Circle of life

This morning I attend the funeral mass of A.'s father. Her father had fallen ill about a month ago and everyone who knew the family prayed hard for his recovery. I was in Brisbane the last two weeks for training and while I was away, her father finally returned to the Lord, a day before I was due to fly home.

As I grieved with the family who have had to deal with the shock of the suddeness and ferocity of the deadly cancer, I added my own personal grief this morning, reliving the experience of losing my own father. I am sure that A. and her siblings will cover the same ground as I did, crying out, "It's just not right, he's not supposed to leave so soon. Parents are only supposed to die when I am in my 60s. Not when I am in my 30s!!!" Even as I write this, I recall my father's words on death, "When the Lord calls you home, you go, not one second earlier or later".

Parting is indeed such sweet, and rich sorrow.

I am not sure one ever gets over the grief of great loss. We just tuck it into an obscure recess of the heart and learn to live with the pain it evokes from time to time when an errant memory escapes from its designated cubby-hole. For life must go on, and death is what gives life its intrinsic value. Without death, life would not have the flavour and depth it has.

During the time I was away, my god-daughter, Amelie Rachel, was born on December 8th, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. I was overjoyed to hear the news and I looked forward to meeting her, which I did, the moment I arrived home. Such a tiny little thing, with delicate skin and a cute button nose, this promise of new life who touches all who see her with joy.

I look forward to watching her grow up, and viewing things through her eyes - with innocence and wonder at the beauty that surrounds her.

Syncopated by birth and death, joy and sorrow, the seasons of life tap out a universal rhythm of change. I am reminded that "There is a given time for everything and a time for every happening under heaven". And so, I make time to grieve with A., and to rejoice at the arrival of Amelie.

Coming up roses

I just returned from a short vacation with my Mum. We were in Chiang Mai for five days, four of which were spent with Auntie S. who flew up from Bangkok to see Mum. Auntie S. (AS for short) and Mum had not seen each other for about 20 years and it was time for catching up and reminiscing, filled with laughter and serendipitous fellowship.

They had met because their husbands met as Rotarians in the 70s and bonded. It's uncanny how alike their husbands and domestic situations were, and are. Both are now widows and have found a new lease on life. Their marriages were not easy, by any standard, and would have dissolved in present times for not many women today would put up with what they did. It takes women of rare courage and perseverance, women of faith, to remain true to their marriage vows in spite of all the heartaches and indignities they had to suffer.

I salute both my Mum and AS for sticking it out all the way, especially because both of them were capable women who could've fended for themselves quite easily. So staying put was a choice they each made through the turbulent seas of marriage.

I see the hand of God in their lives then, and especially now. Despite "having gone to hell and back many times" (as AS's daughter S. put it), they remain active, life-giving, cheerful and content with whatever each day brings. Women of age, gracious and wise, radiating with inner beauty. Women who give thanks for the fruit they gather in their lives, while they themselves are rare blooms appreciated by those who know them.

Chiang Mai is known as the "Rose of the North". Nestled in the cool, verdant Himalayan foothills, the city is alive with a rich heritage infused with a pot pourri of hill tribe cultures. The ancient Lanna capital is also the site of the Royal Flora Ratchaphruek 2006, a world-class, three-month long horticultural exposition that commemorates the diamond jubilee of His Majesty’s ascension to the throne. Not only was Bhu Ping Palace, the royal winter residence, abloom with roses, but the grounds of the expo were a glorious profusion of flora and fauna. It was an apt meeting place for old friends to come together and swap life stories over bowls of delicious khao soi*, mango sticky rice and excellent local coffee.

The ability to appreciate the fleeting fragrance of life's roses while discounting the thorns is one I hope to emulate. This vacation was not just a colourful cultural or horticultural experience, but one that was an affirmation of womanhood.

* a Northern Thai specialty of noodles served in a spicy curry gravy

Saints alive

For the month of November, the W2W Ministry celebrated the communion of saints by studying the lives of three modern-day saints: Dorothy Day, Edith Stein and Satako Kitahara. What struck me most about these three women who came from very different circumstances and diverse backgrounds was the way they lived out their faith, the fiat of Mother Mary, in their lives: "Be it done unto me according to Thy will". These women inspire strength and are role models for young women, and men, the world over.

Dorothy Day was a social activist who was born in Brooklyn in 1897 and championed the rights of women and workers in the early 1900s. A successful writer, Day founded the Catholic Worker movement that addressed the social issues of the homeless, the marginalized and the disenfranchised; setting up houses that welcomed those in need of a meal and a place to sleep. She worked tirelessly for civil rights and peace well into her 70s and was last jailed at age 75 for protesting. Day died penniless for everything she made went towards, in her own words, "comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable".

