Killing the dragon.

It was just the other day when my close friends joked, "Babe, your birthday celebrations are even longer-drawn than Chinese New Year... Chinese New Year lasts for 15 days, but yours seems to last longer than that!"

So it was true. They celebrated and made it special so many times that M asked me, "CAN YOU BELIEVE YOU ARE NOT 24 YET?!"

It's been exactly a month since I celebrated my 24th birthday (early). Today, two gifts arrived at my doorstep. One, in the form of a lovely package and card and more money for the causes I support; and two, a letter which made me tear.

I guess, this year really is a year of daring to have greater faith, and daring to step out of my preconceived notions into greater adventures.

"I just feel I want to say a few things to you... about relationships, love and marriage. And no, I'm not trying to change your mind on anything that you may have decided for yourself... I just want to know that you've had an opportunity to see another perspective on the subject.

Having lived through several stupid mistakes and learned from them, I am a firm believer that love is a decision. I don't mean to say that it's purely rational/logical and that feelings can come later, because that would be regressing or falling into the pit of undervalueing God's gifts of emotions and spiritual sensing. What I am saying is that because God is love and because God chose the man-woman relationship (courtship and marriage) as the ultimate representation of His spiritual relationship with us and there are precious secrets hidden in this that cannot be found elsewhere...

Do not mistake me. I am not saying your life is incomplete if you aren't married. I am saying that unless directed by God to be celibate, marriage is a wonderful thing to desire and work towards. And trust me, it will take a lot of work. After all, it is about two flawed and sinful and selfish people coming together to attempt to build life together, and the road isn't easy. But the beauties of this strange experience- two becoming one- are myriad and deep and multifaceted, and I am convicted that nothing can match it.

Think of it: it's not simply physical, but something that happens in the spirit world, that God no longer sees you as two, but as one. Now what does that mean? How does that translate into individual paths? And yet, you are still unique individuals in His sight. Does this help you begin to understand the mystery of the trinity we describe God as?

As I have said before,

God opens many doors and windows to us in this life- not always as directives or commands,

but sometimes simply to bestow His largesse...

and sometimes, just to test if we will make our choices

from our own preconceived notions or if we will ASK HIM.

The road ahead of you is going to be full of excitement, and I pray that you are clearly led in every aspect by God. This is how you will find your greatest joy and fulfillment in Him, because true surrender to God's calling is not always about pleasing Him- it is sometimes also in finding pleasure for ourselves in what He has chosen to give."

A close friend asked me out for a long early morning run today. We were talking about life, and she said to me, "You need to have more faith, Wai Jia."

"But I can't help this anxious feeling inside. It's so... unnerving. There're so many question marks, no answers, and everything is up in the air."

"Yea, but you gotta deal with it. It's a timely lesson to learn that there're many things in life we can't control, and this is one of them. Just have faith, things are going to turn out fine. At the right time, everything will fall into place."

And in the evening, came another letter in the form of an email:

Do you really believe if we seek, God will provide a way? Do you also really believe that God knows of our needs and knows how to take care of us like He does with sparrows?

So here goes, 2011 is going to be a year of having greater faith, of stepping into things larger than I can conceive, and a year of killing the dragon.

Keep on asking,

and you will receive what you ask for.

Keep on seeking,

and you will find.

Keep on knocking,

and the door will be opened to you."

-Matthew 7:7

Valentine's Day advice from the old man.

" You need to find someone who can love you even at your worst.

Not just someone who sees all the good bits in you and are fascinated by them.

That's nothing.

Cos on the outside, I'm sure you're easy to love-

you're always doing all these good things on the outside.

True love, well, true love needs a track record.

One year is nothing.

Last night, you threw a fit at home and I was disappointed with you, okay.

Having a bad day means nothing to me, young lady-

- I have bad days all the time.

But hey, I've got a 24-year old track record with you

and that means something."

- from the one man in my life I know I can always count on- Dad, on True Love.

Some days, I wish I were less of a skeptic. But I have too many guy friends and have heard too many of their beer conversations about women to continue wearing rose-tinted glasses. Why do I end up backpedalling in fear every time I think of a Possibility.

Roses are the only flowers I hate, really. (For many reasons.) Till today, I find it so strange how a diehard believer in faith, hope and miracles can be such a cynic when it comes to romantic love for herself.

Because yes, though it might be hard to imagine, I'm not loveable at all when I throw a cranky, noisy, hypoglycemic fit at home. With housemanship coming and 36-hour work shifts 6 times a month, I know I just might have more crazy fits to come :(

Thank you for loving me at my worst, Dad, when I'm spoilt and unreasonable, and when it's that time of the month, and not just when I get an award, or when I'm nice or when I'm serving other people. Thanks for truly loving me.

Cheers to a 24-year track record!

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 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)

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

Warrior Princess.

When they told me you had left, I didn't cry. I only felt like the news I had been half-expecting was now here. I felt a little guilty, even, because we were all praying that somehow, God would reverse this bad dream and make you all better again. And you didn't. I somehow felt defeated, lost.

But I think you never did. I think you never allowed yourself to.

Yours, was the most beautiful funeral I'd ever been to. I just want you to know that. You're a very special brave little girl to us all, and I just want you to know what a champion you've been. We were at your funeral, but it didn't feel like we were mourning as much as we were celebrating your short life with us.

There were balloons. There were lots and lots of Balloons! And Colourful! Flowers! Everywhere! Snow white, Winnie the Pooh, Beauty and the Beast... and castles and sprinkles and shiny things everywhere. Your daddy came up to say how death... did not win, even though it may seem like it did. Your two best friends, 7 and 12 years old respectively, came up to share a minute's worth of who you were to them. One of them, like you, was from my Sunday School class. I was so proud of her. Just like how I was and still am proud of you that even when the tumour took you away, you refused to let it win.

