It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this.
Ever since we had baby Z, we have never had a good night’s rest. We marvel at how this tiny human could keep everyone in the family busy just by wailing. We often wondered why God made tiny human beings who could not do the most basic things to survive – like fall asleep on his own or eat on his own. Even baby animals in the wild do better than us. Yet, God chose to come down to us in the form of that little baby – helpless (maybe cute) and frail to give us hope and life everlasting.
Just as we have hopes that baby Z will one day fulfil his destiny in Christ, so this newborn lying in the manger had a big destiny to fulfil. He would be Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. What a destiny! But the fulfilment of that came by dying on the cross for us in order that we might enjoy the blessings of these titles given to Him. Having a calling is indeed tough, and we pray that whoever God has called us to be will be fulfilled – no matter who difficult it gets.
Dear God, we pray for your strength to live out your light and call in our lives!
So Joshua said to the Israelites: “How long will you wait before you begin to take possession of the land that the Lord, the God of your ancestors, has given you?
This was the scenario: The Israelites had been wandering in the desert for 40 years, and NOW, FINALLY, the promised land is theirs.
Funnily though, after looking forward to their promised land for 40 years, they did not quite know what to do about it now. They continued to live like a people wandering around in the dessert, hoping for better things to come – when they had actually arrived.
Ever felt this way – we look forward to our promised job, home, community, or family and when we finally have those things that God has blessed us with, we behave as if we were still lost – homeless, friendless, and jobless.
God has called us His children and given us an inheritance of His blessings. There will be moments that He gently teaches us to wait, but there are also many moments where our Heavenly Father has poured out his abundance on us. As a family we need to learn to claim our inheritance and start living as marked with heavenly identity.
Thank you God, for calling us your own and giving us a heavenly inheritance that is more than enough for us.
Which is also why I feel like I have lost a little something by crossing over into 30 – a little of my dreamy self or of the part of me that felt I could do everything. It is as though there is an awakening to my limitations, and in order to keep my head above the water with the many ‘adult’ responsibilities that I have, I need to set more boundaries.
‘No’ to hanging out late at night with friends and for impromptu suppers.
‘No’ to just buying a flight and flying off the following week (yes, I know some who just fly off the following day).
‘No’ to just spending on a whim for that fancy gadget that I will have no use for in a few months’ time.
‘No’ to packing my schedule to the brim.
‘No’ to the things that I would have done in my early and mid-twenties, because I draw more and more lines around myself to protect me – to protect my independence, my pride and my comforts.
Funnily, as I get tossed into this new decade of my life, I find that God has orchestrated major life transitions to shake up the fallow ground. Having a baby is a life lesson of trusting God each day. Moving church is a life lesson of seeking Him for direction. Getting used to a new career is a life lesson of asking Him for guidance.
It is as though God is telling me that the commitments that I made in the previous decade of my life were for that season, and a good chapter done. Now to move on into a different season which required removing creature comforts, to start tilling the land again and planting new seed so that I can to reap a new harvest that is to come.
I miss the freedom of my twenties, but as I move into my thirties, I claim in faith that God is the one who will make a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland (Isaiah 43:18-20), knowing that as J and I build our family and seek to serve Him, that ‘The glory of this present house will be greater than the glory of the former house,’ says the LORD Almighty. ‘And in this place I will grant peace,’ declares the LORD Almighty.” (Haggai 2:9).
And so begins ‘Thirty’ – a season to plough, to grow again and bear new fruit.
Looking back, 2018 seemed like another good year beginning with the news that J and I were expecting our first little munchkin. J and my careers seemed headed somewhere, with me moving into a different organisation and getting a promotion; and J being well-appraised at his current job. At church, we were kickstarting the youth ministry, learning new things as we went along with it, but most joyously – building new friendships as we went along.
The photo I sent J over Telegram the moment I found out the good news. Only on the third test that I took in that week, did I find out that I was pregnant.
Merriam-Webster’s word of the year: Justice / Oxford’s word of the year: Toxic
Some time in July though, the monster reared its ugly head.
Friendships we once knew were overturned in a few texts and while we pursued justice in standing up for what was right, we became the targets within the community we once loved.
Betrayal. Isolation. Heartbroken. Exit.
For the last 6 months in 2018, we raged, cried, fought and challenged but finally decided that we could never be one of those who flowed with the current or swept things under the carpet. Believing that God had plans for us elsewhere, we left (reluctantly).
Some things just had to be done without compromise.
Miracle
A miracle is simply an answered prayer, be it big things or small things because in life events can always go in the opposite direction that we want it to. But that it went in the way that we hoped it would, is a miracle.
Pregnancies can have many complications. It is a miracle that mine went so smoothly.
