Do not worry

It's been great slowing down and just listening to the demands of my body and responding in a positive manner.

When I am hungry (which I am quite a bit, much to my chagrin), I eat.

When I am tired, I sleep.

When I feel up to it, I take slow strolls around my estate with my mother as companion.

I have become more attuned to the rhythms of my body as it follows the sun's progress east to west daily.

The healing process is slow, but sure. Every day I feel a little stronger, but I know not to push it, which is hard for the me who is used to a more rapid pace of life.

Part of the healing process involves pain. As my nerves re-connect, parts of my skin near the wound have become hyper-sensitive, while other areas remain strangely numb.

Strange, sharp pains shoot through my system sporadically and my muscles spasm into life disconcertingly after an uncanny quiescence.

There are days I feel like I've been cut into half and my entire person will never be the same again.

I am bone-achingly tired and feel spent without even doing more than sitting in front of the telly.

But I know I am getting better and this is just something I have to go through.

C. asked if I felt depressed and the answer is no. Initially I just felt too awful physically. Plus, the thing that mattered most to me, my uterus, was still a part of me. That alone gave me cause for celebration. And I am eternally grateful that my deepest desire was granted.

Today S. visited me and asked if I were worried that it could be cancer.

Yes, there is a part of me that experiences some anxiety when I think about it for my fibroid was atypical in appearance. Then again, I told her I didn't think much about it for I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

Matthew 6:34 comes to mind, not to worry about tomorrow for it would take care of itself.

This is how I choose to live my life: one day at a time, taking one step at a time.

The Father knows what I need and I will rely on His love to see me through this period of restoration.

And so, I do not worry.

Coffee strong and good

Just over the last couple of months, three girlfriends of mine suffered sudden and traumatic bereavements in their respective lives.

Then I got to experience just last week physical pain and suffering that I have not been exposed to previously and it was an eye-opener.

In Pope John Paul II's apostolic letter Salvifici Doloris, On the Christian Meaning of Human Suffering, the late pontiff states that suffering is "essential to the nature of man".

It belongs to our "transcendence" for we are "'destined' to go beyond" ourselves and we are each "called to this in a mysterious way".

Instead of running away or loathing the reality of suffering, if we are able to find meaning in it (google Frankl's logotherapy) and use it to transform our lives, then suffering becomes a positive thing, a signpost on the road, leading us to our final destination with ever-growing certainty and joy.

There is an classic story of how people react to adversity and suffering - either like carrots, eggs or ground coffee beans boiled in water.

Those like carrots who were firm and strong become soft and weak when exposed to heat.

Those like eggs who were tender-hearted and soft inside become hard-boiled and tough through and through.

Those like ground coffee beans transform the environment around them by releasing an essence that exudes a rich aroma and flavour, pleasing to many.

Thus suffering can be a time of transformation and growth, even as it evokes different responses from different people, making it both a universal and unique experience for each individual.

While each one of us must journey through life bearing our own crosses (albeit some self-manufactured and unnecessary) and work through the difficult times on our own, the comforting thought is we are not alone.

We are never alone, even when we think we are. This has been my experience through these last two weeks leading up to the operation and post-surgery.

The Trinity, Father, Son and Spirit, were there - through it all.

So were my guardian angel, Mother Mary and the communion of saints. It's times like these I truly love belonging to a catholic family! :D

When I felt discouraged or panicked or couldn't pray, someone, near or far, would message me and keep me going.

Or someone would pop by the hospital and literally be a ministering angel, restoring me to health.

I rested well in the knowledge that I had a prayer lifeline in my W2W sisters who had set up an intercessory prayer chain through the high BP, nausea, pain, bleeding, fevers and debilitating state of being.

Every little worry I have had regarding the entire situation, in offering it up I have found that His hand has guided and provided a generous answer.

The question, of course, is whether I allow myself to depend on Him for being weak and humble is... humbling. It calls for my continued obedience, chastity and poverty.

At this point, six days post-surgery, I can only be awed at how everything was taken care of as it should have been and that I had the best of care from all the medical professionals who were in contact with me.

I am profoundly grateful for all my visitors and my prayer warriors who have showed me love and care in a multitude of ways. People who appeared magically when help was needed.

My thoughts on waking two days ago and on feeling myself turn the corner was how truly blessed I was even as I had to "groan" through the last week.

As I look forward to saying yes with a more resounding voice myself and to decocting the brew that God has planned for me (yes I know what this time of rest is to be used for), I am glad for the gift of the Holy Spirit this Pentecost past.

The Spirit that resides within us and helps us "rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope" (Romans 5).

It is a hope that does not disappoint, for as Fr. Damian mentioned in his Ascension Thursday homily, we are a people of hope because we know where we come from, we know where we are and we know where we are going.