When it paralysed your right hand, you wrote with your left. When you could not walk straight, you used a handrail. When you could not swallow and they had to put a tube through your nose into your stomach, you joked that you looked like a little mouse. And when they shaved your hair for the brain biopsy and it totally shattered you and drove you crazy and made you cry ( I would, too), you said it was okay. You coped courageously. Your family triumped. You drew a cross on a piece of paper, you said God was good, in spite of your illness. You lived life bravely, till the very end.

How could death have won? Surely, it only produced the circumstance to which your courage shone through, the way stars do in the dark.

I don't know why I cried when we sang at your funeral. After all, I should know, you're a in a better place, a place where you had always wanted to go anyway. But I guess I cried still, because... I miss you.

When we went to see you in the coffin, it gripped me to see the medal I gave you folded neatly next to your body. It was the medal my overseas friend (who had liver cancer when he was 11 and then went on to do an Iron Man event later in life) had mailed to me to encourage you with. It gripped me also to see a stack of heart-shaped cards at your feet- they were they art and craft letters which I had taught my sunday school children to make, for a friend they wanted to encourage. Some of them made them for you.

And if anything, I guess I just want to say I miss you. Thank you for living life in a way that would not let death triumph. Thank you for living in a way that puts life in all of us my dear.

Love you. You're our brave little warrior princess.

Jesus said to her,

"I am the resurrection and the life.

He who believes in me will live, even though he dies;

and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.

Do you believe this?"

-John 11

In spite of it all.

I suppose that's the toughest part- to eat it all, love and hate, in a single bite. Sweet meat and bitter bones, succulent fruit and withered core, all at once. How does one love in spite of it all?

I suppose, that's the toughest part- to love God all the time all at once, even all the bits we find hard to digest, like the way He loves us in spite of it all.

I'll be honest with you. These few months haven't been easy. I've been mad at God for numerous tiny things accumulated over the course of time. At times, I was so mad I was ready to throw in the towel and say I was through with this. I've been giving Him the cold shoulder. You're unfair. You're silent when I need you. You see all these terrible things happening and people suffering and you let them happen. WHY.

Where are you. What are you doing with all your free time up there.

I was injured. I couldn't ride or run. My parents kept bugging me to "go out and see people", and to please "see someone your age in medicine". One of my ex-patients (a little 3-year old boy) kept getting re-admitted to hospital because of a chronic illness. His mother fought, is fighting so hard to keep things together and continue to trust in God.

I wanted to tell God how mad I was with Him for making us suffer this way. I wanted to tell Him it's unfair that I'm losing my friends, my closest of friends because they are leaving me and finding their other halves and I am sitting here patiently doing what I know I need to do simply because I know you've called me to the mission field and it's darn unfair that I can't ride or run or go out with people because of what you've done to me. It's unfair people go away after I'm upfront about missions. It's unfair that they're always so many patients at hospital. It's unfair we have to go on call for 36-hours without sleep taking blood and seeing people and resusitating patients and come home feeling wiped out. It's unfair that after submitting my paintings and writing so many months ago and them all promising that the project would be well underway and that they're on to it that I receive an email asking where my paintings are, and there is silence from everyone on the other end because everyone is busy. I'm tired of this writing and publishing and painting and waiting... I'm tired God, I'm emotionally drained. I don't know what to do or think because people haven't been replying to my emails and I have no one to tell but you and you keep telling me you're in control.

What control?

It frustrates me, God. It bloody frustrates me.

And Grandpa Zhou is asking me to join him for a mid-autumn festival charity dinner organised by a church near his home this Saturday night because the last time we met, I was feeling depressed and wanting someone to take me out on Saturday night to Dempsey or Starbucks to eat ice-cream and listen to music and read or draw or just, talk. And so he said, "Yar, you were feeling down right? So I'm asking you out on a Saturday night, please come for our event!"

But though I want to accompany him, I don't feel like going because I'm angry at You.

I'm angry.

I want to throw a tantrum. And I have. You're unfair. You frustrate me and you don't listen to me. You give me things, making me love and treasure them deeply only to take them away. And this isn't just about my injury, God. Your discipline hurts so bad. Why does it take so much to believe in you. Why are my hopes pinned on a kite gone astray.

I like fancy things too, God. I want to go for pedicures and perm/straighten/colour my hair like everyone else does and stay out late at night in fancy places. I want you to go away. Stop bugging me. Why do you keep bugging me.

I'm angry.

And it amuses me to see how mad I can be with Him, giving Him the cold shoulder on Friday nights and Saturdays when I'm feeling most alone and suffering withdrawal because I'm a workaholic and there's something about the sterility, bloodiness and neediness of the hospital which sedates and calms me, and yet feeling particularly tender and loving to him from Monday morning till Friday evening when I really need His help to draw blood from a patient whose veins are slipping from my fingers like runaway snakes. God, please help me. I need you.

How can we be so two-faced.

And I realise, we're like this every day.

Part of me is so bitter at you, in spite of all you've done for me. People look at me and say they admire the faith I have in you. But it comes with a price, and God, I don't know if I can keep paying it. I am hurting. And I know this is nothing but a big tantrum because I never deserved a such a nice bicycle and I never deserved to write and publish books, but will you please show me you are real and that you care. Just put me on my bike on a neverending road to a faraway place for a while with blue skies and yellow daffodils and hot green tea soy latte in a Starbucks mug.

