A Naughty Kat's Life

2010-03-20T09:27:00.000-07:00

The funniest thing in life is that happy things come at you just as unexpectedly as unhappy things. You see, a month ago, I was absolutely happy enjoying my new found power in spending as opposed to my life in US when I was income-less and consistently reminding myself to be frugal with every turn of my head even as my eyes fall astray to look at something I might desire to possess when I came across them.

I felt completely blessed to return to Singapore and be almost immediately taken back to my previous job by my ex-boss and highly encouraged by the career plans my direct and indirect supervisors were all talking excitedly to me about. I was psyched. My prior fears that I might have become obsolete were no longer true.

I'd returned to work and been told I was the right person in the right place at the right time because they needed someone of my expertise. I was like,"Wow! They actually need me."

So I geared myself up for political strategies, diplomatic networking and incessant hours. As much as needed. I'll do it. I'm grateful to be given a job after all that time vacationing in US. 3.5 years to be exact.

Then as fast as my simple contentment in life had settled in my heart, my naivety ended when I began to hear of this and that person I once knew and how much they're earning or how many properties they're buying or which country club they belonged. I was depressed for a a few days. But not for long. It's not in my personality to be depressed for long really. Life is too short for things like that.

So I thought I needed to remind myself of what really is important in life. Meditate on the things that matter to me. And here it is. The top 10 things that make me happy in no particular order of priority.

1) Happiness is in buying things I like without batting an eye-lid or giving a second thought to how I'm going to make ends meet.

2) Happiness is seeing Don sleeping next to me in the morning, and then nesting my head on his shoulder to snuggle and wake him gently before we gear up for work.

3) Happiness is smelling Don in fresh clothes.

4) Happiness is having lost some weight and then pigging out at Korean BBQ because you deserve to eat now.

5) Happiness is walking hand-in-hand with Don down the Siglap Connector in the cool evenings of Singapore and head towards the beach to chat about life or go for a chocolate sundae at McDonalds by the coast because we now deserved to eat after having walked a mile.

6) Happiness is watching movies in our bedroom with the air-conditioner on full blast so we have to snuggle under the comforter with only our faces half peeping at the TV.

7) Happiness is having written a paragraph or chapter for that book I'm still working on since 2 years ago.

8) Happiness is going for lunch with wonderful colleagues who stand by me no matter how stupid I've behaved in the last meeting or discussion.

9) Happiness is doing something new every month, like this month had been all about changing my dress image. I wonder what's next month? And that's fun to think about and makes me happy too.

10) Happiness is knowing I'm of noble blood because I have the blood of Christ, the King of Kings, running through my veins. It makes me raise my head, invariably makes me walk taller, with my header held higher, and strut about in life with purpose.

Reflecting on the above, just typing it, make me feel so happy. People should try it sometime. Perhaps if you read this note, you can try it. There is so much I feel happy about. I can't ever tell people how blessed I feel. I don't think people would understand. Because after all, they don't live my life. They're not me.

Only I know what makes me happy.

2009-05-20T10:38:00.000-07:00

http://malaysia.news.yahoo.com/cna/20090520/tap-461-singapores-all-women-team-succes-231650b.html

My initial elation upon reading the headlines of this article was swiftly replaced with one of anger and indignation by a comment by a staff from Republic Polytechnic, David Lim. I quote here his words, "It really represents that if women put in the time and effort and they set their objectives right, they can achieve things on par with men."

I put this in here to remind myself why I hate Singapore. The gender bias in the country is so worked into the nation that the media actually printed his quote thinking it was an encouragement. Fiddlesticks! It couldn't have been more disparaging and condescending in the midst of such victory.

Yes, I hate the Singapore culture. The rampant pompous attitudes and false modesty that has become so innate that the people do not even realize what they are or have become. The Singapore life is like a matrix that has been created for the people by the people. And no, the government is not to be blamed. Foreign media can criticize all they want about us having a socialistic government, but really, the people were the ones who chose to live that way. The government didn't force them to do anything they didn't want. The people chose to live their lives dictated because they believe in that style of management.

True socialism in a country would not have allowed its citizens to leave. But the Singapore government has not once ever stopped any citizen from leaving. If anything, they'd established diplomatic ties and pushed hard for the Singapore passport to have easy access to all countries in the world so its citizens need not fuss for visas to travel.

On that account, Singapore is definitely not socialistic. It's a free country. Free for its citizens to leave if they didn't like the management and free for any country's degree-holders (I must qualify that it's only degree holders that we want!) to enter! And plenty are coming. People choose their way of life.

Those who do not like the Singapore culture leave ultimately.

Therefore, the government is not to be blamed for the people are the ones who want their lives run that way. They want someone to tell them what to do so when things go wrong, they have someone other than themselves to blame.

Yes, that's the horrid truth about the mass cowardice in the average Singaporean. The only ones that are courageous instead I believe work in the government who are daring enough to make choices to try and lead an immature nation.

Oh I just realized I've digressed from my earlier feminist subject. But from what I've written, it's suffice to summarize that Singaporeans are latent anti-feminists (without themselves knowing!) and cowards when it comes to living true to reaching their dreams or desires.

2008-12-19T16:38:00.000-08:00

Greatness is measured surely by others for it is what other people say that determines how great you are. However it's very hard to live life relying on what other people say. Then you'll be tossed and turned by whatever that's cast in your path of life. So it's probably best to believe that life is great as long as you think it is. Who cares what others think when you are the one who live with yourself all day long? It's strange how people end up living with other people's words in their minds all their lives instead of living with themselves for who, what or how they wish to be.

Would I be able to live just with myself though and my own words in my mind, reminding myself of how loved I am by my heavenly Father and how great I am in His eyes simply because I have Jesus' blood running through my veins?

2008-11-19T14:37:00.000-08:00

THIRTY-FIVE, AND GOING STRONG...

I'll be 35 this Friday. It's scary when I look back and wonder what I'd done with my life, and worse when I wonder what I want to do with my life after.

It almost seems as if every direction I take is going to lead me to some form of regret. It's terrible. I hate regrets. The reason I'd got so far in life all the time is because I'd always known exactly what to do that would not lead me to regrets. Or at least, i think so. But this time, I'm judiciously stumped.

Very confused.

I'm good at a lot of things, for that I'm grateful. But that doesn't mean I have a passion for the things I delve in, be it cooking, sports, singing, dancing, acting, performing concertos, reading, writing and anything else I've tried. It also doesn't mean I'm a master of any of it.

My Mum could have called me Jack when I was born, so then I would truly be a Jack of all trades.

What does it all mean?

That I'm accomplished, but not developed enough, or that I'm developed, but not accomplished enough. Which way should I see it?

In the movie, "I am David", one scene really touched me (I'm not quoting this verbatim, but the essence is here). It was when Joan Plowright (Sophie) says to Ben Tibber (David), "You look like you're going to be someone great," to which Ben replies, "I don't want to be someone great!". Then Sophie comforts him with the wisest words: "That's ok. Then be happy knowing that you could be if you wanted to be."

I think I really needed to hear that. I always wanted to be someone great. Someone who've touched the world in some way, changed someone's life for the better, made a difference somehow to renew mankind.

I think now, in a way, it's really vanity. Meaningless vanity, as Solomon says in Ecclesiastes. I never thought of it as vanity before though, cos vanity to me had always been a chasing after money, promotions, good looks, a gold-and-silver type of pursuit. But really, all my altruistic ambitions have well-cloaked my latent need to feed my self-ego.

Today, I feel the need to run. To run free, without burden, without care, without thought to what another man might say or judge.

I wonder if that's what heaven would be like. To run free, light as the wind, fast as lightning, through lolling, lush hills and over mesmerizing, blue oceans. Till I visit heaven myself, I can only imagine.

