Firstfruits of 50

P and I just celebrated our 50th month-versary - a milestone in our life together. It was nice that we got to celebrate with mass as we usually try to do, with gratitude and in thanksgiving. It was the first day of the Lunar New Year as well so after mass we spent the day celebrating with family, then we went home for a much needed siesta, followed by a walk, then dinner. There was even time to play with the grandkids before just chilling before the telly like an old married couple.  

There is such grace in the daily rituals of life such as exercising together (although we don’t do that often enough), eating together as a family, sharing life and laughter. It is little pleasures that come from the simple things, and not the grand gestures, that mark the marriage with quiet joy, pleasures often overlooked and taken for granted if we do not stop to acknowledge them and offer them up with thanksgiving back to the Father who first bestowed them. 

When I really look at P, I see who he is and why I fell in love with him, and I continue to love him just a little bit more for everything that he is, the total package. Sure, there are things about him that rub me the wrong way and irritate me, as I am sure I do him. However, God has given us the wisdom and charity to know what we should hold on to and what to discard in order that we can build a marriage that is founded on mutual respect, love and honour. We are far from perfect as individuals but because we decide to live for Christ and all that He stands for, we are able to forgo our egos, our need to be right, and even the instances when we are actually right and the other is wrong. 

So what have the 50 months of marriage stood for? It has been a time of getting to know each other better, of deeper bonding, of learning to love the other in a multitude of ways that were new and challenging in the initial stages, but ultimately proved enriching, delightful even, in repetition. It has been a time of testing and endurance, of great stretching, which has led to growth and a fruiting unimagined. I may not have enjoyed every moment, but I would not exchange a single milligram of pain for it is only in the bitter that sweetness is truly appreciated and savoured fully. 

The number 50 in the Bible signifies the coming of the Holy Spirit, Pentecost or the Feast of Weeks also known as the Feast of Firstfruits. P and I lay at the Lord’s feet the firststfruits of our marriage, all the choice blessings of marriage we have experienced. In thanksgiving, we honour Him for bringing us together in holy matrimony, and for journeying with us all these months. His Spirit is certainly what drives us to always desire and seek the good of the other even at great personal sacrifice. 

May we continue to walk in His ways and see His face when we chance upon or gaze fondly at the other’s visage. 

Dreaming to let go

I dreamt of E last night. We were chatting and she was doing what she did best, challenging me to live out my vocation to the fullest by using what gifts I have been given; hence this post. She was telling me to write. I have not been open to dreaming about E until yesterday for I felt, somehow, that if I dreamt of her, it would mean her passing was final and I wasn’t quite ready to accept that reality even though my brain knows she is no longer here.

It is hard letting go. It is painful; to let go for one has to process one’s emotions by naming them: the grief, frustration, fear, horror, loss, bewilderment, regret, anger and hurt... I also have to acknowledge how deeply I mourn her passing, allowing all the sadness I felt from as far back as four years ago to surface and sit with it. Most of all I have to acknowledge the deep grief I felt seeing her suffer in those last days, the sense of helplessness I felt from not being able to make her feel better.

There is such great pain in seeing someone you love suffer and knowing that whatever you do to help in concrete terms is futile and pathetic. My love was simply not enough. All I could do was stand by and weep at the awful decline wrought by the cancer. The horror and the sorrow runs deep.

Then there is the sense of loss from the aching void her death has left behind. Even though I did not live with her, her absence is palpable. And yet, as one of her dear friends said to me, E is still here, but in a different way. P said she was able to connect to E through prayer, spiritually, and I guess I need to learn to do the same.  

As Christians who believe in eternal life and the communion of saints, I get that we are still united through love and we will eventually experience a union in heaven that far supersedes the way we have experienced love on earth, but I still miss the conversations, the closeness of shared experiences, the familial love we had for each other for over 50 years that was so rooted in our mutual love for Christ in latter years. 

My gratitude runs deep that God in His infinite wisdom and mercy saw fit to gift the two of us with the gift of the other. Our relationship was pure gift, so much so that not even death can separate us fully for our bond of love is unbreakable, founded, as it were, on the Creator’s own love. 

