Making Decisions.

Looking at how I function at school, you'd think I was a decision maker. I often take the lead, initiate projects, take the first step in getting things done.

On reflection, however, I realized that this is not always the case. My inconsistency took me by surprise. An incident last week made me wake up. I totally deserved those 2 phonecalls when I got told off. Make a decision, Wai Jia. You just have to decide, we can't decide for you.

It was about my next book, A Taste of Rainbow, due to be launched next month. Everyone was ready to send it to print, but we couldn’t do so until we knew exactly how many copies we wanted, and what we wanted to do with those copies. Would funds be raised? Where would they go? Will the books hit the public bookstores or schools? How many copies are enough? Would there be a fundraising event?

Everyone had given me their 2 cents. But over the past months, all I’d been doing was going roundtable asking each person what he/she thought was best. Oh so you think we should do this, eh? Okay, yea, sure.

Round and round we went, until someone got fed up and said to me, Make a decision, Wai Jia. You just have to decide, we can't decide for you. I think, everyone else felt the same way.

I learnt a very important lesson that day: that worse than making the wrong choice, is making no choice at all.

I realise, I was afraid. I was afraid if I decided on say, 3000 copies, there might not be enough to go around. Or that there may be copies lying around in second-hand bookstores or trash bins. I was afraid if I decided that this would purely be a public education drive to raise awareness for eating disorders and depression and there would be no fundraising, some kid out there was going to be deprived of treatment because he comes from a low-income family. I'm afraid, that if I decide to take on interviews, some young reporter out there waiting all year for a good story will treat me like fodder.

I realized, that I really was just afraid. And I wasn’t ready to make a decision of such magnitude by myself. I assumed everyone else knew better. The bottom line was, I wasn't ready to take the responsibility.

When I finally jotted my Decision down, on exactly how many copies to print, where they would go, what purpose they would serve, I cried. It was not a logical emotion. It took so much of me just to say, okay, I'm not really sure if this is the best decision but here goes. Inside my head, this loud booming voice kept echoing: Why don't these people make the decision for you? They are The Professionals. You are not. You’re just a 23-year old girl- what do you know?

I forgot, that I'm an adult now, and people see me as one. I forgot, that the advice I most often give youth about dreaming big is to believe in oneself and never to let anyone tell you that you can’t, because you can. Those were my exact words in the TV interview that day. I had been playing the sick role for so long, assuming other people knew better that I forgot, I am capable of making my own decisions too.

At one season of my life, God wanted me to learn how to trust Him, let go and surrender to life, instead of being such a control freak over everything. He wanted me to humble me to see that very often, other people had better judgement than myself. I felt Kitesong was such a success because other people took over and the project flew from the subsequent decisions they made. I hadn’t realized I had entered a new season, one where God wanted me to learn how to trust myself and Him again, and learn that I could make good, measured decisions too. Kitesong taught me about releasing, while Rainbow is teaching me about asserting.

Some people have been asking me, sometimes jokingly, how has life been different after receiving the award. To be honest, life has been completely different and yet completely the same. Perhaps most significantly, I have become acutely aware of my deficiencies, and very much encouraged and motivated to better myself because a group of people believe in me to do so. I have become acutely aware of the infinite measure of God’s grace, as I try to conceive the magnitude of His generosity to use someone as myself with an unglamorous, broken past.

I keep forgetting, that I’m an adult now, fully capable of making good decisions. I may have got an award, I may be a medical student, but somewhere deep down inside, my mind still conceives me as that little girl who can't decide where she wants to have dinner. Why don't you decide? I'm easy. As long as it's not fast food, yea, you let me know.

I’m afraid of making bad decisions, and having to take responsibility for them.

This cannot on. When I start work as a junior doctor in May, I will be making tons of decisions every day. Do I escalate this situation to my senior? Does this patient require intensive care? It's 3am, do I need to phone my consultant? What if the patient dies? But what if it’s actually non-urgent and my senior scolds me instead? I have to decide.

An incident at church last Sunday fleshed this out quite clearly to me. A pastor was talking about young people getting married. At the end, he called for all the young people who wanted to get married eventually to go upfront. Lots of my friends went. I’m usually unabashed about going upfront to make commitments to God and such, but this time, my procrastination surprised me.

I realize, that the whole idea of marriage freaks me out at this point because it would require me to make a Decision. A decision that no one else can make for me, and whose consequence I must bear. What's going to happen? Can one ever be sure of one’s choice? And they shall cleave to become one flesh.

If he's a drinker and he hits me, that will be because I chose to ignore his social drinking before we married. If he rides a motorbike and becomes paralysed after a car accident, it would be because I didn’t stop him from riding as a wife. If we exasperate each other and drive each other up the wall, it will be because… did we make the wrong choice?

Being told off over the phone that day about my indecision about Rainbow taught me a very important life lesson that day: that worse than making the wrong choice, is making no choice at all.

I eventually went upfront. Yea, I guess I do want to get married someday. Even that, was a decision in itself and took me a lot of effort.

I am learning, sometimes, you just gotta bite the bullet and trust yourself and God.

It reminded me of my hamstring injury, of how I got injured so badly mainly because I didn’t trust my body to tell me what it could or could not do. I went roundtable asking all those other people whom I thought were More Professional than me because I assumed they knew better.

Another lesson: It doesn’t matter if other people are more experienced. The main point is, YOU need to make the choice, because this is YOUR body/race/project/patient/task. This is YOUR and not their responsibility.

It’s about taking responsibility, saying okay, I screwed up but it’s okay, I can learn from it.

My elder sis was right. Jia, you gotta learn to grow up. Someday, you're gonna be all by yourself, and you're gonna be taking care of other people too. But you know what? You can do it. I know you can.

I'm just so thankful for those last words over the phone to me: I know this is new to you, and it's a good learning experience. I'm not going to leave you in the lurch. We're going to guide you along the way if you make boo-boos. But you have to make the decision about Rainbow. Okay?

So I sat down, cancelled out all the questions I had typed out for other people to answer, and made my Decision. From now on, I will make conscious efforts to make decisions every day, without asking too much of what do you think? Is this okay? I'm okay with anything, what say you?

Instead, I will pray through my decision and say, I think this. Can do?

4000 copies of Rainbow go to print today. I hope we make it in time for the press release.

Fingers crossed.

Thank you EK.

" Roll your works upon God,

commit and trust them wholly to Him;

He will cause your thoughts to become agreeable to His will,

and so shall your plans be agreeable and succeed."

- Proverbs 16:3

(Amplified version)

Not for naught.

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

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

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

Sometimes, God answers in funny ways.

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

There and then, it suddenly made sense.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Back on the bike.

They say, you know you've let something go when you can live life without it. That's why they say fasting can be so powerful.

Fasting from the television, games, computer and other pleasures in life help us to realise our vulnerabilities, surrender our dependency and realign ourselves with the important, more divine things of this world.

My 100-day bike fast ended this week. In those 100 days of abstinence, there was a lot I learnt about myself and my needs. I also learnt much about what I didn't need.

I took my bike out for my first ride yesterday. Unlike what I had thought, however, it was very difficult to ride again. I was fearful, and it took a great deal of courage to do so.

So, it was only after a great deal of cajoling from my biking buddies to pick my bike up again that I took off, albeit on my own, for an easy ride in the evening. And surprisingly, it was neither liberating nor joyful. It was, instead, (and this is where you laugh) very stressful.

