Tears at church.

A song I'd never heard before was played at church today and my tears just streamed down as I listened to the words.

This song says everything I need to put into words about my life.


4 down, 6 to go. 2 more weeks before the end of the final examinations.

God I need you to hold on to me...

...Savior, keep saving me.

-Savior, Please by Josh Wilson

Bachelor of Surgery and Medicine: 8-27 March.

As a child, Examinations were like huge monsters to me, or formidable towers. Legend had it that they would ruin you if you couldn't fight them. In medical school, they became more frequent and a routine part of our lives, but their reputation for making grown men weep stayed.

It's funny. I really ought to be worried that tomorrow, the onslaught will begin.

But I'm not.

If God has brought me through so many examinations, even through my illness 3 years ago where I was certain I would fail, He will certainly bring me through this time. Since recovery, I have gone into every exam with the mindset of having already passed the test, and simply going there to do my part, so God can do His.

It's funny- as I started to release more control and surrendered more of myself to Him, and trusted that He would bring me through, I started to fare far better in school than I ever did before. I rely on His strength, not mine, and the stress of the examinations dissolves away.

So here goes: 3 surgical papers and 1 series of practical exams this week, 3 medical papers next week, and another 3 practical hands-on exams the following week.

A friend encouraged me, in the midst of another Crazy piece of news falling upon me today and giving me a heart attack (this is a Story with a Capital S, for another day): "Focus on getting pass the exam...it's just like triathlon....just one step at a time..first the swim...then the bike...then the run.... ;O)"

Three weeks. Swim, bike, run. One week at a time.

When God is in control, we have nothing to fear.

So here goes, let the fun begin! :)

"You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you."
-Isaiah 26:3

Exciting and Frightening.

A very long time ago, one of my teachers Mr. Ho told me before, that marriage is the closest model to God's love for us. I remember being very surprised and doubtful when I heard that.

The wife of a paraOlympian spoke with me today (they are both my friends), during a short break I took from studying, sharing the love story of her life with me. Then she asked me what I was afraid of.

I said, I don't know.

Then I read a quote, of which I could totally relate to as well when the word God is replaced by romantic love.

"We are strange and lovely creatures.

We can ache for God tremendously

yet find ourselves getting nervous if God gets too close.

After all, the closer God gets,

the more we hear the call to be divinized.

It is both exciting and frightening to hear that call.”

— Macrina Wiederkehr

Ephesians 5:22-24

Not Blind.

*name changed to protect identity

"Oh yea, my wife doesn't talk to me anymore. Since I had this, she's pretty much left me by myself."

"Oh," I said. "I see."

Last Friday was the last day of my time as a medical student in the hospital wards. From now, we are barred from seeing any more patients as our final examinations are coming up. They include the recruitment of real patients from the wards, and hence, any attempt to be around patients from now will be seen as cheating.

Last Friday, Uncle Wee* spoke to me for a long time.

"Yea, sure. I would love to tell you more. Help you to be a good doctor. I speak to many many students all the time. Come, sit down. I'm here because of back pain. Very, very painful. I sound like I'm normal right? Haha, I'm in a lot of pain all the time. Morphine doesn't help much!"

Back pain. It sounded innocuous enough. Perhaps it was a slipped disc. But further questioning unravelled a story which wrapped itself round my neck and gripped me.

"Oh, and er, this."

He pointed to a few jelly-bean shaped lumps on his forehead.

"And this," he pointed to a darkened reddish patch on his arm. "And this, too- all over my body. This part's a little reddish cos of previous radiotherapy."

It was everywhere. Enlarged lymph nodes and radiotherapy marks. That only meant one thing.
"Yea, I got lymphoma. Long story, you want to hear? Cos of my medication for my kidney transplant. I had chronic nephritis when I was 9 years old, kidney failure when I was 30, so I paid $200'000 to buy a new kidney. Have you heard of cyclosporine? I take it to prevent my body from rejecting my kidney."

Cyclosporine. Why of course.

I know its side effects well. Obesity, gum enlargement, excess hair growth, hypertension, high cholesterol, diabetes, gout, possible seizures. But also, more maliciously, an increased risk of skin cancers, liver cancers, lymphomas and osteoperosis- which explained his terrible back pain from a compression fracture.

"Did you fall?"

"No, I didn't. But my doctor says my bones are so weak. I'm only 50 plus, but because of cyclosporine, my doc says I've the bones of an 80-year old. I sat down one day, heard a click in my back and there it went. I've been in constant unbearable pain since then. My pain score is 10 out of 10 all the time without morphine."

We talked a lot more. I looked into his eyes and saw peace.

"I know a lot about cyclosporine. I know all my complications now are because of it. Come, I show you- see my gums? See my radiotherapy marks behind my ear for my lymphoma? Not everyone gets these side effects, but yea, I did. Stage 4 of cancer already."

He talked about his life, his job, his wife. There was no trace of bitterness. "When things like that happen, one must be determined. Yes, there is chemotherapy and going in and out of hospital... But life goes on- look at me." He smiled. "The will is very important. My two children are my main motivating factors."

He looked out of the window.

"But just a word from my experience, you don't have to take it from me okay? Love doesn't last," he said. " When you're in courtship, love is so strong that it blinds you. My wife married me knowing I had kidney disease. Love is blind, my dear. Love is blind. But after marriage and children, things become different. Ever since I got lymphoma, my wife has not talked to me. She has not visited me once at hospital. What to do? Life goes on."

Love is blind. Where have I heard that before. But is it, really?

Our conversation was both deeply enlightening and traumatising for me, on many levels. I was trying very hard not to cry. It also brought to my mind a couple I had met less than a year ago.

He was a special speaker invited to my church. From afar, he was quite a sight. He was a tall, formidable man. But half his face was badly scarred, his right hand was a stump and his greying hair was a sparse combover. He spoke about his thrill-seeking life as a young man, how he chased after fast cars, hot girls and his one consuming passion- skydiving. One day, as a young man, his plane crashed into a mountain and burned. He was right under it and just freeing himself when his engine exploded. Since his lifechanging near-death experience, he started to believe that God existed and was giving him a second chance. Since then, he has become an inspirational speaker and pastor.

Next to him stood a beautiful woman. She was old, yes, but she aged beautifully. She was a dancer. I looked at her in quiet admiration as I imagined how much she must have gone through to see her husband get injured and then heal. I imagined her devastation that the handsome man she married was no longer even a shadow of his former self in terms of appearance. To be fair, he was hideous. You would not walk past him without being startled.

Much later on, I was even more shocked to learn that she met and married him after his accident. She married him this way.

Love is blind? Really?

I say she went in with eyes wide open. Perhaps, she even married him because of it.

Once I asked a group of my medical friends what they would do if they found out their partners had a serious debilitating illness. It was a sobre conversation, even more so because of our medical background. We understand and have seen the severity of illnesses, and how they take lives away. I also remember asking, if they would consider being together with someone if they knew they had a longterm illness to cope with. Like lupus. Or a kidney transplant. Or polio.