I know in days to come that I will still be guided by her spirit which was so deeply grafted on Christ Himself. I continue to ask for the grace to transmute my grief into something more powerful, something that purifies the way I love those around me into a self-giving and humble love that brings healing, wholeness and great spiritual joy. 

I let go of the past today, wonderful as it was, and I look to the future with hope and excitement for E is still with me, guiding me on my way forward. Thanks for stopping by in my dream, E. Love you much.  

Remembering

Today is the birthday of J who would have been 53 if he were still with us. It is also the two-month anniversary of E’s passing. It is a bit of a double whammy for me as they were both so dear to me and I feel their absence quite keenly. 

Their leaving has left a huge void in my life for we were buddies first before we were cousins. I kept in touch with both frequently when they were living abroad, and saw them regularly when they were living in Singapore. We shared our lives - celebrated our victories, and commiserated over our sorrows.

Yet I am reminded of a homily which I heard at the start of this year to give thanks; be grateful for everything in my life. And I am grateful that the Father saw fit to place both E and J in my life which has been enriched immeasurably. 

The laughter, the tears, the good and bad times, we have walked together through it all. Nothing can erase the memories except perhaps my own faulty memory, and yet, at the end of it all, the deep love I have for both of them will remain.  

Today I celebrate dear J’s birthday by giving thanks to the Creator with a little prayer that J is now in Paradise with Him, as is E. Kisskiss, hughug, much love, me cozzies. I am so glad you were, and still are in my life. Happy, happy birthday J.

Unprecedented blessings

While driving earlier on, a radio DJ asked: In one word, describe how the year has been for you? I am loathe to say tough, although it has been tough for I most recently lost someone whom I love very much after journeying with her in her last months. It has been heartbreaking while at the same time I am glad that she is not suffering any longer, and rejoice that I have a new guardian angel looking out for me from heaven. Simply have to take the bad with the good.

I hesitate to say challenging as well for every year has its own challenges. Yet nothing is so bad that we cannot overcome adverse conditions, loss, or complete chaos, especially when God is on our side, and, more importantly, we are on His. No matter what happens, if I do not deviate from the narrow path of all that Christianity espouses, then I know I am good. Thus it has been in past years, and so it has been in these last 12 months, and will continue to be in the future. Nothing and no one can take away my joy, my bliss, my freedom. Not even a pandemic. Reading the Bible in a very intentional way this year has brought this message home to me more than ever. I am blessed, and I am immensely grateful for all I have been given. 

If I need to mask up when outdoors, watch that I am not standing too close to strangers, sanitize my hands frequently, curtail social gatherings and keeping gatherings to a legally prescribed number, so be it. If I have to stay home for several weeks, it is not the end of the world. No biggie. I love my family, some of whom are vulnerable, so I do my utmost to ensure they are not at risk. Life may have seemed more circumscribed, but it was definitely not diminished.

Besides work, I have been busy with family, especially grandchildren who have brought me tremendous joy. I have had the opportunity to work with my community and participate in a couple of outreaches via the wonders of Zoom. I have picked up a new ministry, journeying with people who wish to be baptized Catholics. I have had the privilege of journeying with someone and watching his conversion to Christ, something that brought him peace in his last days. I have put to use the gifts and talents I have been given, helped those who needed a helping hand, connected meaningfully with people, brought hope, maybe even a few laughs if not joy. 

The word I would choose to describe 2020 is unprecedented. Unprecedented in life experiences, and unprecedented in how I have been called to respond and act, to show love in new ways, to communicate in new ways, and to bear fruit in new ways. I am even been called to worship God in new ways. While all these new experiences may not have been fully comfortable in their initial strangeness, I continue to say yes and be open, adaptable to the newness of life. And I look forward to unprecedented ways to say thank you to my Maker for always making a way, even when there seems to be none. Look harder, there’s always a new way.

