Place of springs

Words have also spoken to me. There is so much beauty and power in the language of words, whether verbal or written. They can evoke rich images, call forth intense emotions and invoke strong responses. They can bless. But they can also curse. And hence, should be used judiciously. Words spoken out of anger or malice will poison the atmosphere, which even true remorse is unable to repair. A faint scar remains behind, even after the wound inflicted has long healed. Conversely, words of love and affirmation are like water to the thirsty plants of our souls, allowing them to grow upright and burst into flower.

Some of the most beautiful language I’ve encountered lies within the world’s most popular ‘book’ – the Bible. It is, after all, the inspired Word of God. I find it quite amazing that Jesus speaks to me so meaningfully today through words that were passed down through the centuries, first by oral tradition, and later in written records. Somehow, He meets me at the very point of my struggle or triumph, my sorrow or joy. What’s more, He is able to infuse a wealth of meaning into a few chosen sentences so that a certain passage of Scripture can take on different shades of colour each time I meditate on it.

The Book of Psalms ranks among my favourite reads as this collection of songs emotes so beautifully the various postures of prayer one can take, be it praise, adoration, thanksgiving, lament or repentance. Through the Liturgy of the Hours*, I’ve come to love the poetry and symbolism found in the Psalms, as I make the words my own, applying them to my daily life. One I especially love is Psalm 84, in particular, verse 7:

“As they go through the Bitter Valley
They make it a place of springs,
The autumn rain covers it with blessings.
They walk with ever growing strength,
They will see the God of gods in Sion.”

It is alive with imagery that gives hope and courage to persevere. As we journey through seasons of darkness and hostility, we can choose to transform it into something pure and life-giving. Drawing on faith that gives strength, and the ability to see the bounty and bear fruit even in the heart of darkness.

Setbacks, disasters, catastrophes, trials, these are hallmarks of human suffering. But we are given the freedom to choose how we respond to them. We can either give in to despair and respond in bitterness, or we can choose to rely on Him to be the light, even when we are lost and groping around in the dark, and gain something good from our suffering.

“Lord, God of hosts,
happy the man who trusts in you!”

*The Liturgy of the Hours is the Catholic Church’s official daily prayer, whereby the hours are consecrated to God. It is prayed either in a group or individually and involves praise, thanksgiving, lament and intercession in Christ’s name and in communion with Him. At the heart of the Hours is the Book of Psalms.

Called

By name you call me every day,
To walk with steadfastness and love.
Be light to those who cannot see,
And salt to season lives with joy.
The wounded hearts and battered spirits
All casualties of humankind’s ills,
To comfort and with care affirm,
Bring hope and dignity restore.
To practise charity at home
Let respect and patience rule the day.
Forgive each sin; to live and let live…
Give thanks for moments light and dark.
How wonderfully you’ve made me thus
So blessed am I, where grace abounds

Let me answer your call with fervent love
That I may change the world with who I am.

By Jackie Pau

Woman Power

The Woman to Woman Ministry’s International Women’s Day celebration took place yesterday afternoon at St. Bernadette’s and it was time of gathering to reflect and take stock of life at both the macro and micro levels. Learn new ways to get closer to Jesus and discern His will in our lives. And, celebrate life together as women of faith.

Violence against women and girls is nothing new, and yet, it still remains a problem today. The statistics were horrifying. According to a UN study on women: ”At least one out of every three women has been beaten, coerced into sex or otherwise abused in her lifetime.” And this is usually by someone she knows. For more, go to:

http://www.un.org/events/women/iwd/2007/factsfigures.shtml

Why is it that in this age of so-called progress, of scientific and technological wonders, that human beings haven’t evolved to the point where a basic respect of the rights and dignity of the human person is present? Why is it that women continue to be the primary victims of child prostitution or labour, sexual exploitation, abuse in the home and human trafficking?

What are we doing wrong? Just last week, I read in the newspaper a case of several instances of incest in one family which were supported by the women in the home because they believed it was permissible. Then there was the recent case of a pregnant nine-year-old.

Jacinta Phoon, who was the keynote speaker gave further insight into abuse suffered by young women in Singapore today, and how girls thought of themselves based on the feedback they received from the environment around them. Instead of thinking of themselves as individuals with certain inalienable rights, many young women perceive themselves as objects and measured their self-worth accordingly.

Are we, as women, doing enough to dispel the darkness around us? Or are we, sitting safe and sound in our homes, saying, “It’s not my problem”? Worse, do we buy into the rationalization and the relativism of the world around us and think, “There is no problem - that’s the way things are nowadays”?

Can we change the world where we are? “What difference can I make, as one solitary woman with all these responsibilities to shoulder?” “I have no time, nor the capability.” “This is beyond me. Only a higher authority can deal with the situation, not me.”

