She hears.

“Pani. PAH- NEE.”

I pointed to my water bottle and said the words slowly, deliberately. Pani means water in Nepalese.

She looked at me, half bewildered, then mouthed, “Pani”.

“She spoke! She said Pani, did you hear that?”

“Yes,” said my missionary friend, who has just brought Alisha and her mother to Singapore again for their follow-up in hearing and speech therapy. “The therapists say she is learning very fast, nearly twice as fast as one normally would.”

I met them at the hospital just yesterday. I looked at Alisha, marveled at the miracle of her regaining her sense of hearing and having a fresh shot at life through your generosity and stood, speechless.

When I first heard of my missionary friend's request to find a doctor and sponsors to help this 4-year old Nepalese girl with a $100'000 hearing implant operation, my faith was shamefully weak. Why help her? Why so much money and effort for one person? How do we fly her into Singapore, and what about follow-up? Her mother had suffered from a meningeal infection during her pregnancy, resulting in the destruction of Alisha's cochlear. But her's isn't the only sob story-what do you expect me to do?

Sometimes, it amazes me to know the extent that God loves us, and how far He sometimes wants us to go for someone else. Who knows what God can do, when we put in just that little bit of faith, in what seems impossible.

Months ago, when God gave the money I was given for the roadbike I wanted away to her, I am embarrassed to say I was depressed for many weeks after that. Cycling became painful, so for a period I stopped, in spite of my friends’ persistent invitations to train with them, since not cycling relieved that acute sense of longing and struggle to grapple with my desires and God’s.

I shared with my missionary friend how God had orchestrated a beautiful series of events not only to bless me with my new bike, Faith, but with the sponsorship of my next book about Faith, and many lessons of trust, sacrifice and obedience.

We both had a moment of silence, taking in the beauty of all that had happened: Because of Alisha, the bike I originally wanted had to go. Because of that sacrifice and blind act of faith, a sponsor who knew about the case intervened to not only sponsor Alisha but my next book about Faith. Because of this turn of events, my friends and family made the story complete by surprising me with such a beautifully well-fitted, light and fast bike called… Faith, too. This bike is infinitely more meaningful and precious to me than the one I had originally wanted to buy out of self-centredness. It is precisely of this beautiful story behind my bicycle that I go so much faster and have gained so much more motivation and confidence to ride. I got a free seat again to help a friend ride 90km for this Sunday’s Aviva Half-Iron Man race. I’m scared, but I think faith will see us through.

Thank you for your generosity. For those of you who have given sacrificially to Alisha’s cause, know that you have not only given her the chance to hear, but to speak, to learn, to work and to have a chance at a potentially bright future as well. Her teachers say she is so expressive, participative and bright in her class, in spite of her late start in speaking. You have saved her from a lifetime of discrimination, unemployment, and possibly, prostitution too.

Just remember, that whatever you give, will be given back to you in return- in abundance, in grace, more than you could ever ask or think. Perhaps not in the way you demand, perhaps in a painful, longsuffering way, but surely in the best, and most beautiful way, in God's time.

"... I pray that out of God's glorious riches

he may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being,

so that God may dwell in your hearts through faith.

And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love,

may have power...

to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of God..."

-Ephesians 3

For richer or poorer.

This, must be the quietest Christmas I've ever had.

I used to be so big on buying gifts, wrapping presents, writing letters, attending party after party, listening to carols and decorating the house. I used to be so big on the festivity of the occasion. After all, what's Christmas without lights, fun and presents?

Perhaps it's because my final exams are in early January, because my sister is back for only a short few days before she disappears for America again, and because I've grown up, that glitzy gatherings and gifts which nobody really needs no longer hold such a fascination for me. Perhaps, since knowing God, I've learnt to appreciate Christmas and comprehend its profound meaning. Perhaps, I've just become more pensive and less outgoing.

There is something about the extravagance of Christmas which used to disturb me. How can people celebrate and indulge in an atmosphere of hedonistic decadence when half the world is suffering? But I realised, I had missed the point. Some of us, myself included, are trapped by the traditional thinking that the poor always suffer more, and the rich ought to be ashamed for flaunting their riches in the face of the stark reality of poverty. I am beginning to realise, how rich and poor are both poor and suffer in their own ways, and neither may be better off than the other.

While the poor are cold and stricken by infection, poverty and hunger, the rich are lonely and stricken with illnesses of insecurity, surfeit and emptiness. Sadness, loneliness and emptiness respect no one, and strike hardest amidst festive cheer. The poor may be hungry but huddling with their families, while the rich may be drunk on indulgence but hurting inside. Suicide rates are highest in Christmas, did you know that?

And I started to miss you all because I realise that rich or poor, better or worse, each of us have a God-shaped hole that no food, water, possession or human love can fill.

Suddenly, as more of my closest friends started to fly off for their holidays and I felt more and more alone, I missed us washing clothes together on the grey slates of the orphanage, with you giggling and splashing, refusing to let me wash your petticoats because they were "too dirty for you to wash, didi (big sister) Wai Jia. Come, you wash our shirts only okay? Cleaner."

