realisation of my superficiality, that other people may stereotype me as a money-grubber if I pursued Ophthalmology, and afraid of my discovering my insecurity, that people might not see me as a real doctor.

I knew I liked Ophthalmology- I had dreamed of going to villages to perform cataract surgeries on blind patients. Because of my fears, however, I closed my eyes to that possibility and directed my gaze to obstetrics and gynaecology (O&G) instead. What I don’t see, I will not want, I thought. And so I chucked it aside. Ophthalmology is too technology-dependent to be useful for missions, I said to myself.

I was sorely wrong.

This week, on an outfield trip to a clinic in the village, my eyes were opened to what I had been blind to all this while. Dr. Steve Anderson, an ophthalmologist from USA and who now heads Global Eye Missions, opened my eyes to a field I had closed my eyes to too soon. After giving up his lucrative 12-year private practice and life of luxury, he came with his wife and 3 children to come stay in the jungle hospital to train local doctors to prevent and treat blindness among the poor.

“Over 300 million people in the world are visually impaired and 40 million of them are blind, Wai Jia. 80% of blindness is avoidable and 90% of the blind are from developing countries. Cataract surgery is a 20-minute operation that can reverse blindness and change lives dramtically... Come with me for the eye camp in the village. I want you to see for yourself how incredibly valuable Ophthalmology is to the poor.”

And so I did. Villager after villager streamed into the clinic, set up in the middle of the jungle. The village chiefs had told them we were coming and lined up expectantly. Some had blurry vision, some were blind, some had eye injuries. Dr Steve, together with a local doctor he is training, screened the eager patients one by one, scheduling needy ones for surgery.

On the previous day, Dr Steve had invited me to be in the operating theatre with him, and I saw how fast, cost effective and efficient eye surgery can be, and how life-changing it can be. 20 minutes is all that is needed to remove a cataract which makes an eye blind. One’s vision is restored almost instantaneously. The elderly blind no longer need to be ostracized, the middle-aged blind need not lose their livelihoods, and the younger women no longer need to turn to prostitution in desperation. For the first time, I was truly awed by the gift of making the blind eyes of the poor see.

"Portable microscopes have made eye surgery so accessible to the poor, even in villages. Have you heard of Dr Ruit? Look at the amazing work he's done."

It’s amazing how thrilled one can be just to regain the gift of sight. We watched a video of an elderly lady seeing again, and it was both heartwarming and hilarious to see the withered woman dance and leap with joy. She was beside herself. It was at the village clinic, when I saw the smile of a woman who was given a pair of spectacles that I realised how simple and beautiful it was to restore another's sight. I didn't need to be a hot-shot doctor to do that, what I needed was a willing heart to serve the needy. I had a choice not to do it in a place already teeming with Ophthalmologists, but in places where people desperately need eyecare.

a villager with poor eyesight who had just been given a pair of spectacles

I realised, that I was scared, and out of fear, fixed my eyes on O&G because I thought Ophthalmology offered me too cushy a world and a universe of material things which might discourage me from my true calling. (O&G has far less cushy lifestyle- think waking up an unearthly hours.) And what an uncanny coincidence it was, too, for me to meet Dr Steve's partner, an Indonosian Ophthalmologist who is well-known in the hospital for delivering babies and doing Caesearean sections. "In a missions hospital setting, an ophthalmologist may still be required to deliver babies and look after women and children, but an obstetrician will not be able to do cataract surgery."

I felt God opening my eyes to help me gain a wider perspective, so I wouldn't limit my options so soon.

What I saw reminded me, that really, we needn't let what we see paralyse us with fear. It doesn't matter if Prada, Gucci or Kate Spade catches my eye. For when the visible world offers us no hope for encouragement and becomes potentially distracting, faith is God's divine gift to help us refocus and endure, so we reach our dreams in the end. Faith in the unseen, has the power to dispel fear. As long as I continued to focus my eyes on God and the poor, He would lead me to where my heart belonged, be it in Obstetrics and Gynaecology (O&G) or Ophthalmology.

"Don't be afraid, Wai Jia. Have faith. Whatever you choose will certainly be useful to the poor. Just stay close to God, follow your heart and everything will fall into place."

Ah, I see.

" For the things which are seen are temporary,

but the things which are not seen are eternal."

- 2 Cor 4:18

Special place.

