The Security Guard

I had never before seen this security guard.  The guard was new to the team, it seemed.  He moreover was mumbling something at me while I passed by, on my way out the door.  I stopped, met his inquiring eyes and then approached him.  The man with the unfamiliar face continued to babble softly, his tongue verily incomprehensible to my experienced ear.  What language was he speaking, I thought to myself, because his tones certainly didn't resemble closely those of Cantonese.   Hardly had I pondered further, however, when I took out my ID card, placating my curiosity with an educated guess.  The guard took my card and looked at me; and suddenly - maybe it was my own phlegmatic demeanor which gave me away - in halting English he spoke my name, obviously choosing to ignore the characters of my Chinese name.  The situation had somehow become discomfitting for both of us, two university employees thrust uncomfortably into a live cultural gap-fill quiz item.  Thankfully, we were in our ignorance smiling at each other merrily.  At last I broke the ice with my own halting Cantonese, asking him, perhaps presumptuously, "Are you a HK person?"

"Malay," he said, grinning from ear to ear.  I nodded and went on my way.  For the first time in my life, I had behaved like an impudent local, rendering someone's language an object of curiosity if not contempt.  I know what the other side feels, now; and all the more do I seek to experience God's grace because without a doubt, we, as people of all nations, need to lead our lives in it.  His mercy will overcome our judgment.

Bold and Courageous

God blessed me this week with an outpouring of boldness and courageousness. This audacity, manifested in the most public spaces of where I work, it was immediate and spontaneous: all of a sudden, I would be inundated with such overwhelming compassion that my only recourse would be to dive directly into the Spirit, to allow Him to have His way.

The first spiritual milestone appeared in the office pantry, where a colleague, a Christian sister, approached me. More immobile than fleet of faith these days, she confided to me her hopes, dreams and fears; and together, while colleagues passed by, in front of everyone, we prayed
for a supernatural release in her life of not only direction but impetus, those undeniable signs to advance for the Lord.

Later, after hearing about another colleague's sick mother, I stopped this colleague in the middle of the hallway so that we could pray. The crowds rumbled around us; people undoubtedly stared at us; but we held fast to our faith and lifted His mom up to the Lord, who shall be merciful to her.

The last milestone had more to do with physical support than any sort of psychic comfort. While walking back to the office after a pleasant workout with my HKBSA brethren, I stumbled upon a CityU student who, one leg curled up, was limping egregiously as though he had broken that appendage. With much silent rapidity, I met him, put his arm across my shoulders, and began supporting his long, arduous walk back to campus. He seemed too relieved to even feign surprise; and I was awash with concern for him when not chiding him for his decision to chair a society meeting before seeking medical attention. It was a veritable blessing to meet the young man, Marco, and to assist literally in shouldering his load.

HKDRC Half-Marathon 2009

A torrent of runners passes by, pounding the last few hundred meters to the finish line. I watch this crowd eagerly, waiting to spot Wynnie and to cheer her on to the finish; I haven't caught sight of her yet.

I ran the race of my life today, I'm sure. So fast did I plough through the half- that, perhaps, not only have I set a personal best half-marathon record, on a wildly undulating course, no less, I
furthermore may have won a prize for my troubles. In fifteen minutes' time, I guess I'll discover whether or not any or all of my predictions have been realized. For now, my eye will try to spy Wynnie.

Speaking of running buddies, I met or crossed paths with several friends and acquaintances along my 21km way from start to finish. Besides chatting up Wynnie, I greeted Grace, my colleague Emma, who, it seemed, dropped out, and two volunteers from the HKBSA service. It
was good to see and to spur on such a flock of zealous competitors!

In the end, I finished seventh in my category, which was, in fact, high enough to garner a small medal and a $150 Fila cash coupon. I'm thankful! What's more, I found Wynnie, who is now on the podium collecting her prizes -- she finished second in her group. All is well.

On the way to the bus, I dropped by the men's toilet, where I saw the hilariously disgusting sight of a teenage boy -- the winner of his category, actually -- at the urinal trough, behind his two urinating friends, trying to piss through the small slit afforded by his buddies who were standing side by side. I laughed at his audacity. A man who had just finished relieving himself and who had come upon this lurid sight began berating the boy. "What do you think you are doing!?" he shouted, after which, for good measure, I added, "Crazy!" The presumptuous fellow, hearing our sonorous remonstrances, quickly slid down the trough to an unoccupied corner from where he completed his business. I'm not sure if I shall ever witness such a scene again; and maybe its best that I don't, haha.

