how i know i’m singaporean/malaysian:
- i drop a used piece of tissue paper on the (crummy) bus in jb, and i pick it up, just because.
how i know i’m more grown up than i’d like to be:
- i can’t open the lollipop that i won at our recent pre-yc programme.
how i know i’m less grown up than i’d like to be:
- i still roll my eyes.
1. first do what’s right, then if there’s time, what you feel like.
2. when you miss someone, do something that reminds you of him. then you’ll remember that you love him not for his continual presence, but for who he is.
3. it doesn’t matter how you feel.
“you could touch it but your heart would break”
the thing about being a girl is that there are some days you feel loved, and some days you don’t. i’m not sure if it’s the same being a boy…i have no experience with that. even though i do say once in a while that i am a boy; that’s really to declare that i am trying to use my head more than my heart.
i haven’t read a book like Rockness’ _A Passion for the Impossible_ for a while. not only is the content intriguing, the writing is engaging, and the references are inspiring. here and there i spot something that i’ve come across elsewhere, and it’s times like these that i remember what a community books can sometimes be. and am i surprised that this book was picked out and lent to me by the person who probably knows me best? it’s a good read because it’s not only thought-provoking, but also disturbing in parts. that’s when i know it can potentially bring me somewhere i’ve not been before.
and there are plenty of places i’ve not been before. sometimes i feel like i’m standing at the threshold of one, and then i’m not so sure anymore because the setting changes. other times i wonder if i’d forgotten to stop, and hence missed out on something that might have been worthwhile staying for. if not for the truth of “all things work together for good”, there would have been too many what-ifs.
Lilias Trotter had beautiful ways of remembering the nature of God through His creation. the way she sees truth in the flowers is something that’s very beautiful, and something i appreciate very much, even if i may not completely grasp. the buttercup and the tiger lily are the same to me save the semantic difference that i gather on the surface, and i’m only mesmerised by the pretty picture of the dandelion that is being blown forth, with the words “i am now ready to be offered” written around the mother plant.
can i then do the same with numbers? something as humdrum as public bus numbers. i live in a microcosmic world of concrete and bright lights, but i know the same truth even through bus numbers. 10 is my favourite bus home, and when i’m most tired and touchy, that’s the bus that comes and reminds me that there is rest for the weary. if i feel like i want it to come, but it doesn’t, i know i’m not too tired to wait a little more. 58 is the rare bus that brings cheer with it, but 43 is the faithful bus that comes when no other buses have come for a long time.
we speak of sacrifice, but what is there to sacrifice when i have nothing to give in the first place? but perhaps the real test of love is truly in the letting go: if i can loose the hold i never had, then maybe i really care, and then only can the dandelions fly.
last week we got news that one of the uncles who used to worship regularly with us had passed on in perth. i wasn’t really sure who it was, because i only know the older folks in church by “auntie” and “uncle” and their faces, and i can’t match their names to their face.
so when i got that piece of news, i sorta wondered at the back of my head if it was someone i had known personally. cos there was once i went for a vigil service of someone from the bilingual group in church, not really recognising the name, and then was shocked when i got to the casket. the reality of the death of someone familiar became real.
when i heard the names of the uncle’s sons, i started to think perhaps it really is the uncle that i used to sit next to, flip the hymnal for, talk to during lunch, and who really reminds me of my own grandpa. and it was just, when i went to his grand daughter’s blog, that i ascertained it was really him. my favourite uncle who spoke hokkien in response to my broken teochew.
i remember speaking to him at lunch once, and asking him how old he was because he still looked so strong. he told me his age, adding that it’s probably unbelievable, but that it’s only in God that such strength can be real. he then told me how he had once fallen quite badly, and anyone his age could have died from such a fall, but he survived, and was barely scratched. he was my example of faith in old age, of strength that endures in hope, of evidence of fulfillment: “even to grey hairs I will carry you”.
as more and more familiar people go before me, heaven also becomes more real. i look forward to being completely blown away by the awesome presence of God when i get there, but meanwhile, it’s kinda nice to imagine with some poetic license who we might meet in our welcoming party.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wdXX6lzbo78
One of the good things about being in NIE is that it gives me lots more exposure and practice in teaching, generally, i think. And there are some resources we learn about that i find useful in church as well, and that helps. But more than the material, what really helps is remembering how the Lord draws near to a broken and contrite spirit, and how He displays His strength and His glory in an earthen vessel.
i’ve often wondered how to talk to children, how to relate to them where they are, play with them, befriend them, yet also teach them and correct them. Especially when there’s a hard topic to teach them, i’ve found myself at a loss as to what to say/do. So i was really really thankful today that things went well at CW, and that i know so surely it was not from me. By yesterday i was all but worn out, and there was that slightly familiar sense of having been emptied hollow, and so tired i just want to curl up and…something. With the semi-hazy preparation time left, there was not that many things that could be done. But this morning, there was a special renewal and freshness, and it was almost like there was no such tiredness yesterday, and that things can go on like that for a long time more.
