Of childhood days I remember

My family was very poor then. But we were happy.

My mum sewed for a living to support us. She often worked late till midnight most of the days, alternating between two commercial sewing machines in the kitchen industriously. The humming sound generated from the machines was part of my bedtime lullaby that often lulled me to sleep while I am a kid.

I remembered enjoying the moments talking to my mum as I stood tiptoe by her side, my shoulders barely touching the top of the sewing machine, watching in awe and captivated by her finger work as she painstakingly put together the pieces of cloth, running them nimbly through the needle; weaving and threading the fabric into beautiful dresses. My fingers works like bear paws and fumbled with the needle, so I was never successfully in claiming any of her wonderful sewing skills.

Most of my dresses were sewed by my mum. I recalled having one with pleated yellow hems, a sailor moon collar and a little smart tie which become my favorite. Another of my pet dress would be a white lacy print dress with ribbons tied to the back that made me look like a little angel. In times like this, the dresses that I had back then would have considered ‘exclusive’ by classification given they were hand-sewed and specially tailored. Indeniably, they were my treasured posessions.

The day often starts with the raw materials delivered in a van and I would diligently accompany my mom downstairs to help her drag the bags up to our house.

Our kitchen was a place for every flurry activity. The bags of fabric are emptied to the floor as my mom rummaged through them, teaching my brother and me how to snip off excessive threads with scissors. My brother and I helped out wherever we can in between our studies. We were careful not to mix up the pieces as each represent different parts of a dress and would line them up in heaps like mole hills from one end of the kitchen to the entrance for easy identification. The trail sometimes extends to the living room depending on the delivery, which normally account for about one hundred dresses by batch based on the factory demand.

Naïve and young, my brother and I would leap across the mole hills of cloth, manuveuring between tiny spaces and stealing fun amidst the hard work for play. We would race each other across the kitchen, hugging the kitchen cabinets and walls as we giggled and chuckled when we knocked things over. Occasionally, we would compete against each other for the fastest person to complete the thread snipping. Other times, we would get into a frenzy trying to find a missing piece, furrowing our brows as we counted and check the heaps of fabric all over again. And when we finally found the missing puzzle, we squealed with delight.

Sometimes, my cherub little cousin would come over for stay and we formed the monstrous jumble of three, often not paying heed to my mum’s pea-hen like quarks to discipline us when we got too rowdy. My tomboy-like cousin love to get into a sparring pillow fight with my brother, howling with joy if she won victoriously and got him sprawling on the ground or his face pressed against the wall with a bolster. Naturally, I and my brother were the better assistants to mum, with my mischievous cousin, occasionally trying to copy our work but fumbled with her scissors even though I knew that she was earnest to help. That was how adorable she is.

At the end of the day, we are rewarded with plain sugared crackers and cups of hot cocoa to dip in. The only tea time treats that we can afford to have in those days. But boy, although the tea treat was simple, it remained today our favorite tea special talk as my cousin and I reminisce the nostalgic days together whenever she is back from New York for vacation.

A Refreshing Perspective

Relocating to another office, viewing rental places and getting ready for a work trip to Salt Lake City, Utah had me going in a circuitous busyness recently.
In the midst of a list of to-dos and schedules that I have packed myself into commitment during this period of changes and transition, I still manage to carve out a little time to the library for some books, this time I thought Christian reading is what I need. Right on the tall towering shelves, I chanced upon Philip Yancey’s 'Soul Survivor' and fell in love with it instantly as I laid hands on it.

I have progressed to the stage whereby finding books to read depend intuitively on the “feel” and “visual” senses I have on the book, of knowing that it is the right book to start with and that there is hardly a need to force myself to go beyond the “tenth” page in self denial.

Philip Yancey wrote in rhetoric expressions about being a follower of CS Lewis’s writings who in turn discovered G.K Chesterton that inspired him and eventually provide both authors motivating exemplification in writing their own works.

In his book, Philip wrote about the incessant joy in words , writing and returning to God:

“Their words sustained me, a lifeline of faith in a sea of turmoil and doubt. I became a writer. I have said, in large part because I realized the power of words in my own life, words that could sail across time and an ocean and quietly, gently work a transformation of healing and hope. More time would pass before I fully returned to faith, but at least I had models of what life-enhancing will look like. “

I felt a monotonous tone often in my life recently with joy suppressed that many a time this feeling manifest in my dreams recently in recurring themes. I hate the dullness and ordinariness of everything. The tight, restrained and repressing feeling gained in intensity each day like a general greyness that draped over my life. Worst, it is general and not spectacular. I think I am seeking something I can control. Writing becomes inadvertently my vent and creative outlet for release in a purposeful way.