I would also like to say to my three girlfriends, K., S. and P., know that I love you and will continue to pray that you each experience the blessings that come with suffering, and consequently brew excellent cups of coffee yourselves.

With the help of the Chief Barista, of course.

Womb-inations

The date of my surgery draws near and I have not been doing too well, i.e. I have been stressed, trying to teach as much as I can, acquiring money much like a squirrel gathering acorns just before the winter for I will not be working for a month post-surgery, plus trying to juggle a whole bunch of other stuff - just don't ask me what for I never know where the time goes.

I have not been sleeping well either. In part due to my foot injury from two months ago which has totally screwed up my back and legs from walking around with an uneven gait, and, I think in part due to the stress of the impending operation and the forced recuperation period (and having to switch gears).

The latest manifestation in my body is high blood pressure which is a 'from-left-field' curve ball for I have never had problems with BP, as recent as a month ago, and have always had a tendency towards low BP. So what is it that is causing me so much mental anguish?

On reflection I realize I still find it difficult to let go of certain situations and areas in my life and let Him lead.

The control freak in me cannot deal with the fact that I will be unconscious for two hours while strangers invade my personal space and cut open my body to remove something foreign (the fibroid) and possibly something that is a fundamental part of my womanhood (my uterus).

Every fibre in my body and psyche screams out against the removal of my womb, the seat of my creativity. Yes, there is slight possibility of me using it to give life any time in the future, but I am most partial to my womb, having had it my entire life.

Yes, I can be a mother, spiritually and still be creative and life-giving even without my uterus, and I would still be every inch the woman I am now, but I would know something that was present no longer is and I mourn even the possibility of this scenario coming to pass.

As I write this I recall what John Powell says about 95% of our suffering being neurotic so... I am merely exercising my neurotic bent.

The struggle also comes from the idea of being weak and being the one who has to rely on others, and to receive. I am more used to being the one who gives.

I am the Good Samaritan, not the injured man lying on the side of the road.

It is extremely uncomfortable for me to be the succoured, not the succourer.

Humbling. This stems from both pride and a deep-rooted fear of rejection.

One of my key conclusions after we finished Cloud and Townsend's Boundaries is I am not adept at letting the good in and I guess that there is no time like the present for putting into practice and perfecting an insight that calls for action.

Strange as it may seem (or maybe not so strange given the above insight), it is painful for me to receive love for I can't quite believe that I am worthy of the outpouring of love that I have already been receiving from family, friends and clients.

Am I really capable of inspiring such love? I am always bemused and a little overawed when people say yes so resoundingly.

In this whole experience, I know I am called to trust Jesus even more and to grow in confidence in the truth: that I am precious, beloved and a pearl of great price.

I know that Jesus is with me, and will be with me through it all.

Now I just need to experience this truth in my body and have my blood pressure revert to normal.

Emmaus electric

These past few weeks I realized just how much power words can hold. I have always understood this but did not actually think that words spoken to me when I was a young girl would still impact me today.  

The negative comments, jeers, taunts and labels, the lies that were thrown at me still reside within me, frozen in time, buzzing with life and holding sway over my self-esteem and my psyche.  

So no matter how confident I am now, as an adult, in certain situations, I still react like that young girl who was uncomfortable in her own skin because she believed the negative messages told to her, and that made her feel like she was lacking, a misfit. 

I remain reserved and guarded in my awkwardness, and in the language of Boundaries, I tend not to let the good in, even as I have been quite adept at keeping the bad out (while allowing the bad inside to set up house, so it seems).   

Hanging onto the past is no way to live, especially if it impedes growth and freedom in the present.  

Did Jesus not say “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full”? 

It was therefore no coincidence that I got a chance to go for a weekend retreat at the Major Seminary early April. What was duty and obligation on my part turned out to be a blessing as I had the opportunity to revisit my past and reflect on how I wanted my present to unfold.  

As I rested in the silence spaces of my consciousness, I could feel my heart burning within me, like the two disciples who met and conversed with Jesus on the road to Emmaus.  

At the same time I felt “foolish” and “slow of heart”, like the disciples, for not realizing earlier what was within my grasp all along and what I needed to do to move ahead. 

I am thankful that God is faithful and He never gives up on me. Instead He keeps sending people in my life to serve as prophets, to remind me of who I am and what He desires for me.

Likewise the Fully Alive Experience last weekend as well as the Theology of the Body programme running currently in St. Teresa's every Tuesday evening have kept me alert to His presence and made effecting change easier.

This Easter has emerged as a season for me to let go even more of the past that still resonates in my body so that I can live the Easter promise with resounding integrity. 

May truth always prevail.