Starting the New Year

Yes, yes, yes.... the CNY madness is finally over! At least for me la. There're about 5 more days before Chap Goh Mei arrives to mark the end of the celebrations for the year of the Golden Boar, but I am already back at work. Things are slow of course, which is a blessing coz my mom still needs a lot of attention.

Just yesterday I spent the entire morning and afternoon driving her to Assunta again to get her tests done. Turned out she has urinary tract infection and we are still awaiting the results of her tumour marker. By the way, the prices in private hospitals defy the law of gravity - just urine and blood tests made us poorer by RM420!

While waiting for her results, I drove to the bank and of course, with the wonderful town planning system in State PJ, there was not a single parking bay available. Circled the area for 45 minutes before finally landing on an empty lot behind a row of shops. Went straight to the customer service centre in the bank - was told to wait to be served while 2 new accounts were being opened. I filled out a form and handed it over to the bank staff, who told me I should hand over my passbook as well. Oh darn, the thing is in my car. At this time a crowd was swelling around the counter. So I told the staff to keep my line while I go bring the passbook. She said ok.

When I returned to the counter I was told there was now an additional 2 more new accounts, courtesy of the lady who was behind me in the line earlier. So now I hadda wait for 4 new accounts to be opened before I could be served. I c0mplied since I did not want to kick up a fuss.. 40 minutes of standing later, I was about to be served when another lady stepped up to the counter and asked the staff, "hey, can you serve me first, I am only going to collect my chequebook..." The bank staff was about to attend to her request, when I firmly demanded to be served. And when I put up an angry front, I got served.

The wheel that makes the most noise gets the grease.

Such a sad state of affairs...

My Father(s)

I have four. One biological, two adopted and One starts with a capital F. When I was 29 I learnt that I had problems relating to #4, simply because I had a distorted perception of how a father should be.

I was unable to trust God, nor any male authority figure. It had been a prevailing condition throughout my life and I was unable to change it. It was an intensely heartbreaking discovery, as it meant amongst other things, I had arrived at an impasse in my relationship with God.

During the months that followed, I was a walking zombie - the lingering effect of being shaken to the core. I ate, slept and went about my business in a perpetual daze, not caring (unable to care) much what happened to myself nor those around me. This revelation left me injured and totally vulnerable.

Memory was kinder in the years that passed. I soon learnt that time can somewhat numb the pain, though not fully eradicating it. I realised that God has placed godly adopted fathers in my life, showing me through tangible means that His Fatherhood is different. There were other godly men and husbands which were strewn along my path too, slowly wiping out the distortion, giving life and newness to what was once maimed and wanting.

Then God brought me home - charged with this new awareness - to face my dysfunctional family. It is not the easiest thing to do, but then we were not promised ease of life and comfort. In fact, just the opposite is to be expected; for those who aspire to live a godly life should be prepared for persecution (2 Tim 3:12).

My perception of Fatherhood is constantly being challenged, namely because I live in an environment which demands it. I see the disparity between what I know to be truth and what I experience. And as the saying goes, experience is a powerful teacher.

Living between the tension.


Obedience is better than sacrifice or any other rational excuses.

Housemaid-ing Season

If I ever wanted to know how a foreign maid feels in a Malaysian household, I would have asked our former maid Asti. But nope, no chance of that ever happening now since she's gone, and every other able-bodied female in my house is knocked out by this vicious viral fever... I am left alone to tackle all the household chores. How wonderful.

So every morning I wake up to clean and prepare food for my fever-ridden niece, my sick family, and the other members of my family who aren't sick. Then in the blink of an eye the afternoon would be upon us and there's lunch to prepare. All too soon, dinner will arrive. Cleaning, marketing, cooking, nanny-ing, driving on errands.

I am tired. I am really tired.

I salute those housewives who juggle all these and still maintain their sanity, of which I am precariously hanging on thin shreds (and I am not even a housewife). But after all that drudge and crap, there's this relief... joy... when everyone comes home at night and gathers and eat. The effort of the day just seem to melt away.