Edith Stein was an intellectual, born a Jew, in Breslau in 1891. In her search for the truth, she realized the importance of faith in God which culminated in her conversion to Catholicism, a move influenced by her reflections on the autobiography of St. Teresa of Avila. A well respected lecturer and author in academic circles, she entered the Carmelite convent in Cologne in her 40s. There she continued to write and translate many great spiritual works. Dr. Stein lived the way of the cross and went to her death in the Auschwitz gas chambers, together with her sister Rose, in 1942. "Whatever happens, I am prepared for everything. Jesus is also here with us."

Satoko Kitahara was born into a wealthy Japanese family in 1929. While visiting a friend in Yokohama in 1948, she entered a church and felt drawn to the love of Christ through the statue of Our Lady of Lourdes she saw there. She became a Catholic and through a Franciscan brother, was introduced to the community of bataya (ragpickers) who lived in Ants Town, a settlement of previously homeless people. Kitahara foreswore her life of comfort and lived among this community, “There was only one way to help those ragpicker children: become a ragpicker like them!" She developed tuberculosis and died at the age of 29 in Ants Town.

Where there is darkness

I recently started on my next phase of work with ACCS – to interpret the mission of Convent of the Holy Infant Jesus (CHIJ) schools in Singapore in today’s context. Out of the huge bag of reading material Sr. Julia passed me, I pulled out a book on the life of Mother St. Mathilde, the foundress of the Missions of the Holy Infant Jesus Sisters in Asia.

The book Where There is Darkness by P. Jenkins, SJ. is an easy-to-read, little book that spoke volumes to me and touched my heart deeply. I was awed by the humble, courageous and loving women and men described in the book, who gave their lives for Christ, in totality.

There are books one reads for pure entertainment, or for an appreciation of the written word. And then there are books that can change your life for they inspire the human spirit, and one is never quite the same again for the message within has opened doors to realms previously unexplored. This book is one of the latter variety. While it is not particularly well-written prose, it is inspired by the Holy Spirit, as was Justine Raclot, better known as Mother St. Mathilde.

Tracing the emergence of a shy, French girl into a capable and selfless woman with a wry sense of humour, the book chronicles the missionary journey undertaken by Mother Mathilde from France to Southeast Asia and Japan. Modelling herself on St. Francis of Assisi, Mother Mathilde and her companions brought hope and love into the lives of the marginalized and disadvantaged, converting the hearts of many, not by preaching the Gospel, but by living out Gospel values.

Mother Mathilde remained undaunted by the many setbacks she encountered and the hardships endured in her forty odd years in Asia. Her actions were dictated only by the authority of Jesus and she was a loving, wise leader who inspired those who surrounded her. Her life is a testament to the Father and she was a bright light that dispelled the darkness wherever she went.

I only hope I am able to translate the message of the lives of Mother Mathilde and the IJ sisters and help inspire the minds of current and future IJ students when the project is done.

Honey from the rock

Three weeks ago, I met up with a good friend whom I have not seen in a while and we discovered we were on parallel paths. We had both recently gone on blind dates for we were both actively seeking life partners. Instead of moaning about not being able to meet men, we have, in our own ways, opened ourselves to the possibilities out there, and doing the pro-active thing.

An advantage to age is that we are no longer coy about what we want and we know how to establish healthy boundaries. How far to take a relationship before we drop it for a lost cause no matter how attractive the man may be. Our egos are also resilient enough that we know if something doesn’t work out, it has nothing to do with who we are - two lovely, vibrant women, incidentally - and onward we venture.

A disadvantage, however, is that most decent men our age (I better qualify that L. is younger than I am, lest she gets miffed when she reads this) are married. If single, they are either commitment-phobic or simply too comfortable where they are to even contemplate marriage. Then you have the battle-scarred, divorced men who come with their own baggage of issues. Mmm, not an easy task we have undertaken.

Given the number of broken marriages that surround me, one might think it more judicious to steer clear. However, I still believe I was meant to embrace marriage and I say this not with cock-eyed optimism or romance novel-like delusions, but knowing full well that marriage is a sacrifice (if you are expecting a happy-ever-after state of life, don’t get married, as I often tell my single women friends), a commitment that requires maturity, perseverance and an ongoing ability to forgive, to continue to love unconditionally even at the lowest ebb of a relationship’s flow.

Don’t get me wrong, I have seen how marriage can be fulfilling and fruitful if the two parties that come together arrived at the decision to share their lives after careful consideration (love, per se, is not enough, despite what fairy tales and daytime soaps tell you), and they cherish and honour the bond of marriage with respect and fidelity. More importantly, they centre their marriage around God, for sometimes, faith will be the glue that keeps the marriage together. Jesus is the only one who can make our crooked lines straight.