I am learning-that that's the toughest part- to love God all the time all at once, in spite of what happens, in spite of how we feel, in spite of what we've lost. In spite of bitterness, pain and anguish. In spite of uncertainty and loneliness. I am learning, that that's the toughest part, to come face to face with reality, understanding that life with God isn't a bed of roses but an uphill climb, a constant challenge to believe that You're on my side fighting and rooting for me, and not an evil puppet master. Some part of me knows, nothing very much in this post makes sense at all.

I am learning, that that's the toughest part- to say I love you in spite of all that's happened, in spite of all that could happen. I guess I'm just frustrated that You're so silent, though I know it's more likely that you're praying for me and hoping I would be patient enough to see how much you love me.

You really love me?

And I guess the toughest part- is really fathoming how in spite of it all, in spite of my petulance and tantrums and hypocrisy towards you, you love us still, warts and all.

In spite of it all.


Please God, make my heart tender again towards you. I hate being mad at you.

I'm on 36-hour call again tomorrow.

"'Love the Lord your God with all your heart

and with all your soul

and with all your mind."

-Matthew 22:37

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart,

And lean not on your own understanding;

In all your ways acknowledge Him,

And He shall direct your paths"

(Proverbs 3:5,6)

Shepherd's Voice.

Perhaps, one of the hardest lessons I have had to learn, was to stop listening to so many people. Even though there were many risk factors for the severity of my injury, the primary reason for it was my taking the bad advice of a pushy athlete who would criticise the fit of my bike every time we met. This is wrong, that is wrong, you should adjust this here, not doing this would just be stupid, listen to me…

Have you been in a situation like that before? Everybody has their own 2 cents to give you, and their advice, sometimes conflicting with one another, only leaves you more confused than you were to begin with.

I remember, just before a race, people would give me all sorts of advice. Because I was the only girl in my cycling group, I think some of the Big Boys saw it as their obligation to dish out advice from their personal experience. Don’t do this, don’t do that, remember this, remember that. What? I can’t believe he told you to do that, believe ME, that’s utter rubbish, do it my way, when I did THAT, I nearly died, oh my goodness don’t be a fool and take that sorta advice…

That’s the problem. Personal experience. Everyone has a different personal experience.

Recently, I had dinner with a Singaporean missionary doctor who has been serving the poor in Nigeria. With application dates for our specialty of choice looming ahead, I had many questions to face. What specialty do I choose? At which insititution? The one which has the best training or the nicest people? God, what did your signs mean? Were they even signs or mere coincidence?

For many months, I had been speaking to doctors, professors, my mentors, friends and my family for their opinions, perspectives and counsel. That day, the missionary doctor told me, “I can see you’ve done your research, Wai Jia. The thing is, I have no advice to give you other than for you to listen to the Shepherd’s voice. Giving you my opinion would simply be shaping you according to my own personal experience. I don’t want to do that because God has a brilliantly unique plan for every individual. And you are special.”

That was the best advice I'd received in months.

He went on to tell me how the cows in Nigeria from different farms would sometimes all get mixed up in the same field. But each time a farmer came and called out, only his own cattle would follow him home. “Listen to your Shepherd’s Voice,” was his advice.

They say there is safety in a multitude of counselors. But I am also learning, that too many cooks spoil the broth, and a crowd drowns out the True Voice which we ought to listen to. My injury taught me a good lesson. Had I listened to my instincts and left my bike the way it was, I might not have suffered so severe a blow. That day was the first day I had biked on it, trying out all the new advice I had received.

So I’m making my own decision about my specialty of choice, and about a crazy decision regarding an important issue. Unfortunately, it will not be an easy one because this decision will not please everyone. When you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go. This will upset some people, and disappoint others, but it is a decision I must make. After all, no missionary who went into the field to serve the poor ever pleased everybody before they took off. This is just a small simulation.

When I went to Nepal for 6 weeks to live in an orphanage by myself because I said I heard “God’s call”, even though it was the peak of the political unrest, my family thought I had gone mad. (They eventually sent me with their blessings, albeit with reservations as well.) When I finished writing A Taste of Rainbow and sent it to my publisher, with the intention of being open about my journey with depression to help other people find the courage to seek help and move forward, some people thought it was career suicide. Don’t do it, you’re foolish. Don’t you see, we’re stopping for your own good. Well, the soft launch is going to be in October.

When you’ve got to do it, you’ve just got to do it. I thank God He’s given me enough recklessness and foolhardiness. Someday, I think I will have to exercise the same resolve when it comes to marriage and my place for missions. I don’t think I will marry a normal person. And I don’t think I will necessarily go to a nice place for missions. But in other ways, I can sometimes be so overwhelmed by other people’s opinions. Do you think I should go? What should I do? Really? But what if?

I sometimes end up asking half the world, before deciding upon something. I forgot, the old me was always more independent, more single-minded. So I’ve decided, and I’m sorry you can’t stop me because I’m not telling. I’ve already told the people who need to know. Even some of the people close to me have been excluded from knowing, because sometimes, you just can’t please everyone.

I heard God calling me, it was the Shepherd’s Voice. Period. So it’s okay if people think I’m mad. What’s new anyway? I’ve decided. And if I haven’t already told you, I don’t intend to until I'm about to... take off.

Who are you listening to today?

"My sheep hear My voice,

and I know them,

and they follow Me."

-John 10:27

Stay on the Road

“Lovers, keep on the road you’re on.

Runners, until the race is done.”

-Coldplay, Lovers in Osaka

Even God did not leave this road unscathed.

Just because we’re injured, doesn’t mean we get off the road. We stay on. We may slow down, but it doesn’t mean we give up.

