Good enough.

The handcyclists have been training for their next race. One evening, Fungus called me up to see if I could accompany them for their night training. They always need able-bodied riders to guide them on the roads because their low position on the handcycles make it dangerous for them, as vehicles cannot see them as easily. That night, as the only able-bodied rider available to guide them and do traffic-signalling, I was put out of my comfort zone as I suddenly realised that I have reached yet another milestone.

I am no longer a little girl. God has healed, strengthened and equipped so much that I am now the woman able to provide others with help. I am no longer the needy child at home but the daughter who can take responsibility; I am no longer a spiritual baby at church but a sunday school teacher and soon-to-be bible study leader at varsity; I am no longer a newbie at my cycling club but have been asked to be a “Guardian Angel”, who are pack leaders who teach, induct and guide the freshest cycling newbies along the roads when they ride with us; I have better memory, now that I can eat, live and sleep well, and thus am able to help others with their academic work. At that moment, I suddenly realised how far God had brought me from the abyss of depression I once was in, and was amazed, for back then, I could hardly imagine this possibility.

Later on in the ride, as the handcyclists pulled over to the side of the road for a rest and drink, Fungus got stuck. His handcycle was stuck in a precarious position and he needed a 180 degree turn. “Hannah Montana!” one of them shouted (that’s the affectionate nickname they’ve dumped on me), “Get him, will ya?”

I bent down, and as I tried to lift the heavy handcycle and Fungus off the ground so I could manouvre him around, the sheer weight of the task overpowered me. My arms, like toothpicks, had to lift a grown man and his the handcycle he was on and spin it around along the pavement- a task no doubt fit for a grown man. But we were desperate, and I had to do it. So as I bent down to gain a greater centre of gravity and struggled, the handcyclists cheered me on and we laughed together, in stitches, at the absurdity of the situation. It was just as I finally turned Fungus and his handcycle around, with my arms and back aching and myself perspiring all over, that pressure built up behind my eyes. I realised, that we don’t merely live for ourselves, but for others too. It hit me so hard, that we have a responsibility to grow into the people God made us for, to fulfill the roles we have been assigned to- because as much as we needed others while we grew up, they need us now, too.

And we don’t have to be perfect. All we need, is a willing heart and a spirit of responsibility, compassion and love. That is all.

In the past, I used to have this crummy, dead feeling inside of me whenever someone flaunted their prowess in front of me. I would be devastated by their talent, and feel completely inferior, insecure and undone. Everyone was always running the race, and I wanted to be fastest, best, too. But there can only be one winner in every race-one tired, tired winner, and therein lay the problem.

It was Fungus who first sparked the idea of doing my first triathlon in my head. When my other friends did so before, I always waved their suggestion away, for they didn’t understand the evil and exhausting stronghold sports had over me. I was really afraid signing up for a triathlon would allow pride to destroy me again.

I had prayed for months- I didn’t want to make the same mistake of displacing God and making sports or myself an idol again. The fear of grieving God the way I did gripped me. However, after weeks of desperate soul-searching, self-reflection, discussion and prayer with mentors, God finally gave me the peace and the green light to go ahead. The lengthy decision-making process deepened my faith in ways I never expected.

I struggled between signing up for the mini-triathlon (which really is extremely short) or the sprint-triathlon, which is twice as long. Peer pressure was real- almost all my athletic peers laughed at the suggestion of my doing the mini one over the sprint. But the memories of how I had strived with my own strength against God for the sake of pride haunted me, and I was grateful enough for His peace, grace and freedom to try the mini. Few friends understood where I was coming from, even fewer understood how much this would mean to me- finally being free of what used to chain my spirit. A lot of people gave me flak about my signing up for such a short race-“You’re just wasting your time and money- you should go for the longer distances! Train up, don’t be a wuss!” Only but a handful know what this means to me, what a breakthrough this is for me in so many dimensions. To the few who did and encouraged me, I am immensely grateful. And ironically, this has turned out to be more humbling than I thought.

It was only recently that I noticed something different about my life, something which had long imprisoned me had been unloosed. I have grown up, I have become more secure and stable. Because of that, I am no longer bound by myself, false idols or worldly demands. And because of that, He’s given me the joy, freedom and peace to do my first mini triathlon.

It’s funny-I thought I would give this whole sporting-pursuit-nonsense up forever because of what it had done to me. But just as I surrendered it and gave it back to God, He returned to me so much more. In the past I used to rely solely on my own efforts, using God as a drug to fuel my pursuits. Now that I’ve put Him back in the centre of my life, the whole journey seems comparatively effortless, so joyful, so free-ing.

The mini-triathlon is, ironically ha, more a jab to my pride than anything. For the distance is so short I realise I could go for it as I am, without any training. But therein lies the point, and the beauty of it all. That for once, I am not doing it to prove anything to anyone, but really, am joining it for the fun of it all, and to fulfill that adventurous desire within me to simply try everything once. I am learning how to swim freestyle properly now and it has been so much fun. Someday I hope to do paragliding and horseriding, ha.

I realise we don’t need to be the fastest, brightest, best, prettiest, strongest, mostest. And I most certainly don’t need to be the fastest and strongest. All I need to be is disciplined enough to enjoy sports and stay healthy, to be fast enough to help the handcyclists in their training (which includes not letting Greg overtake me- the man is a paraOlympiad champion and has biceps as large as my thighs, I still can’t believe he overtook me that night!), strong enough to be able to move Fungus’ handcycle when he needs help, able enough to be able to do 5 tiring, consecutive cycles of CPR to resusitate an unconsicious person, to be humble enough to help others new or awkward to the sport. I was in their shoes once- golly, I couldn’t even balance properly on my bike last year. I realise, I don’t need to be leader always, all I need is to be a “Guardian Angel” to those who need me, the way I once needed them, too.

I don’t need to feel the pressure to better everybody else and beat myself up for what I do not know- all I need is to be bright and diligent enough to be a competent doctor, and to stay humble enough to be willing to help others who need help in their academics. I don’t need to be a perfect bible study teacher or excel my flute exam with distinction- all I need is to stay faithful to my duty and be faithful to the gifts I have been blessed with. I don’t need to feel like I must write to impress, I just need to write for simple things, for causes I believe in. I don’t need to live under Ed’s shadow anymore- all I need is to be happy with whatever simple beauty that God has endowed me with and to remember Qing’s beautiful heart.

I don’t need to be a master in all my trades- all I need is to do my best in all I do. And to enjoy it, to really give thanks to God by enjoying His gifts.

I think perhaps, I have finally learnt and understood– that being good enough is not about being good enough for the world, but being good enough for whatever God has required us to do.

I am Good Enough! What a joy it is to say it out loud. Try it.

Because truly understanding that gives us joy unspeakable, freedom unimaginable. That is more than good-enough for Him. And with this new, joyful and liberating attitude, perhaps we will find that we do far better than we ever imagined possible.