Anita’s Blog

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. 

The end of May and all of June 2021 have been horrid for me. I have felt pain at levels that I never have before and the fatigue I’ve felt has been a revelation to say the least. I’m not a quitter, and most people who know me well know I have a high tolerance for pain. But this time round, I found it really hard. The fatigue alone knocked me out! It’s truly what tips the scales in favour of my illness. I feel like I’m fighting this rheumatoid arthritis (RA) with no gloves on. When you can do very little, how do you fight a battle?

The extrovert in me made some attempts to show up among colleagues, family or friends. Mostly, I think it was shamed into doing that. Shamed by my own self, at that. I hated how I sounded, which was like I had been crying for hours or like I had a bad head cold. The joy in my voice was missing and it was most apparent to me. I even lacked the desire to really be with anyone. I wanted to rest instead. Me? The extrovert within felt trapped and a little doomed. Messaging people was also tough. I reminded myself of phrases for emails, WhatsApp messages, etc, that sounded positive. The extrovert felt that need. But it was hard to keep it up and inevitably, I had to acknowledge that I needed to go to bed or that I wasn’t going to turn the camera on for the video call, etc. I have been feeling quite defeated. 

There are so many things that I want to do. I want to walk and play with my gregarious pooch, Loki. I want to figure out how to get on top of my work with the challenges of COVID. I want success there. I want to read many books, listen to podcasts, be out and about, talk to friends and the list goes on. I want to help celebrate birthdays, bake and cook for family or friends and plan the next gathering for when our lockdown ceases. It’s pretty normal stuff that I want. And there’s a sinking feeling inside because it is these pretty normal things that I am finding hard to do. To give it some context, my 88 year old father has been doing more things for himself than he would otherwise be, if I were more like me. I’m not okay with this. 

This pain and fatigue has got old. I’m bored of it. I’m done with it. I told a friend I wish there was some place that I could stick it, for it is unwanted. It is annoying me. I feel justifiably so! 

The voices of reason are blessings. They are a wonderful smattering of people for whom I’m very thankful. All these feel like a blast of fresh air, compared to how I feel when am smothered by this ridiculous battle. They have been a real solace. I do thank God for them.

Life keeps going on. Work needs to be done, friends and family cared for, and the list goes on. In the midst of all this, I have learnt to take a moment. My mind’s buzzing with tiredness and anxiety of what lies ahead. I remind myself not to be anxious. God loves me more than the birds of the air. I’m more precious, it says. I remind Jesus that at times like this, I don’t feel very precious to Him. I know He died for me, giving me a certain hope for an inheritance. Pondering on it still doesn’t make me feel very precious or loved. It’s a hope that feels so far away. I remind Jesus too of all His many blessings on those who called out to Him. The times when people just came to Him and said “if you will” or “if you only say the word..” or when they told themselves if they could only touch his clothing, they would be healed. I remind Jesus that He is also the same God, yesterday, today and forever. So why not the same for me? As I say these things to Him, I also tell Him that He will have an answer for me like He did for Job. I’m not satisfied by that. I ask him instead to give me a moment like He did for Jacob: a victory in battle with a more powerful being than himself (Genesis 32: 24-29). 

I don’t know where my chats with Jesus are headed. Some days I tell Him, I’m too tired to talk and maybe if He makes me better, I could talk more. I’m not sure if He has a laugh at that point or if He sighs or what. I do have to try this. I agree, it is rather base. So do I stop talking to Him? I’m not ready to do that. It didn’t quite work for King David, I have to say! I’m not ready to say goodbye to Jesus. I feel very strongly in my heart that it is a relationship I never want to terminate.

I’m glad that I can have these conversations with Him, because even when I am bored sick of this situation, I know He is listening. He promised that. So I trust that this process of me telling Him what’s deep inside me, is what He wants, even if the words aren’t pretty and even if I sound slurred, groggy and can’t complete my sentences. Many times, I’ve fallen asleep on Him. I can’t tell everyone everything of how I’m feeling. What I say to those around me, is barely the tip of the iceberg. The eternal optimist within me masks things and makes them sound well. I put pressure on myself to see the silver lining. Jesus doesn’t put that pressure on me. When I feel really awful and demand if He is really there, He reminds me of how He hung on that cross for me. He reminds me of how The Father rejected Him and His prayer so that I wouldn’t have to face that rejection. So we’re back to that inheritance He has for me, which He now reminds me, is imperishable, unlike the troubles of this world, which will fade away. 

My RA makes me anxious. I worry about my performance at work. I don’t feel as capable as I used to be. I worry about sustaining the relationships I have with family and friends. I worry about abilities I will lose. I worry I can’t serve in church. I worry that I will face the same ending as my mum did. The signs are there. I cannot say all these things to my loved ones, every time I am seized by them. It would be overwhelming. I can’t do that to them. With Jesus, I don’t have this worry. I can bring myself to Him and lay it all out there. He understands weariness, pain, temptation, loneliness, frustration, rejection and a whole host of things. He knows what it’s like when no one listens, so I trust He won’t stop listening. I cannot stop going to Him. I cannot stop holding on. Maybe, this is what Jacob did right. He refused to let go. He got out of that battle limping. Victorious but with a limp. I will remember this lesson. 