When I first flew off my bike two-thirds into the race that day, I picked myself up and finished it, even though it was a painful fall. Why should things be different now? Just because this particular hospital is not treating me right and has absolutely disappointed me and left me in despair about my recovery, doesn’t mean I should be discouraged. I’ve had it. I now understand why people affectionately dub that place the Cannot-Go-Home hospital (excuse the grammatical error), I’m finding my own help and I’m going to get well.

Same for you. Just because you’re injured doesn’t mean you stop and get off the road. Just because your mentor doesn’t know how to help you doesn’t mean you’re a gone case. We’re more resilient than we think. Get down. Pray. Then get up. Walk. Find your own mentor, your own doctor. Get your own help. God sends angels on a regular basis. Why should you give up?

Get your feet back on the road.

I remember two years ago when I was in therapy, I thought I would never run again. I thought they would make me stop forever. But we forget, that life goes on in seasons. Winter comes but winter goes, and spring will surely arrive. The break was essential. And when God put me back on the road, I was not only running, but swimming and biking, too.

We return stronger when we allow God to do the work which needs to be done in a season of rest.

When God stops us and forces us to rest, we can use it as an opportunity to disqualify ourselves from the race, or use it as a rest-stop to return stronger- both physically and emotionally. But we must first let go. God, I’m going to have to accept, that I’ll still love you just as much even if you tell me I can never do another triathlon again. Through this injury, I discovered, that I love the triathlon sport truly for what it is. But I’m letting it go. I have to.

I found out, my pelvic stress fracture injury was due to many factors, and I had most of the high-risk ones: The females athelete’s triad consists of a history of amenorrhea, an eating disorder and osteoperosis; Another physiotherapist discovered I have scoliosis (an S-shaped spine), which aggravates hamstring injuries; they told me I have very tight and weak back and core muscles, and very flat feet, which add severe stress on my pelvis when I run or bike. The injury is due to an overextension of the leg muscles, which happened when I took the wrong advice of someone to raise my bike seat higher, when it already had been fitted well.

Most of all, I was greedy. And proud. And self-sufficient. All those factors had been there for years, but my flesh pushed myself over the cliff.

But it’s not over. God is a God of mercy and grace. His grace allows for second chances. So I’m not giving up. Both my legs feel like Styrofoam when I walk now, but it’s not over. I’m going to get proper help. I’m going to learn from my mistakes and get back up on the road. If Ezzy and Fungus can get back on the road, you and I can too.

So I’m going to keep walking, walking.

Stay on the road, finish the journey.


From a friend

"Be thankful that the road is long and challenging,

because that is where you’ll find the best that life has to offer."

— Ralph Marston

"The Lord gives wisdom . . .

guards the course of the just and protects the way of his faithful ones.

Then you will understand what is right and just and fair

-- every good path."
-Proverbs 2:6, 8-9 (NIV)

Apples and Wine.

Some things just don't make sense. I suppose, that's why they call life, Life.

A lot of people don't understand why I don't drink, not even a drop. On social occasions, there'll inevitably be someone asking me to try an alcoholic drink. Last night was no exception. Just a bit, it's mixed with a lot of other stuff, don't worry, it'll be nice. Just try it. They tell me it's very mild, they're not trying to get me drunk, it'll be fun, they'll drive me home, it's just for me to know the taste... and they always fail. Because they just don't get it. Even I don't.

This has nothing to do with the morality of alcohol. Yes, even Jesus drank wine, I know. And it's not just that I don't like the taste.

You know, I never knew how much impact a person could make on someone else till you confessed it to me. You did so, so terribly sheepishly because for as long as I've known you, you've refused to tell me why you won't eat apples. I offer them to you, I tell you about their antioxidant properties, we're both convinced they're not poisonous, but you just won't touch the darn thing, even if it's masked in cinnamon and sugar. The funniest thing is, you insist it is not the taste you don't like. Your dislike for them is almost pathological. One can tell by your response.

I never understood. So I stopped asking.

Just like how most people don't understand my reason for not touching a drop of alcohol. They stopped asking eventually.

Then one day, I asked. And you told me.

Your mother died when you were very young. And she hated apples. And that's why, since then, you've never touched the forbidden fruit.

Because she hated them. Period.

That was that.

Suddenly, when you told me that, a million things went off in my head. Because, my reason doesn't make sense in the exact same way yours doesn't, too. Our reasons don't make sense, they're completely embarrassing, and yet, they make total, complete rational sense, too. Since that day, I began to muster the courage to attempt to articulate and piece together my reason for not drinking.

It's not a morality issue. And it's not about a holier-than-thou attitude.

I've always looked up to you. I don't drink because you hate it. Period. End of story. I don't drink because you never did, because you told yourself you'd spend time with us instead of socialising unecessarily. And while I know perfectly responsible parents who drink and enjoy wine-tasting, I also respect you deeply for the choice you made. I don't drink because you've spent decades fending off peer pressure when people ask you to drink because you always want to be 100% safe for us, and you never want to be caught in a situation of a slippery slope. I don't drink because I saw that look of utter disappointment on your face when you found out J was drinking, even if it was only socially. I don't drink because I promised that for all my foolhardiness for travelling overseas and doing things too adventurous for your liking, I would never find myself in a compromising situation. I don't drink because I hate what drinking reminds me of, how its indulgence ruins lives, how it sits there like a screaming temptation, how it causes liver disease and all the awful things which make me depressed at the hospital wards, how I know it is an evil that could destroy mine because it opens doors to things I rather not ever know, how I'd rather shut off those doors than to allow them to linger as an option.

