Motherhood is for the long haul. Many people love children. Oh, it's really nice to play with them for a little while and when you are tired, all you have to do is return them to the mums. Indeed being a mum is an incredible calling and the exchanges are simply too wonderful to mention.

Ashton has been unwell for the past 3 months. Nothing that serious compared to many who are suffering. Yet it is still demanding whenever a baby is ill. The cold has turned into post nasal drip and stubbornly stayed on despite medical treatment. Oral medicine and nebulizer. Now resorted to inhaler for prophylaxis treatment. My patience has been tested with the long nights and deprived rest. What can be more unbearable with my new neighbour's house renovation! The banging, knocking, drilling and cementing. Definitely not helping the situation at all. In fact, adding more stress and physically contributing the dust factor :(

Just a while ago, as I cuddled Ashton in my arms soothing him after administering his treatment for the morning round, I sang a song of praise. The song spontaneuosly broke forth my lips gently just before I fret feeling sorry for myself. I smelled his head as he rested upon me. My hands stroking his back and feeling the smooth baby skin as I watched him close his eyes to slip into dreamland after struggling consuming his awful medicine. Have you wonder why the pharmaceutical company manufactures such horrible tasting cure?! My girls always ask whenever they are ill.

No matter how depressing the moment is for me and Ashton, our skin touching each other is magical. A soothing transmission takes place. My child calms down. I am comforted to know I could be present to help ease the distress. That bond is beyond words. I am thankful I can hold him in my arms as I nurse him back to health. A quick flash of the neonatal intensive care unit came back. It was nine years ago. Nat was lying in the incubator. I stood by that box and sang, "Jesus Loves Me This I Know". That song has never been so meaningful and powerful to me until my 29 weeker was born. Daily I stood and watched helpessly. I couldn't cuddle and coddle my newborn. The few superficial touches through the tiny openings of the incubator was totally unsatisfying. It was not until 2-3 weeks later I happened to be at the hospital when she was taken out to be pricked all over. They failed to get a good IV site. The moment was magical when she was handed to me to be cuddled for the first time. I guess I was more comforted than the fragile premature baby weighing slightly more than a kilogram. I felt we met properly for the first time ever since her arrival. The touch - the magical moment.

The power of the touch. I know I am being touched too by my Father. Something extraordinary took place the day my Heavenly Father touched me. That encounter was the beginning of the everlasting bond. I am still been soothed and sang over (Zephanianh 3:17).

As I struggled through the distress of life,
I stay contented knowing my Father is by my side.
No matter what the strife,
I regain my strength in the secret place where I hide.

The magical moment of the touch,
To know I am loved so much!

It is not a typo error. Yes, the word is messy.

I can't find any spotless corner every angle I turn. There is some kind of mess piling at every corner of the house. My melancholy self is falling apart. I am trying to keep my sanity in the midst of all the mess. The Christmas tree is up. Thanks to children at home. Little hands helped to add the mood to the year end festival. Christmas has never been a big do in the family. As a matter of fact, every celebration like Chinese New Year is never such a big bang in our home. Yes, we rejoice with family and friends. The usual gift exchange and food (but not too elaborate). Nevertheless, I still like to clean up the house NOW but my body is protesting.

"Merry Christmas", "Merry Christmas"- is all over...the papers, magazines, radio...and my own kids labouring with love getting their home-made Envirolynns products ready for dear ones. Oh, what's that? Hmm, young entrepreneur at work. That's enough to kick in the festive mood. But I am still in this mess! Can I have a merry Christmas in the midst of the mess?

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes...I see the manger...

Was the scene of the first Christmas truly a merry one or...perhaps it was messy too...afterall, it was in a stable. My imagination took me to different parts of the stable as I read the account of Luke on the arrival of God's Son. I wish there are more details in the story of the birth of Jesus in the initial arrival right in the stable. Luke 2:7 only mentioned Mary wrapped her son in cloths and placed him in a manger. I am still trying to understand the sentiment of the scene and experience the scent right in the humble arrival. It was so simple yet glazed with such splendour. Can all the fuss of our contemporary Christmas really display it all?!

From a mother's perspective, I wonder how did Mary felt besides the anxiety and excitement anticipating the birth of God's precious One through her. She didn't have a choice to welcome the King in the stable. I would think it was pretty messy too physically but I am pretty sure her heart was merry because she had met God's messenger and prepared for that day in welcoming the Miracle which would give hope to the entire human race. I see her sitting in the mess with a merry mood. Merry is an understatement. Totally awesome. Simple but in great splendour!

