Category: Uncategorized

Some of the things that we’re called to do as Christians are so mind blowing. A lot of it feels so very impossible to do perfectly, and if we’re honest about it, sometimes, these feel like recipes for disasters. No wonder we can’t seem to get it right. This is a big struggle.  

It is a very real struggle too, considering the impact of the call we have, to love others. In Mark 12: 30-31, Jesus says that the most important command is to love God with all our hearts, souls, minds, and strength. As if that’s not difficult enough, He goes on to say that second most important command is to love your neighbour as you love yourself. I know our initial instinct is to say we love lots of people. I know that I start throwing together a list of names of people I love and show love to. Almost as quickly or perhaps, defensively, I make sure I include someone who is difficult to love. Maybe by this I demonstrate that I’ve not been taking it easy. Just maybe.

I start to relax for just a moment, as I think about things that I say and do to show love. Granted, my expressions of love aren’t perfect, something I readily admit, but I am loving, I think. Just maybe! Yet it gets worrying when I start unpacking different parts of scripture about what it means to be loving. The discussion gets a little bit awkward as we ponder this.

We know the reasons we are to love one another. Love is from God and whoever loves is of God and knows God (1 John 4: 7). We all want to be the people who are of God and who know God. Heaven forbid it that we don’t have a claim to this! The ante is upped when we read on, for it explains how the love of God was manifest among us. To be clear, this happens when God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him (1 John 4: 9). Somehow this familiarity makes us relax again. This good God, sending His obedient Son to save us. The joke on a t-shirt, with Jesus holding court to a captive audience made up of the Avengers saying “…and that’s how I saved the world,” pops into my mind. I love it. This Jesus is good. Yet am I really seeing how good He is?

Maybe it’s because I’ve been a Christian for a long time, familiar words that often give comfort are also the very same words I gloss over. It says very clearly that God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him (1 John 4: 9). Perhaps the most famous verse of all denoting this is in John 3: 16: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” Such familiar, comforting words. I believe in Jesus and so I will have eternal life. I sum this up so easily. All clean and sanitized. It’s easy to forget that Jesus came to die because of my sin. Gosh, that fall in Genesis 3 seems like ages ago! It was ages ago, but the magnitude of it is deep and foul. The same sin has permeated over the ages and there is in a sense, a hardening of our hearts over time. That is clear, when we look at how fewer and fewer people acknowledge God’s very existence, or how we succumb to teachings and patterns of behaviour that alienate people from God. Even among believers, we have moments of compromise which lead followers down a path of no return. No wonder then, the sin attached to me from the fall in Genesis 3, seems almost an alien concept. It is hard to fully grasp sin and perhaps that is why it is hard to fully grasp what sin causes.

Jesus knew the hearts of those He died for. He knew the grip that sin had over those gone before and still has over those of us here in the present. He knew the grip it will have over those who are to come after us and prior to His return. He knew, and what He knew gave Him no comfort. At the Mount of Olives, where He prayed for the removal of the cup, we are told that His sweat was like great drops of blood (Luke 22:44). Many of the commentaries say that this is a possible medical situation when a person is put under extreme pressure. In the Old Testament, ‘cup’ refers to the judgment of God (Jeremiah 25: 15, Isaiah 51: 17, Psalm 75:8). It seems clear that the idea of God’s judgment upon Him for all our sin was unbearable to Jesus. It is likely that the reality of the abandonment of God was real and horrendous to Him. The horror of horrors that we fail to really appreciate is being cast out of the presence of God. It is easy to say we want nothing to do with God or cast all sorts of aspersions of God while living in this world that is full of grace that isn’t always apparent to us. In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus probably had that insight. It is staggering then to think that knowing this, He still went to the cross. So, the righteous Jesus, completely holy, drank the cup of the wrath of God. And God crushed Him. This takes Jesus’ love for us to a whole new level. Where does it put my capacity for love at?

The full force of the words in 1 John 3: 16 come into effect: “By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers.” The whole thing is further enhanced when we remember what Jesus said: “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you.” (John 15: 12 – 14). The benchmark is set. How do I love as my Lord commanded? We would be so wrong to try and do this by way of a check list. Jesus, the holy and righteous God, condescended to love His all of us, who in many parts of the Bible, are described as His enemies because our sin cut us off from Him. We talk about how sin has permeated the world and the frustrations it has caused us in our relationship with God, all creation and with ourselves. Life is so hard. There are so many levels of complications. Everything is hard. Life is so hard. We get jaded over time. We’re tired. We seem to be operating against the very order of things – we know something is very, very wrong. These frustrations will only end when we are in God’s presence. Only His presence is the ultimate balm that will drive all this vexation away. We need His presence in our lives, and we are separated by it because of sin. There is a part of me that is rational and relies on historic evidence for the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus (which I find credible) to uphold my faith. And there’s this other part of me, that is blown away by the glimpses I get into the substance of it all. How can I rationalize a holy and righteous God dying for a sinful me so that I am not deprived of His presence and face the consequence of my sin? How can I explain this to anyone? Yet, it has set my heart abuzz. Jesus came for me. He died for me! I am so loved. This changes everything.

I recognize that my capacity to love is never going to be like my Lord’s. I cannot imagine life without vexation. What would it be like to not even be irritated by something? To be so at peace, content and to feel so loved? Without this love of God, I can’t be so loved. There is a benchmark. Jesus has thrown down the gauntlet. Love is impossible. Don’t get me wrong. We love and receive some measure of love. We feel the need to love and to be loved. We try. We seek to do what’s right. We seek to be there for our family, friends, and our community. At many levels, we have some measure of success. We feel loved by our family, friends, and our community. We’re also able to make them feel loved. There is such a lot of great emotion and feeling that comes out of these acts of love given and received. There are many great highs. There are devastating lows when we lose that love, whether because of death or some other reason. We know we’re feeling it. Yet, all of these are a mere microcosm of the love that God has shown us. We’ve not even begun to scratch the tip of the iceberg. Not even close. It is so hard to fathom what Jesus has done. There is doubt and disbelief because we simply cannot imagine such love. Jesus’ return is bad and good news. For those who reject Him, they will feel the full brunt of the wrath of God. In Gethsemane, remember, Jesus’ sweat was like droplets of blood when He was given a preview of what it would be like to face God’s wrath. It’s a scary picture. For believers, Jesus’ return will be joy beyond belief. It’s only when Jesus returns that we will truly be able to feel how glorious it all is. The vexation and frustration will end. Our unworthiness and sin, all the filth, none of it, can separate us from the love of God (Romans 8: 38 – 39). It will mean no more pain and no more tears (Revelation 21:4). We will no longer mourn or cry. We will feel such joy, for we will finally be able to fully love and feel the love we were meant to know. What joy that will be! What joy! 