2008-10-30T14:03:00.000-07:00

The Jerusalem Cricket At Our Doorstep

Okay, this was really creepy for me, especially when I've been watching tons of alien shows recently. Anyway, I've since googled and come to the conclusion that it's not an alien but a Jerusalem Cricket. It was huge though, and definitely moving in a baleful way to me. I hate anything that staggers, no matter what size.

And it staggered about on my doormat forever. Tibby wanted to eat it immediately, of course, but I guess it must have smelled foul. Joy confirmed that crickets give off offensive smells to protect itself from being eaten. So even though I didn't go near enough to the anathema to smell it, I bet it really was rank. And it certainly looked putrescent anyway. Ugh*

Well, first thing first. You know, of course I had to feed Tibby to distract her from any further thoughts on making the prey a side dessert for lunch. Next, I took out my camera to snap away and record its actions. Totally National Geographic instincts taking over.

Here it is:

Jerusalem Cricket 1 from Katherine Soh on Vimeo.

Jerusalem Cricket 2 from Katherine Soh on Vimeo.

Jerusalem Cricket 3 from Katherine Soh on Vimeo.

Jerusalem Cricket 4 from Katherine Soh on Vimeo.

Jerusalem Cricket 5 from Katherine Soh on Vimeo.

2007-03-30T19:50:00.000-07:00

At age 33, I became a mother to the girl standing next to me.

Since I got to know Joy last fall, and started going places together, many have mistaken me for her mother. Like when we go to SCAD functions, the security guard at the door would often ask if I were her mother.

Then the other day, we were at Tybee Island enjoying a social nights out with all the home group's families and children. A friend's teenaged son asked her innocently, "Where's your mum?", to which she replied quizzically, "Who? My mum's not in America."

Turned out he meant to ask her where I was.

I told her the boy was probably hitting on her with the most popular opening liner for teenagers, "Where's your mum?".

I choose to believe that the muddled identities were because Joy looked too young, and that surely, it was not a reflection of my youth, or maturity, in this case, which I reluctantly add. Moreover, the more I look at our pics, the more I see some similar features, like our noses have the same sharp angles and our smiles were of the same cheer.

Steph said we have the same chub on our cheeks, I wasn't sure if I was happy to hear that, and I'm sure Joy would not appreciate the comment. Still, perhaps when she slims down, we'll look less like each other.

2007-03-29T14:54:00.000-07:00

A dear friend of ours has just become first-time mother and father! Look at the dear little thing with a full head of blond hair! Awesome! I wish we could visit them, but they're about 10hrs' drive from us.

May the Lord bless them, Heather and Will, and their little one (also called Will!), and keep them, and make His face to shine upon them, bestowing extraordinary wisdom upon Heather in motherhood, and supernatural shalom peace upon Will even as he returns to serve the US army in Iraq in 2 weeks' time, and let His glory be upon their faces always and in everything that they do, AMEN!

2006-12-11T12:12:00.000-08:00

Five months into the Southern American life, we got immersed in the American culture when we got invited to a Christmas-cum-graduation party in a local Savannahian's home. The invitees were to wear gordy Christmas sweaters and the guy in the white pullover sitting in the front on the far right won first prize for the tackiest outfit...he had sewn stockings and multi-coloured rubies all over his woolly..haha! Good one!

The food was great too. A huge spread of cheeses, cookies, brownies, cakes, nuggets, tortilla chips and cheesy seafood dips -- ooooh, all the sinful delights on earth, my kind of food: cheesy stuff -- it was a great start to our trip to Florida after the party. We were going to set off after the party at about 10pm. It would be a five hour drive, but the food would fuel us most of the way!

The guy in the centre of the photo is Joo Sung, a humourous character from Korea. We're fast becoming good friends despite our language barriers as he is really funny and easy-going, no airs and flairs. He is learning to speak English from us, whilst we're learning Korean from him.

2006-08-13T20:41:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it's already a year passed since we surprised Don on his 35th birthday last year. Yes, 14 Aug in 15 minutes' time (at least for Don and I in Savannah) will spell his reaching the ripe young age of 36.

This picture brings to mind many fond memories of people we care and love, not excluding some who are not in the picture, of course! We love you all...and thanks for all the well wishes that's been sent.

2006-08-05T19:14:00.000-07:00

This is my dearest friend Amy's firstborn son Josiah. I'm so proud of her----oh, not that I'm not proud of the rest of you who gave birth to kids, but---I knew her for so long, and we practically grew up in college together. It's kind of strange to see her turn mother, 'cos I can't help remembering our days together when we were still college kids.

Now, seeing her son just makes my heart melt. He's so cute! A cross between mother (who is so cute herself) and dad who is the spitting image of Andy Lau. I miss them both really. And definitely missing out on being there for them whilst they're going thru all the early stages of parenthood.

To Amy: I wish I'm there! Would have loved to hug Josiah, and pinch his cheeks---heehee! No guesses where that urge comes from...haha! Just keep on enjoying life, don't give up on yourself...all mothers go through that phase. I might not have been a mother, but I have enough mothers around me to tell me so...haha. I luv ya!

2006-08-04T15:07:00.000-07:00

Hey Everyone! I just learnt to make a movie on my powerbook with my photographs! Heehee, check it out!

2006-08-02T21:38:00.001-07:00

These are some of dishes I've been whipping up since Saturday. We had beef ghoulash to start with; ate out at Wendy's on Sunday; then beef stew on Monday; beef steaks on Tuesday; and finally, today we had spagghetti fried oriental style with fish fillets of Alaskan Pollacks. Yumm-mo! Spot the dishes---I simply love cooking! And not the extraordinarily difficult to prepare sort of food and definitely not extravagant, but all under 30 minutes and
under $5 for a dinner for 2!

2006-08-01T17:51:00.000-07:00

Alright, I was really bored yesterday. I was without internet for the whole day and it felt like I was in the desert. Gosh, now I know one more basic need that I have to ensure the quality of my life----internet access!

Anyway, I switched to playing with my webcam, to excite myself and shake off the boredom overwhelming me. Didn't know I could make a video with it until I accidentally clicked on this strange looking icon next to the photoshoot icon. Haha.

So this is me, in the depth of my boredom.

2006-07-27T20:23:00.000-07:00

Best shots taken this morning at Tybee Island. After weeks of being cooped up in my rented room with the only outing being to Kroger's (grocery store) every day and church every Sunday, my feelings of boredom were beginning to get to me. Just yesterday, I was reduced to counting the number of times I bit my lip throughout the day. So when Tracy sent me an email to ask if I were to go to Tybee Island for a few hours to chill out, it was like "Hallelujah, I am getting out of here!"

For those of you who know me, I've hardly ever spent a single day in Singapore at home. Now, without a car, I'm suddenly behaving like a handicapped person. I suppose I could take a bus, but it will be so boring to go anywhere alone. I guess, it's not only just the going out, I needed to talk to people. Thank God He heard me!

Don didn't come with me as he had class, but I needed to get a life! I always loved the beach, the sea and the whole idea of people lying half-naked exposing themselves to the deadly sunbeams----it just gives me a kick. I was running all over the beach, chasing unsuspecting egrets, frightening tiny fishes swimming at my legs in the shallow waters and posing for shots whenever I saw a stranger who looked like they could take a good photo. Before all that, of course, I had first smeared myself with my Sun Play Perfect Shield boasting a good SPF130. I hate getting sunburnt, and nothing less than SPF130 will do for me despite all that people say SPF 30 was good enough. If they haven't gone out in the sun before, they don't know what they are talking about. Believe me, the SPF130 is what you need under the sun, and SUNPLAY is a really good brand to use.

True enough, I was hardly scathed under the scorching sun that afternoon, except for my lower back, which I, unfortunately, failed to reach properly and went rather red from all the floating around in the sea on my belly whilst chirping happily to Tracy.

At this very moment, I still can't believe how much fun and relaxation I had at the beach today. This is a naughty Kat's life, indeed! I can't wait for the next outing. I'm going to plan for a trip to Jekyll Island next. Till then....