You always told me, "Keep good habits. Drinking is not one of them."

I guess, I wouldn't mind trying something new- I'm usually quite adventurous. But I don't drink, not even a drop, not even tasting now, because when I do, I feel I am betraying you.

It doesn't make sense. That is the closest to what I can make out of my pathological dislike for alcohol. That is all. I never talk about it because it doesn't make sense, and nobody needs to know. People can laugh, but doesn't matter to me.

Friends who love me enough don't pressure me. They don't even ask me why. Once, I had a friend bring a bottle of juice specially for me and only for me because he brought red wine for everybody else on his birthday picnic. There's nothing wrong with alcohol, but I do save special admiration for a person who can say no to it at all times. You've got to be wholeheartedly convicted for that sort of commitment.

One night you couldn't sleep so I kept you company and talked till past midnight. We were having one of those conversations again. "Remember to marry a patient man. And remember, Jia, don't be so difficult- you know how difficult you can be. And you just be sure about these 4 things- he mustn't smoke, mustn't gamble, mustn't womanise and mustn't drink. "

"Mustn't drink. How about socially? Like wine or cocktails and stuff."

"Alcoholism always starts off with social drinking."

Senior Pastor also encourages us not to, but he acknowledges it's something between ourselves and God. I didn't press you further, I knew your answer would be the same. I never judged you for not eating apples anyway.

Three times a week, you would faithfully walk three streets from your office to buy me the sweetest and costliest american apples you could find, and lug them three streets back to the carpark. You know how much I love apples, how I eat them every day. Your text message would be, "Bought you apples today. Enough to last till I get back."

Till you get back.

Because you travel all the time. So I've stopped caring when the occasional person makes fun of me about not having a night life and for always needing to leave early to go home, because I know for all your life, you made it a point to be home early for us too, and you'd like to see me home before you go to bed. I know you're tired. You are always tired, now. So I often say I have to go so I don't keep you waiting. I don't care what they say anymore, the looks they give one another when I say I've got to go, see you guys next time, have fun. I have to go home to see you, because as it is, we have so little time for each other. It saddens me when I go home, to see you... asleep already. Again. And you're flying off the next day.

Some things in life just... don't make sense.

And yet, it makes total complete sense. Like how I eat bittergourd not because I think I grew up liking them, but because when I eat them, it reminds me of you. Like how I enjoy sitting at the front seat of the car at night (no matter whose car it is and how old and creaky the car is)because it reminds me of how we used to go for spins when I was little. Like how I still buy the really cheap 70-cent Macdonalds icecream cone even though I now think it's really awful in comparison to REAL icecream, simply because it reminds me of how you always specially drove me out for half an hour just to get me one, whenever I felt down and needed a little cheering up.

Love, very often doesn't make sense, and yet, completely does.

Love you.

Heels of Steel.

"Anyone who hides from love needs healing.

It doesn't make any sense for anyone to hide from love.

Love attracts.

It's a magnet. "

- Aunty Ath

Maybe it's a sign, that it's about time I dealt with it.

I met a friend for tea today. He shared with me that the girl in his life was shutting him out because she was afraid of being in a relationship. Past issues were haunting her, and she felt unable to trust and receive love again.

" I don't understand it. And it's frustrating for me," he said. But I understood why she reacted that way.

Because I thought to myself, I would do the same too.

Run away, shut down, and hide from love. And that realisation scared me.

I was browsing in the church bookshop today when I chanced upon a book called "Hiding from Love" by Dr. John Townsend. It was about learning to change our withdrawal patterns within us, which can be both isolating and destructive to our growth and relationships. It didn't take me 2 minutes to decide I needed to read it.

And so, when he shared with me just a couple of hours later that this girl was "running away and shutting him out" because she was afraid, it wasn't hard for me to see that perhaps God had something about that to say to me, too.

I could perfectly understand her reaction, why she was scared, why she wanted out. She was hiding from love, and running away because she was afraid of being loved.

"It's so unfair to me, and frustrating too."

Till today, I am still trying to figure out what it is that I am petrified of.

Perhaps, it is the fear of knowing I might disappoint somebody or myself: I have bouts of moodiness, I sometimes think too much, and need a lot of personal space. I am not as independent as I show myself to be. And yet, fiercely so at times.

Two weeks ago at a train station, I spun around from a stooping position, only to find R, an old friend from primary school watching me, with arms folded. He had been standing there for a long time, observing me. R used to sit next to me in class in primary school. He used to bully me when I was ten, ha.

"What a surprise! Hi R, how're you doing?" I said, straightening my back from bending down.

" I recognised you from afar."

"Haha, oh dear. That can't be good. You mean I look the same since primary school?" I joked.

"No, cos of the way you were talking. You stopped to talk to the man in that wheelchair selling tissue."

"You mean Peter? Haha, I met him at another train station before heh."

" Yup, no one else would do that. That's how I recognised you from afar."

From afar.

Sometimes I think people see me from afar and see only the good bits. Medical student, triathlete, author, missionary-wannabe, overcomer- it's like she has it all together.

But what they don't know is how much I struggle with medical school. I wish I could tell you I love every bit of medicine, that it's my sole consuming passion- but it isn't. I like medicine, but to me, it's just a tool to reach people, the hurting and the poor. I don't enjoy putting intravenous lines and plugs into people, I don't enjoy seeing people cry, groan and die every day, I don't enjoy working 36-hour shifts. I don't. Sometimes, in the face of mercenary inustice and fatigue, I hate this job. Sometimes, I wish I were teaching children instead. But I do it because I believe there is a greater purpose in it, that God has a plan, and I am convinced of it.