Whether or not L. and I find husbands (you’ll just have to keep on reading my blog if you want to know…), I am thankful for where and who I am. Although I do get disheartened at the thought of having to put it out there, and at times, a sense of ennui comes over me when I think of the effort required to get to know someone who may be the wrong someone, I know I will not sit by my window and pine away for my prince to come. Instead, I am out there now, having a ball on my own.

NEWSFLASH: You don’t need a man to be happy or to “complete” your life. If you think that, sister, you are in BIG trouble.

I still grumble and challenge Him occasionally, “Where is he? I want to meet him nownownow!!! You were the one who told me marriage, so YOU produce the man.” Then I am reminded not to be like an ungrateful Israelite wandering in the desert, for He feeds me with honey every day. My life is rich and full of flavour. He seasons my days in highly inventive and multiple ways. I am surrounded by many generous and wonderful people. I am doing what I love best to do, making a positive impact on people’s lives. There is a sense of divine purpose in everything I do for I am guided by a loving Father who has taught me how to write my own happy endings.

He so totally rocks!

Light of day

“But you, beloved, are not in darkness, for that day to surprise you like a thief; for you are all children of the light and children of the day; we are not of the night or of darkness.”

- 1 Thessalonians 5:4-5

Reflecting on the words of St. Paul, I am reminded of a truth I often forget: I am a child of light. Living in the dark is not a natural state of being, unless I choose to make it so. Not only is this nugget of truth great encouragement, but it is an exhortation to act as a child of light and not give in to darkness and live in its murky depths.

What could be worse for a devout and well-respected man who lived his life fulfilling the laws of God than to be struck down with blindness in a society that perceives physical disability as a curse from God? Those must have been truly dark days for Paul, literally and figuratively.

And yet, periods of darkness can be periods of great clarity and growth, a fantastic opportunity to experience a conversion of perceptions, beliefs, attitudes, values – of heart.

And that is why Paul speaks with such conviction, for he finally saw the truth of God’s love in Jesus Christ. He gained new sight. He died to his old self and was reborn.

Indeed life does present challenges and moments of suffering not of our own making; but to be defeated, give in to bitterness, or to attribute it to a God who is meting out some form of undeserved punishment, that is a choice to live in the dark. Faith, believing in the Father’s love is not, and should not be contingent on receiving perceived blessings from Him.

Even in the dark days of watching my father suffer, or the terrible devastation of a break-up with a man I thought would be my husband, I claimed my birthright as His beloved daughter, and that allowed me to receive His healing love and see the light, despite the miasma of misery that engulfed me. That was, for me, justification by faith. His gift to me, every single day of my life.

So when there are days I just want to sit on the floor and wail in defeat, I know that all I have to do is turn inward and listen for His voice. Then, instead of waiting for the day to overtake me by surprise I step out in faith and walk in the light of day, each baby step of the way.

Mid-autumn reflections

As Sadness boldly stole my soul
I watched in helpless wonder.
Her siren song trilled on the breeze,
In sensual notes of sedap malam*.
Paralyzing my core
Leaching out every whisper of hope.

Lacerated by her coral candour,
I am disarmed by her foetid reality
Darkness descends in a velvet rush,
A shroud of eternal torment.
My petrified heart remains lost
Amid the pine needles. By the moonlit sea.

Lionfish dreams of seasons past
I now relinquish into his keeping.
Restored by Time’s gentle hand,
Life waltzes on with grace-full promise,
Inundating my senses
With an autumnal parade of colours.

While she visits me still, from time to time,
I feel her presence fading.
Her sweet visage bids a fond farewell,
Defeated by Love, patient and kind
My spirit rejoices in aerial swoops
Of freedom. Found, and bearing fruit.

*Balinese name for tuberose; literally translated: "delicious night"

by Jackie Pau, Mid-Autumn, 2006

Courage to be chaste

A chance visit to a Christian bookstore with B. a couple of weeks ago yielded a treasure of a book, The Courage to be Chaste by Benedict Groeschel. It caught my eye for E. had asked me to get her a copy from the States a couple of years back. Although I rarely buy books nowadays, I decided to pick this one up, along with a Nouwen book. One has to pamper oneself, occasionally.

It was a timely read for thoughts have been swirling around in the depths of my being on my current state of life. While I have dedicated this year to building an intimate relationship with Jesus, I have recovered sufficiently from my previous relationship to begin ruminating a little more on my call to marriage. The call to marriage and motherhood and what this means in real, practical terms, peculiar to my life. How am I to live out this expression of my vocation?

Being a touchy feely person, I still envision spending my life with someone I can call husband. Someone I can link hands with, a comforting presence I can hug in my sleep. Someone to share a secret smile with, an alter ego who will bear witness to my life. Even though life as a singleton is just about right - between teaching Pilates, writing, taking courses and training, I barely have time to keep the house clean, let alone socialize – there are times, I do miss being cherished by a man.