Some of them were honest and said they would not consider anyone who was obviously a healthcare liability.

"I mean, it just doesn't make sense," said one.

I suppose, it doesn't.

It reminded me of paraOlympian Gregory Burns, whom I had trained with and participated in triathlon races 2 years ago together with his teammates. He had polio and cannot use both his legs, but is an internationally acclaimed athlete, painter and inspirational speaker. His lovely wife is a photographer and exudes radiance and beauty.

It reminded me also of a young mum that Js told me about the other day. During a young-mums get-together, she said she met a lovely young mother in a wheelchair, probably no more than 35. She was an avid sportswoman who was struck by lightning during sailing. Since then, she has been paralysed tummy down. She probably is unable to relieve herself in the normal way we do. Her then boyfriend married her. They have a child.

The night of my birthday gathering, my special speaker Dr Darren Chua (a doctor who suffered a debilitating stroke soon after graduation) waved me goodbye as he waited for his wife to pick him up. Till today, he walks and performs actions with considerable difficulty, as one side of his body was paralysed, though he has made much progress. He shared with me, that his wife met him after his stroke.

It reminded me of Pastor S, whose wife married him knowing all the conseqences of his longterm steroid therapy from his lupus condition. Obesity, recurrent infections, osteoperosis, hair growth, high blood pressure, limb-wasting, cataracts, glaucoma, depression... That did not stop them from serving the underprivileged in rural parts of China together. They are a close-knit family of 3 now.

It reminded me of some people I know in relationships, where one of them has lupus and the other, in a different relationship, a genetic condition. Lupus can predispose one to recurrent abortions, among many other things. It's treatement, steroids, has a multitude of obvious side effects. Neurofibromatosis can cause seizures, eye problems, skin problems and bony deformities. I know these couples well.

Were they all blind? Did love put a veil over their eyes, cloud their sound minds?

I mean, it just doesn't make sense. Or does it?

Why, I'm sure they faced ridicule, and pressure from their friends and family. Were they ready for such a "liability" for life? Were they ready for the complications? Some conditions affect fertility; some treatments predispose one to cancers and infections in future; some, like a facial surgery, are simply too hard to hide from ignorant onlookers.

Were they all blind? Was love blind?

Once, someone chided me, " You better make sure you find someone who is of equal standing or higher than you in every way. So he doesn't become a liability."

To which I replied, " I see. And who is to say a rich, healthy man will not die of a car accident, or contract stomach cancer, or have an affair with another woman?"

Till death do us part. Who is to say who will develop cancer, get into a debilitating car accident, or be struck by lightning later on in life? What would happen then? Like Mr. Wee, would they then be abandoned? Here's the news- 1 out of 3 Singaporeans will die of cancer.

Do we choose who we want to spend our lives with based on liability, rather than character factors?


If so, then we should all go for genetic tests, and strike off people with genetic predispositions to certain conditions. Shouldn't we all stand in a line declaring what medication we take, and sort ourselves out according to liability strengths. Shouldn't I be striked off because of my history of anorexia- after all, what IF it recurs?

Yet, who am I to judge. If it happened to me, could I do the same too?


I don't know. It is easier to maintain one's high moral ground when argueing theoretically. Being in the medical profession heightens one's senses to so many things- we see scores of people suffering from late-stage cancers, infections, chronic illnesses, traumatic accidents, devastating injuries... to the point where I understand why some of my medical colleagues would seriously think twice about marrying someone who was ill to begin with. I suppose, most, if not all of us would.

It's very painful to think about. It's even more painful when you've actually seen the worst of so much, and helped to manage their treatment.

It's painful to see patients in palliative stages, who have the conditions your loved ones have. It is difficult hold back tears when interviewing very sick patients with illnesses you know your loved ones have and may progress into. It is depressing to read medical journal articles about poor outcomes, and potential future complications of their medication. I have had to fight tooth and nail not to cry in front of patients as they shared their stories with me, as I think of loved ones who may also progress to that stage of the disease someday, sometime.

Mr Wee said, "Can you see yourself going through all this with the person? Love, it dies you know. It dies after courtship, and marriage and children."

I ask myself sometimes- could I do the same? It makes me wonder, what runs through the minds of people when they say, "in sickness and in health"? Were they blind? Did they know what they were signing up for?

What would you do? Walk away, walk into it with love blinding your vision, or would you be able to, like these courageous and faith-filled people who saw beyond the decay of flesh and reality, walk into love with eyes wide open? Could I do the same?

I don't know.

We see far more florid diseases than a normal person ever should. We know far more about the complications, and consequences of illness and treatments than we ever should. We have access into medical publications and journals which we don't want to read, because they would break our hearts. It is no wonder that illness, or the possibility of illness, scares us to death.

They say love is blind. But I wonder, if it is not courage, indomitable resilience and formidable faith which have opened the eyes of these brave spouses.

What were they thinking?

Perhaps, it is not that they were blind, but that they went in, with eyes wide open, because they saw what the eye cannot see.

What would you do.


http://asofterworld.com/index.php?id=642

"Not all flesh is the same:

People have one kind of flesh, animals have another,

birds another and fish another.

There are also heavenly bodies and there are earthly bodies;

but the splendor of the heavenly bodies is one kind,

and the splendor of the earthly bodies is another.

The sun has one kind of splendor, the moon another and the stars another;

and star differs from star in splendor.

So will it be with the resurrection of the dead.

The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable;

it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory;

it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power;

it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.

- 1 Cor 15:39-44

No fear!

The past few days have been a whirlwind- what with preparing for press releases and the upcoming book launch, getting random phonecalls from various insitutions and getting invited for talks and interviews, delivering books to different places, shooting text messages and emails to and fro, planning for TV appearances and radio interviews, getting the project's website together. All this, in between seeing patients and studying my last few chapters on Paediatrics, ha.

It looks like the next 2 weeks will be punctuated with interviews from the press. And a lot of other unexpected surprises.

With so many things happening, a part of me is afraid of getting caught in the frazzle and afraid of screwing up. Saying the wrong thing! Liasing with the wrong person! Having to deal with miscommunication! Getting told off (again!) Argggh.

I've never done this sort of thing before.



What if I say something silly? What if people misintepret me? What if things turn out wrongly?



Bah. I'm only human. I'm taking my final exams in 2 weeks. (Yea, don't worry, I'm putting off the non-urgent talks and all till after my finals).



I'm just gonna do my best-for both my exams and the project. And pray that people's lives will be touched. And let God do the rest.



I just need a big dose of self-encouragement, and a lot of fruit tea, ha. Somehow, I've faith that God'll see me through these mountains.



Okay God, I'm counting on ya. So here goes my self-encouragement:

No fear! Have faith! NO screw ups!

(and so what if i do, ha!)

Cheers to courage!


"Fear never wrote a symphony or poem,

negotiated a peace treaty,

or cured a disease.

Fear never pulled a family out of poverty or a country out of bigotry.

Fear never saved a marriage or a business.

Courage did that. Faith did that.

People who refused to consult with or cower to their timidity did that.”

