Beauty and the Beast....Within!

I was in Delhi last week and literally staggered with the culture shock that hit me like a hard slap in the face. This part of India didn't look anything like India! I was instead forcefully reminded of Hollywood....not the movie industry, but the people. I've never been to Hollywood myself, but I've read more than enough to know that this was the city of beautiful people. Where everyone does their best to look their best, however many nips and tucks and enhancements it takes. In Hollywood, it's just not acceptable to be old, fat, ugly or simply ordinary. People would rather die than appear unpresentable or just their plain old selves. Delhi seems to have taken a leaf out of Hollywood's book, aping the West page for page. Modesty replaced by Vanity. Spirituality ousted by Fashion.

It was the women especially that highlighted this new face of India. Everywhere I saw hemlines that rose and necklines that dipped in jaw-dropping ways! I was ready to lose it though when I spied one young lady who couldn't have been more than fourteen, and whose brassiere top peeped over a plunging neckline! Luckily for her, I'm not old enough to be her mother or she'd have been over my knee in no time getting the spanking of her life!

If I were to put it nicely, I would say the ladies there were all so well groomed, paying particular attention to their skin, hair, faces, figures, clothes and makeup and so perfectly accessorised with matching handbags, shoes and jewellery. But I'm not really all that nice am I? So putting it in my usual caustic way, I'd simply say they all looked like identical plasticky Barbie dolls to me! Is that a snigger I hear? Ahhh...you think I'm jealous? Well I spoke to some of the men there and wasn't surprised to hear almost similar comments from all of them..."Oh Delhi women are all just show...so concerned about style and fashion...so shallow and pretentious". Now tell me again why I would be jealous?

Atleast the magazines there seem to have understood their target audience perfectly. I grabbed a local edition of a well-known women's magazine there and was introduced to pages and pages of ads on cosmetics, slimming pills, spas, designer clothing, columns for anorexic/bulimic women, newly developed pheromone perfumes (believe it!), advice on how to look better than Aishwarya Rai etc. But the funniest section was that which showcased letters from female readers with beauty worries.

These 'poor women' longed for 'chiselled features' in the place of cute chubby faces. Some worried that they weren't born with the all-essential dimple and (dig this!) there were even some who were desperate to augment their rears or perish! Poor poor things...how can you expect a woman to go on living with the misery of an eyebrow hair that's a millimetre longer than the rest? Really, that's so important isn't it in a world that's only going to hell because of poverty, war, violence and sickness? Hey don't get me wrong. It's good for a woman to take an interest in her body and keep herself well groomed. But for heaven's sake, ain't pumping in botox for poutier lips or silicon for a heavier bust size a bit too much?

1 Peter 3:3-5 says, "Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight. For this is the way the holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to make themselves beautiful." And Paul says in 1Timothy 2:9-10, "I also want women to dress modestly, with decency and propriety, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or expensive clothes, but with good deeds, appropriate for women who profess to worship God." I wonder what the apostles Peter and Paul would say if they ever went to Delhi or Hollywood though. They probably might never recover from the shock, hee hee!

The Word of God is clear in its teaching. The careful outlining of the lashes, the meticulous darkening of the eyes, the glossy painting of the lips, the artful colouring of the cheeks, the purposeful donning of clothes in a manner that reveals more than it covers, the attentively cultivated image of perfection....all these may cause sharp intakes of breath in the human admirer but God wouldn't even blink twice at such a conscientiously manicured face.

His idea of beauty is so far removed from ours for He looks directly into the heart. He seeks selfless hands calloused with helping others constantly, tired feet cracked with travelling miles out of the way for someone else, eyes reddened with tears for a neighbour's pain and lips worn with speaking words of comfort to those who need it. Every laugh line that came from making a saddened heart smile and every wrinkle that came from worrying for a friend's sake are precious in the Lord's sight. To Him, that is true beauty...the beauty of the soul inside the shell. Don't waste your time then on superficiality 'cos honestly, God doesn't care whether or not you permed your hair lately.

The poet Kahlil Gibran certainly knew his stuff when he said, "Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart". Proverbs 31:10-31 describes The Wife Of Noble Character and can be taken as a Biblical standard for all women, married or not. Now she, is a woman with a light in her heart....a light called God. A popular pop song goes, 'Dont'cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me? Dont'cha wish your girlfriend was freak like me....." Seriously, don't. Wish she was like the woman of noble character though, for "Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised." (Proverbs 31:30)

1 Samuel 16:7 - "But the LORD said to Samuel, "Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart."

When Heaven is Silent....

