tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-114845692024-03-19T11:43:35.796+08:00scribbling in His universethoughts on faith, life, love and anything else in between...Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-54247854022308421592022-11-27T20:08:00.001+08:002022-11-27T20:08:58.212+08:00blogscribble, hi--TOFIRSTNA
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<br>------=_NextPart_000_0024_V6IPSJBY.TGQDCAPL--Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-28543689969049577502020-07-04T09:51:00.000+08:002020-07-04T09:57:05.030+08:00<div class=WordSection1><p class=MsoNormal><span lang=EN-US style='font-size:12.2pt;font-family:Verdana'>Blogscribble<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span lang=EN-US style='font-size:12.2pt;font-family:Verdana'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span lang=EN-US style='font-size:12.2pt;font-family:Verdana'><a href="https://bit.ly/3iplrbd?/p/thin/">https://bit.ly/3iplrbd?/ae/love/</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span lang=EN-US style='font-size:12.2pt;font-family:Verdana'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span lang=EN-US style='font-size:12.2pt;font-family:Verdana'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span lang=EN-US style='font-size:12.2pt;font-family:Verdana'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span lang=EN-US style='font-size:12.2pt;font-family:Verdana'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span lang=EN-US style='font-size:12.2pt;font-family:Verdana'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span lang=EN-US style='font-size:12.2pt;font-family:Verdana'><o:p></o:p></span></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-42855075782951849542012-04-08T22:34:00.001+08:002012-04-16T15:52:06.467+08:00Thoughts of a Childhood FriendThree days ago, they murdered my good buddy Yeshua. They accused him of a political crime but they killed him along with two thieves. I still can't believe it! Yeshua was the kindest friend I had. <br />
<br />
I remember the time when our house burned and we lost everything except the clothes on our back. Yeshua, who was the same size as I was, gave me some clothes. Not the ones that need mending or close to being thrown out but he gave me his favorite robes!<br />
<br />
I also remember the time when I got sick during a camping trip. He stayed up all night looking after me-making sure that I was comfortable.<br />
<br />
One time, I got trouble at school and my folks grounded me. I was sort of a 'prisoner' but Yeshua dropped by and hung out with me when he could have been with other kids on a trip to the lake.<br />
<br />
One thing that stood out is that Yeshua can tell really good stories. Whenever we were resting in between games, he would entertain us with stories. There was a story about a dad and his two sons. Another about the farmer and the seeds. There were many other stories too, but these are the two that stood out for me.<br />
<br />
Many times, we played a game called <i>Messiah.</i> It is about a king who would come and lead our people against oppressors. We take turns wearing the crown while the rest swing their wooden swords against imaginary enemies-soldiers of the occupation forces. I can still hear the laughter as if it was only yesterday. Everything is sword swinging until Yeshua takes his turn for the crown. He would ask us to lay down our swords and listen to his stories. (Actually, we would rather stop swinging the swords and instead ask him to tell his stories, to which, we are sure he would readily do.)<br />
<br />
A few years later, my family moved to Jerusalem and I totally lost contact with him.<br />
<br />
Until about a few years ago when stories were circulating about a Yeshua who was a rabbi, a miracle worker and most likely the Messiah. <i>It couldn't be the Yeshua of my childhood,</i> I remember thinking. After all, Yeshua was a very common name.<br />
<br />
When I begin to hear people retelling stories about a dad and his two sons and about a farmer and the seeds, then I begin to suspect that this could be my friend Yeshua after all. I wanted to see him right away but I could always come up with an excuse not to, believing that one of his travels could bring him to our city and maybe then I can come up to him and re-introduce myself.<br />
<br />
That day came about a week ago. Yeshua arrived at the gates of the city and was met by many people. They were carrying palm leaves, which they laid at the path where Yeshua's donkey would walk on. What a lovely welcome for a Rabbi! If only the donkey were a chariot and the palm leaves fine silk or red carpet, it would have been a welcome fit for a king! Yet the donkey reminded of the old days when Yeshua would play the <i>Messiah of peace </i>and not of war as the rest of us did.<br />
<br />
I would have wanted to shake his hand but the crowd has surrounded him, calling out <i>Rabbi, rabbi! </i><br />
<br />
Nothing has changed about him, except that he is older.<i> </i>His eyes were still the kindest I've ever seen. He has the same warm smile and kind attitude towards everyone, especially the children. But then, there is something about him I could not describe. Along with the gentleness, there is an intensity about him, a burning passion for something I could not explain. It was as if he has received power from the heavens!<br />
<br />
As much as I would have wanted to follow him around, I had chores to do. After all, Passover is coming and there is much to do.<br />
<br />
Then a few nights ago, news of his arrest spread in the city. Yeshua was tried, found guilty and was sentenced to crucifixion.I knew that there is only little time left for Yeshua. The authorities fear that his followers might cause a scene and so they would need to carry out the crucifixion as soon as they can, which is the next day, the day before Sabbath. <br />
<br />
The day of crucifixion was the most horrible day of my life. I would want it forever blotted out of my memory if not for that one quick glance from Yeshua as he passed by where I stood. A quick glance of recognition, a glance that was full of love amidst the hatred shown to him. A glance that would forever change me.<br />
<br />
Now it had been three days since he glanced at me and that was my last memory of him. But deep inside me, there is that feeling, a conviction that I have not lost him.<br />
<br />
Yeshua is alive but how can I tell anyone when thousands saw him die on the middle cross. Yet, I can't believe he's dead... He can't be....Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-42182646160823025462012-02-01T23:50:00.000+08:002012-02-02T13:52:49.639+08:00Thoughts of the Unnamed Disciple<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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</style> <![endif]--> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">A few days ago news reached me about brothers having been arrested by the authorities upon instructions by the Sanhedrin. There were stories of stoning and being thrown into lions’ dens.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">It is during these times that I long for the good old days when Master was here… </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">I remember the time on the lake. We have just fed five thousand men and the Master told us to go ahead of him to Bethsaida. He went up on the mountainside to pray while we took the boat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Hours later the winds began to blow and we were straining to keep the boat on course as the wind was blowing against us. We were so tired and I myself fell asleep holding an oar.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Just before dawn, someone screamed, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Ghost, ghost! On the water! Ghost!” </i>I remember being very annoyed at the interruption. But when I glance towards the lake, there it was: a ghost! We were all terrified. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Suddenly the ghost said, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Don’t be afraid, it’s me.”</i> I swear I can almost hear laughter in the Master’s voice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">And then, Peter, always the impulsive guy, blurts out, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“If it is really You, tell me to come to you on the water.” “Come”, </i>the Master said. Peter did.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">I almost cheered when suddenly, Peter looked at the wind and began to sink. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Help, save me!”</i> The Master caught his hand asking, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Why did you doubt?”</i> Peter did not reply but everyone was amazed when the winds died down as they climbed into the boat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">*Sigh</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">I remember that night when the Master was arrested. Over dinner he spoke about his arrest and crucifixion – not the type of things you talk about over dinner. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Later that evening, we were in the Garden. The Master was scolding us when caught us sleeping for the third time when He has told us to sit while He prays.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Suddenly, there was a group of men carrying torches, clubs and swords. I was afraid as there were only a few of us and we were unarmed. Judas, who ran away at dinner time, was with them. He kissed the Master and the crowd promptly came forward to arrest the Master.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Peter(the impulsive) drew out a sword struck the High Priest’s servant and cut his ear. (I don’t have an explanation why Peter was carrying a sword.) The Master scolded him a bit and told him to put away his sword. The men then arrested the Master and we all ran away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Later, Peter would be in the courtyard, the closest place to where the Master was being tried and sentenced. I thought that it was crazy for him to be there. He just struck the High Priest’s servant and he could be identified by some of the men who were at the garden and be arrested.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Early the next day, I saw Peter, eyes all swollen from crying. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“I disowned the Master three times! I’m so sorry!”</i> I never felt so sorry for Peter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">When the Master was crucified, we were devastated. It must have been doubly devastating for Peter, who disowned the Master three times. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">One night, Peter said, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“I’m going out to fish.”</i> Concerned about Peter(having heard about Judas being found hanging on a tree.), I tagged along together with a few other guys.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">We did not catch any fish that night but I was glad that Peter did not do anything rash and I welcomed the time away from the people. It had been a crazy week for us and a moment of peace was very much needed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Early in the morning, we sat on the boat. None of us talking, just looking into each other’s eyes, missing the Master.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Suddenly, a man on the shore called out to us, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Caught anything, guys?”</i> To which we replied, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“No.”</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Try the other side and you will find some.”</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">We did so and we caught a huge number of fish! <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“It’s the Master!” </i>As soon as Peter heard this, he wore his robe, jumped into the water and swam towards the Master! I was never more pleased with Peter’s impulsiveness than on that morning!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">We followed Peter on our boat which was heavy with the fish we caught. To our surprise a fire was already burning for the fish and there were some bread too. We grilled a few fish and ate bread with the Master. It was the best breakfast I had and will ever will!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">After breakfast, the Master asks Peter three times, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Peter, do you love me?” </i>Peter was hurt but this needed to be done for Peter to get over what happened that night. Three times he disowned the Master, three times he will re-affirm.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Those three events are forever embedded in my memory. But as I sit down on this rock and reminisce, I began to see the events in a different light.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Peter’s impulsiveness often bugged me, at times entertained me especially if Peter fell flat on his face. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">But now, I wonder, what it would have been like to walk on water along with Peter and the master? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">How would it have felt if I stepped in and help Peter defend the Master in the garden? Or came along with Peter in the courtyard and risk everything to be with the Master in His most difficult time?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">How would it have felt to take a bold step and risk it all? What am I afraid of?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Three times I wanted to be impulsive and take risks. Three times I didn’t. I don’t know why it happened but one thing I know for sure: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I will boldly step out in faith and take the risks for Master. I will not spend the rest of my life wondering what could have.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB">I will be bold-whether I will succeed or fail does not matter. What matters is that I fulfill the vision the Master has set before me.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-43624883953076067542011-12-07T22:25:00.003+08:002011-12-12T11:49:35.064+08:00Shepherd's Arms<div style="text-align: justify;">At our company's Christmas party last Sunday, I had the honor of meeting four people, Martin Lamb, Mike Kulig and couple Cris and Mercy Saplina of the Shepherd's Arms Foundation.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Martin and his wife, Amy, are the founders, Mike(who also runs another effort in my city) sits as a board adviser, while Cris and Mercy are the houseparents at the children's home.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;">BUT, Shepherd's Arms is not an ordinary orphanage. A visit to their <a href="http://www.shepherdsarms.org.nz/index.html">website</a>, shows that not only are they running a children's home, they also do outreach(prison ministry, Bible study, feedings and church ministry.)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">What impresses me most are the <a href="http://www.shepherdsarms.org.nz/microenterprises.html">microenterprises</a> that they run. These micro-enterprises not only allow them to be self-sustaining to some extent, bring in some cash to fund operations and outreach activities but also allows for the molding of the children's character and provides livelihood to poor people in the community!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Should you be interested to help out and sponsor a child for US$30/month you can contact them through this email address: <a href="mailto:childrenshome@shepherdsarms.org.nz">childrenshome at shepherdsarms.org.nz</a>. If you want to help in another way, you may contact Martin and Amy directly thru: <a href="mailto:Martin.AmyLamb@shepherdsarms.org.nz">Martin.AmyLamb at shepherdsarms.org.nz</a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Please help spread the word!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-24857394369239979392011-12-07T21:29:00.000+08:002011-12-08T10:54:27.555+08:00GratitudeLast March, I posted online about <a href="http://scribblinginhisuniverse.blogspot.com/2011/03/gratitude_08.html">gratitude</a> and how I received less than what I was believing for. That was nine months ago.<br />