Despite so many instances coming to light of various instances of abuse of power or even just wrong behaviour, there is still a label that gets attached to the person who holds their ground or pushes back against the wrong-doing. It’s mind-boggling. On the one hand, we’re told to stand up for ourselves but the very instant we hold our boundaries, all sorts gets thrown our way. I’ve recently had time to reflect on this and I realise that I’ve been labelled so many things, that for a long time, I even believed it. 

This labelling happens at home, among extended family, in church, amongst colleagues as well as other social groups of friends. They form a perception about you, which is wholly untrue because apart from projecting their own issues on to the problem at hand, they neglect the various other parts of you. I’m sick of it! So sick of it. 

When I was 17, I threw my 44 year old uncle out of our home on Christmas Day. He was trying to be overly friendly with my girlfriends, all of whom were my age! It was creepy. I felt “ignore him” was not a good response from the adults present and finally, I lost it with him. He left, tail between his legs. Our relationship has never really recovered. I’m not particularly torn up about it because his behaviour’s changed very little. Putting him aside, I remember the backlash I got from my other relatives. My parents sat me down to talk to me about this and finally in my desperation, I said “he was wrong!” My mum, who is my heart, said “I know.” Her voice was quiet and her manner intense. She told me that her only concern at this point was how people would view me. Even my dad agreed with her. They both said that I needed to prepare myself for a rather long ride ahead, because people would not see it as me doing doing the right thing but just a younger person behaving aggressively towards an older person. I remember this conversation with them very well. “Would you have me change?” I remember asking, sobbing away at this point. I loved their response. They both said that they wanted me to be true to what was right, to be ready to defend those who needed defending, but to also remember that it was a long, lonely road. My parents were so right. 

I have found out over the years that as I’ve stood up for things, or myself, the labels just kept getting slathered on. 

I once put a guy sitting on his motorbike into the drain. It was not done because I was looking for kicks. Rather, he was rude to me. “Fat girl, what you gonna do?” He sang it over and over again, loudly, even though I asked him to stop. He had parked his motorbike by the side of a rather big drain and was seated on it as he sang out his taunts for everyone to hear. I guess I showed him what I was going to do. With a kick that I think even Captain America would be proud of, I pushed his motorbike (with him on it), into the drain. The singing stopped. I walked home, with many onlookers just stopping to stare. No one thought it was necessary to look at him while he was taunting me loudly earlier. 

It’s never changed. In church, I feel like I’m on a ‘naughty step’ because I’ve stood up for certain things. Once it was how people serving in particular ministries were spoken to. I remember the heartache that these people endured because they shared their disappointments with me. But when I raised it, I was the ‘bad’ one. It’s not something I’ve recovered from (in terms of the label) and additional labels have been added to me for various stands taken. Even the ones who support me don’t help when they say “you really know how to give it!” That’s not the point of the exercise. That’s not who I am. It is yet another label.

I remember a victim of abuse speaking to a couple from our church. “I don’t want to go back to him (her husband)” she kept saying. She said it eight times. And each time, they brushed what she said aside to push reconciliation. Then I stepped in and the pushing stopped. It wasn’t done maliciously, I’m very sure of that. They were trying to help, but she was being dismissed. I was amazed that she wasn’t being listened to. She was clear. She didn’t want to go back to her husband. Why did it take me being super firm for it to stop? No one was listening.

I don’t go into a confrontation yelling and screaming to begin with. I actually have a rather soft voice, and by nature, I like dialogue more than anything else. But what I’ve realised over the years is, I get dismissed when I speak quietly. No one hears me until I yell. I am so tired of yelling. 

Additionally, I don’t believe on picking on every single thing. There are lots of things that I let slide. I would be incredibly wound up if I couldn’t do that. So there are points, when I think I won’t hold my ground or make a stand. The labelers don’t see this.

 I must say very clearly that I am tired of people labelling me for holding firm to my boundaries. 

When a part time helper broke something, I reached out to the friend who had introduced her to me to ask how they handled such things in their home. I was told to “go easy, tigress”. Why was I being labelled so? Does wanting to address a problem make me so aggressive? Am I supposed to pretend it didn’t happen? 

I am not seeking retaliation. No. I get annoyed with my Christian brothers and sisters who throw the “turn the other cheek” thing at me. I’m asking to address a problem. There is a difference between retaliation and addressing a problem. 

I believe in Jesus. I don’t ever want to pay someone back for a wrong. I don’t think this is what He wants me to do. I think though, that He wouldn’t be against me having a frank conversation with the person who has wronged me. I think it’s better than me running around saying a million things to different people. I think if the problem is addressed, we will either come to a point on which we agree or where we completely disagree. I think it is okay if we disagree at the end of that process. Perhaps, I have made a mistake and the other’s explanation helps me understand things. Perhaps they can’t accept that there is a mistake on their part. If the situation justifies it, I think it is okay to walk away from that person after that. 