I thought of how so many of us have domestic help to do our washing and chores but are nonetheless busier, and less grateful.

Suddenly, I missed us running and shouting and screaming our lungs out, free in the fields, as we breathed hard against the wind in the cold wintry evening, losing ourselves in the game. Suddenly, I remembered how you all were in the fields playing and shared but one bicycle, but were happy and contented and grateful.

I thought of how grieved I was at losing the bicycle which I wanted, while all of you share one.

Suddenly, I missed us talking. Missed the way you made me feel like a child and a mother at the same time. Missed the way you all would come round and tell me story after story about your parents far back in the villages and how meeting them was a 5-day journey back on foot because no vehicle could go where you stayed.

I thought of the many of us who have parents we live with but sometimes don't even make time to talk to.

Suddenly, I missed being with the missionary couples in the freezing winter, listening to them tell me how each of you were so precious in their eyes. I missed the time I was so full of faith that I would find someone with a heart like mine to want to own an orphanage and adopt or foster children. I missed the time I was so certain I would find someone like that.

And I thought about the many of us who have children we feed, but don't take time to understand.

I realised, that rich or poor, emptiness can be a cruel equaliser. And no amount of financial disparity can separate the levels of loneliness each group feels.

This, must be the quietest and yet, most peaceful Christmas I've had. For I've finally learnt to take time off, to spend quality time with my family, to give thanks for the possessions I have, and to recharge my faith, eroded with time, in the calling I've felt called to. It's about time I went to visit the poor again. I miss you. In less than a month, after my final exams, I will be travelling to a jungle missions hospital in Kalimantan to learn a little more of what it means to be a missionary doctor.

I am learning, that the emptiness inside can only be filled by a God-shaped piece.

I am glad for Christmas, glad for today and the sulleness I feel, glad that I'm not at another party but home with my family, glad that J reminded me to be open-minded with regards to looking for a life partner, glad that I'm a little discouraged that I might never find someone who could love Godme&missionwork and promise to be with me 'for richer or poorer', glad that I miss you all this much...

... because it reminds me, that God's infinitude, and love and company is always with us. And that is what fills, and what satisfies, truly.

For richer or for poorer.

He was born on this day for the same reason called love.

But the angel said to them,

"Do not be afraid.

I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.

Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you;

he is Christ the Lord.

This will be a sign to you:

You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."

-Luke 2:10-12

Bye.

Perhaps doing good may be a lot like having someone say goodbye to you. Sometimes, it can be bittersweet. Many times, whether its making a donation or helping a stranger in need, we may find ourselves never ever seeing them again too. The good is done. Bye.

And unless we recognise that our transient particiation in loving them allowed us to be part of a greater miracle, and that was the blessing in itself, we shall always be dissatisfied, feeling like we were left behind. Bye, can be a lonesome word.

Although most people have been very kind and encouraging regarding what happened between my bike and Alisha, a few have chided me, thinking it foolish. Why give up something that rightfully belongs to you? She's Nepalese-and after you give the money up, you might just never see her again. She'll just say thanks and bye to you, that's all. Why'd you do something so silly, you.

Bye. But it was the most beautiful word I heard, I promise.

So there we were, in an empty space of a secluded shopping mall, laughing and giggling and squealing like 2 four-year olds having good fun. Mimicking everything I did, Alisha's peals of laughter rang high in the air as other people watched her, enthralled by her girlish yet boisterous charm. Jo the missionary, Alisha and her mother, L (the lady who helped pay off Alisha's operation and who would like to sponsor my next book to help people suffering from depression and eating disorders), and myself had dinner together, and Alisha and I were just having some post-dinner fun.

I called her name. And she turned around.

I stood back in amazement. Just weeks ago before the operation, whenever we wanted her attention, we would call out her name over and over, forgetting that she could not hear one bit. Getting her attention involved chasing after her, with her curious, wandering self in utter oblivion, and going so close to her and waving at her face.

This time, I called her name. And she turned around.

Suddenly, at that moment, as I stood in awe and wonder, I suddenly realised the miracle which had just taken place. At that moment, I was affirmed- in spite of some very human emotions I had to grapple with, I never regretted giving up my new bike. God had given me the chance to be part of that miracle, and I stood amazed.

Jo, the missionary, writes to share her thanks to those of you who have shown your love and concern:

Someone said that real giving is to give till it hurts. God has used Alisha to reinforced this lesson in my life... I have asked myself, "What would I do if she was my daughter?" Would I fold my arms and say "Let's wait for others to give" or would I participate in the miracle of giving?"

I am thankful that many of you have participated in the miracle of giving. I believe as we look around us, there are many more such miracles waiting to happen. All we need is to take that step of faith.

2 Cor9:9 says: "They share freely and give generously to the poor.

Their good deeds will be remembered forever."