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As of last month, I can say that God pulled through!<br />
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<i>Press on!</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-2298534058447325342011-11-25T23:27:00.002+08:002012-01-11T14:49:16.046+08:00Buffet<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/90/Swedish_buffet-Sm%C3%B6rg%C3%A5sbord-01.jpg/800px-Swedish_buffet-Sm%C3%B6rg%C3%A5sbord-01.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/90/Swedish_buffet-Sm%C3%B6rg%C3%A5sbord-01.jpg/800px-Swedish_buffet-Sm%C3%B6rg%C3%A5sbord-01.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image via <a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/90/Swedish_buffet-Sm%C3%B6rg%C3%A5sbord-01.jpg/800px-Swedish_buffet-Sm%C3%B6rg%C3%A5sbord-01.jpg">Wikipedia</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">When I was a small boy, I was fascinated with things that does more than what they appear to be, those that are all-in-one things.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">A kitchen knife is nothing compared to a Swiss Army Knife that has two knives, a scissor, a corkscrew, a saw, tent needles, etc. A clock is nothing compared to a clock that has a radio, a rechargeable lamp and a siren. Even in the kitchen, a simple blender is nothing compared to a food processor. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Even instant coffee, from the initial coffee-only packs, I have already found out that there are even nine-in-one coffee packs: coffee, sugar, cream and a variety of herbs/mushrooms.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Even in food, a set meal is always inferior to a buffet meal. Somehow being in presence of such abundance gives a feeling of security and warmth.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Being blessed works in the same way too. There is a buffet spread of blessing that is available for every child of God! All for you and me.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I didn't see it this way before. I always thought that I can only ask for spiritual blessings. Material blessings are unholy, unspiritual and therefore not to be asked from God.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Looking at the lives of Biblical characters, there are many who chose to obey God and have been blessed materially. God always has us on His heart. He has plans for us(Jeremiah 29:11)<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span>and no one can ever be able to imagine what God has planned for those who love Him(1 Corinthians 2:9)<span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Having seen these words being fulfilled in the lives of people I know, even in my own life, gives me the confidence that God will fulfill His promises in His own time.<br />
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In times of doubt, when I know God will come through, I put my confidence knowing that <i>"He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all--how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?" </i>Romans 8:32 </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-42011255775193254252011-10-11T01:00:00.002+08:002011-10-16T23:31:04.379+08:00The long goodbye: Saying goodbye to my mother... for the last time430 PM, 1st November, 2008 - Sitting at the airport lounge, waiting for my flight to be called. It was just a few hours ago when I got the call: <i>mother has breathed her last.</i><br />
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Sometime 2006 - I received a text message from my sister: <i>mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease.</i> I looked up what it meant. Hmmm, some neurological disease that attacks the nerves, cure unknown. Then began my family's journey with a disease often described as the 'long goodbye'.<br />
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Christmas 2006 - I am cleaning the bathroom sink. I have just finished the scrubbing the floor. I sense a presence staring at me. It was mother, staring blankly at me, as if I was some stranger.<br />
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2007, 2008 - Long two years. Calls home became infrequent. Insomnia trying to get into my life... again. I dreaded checking my cellphone. Two major surgeries for mother in two years. Everything a blur. Days being marked by twice-a-month trips to the bank.<br />
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Christmas 2007 - ???<br />
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8AM, 1st November, 2008- Sitting at the back of a truck, on the way to a church activity. Received a text message from my sister: <i>mother is in serious condition</i>: Knocked on the roof of the truck, had to get off. Didn't matter that it was a lonely road. On the way home, I call my wife: <i>need to go home today. can you book me a ticket?</i><br />
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By some good turn of events, the airline ticketing office was open, on a holiday. Even better was getting a ticket on one of the busiest days of the year. Grabbed a quick lunch, pack some clothes-yellow shirt, red shirt, heck.<br />
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In half an hour I was at the office, sending instructions to colleagues in case I may need some more time back home. Kept receiving updates every 15 minutes. After a few hours, got <i>the call. She's gone!</i><br />
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I sit at my chair, stunned. Walked a bit to the rest room, sat on the seat and wept. A few minutes later, I was on my way to the airport to catch a 5PM flight.<br />
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6PM - I am at the airport, hailing a taxi for the morgue. At the funeral homes, I take a seat close to the door of one of the rooms. Someone comes and offers a drink, I decline. After almost an hour, I spot my brother-in-law, carrying one of mother's blouses-the one she wore on my wedding, I think. My niece comes in, then my brother and sister, then father. We take a walk downstairs to the morgue. On the table was mother, almost ready to be brought home. No signs of the disease that took her. She looked as beautiful at her prime.<br />
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We took her home on the limousine. At home, I was met by strangers, not strangers to the rest of the family. Funeral guys set up the lamps and coffin stand. Not in the mood for dinner. All I want is privacy, for everyone to stay at a distance and just allow immediate family to gather and speak to her, reassuring ourselves that everything is in God's hands.<br />
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Surprisingly, I didn't cry. On the plane, I had decided to be strong for the family. To allow them to grieve while I 'keep everything together.' Slept in the same room about six feet from the coffin.<br />
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2nd November 2008 - Relatives started to arrive - many of them I've met again after nearly a decade. They truly helpful Christians. Kept the family encouraged without being churchy.<br />
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3rd November 2008 - Wife arrives, met her at a shopping mall while I bought some supplies. Had dinner with her before going home.<br />
