The Seventh Day

I seldom watch television, but once in a while a show will catch my eye. My mom, sister and I spent our free waking hours during the last two days watching The Seventh Day. It was good! So cheesy I know, and of course I cried, but so good.

Maybe God does answer my prayers in funny ways. I was pretty upset early this week, some frustrating circumstances at work that had me near tears at one point, and with what happened at home. As I went to bed Monday night and thought about on the skytrain rides to and from work, why me, why do all these bad things happen to me...the day-old questions since the beginning.

The TV series was about two couples, and the last big struggle for one of the couples was that the girl had a fatal genetic disorder. Can't give away the story, but when I was watching the show I was thinking about how many hurdles both couples had to endure. I always get angry and anxious during the times when they break up or aren't together, sometimes that's why I don't like watching these things! I know life is not television, but interesting I thought this particular series is a bit more down-to-earth and realistic than other HK dramas. I could relate to having to fight the battles, and basking in the good times when they come.

I think my life is at one of those 'good times' right now. If life were like a beaker of chemicals, I can see that there are many reactions that can take place at any moment that can change the entire composition to be too acidic or too basic. For now though, it's pretty neutral.

The most surprising part of this TVB series I think, was seeing the subtle hints of God. The storyline by the mostly-absent narrator/painter ended with the phrase regarding 'the seventh day' and how though creation was called into being on the other six days...it was that day that is the best, the most beautiful, because it was the day of rest.

Nothing in life is certain, and I more and more realize the fragility of life and my own mortality and the mortality of all those I love. I want to bask, to rest and to enjoy the beauty of this 'seventh day'.

I haven’t been so angry for some time. I just feel as if the weight of the world, at least the world that is my family, lies on my bare bony, shoulders. It’s not like I wanted to yell at my 80something grandmother, but when the kettle loudly whistled in the kitchen - thank goodness I heard it - and I ran out to take it off the stove, I couldn’t believe that my grandmother was nowhere to be found. She had forgotten about the kettle and was upstairs, and of course couldn’t hear the kettle. Had I not been home, and normally I would have been out running, the house would have probably burned down as the stove element was on the highest setting. Even when I took the kettle off, there were sparks.

My grandmother means well, she wants to help out. With old age though, there are just certain things that one forgets and one isn’t able to do as well – things like fire and water are dangerous elements. I didn’t mean to yell at my grandmother, my only living grandparent, my intention was just to tell her that she doesn’t have to do these things. My family has been telling her this for a long time, but she feels guilty that if she doesn’t perform these tasks, we’ll be unhappy that they are undone. I tried to explain that’s not the case in my broken cantonese, and that there are other things she can do just as well if she wanted to help out, like washing vegetables. I feel sorry that my grandmother is bored. How could she not be? A widower and one with little formal education, there’s not much to do to pass the time away. At times like these sometimes I wonder if it’s better just to die or hire a private nursing maid. Sounds cruel doesn’t it but I’m being honest.

At the age of 22, I feel the weight of supporting my family. My sister’s consistent ill health, including bouts of IBS and scary carcinoids, my brother’s schizophrenia and lack of independence, and my parents trying to save for retirement in self employment…and take care of their elder kids. I scream and I yell in my mind - damnit why me? At the age of 22, I am trying to educate myself so I can provide for myself in the future, because I sure don’t have a trust fund or an inheritance waiting for me. More like than not, I will be supporting my family financially in the future. All I have is me. Sometimes, it’s difficult for me to associate with or not scream at people who complain about not having a significant other, a job or particular material possessions. But I try to smile and sympathize and not be a bitch and judge, but…there is so much more to life than these.

My heart breaks for elder abuse, which statistically happens more often than you think. My grandmother has pasts ghosts that haunt her, and undoubtedly drive some of her actions. Living through the communist revolution in China, it’s not had to see how hard it must have been falling from grace when her husband was a KMT official to being a refuge, dirt poor in Hong Kong. Seniors should be cared for within a loving community, not neglected and yelled at by people wishing they would just die.