- Max Lucado

Prayer requests:

Please pray for me,

for wisdom, clarity and favour;

for Rainbow to touch many lives,

and...

... to pass! :)

(Final exams on 8-27 March.)

Thank you!

Hot off the press.

Rainbow is finally out!


Book launch is on 26 Feb!


At a public forum to promote awareness of eating disorders!

Come if you know someone suffering,
Bring them along if their hearts are open.

Or simply,
come,

just because you want to learn more about this unspoken thing,

You never know
when you may help someone else in need in future.

A Taste of Rainbow will be distributed free
as part of a public education project
in bookstores and selected national library branches.

Kinokuniya, Books Actually, Birds & Co, NUS Counselling Centre, CHAT Hub at SCAPE ,

& selected NLB libraries.

More details soon.

Public Forum & Book Launch Details:
26 February 2011, Saturday
9.30am – 12.30pm
The Pod @ The National Library
Fee: $5 per person (includes tea break)
$8 per person for same-day registration

Limited seats available,

so register now by emailing your name & contact details to:
ed.publicforum@sgh.com.sg or call Raji @ 6327 9879 today.


Program

9:30–10.00am: Registration

10.00–10:05am: Welcome Address

10:05–10:25am: What are Eating Disorders?
by Dr Ng Kah Wee, Registrar
Dept of Psychiatry, SGH

10:25–10:45am: Medical Complications of Eating Disorders
by Dr Kumudhini Rajasegaran
Head, General Paediatrics & Adolescent Medicine Service KKWCH

10:45–11.15am: Tea Break

11.15–11:35am: Treatment of Eating Disorders
by Dr Lee Huei Yen
Director, SGH Eating Disorders Treatment Program
Dept of Psychiatry, SGH

11:35–11:55am: Getting Help for You or Your Loved One
by Ms Netty Ryanie
Senior Staff Nurse, Specialty Care, SGH

11:55–12:10pm Book Launch ~ “A Taste of Rainbow”
by Tan Wai Jia

12:10–12:30pm Question & Answer Session

Thank you God,

for Rainbows.

Unfulfilled Promises.

The past month has been a little overwhelming, to say the least.

My early 24th birthday celebrations, the production and print of Rainbow, having interviews scheduled with the media, and having the most surreal and crazy whirlwind encounter with someone over the span of a few days, and realising I have less than 3 weeks to my final examinations to graduate... has just very much left me in awe and wonder and speechlessness.

Tis a crazy thing called Life indeed.

Within the next few days, all of us final year students will be choosing our hospitals for application and the specific departments that we wish to work for. The choices are limited, but they are choices to make nonetheless. Once, things were straightforward. There was this glorious thing called General Surgery which I would have applied for without batting an eyelid, because I thought I'd be by myself all my life, and that would match the 14-hour work days and 36-hour on call shifts 6 times a month which I'd have to do.

Now things have changed, and I'm on my knees again. I am certain about becoming a doctor, but what kind, in which department and where, I am less certain. I've asked to take a writing break from someone (we used to write daily) because of the need to focus on my studies at this point. I also think we both need time by ourselves to think about and through a lot of things, hard and practical questions beyond the heady feelings. Yet, I doubt if things will get better after my exams end.

Thereafter, will begin the 80-to-100-hour work weeks, me ending work at hospital at night feeling completely drained and spending forever on public transport to get home because I can't drive, feeling resentful for missing dinnertime again, and the cranky evenings because one is sleep-deprived and exhausted from the day's battles fought between life and death, and between one impatient senior and another angry patient.

Is this the life I chose? I always joke with my friends how unfortunate I think are the partners of housemen (1st year medical graduates) because of how little they may see of them. The thing is, I really am not joking. It is a true test of the endurance of a relationship, a baptism of fire of sorts for both the houseman and the couple, because housemen can be, when finally knocked off from work, tired, grumpy and cranky. There are stories of partners of housemen waiting patiently at hospital lobbies for them to knock off- there is yet another emergency to attend to upstairs.

After the houseman year, things do not necessarily get better.

Last night, as we ended yet another lecture at 8.15pm at night ( I was in school by 8am, ha), I was joking with a friend that perhaps, the only fair way to exercise kindness would really be not to get married at all, to spare the innocent other half of this undeserved solitude and injustice. I knew, a large part of me wasn't joking. Many months ago, I made a promise to myself, that if "nobody found me and I found no one within housemanship", I would go ahead and marry GS (General Surgery), my first love anyway, and be one of the few female surgeons who dared to tread this unforgiving path.

It's so unfair, to both parties.

I was telling a friend about the craziness of the things which have happened of late, to which he, now a doctor further into training said to me, "Are you sure he knows what life for you will be like in the next few years? Does he really understand? Maybe he'll change his mind after he sees reality."

Maybe he will.

More than 80 to a 100 hour work weeks. My on-off evening crankiness. This crazy, crazy life. Even if I don't pursue surgery, this will be my life over the next few years. And contrary to popular belief, we don't get paid very much, nor get very much privileges.

But people get through, somehow. People get through housemanship, get married, have some semblance of a life.

Somehow, I just have to believe, that God, and not me, is in charge of sorting this all out. If He has sorted out my life thus far, He will continue sorting it out. Sometimes, things we least expect, happen in ways we least thought possible.

Last night, as I leafed through the first copy of A Taste of Rainbow in my hands, I started to cry as I thought about the many obstacles and the many previous moments of discouragement and almost-lost hope. The publishing of rainbow had been an unfulfilled promise for 3 years. I thought it would never be published, but there it was: a thousand copies sitting fresh in my room, and another three thousand copies to be distributed to public bookstores, and all the national libraries.

He keeps saying he will come. Perhaps he should re-think. Because for the next many years, I will have little control of my time. And there will certainly be moments (hopefully not too many) of crankiness, moodiness and difficulty. My dad has seen and heard it all. That is why he laughs out loud, in great candour, when people tell him "what a wonderful daughter you have".

The future is uncertain, but as we hold on to the promises in our hearts, let's always remember, that He who promised is faithful.

As much as we feel overwhelmed and as much as we don't believe so, things will sort themselves out.

But for now, let's pass the exams first.

"Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess,

for He who promised is faithful."

-Hebrews 10:23

Pry.

She's not even sure if she believes in that kind of love for herself.

It would have to take nothing short of a miracle, to pry her ears away, and her heart open.

Whose eyes.

From one of the most lyrical quotes by Kundera:

"We all need someone to look at us. we can be divided into four categories according to the kind of look we wish to live under.

The first category longs for the look of an infinite number of anonymous eyes, in other words, for the look of the public.

The second category is made up of people who have a vital need to be looked at by many known eyes. They are the tireless hosts of cocktail parties and dinners. They are happier than the people in the first category, who, when they lose their public, have the feeling that the lights have gone out in the room of their lives. This happens to nearly all of them sooner or later. people in the second category, on the other hand, can always come up with the eyes they need.