 

Recently, in conversation with friends, I’ve been at my wits end trying to explain how I’ve been processing pain. My RA has decided to up the ante where pain is concerned. Things have got more difficult. Just when I thought I maybe had a handle on things, it showed me up! So not cool!

There are a whole set of things that have changed for me. Getting dressed is such hard work. In total, it took me 2.5 hours to properly dress myself on a day when the pain was at its highest. I had to stop and rest in between, which shows in the time taken. I was dripping in sweat, because of the effort it took. Again – so uncool. It’s not a good look. I did have a moment of the giggles in the middle of all this as I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Hair plastered to my head from the sweating, giving me the ultimately perfected wet rat look. That did crack me up. I was relieved for the laughter as it certainly beat the tears. It was such hard work getting into home clothes – nothing special or elaborate. A whole new set of circumstances, filled with many flashback memory triggers as I recalled episodes my mum had dressing herself and things I did to try and help. I’ve got a range of emotion running through me here. 

Doing stuff has just got harder too. I do find myself wishing for the ever wise, incomprehensibly efficient Jeeves. I wouldn’t have to plan so hard to be as strategic as I possibly can to give myself less pain. It would be doable. Coffee and toast may be enjoyable at a decent temperature. It’s usually cold by the time I’m ready to consume them after the battle I’ve gone through to prep. I no longer move about efficiently in my own kitchen. Many grandiose ideas of cooking a meal for me and dad die at birth. So uncool. Doing my office work has just got harder. It’s like my mind is ready to shut down and sleep. The pressure I feel to be professional is overwhelming. I sound exhausted, I feel a fog encompassing my thoughts. I battle this with coffee as the caffeine helps. If only it were that simple making a coffee. So uncool! 

In the midst of all this, I get a whole drudge of unhelpful advice. “Don’t think about it,” the unhelpful voice says. I wonder if they’d be able to successfully ignore the burning pain within each joint In their body when they moved. I’d love to know how to ignore that! I’d love to know how to not think about it when my movement involuntarily causes me to tear because of pain. My mind envisions a moment where I am like Captain America, delivering a lesson to these unhelpful muppets with a couple of quick smacks and kicks thrown in. A few more chuckles. I am thankful for these. 

Lying down and sleeping are hard to do. It’s hard to get comfortable. I can’t lie on either shoulder at the moment. My joints decide to show up at bed time. My knees feel like they’re locked and when I try to move them, my ankles grind away to remind me not to put pressure on them. My elbows seem to want in on the action and refuse to straighten, while my wrists and knuckles seem to be twisting in weird directions. At points, it feels like my joints are beatboxing. That thought makes me laugh too. Not for long though. Beat boxes are cool. This is so uncool. By the time I start falling asleep, it’s usually about 4 in the morning. By this time, sheer exhaustion has kicked in. My mind has had some conversation with Jesus. I’m telling Him that He’s going to be in for it if He doesn’t let me sleep. I tell Him it’s going to be a long night. And that makes me laugh too coz He and I don’t experience time the same way, do we? I start drifting off finally, only to have my alarm ring in what feels like 5 minutes later. At this stage, I feel like I’ve been run over by a bus. Now the whole thing starts again. So uncool.

In the midst of this, I’m so thankful for those steady friends who keep the communications up. I’m so grateful for the assurances of prayer and Bible verses sent to me. That’s a big push in the daily battle cry I make because I am being supported by prayer. I am so thankful to the ones who faithfully send me stuff to make me laugh, or to include me in life: photos or videos of things that I’m not able to witness or do alongside them are so uplifting. I love the updates on various other things that are happening to them in the middle of all this, because it’s engaging, and different. Simply inclusive. I thank God for all of these ones. They are so cool. 

Processing these changes hasn’t been easy. I know Jesus has power. I know He can heal all. Coming to a place where I can say with no amount of cynicism that He is good, even when the rest of my body isn’t feeling good, hasn’t been easy. I saw my mum go through this. So I have a glimpse of what the future holds for me here on earth. Hence, Jesus’ healing powers would be most welcome. Whilst that negotiation is ongoing, and yes – I call all my petitions negotiations because I don’t stop asking when there’s a no, I am conscious of what else He’s showing me. Many years ago, when I expressed sorrow for her situation, my mum said how if it hadn’t been precisely for her situation, she wouldn’t see Jesus the way she did. I did not understand at that time. I do now. Almost as soon as I wrote that I laugh out- what a slow learner I must be! Mum was so right. Every moment, every situation in my life has been ordained by God. Ultimately, Jesus wants me to rest completely in Him. I can see that He’s stripping away the independence that I’ve been so fiercely protective of as well as the abilities that I have been so happy to call upon. It’s not being done cruelly. I still am independent. He’s given me that. But He’s showing me the need I have for Him 24/7. He’s given me a need for Him that wouldn’t be there otherwise. He’s not taken away all my abilities. Granted, it takes me ages to get do things, but He has granted me creativity and given me a lot of help. Heaps of help, through some very loving souls placed in my life. It’s hard to explain, and the credit doesn’t go to me, but it is Him making me consciously live out less of me and more of Him. He is there every step of the way. The thing is, it is very liberating too. When I let go of my independence or abilities, I tap into His. It’s so freeing as it comes in so many different ways. He puts people in my life, enables conversations, gives me help and support through them, builds me up mentally and emotionally through His Word, that despite my illness, I’m never in a position to say that I’m in want, for I’m not. My mum tried to explain this to me so long ago. I was too full of my own independence and loving my own abilities, that I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t understand. 

I am writing this especially to my brothers and sisters in Christ. Do not despair for me. And if your circumstances are crushing you, may this encourage you. Look for Him and you will find. It will not mean that the circumstance itself goes away, so it may not be that healing, financial relief, answered prayer for a partner or a child or something else. It may not be a better job or craved acceptance socially. It may not be what you want. It will be what you need. It will be Jesus. It is very cool.

Easter 2022 is around the corner! I’m quite excited about it because a few friends are coming over to ours to have lunch with dad and me. I’ve already ordered the food. A friend has bought loads of Easter egg chocolates for our lunch, and another is helping me pick the food up from the caterer. We’re anticipating a lovely afternoon together. My dad is also quite excited about it. It will be wonderful to have these dear brothers and sisters back in our home. I’ll be saying extra prayers that Loki behaves. I think he too can sense the excitement. We’re looking forward to a celebration. As I think on this little get together that is bringing me so much joy, my mind cannot but help think on what my dad, brothers and sisters in Christ and I are celebrating.

          Christians celebrate Easter because Jesus rose from the dead. It must sound rather bizarre to a non-believer’s ears. We believe that Jesus rose from the dead! It’s not an instance where we’ll need to run out and call the ghostbusters or anything like that. I don’t watch enough horror or zombie movies to make an even more specific reference to them, but Jesus’ rising from the dead is nothing like what is depicted in this genre. Easter has also got nothing to do with bunnies and chocolate Easter eggs! Nothing at all. I am very grateful for those chocolate Easter eggs but that’s nothing compared to why we really celebrate Easter.

