Mastering pain

Last night's episode of Grey's Anatomy featured a little girl who thought she was super-human for she could take a beating and not feel any pain.

"Punch me in the stomach," she would encourage people to whom she wanted to prove her powers.

It turned out that she had a disorder where she couldn't feel pain and had been punched in the stomach once too often for she was suffering from internal bleeding and needed an operation urgently to save her life.

From the plethora of pain killers on the market, the huge numbers of people on emotion-numbing drugs like Prozac to the culture of drugs and alcohol that have bred rampant addiction, pain is something we avoid at all costs, it would seem.

Most times, pain is the body's way of signalling something is wrong. That inner voice that tells us to “Stop. Slow down. Figure out what’s wrong and make a change,” is a form of self-protection.

Unfortunately the usual reaction today is “Make it go away now!” and the quick fix solution is usually one that treats the symptoms while ignoring the source.

Fixing the source of pain sometimes requires more pain and is usually a lengthy process that requires much effort. It’s just too much bother so most people opt for the quick fix and ignore the warning.

C.S. Lewis said: "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."

Pain has a purpose, a good one at that.

Christ Himself was not impervious to pain. When He prayed alone in the garden of Gethsemane, in His anguish, His sweat became “great drops of blood”.

He even asked His Father to remove the cup of suffering if it were the Father’s will. It was not to be removed.

However, God never leaves us to deal with pain alone. He responded to the fidelity of His son: “Then an angel from heaven appeared to him and gave him strength.” (Luke 22:43)

So if we embrace what the Lord wills in our lives, even the pain, He will supply the necessary resources to endure and to persevere, facilitating the healing and growth process.

Remaining faithful beyond reason or worldly wisdom will eventually bring us to a place of peace and inner strength.

When I experienced the loss of a relationship that meant the world to me at the time, I joked with close friends that the worst part of the pain was that I couldn’t even misbehave to seek solace or relief from the pain for I had chosen to follow Christ.

Underneath the knee-jerk reaction to embark on a destructive search for a palliative - go out and find a man, any man to validate my womanhood - I appreciated the strength I was given to work through the pain of rejection and loss in a healthy manner.

He answered my prayers by sending me angels in the form of various people who made me feel loved and I was protected from the impulses of a pain-crazed mind that would have led me to give in to neon-bright temptations and caused irreparable collateral damage.

In the time needed to walk through the fire, I gained many blessings: wisdom, resilience of spirit, great reserves of inner strength, my self-respect and a buoyant self-worth, a quiet confidence and a greater depth of compassion and empathy.

I slayed my personal demons and emerged liberated, to go forth into the sunshine again.

While I do not wish to experience such depths of pain again, I do not run away from relationships that may trigger pain of such gargantuan proportions. I continue to love life.

And I continue to be awed by His boundless love for me, a love that soothes all pain.

Essential for Christian living

“Mad-eye” Moody, the paranoid ex-auror in J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series has a motto: “Constant vigilance”.

He is ever-ready to do battle with the supporters of the Dark Lord, and further the cause of good in the world.

We would do well to adopt his motto for it is only too easy to be distracted and wander off the narrow path.

Following Christ is no walk in the park. First He challenges us to sell all our possessions before we follow him, as He advised the rich man in Mark’s gospel.

Then, not doing evil, keeping the commandments is not enough, no. In Matthew’s gospel, we will be judged for the omission of doing good: not helping our fellow beings in need is tantamount to rejecting Christ.

Neither can we be fearful and lazy like the servant who buried his one talent instead of making it work hard for him and multiplying it. Christianity is definitely not for the faint-hearted, those afraid of being losers.

In fact, we must be bold. Live out our faith daily. Be prepared to lay down our lives for the truth.

If you’re wondering at this point is all this worthwhile, the answer is yes. When Christ calls you by name, you will understand why saying yes is the only logical answer to issue forth from your lips.

Erh, now that I’ve gone off-tangent, let me get back to the point.

We cannot afford to be foolish like the five bridesmaids who due to their lack of planning and preparation were unable to greet the bridegroom as their lamps had extinguished.

Constant vigilance is required.

The following extract that comes from a reflection written by Fr. Steve Tynan, published in Sabbath 2007 says it all so beautifully:

“Vigilance is an essential and often forgotten aspect of our walk of faith. If we fail to be vigilant, Satan will find it very easy to infect our lives with his lies and lead us astray from the truth ...being fully grounded in the truths of our faith is the best defense against the lies of Satan.”

“It takes a lot of effort to develop a truly vigilant lifestyle that will protect us against the lies of sin. The best place is to begin with a committed prayer life. If we pray daily and truly allow God to form our hearts in His ways, we will have begun to develop a protection against temptation.

"If we further this with meditating on the Word of God in the Scriptures, we will reinforce all that the Spirit of God is teaching us in prayer.