Good woman friends are great and necessary to life, but there is tremendous power in being desired by a man. It’s a rush like no other. For at that given point in time, you know that YOU matter to this human being; his attention, his entire focus, is on you. He sees only you. He wants only you. It is this validation of your femininity, your being that is so appealing, extremely seductive, and all too easily leads to indiscretions of a sexual nature. And being consumed by it. Creating a habit difficult to break. Losing purity of heart, and with it, the ability to see the truth of God’s love.

Being chaste does take great strength, and courage, especially in a world that scorns the virtue of chastity. Groeschel’s book brings fresh insights and valuable suggestions on how to manage sexuality if one chooses a chaste, single life.

I especially like what he says about temptation, that it is “part of life and clear and consistent evidence of the mystery of original sin. The desire to be without temptation is part of the unrealism which so many therapists have come to see as a root of sexual problems.” We cannot ignore or run away from temptation.

He points to the positive of temptation, calling it an excellent teacher and a sparring partner for it “teaches us that we cannot save ourselves”, and instead “must rely on the power of God and the saving grace of His Son, or else we will be lost”.

Certainly being human, we will experience failure, but he reminds us that whenever we resist temptation, it becomes a great act of worship of God. And that is grace sufficient.

Wisdom of heart

Last weekend was a celebration of life with a wedding banquet and a birthday lunch. Where relatives from overseas converged to break bread in a major way. There was laughter and food, conversation and food, and food and more food. I love spending time with my Mum and her cousins, for it allows me a glimpse into her childhood, what she was like as a carefree, young girl; the stories, the gossip, the bonds that run deep despite the rare meetings due to geographical constraints. I just sit, eat and observe. It’s like watching a movie.

Tonight, there is gathering where Mum will have an evening of fun with the gals before they all depart on Wednesday. I think it’s wonderful. Even though we were a little sad today remembering Dad (it’s been three years since he left us), I think he would like that she is out there celebrating life. If that was one thing Dad knew how to do, that was having a good time.

While I mourn his departure still, I have accepted that he is with Jesus now, and I rejoice in that reality.

Kahlil Gibran in The Prophet says:

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful, look again into your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

The memories I hold dear include how he called me his one and only, how he would wait up for me until I returned home (said he couldn’t sleep until he knew I was home safely), how he cooked with love and care, and waited for me to come home before we would all eat dinner together. A memory that still brings tears to my eyes took place the evening before he died. He somehow knew he was going, for as I helped put him to bed that night, he thanked me by giving me a thumbs up. That simple gesture expressed all he wanted to say but couldn’t (by that time he could not speak anymore and every move took great effort).

So, today, I pray:

Make us know the shortness of our life
That we may gain wisdom of heart,

In the morning, fill us with your love;
we shall exult and rejoice all our days,
Give us joy to balance our affliction
for the years when we knew misfortune. Psalm 90

And I thank the Lord for the joys and the sorrows, for the celebrations and the losses, for all of life’s experiences.

August blessings

Here I am again, after a short hiatus dictated by work. But it's work I term a love project for it's something I am passionate about and glad to be given the opportunity to contribute in part.

Since my conversion in India in 2003, I've had a clearer idea what my vocation is, and who are the people I most want to reach and make a positive impact on - women and children. As I am still single, and not likely to get married in the near future, having children of my own is most improbable. Therefore it will have to be other people's children that I interact with and hopefully affirm.

There are many 'ways' to be a mother, and since I have never been one to take the conventional route, I get to be creative! Cool. A., you sure you still want to make me godmother of your daughter? I won't be one to encourage conformity...

Anyway, when my old classmate, Sr. Julia, asked if I would be interested in helping her in her efforts to revamp the religious education programme in Catholic secondary schools , I said yes with much enthusiasm. Hmmmm, little did I know what it would entail - wading through pages of text written mainly by theologians on psychology, philosophy, moral development... not exactly bedside reading material. But it has been worth the climb in more ways than one. It has given me the opportunity to work with some very lovely, bright women (thank you Julia, Edwina and Pat) who share the vision of transforming youth, helping them experience the love of God and to hopefully fall in love with God and choose the freedom of living life wholly holy.

For me, it has been a huge conversion experience all over again. Amplified by the fact that the topics covered in my Foundations in Ministry Certification Programme echo those that I have recently digested. Yes, He speaks to me in stereo, at full volume, no less. I did say to Him I was deaf...

Much to be thankful for this month indeed. It's been truly august.

Blessed intimacy

She cries out to me in tears, “What’s it all for?” “Why am I doing all this for?” The this is being faithful to God’s ways even though all she sees is darkness around her and she is so close to breaking point. Beset with many challenges she finds it hard not to grasp happiness where she sees it, even though it may not exactly be the ‘right’ thing. In the face of despair and pain, it’s hard to encourage: “Pray” and “you must have faith” seem too simplistic and simply not enough.