My biking buddies had been asking me when I'd be back. They missed my company as much as I missed theirs. But I also realised, there was a possibility I could never be as fast as them again. That scared me. I dare not ride with them for fear I would be left behind. I have a neurotic fear of being left behind. Having to press on by yourself, against the headwind without help, can be incredibly painful.

It was Jn, who gave me a revelation. For months I was suffering from the guilt of injuring myself, thinking it was God who had punished me for my self-striving attitude. Till now I cannot fathom why in spite of all that's happened, my opinion of God has always been Him being a harsh figure. It was Jn who audaciously suggested that the message from this incident was not about God's punishment but rather, God's love. Put very simply, the message was, I didn't need to earn God's love.

There was a long pause between us. It was like I had just found out bread didn't grow on trees.

Do you try, unconsciously, to earn God's love too? Do you feel that you have to do everything well and beat yourself up for it.

I know I do. I do, all the time, unconsciously.

And it cost me dearly. It cost me 4 torn muscles, one hip fracture from the torn muscles (I didn't even fall, mind you), an exorbidant amount of money to undergo rehabilitation and physiotherapy, and a 6-month hiatus to reflect upon my attitudes and worldview.

So I rode yesterday, on my bike Faith, and found myself learning how I strive too much. I keep striving, as if God were an unpleasable Being who wanted me to s-t-r-e-t-c-h myself till I imploded. I live life as if I have to earn points to gain his affection.

But that is so untrue- God never needs us to earn His love.

God's love is given freely, and till now, that is one thing I have been unable to grasp fully. You must work hard to get into medical school, you must torture yourself and get 9As to enter. You must suffer greatly and push yourself before you are worthy enough to be noticed.

Treacherous lies, seeded from a long, long time ago. Lies, which served me well till now.

Yesterday during a gathering, I heard the Big Boys complaining about how excruciatingly slow some of the new riders were, and how they were slowing them down.

I chuckled, half-worryingly, "Haha, don't be cruel. When I get back on the bike next week, I could be just as slow or slower!"

To which they kept reassuring me that I wouldn't be. Even then, they still wanted me back. When are you joining us again?

I keep forgetting, I don't need to do anything more to be loved any more. God loves us the way we are, just the way we are. And I keep needing to remind the little insecure girl inside myself, that my friends don't love me because I used to ride with them at 43kmph down the roads. They love me because of who I am. I didn't need to try to earn their love. They took pains to give me my new bike, Faith, because they loved me for being someone to give my bike money away to someone else who needed it more. They loved me for me.

Why don't I get that?

They don't love me for my achievements, for my swim timing, or my training schedule. They don't love me for how many medals I've got.

And neither does God.

He loves me that I like cycling, that even after so long, I still have trouble balancing with one hand. He loves me that I'm not stick-thin and that sometimes, I can let go and eat whatever everyone else is eating. He loves me that I sometimes talk too fast and laugh too loud, that I have to speak up when I see injustice, even if sometimes my mouth works faster than my head.

Why does it take us so long to realise, that He doesn't love us for what we can do, but for who we are.

Like my bike Faith, spiritual faith isn't earned, but a gift.

So I think I'll join my cycling buddies on their ride again this week. I'm going back on my bike, Faith.

You are loved just the way you are.

"For by grace you are saved through faith;

and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God:
Not of works, lest any man should boast. "

- Ephesians 2:8-9

Interesting.

I found it interesting to note, that though many had read the picture-story posted a couple days back, few understood the sadness behind it.

The pictures were each tragic, but none more tragic than the last one. It's been a rough week.

It's no fun being injured- Part one!

* Friday nights are always the hardest.

This is a short story I am writing about cycling and an injury. It is an ongoing story of a girl & her injury, her bicycle & her wings, and her missing biking & her biking buddies. It's not finished yet- how would you like it to end?

Enjoy :)

It's no fun being injured- Part One.

The day Anna injured her left leg, They told her she couldn't bike for a long while. For some time, she could hardly walk. Being injured was no fun.

Some days were bad. Her leg was sometimes very painful. She would cry herself to sleep with her friend, Ele.

Anna really missed biking. She had to hang her bike up!

But most of all, Anna missed her biking friends. Friday nights were the worst, because they used to ride together every Saturday morning. Oh what fun they used to have!

One night, Anna prayed really really hard. She wanted to... fly. An angel heard her and came in the night stealthily with a pair of Special Wings for her.

That night, Anna saw her biking friends...

... and decided to join them! Off she went with her wings! Ele had really Big and Special ears so she could fly with Anna too!

... to be continued...

Lessons from my Injury.

One day this week I woke up, realised I am definitely the heaviest but possibly the most comfortable, secure and happiest I have ever been in my life:

I realised that your mistakes can break your hip, but God won't let them break your spirit.

I realised that good friends are those who can love you 14 kilos up and down, and still say you look like a bomb any day, because they see you for who you are inside, and who you could become, not who you are now, and how you look on your worst or best day.

I realised how important it is not to succumb to external pressure, how important it is to say, NO THANK YOU. I appreciate your advice, but I have my own way of doing things. It's okay to say that sometimes.

I realised that putting on weight has its benefits- it gives you free boobs.

I realised that God can use our illnesses and circumstance to teach us lots about ourselves.

I realised, I'm a sucker for intensity and addictions-I know I get a high from sucking the marrow out of any aspect of life, be it in my studies, art, sport or adventures. But this is certainly a lesson I will remember for life. I realised that as much as I value discipline, I need to have the discipline to draw lines, say no, know when to Stop.

I realised this injury was a big blessing in disguise. It gave me time to reflect upon the furious plunge into sports over the past year, it gave me space to think through and consolidate my thoughts, it gave me fresh insights and new revelations into my motivations, and purified them.

I realised that truly, this was the perfect time to sustain an injury- during my final year before my exams so I could finally settle down and focus, instead of spreading myself so thinly. The time I spent away from the road and on my books was very valuable, and helped me establish my confidence and focus in the wards again. I realised God has indeed been merciful.

I realised that God loves us so much that He sometimes waits to heal us (even though He could do it in a jiffy) because we take time to learn certain lessons. I realised that more than sacrifice or swears or vows, He treasures a surrendered heart that says, okay, I can do with or without.

All these revelations were revealed to be little by little over the past 4 months, and consolidated over the past week.

So I suppose it was apt timing when Dr. Ben Tan showed me my X-ray and said, "You can start running now," I knew it was because God had finally got his lessons through that thick skull of mine.

For my medicine juniors- spot the pathology! (and note the scoliosis!)

"But I need you to stick to the programme I give you. Go slow, because this sort of injury is notorious for relapse. I need you to continue with physiotherapy, with your vitamin D and calcium and... I need you to change your bike saddle. No racing till after your finals. "

And I realised God wanted me to remember for life, the consequences of relying on a selfish, self-striving spirit the way Jacob did, because the next time my hamstrings and bone snap because of my self-sufficiency or greed, it could mean surgery.

"I think you can try a run today."

I was apprehensive, but all through the run, there was no pain, even though I was still experiencing pain a week back. Because of all the core work, pilates stretching, and myofascial release we had done during the period of rest to realign my muscles and bones, I was running with a far better posture than I ever did before. I used to run with a very unstable pelvic swagger, and a really bad forward tilt, as if there were weights tied to my neck. Now, I was running "as if there's a medal on your chest", as M would have said. I then realised, God puts rest in our lives sometimes to rebuild our core, to re-establish broken foundations, to realign our intents and purposes, thoughts and dreams.