          Jesus rose from the dead. It’s scary to think about it. If such power does exist, it must be very big. It crushes the authority of death. It’s overwhelming to consider it. It goes against the very grain of human thought. There are very few things in life that are certain, and one thing that no one escapes is death! Even people who don’t believe in God or people who profess other faiths, all believe in death. I can imagine a sensory overload for anyone who even starts to contemplate the fact that Jesus rose from the dead.

          The question that comes up almost immediately is, if Jesus is this power that can defeat death, how could he then have died? The Bible tells us He laid His life down for us. I guess that then begs the question, why? Why would this almighty, powerful being, with the ability to crush death, lay down His life? The answer that must follow is not popular. Jesus died for our sin. He died to reconcile us to God. It was a thoughtful, loving, merciful and generous thing that Jesus did for us. He died to reconcile us to God because our sin had broken that communion we had with God.

It is quite difficult to grasp this idea of sin. In today’s culture, we seek to constantly affirm everyone. We tell people how they are amazing and how they’ve got this or that. We affirm their decisions and lifestyle choices. This really doesn’t work very well. There is a sense of injustice that we feel when someone wrongs us. If we go by the modern standard of affirmation, we’d probably have to consider the person’s culture, whatever trauma they’ve been subjected to and factor in whichever orientation or identity they lean towards as well as some very subjective beliefs they may hold. We find some way to justify and affirm them, to give them reprieve. Yet, this isn’t something we can do when we are wronged. We are aggrieved or indignant when someone treats us wrongly, and it is because there is a sense of right and wrong that we somehow adhere to. If we didn’t, then no one would flinch at some of the wrongs that go on. It wouldn’t matter what serial killers, paedophiles and fraudsters do. It wouldn’t matter if someone yelled at us wrongly or thinks unkindly of us when it isn’t justified. Even if we’ve been overcharged or given poor advice, we feel wronged. The reality is, it does matter when someone wrongs us. It follows then, that it matters that humanity has wronged God. Sin matters.

If sin matters, then there needs to be some consequence. It isn’t necessarily a good thing to be able to ignore a wrong. To imperfect people, turning a blind eye to sin may be doable. We may not always speak or stand up for or against something at the right times. We may be willing to overlook things quite easily because we don’t always want the hassle. It gets tiring doing the right thing, and quite frankly, we don’t really want to be dismissed or cancelled out for trying to address a wrong. We sometimes get a bit judgmental and say it’s a matter of karma. You reap what you sow. Except that you get what you deserve doesn’t work well when you are unjustifiably wronged. For a holy God, this option of ignoring sin is unacceptable. All wrong must be addressed. Therefore, Jesus died for us.

Jesus’ role in this entire series of events is staggering. He is God. He was present at the creation of the world. His glory is inherent. Yet, He emptied Himself of this glory to be born as a human being with the sole purpose of paying the penalty for our sin. It isn’t easy for us to grasp how big this is, simply because we don’t have anything that is inherently glorious and all things that we attach significance to, from which we derive our glory have no inherent glory of their own. In fact, any glory they offer or any significance they pretend to have, is temporary. Think about it. Our careers, homes, looks or body image, relationships, travel destinations, knowledge, lifestyles, etc. are all things that bring us glory. That is why we attach so much significance to them. The list is endless. Yet we know that none of these are permanent. We have so little control over how they pan out and things go wrong so easily. It is hard to imagine what it would’ve been for Jesus, who is inherently glorious, to lay this down and become one of us. He is completely striped of any glory when He is humiliated, beaten, and worse still, He is deserted by close friends. He is then crucified, and as if the pain of losing all significance isn’t enough, it is compounded when He is forsaken by the Father. That is the ultimate break. The pain must have been simply unbelievable. Yet, because of God’s attribute of holiness, sin had to be dealt with. God’s attribute of mercy kicks in, and He takes it upon Himself. All our pain, all our suffering didn’t fall on us, where it rightly belongs, but fell on Jesus.

The story doesn’t end there. Jesus rose. Ahh, but was he dead in the first place? Jesus’ death had been confirmed by Roman centurions. They pierced His side to make sure of it. He died. He was buried. His disciples were shattered. They were afraid and lonely. Sorrow permeated and dark days seemed to lie ahead. A visit to the grave three days later, threw everyone into further confusion. Jesus’ body wasn’t there. Mary and the other disciples wondered if His body had been stolen. A new trauma faced them. Where was Jesus’ body? The cloth used to wrap his body in was folded tidily. An angel declared that Jesus was risen! No one knew what hit them. There were no immediate shouts of joy or celebration. They still didn’t know. They didn’t fully understand. It was only when the Holy Spirit, the promised comforter, who would teach them all things came, that they could well and truly appreciate what had happened. How that strikes me.

Why does it strike me, you ask? I guess it just goes to my love of celebrating things. I love celebrating birthdays, success, and any sort of good news. Easter is great news! It’s the best news possible. We derive joy from many things, such as relationships, work, recognition, etc. Again, it’s another endless list. However, these joys are short lived. They are circumstantial. People pass away or leave us. Work situations can be frustrating. We don’t’ always get the recognition we crave. Circumstances change. How different it is from the joy a believer gets from the good news of Easter.

What is this joy that Easter gives a believer? It is reconciliation with God, through the death and resurrection of Jesus. That is something that is perfected. It is done. It’s not going away. It’s not a circumstance. It’s fact. Thanks to the Holy Spirit who opens our eyes to scripture, we know that Jesus is our advocate with the Father. He demands justice for us, and He gets it because He paid our penalty under the law. Clothed in His righteousness, we are free from the web of sin. We will see this certain promise play out when He comes again. Right now, we still have struggles with sin. We fall and fall again. Our imperfections hurt us and hurt those around us. We are constantly struggling against sin. It’s not easy. The world is so full of sorrow and troubles. Yet, we have the guarantee of Jesus’ promise, through the Spirit. He reminds us, instructs us, and enlightens our hearts. He convicts us of our sins and focuses us on the joy we have in Christ. Though we have pain from our circumstances, our souls know joy because of the resurrected Christ. That is well and truly something for us to celebrate!

I know that any celebration I have planned pales in comparison to heaven’s glories. Yet, with all my heart and soul, I want to joy in this moment, as I remember the glory of my risen Lord. He has defeated death so that I can live! How can I not celebrate this?

I love connecting with people. This has always been the case for me. It excites me, lifts up my spirits and sets me up perfectly. I do love connecting with people. I love connecting and therefore I’m an extrovert or I am an extrovert and therefore I love connecting. This isn’t something I ponder on very much! Instead, I do reflect on the quality of relationships that I let come into my life. 