All around me are women, bright, beautiful, accomplished daughters of God, lovely and gifted in their own unique ways, yet finding it difficult to live out their sexuality in a committed, spiritual fashion.

The answer is startlingly simple, yet, not easy to act on. It lies in the first dictum of Christian life as given by Jesus Christ: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” Love God with your entire being. Surrender yourself totally. “Yet not my will, but Yours be done.” “Let it be with me according to Your word.” This means bringing Him into all areas of our beings and lives, and letting His light shine in even the darkest corner of our hearts.

Given the resounding “I, me, myself” mantra of the world and Freud’s pleasure principle lived out to the fullest in MTV surroundsound, loving God has become a call to radicality. A call to chastity and fidelity, to blessed intimacy.

Contrary to what most people think, a God-centred self-transcendence orients and sustains freedom. Living God’s ways need not mean a life without pleasure, restricted and dull. Life can be exciting: a glorious adventure every single day. We can become ‘fully alive’, when we allow ourselves to fall in love with Jesus and walk with Him, hand in hand.

As Lonergan puts it: “Being in love with God, as experienced, is being in love in an unrestricted fashion. All love is self-surrender, but being in love with God is being in love without limits or qualifications or conditions or reservations.”

Made in the image of God, we are brought to fulfilment when we are most in love with Him, and become most like Him. But, also being human, we will experience suffering and pain. There will be darkness and temptation. We can fall away and sin.

So how do we integrate our sexuality and spirituality and remain true to God and true to ourselves? Susan Muto in Late Have I Loved Thee says: “Blessed intimacy is the safest and strongest bridge between our belief in God and our lived obedience to the moral imperatives regulating sexual behaviour.” Thus, creating pockets of space and time where we come together and share intimate moments with the Trinity is our best bet in keeping our sexuality sacred and distinct from genitality.

I rely on His word, reflecting on the Bible daily, receiving the Sacraments of Reconciliation and the Eucharist, meditating in front of the Eucharist, spending quality time with loved ones and my Woman to Woman Ministry sisters and seeking the guidance of my spiritual director. Increasingly I find that the more I nurture my relationship with Jesus, the more this relationship transforms me and enriches my life.

The more I love Him and strive to make Him happy, the more He blesses me and fulfils my desires.

Miracles

I used to think that miracles only happened to other people, and then, only in a big way, like the parting of the Red Sea or someone with fourth stage cancer that suddenly goes into remission. Miracles happening to me, no way.

At our last Woman to Woman core meeting A. shared how her faith was shaped and nourished by her mother's faith - how her Mum would come home every day to share what new miracles happened in her life. Like how the rain would stop until she got to shelter and then would continue. I thought to myself, how true for I have been experiencing mini miracles like that in my life more and more, or should I say I am now able to see the miracles that happen in my life.

Although we are told the God answers even the tiniest prayer, and even takes care of the lilies of the field, it is a truth that is hard to grasp at times. It's not that I don't believe that anything is possible with God, but that I feel my troubles are too trivial to bother Him with or He must be sick of me asking Him for so many things all the time.

The other thing that used to stop me from praying about things that have happened is my concept of time. Until I came to realize that God is out of time, so it's never too late to pray after the fact. The miracle may not be the turning back of time, but the way I am able to understand and react to a particular situation. And how a particular situation can change inexplicably.

So do miracles happen every day - definitely. And by seeking His will in all things and offering up problems or secret sorrows; or making requests as mundane as a desired bus, a safe journey or no rain, I am living out the beatitude of being poor in spirit and relying totally on Him. For everything in my life comes from Him. Another truth I overlook too easily at times.

Yesterday my mother shared with me a story of how a dying woman came back to Christ. When the woman's mother was dying, they asked a priest to come and administer the sacrament of anointing of the sick. The priest never turned up and the mother died without receiving the sacrament. Embittered, the entire family left the Church and turned away from God.

Some 20 years later when the woman was dying, a sister of the woman was prompted to call a priest. The priest came and she shared the story of her mother. It transpired that the priest never arrived for he himself was dying at the same time. This all happened in Kuala Lumpur 20 years ago. The reason why the visiting priest in Singapore could finally give an explanation was because he was assisting the deceased priest in Malaysia then. Although it was not possible to contact the family then, he was able to match the stories now.

Isn't it great how Godincidences shape our lives? And, He is never late but always on time. Most fittingly and beautifully.

Touch

A few months ago I developed a new passion – Korean soaps. What I find so refreshing about the story lines is that the lovers wait until they are committed to each other in a ‘legitimate’ relationship before consummating their love. They touch each other’s minds and hearts first, exploring and loving the innermost being of the other with enduring depth. They build a spiritual bond of intimacy, often subsuming their own needs and desires to affirm the other with life-giving, unconditional love.

