Mud

Here is a story I wrote as I pondered and reflected during lent...

“I can’t believe you made your clothes dirty by playing in the mud again!” shrieked his very irate mom. “Do you know how much time it takes to wash that out of your school uniform?” The boy glanced at his father, searching his eyes for support. The father grinned knowingly, and the son began a wan smile. But their shared moment of boyish glee was swatted aside: “Dad, make your son remember this lesson!” with that, the mother lumbered away to resume her endless toil. Reluctantly, the father took his boy to the bedroom and spanked him.

Years later, the boy was now grown. But he still had a penchant for getting dirty. Once, he rushed home to try and wash the grass stains out from the front of his shirt but struggled in vain. Yet, he could not wait to tell his dad about his amazing find that drew him into the mess in the first place. So he pounced his father as soon as him when he walked in the door: “Dad! Dad! You won’t believe what I found in…”

“Son! Look at you!” scowled the boy’s father as he took in the messy uniform.

“Yeah, I know dad! But let me tell you what I saw in the…”

“You always have an excuse! Don’t you know how angry mom gets each time you come home with dirty uniforms?”

“But dad…” the boy pleaded.

"There, now I've said it. I don't want to hear any more of it." Their eyes remained locked in a battle of wills as moments of tension passed ever so slowly. The father paused and reminisced the times when mischief got him into trouble as a boy and was considering relenting when suddenly his boy raised his voice in frustration: "What, DAD? You mean to tell me YOU never got into trouble for being a KID?!!"

The father snapped and lashed the boy with words, releasing years of angst in his tirade, stabbing deeply into the boy’s heart in frustration and fear that he would once again not learn this lesson.

“Whatever!” the boy snapped--fighting back tears, he stormed into his room and slammed the door shut. The father shook his head incredulously and consoled himself that he was doing the best he can.

More years passed, and now the father was old. He was taking a long walk one day when the weather turned suddenly. A rainstorm blew in and caused the path to get muddy. The old father slipped in the slop and stumbled--soiling his clothes. “Ironic!” chuckled the old man as he remembered how he used to fuss at his boy for getting his uniform dirty. His thoughts shifted to how he would have to explain his dirty clothes to his wife and share the irony with his son when he wandered off the muddy path and slipped down the slope! Pain stunned the old man as he whimpered near the bottom of the slope... and drifted off into a foggy stupor.

Hours later, the boy came down the very same path and walked gingerly through the mud. He was careful to avoid one particularly treacherous section of the path that washed out to the ravine below and shuddered as he considered what might happen to him if he slid down. He walked nimbly by… oblivious that his father was below… and emerged smugly with shoes still pristine. He felt guilty that he could not find his father, but consoled himself that he was doing the best he can.

The father survived the fall and was found eventually, but was paralyzed. The long hours of exposure caused his recovery to be extended. At first, the boy resented having to care for the father and struggled not to vent his anger by being rough and cruel. One morning, the boy watched as a nurse patiently cleaned his father after he had soiled himself. Livid, he lashed out at his father and the nurse: “Why do you waste your kindness on him? He is so useless! Look at him!”

The nurse continued wiping the father gently, but tears streamed down the father’s face. The boy wasn’t fully certain that the father could hear and comprehend what was being said around him until now because he had remained in a catatonic state since the fall.

A few days later, as the boy trudged past the nurse’s station on the way to his father’s room, the nurse handed him a plain piece of paper with two words scrawled in pencil. “It’s from your father,” she said earnestly.

The boy glanced down at the note. “I sorry,” he sneered as he read the note. The nurse grasped his hand and said gently: “Try to forgive him for whatever pain he has caused you… he is the only father you have.” The boy looked away quickly as conflicting emotions roiled in him. The nurse continued tenaciously: “I see patients die every day, and talk to their surviving family as they grieve.” The nurse ducks her head to engage the boy’s eyes. He attempts to wrestle free, but the nurse held his hands tightly and continued. “You still have time. He did the best he could—now it is your turn to decide what is most important to have in your future and work for it.” With that, the boy broke free and dashed down the hall sobbing.

Still more years pass, and now the boy has grown into a man with a son of his own. One day his son came home with a muddy uniform… immediately, he tore into his son, drowning him with years of angst.  In the middle of the tantrum, the man was astonished at his behavior and balked. His son ran into his room with tears and snot running down his face.

