Grandma

My maternal Grandma passed away last week. Grandma lived a long, full life. All her loved ones - children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren - remember her as a beautiful soul who inspired us and was an example of someone who loved the Lord.

My earliest recollections as a three or four year old at 10 Kennedy Terrace include Grandma and Grandpa. Every morning with the breakfast sunshine streaming into their suite, they would welcome their grandson as he came bouncing in. Grandma would put down her Bible, and take me in her lap as Grandpa filed and snapped the neck of a vial of sweet royal jelly. Grandma would stick the miniscule straw into the vial and give it to me to drink.

Then it would be question time. Grandma would patiently laugh and answer all the questions that filled the mind of a little boy. What's this? A letter-opener. How does it work? Like this. What's this? A paperweight. What does it do? It keeps these papers from being blown away by a breeze. Oh! It's pretty. Why are the windows in this room so tall? Why are there fish behind that glass? Are they your fish? Where do they come from, the sea? How do they eat? Do they bite you if you stick your hand in? Ah, conversation with Grandma! After the questions, I enjoyed watching Grandma practice Tai-Chi sword on the roof-top terrace.

When my own son remarked that Great-Grandma used to sit him in her lap and sing to him, my mind was suddenly overwhelmed with a similar remembrance. I'm told that due to all the time I spent with Grandma in those early years, I actually spoke Swatow, Grandma's old language! Apparently, at times I even told Cantonese speakers that they were mispronouncing their words, and repeated their phrases back to them in Swatow. To this day, I can fully understand anyone speaking in the Swatow dialect although, sadly, I am no longer able to speak it.

One incident etched in my memory was the removal of my first loose tooth. I showed Grandma my wiggly tooth, wherewith she took it upon herself to extract it. She tied one end of a length of thread to the tooth, and the other to a doorknob. She then slammed the door so that the thread tied to the doorknob would take out my tooth. The tooth didn't come out. Instead, Grandma got a screaming, crying, dancing grandson. But all of a sudden it didn't hurt. And as Grandma hugged and comforted me, I suddenly noticed, to my great amusement, that there was a little tooth hanging by a thread off a doorknob! Grandma laughed at it, too.

Years later, when Grandma and Grandpa lived with us for a while at Abbeywood Trail, I observed first-hand how old folks live. I saw how they loved each other and helped each other. Grandma continued to hold me in her heart. When I met with frustration or conflict she was often the first to put her hand to my cheek and wipe my tears. She still read the Bible every day. One day I walked in on her and asked her what she was doing. She told me that she prayed daily for each of her children and grandchildren.

I remember how little-girl sad she felt when Grandpa died. They got married in the days of arranged marriages, yet theirs was truly a marriage made in heaven. She was the epitome of commitment and perseverance - taking care of their children while her husband fulfilled his role as breadwinner. She was truly the noble woman and excellent wife spoken of in the Proverbs. Despite losing Grandpa 16 years ago, Grandma continued to live many years in the home they last shared, trusting in God who gives and who takes away.

I was not there for the final phase of Grandma's life, after she moved to Hong Kong and her memory faded. Stories from loved ones fill the gap. But Grandma had already left her indelible stamp on my life. I am glad she is with Jesus. Every time I hear words in her old language, I will think of her.

Healing

I am irreversibly middle-aged, and I can feel it in my body. There seems to be a steady encroachment of new aches and pains. Even more unsettling is that old pains are getting worse. I've been seen by physicians who've prescribed medications and given lifestyle advice. It helps but I'm not completely healed.

Something the guest preacher at my church said this past Sunday, however, gave me a very helpful new perspective on my understanding of health. Apparently, it has only been since the advent of Enlightenment thinking that the health sciences were expected to diagnose and treat, and so cure someone who is sick. The scientific cure focuses on the disease - the objective side of sickness. Historically however, doctors focused on illness - the subjective side of sickness. They used to care, doing whatever was needed to alleviate suffering, and sometimes cure if science and care happened to converge.

I guess I've been expecting the pain and inconvenience of my condition to be cured, or at least brought under perfect control. There are days when it is well controlled. The reality has been that, as time goes by, increasingly more has to be done to keep it under control. Suddenly, it has dawned on me that my condition may never be perfectly controlled. The aches and pains associated with it will always break through. What the care of doctors has done, however, is enough for me to live fully and function normally.

It helps me to think of Biblical perspectives of healing. There are perhaps three NT words for healing: one has to do with physical healing, a second has to do with restoration effected through the special relationship between healer and the healed (we get the English word therapy from this), and a third often used when Jesus healed others actually has to do with salvation. Apparently, when Jesus heals, it is always in a holistic context - the healing of the whole person, both physical and spiritual. In this light, although my physical health lags a little behind my complete spiritual healing by Jesus, the reality of my spiritual restoration points me forward to an eventual physical wholeness as well.

One more thought. I do not make the mistake of asking myself if I have enough faith for healing to take place. This would be to base my healing on my faith and not on God. My faith is not in a healing taking place but in God's faithfulness, goodness, power and mercy. I don't think that Jesus heals where there is faith, but that his healing provides a chance for my faith to be expressed as an indication of my desire to be healed. Jesus' healing power does not need the cooperation of my faith nor can it be manipulated through either my faith or the lack of it. Bottom line is, I put myself in his care and trust in his loving goodness. It doesn't matter what he will specifically do.

Letdown

To say that my daughter is dismayed and disappointed that the Raptors just lost their 1st round playoff series would be the understatement of the year!