2006-07-25T15:43:00.000-07:00

Above is a nice photo of our family taken at the airport before Don and I left for America. I'm so glad we had a chance to take this photo cos it's pretty hard to get everyone together. I can't even imagine another time where my paternal grandmother could possibly meet up with Don's family.

I have actually never liked my own folks very much, but I love them because they are my blood-ties, and nothing can change that. You see, sometimes, you just don't like someone because they have such a different personality from yours and you find yourself not getting along. But love is not about liking or getting along even. It's about respecting the other person's point of view and giving each other space to have your own views. I find that I do that best in a distance from my family, so that's what I'd done most of my life. Stay away from my family, visit regularly but live in a distance so I could have my own space. Perhaps my favourite family member would be Patricia and Rueben, my brother's wife and son. Though Pat and I meet something like twice a year during Chinese New Year and perhaps Christmas, I find I get along with her much better than anyone else in my family (I can see some of your shocked faces!). Basically, we can talk better and longer together, most likely because we give each other a lot of respect and space to be different. This is so impossible with my parents and brother, whom I feel somehow never understood the way I did things in life because they refuse to. They want me to follow them, be like them. They want me to be fearful of life, to worry, to know that the world will swallow me up if I don't first make myself ugly and bitter so that the world wouldn't dare have a taste of me. They felt I was too care-free and gullible.

But I'm not like them. I've been different all my life. I can't help believing in God, and having my pinciples rooted in love, in helping other people, in daring to give people chances at the cost of making myself vulnerable. All my life, as though the minute my mind was aware of the spirit realm, I had believed in a loving God and in Jesus to save me. I can't remember who it was who first preached to me. And I don't remember being given a choice. It's like I was born a Christian. It's really strange. I don't even recall a significant initial moment when I gave my life over to God (although I do remember many incidents of giving my life to God over and over again later as I went on my life journey with God, haha).

I remember this strange occasion when I was six years old, and I'm sure I have never come across the bible yet, or known about Jesus at that time. I was kneeling on the floor of this huge Taoist temple, in front of a mega-sized, golden buddha statue. My parents were kneeling beside me and making their prayers in all sincerity, joss-sticks held high. I looked up at the statue and the wierdest thought came to my mind. If I were to throw a stone at the statue right now, would it not all shatter to ground? Why do my parents choose to put such faith in a statue that would all but be destroyed by a mere stone? As I continued to kneel there whilst waiting for my parents to finish, I pondered on the reality of the god before me. How could this be god?

That very moment in my heart, I knew I would never be the same as my parents in their beliefs. Later on, I think I must have first heard about Jesus in primary school. By a strange twist of fate, I failed to get into Haig Girl's Primary School even though my brother was already in Haig Boy's Primary School. Instead, I ended up in Kuo Chuan Girl's School, a missionary school (The school has since changed its name to Kuo Chuan Presbyterian Primary School when it became co-ed).

So my life carried on further and further away from my family it would seem. Whilst they prayed, burned their daily joss-sticks, sacrificed their countless animals to their gods and folded innumerous paper money for the spirits in exchange for blessings on the household, I grew in my daily secret prayers and worship of God. The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. I didn't go to church then for I respected their wishes. But I spent nights tinkering on my piano making melody in my heart to God. Nobody told me then that that was worship. But I just wanted to. Felt like it, and did it. When I was lonely, I talked to Him. When I could not understand life's difficulties and pains, I asked Him straightforwardly. God was, and is, always with me. I never doubted His presence. I didn't even know that was called prayer at that time. I even ended up singing in tongues one night without knowing what I was doing. A foreign word escaped from my mouth and I shut it quickly, stunned. I was singing praises to God, whilst lying in bed at that point, so what was this strange word that had come out in the middle of my chorus? I thought I might have overdone my singing in praise to Him that night. I thought perhaps that I might have been too tired since it was already about 2 a.m. in the morning. I apologized to God immediately and told Him I was going to sleep as I must be tired. It was much later on, whilst studying at the University in Manchester up north of England, that I learnt about such things as speaking in tongues from a preacher in one of the churches. I laughed to myself whilst the preacher exhorted the congregation to speak in tongues. So that was what it was...it had puzzled me for so long, I never understood what had happened until then.

England taught me many things about God. I happily attended the Manchester Chinese Christian Church, I learnt more about singing in tongues and I served in every ministry there was in church. I was a Sunday School teacher every Sunday morning; I was the pianist during service; and I was also the conductress of the church choir when we had special presentations. I arranged music for the choir enthusiastically; I attended prayer meetings faithfully; and did just about everything there was to do in the church. I loved it all, I loved the church, I loved the people and I wanted to give my all to God. Whatever talent I had, whatever breath I had left of my waking life, I would give it to God. That was what I felt so deeply called.

Of course I know now that I must have been overdoing it. Perhaps too much thoughts of trying to repay God for His love for me. I know now that I can never repay God for His love. Still, I enjoyed it all thoroughly. I never felt tired and was never unhappy about any of it.

There was also a rather significant incident that happened in England that I know will stay with me for the rest of my life. I was staying in the halls of residence during that time. It was a convent hall only for girls, but during the vacation times, the halls would be opened for some of the public to rent the rooms and justify the costs of running the place. It was during one of those times that the strangest thing happened to me whilst I was playing the piano and worshiping God on my own in the chapel.

You see, I did that every night for hours in the chapel, so it was not a special night of worship for me. But there was that one night, after I finished singing one of the worship songs, I heard a loud but spaced out applause. I turned my head sharply to see who it was. The sight of the man who had clapped frightened me quite badly as I could see immediately from his reddened face and rolling eyes that he was drunk. I noticed that the exits of the chapel were far behind the man and I could not escape if he were to attack me. It did not help that he was dressed completely in black. He had on a neatly pressed, black shirt, fully buttoned, and matching black pants. He had a dreadfully receding hairline, leaving mostly only hair on his sides.

As if noticing the fear in my eyes, he knelt down in the middle of the chapel and tried to explain why he was there, listening to me sing. Meanwhile, I thought to myself that he was either a drunkard man or worse, the very devil himself manifested before me. God help me, I screamed inside of me! If he opened his mouth then and said he was satan himself, I would probably believe him. He just looked so mysterious and had seemingly appeared in the middle of the chapel out of nowhere! Maybe I was too deep in my own praise and worship to notice his entrance, but still, his appearance baffled me.

Thank God he said he was human (ok, he didn't say this first bit, I did in my mind) and was in the bar downstairs when he heard my playing and singing. He said he couldn't help himself but come upstairs. He begged my pardon for intruding my privacy but he beseeched me to come with him downstairs and play on the piano in the bar for them as they all wanted badly to hear me sing. I wondered if this was all a bad joke. I told him I only sang worship songs, nothing secular, and he said that was exactly what they wanted. Of course, I asked God in my mind immediately, and all I got was,'what harm could there be?'. So moments later, I found myself clad still in pink pyjamas track pants and a black-and-white sweater, hesitantly following the dark, mysterious man down the stairs to the bar.

The bar where about 15 well-dressed people gathered was blaring loud music and most of the people were sitting around chatting when I appeared. Thank God the only one drunk was the one who came up to fetch me. Apparently, they had really heard me above all their blaring music and thought it was the most beautiful music they had ever heard. Their story was that after some egging around, they sent the drunkest of them all in search of me.

After their explanations had been done, I reiterated that I could only play praise and worship songs, and that I couldn't play secular music. They actually said that was what they craved. One lady called someone to turn down the bar music. Another lady started saying she remembered hearing such singing when she was in church as a child, but it was so long ago. I started sharing a bit about myself, my Asian background, how I became a Christian and the persecutions I faced from my family. They were all intrigued that a Chinese girl would become a Christian, when they themselves bring born into the religion, had somewhat watered down their faith in God. I could see light flickering in their eyes, as though trying to kindle a long-forgotton faith.

