Sophie's Diaries : A month to her 3rd birthday

The past few months approaching her 3rd birthday have been magical.

S (finally) began sleeping through the night without waking up for milk, she toilet-trained, she began eating proper portions of (solid) food in school instead of just nibbles and loads of milk, feeding her out of the home is no longer barking up the wrong tree, she rinses her mouth (after brushing teeth) at the sink instead of all over herself, she counts objects in order, she dresses herself, etc. 

Wouldn't it be wrong to say that she is more human now? But it sure feels that way to me - and I thank God. It was very nerve-wrecking for me before this - keeping an alien alive. 

Well, I am loving and enjoying her loads. I just want to enjoy her as my only child as long as I can. It's rather like marriage, I suppose. You're aware that you and your other half might want a baby in the future; however, you don't want to rush into that parenthood thingamajig without having enjoyed some years together as a couple first. I know time ticks on and neither the hubs nor I are that young, but really, I know I'll really miss having all that time with her if I ever had another. If you ask me, she's enough. She is exceedingly and abundantly more than I could have asked for or imagined. 

But I speak for myself. She keeps asking us for a baby sibling nowadays, more than ever. She'd pat my tummy once in a while, and ask if the baby was in there already... or why is it getting bigger (sheesh)... She woke up one morning, and said brightly: "Mummy, I dreamed last night... I went back into your tummy... and then, I came out. Mummy, do you want another baby in your tummy?"

Of course, I was wide awake after she popped the question. And a little troubled now. Haha.

We interviewed her this evening on the prospect:

Me: Do you really want a baby brother or sister?

Sophie: I want... baby brother AND sister. 

Me: Sophie, if I have a baby, I won't have so much time for you. Who is going to play with you?

S: I will play by myself.

Me: If the baby cries, what are you going to do?

S: I will sayang the baby.

Me: Who will help me to look after the baby?
S: Sophie!

Me: If the baby comes to you and says, "Jie-jie, bao bao (carry)," what will you do?"

S: I will bao bao the baby very softly (she meant "gently"). Then, if we sit together like this (she gestured in glee toward the bench we were sitting on - hubs, Sophie and myself), baby will sit here... next to me. 

Me: But I won't be able to bao bao you anymore...

S: You can bao bao baby.... You don't need to bao bao me anymore. Daddy will bao bao me.

Did I ever mention that she is a very determined little girl?

Groan. Don't grow up too fast, baby girl. 

I recently read a very good book.

It has inspired me to remove myself from the cult of achievement and "earlier/faster is better" so prevalent in my part of the world, and strain towards a home life full of child-led play, imagination, making teachable moments and growing learners. The flash cards will still have to flash, because Sophie's school uses them, but I have never resorted to use them at home and I won't start. 

Here's toward the last month of her 3rd year. 

Pitstop

I am writing this over my soy latte upon completion of my final 3 Advent articles.

I haven't had much time (or desire) to read recently. By reading, I mean sitting down for long, uninterrupted hours and letting words sink so deep into your soul that they might resonate with the vibrations that have not found expression yet. Or stir up your hunger for more. More understanding, more love, more hope. Nowadays, I find myself snacking constantly. On bits and pieces of motherhood-related information I need from time to time, readings I could use for work, depressing world news, and random theological articles that I give little thought to after I am done. And yes, I go through a few board books a day with my toddler. While pleasant and important, I feel myself forgetting what it was like to be a reading, opinionated person in my field(s) of interest - music, the arts as a context for theology, and theology as a context for the arts. Everything I was passionate about seems to have gelled into a fairy-tale colloid that no longer seems real - so much so that my passion for them almost seems imaginary. Like an infatuation of the past. Whenever I am reminded of it, however, my heart aches as if I have lost something important.

Anyway, I thought I would start reading again. Perhaps nothing too hard - but the simple yet profound inventions that novels are.

18 weeks +

I am a little startled to realise that my pregnancy is almost halfway to its consummation.

How time flies!

Today, I came across some profound words spoken by Stephen Massey, who is well-recognised in the States for his excellence in coaching and mentoring conductors of classical music ensembles as well as his work with high school jazz and wind ensembles, having been the Director of Music for the Foxboro Public Schools (Massachusetts) for the past 20 years. With regard to his efforts to deepen the intensity and passion of ensemble musicians in music-making, he sometimes alters his students' spatial distribution within an ensemble - arranging them in circles or various geometric shapes, and assigning different seating positions. His rationale? It is so that the music may be experienced from a variety of perspectives. Massey explained: "Anything that we can do to change the way in which people hear... it also changes the way in which people feel, because they feel differently when they hear differently."

Massey's words struck a chord in me - especially the word "hear". It is not only seeing something/someone/a situation from different perspectives that stretches our imaginations, emotions and understanding about that particular thing/person/situation. Hearing or listening from different perspectives is just as important.

For example, when we go through difficult times in life, we don't only want to see God at work - or see the circumstances from His perspective. We also yearn to hear Him - His voice addressing us personally - His words of comfort and assurance; His leading; His answers to our "WHY" questions; and His active engagement in our prayer conversations with Him. Hearing is an essential part of knowing God - it enables us to know God and yet, it testifies to us that we do know God (Jn 10:27). Hearing releases faith (Rom 10:17). Perhaps then, if we are still not at rest, we could change the way in which we hear God (per Massey). Instead of just reading, we could go out for a walk and experience God's presence in nature... or appreciate art... or spend time with a good friend (preferably one who is prayerful and discerning - and not just kay poh a.k.a. busy-body)... or sleep. We would then be able to hear God's voice from different perspectives/angles, be enriched and know Him deeper.

