Thorn.

It has been hurting. And the pain has worsened. It hurts while sitting down or walking.

"The pelvic stress fracture is a relatively rare sports injury, but common among elite female athletes." (Not that I am elite in any way.)

I realise, just how easy it is to sink into self-pity and call a pity party. One tends to become discouraged as one finds out more about one's injury. It was only as I read more that I learnt, that having a history of being amenorrheic is a definite risk factor for these sort of fractures. In my case, I had been so during the course of anorexia, and I hadn't realised how it had ravaged my body. It made me understand how what we do has consequences, has some bearing on our future, and it makes me marvel, in both awe and disappointment, at how our failings and foibles, can return to haunt us. I now know, that those years ate my body and chewed on my bones, and it will take many me more years before all my bones will be strong again.

I am disappointed, but I remember-

-that EZ lost one leg to cancer and is still handcycling, that Fungus lost all movement and sensation from his stomach downwards and is still living strong, that E has relapsing nephrotic syndrome where he keeps becoming swollen and his mother remains faithful and hopeful, strong and patient.

So what's a pelvic stress fracture? So what if I can't run, or bike? I can still walk, swim slowly; I can still sing, still see, still paint, still write, still sit and read God's word. Why should I grieve?

So what if I found out that it takes more than a year and a half to heal, and that it may be more than a year before I run or bike again. So what.

After all, in some way, I did ask for it. During that period of training, I asked God every day to help me cling loosely to all my possessions, to help me to walk closely to Him. I suppose, as the sport started to take more of my time and me away, He used this fracture to answer my prayers in every way. Now, I cling loose; now, I walk close.

But I don't want to pretend I am on top of it all. Today was hard. Today, after reading material and studies about the causes and course of this injury, about how it could take more than a year to run or bike again, about how a history of disordered nutrition and amenorrhea are definite risk factors for the injury, was hard. Today, it was hard to convince myself to continue with physiotherapy because I've become discouraged. I love to run. I love to bike. But I suppose, God is asking me, if I love them more than I love Him. I suppose, we often fail to realise, how our sin, failings and foibles sometimes have consequences we wish we needn't bear.

The thorn in our flesh.

But there's no use crying, is there. There's no use crying over a thorn, which for better reasons, has been left in our flesh. Do you have a thorn in your flesh, too? Something God will not remove? Take heart, for His love and grace shall be sufficient. Some days, like today, are hard, but He is enough, God will be enough.

Perhaps, the most important thing I've learnt, is that no matter what happens, we can always be sure, that as long we trust that God has the best for us, no setback or challenge, hurdle or mountain will be too hard to handle.

God's grace is always enough. I need you, God.

And Life, even without running or biking or feeling my face in the wind that He has made, or doing what I love most, must go on.

You'll be enough for me.

" ... do not be despise the chastening of God,

Nor be discouraged when you are rebuked by Him;

For whom God loves He chastens..."

- Hebrews 12:5-6a

"... a thorn in my flesh was given to me...

lest I be exalted above measure.

Concerning this thing I pleaded with God 3 times

that it might depart from me.

And He said to me,

'My grace is sufficient for you,

for My strength is made perfect in weakness.'

Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities,

that the power of God may rest on me."

- 2 Cor 12:7-9

I SAW GAGA

I SAW LADY GAGA AGAIN TONIGHT!!! That is a pic of her that I took. 

WellI had floor tickets and I managed to be very close to the front whichwas sooo cool because last time I had bad seats and she looked like anant, so I actually got to see her this time! LOL. There were stupidbitches though trying to stand in front of me and I'm like a midget so Iwouldn't tolerate it so I was pushing them out of the way. I mean I wore5 inch heels even and I was still too short to see over everyone. Ithink people these days are too tall wtf. Anyhoo, I am pretty deaf nowbecause we were in front of the speaker and I hope I will able to hearagain one day D: Well anyways it was a blast and I knew it would be.

Me

CAN'T WAIT FOR YOU, GAGA

CAN'T WAIT FOR YOU, GAGA

SEE YOU AT 7PM

On my own.

I went to watch an adult beginners' ballet class today. At first, I thought it was a mistake, but later saw how it was instead, a breakthrough in many ways.

For years, I had wanted to learn ballet, but never had the guts to pick it up. Besides, God said no. I had picked up and quit dance many times, because there always came a point where I wasn't comfortable with something. Dance class can a breeding ground for idolatry, pride and lewdness. Most of all, I wasn't comfortable with my body.

Today, I went to watch. At first, I thought it was a mistake, but later saw how it was instead, a breakthrough in many ways. I thought it was a mistake because when I left, my heart was heavy- I knew that my injury made it impossible to dance.

But it was a breakthrough, because I sat through the entire class and saw how much I truly enjoyed ballet for what it is. I'm not afraid of my body anymore. It's not perfect, but I've never been more comfortable in my own skin. I also learnt, that my fracture site still hurt because I had not yet learnt my lesson for this season.

After church today, I sat by myself, very quietly and very solemnly, feeling the pain at my fracture site. It was there, smarting. Today, we learnt about how our self-sufficiency and wealth grieves God, how it is the broken and contrite, and not the powerful and proud who know God's love. When Pastor talked about this today, I knew he was talking about me.

For weeks, God had taught me the hard way, to learn to rest and be secure in being, not doing. But impatience got the better of me, and I was soon doing too many things again. Even in resting, there was pride. There was the pride of saying, "See God, I can rest. See God, I am learning my lesson. I can recover."

Did you know, that we can be proud, even of not being proud. What does it take for us to realise that truly, without God, we just can't make it on our own.

I had to learn things the hard way.

"I'm sorry, but I would advise you not to even think about learning ballet until you are totally fit. Ballet is very unforgiving, and I would rather you spend 1 or 2 years doing pilates and strengthening your core. Come back then, and I know it'll really be helpful for you."

As I walked out of the class, I thought about how working on our core muscles are like exercising and building our spiritual core too. All this while, I had been overworking my body with a weak core. It was a striking parallel to how I often do much for God, running about and serving Him, without actually taking enough time to sit and pray, sit and read the bible, sit and just, be.

Uncle Y spoke to me over the phone, "I know it's not easy for you, Wai Jia. But don't be foolish. God is teaching you patience. I promise, you'll be fine in 4 to 6 weeks from now if you wait it out. Meanwhile, build your core strength. And when you go back to the sport, you'll be much stronger. I promise you. Just do me a favour and stop biking for now."

I hate doing core exercises. I never did them. I would rather do a painfully long run than do 10 crunches. In the same way, I suppose it's a lot easier for most of us to be running around doing things than sitting down to pray, to journal or to sit at God's feet.

Work on your core strength. You mean, work on sitting still and reading God's word, work on being patient and feeding on spiritual food?

"Yes."

"That's gonna be hard, Uncle." Tears were all over my face. I had been stupid, I have not been resting as much as I should have.