The man slumped to his knees and cried out to God, pleading for a better way as years of suppressed memories returned to haunt him. He felt a glow in his heart, and forgiveness unburdens him. With renewed hope, he stepped gingerly towards the bedroom and toward his son who was still sobbing into a pillow. The man sat beside his son and put an arm around him. The man apologized and held his son until he raised his messy red face. “Okay, now son--tell me what on earth led you into this messy adventure!”

~ Shien

Blessings amidst Transition

As I reflect on 2015 and our transition from Malaysia to the USA, there are many things that happened beyond our control. However, many of them were good!

Firstly, watching my children re-enter the US School system and learn to flourish where they are despite of the numerous social challenges in Middle and High School has been a humbling, frustrating, and sometimes uncomfortable season. In a very short semester, I have watched them find their way in a very power hungry group, discover friends, re-invent themselves.

Academically, I have seen them share their talents and achieve musically and scholastically.

Spiritually, I have watched both of them draw closer to God in their sadness, frustration and desperation. And seeing God respond to them intimately is heart-warming.

Physically, they are maturing as young teens and solving more and more complex issues as they learn to make better decisions. Recently, I introduced some financial literacy concepts to them which culminated in playing the Cashflow game together. I have also watched them spend more time thinking about what they really want and researching their options before spending money.

So, there are many things that I still want for my family. But there are so many more that I can only hope for that have been given so richly to us!

Some Wheels!

One of the things that surprised us during our transition this Summer was buying a car. It became an option when we realized our time in the USA was extending and we would be traveling back to Texas.

Rather than rent a car one way to Texas, and again in Texas to get around locally, we thought about buying a car and selling it if we were to leave the country. We had a modest budget of US$5,000 to spend on the car, and was hoping to get a Chevrolet HHR--a car we knew that fit us well before leaving Texas in 2011.

However, there were few examples in Iowa to look at, so I simply planned on waiting until we got into DFW to shop for one.

But days before leaving Iowa, Monica's brother who works in a car dealership told us a bout a car that just came in on a trade in. The numbers sounded right, but it scared me a bit because it was a lot more car than I was planning to buy--what were the trade offs?

A few days later, we went to his dealership for a look and I was dumb-struck. It was the proverbial cream puff! Few miles for its age, maintained by a former mechanic proactively. In almost mint condition. Because of our connection with my brother-in-law, we were given the car at thousands below market value.

As we drove away and down to Texas, it was obvious that this was a luxurious ride for the money, but it seemed a bit excessive. We did not *need* to have such a large vehicle, but about a month later, we would get to give rides to college kids arriving at Baylor as part of helping them settle in their transition!

The Cherry Red Bike that Came Around the Mountain

In addition to the fabulous hawker food, one of my hopes for living in Penang was to get to ride a motorcycle.

The narrow streets are lined with too much to see and take in as you drive by in a car, and parking on a whim is arduous since you will likely end up blocks away after searching diligently for a legal parking space.

However, the opportunistic driving habits of the residents lent for interesting albeit treacherous ride on a motorbike. Add to the fact that one of our colleagues met with a spectacular accident on his motorbike shortly before we arrived. Right then, my dream of getting a bike evaporated.

After about year, we learned to make sense of the would be madness on the streets, and we observed an unusually few number of motorbike accidents. And so, the notion of acquiring a bike for me surfaced, and to prove the good faith, I bought my helmet.

I was willing to ride a little moped like the Honda C70s tooling around at just 40km/h flat out. I knew how to make that work, but of course I would prefer a Honda Wave 125 or better yet a racy Yamaha LC135 or the ultimate--Modenas Jaguh 175cc cruiser. That's the kind of cruiser bike I fell in love with in Nicaragua years ago--a Honda CB350.

But buying a bike was not that simple, especially when you are busy. I was too slow picking up an almost mint Honda EX5 110cc from a missionary who had to leave quickly. The price was low as a result, and the bike even had a rear Givi helmet box.

Then this semester, I discovered that many of my colleagues leaving had bikes that I liked, especially one who rode a bright red Jaguh. That was the bike I wanted.

But he was not certain that he wanted to sell it, but he assured me that I was the first to have asked about it. Some weeks later, as I found out that almost everyone of the bike riding colleagues either had other plans for  their bikes, I found out that the red Jaguh had been previously promised to a local staff member from our school. Of course he deserved that bike more since he commuted from the mainland an hour away, and on a little EX5 at the time.

