A novice attempt on cooking

Christmas Eve, I uncovered my 'hidden-in-the-cabinet-for-decades' pot and pan and decide to be good for once. Whisked myself into the supermarket for a quick grocery run of onions, garlic, ginger, cinnamon, spices and pork belly, I braced myself to take a adventurous stance in making braised pork belly, a traditional fav in the family. I wanted to cook something for my parents for a pleasant surprise.

Pleasant it is not. Oh, I cried and sob when chopping up the onions, frowning at the unequal sizes of the onion bits, fumbled with frying, burnt the garlic charcoal black, got my shirt and recipe book sprinkled with soya sauce, and finally got every ingredient in the pot for stewing in the next hour.

Every ten minutes, my curiousity propelled my head over the pot, poking the belly with a fork, get myself busy tossing and turning it, adding water, little more sauce, sprinkling a wisp of pepper here and there. And almost one hour later, I decide to cut of a piece of braised pork and try it. And it actually taste.......

BETTER than I thought! Gleefully, I danced a little steps through the kitchen, made some turns around nearing knocking into the sink, oh yes but still beaming with pride. What a feat for Christmas a novice's attempt.

Done with washing, I hastily called my mum, packed some more food stuff and head for home. My parents tried to keep their expressions as cool as a cucumber when I show them my final fueled piece. The moments are heart-stilling as I scrutinised their expressions to get obviously,any comments or feedback, at least a weeny compliment from them..please?

I asked almost hundred times "How was it? nice? Too salty? Meat too tough?!.....

Well, the final results said it all. They finished everything! The pork, the sauce, the rice.

I am so pleased.

That night, I attempt to stay up for silent night and attend a Church mass eurcharist. Oh I did not managed to. I fell sound asleep like a baby. I woke up on Christmas morning hungry, remembering that I have not eaten any portion but a piece of what I have cooked.


1 Corinthians 13
LoveIf I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

This Christmas - Another Voice heard

Still caught up in the chaos of life and have not the slightest clue when I can put in my next blog again. Or a better article for that matter. However, I am still an avid reader of Yvonne Foong's blog. Lately, I have the urge to add a post again. Because she wrote,

"Help Promote"

This is a time limited, stock-limited offer. You know my voice is kind of soft and I don’t have that many readers, so I need your help speaking up. Put this banner on your blog sidebar and tell your friends about this offer. Thank you!

Her voice is soft. Yes, indeed. Yet her strength has surmounted difficulties arising from her adversity and the relentless fight with Neurofibromatosis. Being soft doesn't means faint-hearted.

More about her NF fund to save her eye. Read her life story at http://www.yvonnefoong.com/. This Christmas, help promote. Thanks.

Between now and then

It has been an eventful and overwhelming month with changes and life curveballs. Things have not been turning out the way I want them to be. I would have so much to tell as this blog is started up as a expression of "telling out my soul". But sometimes, in certain circumstances, its hard for me to express my own soul chapters and life but I find it easier to empathize and tell out someone's story instead. For the reflections of other people's stories have turned out to touch my soul and become now the propelling theme behind this blog.

I decided that I need a break from blog writing for a little while. It's a decision I made while I was on a train ride back home yesterday. Its hard for I love writing and definitely will not forgo the thought of expressing all intricate thoughts of humanity and life. It probably will be few weeks or a month or two or slightly longer, for I am not sure myself but I hope to return with better blogs, a better direction and many much more beautiful stories to tell of pain, sorrow, trials, trust, strength, hope, love and faith and Yes, of God and His grace.

Between now and then, this blog is open for you to tell out your soul. If you have any stories to tell or comments, do write to me at tellout.mysoul@gmail.com for the reason that you will love to share with me and others on this blog, any reflections, encouragements, your inspiring life story or encounters that you have experienced, happy moment, sad moments, trials, pain, the list is exhaustive. I am happy and honor to hear from you and respect any decision to keep your identity anonymous. Anyone. I'll love to hear stories.

**************************

Till then. I'll be back.

Job 36:4 Be assured that my words are not false, for the One who is perfect in knowledge is with you.

The little Tyrannosaurus

I was wondering how is the little boy (in my previous post "What happened to my hair?") doing and growing up lately, when his mum sent over some pictures for update today.

One showing him pretending to be a tyrannosaurus.

Another, just being his angelic self.
Oh,what pure of heart. He's a darling.

Stop messing with her life

I sat before a twenty year old gal. Pretty, tall, long lustrous hair, she has all that any babe wants in a babe. A current undergraduate student, she has all the promising future any gal has. And I know she has a kind heart that adds to her attractiveness.

She looked at me with a baffle expression. “Am I in the wrong?” I think I have done a wrong move to call him yesterday night, after I quarrelled with my mum and become hysterical. I should not have done that. I should have control myself. I should have, I should have.. and I should not ..” Off she trailed. And I watched her spiral into a vicious cycle of self questioning.

After much probing, she poured.