I'm lying in bed, staring at the ceiling wondering how to deal with life. So many things seem to be going wrong. Friends are moving on with their lives, living, loving, changing, even flourishing. The world itself moves at a blurred and frantic pace all around me. But my life seems to have come to a grinding halt. Work, friends, home....none of these feel satisfying, my dreams lie unfulfilled and my need to be loved is cast aside unattended like a hungry, wailing baby. The universe as I know it, is crashing around me and I can't think of a single person to turn to for comfort. Which of my best friends would understand how it feels to be in my shoes? Which buddy, pal or mate would know the right words to take my pain away? I'm feeling drained and.......something else......I think it's hopelessness. It's raining outside and a single tear rolls down my cheek.

I suddenly remember....what about God then? Talking to Him always helps doesn't it? I feel better just at the thought. So my head bows down, my soul looks up to heaven and I cry out to Him from the depths of my heart. My prayer is simple...I know I don't need to say anymore. "Lord, can you hear my heartcry from where you are? I'm at my lowest right now....please say something, I need you so much." This said, I eagerly await a reply. His still small voice, the usual calming effect, the peace that fills my heart in the aftermath....I await these. Realisation dawns soon and I understand no comfort is forthcoming. Heaven itself is strangely silent.

I am puzzled at first, bewildered at best. How can this be? Did He speak and did I miss it? Is He delaying a reply? Should I wait longer? But as the hours roll by, I realise that the usual comfort He has always afforded me is not coming my way this time. The single tear swells to a flood and I curl myself into my pillow shaking with my personal pain. This was most unfair. Didn't God know He's my only refuge, my only hiding place? How could He desert me when I need Him the most? How can heaven's doors remain closed when a needy heart is knocking? Does God care? Does He truly love me? If yes, then why is He silent? Is He as unreliable as humans too? Is He even there for real? A thousand questions arise in my heart simultaneously, a little like startled birds taking flight.

If you're nodding and saying to yourself, "Been there, done that", then it's you I'm talking to, reader. These are the times when our faith is shaken the most.....the times that challenge our belief that He exists and that He cares.....the times when we are ashamed to discuss or admit our unbelief and doubt in a living, caring God to even close friends. How many times we have all travelled there.

What is the truth then? Does God exist? Does He care? And why is He silent when you are hurting? I'm not even discussing the first question here actually. If we choose to measure God's existence by His responses every time, then understand that He feels no compulsion to prove His existence to us. About His care....well you can hardly accuse a God who gave His only begotten Son to die on the cross for our salvation, of not caring! So why then is He silent when you are teetering on the brink of the precipices of hopelessness and frustration?

I would like to draw the answer to this maddening question from a shadowed, moonlit olive garden, 2000 years ago. The Garden of Gethsemane....where Jesus prayed the night before He was crucified. Come with me reader, let us tiptoe in on the scene. The Lord Jesus is parting from His beloved disciples. "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death" He confides, "stay here, and keep watch" (Mark 14:34). They nod dutifully, but minutes after He leaves, their eyes droop and they nod off to sleep. Fine friends indeed! But let us not tarry here. Let us follow Jesus through the undergrowth, as He walks a stone's throw away from them, kneels in a shadowy recess praying His heart out. We can see His lips move, and if we move nearer, we can hear him say, "Abba, Father, everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will." (Mark 14:35)

It is obvious He is in great emotional and spiritual distress as He contemplates the terrible death that awaits Him the next day. He knows it is His destiny, the awful culmination of His Father's grand salvation plan. He struggles to accept so much pain, so much unfair punishment. His human self tries to reconcile why someone as sinless and pure as He, must be the sacrifice to redeem an ungrateful and undeserving world. Watch with me reader as the Lord of the Universe sweats blood in His anguish and grief. Perhaps His friends can comfort Him. He rises and goes to them, only to find that they sleep without a care in the world. Thrice He returns, hoping atleast one would be awake, praying with Him and for Him. Thrice, He is let down.