Then there is the third category, the category of people who need to be constantly before the eyes of the person they love. Their situation is as dangerous as the situation of people in the first category. one day the eyes of their beloved will close, and the room will go dark.

And finally there is the fourth category,

the rarest,

the category of people

who live in the imaginary eyes

of those who are not present.

They are the dreamers."

- Kundera

Whose eyes do you live under?

Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God?

Or am I trying to please men?

If I were still trying to please men,

I would not be a servant of Christ.

-Galatians 1:10

Gala.

I'm not a make-up kind of girl. Never have been, never will be.

So when I heard it was a gala event, I half-dreaded it. When I heard I had to don an evening gown, makeup and heels, and bring namecards for a grand affair with expensive tables, I gulped. All this, for an award ceremony to celebrate the contributions of youth who had given back to society in various ways.

The results would be announced tonight. The Outstanding Young Person Award. I don't think I'll win, ha. The past winners were Outstanding, to say the least-ministers and well-known people and heads of companies. But I am happy, for I realise, that for every shortlisted finalist, are scores of people working behind the scenes, without recognition or honour. And I am but one of the blessed few who has this blessed opportunity to be encouraged in this way.

This means a lot, in ways that might be different for most.

It means a lot, because it helped me to take stock of what I've done so far, what God has called me to do; it means a lot, for my parents to be there, and to realise that it wasn't for naught that they released me to all those dangerous places to do things they might rather have me not do; it means a lot, because I realised, that I have come to a place of greater security, with far less desire for the limelight, or approval from the public.

Reporters have been calling me, and I'm not quite used to it. 2 interviews down, and a few more to go tonight. I only pray that what I say may be used to encourage other youth to pursue their dreams too.

Run far, release the kitestrings, let them fly.

I realise, I no longer like the limelight, and no longer desire recognition in the same needy way I needed before when Kitesong was written and published. The woman now is different from the girl back then.

I'm not sure how comfortable I feel with regards to the irony of having a grand gala celebration to celebrate the works we have done for the poor and needy. I'm not sure if I'll be able to do a good job in handling photoshoots and answering questions. I'm not sure if this is bad for my soul, ha- as Dr Tan Lai Yong, the missionary doctor once said, regarding his being honoured and recognised for his work in China among the poor.

But I do know one thing, that I'm grateful, God, for this blessing. Being recognised, even as a finalist, has been an encouragement. Answering the questions from the reporters made me realise how blessed I am to have my dreams turn into reality, how magical life can really be. And I hope this'll continue to encourage many out there, that you can make things happen.

God is a dreamweaver, and

Dreams really do come true.

Fireworks.

To all my readers, thank you for making 2010 special for me. Whether it was a note, an email, lots of emails (haha), or face-to-face "Are you Wai Jia? I read your blog", you have been a part of my life.

On this brand new day of 2011, I just want to thank you for walking with me and say:

YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

You have never been, and never will be.


And I just wanted to record down the beautiful things you've shared with me that have kept me going as well:

Just wanted to let you know how time and again the things you've penned in your blog has brought hope and encouragement to my sometimes weary, disillusioned, bitter heart haha...

But reading your entry on snowflakes was yet another timely reminder that our circumstances do not give us an excuse to be upset and stubborn and then try to hold out on God! And that it is all right, whenever our plans don't turn out just the way we want them to, as long as it is guided by God. And that, it is fine and life in a new year can still be purposefully & meaningfully entered into without a detailed TO DO LIST. hahaha.
So thank you, for sharing your thoughts, your struggles, your triumphs and falls. For it is thru honest sharing like yours, that I am reminded God is truly at work in this world. And it is thru lives like yours, that I see how much more potential we have, to lead each day of our lives meaningfully & purposefully. Thanks for letting God mould and use you for His work & glory!

Keep falling like a snowflake, my dear. Fall into His arms :)

I also want to thank you R, and C, for your regular emails and encouragement about my fears and the season of life I am going through.

I feel I have changed. The girl who wrote Kitesong is different from the girl who wrote A Taste of Rainbow. This girl is not a girl anymore. She is not as insecure, not as uncertain, not as needy of approval. 2010 has made me hardier, more focused, more daring, but it has also made me, in some ways, colder, more grown-up.


The girl who wrote A Taste of Rainbow is also not the same girl as I am now.


Perhaps, 2010 may have frozen some bits of us, but today, we can make the choice to say, that whatever we've been through was not for naught.

We can make the choice to say:

Today, I believe in faith and favour,

grace and gratitude,

hope and healing.

I believe in dreams and daring,

princes and possibilities,

faith and fireworks.

Go into 2011 believing that you'll find a part of yourself that is

startling and beautiful and warm.

There's a firework somewhere hidden in you,

waiting to be sparked.

Watch this- I really like this video except for the gay kiss :/

Snowflakes.

“As a snowflake falls, it tumbles through many different environments,”

an Australian science writer named Karl Kruszelnicki explains.

“So the snowflake that you see on the ground is deeply affected

by the different temperatures, humidities, velocities, turbulences, etc,

that it has experienced on the way.”

Snowflakes start off all alike;

their different shapes are owed to their different lives.

- The New Yorker, by Adam Gopnik

Life has a funny way of turning its back on us, or so it seems.

We plan, we scheme, we devise. We pen down grand plans, draw detailed blueprints and roll out scrolls of flowcharts. After all, what's life without purpose? And what better way to pursue purpose than to manifest it in the form of meticulously thought out plans?

Hence, new year resolutions, I presume.

Last year at this time, I planned and hoped for many things. Amidst a list of things, I wanted to get my driving's license, finish an Olympic distance triathlon and marathon, travel to India to a mission hospital with one of my pastors, and pick up oil painting. I also resolved to eat more ice-cream.

I accomplished none of the above. Final year in medical school proved too busy for driving lessons, I experienced my first sports injury just before race season started, I ended up travelling to Smokey Mountain in Philippines instead, picked up pilates and ate more healthily.

Life, seems bent on ruining our most well-thought plans. And perhaps, God has His reasons, for this constant gust of wind determined to throw our feet off this tightrope seems to be the very thing which helps us to continually cling onto Him as our lifeline. And that, in itself, is most precious indeed.

This year, I resolve not to make any more new year resolutions. (Irony intended.)

Instead, I would like to reflect upon how I have changed in the past year, and my prayer for the new year ahead. After all, we, like snowflakes, seem to constantly change along our journey through space and time. Buffeted by strong winds and carved out by varying experiences, we morph and change in ways we least expect, for nothing in our most meticulous planning can predict how the air currents might be. We plan, only in vain. For we can never control how we turn out exactly, can never plan our full course. Yet, in the end, all snowflakes melt into the ground.

I am learning, that in the same way, perhaps, as long as our lives are guided by a constant force, we need not bother to plan our lives in such exhausting detail. Because we can trust, that no matter how bad the winds and how cold the currents may be, Gravity promises our descent and return to where we came from. At the most sublime point of our greatest beauty, having travelled through life's long journey from above, and having been refined by harsh environments, we then perish and melt into God again.