 

Letter to E

I cannot believe that you are no longer here. It has been almost a month and I have not really allowed myself to think of your passing except when I pray for I continue to pray for your soul my most heartfelt wish being that you are already with our Lord in paradise, no longer in purgatory. I believe you are already there with the many whose lives you have touched and transformed and who therefore are praying fervently the same prayer that I am. But call it insurance. Plus I know my prayers will not go to waste for they will help others who are still in purgatory so this is my win-win prayer for you. 

Although I cannot quite put into words my grief for it changes all the time, from inchoate to full blown depression (I’ve put on weight from all the emo eating I’ve indulged in to fill the emptiness inside, chocolate being my food of choice which, I am sure, you would approve), and I have isolated myself away from well-meaning friends who are grieving as I am for my grief is private and unique something I am not quite ready to share with others.

My memories range from the whimsical - all those magical times we shared: playing as girls, listening to the single Pappa loves Mama, trying to heal that beautiful blue butterfly we found in your garden; you happily showing me around Cambridge; that gorgeous summer’s day in Heidelberg when you drove down from Allerheiligen in the Black Forest to spend the afternoon with me; eating ice cream in wintery Boston, walking around the touristy surroundings of Faneuil Hall; those three life-changing weeks in Bangalore at Pastoral Counselling School where I first experienced God’s compassionate and forgiving mercy through you; our final carefree outing together at Sonya’s Secret Garden in Tagaytay - to the terrible: that Sunday morning you called me when you experienced great pain which we later realized was when the tumour had burst; to P feeding me Korean ginseng chicken soup when he broke the news of your cancer to me (I remember telling him I would go mad if I lost you for that was the year we both lost J.); watching you suffer through chemo that first round, the only relief provided by my wedding day; then the brief respite when you received the all clear PET scan results... until the cancer returned and the mad rollercoaster of grief began yet again as you went through the suffering of treatment which morphed all too quickly from preventive to palliative. 

It was hard watching your decline, that last year, that last month, that last week and that last morning. If I could have, I would have taken the suffering and pain away from you, yet all I could do was watch the awfulness of it all, pretty much helpless. 

There is so much love within my heart for you, this gift from God, this bond of pure love that has never changed except to grow stronger through the years from the time I could remember. I know it will never die even though you are not here physically, materially. 

Part of my grief is selfish for I am wondering how am I going to grow spiritually without you challenging me, encouraging me, guiding me, and loving me, even though I know this will never stop, for your spirit lives on in my heart, and I know you are still with me through our shared Catholic faith. 

There is, of course, great consolation in my desolation, knowing you are gained eternal life and that you are free from the chains of that odious cancer. For there is a lightness within my heart, as Emily Dickinson wrote, the thing with feathers that never stops singing - at all. You have become that thing with feathers, that little singing bird that will go on singing through the storms and gales of my life. 

Like Mary Magdalene I need to let go of known perceptions, comforting in their familiarity, to embrace a whole new reality of life, new life, resurrected life. Our lives together have just begun. The love never stops - ever...

Cana revisited

Who knew what the future would hold

A scant four years ago

In faith we said yes to marriage 

A life together having and holding

Hand in hand we have walked

Our hearts made whole in unity

Joined by our mutual love for the One

Who makes all things possible 

When we do whatever He tells us 

Miracles have abounded we are astounded 

By the joy of living as husband and wife

We give thanks for His wisdom and grace

His purpose and plan 

We say yes today and always

To praise and glorify Him

With deep gratitude for our Mother 

Who knew exactly what each one needed

The best for last to last forever

Blessed be the Lord our God

Who makes all things new and alive

Loving means letting go

I have let you go

By restful waters of a new life

A well deserved place at the table.

I have let you go

Into the arms of the shepherd

Who swaddles you cosy, carrying you home.

I have let you go

Ascending the mountain

Disappearing into the clouds.

I have let you go

In peace and joy to the Bridegroom

With one last backward smile goodbye 

I have let you go

Free from the interminable suffering

Free to be His beloved, desired child.

I have let you go

My selfish grief has settled

Into great rejoicing at your perfect healing.

I have let you go 

With great gratitude

For having known you and loved you.

I have let you go 

For I know you will never truly leave me

The gentle breeze whispers your heart. 