Anyway, I digress. Massey's statement has also reminded me that it matters who I listen to when it comes to "pregnancy-talk". I was once very influenced by the cynical remarks of certain well-meaning people who would go on and on about how having a baby is all about costly living, dreary broken nights, broken dreams, watered-down romance in the marriage (if not non-existent), mind-numbing childbirth pains and being torn apart *gulp*, a permanently altered physique (including sagging boobs, widened hips, a huge behind that can only be trimmed with professional help at a slimming centre, a jelly-belly that never diminishes, etc, etc) and "your life will never be the same again" (often spoken in a sad, dramatic and almost-oppressive tone). I admit that I consequently did not have very positive feelings toward pregnancy - and even less so, after the miscarriage last year. Thankfully, God kept bringing me some other people who did not deny that pregnancy and having kids would be hard work and many sacrifices; however, they spoke too of the wholesomeness of mothering, the joys of guiding their children to be what/who God had purposed them to be, the wonders of journeying with God, and the great fun they had had. (My spiritual mom is one of these.) What encouragement!

I heard very differently through these people - and so, I feel different (in a good way) now about being a mother. In fact, I am looking forward to it. With joy and excitement. 

Home away from home

Singapore. A most delightful book occupied my faculties all the way from Penang to Singapore, and I hardly felt time passing by. Having arrived in the middle of Hawthorne's intriguing classic (The Scarlet Letter), I am now dying to know how the tale will end - but I guess it would have to wait till tomorrow.

Ji and Hwa's sweet little flat. We've just had the most hilarious prayer meeting between us, thanks to someone's snort of laughter upon the utterance of another person's childlike prayer request. Tsk tsk. It was of course no laughing matter, but the more we tried to sober up, the more laughter fizzed up like mean soda eager to burst out of a capped, shaken bottle. It was sure hard to pray while shaking with suppressed laughter. O God, in Your mercy, hear our prayers! :S

It's good to be back.

I am looking forward to having breakfast by myself at the Ghim Moh Market tomorrow morning. Not to mention the solitary walks, reading/journaling at cafés and meet-ups with those dear and familiar.

Now, this is what I call a good vacation. :)

Jane Austen on marital faithfulness...

I thought that this was such a good reminder today, especially the part I bolded. How well Austen words it!

“...And such is your definition of matrimony and dancing. Taken in that light, certainly their resemblance is not striking; but I think I could place them in such a view. You will allow that in both man has the advantage of choice, woman only the power of refusal; that in both it is an engagement between man and woman, formed for the advantage of each; and that when once entered into, they belong exclusively to each other till the moment of its dissolution; that it is their duty each to endeavour to give the other no cause for wishing that he or she had bestowed themselves elsewhere, and their best interest to keep their own imaginations from wandering towards the perfections of their neighbours, or fancying that they should have been better off with any one else.” (Austen, Northanger Abbey)

The Great Gatsby

I am partial to English classic novels. They are even more intriguing when made into films. Poetic words, delightful idioms, witty barb, and literary flourishes from bygone eras seem to point beyond the mesmerising portraits they paint.... to windows that invite my peering eyes to glimpse the past... that I may unravel a little more of its mysteries which a modern-age person like me would never completely know. What great minds those authors had. What great legacies they have left us. And for a person like me who loves to write, what great mentors they make - even though most are down in their graves by now!

As a way of resting from a week's labours (and celebrating a finished paper presentation) this evening, I watched "The Great Gatsby", a film adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald's 1925 classic American novel. While it is a rather sad and scandalous tale, I enjoyed it very much for its elegance (Fitzgerald has such a charming way with words), the kaleidoscopic imagination it sparked off, contemporary reality popping up in such a nolstalgic piece of post-war work and the escalating tension that its plot held and resolved well at the end. So many big lessons to be learned too. Fitzgerald, you have fascinated me indeed. What an inspiring work of art!

I would rate the film 8 out of 10, by the way.

Well then, here's to a fruitful week ahead, people!

Christian spirituality

A little output after doing an assigned reading of Glen S. Scorgie's "A Little Guide to Christian Spirituality: Three Dimensions of Life with God".....

Christian spirituality is about establishing a transforming connection to God through Christ, by which the Holy Spirit shapes holistically who we will become and how we will live our lives.

The dynamics of Christian spirituality restore to God's perfect order - the distorted image of God in human beings, our relationship with God as well as with each other, the wounds our sins inflict and our vocations.

Christian spirituality is therefore a gift. One that is very graciously given and lavished upon us.... and yet one to which we must reciprocate by faith - whether in receiving, stewarding, resting or denying self. It is also a journey to abundant life. One which begins with us creating space - a prioritised space for God to enter our worldly lives, distractions and affections - and transform. One that is sustained by the means of spiritual disciplines.

Food for thought:

How does understanding the dynamics of Christian spirituality help the Church develop convictions and actions with regards to the children in the community?

The love note from a June to a Debbie

Books can burn a hole (or hole$) in your pocket.

For this reason, I often buy used/second-hand books from half-price bookstores and charity shops, especially when I am abroad. I've had some really delightful finds and deals! (I once purchased a good grammar book for £1 in Bath, UK.)

Used books are interesting for the fact that they used to belong to other people. They carry traces of history in them - be it smells, dog-eared pages, coffee-stains (well, I would like to think that they are coffee-stains), highlighter marks, an unknown person's hand-writing or little notes. These historical markers intrigue me, especially addresses. I would yearn to write to the person at a particular address to declare that I am the next proud owner of the book! I haven't tried anything like that - but perhaps I shall, someday. 

Anyway, I got down to blogging about this because there was a love note from a June to a Debbie in a book, which I started reading today. If you can't read the hand-writing, this is what it says: 

"15 July 97. 