I believe in Jesus. I need to start recognising myself in Him. I need to stop buying into these labels that people put on me, when I stand up for myself or something else. They are disillusioning and make me out to be someone I am not. I need to rest in Jesus’ acceptance of me. My parents were right: it can be that things get lonely when you stand up for things. However, it does get really bearable, when I remember that in Jesus, my acceptance is complete. 

This year, 2020, will probably be remembered for the Coronavirus and how it’s impacted the world. I’m quite sure that I won’t forget COVID, but there have been a few conversations that took place this year, which I think I will never ever forget either. These conversations related to how we as a community in Christ, should respond or how we could respond better to abuse that comes to our knowledge.

I must say that I am always happy to have such conversations. It is a way to learn through the exchange of ideas and things we have read and experienced. Having said that, I must say too, that some of the ideas and opinions expressed have shocked and left me a little disheartened. These conversations have left me keenly aware of the need for more awareness for all of us on the dos and don’ts.

Most of the instances of abuse that we talked about were that of men against women in the context of marriage or romantic relationships. I don’t dispute that there are men who are abused by women. I think that statistically speaking there are more instances of violence against women and so there are more conversations surrounding this. I hope though that male victims get the support and help they need- as much as I hope for women who are abused, to receive the necessary support.

One of the biggest points of contention was believing domestic abuse happens within our church communities. It is a hard one to stomach. That being so, it doesn’t remove the fact that domestic abuse is alive and well within church communities. We may not see it as much because there are so many teachings on submission to the husband, that are not always accurate, or which, even if are faithfully taught, create an expectation that this needs to be worked at by both parties within the marriage. Often the onus is on the woman to submit. The expectation on a woman, is that as she the one who is required to submit, she needs to work on herself. The brothers I was chatting to, agreed at this point that they should accept that maybe there is some domestic abuse, but that perhaps, it was a misunderstanding on how the passages of submission by a wife to a husband were applied within a marriage. I asked what the misunderstanding could possibly be and was told that when a husband feels that the wife isn’t submitting, that perhaps, the ‘abuse’ was justified. Apparently, the husband may be frustrated that he’s unable to do his duty in the marriage. It took a lot to not throw up on them at this point. It is amazing that people forget that the church is the bride of Christ. I raised this point with the brothers that I was talking to and they were quick to agree that indeed, the church was Christ’s bride. I then said that within the church, there was often unfaithfulness to Jesus, and I must say that the brothers were quick to concede this. I then asked them for examples of when Jesus abused the church for failures. There was a silence. They nodded their heads after a while and moved on to another point on abuse.

One of the questions that shocked me most, were questions from my guy friends saying, “How do you know the woman is telling the truth?” According to them, “it is a well-known and established fact that women are over-sensitive and emotional.” This has apparently made it difficult for women to construe facts of what is happening and accordingly, women tend to overreact. The brothers in Christ who said this to me were seated across the table from me. I hope that they appreciate how I, who must by virtue of my gender, be over-sensitive and emotional, refused to let my feelings show by reaching out across the table to smack them and poke their eyes out. I stared at them in disbelief, and then I asked an equally base question: “how do you know that the men are telling the truth? Isn’t it an established fact that men lie?” I must say I rather enjoyed the look of surprise that came over their faces. They started back pedaling and I very politely asked them to shut up and recognize the idiocy behind what they said. “I get what you’re doing with your question,” one of them finally spoke up. I had by this time in my mind, played out the scene where I was the Hulk and they were Loki and I had just slammed them about before walking away saying “puny god!” I did show such restraint. They will never know.

In some of the other conversations that took place at different points, the brothers in Christ said that a victim hadn’t confided in them about her abuser. They said that they could therefore say that they had no direct knowledge of what had happened and continue in a close relationship with the abuser. Mind you, they didn’t call the men in question abusers. They used their names. It is difficult to make people see why we can be so unapproachable. As friends within a community – whether a physical one or one online, there are alliances that form. A victim isn’t about to walk up to an abuser’s friends and cry on their shoulders. Neither is she likely to communicate with them if she sees them friendly with each other on social media. It is hard to build trust. The brothers I was talking to felt that despite hearing about the abuse from what they deemed ‘respectable’ sources, they were okay to carry on close friendships with the abusers. They even said that the abuser had denied all allegations. Claims of willingness to go to the police, swear on a Bible or sign an affidavit apparently impressed these brothers so very much. I admit that at this point, I was close to tears. The onus was on the victim to go to friends of her abuser and tell them what has been happening. Just because she fails to do this, the abuser’s friends are free to disregard other credible sources of what has happened.

Additionally, these brothers in Christ said that the woman needed to show proof. Apparently emotional abuse is easy to make up and so there needed to be proof. Even for physical abuse, there needed to be proof. At points I felt my eyes roll so far back into my head, I was sure they were never coming back. In frustration, I asked them to write down exactly how they would like a married woman to prove that she was being raped by her husband, so that the next victims could perhaps then come up to them with evidence of their claims. I also asked them to write down the evidence that they required for damage caused by emotional abuse. They said maybe they needed to rethink this. I can’t say I was convinced.

