The thing on sparrows and trust...

I wonder if cats go to heaven...

Looking at my own cat, I often wonder what will happen to it if it was not adopted. Does it wonder the same thing? I am sure it is a no. Can it even remotely imagine the scenario where it is left out in the streets, with no food or shelter? Is there family or friends who will never turn a blind eye on it? Maybe brother cat will take pity of it and invite her home.

I know none of it is true, you know it and the man on the street knows it. Yet there it is, sleeping soundly, well fed, cuddled, loved, worried upon, while it does its catty things like chase butterflies and pounce on lizards.

Of recent times I do get somewhat upset when I see dead birds on the streets. It always made me wonder that God did not take care of this sparrow that He promised in the bible. Rather than the bird, it reflected my own inability to fully trust him..

Just in case.......

In case the bird did trust him..

In case I ...

I wonder if even a person like me will make sure my cat wouldn't starve to death or die of a hot summer heatstroke. If I am willing to part with my last dollar for her cat food... If I get worried if she did not come home from her evening walks... If she is bored and needs someone to play with her...

What about God? What will He do?

Why is it that a Christian relationship is foremost about selling sinners the Willy Wonka ticket to heaven, or promises that life will be smoother, or attending church and bible studies than it is about taking that time to build trust in Him and who He is?

I find it amazing that my cat doesn't go knocking on another stranger's door when I do not grant her her favourite pork floss treat. She does not pack her bag and decide that kitty is better off changing owners who will give her a three tiered cat condo instead of a silly box with cut out windows.

Maybe she does understand trust better than I do. For me, I have to go back to the drawing board and trust that I can go about doing my 'human' things trusting God who is taking care of me.

Unbeknownst to her, Gracie looked up and found herself staring at a stranger's face.

"Dear God, please give me nice people who will love me and treat me well"

The Muddle

I was quite touched at how the conversation went today. Really warmed my heart when he tried to comfort me. Nothing harsh, just trying to encourage, showing kindness, no 'shoulds' or critical sounding things.

Maybe that is what grace is all about. It also made me thankful, the bottom of your heart sort of gratitude. The 'I know I don't deserve this but I am getting this' sort of grace.

Goodnight.

I had enough...

It's so easy to tell God 'I had enough" when we decided that something is proving to bring us more unhappiness than good.

A bad colleague, an girlfriend you no longer love, a child of a previous relationship, a boss who is hard to work with, or even a mother who has grown too old and obnoxious.

No longer are they the people you knew on Day 1, now you see them as barriers obstructing you and future happiness.

Are they there for a reason? Can I wish them away? How thrilling would it be that one day we wake up, and they are no longer there.

Is that true? Or am I simply just a coward? Why do I not wish myself to the moon instead, where I can be with my own company and no one to stand between me and the great path to happiness.

Maybe because we still want people in our lives, but unlike the moon, we want to sieve out the people who become the awkward pieces of our lives.

Because life was meant to be happy? We are suppose to make those wonderful choices that at the end of the, bring looks of admiration and contentment because we have so carefully, deliberately and sensibly carve the path that flashes 'Congrats on choosing all the right paths, you have reached your destination where few tread'.

One of my favourite authors, John Ortberg wrote a book titled ' When the game is over, it all goes back in the box'. Whether you spent the days lazing, doing 1000 things, achieving, earned lots of money, have none, laughed a lot, cried plenty, killed someone, is one of the world's most admired, you join the ranks of others to go back to the box when your life on earth is over.

I remembered I had an eccentric boss once. He initially got on my nerves, and eventually got to others nerves. He drove me 'nuts' on an everyday basis, to the extent that I woke up every morning praying that God will do something about it, that I have to strength to press on. Of course I did expressed my displeasure during a feedback session, and I unkindly wondered 'Why is he here?'. My empathy waned and I grit my teeth with anger sometimes. He was eventually asked to leave. On his last day, he was sad but said to me 'Hey, thanks for helping me all this time'.. and I could tell he was very sad. At that moment, my heart regretted being of such bad spirit, overly anxious and not let God handle the rest. I couldn't look him in the eye because I knew my past actions did not convey that I was sad to see him go. I really wished I did not have those bad thoughts about him.