Staying here amidst the flora and fauna has been as refreshing as a shower in a cold waterfall on a hot summer's day. There's just something so special about this place that I can't put my finger on. Each person has their own reason for being here, their own mountains they've had to overcome before arriving, and their own unique story.

Staying at the hospital observing the doctors scuttle in and out of their clinic rooms attending to the multitude amazes me in a way I cannot describe. They're busy, they must be tired; Because most of the equipment is second-hand or donated, they often have to contend with second class technology, balancing it with more astute clinical judgement; Sometimes, the power gets cut off (even in the middle of surgery) and everyone is thrown, if only for a moment, into pitch-black darkness. One has to cope with the stresses of uncertainty and have the fortitude to overcome unpredictable situations. Working in a missions hospital should be just as, if not, far more stressful than working in a top-class hospital. Yet, the quiet warriors plough through the day with steadfast patience- there is tiredness but never weariness, a smile never far from the edges of their lips.

There is something so different in the air here. Perhaps, it is everyone's presence in this place itself which glues the entire community together. There is an unspoken understanding that each person had sacrificed something, had left loved ones behind, had made a firm and weighted decision in order to live a different kind of life- one of meaning and purpose, no matter if the world thought they were stupid.

There's Dr H and Dr Mel (whom we affectionately call Ibu, which means Mother) who gave up promising careers in the cities to head the jungle hospital. They've been here for the past 20 years, serving not only the poor, but taking time and effort always to look after the junior doctors and hospital staff, throwing house parties, driving them hours away to town on weekends... simply because, "we don't want the junior doctors to feel lonely. They have no family here, so we are their family, you know." It was yesterday that I found out, that Ibu, who cooks and hosts us, drives us around, laughs and jokes and mothers us on top of caring for patients at the hospital and supervising the junior doctors, had been diagnosed with a late-stage breast cancer. Even now, she is undergoing chemotherapy- we realised, that all this while, we never knew because of the wig she wears.

Today, she threw another feast at her home with simple but wholesome food, and she did not wear her wig. Thus is the level of trust, community and friendship amongst the doctors. Hierarchy loses its meaning here.

Why didn't she return to the city? Why does she and Dr H continue to stay?

There's Dr Hussin and his wife, Dr Wiwik. They married each other in medical school because they both had a heart for the needy. They've stuck around in the jungle hospital for more than a three decades, spearheading community outreach projects in villages, and starting more than 70 satellite clinics all over Kalimantan. When they were waiting for the right someone, did they not question that they may not ever find the right person?

That day, when I shared with him my fears and doubts about the great sacrifice of doing medical mission work full-time in future, Dr Hussin told me, " Sacrifice? What sacrficice?" He smiled a strange, fatherly smile, "There is no sacrifice, Wai Jia. All these years, God has blessed me far more than I could ever imagine."

"But how about loneliness? Dont you ever get lonely here? I mean, your friends and family... there're all far away."

"Ah, does this not then draw us closer to God? Imagine how He felt when He left heaven to walk, talk and be with us, just so he could participate in our suffering."

There's Dr Steve, who left a 12-year lucrative career in his private practice in Ophthalmology in the USA to bring his beautiful wife and 3 children to stay long-term right here in the middle of nowhere just so he can help the local doctors start up an eyecare centre. Thousands of people suffer from blindness because of cataracts, and the many eyecamps he has helped to lead have relieved many of this needless suffering. Compare Minnesota and a jungle in Serukam, Kalimantan. There is nothing here- no cinemas, proper schools, cities, public transport... there is nothing here but a jungle, and more jungle. They homeschool their children. But why?

"There're other things to do, you know. We love it here, really. Yea, I know we left behind certain things. And people can call us stupid or foolish. But wow, being supported as missionaries to do this sort of work has just brought our family so much closer together, and ourselves so much closer to God. There is just nothing else we would rather do."" His eyes did not lie.

And of course, there's Dr G and his wife Becki, whose parents were the ones who built the hospital from scratch, as well as the hydroelectric plant 10 miles away to power the hospital. Dr G said he had never wanted to be a doctor- the last thing he wanted was to take over his parents' work because that was exactly where he grew up in- the jungle. But after seeing how great the need is among the poor, he simply decided he had to return to the place he had grown up in. "Ah. Why do I stay here?" he asked whimsically, " That's for you to find out in the next 3 weeks."