The conversations at some point went back to the women’s credibility. Apparently, the abusers had long claimed, years before the allegations came out, that their wives were mentally unstable. This therefore meant that the women were now merely living up to their true selves that had somehow remain hidden to the rest of the world. When I asked if it was possible for the abusers to be manipulative enough to start spinning stories early on to destroy their wives’ credibility, the brothers said they didn’t think it was likely. Any disappointment I felt was already on a negative scale at this point.

Then there was the issue of forgiveness and grace. Apparently, the victim should forgive the abuser and show grace if there were mistakes made. My friends were of the understanding that reconciliation was the end goal. According to them, this meant that we should not show any difference to the abuser because we would then be unforgiving and ungracious. They found it hard to see that if Jesus was there, an unrepentant heart could be turned away. I used the example of the rich young ruler. These guys also found it hard to believe that it was okay to remove the woman from the abusive environment permanently, if needs be. They kept insisting that the abuser is given the chance to show remorse. There was no way around making them understand how such abusers are amazing in their show of remorse and guilt only to suck the victim into another cycle of impending abuse.

These are just some of the things that were discussed, and which completely irked and disgusted me. I was frustrated. These ideas show me how little women are valued even among men who believe in Jesus. I don’t think that all believing men are like this, but they are fewer in number than the majority who believe in Christ but who profess such ideas. It confounds me simply because it completely undermines the value of a woman.

God demonstrated His justice, when He created men and women. This is true. He is just and in His just character, He made us from the same substance. He made us equal.  He is also a beautiful God. He enjoys diversity. He delighted in the differences between us. He gave us tasks that suited us. These differences, in a fallen world, have resulted in claims of superiority. They were never meant to do that. Jesus has also demonstrated His love for both men and women through His death on the cross. I must say He was a magnificent example of how to treat a woman. He let women be the bearers of the news of His resurrection at a time when women weren’t even considered reliable witnesses in court. Sometimes, it feels like not much has changed in attitudes towards women. It is scary. In a fallen world, for some, who, when they teach about authority in church and how it belongs to men, and how they go on to grasp this ‘power’ with not even so much of a second thought for women, I only have this to say. We are equal members of the church of Christ, bought by and redeemed by His blood. We are His children. He doesn’t tolerate abuse of His children, and there will be a day of reckoning, when abusers and those who protected them or went alongside them, will have to answer to our God. In the meantime, we will do what we can to bring relief to those who are being victimized. We will keep learning how to reach out and we will reach out when needed. This is my prayer for all men and women within my community. There is much to do.

It’s quite funny how I immediately think of my four-legged Loki when I see Loki from the Marvel Universe. Thor’s brother, who is rather mischievous, has moments of goodness that move you to the core. He loves theatrics, power, mischief and seems to enjoy a good laugh at the expense of others. 

When I tell people that my Loki’s been naughty, they tell me that it serves me right for naming him so! Yeah, right! I cannot even imagine why I named Loki after Marvel’s ‘god of mischief’.

The first time I saw Loki was in some photograph on Petfinder, which had popped up on my Facebook feed. The little blurb about him mentioned that he had been badly injured, but no real details were given. Something inside, moved me. I felt he was a little fighter and for some reason, I felt like I wanted to cheer him on. It’d only been months since I lost Patches and I wasn’t planning on taking on another fur baby. Then, I called to find out about this little creature that was magically appearing in my thoughts. Lo and behold, I found out that he was only 7 days old at that point. 

Initially, I said that I couldn’t take him on but everyday, when I drove to work, went for a walk or had a moment of quiet, this little creature would come into my mind. For some reason, I thought of how the little blue creature from Jotunheim had wormed his way into the heart of Odin, ruler of Asgard. Like Odin, I fell. Ten days later, Loki came home with me. 

Loki was severely injured. He clung for his life with such tenacity – it was amazing to watch. He struggled to drink enough milk at any one point, so his feeding was literally around the clock. He groaned in pain, sighed and slept. He often had nightmares. The poor thing. However, he would lap up all the love he could, whenever he was held or touched. He snuggled into me when he was in my arms. Loki made a play for my heart. 

Loki’s now slightly over one. He’s such a jolly little creature. He enjoys walking, playing with a ball or soft toys and he loves cuddling. He’s been great with kids and other adults as well as some dogs. However, there have been incidents when Loki has snapped at people and other dogs. They have been difficult to understand. 

Loki is quite fearful, when I think of it. Maybe he realises his own inadequacies. His handicap makes other dogs become predatory around him and they try to establish their dominance. He snaps when he is afraid. He snaps to protect himself. It’s behaviour I cannot excuse.

Yet, I absolutely love him. 

The experts have suggested that his early trauma has put him in a fearful mode. It makes complete sense to me. I remember the trauma. They’ve also said that whilst we can try to work out some of the issues, that they may never be fully resolved as the trauma is so deep seated. My little darling is damaged, as it were.

Yet, I absolutely love him. 

