Like death

I'm not sure I can do it ever again. I've known nothing worse than its sharp grief and lingering consequences. I hope and pray that I never have to know it again, but maybe, just maybe, I might face it once more. The abrupt cutting off gives a taste similar to what death would bring. And it is metaphorically a death, an unbridgeable chasm. But perhaps it's worse than death because it comes through conscious choice, and is stained by your own errors.

And if it does happen I would need plenty, plenty, plenty of therapy.

My life is my own

"Few Christians are audacious enough to say this out loud, but many live as if that were true", said our visiting pastor on Sunday. On Saturday night I thought where will I go, what will I do and was in the process of making many plans about electives - without much prayer or conscious consideration of God, what would you like me to do?

Now listen, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money." Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, "If it is the Lord's will, we will live and do this or that." As it is, you boast and brag. All such boasting is evil. - James 4:13-17

We come again to this passage in James. We've heard this passage preached so many times that I was honestly surprised by the following insights:

1. The passage is addressed to Christian traders, who live as if their life is their own (instead of belong in to Christ to do his works).

2. We often make plans and resolutions depending on our strength and abilities (assuming that they will do this and that to make money), under the premise that time is in our own hands, that "I can sustain my own life". Such planning leaves no room for God.

3. Guarding against such presumptions - we do this by recognising we do not know what will happen tomorrow, accepting our fragile and transient existence (mist that appears for a little while), and acknowledging it is God who ultimately determines our steps.

In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps. - Proverbs 16:9

4. However, making plans are not a bad thing - Paul made plans about his ministry, his visitations to the different churches, but he said "I will come back if it is God's will." (Acts 18:21) God-willing. I know a pastor who literally includes that phrase when he makes plans of any sort.

Thank you for the timely reminder. May I remember this when making plans and decisions, big or small.

Therapy

I'm angry and am in the process of writing short stories about you, and you, and you.

Writing is a "real" form of therapy, for a range of psychoneurotic disorders apparently. I quite like the quote below - obsessive ruminations in the small hours of the night describes me so perfectly and poetically.

"Quite what happens when near-obsessive ruminations, which frequently take place in the small hours of the night, are committed to paper is difficult to describe. It does feel as if the trap door of a mental treadmill has been opened to allow persecutory thoughts to escape. Though the accompanying feelings may persist for a time, the thoughts begin to integrate or dissipate or reach some constructive resolution." - Anonymous

Flames and burning coal

Once upon a time the highs and lows came in abundance. The excitement of getting to know each other, the conversations that drag late into the night, having (or perceiving to have) so much in common, the fluttering heart and butterflies when you "accidentally" meet each other in the corridor, the ecstasy of just holding hands, and the purring contentment of simply being near the other person. On the other hand there were the tears of parting, even for a ridiculously short period of time, the uncertainty of what he really thinks, and the endless angst of waiting for messages or phone calls. The first flames, infatuations, are deceptive, you're adamant that the person is so perfect when you've only known them for a few days. How hilarious. (It's ok, I'm mocking myself too.)

Familiarity changes relationships - from sweet words to hurtful arguments, admiration to contempt. Fine, let's not be cynical, there are good changes too. The rollercoaster ride of romance turns into a valuable friendship, someone with a deep understanding of your thoughts, feelings, tone and moods.

A parallel to my relationship to God. The first time I started understanding the words of the Bible, saw depth in the layers of meaning, listened to God's words spoken and realised how true! how relevant to everyday life! how wise! - do you know, that was as refreshing, as fascinating as the start of a new relationship. Once in awhile I really saw God's words as his "love letter" to us. The first experiences of God's presence in times of turmoil, opening my eyes to God's grace when I've sinned, experiencing changes in my character that even my family were surprised to see - that left such a deep, moving impression on my spirit.

Yet now, I'm finding the enthusiasm harder to come by. Hate to say it (because it sounds disgustingly arrogant) but sometimes I read and think, well I've only read about the Christmas story, the account of the crucifixion, the letter to the to the Corinthian church like a million zillion times. What can I possibly learn. Then, when I think about which book of the Bible to spend my reading time on I sometimes can't help think - if only there were new books in the Bible I haven't read before, that would be so much more exciting.

I've always loved church and fellowship, and couldn't understand why some Christians avoid it when loving, learning, and serving together with fellow believers is clearly how God wants his family to live. And not only that, meaningful fellowship is such a blessing. Yet this week I thought, I am so tired I don't want to go to church. Why do I have to go. These months I often have problems listening with my heart in sermons because I sigh and think I know this passage well, I've heard the concepts and teachings before. (But yes, as long as I haven't put everything perfectly into practice, I would do well to listen attentively.) Then when I went to fellowship the other day prayer made me groan inside "oh no, why is this so long, boring and repetitive."