"If we then add the Teachings of the Church to this, we will soon develop an impenetrable armor to the fiery darts and lies of Satan. The only way that the armor will be pierced is if we choose to let down our guard and allow him in.”

So stay awake. Be vigilant.

Mother saintly

I was amazed at the media brouhaha over recently published letters of Mother Teresa revealing her spiritual loneliness.

Especially the questions raised about the suitability of her sainthood in light of her inner struggles. Huh? Singlish says it best: “I catch no ball”.

How does her display of “weakness” detract from her goodness and a lifetime dedicated to bringing comfort to the poor and the dying?

Just because she experienced doubt and struggled in her faith like an ordinary person?

Conversely, I was greatly encouraged and inspired by her continued dedication, her joy and her boundless love for people despite her “dark night”.

Her crosses mark her as human, making her more endearing.

For who among us has not felt the weight of the absence of God in our lives? Or experienced the aridity of the desert?

In Matthew’s Gospel chapter 7 verse 17, he says “every good tree bears good fruit”.

The mountain of good fruit Mother Teresa produced in her lifetime proves to me that she ultimately believed in God and was graced with an inner, imperceptible core of faith.

Else she would have walked away from the abyssal darkness that surrounded her. Given into despair and quit.

Yet, what did this little Albanian nun do? Merely worked selflessly, loved generously and lived simply to the end, eschewing the trappings of wealth, power and glory.

Even if she were not a saint, she was a woman of great stature and extraordinary grace.


There is an excellent article by Elizabeth Lev commenting on the recent media storm around the published book Mother Teresa. Come Be My Light.: http://www.zenit.org/article-20371?l=english

Spiritual skinny dipping

In author Terry Brooks’s Shannara series, talismans of power are sought and used in the battle of good against evil. One such talisman is a sword.

In order for the wielder of the sword to tap into the power needed to defeat evil, he must first come face to face with the truth about the less desirable qualities of his character and have the courage to accept it. If he is unable to do so, he will perish in the battle.

Ultimately it is the unique ability of the sword of Shannara to present truth, stripped bare of all pretense, that defeats evil and restores order in the world.

To be human is to be flawed. Within each of us lies such a complexity of contradictions, an ever-swirling, changing pot of traits, quirks, dysfunctions, emotions and conscious thought that it’s hard to divorce fact from fiction, good from bad and to accept the unique blend of humanity we each are.

While we strive for perfection, we will always fall short for to be human is to be flawed.

At times I find that the more I try to be like Jesus, who is without sin, the harder it is for me to admit to the evil twin within me who is petty, resentful, covetous, dishonest, arrogant, proud, vain, bitter, greedy, angry, lazy, selfish, weak, craven…

…and yet, she is very much a part of me, alive and healthy.

Oftentimes my first instinct is to deny her existence, or to condemn and suppress her existence. Interestingly, that’s when her hold over my life becomes stronger as I am filled with either blistering anger or self-loathing.

Until I remove the fig leaf of guilt and shame and accept the truth about myself in all its unvarnished, naked glory, I tend to build walls between myself and the Father’s love and remove myself from His presence.

I take to dwelling in darkness, conquered by its blinding distortions. Like Niki Sanders in Heroes, I am imprisoned by my evil alter ego.

It takes the very humbling act of accepting my flaws, and the fractured world around me, to bring me out of the shadowy depths.

And a soupçon of courage to dive, au naturel, into the ocean of the Father’s loving compassion and mercy. To emerge cleansed and refreshed, ready to set off in a new direction.

In 2 Corinthians 12:9, “he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.’"

So if you seek to be made perfect, indulge in some spiritual skinny dipping from time to time in His sea of love.

Magnificat woman

I was sharing with my SD today the many blessings I received when I was on vacation.

How things I desired years ago and never thought possible came to fruition, in ways I never expected. Now when I look back at things in totality, I marvel even more.

Fr. A. reminded me that “the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is His name” as he encouraged me to be a Magnificat* woman.

While much of the Magnificat is a paraphrasing of prayers found in the Old Testament, it is extremely significant contextually.

At a very dark moment in her life, the young Mary is affirmed by her loving cousin and she is able to utter such a beautiful song of her deep and constant faith – truly she was full of grace, as the angel Gabriel proclaimed.

The joy of these two women of faith sharing and bonding through the miracles God has wrought in their lives is moving and certainly worth emulating.

I can only pray that “my soul magnifies the Lord” to all I meet every day.

* Luke 1:46-56 Mary’s song (canticle) of praise in response to her cousin Elizabeth’s greeting when they meet.

Love songs

Last night Mum and I attended Engelbert Humperdinck’s 40th anniversary concert. When she first mooted the idea, I balked.

