a life between crossings

So, today started on a bit of a downer - got into a minor raise-voice-to-make-a-point kind of tift in the morning and felt subsequently angsty. (Re: Oolong rabbit endorsed blog below). I felt pretty crummy and weepy for about an hour - before combined prayers of friends I SMSed started doing their mighty work. Felt strengthened and chastened enough to be humble and made up with XXXXXXXX over lunch.

I have never seen her say grace before over a meal. I have never seen her say grace before - period. So that kind of told me that she must have felt bad too about the tift. That was a very assuring sign to me that whatever angst was going to come up between us again could be continuously dealt with as long as we both had God in our lives and the Holy Spirit working to change hearts of stone to hearts of flesh.

I thought that was it for God's little lessons of the day
BUT that was not even the best or most touching part of the day.

My God is the original smarty pants - he always knows how to hammer down a point. He got Game - tricksy He is, my Saviour Lord.

Morning emotional angst had really exhausted me and by the time I finished teaching at 930pm today I was pretty tired. After horsing around with a stray cat, I crossed from Bugis Junction to Bugis Village to take a bus home.

To get to Bugis Village from Bugis Junction, you have to cross one traffic light, wait at an island in the middle of the road and cross a second traffic light. Often at this island this time of night, I would see a little old woman just sitting there, selling tissue paper from a raggedy pink plastic bag.

She is a pitiful sight - The island is full of endless human traffic but nobody ever stops to patronise her. a) It's a narrow island. you feel pressured by the anxiety of the other people. If you stop, you may hold up the flow of people b)people are usually moving too fast and are too anxious to catch the bus on the other side c) when she sits, scrawny little thing that she is, visually she is literally out of people's sight. It's subsequently very easy to not make eye contact. She easily becomes part of the urban scape, the wallpaper of the city.

Funny how that island works as a microcosm of our busy, busy selfish lives on the bigger island of Singapore eh?

Though I have seen her many times, I have never stopped to talk to her or buy tissue from her. I have always felt a little bit guilty about it. Worse, I knew I ought to have felt a whole lot more guilty. Feeling moved from my morning defensiveness about how I use my money for charity, I felt charged to break the habit of just walking past her. If I claimed I was using my money wisely as God intended, I damn well better live up to my claims one hundred percent, anyone, any time, anywhere, any context.

Fishing out $2, I asked her in broken Chinese, "Aunty, your tissue how much?" She handed over 5 packs with a small smile. Feeling convicted to go futher than just buying tissue, I continued asking her about whether she had eaten and how she was feeling. I could barely hear her response because of my bad command of Chinese and because of the never ending flow of people and roaring traffic all around us.

I could grasp bits and pieces:
-she had been poor and struggling since 12
-she only ate once a day.
-she stayed in Woodlands and was looking desperately for a cheaper place to stay.
-she owed $3000 in rent;
-she had a son who had been kidnapped when younger and subsequently, he was so psychologically affected that he could not find a stable job
-she worked as a cleaner in the morning and sold tissue here at night
-she felt Singaporeans were very evil-hearted for constantly calling the cops on her to report her for selling tissue paper illegally.

The conversation went on for a while. Feeling tired from stooping, I sat next to her like a fellow vagabond. Thank goodness for pants.

I managed to garble out, "Aunty, you very amazing. Your life is so difficult but sometimes when you speak, I see you still can smile. You very strong ah Aunty!"

That's when she hit me with the clincher, "That's only because I found God." Turns out her poor, permanently unemployable son, also has found God.

Thrilled, I immediately cried, "Aunty! Wah! You know Jesus ah? I am so happy for you!" She broke out in a big grin, "Of course! Before that ah, Aunty everyday cry and cry. Heart very pain. Know Jesus already, Know how to laugh!" She suddenly batted my arm with a buddy-like affection, "You ah.....I also wanted to ask you if you know Jesus!" We giggled at our mutual Christian nerdiness.

It was the most unnatural of pairings, a oddball fellowship - a tiny piece of heaven.

Bizarrely, as the conversation carried on, it almost seemed like we were not sitting on a dirty concrete island between traffic. The way we were laughing and bantering (even with my horrible 'tehhh' bimbo Chinese), it seemed like we were hanging out like a couple of Bugis Junction ah-lians. She kept punctuating her points with playful little punches to my arm.

I bought her a drink and some groceries from 7-11 since no food stalls were open. Apologising for the lack of proper food available, I asked her if she wanted anything else. She kept saying, 'AIyah you spent so much money already. Aunty Pai seh."

It came up to $12 - hardly a fortune to me but it must have been princely to someone who only ate once a day and could not even buy water for herself. So I bumbled," But Jesus help me earn money to buy you food what. Must one. Must one. Aunty don't need to pai seh lah! We all then pai seh, never help you." She laughed and asked me to help her find a Chinese-English Bible for her to read.

Scribbling my name and phone number, I told her I would definitely bring her one together with food more healthy than 7-11 crap. I told her to visit ARPC's mandarin ministry if she could. She seemed rather happy about it and asked me what time I went for service. Hugging her, I told her Jesus loved her very much before running for my bus.

I wish I could have prayed with her but my lousy Chinese might have ended the night in heresy. :) So instead on the bus home, I prayed for her and thought:

Thank you, God. Thank. YOU.

Thank you for being the God who looks after lives that fall between the cracks. You have your ways of finding and saving even the most lost and ignored. Thank you that their salvation and provision does not depend wholly on us - your fickle followers.

Thank you for helping me earn enough money such that I don't have to blink at buying food, water or even a Bible for one in need. Thank you for that honour and privilege - that I can have enough to feed myself, contribute to my family, contribute to church and still have more than enough to give away to those in need.

Thank you for reminding me I have more than enough to give away. I must never ever forget that - I have enough. More. Than. Enough. No matter what others may think or tempt me to believe. It's not how much I earn. It's how I use what I earn. And use it for others I must.

Dang it. He has such a knack for teaching lessons in the strangest places. Now if only he can make my Chinese better....guess that's why the charismatics speak in tongues. heehee.

If you ever find yourself on that same island crossing at Bugis between 9pm -12am on a weekday, say hi to the little old lady and buy a couple of tissue packs.

Tell her God sent you.

It will give her a big kick. : )