When I say I love him despite all the brokenness and flaws, it makes me think too of my own relationship with God. I have sin that is so deeply rooted that despite the various lessons and learnings which have taken place, I am hesitant to say, that I am fully good now. There is a constant battle within me- to be more Christlike, which is ridiculously hard (and not always satisfying) or to be exactly who I want to be, which is very easy but I’m not always very nice at this point. Today’s world lauds moments of “badassed-ness” that most would say that it is all well even when I’ve not acted well. Yet, I know, it isn’t. This idea of authentic self is set so high, that people forget how horrifying the true image of Dorian Gray was. Dorian kept his true face (in the picture) hidden. It is hard to accept that our true faces may not be as wonderful as we would like to think, and that these moments of being a badass are truly quite unremarkable. They are hideous.

Whilst I am sometimes difficult to feed spiritually (not otherwise, unfortunately!), I know there is one thing I crave. That is this love that comes to me so freely in the person of Jesus. It is love that never leaves me no matter what the circumstance is with me, no matter how broken I am and  no matter how badly I fall. There is a verse that I am reminded of: ‘For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.’ (Romans 8:38-39)

What a great reminder! I, who am so flawed, want to love Loki, who is so broken, even though my love is imperfect. I cannot give up on Loki. It feels to me that through this little ‘god of mischief’, the one true God is showing me how much more His love for me is. It is comforting to know that He absolutely loves me! 

When I was 10, I was fascinated by Jesus’ prayer in John 17. He prayed for the disciples who belonged to the Father (John 17:6). He then widens that prayer to those who ‘believe through their word’ (John 17: 20-26). It truly is sobering to think that my intercessor prays for me this way because He loves me. Jesus’ prayer seems to be that He will never lose us. My God seeks me completely. He does this regardless of my brokenness. I am relieved by this, beyond words. Jesus will never give up on me.

When I look back at Loki, who has triggered these thoughts in my head, I see a little creature who needs a safe home. Just like me, he doesn’t always realise he is home. There is pain caused, when he does that, just as I know I pain my Lord, when I don’t behave like I am a part of His family. Astoundingly, Loki is perhaps a far better example to me than I am to him. He tirelessly seeks me out. He longs for closeness between us and he never tries to leave me. As I write this, I am challenged on how much I seek out the Father who loves me. How much do I seek closeness with Jesus? How often do I try to go it alone? 

Yet, my God loves me. 

Thank you, my skinny little bag of mischief, Loki, for this fantastic reminder of the love I have amidst my own brokenness. Thank you for being so loveable too. I thank my God for you! You fit perfectly within our home, brokenness and all.

Ruth David was my grandmother. She was 94 years old. She was a believer in Jesus Christ – a belief which I’m sure will result in our meeting again when God’s kingdom is fully realised according to His promises. I stand here before you today to tell you that I am sad (as I am sure family and friends are too) because she is no longer physically here with us. I do however, rejoice in the blessing that God gave me and all of us whose lives she impacted – and I stand here before you today to say thank You to God for her life.

Before I go on any further – I want to extend a big thank you to my aunty Cynthia and uncle David Kanagaraj and family as the main share in the task of looking after my granny over the last few years fell entirely on their shoulders. Thank you from the rest of the family.

My grandmother wasn’t perfect – she’d a terribly stubborn streak, which I’m quite sure she passed down to my mum (who is also with the Lord) and I’m sure that that streak’s also found it’s way down to me! She was quiet – and unassuming – but that stubbornness – that will that she had was strong. She made mistakes (as we all do) and she enjoyed life as we all do. One thing that she did, that not all of us can do is to sacrifice her life for those she loved. Ask any of us, her grandchildren – and we’ll tell you of how she has at some point or other helped in our upbringing. Most of us even call her ‘ama’. She looked after us to help out our parents – but mind you, she never did so for any kind of compensation nor did she make any kind of demand in return. She never amassed wealth. She didn’t even own things – except for what she wore. She lived serving – and in the faith that saw her always clothed, fed and looked after. She loved and was protective of the people she loved.

There was quite an amusing childlike kind of eagerness that she had whenever she’d to go to church. We’ve all at some point or other teased her or laughed about the fact that she’d be ready to leave for church sometimes more than an hour ahead of time, even though church would be a 10 minute car drive away. And she’d cluck and chase after us to get ready. This was her way of instilling in us the discipline of going to church, which was for her a very big deal. I still wish I could do this – and encourage others to go to church in the same way for it is what we are called to do. And childlike as this was – my grandmother was doing the right thing.

Another thing that used to make us laugh was the way she’d make all the tid-bits for Christmas in such large quantities, we could’ve been an IKEA for tid-bits at Christmas. She always ensured that every family unit would have an ample supply – and my grandmother was generous in her quantification of ‘ample’. I remember masterminding a plot alongside some of my cousins – to get rid of a large quantity of murukku flour she wanted us to help with. We’d wanted to go swimming instead. The plan was to pack the murukku dough into our pockets – and mind you we’d some pretty huge pockets on those shorts we wore then! It worked – and she was very pleased with us coz she thought we’d been diligently squeezing out murukkus. Later, we did tell her the truth… and she laughed. Later, we also discovered that good murukku is hard to come by…and we cried!

There are lots of stories that I could tell you – from the time she first sailed to Malaya from India, the encounters with the Japanese during the Japanese occupation of Malaya, the feasts she’d cook up, the countless games she played with me… so many things but they wouldn’t be the right way that we should remember this person.