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The rest of the days leading up to the funeral were a blur. I marked the hours by frequent trips to the bathroom. 'Keeping everything together' resulted to days of indigestion and diarrhea. <br />
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On the eve of the funeral, we came to a decision that I deliver the eulogy. I collapse in exhaustion. <i>How does one describe my mother in a few minutes?</i> I was tired due to lack of sleep, frequent trips to the bathroom and 'keeping everything together.' My wife, a very wise woman, told me just what I need to her, <i>Go to sleep, you will know what to say tomorrow.</i><br />
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8th of November 2008 - We carry the coffin into the waiting limousine while the rest of the family were singing <i>Still</i>.<br />
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At the cemetery, I stand in front of a crowd - mostly strangers. All wanting to pay their final respects to mother. I delivered a spontaneous eulogy then we said our final goodbyes. <i>No tears came out, still keeping everything together.</i><br />
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I am at peace. Whatever pain she was experiencing is gone. She can freely move around now, hip is A-ok.<br />
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Postcript: Someone once said that life is meant to be lived forward and understood backward. A lot of great things have transpired since and my family has changed so much through mother's final years.<br />
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Almost two years to the day of the funeral, my wife gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, nine years after we got married. A miracle.<br />
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Whenever my patience is tested, I close my eyes and see my father taking care of my mother, who most probably no longer recognized him-I would not wish that pain on anyone.<br />
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Whenever I find it challenging to love, I think about the times he carried her in his arms from one place to another. I think of the many sleepless nights he spent listening to her breathe.<br />
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I am blessed to have seen such an example of intense love.<br />
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a.m.d.g.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-75082705334174807752011-07-05T22:02:00.028+08:002013-05-16T21:05:13.575+08:00On the boat: Waiting for the love of my life…<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
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<i>(Note: This post came about as I recalled some of my experiences of waiting. This could be a series of posts inspired after reading Eileen Button's <a href="http://mybooktable.blogspot.com/2011/07/book-review-waiting-place-learning-to.html">The Waiting Place</a>.)</i><br />
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Dec. 21, 1991… It is already 6PM and I am at the deck of the ferry boat looking towards the gate of the pier where people are gathering to get in... I’ve been here since 4PM… She told me that Christmas season is rush time for ferry travel so I must come early… There’s no way she could have come earlier than me… I have to wait outside the ship until they let me in a few minutes before 4PM… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Where is she?</i> …</div>
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June <span style="text-align: justify;">1991</span> First day in college… No friends from high school and just one relative about an hour away… I’m back to being at the bottom of school life… Freshman again after being a high school senior… Strange place to be… So many different languages in one classroom… Got to get in touch with the campus ministry very soon or I might end up joining fraternities or something…</div>
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July <span style="text-align: justify;">1991</span> So this is campus ministry… So many languages in so small a center… Met a few freshies from my class who were also educated by the Jesuits… not bad after all... Wham! Cute girl walks up the stairs… Yellow blouse with gray stripes… Cute dimples, chinky eyes… <i>No, must not look… She might get offended… </i></div>
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She’s from the same college… a sophomore from another department… She seems nice… gotta get up some courage to ask her name… <i>Oh great! We have name tags… Do I use my given name or my nickname? </i>…. Nickname…</div>
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Oh great she enjoys singing church songs… I can glance at her when I’m the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sacristan</i>…</div>
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August <span style="text-align: justify;">1991</span> Just found out that she has a class a few classrooms from mine… If I can only find out where she passes by for that class... Just great, she and her friends pass by my classroom… Better find an excuse, even a lame one, to come to class <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">after </i>they pass by… Just to say hi…</div>
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Another friend who is a senior has found out my liking for her… <i>Hope he puts in a good word about me before I tell her…</i> I can’t keep on stealing glances during mass or lightning might strike me…</div>
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September <span style="text-align: justify;">1991</span> “Yes, Father, I’m interested.” The Jesuits have found me… Somehow my inquiry about priesthood got to the vocations director. He’s here… giving me an IQ test…</div>
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Now… <i>do I really want to become a priest? Or do I want to spend the rest of my life with this girl?</i> Silly questions when I haven’t even mustered the courage to reveal my feelings…</div>
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October <span style="text-align: justify;">1991</span> Semestral break is coming… I need some time away from her and the vocation director… hopefully getting more clarity… even muster enough courage if I need to…</div>
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The break breezes by uneventfully… spent time with high school friends… No clarity… <i>Oh, God give me a sign… I’m going back to school this weekend…</i> Is it priesthood or not?...</div>
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Nov 1996… In the bus… traveling for six hours towards the other coast where I would ride a ferry… REO Speedwagon’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I can’t fight this feeling any longer</i> humming in my ears… Feeling like my heart would burst… I might see her tomorrow at the campus ministry center… will she remember me?...</div>
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On the boat now… shooting aliens at the video game arcade…tiring myself in order to get some sleep… </div>
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The ships PA system comes alive… the island is visible… we are docking in about two hours… man… maybe catching some rays from sunrise would do me good… </div>
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Now at the deck… instant coffee in one hand… cheap bread on the other… </div>
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<i>Wha???... </i>That striped blouse beside me looks familiar… <i>could…it…be…her?</i> She turns her head… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Hi! So you’re on the same boat? Where are you from?”</i> … managed to reply… my head is spinning… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh my, oh my!... Is this the sign, Lord?... Oh my, oh my!...</i></div>