Engelbert Humperdinck? No!!! Watch a geriatric who has probably lost his voice singing songs that are so passé was not my idea of fun. But it was what she wanted so… we went.

I enjoyed myself. He was the consummate entertainer who made the audience laugh at his jokes and sing along as he sang. And yes, he could still sing, sounding very much like the cassettes we used to listen to in the car.

Listening to him croon his love songs transported me into the past. I was once again that nine-year-old, sitting in the car with my brothers and my mother, as my father sat in the driver’s seat.

I could see us on a road trip in Malaysia, heading towards the ocean and loads of fun in the sun. As Dad drove along the narrow roads, we were all bubbling with excitement and the joy of being on vacation. We sang along with each familiar, loved song as the miles sped by. What a joyous time.

In that instant, I really missed my Dad, who was our rock, our provider, our fun-loving father who introduced us to the simple pleasures and the finer points of life.

Music is such a powerful evocator of childhood memories, nostalgia’s second cousin. As Engelbert closed the show with his rendition of My way, I was reminded of Dad, who was a maverick, a man who marched to the beat of his own drum, and therefore not easily understood. That song was one of his personal favourites.

Although my father always regretted that he did not leave us much when he passed on, I beg to differ. He left behind a treasure trove of memories of his love for his family. What could be more priceless?

Rainy days

Honolulu, August 15th -- It’s a rainy day in paradise today. We have been on hurricane watch the last couple of days. Hurricane Flossie went by the Big Island yesterday bringing wind and rain, thankfully in manageable amounts with minimal damage.

Besides the hurricane, there was a brief standby for a possible tsunami due to the earthquake in Peru. It was soon downgraded when it became apparent that there was no impending danger.

All it takes is the earth’s rumbles and nature’s volatility to remind us of the fragility of life and that the elements are not a controllable force. Humans are not in charge, no matter how much we may think we are.

Despite the rain robbing me of one last idyllic day at the beach, I am very appreciative of the fine weather I’ve experienced the last 12 days and boy, am I glad we visited the Big I. last week and not this week for Flossie would have certainly put a damper on things.

I am also thankful for certain things the rain brings like the excuse to stay home, laze around and do nothing; the gorgeous rainbows one can spot arcing across the sky; the cool breezes that erase the hot mugginess of August; the pristine landscape gleaming through the patina of dust misted away; and the opportunity to go mall walking (the only place to go exercise after dinner).

While the weather was "less than perfect" today, it turned out to be a good day, even if it necessitated a change in plans. It even matched the wistfulness I felt due to my vacation drawing to a close.

And so it was ultimately another perfect day in paradise. Something to give thanks for.

Decompression time

Honolulu, August 14th -- I live for vacations! Not only is it an opportunity to get out of my current headspace, go on adventures and gain fresh perspectives in life, it’s also time to relax and re-charge.

Best of all, I get the chance to go into myself and figure out who I am and where I’m going. Am I headed in the right direction?

There’s something about Hawaii that allows me to decompress and find the necessary space for all the above to happen. I suppose it has to do with the fact that I found my independence, my strengths, my self here so many years ago.

That it’s so beautiful, so elemental and elementary to connect with nature and God gives it special meaning for me.

He speaks to me in the majesty of the volcanic ridges, the playful trade winds that swish through the trees bringing relief from the sun, the heady scents of ginger, plumeria and tuberose that perfume the air, the soothing surge of the ocean against the shore, and the mosaic of crystalline blues and vivid greens as the ocean merges with the sky.

I feel alive, at peace, at one with the beauty that surrounds me. I am given clarity of thought. A sense of profound gratitude overwhelms me as I respond to the music of the land and its people.

This time around, I got to do the things I love best: walk, hang out at the beach, sleep, share the experience of phenomenally good food with old friends, laugh and have fun, fun, fun.

I also got to go to the movies where I caught a wonderfully creative animated film Ratatouille (a definite must-see) which reminded me of the importance of being true to one’s self.

It’s the story of how a rat finally succeeds in doing what he loved best against all odds – cook. It’s about the realization of dreams (sounds familiar?), friendships that transcend boundaries, acceptance of things and situations one would normally reject, and of course, there is romance, intrigue and many funny moments.

My take away this vacation before I head back to reality is this: things are never quite what I perceive for all things are possible with God - I must just continue to be open to His gentle promptings. (Taking Jesus on vacation is a sure-fire way to be wowed and blown away. Highly recommended.)

... and to live the dream.

Hawaii dreamin'

The vanilla flower from a Hawaiian Vanilla Company poster

Honolulu, August 13th -- It has been a real food fest. (check out some of the places we ate at below) this last week we spent mainly on the Big Island of Hawaii. C., M. and myself are all such foodies it’s not funny. Even the absence of P. (another foodie) didn’t stop us from pigging out.