Like Dr L said, this is a long journey for Alisha, it may takes 2 years or more. Please continue to pray for Alisha, mom and me, that we will not get discouraged in this journey. Alisha's mom probably need a lot of support as it can get even more difficult when they return back to Nepal. They will be going back to Nepal on 15 Dec and may return to Singapore 3 months later for another block of mappings and speech therapy.

As usual, Alisha had an obsessive fascination with my ear-rings. The first time she saw me, I remember her stunned look at my dress (the way modern women in Singapore dress compared to how those in her culture in Nepal do has been a fascination to her), before reaching straight for my dangly plastic jewels, gesturing for me to help put them on her ears, and then trying to put them on her mother's. Over dinner, with her new cochlear implant on her left ear, she did the same thing.

Mesmerized by and fiddling with my ear-rings

Trying to put them on her ears

and on her mother's ears too.

Almost as if she knew we were celebrating the success of her operation, she was in high spirits. After she had eaten her share of rice, she crawled next to me and gestured for some of my noodles. One bite, and she was hooked. She has a voracious appetite, and as she continued to persuade me to share my dinner portion with her, I marvelled at the now-beautiful possibility that she would one day be able to not only gesture, but elegantly communicate to others her needs, wants and thoughts.

Mouthful after mouthful!

Here's sharing with you one of the most special moments of her journey- that of hearing for the very first time. It was scary, no doubt-but since when was embarking on a new journey ever not?



It didn't take too long for her to warm up to her surroundings and enjoy her fifth sense though:
<

The surgeon wrote to us, after Alisha's cochlear implant was switched on a month after the operation when the inflammation had resolved:

"Alisha is a lovely and spirited girl. Her switch-on went very well, despite her having had an ossified cochlear that made it necessary to modify the surgery and implant electrode... At the end of the consultation of that first switch-on session, she mimicked my 'bye' in the same tonal sing song way that I said it to her! Maybe my ears were playing tricks? But another colleague said the same happened when he bade her 'bye'!

Thank you very much for the wonderful support and prayers for this special girl, her mommy and Josephine.

Every patient is special, but the way your have all come together for her makes this extra beautiful for me. She has a long way to go though, as her implant comes at a late age. But I am sure she will be able to work this out slowly, please give her time. It will get better and better with use, even up to 2 years later she will still be improving. My audiologist and speech therapist will be holidaying in Nepal in January and visiting Alisha to see if they can help too. Unfortunately, I cannot be there as I will be in a workshop in Innsbruck then. Another time, definitely, though.

As I left her that day and waved goodbye, I heard her say "Bye" to me too.

"What did she say? Did she just say 'bye' to me?" My face was deadpan.

Bye! It was the sweetest sound. Because she can hear, Alisha can now learn speech for the very first time. She can now communicate her thoughts and desires with a means other than comical experessions and clown-like gestures.

Thank you for walking this journey with Alisha, thank you for your encouragement and your acts of love. For all your acts of kindess and generosity, know that it has made a difference to a life that could impact an entire community in ways we could never imagine.

Know that even though you may never see her with your very own eyes, and it may feel as if you're on the bittersweet end of a parting occasion, you have been a part of a miracle nonetheless. Thank you for your emails to encourage me to keep cycling in spite of my struggling with my flesh. Thank you for walking with us.

You might never see her face to face. I might never see what I wanted to have for myself again too. Doing good, may be a lot like being bade goodbye.

But I promise, it was the most beautiful 'bye' I heard in my life, the sweetest sound. And it reminded me, of the sweetness that doing good brings, the honey sweetness which outweighs any bitterness, because it is the work truly central to the soul of humanity, the blessing truly close to the heart of God. No matter if we're being bade goodbye.

"Let us not grow weary while doing good... ...

Therefore, as we have opportunity,

let us do good to all..."

-Galatians 6:10-11

* To those of you who would still like to contribute, donations are still welcome as Alisha's speech therapy sessions will be ongoing and her cochlear implant will be lifelong. Every bit counts.

Can I ask?

A lot of things in life may never be explained. If God knows what we need and want, why do we need to ask?

I found it amusing how in the past few weeks, it almost felt as if God was using my Sunday School children to teach me the big lessons of life which I hadn't yet learnt. My co-teachers kept going on leave such that I had to take over their lessons over the past month to teach my Sunday School kids about Prayer: When Alisha first arrived and was $22'000 short, the lesson I was assigned to teach that week was having Faith in prayer. It was through preparing for and teaching my 7-year olds that lesson that I decided to be bold and to have faith in Alisha's situation; When my new bike was given over for her, the lesson I was assigned was being joyful always and thankful in everything. It was through teaching the lesson that I became determined to learn contentment and gratitude. And last week, just as I was struggling, struggling, struggling to find that at-times-elusive-emotion during my rides, the lesson plan for me was to teach the children to be brave to Ask, Seek and Knock on God's door for the requests we have in life.

