WIP

The time draws near for my Pilates exam and I’ve spent the week practising (and teaching in between to earn the money sorely needed to pay for my mentoring) every day. I am physically tired, my muscles are screaming multiple protests, my shoulder injuries still acting up despite the excruciating myofascial release I’ve undergone to fix the problem. I’ve neglected the injuries too long to get a quick fix, although the treated shoulder is a little better – less blocked.

I refuse to think of March 29th and the sign offs I still need before then on over 40 exercises. I can only do what I can and trust that Jesus will help guide me on what I have to do to get to my exam day ready, mentally and physically.

It seems that that’s all I do these frenetically paced days – soldier onward on prayer, faith in Jesus and lots of action.

B.’s Subway opened on February 24th and I helped out over that weekend, as well as the following Sunday. It’s high stress but with a twist of piquant entertainment. I like the challenge of getting customers to smile at me and respond to my friendliness. I feel bad about not being able to help out this weekend and the rest of March, but the dreaded exam is my priority now.

St. Teresa’s Parish Mission for Zone 6 kicked off last Sunday and I hosted one area mass already. It turned out to be uplifting and I enjoyed meeting my Catholic neighbours. There’s another one coming up this Sunday - home visits, followed by mass on Monday evening. As there were not enough volunteers for Zone 6, I have had to take on two areas in my zone. I was initially stressed by this, but am glad at how things panned out.

As if that were not enough, there is the Woman to Woman Ministry’s International Women’s Day (IWD) celebration tomorrow on March 11th. Thank goodness my writing projects can be put on hold until April rolls around. (You have no idea how grateful I am for this, Julia.)

IWD’s theme for this year is: Ending Impunity for Violence against Women and Girls.

As part of our programme, I was asked to talk about the more subtle forms of violence/abuse, having grown up with an alcoholic father who engaged in mental abuse.

What’s been really interesting to me while I prepared my speech is how I have buried memories of bad times so deeply that I could almost declare they never existed. On recalling the past, I now understand why my mother, for the longest time, only had bad memories of my father. She was the one who suffered at his hands the longest and the worst. And I have to say, some of the memories are pretty bad and still evoke a deep sense of sorrow at how his brokenness spawned such cruelty.

As if to reassure me that healing has taken place, something lovely happened this week. While we were at a concert by The Platters Mum turned to me after they sang My Prayer and said, “Dad sang that song to me on our wedding night”. In that instant, I could see my father, handsome, charming, deeply in love with my sweet, demure mother, surprising her with a heartfelt serenade at their wedding banquet. Going by the last line of the song,

That you'll always be there at the end of my prayer

Dad’s prayer was indeed answered, by God who has an impeccable sense of timing.

E. who read my draft speech asked me, “What do you sense God is wanting to say through your sharing?”

I’ve distilled it to this: While past hurts require healing as we zoom down life’s super highway, while we will always be work-in-progress, we can use our past to shape our future if we allow ourselves to be little pencils in God’s hand*.

*Based on quote by Blessed Mother Teresa: “I am like a little pencil in God’s hand.”