Oh dear, I sure hope I am not losing it.

The Day I Survived

This is such a weird day.

Woke up early to check my mom outta hospital. Still groogy after yesterday's fever antibiotics. Arrived hospital at 9am-ish. Walked to the ward while talking on the phone. Before I knew it, I stepped on a small patch of water on the floor, slipped and fell on my back. The nurses rushed to me. They hoisted me up and put me on my mom's bed nearby. The doctor arrived and asked me if I needed attention. The ward sister came to take down my details (in case I needed hospitalisation).

OK, enough embarassment already.

So I shoo-shoo-ed them away (by telling them I was perfectly fine) and after a while, proceeded to a quick brekkie at the cafeteria. Had a slice of marble cake, one milk tea and one Milo. Mom called and said she would be able to check out the same day.

Yay!!!!

BUT we hadda wait. OK, I can wait. One hour passed, two hours... and meanwhile, I was developing symptoms of having a seizure attack. Not good. Not good at all.

I went back to ward nurse to ask for a bed. She said the hospital beds were full but there're some seats at the corridor I can use, or else there's also a wheeled stretcher without brakes. I opted for seats. When I saw those single rattan chairs, I groaned. The're no way I can lie comfortably on those.

So I cramped myself in feotal position and snugged into two single chairs facing each other. It was really awkward and I was uncomfortable, but it was better than no lie-down place at all. I switched positions several times but they were all equally uncomfortable. Meanwhile, my phone kept ringing.

I don't know how but I managed to get some sleep. Too soon, my phone rang again, and it was my mom saying it is time to pay and check out of the hospital. After some ding donging here and there, we finally checked mom out at 3pm, six hours after I had arrived at the hospital.

I was too weak to drive, and WL hadda bring us all home. Left my car in the hospital carpark, and I went home to cook porridge for my mom and myself, before taking my long overdue fever medicine and zonking off till 6.30pm. Then later I hadda retrieve my car from the carpark (but not before dropping by to visit Mrs Tan, the 98-year-old stroke victim from my mom's ward). Mrs Tan's daughter was with her, and she even agreed when I suggested to pray for her. Good, good, good. I may visit her some more in the near future.

Disguished Opportunities

It was a visitors' party at my mom's hospital room. First there were LP and my dad, followed in quick succession by my aunt and uncle, then my cell hosts, and then my mom's cell members before finally, my cell members came and took me out for dinner.

In between there was this very stimulating conversation going on between the patient in the next bed and I. She was almost in tears when I told her about God's provision in my life. Later I shared Christ with the patient in the far end of the room. She is 96, her lungs are hardened and she practically lays on bed as good as a vegetable but I spoke to her in Mandarin anyway. She looked longingly at me, her eyes welling up with tears. She tried to move her arms every time I touched her (I noticed that her relatives would visit, shout at her and not even touch her). I asked her to repeat the sinners' prayer with me even though she can only say it in her heart.

There is so much hope to be given to a waiting world.

My mother's hospitalisation may be seen as a mishap to some, but for those who perceive, there has never been a better opportunity to share the Gospel.

Today's Reading : Romans 1:16-17

Frog in the Pot

I am terrified of frogs. Even slaughtered ones. Being Chinese, it is to my embarassment that I have only hesitantly nibbled at the famous Frog Legs with Ginger and Spring Onion dish. And even after that I felt like fumigating my mouth for 2 weeks.

The most horrying experience I had with frogs was when one hopped and latched itself on my calf while I was walking on campus in Hawaii. I screamed and screamed in terror, ran and flagged helplessly. It was such a traumatic experience I don't even remember how the critter finally un-stuck itself.

I hate frogs. Dead or alive.

So when I hadda buy frogmeat in the market today to double-boil it for my hospitalised mom, I made sure I was 2 feet away from the cages filled with live frogs. I quickly made my purchase. The butcher was laughing away at me whilst she grabbed one fat belching frog, clubbed it senseless and continued with the slaughter.