"Ask and it shall be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened." -Matthew 7:7-8

Suddenly, it blew my mind to realise how often we take our needs and wants into our own hands, and forget to ask God for them. It is sometimes hard to pray the "me" prayer, isn't it? It's easy to pray for others, but we feel selfish praying for ourselves. And above all, perhaps most of us wonder- if God knows us inside-out, then doesn't He know what I need and desire?

As I was preparing the lesson plan and teaching the children, it suddenly blew my mind to realise that all this while, though I had wished and hoped madly for one, I had not once asked God for a well-fitted roadbike with proper brakes and gears. I had complained, I had whined, but I never made the direct request. It sounded too stupid, selfish and in the face of what Alisha needed, what disadvantaged children all over the world need, I was too ashamed to pray about it.

"So children, if God really knows what you need, then why do we need to ask?"

As I myself prepared for the lesson, I found myself going into the deep places of my heart to find out why too. Why? Why do I need to ask you if you know what I need?

My co-teacher, whom the kids call Uncle A, devised a game. The children were to fix a jigsaw puzzle, to which he had witheld some of the pieces. The initial response of the children was, "MISSING! MISSING! THERE'RE MISSING PIECES!!" It was only much later that they started asking us for them.

It was then that I realised, how often we whine about situations without actually asking God directly for solutions. It almost seems too ludicrous to ask since we assume He should know. It was then that I realised, that the process of asking God, of prayer, is one which cultivates humility, trust and faith. It was then that I realised, that the posture of asking requires one to cleanse one's heart and examine one's motives for asking.

" Sometimes, we ask. But did you notice Uncle A didn't give you what you needed immediately? Why is it we don't get what we want at times? Is it because God doesn't love us? Or is it because we need to ask more persistently, need to learn patience or ask the right questions in the right way?"

I taught them James 4:3- "You ask and do not receive, because you ask amiss, that you may spend it on your pleasures."

"What is the meaning of 'amiss'? It means asking wrongly. Sometimes, we don't get what we want immediately maybe because we need to check our hearts? How many of you have asked something from Mummy and Daddy, only not to get it? Did you ask for a Playstation (PSP) for selfish reasons? Like to show off, or did you want to play with it during your exams?"

The children became quiet. The PSP anecdote always grips the little tech-ies.

I don't know why but it suddenly dawned upon me that perhaps, through the series of Sunday School lessons God had brought me through, He was trying to tell me something which I had resisted for so long- that there was a reason for Alisha, for what happened between my desire and her need, but more importantly (and this was what blew my mind), that perhaps, it was okay to Ask Him for something I wanted so personally. It blew my mind.

Ask, seek and knock. This lesson came after I was determined to learn contentment and thankfulness. God, you telling me something? To be honest, I surprised myself to realise that all this while, I never asked God directly for a well-fitted bike which had proper gears and well-functioning brakes. I assumed He knew and I felt stupid and selfish asking for it. So I never did. And it hurt because I couldn't figure out why there had to be so much drama. I could've just got it the day I lay my eyes on that piece of metal and carbon. God, if you are the giver of all good gifts, then why not?

It's hard to pray the "me" prayer, isn't it?

At the end of the lesson I always ask the children what they've learnt. All this while, they've been following the story about Alisha and my bike. So I asked them, " How come sometimes we don't get what we want? Jiejie Wai Jia wanted a bicycle right, but it didn't come- why? What are all the reasons for unanswered prayers that we learnt today?"

"BECAUSE WE NEVER ASKED!"

"BECAUSE GOD HAS A BETTER PLAN!"

"BECAUSE OUR HEARTS ARE NOT CLEAN!"

I wondered if they saw how my face was stunned for more than a moment. They were right. I never asked God- I assumed it was impossible. I didn't see how He had a better plan, how much He was transforming and moulding my character through this tediously painful process. And I was too ashamed to ask because perhaps, my motives weren't pure. Had I not surrendered my desires enough? Perhaps sports still had its hold on me?

I was stunned in quiet amazement when I realised that the children taught me more than I did them. That the lesson on asking God bravely for our requests came right after the day I cycled so slowly with my training group that I completely dropped out-yet, I was happy. It was at that moment that my motives were purified- as I finally realised, that I had reached a point where I wanted a well-fitted bike, still, no longer because I wanted to be faster than someone, perform better for myself, or because sports had a hold on me, but simply because, I enjoyed the company of my training friends, enjoyed the way cycling, running, swimming brings me so close to the place of gratitude near God's home.

It also amazed me to realise how God has His own timing regarding giving His children good gifts. Just like how He had waited, waited, waited before granting my request to find funding to publish my next book "A Taste of Rainbow". It surprised me to see how my prayer saw some glimmer of an answer only through giving my new bike up, a symbolic gesture of how God, and not sports or my desires, had priority in my life. It amazed me to see how perhaps, He had delayed an answer to my prayer so He could bring me to that place.

J asked me 2 days ago, "So since that day, have you actually seen something you liked?"