As I sang the night away, the group of them gathered around my piano listening quietly and joining in when they could remember the words. It was such a crazy night for me. Totally unexpected. It was like God had called me to witness to a group of at least 10 people who had needed to remember Him again. I recalled one of them said they were Norwegians from Norway. I had no idea where that was, and still am a bit fuzzy about the landmark and its culture. But the real significance of the country came unto me when I later heard that Pastor Prince felt the calling to go and preach in Norway. I felt absolutely honoured. For perhaps I had been a part of a bigger plan of God to save the people in Norway. That I might have paved the way for one among the group to be revived, or maybe all. That would be so exciting. I would never know I suppose. There were no exchange of names and addresses that night. Whoever they were, God bless them all, especially the drunkard.

There were a few things I learnt that night. One was that you never know when you'd be called. Just get yourself ready by continuing to invest in your talents, whatever they may be. So when He calls, you're ready. Secondly, never think yourself too small to be used. Even drunkards can be called to His kingdom and be put to good use! As for voice quality, whether you sing loudly or not, and angelically or not, is not a factor God considers when He calls you to worship. Some might dispute that but I know I did not have a good voice. And whatever the Norwegians heard of my singing, they really only heard God whispering to them in their hearts. Thirdly, I was reminded that when we sing in praise and worship, every word is significant to God. I was singing in my normal voice and my normal nature, I'm sure my voice was far from being angelic. But God uses whatever we have, and brings it above our physical understanding. I'd never understand how my paino and my singing could have been heard from the bar downstairs whilst it blared its music so loudly. Sound travels upwards right, so how did my voice go downstairs and above all, entice them enough for them to ask me to go down and play for them? Therefore, the final thing I learnt was this: somethings cannot be explained. The ways of God cannot be limited by our human ability to understand. He is far and above, beyond that. We would never scarcely even been aware of how we have been part of His plan. And I love that about God. It makes Him God. It makes me safe. Praise the Lord!

2006-07-22T12:54:00.000-07:00

Don and I teamed up and came up with the above greeting card. You might have to click on the card for a magnified view to read the words. He first did the dino drawing for fun. I thought it was so cute and after some chirpy bantering between the two of us, we came up with the prose for the card. Most appropriate for guys needing to make a proposal. Hmmm, who among us still needs a proposal act? Haha, perhaps Alex?

2006-07-21T19:44:00.000-07:00

This is my darling little cat, tibby. She's no longer little I suppose, but I always remember her as the weak and forlorn little kitten tied by the neck with a rafia string to the pipe on the second floor of our 4-storey shophouse. She was so pitiful, not even daring to meow, but just standing there shaking in fear next to the pipe. Whoever tied her there had cruelly kept the string short so she could not even sit. My heart was lost to her the moment I saw her teary eyes and shivering legs. Untying her, we took her home with us to our 3-room flat on the 4th floor, cleaned her up and warmed some milk from the fridge for her. We were not even sure what cats ate then, but as she lapped the milk and gained strength steadily, we relaxed our gaze on her and thought further of what to do for her. We would have wanted to bring her to the vet's for a check-up in case of any diseases, but night had fallen fast and we weren't sure where the nearest vet was.

That night, we placed her in a cardboard box lined with a towel gently, wandering if she would understand the box was meant for her. She circled the inside of the box slowly, looked at us through half-slit eyes for approval before lying down finally to rest the night.

Tibby was really a sweet kitten. She was always very loyal to us in her affections and would come towards us all the time. She was also very intelligent and would know instintively that some behaviour was wrong. Whenever we rumble,"Mmm!" to instruct her not to do certain things, she would stop and lower head to apologise for her behaviour. Sometimes, we would spank her with a ladle if she was wilfully jumping on furniture or dirtying the floor with her kitty litter rebelliously. She would slink away most times, but within the minute, if we were to call her name, she would come out crouching on the ground and inch towards us, in remorse yet obedience to the call.

That was what made Tibby so special. Not all cats are like that. We were later to learn from books that Tibby is an American Shorthair, tabby cat. Her species are known for their affection towards human and friendly temperaments. No wonder she was always making her presence around us, unlike other species of cats who would independently strut their own ways. In fact, Tibby functions more like a dog and was more like a watch cat than a lazy, self-centred one. See the photograph of her with Don? She was screening the environment outside the door for suspicious looking people, and Don could not help quickly posing with her for the shot! Ingenious, haha!

Tibby was a wonderful pest killer and still is everywhere she went. She rid our 3-room flat of all cockroaches living or passing by and I lived happily ever after. When we first moved in, there was already a family of four elderly roaches I unmercifully killed under the stove. Their children no doubt had scattered in fear, and I had occasionally had to make my territory clear to them with much screaming and beating about the rooms. But ever since Tibby came to be part of the household, I honestly never saw another cockroach in our flat, at least, not alive. Occasionally, there might be remnants of some carnage, a leg here, a wing there, but never any live whole ones.

You see, we used to also see many cockroaches that would mistakenly crawl into our flat in a state of stupor, no doubt in a daze from over-eating. There was a huge hawker centre downstairs, and it was there that the cockroaches lived like kings and queens, holding feasts everyday on the abundance of crumbs from the hawkers. But they would never live to see another day if ever they creeped into our 3-room flat. If they could only read, I would surely help them out by sticking a sign up that says,"Beware of cat. Trespassers would be eaten alive."

Three years later, we moved to the 24th floor of a new block of flats and that was so cool! There were no cockroaches to start with and the rubbish chutes were structured outside the flats. So we had none climbing up regularly to enter our domain. I did remember there was an occasional one or two that did trespassed. I suspected they came from the rubbish chute and crawled in to our flat through the kitchen window, which was about 1 metre away from the chute, although really, I must take my hat off to these determined creatures. I mean, climbing 24 floors up must be like climbing Mount Everest to them. Where did they get all that energy? Perhaps they camped at each floor daily, and made their way up after 24 days of steel iron determination. Anyway, their end was a rather tragic one. Tibby had them performing for her endlessly like a king would have his court jester. She let them die a slow and painful death as she insisted to play with them for as long as they could last. You must understand she must have been pretty bored since moving to such a cleaned out place compared to our previous flat that provided her endless, exciting pursuits. The 3-room flat was like her amusement park!

Well, I must say she is now returning to her days of thunder as Savannah is a haven for cockroaches. Exactly the same, big, brown, juicy ones from Singapore. Actually, the ones in Singapore are of the species: American Cockroach. So guess what? They're natives here in Savannah, and move in swarms as opposed to those in Singapore, that are usually at most 3 or 4 feeding together. The ones here are really in swarms of at least 10. Their families are big and healthy, with generations to boast. I daren't step out of the house by nightfall as I know what lays outside. It's really a frightful sight.

Ray, my landlord, told me to get used to them as they are very much a part of life in Savannah. I could not close my mouth when he said that to me, tongue-in-cheek. He also continued to tell me facetiously that ever since he had an encounter in Mexico where a Mexican cockroach he sprayed some shaving cream on screeched to its death, he had never found those in America challenging. I felt ill as I imagined the Mexican species with its hideous screams. Somehow, I couldn't see myself surviving a face-to-face encounter with such kind. There were no happy endings for me in my imaginations of such an episode. I could only look to Tibby for comfort. Suddenly, having her with us in Savannah bore another meaning for us, apart from our affections for her.

And yes, Tibby has already busied herself with nightly heavy patrols to the bathroom. The wooden window sill cracks that we sealed up were no longer providing a route for the cockroaches to come in, but the bathroom wooden panels still had many crevices for them to sneak a peek. Still, after I showed Tibby one in the bathroom a week ago, she seemed to have awakened from her bored-to-death, belly-up poses in our room and gone back to her nocturnal hunting spirit. Every night, she goes out for her snack in the bathroom. Whenever I see her come back licking her lips, I actually do want to show approval of her actions by petting her or giving her a good rub on the belly, but the thought of her wolfing down one of those creatures and possibly having splattered some juice around her mouth stops me in action.