My dear Debbie, I'm so happy to know you and give this, one of my favourite books, to you on your day! Whatever life holds for you, my prayer is that your wonder, joy and awe with life will never cease and always grow. Happy birthday!

Love, 
your cubicle buddy, June"

Awww. Sweet. The book is indeed amazing, June!* Reading it made me weep at certain places. 

However, I also began wondering what happened to Debbie that her birthday book had ended up in the half-price shop. I mean, the book is such a treasure that I would keep it, even if I were to get into a fight with its giver!

Perhaps, she died. God might have called her Home - no longer to be an alien and stranger in this world.

"Cubicle" could refer to that of the hospital ward. A place where pain and sickness were endured. Yet, a place where hope could still pulsate and promise life beyond bodily death. The hope of Christ. The hope of the glory of God.

Well, I pray today, that my wonder, joy and awe of the eternal life I have in Christ will never cease.... and always grow. 

*Book title: Fearfully and Wonderfully Made by Paul Brand and Philip Yancey. I might blog about the book some other day.

Castrato. Castrati. And so on.

Wednesday. A day of reading at Barnes & Noble in the Arboretum. A fine day. 

And then, I met the bizarre.

I had gobbled up at least three of them, books - before I arrived at the fourth. I went no further than four books because something in the last book left me both intrigued and pained. With a little indigestion, even.

It was no fault of the author. Lunday, the author of the fourth book, chronicles the lives, achievements and works of a selection of classical music composers from the different eras of music history - in a sturdy book, not more than an inch thick. A brilliant book, I thought, despite its shocking title. So real, so deep, and yet so concise. An easy book to read, I liked most things about it - the caricature illustrations, fonts and Lunday's humour (which kept cracking me up). My appreciation for classical music and her composers has bulked up with just one read. The book, however, is certainly not the most conventional of its genre. Lunday is creative in familiarising the opaque, bizarre and complex details that they become especially memorable.

Alas, I am stuck ruminating on the subject of castrati. The most memorable thing ever.

Castrati does not spell the name of an Italian dish, although I have no idea why it reminds me of food. Castrati (singular: castrato) were the breed of "angelic" voices who have inspired great operatic arias in especially the 18th century. Where and how were they made? In special surgical rooms of Italy, talented pre-pubescent boys who had consented to devote their lives to becoming opera singers or royal vocalists (whether by their own choice or by that of their parents who desired stardom for their sons for monetary reasons) were castrated to prevent them from reaching puberty. The castrati were Italian eunuchs in the name of art. 

The result of the brutal pursuit? Their voices never broke - and therefore, retained the flexible vocal range of young boys. Such voices were favoured for their pitch and power, with the high notes of a pre-pubescent boy passing from the intensely cultivated anatomy of an adult. (Of course the castration was just the beginning. They had to train hard. More about the castrati here and here.)

Well, my curiosity got the better of me. 

I absolutely had to listen to a castrato sing. 

I did. And my heart broke. For the life of me, I don't know how people could have ever thought such singing to be angelic, magical or ethereal. It made my skin creep, hands-down. (It also made my first encounter with a human cadaver seem mild.) It was not merely about voice quality. I have nothing against men who achieve falsetto naturally via technique (I do know of such a person). Or eunuchs. Or those born with the genetic condition of Kallmann's. Rather, it was knowing the story behind the voice that made the difference. I couldn't imagine how any parent could have had the heart to set his/her sons on such a career path. Difficult decisions must have been made. And I won't attempt to put myself in the shoes of the Italian eunuch, exotically glamorous his life must have been. 

Picture Source

Well, the castrati were celebrated artists in their own right, no doubt. If I had lived that many centuries ago, when women were barred from stage-work, I might have been a fan myself. Perhaps, I might have savoured the singing. But here I am, a child of a different era. I enjoy jazz and harmonising tenor voices.

Which brings me to the almost unrelated subject of pain and the artist. I have blogged about this before (just in case you find it familiar).

Pain is often food to artists, bitter as it is for the moment.

Food. Not merely knowledge, beauty or even the love that warms one's lonely heart - but pain.

Vincent Van Gogh's "Starry Night"

An artist often goes through hell to bring the world a glimpse of heaven, so to speak. I won't over-generalize, but this, I have often found to be true.

It is often through the worst, darkest, most desperate times and circumstances of an artist's life - that the most moving songs, poetry, dances or paintings have been birthed. Such forms of art have been known to refresh others who are in pain. Like a soothing balm.

The elegance of pain-birthed art is like that of a pearl embedded in an oyster's shell. As a result of irritation, the pearl took form in a dignified, determined and unperturbed manner out of existing God-given resources. Its lustre shakes the core of hearts and induces peace in the midst of unrest. Even when reality points to the absence of a present solution, one feels comforted that the artist can identify with his/her pain. Even if wordlessly.
 
But is there comfort and healing for suffering artists?

In prayer and solitude? Undoubtedly so. In the company of the like-minded? Probably. But perhaps, suffering also calls for artists, having looked up and around, to bear down and push.

Maybe... put it all into a song, a poignant dance, a poem, a humble painting, a rough sculpture, a drawing in the sand, a bottle of stars, a crafted jewellery, a knitted dress, a patchwork quilt, a heart-warming cake, what have you ~ and push it out as fervently as you possibly can for the many eyes, ears, noses, mouths, minds, hands and heart to perceive. Take time every now and then to appreciate God's artistry. Be out in the wild, listen to the nocturnal serenades, watch the dances of nature, feel the wind against your face - or study human anatomy. And then be inspired by God's authenticity in His creation of His world. Beauty in the deep, form in a formless void, light in darkness, a man from mere dust.

Healing might or might not come in a gush... but all the same, healing begins. Furthermore, as any creative effort and appreciation of creativity are the embodiment of the image of our Creator in us, we would have rubbed shoulders with Him - who also heals.  