"Wai Jia, may I share this with you. When our domestic helper left us a month ago, we were so proud of ourselves. My family was so proud that we could cook, clean, and take care of all our household chores with such efficiency. Our meals were healthier, our clothes cleaner, our home neater than they have ever been. And you know what? Our new maid never came, problems kept cropping up at the agency. But today's sermon really struck us, that we have been too self-sufficient. And it was only when we surrendered and told God we couldn't do it on our own, that we received phonecalls regarding our new helper this afternoon, after not hearing any news for a long time."

I suppose, we just need to let go. Let go and say, God, I can't make it on my own.

I am learning, I can't make it on my own. Of late, many things have failed to come to pass and I have been discouraged. But I am learning, that it takes patience and trust, humility and a sense of surrender to realise that there is nothing I can do well without God. I have tried, and failed. I have run around and injured myself, simply because my core, physical and spiritual, has been weak. I am learning, that sometimes God allows things to happen so we can focus on what's important, focus on improving our core strength, so that when we get back to life, we can be stronger, wiser and more steadfast.

"You won't be too old to start ballet when you've recovered, trust me," said the teacher. "It's not like you're training to become professional, anyway. Meanwhile, just work on your core strength. It'll do you wonders. And I'll see you when you're all recovered."

So there, I'll make a commitment today. To study the book of Isaiah in the bible, to put my bike away for the next one month, and to make some effort instead, to be still and strengthen my core, physically and spiritually.

And most importantly, to say, God, I can't make it on my own. I need you.

"Remember therefore from where you have fallen;

repent and do the first works,

or else I will come to you quickly and remove your lampstand from its place—

unless you repent."

-Rev 2:5

Why are you downcast, O my soul?

Why so disturbed within me?

Put your hope in God,

for I will yet praise him,

my Savior and my God.

-Psalm 42:11

Foolish Heroes.

It was gloriously ugly. When I saw that face, my own shock surprised me. In paediatrics, it is called a gargoyle facies, which refers to the typically gargoyle-like, coarse facial features of a child with a genetic disorder called mucopolysaccaroidosis. The child was sleeping soundly in a cot, her thumb in between horrendously large teeth which were housed in thick lips in an oversized head. A tired, defeated figure sat vigil next to her.

It is a common sight in Paediatrics, to see that tired, defeated figure next to a sick child.

"She was like this since birth. It's a genetic disorder. Hers is type 3, the most severe kind."

"May I ask," I said tentatively, "why she's in hospital today?"

"Don't you know? Children like her lack a particular type of enzyme in the body. That's why she needs to come to the hospital for a special infusion every 2 weeks. It's supposed to be a weekly infusion, but we can't afford it. We just can't afford it."

"How much do her medical fees cost?"

"A lot."

"A thousand for each infusion?" I thought it would be safer to make an overestimate.

"Each infusion is five thousand dollars."

I stood, stunned. Five thousand dollars. It took me a while to take in that figure. That is ten thousand dollars a month.

"We've used up almost all our subsidees. And it only helps her health marginally. But I don't know, things could have been worse. She's had them since she was 2 years old, it's a huge drain on our family."

"How old is she now?"

I looked at the large child sleeping in the cot and thought she could have been four or five.

"Eight."

Later, I read that children like her live till only about ten years old.

I stood there, marvelling at the tragedy and beauty of it all.

A tragedy, because it was profoundly sad to see not only the child suffer, but the entire family suffer. "It's a huge drain on my husband and I. We have one other child. It's just, so much money. We even wrote to the pharmaceutical company to give us a discount."

A tragedy, because the child would not get better, and would die eventually,soon.

Yet, it was beautiful, because in spite of it all, they put in their best for her. They put in everything they had for someone who could have no practical value in this world of pragmatism and logic. They put in their all because they loved her.

Foolishness, would be what the world would say. What a foolish, impractical love.

"She can't feed herself, or dress or get up by herself from lying down, but she can certainly still smile, her elder sister plays with her. She can express herself when she wants to watch television or eat."

A few nights ago, I met up with the mother of a previous 3-year old patient I had met a year ago. Mdm S and I had become friends and I text messaged her one day to ask how her son was, and how she was doing. "Back in the hospital," was her reply, "you texted me at the right time."

I went to visit. We met to pray. In spite of steroids, her son was swollen all over again. But he was in good spirits.

"Dear," she said to her charming son, "Go and sit on Jiejie (big sister) Wai Jia's lap."

He crawled into my lap. Just for entertainment's sake, I told him a story off the top of my head, making it up as I went along.

"ONE DAY," I said in my Super-Excited, Hyped-up Storytelling Voice, "THERE WAS A BOY NAMED.... NAMED.... E!!"

He giggled. He was the protagonist of my story.

"ONE DAY, E WENT TO THE ZOO!! AND IN THE ZOO, WAS A TIGER!! A BIG RED HUNGREEEEEE TIGER!!!"

He was stunned.

"ONE DAY, THE TIGER SAID TO E, 'OH E, I AM SOOOO HUNGREEEEE. WHAT SHOULD I EAT?' "

E froze. From being all excited and wriggly on my lap, he suddenly froze.

"So E, what do you think the tiger wants to eat?"

He was very very serious.

" AND THEN THE TIGER LOOKED AT E WITH VERY HUNGRY EYES AND THEN HE SAID, ' E, CAN YOU GO WITH ME TO MAC DONALDS AND BUY ME A HAPPY MEAL?!!"

The three of us doubled up with laughter. And I couldn't believe I told such a silly story. He burst out laughing, giggling, rolling in peals of joy.

It was only later that his mother told me, he had never had a Happy Meal before, had never had Mac Donalds before. Because of his condition, he has a salt-restricted diet. Silly me, I thought, what a story to tell a kid with nephrotic syndrome. You should've known, Wai Jia, I told myself. E had had multiple admissions to the hospital for relapses.

I looked at his mother, saw her incredible strength to continue trusting in God's goodness even when things seemed hard, or unfathomable and thought to myself- what a remarkable woman. She played with E with a reckless, pure kind of love. And it was clear, that E loved her to bits. At one point as she teared, E stood up from his cot and asked us, "Mummy, what are you doing?" It was like he knew, and understood. He is 3 years old.

I met another lady, whose child was yellow and had a huge scar across his chest.

"You know," she said in front of her 12-year old child, I always wondered what it would be like if I had let him go. I mean, do you know how much suffering he and I have had to go through?"

She wouldn't stop talking. In the end, she talked for almost an hour,non-stop.

"My husband is bitter at me, that I chose to let my child have the operation when he was born so he could live. My husband is bitter that I didn't let my child go instead. My mother-in-law is angry with me because I don't allow her to give traditional chinese medicine to my son- the doctor told us not to mix eastern and western medicine by ourselves, lest there be any side effects. My medical subsidees are almost completely depleted. I had to quit my job. After ten years of looking after him, I thought I could return to work but now... he's sick again. He keeps getting sick, what am I to do? I have 2 other kids... my husband still cannot accept the fact that he has a 12-year old son with this condition. I told him, if he can't take it, then he can walk out, but I'm staying, I'm here to take care of my children. But I often ask myself, whether I made the right choice, whether perhaps, I should have let him go." Her child was listening.