Pregnant women can experience many physical discomforts. It is a miracle that I only had to contend with swollen feet.
Some births had to be induced. It is a miracle that labour came spontaneously (especially when we had thought that we might have to be induced if baby did not arrive by week 40), and that I did not need any intervention (beyond an epidural).
Growth
Growth is not linear. It is circular: you learn and relearn. It is undoing: you unlearn old things to learn new ones. It is struggle: you never do it perfectly the first time.
I took on two new jobs this year: the first – instead of being a teacher, I moved to being behind education policies for children with special needs; the second – being a mom.
Both demanded that I put on new perspectives, acquired new skills, and changed my attitudes. Both revealed latent biases, undid my ideals and left me feeling like a fish out of the water.
It is not easy to break out of the cocoon of comfort and familiarity. But it is what growth is – finding out the beauty of fluttering newfound wings after the struggle.
Some things need to follow its course.
Surrender
I really do not know what 2019 would hold – new routines, new responsibilities, new communities. The uncertainty can be unnerving. Yet, I ask not for an easier year or one with more successes, but for divine surprises, grace to overcome, miracles in the everyday and growth by the end of the year.
By the end of nearly every year, I remember to surrender – to give up myself, give in to His will and give of what He has given to me.
As I waltz you to sleep in my arms today, I thought back to how four and a half weeks ago, you were tinier than your current tiny self. And how at that moment when mummy and daddy felt so small, and alone at the start of our parenting journey, our big God reminded us how ‘God remembers’ (which is what your name means) and will never forsake us.
Back then, I was unprepared for the challenges of breastfeeding you and did not understand your cries when you wanted milk. We had thought you just wanted a cuddle or a nappy change. My nipples were cracked and painful from your excellent suckling, so I struggled to nurse too. Not feeding enough resulted in you having pink pee – a sign of dehydration. Then, on the day that we were going to be discharged, we were told that you had to stay behind because you developed jaundice.
To be honest, mummy and daddy were relieved that we could go home without you. We had needed some time alone together to process the whirlwind of your birth and all the excitement, tiredness, and new responsibilities. But somehow by the time we reached home, both of us were in tears – admittedly overwhelmed by all the ‘things’ we had to take note of and wondering if your jaundice had anything to do with our decision to try to exclusively breastfeed you when my milk supply had not yet come in.
We had felt so guilty and wondered if we would make good parents at all. Now at four and a half weeks, I would look back and told myself that I had been doing ok and it would have been silly to be upset about it. But, our big God is not like that – even when we are being ‘silly’, he never fails to fill our hearts with His gentle love and restful peace. In our helplessness, we prayed and committed our parenthood to Him, and God just reminded us of another little baby He took care of. This little baby had to go through more challenges than you did. And his mummy was much braver than I was. That little baby was Moses.
In a time when he was almost killed, baby Moses’ mother put him in a basket and sent him down the river not knowing where he would end up but trusting God’s hand to protect him. Down that river and through the reeds, God’s hand pushed the current along till he arrived at the start of his destiny.
In that tearful moment, mummy and daddy knew that it was by God’s hand that you were created, it will be by God’s hand that you will be protected, and that events in your life, no matter how tiny, was all part of God’s plan.
Cuddle bug, know that we try to be the perfect parents for you even though we would never be. But you have a God whose perfect love will always cover you when we cannot.
It has been four weeks and a day since you were born, and it has been surreal.
I knew it would be surreal but nothing prepared me for how crazy it is to have a child of your own. I’m not referring to the way days melt into nights that melt into days. Nor am I referring to the meltdowns, complete with your face turning red and your little fist beating against my chest. I’m referring to those days in my early 20s when I knew I wanted a family, but there was no one that I was dating, not sure I would ever find someone, and uncertain if I would ever have a family of my own.
Suddenly, someone I needed walked into my life.
Suddenly, we were married.
Suddenly, there was you.
You were born at 3.4 kg and 51cm. That’s a big boy!
Well, it was not that sudden – we prayed and desired a little bundle of joy. We were hoping for you and all your cuteness, cheekiness and cooing. But we never knew when we would have you (we were hoping to hit New Zealand for a year end trip only to find out that we were pregnant) and when you would be born (we had thought you would arrive on week 37. By week 38, we were praying hard that you would not stay in till week 40! Then on the Monday of week 39 at 7:38am you decided to make your entrance) .
Those were mere adjustments and logistics behind your conception and birth. What we were most unprepared for was the unrealness of calling you our own – a little being wonderfully created by God and having the features of your daddy (you definitely have daddy’s temperament) and me (Cherish that thick crop of hair, baby).