What they don't know is that this triathlete isn't a real triathlete at all. I've only done one mini race and I'm an accident-prone amateur. What they don't know is that I tend to take things to the extreme, that I'm still struggling to find a balance between work and play, and learning what it means to be comfortable with my body. I am still finding that equiibrium. What they don't know is that triathlon is a seemingly healthy way for me to deal with life, and its absence has forced me to deal with the holes it used to help fill.

What they don't know is that behind every book are tears, buckets of tears because of my own wilfulness and sinfulness. Tears of my own, and of those who love me, those who had to see me suffer. Behind every book is a lot of unspoken suffering. It is not at all glamorous.

I remember I went home sobered that day. R had thought the world of me. He thought I was very kind and generous to Peter. He mentioned he thought I was a saint. What he didn't know was that on my feet were brandnew heels, heels that I liked very much and so bought the day before. Nothing wrong with buying heels except that they cost about sixty-dollars and I already have enough shoes. I bought them because I liked those polka-dotted, vintage-looking wedges very much. At best, I am inconsistent, I thought to myself. Remember, I left that elderly lady at the traffic light junction.

I could perfectly understand why she wanted to run away and hide. I have done it before. It is because of fear. I can see myself doing it again, and hurting people who love me. It is a silly, childish thing to do.

And perhaps, it's time to grow up. Not just to grow up, but to stop hiding.

Later we talked about relationships and marriage. "Relationships are important to me. But I've told God before, that if need be, I'm willing to go through life being single in the mission field if that's what's required of me..."

"That sounds very good. But is it also an excuse to run away (from marriage/intimate relationships)?"

Silence.

"Yes," I said. "It could be." My fingers searched for my cup.

At church today, my pastor made a specific appeal to everyone, for a couple, any couple to come forward to volunteer to be missionaries to Africa. They needed a married couple willing to stay there for about 5 years, who had skills in administrative work and with prior experience of leading a bible study group. The couple had to be committed, had to have had some form of leadership training in a bible school and no outstanding debts. I remember having goosebumps. Tears welled up in my eyes because I thought to myself, that was the answer to my prayer. For the longest time, I had prayed that my church would make appeals like this so that one day I could be sent out, too. Today was the first time an appeal like this was made, and I was glad. But Pastor emphasized he needed a married couple, and that troubled me, made me sit up and question God, and myself.

I suppose, we all have things to deal with. And it's about time I dealt with mine. John Townsend writes, that as children, our hiding patterns may have protected us in a threatening environment. But what served as protection for a child can become a prison to an adult, isolating us from the very things we need to heal and mature.

Do you have a hiding pattern, too?

There's a story in the bible about Adam and Eve. After eating the forbidden fruit out of rebellion, they hid from God. Hiding, besides disobedience, was one of the earliest sins committed. It is an ancient, ancient sin. If only they had come clean.

I can see how certain incidents from the past have left an indelible impression on me, how they has left me deeply cynical about relationships, how my defense system goes up and shuts my system down when my fences are breached. But I am also learning, that I am a grown-up now, and I have the choice to free myself of these debilitating and false beliefs. Time is needed to delve deep inside to ask the tough questions.

Are there things you are afraid of too? Things which prevent you from forming meaningful and intimate relationships?

I have been thankful for my injury. I have stopped asking God for healing, because I truly believe this is a season for rest and reflection and to sort the deep things in the hardened bits of my heart out. I truly believe, that once God has taught me all He needs me to learn this season, my leg will naturally be healed completely. But for now, it is good for me to be still.

And so I suppose, it is a good season for me to stop, to rest and reflect, and to finally be brave enough to come out from hiding to see the truth, to be honest with myself and to see my feet for what they really are- feet of clay clad in heels of steel. Because only then, can restoration begin and can I, can we truly, be set free.

" Then God called to Adam and said to him,

'Where are you?'

So he said, 'I heard Your voice in the garden,

and I was afraid because I was naked;

and I hid myself.' "

- Genesis 3:9-10

"To them, God said, "If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples.

Then you will know the truth,

and the truth will set you free."

-John 8:31-32

the Life in me.

Those of you who’ve been reading the papers in Singapore would know about this story.

Benjamin Mok was cycling with a group of 5 friends. He and one friend got knocked down. A car hit them. The driver was drunk. Benjamin was a good man. He was an avid cycling enthusiast. Being a safe rider, he wore a helmet. He was to pursue his PhD in USA. He died last week. The driver was a 62-year old doctor. He hit and ran. He got arrested. But Benjamin died.

My cycling friend, D, was telling me about his funeral which he attended last weekend and I said, “It could’ve been us. He rode safe, like we do. But he died, on the road.”

“Yea.”

Silence.

“You know, D, every time I ride, I think to myself: this could be my last ride.”


“What? Don’t say things like that!”

Most people don’t know this, but before every ride, I pray. And as morbid as it sounds, when I take my bike out for a ride, I prepare myself that it could be my last. That day when I got flung off and my helmet hit the tarmac, daddy’s words rang loud and clear, “Cycling is risky Jia, it’s not a safe sport.”

It isn’t, I know. After assisting in one too many surgeries and seeing the mangled bodies of road traffic accident victims, I would know.

But to be honest, what is truly safe doing?

And is our ultimate aim in life, to live safely?

