Generations

When I was growing up, all I wanted to do was be a hero. At age four, I wanted to be a Power Ranger. By the age of seven, I wanted to be my grade one teacher. At age 11 I wanted to become a well-known author like Roald Dahl. At 14, I wanted to be famous, like the movie stars. And by the age of 18, I just wanted to be me.

Now that I’ve got to know myself and come to terms with my shortcomings and my abilities, the 24-year-old me just wants to become who my parents are. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be someone they can be proud of, but now I want to be somebody I can be proud of. If I can embody their compassion, their authenticity, their tenacious audacity to do what is right and their steadfast leadership then I know my life will count for something greater.

My parents are teachers. Teachers do not get enough recognition for the work they do in raising generations, supporting communities and transforming society. I didn’t become a teacher because I thought it was a boring profession. But in retrospect, I would rather have a career that imparts value into people’s lives, leaves a positive mark on the world and shapes humanity for the better.

When we walk through malls or shopping centres, people my parents taught decades ago stop to greet them. My mother doesn’t always remember their names but she recognises their faces. The conversation always goes something like this: "You were a good teacher. I always remember what you taught me. Thank you for always encouraging me."  

The simple explanation for such gratitude is this: My parents are heroes. Oftentimes the good things they do may be overlooked and underappreciated. But today I want to acknowledge the work they have done. I am grateful that they raised me. I am one of the many who came from the works of their hands. But I am most privileged because they were the ones God gave to me.  

They have taught me to love God and love people. As Jesus taught His disciples in Luke 10: 27, the greatest commandment is this: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind,” and, “Love your neighbour as you love yourself.” I have seen my parents serve God faithfully and be kind to complete strangers. They carry a heart for humanity, because above all things, their hearts are devoted to God.

My father is a cornerstone in his community. I remember on countless occasions, having sat down for dinner, a member from the community would pass by our house, yelling from outside our gate. Asking my dad if he could help type out a letter, or fill in an application form, clarify the meaning on a formal document, help find someone a job or even just help out with food or loan some money. My parents wouldn’t hesitate to help. They would leave their warm plates of food and see to the needs of someone else. I thought all families did this kind of thing. Unfortunately, as I have come to know the world, and all it has to offer, it is disappointing to see that such selfless kindness doesn’t happen everywhere.

My parents have made so many sacrifices for our family. Making sure my brother and I have a comfortable life, a secure home, and protection from the ills of this world. Sometimes we did not understand their methods. We thought they were unfair, unreasonable and not understanding. I remember arguing with my dad one day, to go and see a movie. I said: “But everyone is going”. His response was: “You are not like everyone else.” Those words have entrenched a sense of identity that cannot be questioned or taken from me. It has propelled me towards my destiny. 

I wish I could mention all the other things they taught me. But perhaps the greatest lesson is this: To be faithful with the small things. Collectively, the small things make a significant impact. So mum and dad, I know you sometimes feel that the things you do aren’t always great or glamorous. But they are significant. And for 50 years, you have blessed the world because of the good things you’ve done.

 

You are planet shakers. You are history makers. The generations that will follow you, will be different. They are not like everyone else because you are not like everyone else.   

Colossians 1: 27 To them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. (NIV)

Space and time

Part of my job as a content manager for a website involves altering the dates or time-frame in which posts are published. Essentially, I get to defy space and time, creating a new reality in a virtual place.

Outside of work though, my skills are bound by the only reality that matters. Where real life happens- where hardships, sadness and inevitable abandon happens- when friends leave you behind.

I recently found out that another one of my friends is fighting Cancer. This time it is Leukaemia. I had no intention of writing about Cancer. I have no right to. I am not the one who has to decide to go through undetermined rounds of treatment. Nor am I weighing up the pros and cons of different methods.  

But I am the friend of someone who is going through this. I am the friend of someone who has to make difficult decisions about her future. She has chosen to be positive despite this unfair card life has dealt her. She is relentlessly fighting to fulfill her calling and she won’t let Cancer stop her.

My friend, who’s known about her condition much longer than I have, is hell-bent on making her life count. She has taught me that life is meant for living. We had spoken to each other before I found out, no word of Cancer. Then again, people don’t go around announcing that they have Cancer. 

She could only talk about her plans to study further and her passion for social justice and equality. Surely, someone who is ill wouldn’t sound as strong-willed as she did?

That’s where I am wrong. A paradox- death drives people to live. Do I have to find out that I’m about to die before I start becoming intentional about living or find a cause to lead? 

When this bombshell dropped, obliterating reality, all I wanted to do was fall through the ground. Shifting back to a year before, when we were delivering newspapers and Cancer was something that happened to other people. Maybe push back even further before I met her, perhaps making different decisions that would never lead me to meet her. Or just fast forward to the future when this would all be over and I’d be so many years ahead to remember this even happened.  

If I avoid being here in the present, then I would miss my calling. I could abandon this space of destruction and cheat this collapsing time, but I would miss the blessing of being part of the unfolding of God’s good and perfect will. I would miss what He is teaching me.

If I stop living here, then I am no good for squandering the space and time I have been granted. Unable to account for it, I will become unworthy of humanity. The privilege of friendships and the ability to fight for a cause that adds value to this world, it would be foolish to waste it. 

"Don't waste your life"- that's a title of a book authored by John Piper, which I've never read- those are also the words that have been running through my mind for the past three days. 

I fear that in two weeks, when this news is no longer fresh in my mind, that I would forget these very words and the things I have questioned about the way I live.  

I fear that I will zone out of this current space and time, and embed myself in the future where there are only fragments of this present and no time for recollection.