Exactly Where I Need to Be

“I set up the chess board!”, chirped Elly to Joel, who was having a shower. I was feeding Sam to sleep in bed. Joel replied, “Ok! I’ll be out in a minute.” I thought, these two needed to be a little quieter so Sammy wouldn’t get so distracted. But that was fleeting because I already felt the weight of him in my arms.

My mind flitted back to the events of today. Usual Friday stuff means swimming lessons in the morning and catch up with friends. We went for a walk in the rain after getting hot chocolate and cupcakes instead as our friends couldn’t hang around today. The kids were pretty tired when we got home so I let them watch TV for a bit to wind down. When it was time to turn it off, Elly had a massive meltdown because she wanted to keep watching. For me, the afternoon sun was bright, golden and glorious. And I just wanted us to spend time outside playing and splashing in the puddles.

Elly was crying for a good 5 minutes. She was visibly upset, and wouldn’t let me touch her. But I was firm in my decision so I told her that I knew she was not happy, that it was ok for her to feel the emotion and express it, and that I was here for her. Shortly after, she buried her head in my neck while I held her body that feels not so little anymore in my arms for a while.

Finally we ventured outside and spent almost 2 hours outside splashing in the puddles, making spicy cakes from twigs, seeds, and flowers petals, and jumping up and down on the mattresses we dragged out from the garage. By the time we came up, I only had enough time to heat up the frozen bolognaise sauce and cook some pasta. Elly, Sam and I sat down together to eat with bibs on our chests listening to music while slurping the spaghetti loudly. No one actually talked because we were so famished.

Now I’m laying in bed, listening to Sam’s soft and steady breathing while keeping an ear out for Elly, who chose to sleep in her own room tonight with daddy. And I feel at peace. It was a full day, hard at times dealing with emotions and holding boundaries; and the mess, the clutter and laundry that don’t end. But this is my work, where I am supposed to be.

That’s another thing. I’ve just changed job to somewhere that I am finally feeling like I can progress and feel invested in. Currently I’m working at a restaurant that is rising in popularity on the coast. I love the kind of food I get to cook; and feel privileged to be working closely to one of a a leading chef in the region. But I get stuck on the hours of availability I can offer them. My free days are days that Joel doesn’t work; and after church. I’ve tried many times to switch things around in my head; or come up with solutions. And all just led to the same conclusion – I simply cannot offer anymore than these hours. I ended up getting only one 8-hours shift on Saturdays at the moment. Sure there might be more opportunity when summer comes. And I keep hoping. It was hard and humbling working around everyone’s schedule and putting me last. I guess it’s a reality for many mums (and sometimes dads) to constantly juggle between raising children and chasing after your dreams.

But if I was at work, I would have missed all that happened today. The little conversations I got to have with Elly, the soft whisper of “mama” when Sam was about to drift off to sleep, or the silly dances we pulled together at the dinner table.

This is my journey of motherhood. And this is exactly where I need to be.

The Importance of Turning Up

He stood with his hands holding a pointer and a tuner. His eyes looked like he could use some sleep. He said he had had a draining week. But he was there – teaching a new song and leading worship.

My husband joined us, a hand covered his yawning mouth. “5:30 wake up,” he shrugged. He rose before sunrise so he could finish up the Lord’s Supper talk and prepare the youth class.

I walked to the bathroom, and heard some muffled sounds, coming from a children’s classroom. Ms. Paula was setting up tables and toys, preparing to welcome children who would be bouncing in there soon. Week in, week out, she tirelessly prepared her lessons, investing in each little one.

There are lots of others who, in spite of their busy schedule or poor health, continue to show up to do the most mundane things. Playing with children. Setting up camera. Bringing food. Cleaning up after morning tea. Preparing the Lord’s Supper. Holding my baby so I could relax.

I reflect upon my own parenting journey. Often, I would rather bury my head in the pillow and hide under the blanket; or drop everything and run away as far as possible. But I don’t. I can’t. I won’t. Because I know that this turning up is worthwhile. Whether it is just waking up and bracing myself for the day, or making breakfast that will probably get ignored, or changing 15th nappy of the day, or lowering myself down to hug the crying child. It all matters.

I see all of you…all of us, rising to the occasions, making hard choices, doing the grinding work…because we know what we choose to do matter, seen or unseen.

So be of good courage as we welcome the new week. Simply turning up to whatever comes your way is a heroic act. It is good enough.