"No actually. I've not."

That reminded me of how my new bike, if it ever comes, would have to come in God's perfect way and time. I know deep down, it would take more than a miracle for me to find something I like, to find something which would sit at peace with every fibre of my being, and to actually own something I would not feel guilty for. So what if my parents agreed to getting me a bike? It would frustrate me more to have to decide how much to spend and live with the guilt of getting a purchase for myself that God did not intend. So I know, the peace would have to be from Him alone. Some part of me had given up on my bike already. Yet, the children, the missionary, J and Aunty Ay all told me the same thing, "It'll come, Wai Jia. In God's time, it'll come."

I remember I had tears in my eyes when the missionary told me after I had given her the cheque, "I really hope you get your bike Wai Jia. You know, God is not a scrooge."

So I am learning, that even though it's hard to pray the "me" prayer, that perhaps, I just need to open my heart and mouth to learn to ask. To ask, not from my parents, not from men, but to ask Him directly, with patience, with trust, in gratitude and in faith, even though it is excruciatingly painful and I would rather block the thought out. Even though I don't see how it could possibly happen. Even though I almost think it silly and futile.

I know, that this would be a provision only God could provide.

I remember teaching the children, "Sometimes, beyond asking, we need to SEEK God and knock at His door over and over, because through the process, we learn something deeper, our hearts become cleaner. Remember to ask God with a clean heart, okay?"

I am learning, we just have to trust, that all things work for good, that we are all on a learning journey, learning about trust and faith, patience and hope. And that perhaps, it's okay to ask, as long as our hearts become cleaner, purer and closer to the heart of God.

"You ask and do not receive,

because you ask amiss,

that you may spend it on your pleasures."

-James4:3

"Ask and it shall be given to you;

seek and you will find;

knock and it will be opened to you.

For everyone who asks receives,

and he who seeks finds,

and to him who knocks it will be opened."

-Matthew 7:7-8

Alisha's implant has been turned on. For the first time, she responded to us calling her by name. Thank you for your love and concern for her. Your gifts of love are still welcome as her follow-therapy will be on a long-term ongoing basis and your donation will still go a long way to helping her lead a normal life. Thank you for your emails- God bless you.

Open hands.

* Warning: This post may be offensive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have you learnt to open your hands?

" There will always be poor people in the land;

therefore... be openhanded...

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

- Deuteronomy 15:11

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

- Proverbs 31:20

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

Before you were born I sanctified you..."

- Jeremiah 1:5

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

No more tears.

How far would you go for one person?

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

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

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

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

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

How far would you go for one person?

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

Sometimes, this requires sacrifice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Ms Wai Jia,

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

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

D

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

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


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

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

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

You shall surely give to him,

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

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

For the poor will never cease from your land;

therefore you shall open your hand wide to your brother,

to your poor and your needy,

in your land."

- Deuteronomy 15: 7-11

No Sacrifice.

"You still lack one thing.

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

-Luke 18:22

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why, God? Why.

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

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

And He said,

"The things that are impossible with men,

are possible with God.

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

So He said to them,

' Assuredly, I say to you,

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

for the sake of the kingdom of God,

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

and in the age to come eternal life."

- Luke 18:28-30

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

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

Baby miracle.

Have you ever felt like a situation was impossible, too big for you, and then decided not to try at all? Because after all, trying requires effort, and a certain amount of faith which requires putting oneself on the line.

When I received the email, I am ashamed to say that I felt just that way. Josephine, the missionary who gave up her life to help needy women and children in Nepal, had written to me about a little 4 year-old girl named Alisha.

Dear Wai Jia,

Greetings from Nepal!

I have a little girl name Alisha , she is about 4 years old. She was born with hearing impairment and despite several visits to the doctor in Nepal to fix a hearing aid, she is still not able to hear. I am wondering if we can rally a group of doctors in Singapore who will be willing to help her. I wonder if by performing an operation, she will be able to hear better. I think she has the potential to speak but is unable to due to her hearing problem.

I am praying about helping her and her mother. Her mother is a single mother with 3 children to look after. I hope to help her reduce her burden by seeking treatment for Alisha. I will try to raise funds for their air ticket and other expenses.

Much Love,

Jo

A few days ago, Jo shared with me that this idea came into her mind as I'd previously shared Qing's story with her, about how a group of Singaporean doctors had rallied together to help this girl from China who had been brutally disfigured by acid to see and face life again. If they did it for Qing, could someone do it for little Alisha too?

To be honest, a weary thought flitted into my mind, "Rally a group of doctors here to help her? I know I had shared with her Qing's story but it was a doctor himself who arranged it. I'm not sure if I can help, I'm only but a medical student- what are you expecting me to do?" I truly had little faith in the situation. There are hundreds of needy people out there, what can I do?