She was worried, tired and weary. But she is also a mother, a warrior, a fighter.

It made me wonder what marriage is, what children are to us. Everybody has children, with hopes of attaining that beautiful picture of a complete family. But what if something goes wrong? What if my child is born with a genetic disease which will only deteriorate with time? What if my child develops a disease which keeps relapsing? What if my child's condition affects our lives so much that our marriage becomes tested?

At the side of every bed in the paediatric hospital, is often the figure of a woman of steel.

Her name is Mummy.

To all the mothers who have given their lives up for another, who have demonstrated what it is to die to oneself so another may live, who have exemplified the love of God through His son to us, I salute you. I just want you to know that you have made our world that much more humane and real and beautiful to live in. You have shown appreciation for the fragility and preciousness of life, and have lived with a spirit so large and generous only the hardest of hearts would not be moved.

And although so many of you face the similar problem of feeling discouraged by your husbands, I want you to know that God is watching over you. God sees that heart that wanted to save that precious life He calls His own, which gave utmost respect and dignity to a life He created. And though the world may not see every heartache and every tear, God most certainly counts your life as precious and your calling as a Mother most worthy to be praised. Who else would, with such abandon, love another so selflessly, thoughtlessly and recklessly, like a laid down lover. Like a laid down lover.

Foolish in the eyes of the world, just like how He was made a fool for our sakes. Yet, ultimately precious and prized in God's eyes.

So I salute you. Thank you for teaching me what it means to love, to lay down one's life for another. I don't know if I could do the same. You are amazing.

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

and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength... ...

But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise;

God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong."

-1 Cor 1:25, 27

Olympian.

Thank you so very much for this surprise in my mailbox, from someone I have never met before in my life. It was such a deep encouragement to me.

Hi Wai Jia,

... Here's something I read last night which will hopefully encourage you to strive on...

"They [Great spiritual leaders] have all asked God for relief, but they also asked God not to take them off the operating table until they learn all he wants to teach them. This reveals the heart of the spiritual champion. These spiritual Olympians would rather walk with a limp to possess life wisdom and a closer relationship with God than to escape the trauma of the match. They learn, like David, to take their pain to God. Like Paul, they come to exult in their thorns."

You have prayed for deliverance, but everything feels like more shots and surgery. Knowing that God is not happy about your hurt, the key is to keep looking into his face and talking with him while the soul surgery takes place.

- A Work of Heart by Reggie McNeal...

have a blessed week!

-C

A Gift.

" When can I ride my bicycle with my friends?"

That was all he wanted to know. There, lying in the hospital bed for yet another admission of a fit, that was all he wanted to know.

He was normal before. He used to attend a normal school, have normal friends, lead a normal kid's life. Life before his brain infection was good. Then, the incident happened, and now he goes to a special school, makes special friends and leads a different life.

"Mummy never lets me go to chalets with my friends anymore. When can I go to the next chalet outing? When can I ride my bicycle with my friends?

At that moment, my nose soured briefly. He just wants to ride his bike.

During the course of my Paediatric revision rotation, I can see how childhood illnesses are robbers of the light. They take away what does not belong to them. Yet, these brave warriors soldier on. Do we take what we have for granted? Do we realise that everything we have isn't truly ours, that at any moment, all that we have could be taken away from us? That in an instant, our lives could change forever?

And it could be due to no fault, no folly of ours. Who could have thought a brain infection would change one's life so drastically, and such a young one at that?

At that moment, I suddenly realised that everything I have, from my hands and feet to the brain I have, are gifts from God. Going to school and having to face gruelling exams are gifts. Being able to interact with friends ( sometimes laughing, sometimes fighting) is a gift. Being able to say I am recovering from a fracture which still hurts is a gift.

Today, with all its challenges, is a gift.

All he wants is to stay at a chalet with the rest of his friends and ride his bike.

I feel you, dear. I wanna ride my bike and fly in the wind, too. Rest well, and I hope you get better soon.

Thank you for reminding me, that every moment we have, is a gift.

A drawing I scrawled today for this teen (name hidden under my eraser to protect identity!)

Wishing you a speedy recovery.

I hope you can ride your bike with your friends soon!

Love,

Jiejie (big sister) Wai Jia

GaGa inspired look

My GaGa inspired outfit.

BIG WEEK AHEAD

Big week ahead for me!

June 24th - St. Jean Baptiste Day
June 26th - BBQ Party
June 28th - Lady GaGa Concert
June 30th - Moving day
July 1st - Canada Day

Wow.

GAGA IN 6 DAYS

GAGA CONCERT IN 6 DAYS!!!

Wind and Mercy. (edited)

"He's messing with me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he's doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Doing what he's used to doing. Messing with me. Playing with my head, taking things away. I'm angry. And I'm scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Scared that he'll take things away... again. I realise today that he pulled a fast one on me again. I thought I had it, now it's gone. I've been losing things... A lot of things that were supposed to happen this season, aren't happening. A lot of things are at standstill, put on hold, haven't heard from my publisher/my professor etc about a number of things important to me for some time, kinda feel my recovery has plateaued and my injury isn't getting better anymore, I'm losing my body and having to adapt to and accept it all over again, I've so many thoughts about residency and feelings about it to process, and today, this. I don't know what's happening. Maybe he's teaching me patience and trust... and that, without him, I'm really completely... nothing."


"Jia, don't be discouraged. Remember if God wants you there, He will surely open the door. I know you're going through quite a bit, praying God will lift your spirits with fresh Hope and trust in Him."

Last Saturday I couldn't sleep till 3am. Like a tree in a hurricane, I wondered just which gale it would take to break me, once and for all. I've lost so many things this season, what next? In my moment of weakness I asked you many questions. But when I finally awoke, bleary eyed but heavy-hearted and dragged my iron-feet to church, and willed myself to be joyful for the new morning, something I saw as I crossed the road outside my home to the taxi stand reminded me again of Your faithfulness and love.



Times like these, I just want to close my eyes and believe this hurricane is not for naught. If you can remember how much a silly umbrella means to me, surely you know what this means to me?

I need sleep, God. I surrender.

He is jealous for me,

Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree.

Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy,

When all of a sudden,

I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory,

and I realize just how beautiful You are

and how great your affections are for me.

So we are His portion and He is our prize,

Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes

If grace is an ocean we're all sinking

So heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss

and my heart turns violently inside of my chest

I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way

That he loves us, oh, how He loves us.

-How He Loves by John Mark McMillan

Hijacked.

"You know, R, I sense that I'll be entering a season of suffering soon. Things aren't going to be easy. I'm just girding myself for it. It's going to be painful. But then again, that's how we grow right? Through suffering."