Grief-struck

Sad, sad, sad, incredibly sad, that this would happen

Why, why, why, it makes no sense, oh no, it doesn't.

Does it shake my faith? Of course it does.

Did my daily prayers not move You?

You are not listening to me!

Surely there’s still much to be done

The harvest is rich, and You need labourers

Is she not one of the best in Your sight

As she is, deep within my little girl heart?

Surely Your plans need time to unfold 

Why, at least until I am bent over with age?

You say to trust You with all of my heart,

and not lean on my own understanding,*

That the wisdom of this world is foolishness**

Then, help me understand, for, right now,

I am foolishly, most indubitably, a mess. 

* Proverbs 3:5
** 1 Corinthians 3:19

Written on September 6, 2018.

Fare thee well, au revoir

In my heart there is a space filled with love of you

You were my gift from God, a very special one

Words are simply not enough to express who you are to me. 

Nor describe the beauty of our story, the love and life we shared. 

Now you have left me to carry on without you. How could you? 

Grief indescribable floods my whole being. 

How will it be possible, you, not in my life?  

You, whom I've known simply forever. 

You showed me the Way, His truth, how incredibly beautiful life can be, 

To live as His bride, adorned in jewels bright.

Thank you, my dearest coz, for everything. 

A life poured out on the altar, a pleasing aroma of Christ. 

When I look to the heavens I know you will be there

to guide me home to Paradise where we will be together again. 

Sayonara!

W passed away just this Wednesday past, peacefully, without too much suffering given he had stomach cancer which had spread extensively to his bones as medical investigation revealed early August. Prior to this, he was rendered homeless just before the circuit breaker in April. 

He was a Japanese national who lived in Singapore since the 1990s and from someone who experienced financial success, he was reduced to poverty through the vagaries of economic downturns and a catastrophic robbery. 

Alone, in a strange land, estranged from family and, most recently, from a good friend who had supported him for years, terminally ill, destitute, and pretty much helpless, it is a heartbreaking tale of human suffering on every level. And yet, it is into such situations that God’s grace and mercy shines the brightest. 

He didn’t die alone. He was surrounded by people who loved and cared for him, visiting him frequently. He even found a son in B who looked after him as only a blood relative would have done in his last months of life, while my sister-in-law, B, was the penultimate Good Samaritan who was the first to reach out to W when he was in dire straits and support him in multiple ways where help was most needed, until he went home to the Lord. Thus, he died “comfortably”, with his dignity intact, in a hospice.

Journeying with W, whom I have known a couple of years, I am completely awed by how much God loves each and every one of us, and how tirelessly He goes after the lost sheep to bring him home to safety and salvation. 

The Lord brought many Christians into W’s life to show him how much he was loved. W always expressed that he wanted to have a very real experience of Jesus, to know He exists. I believe God granted his wish in glorious technicolour, and W came to the faith in a long, albeit roundabout way.

W was not the only one who was blessed, for we, the ones who knew him and journeyed with him were equally blessed. His life was rich not only because he found the pearl of great price of eternal life, but also because he transformed so many of us in that process, our lives were immeasurably enriched. The Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC), paragraph 949 states: Faith is a treasure of life which is enriched by being shared. Those of us who shared our faith with W through word and deed these last months have indeed found it to be so. 

Just last Thursday evening, during the RCIA session at Blessed Sacrament Church, we were talking about the communion of saints. W’s life and passing brings to life this great Christian doctrine and truth, that we are all part of the single mystical body of Christ, who alone is the head. 

When Father Sam shared the following, it resonated very strongly with me: 
Communion in charity. In the sanctorum communio, "None of us lives to himself, and none of us dies to himself." "If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honoured, all rejoice together. Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it." "Charity does not insist on its own way." In this solidarity with all men, living or dead, which is founded on the communion of saints, the least of our acts done in charity redounds to the profit of all. Every sin harms this communion.    - 953, Catechism of the Catholic Church

I can still hear the beautiful strains of the last coda playing when we bade W goodbye at his funeral service just Thursday past at Mandai Crematorium. 

Rest in peace, dear W-san. Sayonara, for now.

