I just got so tired of
typing. Lazy lazy bummer.
Anyways, camp has come
and gone, and I must say, God really helped me through this camp. This girl
here who the church people know as the quiet girl who sometimes plays the piano
in the front, now having to lead this camp with another girl who dislikes camps
in general… Given this combination and our lack of abilities, it is really a
wonder how the camp managed to run its course! This camp was really a test of
my endurance, be it physical, mental, spiritual or emotional.
With the fasting and
overnight prayer, my energy for the day just plummeted like anything. There was
also the perpetual lack of sleep since day 0.
Then there was the
mental stamina I needed to sit through the debriefs and listen to different
people telling me different things from all sides and having to liaise stuff
and decide stuff.
And when you’re really
tired you sometimes just want to give it all up and say ‘Whatever’ but when the
spirit is willing, the flesh is weak, at least God can help you and provide for
you. If even your spirit gives up… Well, if it is God’s plan, your spirit won’t
give up just yet.
Then there’s the
emotional side of things, which
honestly, I didn’t know what I was feeling? I just know that during some
meetings and discussions, I was getting really impatient inside of me. Other
times, I got really sad when I couldn’t be with my group when they played games
at the dinner table and I was somewhere else trying to fix our next schedule
with JX and WJ.
With my endurance
stretched and tested, relying on God became the only way out. And He surely did
pull me through. I’m really thankful that He made His presence felt during the
camp when people experienced Him individually. Listening to people share their
experiences and learning points during the campfire sharing, I felt affirmed
that, hey, these are the fruits of all we had been working and praying and
holding on for. It doesn’t have to be transformative; I mean if you undergo 180
degrees change each time, you’d eventually turn back to the same side won’t
you? I’d prefer to think of it like gradual understanding, gradual growth.
Other than providing me
with strength in all these aspects, the Lord has also taught me better of how
to pray. Prayer as habit does not mean you go around all day going ‘Dear God…..
In Jesus’ name…’ Although that is the standard format of a prayer, and should
be adhered to as a formality, prayer throughout the day need not be in a
specific format. It can even take place in the subconscious with no actual
words. Even a ‘thank God, the bus is here’, counts as a prayer.
And sometimes you feel
touched to pray for something, but you may not even know what exactly to pray
for. It doesn’t matter, because the Holy Spirit in you will intercede and tell
you what to pray. ‘Dear Father, bless that man’ would even suffice, because God
already knows what to do.
One more thing is,
prayer is not about whether it is a magic pill that works or not. Prayer is a
communication tool which we use to talk to God our Father. We pray because He
is amazing and awesome and the King and the Father and our Saviour and
Comforter and so many many more. We pray because He is powerful, not because
prayer itself is powerful.
Christmas:
Yesterday was
Christmas. I am always intrigued by how the thought of Christmas has meanings
on so many levels. First and foremost I hope to remember it as the
commemoration of Jesus’ birth, never mind that historians say the Saviour’s
birth wasn’t on that exact day. Then for non-Christians maybe they see it as a
time to be with your loved ones, it’s about warmth and love and kindness and
peace… Yet this picture of the little matchstick girl half buried in a pile of
snow with a broken matchstick always comes up to juxtapose the happy family
image. On the next level there are the presents and the trees and the
electricity in the air. It’s a time to have fun and enjoy, that’s what it is
for some.
So church service ‘fulfilled’
the first level. Lunch with my cousins yesterday ‘fulfilled’ the second level. The
tiny Christmas tree and all the gifts I received yesterday and the shopping the
day before ‘fulfilled’ the third level.
At my cousins’ house with
some of my extended family, it was really nice to have my cousin to jam with on
the piano. It was really a first with her. I never got into jamming until
recent years when I start to experiment with chords and all that, and the first
people I jammed with were, not surprisingly, hmp mates. So to finally have
someone in the family to jam with, that was really refreshing and heartwarming.
Just, please, stop torturing the piano with the banging…
One ‘twist’ to this Christmas
day, though, was when I saw the ‘little matchstick girl’. On Christmas Eve, one
of my aunts had dropped by to give my family some goodies like log cake and bak
kwa. She didn’t turn up for the family gathering due to some issues, so my mom,
feeling like she owed her sister a present, wanted to get something for my aunt
and visit her that night. My aunt isn’t well-off at all. If anything, she is
struggling to make ends meet, which was why her gifts were taken to be signs of
extreme generosity considering her limited financial ability. I tagged along
with my mom to my aunt’s home, armed with gifts of health foods like tonic and
honey.
We had almost forgotten
where she lived, but we found her flat. She’d gotten leaner and more
long-winded. She told us about her recent struggles and how she was coping. She
told of her feud with my cousin, one of her daughters, who are married. I could
tell she was barely hanging on. She was trying but she didn’t know how to help
herself. She was becoming pessimistic.
But while telling us
all this, my cousin, her young adult son who still lives with her, popped out
of his room and thrusts a large bag in my mom’s direction with a smile that was
suave, sweet yet tinged with shyness. “For you. Merry Christmas!” He is one of
my cousins I was quite distant to, yet this act of giving, when we had nothing
to give to him, and he had every reason to save up his money for better things,
was really astounding to me. Placing the bag in front of us, he headed to the
kitchen to continue with his business. Shortly after, he returned with two
glasses of iced tea and served them to my mom and me. At this, something tugged
in my heartstrings again. Who cares if we’re better off or better educated? I
don’t think I’m even that hospitable. I don’t have sense for these kinds of
things. But this guy, I’m seeing him in a new light, with newfound respect. “Aiyo,
I forgot to serve you drinks,” My aunt exclaimed when she saw this.
When he passed again,
my mom gently turned down his gifts of the larger items, suggesting instead
that she just accept the small ones. Yet he insisted that the gifts were meant
for us anyway, and that they were well within his means. That was that, and he
walked back to his room. As the ladies talked on, my mom and I got up from the
sofa to look around the apartment. I happened to be holding onto my mom’s cup,
and had just finished my drink too, when my cousin walked out of his room
again. Seeing me standing around with two cups in my hands, he offered to take
them to be washed, and I passed him the cups gratefully. For the third time
that night, I was yet again overwhelmed by his action. He was actually such a
sensible guy. Some poor people don’t like to be pitied, but they seek respect.
This guy, he already earned my respect. His mom might be feeling burnt and
downtrodden but he hasn’t lost his hope, and he hasn’t lost his heart.
I salute you. May God
bless you, cousin.