Today, as Dr Yo introduced me to his patients with a smile on his face and attended to one patient after another with such tenderness and joy, as Dr Steve patiently tried to communicate to his patients with the limited Bahasa Melayu he spoke, as Ibu Mel lovingly taught me how to put a feeding tube into a 29-week old premature baby who had been brought in by a couple who had seen the witch doctor, I suddenly understood, with such crystal clarity, why I joined medicine, and why I wanted, still want to be a missionary doctor.

Something deep inside tells me, that in spite of all my worries and fears, doubts and anxieties, the very thing that called all these doctors to this remote place on the earth, which awakens them each morning to serve with such commitment, joy and freedom, which calls them to add and not subtract from humanity, is also the same thing which calls and is still calling me to a place like this to serve in the future.

There is something in the air here, something which adds and not subtracts, something wholesome, true and real here.

It is a special place.

Dr P visiting his dying patient,

speaking to her in perfect Bahasa Melayu

We are here to add what we can to life,

not to get what we can from it.

- Sir William Osler,

the father of modern medicine

The Importance of Having Fun.

*Today is Day 5 of my trip at a mission hospital in the middle of a jungle hospital with wireless connection in Kalimantan.

As much as I may not like to admit it, I think I’ve always been rather serious. I was taught that work was important, and everything else ought to fit itself around it. Growing up with a strict work ethic, having fun often felt guilty, and I never enjoyed playing card games, pool or bowling. Even after knowing God, I was still very serious. I prayed, I ran alone, I studied medicine, I counted calories. Even during my holidays, I went on mission trips.

Cycling, however, as well as staying here at the jungle hospital and being a part of the closeknit community, has taught and is teaching me how fun is not only important, but absolutely central to the heart of God.

Arriving in Serukam of West Kalimantan, I was full of hopes and dreams of helping the poor, aiding the needy and loving the lonely. Being my 10th mission trip overseas, I felt I had been more informed of the realities of a missionary’s life. Yet, how every trip teaches one new insights, and it didn’t take long before I was hit hard by another self-discovery.

I learnt, possibly for the first time, that I often don't quite know how to have fun. At parties, I am looking at my watch because I don’t like late nights. I don’t like to drink, not even a drop. I used to run, and only alone. Card games, small talk and playing pool bore me to death- I would much rather sit by the beach in pensive thought.

Little did I know how much of a hindrance this would be to being a good missionary doctor.

Mission work, unlike what I always envisioned, is not just about helping the poor in an under-developed country. These are very grand and very serious ideals indeed. Instead, I am learning how it takes many forms and comes in many guises.

Staying in a jungle hospital means being miles away from civilisation. This means that the doctors, from well-developed places like where you and I come from, have to adapt to being content with the simple pleasures of life. Going to town to buy your weekly groceries or to get a haircut means a five-hour drive up bumpy roads. Recreation means not going to the cinema or roadcycling or going to the mall, but spending your leisure time hosting visitors, extending hospitality to them, cooking up a feast and celebrating one another’s birthdays. Life becomes not just about what one does, or how high one can climb up the urban ladder, but about how much one can thrive, with joy and freedom, in a tight community in the middle of nowhere. Most of the doctors working here are on a one-year stint. Only two couples have stayed for twenty years, another one for more than a decade. Most cannot bear it.

One then realises, that learning how to have fun, then becomes not only important, but essential to being a missionary who can stay on for the long haul. Having fun, is as much serious humanitarian business as it is sitting in a clinic attending to a sick, needy patient.

Little did I realize that all this while when I picked up group roadcycling over the year, God was teaching me a profound lesson I never understood.

For cycling and its company taught me how to lighten up and to celebrate life. It taught me how to be relational, how to laugh and horse around, how it’s really okay to have more than one breakfast and how to stop counting calories. It taught me that taking time outside work, not doing work, actually creates time and this amazingly effervescent yet divinely ethereal substance called fun.

Seeing how the missionary doctors live and work here reinforced that lesson. They are always joking. Having fun is like breathing oxygen. For in a remote place miles away from civilization, living in a different culture with a limited community, recreation and resources, it is not only important but crucial to know how to have fun, how to while time away, how to belly-laugh and eat and make merry. It sounds complacent and decadent almost, but in the midst of a jungle far away from the comforts of home, it is an achievement to be able to enjoy life, and not to be utterly consumed or burnt out with the daily neverending demands and needs of the poor here.

There are poor people every day. There is always work to be done. What does one do?