Perhaps my best way of showing approval would be really to feed her with more catfood, although she probably wouldn't need those with all her midnight snacks. Or should I say, heavy suppers? Oh Tibby, my dearest Tibby!

2006-07-12T17:03:00.000-07:00

Going to Tybee beach on 3rd July was one of our first outings in Savannah. It was a glorious day. I must say one month into living in Savannah without anything to do but watching television and cleaning the room we stay in is just about doing me in. I needed to go out----I'm an extrovert! I need to socialise...gosh! It was so good to go out with others, meet new people and chill out. Besides, I'd been so looking forward to going to Tybee Beach even before coming to Savannah. I'd been really pleased to hear during Don's orientation programme for international students that they were including a trip to Tybee, but then Don had a last minute extra class included in his schedule and we had to miss the trip :(. I was rather disappointed then. Don had said I could still go ahead, but I'm never really interested to go anywhere without him, much as I'd like to go out. So when Tracy, another new-found, American friend we met during Don's orientation, emailed to ask if we wanted to join her on a trip to Tybee and watch the fireworks, of course, I said, "Yes!". So there we were! And did I mention I love the sea and the beach? That's why I stay in Telok Blangah Heights. It's 5 minutes from the South-West coast of Singapore...sigh* I missed our flat yesterday with our 24th floor view of the Telok Blangah hills and Pasir Panjang Harbour, not to mention Mount Faber and Sentosa. Oh well...2 years...hmmm...Sandra, Siew Chin, William and little Joseph can enjoy it all for us...

2006-07-10T12:16:00.000-07:00

These are our new-found friends. Kanako Muraguchi to my far left is a lovely, young Japanese girl who have been in US for quite a few years now. She did her first degree in the Virginia Islands before coming to SCAD for her masters majoring in Fibres (I never knew there were such courses! And yes, she deals with all kinds of textiles, including wallpaper textures and designs, not just clothings.) So her English is pretty good.

Park Hye Jin in the middle of the photo is doing her masters too (I can't remember what she's majoring in, I think something to do with film productions.). She has apparently made 15 films in Korea, but she says humbly that none had been blockbusters. Still, FIFTEEN films is enough credit to her name, I think! We got to know her as a friendly and outgoing girl. She is also the one to break the ice when we first met during the orientation for international students. We answered all her questions about us, and were only too pleased that there were people interested to get to know us.

They joined us on our night out on the river front to watch the fireworks go off on 4th July, Independence Day. Apparently, it's tradition to let off fireworks on America's national day, and every state holds its own fireworks celebration, paid for by its city council. In Savannah, fireworks would be released on 3rd July on Tybee Beach, and 4th July on River Street.

Incidentally, we were on Tybee Beach on 3rd July watching the first lot of fireworks. We almost missed both actually. The Lord divinely brought about a trivial conversation in church on 2nd July with a local Savannahhian, Janey, living on Tybee Beach. She told us it was always fireworks on Tybee Beach on 3rd July, followed by fireworks on River St on 4th July. We told her we had made arrangements with an American friend, Tracy, who was going to bring us to Tybee Beach on 4th July to watch the fireworks. In fact, we had turned down Ray's initial invitation because we thought we had already made arrangements to go Tybee Beach on 4th July. Janey told us we had definitely got the dates wrong. So we quickly called Tracy, changed the dates, and we ended up enjoying ourselves tremendously for the 2 days in a row! Praise the Lord!

2006-07-09T16:34:00.000-07:00

This is our new home for the next 2 years. It's a really huge house, also known as John H. Estill House. There are 5 bedrooms upstairs and 2 bathrooms to be shared among 5 tenants. The ground floor is separated into 2 wings. In the east wing is where Ray, our landlord resides. He has a big kitchen with a connecting laundry room, a dining area that somewhat opens into his office, a good-size guestroom, a large living area and of course, his own bedroom with mega sized entertainment unit (it must be at least 72" across the screen..., it's the largest I'd ever seen). He even has a mini-library housing all his classic collections in the landing outside his bedroom. Perhaps most impressive of all is the variety of China that lines his mantelpiece and all his shelves. He is no doubt an avid collector of Porcelain items and China from all over the world, making his home decor very Victorian.

The West wing is where Don and I make our little nest. The dark brown door on the right of the photo leads to our room from the foyer. Through the door, a landing separates our room from Chris's room, our ground floor house-mate. Then there is the master bathroom. Absolutely luxurious. A huge, enclosed shower area, enough to house 4 people showering all at the same time! This is a great delight for me since I love to shower with Don. Beside the shower room, a good-sized, jacuzzi tub sits, perfect for a good soak after a hot summer's day. Might be a teeny bit small for 2, but not much to complain since I love to have a good squeeze with Don!

How we got to stay in Estill House is a little miracle in itself. Before coming to Savannah, I had been calculating and re-calculating, even considered transferring money from one account to another (which I don't know why since all the money is ours and putting them altogether does not add a penny to our name! Arrgh! This is how the human mind plays tricks...that perhaps we might have enough to get through, that perhaps we sell this, do that and so on.) To no avail. Finally, I worked out that we would have enough to eat quite comfortably if only our rental budget could be lowered to about USD400 per month.

Unfortuantely, having searched through the internet for a possible place to rent, I knew that USD400 per month was really pushing our luck (Thank God we don't need luck as Christians!). One of the rental agents even replied in his email to me that with that kind of budget, it would be near impossible to find any decent living quarters. I prayed to God and asked Him what kind of journey He had in mind for us. I mean, surely, if a blessing like a scholarship could come our way, His blessings do not come with any sorrow. I relented in my questioning when I sensed His peace. All is well, He always reassures.

Then when we got to Savannah, within the 3rd day of our arrival, I was in correspondence with Ray and we went to view the unit. We were going to look at a carriage house behind Estill House, not knowing that he had rooms to rent too. The carriage house was rather old, and being USD550 per month excluding utilities, I felt it was too steep a price. I told Ray we were going to view another unit later that day, and since his was the first we were viewing, it was too soon for us to make a decision. He understood, but not before showing us all his other available rooms in Estill House and Kavanagh House (another house a block away...he's got so many houses, gosh!). The rooms were all actually within our budget between $350 and $375. There were additional charges for laundry and internet access at $8 each, but these still meant we would be within our budget. There were melodious bells chiming in my spirit...God, is this it?

I liked Ray immediately upon conversing with him. He is an elderly gentleman who sounded responsible, intelligent and attentive to others' needs. We were to later find out that he's already 66 years old and still running businesses in the West Coast of America, apart from investing in real estate down South in Savannah. This explains his keenness for listening to others, showing of respect to allow space for others to consider options and a certain magnanimous demeanor in his character. Not foolish generosity or charity, but wise management of funds. I wish I could learn from him one day how he manages his businesses.

After seeing the second unit that day, we unanimously decided we would take the room in Estill House, despite its size. The second unit smelt like a dog den, the toilet looked ready to crumble any minute and the floor was littered with bits of food. The man who received us at the door introduced himself as the landlord's friend and we were immediately thrown off his appearance. He had white paint down his jeans, had funny-looking teeth and looked somewhat gangly. I was sure if the landlord had such a friend, he couldn't look far off, and I didn't think I could stomach it looking at people like that everyday. So the second unit was out!

Upon reaching back to the Hep Yo Sef Inn, I immediately sent Ray an email to say we would take the $350 room. He told us we were just in time, as another lad had been around and he had told him he could not commit anything until he heard from us since we viewed the place first. Integrity, I like it!

Then things took an unexpected turn the next day when he emailed to say he would have to charge us $50 more as there were 2 of us. That meant $416. My spirit stayed silent for a while. That's $16 above our budget. Doesn't sound like God.

The first thing I remembered then was Justine's face. In my spirit, I saw him in caregroup. The Holy Spirit took me back to the time Justine said in his sharing, "You don't get because you don't ask." I put to task immediately to write an email to Ray, negotiating for the rental to be charged an extra $34 instead of $50, so that our monthly total rent would come to $400. I just knew in my spirit that Ray would agree. And he did. I knew God was as good as his word. He couldn't have left us with an extra $16 to pay.