If life were to be lived safely, who would ever step out of their comfort zones to help the poor and needy? Kitesong would never have happened- that trip to Nepal was life-changing for me, perhaps even more so precisely because of the Maoist revolt at the time, when people were burning flags, going on strikes and setting bombs off in our district. If living safe was of such priority, why practice medicine and be exposed to infectious diseases, why be a doctor? I accidentally pricked myself with a clean needle while I was on call last night- doctors are vulnerable to needlestick injuries and they can suffer from dire consequences if the needle is stained with a patient’s blood containing a treacherous virus like HIV. Why do triathlons? It is the endurance sport with the highest mortality rate from sudden cardiac arrest. Why take the emotional risk to have a child? Last night on my 36-hour shift, a nearly full-term lady came in an ambulance, sobbing her eyes out because of domestic violence. She was pregnant and her husband hit her. Today I witnessed the delivery of a stillborn baby. It was the mother’s first child, and she had carried the baby for almost 8 months when it’s heart stopped.

If life were to be lived safely, with 100% guarantee on everything, it would be impossible to live it out pleasurably. Perhaps, to some extent, it is true that risk and pleasure aren't quite exclusive.

It is foolish to take one’s life lightly. The fact is, I don’t. But I do know one thing-that dreams and passions sometimes have no thread of logic, nor semblance of sanity. I also know, that self-preservation often brings one to naught-only God knows our time to go, and when it is time, it is time.

Yet, I question myself: do I live my life irresponsibly? Are my pleasures illicit? I put myself in a number of high-risk categories: roadcycling, becoming a doctor, travelling to developing countries (often by myself or with strangers), inviting strangers home. Some part tells me, no.

Benjamin Mok died even though he took safety precautions. Yet, his death does not stop the rest of us from cycling though many of us mourned. Terrorist attacks erupt all over the world unpredictably, but that does not stop us from travelling altogether.

Why is pleasure so important to us?

Lately, I learnt that pleasure only becomes illicit when it distracts us from the goal which God has placed in our lives. Ravi Zecharias says, that a pleasure which refreshes us without causing us to derail from God's purposes for our lives, is certainly legitimate, essential and even pleasing in His sight.

I often ask God what He thinks about my sport. Picking up the triathlon sport has changed my life- the friendship, community and lessons I have gained along the way have shaped my character, deepened my faith and strengthened my trust in Him tremendously. It is what God has blessed me with to heal me from my illness. It has helped me live life passionately and to be more secure with who I am, how He has made me. Because now, when I swim, ride and run, I truly feel His pleasure. It is an intimacy I cannot describe and I have never experienced before. Perhaps, it is precisely because I experienced suffering in my illness that I now understand what pleasure means.

C.S Lewis wrote in his famous book, The Screwtape Letters, about a conversation between a senior and junior devil about their quest to stop a man from believing in The Enemy, who was God. Said the junior devil in great embarrassment and defeat, “I am sorry, the man has crossed over to The Enemy (God)! I tried to distract him but nothing could make him forgo his morning walk and evening reading. He seemed to enjoy it so much!” To that, the senior devil replied, “You blew it! You ought to have convinced him that he had to do the morning walk for exercise sake so it would be a drudgery, and you should’ve convinced him to read for the reason of quoting some wise thing to his friend so it would become uninspiring! ”

His point was, that Pleasure, when pursued correctly and enjoyed in its purest form, brings us into an intense intimacy with God. It's true.

And perhaps, no pleasure can truly be risk-free. I suppose, that the day we said we believed in God, we chose a difficult, dangerous path. After all, who but fools of faith would believe in the unseen. And I suppose, the day that happened, we underwent death, we surrendered our beings, so that God could live in us.


What a thought. We have died. We have died the way God died for us, so that God can live in and through us. If I live my life in deep gratitude, knowing my every pleasure was a risk but yet, has saved me from the clutches of death to bring me closer to enjoying God, then every day is a miracle, a bonus, a privilege. Every ride or endeavour or minute at work becomes pure pleasure. And because of that, we can enjoy God perpertually, the only novel pleasure we can never grow weary of. A dramatic perspective? Perhaps.

But I know, the more I enjoy my pleasures, the more I need to let go, cling loose, and be willing to give it up for a greater good. Ravi Zechariah also said, that a legitimate pleasure never jeopardises the right of someone else.

Once, in contemplating training for a longer race which would take up more of my time, I asked my family and Grandpa Zhou if they thought it was selfish. I was a little afraid asking them that question. But they gave me an astounding reply, "Go for it. We're behind you, we support you. We understand."


I learnt, that while Pleasure is beautiful, when clinged onto loosely and released, is even more beautiful, still.


One day, I might lose my bike, I might lose my health, I might lose my life. I might become paralysed in an accident, I might contract cancer. Nobody knows.

It sounds crazy, I know. To pursue and live every moment as if one has died, as if every minute were a gift of grace. But perhaps, that is the only way we can learn to abandon ourselves to what we believe in, to what our hearts long to pursue, to the calling we have been called to, fearlessly, decadently and finally, pleasurably.

"For through the Law I died to the Law,

that I might live unto God.

I have been crucified with Christ,

and it is no longer I who live,

but Christ lives in me;

and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God,

who loved me and delivered Himself up for me."

-Galatians 2:19-20

* This post is dedicated to the Benjamin Mok and his family, and the many cyclists and athletes who have lost their lives on the road and in their sport, doing what they love best.

New Year. (with extra goals!)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That said, in 2010, I hope to:

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

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

- learn oil painting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- learn how to make Tiramisu for my dad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey wj,

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

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

Ds

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

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

with a wonderful morning bike ride,

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

before my sister heads overseas again

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

and a time of thanksgiving

in knowing that you have

everything in control.

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

Thank you.

A blessed new year to you, too.

Happy Teachers' Day.