Apart from eating, we had a great time sightseeing, visiting (coffee, vanilla bean and mac. nut) farms, breweries and the Parker Ranch historic homes. And we stayed in the lovely Jacaranda Inn nestled in the coolness of the Kamuela hills. We had an absolutely gorgeous time.

What this reunion (we all went to the same college and try our best to meet up every three years or so) renewed was our dream to buy a place together in Hawaii.

This time though, inspired by our Big Island jaunt, we want to buy a plot of land to cultivate coffee, vanilla, cacao or some other crop no one else has thought of that will grow well in the lushness of Hilo or the cools slopes of Kona and retire as farmers (and master brewers).

Amid the laughter, fun and massive eating, we exercised the very human need to dream. While they may be castles in the air at this point, we are united in our love for Hawaii. So that farm could become reality – who knows?

C.’s favourite island is the Big I. for the mana (spirit) of the land is special. “Hilo people are the friendliest in the world.” People were indeed super-friendly and everywhere we went, we would talk story with the locals.

I was inspired by the family-operated farms we visited, for each began with a dream. Within each story of realized dreams were the passion, love and commitment of the owners and their families. Despite the sweat and tears, it’s obvious that each had found their bliss.

This set me thinking about my life and I found that, similarly, I am in the process of realizing my dreams. More importantly, the dreams He has placed inside of me.

I am where I should be right now: teaching Pilates and writing, with the occasional footsie thrown in. I find meaning and great satisfaction in what I do and it allows me to express myself fully.

There have been times I’ve wanted to give up, when the going gets incredibly tough, but I persevered for nothing worth having in life comes easy.

The pollinated vanilla flower takes nine months to mature into a harvest-ready bean pod. Coffee trees take four years before they start flowering and bearing fruit while macadamia nut trees take seven years.

All things have a natural rhythm, a season, a time and place for being.

As I continue to dream the dreams of our reunion, I do not overlook the baby dreams still brewing within me and I continue to live out my current dreams day by day.

Ono Grinds (delicious eats)
* In Hilo we had incredibly cheap and delicious loco moco at Café 100 (great chili too), yummy shortbread cookies from Big Island Candies and this amazingly soft mochi and azuki bean-wrapped fresh strawberries from Two Ladies’ Kitchen.
* Rootbeer floats with creamy, yummy vanilla ice-cream at Hawaiian Vanilla Company in Hamakua.
* In Kona, the beers at Kona Brewing Co. went down really well, especially the Lilikoi Wheat Ale (aka Waialua Wheat Ale) as did the Kona coffee from Mountain Thunder and Kona Joe.
* Kona’s Island Grill’s beef teriyaki was seriously good.
* Daniel Thiebaut’s in Kamuela served flavour-rich and cooked-to-perfection fish.
* Back in Honolulu, munchies included crispy, chewy Champion malasadas on Beretania and McCully. And shaved ice from Island Snow in Lanikai.
* Nothing beats Ono’s Hawaiian food – the lau lau, kalua pig and lomi lomi salmon are da best!
* For plate lunch, it has to be Rainbow’s on Kapahulu, and of course, there is Zippy’s for its fried chicken (Zip Pac) and chili.
* It’s Hawaii Kai for good dim sum, delectable Italian at Assaggio’s and super-rich ice-cream at Bubbie’s.

Fruit-bearing folk

“Don’t swallow the seeds, they are bad for you,” admonished the grown-ups when I was a fruit-munching five year old. “Why?” “Because they’ll start to grow inside you,” they replied.

Wow, you mean an orange or apple tree would grow out of the top of my head and I could pick the fruit off the tree whenever I wanted, wherever I was, and eat them? I was thrilled.

So I kept swallowing the seeds that were small enough, waiting for them to sprout... those I didn’t swallow I would plant in the earth, willing them to new life.

Today when Monsignor Vaz gave a discourse on John 15’s powerful vine imagery at St. Teresa’s Parish Retreat, I was reminded of my childhood fascination with growing things.

We are all called to be fruit-bearing – that would be the sign and binding force that we made our home in the Lord, our true vine.

So that through our obedience, as we remained in His word, we would be pruned, made pure, to bear even more fruit.

The bounty would also prove that we are His disciples. Not the fact that we are baptised, or through our varied declarations of faith.

As a consequence, we would be able to experience complete joy as we ourselves bring joy to Him and to those around us

Mgr. Vaz challenged us. Are we people of joy or are we ruled by other things in our lives?

The idea of obedience is not an appealing one, especially when it seems to get in the way of pleasure and our idea freedom. And so we assert our individual will.

As I have found out after years of stubborn experimentation, being disobedient did bring pleasure, but it also brought with it a sickness of the heart and soul.

I felt blighted. I sought and did not find joy. Instead, I kept chasing after highs that dissipated quickly like wood-smoke, leaving my lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. I was constantly on the run, escaping from my personal demons.

