term break

by the end of the term, three weeks into my practicum, i was never so glad for the holidays. not in all my years of being a student have i looked forward to the hols this much. i think it was more due to the plain fatigue…i felt like i was never this tired. (but then again, don’t we all, sometimes?)

so i was really really looking forward to this week as a week of rest, of being at camp, of recharging and of making things clear in my own heart and mind again. but as they say, the wicked shall have no rest. haha. turns out that it became a somewhat harrowing week…though i did get my measure of rest, my time to rethink, my food for thought.

part of what i’ve been thinking about the past few weeks is how there are so many things that happen. i used to be able to journal or write to pastor about each significant incident that takes place, reflecting on the event, thinking about what the Lord is teaching me. but somewhere along the way, between last year and this, i realise that so many things happen that there is simply no time to write about all of them, or to try and put things down into words. also because most of the time, i find my words insufficient to remember in tangible form the poignancy of a moment.

perhaps that is only natural, and a part of growing up, that there are so many significant moments. perhaps it is a response from the Lord, for the time i pondered over that phase where things were just happy, and i wondered why that break, why that rest, why that sunshine every day. so maybe that was in preparation for this. and this is no major trial, but i sometimes feel so torn, so worn out, that i strain to hear what it means to rend my heart, to be compelled to pray. perhaps that is the point.

three weeks is a mighty short time; i realise that. and even in those short fifteen days there have been good days and bad days. what surprised me was hearing from teacher e that in her twenty-odd years of being a teacher, there are still times she wonders if she is making any impact, and whether this is really her calling. yet she stays on. there is something that makes her still go to school each day, preparing her best for the lessons she has to prepare.

i can’t tell yet too if this is my calling. i see so many people around me who are much better teachers than me. i hear success stories, and i fear i do not have what it takes to make that difference.  but from this week, i see that perhaps i need to remember that i am not made a perfect teacher. i am not meant to be great the moment i begin. perhaps some people start like that, but i am not them, and i do not, cannot, and must not start with success. seeing my heart, knowing me, and in His infinite wisdom, the Lord teaches me in His giant patience. i want to be a good teacher, but the first thing about that is to be a good student, to sit at the feet of the Lord and learn, each day, every day. some lessons are hard to learn, and some are not sweet to swallow, but the fact that the Lord is still teaching tells me He has not given up, so it is not yet time to give up.

to know then that the Lord responds to our prayers not with specific answers sometimes, and not with the callous granting of wishes as we sometimes carelessly wait for. the ultimate response to prayer that we can look forward to is really that comprehension of His will and His word that comes when we seek Him aright, drawing close to Him. and that is enough. it may not be something that everyone, or even anyone, can understand. but if only i can be sure that it is enlightenment from the Lord, that comfort comes, and then it is all okay. i can live with it; i can live with anything, or with nothing at all, if only i understand. and then i can go my way, continue, and one day find rest, and rise to my inheritance.

all that is already enough. and yet the Lord gives beyond that. He gives people along the way who care, who show concern, who reminds me of brighter things. people who help point the way, whose presence makes me feel safe. people who give good advice, whose words shows me insight into the Word.

Father Lord, please teach me to be both child and servant, and not fear, but be of good courage, for You are all to me, and You are here.

i’ve always been indecisive, and that’s apparent in many ways, from big to little things. so on friday i was still wondering whether i should go home, all the way till i was changed and packing, i was kinda still thinking if i should go at all. turns out i’m really glad i did.

besides my most exorbitant taxi fare ever (in any country), i also got another surprise when i got home finally after watching the meter jump twenty cents every five seconds: the windows were closed, and it was awfully quiet.

so i let myself into the house, seeing that mum’s car was still around, but the window to her room was closed. i checked that grandma was in the kitchen and grandpa in his room, before i went to grandma and called her loudly to draw her attention. she said she thought mum had gone to fetch me, and that she had left with a bag, so i figured in my head that she might have gone to k to meet daddy. no biggie. yet.