I See You

In the darkness of night, I see you reaching out your hand to comfort our daughter when she cries; and how she rolls over to snuggle against your back when she’s settled.

I see you when you rise early with me in the morning to make us breakfast and coffee while I tend to our littlie.

I see you on the floor with a keyboard trying to play broken tunes with her, allowing her to experience more that life can offer.

I see you when she invites you for a tea party, and you sit down and drink from the tiny pink cup she offers with your pinky poking out like a proper lady. 😉

I see you in your struggles – the endless chasing for the bureaucrats to do their jobs properly, and the injustice dished out to you by the people who were supposed to look out for you. And the doubts that you have…whether this is all for naught.

When you are deep in your mental fight, I see you. I see your attempt to control your breathing and to compose yourself. Even though I cannot reach past the physicals, I hope my prayer to God can meet you there – that He would be your calm and peace.

I see you for all that you are – a man who I fell in love with for his passion and zest for life, a man with all his flaws but who is committed to bettering himself everyday, a man who did not only become my soulmate but also our children’s daddy…who give freely, love deeply and serve generously.

The job of a stay-at-home parent is less acknowledged by the society but it’s its just as hard and important, if not more. I want you, my husband, to know that I see you and everything that you have done and achieved in life and especially in this role. Elly is SO blessed to have this full year with you. Sometimes you may not feel like you are doing much, but trust me, I have seen the fruit of your investment.

You are an incredible human being. I hope you see that in yourself too.

I love you.

The Effects of Lockdown

There’s a quote from the film, the Lord of the Rings: the Two Towers, that has struck a chord with me today. It was set in Meduseld, the golden hall of Rohan, where everyone was ready to go to battle with Gondor. Aragorn was talking to Lady Eowyn, who was supposed to be leading the people in place of the king after all the men are gone to war. He asked her what she feared. Her reply was, “A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. And all chance of valour has gone beyond recall or desire.” As per the movie, she went along with the troop disguising as a man and ended up protecting her uncle, the king, from being decimated by the nazgul by killing the nazgul herself. She found her courage to live and die for the people she loved.

This quote somehow resonates with me because this is what I am feeling – being stuck in a cage. We have been in lockdown for 2 months and counting. Though people have told me to look for positives – the family time spent together, the discovery of new hobbies, the relaxation one can never find when life gets back to normal, lockdown has taken a toll on both Joel and I.

We have become only a shell of ourselves. We have lost any excitement we have, and just go through the motion. We used to enjoy getting coffee out and going for a walk. Now we just can’t be bothered anymore. We don’t really care what we eat as long as we are filled. There is nothing to look forward to. The days are blurred into one stretch of time where we try to fill them with “activities” like cooking breakfast, reading, washing up, playing with Elly, eating dinner, having a shower, watching TV and going to sleep.

We have so much freedom in the day but we cannot do anything with it. We are surrounded by so much inactivity that trying to do anything seems so pointless. I envy people who can find enjoyment in lockdown, or who can find enough purpose to continue being productive. I see many picnics in the backyard, knitting projects and home renovations getting done, and I wish I had the same drive.

This is what I wrote in my journal earlier, “People find hobbies during lockdown – cooking, sourdough, gardening, fermenting food, knitting, sewing, etc. I did find sourdough in the last lockdown. But I struggle with this one so much more. I cannot seem to find enjoyment or contentment in anything. My days are generally shades of gray…just being lukewarm. No excitement. No zest. And it’s scary to think that I’m slipping deeper into this sinkhole of depression.”

This mental atrophy is frightening. Before lockdown, I was at the beginning stage of pursuing my career as a chef. Things started to make sense. We had a goal that we were working towards. I had fire in my belly. I worked there for just a month when we were shut down due to the lockdown. Then I became pregnant. Now we’re looking at possibly another month of a stay-at-home order and I am just wondering what the purpose of it all is. When I go back to work full-time, if that ever happens, it will only be a few months before I have to take another year off for giving birth and caring for our children. Is it worth pursuing?

I know our suffering pales in comparison to many in the world, who have lost their lives or their loved ones’ due to COVID. Our trouble is a smudge on the wall compared to many Afghans living under the oppressive rule of Taliban. We are blessed that we have a house to live in, a stable enough income to put food on the table and pay for all the essentials, and a country where we can have access to health care for free. However, our struggle is still very real in our lives. And I wonder how to overcome it. How do I stoke a fire in me when what is now left is just cold ash? If there was a spark left in me, how do I keep fanning it into flame? I don’t feel any desires, let alone pursuing a chance of valour.