I receive a disbelieving look from R. I continue, "Oh come on, surely there is beauty in pain."

This time, her disbelieving look actually bores through my eyes like little laser beams. I go on.

"I mean, like, suffering pain and emerging beautiful and strong. Surely you believe in that, right?"

"Oh you mean like, as in, SHOES."


Silence.


YES. I STILL LOVE YOU FOR RUINING MY POETIC MOMENT.


*As of tomorrow, Wai Jia will officially be a final year medical student. To suffering, Cheers!

Nobody's nobody.

"I'm not the nobody! YOU'RE THE NOBODY!"

"NOO!! YOU!! YOOUU AAARRREE THHE NOOOBODY!!"

That sounded like a situation which really needed a time-out. Both boys were tearing one another's hair out and yelling at each other like angry porcupines. The big boy was about 4 times the height of the younger one, but both were sizing each other up like gladiators in an arena ring.

"I'M the REAL Noah. YOU'RE the NOBODY!"

"NOOO! I'M THE REAL NOAH. YOOUUUU ARE THE NOBODY!!"

This went on, back and forth. Big Noah was 12 years old. Little Noah was just about 4. Both boys, with the same name, were arguing who deserved to be the REAL Noah.

Like boys, seriously, I wanted to say. You can fight about girls later on, but this? Man. But I reminded myself they were kids and that I used to say really dumb things myself (still do sometimes) and so instead I said to the two of them at Sunday School during church camp, "Hey! Who's calling who names?"

Both stopped. Then both started at once, "I'M THE REAL NOAH. HE'S THE NOBODY!!"

With the amount of vigor and conviction they both said it, you would have thought they were running for presidency against Obama.

"BOYS," I said firmly in my teaching voice, " Hey. Nobody's a nobody here, okay? You are BOTH precious to God. And you're BOTH the real Noahs."

Looking at Big Noah, I said very firmly, "Just because you were born first doesn't make you more real."

And looking at small Noah, I said, "And just because you're younger doesn't mean he's the fake one."

"Okay? Both of you listen to me. It's not nice to call someone else a NOBODY, okay? If you wanna talk about age and who's real, then both of you must be fake, because the REAL NOAH with the BIG ARK was born many many many years ago, waaaaay before either of you, okay? Look at this. You guys just did this exercise. What did you learn?"

I pointed to the charts the children had put up on the classroom wall. They had written down their confessions about how they had disobeyed God and how they could stop doing those things.

"Both of you, this is BULLYING. This is NOT KIND."

(Yes, I thought it was kind of scary reading the charts as well. Scary- both because of the content and the... grammar. )

Both fell silent.

Looking at Big Noah, I said, "Noah, I think Noah deserves an apology."

"Sorry Noah."

Looking at little Noah, I said, "I think Noah deserves an apology, too."

"Sor-wee, Noah."

"Noah, do you forgive Noah?"

"Yes."

"Noah, do you forgive Noah too?"

"Yes."

"Love one another. Remember, love one another, okay?"

It was hilarious on hindsight, and yet sobering, too.

And it reminded me, how like children, we can, so very often, learn a lesson then forget it almost immediately. It reminded me, how powerfully dangerous our tongues can be, how we use it aimlessly and thoughtlessly like children to maim one another. If only we knew how much our teasing and unecessary words brought destruction and not edification, hurt and not restoration.

Love one another. It reminded me of that ever resonant voice which would permeate through the walls of the orphanage in Nepal when the house parent would say over and over to the orphans whenever they got into arguments, "Love one another."

Love one another.

It was then that I realised, that the lesson was for me, too.

"If someone says, "I love God," and hates his brother, he is a liar;

for the one who does not love his brother whom he has seen,

cannot love God whom he has not seen."

-1 John 4:20

"For though by this time you ought to be teachers,

you need someone to teach you again the basic principles of the oracles of God.

You need milk, not solid food... "

-Hebrews 5:12

Highlight of Camp.

That morning, I saw A, the 7-year old charmer who professes to be her boyfriend and I asked him if he was okay.

"Are you happy?" I asked.

"YES I AM!!! SHE IS WALKING NOW!!!!"

I was just about to leave church camp early for another event when I caught sight of that familiar face, with a bright green, animal print bandana over her head. She was wearing the medal I had passed to her from my friend, who had a liver transplant 18 years ago and went on to do an Iron Man event. Last week she was bedbound, and a day ago, she was in a wheelchair. Now, she was walking, and very well, too.

"Just last night, someone prayed for us, that she would run with God... And you know, after being chair-bound, she got up and walked... So we've been letting her wear the medal the whole day," said her mother. "What you shared with us is such a great encouragement. It's such a precious medal from your friend."

" Yes. He won it by 1.7s at the World Transplant Games. He really wanted her to have it. "

And so there and then, I took a picture with you, just before you had to go for another round of chemotherapy. And that moment, was so precious.

You be strong, dear.

And that is how I have come to realise, I can never take enough pictures of my kids.




(My picture with you is with your mother :) )

Hot and Cold.

is fighting a raging fever.

On the present.

One look and I knew his eyes were not normal. His head was tilted, he walked with an ambling gait and his eyes were... different. Little did I realise what his condition would teach me.

Decisions, decisions.

A final year medical student is faced with them. Last week, faced with many things about the future, I was heavy-hearted one night. So what do I do, where do I go? What if this happens and I become like this, and what if that happens and I forget about mission work?

Fear comes in in the face of uncertainty.

Have you ever been faced with a situation where you had to make a decision too? And were you afraid of making the wrong choice? Perhaps, the scary part is not in the decision making itself, but in realising how this decision at hand may affect the path you take for the rest of your life. It could be choosing your course of study, applying for a job or choosing to make a decision like marriage or having kids. There's no turning back sometimes.

When the patient walked into the clinic, the phone rang. As my mentor attended to the call, I took the opportunity to speak with the patient, whose eyes were deviated on both sides with a divergent gaze and flickering persistently with nystagmus.

"I heard you asking the patient if his vision was better when he looked in the distance or at near objects. He said it was better on close-up right? And why so? This is because when his eyes look at something nearer to him, they converge. Hence, his vision improves."

That was a revelatory moment for me.


His vision improves on close-up. It reminded me of what a friend told me when I shared with her how frustrating and scary it was to think about the future, with regards to specialising and medical missions. To which she said, "Don't look so far ahead, Wai Jia. It'll just make you confused and frustrated. Just focus on the present, and trust that God will lead you step by step when the time comes."

Focus on what's close at hand, because looking too far ahead sometimes simply blurs one's vision. As we go step by step closer to our destination, things become clearer in time.

"And why do I say that this patient has had this condition of nystagmus (flickering eyes) since birth? This is because he's walking about absolutely fine with that nystagmus. He has adapted to it. If he had acquired this condition at a later point in his life, it would have caused him immense discomfort and distress. He wouldn't even be able to balance."