so i went to grandpa’s room, and saw that he was sorta asleep. but there are times i’d wake him from his sleep, and this was one of those times. so i stood at his bedside and called out loudly, “ah gonggg!” perhaps he recognised the voice, or there was something that made him wake up quick, that before his eyes were fully open, he had burst into a laugh, uttering something like a “oh!” in teochew. the first thing he said was, “你还跟我相识啊？“ but it was smiling that he said so, his eyes twinkling in time to catch that smile.

he was like a skeleton sunk into the mattress. thankfully the bleeding had stopped, and there was no more pain. but there was a hollow in his stomach, perhaps cos of the way he was lying down, but otherwise he still sounded quite spirited, even as he lay down and talked, not really seeing where my eyes were.

i’m very lousy at that, because while i was supposed to be useful and mature, i couldn’t stop the tears from coming, maybe because it’s been a while since i last saw grandpa. so there i was, talking to him in as normal a voice as i could, and wiping my face furiously, till he told me to go fan myself outside if i were that warm in his room.

it was a while later that he raised the idea of getting a bath, since i was back and could help lift him into the lazy chair. so i did, and grandma giving directions and helping to push the chair, and actually bathing grandpa, he finally got what he’s been wanting to have since many days ago. while he wasn’t fully satisfied, at least he felt better, and i was glad too to see him out of bed, even for a little while. lifting him to the chair, waiting for him to catch his breath as he sat, i thought of the times i was a little kid, and would yell to grandpa in his room after i was done with my toilet, and he’d walk all the way there to clean my bum for me. it’s like the time i started taking food for him at the dinner table, the day after my dad said i was too old for grandpa to be taking food for me and i should learn to do it myself. some sort of role reversal goes on in family. as i was trying to clean his eyes with a wet tissue cos there was stuff on it, he said simply, “好啦佩蓉，不用做到那么如。“ like there was no need to be that gentle, to be that meticulous. why?

grandma cooked, so i had a lot to eat too, and saw how grandma fed grandpa. after that he told me he wanted to call china to tell his grand nephew about his condition, but since he couldn’t walk to the phone, the only way was to use my handphone to call. so we did. it was funny because in between i also got to speak to the wife of ah gong’s grand nephew a bit, and was almost surprised that she spoke no mandarin, but only teochew. somewhere in one of the awkward silences, she asked, “那你们在那边吃饱没？“it’s funny how deep this simple question runs in our culture. when there’s nothing to say, when you are on the line with a distant blood relative many miles away, you ask if they’ve had dinner.

grandpa was quite satisfied by the time he went to sleep, and we arranged for me to drive out the next morning to get some soya beancurd for us all for breakfast. but when i got up the next morning before dawn broke, hoping that i wasn’t already too late for the morning weekend market, i went to their room and saw grandma already feeding grandpa his breakfast of tea and cake. they both didn’t want anything else, and instead i got a huge share of breakfast too.

grandpa knew i was gonna leave on that day, and it’s almost like he began preparing himself right from the start. from the time i greeted them goodmorning, he was already telling me to quickly eat dress and call a cab out, so i won’t be late. it was as if he felt that he had to first disconnect, before letting go for a while. but i hung around more. i had things to say, and i needed to find ways to say them. so i talked about Jesus whom i pray to, to watch over the keep the dearest to my heart. and how He really has, and that i’d only be really at ease if he were to know Him too, and i can be sure he’ll be in heaven when i get there as well. and he told me of how he has always been looking out for me, and how glad he was that i’ve grown this way. so we sat there, professing our love for each other, as if those words were a sufficient prove of our love, when nothing was needed at all.

finally i cut his nails for him, and as i trimmed his toenails, he was happy.

how do the seasons of life blend into one another so?

french wisdom

Apollinaire: Now and then it is good to pause in our pursuit of happiness and just be happy.