I thought the situation was quite improbable, unrealistic even. I wanted to turn her down, tell her I wasn't optimistic about helping her, tell her that there're too many needy people out there and well, we just can't go that far for each of them- it isn't realistic. Don't you know how difficult and expensive it will be to fly Alisha in and out of Singapore? Don't you know how expensive the entire procedure will be?

Looking back, I certainly deserved a good throttle. I forgot, that we must do our best to help one person at a time, one soul at a time. Whoever God brings to our doorstep is who we must love. No matter if there're 9 billion people in the world. No matter. I was deeply skeptical about the whole ordeal, and goodness knows what it was which possessed me to reply instead, "Sure, Jo. Rest assured I'll do my best to see what I can do."

It would take a miracle, I thought, for Alisha to hear again.

Dr. G, an extremely well-connected doctor with a big heart for God gave me a number of an ENT(ear, nose and throat) surgeon to call. This surgeon gave me hope because his secretary gave me a date to speak with him personally. He was famous in Singapore, well known for his skill. After waiting for his reply for several weeks, and calling his office only to be received by his secretary again, my heart sank to the floor when she finally confessed to me, "Ah yes, I did speak to him about it. But... er... well.... er... he's too busy for the rest of the year."

Too busy. I had waited and prayed for weeks only to receive a let-down.

I was disappointed. Still quite in shock, I asked Dr. G for the number of another doctor, Dr. K.

Dr. K was more cordial. I called him during my lunch hour. His warmth over the phone assured me of his humanity. After I had explained the situation, however, he said, "Sorry, this is not my specialty. Why don't you contact Dr L from X hospital. She'll help you."

"Could you link me up with her? Perhaps give me her contact number?"

" Go through her secretary. Or you can find out her email on the Internet," was his brisk reply before he hung up. Appalled by his lack of concern and apparent disinterest, I lost my appetite. After what had happened with the previous doctor, I suddenly became outraged and discouraged. Did they not realise what they had just done? But thank goodness he called me back 2 minutes later, almost sheepishly, as if he had realised the gravity of his doing and after he had sensed the sheer disappointment in my voice.

"I'm so sorry, Wai Jia. Let me link you up with Dr L. This is her number, contact her, yes? I'm sure she will help you."

But by that time, my hopes had dwindled. I had waited, prayed, made several phonecalls and sent many emails to various doctors, only for all that to come to nothing. Have we really worked our whole lives in the name of helping the needy, only to become too busy to serve the people who need us most? I don't have the right to judge- perhaps they are busy helping others too. But it certainly made me think and wonder how our choices and reactions can shape and change us.

By this time, my faith store had diminished. In my head, I was crafting an apology letter to Josephine already: I'm sorry about Alisha, Jo. I tried my best.

Sometimes, you may just be one shot away from succeeding.

For Dr. L's voice was enthused with passion and love when she heard my plea. "Oh wow, I've been praying to God to please send me someone like this to help for ages! I'm so glad you called. Thank you for the opportunity!"

My heart sang with joy at her response. I had met someone with a heart of gold.

Even then, we were far away from reality. A hearing implant would cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. The operation itself would cost tens of thousands, even if Dr. L waived her surgical fee. Was it possible?

"Don't worry, Wai Jia. Rest assured I'll be taking over this case. I'll fly to Nepal to do the operation if need be."

I remember thinking before, this would need a miracle. A miracle God provided indeed.

So 4 months later, you can imagine how amazed I was to see little Alisha right in front of my very eyes.

Little Alisha, though deaf, is incredibly intelligent and communicative through her expression and creative gestures. In a world of silence, she would smile, chuckle and imitate adults with curious glee. Within minutes, she had wooed all the nurses and medical staff at the hospital.

Her operation was supposed to be on Thursday, just 4 days ago. We were all set for the operation which would change her life. But because of a chesty cough, the anaesthetists have postponed her operation to this coming Thursday instead.
It is just as well, for it so happens that I would be doing my Anaesthesia module in the same hospital, and assigned to be in the operating theatre. This means I would have the chance to witness her operation!

It amazed me, truly, to be humbled and shamed by my own lack of faith. I learnt, that for all we are worth, we very often do not fathom nor see how on earth we could possibly provide for the needy. We very often do not wish to go too far for a single soul. But perhaps, all we need to see is how we can do little things in little steps of faith. Perhaps, that is all that is needed for us to partner with God, who brings circumstance, money and the right people into perfect cosmic cooperation. It is He who eventually makes the miracle.

So don't ever look down on what you can do for others. Don't ever doubt your ability to be useful for God, or helpful to the needy. And most importantly, never doubt the ability of God to put people, money and circumstance together, even when you feel your hands are tied in an impossible situation. I am learning, that though we may feel unsure about our part in solving a problem, we can certainly be sure of what God has called us to do, and put our faith that all things will work for good. We may only care about large-scale projects, but God cares deeply, even for and especially the individual.

Just remember, that when you feel like throwing in the towel, you could just be one try away from success. We can't save the whole world, but with a little bit of faith, we certainly can change one life at a time.