In my spirit, I couldn't help but praise the Lord for He is faithful! And with that, I just knew that our 2 years in Savannah would be taken care of, with no lack or want. Incidentally, we went out to celebrate at the local food court after securing our shelter for the next 2 years. Finally, something other than bread and olive oil margarine! Praise God!

2006-06-19T14:44:00.000-07:00

This is the view from our room at the Hep Yo Sef Inn. It's one of the most value-for-money, romantic, cosy and clean carriage houses I'd ever lived in. And it's a great way to start our 2 year stint in Savannah. Here's the link to the inn's website: http://www.hepyosef.com/carriage.htm which has got more professional pictures on it.

Tibby looks most confortable in our new home. I think she has never looked so contented as she does now in the carriage house. For some reason, she actually felt quite brave to even wander outside of the room rather quickly, and explored the neighbourhood for a bit. She had never explored our HDB flats so quickly as she did here. She was usually more cautious, and having been lost a few times, she does know her limitations somewhat! However, she seemed more confident of herself in Savannah. Perhaps it's the smell of the hard wood flooring, or the rustic smell of wood on the balcony of the carriage house, whatever the case, she seems much at ease and I don't have the heart to break the news to her that we'd be moving in 2 weeks' time to an all carpet room...hope she doesn't fret too much then. She would only have the four walls of a room and us by then!

2006-06-19T13:25:00.000-07:00

Uprooting oneself from your comfort zone is never easy. But I believe the Lord has been speaking to us through Pastor Prince's message for the last half a year. He kept on exhorting the congregation to move out of our comfort zones and into the land flowing with milk and honey. I believe God is telling Don and myself that it's time to move out, so He can bless us with even more! So, as I looked at the little keepsake notebook that Justine and Verna gave to us as a parting gift, I knew exactly the verse to be printed on the front. I added the prayer of Jabez to the first print page. I want to remember everyday, be revived in my soul with the knowledge that the Lord is ever ready to bless us indeed and increase our territory; that we would have wealth we would never run out of and health to enjoy every moment of it all. So when we meet with the little thorns in life, we don't feel like we are alone and that no one, not even God, is anywhere to be found. To think that God is not in control of our lives ever, is a strange thought, for God is God. Even if we were burgled, robbed, facing possible failures in our careers, being spat upon by relatives and looked down by society, we must be clear in our minds that these things are not purposed by God but by satan.

After all these years of listening to Pastor Prince, I think the one thing that I learnt was that if we ever come to a place where we think we've got it sorted, that we have our act together, this place is the most dangerous place and the one that is surely leading to some sort of failure.

Yesterday, I came across a Chinese Proverb (don't ask me what it is in Chinese, cos I don't know, I read it in English!). It carried a statement I quite well agree. It read,"I hear and I forget. I see and I remember. I write and I understand." I thought that that had always been kind of true for me, which was why I started writing down Pastor's sermons about 2 years back, in my own words, of course. I realised it was quite futile just listening to tapes, or watching him on video. I needed to write it all down, point by point, for myself to digest my broken trail of thoughts and assemble them into meaningful applications for myself.

By making my own notes, my own little drawings, I understand the principles of God better. We're so blessed to have Pastor Prince to preach to us. His words are really words of life, because only words of life can change people's lives. I do not know how Don and my life would be had we not sat under his teaching and put everything he said to good use.

Don is definitely not the man I married, and neither am I the woman he married. Both of us have changed our minds about so many things, it is in fact, quite impossible to meet up with old friends of the past and have them believe it's the same 2 people, just with our central nervous sytem totally upgraded and allocated with much more space for future upgrading :). I used to hate myself and was depressed most of the time, but now, I love myself to bits because I know that Jesus's blood has washed me so clean that there is now, no more, never again, condemnation for me by anyone, any being or anything, till the day Jesus comes again and takes us all to the ever-blessed land of God :). This, is the power of God to change anyone's life.

2006-06-01T23:21:00.000-07:00

Howdie! Howdie! Howdie! We're here! We're here! We're here! Hahaha, I can hardly contain my excitement...this must be the longest holiday in my life :) Don and I have arrived, complete with 3 overweight baggages, one of which was oversized as well, and Tibby, in more or less, stable state. The airport custom officer was kind to us to let us through without charging excess baggage, I think she saw the cat and thought we were nice people, that's why. Tibby's air-ticket was USD100. Her export permit was S$50 and her vet certificate costed us S$31.50 from the vet's and $21.50 from AVA. Altogether, we paid about S$250 for her passageway to USA.

And thank God we brought her along. At every customs check in USA, people were friendly when they saw our cat. At Chicago airport, where we expected to be checked thoroughly just like our past experience in New York JFK airport last year, it was surprisingly smooth and swift. Simply because we had a cat, and had to declare her. The usual green "Nothing to Declare" line was a long queue, but our red "Things to Declare" line was bare. We got there, and were simply intereviewed for some of our cat's life and Singapore life in general. Our baggages were not even checked, whilst we saw everybody else's being thoroughly examined by the customs officers on the green line. Wow! It was a good thing we brought her. I don't think it'll be right to have come USA for 2 years and not bring her along. Tibby's family after all, much as most people might not understand, but well, we don't live our lives for others, do we?

Don and my parents might have freaked out a little and questioned the sanity of it all, but we don't really care. We don't see them that often, and we definitely won't be seeing them for the next 2 years :) Haha, this is not to say that we don't respect and love them for who they are, but we make our own decisions and are ready to stand by the consequences ourselves, whatever they maybe, whether good or bad. For which in this case, it turned out to our advantage, and really, we're so glad to have her with us. She's such a dear little thing. Quiet, timid, submissive and obedient. Her curiosity and inquisitive ways often land us in softened chuckles as we watch her in amusement as she sniff and explored her new surroundings. I can't wait to see how she is in winter, whether she'll be cold. It's great!

So far, our trip has been a really blessed one, and I think I must say I learnt that we had so many friends, more than we thought we had in many people. So many people cared for us when they learnt that we were leaving, and Don and I are really in awe of it all. We hadn't realised we meant something to others, I mean, most of the time, we just all live our own lives. But when we held a chalet and so many people turned up, and the generosity of everyone with their ang pows was quite unexpected. It really warmed our hearts. It's not the amount that was given, but the fact that people were early at the chalet (I'm ashamed to say we were late), and that people came to chat with us and caught up with us despite everyone's busy schedule (being mother's day and all that), and the speedy responses to our invitations...all these spoke much of the friendships that we had made for the last 4 to 5 years. We can't thank everyone enough for their well wishes and generosity, but I know we'll remember each and everyone in our hearts and in our prayers for always. People's lives we know who have made a difference in our lives, and whom we'll always treasure. A big Thank You to everyone. You know who you are!

2006-04-20T02:42:00.000-07:00

You know, I think my husband is one of the funniest people in the world! If only people could live in the same household as me, they'd never believe how funny he can be. If you don't know him and meet him for the first time, you'd probably describe him as quiet, calm, solemn, serious, perhaps a little eccentric, has a strong disposition and altogether the type of guy you'd just leave alone to sit in his own little corner. But if you know him like I do, he's full of antics, every moment bursting forth with some silent joke, so subtle that you might miss it if you weren't listening carefully, hence, I call them 'silent jokes'. We once attended drama class from Luwei School of Drama, and he'd never be able to act properly in front of others. He just simply wouldn't get into his act, so to speak, either laughing or forgetting his lines, or simply freezing on the spot. However, once he got home and was with me alone, he becomes this crazy creature that is able to act out his part like nobody's business. He can sing, dance, prance around the room, do goofy acts, do the Hoola Hoop, you name it, he can do it. And his moves are so, SOOOO, funny. I laugh everytime I think of some of Don's Funniest Home Videos...really. Sometimes, I sit at my work desk and remember something he'd done last night and I can't quit smiling to myself. It doesn't help that my desk faces everyone else in the division. They must think I'm mad. And they might think I'm not working. Sigh!