Subsequently, we may express our art in the backdrop of promise and hope.

They say that an artist's legacy rests on whether or not his art was true to his heart. I would like to add that an artist's legacy also rests on whether or not his art resonates with the hearts of those it has been created to reach. Suffering is a necessary ordeal in this world we live in. Only artists who understand the sufferings of mankind and hope, can truly produce their empathic balms.

Finally, to fellow Christian artists: we are responsible for our artistic expressions.

Our art should not merely serve to entertain. It can and will and must - but our art should also redeem. The Greek word for "redeem" in the Bible is used of the ransom paid to free slaves from slavery or captives from captivity. It is an important metaphor used to help us understand what Jesus has done for us on the cross - with regard to sin and death. Art that redeems not only induces a yearning for freedom in its beholders. It also holds the key to freedom for its beholders - from their many bondages. Such art envelops the hope of Christ. Such art, God also uses to bring life.

I am not saying that we need to brand our art with Bible verses or churchy jargon. A drawing of a flower, for instance, could just consist of a stalk, two leaves and five petals on a blank sheet of paper. It could be a drawing of a withered flower if need be. However, it is worth exploring how our hope in Christ may shine forth in such a drawing - creatively and extravagantly. Of course, to do so we need to first embrace this hope and know what we are hoping for in the midst of the pains that we endure.

This is not easy. I often struggle to embrace hope. But let such struggles not be wasted. I pray that out of these struggles, I may give more and yet share God's love and hope with others through my art. Yes, the love and hope of the God who stoops down to look at us and raise us from the dust (cf. Ps 113:6-7).

David

A revised post ~

Two years ago, I was slogging on a rather complicated assignment for Mrs. L's "Conflict Dynamics" course. The paper was to be a sort of analysis of any conflict that has been described in the Bible - so I chose the one between Saul and David. I was supposed to read about the entire conflict and apply what I had learned from the course (using the right terminologies) - looking out for many different elements such as focus of conflict, issue of conflict, appeals in conflict, stages of conflict, resolution, result, etcetera etcetera etcetera, baa baa baa....

Halfway through my assignment, I REALLY regretted doing my assignment on the conflict between Saul and David, because it was long and complex - not to mention I was pressed for time. In fact, I (dramatic as ever) fell into a little depression and contemplated giving up on the assignment several times, even if it meant that I would fail the course. I was also quite ready to give King Saul a psychiatric evaluation. He seemed mental toward the end... However, after I finished doing it (yes, you can let out that sigh of relief - I didn't fail - in fact, I received a good grade, thank God), I was thankful that I DIDN'T give up.

I have always wanted to understand the Psalms better - especially those David wrote while he was being pursued by Saul for his head - when he had to keep running for his life. Having delved deep into the conflict between Saul and David, I could certainly appreciate the agony, anguish, grief and urgency David portrayed in his writings much better. It strikes me as strange - in the story (1 Samuel 16-31), David did not appear to be even half the melancholic person he actually was. I mean, we should have known - he was a gifted musician who played such God-anointed music - that could even relieve Saul of the evil spirit that tormented him (1 Sam 16:14-23). Most of the excellent musicians I know are sensitive, melancholic people! But David's psalms reveal so much more of the private contemplations that backed up his heroic character. Lamentations, colourful language and wishful thinking were common (even resentful sometimes - very human) - but more than anything, he truly trusted and believed that God would deliver him mightily. He clung onto God and drew strength from Him. He praised God all the time, regardless. Could it be for that reason, I wonder, that God was pleased to deliver Saul into David's hands - not only once, but twice?

David's habit of continually calling on God probably did not only begin when he was pursued by Saul. It was likely that he was already doing this even when he was a nobody - an unknown shepherd boy watching the sheep in the pasture - being looked down upon by his own brothers. Yes, even before he had known that he was going to slay a giant one day and be the anointed king of Israel - God had already David's heart (1 Sam 16:7). David had already, if I may use the word, intrigued God - long before anyone else saw any potential in him - because he was somebody after God's own heart. He was ready to yield to God's purposes rather than his own.

Reflecting on this makes me remember a message I heard, preached once upon a time. I can't remember word for word - but I do remember the impression I got from it. Yes, we have been all created for God's purposes - and we do have unique life-assignments from God. However, God usually doesn't impose His plans on us until we ourselves choose to humble ourselves, earnestly seek Him and yield to Him --- even when we know that it means a possible "cleansing journey" through the Refiner's furnace so that we would be vessels suitable for use.

Many times, I find it so difficult to yield to God. Humanly speaking, I cannot stand not being in control of things and I'm certainly most weak and disobedient at times. However, I have come to realise that if we ask God to align our hearts according to His so that we would willingly desire the things He desires, He does graciously help us to find the paradigm shift that we need.

And there would be all-surpassing peace.

Cinderella: A Poem by Roald Dahl

Blogger's note: The late Roald Dahl ~ a British novelist, short-story writer and screenwriter ~ authored many of my favourite childhood reads. The Times Magazine honoured him as "one of the most widely read and influential writers of our generation" when he died in 1990. The following is Dahl's poetic version of "Cinderella", which has never failed to make me laugh despite its silliness. Enjoy!

I guess you think you know this story.
You don't. The real one's much more gory.
The phoney one, the one you know,
Was cooked up years and years ago,
And made to sound all soft and sappy
just to keep the children happy.
Mind you, they got the first bit right,
The bit where, in the dead of night,
The Ugly Sisters, jewels and all,
Departed for the Palace Ball,
While darling little Cinderella
Was locked up in a slimy cellar,
Where rats who wanted things to eat,
Began to nibble at her feet.