Lao Tzu said: "A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step." We can change the world by changing our world.

Begin by claiming our status as beloved daughters of God and the authority that comes with being woman created in the image and likeness of God. We need to believe in ourselves and love ourselves the way the Father loves us. Then, confident in His love, we can, in our own unique ways, make a difference to the people we come into contact with every day – family, friends, acquaintances, colleagues, the elderly person who lives next door, the woman whom we buy vegetables from…

In Isaiah 1:17, we are exhorted to “learn to do good, seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow”. If each of us makes the conscious effort to seek Jesus in each other, be His body, His hands and His feet*, then each of us has the power to change the world.

* Christ has no body now on earth but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours; yours are the eyes through which to look at Christ's compassion to the world, yours are the feet with which He is to go about doing good, and yours are the hands with which He is to bless us now." - St. Teresa of Avila

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.”

Heart's desire

Last Thursday evening I attended Bo Sanchez’s Pursuing Life’s Dreams and Desires (Living Fully Our Potential). I was eager to attend his talk for my cousin E. gave me a set of Scriptural diaries published by Bo two Christmases ago and I found his reflections insightful and helpful in my own faith journey.

The evening kicked off with an inspiring testimony by Amilia Chai who shared how she followed the desires of her heart and came to be a lay missionary with the Institute for World Evangelisation - ICPE Mission, the organization that invited Bo and his team to Singapore.

She was followed by Jon Oscorto, who used John 5:1-9 to illustrate that each of us had a choice to be healed by Jesus and, like the paralyzed man in the story, we could take up our mat and walk. Jesus sees us and heals us, even if we may still be wallowing in self-pity and blaming others for the situation we are in. I was blown away by this Scriptural sharing for like the paralyzed man, it took me 38 years before I allowed Jesus to heal me.

Then Bo came on and shared how he was hit by the truth one day when he was still a young man and realized this: we each had the ability to define our future. Excited, he stayed up till 3 a.m. and wrote 15 pages of what he would like his life to be, his desires and future dreams. His list encompassed dreams for his career as well as for his personal life, and how he would multiply the blessings he received from God and “increase his territory”.

“Be specific! List things like how much you want to earn and what you will do with the money.”

Some of the items on his list that I can remember are:

“I will be the greatest husband ever – I will kiss my wife seven times a day, I will take her out for a romantic dinner once a week…”

“I will be the greatest Dad to my children...”

“I will earn $XX a year and I will tithe as much as 25% of my earnings as my income grows…”

“I will write a book.”

“I will have a TV show, I will have a radio show.”

“I will live in a house by a pond…”

Every morning when he prays, he will pray his list, offering it up to the Lord. Through the years, he has seen item by item come into fruition.

E. once told me often our deepest desires are placed there by the Father, “deep is calling on deep”, for He wants each of us to experience life as it should be, according to His plan. We are not talking about selfish or self-serving desires, but rather desires that will bless us, so that in turn, we “will be a blessing” to others. (Gen 12:2)

Vision requires faith, the faith of someone like Abraham who went wherever, and did whatever the Lord told him to and was greatly blessed, consequently. Armed only with human understanding, we often limit our own dreams, but if we listen to God with our inner ear and go where He tells us, nothing is impossible.

Bo challenged each of us to make our own list and claim the promises of the Father. Can it truly be that simple? I know so. Now let me start working on my list…

More about Bo
Bo is extremely well-known in the Philippines, where he comes from, for he is publisher of inspirational magazine Kerygma, an author of eight best-selling books, has a daily radio programme and weekly TV show there, and is founder of Light of Jesus Community, Light of Jesus Counseling Center and Anawim, a home for the abandoned elderly. Check out his website: http://www.bosanchez.ph/ Great stuff!

Lunar New Year musings

Today is the 3rd day of the Lunar New Year and I am glad it's a public holiday for it gives me time to relax a little and do some work that is pressing.

Just over the weekend, I was talking to my cousin A. and we were both feeling the pre-New year pressures - all the rushing around to prepare for it can be quite crazy and extremely tiring. He was wondering why we did all this and I said we did it for our parents. I've been reflecting a little more on what I said and it goes beyond just honouring our parents. It's an acknowledgment of our heritage and a validation of who we are as individuals living within our families.

So while I hate how tired and stressed I get over the cooking and the springcleaning, it conjures up memories especially of my paternal grandmother who would serve up all the traditional dishes during the CNY celebration. I am also reminded of past meals when we sat down together as a family (all three generations) to eat the reunion dinner cooked so deliciously by her, and in latter years by my father. Buying new clothes and slippers, food shopping for delicacies that appear only during this period, arranging fresh flowers around the house, preparing the mandarin oranges and goodies in anticipation of relatives and friends who visit during the New Year; all this and the little quirks like not sweeping the floor and cutting one's hair on the first day are part and parcel of my make-up as a second generation Cantonese Chinese in Singapore.