It made me think. Many of us are unable to tolerate uncertainty. Most of us prefer having a goal to work towards over having too many choices. Even as a child, I remember having an ambition at every point in my life, even if it was an unrealistic one- a painter, a teacher, a writer, a veterinarian, a National Geographic journalist, being Oprah (ha), a nun, a social worker... At every point, I needed my eyes to be fixed on something. And whatever ambition I had at that point largely influenced what I did with my free time- hence my makeshift aquarium of self-caught tadpoles and frogs and stacks of National Geographic magazines at one point.

I thought to myself, it's no wonder this period of uncertainty has been discomforting- this vocational nystagmus, like acquired nystagmus, has certainly thrown me off-balance, indeed. On the other hand, people with congenital nystagmus (from birth) or who've never really had an ambition before, learn to adapt and go with the flow easily.

I am learning, that to rid myself of this perpertual giddiness, I must learn to control my eyes and focus on what's at hand, what I can do, and trust that God will reveal just enough each time for me to make the decision at hand, instead of feeling distressed that my vision blurs on looking far ahead. My vision will then become clearer as I learn to focus on the present, trusting that His vision for my life will guide me to where He wants me to be eventually.

"After all, how can you want the best for yourself and for the needy more than God does? He'll put you where you'll best be. Don't look too far ahead."

"This is because when his eyes look at something nearer to him,

they converge.

Hence, his vision improves."

- Dr Z.

"Trust in the LORD 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 3:5-6

I graduated!

On Saturday, June 12th I graduated from Hairdressing school and officially got my diploma!

My Other Leg.

I suppose, Grace takes on new meaning when you look at things his way.

My last ride was definitely one of my most memorable rides ever.

Saturday was my first ride out with my training group since my injury. Because I had been cautioned by the physiotherapist not to overexert myself, I stayed at the back of the group and biked carefully on my own, being extra sensitive to the needs of my body. To be safe, I was determined to finish only half or two-thirds the usual route. I was riding by myself when a low, 3-wheeled contraption whizzed past me.

It was E!

I remember my first memory of him consisted of him standing on one leg because he hadn't another. The other pant leg was completely empty. Without meaning to be rude and with all due respect, it was a sight which I would not forget easily. His good leg, however, stood strong, and he moved from one place to another independently by hopping.

E, like Fungus, is a handcyclist who joined our training group a while back. He cycles with his hands because he only has 1 leg. Because handcyclers, unlike bicycles, are very low, they can be dangerous on the road since other cars and lorries may not see them. Usually, a cyclist or two from our group would escort the handcyclists but this time, E was alone.

He was going quite fast in spite of the headwind, and overtook me. Slightly perturbed by his being alone (and being overtaken, ha), I caught up with him and decided to be his biking escort.

As we talked and biked, I was attracted to his positivity. Eventually, I asked him about his leg.

"Was it an accident?"

"No. Chondrosarcoma. Cancer which relapsed," he said. "13 years ago."

It was then that I saw immense strength in his spirit. He had legs before. He knew what it was like to run, bike, swim, jump... but now had to cope, had to continue living life bravely with a single leg.

"You are very strong," I said.

To which he replied candidly, "Yes I am!" For some reason, it didn't sound proud. It did, however, ring of confidence and relief.

"May I ask a question?"

"Sure!" he said, in between breaths as we cycled down the straight road.

"Did you... I mean, were you ever angry with God?"

To which he replied readily, "Why should I be? I have my other leg! I could've lost them both! And my hands, and my eyes! Don't you see, God loves me... I'm not Christian, but I know there certainly is a God out there who loves me. "

I was speechless. Why should I be angry? I have my other leg.

I suppose, Grace takes on new meaning when you look at things this way.


Grace. It means being given what you don't deserve.


Today at Sunday School, I shared my experience with this inspiring man with all the children, big and small. They were enthralled by this little anecdote. Together, we thanked God for the good health, hands, legs and head he had given us. I realise, we can look at things from 2 perspectives: one, that we deserve everything a good life consists of and any deficiency must be God's fault or His terrible inconsistency; two, that we deserve nothing in the first place and everything is a blessing.

E chose to see things from the second perspective. "Love keeps me going," he said.

As I biked with E and saw no one available to escort him, I knew I could not turn back as I had originally intended because it would be dangerous for him. Nonetheless, I was worried that my healing muscles and hip would not take kindly to the full 50km distance or the slopes ahead. Yet, a certain peace came upon me. I prayed. I knew my physical injury (having a torn grace-lis muscle among other muscles and a broken hip) had a lot to do with my spiritual inability to receive Grace.

But on this ride, I saw the meaning of Grace in a new light, and saw how indeed, my ability to ride, to race, to study, to serve, is not by my own merit, but really, by God's unmerited favor.

So the ride was amazing because of my meeting E. And amazing too, because it was a breakthrough in my recovery. For weeks, I had suffered aches and pains after any physiotherapy exercise, however light, but today, even days after the ride, my legs, for the first time ever, feel so good and strong. For the first time, my muscles no longer feel tight. I suppose it has got to do with improved blood circulation. It sounds crazy, but I often think our spiritual or emotional states are closely and inexplicably linked to our physical conditions.

All this while, many of my friends asked me how they could keep me in prayer. They offered to pray for my speedy recovery. That, however, was not my prayer at all. Eventually, I only asked God to teach me what He wanted to through this, because I knew that when those lessons were finally mastered, I would be healed and my pain would go away.

That day, I understood what Grace meant, and saw how I could, like E, apply it into my life.

(But don't worry, I'm still going to take things very slowly, take things easy and listen to my physiotherapist. It's not wise to make the same mistake twice, and I won't risk it. I still intend to race someday in my life, when God permits.)

E's attitude toward his other leg taught me not only about strength and resilience, but also about gratitude, perspective and grace.

"Thanks for sharing, E. I think you're absolutely amazing. I really enjoyed the ride."

"Me too."

Lessons from my Physiotherapist.

* I am obviously on a writing spree- too many thoughts on this holiday season!

They say winter is essential, because it is the time for the ground to rest, for it to fallow and be still before another busy spring and summer and harvest time. In his book Pilgrims, missionary doctor Dr Tan Lai Yong writes that it is in winter that one observes certain farmers in China carrying buckets of water up dangerously steep slopes in a determined attempt to water what looks like barren ground. They do so, because they know it is only in winter that the roots of a certain crop grow deep, and these roots are necessary for the saplings to grow strong later on.

This has been a winter season for me, both physically and spiritually. Physiotherapy comes with frost.

Aunty Ay told me, "I'm quite sure God's hand was in your training. Triathlon was a way of getting you back in good health. Once you were well, that season ended. Now however, is a time of reflection, of taking stock of all the lessons you've learnt thus far. I've noticed a pattern in your participation in sports- it's comes in seasons. But I also notice that every time you enter winter, you also come back stronger when spring arrives. It's not a vicious cycle. It's an upward spiral. So take heart, and heed your lessons learnt well."