Cuddle Bug, I hope you always remember that despite your furious cries that drive me nuts (especially in the wee hours of the morning and during bath time), or the pains of breastfeeding you (from sore nipples to leaky boobs), or the way I now no longer have the freedom to do things when I like it because I’d drop it all to tend to you, that there is nowhere I would rather be than having you in my arms. One day, being in my arms may not be your favourite spot to sleep in, but those arms will be there for your for as long as I’m around to soothe your scraped knee or broken heart.
Four weeks is the tip of the iceberg of motherhood, and I must admit that in the first few weeks I asked myself how my life had gone from career to changing nappies three times in a row because you were pooping in instalments. There will be more to come, but Daddy and I have no regrets having you.
You may ask, ‘why do parents love their children? Where does all that love come from?’ As I have just found out, we just do from this bottomless pit of our hearts. We love you in ways that we never knew we could and will always be proud to call you our own.
Has it been three years ago that I last wrote? You are just as I left you – dreamy, hopeful, and excited about new starts.
Back then, I had thought I could blog on the side and maybe earn a little extra with it. But long days at work and nights spent having ‘me time’ took over. I had thought writing was a passion that could perhaps earn something, but I realised part of it would be to ‘sell’ my vulnerability – something I learned I was not willing to do. My vulnerability was something I wanted to share, not market.
Three years is not a long time. It’s not a short time either. I bought a house, got married, got promoted, had a kid and did the average Singaporean life. Or so it seemed. The glitter in all of the mundane, was that the person I married made every evening with him something I looked forward to, the house we bought had seen fellowship and conversations with dear friends, and the kid I have is what we have been praying for (though it can be tough at many times). Life in the past three years is very much like a lightly glittered plain dress. Not too much. Not too little. Just right to make that girl of your dreams look like a queen when she walked down the aisle in it.
Somewhere in the middle of all, I had thought of coming back to you – of writing, of capturing the moments and not losing myself in the whirl and drone of everything. But being vulnerable to everyone and no one out there, to critics and those who cared (both too much and too little) made me hesitate.
Three years is not a long time. I learned to hide my weaknesses so that others won’t see it and to play up my strengths so that I would get noticed. I learned to care less about what others said about me, and maybe in the midst of it care less about people. I was so tired of the humdrum that I learned to chant the mantra ‘one day at a time’, and in the process, forgot how to dream.
So here I am, cradling my three-week old son in my arms, and saying hello to you again. Here I am, looking for a little of who I lost – that creative and curious individual unafraid to put herself out there through her writing – and at the same time looking for who I would be. Your blank pages give me muse to start over again and again, without a care for who I was yesterday. Your blank pages help me to grow and blossom, but not forget where my roots are. Your blank pages challenge me to create out of nothing.
Three years is a long time. I’ve grown and changed (a married woman is never the same as before). And so I deleted that page where I tried to do a little on the side and left a contact (which was never used), because I’m back to write for writing’s sake. I’ve decided to be vulnerable and authentic, because there is beauty in the ashes for those who write and those who read (nevermind if it is no one at all).
I’ll try not to wait out another blur of three years but to carry each challenge and triumph through your pages, so that I can remember the lessons learnt, the lessons I will teach my children and for who I am.
It is about a week before your birthday, and I am thinking about all the fanfare you are getting for your 50th birthday. It started last year – with all the planning, designing of logos, strategizing budgets and putting ideas into reality. For being 50 years old, you get an iconic logo splashed on every newspaper, shop window and cars even! I am sure that red circle will be fondly remembered again when you are 100.
I am somewhat half your age, and the world looks very different for me compared to when you were 26. The skyscrapers, efficiency, cleanliness and technology are things that you looked forward to, but were not yet a reality then. I risk forgetting how you started. I confess that I do complain about your transport system and about the stress and pressure here. I am part of a generation born into the romanticized ideal that ‘anything can happen’ and ‘all our dreams can come true’.
Remind me not to rest on your laurels, and live loftily. Not all that I plan happens, and not all my dreams come true. I think this truth hits harder in your fast-changing landscape. I’ve always wished my children will see you the way I do when I was little – A&W, KAP, National Stadium. But before I know it, another crane, another boulder and another building is in its place. It seems like nothing will remain as a physical artefact testifying to the work of my hands, then. So rather than build my fame, I choose to build our youth.
As you grow older, may our youth never forget the day of small starts – people who dreamed the future, dealt with the reality, persevered through the harshness, dared to believe and put their hands to the plough.
Singapore, you are a nation strong and free today, because of your people. It reminds me of how Jeremiah gathered the people of God to build his temple in Jerusalem and how Zerubbabel laid the first foundation of that temple. It was not just the people who built the temple, it was God who established the works of their hands.
