Grieving the loss

In my last entry, Making crooked paths straight I wrote about how we are created to be in relationship with others. The downside to loving people is we lose them from time to time. And the experience of loss can be devastating for grieving is an unpredictable process that can never be explained.

Who knows why one day you are holding everything together, while the next, you are in pieces, scattered all over the floor.

All it takes is a song, the sight of his mug, ever the slightest hint of association and you crumble into a weepy mess. It is impossible! You wonder how long you have to endure feeling so bad and why you actually feel so bad, especially if your relationship with this person was far from ideal.

A very dear friend of mine lost her husband to cancer recently and she has been having a really tough time, especially because she was the primary caregiver and saw him through the last agonizing days of his life.

When I am with her, I can only sit with her and feel her sorrow, send waves of unspoken empathy. Words of comfort are inadequate so I do not even bother to try. I can only attempt to make her laugh or smile. And, of course, I pray.

Time IS a healer so I can only pray that she will not immerse herself so deeply in grief that she stays frozen in it, or spirals down into depression. I also pray that God will continue to despatch angels her way to light up the darkness so she will not stumble and hurt herself too badly.

My hope is that she turns to Jesus in those unendurable moments and lets Him carry her burdens for His yoke is indeed easy and His burden light and it is in Him alone that we can find rest.

Although she will never "recover" from the loss completely (we never ever do), the scars she bears will strengthen her. She will find out eventually that she will not only survive this loss, but will actually be happy again. She will also be better able to appreciate the blessings of life and feel joy more keenly.

Because she bore witness to her marital vows and cared for a man who was difficult to love, to the very end; because she rose above her own fears and inadequacies to minister to him, while juggling her duties as mother; because she gave it her all to be compassionate and caring even though she was running on empty, she will experience reaping with shouts of joy... in time.

Meanwhile, she must hold fast to Jesus and walk through the valley of darkness, knowing that the Good Shepherd will lead her to greener pastures. Patience and perseverance are, thus, the order of the day, and lots of Kleenex.

What helped me grieve past the worst was reading somewhere that every tear you weep is not wasted, for every tear can be a prayer which God sees and hears, an offering of love that becomes a blessing for the departed, and those left behind.

 Tears are like angel's trumpets that cry out to the Lord in pain.

Making crooked paths straight

Today marks the 10th anniversary of my father's passing. Even though a decade has elapsed since the day he departed, it still seems like a recent happening.

His battle with cancer was, for me, a lifetime of learning conflated into eight intense and emotionally charged months that transformed me indelibly.

I began to see what were the things that were truly important in life and it was definitely not power, fame or money. Nor is it accomplishment, recognition or possessions. As the preacher in Ecclesiastes proclaims: Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. Nothing in life lasts.

However, not a day goes by when I am not reminded of my father and I breathe out a soft, appreciative sigh of sadness. Some things do transcend time, like bonds of love - thank God for that.

Relationships are, therefore, of utmost importance to me and my energies are channelled accordingly toward them. First and foremost, the one I have with God, then the ones I was given at birth, and finally the ones I choose as an adult.

Last Sunday Father Arro said he would ask those who seek to be baptized their motivation in embracing Christianity. If it is to be saved, then it was unnecessary, for all men and women of good will would enter the kingdom of heaven, even without the rite of baptism.

However, what baptism does is it breathes life into a relationship with God. To be a son or daughter to a loving and merciful Father, who washes us clean of original sin and makes us feel like new is a wonderful thing. The Lord is a patient Father who beckons all of us unceasingly, and gives us second chances, no matter how badly we mess up in life.

Baptism is to be born again into a life filled with the sweet-smelling flowers of faith, hope and love despite the rank dankness of suffering we all experience on occasion.

We know that we are never alone, and that we are loved, dearly. In all things and situations, Jesus and God's Holy Spirit walk with us, giving us strength and encouragement, keeping us safe from gut-wrenching fears and doubts.

To be in relationship with God does not imply grim scrupulosity, or a forsaking of the pleasures of life. Rather, it is a bond of love that invites us to enter through the narrow door always (admittedly not an easy thing at times), where we leave behind our baggage of disordered desires and seek to see God face to face, naked and unadorned of the accoutrements of world. No posturing or braggadocio, just the simple joy of communion.