There is something about having a whole group of children listening to your every word in complete silence that makes my hair stand. Today as we learnt about the rich man and lazarus, my hair stood on end.
And at evening, singing “You rescued me” and thinking to myself (from an earlier thought) how hard it is for a person to love another, for anyone to love me, for that love to be sustained. And suddenly the thought of God’s abiding and eternal love enveloped me, and i was more keenly aware of that special gift. And everything else in life will be put in, in relation to this! Part of it is learning that my walk can be as personal as i want it to be, and yet there are at the same time things that can be shared, even if not commonly experienced. i haven’t known yet what extent the human heart is able to go to, and i sometimes wonder if i’ll ever learn. But yes, surely there are things that are already going on!
almost every lit class we have even at NIE, there would be an instance where the thought would cross my mind: if only there were a way of recording this or taking this snapshot into memory for posterity! we have such good times that it gives me hope for next time.
we’ve been having microteaching this week. and while this word/term strikes fear/dread/ache in the heart/stomach of many trainee teachers, for us it has simply been a most fun time. of course there is the preparation and the choosing text/topic/profile and the worksheets and powerpoint slides etc, but there has also been lots of “kinaesthetic” activity, many many laughs, dramamama things and happy playing of parts and role-switching. it’s priceless. j and l doing the ah beng thing in the disco or being flowers; dr w sashaying to p and j with an umbrella and singing some rain song; the mahjong game that never got started; missing cues and repeating lines; reflexivity and laughing at ourselves in a metatextual way.
mw says i always get all the nice classes and nice people. i don’t know what to say to that, but i am thankful that indeed i’ve met loads and loads of ultra nice people all these years. especially the tertiary years because these are places you don’t always expect to meet sweetpeas at. i wish i were more like them, i wish i knew them better, i wish there were some way of being sure we will keep in touch. but they’ve certainly taught me a lot. and helped me see where every good and perfect gift comes from. this is a deceptively sane picture, but it captures everyone in it. hopefully soon we’ll have more representative photos! because really, we all flew over the cuckoo’s nest, somehow.
and to remember this by:
“I hope what we’re doing won’t be just a nice memory – I’m convinced that much of what we’ve covered can be applied to the local context and help even in a little way toward the paradigm shift that needs must happen in Singapore schools if Lit is to survive/ thrive.”
hear hear!
i put me in a glass coffin
stand upright
and look out at all the world
at you
i smile, i wave, i answer your questions
but i am not there
i want to be there
i want to pour out my life
like you pour yours out
like you open your arms to give
to invite and to receive
but i have nothing to give
through the glass there is no transaction
there can be no touch
and there is no exchange
of that which comes so naturally to you
you must be quite special
to be friends with someone
who lives in a glass case
who is no snow white
who does not know
how to get out nor reach out
of all these glass coffins around
perhaps you would open some
without you even noticing
perhaps i might even walk out
or reach out
and realise there is no glass after all
and i can feel the touch of a hand
the hand of a friend.
It’s one of those rare days during which i get to sit at home all day and do what i need to. But in the midst of some of those things, i begin to remember that i am a social creature, a product of a boarding school, a foreign student staying away from home, a person in need of activity and company, even if i sometimes crave time alone.
Some things warm my heart: friendly, gentle, helpful emails from my teacher who’s helping me to learn to teach; a quick hello to/from an old classmate who’s just found a great job; honest, open virtual talk and knowing where to get help from.
Too easily i learn to depend on the unreliable: my new (complicated, unmanageable) phone…it’s funny how we try to find security in the insecure, the unsecurable. But there are also the mildly interesting: exploring the new plaza down the road, looking for food, thinking about going for a run under the blanket of clouds.
Yet all these is strangely unreal. There is some kind of placid surreality about it, and i feel like i must wait for that which is more tangible, more purposeful. But i must also seek out that which is more reliable, more real, more true.
Too many things i cannot conceive of in my mind, but not all less real. i just can’t see them yet…maybe i need a little help.
one of the most beautiful pieces of writing i’ve come across in a while:
This is the moment
O precious holy One
i will hold You and rock You
and care for You my Son
This is the moment so amazing to me
That the God of the universe is in my arms asleep
This is the moment when glory filled the sky
and shepherds came to worship this Baby born tonight
This is the moment when all the earth will sing
For this Child born so lowly is now our glorious King!
Silent comes the joy
without a proud announcement
Like the hint of dawn
is whispered to the night
So then without warning
morning breaks victorious
Extravagant and glorious
heralding the day
Silent comes the joy
delivered to a manger
in the quiet night
of stable and the world
A world in need of angels
and visions of life’s meaning
To reinstate the dreaming
that sin had torn away
Silent comes the joy
silent comes the joy
-Gloria Gaither
my new phone is supposed to be able to do all sorts of cool things, but i miss my old phone already… 