"Your pain is there because of disuse, so we need to rehabilitate you. You've got to step up slowly. I think you need to wait a little more before you start biking again, but meanwhile, please start running. You need to."

I realised, sometimes God wants us to spend a little more time sorting ourselves out, because a period of fasting from our indulgences can be essential to spiritual progress. Today is Day 50 of my bike fast.

I realised, our sufferings never, ever go to waste. But sometimes, with a bit of common sense, we can certainly spare ourselves the heartache.

And I realised, what real friends truly mean. They can love you 14 kilos up and down, and walk you through every difficult step along the way. They don't dump you just because you don't can't do sports the way you used to. They don't rub salt into wound. They don't pressure you to return to what caused you to stumble at the expense of your recovery.

They encourage you when you feel like giving up, visit you when you're down, and patiently await your return- the way our King awaits our return Home, the way the father awaited his prodigal son's return.

The past 4 months of rest have been incredibly fruitful and fulfilling, in a different sense. I'm not sure if I would go to the extent to say that I wouldn't have changed anything had I the chance to live that fateful day of injury again, but I know for sure, the lessons learnt from this have been precious.

"You need to continue doing all the stretches and rehab work I've taught you, okay?" said my physiotherapist. She's a marathoner, swimmer and a pilates instructor as well. "You see, the human body is so exquisite, it needs to be in a constant state of BALANCE. That's why I don't just run, or swim, or cycle. Take a little bit from the best of everything and you'll stay injury-free, okay?"

I realised, the most important lesson I learnt, was balance. How to balance my work and play, sport and health, calling and duty, friends and family. My injury was primarily due to a muscle imbalance. It is most commonly sustained when the quadriceps is more than 60% stronger than the hamstrings.

It's all about poising yourself on the straight and narrow path, I suppose.

I've still a long way ahead to recovery, but it certainly felt good to run again, even if it was only for a short while.

Thank you God.

J, me and T stealing a shot before sitting for our paediatrics paper-

Love you two to the sky and back :)

"He heals the brokenhearted

and binds up their wounds...

...His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse,

nor his delight in the legs of a man;

God delights in those who fear him,

who put their hope in his unfailing love.

-Psalm 147:3, 10, 11

Where Home is, Truly.

* This post was meant to be posted on National Day, 9 August 2010, but was postponed because Wai Jia has had a series of 4 tests to study for which only ended today!

**Disclaimer: This post may be offensive to some.


When I was younger and more naive, I used to think one could be whatever one's heart felt one was. But I've come to see, some things can't be changed. And perhaps, they're better left so.

You see, even though I've grown up here almost all my life, live in the heartlands, eat rojak, speak Singlish, breathe efficiency, and exude the typically Singaporean-brand style of pragmatism, I don't own a pink identification card, and nothing but a citizenship conversion will ever change that.

As a child, I never felt the difference- after all, my entire family were, still are, permanent residents. When I was a toddler, my mother would play national day songs on the cassette tape player before putting me to bed every night, even though we all belonged to a different country. In primary school, I sang the national anthem, went to the national day parades. Because I was head prefect, I had to lead the entire school in reciting the national pledge, too. Till today, I support local artistes, especially local theatre.

But the difference becomes more apparent as one grows older. So what's your nationality? People ask.

And then I find myself straddled between two lands, struggling between lost and found. I am lost in limbo because I do not know. Does my nationality matter if I do not feel at home back there, since I moved here when I was less than a year old? Back there where my neighbours get robbed on a regular basis? Back there where there is a goverment which isn't democratic and is prejudiced against my race such that it is close to impossible to studying medicine on a meritocratic basis? Back there, where I do not feel I am at home at all. Do I tell you that is my country?

Back in my home country, my relatives laugh at how I've been sold to Singapore. I have not lived there for so long. So long. Since my grandma passed away, I've had even less reason to return.

Yet, no matter how much I feel at home here, I can never truly call it my own. Even though all the places I know, all the places I identify with, all the memories I have are all in this tiny place. But once upon a time, I used to. I used to say Singapore is my home. I used to know all the national day songs by heart. I used to hang the flag up with pride from my balcony. But people pointed at the colour of my identity card and joked. They still do.

This is not your country.

Even though I've grown up here all my life. Even though I think my blood is Singaporean. Even though there's possibly no where else on earth I could call home.

Yet, it's a joke. But then, why? I become confused, because why is he/she more Singaporean than me when he/she has only just obtained citizenship? Is it because he has been imported to join our, no sorry, your national team? Is it because she will benefit you and bring my, no sorry, your nation glory?

So is this about the colour of the card I carry.

When I am overseas and people ask me where I'm from, I tell them, I'm from Singapore. I tell them without batting an eyelash. I tell them with pride. This is my home.

But how my heart broke that day when someone said, "Wow, Singapore. I've heard so much about it. It's a model for so many countries. But why did your government choose to build a casino? Why the Integrated Resort with a casino at its centre? It just didn't seem to fit with your nation's image. Why?"

Then I became ashamed. Because my answer was, I don't know. I don't know why we, no sorry, you are building a multi-million resort comprising a six-star hotel, a dazzling waterfront view, an entertainment hub, an amusement park, next to a building which destroys not only families, but individual lives. I don't know why we, sorry you, have prophylactically established the National Council of Problem Gambling to tackle "any future issues". I pass by that plot of land when I go to school. And my heart sinks.

This is my country. This is not your country.

Who's taking ownership now? Who's taking whose away.

This is my home. Why are you destroying it. This is my country. Why are you stemming its economic growth.

That day at the immigration office, I was stunned when they told me I couldn't apply for citizenship. I've lived here all my life. I have a good track record. I am going to be one of your doctors. Their reason was, in black and white, your parents aren't citizens and you aren't working yet. Refer to the pink form. Period. Come again next year.

This is not your country.

Monday was National Day. We, final year medical students, were up to our ears in work. I had 4 tests this week. But my best friend and I sat on my rooftop garden anyways watching fireworks, celebrating Singapore's 45th birthday.

Then it struck me. As the specks of light bloomed into flames in the inky blanket of sky, it struck me.

This is not my country. And neither is the place which declares so on my passport.

My greatest lesson learnt this year has been to cling loosely to all things. My injury taught me to cling loosely to my possessions; my illness taught me to cling loosely to my earthly body. Finally, what I feel to be God's latest assignment to me for 2012 has taught me... to cling loosely to my home, to my country. Because you just never know when He might call, where He may call you to. Perhaps, it was all part of His plan to feel like I never did belong.

The missionaries I met often told me, "When you start work, be careful, don't buy a car. When you find a boyfriend, be careful, don't marry him and buy a house in your home country. Once you've settled your car and your house in your country, you can forget about leaving. It would have become too much of your home for you to want to leave for another place where God's work might be waiting for you. You'll then say, 'God's work for me is here, at home.' And no one will stop you either. So be careful."

It was at that moment when the incandescence of the neon-coloured fireworks melted into the thick blackness of the night sky that I understood, that truly, I don't belong here. And for good reason, too. Because I don't know where God might point me to in future- Africa, China, India, Indonesia, Vietnam, Cambodia, America- who knows. And one day when He calls, I hope never to be caught in a situation where I may have to turn my back and say, "I'm sorry God, but you can't take me away from Home. There's just too much for me to leave behind, too much."