I am thankful that we have Elly. She is the noises we need when we are left in the quiet of our thoughts. She keeps both of us busy and reminds us the importance of being present. She is our joy in the midst of this storm. She reminds me that there is hope for the future if we don’t give up living.

6 Years Anniversary

“My love,

Here I am typing this on my phone in bed. It is definitely not the most exciting day we have had. Church in the morning. Three hours nap with Elly. Playground in the afternoon. Takeaway pizza and only a few sips of wine for dinner. Then shower time for Elly and both of us are just ready to pass out for the day. No, love, we are definitely not young and spontaneous as we used to be. But boy, I do not wish to do life any other way with you.

We were watching the news of Prince Phillip’s passing last night. One of the things the Queen said of her late husband that really resonated with me was how he had always been her “strength and stay”. In times of weakness, you have been my strength. You offered words of wisdom and insights when I wanted to be bitter and vengeful. You did the dishes and cleaned the floor when I was too overwhelmed to do it even though it was my turn. You prodded and you pushed me into the direction I had wanted to but was afraid to take a leap. And you have exceeded all my expectations as a-stay-at-home dad. Elly is so blessed to have such an enriching time with you early on in life.

Thank you for all that you are and for all that you do. Thank you for being my other half and my home. I pray for many more years with you, doing life, going on adventures, making love, having fun and serving God together. I love you with all of my heart. Happy Anniversary, dearest Joel.”

Anniversary Week: Food

As Joel suspected, mid-week blogging is a challenge for me because I am tired from work. Exhaustion equals emotional me.

Today’s reminisce is all about the thing we both share our love and passion for – food. Before we knew each other, cooking was never a skill set either of us had. I, having grow up in Thailand, didn’t need to cook because my mum always prepared meals for me. Plus, we are known for amazing delicious street food. There is always something around the corner at any time of the day. So why bother. As for Joel, I guess he couldn’t be bothered? When I first knew him, he could only do a few dishes. His pantry was full of those spaghetti sauce packet mix.

The first meal I shared with Joel was at his flat with another mate of ours, Andrew. I was invited over for dinner, where I was served a bowl of chilli con carne on a bed of rice. I was quite impressed at Joel’s rice cooking ability. You see, Asians keep an eye out for this kinda of thing, lol. If you can cook rice, the battle is already half won.

Food has become such a big part of our relationship. It is our shared interest. It widens our horizon in term of cultural knowledge. And it gives us ample of opportunities to spend time together. Food has drawn us closer.

Through our newly discovered interest in food, we started a Facebook page together called Joel and Mink’s Food Diary (if you are not yet following, feel free to head over there and hit like now). We share about the food we cook or the restaurants we visit. Sometimes it’s me venting about my day and how certain food brings comfort to me. A lot of times it’s Joel doing his experiments on classic dishes (how many times I have heard him ask, “what if…?”). More often than not, it has to do with stuffing things and crumbing things (one of the wacky ones was stuffing carrots with gravy. Yep). Currently his obsession has been on slow cooking food so that it is “fork tender”.

When Joel decided that he would stuff the carrots with gravy. 😂

Or when he wondered whether rice would cook if it was stuffed into the chicken. The answer – no. It was as raw as it went in. At least we now know.

We have explored the world of food together through cooking dishes from countries in alphabetical order – from Afghan Qabuli to French Beef Bouguignon to Burmese Onok Kow Swe. We still have half of the alphabets to go through and the world to explore. I suppose in this current climate where we can’t travel, cultural cooking helps ease that longing quite a bit too.

Joel also ministers through food. When I am sick, he makes me a Thai rice porridge that he learned from my mum. It is rice cooked in stock, with a bit of pork mince, lots of coriander and fried garlic. When I am homesick, he makes me Moo Ping, a grilled pork skewer marinated in coriander roots, pepper, garlic, soya sauce, oyster sauce and a bit of sugar. Moo Ping is special to me because when I was living in Thailand, mum would always put it on the table for breakfast alongside sticky rice.

A Thai breakfast feast for Mother’s Day last year, featuring Moo Ping, Rice porridge and Thai omelette. He knows how to reach into my heart.