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An hour later, I’m carrying my bag and a box of fresh <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">durian fruit</i>... People around me cover their noses… Then a familiar voice … <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Are you carrying durian?”</i> … <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh my, this is going to be embarrassing… “That’s my favorite fruit!”</i>… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Another sign, Lord?</i></div>
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Classes have started… Ministry meetings too… Groups have been formed… <i>Great, we’re on the same group… </i>I volunteer to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sacristan </i>in the 715AM mass… she volunteers to sing in the choir three times a week…</div>
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I come in 630AM to prepare the chapel, mass elements and priest’s vestments… She comes in at 7AM to help out… In a few weeks time, we begin chatting… I’m beginning to like her more and more…</div>
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December <span style="text-align: justify;">1991</span>… After ministry meeting, she pulls me aside… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Hey, we’ve been chatting before morning mass and you never told me that you like this certain girl…Why don’t you tell me? Maybe I can help out. Maybe you can also help me about this boy…” </i>… My heart sinks… <i>this boy…lucky guy</i><i>…</i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“So who is she?”… “You…”… “I knew it…”… “What do you mean you knew?”…”I just know…So do you want to help me with the boy?”… </i>Long silence…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> “So… who…is…he…?”… “You are so dense… you don’t know?”… </i>she leaves… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So who is he???</i></div>
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I’m in a retreat… with people from the ministry… I sit beside my best friend… she and her friends sit two rows in front of us… She keeps on glancing towards the back… caught her glancing at me once or twice… Maybe just my imagination… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Who is he?</i></div>
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19<sup>th</sup>… It’s my birthday… She told me she has a present for me… but I have to be early before the morning mass… unfortunately, I was late… day goes on… met her and some friends at lunch… bought ice cream for everyone… she tells me that she will give my present later after the afternoon mass… can’t wait for the day to end…</div>
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Later, I’m sitting on a stairway with her… just chatting… last day of school tomorrow… Christmas vacation for two and a half weeks…. I give her a Christmas present, one I’ve bought in October from back home…</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Now close your eyes, and I’ll give your birthday present…” I hate surprises… I hate it even more with eyes closed…</i>She gives me a very nice present… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Do you know who the boy is?”… “…me…???”… “Yes”… “So are we a couple now?”… “Nope… not that easy. Be sure to come early to the wharf on Saturday. Holiday rush. We’re probably on the same boat again”… </i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Where could she be?... Could she be on the other ferry boat?...</i> More minutes pass… I have already decided not to leave my spot until the ferry leaves… </div>
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In the corner of my eye, I see her so clearly… in the midst of the crowd, there she is with her sister and some friends easing their way into <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my </i>ferry… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">our</i> ferry… </div>
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I rush down to meet her and help carry her stuff… She looked surprised, not expecting to be found by me… <i>'found by me'</i>-there's a nice ring to it...</div>
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The wait is over… I found her… finally…</div>
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<img alt="" class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=c9af9e9e-0cd9-4261-ac5e-6280c82e2c59" style="border: none; float: right;" /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-39033483614474122822011-05-30T22:27:00.004+08:002011-06-01T10:56:05.667+08:00Changes... <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_photog.php?photogid=2280" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="131px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH2aopIEpDlbCodwEXtBf1n3hg-xS9BKu8AhvjG0yVMQ5aH3fdenFdXlQvreMWFhENv4ltrVyESPiyX8_3iSmzInD19bRRRcL_Bx-Gvr9-dHLkihjA3vmhrRs6My7KDsrRCVH8/s200/3700572yss7h1sh.jpg" t8="true" width="200px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">digitalart / FreeDigitalPhotos.net</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Early this year, rumours of changes in my company, specifically in our research organization, started to circulate. Rumours ranged from budget cuts to disbandment.</span></div><span lang="EN-US"> </span> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-US">Last month, the official decision was relayed to me by my boss: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">our organization is being disbanded and our next assignments were still being figured out.</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No other information was given.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-US">What followed in the next few weeks were frantic attempts on my part to strategize and come up with proposals to various scenarios. I felt that we were already on our own and once other groups find out, they will quickly choose those they want on their team. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Images of slaves being sold to the highest bidder came to mind as I grappled with the reality of the disbandment.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-US">It was only when I had accepted the fact, short of a Divine intervention, that nothing I can do or say will reverse the decision - me being many levels below in the corporate org chart and being half-a-world away from corporate HQ, did I felt relief from the uncertainty. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-US">It was time to step back and wait on God as He fights this battle for me. I had to muster what little faith that I have to just let God. I did all I can and the battle has shifted in the realm of God.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-US">I’m glad I did. My fears were unfounded and God pulled through. Though our boss, his boss and his boss’ boss have been reassigned and our overseas counterparts have been assigned to any of three new teams, our local team remains intact. Fears of projects being cancelled did not materialize. Rumours of being reassigned to less fulfilling roles did not happen. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-US">Through these events I have learned to trust God more. He's my real Boss anyway. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-US">More of Him, less of me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Press On!</span></i></div><div class="zemanta-pixie" style="height: 15px; margin-top: 10px;"><img alt="" class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=8eff64dc-ccbc-4393-a851-2479070cac46" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; float: right;" /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-80395786420945720952011-03-08T22:32:00.004+08:002011-06-01T10:56:53.467+08:00Gratitude<div style="text-align: justify;">Being grateful is easy when one receives what he expected or when he receives something unexpected. But when one receives less, or worse, nothing, gratitude becomes the last thing on one's mind.