There's no way I will be able to clean up every mess in my house, but I certainly praise God for the merry hearts in this home...and my prayer is we will not miss the essence of it all.

Mary didn't have any clean hospital sheets, sterilized medical instruments, skilled obstetrician, fresh smelling air to await her delivery. Nothing seemed organized or clean enough. But she was ready. I want to be like Mary ready for whatever God is birthing forth through me despite the "mess" around me. I want to be ready to catch that miracle promised to me. I want to be ready to capture that moment of joy. I want my heart to have space to welcome the unexpected magnitude of God's promise, and my hands to be ready to catch the evidence of it; and proclaim his glorious acts.

For three days I've been enjoying quiet days apart from occassional cries of Ashton when he needed some attention. It has been relatively peaceful. I knew I couldn't be too ambitious to do spring cleaning while the three girls were away at Adventure Camp with Daddy. There's so many things I could do, home alone with baby. Cleaning, reorganizing the rooms, read read and read, catch up my sleep...ah, how I need it! Long prayer time. I had to prioritize.

Had to discipline myself to do just enough cleaning so that I would not be too engrossed in it till exhaustion point. Afterall, cleaning is neverending. Ah, it just feel too wasteful to sleep when I can indulge in other luxuries. No heavy cooking. Oats, soy and apple diet - simple and soothing. Made sure I had enough protein and calcium as I nourish Ashton and myself.

A mini retreat. Did some work on computer while baby napped. It was nice to be able to concentrate on some work without any interruption by kids. Oh, and to unwind myself out of the norm - watched DVD. No brain digging tale. Just pure entertainment - High School Musical 1&2 and concert. Those were sweet treat. Though my girls had watched them umpteen times, I sat down for the first time to enjoy the music and the moves. I felt tickled to get moving to the beat too :)

Did I miss them? Oh yes. Indeed. Though it was splendid to enjoy the serenity of the home but a home without kids' noise for three days felt rather empty.

This morning I woke up surrounded by giggling girls with Ashton been the centre of attraction as he had been missed dearly too. The silence of my days is broken...but I feel complete.

A friend once told me a home without children is like a house without garden. That's a beautiful image.

The idiom says, "Silence is Golden".
I say, "Kids' Joyful Noise is Heaven".
King Solomon says, "There's a time for everything".
So balance is good.
Enjoy every moment of life :)

Particularly in America, people are celebrating Thanksgiving. Just like every event whether Christmas, Mother's Day or Father's Day, Valentine's Day...you name it whatever day...the commercial world loves it to the bit. Another opportunity to demand our attention into gift giving. Absolutely nothing wrong to give and receive a gift from dear ones. But there's so many other ways to demonstrate our love than a physical gift.

Every year I am not spared in thinking of the gift list. Every year I've to keep it simple due to budget. Oh, don't get me wrong. I love to shower people with gifts. Budget is the only problem. "Keeping the main thing the main thing" as my professor and mentor calls it. Never to deviate from the focus of the celebration. Anxiety creeps in whenever the event draws nearer and I want the best for the recipient. I am thinking of Christmas now...

As for Thanksgiving today, many are deliberate in giving thanks. I remember when I was in primary school, every year the pupils were asked to bring something to contribute to the gift baskets for the poor. I would urged my mum to get me something each year. As we were also in the low income category, I remember bringing one or two canned sardine to be added to the pile. I felt so proud as a little girl to be able to do my part. In a convent school, we had mass and thanksgiving session. Perhaps that created an awareness in the little Selina to give thanks although it was not easy to grow up seeing my parents labour when I went to school seeing friends being driven in big cars and stayed in big houses. Ours was a tiny room in a pre-war house that housed more than 20 families. Situated right in the smack of the gangsterism community. Mum would hastily shut the door and windows whenever a fight had been aroused. I never knew how it looked like till I saw the wounds and the intensity of such attacks when I nursed assault cases in the hospital years later. Mum feared for brother. Many boys grew up becoming one of them. I give thanks for God's grace and rescued us. My heart feels deeply for this community.

My baptismal verse became my life verse, Philippians 4:6-7 says:

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

In Christ Jesus, I pray and praise,
I give thanks and shall sing in my heart today! Everyday.