So this year, I'm not going to say what races I must join, what places I must go, what things I want to accomplish. Rather, I want to say I'm ready to follow the gravity of my life, to be more grounded in God, and to come that much closer to folding into Him.

Planning is inevitable. It is a merit, most times. But I want to plan in a way that gives respect to time, space, and the most important force of my life.

This year will be rough, I know. There will be great transitions. If all goes well, I will begin the gruelling life of a junior doctor and my skin might hardly see daylight. But I know, the harsher the winds, the more beautifully one surely will evolve to become, as long as one trusts the force that carries one on his journey.

This year, some highlights included:

- receiving my new bike, Faith.
- being humbled and experiencing emotional and spiritual growth through my hamstring injury
- my reinforced calling to the poor and needy through a visit to Smokey Mountain
- the completion (finally!) of A Taste of Rainbow
- a nomination for an award, which took me many weeks to have the peace to go through with the application
- enjoying medical school in a way I never thought possible
- my learning to forgive people, and realising I need to learn to forgive more.
- realising that God is teaching me to let Him drive
- believing that perhaps, romantic love really does exist if we give it a chance, and isn't such a sham if we let God do the picking.

Next year, my prayer is to:
- learn forgiveness, because I have been forgiven. (I discovered that my sensitive nature also translates into nursing old bruises for long periods.)
- rekindle my love for my patients, because stress and sleep deprivation can take a huge toll on one's basic bedside manners.
- continue to love God and know Him more. (This doesn't mean doing more projects, but instead, means learning to be more gentle and patient, which I am often not.)
- and perhaps, to let someone else love me, too.

There're many things we can't predict, but there's one thing we can:

That no matter how bitter the weather and how frosty the environment, God will make something beautiful out of our experiences, as long we let Him.

a photo given to me by a friend in Canada, of a tree in his backyard.


To all you readers, thank you for walking through 2010 with me.

Thank you for all your emails, text messages, and comments, which have been great encouragements in my journey towards God.

I hope that in some small way, this space, too,

has blessed you and brought you closer to

::where we came from::

and where we will eventually return to.

Blessed New Year to you.

"For the final truth about snowflakes is that they become more individual as they fall—

that, buffeted by wind and time,

they are translated, as if by magic,

into ever more strange and complex patterns,

until, at last, like us, they touch earth.

Then, like us, they melt. "

- The New Yorker, by Adam Gopnik

No more fear.

I got scared. To be honest, that's what it really was-fear.

A couple of weeks ago, my publisher and the rest of the committee had assured me that A Taste of Rainbow would be ready for print. After 3 years of suffering, healing and waiting, my dream of publishing this second book was finally so close to being fulfilled. There were countless moments of anguish and disappointment with God, and one close shave to trashing this painstakingly illustrated book down the chute. All that held me back was that huge arc of a rainbow behind the Singapore flyer I saw 3 years ago on the day I finished the first draft of the book.

A rainbow is God's promise. So I held on.

And now that God is this close to making this dream come true, I was actually... scared.

There would be publicity. People would know. For this next project to make an impact on the lives of people, to help those who are suffering, I will have to, at some point, be in the limelight. I used to be very vocal, used to enjoy being seen and heard. But like a snowflake being buffeted by the winds as it falls to the ground, I have changed, and am no longer as extroverted as I was before. I have become more shy, and grown uncomfortable with gregarious self-introductions.

This coming wednesday, I will be attending a gala dinner for the award I was shortlisted for. They will be celebrating the achievements and contributions of the finalists of the award. I'm afraid, because I'm not sure if I like that sort of attention anymore. 2 weeks ago, the university sent me another nomination to fill up for another award, and I'm simply dreading the application process. Whatever for, and to what purpose?

I got scared, because I'm not sure what people may say, how they may judge me. I became afraid, because of what people kept saying about this having implications on my future, and on my area of specialisation. Many have come, and still come into my path to counsel me to think twice. Is this what you really want to do? There are consequences. Are you sure about this? Because there's no turning back once you decide on it.

And my answer, though now more sprinkled with awareness, is still yes and amen.

Because isn't this what this journey is about? God is calling me to make a decision that might jeopardise myself, and I can see, how even this is a test of faith, obedience and courage. I have been through so much to see this book to completion. Do I want, for the sake of self-preservation and out of fear, to back out now? Would I be true to myself? Would it be following my heart?

No.

So I'm going ahead. For weeks I had stalled. I was apprehensive about giving my publisher the final edits. But tonight, as I walk into the new year ahead, I have decided, that there's no turning back now.

God, I'm counting on You to give me strength and courage- the kind of courage that has no reason.

I was afraid, and shall not be from now.

Be strong and courageous.

Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged,

for God will be with you wherever you go."

Joshua 1:9

No turning back.

Now that the year is ending, my finals are nearing and I'm moving on to a different chapter of life, I just want to give thanks for the past 5 years of my life in medical school.

Just lately, some people have been sharing with me about difficult stages of life they've been going through, and wondering if they would make it through. It reminded me of how different I was 5 years ago, and how indeed, God can use our trials and struggles to strengthen and refine us.

Once upon a time, I was prone to insomnia and anxiety, insecure and unfit, depressed and in despair, wondering how on earth if it would be possible to ever graduate. Once upon a time, things were so bad I thought ending things would be easier and that I might never make it through. Once upon a time, I thought my second book would be junked and God would turn out to be a hoax.

But today, I sleep like a lamb every night, I take exams with the perspective that I've passed them already, I've picked up triathlon, and I've never been more excited or motivated to graduate to become a doctor.

I really am excited.

Today, I just want to thank God for how He's changed me, from a hopeless rag doll to someone hopeful, from someone who always needed to look to someone else for comfort to someone who can put her confidence in Him. Things have changed, in ways which I thought were impossible, and I'm just amazed. Because just some time ago, I thought it was impossible.

I come from a background which doesn't really promote positive thinking. I ended up pushing myself harder than I ought to, beating myself up harder than I should, and believing that divorce, separation and conflict were the norm rather than the exception. But church changed all that- I started to believe in a God who believed in me, ended up enjoying the flow of work and play and started to see that loyalty, commitment and love, while not perfect, are real things that can happen to real people. Only lately, because of how my eyes were opened to 2 special couples at church with interesting histories, I think, finally, I've started to believe in romantic love again- if only a little.

That's a real big step for me.

God, You changed my life and gave me hope.

At one point, I wanted to end this all. Today, I am in awe at this newfound joy in marvelling at the study of medicine and this newfound hope and faith in a future which is uncertain and scary.

At one point, I bashed love. Today, I think it is possible.

At one point, I thought God was a meanie. Today, I know He is a loving teacher, someone who makes dreams come true. If all goes well, A Taste of Rainbow should be launched in February.

God, thank you for my church.

Thank you for helping me believe in myself,

and to believe that a 180-turnaround is possible.

Thank you for helping me believe

that with faith, hope and love,

miracles really do happen.

I've decided to follow You, and there's no turning back.