Last night, as we celebrated the birthdays of 5 hospital staff, had a simple feast to introduce the visitors to the hospital (namely my 2 friends and I) and bid farewell to staff who were leaving, I learnt that celebrating life through having fun expresses the heart of God as much as treating a blind patient. The missionary doctors who have stayed here for decades are those who know best how to pick the best rambutans from the hospital yard, how to take a rendezvous to the city once in a while, cook up a feast for the community and throw a good party. Those who were too serious, always left.

So perhaps it may sound silly, that I’ve travelled all the way here with the intention of learning what it means to be a missionary doctor, only to learn my first lesson which is that of having fun.

But it is a breakthrough nonetheless. Yesterday, as we hiked up a mountain and ran all the way down giggling in the pouring rain, and sang and laughed together, and joked and smiled and poked fun at one another even in between seeing patients at the hospital today, even in the face of a large patient load, I think I learnt a little about the simple pleasures of life, the simplicity of living in a jungle, and the importance of having fun again.

* a picture I took during my morning run before ward rounds started.
The hospital is tucked neatly behind the trees to the top left of the picture.
The house you see is the church.

Travelling light.

If I gave you a suitcase, what would you like to pack?

Some clothes, a novel, shoes? A home-made sandwich, a paintbox, a guitar? Perhaps rainbow sprinkles, a bicycle and a cat, maybe.

Beyond the basic necessities, there are just certain things we can't live without, or so we think. If you had a suitcase, just one suitcase, what would you pack?

Packing for my 3-week attachment to the jungle hospital in Kalimantan has been a process of self-discovery. I realised that what one packs, or hopes to, reveals a great deal about one's likes and dislikes, insecurities, addictions, and what is important to one's heart. What I wanted to pack, or not pack, told me a story of my character, or lack thereof, what I held onto tightly, and perhaps should not.

Suitcases are heavy, and they weigh us down on our journey in life. Travelling light, is therefore absolutely essential. Yet, each of us have different kinds of baggages, filled with different things we cannot let go of, revealing different stories about ourselves.

Of the extra things I packed, were my bible, colorpencils, sketchbook, inspirational reads and my journal- these things, I cannot live without. Of the extra things I brought, were my running shoes, sports attire and a photo of my cycling buddies- I would have liked to bring my bicycle too. Of the extra things I carried along, were muesli bars, dried fruits and my multivitamins-I would have liked to bring a carton of rose apples and strawberries too.

And God spoke to me, saying that while it is all good to be healthy and disciplined, I had to learn to let go, to travel light, to be able to surrender my routine, my schedules, my preferences so that I could accommodate to what the poor needed from me, so I could go further in life with Him without being weighed down by excess baggage.

Did you know, that the most innocent of things can be dead weight too? Like an inability to let go of sports, inability to try new foods or simply inflexibility. We just don't realise how much we are bound by routine and our own brand of comfort until we are forced to give them up for a reason greater than ourselves.

It made me realise that each and every one of us cling onto things which have a hold on us. Yet, to what extent can we let go of these things so very dear to our hearts?

This morning, I was really touched that 6 of my cycling buddies woke up before 5am to meet me for my last ride before I left. Each of them knew I would miss their company and said that they would await my return to ride with them again. Riding through the starlit city in predawn darkness, with the company of good friends, was more than amazing but even then, I knew it was time to let it go, and immerse myself in a season of asking God about His calling for my life with regards to missions, medicine and the poor.

I learnt from packing, that God blesses us with many a good thing in life, but there is only so much we can hold on to, so much that is essential. Anything extra we demand to carry at all costs will only weigh us down.

I can't take my bicycle with me. I can't fold my bed and my home into origami and keep it in my pocket. I can't take Roger, my dog, with me.

I learnt, that perhaps, travelling light is a lot about being able to let go, being flexible and being open to where God may be leading us. I learnt, that while we may be privileged to luxuriate in the sun-kissed blessings He has shone down on us, it may be wisest to accept that we can't store sun-rays, that we must be ready to let go of our treasures at anytime so that we are unbound by desire, free from slavery and liberated from routine.

I learnt today, while trying to pack a 3-week trip to a mission hospital in a jungle, that living wisely, is a lot about travelling light.

And perhaps, that may be the best way to travel. For in heaven, surely our suitcases are... empty, and oh, light as light can be.