Deeply disappointed, He return to His alcove, knowing this time there is not one human He can rely on. Perhaps His Father would comfort Him. He prays again the same prayer while we watch with bated breath, hoping for an astonishing display of thunder and lightning and divine intervention in this drama that is fast escalating towards its horrifying end on Golgotha's hilltop. Minutes pass and we slowly realise it is not to be. The same Father who proudly and dramatically declared Jesus "His son whom He loved and with whom He was well pleased" (Matthew 3:13-17) before large crowds at Jesus' baptism in the Jordan river, is now ominously quiet. The heavens themselves are deafening in their silence.

And yet, Jesus faltered not. The next day on the cross He was to cry out that heartbreaking cry of agony, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani" ("My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" - Mark 15:33-34) . Hanging on the cross, his body rent in tremendous physical agony, Jesus watched in unparalelled spiritual agony as His beloved and holy Father, finding Him repulsive on account of all the world's sin that He now bore on His innocent shoulders, turned away from Him. And Jesus was left alone in an unforgiving world that cruicified its King. And yet, Jesus faltered not. He submitted Himself to His destiny, obedient even unto death on the cross. Not for a moment did He doubt that His Father in spite of the silence, loved Him above all things. It is no wonder then that on the third day, Jesus rose again from the dead.

When God is silent, He is not shutting Himself away from you. He is merely allowing you to seek Him in truth and depth. He waits for your response. Will you be faithful like Jesus, knowing that the sun is just behind a cloud and will reappear at any moment? Or is your faith dependant on what benefits you derive from God? We don't doubt the existence of the sun just because day turns to night. Why then would we doubt His love for us just because He elects to hold His peace as is His sovereign choice? Everyday He speaks to us in myriad wonderful ways, but sunk in our mundane lives, we barely notice. However when He fails to deliver the expected feel-good pep speech, He becomes an indifferent God? Very unreasonable, very stupid and very human.

From the lives of great patriarchs in the Bible such as Abraham, Moses, David and Elijah, we see that for a period, God allows us to struggle through on our own, plowing our way through acres of doubt, always pointing our compasses only to the cross. And though it looks like the Lord believes that sometime or the other, saints must walk alone, He's always around the corner waiting to pick us up when we fall! But even if He doesn't, we are called to simply get up and plod on in our Christian walk.

So the next time the heavens fall silent and the Lord seems faraway, remember the example of one Man whose unwavering purpose and faith in His God, changed the history of mankind forever. Remember....Gethsemane!

Psalm 22:1-5 - "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me? Far from my deliverance are the words of my groaning. O my God, I cry by day, but You do not answer; And by night, but I have no rest. Yet You are holy, O You who are enthroned upon the praises of Israel. In You our fathers trusted; They trusted and You delivered them. To You they cried out and were delivered; In You they trusted and were not disappointed.

Piano Pains....

Growing up, Sundays evenings between 4 and 6 were the times that I least looked forward to. Reason? That was when my piano master would arrive! A neat, dapper man with meticulously hand-written music, he would proceed to drill me for 2 unpleasant hours and prepare me thoroughly for the piano exams that I appeared for, every October. Much as I disliked being separated from my Sunday evening cartoons and my friends playing happily (and piano classlessly) outside, the lessons weren't really an option for me. My dad being one of the best pianists in Chennai, I was naturally expected to follow in his footsteps, whether I liked it or not. And I, liked it not....very definitely not!

Piano playing, as delightful as it seems to the casual observer, is really the fruits of a horrendous number of practice hours. And I, really wasn't the hardest of workers at things that didn't come easily to me! So I did all I could to avoid this slogging that I loathed so much. Unfortunately, no amount of hiding up trees and in cubby holes could get me out of the hated classes. I even vividly remember being retrieved once, none too gently from under the staircase where I had secreted myself in the hopes that they'd all give up looking for me and send my instructor away! No such luck. Kicking and flailing I was escorted firmly in and deposited on the high piano stool to partake of my weekly dose of Western Classical music. Sigh...

And so it was that I cleared 5 piano grades, certified by the Trinity college of Music, London. By that time, I had insisted on being taught by my dad himself. Unfortunately that turned out to be worse...unable anymore to take his impatient knocks on my head everytime I played a wrong note (which was often), I put my foot down and refused to touch the piano again much to my father's great disappointment. Once again my Sunday evenings became free and life became wonderful without having to worry about reading little black notations dancing between the staves, or trying to get both hands to cooperate at the same time!

