I Forgive

I started out this Lent with great human aspirations. I had an objective. I wanted to be selfless; I claimed to want to focus more on Christ and less on a person..... I had wanted to overcome a particularly tiresome situation through my own strength but in the end, I failed. I found myself doing exactly the things I set out NOT wanting to do.

But all is not lost. While I wallowed in my own faithlessness and despondency, I realised that in His own time, God made me see that through this situation, walls surrounding me were breaking away. I can finally tell myself that a deep disappointment I held against someone else at another time; in another place has been broken away. I can finally say I forgive.

How these 2 incidents and people involved in them are connected escapes me but I know this is God's way of saying He works in amazing ways. I feel free. Eight years is a long time to nurse a disappointment but the ability to forgive is extremely liberating!

This Lent, I learned that I can only do so much through my own efforts but with God's grace, nothing is impossible.

Mary, mother of God....mother of mine

Mother's Day came and went last Sunday.

I was not feeling well and did not attend the dinner at my sister's place. I spoke with my mum on the phone though and cried afterwards. Through the airwaves, I could feel her love and concern. She knows I'm facing challenges at work. She knows how tough it is to 'inherit' a messy workplace and attempt to turn it around. She knows that a prophet is not welcome in his own land. She knows she can't do much except pray for me despite her own impending surgical operation.

But my mum and I are not close the way a lot of mothers and daughters are.

Born with a silver spoon, my mother had been a pampered child with 'ah mas' to look after her every need and pander to every whim. Studying at St Theresa’s Convent, my mother was the epitome of post-Japanese occupation baby boomer from a rich family who was ferried to and from school. Even her shoe laces were tied by the maids. This patricianism and dependence soon transcended into adulthood, marriage and eventually to motherhood.

My dad was from the police force, 12 years older than her and more comfortable speaking Malay than any Chinese dialects. It was not a match made in heaven or on earth as my grandparents objected vehemently to the union. Amidst tears, threats and disrupted studies in the UK, my mother got married and moved into her matrimonial home – into a house and a lifestyle a far cry from her own.

The marriage did not work. By the time he left, my mother was saddled with 3 young children and a battered spirit. She was barely 30. Pride prevented my grandparents from reaching out to their eldest errant daughter. An immigrant from China who made good by the sweat of his brow, my grandfather was a typical Chinese father who did not know how to show affection to his children. My mother was left with a little more than the stigma of shaming the family name.

My growing up years were largely fraught with blame and conflict because I was the eldest and had worshipped the ground my dad walked on. Alternating between bitterness and my own teenage angst, my mother and I never stood a chance to build a loving relationship. But in an uncanny way, I never doubted she loved me.

When I gave birth to my son, I began to understand her better. Being a mother is already tough, but being a single mother to 3 children? I can also see the changes in her the last decade. She has grown older, mellowed and softer around the edges. The glint in her eyes has been replaced by a twinkle whenever she plays with her grandchildren; the sharp words replaced by coddling and affirmations of praises for the kids. She is a great grandma. A better grandma that she ever was a mum.

I only realised how much lost time there was between my mum and I while planning for a Mother's Day dinner last year. It was a Monday night and I was trying to say my rosary. However, I was extremely distracted and could not focus. My brother was calling me to confirm our plans for our Mother’s Day celebration. Although on silent mode, the illumination from the phone seemed to beckon me away from my prayer. I was getting irritated and decided to ignore it.

But the Holy Spirit would not let me ignore a greater distraction of my heart. As I struggled with my beads, a silent but powerful prompting radiated from within the pit of my being. I must set things right with my earthly mother before I can come before my heavenly one. If Jesus accorded so much respect and reverence to his mother; how much more I should emulate him.

Without warning, I broke down and cried. It was the emptying of hurt and pain from the deepest recesses of my heart, of missed opportunities to love my mother. I felt an immense spiritual relief, as if the weight I had been carrying around for so many years was lifted. Yes, Mother Mary has made me realise that my relationship with her can only be good if my relationship with my own mother is!

Since then, I began to look at my mum as a person and not just a parent. While I am still not able to spontaneously hug her or express my feelings freely, we talk a lot more now. When I'm stressed with work or when faced with other challenges, I will share them with her. She might not have worked much in her life but she knows human nature and the only way to rise above challenges is through emotional fortitude and prayer.