The reality - it is not easy to give thanks daily but I purposed in my heart to do so. When I can't shout joyfully, I will hide a song within...and whisper, "God, thank you."

(Thankful I learnt to multi-task. Finished this post while baby nursed and slept in my right arm. In between he soiled himself, my pants and floor! I would scream years ago, but I've learnt to sing :)

Every grey cloud has a silver lining...how true is this famous saying by poet John Milton! Giving thanks has to be so intentional till it becomes so natural. Aren't we called to give thanks all the time? Good or bad, give thanks! Easy???

My eyes searched behind every grey cloud, and I saw a silver line in each...counting my blessings...

• What a lovely baby I hold in my arms each day - for me to soothe, love and care...when I feel like fretting, he smiles at me...aww...
• Children has been sick. One after another. Now all! Thankful for the nursing experience I had that made me stay calm and compose as I nurse each one. Oh and the night duty! Good training for mothering now.
• Neverending cleaning of the house...hmm...what spacious shelter for the kids to explore!
• Homeschooling...spared from rushing kids out of the house each day, and avoiding crazy Penang traffic jams.
• Kids' noises throughout the day...but I've been kissed, hugged, loved and reading sweet notes...what else could I ask for?
• Work and more work...means I've been trusted.
• Tough season never last but tough people do :)
  
  
  Above all else...thankful to God for listening to every loud and silent prayer. The virtual world's latest fad is micro-blogging...is that something new, I wonder? Perhaps the method seems different but we can practise spiritual micro-blogging...the Father is interested to know every detail in our lives...it's even quicker than technology. No need to create a profile (He knows it all). No need computer or handphone. He is present all the time.
  
  
  

Walking into any hospital always bring back some memories of my vocation in the past season. More so when it is Lam Wah Ee Hospital where the making of the nurse in me took place.

The hospital has undergone massive extension through the decade. I stood in the hallway of the male ward of the new wing listening to the medical update of our uncle from his son. My eyes couldn't stop roaming about looking at the familiarity of the routine unfolding before me. The nurses dispersed from the nursing station after the report. Another shift of staff had taken over. The busyness of the ward continued. Young faces with pipless uniform eagerly walking through the ward with their report checking on patients. They looked a little aimless and nervous for some. But to the patients they are nurses anyway. There will be certain expectation although they are first year in training. Memories flooded back...

The hospital had been the last place I wanted to be. Its the other side of life I wouldn't want to know as a youngster. Dreams never include that miserable and eerie place. Oh, how I hated the smell of disinfectant! I remember holding my mummy's hand every time I visited hospital. However, at the deciding point of a career, a little voice within prompted me to pursue a vocation that changed my entire outlook in life, my vision and mission and further built the woman I am today. There's a whole barrel of stories stored - lessons learnt, rich experiences and exciting encounters which not only make good memories but strenghten me. Life was not easy in nursing training but looking back, I am so grateful for it although it didn't end the way I had envisioned. Always wanted to teach. So I was going to have the best of both worlds - nursing and teaching...that makes nursing tutor. Coming close to that personal ambition, the Lord called me to full-time ministry in a most incredible way.

Though the years in the hospital wasn't as long as I thought it would be, I know God never make mistake in directing his children's paths. It was in that supposedly miserable place, I saw the other side of life I refused to see, the frailty of life - pain, agony, sorrow, despair, denial, fear, helplessness and hopelessness and walking into the unknown - death's passage for many. There was more than just physical pain...I was positioned there that season to hear the heartbeat of God. It was also in this place I met my Savior - the very first year I entered the hospital. It changed my whole destiny.

What a great delight to retire for the night and greet each morning with sweet notes posted in my little mailbox on my bedroom door. They are from my girls. Perhaps only daughters do such thing :) Oh, I shall wait a few more years to see if Ashton picks this good habit of writing and sending love notes to me.

Today I thought there isn't any mail for me. Maybe they were too tired to write last night. Instead it was a surprise. At the entrance of the bathroom hung a white piece of paper with the tip flapping gently as though waving to me as I walked pass. Nat's morning note to sweeten my day. A simple note of thanks and gratitude; and blessing for the day.

I was about to sit down for my quiet time with God and it reminded me...to be thankful and grateful to Him just like my girl is towards me. Yes, and blessing the Lord with words of love and asking Him for today's agenda as my girl asked me.

I am anticipating two more mails as the other girls wake up..... :)