Through cooking, we have enjoyed a time of fellowship with many of our friends, who we got to know more around the table. It may sound like a cliche but food does bring people together. What better ways to serve than to fill someone’s physical and emotional needs.

Enjoying kangaroo for dinner with our friends from church. Elly looks like a vampire, doesn’t she? 😆

Cooking and eating the Burmese Onok Kow Swe for the Mowdays was great fun.

Joel and I have a dream to open a restaurant together. Our vision is to serve food from different parts of the world, the kinds that you would get from their grandma’s or mumma’s kitchen. We also want to incorporate our love for God and his people through involving a training program so that people on the margins like youths from dysfunctional background or former inmates who struggle to find their way back into the society may get a chance at learning a trade and developing work ethics so they can become self-reliant later on.

My love in his happy place.

Anniversary Week: The Mount

It is our second day into the Anniversary Week. I have to write this at night as the Easter holiday is over. No more quiet morning snuggled in the blanket, basking in the morning sun. Alas, life goes on.

Today’s memory is not an object, but a place. Anyone who has been to Tauranga must visit this location, otherwise you really haven’t arrived there. It is nicknamed the Mount, or Mount Monganui.

The Mount holds a special place in my heart because it is where Joel and I spent a lot of our time together. Our friendship was fostered there. We shared lots of great adventures with our other friends. And, most importantly, it was the place where I said yes when he popped the question. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let me show you what I mean when I say it is a beautiful place.

I captured this in my first day of arriving there.

It was a hot spot for us. If we were bored, we would drive for 20 minutes to the Mount to have a dip in the beach, walk around the foot of the hill, have ice-cream or sit at a cafe and watch people coming and going. Walking up the Mount, you would be surrounded with wildlife – Tui, a native bird, sheep, seals, dolphins, even whales. It is a paradise.

The first time I went up the Mount, I didn’t know what I was getting my myself into. I tagged along with Joel and three other friends, who are locals. I asked them how long it would take to hike up. They said, “Oh easy. Maybe 20 or 30 minutes.” Well, weren’t they wrong. At the base of the mountain, two of the guys immediately started running and the other one was going at his own pace, which was much faster than me. I, on the other hand, was huffing and puffing as I “climbed” (by climbing, I mean dragging my feet along the path) up the hill. During this time, I remember vividly Joel walking along with me, offering words of encouragement, and carrying my bottle and camera for me. He said, “don’t worry, I’ll walk with you. Just go one step at a time.” Whether or not he wanted to spend more time with me, or whether he also was as exhausted as I was and used chivalry as an excuse, it did give me an insight into a person Joel really is – an encourager. Someone you want to have walk alongside you when you are weak.

Me absolutely exhausted

Joel, from a different trip, but I’m certain it was the same face when I went with him for three first time.

For two years that we were there, this place became our lighthouse, physically and spiritually. At a park near where we lived sat a bench that overlooked the Mount. When we started dating, we would take a walk down the Kulim park and stopped at this bench overlooking Mount Monganui to chat and pray together weekly. We discussed about our past in details, our disappointments, and our hopes for the future. We held hands and we asked for His wisdom to show us the way forward as our time in New Zealand together was limited. We pondered. We meditated. And we waited.

The bench where we spent many afternoons and evenings together pondering about life, love and relationship

On November 4, 2015, Joel and I drove in the dark for another of our sunrise climb. It was around 5:30 in the morning. The weather was getting warmer as summer was fast approaching. We took our time walking, joking with each other. It was unusually busy. Lots of people ran past us (and I eyed them with envy for the tenacity and endurance I didn’t and still don’t have, lol). When we arrived at the top, the sun was already out. We stopped to take in the view, but knowing that we didn’t have lots of time until class and we still needed breakfast, I was keen to leave. Joel, on the other hand, wanted to linger and went looking around for a spot to sit. I was utterly confused but I followed along. Then, he grabbed me by the hand and drew me to a secluded spot, where he got on his knee (as much as his nerve allowed) and asked, “will you marry me?” All my past insecurities, my doubts over my worth, and my longing for a life partner came crashing at the moment I said “yes”.

It was a joyous moment, and so so surreal. All my life I had dreamt of this moment, when someone would see me for who I am and still appreciate me and love me just because. To this day, my husband still demonstrates the same unconditional love. Yes we fight. We argue. We get frustrated over things and silently blame others for when we cannot find our keys, headphones or mouse. But we then talk. We make up. And we do our best to love each other in the same way that Jesus Christ loves us.