I could see where Aunty Ay was coming from. Last season when I was biking, I learnt many things about Faith. In this season, I am learning many things about Grace.

In my last physiotherapy session, my physiotherapist suggested that I tore so many muscles so badly due to an incorrect use of my cycling muscles. "From the way you cycle, I can see you're not maximising all your muscle groups so a lot of strain is placed on your quadriceps and hamstrings. Definitely not ideal. I need you to work on those extra muscles you've not been using."

It then occurred to me: In the same way, does God, in His love, put a halt in our lives at some point because he needs us to work on certain undeveloped areas before we can return stronger? I know sometimes I go so fast that I neglect certain areas of my life, and God can sometimes use illness, difficulties or simply a season of winter to interrupt my busyness, so I am forced to address those spiritually-deficient areas and strengthen those muscles needed to be a better person. Perhaps sometimes, it is only when we stop that we can actually reflect, pray and work properly on ourselves, be it in areas of developing patience, grace or learning to surrender our impure motives.

When I had injured my gracilis muscle (among other things), and was forced to stop, I was able to free my mind to reflect upon the importance of Grace, and the importance of depending more on God's strength instead of my own flesh.

I suspect, the reason why I use my muscles incorrectly is because I didn't grow up cycling. I only learnt how to cycle less than 2 years ago. Similarly, I believe some of us have grown up without ever learning certain lessons, such as exercising faith, being sensitive to others or God's voice, or learning to trust God. These incidents which God allows to interrupt our journey then become milestones in our learning journey, seasons of winter to prepare us for a better harvest in the year ahead.

As we take time to stop and strengthen those muscles we never knew existed, and learn the lessons, skills and values we once were ignorant to, we then become more equipped and ready to take on harder battles ahead.

"Will I be able to race again next time? I mean, not anytime soon, but in future?"

"Of course. You're doing well. And next time, you'll know how to do it properly so you can come back stronger. Just, don't make the same mistake twice. Continue with physiotherapy faithfully and don't take short cuts."

I suppose, when one fails to use the opportunity given to strengthen our weaker spiritual muscles, and learn the lessons we were meant to learn, we could very well injure ourselves in the same place, and that injury would be much more serious.

"Remember, take this time to rest well and continue with physiotherapy. Because if you're too eager to jump back into your previous routine, you could put yourself back to square one."

I suppose, when God tells us to stop and reflect, we really must.

So, if like me, you're caught in winter and anxious to run ahead again, pause and remember the importance of this season. Take time to be watered, and let your roots grow deep. Because surely, spring and summer will come again.

Ordinary Day.

It was just an ordinary day. But on that very same day, I received both an email and an anonymous letter in my snailmail box:

... on it was written beautiful scriptures about trusting God in all our trials and difficulties, and your encourgement that I would emerge as gold through this period of purification. Your card had no name but I know who are because you're the only one I know who lives at that address :)

And an email from a stranger.

Dear Wai Jia,

You dont know me. I was first "introduced" to you by my friend E, when she shared with me how you prayed for her and her unborn baby, at XX hospital a year ago. She was very touched. =) I have been a "silent-reader" of your blog since.

This is very random. But I am writing to thank you for sharing our thoughts and life on your blog. I am very touched by the many things that you share and the way you view things/ppl/life and of course, your revelations. I have been reminded to be kind to ppl whom i do not know and to be a "human" human. Too many times, i have running from things to things like a usual mad working woman. =) Thank you.

Please keep well. I'm very sure you will be the big-hearted doctor that your patients will love coz you made that difference in their lives. May God bless your family and all that you do.

Cheers,
J

Thank you J. I hope you got my reply. Haha, I'm a mad working woman myself, one with an attention deficit, haa. Thank you for sending a sunbeam to me on that ordinary day :)

Peter-pannish.

You know, when we were lying on the picnic mat watching the sky turn from yellow to gold to pink and melt into a dark hue, something gave me great comfort to know that nothing in the world could take that moment away from me, from us. I wanted to lie on grass and you didn't think I was crazy (or maybe you did but that's nothing new to you) and all you wanted to do was to take silly pictures of me because you know deep down inside I'm just a die-hard photowhore.

So there we were, me in my light white-and-turquoise sundress and crazy hair kicking off my sandals lying down on grass and you bringing the mat and food and sharing your life with me and taking random photos with my camera letting the world pass us by. And playing good music on your computer and showing me awesome pictures of your exciting travels. Only you have such a way with words that could bring Croatia to where we were in an instant. I could see the "crystal clear water and gardens dripping and bleeding with flowers", only because you painted it with such twilight beauty.

As the evening melted into the darkness, and we marvelled at how the sky never really turned black because the huge white clouds smothering the skyscape reflected a pink glow over everything, I randomly said that the sky looked Peter-pannish.

Peter-pannish. You knew exactly what I meant and I asked where you'd want to go if you could sail off in a ship-shaped cloud to a never-never land with someone you loved and owned your heart. And you said, "It doesn't matter. "

And I agreed, because why should it matter where we are going if we are in a ship-shaped cloud in a Peter Pan sky going off to heaven with someone we love?

I love the fact I can tell you anything, and we can chide one another in love for all the things we confess about. You're like the only ones who could tell me I don't have a right not to forgive, and make it come out lovingly.

So there we 3 lay and talked and laughed and tickled and I wondered if we could stay like that forever. Talk about our futures and hopes and dreams and the kind of people we would marry and what we would do for one another if we had to plan one another's weddings and funerals.

"Okay," I said, in a theatrical, comical sort of way, "Just in case I die before you 2 do, please cater apple crumble for my funeral. And lots and lots of multicoloured balloons and rainbow-coloured flowers. Don't say I didn't tell you!"

"Apple crumble with ice-cream or not?" you asked.

"With vanilla ice-cream, thank you very much."

Because even though it's morbid to talk about such things, I just like to say them in passing anyway because you just never know what will happen, whether I would die someday travelling, or on the road. Life, is so short. And if I die, I would not want you to think you didn't know what I wanted. For sure, I'd want you to know you mattered enough to me to know about apple crumble and vanilla icecream, ha.

Ah yes, and remember also to take care of my 2nd and 3rd book which are all with my publisher and start a foundation to help people or something. Preferably for underprivileged children and women in developing countries.

So there we were, us 3 on a picnic mat watching the world go by. That was the best moment I've had in months.

And you know what? I wouldn't exchange it for anything in the world, except maybe a ride on a ship-shaped cloud to a Peter-pannish place off to heaven.

*The necklace I'm wearing is made by the widows suffering from AIDS in Uganda, who have children in the same plight. Bought them from this awesome lady who co-founded ROWAN(Rural Orphans and Widows AIDS Network), which aims to move people from helplessness to hope. If you're like me and like funky jewellery, you can get them at Food For Thought (one of my favorite cafes! It's also a social enterprise)in Singapore. If you're overseas, write to them :)

It always feels good to say,

I forgive you. We are definitely still Friends.