I did not know how my face looked like at that moment, but the butcher's expression while looking at me was one of glee, maybe she was somewhat tickled at the tortured face of a reluctant buyer.

I took home three headless, skinless and webless frogs. The blood was still on them. Cleaned the carcasses up using a pair of disposable chopsticks and a cleaver. My brother and dad were not much help, they just stood and laughed at my fear of contact with dead amphibians. After much effort, one-and-a-half frog(s) ended up in the crockpot with slices of really bitter bittergourd.

I pity my mom who's gonna drink that.

Night Out

It is also confirmed that I will be staying with my mom at the hospital tonight. Just got back home to pack a few things and head straight for Assunta again. Mom's got a single room and there's an extra armchair-bed for me. Tomorrow I gotta head for the market really early to get er....

1. Frog meat
2. Baby bittergourd

This is so that I can go home and double boil them stuff with a bowl of water and serve them to (poor old) mom! Apparently this concoction worked wonders on my friend's friend.

Nat tested negative for dengue. Phew... at least her parents can sleep soundly tonight.

To Hospital, To Hospital...

It is confirmed. My mom contracted dengue. Her platlet level is still ok, at 205 per 1000, and the GP says to wait for further tests. But I am checking her into the hospital tonight. At her age, anything can happen. She's worried sick, and rightly so I guess.

Right now we are packing her stuff for the stay. I will prob stay in with her for the night, depending on circumstances. Tomorrow I will be making this herb concoction which is supposedly good for her immune system.

I had better brace myself for the home - hospital - market - home circuit.

Nat is also having fever for the past 5 days. Now her parents are concerned it may be dengue as well. Heck, I am also feeling under the weather the past coupla days...

Just a wild thought - if all of us have dengue it may be easier as we would all be admitted at the same time and can still see each other....

Yeah, right.

Gotta get under the Wings

Dengue. The word escaped from my mom's mouth as she got into the car to break the news to me. OK, so it's just suspected dengue since she had non-abating fever for 5 days running even with antibiotic intakes. But the doctor wasn't taking chances, especially since she's already 70.

She's worried, about her health, hospital stays, bills, household matters, etc. My mom's a constant worrier, even when she's completely well. I try to un-worry her. In any case, the results will only be known in about 2 hours' time.

This news could not have come at a worse time. Already I am struggling "being at multiple crossroads" in my life, and this process usually saps all the energy outta me.


Today's Reading: Ps 91

Sulking Corner

Went for the OM meeting and I probably never felt so ...disappointed... in a long time. Because my plans and expectations were not met. Frustrated because whilst I had "put my life on hold" all these years in view of going out again, I find the doors still firmly shut. Angry because nothing is going the way I hoped it would.

Nat threw a tantrum again today, because she wasn't allowed to go out with her mom to the shops. She cried and cried and when that didn't work, she turned around and demanded to have 'substitutes' in place of the thing she was denied. And to state a fact, everyone knows my niece takes after me very closely in temperament. She's definitely a female Chan.

I see a mirror image of myself as I observe her nonsense. Only difference is that we live 30 years apart.

I was so disturbed yesterday. I could not believe God would close the doors. Of course I knew He must have a better plan, a more important job for me here, or mebbe I am just not the person for that "mission job" out there. But honestly, I find it hard to accept that in His time and in His way He will reveal. Still I could not understand why, I could not wait, I wanted an explanation... and I demanded a 'substitute' where I spelt out the terms.

What cheek.

And I wonder why God doesn't speak to me? Why He is silent?


Surrender is so hard for the strong-willed.




Today's reading: Gen 32:22 - 32

Delayed Rebound?

These...




...were what I bought today. It's been 8 years since I bought anything remotely resembling them. Kinda stopped wearing makeup since I left my country and joined Operation Mobilisation... (missionaries are not supposeda be enamoured by stuff like this, so I reckoned).