As I prepared the braised mushrooms and the great pot of soup, I did it in honour of my father who was a fantastic cook and enjoyed watching others experience his culinary concoctions. And I hope that his hospitality was well translated through my efforts, although I can just hear him saying the mushrooms were not tasty enough and the soup lacked quite a few ingredients. "Less sodium, Dad, is good for health... "

Traditions help perpetuate the sense of continuity in our lives and I have come to appreciate those that mark new beginnings, celebrate life and honour the past.

And I give thanks to the One who placed me in this family.

Prophet, priest and king

Today Amelie Rachel was baptised and received new life in Christ, along with five other babies at the Church of St. Teresa. I rejoiced at being chosen as one of her god-parents, to guide her in the faith and journey with her through life.

The baptismal initiation into the priesthood of Christ comes with the invitation to participate in Christ's threefold office of being prophet, priest and king. With our own unique gifts, we are called, as individuals, to bear witness, worship and serve Him with love. Thus in discipleship, we share the singular vocation of building the Kingdom of God in the here and now.

The readings this Sunday were apt. First from Isaiah chapter six, a response to the Lord's call:" Here I am, send me!". Then St. Paul recounts in his first letter to the Corinthians (chapter 15) how he came to experience Christ's grace and thereafter became committed to spreading to all he met the good news of salvation. And finally, in chapter five of Luke's gospel, Simon Peter, James and John experience conversion and leave everything to follow Jesus and become "fishers of people".

Simple, ordinary folk who met Jesus in their everyday activity and responded to His call simply and wholeheartedly. While we are all not worthy, as St. Paul puts it, "I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle", with grace, we can surmount our human weakness and become His instruments of sacrificial love in our everyday lives. We don't have to accomplish great things, for it is enough that we seek to do His work in small ways, ways that are within our capability.

A great role model is St. Teresa of the Child Jesus, who is known for her "Little Way" of accomplishing much for God through the humblest and simplest acts of love.

"I am a very little soul, who can offer only very little things to the Lord."

My gift to Amelie is the prayer that she will be like The Little Flower and always walk in humility and love, building the Kingdom in small, baby ways.

Lasting fruit

Just this week, I was asked by Nickynic, my cousin A.'s son, to be his confirmation sponsor. To 'fulfil' the role, I started quizzing him at the dinner table. "So, what are the fruit of the Spirit?" A typical teenager, he was clueless. Little did he know, I was no better, for I have but a vague recollection myself. Now, that won't do at all. How am I supposed to be a role model to this man-child? Plus my other three god-sons and newly minted god-daughter? So onto the Net I went.

While St. Paul quote nine in Galatians 5:22: "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control...", the tradition of the Church lists twelve: "charity, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, generosity, gentleness, faithfulness, modesty, self-control, chastity".

These are virtues I aspire to, on a daily basis, failing miserably in some and making some headway in others. Purely by grace alone, lemme tellya.

Given the stress I've placed myself under by deciding to take my Polestar Pilates exam end-March, while having committed myself to a major writing project with Sr. Julia and helping out with B.'s Subway venture, patience is severely lacking. I sometimes feel I've turned into this grouchy old trout. It doesn't take much to trigger the screaming banshee inside of me who emerges as a selfish, self-righteous virago. I don't like myself much when this happens and it's happening with alarming frequency, much to my dismay. Ah yes, much prayer needed here.

While we are called to bear fruit, we can only do so if we abide in Him. Financial success, fame, power, these are not lasting fruit, especially when we forget that everything comes from Him and we should, in turn, share what we have received. Worse yet, some fruit of the Spirit are perceived as signs of weakness in today's world and disparaged as archaic, out-moded.

Sometimes I feel as if I am living in the Twilight Zone for what I hold dear and values I subscribe to are "all so last season, dah-ling" and I am tempted to "get with the programme", abandon the course I've charted these last few years and be the smart cookie who makes it big.

When I attended the Pastoral Counselling School in Bangalore, India in 2003, the first Word I received was this: "I am the vine, you are the branches." I have since learnt that this beautifully written metaphor of the vine comes from John 15. It resonates with me whenever I read it and I am renewed by this exhortation by Jesus. Time and time again. For we are called to live in the Spirit. Utterly. Totally.

So what if what I do now is rejected as stupid and self-indulgent? Or I am perceived as lazy, irresponsible, ineffective, a failure and a screwball? So what if I lost everything I wanted so much in life by leaving the boat, like Peter, to walk on water? Miracles can only happen if we follow Him and follow through with what we believe in.