She bellowed 'Help!' and 'Let me out!
The Magic Fairy heard her shout.
Appearing in a blaze of light,
She said: 'My dear, are you all right?'
'All right?' cried Cindy .'Can't you see
'I feel as rotten as can be!'
She beat her fist against the wall,
And shouted, 'Get me to the Ball!
'There is a Disco at the Palace!
'The rest have gone and I am jealous!
'I want a dress! I want a coach!
'And earrings and a diamond brooch!
'And silver slippers, two of those!
'And lovely nylon panty hose!
'Done up like that I'll guarantee
'The handsome Prince will fall for me!'
The Fairy said, 'Hang on a tick.'
She gave her wand a mighty flick
And quickly, in no time at all,
Cindy was at the Palace Ball!

It made the Ugly Sisters wince
To see her dancing with the Prince.
She held him very tight and pressed
herself against his manly chest.
The Prince himself was turned to pulp,
All he could do was gasp and gulp.
Then midnight struck. She shouted,'Heck!
I've got to run to save my neck!'
The Prince cried, 'No! Alas! Alack!'
He grabbed her dress to hold her back.
As Cindy shouted, 'Let me go!'
The dress was ripped from head to toe.

She ran out in her underwear,
And lost one slipper on the stair.
The Prince was on it like a dart,
He pressed it to his pounding heart,
'The girl this slipper fits,' he cried,
'Tomorrow morn shall be my bride!
I'll visit every house in town
'Until I've tracked the maiden down!'
Then rather carelessly, I fear,
He placed it on a crate of beer.

At once, one of the Ugly Sisters,
(The one whose face was blotched with blisters)
Sneaked up and grabbed the dainty shoe,
And quickly flushed it down the loo.
Then in its place she calmly put
The slipper from her own left foot.
Ah ha, you see, the plot grows thicker,
And Cindy's luck starts looking sicker.

Next day, the Prince went charging down
To knock on all the doors in town.
In every house, the tension grew.
Who was the owner of the shoe?
The shoe was long and very wide.
(A normal foot got lost inside.)
Also it smelled a wee bit icky.
(The owner's feet were hot and sticky.)
Thousands of eager people came
To try it on, but all in vain.
Now came the Ugly Sisters' go.
One tried it on. The Prince screamed, 'No!'
But she screamed, 'Yes! It fits! Whoopee!
'So now you've got to marry me!'
The Prince went white from ear to ear.
He muttered, 'Let me out of here.'
'Oh no you don't! You made a vow!
'There's no way you can back out now!'
'Off with her head!'The Prince roared back.
They chopped it off with one big whack.
This pleased the Prince. He smiled and said,
'She's prettier without her head.'
Then up came Sister Number Two,
Who yelled, 'Now I will try the shoe!'
'Try this instead!' the Prince yelled back.
He swung his trusty sword and smack
Her head went crashing to the ground.
It bounced a bit and rolled around.
In the kitchen, peeling spuds,
Cinderella heard the thuds
Of bouncing heads upon the floor,
And poked her own head round the door.
'What's all the racket? 'Cindy cried.
'Mind your own bizz,' the Prince replied.
Poor Cindy's heart was torn to shreds.
My Prince! she thought. He chops off heads!
How could I marry anyone
Who does that sort of thing for fun?

The Prince cried, 'Who's this dirty slut?
'Off with her nut! Off with her nut!'
Just then, all in a blaze of light,
The Magic Fairy hove in sight,
Her Magic Wand went swoosh and swish!
'Cindy! 'she cried, 'come make a wish!
'Wish anything and have no doubt
'That I will make it come about!'
Cindy answered, 'Oh kind Fairy,
'This time I shall be more wary.
'No more Princes, no more money.
'I have had my taste of honey.
I'm wishing for a decent man.
'They're hard to find. D'you think you can?'
Within a minute, Cinderella
Was married to a lovely feller,
A simple jam maker by trade,
Who sold good home-made marmalade.
Their house was filled with smiles and laughter
And they were happy ever after. 

Taken from Roald Dahl and Quentin Blake, Roald Dahl's Revolting Rhymes, Revised ed. (New York: Random House Inc.,2002), pp.1-6.

God's creating Spirit

I have begun reading a book by Christopher J.H. Wright, which is entitled: "Knowing the Holy Spirit through the Old Testament". 

Book has been lying around for 3 years now ~ or rather, since I entered the seminary in 2009 ~ but I've only worked up an appetite for it some days ago... (Honestly, I think the colour/design of its cover turned me off initially ~ it's just my pet peeves ~ but well, what did they tell you about not judging a book by its cover???) 

Yesterday night, sleep did not come easy ~ and suddenly I had a great yearning to read this book. So I did ~ and I loved it.

The first chapter was already very fascinating. Wright compiles Scripture from the Old Testament to indicate God's Holy Spirit's role in the Creation --- how the Spirit hovered over the waters; the link between God's Spirit and His Word that spoke the old Creation into being; the daily sustaining and renewing of the Creation; and the work of the Holy Spirit in human life that makes human beings different from the rest of the Creation. Subsequently, Wright cleverly leads his readers to ponder on the role of the Holy Spirit in creating ~ or birthing ~ the new Creation in Christ (cf. Romans 8:19-23, 26-27).

What constantly struck me whilst reading that first chapter was the awe of the Triune nature of God ~ as well as the unity, intimate collaboration and synergy of the Three Persons of the Godhead in every work and in the making of every bit of history. We often tend to think that at least one Person of the Godhead "takes a break" while the rest acts for a period of time ~ and then they SWAP PLACES. Like workers on shifts! But the truth is this: GOD ~ the Father, Son and Holy Spirit --- they never work apart from one another. And yet, many churches do not emphasize the role of the Holy Spirit enough.