What can be the meaning of my life when I was so full of angst, a prisoner of fears and a slave to my addictions?

It was only when I learned to remain in His love that I was able to consign all the diseased and withered parts of me to the fire.

Obedience set me free of fears, distortions and addictions. I was pruned, cleansed and made new - aglow with an inner tranquility.

Sure, it’s sometimes hard to do the right thing, especially when the wrong thing is so appealing. But the joy of abiding in Him is immeasurable and indescribable.

It is something so deep and mystical that you need to experience it for yourself before you can comprehend what I am saying (if you don't).

What's more, once you’ve experienced it, you won’t ever want to go back to scrounging around for scraps of transient happiness.

The mini me is delighted to discover that the seeds she planted so long ago within and without herself have actually bore fruit.

And I am inspired to continue on the journey to “go and bear fruit, fruit that will last”.

His healing love

Celebrating birthdays can be hazardous as I found out over the weekend when we got together to celebrate B.’s birthday. She maintained she disliked fuss and woe and betide those who tried to celebrate it for her and with her.

We still did it anyway, albeit in a very private manner, just five chicks with champagne and cake in C.’s condo. It helped that the cake appealed to the child in her. Her “play-cake” as she called it. Seriously, it was a work of art, thanks to Susan from Smiling Orchid.

What is it about birthdays that B. was so violently opposed to? Definitely not the age thing for she still looks youthful. It was the fuss - which encompasses PDAs (that’s public displays of affection) in the non-couply way.

Admittedly, like B., I feel more embarrassed than appreciative when I am at the receiving end as well.

What is it that makes receiving love so difficult? Why is giving so much easier than receiving?

B. and I suffer from the same problem and I think it stems from when we were young. Somehow, we were not affirmed in our love languages* and grew up feeling unloved and even unlovable.

Sure I knew my parents loved me, intellectually, but, somehow, a part of me clamoured for love which I was not getting from them, and that made me feel inadequate as a person, and subsequently, unworthy of love.

It took me a long time before I felt comfortable in my own skin and it was only recently that I could accept that no matter how ugly I felt inside out, there will always be Someone who loves me deeply.

More importantly, that I deserved to be loved in such a life-giving manner.

He has loved me from the point of my conception and has never stopped loving me through all my topsy turvy years.

No other man has made me feel so precious, or so completely cherished. With such a love, I am healed, I am strong - I can be the person I was meant to be.

My birthday wish for B. is that she will continue to experience His healing love and one day enjoy her birthday the way a child enjoys the whole schmaltzy affair – with great relish, revelling in every moment of love and attention. Happy birthday B. XXX

* From Gary Chapman’s The Five Love Languages which enumerates the ways we give and receive love: words of affirmation, quality time, receiving gifts, acts of service and touch. A must-read, especially for couples and parents.

Sacred space

I just finished reading Totto-chan: The Little Girl at the Window by Tetsuko Kuroyanagi that S. lent me about two weeks ago. Published in 1981, this book was a runaway bestseller in Japan and has a timeless, universal appeal. I was absolutely charmed by it.

It’s a book I happen to think that all educators, and parents, should read for it honours an educator par excellence, Sosaku Kobayashi, who was founder and headmaster of Tomoe Gakuen, an alternative elementary school during pre-WWII days, and inspires with Kobayashi’s forward thinking and real love for children.

He sought to affirm every one of his students, devising ways to make them each feel special. “You’re really a good girl, you know,” was a phrase Kobayashi used every time he met the exuberant Totto-chan who was perpetual motion in trouble.

What really gave me cause to pause was this paragraph from the book:

“Having eyes, but not seeing beauty; having ears, but not hearing music; having minds, but not perceiving truths; having hearts that are never moved and therefore never set on fire. These are the things to fear, said the headmaster.”

His students looked forward to school each day for learning was fun. They learnt to see and appreciate the beauty and the miracles in the world around them, and consequently, were taught how to respect nature and fellow human beings.

The ability to find something wondrous and worthwhile even in the insignificant is a skill that every child should be taught, and eventually hone as a discipline. For unless we can appreciate what we have been given, we will not be able to feel gratitude.

And if we are not grateful then we will not be able to fully experience the blessings in our lives, even if we were handed the world on a platter. That would be too, too sad for there is so much in life to be thankful for.

Just the very act of breathing that keeps us alive was a gift from God to Adam as He first breathed life into him. A gift each of us is given when we emerge from our mother’s womb and take that first breath of air into our lungs.

I find that living with a certain mindfulness, a heightened awareness of the world perceived through all my senses, allows me to experience moments sublime in the mill of everyday living.

And when I allow these moments to connect deep inside of me, space is created for the divine to enter.