“My love, thank you for demonstrating Christ’s love to me and for loving me the way I am. I am thankful for all the walks up and around the Mount, for the sunrise and the moonrise, for the cold dip in the beach, and for the prayers as we walked along the sand. May our love continue to be as strong and immovable as this mountain, and may our marriage bring people together.”

Anniversary Week: Wendy

I was looking at the calendar yesterday, and was startled to realise that it was only a week away until our Anniversary. Joel and I have been married for almost 6 years now. Though we are still in a single digit, it feels like we have known each other for a lifetime. Usually, we would celebrate by going on a trip or having a fancy dinner out. I hope we still do one or the other this year, but I also want to give Joel more than just a card with nice words…because he will read it and then leave the card lying around the house for another year. And I will have to go and find a place for it (which recently has become very difficult as everything is everywhere, and my brain is cluttered). So I am starting the Anniversary Week posts. Each day will be a memory (or memories) of Joel and I since we have known each other. Today is about Wendy.

Wendy was definitely special. She was with us even before we started dating. She was Joel’s first car in New Zealand, a little white Nissan Pulsar. In my first week in Tauranga, Joel gave me a special tour around the city with Wendy. I thought, “well, this guy is friendly”. It turned out we did have something there initially, but then we both realised our age gap, me being 6 years older, we drew the friend zone line for the time being.

Wendy was a car that took many people to many places. She was a main part of Joel’s ministry. He served people by giving them lifts, delivering food or going to visit them. There was a time he would wake up at 6 in the morning to take one of our friends to work because she couldn’t drive. Then he would grab coffee and come to school after. Or there was another time a homeless woman needed a place to sleep, but being an all-male house in a college’s flat, he couldn’t have her inside. So he gave the lady a big thick blanket and let her sleep inside his car before dropping her off in town the next morning. Joel is good like that.

The part that made Wendy stand out the most was when he painted the car with a pink spray paint, “Jesus loves you” and “beep if happy” on the other side. He told me it was the night he hung out with the boys and saw some spray paint bottles lying around. I am sure many mouths gaped open when seeing that car sprayed on. No one in their right mind would have done that. But Joel is different. See, materials is just stuff for him. As long as it functions and can benefit people in some ways, it doesn’t matter how it looks. Plus, the spray paint gets people all over town talking. There was a time his car was captured in photograph and posted on a community page. Or while zipping around town, we would get other cars honking or waving at us. Yes, Wendy got people surprised and gave people reasons to smile.

We took Wendy on a big trip one time to Ruapehu, the mountain range down past Taupo, where it was used as one of the Lord of the Ring’s set for Mordor. We were young and naive. We had only bag packs, some pasta bake I made and snacks from Countdown. We didn’t have big set plans. We slept in the car because we were students and had not a lot of money. We rolled the windows down and cranked up some music. The higher up the mountains, the colder it became. Wendy was doing the best she could but her model was made for a city not a mountain drive. Soon, we saw smoke coming from the bonnet. We stopped and called our friend, who was a mechanic. He walked us through what to do. A half and hours later, we were off again, this time pushing for the mountaintop.

It was my first snow. The road was wet and sleek. The wind was bitingly cold. When we arrived at the tourist information centre, the staff at the counter informed us that there was currently a blizzard happening with 110km wind. Then she proceeded to say, “we strongly advise against going up further to the ski field but, if you wish to, it is your decision.” 😳 I was like, “you gave us options?!” As I said, we were young and reckless, so we drove up into the blizzard with our little Wendy!

We parked the car and looked outside. Everything was gray and white. There were snow mounds everywhere. I thought I was in the winter wonderland. I dared Joel to take his shirt off to get a photo. You don’t have to guess, here is the proof.

Then we started walking. Coming from Thailand, I didn’t know how snow should feel. I started walking and stomping. The next minute I found myself sinking into one of the snow mounds. Joel was laughing when he was pulling me up. We then went straight into the cafe for a warm cup of coffee. We didn’t get to ski or go on one of those chairs because of the blizzard but it was still one of the greatest memories I have of Joel and Wendy.

Sadly, after a year, Wendy started to give out. She was very old. One day her engine just gave up while we were on the road. She just gotta give us one last adventure. Our friends said that there was no point fixing her. I remember feeling so sad for losing Wendy. Yes she was just a car but she also was such a big part of our friendship and a dating life. She helped me see the person Joel is and his personality traits – his caring nature, willingness to serve people, crazy wild ideas, and selflessness. Because of Wendy, our first year in anew Zealand was saturated with adventures and ministry opportunities.