Graduation!

Tonight I will be attending my graduation party for graduating Hairdressing school! The time went by so fast and I am so glad that I am graduating. I will take pix of my diploma when I get it :)

My debt.

I was angry. Just plain angry and disappointed.

I've always been wary of reporters. My publisher had warned me about them. And maybe I'm critical, or idealistic, or just plain biased, but I never like the way their agenda is put above everything else. I've had friends hurt by them before- being told one thing and then stabbed in the back by an oversensationalistic headline that distorts the truth and brings shame to them. Once, in an office being interviewed by someone, I wanted to walk out because she kept asking me, "So what else have you done besides Kitesong? Do you have photos of patients you helped? Can we interview them? We need to pitch our story well. How about your next book? We need a good story."

"I don't think the patients would be comfortable with the press."

"But we need a good story, and the public likes personal stories from patients themselves."

A good story. So that's what it's all about.

I felt used. I felt like a tool. By the time she was done with her questioning, I felt like my dignity had been stripped off me like bark off a tree.

So today when It happened, I was disappointed and shocked and just, plain angry. We were having a conversation, like friends do, and I shared about what had happened to my Sunday school kid, about her tumour and what she was going through. Then the words, "Hey, you know what, this sounds like a good story..." stabbed me like a knife in my heart.

A good story.

Is this what things have been reduced to? A good story?

And then I thought about all the times you wanted to spend time with me and talk to me and meet me, and how you kept asking if I knew so-and-so and this doctor and that doctor, and if you could have their contacts, suddenly I felt I didn't know you anymore. Was that why you always seemed so interested in my life, about what was happening with the next book and my work and all? Was this all about getting a good story?

I left shortly.

Later, as I thought about things a little more, I remembered a story from the bible. Once there was a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. One who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him, and the king demanded his entire family be sold. In desperation, the servant begged for leniency. Moved with compassion, the king forgave him the debt.

However, later on, when this servant found a fellow servant who owed him a hundred denarii, he took him by the throat and demanded repayment. Even with pleading, he threw his friend into prison till he would pay the debt. Later, the king found out about this and was enraged, and sent that unforgiving servant into the hands of torturers.

It made me think- was I not like the unforgiving servant as well?

As much as I felt like a tool, or that I was being made use of, have I not committed the same sin against others before? In the hospital, our countenance lights up and we turn on our charm just to have patients speak with us, to allow us to examine them- all for our own learning's sake. After which we are back to our grumpy selves and petty routine. Without giving patients due respect or perhaps, in being overzealous in our warmth towards them in the hope of gaining something in return, have we too been guilty of seeing patients as examination material, as what we call "cases", rather than unique individuals, with lives and families? Have I, in that sense, "made use" of others too?

I know I have been guilty. I know I, too, have been guilty of going into automatic questioning mode when my medical radar picks up a medical condition from a friend, simply for the sake of learning.

If you, like me, have been just a little bit nicer to someone else because you knew you needed his help, or just a little less warm to someone whom you knew would never cross your path again, you have been guilty, too. So who's clean? I know I have not been entirely consistent.

Perhaps, the point of realising this, is not in wailing against our own sordid failings, but rather, to see our tainted hearts for what they are, and to realise, the importance of extending grace to others whom we feel may have failed us too- because after all, who hasn't?

I thought about the times I asked to meet someone because I was inspired by him/her, made friends with seniors at hospital because I needed their help, and realised, that I had little right to sit on my moral high horse. I suppose, there is nothing wrong in connecting with people, but have we given the word "networking" a bad name because of our eagerness to gain benefit, and our failure to value people above our agendas?

Agenda. It is another dirty word, isn't it.

Later on, as I thought about things and realised that I could not and did not have a right to harbour this resentment, I asked J a rhetorical question. "Do you think I should forgive him?"

"You don't have a choice, Jia," J laughed. And then, I chuckled along, too, albeit a bit more nervously.

I suppose, if you look at things from a certain perspective, what we really owe one another is not another apology, or a hundred or ten thousand denarii, but really, a debt of forgiveness and love.

"Therefore the kingdom of heaven is like a certain king

who wanted to settle accounts with his servants.

And when he had begun to settle accounts, one was brought to him

who owed him ten thousand talents.

But as he was not able to pay, his master commanded that

he be sold, with his wife and children and all that he had,

and that payment be made.

The servant therefore fell down before him, saying,

‘Master, have patience with me, and I will pay you all.’

Then the master of that servant was moved with compassion,

released him, and forgave him the debt.

“But that servant went out and found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii;

and he laid hands on him and took him by the throat,

saying, ‘Pay me what you owe!’

So his fellow servant fell down at his feet and begged him, saying,

‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you all.’

And he would not, but went and threw him into prison till he should pay the debt.

So when his fellow servants saw what had been done,

they were very grieved, and came and told their master all that had been done.

Then his master, after he had called him, said to him,

‘You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you begged me.

Should you not also have had compassion on your fellow servant, just as I had pity on you?’

And his master was angry,

and delivered him to the torturers until he should pay all that was due to him.

“So My heavenly Father also will do to you if each of you,

from his heart, does not forgive his brother his trespasses.”

-Matthew 18:23-35

My Super Hokkien Mee behind Penang Plaza

With the courtesy and permission rights for the pictures from Mabel that I stole from her facebook album, I hope I'll be able to tell you what happened a weeks ago.

WE FINALLY HAD SUPER HOKKIEN MEE!!

I wrote a post on the hokkien mee that I wasn't destined to have it that time because I couldn't wait for an hour.

But guess what....

Nevermind that the stock market is crashing down all over the world

or

the possibility that South Korea could be at war with North Korea over their sunken ship

or

even with most of us Malaysians suffering deep in silence from the eventual increase of prices of EVERYTHING that will eventually make dating much more expensive in the next few years (start dating now)

The Hokkien Mee Seller told me that I had to wait for ONE HOUR still before I could get my bowl of Hokkien Mee. This is simply because they are producing packets after packets of hokkien mee for customers that are not even there. I wouldn't be surprised if he had some kind of e-order system through their own personal website! 

There's somebody just CRAZY for this Hokkien Mee in Penang!

In most times, I would just forget about it and have something else that would provide me a meal in ONE MINUTE. Eat and get the hell out of there. 

However, Mabel couldn't resist the temptation of tasting this Hokkien Mee. I could only imagine all the torture that she went through just for this amazing breakfast that she will remember for the rest of her life.

She travelled from one end of the island to the other just for this Hokkien Mee. If that wasn't tough enough for her, she had to break her beauty sleep which is never a good thing. Not only that, she braced the hot weather which she dislikes the most.

All this torture and you'd wanna let the WOMAN not have her hokkien mee?? Only a dead man, A DEAD MAN, would even think of suggesting something else.