Wai Jia will be in West Kalimantan from tomorrow onwards for 3 weeks. The missionary doctors tell her that there will be internet connection there (yes, in the jungle) so she hopes she may get the chance to share with you her journey- if not there, then when she gets back. Please write to her if you like :) She thanks you for all your love and prayers. May God bless you too.

Prayer requests:

that I may learn the art of travelling light with God,

to be able to hear what He has to tell me regarding His purpose for my life,

and to learn how to serve the poor,

care for the sick,

and love the hungry,

with much joy.

Sharing Bread.

Today, I received a postcard from heaven that put a smile on my face.

The world is so small- This army boy, D, whom I never knew wrote to me a few months ago, saying he would like to give me a hundred dollars for Grandpa Zhou's medical expenses after reading about him on this space. He shared with me that he had found this space because he, too, had met this homeless Japanese wanderer, Hideo Asano, at Bugis in Singapore and, after googling him, found a link here where I had written about him. Later, he realised that one of my professors had given him a copy of Kitesong written by a girl close to his age 2 years ago and... that same girl was me.

A shrinking world we live in, indeed.

Today, a day before my final exams for my fourth year of medical school, he writes to me and brings a huge smile on my face. I was just feeling a little disappointed about not being able to pay upfront the full annual sponsorship fee of this little African boy I have been sponsoring but had to do so in instalments instead this time, when this letter came into my mailbox. I'm praying things will work out beautifully.

God always provides bread for His children.

Dear Wai Jia,

All the best for your finals! I'm sure God's blessings and grace will be with you!

I was just wondering about how Grandpa Zhou (Zhou Ye Ye) is doing.. I have some good news with regarding his medical expenses. I wonder if you've heard of the Society of St. Vincent De Paul? They are an organisation dedicated to tackling poverty by providing direct practical assistance to anyone in need. Basically, they give out allowances to those most in need to pay for their living/health expenses.

My friend is a member of the society and I told him about Zhou Ye Ye. He thinks that Zhou Ye Ye probably fits the criteria to receive the bursary. So I was wondering if you and Zhou Ye Ye would be keen on trying this out? It would take a lot of strain off your finances.

If the two of you are interested, do let me know and I will put you in touch with the Society. (: Have a good trip in Kalimantan! I will be praying for your safety (:

God bless,

D

I'm so glad our paths crossed, D.

Thank you for being such a blessing,

and for sharing your bread with the hungry.

In doing so,

you have fed me,

with joy and faith, too.

I was young and now I am old,

yet I have never seen the righteous forsaken or their children begging bread.

-Psalm 37:25

"For.... you sent me aid again and again when I was in need.

Not that I am looking for a gift, but...

... I have received full payment and even more;

I am amply supplied, now that I have received... the gifts you sent.

They are a fragrant offering... pleasing to God.

And God will meet

all your needs according to his glorious riches..."

- Phil 4:14-19

The Fragile Life.

Life, is a long, long road.

On the road, life can be lonely. And because of what is on the road, life is infinitely fragile.

Many times when I think of the missionaries in Nepal or elsewhere, who uprooted themselves from well-to-do families, to a far poorer place to look after orphans, widows or the destitute, I wondered if I could do they same too. Just as I was packing for my medical attachment to a mission hospital situated in a jungle in Kalimantan, a loved one asked, albeit jokingly, "I wonder why you can't be happy just living a safe, normal life as a doctor here. Why missions? You always choose dangerous places... But I love you Jia. Someday you'll do missionary work, I know, and it'll be good. I'm proud of you."

On the outside it seems like such a brave thing to do- but nobody knows that before every trip, there is always fear, doubt and transient dread.

Life is fragile. Why risk it?

Many times, when I reserved another plane ticket to a developing country or got on my bike to roadcycle in the wee hours of the morning, I would ask myself the same question. Why risk it? Why risk Life for others, for recreation, for something so seemingly unimportant?

Just like laying down one's creature comforts to do long-term humanitarian work, cycling on the road can be dangerous. In Singapore, drivers often show no respect for a man on 2 wheels. Many years back, my father was hospitalised for a month for getting hit on a motorbike. He nearly died.

I am quite the coward. I failed my driving test 4 years ago and never took it up again. Images of crushed vehicles and mangled bodies and too many memories of surgeries witnessed in operating theatre flood my mind too often, and I cannot imagine myself bearing those consequences.

