Thank YOU

Today for the first time we are beginning to get our lives back.

Exactly twenty-one days ago, in the midst of making mooncakes, Diane announced that she was dizzy. We waited for two more days by when it did not improved, we saw the doctor and from then on it has been anxious ride of coping with dizziness and blurring vision. Of hospital stays, daily injections, MRIs, eye checks... Of feeling so alone despite the many people who have been keeping us in prayer. Of breaking down in tears and being embarrased. Of learning to walk very, very slowly beside my daughter. Of being humbled and asking for more prayers. Of being scared. Of being angry. Of receiving His peace.

We walked at the Botanical Gardens this morning. Half a round before she got dizzy again. For the first time ever in her life, we walked slower than her dad. But we finished the round. Tonight I put in two hours working on my garden and she was there throughout, on her own steam. (I believe I have passed on my appreciation for beautiful plants to my two children.) At last we are seeing light at the end of the tunnel we are presently in. Thank you God for answering our prayers.

I am set to camp here for the day.  We have been here for so many days Diane is now a pro at operating her bed - move it up or down, tilt it or not.  We try to make it as comfortable as we can for her, short walks in the corridor or garden, computer for the day so she may surf or chat with her friends.  

Times have changed since when I took care of Mother years back.  I see so many families who now leave their maids to stay over and take care of their parent while they come in after work to visit and leave instructions.  It is undeniable that money buys ease and advantage.

I am a horrible worry wart.  I should not complain, looking at the sufferings of the Indonesian earthquake survivors.  What we go through is not a fraction compared to them.  Young children, young people, it will be a constant uphill struggle for them all their lives.  We may not be wealthy or have privileges as citizens of a first world country but in comparison, we are living princely lives with regard to our neighbors.  I count my blessings, the majority of them I did not work for or deserved.

I walked into Diane's room and discovered that she had gained a new room mate in the afternoon I was away. There were a few visitors at the new patient's bed. I gathered from their conversation that she had been coughing "very badly" and "non-stop at night". I asked Diane if she knew what her room mate was warded for and she said, "She is coughing up blood."

Only in Malaysia can this happen. Even I, a non-medical staff, can realise that coughing up blood may signify some bad news to come and that it may be contagious. How then can they place a person with a potentially contagious illness with another with a weak immune system?? I walked over to the nurses station and asked, "What are you doing????????" and the staff nurse actually tried to worm her way around by saying, "Don't worry, she hasn't got H1N1 and we checked her, she hasn't got TB." Oh yes? What tests have you made? "We have," trailing off with "they haven't return yet." Irresponsible, that is what. Unadulterated pure stupidity is what. How can you?????

We got our change of room half an hour after I arrived.

It was not even the new patient's fault but she was subject to the offence of our quick evacuation of the room though we tried to be as discreet as possible.

But what if it had been other people far more pleasant than I and her cough is TB after all?

It was my turn to worship lead at last night's cell group meeting. So I was busy choosing my songs on Thursday evening. Together with Diane, we went through some of the songs on a list I brought back from church. Maybe it was due to the persistent cough I have been having for the past six weeks, my voice sounded weak, thin, squeaky, grainy, raspy and I had mucus in my throat and had to keep clearing it at almost every alternate line I sang. I hate my voice. I know, I know.. a voice is far better than no voice at all but if only, how I wish I have a richer sounding voice. I could not sing the songs I chose. I could not get the tunes right. I was off key. I could not reach the notes. I just sounded awful. Why do they have to roster me for worship leading when I cannot sing???

So yesterday arrived. I was not really enthusiastic about practicing so far. I reached home, went through my song list one more round and did my chores in the time before we left for cg. I was sooo tempted to keep quiet when Bernard almost wanted to go into Word, so I could be easily let off. I reluctantly asked, "Worship?" Bernard, who had not reminded me as he usually did when my turn was up, eagerly responded, "You prepared? Let's have Worship!" Then the amazing thing happened. For every song I started off, I hit the right note and got everyone singing and worshiping in tune. When we stopped to pray and resumed worship, I started off the the exact right note. My voice came out richly loud and melodious and I could reach all the high notes! I felt quite amazed and awed. It was an incredible feeling comparing the difference. John kept on going on a faster tempo for one song but I was able to bring him back. It was amazing how God's grace worked. Today I asked Diane if she had noticed and she said the same things. Just amazing and incredible that my practice sessions at home had differed so widely from the actual worship session. It was indeed God's grace that carried me through.