It's been years now and I can hardly play anything except for the odd hymn or 'Fur Elise' and regret has slowly started to creep in. It raises its ugly head everytime my father praises a young person proficient at the keys, for it reminds me I am still a disappointment to his dreams of making me a concert pianist. It gets worse when on being introduced as the brilliant man's daughter, the crowd of adoring fans that surrounds my father after every performance pounces on me demanding delightedly if I played as well as my father! Those are the moments when I look at the embarassed look on my father's face and wish I could just melt into goo and disappear through the cracks in the floor.....

Realisation has dawned on me today. I know tons of people who would give their right hands to be trained by a piansit like my dad, but aren't able to 'cos he's not into training and teaching. And you won't believe the number of funny looks I get when I say I stopped because I didn't want to learn under him. I had a master of the art at my disposal, to teach and to correct and to make me greater than he is. But I availed it not simply because I wasn't willing to put my back into it and strain every sinew till I stepped out of my father's shadow and made it on my own. So many years lost, so many opportunities forfeited. I know now that the simple truth is this - I have been a lazy fool.

Looking at a spiritual parallel of this life experience, I find the commonalities amazing. Many a time we refuse to walk the narrow way, straining at the bridle the Master has laid on us, fearing it would be too difficult, too much hard work. Like stubborn donkeys, we dig in our feet and obstinately refuse to put in the effort that it takes to work hard at a relationship with God. We seek an easier, comfortable life where there's less risk, less hurt, less pain. We choose worldiness over godliness and materialism over spiritualism. We opt for sunny summer days without God rather than dark stormy nights hidden under His wings. Result? Spiritual flab, not muscle.

Toiling at the yoke Christ lays on us day and night in terms of disappointments, painful circumstances, failures and brokenness, is certainly not the path to a happy life. But it is the only road to a fruitful life. It is through endurance, perseverance and hard work that the soul becomes primed to take on the character of the Son and peel away the worldly layers revealing the divine image of God within, in which He first made us.

An easy life that has not the commitment and grit of a Christ-centred existence, results simply in a soul whose glorious origins remains unrevealed and unknown. What majesty is there in a soul that remains a lump of clay, however well it may be wrapped in silk and lace. How much more glorious to sweat and bleed for His sake and blossom instead into the wordlessly beautiful character of Christ in you!

James 1:12 says - "Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him. "

I'm going home to sit at the piano today. Better late than never, I've decided. It works the same way for your soul too you know.....and I'm sincerely hoping you'll take the hint!

Called to be Free!

I had complaints about the previous post. It seems I'd made people cry. "Write something funny now to make up" they sniffed, "You owe us!". I'm trying people. Honestly I am. But I just don't feel very funny, only plenty groggy! You would too if you've just written and discarded atleast 5 different drafts. Looks like my fountain of funnies has dried up. So here I am making a full confession, hoping wildly that by the end of it I would have somehow stumbled upon and made a point!

Let's see now....what's the funniest thing I can lay eyes on right now? Ha! Saved! My sweeping gaze has just set itself on today's funny inspiration - my gorgeous baby golden retriever Blossom, sleeping upside down with her legs in the air as usual, carefree and unworried (much to my mother's constant mortification - "Blossom, you shameless puppy!! What will people say?"). Blossom is 4 months old and thinks she is as light as she was, 4 months ago! If you approach her like all the other poor fools she has beguiled by her gentle golden good looks, you will quickly find yourself wrestling with a puppy monster who's fiercest ambition in life is to climb all over you and maybe try to stand on your head! So from a safe distance, she's gotta be the sweetest li'l bow-wow you ever set eyes on.

Blossy like all babies cannot be trusted to be by herself for even nano seconds. She eats everything she finds (would you believe raw vegetables!) and has appointed herself the official family shredder of anything that makes a ripping noise! So, much to her disappointment, she's always been supervised and tied up. But lately though, she's been pretending to be slightly grown up and has been on her best behaviour. So idiots that we were, we decided to give her free reign of our large garden for the very first time of her life! Blossom sat there and waved that non-stop tail looking up at us adoringly as we debated whether or not to unchain her completely for the first time ever. That 'look-at-me-I'm-so-innocent' look lasted just until the chain clasp came off. And then, she took off like a shot!