I wish I was more courageous in the face of adversity or inconvenience. So that when it goes back into the box, I could say 'that was hard, but I am glad for the person that it made me into'. We grow little when life is travelling fine and everyone is singing the same tune as us in the same timing. We go back into the box no different from the way we started out playing the game. What kind of game will it be if we only pass Go, collect $200, get out of jail free and collect rent on Mayfair? More importantly, why is there an impatience to roll double 6s, finish building all the hotels when we know it all goes back into the box when the game ends?

Don't lose sight of the present and what life gives you at this moment in time. It may not be your flavour, but it is there for a purpose... so don't be in a hurry to say "I had enough", for God knows when you truly had enough.

There is a season for everything.

Wonder

I have recently finished the book 'Wonder' by R.J Palacio. It was an easy read about a boy growing up with possibly Treacher Collins syndrome which causes facial deformities. The book chronicles August's ('Auggie')  younger years of growing up to entering mainstream school and reveals the realities faced by him. There are also portions written from the perspective of those close to him- his sister and good friend amongst a few.

In my many conversations with friends now, I have to be thankful that I never felt like I was bullied. While I did not have facial deformities like Auggie, I had a big head of afro hair. A little scrawny chinese girl with a large afro hair during the pre-internet, conservative Singapore is not that much of a fashion statement. Like Auggie, I often get second, third or fourth takes in public, people covering their mouths whispering to each other, the pointing... the description brought back memories. In a particular episode I still remember, a little boy sitting across the seats in a train remarked to his mother 'Mom, she is so ugly. How is she going to get married?'. I actually felt embarrassed for the mother, whom I can see was nervously looking if there was an emergency window she can break to jump out of the moving train. The rest sitting there pretended they didn't hear a thing. Perhaps they too wanted to nod in unison. For it'll be a lame line to correct 'No son. You can't judge a book by its cover'. Any comments like that will incite mass suicide in the train. Now that I think about it, it was quite amusing.

I stared at girls with pigtails and ponytails and wondered how that can be a reality for me. Mom kept my hair short so that it would not look too poofy. I smoothed it down with gel and anything heavy I could get my hand off. When the wind blows, it's like chaffs of dried hay got blown all over, impossible to lay it down into a shape again. The curious fact about afro is, it is water resistant. So I never looked like I swam, nothing I slather on will stay, and yes, I do know how Michael Jackson feels.

It made me proud of the primary and secondary school I went to. I never received a nasty remark from a friend or classmate. There were definitely nicknames, but even my cousins will call me names like that. I know it was not done to taunt me. Or perhaps I have since grew that elephant hide skin that left me immune to the discourse of my hair. Reciting the Lord's prayer 100 times didn't work, but divine help came in the technology of hair straightening when I was in my mid teens. I never looked back since.

But this means I do not get a prize for being courageous, unlike Auggie. What I probably get is a glimpse of Auggie's world, although it is nothing that close to the anguish he would have suffered. I do like the easy read, and will recommend it to older children who sometimes need to know their convictions and not go along with the crowd to ostracise someone who looks different from them. I am one glad beneficiary of such courage, and that was why I wasn't the one wanting to cry inside the train when that boy made that remark.

Loneliness

Do people have children because they don't want to be lonely when they are old?

Lately I had visions of a dingy dark brick apartment, with an old couch and the only light seemed to come from an old flickering television. There is a shadow of an old person sitting inside. Maybe she had her dinner, maybe there is not much to be eaten.

How is it like to be old and lonely? Would it feel like the world has forgotten about you? What if there are no doorknocks, and neighbours mind their own business, and life appears the same day in day out? Perhaps I am being bleak, that there will be friends and loved ones who may be what'spping, asking how the day has gone.

I wonder how many people in this world are lonely tonight though. What do lonely people do?

Goodbyes

Note to self: Hellos are fantastic, but too many goodbyes can be bad for health.

Note to others: Hope our goodbyes are only temporary.

Bye to my dear friend who helped me tick the list of the things I wanted to do here. Bye to another who finally made it for me to share the places I loved but never had the chance to share with.

I miss you.