When I was younger, I constantly let people in without any kind of filter. If they had a kind word, a smile and were friendly, I deemed them trustworthy. It has taken many lessons along the way to make me more acceptable to the idea of toxic people. Toxic people love latching on and when I was younger, I mistook this to mean they wanted my friendship. Foolish, foolish child! 

I guess the lessons on toxicity never stopped, even later on in life. It seems to be an area where I need to really be more hands on and show more prowess. Even as an adult, I’ve found it hard to deal with toxicity. I’ve let people say and do inappropriate things to me. I remember being asked to be a bridesmaid once. The bride in question, when asked who her bridesmaid was, pointed to me and announced to a group of friends very loudly, “she’s already a maid, she can be my bridesmaid.” I felt my cheeks go hot and embarrassment rose within me. I didn’t protest. She hadn’t even asked me privately. Nothing. It was an appointment. I accepted the position with as much grace as I could muster. I’m gobsmacked at how I was so accepting. I should’ve refused! It shocks me too, when I remember how a friend commented that I looked good. I thanked her for the compliment, only to hear her say “See what you can do with a little effort, imagine if you put in more!” Again, it was pretty much a deer in the headlights sort of response from me.There have been so many comments. I know not whether to laugh or cry. The impropriety of the comments served to stun more than anything and often, I was bewildered. 

I think there has been improvement in recent times. Finally, the lessons seem to be sinking in and the patterns of behaviour seem to be clearer. Red flags now pop up and I’m starting to pay attention. “I can tell you very honestly, there’s not a single soul in the city of KL that deserves any help.” This was a comment that came my way, after a barrage of complaints against the behaviour of people in the city. This person forgot that they themselves came from KL! Additionally, it is always hard to see what the people complained about have done wrong. One person complained about, refused to accept a lower deposit for the sale of a house, than the stipulated 10%. Why were they a ‘vulture’ for sticking to the protections afforded to them as the seller? “Churches don’t help. They are so good at preaching, but never give you the help that you need.” This was a complaint that came up when there were no other available counselling services in churches except for those within their congregations. “Our families have cut us off. They are selfish.” My oldest friends don’t want to have anything to do with me. All selfish, arrogant people. Such fakes.” I had my head chewed off for (something that was completely not their fault).” Nothing is ever their fault. They are never wrong! Point something out to them, and you are blocked on all social media and cast into what they must think is the abyss. 

Having just extricated myself from one such latch, I am pondering on what I could’ve done better to have shortened even this episode. It is quite hard to figure this one out. One the one hand, I am told to love others just how God loves me. This is hard. Jesus died for me! On the other hand, my own limits and the necessity to maintain my sanity pull on me. It is hard. When do I turn the other cheek? When do I forgive and forgive and forgive again? 

This is the big struggle I face. I do think that the cross where Jesus hung from is the answer. It shows me that my limits are indeed real. There is only so much I can do to show love. I am not in the position to die for someone else. I cannot lay down my life and pick it up again. It isn’t within my purview. It is why I need Jesus. He did all this on my behalf. It also tells me that all the toxic individuals I have met with are in dire need of Jesus. Some speak of having faith in Him, but it cannot be that they understand His love for them. If they did, then they would be latching on to Him, instead of to me or to anyone else. Jesus can go where I can’t. 

I strongly believe too, that there is a need for these toxic individuals to experience grace, especially in relationships. They need to recognise that grace protects, grows, corrects, humbles, overwhelms, etc and that it is so readily found amongst the imperfect souls that come into their lives. Each one is there in our lives for a purpose. 

As I consider the last latch that I have been freed from, I think that there has been some growth in me in not letting this go on, and in speaking up against some of the toxic comments that came my way. It was confrontation that I much rather have avoided and I can only pray that I acted with as much grace possible in those circumstances. I hope that these latches find their way to Christ. Latching on to Him is good for them. He is big and strong enough for that. 

7 January 2022 will be 16 years since I lost my mum. 16 years feels like a long time. You could even call it a lifetime! Yet, for me, this one gaping hole remains: my mum isn’t here with me. It signifies to me that all is not right with the world and never can be. Not till Jesus returns, anyway. 

From quite early on in December, I find myself looking back on my mum’s passing. It is an amazing story as for almost 2 years prior to her passing, I was planning a trip to the UK. One of the best people I know, was getting married and I was her bridesmaid! The whole thing was exciting. She sent me gorgeous blue material, which I took to a tailor to get my dress made. Man, he was expensive! But that dress he made was stunning. I loved it to bits. It is my favourite dress even now, as I write this! My mum had been so very excited for me. She helped me design that dress and I took her very precise instructions to the tailor. Her health prevented her coming with me at that point, much to her chagrin. I have to say that the tailor appreciated her instructions very much! He complimented her abilities in choosing a style that flattered me, and ventured on to say how he felt she must love me so very much. He was so very right, of course. 

Plans were made. I would spend Christmas 2005 in the UK and return home to usher in 2006. I wanted to see more of the country I had spent time in as a student, and spend time with friends and family. My excitement about going to the UK for my friend’s wedding suddenly turned into anxiety. The travel agency I was using called to let me know that I would only be getting a flight back on 3 January, which meant I would miss being home to see in the New Year. I was in my office when this happened, and I had a meltdown. It was messy and I was unhappy. 

As days went by, I started feeling like I didn’t even want to go. I wondered how to explain this to my dear friend who was getting married. Mum’s words to me were “you can’t let her down!” So on 8 December 2005, I found myself flying to the UK, full of inexplicable angst. My friend said that they could tell I was distracted. I never realised that. I was trying to play it cool. But on 10 December 2005, after the wedding, which was beautiful, where my friend made such a beautiful bride, I was ready to come home. Then started one of the most bizarre times of my life. I called the airlines everyday trying to get a flight back. This was the busy Christmas season and I was put on waiting lists. I called friends back here in Malaysia, to see if they could try calling the airlines for me from Malaysia. I did all sorts. Then news came that I could get on a flight on 23 December, leaving Manchester late at night and I would be home by Christmas Eve. 

At the airport, I thought that my dearest friend, would hate me forever. I couldn’t explain to her or to any of the other friends and family who I cancelled on, why it was I was leaving. I didn’t know myself. All I knew was, I needed to get home. I remember my friend’s eyes too, as she looked at me, while we drank coffee at the airport. There was hurt. I knew I was causing it. There was no explanation then. I just had to come home. On the plane, I broke down in tears. I thought that this whole thing would be the end of a friendship I cherished and I was also very anxious to be home. 

Whilst I told my dad and an aunt that I was coming home, I wanted it to be a surprise for mum. What a surprise it was too! I was overjoyed at being home that Christmas Eve. My parents were thrilled. I remember my mum’s delight, especially. How she loved me. She was very happy to have me back. We talked a lot that night, mum and I. Our conversations are like elixirs to me these days. I love remembering them. They bring me pain as they remind me of what I’ve lost. I admit this. Yet, I am ever so thankful for these memories, for they remind me of so much love. They remind me that God has blessed me greatly indeed. 