OK, so why buy them now since I survived on borrowed makeup all these years?

Last Saturday's dinner was different. I mean, I've been to dozens of dinner events and gotten dolled up couple times a year, but something was different last week. I didn't realise it until I put on the makeup, checked the mirror and... man, it felt really good. I mean, I looked fine (ok, so I looked kinda good) and felt great.

I sure hope it's not a rebound syndrome from "neglecting my appearance" all these years. You know, swinging from one extreme to another and all that. Whatever it is, the stuff's already in the bag, ready for use.

Next: This Saturday's wedding!

Thorns Can Be Good

So. I seriously do not know what's happening to my body. Get sick once in an average of 2 - 4 weeks, a bone spur, loss of strength in arms, fingers, etc, anaemic and... I am forced to entertain the thought that immortality is grossly overrated. I may meet my mortal end sooner than I think.

Morbid? Yeah. Depressing? Slightly so. Only because I am none too entirely prepared for it. I turn 37 this year. Had some really fantastic life behind me, and I think I am richer than anyone I know coz I already have and done all that matters. However, one thing still leaves me stoked. The rush of seeing the light turn on in someone's heart and mind when they understand Truth.

Yesterday I was a wreck and feeling worse. An impending flu attack left me with terrific headaches, bodyaches and a sinister soreness creeping up my throat. I was frustrated, angry, defeated (being sick makes me this way). As I sought solace in my chatmail, a friend signed in. We exchanged pleasantries, jokes and then started talking about doctrine.

The discussion quickly picked up speed. She asked, I answered. I asked, she replied. In that flurry, something happened. A sudden illumination dawned. Truth visited her. A great work of the Holy Spirit.

God works any way He chooses, but it is in frailty that His strength is most evident... why then, are we so afraid of being weak? Of being helpless?

Grant courage Lord, as not to shy away from pain, from suffering and from the thorn where Your grace is sufficient.

Born Twice, Die Once...

What we fear is not death, but its process, Henri Nouwen tells us. He has a point there. We all know death is inevitable, but who - except those really old or terminally ill - would give the matter a serious thought?

My friend in YWAM is pushing 60, underwent several major operations, and had 4 friends die on her in the past 2 months (3 of cancer, and another - a young man in his 20s, committed suicide very recently). Shrouded in this morbid atmosphere, she awaits the biopsy results done on one of her breasts.

I have always admired this friend / mentor. She never married and was the one who forged the path showing me that abandoning all for God is not only examplery, but plausible... and ... desirable. A tremendously gifted Bible teacher, she has the rare quality of inspiring her students to want to dig deeper to uncover the truths marvelously encrypted in Scripture. She herself was a diligent student of the Word, a woman of practical wisdom and tender kindness. However, the one thing that made her stand out was her willingness to be vulnerable. To the point of baring her thoughts, like peers do, to me - someone more than 20 years her junior. What an honour and privilege. And what a great blessing.

It is this very distinctive child-like quality in her that reveals her deep, trusting and personal relationship with the Lord Jesus. For a person who's going nearer to the "other world" than she is to ours, she is beginning to ponder on the things that most of us tend to push aside.

Have I lived well?

Have I loved to my fullest?

Am I ready to meet God?

And so I ask myself these questions today too. And to my utter shame, I find that I am ill-prepared to even think of them. And yet, they are the most important questions I would ever have to answer. 1 Cor 3:12 tells of the different rewards Christians get when they meet God. Immediately, pictures of some tangible trophy comes to mind. But as any mature saint would explain, it is Christ Who is our great reward. Heaven is all about being with him in a way that is impossible while we are on earth.

Martha Snell Nicholson, the gifted poet whose verses had been used to bless many, wrote this before she died of long illness in 1957.

When I was an inarticulate child, if anyone had asked me why I was happy (despite the terrible illnesses), I would have replied, "Because it is all true about Jesus." And now, with the silver in my hair and my body bent and twisted, I can still think of no other way to express my joy rather than to say, "Because it is all true about Jesus Christ."