So, without having to think, the decision was wait for an hour, have two cups of Barli Peng, add more coins to car park or risk having a SAMAN, and enjoy a plate of Chee Cheong Fann.

Before you know it, the dish arrive just like this.

 Now some of you may probably wanna know...Was it GOOD??

Well people, for me it was definitely one of the better Hokkien Mee that i've tasted, won't say its SUPER but if there was anything that showed it was good, it was Mabel's Smile.

"IT'S SUPERRRR!!!!"

Good friends.

We spent a long time updating each other about each other's lives, because you were overseas for a few weeks.

"Wai Jia! I can't believe you ACCOSTED that person and STOLE his umbrella!! YOU'RE A RAINBOW UMBRELLA-ACCOSTER!"

"No I'm not. I gave him my umbrella in return. He offered to give it to me after I told him my story."

"You CHARMED him into it."

"I did not. I was very matter-of-fact about it. He could have refused."

"Umbrella-stealer."

"You're still my friend, right?"

"I'll think about it."

Champion.

I went to the hospital to visit. To be honest, I had put it off time and again. Some part of me knew she might have too many visitors. And indeed, while I was there and another group of visitors were about to arrive, I heard her say weakly, "I don't want everybody here."

I left very shortly. Just wanted you to know Jiejie (big sister) Wai Jia is waiting for you to come back to my class for Sunday School.

" These are for you. You pick one for yourself, and one for your younger sister."

"I pick this one. Rainbow! Rainbow bear for me and this is... Sunshine. Sunshine bear for mei-mei (younger sister)!

That was the one out of the two I had originally picked for her.

To which her mother replied, "Yes, Rainbow. It means holding on to God's promises."

That evening, when I got home, I received a package in the mail. The scrawly handwriting on the envelope made me smile.

My friend had liver cancer when he was 11. The doctors gave him 6 months to live. He had a liver transplant. They talk about prolonging life spans up till 10 years. He is now 30. That's 18 years of life lived well. And, did I forget to mention, he did an Iron Man event? That's like... a 3.8km swim, 180km bike ride and a full 42.2km marathon event. That's... crazy. Yeah, I know. And amazing, too. Read his inspiring story here.

I was in awe when I opened the package. It contained a card for her, and the gold medal he won for Canada in the World Transplant Games Australia Gold Coast 2009.

His card:

His gold medal:

He doesn't even know her. He hasn't even met her. She's my Sunday school kid who's suffering. It's his gold medal. It's a champion's medal. Not just for any small race, but for the World Transplant Games.

This just completely blows my mind.

I suppose, he understands completely, how it feels like to be sick when one is still a child.

Be strong, darling. You're a champion in our hearts already. Sometimes, I don't really know how to pray for you, I don't know what to tell God. But you're in our hearts dear. And we'll be by your side. Be strong, because Rainbow Bear and Sunshine Bear want to play, too.

Love you.

All in a Day.

What a day of coincidences.

And perhaps, the thing which intrigues me the most, is seeing how our Big world really is, so small.


Before dawn this morning, a friend took me out for my first test ride on my bicycle since my injury. 1 cracked hip, 4 muscle tears and about 8 weeks of physiotherapy later, I was ready to start strengthening my body again. On the way back, I heard a voice behind me, in that familiar odd sing-song tune

" I THOUGHT you looked familiar!" he cried.

I turned around. What a surprise. It was M, someone who I used to train with weekly, and whom I had now not seen for months.

He rode close to me, and I was afraid of colliding into him. "My wife is leaving me," he said. "I've done all I can but I couldn't stop it from happening."

We both had to rush off, and parted quickly.

At a train station in town, I heard the familiar strumming of an Indian man. His voice permeates the entire underground train station on weekday mornings. Those oldies and that rich, honeyed voice remind me of my father. I always make sure we make eye contact whenever I put money into his coin box because I want him to know, that I genuinely adore his music.

Today, he stopped me.

"I have something for you," he smiled. Reaching into his guitar case, he took out a small package wrapped in foil. "I baked for some of my friends today," he said. "This is for you. Bread pudding. I made a whole tray for my friends, and just thought for you to have this. I hope you like it. Let me know if you do, I can make more."

It tasted like cake, like the kind of cake I love- rich, dense and oh, so heavy. I can never stand mousse or fluffy cream interuppting good cake. It was gorgeously filled with golden raisins and smelled like rum. Best bread pudding I ever had, and from a stranger, too-Dennis, who gave it to me because we smiled at each other over many mornings. We exchanged contacts.

On the way to my physiotherapy appointment, another voice called out to me, "WAI JIA!"

"Lucy," I said. "It's you," I tried to sound friendly.

Lucy is a girl from church who is mentally challenged. She acts about 10 years younger than her real age. When we first met, she called me every day to ask me random questions like what I was doing and where I was. And then it became very clear to me that she was lonely because no one understood her or knew how to manage her.

"YAH. WAI JIA.YOU COMING HERE TO WORK AH? I GOING HOSPITAL TO SEE BONE DOCTOR." She had spiked hair, and an almost toothless grin.

"Oh really? I see. I hope you've been well? Okay, I hope to see you around yeah?"

We rushed off. I turned to look, and then realised that in my hurry to be on my way, I completely missed the huge bandage on her arm, didn't even ask what happened, why she got hurt. She had given me a huge smile before leaving.

When I finally reached the hospital for my appointment, I was reading my last few chapters of Vision For God, the biography of a medical missionary couple who served people with leprosy in India, when I heard another voice, "And look who we have here."

I looked up. "Oh my gosh," I said. It was the third person who had recognised me in public in my busy day of running errands.

It was one of my cycling buddies. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

"My shoulder. Busted it when I fell off my bike the other day."

We left one another.

Later, I received a text message from someone I had not heard from in ages.

"How are you, Jia? I've stopped talking to him because he's still seeing that other woman. I need to think about things, this concerns my own future."

Another divorce? They have children. And you ask me why I am so... cautious about getting into a relationship.

On my way to meet a friend, I saw a familiar face on a bus about to leave me. A happy face beamed from the window and a hand waved cheerily at me. It was Joy, one of my sunday school children who had moved on to a different class. 4th person I had met within 6 hours. And the 5th person I had interacted with, whom I had not heard from or seen in ages.

It was an interesting day.

I realised, that our world really is, so small. These random encounters in a short span of time helped me see how intricately our lives are woven together, how we are all placed in a universe of colliding stars, set in entirely random and yet, perhaps, entirely planned motion. Each encounter was brisk but powerful, leaving either a beautiful memory tasting like delectable bread pudding or a bad taste in my mouth like a rancid divorce. Why I had such a day full of coincidences eludes me, but it reminded me, that we each have a part to play in one another's lives, and though to another, we may just be a face in the crowd, we just never know when we'll cross one another's paths again, how we may jog a memory so precious, may leave a footprint so deep and leave a mark so clearly on someone else's mind and heart.

Thank you for the dessert, Dennis. Keep in touch.