It is all about the quality of heart as Father Arro stressed. Is my heart humble and contrite? Is it open and receptive? Am I innocent and trusting like a child?

When we are in right and tight relationship with God, then we are able to reflect our baptismal badge of honour by loving others as He loves us.

We can be kind to those whom we dislike. We can be forgiving of those who hurt and anger us. We can be bearers of truth and light to the world, bringing justice and peace. We can be blessings to others to the extent we ourselves have been blessed. Our capacity to love becomes infinite.

We can also trace clearly where God makes straight our crooked paths. No matter how broken a relationship may be or how imperfect a love we have for others, it is often repaired and made perfect when we endeavour wholeheartedly to show His love to others.

Despite our dysfunctional relationship, my father and I were able to do just that because we each, in our own way, experienced the healing love of God in our individual lives, especially in those last eight months. And in the end, by attempting to love each other as Jesus loved us, we became the face of Christ to each other. Something I see only now,10 years later.

And that made our relationship a blessing that lives on not just today, but all the days of my life, and beyond. My father's life was not lived in vain and, God willing, neither will be mine.

NB: This entry began as a reflection of the readings of Lay Apostolate Sunday which I found rich in meaning, and I borrowed from heavily - Isaiah 66:18-21, Hebrews 12: 5-7, 11-13 and Luke 13:22-30.

Many stories

I actually attended the NDP (National Day Parade) last Friday afternoon and enjoyed it tremendously, queueing and all (it was fun to people-watch and see how the national flag colours of red and white were worn by many).

The theme this year was Many Stories...One Singapore and it highlighted the personal journeys of fellow Singaporeans and how we, collectively, form a society that makes us uniquely Singaporean.

While it was clearly an attempt to tug at the heartstrings and appeal to the younger generation, I loved the schmaltz. It could have been being part of a 26,000-strong crowd, or the fact that the older I get, the more I feel rooted, proud to call Singapore my home, for my heart is entrenched here.

Sure, the place is not perfect, and many complain about the high cost of living and criticize the government for its high-handed ways; or bemoan how singles are often penalized, especially when it comes to affordable housing... but I happen to think that Singaporeans tend to take for granted the many things we receive that would not be ours anywhere else.

Like the relative safety that allows women to walk alone at three a.m., unafraid of being accosted, while children enjoy hours of fun in the playground without adult supervision and at no risk other than that of a scraped knee or elbow.

There is also a sense of security that comes from having a far-sighted and stable government, whose efforts have enabled its citizens to benefit from a developed infrastructure with world-class transport, healthcare and judicial systems.

Then there is the racial and religious harmony. I like that I can practise my faith freely and openly, with no fear of repercussion or discrimination. I really like how my friends of differing religions enhance and deepen my own belief in God.

I am also grateful for the good education I received and my ability to appreciate the humanities both Western and Eastern. In spite of my sucky Mandarin, I love the Chinese classics as much as I do Shakespeare or Dickinson.

And I delight in the melting pot of cultures for the exposure that I received growing up in such an environment has left me socially adept in any cross-cultural setting, not to mention with an adventurous and sophisticated palate that relishes the weird but creative offerings of various ethnic cuisines.

Nothing beats the pungency and richness of Singlish that speaks volumes in a single phrase. Or the extraordinarily good hawker food that hits the shiok spot. Even kiasuism can be a virtue for it makes for boy scout preparedness, handy in times of emergency.

Although I deplore the often humourless and literal bent of civil servants, I have come to expect the clockwork-like efficiency the city hums, night and day.

The clean streets, pristine buildings and luxuriant foliage make Singapore a beautiful, very liveable, concrete jungle.  

Finally there are the people - my family first, friends, then the various communities I weave in and out in my work and social circles; the good, the bad and the ugly. The people I love and dislike the most live on this island.

My deepest losses, my highs, my worst nightmares and realized dreams have been lived here. I have resided in Singapore most of my life and have grown to love the place in all its imperfections and quirks.

