Hannah's prayer

In bitterness of soul Hannah wept much and prayed to the LORD... As she kept on praying to the LORD, Eli observed her mouth. Hannah was praying in her heart, and her lips were moving but her voice was not heard. Eli thought she was drunk, and said to her, "How long will you keep on getting drunk? Get rid of your wine." 

"Not so, my lord," Hannah replied, "I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the LORD. Do not take your servant for a wicked woman; I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief."

Eli answered, "Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant you what you have asked of him."

She said, "May your servant find favour in your eyes." Then she went her way and ate something, and her face was no longer downcast.

I've always wondered what exactly Hannah said to God on that day, what exactly passed in between them. Perhaps not much, since the answer to her prayers came only after she left the temple. But either way, something in that temple comforted her. She entered that place, grieved in heart, not even able to eat... and left the place no longer downcast. What happened in between?

I imagine, actually, that many Christians have had this experience. Left with no where else to turn, we come to God with bitterness and tears. We cry, we complain to God, we appeal to God for mercy, strength, or perhaps a miracle. We cry until we are too worn out to continue. At the end of this, God still has not given us a substantial reply. Perhaps God is even silent through our wailing... but somehow, we are comforted, and we see hope.

Hmm, I don't actually know where I am going with this. I guess this is a testimonial of sorts. I have been very bitter lately... well, not bitter as such, but... upset might be a better word. I have reached the stage where medicine is no longer interesting, where motivation is at an all-time low, but there is so much to memorise (so much!) but no will to do it. Not just studying, but even other things connected with med, like tutoring, and going to any of the classes.

Even though I complain about med so much here in my blog, this is pretty much the only avenue into which I pour my complaints. Apart from other medical students, no one really knows what it is like, and find most people it hard to sympathise anyway. I try not to complain too much to other students, because then that would just start a cycle and we will stress each other out. So I guess, all this has been bottling up a bit, and one night, at about midnight, it came out, trickling at first, then a gush.

I didn't pray for as long as Hannah did; I think exhaustion took over shortly after I switched the light off to pray. I sat on my bed hugging my knees as the stresses, demands, and hormones (because that is also such an important factor in females) all came to the surface... and then, I was able to sleep, reminded that there is One who is capable of everything I'm not.

The following morning, when I was reading the bible, the tears nearly came back as I read in passage after passage of God's promises for me. I guess, like Hannah, God hasn't given me an immediate and direct reply. But God has given me a bit more strength to wait a while longer for His right time.

Some updates

I realised I have not blogged for a long time, over a month in fact... there was no specific reason, I've just been busy... so busy that I have not had a chance to stop and realise how much I've got to complain about.

Our beloved School of Medicine (note sarcasm) has let the 2nd year medical students have a week off this week. I guess if they didn't do that they would be accused of unethical conduct. It certainly wouldn't reflect well upon UQ if someone wrote a scathing letter to the editor of some newspaper... or indeed if some acopic medical student jumped off a tall building.

This week off isn't a holiday as such, it just means that we are not forced to attend any lackluster classes, which means all the more time to catch up on study. Having given some thought to the list of things I have got to do this week, I am now feeling pressured enough to blog.

Alright that's enough complaining about med... in life, things like med happens, and you've just got to deal with it, one day at a time if necessary. (Such wise words from someone who is wasting her time blogging...)

Apart from med I guess my life is going along as per normal... in other words, at a halt. It's rather pathetic the way med takes such a large chunk of my life. I have not seen my friends in weeks (those friends outside church that is), I have to turn my brother down when he says "can you read with me", and romance is a mythical concept that happens to other people. Well actually the lack of romance I can't entirely blame med, there is also my caustic sarcasm and lack of conformity to the attractive stereotype of gentle femininity. Hmm, perhaps I can blame those things on med too...

Good grief, I'm complaining again. I'd like to say that I have so many things on my mind, but in reality I have very little, and a great chunk of it is med. Med assessments, to be precise. Med is great fun, if only there were no assessments.

I was the interpreter again this Sunday, my second time. I wouldn't say it went well, but I guess it was not a complete disaster. People seem to think that my stumbling block is my nerves, when in fact my stumbling block is a defective brain. (A friend in med once said that others think that he is a genius simply because he is in med, and he wonders what will happen when people find out that he's no different to others of his age. As for me, the sooner they find out the better. But for some reason many people are still unconvinced... I don't really understand why they must be so stubborn about it.) I suck at it, but even then I have not made any funny memorable mistakes (which is rather sad). My mentor, who has been doing this for years, once said while up on the podium that a colostomy links the intestines to the bladder. Unfortunately only he and I got the joke.

Speaking of my mentor, I was really quite annoyed with him yesterday. When other people are just starting to be an interpreter, he sits in the front and prompts them if there are words they don't know how to translate, or to simply smile encouragingly and supportively. Not so while I was up there. Each time I looked at him, he was looking elsewhere, and it became apparent that he was avoiding my eyes. (I mean, no one stares at the ceiling like that, unless they are taking a Bachelor degree in Ceiling Studies.) When I came across difficult words, I have to guess. According to him, he sees me being nervous, and that makes him nervous, and so he looks away. This reasoning is defective for two reasons - firstly, no one cares if he is nervous, and secondly, if he doesn't help me it will make me even worse. I decided to not argue with him, but in the true female spirit, I remained annoyed. (Even though I like to think that, unlike the stereotypical female, I had logic and reason on my side.)

In the end I decided that it matters very little, because I was supposed to be relying on the grace of God, not the grace of The Mentor. He can take his Bachelor of Ceiling Studies with Honours in Looking Around Nonchalantly, and it won't make any difference... I have God on my side, and if there are words I can't translate I'll just flash my oh-so-charming smile. Ha! Take that!

Hmm, it appears I have ran out of things to complain about. Except to say, I have a craving for calamari. I really don't know where I get these cravings from...