Death came clothed in peace

Crowned in Divine Mercy: grace

Going home in joy

Spiritual roots

During online mass on August 21, Father Michael Payyapilly spoke of the importance of remembering and honouring my spiritual roots, to always know when my faith began to deepen and grow so that I will follow Jesus,  the right 'way' (at all costs), and not lose my way ever. 

Being the feast day of Pope Saint Pius X, a great saint and pope who was known for lowering the age for First Communion as well as for his encouragement of the faithful to receive holy communion frequently, Father Michael highlighted the humility of this sainted pope who said: I was born poor, I have lived poor, I wish to die poor. 

Inspired by his homily, I would like to pay tribute to my father who was born poor and died poor, but grew rich in his faith and love for God in his last days as he suffered great poverty of health. Remembering my father who died today, 17 years ago. 

Only in your death did the grain of deep faith begin to sprout,

Nurtured by your suffering, watered in our collective tears.

Your slow decline was torturously sublime

The endless days a chain of kairos moments that

Brought glory to God in the depths of pain.

You bestowed on me your faith in dying

This legacy still lives and breathes, so precious to me

It is my pearl of great price and I am grateful for its luminous purity

That always leads me back to my eternal Bridegroom.

Thank you for guiding me day after day

From where you are, one with our heavenly Father 

With you both looking out for me, I know I am safe.

For I am doubly blessed to have two fathers

One who was fully human, and one who is fully divine.

May I always be spiritually rooted in who you were today 

Unsought, it has given me life to the full

Even as I still mourn my loss, missing you much.

Naked with no shame

Thanks to Father Bobby, P and I have just embarked on a year-long study of the Bible where we hope to live the logos as rhema every day so that, come next Pentecost, we can celebrate the Holy Spirit in an even richer way. 

Flashback to last August when Father Bobby encouraged us to proclaim the Word out loud 30 minutes every day and we would see miracles happening in our lives. We followed his advice and I have to say he was right. We have since seen many miracles, big and small, and we are now about eight to nine-tenths through the Bible. So we are both most happy to embark on rereading the Bible in a more reflective manner. Here’s the result of day one’s reflection yesterday thanks to Genesis 1:25 and the Unity Prayer* of the Flame of Love of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. 

The man and his wife were naked,

Yet they felt no shame.

This is what I desire with you.

Love, pure, and gleaming golden rays of light 

Firing our hearts welded so seamlessly within Christ. 

We gaze on each other with childlike innocence 

No holding back on how we feel

Defenceless but unafraid,

Vulnerable, so poignantly tender,   

Because we know our hearts beat in unison 

As our feet journey together. 

What you want, I seek fully for you,

What I want, you move mountains to give,

Each wanting the better for the other,

Making each other better with age.

May our lips always pray together, 

Giving thanks, singing praise, and

Gaining mercy from the Eternal Father.

* https://flameoflove.us/welcome-flame-love/

Individuating well

We recently had our cell group meeting and I was inspired by all the stories of my cell members. I gained new insights and I wish to thank every one of them for being my bread along the journey. This one’s for you:

Individuation. It’s a hefty word loaded with potential. In psychology it speaks to a transformative process, a growing awareness within a person, and a healing self-acceptance that allows the different parts of one’s psyche to integrate as a whole and thereby become something new and separate. Distinct.

It usually starts by taking the where I come from, my personal context, and celebrating it in my own way. I choose to be who I am, in the best way possible, that makes me fully alive. When I was younger, I hated the fact I was born female. I was physically weaker than my three brothers, and I was different, but not, I perceived, in a good way. I felt limited, imprisoned by my femaleness for I was born into a culture that accorded boys preferential treatment. So I denied my femininity by cutting my hair short and dressing like a boy.

Today I celebrate my feminine genius, all these wonderful qualities of what being a woman is all about. Even the not so great bits such as the hormonal craziness helps me to grow in empathy, compassion and patience  - not such a bad thing. Most days I enjoy my distinctly female view of the world. I appreciate who I am created to be, the unique individual that I am; and to give thanks to the Creator, I use my feminine genius to transform the environment I move in to bring light and umami-loaded salt. As my SD is fond of telling me, I am made to bring beauty into the world, to grace the occasions of life. Yes, Father A, I hear you.

