Dear C

Dear C,

Has it been 3 weeks or even 4 since I saw you last? Nowadays, memory has not been serving me well. Every time I struggle with recalling details, I would remember (ha!) with a smile one of Pastor J.’s favorite lines: “the older I am, the more I miss my memory”. How I thoroughly concur with him on this sentiment even though I can’t quite claim the same excuse as he was already in his 80’s then! I miss him dearly as a child missing her father and his guidance. How desperately I need him to set me straight with his wisdom and kindness! It’s been too long an exile and I wish to be back.

The church was crowded this past Sunday. A few visitors came for Gary’s 70’s birthday. You would have been amazed with this 3 tiers sheet cake by its size and taste. It was superb! Even after all people had been served, it was barely 1/3 of a dent. I generously volunteered myself with 2 helpings at the risk of ruining my appetite. Needless to say, my lunch was sacrificed after my chivalrous act. Anything for our brothers or sisters in need – it’s what we are called, to serve one another, isn’t it? I have been doing well on my “services” since I too went to another birthday at R’s for his 30’s celebration on Saturday. 30’s! Imagine that! Not even ½ of Gary’s, but 3 times more in food and twice in the attendees. With the help of the delightful treats and a couple of kind victims who came into my path, I graciously survived my social inadequacy. There were a few times when I found myself at the corner with my back pressing to the wall alone and almost abandoned, but it lasted but a few seconds and I quickly recovered by approaching to the food and filled up the plate as well as my mouth. I have to admit, though, that one hour was the limit of my perseverance. After that, I grabbed D and took our leave before the big exhibit of fun and game started.

My body has been richly nourished for these past two days and I am hoping that it would extend to my spirit soon. D thought the sermon served him well this past Sunday and I was almost jealous. How long has it been since I last heard God? A godly friend of mine in NH once spoke this truth that it was never about the sermon or the service but about the condition of your heart. How convicting is that! It felt forever since I was afflicted with this hollow that would not fill and an ailment that would not heal. And there comes another favorite of mine from Pastor J: you would never backslide if you continue to praise God. What I would ask him if he were still with us is that: how do you bring a feeble head and a stubborn heart together and turn them around? The curse of man’s wretchedness is not in his reasoning but his emotions getting the better hand, as Paul says in Romans 7:18-19: “…for the willing is present in me, but the doing of the good is not. For the good that I want, I do not do, but I practice the very evil that I do not want.” Weeks after weeks I continue with this flawless performance for man’s eyes only with my Bible, manicured smile and appropriate pleasantry. Aiming to be lost in the crowd, I rise and sit as everyone else does, going through motions of prayer, music worship and sermon. I was there, but I was not at all there.

In contrast, I remember feeling exactly the opposite, not being home and yet completely home. It was nearly 3 years ago when we first moved back from NH, crammed in that temporary apartment while we searched for a new house. The frustration of living off the suitcase with the bare minimum of the apartment’s accommodation and not knowing if or when the house hunting would end miraculously evaporated on the way to church every Sunday. That 30-minute face-on with God through you was all it took to ease all my anxiety for another week of unknown to come. Knowing you, who are just as awkward as I am with people, I can imagine how uncomfortable these words would make you even now, but the truth remains that no one that God has used thus far ever shamed and encouraged me as you did. And how I needed that... I do now, more than ever. Is it nostalgia or my inability to adapt to changes that haunts me so much with a past as clear as yesterday, where Christmas carols would play in July (or any day) and you pacing up and down up on the podium with a forever-child heart and smile? I ache with such intensity for that old chapel, barely equipped, nearly empty and yet fully home. I ache more for that excitement and life inside of me every week on that short drive that wasn’t short enough for a sermon not long enough. But above all, I ache for you, the forgotten, or wishing to be forgotten, and yet utterly unforgettable.

Well, I meant to say hi. I miss both you and Mrs.. Hope to see you this Sunday….