Picture by Ian Ho, modelling/concept by Wai Jia



"I have decided, to follow Jesus...
No turning back, no turning back..."
- No turning back

(my favorite hymn)

All I Need.

This Christmas, in the midst of the lights and presents and raucous laughter, perhaps you're feeling a little lonely, or wishing you were someplace else doing something different...

... perhaps it helps to remind ourselves, that somewhere out there, are many who would give the world up to be where we are, do what we're doing, if only they were given the opportunity.

Dear God, thank you for my home, thank you for my family, thank you for dinner at home, thank you that on Christmas Day I have my exams to study for because it is such a privilege to do so, thank you that in a big and scary world out there of fanfare and noise, all I need is You, a piece of Peace in my heart.


Enjoy the video.

(Edited with pictures) The Power of Love.

Are you a gift sort of person? I mean, is that your love language? If it is, Christmas is probably a busy time for you, and perhaps, a time of emotional highs and lows, too.

A couple of weeks ago, I read a book from church about the hardships of marriage. The authors are husband and wife, and illustrated the challenges in communication between a couple.

The husband used to buy flowers for his wife frequently after work, swinging by the florist outside his workplace, thinking to himself proudly, "How many men would actually still buy his wife flowers after all these years?" He did this frequently, expressively, but grew to resent that his wife started showing less and less appreciation. He stopped buying them altogether, resenting even passing by the florist and one day, sat his wife down and haha, said he "wanted to talk". (Which is great by the way, because it's usually the woman who "wants to talk" and the man who dreads it.)

And they do. And the wife says, " It's because everytime you give them to me, they look half dead. And you go on to tell me each time what a great deal they were, how many extra flowers you got for your buck. It makes me feel they were got out of convenience, and I feel cheap."

Silence.

And he replies, "So you want me to drive an hour downtown to Bloomington during the busy lunch hour so I can get em fresh, get the same flowers at about 5 times the price wrapped in a wrapper which says Bloomington so I can give the same thing to you?"

To which she replies, "I think you're beginning to understand a little of what Romance means."

I sighed at this story. Because it only goes to show how much grace we need to love one another, not on our terms, but on somebody else's. I could totally relate to how the wife felt. Totally. I would've felt the same-every woman wants to feel valued above all else by her man. But the man had already gone out of his comfort zone to buy something out of his "practical" mind such as flowers for her.

I suppose, love, when wrapped in a gift, can only release its full measure of power when both it's giver and recipient meet on the same levels.

Recently, I was a little offended by a gift which obviously looked like it was a pass-on, and then later, on reflecting upon myself, realised that perhaps I was guilty, too.

I was slighted. Petty? Maybe. But I suppose, no one likes to feel like a convenient salvation army garage sale, good for second-hands only.

Simmering a little, because I like to think I spend effort writing and making cards and buying thoughtful presents with the person in mind, I then thought of the many children in Smokey Mountain, in Nepal and in many other developing countries this Christmas who might be jumping gleefully with joy at bags of hand-me-downs and collected clothes from people like us who don't want them anymore. Do they feel second-rate, too? Or do they feel privileged even to be considered "second-rate"?

Once, I met a missionary who related a story about a toaster to me. She said she was hurt during a collection event for missionaries, when people donated really awful things to them, thinking that they were fit for use by them. One of them was a toaster, which could only pop up not two, but one slice of bread because one side was faulty.

To be honest, I didn't see a big deal in it. I even thought she might have been a little petty. After all, isn't a faulty toaster better than no toaster at all?

But now I understand. I understand what charity organisations mean when they say they're tired of receiving broken things, or things which were put in their collection bin that you might have to be pretty close to Einstein to figure out what their use might be.

The truth is, no one likes to feel second-rate. A gift often represents what you feel about the person's worth, and no one likes to feel like they were cheap, or that you thought they were.

So each time I clear my wardrobe, I've begun to throw more things out, and started learning to give away things I actually liked to organisations that needed them.

At Smokey Mountain this Christmas, the church there organised a treat for a thousnd kids by ordering Jolibee (their equivalent of Mac Donalds) for them, hired the red and yellow bee mascot to entertain them, and gave out shirts, slippers and groceries to families. A large sum was raised- 14 USD per child. They had their once-a-year treat of spaghetti and chicken nuggets, compared to their usual meagre meals of lentils and cheap rice.

Too extravagant? Some would think so. Generous? Perhaps. Is calculated love still love? I don't know.

I am learning, that sometimes, the power of love is magnified and multiplied when an element of sacrifice is present. That one hour's drive to Bloomington? Yea, that's what I'm talking about. That sweater you kinda like but know you haven't worn for months? I had to remind myself that it could be put to better use when I passed it to the scrawny uncle who mops the lifts at my block. He was so cold that day.

Not that one ought to have high standards for gifts given to one. After all, it's often the simple, thoughtful things like a text message or email which melt our hearts, aren't they? But I have been challenged, to give out of sacrifice, and not out of convenience.

But I have been guilty. I have bought stacks of books at book sales, to give them out through the year to people. But you know what? They never feel the same. They never feel as special. Because very often, those were "could-do" gifts and not "WOW, for me?" gifts.

Yet, even the recipient's attitudes play a part for love to blaze like a firework. A friend shared with me yesterday about a garage sale at her church, organised for needy families. While some had sacrificed things they loved to bless others, there were those who simply bought items simply because they were cheap, even though the bicycles were too big for them, or the rollerskates didn't fit.

Love, is a precious thing. I am learning, it needs to be given, and received with care and gratitude. I am learning, that we ought not to exult in feel-good self-righteousness at our altruism since it is the recipient's response which determines how much love is actually conveyed successfully. I am learning, that one also ought not to be offended at gifts- do we not believe that our lives are already filled with good things from God? Are we not secure enough in His love for us? Why should we doubt our worth based on what we receive?

Just as I took a break from writing this post, I found a package for myself on the table, wondering who it could be from. This is from the inspiring mother of one of my paediatrics patients (the cutest little 3-year old boy) whom I'd met more than a year ago, who even till today still prays for me. Thank you so much for the beautiful necklace. It matches what I'm already wearing today perfectly. I love it, but I love your beautiful, gentle spirit more :)

To all my friends and family, thank you for everything that you have blessed me with. Beyond gifts, you have blessed me with your time and love, encouragement and support. Who cares about pass-on gifts when we have one another.


Above all, perhaps we can be thankful for the greatest gift of all that God gave us on Christmas, thoughtfully bought, at the highest cost, with the greatest sacrifice.

That's the power of love.

Merry Christmas.

"...for you were bought with a price:
glorify God therefore in your body."
-1 Cor 6:20

The Driver's Seat.

"Have you noticed, that... your life has been very... challenging?"

I knew she was on to something. And I knew, she was about to help me discover something magical, something that smelled refreshing and nostalgic and ancient and fresh. So I stayed on track, trying to catch a whiff of the trail.

"Yea, I have. But what am I to do?"

Silence.

"So, what are you saying?" I asked, smiling a little, not wanting to sound confrontational.