If I wasn't called into medicine, I would have been a full-time teacher. I love teachers, because of how they change the world one life at a time. They changed mine.

All the people who left significant imprints on my life and guided me onto paths which changed my life forever were teachers. The people who believed in me and gave me the encouragement to dream big dreams were teachers. The people who saw potential within me which I could not envision and who gave me hope to dare to have faith in myself were teachers. They were the source of what I am beginning to realise may be one of the greatest needs in my life, that is, encouragement.

I won't ever forget Mr. Raymond James Ho. Kitesong was dedicated to him, my General Paper and Literature teacher in junior college. More than teaching me, he inspired me. He taught us not just texts, but knowledge; he taught us not just how to score, but how to live; he taught us not just how to build a good CV, but to dream, and to dream big. I came from a mandarin-speaking background and Chinese school; I have never read the great classics of english literature because my serious self always preferred and still prefers non-fiction; in junior college, I was under a great deal of stress.

But Mr. Ho's life and personality inspired me so much that my appetite for reading grew overnight exponentially; his comments on my essays were so encouraging I remember I would write additional essays and leave them in his pigeon-hole over the weekend simply because I couldn't stop writing; in the afternoons we would talk at the umbrella-tables outside the staff room about life and history and the world and God, and he always left me in tears. So when I topped the standard in my general paper, I looked at him in disbelief and knew it was because of him.

He saw me not merely as another student, but saw each and every student in his class as an individual being capable of great things. He saw us each as a special person, as God's child. He truly loved us.

I believe, to a large extent, that Kitesong happened because of him, too. Just thinking about him makes me cry because I've never met a person so knowledgeable and humble, so incredibly loving and firm at the same time.

Perhaps the hardest thing for me about studying in medicine might be not having that precious teacher-student relationship anymore. Unlike before, there is no longer anyone to mentor, understand, nurture and encourage you. Every professor we meet has a thousand other things to do and patients to meet, and we almost never see them much again after the end of each module. We move on to a different specialty department and hospital within weeks. The teacher-student tie is tenuous, at best.

I miss you, Mr Ho. You have made one of the biggest impacts on my life, and on the lives of many, many others too.

I am beginning to realise how much encouragement means to me, how God has changed me from being overly independent to one who realises how much she needs to humble herself because she needs others, too. I am learning, how Words of Affirmation are my love language, and how Amos, Fungus and Michael were all spot-on when they said I had too little confidence in myself.

The first time Amos took me to train in the sea, he could tell I was stressed out by the strong currents. He pointed to a shore far away and asked if I could make it there. I had barely mastered free-style, didn't have a swimmer's stamina and with the high tide coming in, didn't think I could do it. Then he said, "It's okay if you don't want to, don't want you to drown ya. But I think you can. Of course I think you can." He gave me a thumbs up, his encouragement did wonders inside me, and then we did it four times.

During my flute exam, I remember I didn't have enough confidence in playing my scales. My teacher had a cold and couldn't show up to show me support as he originally intended. I faltered, and thought I wouldn't pass that section. I entered the exam hall hoping just to pass. I never expected, that had I had just a little more faith in my abilites, I would have scored a distinction. I just didn't expect to do well at all.

Last Sunday, the Methodist Missions Society invited me to give a sharing about Kitesong during their annual fundraising banquet. My mind was in a blank because I felt really out of place, and had it not been for the missionaries' encouragement, I don't think I would have known what to say.

I remember 4 years ago, it was Mr. Ho whom I first told about my silly idea about writing a book sometime and not once did he ever flinch. He listened to my ludicrous ideas and rainbow-coloured dreams coated with honey and sunshine with all seriousness. He always affirmed his students. Teachers teach, they encourage and mould and shape us. Mr. Ho did that for me, and more.

Being in medicine is so different. Consultants often put you down, to make you feel bad enough to study harder; people sometimes say disparaging things. It is part and parcel of medical training- we have come to accept it as a fact of life. I understand, that needing encouragement may be my greatest strength as well as weakness. As a writer, words are of great importance to me- and I am often broken or built through them. I cannot deny the immense power encouragement brings me, and how grateful I am for it. It is a weakness which makes me deeply cherish my few friends and ex-teachers who loved and love me by affirming me.

Just a month back, I met Mr. Ho while dining at a cafe. I stopped to chat, and as usual, he listened to me, asked me about my life and Inspired me all over again. He told me things which made me want to cry. He believed and believes in me in ways I cannot imagine anyone would. He truly understands my make-up and genuinely believes I will make a good doctor with a strong moral compass, truly believes I was made for this. He truly believes that I am a strong person. And it makes me want to cry because it reminded me of all the damaging words of disparagement I have been allowing to seep inside of me, all the hurtful things which people have said to me, either in insensitive jest or blatant frankness, and how it does no justice to the faith he, or God has in me.

It reminded me, that everyone needs encouragement to finish the race, and that I too, have a part to play in sowing good seeds into the lives of my children in Sunday school. The hurt which I have experienced reminds me too that we need to be careful with what we say, because God knows the hurt we can inflict on others with words. (Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing - Proverbs 12:18). This reminds me, that in some ways, we are all somebody else's teacher, too.

I am learning, that encouragement not only initialises me, it moves me till the very end. But I am learning too, that our greatest source of encouragement must come from our greatest Teacher, God Himself. We cannot let what our friends or what people say about us discourage us. And just as how teachers often see potential in their students, God Himself also sees us with His special lens. And if we only have faith enough to believe that He has good things to say about us, kind words to affirm us, and special things in store for us, perhaps we may find that we may achieve far more than we ever imagined possible too.

Happy Teachers' Day, Mr. Ho.