See all these pictures. He's just so creatively funny. It's amazing! I love him to bits. Couldn't wish for a better partner in life. And to think I married him not for love, but simply to run away from my family. God is good! I'd told God I don't care who I married, I just wanted to get married and get away from all my family squabbles. They're getting too violent for my comfort. I thought then that if I find I didn't like whoever I married, I could always divorce. And by then, I would have my own place, and can live independently of my family. So, it was like,"here goes nothing"! There was nothing to lose, everything to gain...and Praise the Lord! I've gained so much from the marriage! He turned out to be so much more than I could ever think, or ask! God is amazing...I don't know how He does it, but He does it all the time. He takes the weak to shame the wise, He always upholds, always brings us to greater heights. He never puts us to shame, always patient with us, always keeping us in His hands. We try to jump out of his arms sometimes, but He always holds us steady. God is amazing! I'm glad God always kept me in His loving arms. I would have gone so far astray if not.

2006-04-04T07:38:00.000-07:00

We finally received the I-20 forms from SCAD yesterday, sent via DHL in the night. Praise the Lord! Even as each hurdle that came our way in relation to the US trip was overcome by the Lord, me of little faith can scarcely see any part of our future after Jun 06. We leave on a morning flight on 31 May 06, and will not see Singapore for at least one and half years. In fact, I'm not even sure that we'll ever see it again for that matter, since we'd actually bought a one-way ticket to Savannah with absolutely no spare cash whatsoever to fly back. I can't believe I'm typing this, but it's true. We have possibly just enough to live through the year or 2 in Savannah, but I don't really know for sure that we will! Hahaha, gosh, I don't think I should think about it too much. It wouldn't help to increase our wealth just by thinking about it.

In moments like these, I recall past sermons from Pastor Lin Yi Zhong, whose sermons I had previously listened umpteen times just to have a good laugh. He was so funny about his walk of faith with the Lord in the area of finances. He'd shared how he pressed on the ATM to produce money that he did not have, believing that God can create the impossible. Later, he was to learn that this was not the way of the Lord. He'd talked about how he had tithed his money, and how the Lord blessed him exactly 10 times the amount he tithed a week later, just enough for his rent. He had said that he had no money to live in Australia, and had no money to fly back. He'd lived day by day, believing in God, trusting Him to bring in the finances. And the Lord was faithful to bring in the money through blessings of cash that would come his way in miraculous ways. An old beaten-up bicycle with only 2 speed gears was stolen from him only to be restored with an almost brand new 10-speed gear bicycle. He'd told God that if it was His will that he came back to Malaysia, that the Lord will provide the money for his flight. And true enough, even as he sat in the travel agency, waiting for the agent to ask him to pay for his ticket, and wondering how he was going to tell the man he had no money to pay for the ticket, the miracle unfolded before his very eyes. Someone had already paid for him. He never quite knew who paid for it, but no matter what, he now stood years later, in Malaysia, preaching God's word, constantly singing and making melody in his heart about the Lord's goodness and mercy.

I'm truly grateful for the testimonies shared to strengthen the faith of others that might have to go through similar situations. I, for one, am now, seriously in need of such faith preaching. I must say though, that despite all the future that I cannot see, if I sat still and searched my spirit, something keeps telling me I'll be alright. The Lord keeps saying, how would I ever leave you untended in the wilderness? Yes, Father, you have never let me alone all these years. I've been so secure, whether or not I knew You were beside me. You had taken care of me.

Pastor Prince's sermon a couple of weeks ago was exhorting us to be filled with hope. For hope is what gives rise to the exertion of faith. Without hope, there can be no faith, for faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Wow, I never saw it that way. We must have hope in the future, otherwise, we cannot even exert our faith to believe in our hopes. I think Pastor Prince has outdone himself once again! Such revelation, seemingly simple, but somehow, I don't think I ever got it through my thick head :). Oh I love that sermon, HOPE. Yes, I will continue to hope for the better life that I believe the Lord meant for me on earth.

I thank God I'd listened to both Pastor Prince's and Pastor Lin's sermons and allowed the seed of faith to settle in me. A very small seed no doubt, but it'll grow, I believe, even as I know that the Lord wants to teach me many things about His ways in the US, where I'll be "launched into the deep" as Eileen keeps telling me at almost every caregroup meeting. Yes, I'll be completely out of my comfort zone. No family, no friends. Just Don, me and hopefully, half a dozen sermons filled to the brim in the depths of my brains, to allow me to call on the Word of God as I need to in every situation. Hmmm...No, that doesn't sound quite right. Why do I distant the Lord like that? Actually, the Lord will bring His presence with us every where we go too, but yup, as usual, me of little faith, does not think of the Lord being WITH ME, in the very first instance of such uncertain futures. Sorry Lord!

Sometimes, if I allowed my mind to linger on the what-ifs, I really could die of what-if-itis, as Pastor Prince coins it. Can't think of a better term than that, really. If-only-itis and what-if-itis are really seeds of condemnation that eat into every part of our souls. No, I shall not have that happening. The Lord has not given me a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind. I think I'll need to arm myself with these sermons to remind myself daily that He that is in me is greater than He that is in the world, and that He will guide me with His eye. Ooh, how I love those words. Hmmm, like a sanitising peace that transcends beyond understanding when we call to remembrance His all-powering hand over our lives. No harm shall befall us. Amen!

2006-03-26T08:05:00.000-08:00

Just spent the last hour and a half immersed in the worship of the Lord. For the first half an hour or so, I felt nothing. I tried to record some of the songs I'd written in the Mandarin Ministry when it still existed, but I didn't quite feel the flow when I played back the songs. I thought I wasn't worshipping the Lord. There was something empty, like I was trying too hard. I started playing other Mandarin songs we used to play and focused on the Lord. Still, my heart was disturbed by the recent turn of events in the Hokkien Ministry.

The hurt was still real and painful. The inadequateness and shock to be told that "I was not flowing with Pastor Louis" or that "I was competing with Pastor Mark" during altar call...I couldn't help feeling insecure about my calling to be on the worship team. I felt like giving up most times when I remember the words that had been uttered. There was nothing wrong with the commentor of my playing, but it was , as Pastor Prince mentioned in today's sermon: "when you feel frustrated in any area, it is really a reality check of yourself in that area. Pastor Prince's message today touched me once again. I needed to wake up to my own walk with God. Am I looking at men's praises and approval during worship services or am I playing unto the Lord? In any case, I'm such a primitive keyboardist that I wonder how I ever got into the state of even thinking and hoping that my playing would be accepted? Sometimes, my flesh amazes me at its stupidity and lack of logic in its understanding of its own capabilities. I just sit and gape at myself really. How could I ever even dream to be an "okay" musician in the light of the likes of Donald and Karen?

I remember the preachings of both Pastor Prince and Pastor Mark's sermons when they had declared that if they had managed to do something well, it was God and all the glory goes to Him. And if it was badly managed, it must have been their self efforts, which rightly deserved to be considered bad :). Haha, I like that very much. I want that kind of paradigm shift in my thinking. THAT, is right believing! Straight from the word of God. I can feel my spirit jump up in my seat and laugh each time they preached it! Oh yes, preach it Pastors, preach it Pastors! We need more of those reminders! Yes, all the honour, praise and glory unto the Lord! I need none for myself. If ever anyone tells me I'm doing badly in anything, I will laugh and say,"Praise the Lord! Forgive me, that was my self effort."

Nonetheless, I miss playing in the Mandarin Ministry, when technique was not so much the focus, but more so on the free flow anointing and worship of the Lord. I had played by God's grace and anointing, and the congregation never suffered from a poor note (the angels had busied themselves covering up the wrong notes everywhere, haha!) , but always enjoyed the presence of the Lord.