Like most families, we have our own quirks, and generational sins that come alive in a brokenness that prevents growth. I had many labels put on me as a child, and it took great effort and work to let go of those labels and decide how I wish to rewrite those labels and the negative scripts that play in my head. 

I thank Jesus for being the one who helped me see my own belovedness, that no matter what I had done and where I had been, I could be the prodigal who returned to experience the unconditional, generous and unchanging love of the Father. Living now in my Father’s house, I enjoy making Him happy, and bringing His glory out into the world. I still fall, I still sin, I still hear the negative scripts in my head, but I am also able to rise above my transgressions and the lies in my head, to keep being born anew - becoming and transcending my personal history. I can move forward, unhampered by my past, and not limited by my fears, perceived and real.

And so it goes, life will never be perfect. There will be a perpetual tension in the things I want to do and the things I need to do. There will always be the need to balance, to juggle my responsibilities and still take care of me. How do I choose where I will go, and what I see and do and say? What do I have to do in order I continue to mature into this woman God created me to be, to grow into my personal identity and the name He has given me?

The one constant in my life is God, and to do His will. I know that my faithful Father will always honour my desire. So despite my shortcomings and whatever challenges, struggles I face, in spite of my own fears and normal inclinations to look out for self first, I can choose to listen to Jesus and put out into the deep. And with that one singular desire and action, my response to the Almighty will always situate me and have me living out my personal vocation in the fullest expression of love. I am set apart to bring His love to the world and stir love in others (thank you Father Michael D’Cruz). God willing, that is what I will do every single day.

Vocation of love

I was struck with what Archbishop William Goh said recently during one of his homilies, that every Christian’s personal vocation is love: to serve in and with love. It is as simple as that. 

My community has been focusing on the weighty concept of personal vocation these last weeks and it has left some of us scratching our heads as to how to live out our personal vocation in such circumscribed times. Plus most of us are in the business of making a living which may seem at odds with our individual gifts and charisms. As each of us wants to live our life completely exercising the will of God, there is no small level of frustration when we feel we are prevented from living out our personal vocation. 

A recent session with Ann Yeong on integration and individuation has had me taking stock of myself, and where I am in these processes. How well am I personally integrated, and thus individuating into the me I have been created to be, an unique and gifted amalgam of strengths and weaknesses? Am I mended together well enough to be set apart in such a way I am the best me ever?  

Integration can be examined in three areas: personal context, personal history and personality. How have I taken the context I have been born in (Catholic, Cantonese, Singaporean female), layered in my life experiences which includes the healed scarring events, and swirled it all into my personality to arrive at a whole that exudes inner harmony. 

Am I a pleasing, life-giving synthesis of a human being that has no twin in the entire world, and am extremely comfortable in my own skin? I may not be where I want to be but I can certainly say I have been refined, like gold, through the years, and I have picked up no small measure of wisdom, thanks to the discipline of prayer and self-reflection. Where I fail or am lacking, the Holy Spirit supplements with fresh insight, healing and redemption. So I know that my mistakes can always be transformed into valuable lessons that aid me on my journey ahead.

Ann highlighted individuation as becoming a separate entity from one’s personal context; becoming a new entity transcending personal history; and maturing into a unique personal identity and vocation. Self-awareness and self-acceptance are key in this process in order to make choices and decisions in life that come from a place of freedom. It also involves hard work, making deliberate and often difficult choices to work on one’s self. 

Underlying all this self work which is a never-ending journey through life, what makes it all worthwhile is it enables us to become the work of art that God envisioned from the outset, then sees coming to life as we cooperate with Him in time. The road ahead may be dark and long, with serpentine twists and turns, however, if I stay grounded in my true and fundamental identity as beloved child of God, I am well placed to live out my personal vocation every single day, adding unique zest and outstanding flavour. 