One day, it occurred to me, that I feared driving and feared cycling for so many years that I only learnt how to ride on 2 wheels just before my 22nd birthday because I feared death. And it was not right. It was not right not to live life to the full because of one's fear of death.

After all, why should one fear death if that is where Home is?

If one fears death, where shall one find the courage to live with the poor, the desperate, the selfish and the hungry? If one fears death, how shall one ever overcome self-preservation and transcend into selflessness? If one fears death, why should one ever leave one's doorstep? A month ago, as I wheeled my bike out for my usual Saturday morning ride beneath my block, I heard a shattering of glass and an entire glass panel fell into smitherines, right behind where I had walked. The couple upstairs was fighting, and they smashed their own glass window.

I suppose, one may die even in the most measured of circumstances.

Life, is a dangerous, dangerous road, with cars and lorries and drunk drivers. But life goes on. It must.

So I wake up at four in the morning to cycle, and ride in a group, to minimise the danger. Still, it is there-the danger of going off balance, of crashing, of getting hit, especially at speeds up to 35kmph... is always there. So I try to do research on the place I visit before I book a plane ticket, but the danger of getting diarrhea, getting groped, getting stopped by a political party on strike is still there. Every time I ride, I am fearful. Every time I leave for a trip to a developing country, I am fearful. I fear falling ill, getting mugged, gaining an experience that may put me off mission work for good. On the road, and in a foreign land, one feels infinitely fragile.

Life, can make one feel infinitely fragile.

Not that we choose to admit it. For we armour ourselves with an armordillo's pride and defense, choosing to live life the safe, closed, hardened way, making ourselves invulnerable to attacks. We choose to ignore that gap between life and death, and seal it with busyness, conservatism or a safe life, so we may destroy that uncertain and tenuous feeling called fear.

Yet, how we begin to open up and accept our ourselves when we accept death. How beautifully we begin to see our weaknesses and embrace them and make progress when we accept our ephemeral existence. Fung, the handcyclist who rides with us using his hands because he nearly lost his life when a mugger shot him many times a few years ago, taught me about accepting death. Mdm H, the patient who adamantly kept her baby whom the doctors had brought up the suggestion to abort because it may not survive or may grow up to be abnormal, taught me about accepting death. Going through my forensic medicine module, and witnessing how brutally one's body can be torn apart and mutilated after death at the mortuary for post-mortem examinations taught me about accepting death. The friends whom I have met in my cycling group, who look out for others and for me always, have taught me about accepting death.

And on that road when we, people from all walks of life, are riding together, it is in that quiet acknowledgement of that possibility of death and courage still to continue living that our hearts are open and that barrier between hearts is sealed. We share, we talk, bonding in a way words will hardly do justice to. The fundamental frailty of life is exposed when we are on the road. Not just literally, but metaphorically as well.

Because of the obvious dangers in humanitarian work, the poor are touched beyond words by one's compassion and commitment- it is there, in overcoming the fear of death and recognising the frailty of life, that the gap between the jealousy of the poor and the pride of the rich is bridged; It is there, on the road with lorries and cars and motorcycles, where I have found so many serious sportspeople, who were once strangers but broken, sharing with me, an amateur, their struggles and hurts, even though we only met not too long ago. Some ask me about church, one now attends it regularly; As I ride with handcyclists with disabilities, I accept death more and more, and see how it is in accepting that, that we learn to embrace the weak, the disabled, the fallen, and become a society that is inclusive, united and true.

It is in accepting that space between life and death that the gap between rich and poor, weak and strong, proud and humble is bridged. But it takes an overcoming of fear. It always begins with that.

And in doing so, we accept ourselves, too.

Whether we admit it or not, we are all on the same road, fearing death, and searching for a piece of haven deep inside.

There is a closeness with God I feel on a deeply intimate level when I travel to visit the poor- knowing that someday, helping them could be a daily reality. It is among the poor and needy, who recognise and humbly express their need for community, where holiness and purity are found. I keep travelling, keep planning the next mission trip, because not going would be out of fear.

I ride, I keep riding, only because I know, my not riding is because of fear, too. Cycling then teaches me about faith, and trust. On the road when we are all riding together, our two legs pedalling on nothing more than a thin aluminium frame on a wide road with other vehicles, there is a common understanding, a closeness between us all, in accepting our fragility, our possible... death... and in that gap between a car and myself, bridges are built between us, and I, too, find a bridge with God.