That Christmas was the loveliest of Christmasses we’ve ever had. We didn’t have a huge open house or any of the usual parties. But I remember it for the conversations that mum and I had. Mum and I always talked and shared things, but this seemed to be a marathon of conversations. Over the entire week leading to the new year, we had so much to discuss! We also watched some of our favourite shows together, discussed the characters we loved from various books, and as always, we talked about our faith. Mum was in good spirits. 2006 was before us. We were both joyful. It still feels magical. How she loved me.

On 3 January, I remember making plans with a friend to catch a movie. As I was prepping to leave, mum didn’t feel too well. She said she was finding it hard to breathe. She was very anaemic, thanks to rheumatoid arthritis, and I organised for an ambulance to come and take her to hospital. Even when I cancelled plans with my friend, I wasn’t worried. The ambulance was called purely not to stress mum by making her walk to the car, etc. She was still in great spirits and even joked with the ambulance medical attendants. I followed the ambulance in my car and soon she was in the ER. It was the wee hours of 4 January when they settled mum into a room. They weren’t really sure what was wrong but they wondered if it was bronchitis. I stayed with her that entire night. She was so glad I was with her. How she loved me. 

The days we were in hospital were like slumber parties. On 5 January, the last time we had our precious conversation, she spelt out her feelings for me. I think for any child, even an adult child, knowing the depths of your parents love for you and how proud they are of you, is beyond precious. It wasn’t like I was in doubt of her feelings! She always told me. But this was almost like a blessing pronounced and a declaration made. How she loved me. 

The next day (6 January), they took her in for a CT scan. It was after the scan, that we got the dreaded news. “She’s got 6 hours to live..” I’ll never forget the nurse and doctor who shared this news. They were sorry they couldn’t save her. I’ll never forget how crushed I felt and the desperation in my heart. They wanted to know if they could intubate her. In more than one of the many conversations that mum and I shared, she had told me that she never ever wanted to be intubated. Her desire to be free of intubation was so strong. I remember the intensity in her voice and the look in her eyes, which never changed all the times she shared this with me. It broke my heart, having to say ‘no’ to the intubation question. In my heart, I called out to God, to give me an answer. More reminders of conversations we had came flooding into my mind. I knew I had to be strong. I knew what I had to do. 

We didn’t intubate my mother. We remained by her side right throughout. I know friends and family came. I know my dad shed tears in the hospital staircase exits. This was behind a closed door and the only evidence was his shirt that was wet by his tears. I know there were all sorts of tugs of war, silly disputes as well as an outpouring of love, but I cannot remember caring about any of these. I was losing my mum. The world as I knew it would never be the same. 

In the wee hours of 7 December, one of my aunts told me that if I spoke into my mum’s ear, she would be able to hear me. So that is what I did. I told mum that papa loved her. I told mum that I loved her very, very much. I told her that I wanted to always look after her but that now, it was time for Jesus to look after her. I told her I would miss her as it was time for her to go to Jesus. As I said this, mum squeezed my hand so tightly. Her grip shocked me, because with rheumatoid arthritis, I knew she didn’t have strength in her hands. Naively, I thought she was getting better and started calling for nurses. Mum squeezed my hand so tightly and then breathed her last. How she loved me. 

I write this because this period makes me especially sad. I remember my mum. I write this too because I remember that God really showed me His Hand. It wasn’t coincidence my wanting to return so quickly from the UK. Anyone who knows me, will know that I love it there. I would never have wanted to shorten my holiday there. It was also in 2005 that I really went back to church, after years of annoyance with the kind of preaching we had, which led to me avoiding church. 2005 prepared me for the storm I would face in 2006 with the loss of my mum. God really showed me His Hand by bringing me in so that I could be supported through His Word. 

I don’t think I will ever be done grieving my mum. Not while I live on this earth. I am however, very grateful for how God has provided for me over the years, grappling with this loss. I quit a career that was my childhood dream and am so changed that I doubt very much I could be the same lawyer I used to be. I have been told on many occasions that I have wasted the education my parents paid for. My dad has never said such a thing. He saw my grief and he knew his child was broken. As for my mum, of all people, she would’ve known what losing her would do to me. I have been told that my mum would be so disappointed that I’ve not gone on to marry and that I have shrunk in my ambitions in life. I have been told I am not strong because I am grieving for so long and that my mum would be disappointed as I do not possess her strength. To the people who purport to speak on behalf of my mum, I have nothing polite to say. If anyone of them had a sense of the relationship I had with her, they would never have said such things. They could never understand how she loved me.

Over and above this, my life is hid in Christ. My successes and failures here no longer have life and death consequences. Instead, if through this grief, I can walk alongside someone else, through whatever pain they have, I think Jesus would be pleased. If I can be a constant source of encouragement to my family or friends, just as my mum encouraged me, I think Jesus would be pleased. If I can face life and embrace it’s highs and lows, despite this hole in my heart from this grief, I think Jesus would be pleased. It means I can trust Him despite this outcome. It means I believe there will be a day when all these tears end. I am so grateful to Him for my mum. The magnitude of my grief reflects the magnitude of His blessing to me. I thank Jesus for my mother. How she loved me. 

Merry Christmas! It’s the middle of the afternoon on Christmas Day 2021 that I write this. It’s such a pretty day. Outside, we can still hear birds having long conversations. Loki’s blissfully sleeping on my leg, which is his preferred pillow. My dad’s snoozing after what he called a really good lunch. It was sumptuous, indeed! I’d ordered the meal from a trusted caterer. Boy, did they deliver! 

It strikes me as odd that I even have time to write a blog this Christmas Day. I’m not scrambling to catch a nap before the next visitors come. That’s because this year, we’re not hosting anything. It’s been a very quiet Christmas. No Christmas tree or decorations up at home, no guests arriving over the week, no heavy duty cooking or baking, no rushed shopping trips with long lists in hand. No to so many of the usual things I find myself doing. I’m recovering from surgery. My recovery is going amazingly well and I’m feeling rather chirpy about that. I feel more like me and I am so grateful to God for this, even if it has meant that the festivities haven’t happened. 

My doctor very kindly agreed that I could attend a few things. “Please don’t accept every single invitation,” she pleaded. I listened. Friends are surprised at my compliance. A few have said so too! I’ve only accepted two invites. One was for a lunch organised by one cousin yesterday, on Christmas Eve and another will be for a second family gathering next week. I think I’ll do some baking for that. If I’m honest, I was relieved to be able to accept these invites. I am an extrovert and I need people. I was feeling deprived of company! Maybe I shouldn’t have sent my cousin the silly photo of me with my face covered in gook. That’s stuff that can be used to blackmail me. Dang it! But it was demonstration of the boredom that was setting in. I miss being out and about! 

