Is it still Monday?

One of the most common question visitors from Singapore ask is, "So what's a typical day like here?". Despite having been asked this question countless times, I am still at a loss for words each time. Quite honestly, I don't know how to describe what I do everyday. I don't think I do very much, but many things happen. Take today, Monday, 23rd May for example.

The morning started with staff devotion in the library. We are studying the book of Mark, and this morning, I shared from 7:24-30, the story of the Syro-Phonician woman who moved Jesus to heal her demon-possessed daughter. I cross-referenced the story with the parable of the persistent widow in Luke 18 to encourage our two local workers to persist in praying. Then we shared about our challenges in our lives, and started praying for one another. 

At some point, Antonio, one of the boys we disciple, walked in. His relationship with God has been unsteady lately. We talked a little, and he confessed that he has started smoking and drinking again, out of stress. I asked what was making him stressed and he shared about some family problems. We prayed together.

Before long, he started manifesting again. It was not unfamiliar to us; we had spent many hours ministering to him last year. This time, we commanded the evil spirit to leave quietly and not to hurt him. (Suffice to say that the previous sessions had been rather dramatic, with flying furniture and kungfu moves). After a few minutes, he sobered up. The team carried on with their work while I continued to counsel him privately.

While we were talking, Dawn and my other co-workers went out in search of furniture for the little ones. They returned in a short while and said the shops were closed. We wondered if we should head to town to try our luck. By then it was 11:30am, and all the shops would close for lunch by noontime. We decided to leave the shopping to another day. Then we went to lunch together. I had meant to do some urgent writing in the morning after devotion, but no "work" got done, instead, we spent all morning praying, first for one another, and then for Antonio. As we locked up, I told Dawn, "What a day!", to which she replied in jest, "You mean, what a morning...!"

After lunch, we headed home. We fed the puppies, then Dawn and I talked about Antonio, and other personal stuff. It was nice to share a quiet moment together, just chatting and relaxing. She left to go home at about 1pm. I headed to the kitchen to start on dinner - yes, since we teach on most evenings, preparation for dinner starts after lunch! After that, I took a power nap, woke up, showered and had a cup of coffee. 

As I left home to go to the library again at 2pm, we stopped to remind the kids that their class would start at 3:30pm. By the time we got to the library, about 10 kids were already waiting for us at the main gate. I slipped in through the back door, hoping to get started on my urgent writing assignment, while Dawn prepared for her lesson.

I had written maybe one paragraph before a blackout happened. So much for my plan to get some writing done before the kids class. I gave up working on my computer and hung out with the kids instead. We had a quick briefing at about 3pm on the lesson.

After the meeting, I walked back home to gather the children living along our street for class. But they weren't able to attend class for different reasons, so I walked back to the library alone.

The class got underway and I helped to facilitate the teaching. But before long, another missionary based in the districts walked in, and I had to serve her. She needed some editing done on a certificate template, so I left the kids and helped her. By the time we were done, the class was almost over. I sat back down with some of them and conducted a game.

When class was dismissed, I stood by the street and helped some of the little ones cross the road as usual. Then I helped another little girl look for her one missing slipper, another common occurrence. We looked in all the usual places - behind the library, the gate, in the bushes. Nothing. Then someone pulled out one slipper from the trashcan. Sigh. Some kid must have played a prank on her. It wasn't the same, but hey, it fitted. Then I walked her home together with an older student.

When I returned, we had a quick debriefing on the lesson. It was almost 5pm by then. I was hungry and crossed the street to get some biscuits. Dawn started setting up the computers for her youth class while I got a listening exercise ready for her other students. I taught for about an hour and dismissed them. Before I left, Dawn asked me, "Is it still Monday?", a private joke we share when we have an incredibly eventful day.

It occurred to me that I hadn't bought vegetables yet, so I took one puppy, Mercy for a walk to the market. She followed well, staying focused despite the many distractions and dangers, but I picked her up and carried her when the traffic got too heavy. By the time we got back home, it was 6:30pm. Dawn would be back any moment, and I cooked hurriedly.

She came back and started working on the computer. I served dinner and started cleaning up. When I walked out again, I saw that the two puppies had managed to reach a dish and spilled some of it. They got a beating, and I mopped up the mess. After the drama, we finally settled down to have dinner. Over the meal, we talked about our day and what to do if more children wanted to join the course. Then Dawn did the dishes, while I took out the trash.

So now it's just past 9pm and instead of doing the 101 things that I didn't get to do today, like writing, sending my newsletters, revising my lesson plans, filing my worksheets, preparing for my sermon on Sunday, I'm here blogging about my day and listening to jazz to unwind, to answer the million-dollar question about what I do everyday.

Does any of this sound like proper work to those of you at home, I wonder. If you say no, I might actually agree. Nothing that happened today feels like work. It simply feels like...life, real life....

Now and then, I have flashbacks of my "previous life", when I worked as a news producer. I was on the night shift almost all the time, and my day would end with a taxi ride home often after midnight. After squinting at the computer and monitoring countless TV screens all night, I would be grateful for the 20 minutes of darkness and silence, as the taxi raced down PIE. And there, slumped in the backseat, I would ask myself, "Did I live an abundant life today? The abundant life that Jesus came to give me?"

Often enough, I felt that I hadn't, especially on days where despite my very best efforts, my shows turned out disastrous. Why was it that all the effort and creative energy I poured into my shows didn't guarantee a good production, and secondly, why wasn't there a sense of satisfaction that was proportionate to how hard I worked? These questions eventually became stepping stones that paved the way to Timor.

Not everything has changed. At the end of each day, I often feel poured out and spent like I did in the past. And when my chores for the day have finally ended, I am just as grateful when I can lie down quietly in my room in the dark. I also still ask myself if I have lived an abundant life at the end of each day. While there are some very difficult days and nights, my answer to that question is often a "Yes." And so, day by day, I live out this abundant life that consists of teaching and praying, cooking and washing, spanking puppies and taking out the trash - and of course, looking for missing slippers.