Still, it's just 2 more rounds of playing in the hokkien ministry and I'd have left for Savannah. I have only 2 more chances to perfect my paradigm shift act. Haha, Kat, you naughty Kat, I think you'll have a lot of fun yet to come. Even as I ended up, near midnight, preparing the songs for Tues caregroup, I felt my soul uplifted and I began to hear the Lord once again. My soul started off down and depressed earlier in the evening, but the Lord spoke to me of the songs He wanted heard, and I fell in love with Him all over again. How I love His presence! There's nothing like the moments of worship in intimate conversation with God. When God speaks, you know that everything will be alright. When God speaks, you know He knows what he's doing. And the soul falls to rest. Allowing Him to lead in anyway He wants. No need to question, no need to think.

My heart is at rest, my voice raised in worship, my fingers played to their best of their abilities. But it's okay, there's no one to impress. God will not fall off His throne at my singing or my playing, however childish, primitive, unmelodic, out of tune or simple. He does not need open chords, augmented chords, or jazz chords. He just wants my attention. And I give Him my all. I love you Lord, I can't tell You enough how You make my world go around. You are my everything, and I cast my cares upon You. I cast them, like Pastor Joshua says, "to cast it" is to throw it with speed and haste as I would if I had a cockroach on my hands; I would cast it immediately without a second thought. So I cast my fears and my cares out of my hands and towards You for Your managing. If ever I tried to take them back, I choose to cast them back as quickly as I can. I must make my choice clear. All of You, none of me.

2006-03-20T08:16:00.002-08:00

I wrapped up my work at 6.50pm and rushed down to MacKenzie's Band Room. Pastor Louis had said he wanted to meet us at 7pm. This was bad. Some accident had occurred on CTE, there was no way I was going to reach MacKenzie on time. Waves of remorse for staying so late at work crashed over my head over and over as the minutes ticked by. Sigh* Lord, help me Lord! May there be grace towards my failure to be punctual. Surely there would be others who would be late too? My cowardly heart hoped I wouldn't be the only one. I wondered what I could do as I sat stuck in the traffic. Hmmm, I would sms Mike and tell him I would be late. I did so, and received no reply in return. Maybe he was late too himself. Then my spirit told me maybe he wasn't going to be there himself. I should sms Pastor to tell him I'd be late, and ask for another 15 mins' grace. I did so, and thank God, he said no worries, take my time.

Strangely, after the sms, the traffic cleared almost miraculously and I whizzed down the rest of the journey in 5 mins. I popped my head into the Band Room, and Pastor looked at me quizzically...whatever happened to the 15 mins? I smiled nervously and replied that the traffic cleared after the sms.

Everyone was there already. Sigh* They had waited for me before starting the session. Even as I waited to hear what would be said, I prayed that all would be well. Was there going to be an evaluation of everyone's performance? Was there going to be some new criteria for musicians/ worship leaders to meet? Had anybody done anything wrong? Whatever it was, I prayed no one would be too hard on me. I'm not a good musician, I had always known that. I play by grace, truly I do. I had started with just about managing the 4 family chords in simple keys of C, G or F, and had only very recently moved beyond that to play other chords with ease. I don't know if the Hokkien team would know that, I wished I could convey that to them but how could I do that? Shout it down everyone's throats? I couldn't simply go around telling everyone as part of my introduction that I'm quite a bad musician, and that they'd better start praying for me, their new keyboardist, 'cos I might not meet the mark.

But then, worship to me had never been about musical talent, technique or arrangements. From the moment I fell in love with the Lord, I'd spent hours in the dark of the night, tinkering on my piano, and making simple melodies to the Lord. I wasn't one of those musicians who could play so effortlessly by ear, reading pieces as if the notes were a second language, but I always could hear these notes in my mind. I try to play them out, and sometimes, when I lose myself in my praise and worship of the Lord, I forget my iniquities, and suddenly, I'm playing music that carried a fragrance in it. I would speak to the Lord for hours as I played. Whilst singing, I hear my inner spirit converse with the Lord. I hear the Lord speak to me, in all His gentleness, yet majestic greatness. As if the music soared through the silent of the night, and reached the skies where my dearest Father in heaven resided. And then suddenly, He would be right there next to me. Sitting next to me at the piano, lying next to me in bed. Oh my heavenly Father, how I love your presence. No one would ever know me as You know me. And no one could love me as You do.

Pastor Louis ended up not telling us how good or bad we were. He wanted us to focus on worshipping the Lord. He said that was the first calling in our lives. To worship the Lord. He felt we seemed to have focused too much on technique or style for the last 6 months; but really, we should focus on worshipping the Lord. I felt a burden roll off my shoulders. I know now why I was so sad yesterday. I felt in my spirit that I had not worshipped the Lord at all throughout the 2 services that I played. I was petrified on stage, struggling to play as what I ought. I could not worship. I had too many cares. I couldn't get the feel right, I couldn't flow with Pastor Louis, I wasn't playing open chords so that others in the band could play. I had never felt more inadequate in all my 4 years of playing in Mandarin Ministry. Now suddenly, only on the 3rd session with the Hokkien team, I was near mental shutdown. I couldn't manage. I didn't know what to play. My spirit was so disturbed I couldn't even think what the worship songs were about. I lost all my focus, and could barely even keep time. It was awful. That was probably why I kept crying. I didn't understand what had happened, I did not feel the Lord's presence. That was the worst nightmare of my life. To be without His presence. I could die. Die of sadness to be separated from His presence in times of worship, whilst everyone else enjoyed Him, I was outcasted. I couldn't bear it.

Pastor Louis started the session with a prayer and worship session. It was beautiful. He went around praying for every person in the room. I had wanted him to pray for me since last Monday during the Band Practice. I had so wanted to ask him to pray for me, cos I felt so weak . And today, he did. I received every word of the prayer. I took it all in. I needed it, craved for it and strengthened myself in the Lord once again. Gosh, God is so good. All that Pastor Louis spoke of were things on my heart. My tears flowed as he prayed, but this time not in sadness. They were tears of relief. God knows my heart. All is well with God. I am His beloved child. He will make all things right, whether for my current transition to Savannah, US, or in my playing with the Band.

Thank God I came for the session today. I'd half thought of not going. I would have missed out so much if I hadn't gone. Father, you're just so awesome! Thank you, Abba! :) Heehee, your daughter is almost back to her chirpy self again!

2006-03-19T05:55:00.000-08:00

Great! After an emotionally uptight day, my sweet hubby has decided to cheer me up by teaching me how to create my own blog. So here goes. Rejecting hormonally induced tears of depression, I plummet my concentration towards getting this blog set-up right. I felt so stupid, I couldn't quit crying. I just felt really bad. It's just one of those things about being a woman. You get these horrid cycles of awful feelings in your gut, that spews out with no rhyme or reason. And they screw you from the inside out. I tried to shut out the feelings, and I'd learnt to do so over the years, so much so that now I just cry without even knowing why. The tears just flow, even in front of the public, and I'm totally helpless to scoop them back into my eyes. Sigh, I needed a dose of Pastor Prince's sermons. And I did get a good dose of it in the car on my way back from my singing classes. I clung onto the words of God that came out of my car CD player. "Tell God how you feel, if you feel sad and you are asked to rate it on a scale of 1 to 10, and it's 11, tell God exactly how bad it is. He won't fall off His throne. He loves us as His children, and love to hear us tell Him exactly how we feel...God hears our prayers, even when they are uttered as groans" Pastor Prince's words rang in my head, penetrating through my depression and my spirit reached out and swalllowed them voraciously. I cried out through my tears and sobbed, "Father!" That was all I could manage. It was enough. I reached my HDB car park before the sermon finished but I sat there numbed, listening, receiving, until the sermon ended. I came out of the car feeling stronger, less tearful and more in control of my emotions. God loves me, that's all I care. Nothing else in this world matters.