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Recently, I received something less than what I've been praying for. I can say it's a little over half than what I was believing for. Naturally, there was disappointment and religiosity came into play. <i>Not prayerful enough? Did not spend a lot of time doing rituals? Not reading my Bible according to the guide? Etc.</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It took a few hours before I remembered that it is still March and there are nine more months left for the prayer to be answered.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The best thing is, God has more than one opportunity to amaze me in that area!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Press on!</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">PS I have been thinking of starting another blog on gratitude. Thinking about getting collaborators to help provide content/praise reports on how God showed up for them.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-24121771234057882212011-03-07T22:26:00.005+08:002011-03-08T22:09:12.070+08:00New URLI changed the URL of this blog to <a href="http://scribblinginhisuniverse.blogspot.com/">ScribblingInHisUniverse.blogspot.com</a> to be consistent with the blog name.<br />
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When I started this blog, the intention was to capture moments in my life and to draw out lessons and scribble about these things within God's universe, that He might be glorified and magnified.<br />
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'He must increase, but I must decrease.' - John 3:30<br />
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<i>Press On!</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-20312171743994406262010-11-09T20:30:00.000+08:002011-03-07T13:24:05.577+08:00SmittenSaw her for the first time today. I'm definitely smitten. The most beautiful thing next to mom.<br />
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If I, an imperfect dad, could be so smitten with my daughter, how smitten could God be with us, He being the perfect Father?<br />
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*sigh*<br />
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a.m.d.g.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-5657561871592670592010-11-08T23:54:00.000+08:002011-03-05T17:05:19.819+08:00Long DayI woke up this morning to my wife's voice, "Daddy, it's time to go."<br />
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"Huh? Where?"<br />
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"Labor room."<br />
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I sprang from bed. Must have been adrenaline rush. Half-panicking I walked down the stairs, did a final check on the seven-week-old luggage in the trunk and added my favorite <em>malong</em> in the bag.<br />
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After a quick bite, we headed of to the lab to pick up some test results done last Saturday. I found myself getting impatient. "Where's the in-charge? The sign says 7AM - 5PM." And only to find out it was still 6:45a.m.<br />
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By 7:30AM, we were at the door of the labor room. It was the beginning of another round of tests to check on the baby. Only the mother is allowed in so I stayed outside, with her girly handbag and a pile of clothes as she had changed into hospital clothes. I kept pacing the floor for an hour or two before I decided to have a quick breakfast.<br />
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After breakfast, I met some people from CordLife, while texting and calling some of my wife's clients. So I had a few hour's worth of experience in her shoes, how it is to be in sales. After getting her some food, it became quiet, too quiet. No calls, no text messages. Too quiet that I was able to finish two local newspapers.<br />
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Near noontime, I was advised to get a room and <em>wait</em>. By this time I had drained my mobile phone's batteries after using it as a radio and I may have probably worn down my slippers by a few millimeters.<br />
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After a quick lunch, I went back to the waiting area. My favorite radio station has already switched to Chinese. So I had no other form of entertainment but looking at the new babies in the nursery. <br />
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After a few hours, I decided to go home, pick up a few documents, my netbook and maybe a new reading material. When I came back, my wife met me at the door and told me to stay in the room and watch cable. I complied but wasn't really interested in watching any TV.<br />
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At about 4PM, the nurse called informing me that my wife requested to be brought to the room to 'freshen up'. I didn't understand what it meant to I went to the labor room to fetch her. The labor room is on the second floor of another building while our room is on the tenth of another building, a good 10 minute walk.<br />
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While waiting for the orderly and the wheelchair, I bought my dinner and a few snacks and cola for the night. She was very happy to be in the room as the labor room was bare, devoid of any entertainment and no mobile phones allowed. The only sound any mother-to-be would hear are moans from labor pains, not a good place to be.<br />
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We had dinner. She had a chance to check e-mails as we had in-room wifi access. Had an hour or two just laughing and staring at each other, then watching her favorite tv show. After freshening up, she was wheeled back to the labor room at around 10PM.<br />
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So here I am now, 12 midnight and about to fall asleep when I received a call. If labor does not progress tonight, CS will be performed at 5AM.<br />
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So here goes another can of cola...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-18955437522294011672010-10-10T14:23:00.006+08:002011-03-05T16:58:35.333+08:00Stormwalker<span style="font-size: x-small;">Note: The idea for this post came up while I was doing a </span><a href="http://mybooktable.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size: x-small;">book review</span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"> for Max Lucado's book <i>Fearless: Imagine your Life Without Fear.</i></span><br />
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As I am reading a chapter from a book I'm reviewing, I was amazed by the vividness of the author's description on what could have transpired on the fishing boat during the New Testament story about the storm. <br />
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In the story, the apostles were fearful for their lives while Jesus lay asleep. Before that night, the apostles should have already seen Jesus doing amazing things and that the storm shouldn't have been a cause for alarm, but it did alarm them. They woke Jesus and He commanded for the wind to be still and it followed.<br />
I remember many events in my life when Jesus came through for me in the midst of my own spiritual battles and I should already have enough faith for the daily challenges of life. But I didn't. I am one of those who have <i>spiritual amnesia</i>.<br />
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A few weeks ago, my bosses came for a visit and about the same time other execs also came. We were scheduled to have an event and everything was going well until I checked on the execs' credentials. <br />