It is all true.

In life and death and the life everlasting.











Link

Year of the Pig(s)

What a way to start the New Year. Binge-ing and stuffing faces till drop. Two friends and I decided to spend the first two days of 2007 at their hometowns of Teluk Intan and Sitiawan. We had planned a Pangkor trip earlier, but last-minute calls back to work derailed those intentions. So while the reservations were canceled at the 11th hour, Gracey and Ivy said what the heck, we would still go somewhere for the holidays. With no reservations anywhere else (we actually didn't try... what's the point?) the girls decided to head homeward for a quick break.

31 Dec
Arrived Ivy's home in Teluk Intan in time for the NY Countdown. The streets were packed. We passed by the famous Chee Cheong Fun shop (opens 7pm - 7am) and the line was about 15 people long. Too many cars parked there. Decided to give the cff a miss. Reached Ivy's home after midnite. Ate supper, showered and zzzzzzz!!!!!

1 jan
Woke up to the bright sunshine in Ivy's room. Showered. And performed the necessary bodily functions. Brekkie waiting for us at Ivy's mom's stall at a coffee shop nearby... yay!!!! Had CCF and a bit of curry mee. Coffee (yes, yesssss!!!). Then to Gracey's house in Sitiawan. The minute we stepped outta the car, the BuBur Cha Cha was waiting. Happening...lotsa taro, sweet potato cubes and kidney beans in rich, sweeet coconut milk... my favourite! Then the table started filling out with fresh strawberries marinated in plum sauce (slurp!) and this fruitcake baked by a nun. After this inconventional spread of hors d'oeuvres, Gracey's mom took out the killer dish... her Ang Chew Mee Sua. Ok ok, some people may think it's confinement food, but this is actually a popular dish in the Foochow community, with males and females alike. We were salivating when the chicken pieces in the red wine soup was brought out. Munch assault! The vermicelli came. And I would have never guessed the carnivorous Ivy would enjoy this dish as much as she did.

Just as we thought we could not eat anymore, Gracey's dad returned with the famous local Kon Piah, this er - let's just call it a Foochow version of the pizza. The Sitiawan Kon Piah is really different from its Sibu and Kuching cousins. Eat and discover for yourself. Then we drove out to the famous Cendol stall outside the Indian Temple. By this time, my tummy made an overload protest. But I did taste the Cendol - very rich and fresh coconut milk.

Too soon it was dinner time. We were taken to this kinda out-of-bounds lesser-known-to-tourists restaurant, where we gorged ourselves on a feast of Foochow dishes, capped with Irish Cream Bailey's on the rocks. And you'd think people can't die from overeating...

After all that food, we needed to "work out" (to ease the conscience). So it was off to Teluk Batik beachwalk, and then to Lumut Esplanade. Then it rained, and as Gracey would say "so mangkuk", hence we got stuck at the mamak drinking Milo panas.

(I am reeling in disgust as I write this... can't believe what a pig I was).

Jan 2
The only snag to an otherwise perfect slumber experience was the irritating noise from Ivy's cellphone alarm! It rang twice and woke everyone else except the person who had it on. Food was waiting for us when we got up. Didn't even have time to brush teeth properly. Peanut dessert with whole peanuts cooked in glutinous gravy... something like that. Then fruitcake and... rambutans!

"No, no... we have to leave room for lunch" we pleaded. Then got entangled in this conversation with Gracey's dad for about 2 hours talking about comparative religions, etc. We extricated ourselves in time to meet Ivy's parents for lunch. Had another sumptous meal, and I quietly vowed not to eat anything again for the next 24 hours....

30 minutes later Ivy brought us to her friend's coffee shop and ordered us a bowl of Assam Laksa each.

Sigh.

We ate no more the rest of the day. And prob shouldn't for the rest of the year...