As regards the race conditions, God blessed the athletes with such prodigious, impervious cloud cover that, try in vain as the sun might, that fiery orb's luminous rays couldn't break through the solar shield set for us. Although the temperature at the start seemed unseasonably warm and though humidity too was unreasonably high, I stopped noticing these superfluous matters once the race began and my mind started focusing on more important matters. Sometimes, a small breeze, like a flitting whisper, would blow -- and I would smile. Rain came drizzling down in the latter stages of the race, and its cooling properties aided my endeavor to run fast without overheating. Overall, conditions were not as dreadful as I had initially feared; they were rather conducive towards sustained, strong performance.

My race strategy, as I told Wynnie while we waited at the start, was to pace myself so as to run negative splits, a feat possibly only if I chose not to kill myself up the hills. Consequently, once the race began, as overzealous competitors ran with abandon up the first, seemingly interminable acclivity, I strode along in the back of the pack, determined to ration jealously my energy and to wait patiently for the opportune moment to begin picking people off as though I were at target practice. Verily, my moments came to pass: first, after that imperious hill which likely punished hundreds of runners for their temerity; and then up the longest uphill section of the course, between the 12-13 kilometer markers where I chased down my forerunners with indefatigable strength. Indeed, at that point, with so many others faltering, I picked up speed, as a matter of fact. My sustained drive would last several kilometers, up to around the 19-20km when my mighty steps loosened their grip on the road. Thankfully, I had put enough distance between myself and my nearest pursuer to finish comfortably, peacefully, without a grueling duel to the finish line -- to be sure, I was so gassed that I don't think I would have been able to fend off a lusty, spirited charge at the end.

I consumed a powergel about 30 minutes before the commencement of the race; and I swallowed the contents of another at the 10k mark, knowing, fortuitously, that a water station lay about one kilometer away. At each water station, moreover, without fail I would drink my
requisite cups and follow that with a cup over the head. This routine paid generous dividends in the second half of the race as runners without sufficient nutrition began hitting the wall, they fading fast into personal best oblivion, whereas I reaped the benefits of meticulous replenishment.

Finally, had I not praised God with song and tongues during this event, I would undoubtedly not have had the Psychic sustenance with which I endured the event, that at times, was markedly boring. Loving my Father kept my mind occupied as the kilometers with much rapidity piled up.

Receiving Too Much

I made an important decision this week.  My resolution came, in fact, in the middle of a three-hour ESL lesson in which, unfortunately, I found myself in the unenviable position of trying to manage some cantankerous students with worksheets that just weren't doing the trick; I was also tired and dazed from interminable days of running around, putting out small fires in my life with time neither for reflection nor for repose; and all the while, my mentor was observing me, strained face and all, break down lugubriously while delivering the lesson.  What preceded my choice was, ironically, the comforting thought that I hate teaching, because I don't have time to plan it well; and so, I purposed to settle this matter.

I can no more operate in my current state than eat three steaks in one sitting.  There has been verily too much put on my plate; portions heaped on top of each other by friends, colleagues and acquaintances, people who mean well but don't know me well enough to know that I can't say "no" to their superfluous requests.  Consequently, in this season not only have I been blessed by many people and have had the opportunity to bless them in return, I have also been bogged down, sunken as though I were in quicksand, by all of their petitions and demands, most of which, rather than help me to realize my visions and goals, actually distract me from those prizes in this life which I desire to gain. 

Therefore, to avoid yet another burnout, I decided to throw a few of my quotidian tasks into the fire.  This won't be done furtively, of course, since I want to convey clearly to people, with neither guilt nor shame for any party, that I need room, space, to grow. 

During the twenty minute break in the lesson, as my students raced off hastily to the canteen for lunch, I sat down in the empty classroom, picked up my iPod, and began typing furiously a few e-mails to lay the hammer down, at length, on the hyper-assiduity of my life.  First, I told my house church that I could no longer lead worship; and then I e-mailed the staff fellowship to notify them that I could no longer attend their weekly gatherings.  Finally, later, in the staff common area, I told my mentor that, though her teacher development workshops had been a boon to my life what with all of the professional knowledge and insight gleaned from my participation in this course, I could no longer guarentee my attendance moving forward.  However much I had originally, zealously desired to do all these things, I could no longer contain them within a belt of reasonable girth.  I suddenly felt lighter.

Core duties remain:  learning Cantonese; learning Korean; running; writing; teaching; and definitely dating.