“Joel, thank you for being unapologetically you and for taking me around the country in that little car. We may have grown a bit older and wiser but I think our younger selves would want us to keep taking risks and going on an impulsive trip from time to time, to seek adventures and to be reminded of God’s greatness in the wild. Let’s do it more often. I love you.”

Mental Health is No Joke.

I don’t remember the last time I wrote either in my own journal or online. Maybe it was a few months after Elly was born? I really can’t remember. My days have all blurred into each other. Seconds, minutes, hours…all mushed up in a whirlwind of comforting the crying baby, picking up the demanding baby who constantly says “mum, mum, mum”, cleaning up after her, playing with her, cooking for her, loving on her. The list goes on.

Our lives are so consumed by this little human being it is ridiculous. But oh, Joel and I love her immensely.

This evening, while on top of the staircase, she asked me if I could come pick her up. I was downstairs cooking. I know that she CAN “walk down” herself (by that I mean using her bum to manoeuvre herself down the stairs) but she didn’t want to. So I finished what I was doing, and walked up the stairs. She was all ready for me, standing and smiling. When I almost reached the top, about three steps lower than her, she said “jump, jump, jump” in her toddler’s little voice (Joel has been teaching her to jump into his arms after almost every nappy change, lol). Her arms outstretched to me and then she just hurled herself at me. Completely trusted in me to catch her.

It’s funny how parenting has helped me contemplate more on what it means to follow God and reflected on how much He truly loves us. This complete trust, hmm.

You see, for the past year or so, we have been dealing with Joel’s mental health issue. He has always had it, the depression and anxiety, but it has been exacerbated this last year following a series of incidents at his former workplace, where he worked as a youth residential care worker. His condition has gotten so much worse than I have ever seen him, and he had to get help from the professionals. He has been medicated for just a little over a year now.

It has been difficult seeing my youthful and sprightly husband struggling. A day can turn out so differently from how it starts, depending on his agitation. I don’t know how to describe it as I have never experienced it. I can only tell from what I can see. Joel usually finds it hard to stay focused or motivated. He tends to be withdrawn, and too much stimulation can be quite triggering to him. I was one of those people who used to think that people with mental health issues should just suck it up. Well, no more. The day to day living with my husband has demonstrated to me clearly that it is not something one can “suck it” as Joel is one of the most courageous and selfless man I have known. It is a hard grind.

It is also a very lonesome journey, both for him and for me. As I said before, I cannot empathise with him because I have never experienced it. It must be frustrating and frightening to be going through this alone. He does have a few men in his life that he can bring this subject up with, who have gone through similar things. This I am grateful for. As for me, watching him struggle makes me feel helpless. I know it is ridiculous to even be saying this as this is not about me. The person suffering is my husband, not me. But then, I am also his wife. One flesh. Some days feel like an uphill battle. Elly’s needs don’t really give us the luxury of having a day off as much as we want it. So we soldier on with our responsibilities. On days that Joel has it really bad, I feel like we will never come out of it alive. The cloud that hangs low over his head turns everything gloomy, the weight so heavy to bear, and I find that I didn’t have anyone I could talk to.

Those evenings, I usually just curl up in bed next to Elly and pray. Pray that God would give Joel the ability to cope, bring healing from his past trauma and the current episodes of anxiety, and remind him that he is so, so loved, cherished and valued. I pray that I would have the strength to support my man, the ability to sympathise with him, and that I would not drown in the sea of despair myself.

We don’t expect life to be all cruisy, to be honest. We talk a lot about the sufferings that Jesus’ disciples had to go through at the cost of living a life centred in the Gospel. I am not sure we can claim to live exactly like the disciples, but we try our best to live out our faith. But sometimes it is so hard that I wonder if we will ever see the end of the tunnel. God took the brief moment I had with Elly on the stairs to remind me today that I can continue trusting in Him completely, and that He will ALWAYS be ready to catch me (without ever be slightly caught off guard like I was this evening). There is freedom in realising that God will never fail us, whatever we may do, and freedom in putting our trust completely in Him.