If you can't feed a hundred people, then feed just one.

-Mother Teresa

'He defended the cause of the poor and needy,

and so all went well.

Is that not what it means to know me?' declares God.

- Jeremiah 22:16

*Little Alisha's operation fees would have cost hundreds of thousands because of the cost of the hearing implant. After a special request was made to the implant company, however, the cost has been greatly reduced. Nonetheless, the operating fees etc still amount to $32'000, even after waiving the surgical charges. She is still $15'000 short.

If you would like to make a donation to help little Alisha hear again, please send me an email at waijia@hotmail.com

so I may link you up with the necessary contacts.

God bless you.

Topsy Turvy.

When I was invited to give a short sharing about Kitesong during the fundraising dinner last Sunday, I didn't know what to say. I found it most difficult to compress all that God had done in my life through this journey in the 2 minutes which they gave me. Feeling rather out of place as well as being the youngest person in such a posh hotel amidst a sea of tai-tais (slang for middle-aged married ladies) in their glittery dresses, expensive jewellery and make-up, and wealthy businessmen, I tried my best not to appear awkward without make-up in the simple black cotton dress my sister had given me a year ago.

My mind went blank when I got on stage, and though people were very encouraging with regards to the little bit which I shared, I think if I had a second chance to say it right, I would have liked to share how things are really not what they seem. God is topsy-turvy, you see.

On the surface, it seems as if I did a great thing for the under-privileged. In truth, it was not me, but my publisher and his wife, the entire missions society, the missionaries who have poured out their lives for the poor and the generosity of many people who made the fundraising to build a new orphanage for the underprivileged children in Nepal possible. On the surface, it seems as if I am what the world may label a "good" person. In truth, not a single one of us can truly be "good"- I struggled with pride, greed and vanity through the entire process- I believe the root of anorexia is a form of warped pride. On the surface, it seems like I am a sensible, mature, compassionate person. In truth, I suffered from a people-pleasing complex.

You see, God is absolutely topsy-turvy. Topsy-turvy because even though we're so broken and imperfect, He often likes to lavish His love on those who are weak, flawed and wretched. If you have a peek in the bible, He always liked to involve the most unlikely people in great adventures and phew, am I relieved to know that!

When I first made friends with God and hardly knew anything much about Him, He decided to use an angsty teen who suffered with lots of self-esteem issues to participate in the adventure He had in store, which comprised of a book, a trip to Nepal and a new orphanage for 30 children. But once I became proud, self-absorbed and let my big-headed self get the better of me, He broke me through a period of depression and physical illness, took away all the gifts He had blessed me with, so I could truly understand the meaning of gratitude and humility. He is topsy turvy because He likes to use those who are weak and simple in the eyes of the world, but hates those who bask in worldly adoration. He likes to use those who are broken, and hates those who self-exalt.

It intrigues me to know that when I was ill and struggling, the missionaries in Nepal too were facing much difficulty with purchasing land for the new building. And it was only after I had recovered, after I had truly grown, that their plans made new advancements. Their steam picked up when mine did. But it shouldn't amaze me, should it? To know that more than our works and ministries, God is far more interested in our characters, and growth.

Thank you all for your support and generosity. I cannot thank you enough for the many times you randomly put money trustingly into my hands "just to bless the children" or wrote the Home a cheque of hundreds or thousands of dollars. I cannot thank my publisher and his wife enough for giving me a chance, and for being so encouraging. I cannot thank my parents enough for loving me so much to let me go and pursue my dreams

And thank you God, for being just the way You are, topsy turvy.

Alabaster Jars.

When I expressed interest to learn pottery during my time in Nepal, I received mixed responses- raised eyebrows, laughter and bewilderment. Of all things, why pottery?

" 'Arise, and go down to the potter's house,

and there I will cause you to hear my words.'

-Jeremiah 18:2

So I went, in seeming foolishness and stupidity, at the break of dawn each frosty morning, with a shawl wrapped around my frazzled hair to a potter's house at the outskirts of the city. An interminably long walk, an unpredictable ride on a rickety public bus and a frantic yelp to be let down when I caught sight of the place.

For four days I spent time at the potter's house, learning the ancient art handed down by family tradition in a freezing basement. My teacher was the son of the master potter, and all day we would fashion clay, paint and drink tea. He would talk, and I would listen intently to what he had to say about the art of pottery, and epiphanies would hit me as the clay became moulded in the spinning wheel.

"To be a good potter," he said, "you must know nature of clay. Nature of clay is very important- how much water you need to add, when it will break... all this Good Potter will know."

He put his hands into a huge lump of clay at a corner of the run-down factory and beckoned me to do the same. "You must slap clay like this," he said, "Slap hard, so no air bubbles inside. Or else, pot will break. You must know clay's nature." I smiled, for I thought- If God is our master potter as described in the bible, then how true was what he said, for God, the good potter, knows our natures, inside and out. And as promised, He never gives us more than what we can bear. (1 Cor 10:13)

"To make nice pot, before you start, your clay must be in centre of wheel. Must be centre, exactly, or else no good. Pot no good if not in centre," he said. And then with great dexterity and brute strength, he slapped the mound of clay on the rapidly spinning wheel, moulding it into a hill.