Also, I reflected on what my salvation in Christ meant in the light of this chapter (yes, just this chapter for now)--- and I concluded that it means "...being enabled by God's grace and initiative to synchronize oneself with the poise and yet action of the Holy Spirit in the birthing process of the New Creation..."

Monday ~~~ Waiting

I'm currently reading a book by one of my favourite Christian authors ~ John Ortberg. 

Oh, you must read Orberg's books! He is a brilliant writer, really. His books are divinely profound and yet so easy to digest... partially because he is rather gifted to mix humour into his writes which helps readers to see things through unusual perspectives as they smile and giggle. Ortberg's books also give me many "Ahaa!!!" moments and make light-bulbs light up above my head (if you can imagine them, that is). 

Anyway, the book I'm reading is entitled: "If You Want To Walk on Water, You've Got To Get Out of The Boat". 

As the title suggests, it is a book on faith and trusting God as one answers His call. A book on walking an unforgettable walk - i.e. walking on water (cf. Matthew 14:25-32). It deals with boat potatoes (as opposed to couch potatoes), discerning the call, getting out of the boat, fear, the right focus and etc. I am now slowly going through chapter 9 - "Learning to Wait". It's somehow one of those chapters which I know I should not speed-read... because I struggle to wait. (I speed-read sometimes because I cannot wait to know what happens at the end of the chapter...and ultimately the book!) 

Was really blessed and comforted when I came across Ortberg's quote of Lewis Smedes' [For background reading, see John Ortberg, If You Want to Walk on Water, You've Got to Get Out of the Boat (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 2001), p.176]: 

"Waiting is our destiny as creatures,
who cannot by themselves bring about what they hope for.
We wait in the darkness for a flame we cannot light.
We wait in fear for a happy ending we cannot write.
We wait for a not yet that feels like a not ever.
Waiting is the hardest work of hope."

Wow! I am reminded that whilst joy is experienced when a goal or destination is reached... or when an eagerly awaited reward is received ~~ hope, which is the essence of living and not giving up on life, can only exist in the context of waiting. But the trickiest part of possessing hope while waiting... is learning to let go and trust God. It is no wonder that Lewis Smedes concluded that waiting is the hardest work of hope. Patience must be then the bittersweet fruit of the Holy Spirit that buds and ripens when one leans on God and trusts whilst he/she waits, even if with a limp. 

I pray that my waiting will be fruitful. I desire to wait with joy, faith and great expectations... Great expectations, not because I expect God to answer prayers my way or fit His plans into my puny ones ~ but because I know He will do exceedingly and abundantly more than I can ever ask or imagine... and in a way, it is right to expect that He would because the Bible says so. It is God's very own promise. 

At this very moment, I am waiting... to see the doctor in the morning. :)

Meaningful Monday

I have planned to spend every Monday (which is my official off-day) catching up on my personal growth as both a beloved child and servant (musician) of God.

This Monday has been awesome.

Met up with Jun for lunch. She is Ji's beautiful younger sister - very passionate about life and very hungry for God. I am grateful for this opportunity to eat with her before she goes off to UK to further her studies. It was refreshing and inspiring.

I spent the afternoon doing my revision on the instruments of the orchestra.

While the information from this book used to be my "staple" back when I was still sitting for music exams, it still helps me now - especially with my worship leading and keyboard-playing in church (hopefully with teaching in the future too). It is important to know the instruments as well as their pitch ranges well, if I am to use the "sounds" in the Clavinova or plan the song repertoires for my worship teams. Therefore, I am extremely thankful that I could finish reading this book in one seating today, uninterrupted. I supplemented the concise points from this book with music history notes. It is my desire to not only serve God better with all these knowledge - but to ultimately know Him deeper. To fellowship with Him while I explore the different eras of music and the contributions of Christian musicians. To enrich my discernment of how He still engages with His created world today through the development of music with time. To listen to His heartbeat through the assimilation of conclusions drawn through my studies. If I am to be God's musican, may I be one who is passionate, focused, sensitive to His voice... and loves Him with all her heart, mind, soul and strength.

Next on my reading list: "Theology, Music and Time" by Jeremy S. Begbie. A book introduced, recommended and lent to me by Dr. S.

Anyway...

In the evening (post-dinner), I met up with a few seminary friends at Straits Quay and we engaged in a 2-hour discussion on certain theological matters. Of course, we weren't quite so rigid - we did digress at times (short moments) to share our hearts and struggles. Over-all, it was really fun yet edifying fellowship. I look forward to the next meeting.

My lovely day was wrapped up with some TLC from Ben upon arriving home.

Monday

Picked up speed with my assignments... and praise the Lord - I finished reading David Pawson's "Come with me through MARK" today. Very thankful that Pst. Mah included this reading among my many assignments. Gonna type the book report tomorrow.

I would say this to every Christian: this book is a fantabulous read, especially if you yearn to appreciate the Gospel of Mark (as well as other Gospels) more and understand the mysterious things Jesus did. The chapters are short, yet precise and you are always left wanting more. Sentences are pretty simple too. (Also, it helped that the author was humorous and down to earth!) The final few chapters had me on the edge of my seat whilst reading about Jesus' betrayal, trial and execution. I am glad that the book did not emphasize too much on the gory details like the movie, "Passion of Christ" did - and yet it seemed to touch me deeper. David Pawson does have a gift with words indeed. I've not read such a compelling book in ages. Understanding the Gospel more, I now love it with an even greater passion.

Gotta go plug myself into God now... Tomorrow's going to be another day of thinking, juicing my brain, typing, cooking, etc. Good night world!

The Way of the Heart

I have begun reading a new book today - "The Way of the Heart" by Henri J.M. Nouwen.