Here’s to all of us who continue soldiering on in complete trust of our Lord Jesus…

Fear, Anxiety, and God’s Faithfulness (Coronavirus)

I woke up to the grey sky, with fog hovering low and rain sprinkling the earth. It was a beautiful autumn morning. 9 o’clock, Eliana was just stirring while Joel was softly snoring next to me. I eased myself out of bed, picked Eliana up, and let her nuzzle into my breast. While she was eating, I remembered that there were books I had to collect from the library. After I burped her, I decided to take advantage of a lazy Saturday morning, where everybody else would be sleeping in. I put on my hoodie, grabbed the car key and drove off for an hour of alone-mummy time.

After picking up two copies of “Me Before You” for our first book club meeting, I walked over to a nearby cafe to grab a Cappuccino and a bacon and cheese danish. The smell of bacon and eggs on the grill wafted all over the place and made my stomach rumble. Tables were already filled with families eating breakfast and friends chatting over their cups of coffee. It was just another day on the beautiful Central Coast. While waiting for my order, I strode down to a chemist to get some hand soap. It was there I was harshly reminded of the foreboding sense of urgency caused by COVID-19 pandemic. Shelves were bare. There was a long line of people at the counter. Staff members looked already stressed out, and it was only just 10am. My morning bliss was shattered.

Since the Coronavirus had been declared a pandemic, everyone has gone crazy.  And I am going to admit that I, too, am amongst those who worry, become anxious and even feel scared of this global event. I have had to walk away from TV when the news is on and unfollow some of my Facebook friends because all I hear is how it is only going to get worse. I have washed my hands way too many times; and probably annoyed Joel by reminding him to do the same too often. I am gripped by fear. Of uncertainty. Of the risks it will impose on my loved ones.

On my drive home, a song by Chelsea Moon called “He’s Always Been Faithful” was played on my Spotify. While sipping coffee, I listened to the words:

“Morning by morning I wake up to find
The power and comfort of God’s hand in mine
Season by season, I watch him amazed
In awe of the mystery of his perfect ways
All I have need of his hand will provide”

For some reasons, I was transported back to a Karen village on the border of Thailand and Myanmar; to a particular family I had long ago visited, with the father begging me to “take my children back home with you because I could not look after them.” Being a parent now myself, I am recognising the weightiness of his plea. I could never imagine giving up Eliana to anyone. This family, like many others, was gripped by worries, anxiety and fear. They simply did not know how they were going to afford the next meal. For them and many other poor people in Thailand, the scary thing for them was not whether they would  contract a virus, but whether there would be anything to eat at all.

Here I realised…

We are not so different. Fear is the underlying cause of our anxiousness.

This father had economical needs and feared for his children’s health and well-being. I have money in our bank account and food on the table, but I am still afraid. I also carry the same fear – of my loved ones’ health and well-being, inside of me.

Fear is a mystery. Even now as I am pondering on the word, I cannot quite pinpoint what it is. I thought it is an absence of courage. Perhaps it is partly true. When we are crippled by fear, we are choosing to let other factors that are out of our control dictating our thinking. We fear for what could possibly happen, but we do not actually know if it will.

But it does not have to be that way. Fearfulness may be present, but we can choose to replace it with our trust in the Lord, with boldness that comes from God. Paul urges Timothy to fan into flame the gift of God and to share in the suffering for the Gospel by reminding him that God “gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control” (2 Timothy 1:7). When we are in tune with the Spirit working within us, we are able to live out our faith with courage. No, fear may never go away, but we are choosing to ignore the message it is sending and putting our trust in something far greater.

I suppose this is my current need – to replace fear with courage; to put away my anxiety and put my trust in the Lord Almighty. 

A friend of mine posted an article on living in the days and age of Coronavirus, where the author, Matt Smethurst, had quoted C.S. Lewis’ essay piece called “On Living in an Atomic Age” (1948). It resonates a lot with what I am currently experiencing. Here is a short excerpt from the website:

This is the first point to be made: and the first action to be taken is to pull ourselves together. If we are all going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it comes find us doing sensible and human things—praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts—not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our minds.

I love the part about doing sensible and human things. It is so easy to get caught up in the panic mode (hello, toilet paper stock buying?) and constantly consume news that will only bring us down, it will be all about me, me and mine. Let us take strong precautions by listening to trustworthy sources, whoever they may be in your areas. Wash your hands. Stay inside. Whatever. But do not stop living your life either. Try to look out for one another. Enjoy the sunshine, or the rain in my case. 🙂 Remember that God will always provide for what we need.

This, too, shall pass.