It is in these spaces that I can once again become a free-spirited child just like Totto-chan, gain respite from worldly concerns, draw strength from unfathomable depths and find inspiration to create.

Cherry blossoms fall,
Sighing softly in the breeze

A sweet song of joy

High fidelity

We were talking about doing the right thing by following God’s ways. I was trying to explain to C. how obedience to the “rules” enriched my life, protected me and allowed me to be free.

She went, “That’s conditioning.” I was stung initially for the implication behind that statement was that I was no longer a thinking, rational being.

A couple of days later, I caught Selma Hayek in a TV interview and she spoke against religion as she saw religion as an institution that hampers her relationship with God, given all its rules. She called it programming and said that religion caused one to sacrifice individuality and creativity.

This perception that religion equals rules, rules that are archaic, impractical and reduce one’s quality of life by curtailing freedom is only too prevalent.

I have to admit I used to subscribe to this view not too long ago, and even felt that Church teachings were out-moded and existed to create guilt.

We live in a world where progress, defined by technological and scientific advances, is seen as the height of desirability. Tradition, the old ways, are no longer revered but ridiculed.

Freedom, love and happiness are words that readily trip off the lips to justify adultery, theft, cheating, oppression, abuse, even murder.

If we really took the time to seek, understand and experience what God’s love is all about, we would see the wisdom behind the rules.

The Catholic Church’s teachings are not based on esoteric, obscure reasoning but founded on natural law. Very practical, infused with huge doses of common sense.

Unfortunately, through poorly taught catechism and inept promulgation of its beliefs, strange and distorted views of Catholicism abound.

Plus, it is always easier to believe what the media and the world around us tell us about how to pursue happiness and find it.

Yes, fidelity does imply obedience and sacrifice. At times, the subsuming of one’s desires. But when that fidelity is a reciprocity of love (and not just duty), it takes on a deeper and richer tone.

And with the unfolding of time, we will eventually get to hear the symphony God is composing through our lives if we allow Him to be the master composer.

When I get weary of swimming upstream against the flow of popular convention, I find strength reflecting on the life of Dorothy Day who lived the major part of the 1900s.

Her choices in life would seem mad to most people.

Giving up a lucrative career as a writer to become a social activist who brought hope and acceptance to the masses by providing food and shelter though her houses of hospitality.

Shunning the values of her generation upon conversion to Catholicism even though she had earlier typified the modern, independent woman of the 20s who indulged in the free-sex-and-drugs lifestyle.

Choosing God and letting go of the man she loved and called “husband” to walk singly through life, raising her daughter on her own.

She embraced the Church’s teachings wholeheartedly, managing to translate her radical social values within the institutional framework and give herself over to loving in such extraordinary ways.

Her unique brand of spirituality included her love of Scripture, solidarity with the poor, frequent works of mercy, prophetic witness through her writings, pacifism, gratitude to God and regular celebration of the sacraments.

Below is an excerpt of the sermon delivered by Fr. John Hugo at her memorial mass:

"Never enough! The other saying frequently quoted by Dorothy I had borrowed from St. Augustine: "He who says he has done enough has already perished." The fullness of love is not attainable all at once, but is rather a life-time goal requiring continual growth. The saint's words are a reminder that one may not falter in the ascent of the mount of love. And Dorothy was not satisfied with the lowest degree of love. She desired to follow her Master, who had said, "Love one another as I have loved you." That is, unto death."

Fidelity of the highest order: She died penniless in 1980, having lived the fullest expression of her love for Christ in her fully lived life (which included being thrown into jail at the ripe old age of 75 for being in a banned picket line for farm workers).

If being conditioned or programmed means living a life as colourful and rich in meaning as Dorothy’s, bring it on.

Building spiritual muscle

Answering the call “Follow me!” is not something one does frivolously, without a thought.

Jesus himself warns it will not be easy: “No one who puts a hand to the plough and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” And yet, many were inspired to follow Him.

Some, like Peter and Paul, even gave their lives to share the salvific love of Jesus with others: Peter to Jews and Paul to Gentiles. Thus, the seeds of Christianity sprouted and grew.

It always makes me laugh to read about Peter – his impulsive, rough-and-ready ways, his earthy humanity. It gives me hope that a key founder of the Church betrayed Jesus three times after vowing to give his life for Him.

Or that someone like Paul, a textbook Pharisee who was killing Christians, could be transformed into a person who through his incredibly intimate relationship with the resurrected Christ would go on to convert thousands through his tireless zeal and deep love for God.

Last Thursday the W2W ministry gathered to say goodbye to one of its sisters who will be moving away with her husband and young family.

Stephanie has always inspired with her active faith and her willingness to say yes to Jesus. Knowing what would be demanded of her this July as she leaves the shores she grew up on, she set about strengthening the already sturdy foundations of her faith.