"What I'm saying is, I've noticed that your life seems to consist of climbing one mountain after the next, and all I'm wondering is, whether you feel tired, and if you exercise enough self-care. Like what we talked about at our last session."

We were on the topic of my next book. About it going to be published soon, about the difficulties which came with it and which will come along with it. We were talking about my upcoming final examinations, my ruminations about how my previous illness had taken away what I wished it hadn't. We were talking about that recurrent topic in our conversations, about that melancholic sense of lonliness inside of me because of my desire to do missions and to live my life differently.

"So how does doing all these things make you feel?"

"I mean, I guess I feel fulfilled. But to be honest, sometimes I do feel lonely. I mean, on the outside it looks great. Like, people think I have it all together- studies, community service, friends etc. But hey, I only got 24 hours in a day, so something's gotta go- I end up doing a lot of "purposeful" things. You're right. Sometimes, I get tired. And it feels lonely. But I mean, I've come to accept it- because, I feel called to do this sorta thing."

"Sure."

Silence.

"But I guess, part of the roller-coaster bit of my life, part of my previous illness was because I tried so hard to be in control. There're so many factors in life- I can't control the results of my studies, I can't control my future residency, I can't control what people think of me, I can't control where I'll be headed next, so the eating disorder was the best way for me to feel in control."

"Absolutely."

Silence.

"So do you see, how you've compartmentalised God? Like you give Him control over this, this and this, but not over that, that and that? And because of that, do you see how you tend to climb your own mountains, one after another, to experience that temporary high? But they're barren mountains. They're all barren. All that unecessary drama was from you driving by yourself because you feared that God would take you elsewhere you feared you wouldn't be able to cope."

Epiphany moment.

"Yea... you're... right."

Do you, like me, struggle to be in the driver's seat? Do you fear the change in scenery, the feeling like you don't know where you're being driven to, and if you'd be taken to a place where, gasp, you might not be able to cope?

I know I do.

I've always striven to be behind the wheel, so I think I know exactly where I'm going. The truth is, even with both hands behind the steering wheel, we never do. How can we, for only God knows our futures and our lives. The ironic part is, we, in our ignorance, in spite of our best intentions, then often drive ourselves up mountains that we were never meant to climb.

"Why do you want to drive up barren mountains, when God wants to bring you to lusher, grander, more beautiful mountains on the other side? Has it occurred to you, that perhaps, in spite of all your fears about not knowing where He might take you, you may very well be driving yourself up a far more difficult terrain than what He has planned for you?"

I thought about my previous illness, my publishing journey in writing and illustrating books as well as my self-striving in terms of training in triathlon. I saw the common pattern of how my own ideas of success became my own stumbling blocks- caused me unecessary afflictions, anxiety and injuries. It was time-consuming and on restrospect, silly.

God wants to bring us to grander scenery- why do we fear? He wants to take us on the best ride. His cross for us to bear may not be as big as the ones we impose on ourselves.

"So yea, continue to let go. Let Him take over the wheel."

Towards the end, I brought up an issue which I had been thinking about a great deal over the past few months. About a friendship which I wanted to cut off and abandon because I was too afraid.

"I mean, this is crazy. What's going to happen?"

"Precisely. You don't know. Let God decide, let Him drive. Because when you do, you'll feel a sense of freedom."

"Aw man, no. You don't understand, this is a mountain coming. You said that my life is full of roller coasters, didn't you? This is, for sure, going to be a huge mountain and He's driving me right into it! I haven't been able to stop it, He drove me right into it!"

"Who said life was about avoiding mountains?"

"Ah, I see. So it's about climbing the right ones."

"Exactly. And as far as I'm concerned, this is the one opportunity where you can finally give God the chance to show you that He's a better driver than you."

Okay God, I'm getting out of the driver's seat and onto the passenger seat. But before you take off and hit the road, let me fasten my seat-belts. I know you're a safe driver and will never let me come to harm, but I know, you're a much bigger adventure junkie than I could ever be.

Let go. Let Him take over.

And hang on tight.

“For this is God, our God forever and ever;
He will be our guide even to death.”
- Psalm 48:14

Not for naught.

It's funny. I think it's easy to see God in volunteer work, in humanitarian trips and in charitable deeds. But how about in seemingly more frivolous things, like in what you do in your free time... say for me, like swimming, biking and running for example?

Like some of you already know, I've been struggling with the T-word for the longest time. After tearing my hamstring, I struggled with God and asked Him to show me if Triathlon was something meaningless, something sandcastled on pride, something that took time away from real work, from helping others etc. At one point, I was ready to give it up. I gave away all my medals. I fasted from cycling for more than 3 months. I sat down to reflect on things.

God, was this all just a frivolous waste of time.

Sometimes, God answers in funny ways.

That day, in Smokey mountain in the pouring rain, as I held that wounded 7-year old boy who was shivering naked in the rain in my arms, it suddenly made sense to me. Suddenly, at that moment, triathlon made sense to me. I'd always asked God how the sport could be reconciled with medicine or missions.

There and then, it suddenly made sense.

The rain bothered everyone, and the 3 photographers worried if I was able to tolerate the conditions. To be honest, after all those times of training in dirty open water and cycling and running after, feeling wet and sticky had become natural; when I had to carry the little boy in my arms because the rest of them had too much bulky camera equipment to lug around, I found myself strong enough because of how swimming had changed my arms, shoulders and lower back; when we had to trudge through the cold over the treacherous terrain for the entire day, I found that I had the stamina to do so because of my aerobic base.

I realized, that all those times during my surgical internship where I had to be fast enough to run up and down storeys in the hospital to get things done for patients were possible because of how training had changed my body. I realized, that I could push myself to work harder and put in more effort for my patients in the middle of the night on a 36-hour call when I reminded myself of the hardships endured in racing- completing the 90km bike of the half-iron man relay had been a defining moment.

I could, because that was God had used, has been using triathlon to do, to strengthen me for this sort of unexpected work.

Just a few years ago, even holding a bag was difficult for my frail, emaciated body. I was like chaff in wind.

So I'm not looking back. Triathlon has not been for nothing. I got my medals back, because I realised, that they belonged not only to me, but to the community of friends and my family, whom God had brought to me through the sport to bring me to a place of health, joy and freedom. My prof understood, and thanked me for giving him the privilege to hold them for 7 months while I realigned my priorities and made a commitment not to race till after my final examinations.

All this while when I was recovering from my hamstring, God used the pain to teach me self-restraint, moderation and respect for my own body. Just this week, a fellow triathlete phoned me because he needed advice- he had suffered the exact same injury as I.

I learnt, that God gives us hobbies and activities, not only to shape our characters and to mould us, but to offer the same encouragement we found through common experiences to others going through similar battles. Our "frivolous" hobbies may not be so, after all.

Do you have something you enjoy doing but think is meaningless, too? Have you tried asking God to show you the beautiful meaning behind your love for baking, your ability to carry conversation or your stamp collection, ha?

My cycling buddies and I did a round-island 70km ride today, and for the first time cycling since my injury, I have no pain.