What did Jesus say to churches who endured life threatening persecution but lost their "first love"?

You have persevered and have endured hardships for my name, and have not grown weary. Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken the love you had at first. - Revelations 2:3-4

I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! - Revelations 3:15

But I know (or doubt sometimes, but I still believe more than I doubt) you are God, you are real, your words have power. I know you give me purpose, joy, mental stability. It troubles me deeply to be lethargic towards something that is my passion, but enthusiastic or not I will try to honour my commitment to you, seeking you as you have sought me.

"We shouldn't expect a relationship with God to remain on a constant plane all the time. Not long ago I celebrated my sixty-fifth wedding anniversary. Believe me, when you've been married that long, you don't stay on a plane of ecstasy all the time. Romance starts as a blazing bonfire - you know, 'You light up my life.' After a few decades it settles into something more like a heap of glowing coals. Sure, some of the heat dissipates, but coals are good, too; you can roast marshmallows, or warm your feet. A different level of companionship opens up." - Vernon, in Prayer by Philip Yancy

Indeed, in front of the fireplace is a good place to start contemplating about the changing flames in a relationship.

Clinical school

I started thinking about my choice of clinical school during the start of exam prep this time. Every clinical school gives similar but different teaching, different timetables and schedules. We hear of the greater competition in metro hospitals, more tutorials, more assessment preparation, giving their students obvious clues as to what the exam topics are. Then looking around our own group of students in rural, everyone is relatively relaxed, lazy at times. And I was pondering whether we're missing out, whether rural clinical school was a good thing for my learning. People often ask me whether B was my first choice, and why would I want to live in a "small country town" (it's not that small). Well, throughout this past week, I was reminded of some of the reasons that I chose come to RCS.

Studying with other people doing the same thing is fun. There was always someone ready to practice history taking and physical exam during the study break. Asking each other questions and talking med throughout the day after day, I realised I could remember things that I wouldn't be able to remember by staring and yawning at a textbook. Then during our written exam we were given lollies, water, pencils and an eraser. And in the OSCE we didn't wait a particularly long time because there were only fifteen students in our year here altogether versus say, over fifty students. Then there were those shared dinners, an outing to the playground and lake the day before exams, a fun game of "Mr Squiggle" on the morning of our OSCE, and classmates to tell you "don't stress you just need to get an average sort of mark, you just want to be a GP." Haha okay, I feel great now. This exam period was the most fun one I've had at uni, partly because it's weighted lightly and largely because of the good company.

I never got to know many classmates well, and made less than a handful of people who I would call friends in the first two and a half years of university. I found it difficult how everyone was coming and going, and lived all over M. So that was one reason for RCS, to live with and get to know a few fellow med students better. And it has been a joy to study, live, hang out with the people here (except the days when I'm grumpy or people are particularly annoying). And I love my group.

And I remember mum saying, maybe you'll like rural because it'll be more like living in D. That's been surprisingly true too. Yesterday I was in M and just realised how noisy the CBD is, how did I ever fall asleep living next to the tram line, hospital (with ambulances) and fire station? Then the traffic jams looked horrible. Then I thought smaller places are much nicer places to live, it's quiet and everyone is accessible within 10 minutes with a car. I do miss my night strolls through M though. I like the shops here because it reminds me of the main shopping centre in D. I love my church here too.

Half a year ago, I had no idea what we would do in clinical school. What do you mean you just talk to patients?? Then the students in the years above us said that they prefer clinicals over preclinicals because you "see real patients", "it's more relevant" and "it's more hands on". And because nearly everyone I talked to said that, I was determined not to like clinical school for the same reasons as everyone else haha.

But I enjoyed this semester - I enjoyed the study content, the small-ish hospital where everyone looks familiar, the place I live and the people around me. I was happy most of the time. Maybe because of these things I'm taking a greater interest in reading and learning med, in learning to be a doctor. I'm glad to have chosen B.

I'm thankful to God for leading me, and helping me to make decisions at each step of this course (and beyond). I believe God was with me during that year in S - teaching me to accept times of solitude, helping me finish the research project and report quite completely although there was a lack of good supervision, helping me to find a lovely host family, preparing for these years with a good med student fellowship, giving lots of opportunities to share God's love with those around me, and two trips across the seas to my hometown, to get to know my extended family better. Who can say for sure where and how God's hand were on these things, but I know having a relationship with him aligns my thoughts, my heart, my purpose with his. And God does act.

I think after a few more month, on hindsight, I will see the plans you have for me here more clearly too.

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. - Romans 8:28

Come on, have a drink

Question 1: Do you want a drink. No thanks. And when you ask 5 minutes later the answer will still be no. And when you ask next week, next month, I'm still going to answer no. No, no, no.