I want one of those, please. Then it hit me, I DO have a lover just like that. And He loves me so much that He even gave up His life for me. It was a startling reminder and it made the presence of Jesus so real in my life.

In today’s world of instant gratification and ‘free’ love, intimacy and sexuality have been severely circumscribed into pleasure-seeking forays of the physical. And yet, loneliness remains, keenly felt even when it’s ignored, much like the elephant in the living-room. At best, it’s all a temporary fix.

Love, of the kind that nourishes the soul and weathers the challenges of life indomitably through the passage of time, has become an increasingly rare commodity. Intimacy, the lifeblood of relationships, is desperately sought, but not found. I spent years looking for that love, and intimacy, and it was only when I focused wholeheartedly on Jesus that I found what I’ve been searching for all along.

In the process, I had to lose my life to find it for I had to let go of old perceptions, beliefs, attitudes and ideas and be reborn in Christ. Letting God lead was a paradigm shift for me and not without intense struggle. At times, even now. However, I can’t imagine how I used to live my life standing outside God’s house, riddled with fears, full of existential angst.

So, you may ask, how can I be in love or feel loved by someone who has no skin? By letting those around me to be Christ for me. By allowing the presence of Jesus to enter my world and touch me through contemplative prayer. By opening myself to the power of the Eucharist. Ron Rolheiser likens the Eucharist to God’s physical embrace or kiss. It is in that moment of receiving the Eucharist that we touch Jesus in a very radically physical way.

I am learning, every day, to embrace a new reality. The reality of a faith-seeking understanding, where the mystery of God unfolds in very concrete and unique ways in my life. Revelling in the growing intimacy of this multi-faceted relationship I am in, that nurtures my spirituality and the very essence of my femininity. Jesus is my father, my mother, my sibling, my friend, my soul-mate, my play-mate, my lover and my spouse. My all in all.

“And I will take you for my wife forever; I will take you for my wife in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love, and in mercy. I will take you for my wife in faithfulness, and you shall know the Lord.” Hosea 2:19-20

This is a declaration of love that speaks directly to my heart – a declaration that Jesus makes to each of us, as He invites us into communion with Him.

So while I hope to one day experience the love that Ki Joo and Tae Yeong, or Jang Geum and Min Jung Ho share, I am content to sit at His feet and bask in the warm glow of His love. To touch the hem of His cloak and be touched by His healing love.

Covenant
Unbidden You came, tiptoeing in joyfully
With childlike simplicity, touched my heart deeply.
Life holds such promise, hope grows daily so freely
Perceptions alter, once touched by Your purity.
The road ahead is lit with crystal clarity
My name has been called, to service in charity,
By your grace only, Lord, I am yours, completely.

By Jackie Pau, January 2005

Birthday wishes

Today is my father’s birthday. If he were still with us he would be 74. I still remember the look of sadness on Dad’s face the last birthday he spent with us. He knew that his body was failing him, and despite his fighting spirit, he would not be able to overcome what the cancer was doing to his body for much longer.

It was heartbreaking to witness, and not be able to acknowledge the truth of the situation. At the time, we were all desperately fighting the cancer with hope, as if thinking positive thoughts would’ve willed the illness away. To acknowledge the truth would’ve been to give in and be defeated, and that was not an option. There were still things he wanted to do in his life, milestones he wanted to achieve, like celebrating 50 years of marriage with my mother. However, the healing we prayed for came, just not in the way we willed.

On this day three years ago, there was a wistfulness, an underlying sorrow to the forced cheerfulness in the atmosphere. And yet, God’s grace was present as well. In the gracious humility that Dad accepted the situation, in the love my Mum and the four of us were able to show him in our acts of service – to the end.

Happy Birthday Dad. May you be at the Lord’s side, interceding for us. Continue to guide us and bless us with your love and wisdom. Till we are all together again. Much love and XXX

Letting go

Finally the 100 pages of the book were sent for colour separation last Friday evening. It was difficult for me to sign off and say, “Yes, it is ready for printing right now,” for the perfectionist in me wanted to go through all 100 pages one more time with a fine-tooth comb. Due to lack of time, I did not proofread all the pages myself through the several iterations it underwent, although more than one pair of eyes actually went over those pages. Ah, but I had to let it go and trust that the errors that remain are so insignificant that they would not be spotted by the lay reader.

For me, letting go has always been a challenge. Old clothes no longer fit to be worn. Habits or rituals I have out-grown. Relationships that have peaked and arrived in winter permanently. Things, situations, people, that I have formed an attachment to, but presently out-moded, defunct, no longer applicable in my life, and yet, I find myself still languishing in the comfort of the old and familiar, that may not necessarily be life-giving or enriching. But when I made the choice to walk in God’s ways at the end of 2003, it was a choice to do a 180, abandon the person I had been and be made new in Christ. To take up my cross and follow Him, lose my life for His sake and find it.