God places us where we need to be (if we say yes in the first place, like Mother Mary did at the Annunciation) at any given point in time so we can fill a deep need*. The question is do we choose to fill that need in a way that is mediocre and lacklustre, or filled with extraordinary love and joy, thereby living out our personal vocation fully. 

I so totally get how Saint Therese of Lisieux is the patron saint of missionaries, along with Saint Francis Xavier, despite never having stepped foot out of her cloistered Carmelite monastery. For me, she exemplifies someone who lived out her personal vocation fully for she got it. It’s all about love, first loving Jesus wholeheartedly, then living out that love in little ways. 

* Vocation is the place where our deep gladness meets the world's deep need.” ― Frederick Buechner

Telling His story in our stories

Today’s Gospel passage is from Luke and it is about two disheartened disciples of Christ, post-crucifixion, walking to Emmaus, who are joined by a Christ they did not recognize. He teases out their stories from them before He proceeds to recount the history of God’s salvific love from the very beginning to the coming of the Messiah and what part suffering would play in the fruition of God’s glory. 

The disciples recognize Jesus only at the breaking of bread and when Jesus disappears from their sight do they finally see the truth of the Risen Christ. With renewed vigour in their hearts, they set out to be with their fellow disciples and to share a new Easter story of encountering the resurrected Christ. 

There are so many lessons to draw from this passage but what Archbishop William Goh shared about how history is a living thing, a integral part of where we come from and who we will become resonated with me.

My story closely woven into the fabric of His story gives my story deeper meaning, especially when I encounter hardship, suffering and loss and see all the bad with the eyes of a disciple who listens to the Teacher tell it like it is: salvation is not without pain, blood must be spilled, death must occur, a willing sacrifice made, and yet, because it is the story of God’s love, there is hope and the birth of a new story, a story of new life, a celebration of eternal glory, not just when we return to Him, but in the here and now. Today, we can rejoice, even in the midst of sorrow or great difficulty. 

The Archie encourages us to use this period of grace as we are forced to stay home, to tell our stories to each other and experience healing. In sharing and making sense of our tears of struggle and pain, we can begin to integrate our experiences into our own life story and the overarching story of salvation, weaving in a rich counterpoint of faith brought to life in real and concrete ways. It is here we can bless others. By being Christ to each other as we offer up our own stories in an ocean of compassionate and connected humanity, we blend our stories harmoniously in an eternal symphony of God’s boundless, merciful and unconditional love. 

So we turn our hearts and faces towards Jesus, listen carefully to His words of wisdom and allow Him to ignite our imaginations and passions so that we will always see Him clearly enough to follow Him with joy in every step.  And we can thus tell His story in our stories.

Hoping in Divine Mercy

It was shortly after my mother has finished her treatment for breast cancer that my parents went on a pilgrimage to Lourdes, Fatima and Medjugorje in 2000, and my father came home transformed. He kept going on about the Divine Mercy devotion and he wanted all of us to pray it. He even wanted to start a prayer group in our parish dedicated to the Divine Mercy. Being a nominal Catholic at the time, and not a fan of devotional prayer, I completely ignored my father. 

In the same year my parents had gone on their pilgrimage, Pope John Paul II instituted the Feast of the Divine Mercy into the liturgical calendar, making the first Sunday after Easter Divine Mercy Sunday. That April, he also canonized Sister Faustina Kowalska, a Polish nun who had first received the message to pray for God’s Divine Mercy for the whole world through the chaplet given her at 3am and/or 3pm daily. 

Some 15 years later, when I had a better understanding of what the devotion to the Divine Mercy was, and even prayed the chaplet from time to time (it was shorter than the rosary which made it more attractive to me), I still had not a full appreciation of what God’s Divine Mercy meant in my life. I only began to understand the true depth of Divine Mercy when I met P, my husband. 

It was on Divine Mercy Sunday we had our first date and my conviction began growing exponentially from then that indeed, God’s love and mercy for all humanity, for me personally, is truly boundless. Time and time again, mercy has been shown to me, to us as a couple through courtship into marriage, and through the early days of our marriage till the present time. How else can we, two old fogeys set in our ways, make it work?