Question 2 (worse than question 1): Why? Come on, I've only lived here for nearly half a year. I've had this asked by someone or the other at nearly every social event, or just evenings in the lounge, whenever alcohol is involved. And I've always given the same answers.

Question 3 (worse still): Why not? Come on, have a drink. It tastes good, it'll make you feel good, there's barely any alcohol in it, you can hardly taste it, see, even so and so is drinking (insert other persuasive comments).

We've been through this. I don't need to repeat myself. Let me describe why I don't accept drinks in detail.

Physical factors
1. I don't drink because genetically I don't process alcohol well.
2. I don't like the hot face and sleepiness that I get with half a glass of wine.
3. I looked in the mirror when I had a flushed face and found it hideous, I especially don't want to drink when I want to take photos - yes it's vain and superficial, but so be it.
4. I am a curious cat and sip drinks from time to time - especially back in the college days. I've never found a good tasting drink, and although some cocktails are nice, they would taste better without the alcohol content (if it tasted so good you don't need all the sugar, fruit and colours to cover up the alcohol content)

Social factors
1. I don't care anymore that everyone else enjoys it, that it acts a social lubricant. I'm aware that I have less common ground with others because of this, but I don't need to take something that I don't enjoy, I don't need to be someone I'm not.
2. I can have a laugh, be relaxed, silly, enjoy your company without sharing drinks.
3. Slowly over the years I've made up my mind on the matter, I know who I am so I don't need to be a sheep, I'm not ashamed to be different.

Value factors
1. I don't want to drink anywhere near the amount that is needed to get drunk because you can do things or have things done to you that you would regret - that's not wise.
2. I don't want to get drunk, addicted and such because it doesn't please God.

Basically I don't enjoy it and I don't like the effects. I'm ok with good natured offers of drinks and even questions about why I don't drink. But when I've answered your questions, and made it clear that I've made a decision about this matter, please don't ask again and again, and please don't push the matter or (especially) make disrespectful comments about me not participating in these acitivites.

Monsters

Just a story. So it's fictional, maybe. I didn't write it today. Not suitable for children.

Once upon a time there was an institution, and a girl lived there. There was also a Monster, a hideous shadow whose name was Pain. At night, when silence and darkness prevailed, he would visit her room, sometimes sneaking up without a sound, sometimes entering rudely with a loud bang. He would reach out those deformed claws and hook them tightly into her chest, tugging and tearing the flesh. Then standing back, he would watch the splatter, drizzle of blood, the cough and the fear. She barely had the strength to call for help, and even if she did, he made sure there was no one was close enough to hear. She would hide under her sheets, and hug herself tight, closing her eyes so that she would not see his formless face. She cried and cried and he would collect tears as if he was collecting gold. Eventually Pain would be satisfied and leave. Miraculously her wound would disappear without a trace. She felt a lingering throb and twisting of her insides. But there were no physical injuries and scars, and the healers were unable to offer any help.

When Pain left, his good friend Loneliness always followed. He was a pale, solemn looking man with a neat suit and briefcase, with no particular features to distinguish himself as one of the Monsters. Loneliness never raised his voice and was always polite, as if he was paying a social visit. And he would talk. He would come up close to her and whisper in her ears and chill her insides with his cold breath. He was a professional liar, or was he brutally honest, she couldn’t tell. He convinced her that no one understood, no one cared and Friends did not exist but were illusions. They all hate you, he would say, don’t you remember when they said this to you, and my, did you notice the tone they spoke to you in? Then Loneliness would lay a cold hand on her shoulder and say, that’s okay, I will stay with you for the night. Occasionally though, a fellow inmate, a Friend, would walk in while he was talking to her. The girl would turn back to Loneliness and retort, hey, you are wrong! He would shrug, then bow, and excuse himself and leave.

On the nights of their visits, the Monsters would enter some rooms in the institution, but not others. No one really knew why that was so. The girl guessed it was because she was weak and did not kick them out, or run fast enough. Or that she and the Monsters grew mutually familiar with each other’s company. Or was it that she was stupidly feeding them something they hungered for. Or perhaps, they merely came to remind her that there was no space, no room available, no place suitable for her in the institution – telling her she had to leave. Some inmates saw and felt the attacks, while others were oblivious. Some were strong and defeated the Monsters. However, others grew weary of seeing the Monsters on many dark nights, and eventually agreed to negotiate with Despair, who was the master of Pain and Loneliness. The girl hated Despair and prepared many knives to throw at him. Since she forged the knives, he had stopped visiting her. She grew very angry and upset when Despair tried to offer her Friends a deal. He told them about the land where there were no Monsters. In exchange for their room in the institution, he could offer a one-way train ticket to that land beyond the hills.