It is part of my Spiritual Formation II assignment, for which I would also have to write a 10-page, double-spaced response to the book. On top of completing my assignment (this is not an option), I intend to mindfully and prayerfully make this book part of my daily meditation/contemplation/reflection this week. My week in Singapore has given me loads of precious moments at the feet of Jesus - let me not waste the momentum God has graciously provided me to hearken my ears to His voice (since I can get so distracted). I believe, as I journey on in this book, He would continue to speak, rebuke, comfort and affirm.

Maranatha.
Let me quote some phrases from the book's prologue:

"What is required of a man or a woman who is called to enter fully into the turmoil and agony of the times and speak a word of hope?"

Reflecting on the previous few years, I must say that it is difficult for me to enter fully into the turmoil and agony of the times and speak hope into the lives of suffering people when I don't abide to the daily disciplines of solitude, being silent before God and constant prayer. I come out with all sorts of trash when I depend on my own strength (although it sure feels good at first because my ego gets stroked) and then I grow exhausted and bitterly discouraged; not to mention my "old demons" getting hyped up! ED-thoughts fire like from a machine gun. It is a terribly lonely way to end one's ministry. Indeed apart from Christ, we can do nothing. On the other hand, a daily humbling before God does wonders for not only one's ministry - but one's security as a child of God. This contented security, I believe, is quiet but powerful as it draws others to fiercely desire it. God speaks hope through its possessors in such turmoil and agony of the times.

"It is not difficult to see that in this fearful and painful period of our history we who minister in parishes, schools, universities, hospitals and prisons are having a difficult time fulfilling our task of making the light of Christ shine into the darkness. Many of us have (1) adapted ourselves too well to the general mood of lethargy. Others among us have become (2) tired, exhausted, disappointed, bitter, resentful or simply bored. Still others have (3) remained active and involved - but have ended up living more in their own name than in the Name of Jesus Christ. This is not so strange. The pressures in the ministry are enormous, the demands are increasing and the satisfactions diminishing. How can we expect to remain full of creative vitality, or zeal for the Word of God, of desire to serve, and of motivation to inspire our often numbed congregations? Where are we supposed to find nurture and strength? How can we alleviate our own spiritual hunger and thirst?"

Gonna read the book and find out!:)

In Singapore

I've been on a blogging hiatus... and it sure feels good.

I have had a good week behind me.  Our trip back to KL, plenty of fellowship time with my family members, our family trip up to Genting Highlands... our short "retreat" at Lydia Yong's abode in Kepong, etc. Time spent with Lydia (a dear friend and sister) was an excellent wrap-up to Ben's holidaying week - before he begins his new job today. So thank you very much for cooking, hosting us, speaking into our lives and ministering to us so beautifully, Lydia. We were so blessed! Such inspiring moments; such encounters with God. I strongly believe that when I return from Singapore I will be ready to begin my final and toughest load of assignments prior to graduation in November.

In the Land of the Merlion now; sitting in Ji's swiveling chair in her room... on the 40th floor of the block of apartments. Ewan, Laura, baby Hannah and Ji met me at the airport last night. It was an awesome "homecoming" indeed.

Dearly missing my hubby (who has been sick for a few days by now and worrying if he remembers to take his medicines) - but having a ball of a time just being still and alone with God while my friends are off to work and the whole world revolves around me. I've been also reading a book which Ji recommended for me to read - "Man's search for meaning" by Viktor E. Frankl - one of the survivors of the Nazi Holocaust... and so far, I've been spellbound by this brilliant book. The book makes me think - what I would do when the familiar goals in life and the freedom to attain them are forcefully removed...how I should choose my attitude, how I should put my hope in God and therefore live on, etc. It's a little depressing, yes - but nevertheless a good read for this moment in time - for me. May the Lord speak to me, even through this book.

I plan to spend more time reading the Word of God - as well as meeting up with my prayer partners/mentors. (Ji says that it's probably one of the last times we do crazy things together in Singapore before the baby arrives - haha. I don't think the baby will come so quickly... but then again, it's good to do crazy things while we still can.)

I won't be uploading photos so soon (coz I didn't bring my laptop) - so please bear with me, those of you, visual people :)

Celebrating Singapore's National Day tomorrow - although I'm not Singaporean, haha.

First Love

I'm done with Jim Cymbala's "Fresh Wind, Fresh Fire". It was such a brilliant book. Challenging to read, extremely convicting of my sins and yet intimately connected to the burden on my heart for prayer. Divine things happen when we pray, whether we see it or not in the physical. God is indeed looking for men and women who will cry out to Him, in the name of Jesus - so that He would deliver them and they would thus honor Him. Those who would not just pray for their own needs - but for the needs of their neighbors, friends, loved ones, community and nation. Today I am moving onto "Fresh Faith: What happens when real faith ignites God's people".

(Yups, at the same time, I speed-read and reviewed Fisher and Ury's "Getting to Yes: Negotiating Agreement Without Giving In" yesterday - only because it's part of my assignments.)

Subsequently, I will wrap up my little "reading-retreat" with next weekend's worship team retreat. Honestly, I have a deadline coming up. No, wait - two deadlines! However, I felt that it was necessary to break for a little spiritual revival in my own life. In the past few days, I did my housework as usual. Served the hubby with much joy. Did some adventurous stuff. Tried to get into some assignments. On top of these, I also made (much) more time for my first love. Partially yes, to those of you who guessed reading. But ultimately, it was so that I could be in touch with my first love for Jesus.