Which is partially why I think He allowed my hip to break. It helped me to see that truly, one cannot and must not cling too tightly to possessions, or hobbies, or even, friends and family.

Because Home, like they say, is where the heart is. And if my heart truly belongs to You and You alone, then surely, that's where my citizenship must lay too.

So it's fine, I suppose. It's fine that this is not my country.

Happy 45th Birthday. I love you anyway.

Whenever I am feeling low, I look around me and I know...

-Home, Truly by Kit Chan

a public exhibit at Raffles Place put up by Singapore Polytechnic

celebrating National Day, entitled, "I Dream"

" For our citizenship is in heaven, from which we also eagerly wait..."

- Phil 3:20

"Now therefore, you are no longer strangers and foreigners,

but fellow citizens with the saints and members

of the household of God..."

-Ephe 2:19

Unless You Bless me.

She was a little old lady walking with a walking stick. But she walked in grand. There was a certain majesty to her, a certain royalty. She was elderly, but every bit of her was put together. With not a strand of her blonde hair out of place, she tottered in purposefully in sheer black stockings and black heels. Clad in rich fuschia, she was a powerful sight to behold.

She opened her mouth and everybody fell silent.

To be real honest I wasn't paying much attention. My mind was drifting away, wondering why my whole body, especially the sitting bones in my hip were so sore after yesterday's physiotherapy.

"Jacob... was a fraud."

That made me sit up at once. That voice boomed around the large hall and rang in my ears. I knew God was speaking to me. Suddenly, I felt as if everybody was staring at me, as if they all knew about the folly of my injury.

Jacob means "heel grabber". It is the name of man in a story of the bible who, on being born with his twin brother, was seen grabbing his brother's heel. It is symbolic because all his life, he manipulated and cheated others, strived on his own and did all he could to get ahead in life. He stole his elder brother's birthright, among other terrible things.

But in spite of being the rascal that he was, God had mercy on him. One day, disguised as an angel, God seized Jacob when he was alone and wrestled with him till daybreak. Finally, the angel demanded for Jacob to let go. But Jacob continued to wrestle, and finally said, “I won’t let you go unless you bless me!”

I wrote about this before. But today, I had a new revelation. The angel was God, and had told Jacob to let go because the light of day would soon come and seeing God face to face would kill him. But Jacob persisted. Because of the hardship he had been through, he finally came to the point where he would rather die than live without God’s blessing.

In desperation, the angel touched Jacob's hip which broke, and touched his sinew so it shrank, so that Jacob would finally let go.

That was a life changing moment.

From then on, Jacob’s name was changed to Israel. That incident changed him, to stop scheming or striving, to start giving rather than taking and to start depending on God rather than relying on his own self-centred ways. The name “Jacob” represents independence from God while “Israel” represents dependence on God.

Jacob. That wrestling match he had with God was a perfect reflection of how I suffered my injury. Like Jacob, I tore my 'sinew' and broke my hip, too. Like Jacob, I have spent most of my life striving to get ahead. Isn't that how we were brought up? Top the class in primary school so you can get to a good seondary school. Top your class in seondary school to get to a well-known junior college. Top the standard in your junior college so you can get into medical school. And now, with the new medical resideny curriculum, you better be the best in your class to secure that spot in that highly sought-after specialty.

The world, with its promise of bouquets and endless applause, eggs you on. Come on, YOU can do it.

Cycling was just a reflection of my life in other areas: We are always humble when we feel inept. In the same way, I was always meek when I first learnt how to cycle just 2 years ago; But once we're good in something, the fleshly nature and the spirit of self-striving often takes over. In the same way, I started to train more and more to be better at something I was now good at- after all, isn't it good to excel? Ah... thin, thin lines.

She went on. "Jacob was a cheat...

... a trickster...

... a selfish man."

She said each word with such deliberation and force that every syllable resounded painfully in my head, "Jacob... was a rascal."

That's me, said a voice in my head. That's me she's talking about. Oh God, no.

"Then how is it that later on, God says that he could find no sin in such a terrible man like Jacob? How is it that He was always by his side to protect him? Because Jacob wrestled with God, and was determined to seek His blessing. He didn't deserve it, but God gave it to him as a display of His love and mercy. God could have killed him that day. Instead, He blessed Jacob."

She continued, "The greatest blessing to receive in your life is to have God be your Personal Judge, for Him to deal with you, even if it takes pain and suffering, even if it requires Him to prune you in a season of barreness. Your greatest blessing is in knowing He will never leave you alone. If you are not good, He will find a good opportunity indeed to teach you a good lesson you will never forget."

I was stunned. Then, I remembered in dismay, that Jacob walked with a permanent limp.

Since my injury, I have not been the same: I am heavier for sure. I am the heaviest I have ever been in my life. I have had to adapt yet again to accepting my new body, and to cope with the residual damage that Ed left in my life. Undergoing physiotherapy and being still, helped me to see clearly how exercise was such a furtive form of self-indulgement, a source of pride, and a way to gain approval. It helped me see how tight and distressed my physical body has been because of overuse. Now, I ache after every session of physiotherapy because time is spent on releasing a lot of tight muscles not only in my injured site, but down the whole leg, the opposite leg, my back and my trunk.

A spirit of continual self-striving is destructive, indeed.

Finally, just when I felt sufficiently condemned and worthy to be stoned, the little old lady said slowly, purposefully, in a long drawl, "But we are ALL Jacobs."

Are you a Jacob too? Maybe you haven't broken anything, but do you feel tired, as if God is wrestling you down?

"But your greatest blessing is this, that God is committed to bringing you to the fulfillment of your calling. As long as you remain pliable and correctable, He will redeem, restore and release blessing in your life. Just as how through Jacob (or Israel, which was his new name) was blessed greatly, you will be too if you let God do His work of righteousness in you."

I was stunned. Didn't that explain that peace and joy I had within me?

Don't get me wrong. This injury has not been easy to deal with. I still have moments where I cry especially on friday nights when I used to get all my biking gear ready for my grouprides on Saturdays, because I know I might never ride again with my buddies like I used to. I have moments of moodiness because I feel unfit, fat, ugly or all the above. And I have times of shame in knowing that no matter what I feel, this is nothing compared to what many others have to deal with in life.

But the peace comes in knowing that through this, God answered my prayer. This has helped me remain focused on my final year of studies in medical school. This has freed me from the slavery of training and idolatry. This has helped me realign myself with Him. I am not happy with the pain and discomfort for sure, but I am joyful in knowing that I am closer to my calling. I am at peace in knowing that God is restoring me to a greater level of security with regards to my illness.

Cycling and sports was a means for God to teach me many lessons in life, a way to restore my eating habits and body to normalcy. And now that they have served their purpose, this injury has helped me to move on to other areas of development, which I would have neglected otherwise.

My old Jacob-self would have been ruined. But my new Israel-self says this experience is God's blessing. I must trust that it is.

At the end of the service, as she took her walking stick to leave, I went up to thank her because of what she illuminated to me about my situation.

"See this stick?" she said, "I had surgery some time back because of a cancer which wanted to take my leg. God sometimes allows illness in our lives because it's a way of refining and moulding us. We can be discouraged, defeated or in despair, or we can be determined. I chose to be determined. I told myself I would wear heels again." She smiled.