Maybe I’m just selfish and I don’t want to lay my life down to sacrifice for my family – to give up my dreams and stay at home to serve them. It would require some superwoman effort, for example I could do my masters at UBC and still live at home commuting about 3 hours a day, or I could forget my masters altogether and take some kind of job that I don’t like but would pay the bills. I would be miserable but I could. I just don’t want to. Is it unloving? To use the best years of life this way. Maybe it’s just a matter of perspective. Maybe it’s circumstances that can easily change. Maybe…I have to give up my dreams and ambitions. So I ask myself, a very basic question. What does the Lord require of me? Why, my life verse, to do justice, to love kindness and to walk humbly with him (Micah 6:8). What does that mean? How do I apply that? Perhaps it isn’t to make policy, to write fabulous articles, or to plan better programs like I dream but to be at home. And somehow find joy in it. I’ll let you know when I get there.

Kelly and I spent a day doing girlie things during the Easter weekend and one of the things we were talking amidst eating Bearded Paps and noodles was about suffering. She was saying how the reason the two of us are still friends, unlike many of our other high school relationships, is because we share many things in common, one of the most being the fact that we both went through a greal deal of shit in our teenage years. Different stories, for her it was a life-or-death surgery and all that goes along with it, and for me, it was a plague of diseases that befall upon my siblings. Many people that we know, but don’t really know, I am sure can relate to these kinds of experiences, and have likewise concluded that “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”…and the hope, always the hope, that this means better days ahead.

God, I am on the ground faced down at this point. Please take this headache from me. It is gorgeous outside in Vancouver, and I have to believe, like Alex said to me last night, that “it’s OK and it’s going to be good.”

Love is the reason. Period.

So I have finally mustered up the courage to watch A Beautiful Mind tonight at Alvina's house. The movie came out quite a few years ago and though I knew the gist of the storyline, I hadn't taken the initiative to watch it despite always referring to the movie, when explaining schizophrenia, my brother's condition, to others. In light of the reality that I may be leaving my fair city for graduate school, I'm trying to work through my list of mental, emotional and spiritual 'baggage' (you know those things that make you cringe when you think about them?), and tonight was one hit.

I liked the movie a lot, and even more so since it was based on the real-life story of John Nash. Although my brother is neither a mathematical genius nor Nobel Peace prize winner, my family can relate to the many of the characteristics and struggles depicted in the movie: the difficulty in getting the patient to realize they have a problem and to treatment, the side effects of treatment, the shame, and the feelings of anger, guilt and sadness to them, to God, to ourselves. Thank God that my brother was diagnosed in the 1990s and not the 1950s when the shock treatment was in its heyday, but the 'hit and miss' of chemicals in little capsules, remains.

I liked how the movie didn't have a 'happy ending' so to speak. At the end, even at the reception of the prize, John Nash wasn't able to get rid of the three people hallucinations. But I really like this line that John says, "I still see things that are not here. I just choose not to acknowledge them. Like a diet of the mind, I just choose not to indulge certain appetites; like my appetite for patterns; perhaps my appetite to imagine and to dream." Despite medical advances, there is no cure for schizophrenia, like many other mental illnesses and illnesses in general. There are just some things that are beyond the best of mankind, that one has to submit and accept. A person has to choose to live with them despite it, and fight. The people around have to, too. As I watched the movie, I had a mix of pity and admiration for John's wife, Alicia. To choose to love, simply because love is the reason even when there is no reciprocation. That's love. Have you ever thought about what it means "to live till death do us part". Can you imagine your other falling into some ill state, would you quit, nobody would blame you...except maybe yourself. There have been days when I definitely wanted to quit my family. Probably days where I did, momentarily at least.