As a result, the regular spiritual workouts she has undergone in the last six months have given her a rock-hard, yet resilient inner strength. She’s ready to take on the world!

As we commented on the difference, she had this to say, “It wasn’t easy. It may seem that way, but it wasn’t.”

Coming to terms with our issues, our failings, our weaknesses, our woundedness, all the unloved, unlovely bits of us is a task few wish to undertake. It requires great courage and effort to face the bogey men tap-dancing in our closet.

Unless we can name the unfulfilled, broken parts of our self, work on them and allow healing to take place, they will always have power over us, and hinder our ability to experience life fully.

Yep, it’s hard work. Ah, but we do have a secret weapon. That little thing called grace.

Grace is what restored Paul’s sight physically and spiritually, enabling him to become one of Christ’s most ardent supporters.

Grace is what allowed Peter to transform from a scared mouse into a fearless, intrepid disciple who founded the Church in Rome.

Grace is the FDA-approved, designer steroid.

As past hurts and wounds heal, as a chiselled and taut spirituality replaces a flabby one, we find it easier to fight the good fight, finish the race while keeping the faith.

Start training today!

Speaking the truth

Last Friday I was invited to dinner by the Men to Men Ministry. I had not met the group before so I looked forward to getting to know them. I had a great time - it was a fun evening of good food, wine and conversation and I was struck by their easy camaraderie and their commitment to their ministry.

So what’s the secret? I think part of the reason why the men are so strongly committed is due, in part, to the leadership. They joked about how if they skipped too many meetings, they would be invited to a private breakfast tete a tete with Edwyn who leads the group.

We live in a world ruled by political correctness, where often we refrain from “correcting” a wrong, because we are so concerned about infringing the rights of others and offending them. More so if we are Christian. It’s not the done thing. We must make nice all the time. Accept people for who they are.

Yes, we must love the sinner, but we need not accept the sin. We forget that Jesus overturned the tables of the money lenders in the temple. That He was never afraid of telling the truth, motivated by His deep love for humanity.

Although we are adults and should know the difference between right and wrong, we do sometimes need the encouragement and support of our loved ones to steer us back onto the right path, especially if we veer off. That’s where family and friends who love us come in.

I am especially grateful for the forthrightness of E., who has been one of my spiritual guides these past years. She has never been afraid of telling it like it is, unpalatable as her words may have been to my ears at the time. Invariably I would follow her advice (after wrestling with it for a while) for I knew she was motivated by a spirit of love, and wisdom.

So what if she came across like a heavy-handed parent at times? I knew she was right, even if at the time I didn’t fully understand why, for I respected her authority – an authority that came from her sustained, intimate relationship with the Trinity. I am glad, in retrospect, that I allowed her words to guide me for I have gained much, despite "losing" much initially.

There are certain truths in the world we cannot sugar-coat in relativism. Black is black and will never be white even if we argue till we are blue in the face about it. So it's important not to be afraid of treading on toes in the effort to live His way, His truth and His life.

As St. Paul would say, “Never grow tired of doing what is right.” Speak the truth in love.

Conversion stories

A couple of weeks ago, B. rang me and told me she had bumped into my cousin G. and they ended up sharing their conversion stories with each other over dinner. I never cease to marvel at how lives are transformed diametrically when we each meet and connect with the One who brings us the calibre of happiness we look for all our lives and never quite find in things human-made.

Raniero Cantalamessa uses the parable Jesus told of the hidden treasure to describe conversion: "The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field; a man finds it and hides it again, then he goes, full of joy, and sells all he has and buys the field."

It is only when the man finds the treasure that he now has “the strength and the joy to sell all” and this conversion, Fr. Cantalamessa goes on to say, “is the way to happiness and a full life. It is not something painful, but the greatest joy. It is the discovery of the hidden treasure and the pearl of great price.”

Having experienced it myself, I concur with what he says for only such transcendent joy can effect and sustain the necessary process of selling all, which takes time (a whole lifetime, in fact, for conversion is not a one-shot deal but a lifelong process).

While conversion isn’t something painful per se, it does involve pain: the pain of letting go, giving up, dying to self, leaving behind the vestiges of one’s former way of life. Tis not easy… but I would not change a step I’ve travelled on the narrow path. Nor do I wish to switch paths or walk back even when temptation allures so charmingly from time to time.

For it was only when I said goodbye to the final enduring bits of my “worldly” life two years ago that I found the freedom to move light years ahead and find my identity, my worth and my purpose, and consequently, the sense of security and well-being a child finds in her mother’s loving arms.

Like the woman with the alabaster flask in Matthew’s gospel, knowing that my many sins are forgiven has enabled me to be (and feel) loved wholly, and to love wholeheartedly in return.

In a world where people search so desperately for love, they need only look inward into the eyes of the Father to find the hidden treasure.