The last week or so has been difficult. She was dying of old age. Literally – that’s what it was. Her sight was failing as was her breath. Her bones were aching and her body was just decaying – right before our eyes. It was horrific watching. And… I’m convinced, it wasn’t easy for her either. In fact, it must’ve been terrible. But… there were the things that she said: and these are the things that I want you to remember her by. She cried out to God – to Jesus – to have mercy on her, this sinner and to come take her home. It was to Him (her maker) that she cried out to. Not to her children, grandchildren or great grandchildren. Over and above the role of wife, mother, grandmother and great-grandmother – my granny was a believer and a follower of Jesus Christ. Remember her this way. I think that would be the best way to think of her: Ruth David, believer and follower of Jesus Christ. And when you do that, thank God for His mercy in sending her as His blessing to our family – we have been richly blessed indeed.

It has certainly been a tough year with the Coronavirus. I think most people are fatigued by all the changes the year has brought. There has been loss of life on a monumental scale. There are so many who have lost their jobs and are as a result suffering secondary losses like paying bank loans and putting food on the table, among others. There’s been so much loneliness and isolation for people. Some families have had to be separated from a loved one who’s stuck elsewhere. Businesses both large and small are shutting down, if they haven’t already. It’s been a crazy year to say the least. Then almost as if this spanner in the works wasn’t causing enough trouble, life goes on. Our own situations have kept going! I think most of us are tired out by how things shaped up in 2020. And now, galloping towards us at break neck speed, is Christmas. 

Christmas is a fun time for a lot of people. There’s so much going on, festivities and gaieties everywhere. For so many, it can also be a very difficult time, as they remember the loss of loved ones, deal with loneliness or illness. Christmas has got its lovers and its haters. 

In my own home, in true Malaysian fashion, we used to have ‘open house’ on Christmas Day. Family and friends from near and far would drop by for a visit, which usually involved food! Whatever the time they came, there was always a full meal, over and above the cookies, cake and chocolate that was served rather generously. The cooking that happened was just out of this world, and make no mention of the volumes! I think many Malaysians of my generation and earlier, will relate to these open houses that happened at times of celebration. I loved these open houses. They were exhausting! But I loved every moment of them. They were certainly exciting times. 

The way I celebrated Christmas changed significantly after my mum passed away. For the first couple of years after she passed on, it was impossible to think of doing anything. After that, I started hosting stuff on a smaller scale. I would invite different groups of friends over on different days. It was good having them in our home again over Christmas. This is how it has been since. After everyone leaves, I sit myself down with a cuppa, stare into the Christmas tree lights and recall past conversations with my mum after friends and family left after a celebration. It’s something that has become precious to me. 

This year, as Christmas approaches, I have not got parties lined up. Mostly, COVID sheltered me from that pressure. We’ve had all sorts of restrictions and even now, with things being a bit relaxed, gatherings aren’t encouraged. What a relief this has been. I’ve not quite worked out how to go about life during celebrations just yet, as I feel a sense of gloom about my mobility, descending on me. My rheumatoid arthritis has got worse and a lot of the time, I just feel yuck! It takes a lot of work being in a crowd now and I am thankful that I do indeed draw energy from people- that has helped. 

It feels weird not being able to go shopping as I always did. Whatever I can order online, I’ve ordered online. I’ve read reviews faithfully, made choices based on that and crossed my fingers each time I made an order. The knowledge that I can’t go shopping like I used to, hasn’t taken away the desire to give those dear to me, something they will like. It’s been stressful on the one hand, but I must say, that I have been mostly grateful for the options we have online. 

Putting up the Christmas tree was a “Herculean effort” as I mentioned to a few friends. I know this is the last time I’ll be able to use this tree. I’m giving it away after this Christmas. I’ve been looking at it with a bit of sadness because I like this tree a lot! It has been around awhile, and my mum loved it too. I’ve looked after it really well. Giving it away will feel like the close of a chapter. 

I foolishly ordered Christmas cookie packages, thinking I would make loads of cookies, like before, to give away. When they arrived, I sighed a big sigh, knowing that there is no way that I can manage this plan. 

I feel like I’m in a strange place right now. I’ve had friends speak to me about positivity, telling me not to get a walking aid because I’m not old enough for one. This has nothing to do with age. One friend decided it would be appropriate to chide me for not “snagging” a life partner while I had the chance. I wonder how being married stops me from losing my mobility. I did get annoyed with her. I’ve had to manage people asking me to do things, which I ordinarily would’ve done in the past. The fatigue I fight every day isn’t funny. Some have taken it well, some haven’t. I’ve had a lot of well meaning friends coming forward to cancel plans or rearrange things just because I’ve expressed how I am feeling. That doesn’t help either and I have had to speak to more than one person about my need to have this safe space to share how I feel. Sometimes, some friends just ignore what I’ve said – maybe the idea of someone they know using a cane to walk, isn’t very comfortable. Trust me, I didn’t really want to have to order one! Some friends tell me that I will never change in their eyes. Even this worries me. I am no longer the same. Pain changes people. My priorities and interests have changed. Some of my opinions have changed too. 