I know it sounds absurd. Incredulous, melodramatic. Call it whatever you want.

But perhaps, it is always in the place of accepting death, that gaps cease to exist and hearts are knit together.


So that is why, even though I am coward, I know I must travel to the jungle hospital in Kalimantan this time, even though there has been a great deal of inertia. It has been too long since I've been on a trip to visit the needy. That is why, even though I fear death, I know I will continue to ride, even if it means waking up at 4 in the morning.


And perhaps, that is why we live, precisely because we fear death, so we can give ourselves the chance to bridge that gap between the empty and full, the proud and the humble, the weak and strong, to find a piece of heaven, to replace that space called fear.

JT and I on our 100km New Year's Day ride

" We begin to open up and accept our own handicaps

when we accept death. "

- Living Gently in a Violent World,
The Prophetic Witness of Weakness

by Stanley Hauerwas & Jean Vanier

Pre-Kalimantan thoughts.

* links highlighted in blue

As it's that time of the year again, Wai Jia has been busy hitting the books and scrutinizing pots, which are specimens of preserved, diseased organs for her upcoming final exams for her 4th year of medical school. Thanks to her friends and Mr. Rajendren, she has found much joy in studying for what ought to be rather dead subject (no pun intended).

She is excited about flying off after her exams next week to visit a mission hospital in Kalimantan with two of her close friends. Last year, she had a dream of being lost in a jungle in Borneo with her passport and couldn't figure out what it meant. Many months later, when a doctor highly recommended her to visit this particular hospital in Kalimantan well known for its great service to the indigenous people (even people from the city fly in to get treated), she was rather reluctant, until her father told her that Borneo was the old name for Kalimantan. It was then that she also learnt that the hospital was situated in a jungle. Remembering her dream, she thought it was a pleasant coincidence or divine confirmation indeed.

Talk about making your dreams come true.

Coincidences or divine arrangements aside, she's excited about learning a little more about what it means to be a missionary doctor, and nervous about learning more about God's calling for her life.

She hopes you'll have a blessed start to your new year. Remember, even in your valleys, when you don't understand your plight, God has a purpose and plan in the grand scheme of things. Stay true to your vision, your dreams will come to pass someday.

New Year. (with extra goals!)

Just like how I don't believe that there're no such things as happy endings, I don't believe that new year resolutions are redundant.

Looking back at the hopes I had for 2009, I'm thankful that most of them were fulfilled:

- I wanted to learn to be comfortable with my body again, and pick up dancing. In 2009, I took a course in lindyhop, and found I really, really liked it.

- I said I wanted to perform again on a stage someday, with courage, for a meaningful cause. In 2009, I emceed at a fundraising event for 2 friends who are going to sail from China to California on a Clipper Race to raise funds for children with chronic illnesses.

- I wanted to learn how to speak proper Hokkien to converse with my patients. I think I speak slightly better than I did a year ago, though there is still much room for improvement.

- I wanted to learn how to type with more than 3 fingers. This one... well.

- I wanted to learn to play my flute properly. In 2009, I passed my grade 1 exam with a merit pass and did my first combined flute performance at a concert.

- I wanted to bike safely, without killing anybody, or myself, in the process. In 2009, I realised I clocked about 3500km, participated in a few races as a biking volunteer for athletes with disabilities and helped to raise funds for cancer patients in a round-island charity Ride For Hope. I'm still alive.

- I wanted to be more meticulous, organised and alert. In 2009, I lost a few items which were very precious to me. I think I've found the reason why I was so distracted, and hope to overcome this in 2010. I think getting a folder and cleaning my room would be a good start.

- I wanted to be bold enough to speak up at the hospital. I think 2010 will give me more opportunity to increase my confidence in medicine.

- I wanted to learn to serve humbly. I think it will take me some time to forgive myself for not serving and loving my grandma enough before she passed away in June 2009. I hope to express more gratitude to my family in 2010.

- I wanted to love bravely. I remember moments in 2009 where my fight-or-flight defenses kicked in. I hope I will learn to exercise more faith and trust in God that He will take care of me no matter who I meet in 2010.

So perhaps, penning down our hopes for the new year may not necessarily be a cheesy business, especially if one refers to it from time to time. Perhaps, penning these hopes down is a milestone in itself, as it represents a blossoming of new buds of faith in a time yet to come.

