The Merlion's Adventure

It's a week past Mother's Day but I have a wife-related story to tell, and they don't really have a wife's day for some reason (perhaps because it's supposed to be everyday?)

Last Thursday, I was on the way home with my wife when I saw a weird looking cloud in the sky and remarked to her that it looked like the Merlion!

This turned out to be remarkably prescient, because in a few hours, I would in fact be merlion-ing i.e. throwing up like the iconic statue at Fullerton. As the resident vacuum cleaner of food in our family, I was having various leftovers as dinner. Something or other must have gone bad, and by 10 pm, my stomach was starting to cramp.

Things got increasingly worse, and at 1 am, I crawled out of our bedroom and threw up. I usually feel a lot better after throwing up, but unfortunately, this time, I didn't, and the cramps started to get worse. Luckily for me, my wife and son (who happened to be at home from NS) were there to sit next to me and make me feel that at least I wasn't alone!

At about 3 am, I threw up again, and by then I was literally lying on the floor in the hall, groaning in pain. Again, throwing up didn't seem to make me feel any better, and at 5 am, I threw up once more. I concluded then that, nope, I'm not going to get any better like this.

So I told my wife - let's go to the hospital. My wife matter-of-factly put on her work clothes, hauled me off my feet, and off we went. Along the way, I looked up and asked weakly, why are we going this way? And my wife said, I'm bringing you to the hospital nearest my office. Ah.

So, early Friday morning saw me slumped with my head on my arms, mumbling to the triage nurse that my pain level, on a scale of 1-10, was probably 9. After triage, I was almost immediately wheeled into a big room alarmingly labelled "Critical Care" and my wife wasn't allowed to go in, so she went off to work.

I spent the next several hours groaning in pain on a gurney, but credit to the Singapore public health system - they had a doctor or nurse check in on me every hour or so, at least as far as I can recall in my fevered state, and I was put on drip with painkillers and rehydrated.

Noontime rolled around, and by then I was transferred to an observation ward of some kind. My wife turned up and sat with me for a while and said, "you're still going to the school tomorrow right?"

You see, that weekend was supposed to be our regular trip to Indonesia to see our friends at the school we support over there, along with a team of volunteers we organise each time. This was a particularly important trip though, because it was the annual open house for the school, and we were expecting hundreds of villagers to come to the school, especially for the fresh kindergarten intake.

I nodded weakly at my wife - my stomach was still cramping badly, and I hadn't even managed to keep a mouthful of water down yet. The doctors were already telling me, do you want to consider staying another night for observation? You still haven't eaten or drunk anything.

Anyway, my wife had to head back to work, so off she went, and I spent the next several hours dozing fitfully, and feebly throwing up a couple more times.

In the evening, my wife returned after she was done with work, and by then, I was feeling a little better. After my last throw-up, I finally felt like the worst had passed. I was even able to drink a cup of water. But the doctors were still saying - maybe you should stay one more night.

I must confess - in my own head, I thought, well surely this is as good a reason as any to stay home. The team can go on without me.

But my wife had different ideas. Remember. She had stayed up all night with me at home. Then, while I was lying in bed in the hospital, she had been working all day. She must have been absolutely knackered. She had every justifiable excuse to tell herself, forget it, I'm staying home too.

But no. She took one long and steady look at me, and essentially said, "Daddy, we got places to be, things to do. We're outta here." And with that, we were off.

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Within the next 12 hours, we were with the team on the ferry to Indonesia. In the following 24 hours, we conducted an open house for hundreds of villagers and students with games, lessons, lunch and grocery goodie bags for 400, visited about 20 homes in 3 villages to pray for the sick, and even found energy to go out for dinner after that. 

In the next 24 hours after that, we organised Sunday service for the villagers, Sunday school for the children, preached a message, prayed for what must have been 100 people, who came from hours away, and patiently waited for hours more, just so we could pray together with them for jobs, illnesses, family issues and all sorts of other needs.

In our home visits on the first day, we had finished our rounds in the village when I remembered that there was one home we hadn't gone to yet. So we went back into the village to look for her. She was so happy to see us. As we sat down on the floor, she said, "you remembered to come to see me!" And I said, "Of course! You are our friend." And she replied, with tears in her eyes, with something that really went deep into my heart. "No, you're not my friends. You are like my family"

Wow. I really felt - we don't deserve that at all. What have we done to deserve it? Barely anything. We just turn up, ask how they are, and pray together. But it reminded me. Just being there. Praying for desperate needs. That's friendship. Done often enough, that's family.

Throughout the day, I would also have people come up to me. Often they would ask me, why are you here? Why are you helping us? Why do you come back so often? Few foreigners bother - why did you bother to learn our language? They were genuinely puzzled.

And I would say, as I have said to many of them over the years - well, we started 5 years ago, and I said I wanted us to be friends. But real friends don't just see each other once. How could I genuinely claim to be your friend unless I came back again and again and again? 

Real friends also know each other. What better way to become a better friend than learning to speak your language so we can really get to know each other? And I would almost see a light turn on behind their eyes. Ah! And sometimes even a response - the next time you come back, how can I help you help us?

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I guess the point I really want to remember from this last adventure is this.

Things that are worthwhile doing, that God wants us to do - quite often the devil will get in the way. He doesn't want us to do those things. He will make us sick. He will make us busy. He will make us distracted. He will give us other things (sometimes even nice things) we should do with our time and money and energy.

We have a choice. We can accept the perfectly acceptable excuses the devil gives us, sag back into mundanity and chasing after the wind, and miss all the awesome stuff we would otherwise have experienced with Him by our side. 

Or we can recognise - ah, resistance from the devil. This must be the right direction then. And then head exactly that way, heads facing into the wind, feet treading into the mud and gravel.

Along the way, if we are lucky, we will have friends and family, and in my case especially, my wife, who will see us teetering on the verge of taking an excuse. They will put their hands on our shoulders, look us in the eye, and say, "Places to be. Things to do. Up you get. Off we go".

And then we will head off, shoulder to shoulder, into the wind again, on our great adventure to love the Lord, to love His people, to receive His love and supply, and to do His great work.

Thank you, my wonderful wife and friend. Adventure awaits us :)