Thank you God for healing me, and for showing me meaning in this beautiful sport. Thank you for the gift of hobbies that you use to sharpen us, and for giving us that divine present called Joy, which we can exult in guiltlessly when we open our hearts to the possibility of learning life lessons through them. Thank you for my friends and cycling buddies, whom I miss so very much since I've been missing our regular rides due to extra lectures at school.

Most of all, thank you for showing me that through it all, you had a purpose for everything, and nothing was for naught.

I'm looking forward to doing a triathlon next year, God permitting. I'm not through with you just yet.

Rain on me.

It's like leaving clay out in the sun.

What was once mouldable and pliable becomes rock solid, and when faced with harsh elements, fragments into pieces.

I guess, I didn't see this day coming. But when I sat down yesterday, with the pile of work and unstudied material before me and realising just how much I've missed spending time with God, I wrapped my fingers over my heart and found it... hardened.

It's hardened without me even knowing it. Who put it out in the sun?

I suppose, what they said about growing up and becoming a junior doctor really was true. That the process would either draw one crazily close to God or drive one away from Him. The routine of work, the fatigue from the hours and the constant demands of the world (sometimes unreasonable ones) erode one's core unconsciously, constantly. I came home from church yesterday, still angry at certain people at home and at work regarding certain situations which I had felt completely wronged about, and started to cry.

It didn't used to be like this. Once upon a time, I sorted these things with God every day. Every day, I put my heart of clay out to be watered and soaked in His love so that it would be soft and pliable, so that He could even out the creases and wrinkles put there by harsh words, unconstructive critique and the wear and tear of this world. It was painful being kneaded, but oh, the next day brought new hope and freedom, to be a new masterpiece.

Then surgical internship came with its crazy hours, and preparation for the final exams came. Day in day out, I plodded along to the song of this crazy world at its crazy pace, allowed the elements to weather my heart and hardly took time to allow God to water and soften and knead out the roughened places.

I found myself on a Sunday afternoon, bitter and frustrated and tired, and full of putrefying anger and resentment at him, her and you. I wanted to shout at someone, say it wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair. I wanted to scream and say I deserved an apology, that what was done was horried and unjust. I wanted to say God, how can it be like this? Aren't you seeing this? Why aren't you putting a stop to this? How can it be that people can be so... frustrating?

I wanted to draw a line and cut these people off from my life. And all that made me wonder- How did I get to this place?

How did I become so angry. And it scared me, because I knew at that moment, that my heart had been hardened. I just didn't want to care, didn't want to try anymore. I just wanted to go away by myself and hide under a tree so I could study another chapter about colon cancers, surgical procedures and liver conditions, away from the grating elements of this world.

It's been too long. I'm sorry, God.

Last Sunday at Sunday School, the little children learnt about keeping their hearts soft and tender, like the ploughed soil of the earth, so that good seed could grow in it and flourish. We learnt about saying sorry, and about being receptive to You. What had happened to my plot of soil? I was certainly not feeling anywhere close to saying thank you or sorry. A hardened heart builds strong fortresses.

I know you've never left me, and I'm sure you know I've never once thought of leaving you, too. But why is it then that on a Sunday afternoon, when finally, time has availed itself and unfolded before me, that I find myself crinkling up and hardening into a rock, a fireball, a seething, empty whirlwind?

I want to be soft again, God. I want to look at patients, even the angry, whiney and demanding ones at 4am in the morning, and be genuinely concerned with their lives. I want to look at the people who have caused me hurt and suffering and be able to bless them, instead of being mad. I want to put all this anger aside and say, it's okay, you had a bad day and you took it out on me in an unacceptable way but you didn't know how else to vent it out but nobody's perfect and it's okay.

God, I can't do this alone. Come, rain on me.

“Today, if you hear his voice,
do not harden your hearts.”
-Hebrews 4:7b

"In your anger do not sin:

Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry..."
- Ephesians 4:26

The Yellow Line.

*This post may be offensive.

When I saw this photo, I stopped. I just knew, it was the cry of millions and millions of girls and women who kill a part of themselves everyday, consciously or not, to stay on that fine yellow line which society draws for them.

If you are female, I am sure you, like me, will resonate with it.

Once, I used to hate my body. At one point, I hated it so much that I fell very, very ill. But now that I'm well, and constantly check on my thoughts and habits to make sure I never go down that slippery road again, I've come to discover, that even the normal baseline of self-acceptance and self-consciousness among the majority of females is light years away from a place of freedom and abandoned love.


We are so self-conscious.


I grew up with boys. At any one point, I think I had more guy friends than most of my girlfriends did. Perhaps it was just that I really enjoyed running around with guns and bows and arrows and pretending to a be a superhero with them. Or maybe it was that when I wanted to be Sleeping Beauty I always kept it secret because I was too much of a tom-boy to admit it. And when we grew up, we just stayed comfortable around one another. Anyhow, I was often teased, and I grew, unfortunately, to become astutely aware, perhaps a little too much, of the male psyche.

That made me afraid. Because I learnt that most boys, even if they're my buddies, don't know how to respect a real woman. Few men do.

Last Sunday, on the front page of the papers, was the headline "Anorexia at 8". It looks like that thin yellow line has left its mark on our children, too.

Damn it. Have we lost?

Have we forgotten that we were each made differently, that our source of security and love comes not from the approval of others but from ourselves and God? Have we forgotten that a real man would love us for who we are and not how much we weigh? And even though it's great to live a healthy lifestyle and eat nutritiously, how many of us know that that by itself doesn't get you Jada Pinkett's body?

I exercise. I should know. Trust me, that body you want doesn't come from a healthy lifestyle. It's called having good genes, a celebrity lifestyle and a personal trainer with a full-time training programme. The body that we try to obtain comes with awkward self-consciousness, painful self-denial and unrealistic cheating.

Why do international surveys show that a majority of women hate some parts of their bodies. Have we lost?

I admit, it has always been my legs. Then when I started doing triathlon, it became my sun-dried, chlorine-soaked hair.

Have you tried balancing on a thin yellow line with sky-high stilettoes without losing your balance? It looks easy, but it really is back-breaking business. Not to mention, dangerous, too. One constantly feels one is on the edge of a fall.

Perhaps, what we really need is to throw away those red stilettoes and those blood-red apples, start loving our legs and feet and hair and boobs and eat real food, and to take a brave leap forward to realise that there really is no consequence to not toeing that thin yellow line that society draw for us. It is about taking charge, and making a conscious choice every day, all the time.

It might not be the fault of the media, or boys. We cannot push the blame. It is simply a bad mix of their gawky adolescence or ignorance, our media-driven society and our terrible insecurity.

When will it take us to see that every part of us is beautiful and complete as it is.

When will it take for us to realise that God's love is enough.

When will we learn to sit back and say, God, thank you for ice-cream, and thank you for my strong arms and thunderthighs because they help me walk and run and carry kids and spin them round like a merry-go-round.


I am trying, too.

Photo by Ian Ho

Modelling and concept by Wai Jia