Last night, my family and I were at The Hiding Place's Chinese New Year Bazaar @ Jalan Kayu. It's been an annual affair for the past few years - stocking up on New Year goodies and doing a bit of "shan4 shi4" (charitable works) at the same time, as the proceeds go to The Hiding Place, a halfway house for recovering drug addicts.
This year, I was in a less-than-joyous mood as I was battling a bad skin problem. My scalp was irritable and flaky, my eczema rashes had flared up again after appearing to be healing, and the humid weather was making me grumpy and feeling uncharitable towards mankind.
That was until we ran into Pastor Edmund.
We last saw PE and his family at our church retreat in June 05. He inspired as well as rebuked us because his lifestyle was completely opposite of everything we were striving for. He and his family live in a 4-room HDB flat, travel around by public transport (except when kind church members volunteer to ferry them around), and spend the school holidays doing missions work in Kolkatta, India.
I watched the kids (a 17-year-old girl and a 10-year-old boy) closely throughout the retreat, and discovered to my amazement that they had a solid camaraderie as brother and sister, and a close bond with their parents. I eagerly looked for signs of resentment or bitterness at being forced to live such a minimalistic, materially deprived (to me) lifestyle, and found none. Unless they were extraordinarily good actors, they appeared genuinely content and happy with their lot. To me, that was incredible.
Last night, they were again knee-deep in good works, manning the cashiers' counter (the kids), helping to pack and sell pineapple tarts (Mrs PE), walking around to see that everything was ok (PE). PE and wife were delighted to see us. We, on the other hand, squirmed with discomfort.
As I confided to my husband, coming face to face with PE is an uncomfortable experience for me. I feel as if I have done something wrong and need to hide. Whenever I look him in the eye, his direct gaze seems to pierce through my self-centredness, my vain ambition, my endless seeking for financial and material security. His very lifestyle is a direct rebuke to me. I have more than enough, yet it is never enough. I spend anxious nights thinking of how to get more customers for my writing business, how to invite visitors to BNI, but not enough time spreading the Good News. If I applied myself to the spreading of God's Word with as much enthusiasm as I do my other ventures, perhaps God would be pleased.
As a dear sister reminded me in church on Sunday, who are we comparing ourselves with - our peers in private practice with their fancy children's birthday parties and bling bling-flashing spouses, or the Legal Aid applicants with no options, no money and no resources for their daily needs?
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