I think circumstances change quickly. I was thinking, jokingly, in my mind recently how much "easier" it would be for my current decision-making process, if I ended up liking a fellow public servant type while I was in Ottawa. To marry a PS-er would seem so perfect and 'easy'. But life isn't like that, and more importantly, those are only circumstances. I think it's when you make the decision to tough it out when circumstances are difficult, that matters, that makes the difference. That's love. I think there's sacrifice. Maybe that's why the world is so attracted to sacrificial love.here have been rough rides with my family in terms of my bro, that I am now beginning to work through and understand, about ten years after they happened. There are rough waves right now in my current relationship, things that are just for the moment, outside both of our power. Sometimes life is just hard, or down right crappy. Sometimes, like today, and many days past, like Alicia, I just need to believe that something extraordinary is possible in order to get by.

Kits Beach, Vancouver

Every so often, a day like today comes, where I am reminded that life really isn’t that complicated. I think I have a tendency of focusing so much on the decisions I have to make in front of me, that I think the rest of the world is disharmonious, when in reality, perhaps it is I who has fallen out of step with it.

I went for a quick run after work today in my neighbourhood. It was 8 degrees outside and the clouds opened up to allow a slight drizzle, the kind that kisses you with a touch both soft and refreshing to the skin. There’s a tiny stream that runs down the hill in the area, which eventually collects and feeds into Brunette River. Growing up, I played in the streams, fascinated by waterfalls and the like after seeing the majestic powers of Niagara Falls when I was eight. It’s been a while since I had visited this said stream, so when I innocently ran past one portion of it today, I was struck by the winding path of the stream. It reminded me of a winding road.

Life is no longer as straight and narrow as I once thought it was. There is this song by Jars of Clay called “This Road” and it talks about how the Christian life is the “straight and narrow”. Every since then, I held the view that life would be just that, straight and narrow, black and white. Gazing at the stream, thinking about it, I realize that maybe that is not what the author meant at all, that it is not the correct image at all.

Life comes with its twists and turns. What caught my eye about the stream was how beautiful it was, how the S-bends carved into the ground were shaped so perfectly, as if they were created to be exactly that way. When the song says that the road is straight and narrow, maybe it doesn’t mean that there are no bends, no twists and turns. After all, it’s not like our eighty-some years are a direct line from point A to point B. Accidents fall, miracles are born, life happens. I think it just means that our vision must be straight, and that ground we trot upon is narrow – as we trod and navigate through the twists and turns.

Looking back at my own little entourage of S-bends in life, many things have fit into place, where I never imagined and didn’t even know would fit into place. I remember filling out a form every year for “career and personal development” in high school. I remember filling in the boxes listing my five and ten year goals with something like “going to university” and “getting married”. Well, university is ending and here I am, arms open waiting, with empty boxes to fill once again. More twists and turns.

My prayer is that the pieces will continue to fall, as I continue to live, with the fear of God that compels me. I received a letter and another photo from Israel today, my sponsor child from Tanzania. What a beautiful country. With the real wisdom of a child, Israel shared with me a verse found in Proverbs 1:7. It says, the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. Paraphrased, it's like acknowledging and following God is the starting point of being skillful in living. This is a famous proverb, and often preached. It just seemed different when I heard it today...I guess that's because it's my own message of love from across the world.

"I know, I know, the sky is what makes the oceans blue..." (Ben Lee - Love me like the world is ending)

Most of the time, I try to find a reason for everything that happens, for good and bad things but mostly for the bad things that happen in life. It's like finding a reason for something helps comfort me, and make me feel better knowing that my suffering has some tall end. I feel like I am in one of those predicaments now, knowing in my mind that my present predicaments have meaning, namely to develop/refine my character, but it still sucks.

I am really glad my bro landed his first job, tho it's not the most ideal job for him, in my opinion. It's his first job though nonetheless and I want to pull my share of the weight and help out at home too, in order to support him. So when my dad asked me tonight if I could work for a few hours Tuesdays afternoons-evening after I finish work (since he can't work at the shop anymore obviously and my parents are teaching chinese school at the time), as my contribution to the family, I felt really selfish for NOT wanting to. But I really don't want to add a "few more hours" onto my 10 hour days, and be bored, bored, bored for a few more hours (there is only so much you can do when there is nothing to do...).