We began praying the chaplet daily when we decided to pray the Novena of the Divine Mercy on a Good Friday not long after marriage. Do I believe that prayer can move mountains? Yes, I do. Not only do I believe that praying the chaplet can bring about conversions, save souls, and ease the passage for the dying back to the Father, I believe that praying the chaplet makes me more self-aware, and therefore kinder, more forgiving and a more generous person. Jesus reveals to me whenever I fall short and what I need to do to rectify my selfish behaviour. 

Having had the source and summit of my Christian life (CCC 1324), the Eucharist, taken from me, I am left with my faith intact due in no small part to my disciplines of prayer, especially my devotional prayers of the rosary and the Divine Mercy chaplet. It hasn’t been easy going from daily mass to just spiritual communion but I trust that the Father sees the desires of my heart, all my despair and my sorrow, and helps me transform my deep sense of loss into something unimaginably beautiful. 

I can still evangelize in my cloistered life of the Community Circuit Breaker which began on April 7. My prayer can still change the world; it can still protect loved ones and connect me to others. I can still spread the ‘contagion of hope’ that Pope Francis talked about in his Easter Sunday Urbi Er Orbi message. “Christ, my hope, is risen!” and I have a responsibility to transmit this hope from ‘heart to heart’ as long as I remember what Il Papa said:

Christ’s resurrection is not a “magic formula that makes problems vanish...“it is the victory of love over the root of evil”. This victory “does not ‘by-pass’ suffering and death, but passes through them, opening a path in the abyss, transforming evil into good”. 

A blessed Divine Mercy Sunday, all.

Entering Holy Week

It has been a very different Lenten season in that it is set within a global pandemic that has seen nation after nation locking down entire countries due to the horrendous numbers of people infected with the coronavirus. Healthcare systems are severely overburdened, the number of people dying globally is now over 80,000. 

We are all practising physical distancing and mostly working from home. Life, as we knew it, a scant four months ago, has changed completely and I am not even sure when we can return to what it was or will it ever be the same? I suspect not, for life is meant to change no matter what season of life we are in. Certainly not as drastic as this all the time, one hopes, but well, adapt we must.

I have to say I have struggled with all that has been happening, just seeing so much loss and suffering on a global level: reading about how doctors are forced to triage and let patients die because ICU resources are limited, of bodies littering corridors and streets because there is no more room in hospitals, and the sheer numbers of deaths. Then there is the financial and the social impact this pandemic has had: livelihoods threatened or lost, businesses going bust, domestic violence on the increase... it is just all round bad news, day after day. 

While I could never pretend to understand the depths of despair and the suffering that is being experienced, I have been grieving the losses in a very real way. Oftentimes I just block out the world in order not to feel overwhelmed, especially since there is very little that I can do save praying for the situation, which seems so futile, so hopeless. 

So this has been my biggest challenge over this particular Lenten season, how do I continue to live out my faith, to be life-giving, to bring light into a world filled with such darkness? How do I return to Him, the centre of my universe, and draw on His strength and courage in order to walk forward with hope and joy, and do the little things, live my little life (which has shrunk so dramatically) in meaningful ways? How do I make a difference every day?

I have come to realize that it is still possible to love intentionally, to do His will in all things, to act in His Spirit of generosity and compassion. Despite the great loss of receiving the Eucharist on my tongue, I can still be in spiritual communion and be in a rich, intimate and fulfilling relationship with Jesus as before. In fact, learning new ways of worshipping Him has probably heightened my sense of reverence for the Creator. It requires adaptation and great discipline to be faithful, but it is not impossible. As Saint Paul wrote to the Romans in chapter 8, verse 35: Nothing can separate us from the love of Christ. 

Journeying this Holy Week at home may be odd, but I know I can still walk with Him to Calvary, and stand at the foot of the cross, offering up my personal grief and losses, even as I stand in awe, and gratitude, at the ultimate sacrifice He made, the gift of His life, for all humanity out of sheer love.

I will keep praying, I will keep fasting, and I will keep giving alms. Renew my heart, O Lord, let me return to you in new ways so that I may continue to glorify you each day, especially in this Holy Week.