There are two things that I find hardest to swallow. One is pity. The other is the overly dramatic response. There is a handful of people to whom I can say things, without getting a pity response. They also don’t give me drama. That really helps. I can have a conversation about fears or how I feel at the time that I’m speaking to them.  I really value them. It has made all the difference to me, having them to talk to. I thank God for them!

There is one thing for which I am most grateful, and that is Jesus. Because of Jesus, COVID or this stupid rheumatoid arthritis that’s giving me a rough time, or anything in the unforeseen future, cannot change the meaning of Christmas. The celebrations may change, but the meaning of Christmas can never change. In the hearts of all believers, this is the time when hope against hope came into the world. This is the time, when God’s plan of action to set us free from all this brokenness came into action. Without Christmas, there would be no cross. Without the cross, there would be no guarantee of salvation. Without salvation, there will be no prospect of life hereafter., where our bodies are regenerated. This hope will never leave. This hope reminds me that I am loved so perfectly. Thanking God for this doesn’t feel sufficient. 

So as I look forward to Christmas, despite the disappointments that are coming up in my life and despite the sadness that the whole world is facing right now, I want to thank God for Jesus and for what He means to all believers. It may get hard at Christmas or at different points of our lives, but this is why He came. So from my home to yours, may the birth of Christ truly come alive in your hearts this Christmas. 

 I’m not very familiar with floods. The only flood I really know about is the flood in the Bible, where Noah built an ark. To believers, it is an incredible story of God’s judgement and grace. To those who think the Bible’s just gobbledygook, this is a hard story to defend! I’m not writing about that flood though. I looked through a long list of films with floods in them and I’ve not really watched any of them. Before this, my own real experience with flooding was the aftermath in our church some years ago, where a whole load of us went to clean. The damage was heartbreaking to say the least, but it wasn’t my “safe space” and I can’t say that I was shaken to the core.

On 18 July 2020, the home that I’ve lived in for 41 years experienced a freak flood. It was the first time for us, and I have to say we were caught off guard. It had been raining hard. That tends to happen in Malaysia and it’s not been something that has ever worried me. I guess it’s different if you’re from the east coast of Malaysia. But here, from within my home, I must say that I have mostly loved the spectacular rains that have come pouring down on us, as they cool things down in hot, muggy Malaysia. I don’t think I have words to put to my feelings when I realized that there was water inside our house. Loki was going bonkers and raised the alert! Clear water causing our carpets to float. My immediate steps were to carry Loki and get my 87-year-old father, who hasn’t been upstairs in years, up the stairs! I then rushed downstairs to try and move our cars but the water inside our house was already up to my calves and outside, it was at my knees. The cars weren’t going anywhere. My heart sank, as I looked at my car, which was just about 6 months old! Not the kind of thing you plan. Apart from gathering keys, the laptop, some documents, candles and matches, which I did somewhat instinctively, I was not able to do much else. I couldn’t move the furniture on my own. Within minutes, our electricity went off. Ours was the only house where this happened – not much fun. My phone battery was severely depleted at that stage and except for a few messages that I sent I couldn’t do much else. I prayed to God for mercy, for meaning. I prayed for safety, especially for my dad and Loki. I think I repeated “God, please… God, please…” for absolute ages. When the rain slowed down a little, friends within our housing area came wading by to check in on us and it was well past midnight when our electricity was restored. I tried doing a few things, but it was impossible with so much water around. The only thing left was to wait till the water receded. My amazing cousin messaged to say she’d be there. I didn’t make any other plans at that point but tried to sleep (which didn’t quite happen) and brace myself for daylight.

When the water receded, it was a bit later in the morning. I went downstairs with a heart that grew heavier at the sight of our home. Our brand-new furniture looked filthy. The kitchen looked like titans had battled in there. The whole place was like a war zone. I picked up things that could be chucked. Loki’s many chew toys were soaked right through. Those were the first that went. I spoke to a neighbour whose house wasn’t affected and asked him to take Loki over to his place. Most of my neighbours were out and about, trying to make sense of what had happened the night before. It was rather unexpected. My amazing cousin and her husband arrived with what felt like a huge disaster relief kit. She had organized for our other cousins to come too – and together, they, my aunt, our part time helper and gardener, cleaned the mess that the flood waters had caused. It felt like it was an exhausting day early on. I was already in dire need of medication for my RA at this point but was out of meds and physically – I was out for the count. Mentally I felt like a load of bricks had made its way into my head. As the cleaning went on, I did a lot of “administrative” things like getting tow trucks to come get the cars, making a police report (which was such a mind-numbing experience, yet again). I had to get my father relocated – it was just crazy. By evening, the house was clean, the furniture taken upstairs and left to dry. My cousins, who were by this time labelled a “wonderful disaster relief team” by a friend, were worn out from a long day of cleaning and heavy lifting. The lot of us went out for dinner and right throughout, even though I felt every joint in my body hurting, I felt so comforted. I felt like God had answered my prayer for mercy. God had heard me. It may make no sense to you as you read this – but deep within me, I had a certainty that God had heard me and that He had responded. I felt very supported.