I realised writing has become an essential tool for my self gratification. I know I can remain true to myself and exercise free will in my thoughts. Indeed a perfect way for me to keep my idealism burning and my energy flow going. You know it when this desire emanates from your heart, small and steady, dissipating and to let it out, expressions in writing becomes an inevitable part to act on this desire, it feeds and expresses the soul. How exuberating this way. On the contrary, it saddens me that we often keep our random thoughts floating in the mind and leaving it slowly dissipating into thin air. Eventually, we find ourselves living a conscious life with the treasures and true richness of thoughts subconsciously drowned in icy depth of our being.

This refreshing perspective and its actualization towards writing fills me with embullience. Just being able to uncover the richness of it brings joy, agreed?

The Big Picture

This subject came to me coincidentally in various situations over the past three consecutive days.

I attended a simple training on Friday on customer relationship management. Somehow or rather, the facilitator touches upon the three basic steps towards success. As many will find, these principles not new. Here it goes…

1) Know the outcome – The BIG picture.
2) Use your visual, auditory & kinesthetic senses to identify signs ahead.
3) Have the flexibility to change and adapt in order to reach your goal.

I wasn’t really a fan of self-help advice like this. Maybe the ambitious part of me does not exist! But I do wonder what exactly is the big picture that I would like to have. Sorting this out can be frustrating and a pain for me, as besides the milestones and little goals that I can think of, I was never able to successfully conjure up a BIG picture in my life, no matter how hard I try. The idea of visualizing or fantasizing a BIG picture always tick me off, either I find the outcome too materialistic, lack of personal feel, not satisfying to the soul or something that is not close enough to my heart. Perhaps, my ability to creatively think out of the box and imagine anything is incredibly poor. Perhaps, the reality of life have sucked dry my creative brain juice. Sometime, I gets dizzy and confused, going round and round always trying to find a solution and answer, sometimes I feel I am in a life deadlock.

A car, huge house, a lovely husband? Or be soulfully happy and live simple? I need an image which is higher, larger, deeper, more meaningful and authentic than this! Surely there is more to life than just claiming all these?

So you see, I cannot but reprimand myself for being a failure and lacking the persistence to pursue a Big picture for myself. I feel so ashamed.

On Saturday, I sat in for the church sermon with this question mark shelved to the back burner of my mind, hoping to relax for some lovely hymns and inspiring words of God. Then a message flashed across the screen as Pastor present the topic of the day - The Big picture. Not again. I shifted uneasily in my seat, wondering why the same subject appeared again in front of me.

The pastor rumbled off with quotes and stories from the revelations chapter and spoke about life beyond eternity, all of which I happily tune in to. The sermon was inspiring and receives spontaneous applause from the audience. I left the church feeling even closer to God. God is good, I thought.

On Sunday, I decided to continue reading a book that I have picked up from the library. As I finished off the first paragraph of chapter two, I was startled by the next paragraph heading as it read – The larger Scene (isn't this synomonous to the Big picture?). As I read on, the following words resonate in my heart :

Jan Winebrenner wrote :

“Most of the time, there is no easy answers. Often, there are no answers at all. We stew in confusion and shout our “whys.”

Later on, she wrote about the truth :

“When we encounter God, in His transcendent glory, nothing else matters. Hearing His voice, actually experiencing communion with Him, removes all other yearnings – for answers, for explanations, for anything but God himself. We don’t expect this. We don’t even know we want it! But when catastrophe has cut us off from all other comfort, when God Himself enters our experience, His transcendent majesty dwarfs all other comforts, His voice silences all other voices ,and His love overwhelms all other loves. We find out, for the first time in our lives, that it is God who we want. It is God who we crave and desire; it is only God who can satisfy us. "

“Always, always, he surpasses our imagination. He is beyond our ability to fully understand. Always, He ultimately exceeds our hopes and dreams.

Every gesture, every contact God initiates with us comes from his Transcendent nature. Sometimes we will understand; sometimes we won’t. "

Is this His message for me to listen to His words? The directives he sent about the counsel he has for me. The truth that he laid for me, and his urging me to trust again in whatever circumstances? A reminder again of His sovereign kindness and loving grace?

Is this the blueprint that form the big picture deliberately make known to my soul by the Holy Spirit to guide my life and thoughts? Seems like it.

As He says : Let us not focus on the matter. All is Vanity. Psalm 37 1:6