Small circle, big heart

Aug 09, 2024

Word in Progress - Karen-Michaela Tan
The protagonist in Rudyard Kipling’s book, Kim, was given the title ‘friend of the world’ because of the way he - even though of Caucasian ancestry - managed to merge into the fabric of life in colonial India, mixing freely among peoples of different castes, colours and beliefs. The only way I could have known this as a teen engrossed in fantasy books was because my mother used the same descriptor on me at the dinner table where I announced to the family that for the next week or so, we would have a guest at lunch. My friend Trish, daughter of a single mother, had no recourse to eat out when her parent was away for work, and so I had taken it upon myself to offer hearth and vittles.

My parents, bemused that a white bred union such as theirs could have birthed such a black sheep, took it as par for the course, much as they accepted the smuggled-in white mouse whom they pretended not to know lived in a basket under the sewing machine, and the cans of soda which were offered to the DBKL contractors trimming our verges.

Over the years, I developed the personality of a giver-nurturer, always on the lookout to help. Undoubtedly, some of this was a result of a comic on the life of St Josephine Bakhita, a Canossian religious sister who lived in Italy for 45 years, after having been captured and sold as part of the slave trade in Sudan. The comic graphically illustrated her whippings, and how her lashes were rubbed with salt so as to form brands which identified her as chattel.

When she obtained her freedom (Google for how, instead of watching another silly video on your phone!) she made a decision to become a Canossian nun, and was known to famously declare that if she had met her slavers again, she would have, “knelt and kissed their hands, for, if these things had not happened, I would not have been a Christian and a religious today.” Josephine Bakhita was declared a saint in 2000, her quiet life an example of the joy of service. As the first black woman to be canonised in the modern era, she is also the Patron Saint of victims of human trafficking.

While religious life never appealed to me, I now know that Service is one of my major Love Languages as outlined by Baptist minister Gary Chapman, and author of The Five Love Languages. I have also learnt that Service without being refuelled is a recipe for disaster.

Well aware of the privileges in my life: parents who remained married until my mother died three weeks short of my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary, a secure childhood devoid of trauma, abuse or neglect, and economic security, I embarked on a series of humanitarian crusades through my twenties (Riding for the Disabled), thirties (protection for children at risk of neglect and abuse), and forties (food security and adaptive classrooms for the neurologically divergent learners). By 46, I was all ‘given out’. The pandemic and its enforced home stay made me see that I was existing solely on the adrenaline of giving and doing. Without it, I deflated. And so nearly did my marriage and family life.

Therapists caution all the time about pouring from an empty cup. My vessel was bone dry. I was resentful because my family did not seem to see my need for refuelling. I began looking on-line for emotional fulfilment. It took nearly two years of debating the merits of divorce and life as a single again person before I began to realise that there was a magic number to life and it was 12.

There were 12 tribes of Israel. Jesus Himself called 12 apostles. At the height of His ministry, He must have been the Taylor Swift of His time, able to jump in anyone to His posse. Surely there must have been some pretty cool, influential, rich and powerful people in the masses He ministered to, right? Yet Jesus kept His circle small. Small enough to hear each friend when they sat at table together. Intimate enough to be able to tell one to go look for a colt, and have the order carried out immediately. Close enough to still go fishing with. Jesus served everyone, but He chose His inner circle carefully and kept it small.

These days, with the number of Friends on Facebook and followers on Instagram being a measure of success, it is easy to get caught up in the myth of more. We forget that quality should be measured by intimacy, not immediacy. By paring down my life so that my objectives reflect what I believe is God’s design for my life, I have learnt the true meaning of service, and that is not to give until I am bloodless and drained, but to give as I am able, and when I still have enough strength and faith in me, to commend it back to the One who fulfils all things in His time. In giving my God complex back to the one rightful God, I have reintroduced peace into my life. I have learnt that service done correctly should not leave one a drained husk. True service lights a flame in us. That flame can be used to light another wick, thus increasing the intensity of God’s light in the world. That’s why Jesus sent His apostles out in pairs. A duo can help each other up steep paths, four legs are safer fording a river than two, and it takes two to make a hug a hug.

Once I cut down the number of people on my ‘friend’ list, my friendships grew deeper, and the support I received was far greater from my inner circle than my social media public. The fact that among the 12 of my closest are my husband and my child, is a testament to why the Church stands so fixedly on marriage and family. So maybe it’s time that you narrow down your circle and identify the 12 that will take you through the rest of your life too.

(Karen-Michaela Tan is a poet, writer and editor who seeks out God’s presence in the human condition and looks for ways to put the Word of God into real action.)