So I've been flipping through the little book of James and it is darn hard stuff. It talks a lot about developing patience and perseverence, about going through suffering and trials. About considering it joy. It's this whole deal about living well, living wisely, doing/being what you should be doing/being. It's a whole new response to living a life of love...and my response? Umm...sounds good guys, but I'm not there yet.

It's like there's this one prompt inside me that urges me to move out (go to grad school awayyyy in Toronto) and make a life for myself, sans the chains of 'the family'. And then there's the other part of my heart that tugs upon hearing that, and cries out, "Anna are you heartless?" Little birdie's gotta fly, indeed I think she left the nest a long time ago, but the nest is still the nest, sticky branches made with spit and all. The nest was never in many ways, in my eyes, sufficient, that is, it didn't measure up to the standards I imposed on itself - wasn't comfy enough, tall enough, and had enough time for me. But still, it's the one that shaped me, shapes me.

Life's been pretty difficult and I've been doing my fair share of asking the "whys" and mourning over "what wasn't" and "what was", and what wasn't "fair" and how it "could of been". I cry. And cry. And cry. Relationships with friends have changed, and some have outright died. A flower is beautiful, but flowers die after their season, some come back, but some don't. All we can do is appreciate the beauty now, for we don't know what will happen in the future. Concern and worries over my family continue, my aging parents, my siblings' financial securities, even though I am limited in what I can do. I guess the most is to make sure that my relationships with them are right. Try not to feel burdened and sacked. Suck it up sometimes ("be a woman " LOL no one says that). And of course, cry when necessary.

At the same time, the life juggle continues, I still have a full-time job and school. I have rolled out enough applications for a lifetime, thank you very much. Enough anxiety trying to figure out how I will pay off my student loans, finance my graduate education, do what I love...and fit in things to keep my sanity (exercise, nothingness, TRAVEL, meaningful relationships...but not necessarily in that order).

It's a tough job for a 22-year old. And yes, yes, yes, the amazing stories I have heard of people who have gone through sooooo much more than I ever will inspires me and puts life for me into perspective- through being a child soldier, a girl prostitute, you name it. But it's still hard.

Most importantly, then there's the heart, and the person you love. And maybe you have to let that go for now too, and ungrasp it from your hand because you know it's not yours when you have to grasp onto it like that. And it's like, damn. It's like everything seems to ALMOST fit together so perfectly...and also, so not at the same time. All you can do is do your stuff, and have faith that what is destined to happen, will. Most of the time, I think doing the right thing means doing the hard thing, which sucks. Yep, that's right, it sucks.

So...it's 9:48PM and I have to go sleep so I can wake up at 5:30AM for work tomorrow. I pray that God will give me the strength to wake up for the day (cuz sometimes you just don't want to), the patience to live through the day (ppl annoy you), and the wisdom to live through the day (live, live, live, not just survive).

"I know, I know the sky is what makes the oceans blue..."

___________

To read a pretty cool article, click here.

But I am not there yet
The lighted orb slowly makes it ascent
As the crisp cool air steals away my breath
Click, clack, click! – hurried footsteps to the ground
Almost – but I am not there yet

Sweet melodies play in my ear, breaking silence
As I swim between consciousness and sleep
Da da, da da – heavy palpitations to the beat
On my way – but I am not there yet

Fluorescent ions light up the city skyline
As my hands and feet set into perfect motion
Tap tap, tap tap – nimble fingers to madness
I am here – but I am not there yet

Shadows drift in ad out of spaces all day
As my spirit inside yearns to embrace another
Moaning, groaning – empty hearts born to burst
Do you hear? But I am not there yet

Sometimes divine visions overwhelm my senses
As my eyes open to see the realm of dreams
Reaching, reaching – only courage wills to action
Fathomable – but I am still not there yet…

And as I leave and write the end of another day
What will the world I leave behind me say?
That I played it safe? Or did I live out faith?
I am not there yet, but I am here –
Today.


|Lake Louise, Alberta|plate of strawberries|Times Square, NYC|my window|War Museum, Ottawa|me, Vancouver

Inspirations from a nun from Calcutta...