2010 should give me plenty of time and space to do the things I have been putting off, because medical school has given us 4 to 5 months from February till June to pursue our electives locally and overseas. This means no exams, and 5 months of being attached to various doctors from various specialties in various hospitals of our choice to broaden our horizons.

There are many things we all hope to accomplish, but I remind myself, that life is more than striking things off a to-do list. It may be, rather, a constant communication with ourselves and God to find inner peace, to grow and to love. This means that while there are hopes penned down, it is not their accomplishment which makes one fulfilled, but rather, the journey towards reaching them which matter. This also means, that giving any one of them up for good reason may also be worthwhile for our growth. Sometimes, depending on God's purposes and plans, not doing is better than doing.

That said, in 2010, I hope to:

- visit the jungle Hospital in Kalimantan, open my mind to what it means to be a missionary doctor, and to refocus my heart on God's calling for my life.

- get my driving license. Failing my first one 4 years ago gives me no excuse not to see it through. Even though I will never own my own car, I think driving is a life skill-not to mention it's about time I overcame my fear of being behind the wheel.

- learn oil painting.

- spend time to write and paint another book for a meaningful cause should God give me the inspiration to. I think the next one will be about a bicycle.

- take my grade 2 flute exam and do my first solo performance at a concert.

- have more faith in myself with regards to cycling, swimming, running and medicine. All my training buddies agree that it is not my legs, but my mind which needs the extra push. And I can see how a little more faith would carry me further in becoming a better doctor.

- improve my posture by working my core muscles. (Think crunches, sigh.)

- ah, and only if God-willing, participate in my first Olympic distance triathlon and perhaps, if He carries me, run my first marathon. (I simply cannot imagine doing such distances alone.)

- be more joyful,and more forgiving, even if it takes a conscious effort to do so.

- see A Taste of Rainbow to completion, if not by 2010 then in 2011 as well.

- see Project Handcycling 2010 to completion. A group of us will be spearheading a project to help patients with disabilities build a rehabilitation programme involving handcycling, and to help Fung with his training programme to teach handcycling to children with disabilties from AWWA. This will be a project involving the medical faculty, members of the public and HAS.

- if God permits, travel to another mission hospital in India with my pastor in June.

- take a course regarding mission work, or spend some time doing some theological studies or bible study of some sort.

- learn how to make Tiramisu for my dad.

- read more. About everything. And to expand my vocabulary.

- be there more for my friends and family, to exercise more love, patience and humility, to be kinder, and less selfish, to be more gracious and less uptight. To be more helpful and less self-preserving. I wonder if I'm growing cold-am I losing that child-likeness, God?

- trust God more. To live simply, love generously and cling loosely to all my possessions, my new bike included when it comes.

- always put God first, so that everything (medicine, writing, sports, family, worries) can be put into perspective.

- eat more ice-cream. Vanilla, with rainbow sprinkles. FINALLY.

On a random note, I just want to thank you God for blessing me with such a beautiful gift on the last day of 2009. I received 2 emails, which really touched my heart:

- the first being from the kind army boy (a complete stranger/random reader whom I only got to meet up with after he wrote to offer to pay Grandpa Zhou's medical fees) who warmed my heart much because of what he wrote.

- and another, from a cycling friend I got to know recently, whom I had shared my apprehensions about our love for sports with:

Hey wj,

You know, until you mentioned it, I never really gave thought to what I splurged on sports attire, equipment, race entries etc. But now that you mentioned it, it's beginning to unsettle me somewhat. Not many people think about it this, I guess this is why He set you apart for mission work heh :) Not everyone is capable of this kind of sacrifice, myself included I think. But what we can do is maybe do the best to contribute what we can to help the poor? And trust that God will make your contribution go a long way into improving their lives.

Do your best whenever you're training and racing, the tough conditions will make you stronger physically and mentally for your mission work. I trust conditions when serving as a missionary aren't exactly 5-star yeah? ;) Keep praying, and He will set your heart at peace.

Ds

For some reason, this email really warmed my heart. It helped me to see the spiritual in something so intensely physical and human. Thank you Ds, for always encouraging me.

Thank you for a lovely start to the new year, God-

with a wonderful morning bike ride,

a wonderful time spent with my family celebrating dad's 60th birthday

before my sister heads overseas again

(why don't you stay longer than 2 weeks a year?),

and a time of thanksgiving

in knowing that you have

everything in control.

And to all of you who have been journeying with me through 2009,

Thank you.

A blessed new year to you, too.