By His blood

Sometimes I ponder how much I would give up, how far I would go to defend my love for Jesus. Would I be able to give up my life if called upon to do so? Or would I wimp out and deny His name, like Peter did, not once, but thrice.

Even now, in a social setting of "believers" and "non-believers", I let "blasphemous" remarks go, forgoing the risk of being labelled Jesus freak or, heaven forbid, totally uncool.

"Don't rock the boat. Don't make everyone uncomfortable." I rationalise my limp responses or silence. "If I give an honest opinion, I will come across as a narrow-minded Christian and turn people off Christianity, so it's better to let it slide."

Please show me how I can change the world when I lack the requisite courage to bear witness in the world? Especially since I am so comfortable remaining within the enclave of like-minded people.

Instead of demarcating the world into "them and us", to really be like Jesus, I must go forth and sit with "sinners". Break bread with them. Get to know them and to love them. Accept them for who they are. Recognize the seed of goodness within each person I meet and hopefully, by reflecting the love of Jesus, make the seed grow through each encounter.

I've been reading about the recent slaying of Fr. Ragheed Aziz Ganni and three deacons, shot and killed in Mosul, Iraq, last Sunday after Mass. Fr. Ragheed chose to return to his home country in 2003 upon completion of his studies in Rome, knowing he was going back, literally, to a war zone, and an eventual death sentence.

The description of severe and constant persecution, the real fear of dying for one's faith every single day is just mind-boggling to me - who sits in air-conditioned comfort when I attend mass, secure in the knowledge I am safe from violence. No bullets whizzing through church windows or celebrating mass in bombed-out ruins.

Out of love for his people, Fr. Ragheed made the ultimate sacrifice. I find his courage, strength and tireless zeal inspiring. And I pray that this sacrifice will not spawn more hatred and violence, but will instead spur each of us to follow his example of fidelity and bring the message of hope and love to all we meet. Every single day.

"Today I have died to self." Words he uttered to a good friend on the day of his ordination.

May I be given a small measure of the grace given to Fr. Ragheed to die to self and live in Christ, Christ who died for us so willingly out of love. A sacrifice I remember at every Eucharistic celebration, and in particular today, when I tasted His life-giving blood in the wine.

Spirited charisms

When I was five, I knew the Holy Spirit as the Holy Ghost. I saw Him as one of my guardian angels, friendly like Casper, who would play with me and keep me safe. Then He became the Holy Spirit and somehow, by virtue of the name change and my growing up, faded into invisibility.

God was my distant father, loving but stern, and Jesus was some bygone super-hero who performed miracles. To be admired, but from a distance. Father, Son and Holy Spirit, like relatives who lived in another country. We were bonded in a unique way, but we never saw each other much.

Things changed the day, as B. would put it, I got zapped. Big time. The charismatics will say I met Jesus. I like to describe it as the day I fell in love with the love of my life.

The music played and the angels sang as the sun came out from behind the clouds and shone its deliciously warm, ambient rays on a magnificent rainbow in the sky.

Sure, it didn't happen in a flash, more like a diver slowly surfacing after a deep dive, but it was nonetheless dramatic. And life-changing.

God became my compassionate father who forgave me all my sins.

Jesus became heroically human and real to me and began performing miracles in my life.

The Holy Spirit blew away the cobwebs distorting my vision, refreshed my parched, shrivelled soul and lit a fire within.

From that point onwards, there was no turning back.

I have since gotten to know the tenets of Catholicism well. I was astounded to discover how rich and complex in flavours and textures my religion was, much like my favourite hazelnut chocolate torte, and just as rewarding.

I continue to be amazed at how alive and vibrant my relationship with my Triune God can be.

As I mature in my faith journey, I become more aware of my mission in life: sharing His love with others. Simple, but not exactly easy to accomplish for every act of giving involves exposing myself to hostility and rejection, while I cannot, must not, expect anything in return.

What does make it easy is His bountiful love – not only the fruit, but the gifts of the Holy Spirit. Charisms, or what Pope John Paul II calls extraordinary gifts that are not necessarily miraculous in nature, but are given to each of us to help us “in the service of others and the welfare of the Church”, bringing Christ’s love to the world.

These special graces are unique to each person and come in diverse and multiple forms such as wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety and fear of God, to name a few. (By the way, the gift of tongues is not a charism for as Fr. Robert Faricy put it, “Any idiot can babble in tongues,” and it is a gift of contemplative prayer more for self-sanctification.)

Of course we must want the gifts and claim them, be grateful for them as they are bestowed, and treasure them by sharing them, for they are not meant for self-edification or sanctification.

This past Pentecost, I asked for a renewal of Spirit to nourish my faith. Ever generous, Father, Son and Holy Spirit responded. Now it’s up to me to live up to and live out my baptismal promises with the charisms He has given me.