We watched amused as she rocketed around the garden hitting every tree in the way in excitement and I was very forcefully reminded of George of the Jungle! We stood watching the golden blur zipping around, jumping into piles of leaves, chasing leaves and tracking imaginery enemies through the undergrowth for a while till we got bored with her antics. Deciding to leave her to her own devices, we returned to our work inside the house while she carried on like a mad dog in the garden.

Some time later, I looked up idly to see her grinning doggy face running past me into the house. In seconds, she happily wagged at me and ran out again. I smiled at her indulgently and returned my attention to my work. But while she repeated the into-the-house-and-out-of-it game, something was niggling in the back of my head. As she had flashed past heading both ways, I was sure I'd caught a glimpse of something in her mouth.

A casual looksee yielded magnificient results. It looked like our little lady had spent the last half hour joyfully filling the house with wood and bracken and dead leaves and every other mouldy thing she could get her jaws on! And what was worse, she seemed to be compensating the garden whose treasures she was robbing, by delivering our clothes to it in return....in some weird doggy barter transaction! I was just in time to get hold of her as she trotted out confidently again with one end of what looked like my underclothing dangling from her mouth! Caught, she dropped the red-hot proof of her doggy sin and zipped into the garden only to return again with yet another piece of fungus-infected bark! But this time I was ready for her and she found herself locked out by the grille door. Check out the photo below for the comically sad expression she was trying on me to worm her way inside! We spent a long time laughing at her that day.

Blossom's canine behaviour funnily reminds me of human behaviour. We need to be supervised all the time too. Unmanned traffic signals are violated, unattended shop counters are shoplifted, unsupervised employees slack off and unwatched students cheat at tests! This is by no means newly evolved behaviour. It dates back to Adam in Eden who left to himself, managed to get us all thrown out of Paradise; Israel in the desert, devoid of Moses' leadership for mere days frenziedly worshipped a golden calf; the apostles in the garden of Gethsemene left alone for mere hours fell asleep instead of praying and David on his terrace one golden afternoon, took another man's wife 'cos he thought no one was watching!

In Christ we are made free. Free from sin and free from death. Joyful news indeed. But a word of caution reader.....that freedom comes with responsibility. Let loose from our burdens and sin, it is easy to go overboard and live life in a way that is unacceptable to God. Remember that the God who set you free also expects you to behave. Blossom's bad-bad was funny. Our abuse of God's freedom is not.

Galatians 5:13 says, "You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the sinful nature; rather, serve one another in love." So unless you wanna be counted on the same intellectual level as my puppy, some shaping up is suggested...pronto!

Waves of Mercy....

At age 18, after a late night of last minute exam preparation, I woke up to some strange activity at home. My mom who had been sleeping next to me was missing. I sat up just in time to see my normally sprightly 58-year father, looking all bent and old, being walked out of the house in his home clothes, by strangers! My mom followed with a duffel bag and then I heard a car door slam and my dad was gone. I probed mom for details but she was tight-lipped and not forthcoming at all. She busied herself instead in packing me off to college and then rushing to be with my father, wherever he was. My dad didn't come back that night either. Then slowly, little by little I pieced things together.

My father, sleeping alone in my parents' room, had suffered a massive heart attack early that morning around 2AM. He had dragged himself to my room where my mom and I were sleeping ('cos I was too sissy to sit and study alone!) and had repetitively whispered my mom's name since the crushing pain in his chest wouldn't let him cry out. Somewhere in the foggy realms of sleep, my startled mother heard his voice calling out to her and abruptly awoke to be with him. They sat together then, husband and wife, holding each other, white-faced and afraid, unwilling to disturb anybody (even me), simply praying. Since we live in the suburbs and didn't own a car then, they had to wait for 4 hours before my dad would let my mom finally disturb a doctor friend who immedately responded by bringing down his car and whisking my father away to the nearest cardiac facility.

When the truth unfolded, I (to put so many complex emotions in one word) freaked. Everything said and done, I'm daddy's little girl and the reality of what was happening was like a slap in the face. Overnight my childishness faded away like gay paint washed off a drab canvas and I grew up. I was torn between my fears of whether I would see my hospitalised father again alive, stress on performing well in my annual semster exams and a miserable, aching desire to see him somehow. But they wouldn't let me visit him....said I was the last person who should, since he loved me the most and it would excite his condition if he did. So though I kicked everything in sight in frustration and fought with everyone who visited him about the unfairness of it all, I was simply left suffering from a distance, living only for the scraps of info that relatives chose to toss my way.