Sometimes there are great costs attached to it for dying unto one's self, one's worldly desires is no easy task. And yet, I would gladly lose all I have again, despite the heartache, for the miracles I have experienced, the truths that have been revealed to me, the riches I have received are beyond measure. This deep, intimate communion with Jesus, as the Mastercard ad goes: Priceless.

Let me be like a tree planted in the house of the Lord:

"In old age they still produce fruit; they are always green and full of sap." (Psalm 92:14)

Love of duty

Duty - a word my paternal grandmother used a lot to insist how a person should behave. The trouble is when one is compelled to do something - which is invariably the case when it comes to duty - then the motivation is usually wrong, and the task is accomplished grudgingly and joylessly. Righteousness with no love, not a lovely sight. Much like how a Pharisee behaved, I would imagine.

I've always felt that way with regard to going to Malacca. An onerous trip that I HAD to undertake to take care of legal affairs for my mother and dead father. I have always found the place boring, with little appeal. However, this time, I decided to offer it up to Jesus and I asked Him to bless the time spent there.

It is no coincidence that this trip coincided with Epiphany, a time where the seeking Magi found the infant Jesus and honoured him as king with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. I experienced my own epiphany, that a-ha moment where I found something precious in an unlikely place.

Malacca is a place very dear to my mother's heart for her mother came from Malacca and she herself spent a portion of her childhood there (during the school holidays and the Japanese Occupation). She has many cousins there and she must have had a ball of a time growing up. It must've been a magical time for her - a time of carefree, childhood innocence.

This trip, I noticed how much my mother is in her element when she is there. She transforms into another person - a gregarious, confident nonya with a sense of mischief. Those of you who know my mother will know her as a sedate and quiet woman, not given to playfulness. Not someone, even as girl, that you would picture chasing her cousin around with a worm to tease her.

It was a delight to see how much she enjoyed interacting with her cousins, and as a consequence, I enjoyed myself very much. Her cousins are all lovely people - very hospitable and chatty so I was quite happy to shoot the breeze with them or just listen to them natter away in their patois of Malay, Hokkien and English, understanding about 80% of the conversation.

Her Malaccan friends are truly the salt of the earth as well, and I enjoyed hanging out with them and appreciate how much they have assisted my parents, and now, Mum, with the car and other matters. So it was a time flavoured richly with fellowship and goodwill.

It definitely helped that I had the opportunity to taste the most wonderful chendol at this obscure little weekend place (opposite lamp post 87 on Bukit Rambai) that my parents discovered through friends. And gorge on satay babi and nonya laksa. Yum. Only thing I didn't sample this trip was the satay celup. Yes, food is the carrot for me.

So duty can be something that one looks forward to and takes great pride in carrying out, especially when love is present in the action.

New year, new beginning

I've always wondered why people made such a big deal about the new year. To me, it's always been just another new day. And new year resolutions made are mostly never kept. I suppose what's so significant about it is it signals a new beginning, a chance to wipe the slate clean and begin again. Although, life typically doesn't happen that way, with such neat precision.

Being a perfectionist, I tend to review the year past with a 'glass half-empty' perspective - looking at the things I didn't manage to get done or accomplish, the failures, the broken dreams... Then I read this reflection in last quarter's Living Faith extracted from Jean Vanier's book Be Not Afraid which inspired me.

Essentially it calls us to live in the Spirit in all our relationships NOW, and not worry about the future. Live in the moment, just like children. We will be given the strength to live out the "joys, the sufferings, the peace, the hopes" if we "trust in God's love". Surrender and relax.

What struck me the most was this: "He doesn't want us to be perfect. He wants us to be confident that He will give us strength". So instead of beating myself up for my shortcomings, or holding myself up to impossible standards, I have learnt to rejoice at who I am and what I have done in the here and now.

All told, 2006 was quite a year for me and I am proud of what I have achieved, and not achieved. I gained much, in terms of wisdom and self-awareness. I loved much. I cried much. I laughed much. I strove much. In short, I experienced the joys and sufferings of everyday life and was able to thank the Lord for His blessings through it all.

Sure, I didn’t do a couple of things I REALLY wanted to, like take the time to cultivate a contemplative heart, read up more and learn more about certain saints I admire, do a silent retreat, go diving, but I mostly allowed Him to manage my time and I was busy happy/satisfied.

I am a little daunted at what lies ahead for there are many things to do in the coming months that require discipline and effort on my part to get done successfully. And as always, I am unsure if I will be able to do a good job. Therefore, I must rely on His strength. And like Mother Mary, I will allow Christ to be born in me and through me, and treasure all the messages I receive, continually pondering over them.

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.