"I want you to remember this, that as absurd as it sounds, sometimes, being maimed is good. This body we have is so temporal. What matters is what God does inside of you. When we get to heaven, we shall all be restored. Remember, the evil one can take your body, but never your soul."

Tears started to stream down, but I knew she was right. That morning at Sunday School, I was scheduled to teach. Incidentally, the lesson plan required me to use an X-ray to illustrate the point that God can see through and into us, to refine our deepest motives. I used the pelvic X-ray of my injury and told them that God sees into our insides because that's what He's most concerned about. Now, the same lesson was being taught to me.

So no matter what you're facing right now, don't despair. Be determined, because like she said, God is committed to bringing you closer to fulfilling that calling in your life. Be brave and wrestle it out, and surely you will be blessed, even if or perhaps precisely because you held on until He blessed you.

I know He's preparing me.

Heaven, is near.

"It is better for you to enter life maimed or crippled

than to have two hands or two feet and be thrown into eternal fire."

-Matthew 18:8

"Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.

Rather, be afraid of the One

who can destroy both soul and body in hell."

-Matthew 10:28

Osteopenia.

Sitting outside the scan room with a group of little old women, waiting patiently for my turn in a green gown, was a... unique experience, to say the least. I remember the shocked look of the staff when she saw my face. In that room, they had scanned thousands of elderly, wizened ladies. But last week, I was there too.

I guess I should've known the results, even without the test. But the doctor insisted, so I relented. Osteopenia, you have osteopenia, my dear. That explains your fracture.

A little old lady's disease. Calcium sapped from my bones during those few years of illness. Now coming back to haunt me through a pelvic fracture I got while biking. Without a fall.

I wasn't sure what it was about the confirmation which made my heart sink, which sucked a cloud over my head. Maybe it was wondering why things had to be this way even though I'd tried my very best with regards to recovering, had thought that with the publishing of A Taste of Rainbow, that chapter of my life was closed; Maybe it was thinking about all that money and time lavishly spent on therapy, and the exasperation of having to deal with the consequences of the illness all over again; Maybe it was the injury playing in my mind like a bad video, the thought that I would never bike again, would never run.

It still hurts. How can the injury still hurt while walking, while at rest. How can the opposite side hurt, too. The pain keeps evolving.

I suppose, it taught me, how life very often turns out differently from what school teaches it to be. We are told that if we work hard, run fast and have willpower, we will finish the race tops. But I am learning, that working hard, running fast and sheer willpower only melt into nothingness in the face of God's displeasure.

It is not because of my own intelligence that I am studying to be doctor. It is not by my own hard training that I ended up enjoying triathlon. It is not by my own merit or determination that I recovered from my illness, am recovering.

I am learning, it is because I was fortunate enough to be parented by good people, had the opportunity to develop my strengths in a fairly good environment, had the chance to grow up in a place without war, famine or disaster. I am learning, it is because I was fortunate enough to meet friends who loved me enough to want to help me enjoy the sport. I am learning, it is because I was blessed with meeting angels who opened up their homes and extended their arms to me to embrace me, heal me, help me through bad times.

I am learning, it is because of God's grace and mercy in my life.

Last week, I dreamt I was in a triathlon. When I came out of the water, I was disqualified because I didn't finish the swim. I ran back to the water, wanting to finish it, but no matter how fast I ran, I couldn't reach the pool... ... I was frantic. A few days ago, I dreamt that I was running, but no matter how hard I ran, I couldn't reach the finish line. It made me see, that part of my subconscious is obsessed about finishing life's race, be it a physical or spiritual one.

But unless I acknowledge that life's races are completed not by my own will, or strength, but by realising God's blessings in my life, His grace and mercy, I will forever be caught in a hamster wheel of self-striving. Remember Jacob? God made him walk with a permanent limp so he would learn his lesson well. Oh Lord, have mercy.

In both dreams, I didn't finish the race. I tried so very hard.

It worries me. Will I finish the race in life? I'm about to graduate. Very soon, I'll be a doctor. People are scrambling to beef up their resumes, apply for their specialties, climb up the ladder. Would I choose to be caught in the rat race too, or realise that I've a different dream, my heart belongs to a different place, and that I've my own race to finish. Will I forget about missions.

I'm beginning to realise, how it's so easy to get lost in the endless race of self-striving. Wasn't that what we learnt in school, that the harder we try, the more we will achieve? Go faster, try harder. You can do it.

I am learning, that ultimately, we are where we are because of the blessings we have received from others, from God. I am where I am today, with an injury or not, because I didn't get struck by cancer last year, didn't get raped on a holiday overseas, didn't get killed by my illness a few years ago, or on a bike by a drunk driver.

My injury taught me many things. It is still teaching me things now.

So if you suddenly feel like you've hit a wall, that you're so tired trying to get ahead of everybody else, so exhausted from running, just remember that you are where you are because of a force greater than yourself which allowed circumstance and chance to be in your favor. And if you came to a point where you, in your own self-striving got injured, struck down, burnt out, just remember, that God's mercies are new every morning.

Someday, I will wake up with a dream with myself at the finish line, and it will not be because I had the most willpower, or ran the hardest, not because I cured myself of osteopenia by popping calcium pills or because I achieved this much in life doing this and that by myself, but because of the mercies of a God who loves us enough to promise that He would see us through till the very end.

Perhaps, when that day comes when I truly understand this truth, it will be a miraculous moment of healing for me, both physically and spiritually. Perhaps that day, God will let me run again. I still pray.

So close your eyes, and don't be afraid to dream, for He will see you through till the very end, too.

For He says to Moses,

"I will have mercy on whomever I will have mercy,

and I will have compassion on whomever I will have compassion."

So then it is not of him who wills,

nor of him who runs,

but of God who shows mercy.
-Romans 9:15-16

Not my Battle.

* Wai Jia has been busy with preparations for the upcoming book, called A Taste of Rainbow. There have been meetings to attend, proposals and letters to write and filming to do... all on top of a final year medical curriculum. But she is thankful for the many angels who have come along her path to help.

At church today, I was reminded that when our dreams seem attainable and we do attain them, it is called human endeavour. But a seemingly unattainable dream, an impossible idea and a daunting task invites God to take control and to move for us.

When I started out, I thought recovery was unattainable, much less material to write about in a picture book; when I thought of using it to raise awareness of and reach out to people suffering, in partnership with a national hospital, I thought it would be... impossible, ludicrous, stupid; and when I conceived the idea of making an artistic video and setting up a website, I was incredibly daunted by the overwhelming task. I'm in final year of medical school, doing this now is crazy, I thought.

I was afraid, and dismayed.

So I prayed.

But I suppose, God didn't think so. And so sent my publisher along who happily supported every endeavour, sent a generous sponsor who is putting in what is likely to be a five-figure sum, sent a group of passionate individuals who have been so enthusiastic and helpful in the artistic conception of the video I had in mind, sent a complete stranger who's a professional, who bought me tea and said, "Before I met you, God had already spoken to me. So I'm going to do this for free, not for you, but for God. I want you to know it's not me, but God who is helping you, and I'm just glad to be a part of this."

And I suppose He has the best timing, for isn't it strange and funny how I'm back at the same department where I was treated for my medical attachment- this time, not as a patient, but as a medical professional, a partner with the department who has shown excitement, support and enthusiasm for this project.