It turned out he had 3 severe blocks in his arteries and needed open-heart surgery with 2 bypasses. I was completely undone. My father didn't smoke, he didn't drink and he'd been the epitome of goodness and integrity, the man I'd looked upto all my life! Whatever had he done to deserve this? My grandfather, a pastor, died at 48yrs of age (of cardiac arrest again), leaving my 16-year old dad and his family helpless. Would history repeat itself? I was terrified! I didn't want scalpels touching my dad. I was afraid he wouldn't get off the operating table alive. I worried and grieved that I wouldn't even have spoken to him one last time if that happened. I cried sleeplessly for nights together, begging God not to take my daddy away.

But God was gracious and the surgery was successful. It took more than a week before I could see my dad again and when I did, I cried bitterly. He was weak and emaciated and long surgery scars ran across his chest where the doctors had broken the sternum and ribs open to reach his heart. His fair facial skin had started darkening in patches from all the strong medication he was taking and he looked so helpless and defenceless lying there....so frail and mortal. Hardly like the brisk, strong father who had once tossed and caught me in the air and whose quick long strides I had once struggled to keep up with - 3 hops, skips and jumps to his every step! I would sit by his side as he slept and stare at him, wondering if he would ever laugh and sing and play the piano again......sometimes, if he would even awaken again.

But dad pulled through and slowly recuperated. Though even as his surgery scars healed, my psychological scars didn't. For years after that, I would wake up in the middle of the night with a sick feeling in my stomach. Hurriedly flipping on the lights, I would stare at my sleeping father willing him to be breathing normally. And it was only after I saw for myself the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, would I go back to sleep. The nightmare of being left fatherless was ever with me.

Eight years went by peacefully. And then, 3 years ago, just when we thought he'd beaten the heriditary disease and that we'd all live happily ever after, my father's bypassed arteries clogged again. Doctors said he couldn't stand another procedure at his age. I clearly remember the cardio specialist's shattering words delivered so calmly, "There's nothing more we can do for you now Mr.Samuel. You'll just have to manage on medicines and maybe.....pray". I cried again that day.

I loved my father with all my heart and like every other son/daughter, I wanted him to live forever. Also, all my life I had dreamt of how my father would be the one to give me away to be someone's wife. But here I was - 27 years old, with marriage nowhere on my horizon and time running out on my father's clock. Well the specialist wanted us to pray didn't he? So pray we did. And I asked the Lord this: "Father, my dad's greatest desire is to see me happily married. But it is you who delay the day I meet the one you created for me. It is your responsibility then Master, to sustain and nourish my father and keep his lifeline in your hand until, and past that glad day, for I don't want to be given away by a stranger like an orphan. So help us God."

Praise God Reader.... for last week, my father celebrated his 70th birthday! This is so big a deal for me and my family. Like in the case of King Hezekiah, the Lord has been gracious and has added days to His life. And for this, I am eternally grateful.

Wedding bells are still faraway for me, but I am no longer afraid. For the last 12 years I have seen the wonderful ways in which the Lord has held our family in the centre of His grace and will. He has been in control of my father's health and has blessed us with abundant joy and loving familial ties. He has taught us through our travails to appreciate each other. and in the short time that we have left, to openly express our love for each other. He has enabled us to overcome the crippling emotional side-effects of heart disease and continue to serve him with Christ-centred hearts and renewed spirits.

And finally, He has planted and raised in me, a faith so strong that for me, no doubt remains. If and when I do walk down the aisle, it will only be on my father's arm!

"Praise the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits - who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's." (Psalm 103:205)

Wooed By A King!

Singlehood is fun. I work as long as I want to, hang out with any of my friends anytime, indulge in as many church activities as I please and generally get to run my own life without having to worry about sensitivity to a partner's needs, emotions or time. Being a spinster also means lesser family responsibilities, greater priority allocation to God and His work and a larger expression of the childlike spirit in me. Meaning, I can go out and sail paper boats in rain puddles all day long if I wanted to, without bringing down fire-breathing in-laws on my head!