Email from the Past

Pat emailed me today. She hasn't done that since her husband Alistair died. It's been a year since my good friend from Carlisle passed on. What do - should - I write about someone who had been a major part of my life in the faraway boonies of the English Lake District, a land of spectacular landscapes, where the grass is greener than green and every turn a postcard-perfect rendition of nature?

I would always recall with fondness the stunning landscapes of Penrith, Borrowdale, Keswick; but even those could not hold a candle to memories of my friend Alistair, as wicked as his humour was. He would probably have been 60 this year. A self-taught historian and guide at the Carlisle cathedral, his jokes about the local verger and keen appreciation for anything historical (and everything is historical) was what made him, well, great to be with.

Alistair took it upon himself to "educate" me on English and Scottish history. So began the field trips and meals and fireplace conversations that lasted almost 3 years. Thanks to him, I saw the site of the Lockerbie crash, visited obscure and quaint villages, learnt about chieftains and clans and their castles, manors, homes. Buildings and places came alive with their past glories narrated by a learned student... and such was Alistair Davidson, son of the (obviously) Davidson clan. Being with Alistair meant I learnt about different pleats, tartan and crest designs, suits for the infantry throughout the years and you've guessed it... he is an avid modeler. Which means he knew about weapon and artillery designs say... from the medieval era till WW2.

(In return, he got healthy doses of Asian cultural indiosyncrasies and great helpings of Asian food.)

More important than merely being a student of history is the skill of interpretation that makes sense of the present and hopefully, the future. Alistair and I used to have long discourses on God - the sovereign Architect of history. We diverged at the point of being born again.

One cold, unforgiving winter's day, we went fly fishing at the creek. The waters were deep in the countryside so we hadda cross over a farm and walk alongside the fences. All of us (Alistair, Pat, their grandkids Iesha and Angus, and I) were warm inside our windbreakers though the windchill factor was below humane. Alistair cast his line and waited. I did the same and the hook caught my jacket, tearing the fabric in a merciless tow. Great. Wind meets skin. Mine.

Some luck-less hours later, we decided the fish were either:
1. Hibernating or
2. Moved to colder Trans-Atlantic waters to hibernate

So we trudged home, each thinking happy thoughts which included Pat's awesome Yorkshire puddings. At a stopover at the farm, Iesha and Angus patted the pony behind me, which had the snuffles (Later I found out the animal was chewing at the tear in my jacket.)

We arrived home empty handed, but all the more richer for the great company. That turned out to be Alistair's last fishing trip with me. His body was too weak to accommodate another.

Do I miss my friend? Terribly so. Will I see him again? I am not sure. And sometimes I wonder if there was more I could have done for him.

Ah! This side of eternity and all its unanswered questions!

Celestial Steakhouse International

With an acronym as such, there was no difficulty striking a conversation with the owner of CSI, Gary May, to find out more about his "killer" Cajun dishes. Less said is more, so he promptly strutted out his stuff:






































(From top to bottom):
Soup of the day (in this case clear veggie) with the variety of breads and rolls.

New York Cheesecake with strwberry topping and oreo crust. Divine!

Sundae Brownie with pecan and fudge topping. To die for.
























(Fr left, back row):
Seafood Quesadillas, BBQ Beef ribs (yummy!!!!) Taco Bowl with special Ranch dressing.

(Fr left, front):
Rainbow trout glazed with honey, pecan and huckleberries; Grilled halibut with Jambalaya rice, Chilly Fries.




Check them out:
B-G-01, Jln SS6/20, Dataran Glomac, Pusat Bandar Kelana Jaya, Selangor.

Not Worth the Compromise

It was Nick's 11th birthday tonight. Well, technically his birthday was yesterday, but we celebrated it tonight coz there was Krsytle & Jared's wedding yesterday. There were more than 20 people at Nick's bash, mostly adults. I can't believe he's already in Standard Five! Seemed like yesterday when I held him as a newborn, took loads and loads of photos of him, watched as he got disciplined, etc...