Saying this, I must say that the quiet has not been spectacularly bad. It has given me time for a few things. It has given me the head space to share time with friends going through different things, which make Christmas very difficult or stressful. It’s been a privilege to share in their lives. Their tears, their anxiety and many other feelings are precious to Jesus. And for once, over Christmas, I was able to spend this time sharing in these things, instead of worrying about whether I got all the ingredients for my fruitcake or whatever was going on in the kitchen. As fun as baking and cooking is, these moments of getting to share in lives of others has been the far bigger blessing. 

This quiet time has also meant that I am not exhausted from cooking, baking, cleaning, shopping, gift wrapping, etc. That has been pretty amazing too because I’ve been able to really follow the advent devotions. It may sound trivial, but even though I have always followed advent devotions, I’ve done them hurriedly. The prophets Micah or Isaiah, among others, haven’t always been as interesting as some of the things I’ve had to do. I must really say that I am utterly disappointed in myself that it has taken me a recovery period to realise this. What have I been thinking? This year, every day of advent was magical because I wasn’t in a rush and could ponder on the various readings. I am convicted. There is nothing better than God’s Word. It provides us with glimpses into who He is and it’s so very overwhelming when we get a glimpse. He is so real. He is so beautiful. He is the light. 

This Christmas, I have learnt a lot. I’ve learnt how stupid I have been to get caught up purely in the festivities. I have not chosen wisely, and for this, I am disappointed in myself. I’ve learnt that it is okay to walk alongside grief, anxiety, pain and a whole host of other less festive circumstances during this season. It has been good to share in the lives of those around me. I have also learnt that it is imperative that I always choose Jesus no matter what. So whilst I’m not advocating an end to festivities, I think I must choose to have time with Him and ensure that He is never crowded out. The lessons on advent have spoken into brokenness, darkness and pain. They speak of light shining into darkness and hope amidst despair and desperation. I am so grateful to the Lord for showing me this advent and Christmas how He came to heal all the this. The celebrations will be there when He returns again. But whilst I’m still here, I must always be ready to speak and live out the message of Christmas with those around me who are struggling or burdened. They truly are precious to Jesus. It is to reverse all this brokenness that He came. That makes for a very Merry Christmas! 

Fear is a reality for all of us. It is impossible to say we are completely fearless. We fear all sorts of things. Some times they are little things, like arriving late at a meeting or not making the impression we want. Sometimes they are heavy going, and involve some sort of loss (including the loss of our own lives) or some other horrid occurrence. Fear is real. 

It is no secret I underwent surgery recently. I’m not planning to discuss the actual surgery, but I do want to share feelings that went hand in hand with it. There were so many triggers. Some smaller fears were that there’d be delays to the surgery as a result of me contracting COVID or even just a bug. I became super vigilant. Then there was fear over managing Loki while I was away in hospital and during my recovery. My dad isn’t in a position to do this on his own. I also feared the kind of Christmas we’d be having. I love the festivities of Christmas and whilst I acknowledge and fully believe that Jesus’ birth is at the heart of Christmas, I do like coming together with family and friends over the season’s gaieties. 

There were also bigger worries that were triggered by some rather unhelpful comments. The people concerned, upon hearing that my haemoglobin levels were low, decided to share example after example of people dying in surgery because of low haemoglobin. This sharing, did trigger a worry deep within me about getting my affairs in order so that my dad is looked after. It is a prayer of mine, to outlive my dad, simply because I think parents should never have to say goodbye to a child. I watched my granny grieve my mum. It was cruel. The fear in me was so big as a result of these comments that I ran out the next day to get my affairs put in order. I had been strictly avoiding any sort of outing, but I felt I had to act so that my dad was taken care of. It also made me think about my own mortality. What if this really was the end? What if my dad had to bury his daughter? I’m not ashamed to confess that I did cry about this as I prayed those nights leading up to surgery. I know and I believe with all my heart that Jesus can do all things. Equally, I know and believe that He doesn’t have to do all things I want Him to do. He is wiser than me, I reasoned. He knows best, I told myself. I kept thinking about this, only to feel Him remind me that He is good. God is good. I say that all the time. But what does it really mean?

God is good, even when He doesn’t respond the way I want Him to. My job is to trust His response regardless of whether I like it. My job is to trust Him regardless of how afraid I feel. And I did feel afraid. I was afraid that His Will for me was different this time. The unhelpful comments unnerved me and I was afraid. Yet, I knew that He was and is good. “This is head knowledge, Lord,” I prayed. It needed to get real. 

It was then that Romans 8: 35 popped right into my head: “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?’ It spoke to me. It said that even in the instance of something happening completely against my hopes and prayers, I could trust God because He is good. He sent Jesus to die for me and the fear that Jesus must’ve felt before going to the cross was terrible, as his sweat fell to the ground like great drops of blood (Luke 22:44). This is it. This good God, sent His pure Son, to die, for me, a sinful being. This could not have been the desired outcome of anyone, that a glorious God, is slain for sinners. Yet, it happened. Not because of an abusive God but because of a good God. A good God who used this terrible instance to bring me into His fold. A good God who actually made it possible for me not to fear, in the event I die. 

My apologies for not being able to express this clearly or more eloquently, but the peace that fell upon me was surreal, as my mind spoke to me.: “Whether I live or die, God is good. He can be trusted. He must be glorified. I must rely on Him completely and surrender all.” It was in this moment that I felt fear vanish and calm settle in. I was able to joke with doctors and nurses prior to surgery and there’s a whole load of babble that went on about my going to the cinema (so they claim), when I woke up (I have no recollection). I just do not remember feeling anymore fear. I felt supported and held by my Lord Jesus. 

I have to speak about this. I just got home tonight. And as I lay my head down to sleep, I know that all life is in God’s Hands. All things that matter are in His Hands. Whatever the night brings, whatever the troubles of the days ahead, I do now begin to grasp a little why the Angel said “fear not,” in Luke 2:10-11: “And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” As I spend this time leading up to Christmas in recovery, I am so grateful to God for this truth that He has granted us. We can trust Him and we can well and truly have nothing to fear! 

I’m heading in for surgery soon. As I write this, it’s literally a week away. I don’t plan to go into details of the surgery itself. Suffice to say, it is because some meds I was put on were mismanaged and have caused some severe effects. I was quite annoyed when I first found out. I felt that the doctor I’d been seeing, had been remiss. Part of me wanted to scream at him. The other part of me was just too exhausted. The latter won in this instance, and probably for the best too!