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One of the execs graduated from the same field as I did and he had vast experiences in the same industry. I became scared and I panicked! The night before the presentation, I lost sleep running various scenarios in my head, making sure the team and I would be able to answer any technical questions.<br />
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However, morning came and the time to present came and went. None of my fears materialized. Everything went smooth.<br />
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On another occasion, Jesus went out to pray while the apostles were on the boat, waiting on Him. Suddenly, they saw Jesus walking on the water. Peter, impulsive as he was, predictably volunteered to walk on water towards Jesus. After a few successful steps, he began sinking as soon as he realized that he was walking on deep waters. And as soon as he cried for help, Jesus came to his rescue.<br />
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As I look back, I find myself in the shoes of Peter, wanting to do great things for God, yet never having the focus to fix my eyes on Jesus. <i>So I sink.</i> <br />
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Yet I take hope that when I cry out, Jesus' hand will be there.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-91171140091640985882010-08-07T13:07:00.002+08:002011-03-05T17:04:12.935+08:00Day 30: Live again!<div style="color: blue; direction: ltr; font-family: Verdana;"><div><span style="color: black;">Having reached this part of the book and being able to write my thoughts means that I didn't die before the book was over! :p</span></div><div></div><div><span style="color: black; font-family: verdana;">Kidding aside, I've learned a lot throughout the journey and the book closed with four reminders on how to live better moving forward.</span></div><div></div><div><span style="color: black; font-family: verdana;">Just four words...</span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: black;"><em>Love</em>...</span></span></div><div><em><span style="color: black; font-family: verdana;">Integrity...</span></em></div><div><em><span style="color: black; font-family: verdana;">Forgiveness...</span></em></div><div><em><span style="color: black; font-family: verdana;">Enthusiasm...</span></em></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-30773217168766030252010-08-02T08:55:00.002+08:002011-03-05T17:04:12.935+08:00Day 29: Almost home...<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<div>A couple of years ago, I was reading <i>Purpose Driven Life</i> and it dawned on me that I have a lot of things to improved on how I live my life.</div><div></div><div>First, I was living as though I'd be forever alive on earth. I spent a lot of time and money getting knowledge, upgrading gadgets and accumulating stuff.</div><div></div><div>I then realized one thing that has been in my mind ever since: <i>If my lifetime is a drop of water, eternity is much larger than the Pacific ocean! </i></div><div></div><div>It is then important to maintain an eternity perspective in the present. </div><div></div><div>Unlike work where we can render overtime to finish unfinished business, life rarely provides the same opportunity. When the buzzer rings, it's game over. Only a few could get to do overtime.</div><div></div><div>But we have the gift of time called <i>everyday</i> to do the things that needed to be done until we finally go home...</div><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-69471132075983311012010-07-29T12:40:00.002+08:002011-03-05T17:04:12.936+08:00Day 28: Sandman is here...<div>Quite a few times I have seen pictures of places where someone has written on a wall, <i>"Joe was here"</i>. This reflects the human need to tell the world not only <i>"Been there, done that"</i>, but also attempting to leave visible marks that they were actually there.<br />
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Early in my life, I had that dream too, <i>to make a big mark on earth</i>, to make a contribution that is so big. <br />
In my growing years, that dream was replaced by skepticism, <i>No way can I leave that big mark, what can one man do?, </i>and paving the way for an inner struggle.<br />
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When I met Christ, my hopes were renewed because the Scripture promises that "I can do all things in Christ who strengthens me. (Phil 4:13)".<br />
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Yet much of what we can do spiritually converges on a practical need in this world. Like Jesus who was sent to a world in need of a Savior, we Christians are here<span class="985323204-29072010"> on earth</span> to be his arms and feet.<br />
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Let me give <span class="985323204-29072010">provide some</span> example<span class="985323204-29072010">s</span>.<span class="985323204-29072010"> Here is one from a guy I actually know: seeing a need in a small village and worked on meeting that <a href="http://baktincorporation.blogspot.com/2010/07/sitio-kangko-update.html">need</a>. Another one is a is group called <a href="http://www.obphil.org/">Operation Blessing</a>.</span><br />
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<span class="985323204-29072010">I leave my own mark in countless ways. I may not be a preacher nor someone who can provide scriptures to any need, yet I know that there are things that only I can do and in doing them, I leave my mark.</span><br />
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<span class="985323204-29072010">Most of my marks will be forgotten when I'm gone. Only those marks I create with God will remain...</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-5747390837425905792010-07-27T12:15:00.001+08:002011-03-05T17:04:12.937+08:00Day 27: Safe...<font face="Verdana, sans-serif" size="2"> <div>I remember when I was young. I rode a bike without any protective gear, drank water from the faucet, and wrestled my dogs to my heart's content.</div> <div> </div> <div>Now, kids wore protective gear that make them look like gladiators. People would drink water sold in plastic bottles and would never allow children to touch furry animals. All in the name of safety!</div> <div> </div> <div>I was in another city for the past few days and had the opportunity to listen to quite a few interesting people: <i>CNN hero of the year, a lady pastor from Nigeria, a communist leader-turned-pastor, a world-famous songwriter-singer-worship pastor, etc. </i>And there were two more who, for security reasons, asked not to be named.</div> <div> </div> <div>Listening to these people made me think about how 'safe' my life is. I only drink filtered or distilled water, wear my seatbelt always, install protective gear around the house to protect the little ones against bruises and bumps, etc. Day in and day out, I press buttons on a keyboard and roll the mouse wheel… Day in and day out, I struggle against leading prayer even if it's only me and my wife listening… </div> <div> </div> <div>I often dreamed of wanting to do something great for God. But most of the time, what is big is small and what is small can be big, in God's eyes. </div> <div> </div> <div>So how do I start living big for God? Maybe all it takes is just a walk across the room...</div> <div> </div> <div> </div> </font> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-69418438437932787172010-07-20T12:55:00.001+08:002011-03-05T17:04:12.937+08:00Day 26: Crash!!!<font face="Verdana, sans-serif" size="2"> <div>When I was a boy, I enjoyed playing with Lego, letting two of my <i>creations</i> smash against each other with pieces flying in multiple directions. Then I pick up the pieces and put back the <i>creations </i>together again and do the smashing all over again.</div> <div> </div> <div>I wish life was that way. Being able to mess up things, letting the pieces fly knowing that at the end, I can put it back the way it was before.