During the dinner I had another spasm attack. My facial muscles jammed up first, followed by tingling sensation on my arms. I started to palpitate. Great. Just as I was about to attack the nicest part of the dinner too... in moments like these I really begin to think that I would not be able to outlive the people at the table. Given, some of them are like in their 50s but they seemed to enjoy more robust health.

That's fine with me.

The idea is not to live the longest, but to max it out in obedience to God.

Nick's parents are my godbro and godsis. They took me under their wing when I was a homeless ,persecuted young Christian. Not only that, they invested years of their time and money on me, sacrificed and did things that could only come from Love Above. If it weren't for them and my godparents, I would have become a lesser person.

And in those years they never murmured. Once when I told my godbro how I appreciated him, he said, "you know, one day I hope you be the same person to someone else."

The dinner tonight was not just another birthday party. It was another chance to be thankful for the friends that we have, to drink in the merriment and cherish the bonding - something you can't buy, shouldn't postpone and can never re-enact.

Everytime I met my godbro and godsis, I am reminded never to compromise on my relationships. It is never worth it.

Dammed (up) Place

Kenyir, Terengganu: No mobile phone coverage. Perfect isolation.






No leeches here, but "ada pacat".





Journey to kelah sanctuary begins here.




Lesung for chilly. Chilly for fish. Fish for hungry people.

Four Sleepless Nights

I can't believe I spent a couple days just poring over the passage in Gen 22, re: the sacrifice of Isaac. Just for a 75-min study. Why would a good God order such a cruel, inhumane deed? Why didn't Abraham intercede for Isaac the way he petitioned for Lot? And what manner of mental retard is Isaac to allow himself to be bound and sacrificed as a burnt offering - the kind that is killed before being wholly consumed by fire?? I mean, literally toast.

Neatly-packaged answers abound. It was a test for Abraham. God would not allow human sacrifices and deemed it an abomination when the Canaanites practised it those days. Which accounted for why Abraham was prevented from slaying his son at the altar. Many of us would never go through the severe test Abraham did. Scripture does not record whether Abraham really did intercede for his son Isaac to be spared, but we know that he obeyed God immediately when the strange command was given. Later, we realise that the test was for Abraham's own benefit. He needed to know the extent of his love and obedience to God. As for Isaac, well, he was a meek character. Not weak. Huge difference coz meekness is great strength under control. And reveals great faith under wraps. Perfect metaphor for the providence of Christ as the atoning sacrifice for mankind.

The thing I like about the Bible is its no-holds-barred description of events - the characters are real, flawed and human. The problem I have is that it does not give me a picture of God that is comfortable. I am uncomfortable with a God Who does not conform to my understanding. I am uncomfortable with a God Who suddenly pulls the rug under the feet of His saints and subjects them to encounters of the near-delirium type. I am uncomfortable with a God Whom I cannot predict.

Call me a glutton for punishment, but this unknown factor in the equation is actually drawing me like a moth to a lightbulb. So I am convinced God is good, holy, faithful and trustworthy. But He is also dangerously unpredictable. Would I be tested on this kinda scale one day? One part of me hopes not, the other is actually (gasp!) entertaining the prospect, wondering what it would be like.

Dear God, You test Your children to bring out the best possible good. Help me live in daily obedience - for that "easy transit" to the biggie test...

Superman Returns... about time too

Yay... Superman Returns in 24 hours!

Yup, watching the world premiere at Midvalley, thanks to a friend who got me a pair of free tickets. Honestly never thought I would be watching it two days earlier, since my chances of getting tickets were pretty slim this year. BUT, as chance (or some would say Providence) would have it, my friend called this morning to offer me the tickets (good to have such friends).

So I am going for the 9.30pm show tomorrow with LP. if its gonna be anything like last year's Revenge of The Sith, we gotta place our handphones in the car (lest we gotta surrender them at the cinema entrance) and dress formal. Don't know which is worse. Still, I can hardly wait.