Within the next few days, the volume of damage caused by the flood was apparent. As I write this on 9 August 2020, our house feels like it has undergone some savage turmoil. There was so much work going on downstairs to restore things, that wasn’t possible for my dad to return home for two weeks! If I’m honest, I felt terribly displaced in my own home. I cannot even begin to imagine some of the horrors that people who lose their homes through war or other natural disasters feel.

Most of the time while the work went on ferociously downstairs, Loki and I remained upstairs. I felt really numb on most days and sleep was evasive then. I think I’m not back to sleeping right through the night, but I’m getting there. There’s been so much noise in my head, it’s in dire need of calming down. I’ve been very irritable – some of the customer services that I had to deal with to restore internet and satellite TV, for instance, was nothing but nightmarish. Then there were the contractors, who at points tried to push me to my limits with all sorts of things – and when I stood up to them or told them off, would say that my husband was such a lucky man with a capable wife taking care of all things. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. There were things at work that annoyed me and there were messages and calls from people, who were perhaps well meaning, but who made me feel rather explosive. My emotions were jarred. I was shattered. I didn’t even have shoes to take Loki out walking as my shoes had all floated away! I felt like was trapped and I was running on empty.

I wasn’t purely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of negativity. I was overwhelmed by a lot of good things too. I was able to take some time off work on the days I needed to – this was much appreciated. It meant being able to focus on the immediate mayhem and to deal with things that needed to be dealt with. My cousins who came to help on the first day, really had me. I don’t think I’ve been able to process how much they did. They felt like a huge blessing. My aunt who lives in the same town came by a lot to help me out with Loki. This was also another relief, because Loki gets anxious when he’s left elsewhere and dealing with that is hard. It wasn’t also possible to just leave him anywhere! He was stressed by the strangers in our home and whenever I had to leave to deal with them, it was helpful to have someone there with him. Then there were the friends who and family who had different meals delivered to me as I couldn’t go into our kitchen and had no fridge or car. Some of them sent stuff especially for Loki too, providing much comic relief! Loki getting a meal from Kentucky Fried Chicken must’ve been in heaven that day! I even had fruit sent to make sure there was something healthy to eat! A big relief came in the form of another cousin and his family that my dad stayed with. They’ve been so loving and gracious towards him, that I am at a loss as to how to thank them for their hospitality. My cousin who organized the cleaning team of cousins – how do I thank her? She even drove me to hospital some days after to ensure I got to the rheumatologist without any further delay. The friend who first transferred cash to me because I was in her words “a flood victim” and a few other friends who sent along cash gifts to help with the many things that I have had to pay for – how do I thank them? The friend whose cousin manages the service centre that handled my car was another blessing. My car thankfully had not suffered water in its engine or gearbox. I was amazed beyond belief when I picked it up to find that it even smelt brand new. How do I thank my friend’s cousin? My cousins and a few friends who were just amazing to communicate with during this time: they knew the tiredness and the anxiety, and they kept it easy to reach out for stuff that was needed. There was no pressure or need for me to manage those chats or messages, for which I am extremely grateful, as they kept me sane and helped me cope. I am also grateful for the friends who prayed for me. I have been so tired, prayer has been tough and I have been comforted knowing that I was being upheld in prayer. How I do I thank these prayer warriors? There were so many offers of help that came forward that we couldn’t take up – but for which, we are well and truly grateful! I find that I am close to tears at all these acts and I genuinely am struggling to express how I feel. I feel like my emotions are flooding too, if there is such a thing!

I know that this is all God’s doing. I know that He is speaking to me through each one of these people that He has put in my life. Last year, the passage in Exodus 35:1 – 36: 7 was brought to my attention because of my work. I thought it was amazing how God raised all the support that was needed for the building of the tabernacle. That passage has given me goose bumps several times even over this year, as I’ve looked at it again and again for my work. Right now, to me, it feels like God is helping me in my own little situation. I know that this isn’t the context of the passage, and I’m not in the least trying to use it out of context but I feel that I am seeing the same God act in the way that I read about. I feel it because of how much support I’m getting through the different people in my life. It feels odd because right now, I should feel terribly depleted. Don’t get me wrong – I am shattered by this whole event. It has been rather traumatic, to say the least. But I cannot ignore the feeling that there is support from my God. I am grateful to Him for all these people.

So, to these different people in my life, who have come forward to help me at this time, I want to say, thank you. You may or may not believe in this God that I speak about, but I do thank Him for you. It is an expression of gratitude that I am yet unable to put in words to you, when I tell Him how much I am grateful for everything that you have said to and done for me during this time. I believe our God shows His amazing love for us through our community of family and friends. Each one of you displayed this love and it has really touched my heart. As we put our home back together again, I want you to also know that our home is always going to be open to you. Thank you again and again.

To my God, I have no words. I am speechless at His goodness and mercy. He’s taught me how to accept help – not very easy to do always. It is something I need to process a bit more. He has made me feel so supported and strengthened through this blow. ‘For I will proclaim the name of the LORD; ascribe greatness to our God!’ (Deuteronomy 32: 3). I feel this is what I must do.