"Aren't you excited?" said Dr. Y that day after morning ward rounds.

"Yeah, sort of," I said. "Heh, I guess so."

And then we laughed. A few years ago, I was arguing with her at her clinic because I refused to take her medicine. Now, we were working together for the same dream, to help people learn about this illness, to help youth fortify themselves against this sort of tragedy.

I suppose, there isn't such a thing as having too big a dream, or too small a faith. There isn't such a thing as too outrageous a prayer. Is there something in your life too big for you to overcome on your own? Is there a battle too big for you to fight? Indeed, our shoulders alone were meant to bear smaller things, lighter loads.

We fool ourselves when we think our battles are ours alone to fight.

This dream was too big, the battle too large, my faith was too small, too broken, but I suppose, that's where God likes to come charging in and take over.

" Do not be afraid nor be dismayed because of this great multitude,

for the battle is not yours,

but God's."

- 2 Chronicles 20:15

*Wai Jia would appreciate prayer for her upcoming book, her studies and her injury,

which has not been healing well.

Sometimes things get hard and it feels a little lonely on this journey,

but she is thankful for all the help and prayer received.

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

Weak Leg, Strong Father.

It's amazing how God finds ways to speak to us in our weakest moments.

Two days ago, our newly-appointed Vice-Dean of the School of Medicine addressed my entire batch formally. As we stepped into final year, he wanted to leave us with some nuggets of wisdom. He said many things, of which I remember one the most:

"Medicine is a journey, some of you may feel like you are hobbling. But remember, we have one another, and together, we'll finish the race."

He showed us a video of Derek Redmond, an Olympian athlete favored to win the 1992 Olympic Games for his event, but didn't... because halfway through his sprint, he tore his hamstrings.

As I watched it and felt the pain, anguish and reality of it all, I suddenly felt God smiling down at me, putting His finger right on me- that was my injury. He has a sense of humour.

That injury which we watched in the video, was what I had, still have. Except that besides my hamstrings, I also tore another tiny muscle called the gracilis, and another large muscle called the adductor magnus, which, on tearing, caused the fracture of my pelvis as well.

I've had a bumpy recovery, mainly because my muscles tense too easily and overcompensate, resulting in soreness, pain and tightness. Some days I wanted to give up. It's been more than 3 months. The exhausting search for the right practitioner, the bewildering search for answers... all take time, and eventually its toll on you. Today, after an intense physiotherapy session of trigger muscle releases (deep tissue massage), every part of both legs ached tremendously.

Have you ever felt like some event in your life hit you expectedly and threw you off-course? Have you ever doubted that you would finish your race?

You should. Because a torn hamstring in the middle of an athlete's race of a lifetime is no easy setback.

But as Derek Redmond hobbled to the finish line in pain and anguish, Somebody came to see him through to the very end.

And it reminds me, no matter what we're going through, we just need to trust, God will send angels to see us cross the finish line. No matter how anguished, despondent or bitter we are at our setbacks, we need to trust that He will give us the courage to finish the race.

I could only imagine Derek's anguish. All those years of training for a moment's glory, all gone down the drain. Sometimes, I look back at anorexia and that time of depression, think about what could've been had it not been for that throwing me off-course, think about how little faith I had in recovering... but now realise that as my Vice-Dean said, no matter what happens, we have one another to help us all finish the race together.

So even though both my legs hurt badly today, I'm holding on. I'm saying, God, thank you for the little things- for sending random angels who ask me out for swims on random days when my injury gets me down, thank you for sending me AL (my current physiotherapist) who is genuine about seeing me get better and back on track, thank you for seeing me through medical school, through life's ups and downs.

I know, you didn't leave our side, not once.

Together, we'll make it till the end.

"And the LORD,

He is the one who goes before you.

He will be with you,

He will not leave you nor forsake you."

- Deuteronomy 31:8

Your place.

I had been stalling it for ages. Deliberating about it deliberately because I still wanted it, wanted it in my house, wanted to see it, wanted to be reminded of the memories it brought back.

Then, with the injury and God teaching me about idolatry and letting things go, I decided I had to take the initiative to sell my old bike, the one my friends knew was too big for me and hence had bought me my new one called Faith.

Friends were pretty darned sure I could fetch a good price for it, egging me to post it up for more than I had paid for it.

I did so. But somehow, it just didn't feel right. And I held on to it even longer.

Months later, I changed the price online to a lower one. Three hundred dollars, negotiable.

The boy who wanted my bike contacted me. I could sense his earnesty over the many text messages he sent to me, making great efforts to my place to view the bike. He was 16 years old.

"My bike is pretty whacked up, you know," I said. "Look at all these scars."

"Yea, more than 3000 kilometres in a year is quite a lot."

"Yup, it's my first bike, so I've fallen quite a bit on it. Crashed on my first race."

" Well, could you give me a discount?" he said.

"Like what?" I was expecting him to mark the price down far lower, then bargain upwards.

"$270."

My heart broke- he was such an earnest boy, I thought he could've made a hard bargain to $200. He knew this bike was whacked up. I was honest about the lousy brakes, the basic groupset, the number of times I crashed and fell on it. One of the spokes was even faulty. Still, he wanted it, without finding fault and making things difficult for me- even though he really was an experienced biker, biking since he was five.

"All these are small things," he said. "I can fix them or make adjustments, don't worry."

"Where'd you get your money from? You had to save?"

"I sold my old mountain bike. And I got some money for my birthday 5 days ago."

"You sold your bike for?"

"$200."

He put $200 in my hands, and asked if he could give it to me as a deposit, so he could pick it up and pass me the balance another day. It was most bizarre, but it felt truly right to say, "Can I charge you $200 for it. Like, take it as a belated birthday present or something-your birthday was 5 days ago, right? I don't know, just feel I'd really like for you to enjoy the bike for what it's worth."

"Wow. Thank you." He was kind of stunned. Then awkwardly, he stretched out his hand to give me a handshake.

He didn't realise, he had done me a bigger favor than I did him.

That bike money didn't mean much to me. He was studying, he had saved up, he was so earnest. He wasn't poor or anything, but I knew that extra saving meant more to him than a few extra dollars would to me. It was about letting go of material idols and possessions (the bike), of the enslavement to money (the thrill of getting a good deal), and of the need to ride.

Pastor Y said before, we should never try to make money out of someone else, especially when we know how much we had paid for the original- never mind if the other person was agreeable to the quoted high price.

"If this first bike means so much to you, why don't you keep it as a momento?" he asked.

"I've got only 2 legs, not 4, friend," I joked.

As I mulled over how money has usurped a part of each of us, and yet how few of us are willing to admit our greed, it made me conscious of our consumeristic, me-centric culture. I like. I try. I buy. We less often think twice when we're spending on ourselves, because unconsciously, we measure ourselves against the people around us, and surely, there are those better-off than us, those who spend more than us. I find myself unconsciously reminding myself that I hardly ever buy branded things and when I do buy from MANGO, it's always during a warehouse sale. I've never bought an item at TOPSHOP, Dorothy Perkins or Forever 21. Ever. (See how I try to justify myself, even here.)

But I buy things all the same, even when I already have enough tops, enough shirts, enough shoes. And then I find myself stinging on people. Calculating. How much of a discount should I give you, how good a deal can I clinch. As I was buying groceries for Uncle Z, my friend said to me, "Here, this brand is cheaper."

