High maintenance.

I’d waited so long for this day.

 You know, I thought this day might never happen. You, sitting there, reading at the lobby of the hospital, waiting for me for over 2 hours because well, they always buzz me when I’m just about to leave, “Doctor, can you please? One last thing.”

And you never make me feel bad, you make it sound like it’s be the easiest thing to do, ever. Like waiting was no big deal because you were doing work on your laptop anyways, because it wasn’t a waste of time, and no, it wasn’t a detour for you.

I thought this day would never happen.

Last week, when we went to view your rented premise, I had to something to confess. I wanted to be honest with you, that I was, am struggling, and I wanted you to know, it had nothing to do with you. I didn’t have to tell you, but I guess I wanted to, because I couldn’t cope with it alone. I was, have been, am struggling with my flesh, and it hurt me to come face to face with my own frailties and flagrant materialism.

You know, I think some part of me just never connected the fact that choosing God would mean a substantial sacrifice in this area. I knew it in my head, I had even experienced it to some extent in other areas of my life, but I think the princess inside of me just couldn’t cope with the very real implications of that wish. A part of me has always wanted to be with a pastor or a missionary of some sort, be with the poor, do missions, do a little bit of good in the world, you know? Yet, another part of me, the little princess part, has always dreamt of being taken out in a car, with the whole flowers and car-door opening bits in a nice restaurant and going for a spin after… or being driven home from work and bought dinner and taken out to nice places…

… and so I guess, it shocked me, to realize how difficult it was for my flesh to cope with realizing that with a pastor or missionary… this would not be possible. We will have no car. We will have no house to call our own. We will live on a budget because missionaries are supported through funds raised through the church. And you being here made this real to me. I think about your budget all the time. You have sold everything of value to you and left everything behind in Canada to serve God here in Asia. How can I ask for more?

But still, it hurt. It hurt to know I was discovering something shallow and greedy and human inside of me, to know that it hurt so much to let go of that princess-dream which, in reality, held no eternal value whatsover. I suppose, coming from a medical background has something to do with it. Being in the medical faculty, most of my peers are well- to-do. Those who are couples go out to expensive places, drive spacious cars, receive exquisite gifts. I have been spoilt.

I think what hurt the most, was realizing, to my horror, that deep down inside, I might be what they call High Maintenance.

I was watching this Francis Chan video on relationships the other day just before your aeroplane touched down and it was his wife who said, “Look, women, there is no room for you to be high maintenance when people are dying and suffering from hunger and poverty every single day.”

I’m a hypocrite.

Every day I am letting go. Of a dream that I dreamt a thousand nights from movies and hollywood and too many romantic stories and fairytales, in exchange for a dream from God’s heart.

That day after church, I remember thinking very carefully where to suggest we go for lunch because I was conscious of your budget. Then, as if God had something to prove to me, as He often does, a couple from church whom I’d spoken to very briefly only a handful of times whisked over and asked if they could buy us both lunch. And as if God had heard our conversation that morning about our craving for indian food, they brought us to eat some lovely indian fare which we both would not have been able to afford ourselves. We talked about missions and the poor and projects and God.

It was just when I had finished eating that His generosity struck me so hard: Had I been with someone else, that someone else would probably have taken me out to a fancy restaurant for an exclusive lunch. But here we were, having the privilege of being bought a rich and sumptuous meal by a pair of church leaders who wanted to bond with and love us and invest into our lives. I thought I would be the one having to give up and scale back because of you, but it was precisely because of you that they offered to buy us lunch.

And there’s the annual formal medical missions  fundraising dinner happening this Saturday. I used to attend it every year for free as a student, but now that I’ve graduated and the dinner costs $100 pax, I was certain I wouldn’t go. But a doctor got wind that you were coming, finally coming, and so bought us both tickets to the dinner.

Shall I suffer lack for choosing His ways? Would He ever withold good from me because of my commitment to His cause? Why would He shortchange me for choosing you instead of a rich medical doctor who could give me a comfortable lifestyle and nothing much more?

I just want you to know, I feel closer to God because of where we are now. Don’t you ever feel bad for not having a car to drive me around in or money to spend indiscriminately on me because where we are now, is where I know God is. I am learning to let go and it is painful but that’s okay. I am learning to say, that’s okay- yes I do come from a well-to-do family but there’s a time to let go of that, yes I do yearn (in a fleshly way) for nice things but there’s a time to let go of that, yes I do want things, but there’s a time to let go of that.

That time is now.

Because I would never trade your sincerity, courage and humility for any of the above. Because your grammar isn’t perfect but your words of affirmation have built me up in a way that I could not ask from any other; because you don’t have a car but it all the more takes you extra effort to travel to pick me up from work; because you cannot give me ornate riches or extraordinary comfort or lavish me with exorbidant presents, but you have given me loyal prayer, compassionate sensitivity and consistent support. You amaze my friends at how incredibly thoughtful and attentive you are.

And just so I never forget this conversation on the train that day,

“Can I walk you home?”

“It’s okay. Really. I’m already thankful you came to get me from the hospital after work.”

“Really?”

“Really. Don’t spoil me, haha.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Silence.

“Anyway,” I continued, “I once read from somewhere, that heh, (in a relationship), one shouldn’t start doing anything that one would not do for the rest of one’s life (like opening car doors or pulling out seats etc). So yup, that’s fine, I’m very touched already. And I don’t want to be high maintenance, okay?”

Then, it was as if lightning struck and hit you in the face because you immediately lit up and decided, with that Iron will of yours, ” Man, I’m changing my mind. I AM walking you home!”

“Huh? You don’t understand. What I meant was…”

“No, no, no Wai Jia, YOU don’t understand. I’m doing this. I want to, okay?”

And you beamed and beamed and I couldn’t stop you.

“I still don’t think you are high maintenance.”

Something tells me, it doesn’t really matter what level of maintenance I am any more, because God will look after us like kings and queens.

Thank you.

 

 

“For God is a sun and shield;

God bestows favor and honor;

No good thing does He withhold

 from those whose walk is blameless.

-Psalm 84:11