Zechariah 4:6-10
This is what the Lord says to Zerubbabel: It is not by force nor by strength, but by my Spirit, says the Lord of Heaven’s Armies.7 Nothing, not even a mighty mountain, will stand in Zerubbabel’s way; it will become a level plain before him! And when Zerubbabel sets the final stone of the Temple in place, the people will shout: ‘May God bless it! May God bless it!’”
8 Then another message came to me from the Lord:9 “Zerubbabel is the one who laid the foundation of this Temple, and he will complete it. Then you will know that the Lord of Heaven’s Armies has sent me.10 Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin, to see the plumb line in Zerubbabel’s hand.”
My dearest Singapore, may we always be humble in our successes, and know that it is not by chance that we are where we are. May we dream, but not just remain a dreamer. May we take action, but not just follow blindly. May we take a stand, but always for the better of the next generation. May we live well, but not just for ourselves.
I may not always seem like the most patriotic of your people, but in my heart I swell with pride to be a part of your story.
As the cliche goes, ‘…and in a flash, it was over’.
In a flash, half of 2015 flew by. In a flash, we hit 3 years and counting. In a flash, he got down on one knee. In a flash, I found a ring on my finger (yes, sometimes I still wonder how it got there). In a flash, those days of dreaming up a wedding was over and I actually had to get down to some realities.
Things do move quite quickly. Time expands and contracts. Quarrels wax and wane. Passion ebbs and flows. And no matter how I look at it, there’s nothing like standing at the halfway mark, to marvel at how two very imperfect and different people, even decide to journey the rest of their lives together. Of course, it starts with a bended knee, and a unique bling.
In fact, with regard to the ring, I think I gave a pretty demanding but reasonable challenge (what you get when you want to marry a teacher):
Don’t get me a normal/usual diamond.
I don’t wear rings, so give me a good reason for wearing the one you get me.
If it is ugly, I may say ‘Yes’, but I’ll put it in the box.
Teachers never really have all the answers, but they do have a lot of challenges to keep a worthy audience engaged…So I’d like to think.
In any case, his biggest surprise was the significance of the ring, more than the ring itself. I love the way J sees symbolism in the little things, and can bring value to something that is pretty much ‘just a diamond’ (like I said, I’m not big on jewellery). And I’ll never forget (or at least try never to forget), that beside the still waters of where we first held hands three years ago, he anchored the next part of our journey with Psalm 84:11 “For the LORD God is a sun and shield; the LORD bestows favor and honor; no good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless.” And with a beautiful canary diamond (that looked like both the sun and a shield), he met all the demands of a pretty reasonable person.
So I said, ‘Yes’ (how could I not?).
Truth be told, I’d never thought we’d reach here.
There were tearful nights that we spent doubting ourselves and our relationship. There were times when it seemed like our differences would explode us apart. And there were moments when our pride made us feel like walking away from one another.
But there is beauty in the perfect love of God – that humbles us before one another, softens our hearts toward one another, and draws us back to the wonder of when it first began.
Because quite frankly, no one ever thought that we would make that deep a mark in one another’s lives when we first met.
Christmas for me has always marked the end of another year. All the excitement leading up to the yuletide season just dissipates in a day. This year it seems particularly senseless – watching the world news display terrorist attacks in Iran and Sydney, wondering what the future would hold next year, and still feeling the anxiety and disappointment that marked 2014. It is in this most challenging Christmas, that God reminded me of the Beatitudes. I’ve read it a number of times. Most times it is merely a poetic piece by Jesus. And no, it is not the most apt for Christmas. After all, it starts with ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit…’ (Matthew 5:3). Come on, who is in poor spirits during Christmas? What with the abundance of beer and wine… On the note of feasting, I thought about how being blessed is the state of being that everyone desires. It is why people love to receive gifts and cards, flaunt a little and throw parties. It is definitely a blessing to be a part of all these festivities, but when the year has been harsh, these blessings seem to vanish into thin air, especially after the party is over and the dishes are piled in the sink. Or when we face a challenge that seems to trap us. Or when we face death. Or when we are looking into the barrel of a gun…. So when Jesus said, ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven’ (Matthew 5:30, he was pointing the way to a state of being that everyone wants, by first realizing that we are in the state of spiritual lack. What a beautiful paradox! Sometimes what sense of certainty and sureness that we lack in spirit, we try to make up by attending parties and feasting luxuriously to assure ourselves of the tangibility of the things we have. Yet, I realize the lack in spirit can only be satisfied in Christ, and I am blessed. This Christmas, as I think about the changes that are to mark 2015, I want to remember that the feasting and kissing under the mistletoe happens only once a year, but God’s faithfulness is eternal, if only we are willing to realize our spiritual need, give in to his love in exchange for being blessed with the kingdom of heaven.
Set Forth 