"No," I said. "Let's get something better."

Why should buying groceries for the disadvantaged always be a look-out for discount items? Why can't I spend the money I would use for that extra shirt on myself to buy something a little more decent for someone else who may not have the privilege to enjoy it?

I sound very noble for now, but only I know my consistent inconsistency.

So the boy came, very sportingly allowed me to take a picture of him and my last look at my first roadbicycle and wheeled him off. An hour later, another friend came to collect the bike-trainer he had lent me. (A bike trainer is a contraption one places on one's bike so one can do stationary cycling at home.) Now, I truly can't train anymore on my roadbike.

I went to an osteopath today for the newly discovered scoliosis they found and he said, "I'm not sure if you should ever return to doing triathlons." The tears just came. I couldn't stop them.

Thank you God, for teaching me to release my idols slowly, be they a possession or money or a hobby. Nothing else should take Your place.

10 out of 10.

Nothing prepared me for the intensity of the pain. It hit me like a dummy crash-car into a wall and strangled the life out of me, draining strength from my legs, tummy and chest. God, what is happening?

The pain came at the wrong time. I was on my way to deliver groceries to Uncle Z. A day ago when I checked in on Uncle Z, he said that his son had run away. His 20-year old son had threatened to take all the furniture in their one-room flat except the bed, and said he wanted to move out. Uncle Z had just been discharged from the hospital for another near-death episode as he does not comply with his blood-thinning medication, essential for his condition of having 2 prosthetic heart valves from previous open-chest surgery. His wife, Mdm N, was diagnosed with severe hypertension and dementia last year. Uncle Z said, "Ever since our son left, she cries every day. She sings and cries, sings and cries."

My friend, D, had agreed to come with me and pray with them. My pain lingered, I tolerated it, but even D could tell I was suffering.

"You okay?"

"Yea," I said, in between breaths, "This is very unusual, I never have this sort of pain normally. But I got to say, this pain, is definitely worse than the pain of a half-marathon."

By the time we reached Uncle Z's home, and sat to chat, I knew the pain was only growing in intensity, but I kept a straight face, and Uncle Z didn't suspect a thing.

As soon as we left and his door closed, my upper body collapsed in pain. I then realised this was what guys are most afraid of hearing, "D, I think it's cramps. Crap. I usually never have pain- at all. This is really unusual."

D had to rush back to work, and so left me. He knew I'd be okay. I knew it too.

Little did I realise that the pain only worsened. By the time D had left, I could hardly walk.

God, I said, you have such a sense of humour. Today's the first day I don't feel pain in my fracture site and this is what you replace it with? Okay, like, please talk to me now if there's something you're trying to tell me. My ears are peeled.

At once, the words of my physiotherapist, AL, rang in my ears.

That day as she meticulously recorded the events of my injury, she asked, "When did they do the X-ray for you?"

"About 6 weeks post-injury."

"What? How come they didn't do it immediately?"

"I guess they weren't really suspecting it. They said muscle tears can be excruciating, too."

"What was your pain score at the Emergency department?"

I remembered myself being in so much pain I had to be put on a wheelchair. "I told them 8 out of 10."

"Really? It was 8/10? You sure? Then how bad was your pain 6 weeks later?"

"Er... 4 out of 10."

"Yeah right. They won't do an X-ray 6 weeks post-injury for a pain score of 4/10. It was more like 6/10, wasn't it."

"Maybe."

"Trying to be a hero."

Trying to be a hero. Yeah.

It was then, in the spasms on my pain, that I suddenly realised that therein lay pride, too. As my menstrual pain escalated progressively, I felt God was showing me what a pain score of 8/10 really was, and what the pain that day should've been.

It was 12 out of 10. And I only took 2 tablets of painkillers, refusing the rest.

By the time I had realised this, people at the train station were watching me and giving up their seats for me because I probably looked like I was about to collapse. As soon as I reached the train station near home, I bought Paracetemol, then deliberated about taking it. It's the freaking wrong time of the month for this sort of pain, I cursed inwardly. My pain score continued to increase, it went beyond 8/10 to 10/10. I could hardly stand anymore, much less walk. So I took the medication. Shortly afterward at home, the pain left. But I was so tired it felt like I had just finished a triathlon.

Today's pain taught me, that I really do need to surrender, more things than I thought. It taught me, that I have deeper idols to release.

Yesterday, I read that while our idols can be money, possessions, people etc, within us lie deeper idols, such as a sense of security, control or vanity. As I sat at the botanical gardens this week watching swans go by, I suddenly realised that the deepest false god in my life was not anorexia, or sports, or myself, even. It was a sense of needing to be in control. When things at home started to spin out of control years back, Ed became a way to regain that sense of stability; I enjoy cycling and long to learn horseriding because that sense of control on a bike, an animal is incredible; but the scariest revelation I received as I prayed was that, I am single, have been single, largely because...

... it gives me a sense of control. Being in a relationship makes me feel... vulnerable, and out of control. Who's to say the person doesn't turn out to be a jerk? I've met them before.

What is your deepest idol? Look at the patterns in your life, identify all your false gods, then see if you can find something in common. I did.

These days, I have been praying for God's mercy, that I will learn these lessons now and not when it's too late. I pray I learn to let go of self-sufficiency and the importance of a strong spiritual core before I rip my muscle again and cause a recurrent fracture. (The fracture was a non-contact injury- it broke where the muscle was attached too because the muscle tore too forcefully.) I pray I'll learn to destroy Aphrodite before she destroys me. I pray God'll help me to trust Him for my life partner and not let me realise this when I'm 45 and dying of loneliness in a mission field.

I have spent the last week by myself. It is our break now, my parents went overseas, my good friends are attached, some getting married, and I was unable to train. Some days were depressing. I had a lot of time to myself, and for one of the first times, wished someone would drive me out on Saturday night with the likes of Coldplay and Beatles on the stereo to Dempsey Hill for waffles and ice-cream.

God has never let me down- every time I prayed for company, like today in delivering groceries, someone always would show up. But I realised, that in the tough moments to bear, only someone who really loves you would go the extra mile for you. I don't blame D for returning back to work. But I know when I was hobbling home in pain, I really wished someone would call a cab for me, lug me back home, buy Paracetemol for me.

Today's pain showed me that I have to surrender. I need to learn how to say God, I am weak. I need help. I can't do this on my own. I have to realise many factors in life cannot be controlled. I cannot control when or how severe my menstrual pain will be (who cares if it's the wrong time of the month?), I cannot control who will love me and who I will love in return. I have to stop chasing things which give me a sense of control and security, because that pursuit will ultimately end in an uncontrolled manner.

God, not me, controls my life.

And I guess what I'm most relieved to know, is that He who controls our lives is indefinitely loving and kind, righteous and true. So because of that, I can let go, I can say okay, I won't resist You or love or run away anymore.

Because of that, I can finally say, I'm broken, and my pain score was 10 out of 10.

"If you are too afraid or too enamoured by love,

it has assumed godlike power,

distorting your perceptions and your life."

- Timothy Keller, Counterfeit gods

" Be shattered, O you peoples,

and be broken in pieces!"

-Isaiah 8:9

Destroying Aphrodite.

"Something is safe for us to maintain in our lives

only if it has really stopped being an idol.

That can happen only if we are

truly willing to live without it,

when we truly say from the heart, '

Because I have God, I can live without you.'