One of those choices I made a year ago was to let go of a relationship. In obedience to the Lord, I had stayed on another year, working towards what I thought was marriage, by mutual consent. It was not to be. It was time to let go. And so I did.

In retrospect, I can understand the value of that extra year, for I learned to walk by and in faith, and I bore the fruits of courage, spiritual depth and wisdom, blossoming into a woman who could love fully with no fear. But at the time, I was SHATTERED.

Shattered. Crushed. Into a million pieces
The day we said goodbye. Annihilated.
Ripped apart. Completely devastated.
Pain floods every cell and Death entices
My spirit into a desert of frost.
Where my heart used to beat is a black hole.
I’m undone, underground, no longer whole.
Destroyed deep inside myself - I am lost.
The dark night of my soul presides with glee
Where the future shrieks whispers diabolic
While despair and hopelessness gaily frolic
Nightmares without respite; nowhere to flee.
Will I break out from this insanity?
To thumb my nose at Life’s temerity.

A year on, I have found healing to leave the bitterness of betrayal and rejection behind me, and grow into a woman cherished, well-loved by those around me. I feel strong, beautiful and blessed. I love who I am, where I am and I give thanks, every day, for this state of grace.

Complete and utter dependence on Christ makes it easy to let go.

Love ends

Powerful and raw, grief brands my psyche
Indelibly tempered by agony.
Sublime almost, in its intensity
All focus fades, save for the ssss-scraped knee.
Dark doubts, crippling lies swarm like buzzing bees
Self-recriminations breed rampantly
Rabid ‘What ifs’ unleash a litany
Love found, and lost, exacts a brutal fee.
Silenced are the songs that beguile and bind
Promises lie withered, dead on the vine.
Betrayal blights the peach glow of sunshine,
Our paths diverge, souls never to entwine.
Trapped in a void, on acrid ghosts I dine,
Misery is all I seek now, and find.

by Jackie Pau, August 2005

Mad about work

It’s been slightly crazy lately, hence the silence. I start the day teaching at 7:00 am and then make it home to start writing after lunch. Racing to finish what has turned into an urgent job (a book of 70-odd pages) due to poor planning on the client’s side (impossible deadlines are always the result of a client’s or agency’s hemming and hawing, never the copywriter), I often finish work at midnight, with just a short break in between for dinner. While the body is protesting mightily with aches in places too many to inventory, and the mind is overactive running a million miles a minute on stress adrenaline, there is a great sense of achievement from work accomplished during that day. And a marginal sense of pride at churning out halfway decent work. Whether the work is decent is debatable, but at midnight, if it’s a coherent piece of writing, that’s pretty decent in my book – and the client’s (one hopes).

The last two weeks has made me realize I enjoy working hard. It needn’t be as extreme as just past and ongoing experience, but I do miss the buzz of trying to finish 20 tasks a minute. The challenge is exhilarating. And the financial rewards aren’t too shabby either. The only downside is the inability to sleep at night and the bone-seeping tiredness. That I will not miss.

The other thing this project has done is to remind me that writing is one of the main talents I have been graced with, and in using it, I am doing what I was put on this earth to do. I’ve always maintained that God has a great sense of humour and this is one example of it. Those of you who know who Matthew is, will know that he is my first book, the one I’ve been trying to write for quite some time now (won’t say exactly how long for it’s q embarrassing to admit to my lack of self-discipline and inability to focus).

I did set out with serious intent in June, being a slow teaching month, seeing as everyone was away on vacation, but got side-tracked by this project. I get the feeling that Jesus looked at me and went, “Yah, right, woman, I’ve heard that one before,” and instead decided to have me hone my skills and earn some moolah at the same time, given my impending need of it in September when I get really serious about my Pilates certification. He knows what I need – can’t argue with that. Plus, I did bring up my lack of discipline in my regular meeting with my spiritual director and he told me that I should pray to have Him channel my energies. I did as my SD suggested and I have been channelled –big time. So whoever said God does not answer prayer should talk to me!

Actually the reason why I began my blog is through the Lord’s prompting as well. I am not quite sure why, or whether the people who read it will find it enriching in some way, but will continue to be guided by the Spirit. I suppose ultimately I would like to share that walking God’s ways, through the ‘narrow gate’, is highly challenging, yet incredibly rewarding. How easy it is to fall from grace, but, if I seek with humbled, contrite spirit, He will forgive me and continue to bless me.

In today’s second reading, Paul talks about his ‘thorn in the flesh’ and how he still struggles against this thorn despite being a man with an abundance of God’s spirit in him. “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” Wow, what a powerful, affirming message from Jesus. I don’t need to be perfect (thank God indeed), and as long as I seek His grace, I will be fine, in fact, more than fine.