As I prepare for the 6 to 8 weeks recovery, which I can’t help but feel, will eat into Christmas festivities, I’ve been getting a lot of advice. Some of it has been very practical and some of it has been very annoying, to put it mildly. There are all sorts of assumptions made and the insistence in matching what I’m going through with an experience already had is simply impossible to deal with. Some make snide comments about some fluffy remedy they have, which apparently has helped many others in the past. I congratulate them and hope that they make their millions now they’ve found such an important cure. It’s mind boggling, why some have so much advice to give. I have to say that I have felt very saintly when I’ve not bitten off their heads and spat them out. It feels like a super-human effort on my part. I must thank God for the muzzle of tiredness that he placed on me to stop the verbal destruction that is dying to escape my lips.

There are many emotions that I’m going through. I have some friends who insist on me being the one to call them. They apparently won’t be calling me now. That’s not going to happen. I guess I’ll see you when I see you. Some others put pressure on me about getting well so that I can commit to their plans for Christmas. Truth be told, their plans sound exciting, but I am in no position to make that commitment. They’ve told me that I need to watch my negativity. There are some who’ve got very offended with me because they want to visit me at home after my surgery. I think it’s a lovely gesture and I have said so. However, I explained that visits may not be possible for a bit because even the doctor has said to minimize contact. COVID is still a threat. These friends got so annoyed with me. I can’t manage that now. It feels like there’s a whole range of emotion from others that I’ve got to manage. I wasn’t quite counting on that. Saying all this, I must say too, that I have been very blessed with some of the advice that has come along.

Some of those who have come alongside me, have been nothing but sheer blessing. Friends and family who are helping me with practical things (from sharing in some of the expenses, to helping me buy stuff that I’ll need in hospital or during my recovery, practical advice on what I need to be doing, helping me organize my home so that I won’t need to navigate the stairs, helping me with Loki (whom I’m ever so worried about), as well as those who have been helping me by upholding me in prayer and in sending me encouragement). The amount of help I’m getting is just what I need in this time of exhaustion and I am very aware of this – it is truly providence from the Lord. For some reason, I keep thinking of Hagar, when she ran away from Sarah. I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like to have been in a desert with a baby! The heat in Malaysia, at 27-30 degrees C, already kills me, even when I am indoors with the air conditioning on and a nice cold drink in hand. I feel that Hagar must’ve been overwhelmed with exhaustion and beyond words in her desperation. I don’t have a baby in my arms seeking shelter and nourishment. Yet, at some level, over these last 6 months, I have felt as if I was in some sort of wilderness. It has been lonely. It has been painful. It has been scary and frustrating. It’s also bringing up a deep sorrow from within: I miss my mum.

My thoughts go out to Jesus at times like this. I ask him so many questions. I think I don’t always wait to hear the answers. I’ll need to apologize to Him for that! My questions are not so much along the lines of ‘Why is this happening?’ but more along the lines of ‘Is this You, Lord?’ As I meet with the various aspects of grace, from my friends and family, I ask Jesus if this is Him. I know that how He reveals Himself is different now, compared to when Hagar was in that desert. I’ve been recently reminded through our church sermon series of how my favourite, King David, fell into such despair (1 Samuel 27-29) that he left the promised land out of his own accord, and in doing so, did something that even his nemesis, King Saul, was unable to do to him. That despair that David must’ve felt has felt close to me on occasion, simply because of how long and how intense these recent struggles for me have been. I have felt cut off from my usual sources of pleasure. I have felt cut off even from myself, oddly enough. But I am grateful to David still the same, as he does bounce back (1 Samuel 30) and he does this by strengthening himself in the Lord. When I look at David doing this, I wonder where he got the encouragement from to do this. How did God move him? For me, I know that when despair has hit me, there have been individuals who have come alongside me, with gestures of kindness and words of wisdom that have moved me so very much. They have met needs that I haven’t been able to verbalize. Mostly because I didn’t think it was a need until it happened. And yet, these needs were met by their acts and words even before they came up. It’s just unbelievable.

I am reminded of how God is the same God yesterday, today, and forever. I cannot make such a claim for myself. I am overjoyed with my football team when they beat our long-time rivals, but I am less pleased when they lose points (unnecessarily, I feel) to some other lesser team (in my view). My affections change. It plummets and plunges way too easily. The stability that God must possess to make this claim of being the same God across the ages does defy my understanding. And yet – I feel it. I experience it. I’ve had the same experience as Hagar in my wilderness. I have felt loved, supported, and provided for. It is mind numbing.

So, my question, ‘Is this You, Lord?’ seems a rhetorical one. I know it is Him. I know He is carrying me through this wilderness. There are things that I feel sad about – I don’t have my mum to speak to me in the way that only she can. There are things that I worry about – I don’t want my dad to feel insecure and I hope Loki copes while I’m away. There are things I feel guilty about – having to be off work for so long without much planning. These are indeed all my moments of weakness and lows. He speaks into each one through all the practical help rendered, prayers on my behalf and words of friendship that are spoken to me. How these have been a balm to me, I cannot explain. One friend joked with me about my being speechless, when I said I didn’t have words to express my thanks. I hope I am expressing it now, when I say to her and to the rest of the wonderful people who have come alongside me, that they are each being a conduit of God’s love and grace towards me. I do thank Him for how He continues to bless and show me that this is Him.

Loki came to live with us at the end of September 2019. At 18 days, he was tiny, injured and barely clinging on to life. I wasn’t sure if he would make it and it was really difficult caring for him and ensuring his survival. Loki’s initial injuries meant that I couldn’t socialise him right away. He needed to be kept away from other dogs and I couldn’t let people simply pick him at the risk of causing more injury. I followed the advice of the vet so very strictly. Loki was fragile and I did all I could to bring him out of that state. God really answered prayers and paved a way for Loki to grow into the healthy, bouncy doggy he is now. 

Sometime towards the end of January 2020, I started taking Loki for classes. It felt like a good way to get him on the path of socialising. Little did I know, there was a pandemic around the corner and all these opportunities for Loki came crashing. Very shortly after that, work from home instructions ensued. Loki was probably the happiest one of all, because it meant that I was home all the time. To own the truth, he barely knew what it was for me to be away from him. I used to take him to the office in his carrier just to manage his feeding. He was unable to take in a normal amount and so his feeding was broken up into shorter schedules. I even took him to church, when I had to lead a discussion! Loki doesn’t yet know what it means for me to be away. 

As I write this, things are opening up here in Malaysia and you could say the same in most places. All of us are striving to get on with life after the pandemic. There are protocols to follow, but there is some sort of movement of people again. I’m not sure how it will be for Loki when I head back to the office. Even now, on days when I go to hospital, when I definitely cannot take him with me, it is so very difficult. He cries and whines as I leave and when I come back, he yelps his disapproval of having been left behind. Then there’s a long routine of greeting, cuddling him and having my face licked non-stop. The relief is palpable for Loki. I am home. 