But singlehood also has its downside. I, the single person, am the one that eyes couples holding hands at the beach, uncomfortably conscious of my own unheld appendages which seem unusually in the way at times like these.....I'm the solo driver raising an unapproving eyebrow when couples (apparently) in love, zip past me laughing and speeding, down the East Coast Road......I'm the bacholerette in the corner of the icecream shop looking for a barf bag 'cos I can't stand the sicky sweet PDA exhibited by the cosy couple nearby.....I'm the cringing spinster that's wishing the earth would open and swallow me up when a host of well-meaning aunties corner me me at weddings thrusting bachelor bio-datas in my face....And last but not least, I'm the single traveller lugging her own baggage through airports and railway stations while demure wives have their husbands do it for them! Honestly, sometimes singlehood is not all its cracked up to be!

But really, it's not like nice guys grow on trees! Plus, marriage is too big a commitment to be entered into as if I were buying a lottery ticket! I'd rather wait and let God finish his painting on the canvas that is my life. Ergo at most times, I find myself desperately pleading with God, to atleast put the desire for singlehood in my heart if His carefully set plans for my future, are aeons away from fruition. And God being God, has responded in the most amazing ways.

On one of those cranky, frustrating evenings when all the world seems like it's in love and you're the only sad sop flitting around aimlessly with a thundercloud permanently fixed over your head, I threw this at God: "Look Lord, I'm single 'cos you're taking your own sweet time sending me my Adam. I'm fine with that, but then my feelings, emotions and desires become your responsibility! I've honoured your will for me....now I trust you to honour the desires you yourself fashioned in me. Not that I desire much, but could you please send me flowers some time? I would like that so much.....". This was my prayer. A silly one maybe, but it makes sense you know if you've been single as long as I have! The next day, I met an old friend who promptly handed me a lovely long-stemmed yellow Gerbera! I don't have to tell you I was thrown!

But being human (and a suspicious one at that), I needed to be convinced this wasn't some weird coincidence. So I pitched with God one more time. This time I wanted a teddybear (What? Almost every girl gets one from her boyfriend doesn't she?) to be delivered to me, lock, stock and barrel by the following Sunday. Come Saturday night, all was quiet and I told myself that the gerbera was a fluke. Early on Sunday morning, my parents woke me up with a "Happy daughter's day!", a kiss on my cheek and a plastic bag thrust into my groggy face. I don't think any of you reading this needs to ask what it contained!!! My parents are loving people, but not spontaneous or impractical gift-givers and the last time they gave me a doll, I was five! And 'Daughter's Day?' That's a first! But people, in the face of all odds, I actually got what I'd wanted! A Minnie Mouse doll is not exactly a teddy bear, but (I've never looked gift horses in the mouth!) this was nevertheless a doll, just like I'd asked and bang on time too!

By now there's probably an unbelieving open-mouthed gaze or a knowing indulgent smile on your face....depending on whether or not you've experienced these for yourself. But here's the best part yet. Even before I could get over the pleasantly awed realisation of having been courted by the king of the universe, I received a text message from a friend that read: "Everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds (Matthew 7:8)". How apt. The Lord certainly enjoys crowning His deeds with appropriate words doesn't He?

So reader, when was the last time you asked God for something and actually believed you'd receive it? When was the last time you did? While I believe God has a soft corner for all us singles who stay rooted in His word, praying His will be done in our lives, His gracious and loving giving is not limited to this small clique. To everyone who truly believes, however trivial or inconsequential the need, (if it will bring joy and not pain for you in the long run), the Lord is quick to sanction it. Try and you'll see I speak truely.

And to all you singles out there still waiting for God's appointed to make his/her appearance over the empty horizon....chillax ok? Your promised one is on the way and will be here soon. In the meantime, sit back and enjoy having your hand held and heart touched by the love of your life - the Emperor Himself. Open your eyes to the love letters He sends you in every dawn and dusk and your ears to his love song, sung to you so passionately in every human voice and birdsong. Submit to His 'agape' love and trust Him to fulfil all your needs, even the smallest ones. Allow Him to fill your life with Himself and completely sweep you off your feet in divine romance. Yield yourself to Him that He may show you what real love is all about. For our heavenly suitor said, "And I will betroth thee unto me for ever; yea, I will betroth thee unto me in righteousness, and in judgment, and in lovingkindness, and in mercies." (Hosea 2:19)

Me...I'm thinking of asking for chocolates next!