My voice is thin and straggly again.

I fell this evening.

Coming back from the Ramadhan bazaar where Diane and I had spent a pleasant half hour looking at the food stuffs offered by the vendors (we bought some buah rambai and pisang awak), I decided that I wanted to mop the floor. It is so nice to get into active mode especially after a day when you feel like you have not really done anything useful. More reason so because Aun had been busy in the kitchen and he always leaves the floor a sticky mess.

I was one mop round away from being completed when I slipped on the step at the back door as I hurried to my bucket of water. I felt my foot lose it's grip on the floor and I lost physical contact with the ground. In that second as my body slanted backwards, it felt as though time slowed down while I struggled to regain my footing and my balance. Time really slowed down because I had time to think, oh no I'm falling again and I felt my foot slip off the ground and my body suspend in mid air. My hands instinctively flailed to grab something, anything but to no avail. I landed with a thump, on the fleshy part of my rump. In that instant, my mind went, Praise God, Praise God it is not my spine! In the next split second my elbow hit the floor and the top right side of my head hit the door. As I lied on the floor mentally assessing the damage, Diane appeared. She had heard the bumps I made falling, above the sound of her hair dryer in my room. I recovered after a few minutes, washed my mop, instructed Diane to dry that culprit of a wet floor on the step and continued with my last round.

I am back!!! ... from 3 days of Leaders Retreat, which I gave all kinds of excuses not to go mainly because I just did not want to go alone without my beloved family but the boss compelled me to go because I was "one of the senior staff". Actually the retreat was good, the venue was gorgeous and I was annoyed with myself I had not thought of bringing my family there for our own family holiday earlier. The food spread was plentiful and delicious, the speaker was one of the best and God was there in our meetings. And yet my heart ached so, so terribly to the point of breaking. Almost everyone was there with their families, spouses, children except for the singles. I wondered more than once, how do singles do it? I felt so lonely and utterly alone in the midst of almost two hundred chattering, laughing noisy individuals. On the morning I left, we sent off Calvin to Berkeley and then Diane to Kelantan. Aun stayed behind in Penang and I left for Lumut, Perak. Oh I wished to be anywhere but going to Lumut. At least with one of them would have been salve to my broken heart. Plain rice and water with them would have tasted like ambrosia and nectar to my tired body.

But now I am home!! I am so happy for familiar sights and smells. I have walked into my children's empty rooms, seen to their belongings. Aun is home. I have a dusty, dirty, untidy house to clear up. I am so glad for small mercies. I look at my favorite sites on the comp and I am somewhat settled and the ache in my heart improves by a notch. When will I ever get past this?

Diane's Graduation

In the middle of last week I panicked when I felt a lumpy kind of feeling when I swallowed. What if by some cruel twist of fate I had to miss Diane's graduation because I developed symptoms of the dreaded flu? So I religiously gargled with salt water to fend off the impending or imagined sore throat which thankfully did not materialize.

We left on Saturday morning. Reasonably early enough but not before making Diane more alarmed by the minute as I kept checking in case I missed out anything. Shoes - check, camera - check, etc. The journey felt at times slow because we wanted to be there before the office closed so that Diane could collect her robe, and at times fast because I kept reminiscing on the first journey we had taken to UTP when we sent her, first for her interview and the second for her first semester. FIVE years have passed, seemingly so quickly. In between we have experienced so much even though we were separated. As parents we had traveled this same route, to and fro, each semester for the past five years. We had sent her in with all her luggage, paraphernalia and all each semester, then moved them out again each semester's end and visits in between. Yet each trip had been a joy because seeing her more than made up for our efforts. I have grown fond of the route but this would be the last time I would be taking it as I went in with all of my family.

Everything proceeded smoothly on Saturday, collection of the robe, photo taking, dinner. Diane looked just so beautiful I felt bursting with pride. It was very nice meeting the parents of the students whom we had played host to some time or other during the past years though I wish I had more of the students at my table too but then one can not have everything. They had taken care of my girl and for that I am very grateful.

Sunday morning dawned quickly. At last. We all gave thanks and glory to God. Five years ago, we had convened as a family too to commit Diane to His care and He had been faithful and blessed us with this day. Thank you Lord, You are so good to us.

Diane, trying out her robe for size...

















(... to be continued)