I use these trips to hospital (how I wish they were elsewhere) to show Loki that separation is not too bad. I give him treats as I leave so he has a good experience to associate with my walking out the door, and I bring him little treats when I come back to show him another positive experience. He’s not fully buying into this! Yet, I know I must keep weaning him off his need to be so close to me 24/7. 

This makes me think about God and me. Here I am thinking that I’m training Loki, but it has dawned on me that Loki has just taught me a very important lesson about God and how I am with Him. I don’t suffer from separation anxiety from God. I really need to! What I mean is that, Loki is desperate to be with me, right by my side, walking, playing or even just sleeping. How desperate am I to be this way with God? How is it, I can rush through my daily quiet times or not think about Him for long chunks of the day? 

Loki is showing me an emotional dependence that I need to cultivate with God. It does require me to know my place. Loki knows his place is right in my arms or by my side. He feels safest and most loved when he is there. My head tells me that God is good. My head also tells me to plan for and solve things on my own. Who am I kidding? These past months have shown me how little I truly control. I could plan till the cows came home and achieve nothing.  

Reliance on God doesn’t come easily to me. It is about trust. As I read the book of Job with some wonderful friends, I am realising how much I let my expectations of God and what I want from Him in terms of a response, dictate my closeness to Him. How wrong I have been. My response to God should be because He is good and He is where I am truly most loved and where I am safest. The cross shows me that. The glorious Son of God, Jesus, died for me, not only demonstrating love for someone who doesn’t deserve His love, but also to protect this person from such death and punishment. 

God does speak to us in different ways. The Spirit convicts us of our wrongs and grows us. Yet again, He has used my little, floppy, imperfect bodied Loki, to show me truth that I must cling to. As I wean Loki off being too clingy, I must drive myself to cling to my Saviour. This is going to be a very busy time! So thankful to God for this challenging lesson. May I cling to Him for always. Oh Lord, help me in this! I am grateful to God for using Loki to teach me yet another lesson! 

Loki will be two in August this year. Time certainly has flown past since he popped into my life. He’s got heap loads of personality and is learning how to be incredibly naughty. Yes, yes, he is living up to his name! Apparently, it’s the sign of a happy doggy!

Loki makes me laugh. He has almost perfected his injured look for when I am working and not spending time with him the way he wants. He uses his loud bark to perfection. The pressure is real when I am on a work call and he suddenly lets out one of his weepy, heart breaking yelps. It’d break any heart. I’ve had to steel up because giving in to this tactic of his will only mean he has a bigger sense of entitlement. Loki also has a wonderful sense of timing. He plans his most frenzied “attacks”, which are essentially calls for attention at the worst possible time. I may be in the middle of presenting something or on a call with colleagues, family or friends. All of a sudden, there’s a blitz attack on me and all you see is my camera moving all over the place. It’s like a blur. A cousin recorded it while we were on a chat and you can’t make out what’s happening! All you know is there is some commotion going on and that at points, Loki’s face pops up or mine! He seems to know precisely what he’s doing too. I kid you not. Once the laptop’s been put away, he is back to being a normal doggie and he’s all ready for cuddles. Honestly. He’s got some cheeky monkey located somewhere within! 

Another thing Loki does is he tries to organise his own meals. He figures if he doesn’t finish up all his food, he can get filled up through treats or whatever it is I’m eating. It’s not clocked that he’s not getting anything from me and that I’m on to his treat accumulating strategy! He really waits! It makes me laugh because he does all sorts to attract my attention and push it towards the treats in the locker. His persistence is impressive! But this, I cannot give in to! 

One of my favourite things to do is to walk with Loki. He’s so full of life and is curious about everything he sees. There are challenges when we walk because Loki has a disability as a result of trauma suffered within hours of being born. One of his hind legs is missing a paw, while the paw on the other hind leg is missing two toes. This disability has an impact on his life in so many ways. 

The first challenge his disability presents when we go walking is with other dogs with their owners or strays. These dogs sense a weakness in Loki, and they come forward in an attempt to dominate. It’s very different from just a mild curiosity that dogs have when they see each other. They come forward, brazenly. It can be quite threatening. Some are even rather menacing in their approach. The disability also has an impact on Loki. He knows he has a defect and after having been subject to a few attempts of other dogs (stray or not) trying to dominate him or chase after him, he’s had enough. He gets really ferocious if any dog comes too near! I’ve learnt that I make the difference to both, the other dogs and Loki. To the other dogs, I am now a barrier preventing their access to Loki. I refuse to let them come close to him and I wave about a stick to keep them at bay. They know now to stay away. Where Loki is concerned, he is now protected and he no longer needs to protect himself. So he doesn’t see the need to become ferocious. He is calm, while I deal with the other dogs. It’s been such an interesting learning curve. It makes me think about my own weaknesses too, in life. Maybe I have been very quick to defend myself against a whole load of people, including  bad bosses or troublesome friends. Loki trusts me to deal with his troubles. Do I trust God to deal with mine? This is a big question. I am not saying that we should tolerate abuse or wrong-doing. No. This was never meant to be tolerated because they are ungodly. However, in the past, I may have obliterated some of my foes. If Loki can trust me, with all my flaws and imperfections, can I not trust my Father in Heaven, who is flawless and perfect? This is a new prayer point. 

The other challenge that Loki’s disability brings about is that his stump hurts him when we walk. I had slowly built Loki up to walking for about 45 minutes to an hour, when all of a sudden, he started being unable to do this. He would limp and his bung leg would be all wobbly. It feels awful, watching this young pup have to go through this. He’s full of life, loves doing his walks, but instead, has to have days off without a walk. We can’t force it when the stump bleeds or is all swollen and red. I watch my little trooper respond to this and it warms my heart. On days when this little mischief maker is unable to go frolicking about outside, he contents himself with frolicking in our garden. He enjoys sunning himself in the balcony, sits and watches the world go by! He really does! He does not go to his leash to demand a walk. Instead, he rests his stump a bit more on those days and takes it all in. He waits for me to give him back scratches and cuddles and to take out his toys so he can play. The pain even affects Loki’s ability to jump out of the car. On those days, he patiently waits for me to come around and carry him out. He doesn’t seem frustrated. This has been really amazing to watch. It makes me think of my own illness and how it floors me just as I think I’ve got a grip. It’s been tough pulling back from things I’ve done so naturally in the past. It feels hard to be content when I’m forced to be still. Maybe these are yet lessons that I need: contentment in the face of adversity and the ability to wait on God to carry me out. 

As I write this, Loki’s rolled up in a little ball on his little bed. We have just come in from a walk and he did enjoy it ever so much. It struck me, how well paired we are – a doggy who needs to go a little slow because of a painful stump and his owner who is trying to fight her way through an RA flare up, who needs to learn to slow down. It is good that Loki isn’t in a hurry. He helps me see that it’s okay to slow down. I do thank God! I am so grateful that the one true God brought this little four-legged character into my life! Thank you, God, for Loki.