As I penned in an earlier entry, I know my mum is praying for me everyday. A mother's love is unceasing, selfless and all-giving.... like Mother Mary's love.

Confession

I went for confession last Sunday. I had gone for Mass early just so as to do a proper confession in the tranquil stillness of the church.

With my trusty notebook in hand, I approached the confessional with much anxiety and trepidation. It is never easy examining one's conscience, let alone telling it to another. The priest was an elderly man who spoke slowly and gently. He reminded me so much of a dad listening to his wayward daughter; compassionate, guiding and accepting.

Of the seven sacraments, it had taken me a little longer to grasp the fullness of the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Theoretically, I knew it as a sacrament that embodies God's unconditional forgiveness and mercy. In my finite thinking, I had also wondered if we could just confess our sins directly to God since He is our Father?

On the most basic level, yes we can. In fact, we should confess our sins to God personally and only He has the power to forgive us. But Confession has been instituted as a gift from God that allows us to not only confess our sins to an ordained priest, but to receive the assurance of God's forgiveness and spiritual guidance.....faith comes by hearing, and by hearing the word of God. ....faith comes by hearing, and by hearing the word of God.

Like the last piece of a puzzle clicking in, I finally saw the beauty of God's grace as He had intended when the priest told me kindly that he was the instrument of God, the voice of Christ speaking through him to comfort and strengthen me.

In that confessional booth, I met Christ and received absolution from Him.

Infant Baptism

I helped out at an infant baptism yesterday. It brought back many wonderful memories to see excited parents and godparents lovingly holding their babies over the baptismal font as the celebrant baptised these young ones.

Travel back 9 years, I was in exactly the same shoes as these parents. I was not a Catholic then but as I held my 3-month-old infant out for the water of life, I knew in my heart that it would be the best thing I could do for him.

My son is now an active young man who has his own views and often engages me with them. He can be a handful sometimes and that's when my blood pressure soars to 200 degrees - on a good day. Growing up in this digital world can be very challenging for both the parents and the child.

Developmental psychologists and early childhood experts all agree that the first 6 years are the most critical in a child's formation - physically, intellectually, emotionally and socially. I would go further with a quote from my parish priest that it is even more important spiritually to have a firm and God-centered formation during these crucial early years. Truly...if you could only give your child one thing in life, let it be Jesus.

How a child lives his faith from his day of baptism is largely dependent on his parents and godparents. I am glad to be involved in this beautiful sacrament and pray that these parents will bring up their children in God's ways.

Shepherds of the Flock

I've been musing over an article in Sunday Times (5 Oct 08) "Church pastors like none other" - featuring how 2 pastors started their mega churches from humble beginnings. How these churches have in their own right, spun off multi-million businesses and how their flock has grown to a staggering 5-digit congregation.

Wow.

Back in my teens and 20's, I had been active in one of these non-denominational churches. It had been fun while it lasted. Those were the days before Facebook, MSN, SMS and email communication. Meeting up was the main avenue for interaction and networking. We received as good as we gave. The fellowship was intense and relatively healthy. Most importantly, it passed mom's censor because I was with church folks.

Beyond the weekly Sunday service, Tuesday cell group, Saturday youth group and lots of fellowship activities, I was still me. The fault's all mine, I must concede. "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you." I had neither asked; nor sought; much less knocked.

Sure, I had accepted Christ into my heart, believed in the immense love of God, in the risen saviour and in the power of the Holy Spirit. Especially in the power of the Holy Spirit. It was in fact, the spiritual presence, exhilarating music and energetic preaching that roused the congregation each Sunday. The charismatic renewal, the dynamic sermons and the vivacity of the preachers all culminated in a powerful uplifting of the physical and spiritual realms.

I have no axe to grind with such worship or sermon delivery styles. To quote from the article, these churches do "strike a chord with church-goers today". Even Catholic churches have very powerful and inspirational charismatic masses. Catholics are blessed with the gift of tongues too. For indeed, God must be worshipped "in spirit and in truth" - with one heart, one mind, one soul and in harmony with His Holy Word.

While I acknowledge and respect the said pastors for their dynamism, I believe that shepherds of the faith should have their eyes on the cross and their hearts on the ground. Jesus was a carpenter. He wore sandals and lived simply while on earth. Should his servants live better than he did? No, serving God does not equate to wearing rags or eating crumbs but it does require a certain form of discipline and sacrifice.

It is not a call everyone can answer to.