Once I desired to get off this island. Now, I see it as home, the country where God has placed me, for His purposes, and where I can be His ears, voice, hands and feet.

A place where I can make a difference by listening to the many stories of the people who live here, and making them part of my story.

Desired result

After a month of waiting, I finally got the results of my Pilates exam last Thursday. I did well. I got my desired result and more.

I was elated, but at the same time, having waited so long, I was not as thrilled as I should be, and was a little blasé about the whole thing.

E reminded me that it was something to celebrate and she is right.

When I think back on how I felt as I went through the process of preparation, how impossibly high the mountain looked then, and how much I struggled every step of the way, it is a great personal achievement.

It not only serves as a reminder to me that I still have some grey matter left, that when I apply myself, I can actually do a fairly decent job, but it also highlights the faithfulness of God.

He granted the desire of my heart and blessed me abundantly for my diligence and perseverance.

He supplied hope when it was in short supply and inner peace when I was frazzled. I did not drown in depression because He was holding my hand and keeping my feet on the water's surface as I walked.

I suppose why I am not jumping for joy is due to the realization that a good grade is not everything. It is merely a tool to see where I am in terms of knowledge acquisition and retention, as well as being an external validator and job enabler, nothing more.

How well I teach still requires continual effort on my part to keep my skills honed and relevant.

It's like what my godson B said to me when I asked him last Saturday after his confirmation whether he felt Spirit-filled: Not yet.

A gift has been given, a milestone attained. However, we cannot afford to rest on our laurels. Instead, to make the gift or success even more valuable, we must use it well. We must seek to multiply the talents given (last Sunday's apt Gospel) instead of burying it in the ground, thereby killing it.

For B to be Spirit-filled, he must be Spirit-led. He must embrace the joys, sorrows and hardships of being Christian by following in Christ's footsteps on the narrow path. He must be a man of integrity, compassion and mercy who loves without counting the cost.

As for me, I, too, must continue to be led by God's Spirit, and ensure my talents are multiplied to the best of my ability.

Ultimately I desire doing God's will in my life so my hope at the end of my life is that I produce the desired result of good fruit, nourishing and delightful.

Cloud spotting

When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade. In my case, when the false ceiling caves in, find a beautiful place to stay in and regroup.

I am currently in Malacca with my mother and uncle. We arrived yesterday at my parents' condo only to find that a leak in the en suite bathroom had caused the false ceiling to collapse. As this probably happened a couple of months ago, unbeknownst to us, there was mould growing on the walls and furniture. Not a pretty sight, nor smell.

We, however, managed to find a lovely restored old house, Cyclamen Cottage (its owners Cindy and Chris are lovely people), to stay in nearby, and despite the unwelcome mess that greeted our eyes, this trip has attained a certain sense of adventure that has vast appeal.

The "disaster" has forced us to be resourceful and decisive and today's reading on Moses and the Israelites following the cloud resonated with me. Especially in times like these, when change is thrust upon me, and issues spring up that require fairly immediate resolution, I find myself more attentive to God's movement in my life.

I begin to look for the cloud that is distinctively different from ordinary clouds, so that I might follow closely and go where He leads.

I listen more keenly to hear the words of wisdom that come out of others' mouths.

It is so easy to react and vent one's frustrations on others, to give in to confusion in the chaos and scream from the loss of control that ensues, but shouting never achieves much, other than one exercising one's lungs and raising one's blood pressure. Far better to turn to the Father and seek His help, which always comes, if one is open to being helped.

I attended a workshop by Father Ignatius Huan last weekend and he stressed the importance of contemplative prayer and praying with Scripture. To make time to rest in God's Word, and allowing it to transform me.

In attempting to be mindful of this, I can definitely see the graces in the day more clearly and feel my way around the uncomfortable situation with more fluidity. And it has not stopped me from enjoying myself and enjoying the friends and family we have been meeting up with.

Time waits for no man, so it is imperative I make lemonade today to celebrate the moment, instead of dwelling on the tartness of the lemon for even a single minute. Not even the haze that suddenly descended upon us this morning can mar the beauty of this day. Something I give thanks and praise for.

I like cloud spotting.