The Enemy - Satan - will come and steal, kill and destroy our burning embers of devotion for the Lord - through worldly cares, over-work, discouragements, failures, temptations, sickness and loss. And so we tragically forsake our first love for Jesus. We usually can't change our circumstances even if we wanted to. But we can be mindful of our responses to them. For me, I admit that I am a person who will become a hollow shell of my former self when I get jaded. I realize that if I do not guard my heart and stay close to God as well as my "Jonathans", I lose a sense of my unique calling, the dreams in me that were birthed by the Holy Spirit, etc. When these get stolen - I grow bitter at life, I hate waking up in the mornings and I get cranky toward people. And then, I'll pick quarrels with Ben, haha. (A very predictable progression indeed.) At times such as these, I am always grateful when God jolts me back to reality (even though I can be some tough nut to crack). It's like how He addressed the Ephesian church in Rev 2:2-5, "I know your deeds, your work and your perseverance... Yet I hold this against you. You have forsaken your first love. Remember the height from which you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first. If you do not repent, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place." Sharp words, scary even - but so filled with love and grace. Don't you see, He's a God of second chances? More than second chances...

I am not one who has it all figured out of course. But I want to always long for a closer, renewed and refreshed walk with Him. And therefore, I am looking forward to reading "Fresh Faith".

Laodicea

The writer, Pst. Jim Cymbala, observed this: "Notice that Laodiceans were saints of God, with all the promises to claim. They were part of Christ's body - singing hymns, worshiping on Sunday, enjoying physical benefits and no doubt viewing themselves as more righteous than their pagan neighbors. Yet they were on the verge of being vomited out."

Jim Cymbala, "A Time for Shaking" in Fresh Wind, Fresh Fire: what happens when God's Spirit invades the hearts of His people (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 1997), 91-92. 

When I read this yesterday afternoon, I couldn't help pausing to ask myself: "Am I in Laodicea?" Or worse still, "Am I a Laodicean?"

Have I begun to think that being lukewarm is normal? Or have I been proclaiming victory and blessing without moving God's heart? Is Jesus saying to me: "But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked...Those whom I love, I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest, and repent." (Rev. 3:17,19)

Christians, it is good for us to constantly examine our hearts.

Lukewarm happens when we've stopped thinking and asking why. When we've stopped living for the eternity but the temporary. When we've stopped living a purpose-driven life and are beginning to conform to culture - accepting that tiny compromises are "okay" as long as we gain significance in this world we are living in. When we've stopped dreaming big dreams of how we can pour out ourselves for God (and for His people - because that's ultimately how we serve Him). It happens when we demand that life is ultimately about us - what we want, what we need, how we ought to be allowed to feel when people offend us...and our right to have quality experiences. (Yes, even worship experiences and sermons.) Lukewarm is when we think that money, properties and fat bank accounts will solve all our problems. (I know we don't normally think of ourselves this way - but let us reconsider our prayers: What is the number one issue we offer up to God?) Soon, we grow dull to spiritual things and co-incidentally call our seminary scholars the "holy-molies" or the "super-spiritual". Or... "those who are called"...

But we will never find life when we keep looking to ourselves. We only find life when we live to meet others' needs. No wonder God hates it when Christians grow lukewarm. Coz we are as good as spiritually dead. We either die to ourselves or die to God.

Worth a thought, don't you think? :)

Fresh Wind, Fresh Fire

... That's the title of one of the two books my seminary mate (Roland) gave us for a wedding present. A book by Jim Cymbala. I hope to glean some refreshment for my faith from his writings.

I figured that I'd better get down to doing my daily reading again. Sad but true, seminary assignments have taken away much time for leisure reading. I suppose it's partially my fault - any free time I have, I have done everything but read. Blog, Facebook, Twitter, watch TV, exercise, eat, date, sleep, go out with friends, preparing for the wedding, etc... You name it.

Today, Ben reminded me that every small heartfelt expression of love we offer to God - yes anything - even if it's a simple song, a love note, alabaster jar of perfume, etc. God will treasure and remember. That encouraged me. Recently, my song-writing attempts have suffered greatly, thanks to sleep-deprivation, my overwhelming load of assignments, lack of reading, lack of time to wait upon God, lack of patience, burnout - and subsequently a lack of musical creativity... While it is not all lamentation in my heart, there are just no words to worship. However, it seems to me that my fingers have not lost their ability to express gratitude to their Creator. When placed upon the smooth black-and-white keys of even the broken-nest piano, they can express what my heart can't through words. Running, gliding and striking. Sometimes the music makes me cry. And I'd quietly understand that it is a divine moment. Today, my songs are still pretty much wordless. But I am comforted that God will treasure and remember those songs too.

Well school is kinda over for me. I have 3 more "wonderful" assignments to plough through at home. Then it is finished. As in my Masters in Christian Studies. I do not know what is next. Should I continue my theological education part-time, while I write... or what? And if I want to write, how should I best write? As a freelance? As a column writer for a magazine? As a blogger from our home office? Or as a non-clinical medical writer? If not writing, should I work as a church staff, in an inter-denominational mission field ... or what? Or should I be more radical, and enter the performing arts field? Or start a ministry cafe? Or join a business venture, so that I can be salt and light in the marketplace? O God, I am waiting. Please show me. Let me be a blameless housewife in the meanwhile. 

(Btw, if any of you, my dear readers, have any suggestions, advice or tips - please feel free to write to me.)

Anyway, the following is random...

It is amazing how nature has its own way of drawing man closer to its Creator. During our honeymoon, we spent loads of time enjoying God's beautiful and yet mysterious creations. The different hues of green, the diverse species of flora and fauna, the grandeur of mist resting upon the mountain-tops, the brilliance of a sunset and the rhythm of falling rain. Each shines God's glory and yet reflects the intense concentration of its Creator in creating perfection. Purposeful perfection. Nothing in the design bears redundancy. Indeed, God is a purposeful God. And so, we are called to live purpose-driven lives.


Grace