It wasn't easy to adjust the clay to be dead centre of the wheel. When it was even slightly out of place, the clay would spin out of control, and its shape turned out ugly, deformed. It was the first and most pertinent step. Nonetheless, how many of us are able to trust God with what He has in store for us? How many of us reply against our maker, and, looking in envy at others, rail against the way He has made us- in discontentment and anger?

"Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God?

Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus?

Hath not the potter power over the clay,

of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour?"

-Romans 9:20-21

Likewise, unless we allow ourselves to be in the dead centre of God's will, to trust Him to fashion us into whatever He has in mind for us, how else can we be made beautiful in due time?

Because clay is so soft and malleable, the art of pottery isn't the least bit easy. Many times, I had to throw away the deformed clay as the clay spun out of control at the last moment. Discouragement set in, but not before I was reminded of the importance of yielding to God instead of resisting and to recognise the power and love He has over and for us. For He destroys only because He wishes to refine us to be perfect and useful.

"And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter:

so he made it again another vessel, as seemed good to the potter to make it.

'Can I not do with you as this potter?' said God. 'Behold, as the clay is in the potter's hand, so are you in my hand..."

Jeremiah 18:4-6

Later, my teacher brought me to his shop upstairs, where the finished ceramic products stood proud, awaiting to be delivered to various countries. From the same lump of clay came different jars, cups, plates, mugs, candleholders and pots. Each one was hand-made, unique, and incomparable. Yet, how often do we wish we were made another kind of vessel, one that was more useful than what we are now? Perhaps we forget, that though there are various vessels of different uses in a house, it is our humility which makes us worthy to be of great use by our master, as we yield ourselves to Him for the very function we were purposed for.

"But who are you, O man, to talk back to God?

Shall what is formed say to him who formed it, 'Why did you make me like this?'

Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for noble purposes and some for common use?"

-Romans 9:20-21

Sometimes, even I too find it hard to believe, that we are all so different, incomparable, made for different purposes.

"They're beautiful," I said. "What did you do to make them so beautiful?"

" Ah. After moulding, you leave clay to harden in air for few weeks. Then put in biscuit-furnace to fire for 8 hours at 800 degrees Celsius. Take out to cool, paint colour, then put in colour-furnace for many hours again. Final step us put pot into glaze-furnace. Very very hot, but necessary step, you know."

It was a long process, time-consuming and very tedious. One afternoon as we sat in the warm sun to paint, I picked up a saucer which had been put into the kiln. As soon as I touched it, it broke. "Uh oh, why?" I asked.

"Fire not hot enough," said my teacher. "Halfway electricity got cut off, and oven no fire. Not hot enough, so it break."

When I returned to the orphanage to see the children that evening, I shared with them what I had learnt. It was a profound lesson for me- sometimes we just can't understand why God would put us through trials, why a being so good would toss us into the fire at such high heat. What we don't know is that the higher the heat, the stronger we become. Every trial we go through has a purpose, shaping our character in the deepest of ways.

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds,

because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance."

-James 1:2

I know it's been a long time since I last wrote. I took time off from writing to go into my Father's house to listen to Him. For too long I've been taking His clay into my own hands, trying to make something of my own image, my own idols for myself. This trip to Nepal to the potter's house revealed to me so much of my own idolatry and the ways in which I had unconsciously displaced God from my life. Even Kitesong and this space had become idols of their own, clay which I had taken into my own hands. I nearly shut this space down. Every thing which I had thought was pleasing to God I realised was really but an altar unto myself. Every day I learn something of myself which needs to be released to God. Every day I find myself smashing false altars. Today, especially, was rough. Sometimes, you feel like utterly useless clay.

But God has been gracious and quick to forgive. And as I release to Him more and more of my life, refusing to question why He has made me such and such and instead, learning to be content, grateful and secure, I find myself becoming clay, closer and closer to the dead centre of the master potter's wheel, closer and closer to fulfilling the purpose of my life.

Nobody likes to be clay. Nobody likes to be slapped about, thrown in the centre of a crazily spinning wheel and thrown into the furnace. Everybody wants to be the potter. But we forget, only good potters understand perfectly the nature of clay- just like how only our Creator knows us completely. The moulding process, for us, is fraught with uncertainty; the firing process, filled with pain and suffering. Nonetheless, how beautiful it is when we see ourselves as but earthen vessels, filled with the treasure of the excellency of God, willing to be broken to be poured out as pure nard at His feet. (Matthew 26:7-13)

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels,

that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us."

- 2 Corinthians 4:7

So that's where I've been, to the Potter's house.

" 'Arise, and go down to the potter's house,
and there I will cause you to hear my words.' "
-Jeremiah 18:2