Nature's best

I've always loved nature. Whether it's the womb-like experience of floating in the ocean, looking up into a sky adorned with fluffy white clouds that form and re-form shapes, allowing my imagination to run amok in the atmosphere.

Or the sense of adventure that overcomes me, as I wander around the garden on a sunny afternoon: prodding the millipedes and watching them curl up lazily into balls, tracing the random flight of a graceful, honey-coloured butterfly, or sucking on the slender tube-like base of a vermilion ixora flower to draw out its sweet nectar.

I'm always amazed at the fine detail captured in the design of a dragonfly, a balsam seed pod or a fern frond - how God's creations are all so 'wonderfully made'.

But the place where my soul is most at peace is Hawaii. The beauty of the islands strike a chord deep within. Its rugged, green peaks set against a backdrop of deep blue skies and sea. The scents of plumeria and tuberose mingling sweetly, as doves coo in response to the ocean's rhythmic roar.

Here is where my spirits soar, and my inner child can come out to roam wild. He speaks to me on the breeze, in every glorious sunrise and sunset. I am restored, made new, by the celebration of life that surrounds me.

The nature of love
Nature at its best is love
Lavished so gloriously, it’s quite divine
Like an ‘Io1 aloft a sultry updraft
Or a humpback breaching the sapphire Pacific
Dolphins spinning songs of aloha2 nearby
It’s majestic, just joyous
Sweet

Because of You, I’m alive
Enrapt, inside a pikake3 rainbow
Tasting eternity in the wind-kissed Ko’olaus4
Riding the Pipeline5 that hugs the North Shore
Weaving richly coloured leis6 of memories
It’s mystical, mostly magical
Unreal

Heaven in the here and now
Is where my heart resides
In the trees that dance a gentle hula
As friendly trade winds embrace the glowing sky
Awash in sunset pinks and golds
It’s magnificent, amazingly awesome
Nō ka ‘oi7

1 Hawaiian hawk, Buteo Solitarius
2 Hawaiian for hello or goodbye when used as a greeting; a sense of hospitality and care; a combination of love, joy, harmony, affection, gentleness, compassion, humility, generosity and patience
3 Hawaiian name for jasmine
4 A mountain range on Oahu, Hawaii
5 Banzai Pipeline is the beautiful tubed surfing break found at the immensely popular surfing site, Ehukai Beach Park, on the North Shore of Oahu
6 Hawaiian for flower garland
7 Hawaiian for the best, number one and superior

by Jackie Pau, June 7, 2006

Father's Day retrospective

It was Father's Day, this Sunday past. While Dad is not here with my family to celebrate the day, I know he is celebrating with us in spirit. I used to think that death is the end of the road, a parting of ways. No longer. My relationship with my father is alive and well. He lives on in my memory, and in my DNA. Who I am, how I live my life, decisions I make each day - he is present in my every thought and action.

I like to think that his human failings died along with his physical body and he left behind his spirit. His true self. What is uniquely him - his great charm and intelligence, his passion for justice and equality, his compassion for the weak and disdvantaged, his incredible drive and pursuit of excellence, his unending generosity, his uncompromising integrity, his deep love for family and friends, and his simple faith in God.

When I attended a talk last month by Fr. Laurence Freeman on how dying is an art, I found myself thinking of Dad when Fr. Laurence said that there is a grace given by those who are dying, and that the grace continues to impact those left behind, after the person has departed. It's so true! How my father submitted the lung cancer and its attendant attacks on his body to the Lord's will convicted me.

At the time, the concept of redemptive suffering was alien to me, but I saw my father transfigured by his suffering, through his faith in Jesus. As a caregiver, it was a time of horror and sadness, yet, one filled with many healing graces, and incredibly beautiful to experience.

My earthly father brought me back to Abba, my heavenly Father. It's a priceless legacy, beyond the riches of this world, that segues directly into the priceless legacy Jesus left us in Corpus Christi, the Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ, which coincidentally falls on the same day.

As I reflect on Jesus' gift of Himself, His body and blood in the sacrament of the Eucharist, I thank Dad, and my heavenly Father, for giving me this faith, by virtue of my birth, and my father's act of dying well. And I am filled with gratitude. I thank you, Lord, for Dad, the consummate perfectionist, right to the very end.

TRIBUTE
Unresolved feelings
Of molten anger,
Shards of hurt,
Irrepressible regret,
Deep, bittersweet love.

Now you are gone, I can never express,
All that is tucked within my heart's recess.

But healing begins_
Amniotic warm,
Firefly bright,
An ineffable caress,
The spirit afresh.

You will always be the best part of me,
By His grace and will, thus it's meant to be.

by Jackie Pau, Oct 9, 2004