Excerpts from The Private Writings of the ‘Saint of Calcutta’: Mother Teresa Come be My Light

"As for me what will I tell you? I have nothing – since I have not got Him whom my heart and soul longs to possess. Aloneness is so great. From within and from without I find no one to turn to. I can speak to no one and even if I do, nothing enters my soul. If there is hell, this must be one. How terrible it is to be without God – no prayer – no faith – no love. The only thing that remains is the conviction that the work is His – that the Sisters and the Brothers are His.” (250)

Who would believe that these are the words from such a ‘spiritual’ person as Mother Teresa? That she, of all people, would have faced the most terrible suffering of all? That of not having the presence of God, whom she loved and longed for above all things in the world. I was shocked at reading Mother Teresa’s letters to her spiritual guides (what this book is about) which explicitly detail her experiences of not being able to feel God’s presence all the while she lived out her convictions and a life that changed so many others. Perhaps more than any other contemporary figure, her experience brought me to understand what it means to imitate Christ – to suffer with him, to die on the cross with him – to a completely different level. The comparisons she finally made to understand that her unique experience echoed that of her savior experienced on the cross when he bore the sins of the world and God turned away from him. That to understand what it means to do unto the least of these, to understand poverty, she would have to experience not only material poverty, but this kind of spiritual poverty for over 55 years! It is amazing, it is incredible and it has my head spinning.

She lived her life following her convictions, even when she couldn’t “feel” God’s presence she held on – and what remarkable results she achieved. Lives changed. Souls awakened. The consciousness of the world stirred. But Mother Teresa never aimed to win the Nobel Peace Prize or the other numerous prestigious awards that she won, no one like that ever does. She was simply living out God’s calling for her life. Living it out, meant doing things one at a time, and it was the day-to-day living that made Mother Teresa stand out and her work successful. It’s what made her life credible.

Bringing it back to home, I have lately been thinking about my sister. I think of my sister and the influence she is having on the teenagers that she is counseling at church. There is a boy who is blind because of a degenerative disease of the brain in her group. He always comes to the events even if he can’t really do them. Every time I hear about him, my heart breaks and I think how great the work that my sister is a part of, is. Sometimes I feel ashamed. How many lives am I changing? Sometimes I feel like I am not even changing my own.

I work downtown Vancouver and during my walks at lunch I see many affluent people. I also come across many homeless people on the street corners begging for money. I get cold being outside for thirty minutes a day dressed in my goose feathers. Sam’s question echo in my mind, “so Anna what are you doing to help the homeless?” There are days where I don’t succeed in pushing these questions from my thoughts, and I ask myself if it is enough that I “study it”. Poverty occurs on my levels and I don’t know if we can judge what is more serious. I think there is poverty in everyone. I know there is poverty in me. I am poor when I still struggle with my own adequacy, moving beyond how I look or my pieces of paper, or who likes me. I have complained about my family and living at home. I dream of my dreams of helping people and building community and good social policies. What is that though…

"Do we know who our poor are? Do we know our neighbour, the poor of our own area? It is so easy for us to talk and talk about the poor of other places. Very often we have the suffering, we have the lonely, we have the people – old, unwanted, feeling miserable – and they are near us and we don’t even know them. We have no time to even smile at them."

Tuberculosis and cancer are not the great diseases. I think a much greater disease is to be unwanted, unloved. The pain that these people suffer is very difficult to understand, to penetrate. I think this is what our people all over the world are going through, in every family, in every home.” (206)

I hope by recognizing the poverty in me, I will spur both my mind and heart into action and live a life in response to the poverty around me. That’s what I want. I pray that I can develop that kind of faith to believe when it is dark, that kind of resiliency to keep walking when the road gets tough, and that kind of courage to live out my convictions.

Here’s to 2008: a year of life and living.

Molly's Christmas scarf | Christmas tree at the National Art Gallery, Ottawa
All covered up at snowy Mount Tremblant | Me