Disappointed, all of my leads were exhausted, but still no bike. I let it go in principle, but I was very honest with God--I still wanted a bike, and that red one too.

Then, just before spring break, that local staff person approached me to see if I still wanted the red bike he just bought! He said that oddly enough, the seat on that bike proved too hard for a long ride such as his, and he preferred to seek a cruiser like a Virago or Sym VTS200. Elated, I accepted his offer and transferred the bike to my name just as spring break 2013 began.

~ Shien Yahweh Jireh "The Lord provides"

Losing My Cool Over Vada

After a rather challenging meeting, and a morning that delayed my lunch break, I skulked over to the Indian Restaurant opposite the school for a late lunch/early tea break. I ordered an Iced Milo and 2 Vada which look like Indian Spiced bagels.

I saw them in the cabinet, and it would not have taken 30 seconds to plonk 2 on a plate. so I reminded my server about them when he delivered the Milo. Still no vada. He walks by again and I reminded him a second time. He said it was coming. Now I was writhing in my skin. Was he ignoring my request? I struggled with my emotions while a still small voice asked if getting what I wanted was worth making an a$$ of myself...

Reluctantly, I waited and sulked as I finished my iced Milo. After just 10 minutes from my initial order, my server proudly delivers my 2 vada with a cup of dhal curry. He proudly explained that he did not want to heat mine in a microwave, so he had them broiled!

Indeed, the crust was crispy and the interior still fluffy and warm--it was a most delectable treat, and I ate the snacks dumbstruck at how close I was to destroying a gift of hospitality due to my impatience. I repented quietly and thanked my proud server profusely for his gift!

~ Shien "Yahweh Maccaddeshcem" The Lord my sanctifier.

A Storm that Came Between Jezebel and I

During our flurry of activity to prepare for our departure from the US, my boss at Job Corps had become tyrannical and sent me to work in College Station--2 hours away. They paid for 4 nights of hotel stays, but I had to establish my rhythm there. No matter that a single colleague wanted to be there, I was sent knowing that I had a family I preferred to return to.

One evening, after a slow morning of prospecting, my immediate supervisor wanted my vehicle since he had plenty of prospective students to take on tour, so I volunteered to run my larger van to him for a swap. The Spring Weather was looking severe, but I was confident that I would make it to Waco.

After the swap, I took the minivan to the car wash since it badly needed cleaning. As I waited, I watched the weather close over the road back to College Station--hail and strong gusts of wind was being reported. So I sought permission from my supervisor to spend the night in Waco. After all, I only lived here!

That night, the weather got severe in Waco as well, but not before I got to visit my guy-friends at Warrior Heart to celebrate God's goodness in bringing me home for the night when my family was missing me. And kept the weather open fore me. As the meeting closed, the weather got fierce and it was time to drive home--the wind was knocking trees down and blowing roofs off buildings.

The next day, as I returned to College Station, the director was furious at my supervisor for allowing me to stay in Waco. He asked as I did: "Would she rather I drive through that severe storm and have the van totalled?!!"

~ Shien Yahweh Nissi "The Lord is my banner of victory

From Desperation to Dreams

After about a decade of trying to fit in and find any job that would take me in Waco, Texas, I was beginning to think that what they were saying about my resume was true--that I was not attractive and hire-able. Furthermore, I was six months into my most recent of 5 careers and 3 part time jobs and was starting to think that the dream was becoming more of a nightmare.

Nevertheless, a year after discovering Dalat International School, I had just been offered a contract to recruit new students, and Monica was going to teach for them. Our children would also attend the same school.

All of a sudden, the random looking resume resolved into an amazing set of experiences that proved a skills-set suited for International School admissions! I never saw this one coming and no one before had identified this area of work for me. And it was a fantastic fit.

So began the frantic process of shutting down our life in the US--saying goodbye to our friends, family and cat; renting our house; ending our jobs; packing our belongings; selling our car and a massive pile of paperwork and training for the new job.

It was clear that God took a last-resort job with the Job Corps and turned desperation into a dream, for without the Job Corps, I would never have thought that admissions was something I could do.

~ Shien Yahweh Ro'i "The Lord guides me as my shepherd