Sometimes, God seems to be killing us when he's actually saving us."

- Counterfeit gods by Timothy Keller

Most, if not all girls take some pride in their appearance. Conventionally pretty or not, females were made with the desire to be beautiful. Vanity becomes a problem when beauty and pride become central. Eating disorders, shopping addictions and insecurities manifest.

It was not until today that I realised, God was not only asking me to let go of my sport, but my security in fleshly things too- things I never thought were wrong. After all, which human being doesn't take some pride in his appearance?

I was at my church bookstore buying the last copy of Counterfeit Gods when at the counter, a parent of one of my sunday school kids came up to tell me, in a perfectly matter-of-fact manner, "Oh, you've put on weight, yea?" And I looked at her, momentarily stunned, and wondered if that tone of voice would have been more appropriate at commenting on the weather. I smiled. "Yes I have... I fractured something lately so have been unable to train." I said it after hesitating a little, not too defensively, yet, as if I had to have explanation for how I am now.

In the female world, commenting on somebody else's weight has many implications- there are typically undercurrents suggesting one's lack of control and one's inability to manage oneself. It is not a topic to bring up unless it goes in one direction-downwards. Yes, the female species is complex, indeed.

As I made my purchase of the book at the counter with this lady in front of me, I knew, God was testing me. What was my counterfeit god? Triathlon, my bike, and... Aphrodite.

It wasn't until then that I realised, I have always taken a lot of pride in how I projected myself. Aphrodite, is an earthen goddess- horses are sacred to her; Beauty, is my a false idol- my bike is paramount to me-for more reasons than meet the eye.

Just very recently, I finally found the physiotherapist I had been praying for. Out of so many contacts I had been given and I had spoken with, she is the only one who clearly understands this particular injury of mine. When she heard of my case through a friend's friend, she buzzed me and said, "How old are you?"

"23."

"Are you a runner and a biker?"

"Yes."

"Are you vegetarian?"

It was then that I knew she understood. The fracture of the inferior ramus at the site of insertion of the adductor magnus is a very rare sports injury, common only in a specific subgroup of athletes- the young female athlete with a past history of a poor diet, eating disorder, amenorrhea or all of the above. My history was classic.

"Oh, you must be surprised," she said. "That's because my research project was based on adductor tears and these type of fractures. Sure, I'd love to help."

Most physiotherapists have hardly even heard of this injury, much less encountered it. AL was the first one who knew what she was talking about, who understood with such depth the intricate relations of all the muscles, tendons and bones involved in this painfully slow-healing injury. She predicted my sites of pain even before I told her, understood exactly why I was hurting in both my legs even though I had hurt only one. She spent a long time with me. I had never seen anyone so meticulous before.

Our first session was not easy. A lot of my strength had left me. I had put on weight. I was tired of exercising in any way, because of the pain. Doing core exercises and pilates looked slow and effortless but was in fact, very tiring. As we went through rehab exercise after rehab exercise, I suddenly understood the humour in the whole thing: God had given me exactly what I had prayed for months ago, when I asked Him to teach me what it meant to work from a posture of rest. I wasn't moving from my spot, but it sure was a lot of hard work.

All this while, I realised, my appearance had been my counterfeit god, my source of security, something I knew the world could see. My training in triathlon was my counterfeit god, because it helped me control my weight, maintain my tan, and was a great conversation topic to boost my self-esteem. I never did core exercises because I didn't see the value of strengthening myself from the inside, since no one would see the results anyway. Running, swimming and biking and being constantly on the adrenalish rush-go was far more exciting. I didn't realise till today, how superficial my mindset has been, all this while, all these years.

Do you sometimes, in some ways, live for others too? For just, a brief moment of their applause?

In the same way, running around being involved in projects and ministries and being busy was also a false god in itself. I knew it was something the world could see. Like cardiovascular exercise, the spiritual endorphins made me feel good about myself. But I neglected my spiritual core, not taking enough time to study the bible in depth. After all, doing things has always been far more glamorous, a much easier way to gain praise and honour from men.

Who enjoys sitting in one place doing painful core exercises? Who likes to sit in one place studying the bible? Boring, isn't it, compared to being on stage performing an acrobatic act. I didn't realise, that I had always made myself my own god.

"Wai Jia, you know, one's cardiovascular activity must be matched with one's core strength. This was like a time-bomb inside of you. With your history, diet, weak core muscles, and scoliosis, this would have happened, sooner or later. It was a ticking time bomb. "

I know. My activity should have been matched with taking time to strengthen my spiritual core, too. And the time bomb blew because I had allowed training and Aphrodite to rival God's place in my life. That day, I compromised on my work ethic. The junior doctor said it was a public holiday and a sunday, hence I needn't show up at the hospital for my shift. But I knew, deep down, that I ought to have showed up. Why should I base my actions on other people's standards? I compromised on my work ethic that day because something else, something counterfeit, took priority that day. I wanted one last training session before my race. I relied on my own strength. I wanted to burn more calories. And I adjusted my bike seat higher than it should have been because someone said I would go faster.

Idolatry, insecurity, self-sufficiency. Foolishness. That's when the time bomb blew.

Hence, I got injured, spiritually and physically. It would have been sooner or later. I never knew I had scoliosis.

In the bible, there's a story about a man whose central prayer in his life was to have a son. When God finally did bless him with a son named Isaac and promised that he would have many descendants, He told him to kill Isaac. God told him to bring Isaac, the son he so dearly loved, up the mountain to kill him. And the man obeyed, because he trusted God. Just at the moment of slaughter, God intervened and Isaac was spared.

How can God be so masochistic. On the outside, it seems like He was being cruel. But really, He was dealing with the destructive idols in the man's life and teaching him to put his value and security in God alone, rather than in his son. Nothing on earth belongs to us, nothing.

A friend had jokingly asked me a week ago whether his wife could ride my bike since I was now injured. I laughed out loud, because surely he knew it was an almost $3000 gift, and almost brandnew. Days later, I wrote to him saying he could come anytime, because God was teaching me to cling loose, to let go.

As I walked out from my phyiotherapist's home, a tree with sinewy roots caught my eye. It reminded me of a dream and vision I had years ago, and served to remind me not to make physiotherapy, pilates or anything else for that matter, my new god.

I am learning, that it's time for me to go up the mountain and lay my Isaac down. I've to let triathlon go, have to accept there could be a possibility of me never biking with my biking buddies again or taking part in another race. I have to accept that I will inevitably gain some weight during this process and learn to have more compassion for myself and others. And I must realise, that I could possibly gain the weight and never lose it again. Would I be okay with that?

The pain at the fracture site lingers still. "Be patient Wai Jia, this sort of fracture takes a really long time to heal because it's very hard to immobilise that muscle. I understand it's painful."

My publisher says my next book, A Taste of Rainbow should be out by October, that's also when my self-imposed 100-day bike fast ends. May that healing (spiritual, physical and emotional) be wholly complete by then.

Meanwhile, I'm going up the mountain with my Isaacs. Aphrodite must be destroyed.

"We need to find a way to keep from clutching them too tightly,

of being enslaved to them...

As many have learned and later taught,

you don't realise God is all you need

until God is all you have."

-Timothy Keller

"I also want women to dress modestly,

with decency and propriety, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or expensive clothes,

but with good deeds,

appropriate for women who profess to worship God. "

-1 Tim 2:9