</div> <div> </div> <div>But life isn't. People mess things up for everyone else. But most of the time, I do the messing up myself without any help from anyone!</div> <div> </div> <div>I've been in those times when I felt that I've messed beyond my capacity of fixing and had let God do the fixing for me. Looking back, I wouldn't have messed up in the first place if I followed what God said.</div> <div> </div> <div>Many things in this world cannot be fixed by man. I feel blessed knowing that God does not treat the world the way I treated my Legos….</div> <div> </div> </font> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-67379326605496873222010-07-15T10:05:00.001+08:002011-03-05T17:04:12.938+08:00Day 25: Bridges to eternity<font face="Verdana, sans-serif" size="2"> <div>Everyday, we build 'bridges'. </div> <div> </div> <div>We build 'bridges' to allow us to go from where we are to where we want to go. This could be earning a living, exercising, etc.</div> <div> </div> <div>Everyday, we build bridges for others too. We help others get to where they want to go. This could be acts of service(a.k.a. chores!), work-related tasks, or even just connecting people with other people.</div> <div> </div> <div>This year, I've decided to keep myself and my wife healthier by taking control of what we eat during breakfast. The morning starts with me peeling vegetables and juicing them. Then I clean the juicer before I start cooking Rolled oats that make up the rest of the meal. The next morning the same activities all over again. The result: no major illnesses.</div> <div> </div> <div>After breakfast, I play with a nephew. I build a tower using blocks and he topples it down. Then I build again, he topples it. This goes on until we find another thing to do over and over again.</div> <div> </div> <div>Isn't that a lot like the life most people are living? We do the motions of living and do it all over again the next day. Our 'bridges' last for no longer a day! :( </div> <div> </div> <div>Yet there are bridges that we can build that lasts until eternity. These are those bridges that lead others to God. </div> <div> </div> <div>Bridges to eternity… the rest are bridges to nowhere...</div> <div> </div> </font> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-71944720109286374932010-07-13T16:50:00.001+08:002011-03-05T17:04:12.939+08:00Day 24: Sowing<font face="Verdana, sans-serif" size="2"> <div>Life is like sowing seeds. We reap what we sow.</div> <div> </div> <div>Many times we are impressed with people who have already 'made it'. They have the big things in life.</div> <div> </div> <div>But again God looks at the heart. It is what's inside that really matters. What's inside will eventually determine what we sow.</div> <div> </div> <div>Honestly, I do desire good things life has to offer. The challenge now is not to use them as crutches or treating them as the meaning for my existence. </div> <div> </div> <div>Instead, these are to be treated as blessings with me as a steward.</div> <div> </div> <div>Sometimes I ponder, what if my seeds are small? What if these seeds can bring fruit that will make a big impact? I am reminded that I can plant and water the seeds but only God can make it grow.</div> <div> </div> <div>The key is to plant seeds, no matter how small.</div> <div> </div> <div>Nothing grows if I plant rocks….</div> <div> </div> </font> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-81320901017028571062010-07-12T13:03:00.001+08:002011-03-05T17:04:12.939+08:00Day 23: Sandcastles...<DIV><SPAN class=414294704-12072010><FONT face=Verdana>When I was a kid, I enjoyed building sand forts with my cousins. We would build a fort each and then start battles using 'cannon balls' made of sand.</FONT></SPAN></DIV> <DIV><SPAN class=414294704-12072010><FONT face=Verdana></FONT></SPAN> </DIV> <DIV><SPAN class=414294704-12072010><FONT face=Verdana>Eventually, one 'king' would be declared winner and his fort will be left alone while the loser's, or what's left of it will be 'pillaged' and 'burned to the ground'.</FONT></SPAN></DIV> <DIV><SPAN class=414294704-12072010><FONT face=Verdana></FONT></SPAN> </DIV> <DIV><SPAN class=414294704-12072010><FONT face=Verdana>At the end of the day, the tide comes in and washes away the forts. No traces are left...</FONT></SPAN></DIV> <DIV><SPAN class=414294704-12072010><FONT face=Verdana></FONT></SPAN> </DIV> <DIV><SPAN class=414294704-12072010><FONT face=Verdana>In real life, we do the same too. We strive and accumulate everything that we can, most of the time forgetting what really matters until it is too late. </FONT></SPAN></DIV> <DIV><SPAN class=414294704-12072010><FONT face=Verdana></FONT></SPAN> </DIV> <DIV><SPAN class=414294704-12072010><FONT face=Verdana>I was in the same place once but a visit to the <A href="http://sandman1274.blogspot.com/2010/04/forgotten.html">Howff</A> reminded me of what really mattered to me.</FONT></SPAN></DIV> <DIV><SPAN class=414294704-12072010><FONT face=Verdana></FONT></SPAN> </DIV> <DIV><SPAN class=414294704-12072010><FONT face=Verdana>All the the possessions that I hold valuable could be just trash to everyone else. All the awards, pieces of cold metal. Such is life, value is relative to the one who sees it.</FONT></SPAN></DIV> <DIV><SPAN class=414294704-12072010><FONT face=Verdana></FONT></SPAN> </DIV> <DIV><SPAN class=414294704-12072010><FONT face=Verdana>Yet everything done for Christ will endure forever...</FONT></SPAN></DIV> <DIV><SPAN class=414294704-12072010><FONT face=Verdana></FONT></SPAN> </DIV> <DIV><SPAN class=414294704-12072010><FONT face=Verdana></FONT></SPAN> </DIV>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-57463166425438701332010-07-09T17:58:00.000+08:002011-03-05T17:04:12.940+08:00Day 22: Perspective<font face="Verdana, sans-serif" size="2"> <div>A lot of times we focus too much on our circumstances and forget that God is much bigger. And all it needs is a change in perspective: <i>looking through God's eyes, not ours.</i></div> <div> </div> <div>The author puts it beautifully when he wrote:<i>"To shift to the positive and discover God's perspective, you must look through the yes of faith. When you do, suddenly your attitude change provides room for God to work a miracle in your life. God loves to take the little bit we have and multiply it, because then He alone gets the credit. God loves to take the ordinary and do the extraordinary, because is doing so He reveals more of who He is."</i></div> <div> </div> <div>Sigh…</div> <div> </div> <div>'nuff said.</div> <div> </div> </font> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11484569.post-74578818706908397562010-07-08T12:42:00.001+08:002011-03-05T17:04:12.940+08:00Day 21: The whole picture...<font face="Verdana, sans-serif" size="2"> <div>Wouldn't it be nice to be able to look back at life and say we lived it the way we wanted?</div> <div> </div> <div>We did what we wanted to do… we said what we wanted to say… Instead of doing things for the sake of existing or holding back words just to be safe?</div> <div> </div> <div>What if who I am at work is the same guy at church? The same guy at home?</div> <div> </div> <div>What if I can actually spend more time with the things that make my heart come alive? What if I can say what I mean and mean what I say… ALL the time?</div> <div> </div> <div>If I look at my whole life as a painting, there would be areas that are in vibrant colors, areas in my life where I would be glad to share to the world. And then there are these areas that I would really like to cover up with fresh, vibrant paint, areas that could use second, third, <i>n</i>th coatings.</div> <div> </div> <div>I take heart knowing that as a Christian, Jesus already repainted those areas! I only need to see those areas as they are in God's eyes and not see them as they were in the past.</div> <div> </div> </font> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1