Seven times, he left her for different girlfriends.
Seven times, after he ran into trouble or break-ups with girlfriends. He returned, wanting her back.
Many times, she went into depression after he left and resorted to Prozac tablets.
Many times, she went into anxiety disorders and seeks psychiatrist treatments
And each time, she forgave and accepted him all out of love.
And every time, he did. He doesn’t know how much she suffered emotionally, obviously.
On top of her family issues, that sent her into a mental hospital for half a year in a lock-up ward.

Wading in a murky mud, this time she is all but entangled in her relationship with her first love.

She continued with a look of speculation on her face. "This time, he deleted my profile from his face book profile and declared himself single" “You think it happen again?” “Will he leave me again?” “Why did he do that?” “Can I message him now or maybe not? In case I cause it to happen again. What shall I do..?”

“For the eight time?” I replied, almost cynically. Seven hours of presence with her was not enough for me to soothe her past the seven times of estrangements. All I can is to provide logical reasoning of the unworthiness of the whole matter. Get out of it. Before suicidal thoughts come into being. Pray. Don't let a wonderful life ahead be trodden.

These are dire consequences as a result of ignorance. The dire states built up as a result of years of indecisiveness. The dire outcome of love so blind yet illusional, seemingly real yet , devoid in reality. This is definitely not a matter of a game, but a matter of dealing with someone’s life and being. Wake up.

Have a conscience. Not only that. A tender conscience.

Be still and know that I am

I came across the description of Rembrant's painting in a book by Stephen Arteburg and is intrigued to see how it is like. So I searched and came upon Rembrant: The Return of the Prodigal Son.

The second time I ran into Rembrant's works, I was in a hurry to checkout a book I grabbed off at the counter. While meandering through the aisles at lightning speed, I hit straight on a shelf of Rembrant Van Rijin's books. Well, not by chance.

In the end, I left the library with an additional book in hand. That which describe this melancholy artist's life surrounding true purpose arts. The great master of all artists. Someone who is so indulged into self portraits, who has the intricate eye that see beyond an object to its depth. The kind of looking that contemplates, beholds and reflects. He demonstrated it all through his paintings.

One of the excerpts about The Prodigal Son I read:
"The Prodigal Son was a subject that Rembrandt would return to over and over, in etchings, drawings and paintings. Of all the themes of forgiveness he would weave into his work, none is more central, none more layered, than this one. In the last year of his life, Rembrandt painted and perhaps did not finish, The Return of Prodigal Son, now in the Hermitage Muesum in St. Petersburg. It is suggests that it may be the greatest picture ever painted."

Perhaps, the following can describe the feelings behind it:

You accept unfailingly, who I am
How wonderful You are
In loneliness, in isolation, in brokenness
I connect
Like the Prodigal Son I return
To your embrace & total acceptance
Like the Father in cloak of deep red
The color of love
I went looking everywhere
For home, for fulfillment and could not found
I make the journey searching, worn and blistered
Finally I return
In your embrace, I kneel and buries my head
The same humility, the same mercy and grace and touch
You extend your hands to me
And said
Be still and know that I AM

Evan C.

Exodus 3: 14 God said to Moses, "I am who I am . This is what you are to say to the Israelites: 'I AM has sent me to you.'

Come on, Heaven's Children

I always tear when I sang Amazing Grace in church.

Because some words reasonate so much of life. But check this out, a cutie's version and the Lord's prayer. Listen how she stretched her "Amen".

Amazing Grace & The Lord's Prayer

Another sweet angel, Over The Rainbow

All reminded me of my favorite song, when I was eleven years old.

God, you knows my heart.

Today, By John Denver
Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine
Ill taste your strawberries, Ill drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today

Ill be a dandy, and Ill be a rover
Youll know who I am by the songs that I sing
Ill feast at your table, Ill sleep in your clover
Who cares what the morrow shall bring

Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine
Ill taste your strawberries, Ill drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today

I cant be contented with yesterdays glory
I cant live on promises winter to spring
Today is my moment, now is my story Ill laugh and Ill cry and Ill sing

"In the whole divine journey, no one else can walk your pathway. In the whole cosmic choir, no one else can sing your song." John Ortberg

Mom!..What happened to my hair?

A fellow mate I lost touch, sent forth this photo of her little boy - after a haircut. I chuckled at his expression. All children are indeed beautiful.

The Greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven
Matthew 18:5 "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" He called a little child and had him stand among them. And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me.

The fear thing

I like the following passage.

Leonard Sweet writes,

"The fear thing is dominating our need for security. Just look at our cars to see the security issue at work. First we install seat belts. Then we install shoulder belts. Then we build contraptions that put both together. Then we turn the shoulder harness into a boa constrictor that pins us to our seats and doesn't let us move. Then we install air bags. Pretty soon we'll be riding around inside a giant marshmallow."

A giant marshmallow? Like the one above?

1 John 4:18

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear...

Be - If you may find Him

Today I saw a comment left by a reader two months ago with the following song by Neil Diamond. He left part of the lyrics on the comment and a video link for me to view.

And I was touched by the video. Although the video was not complete, it was soulfully majestic. What beauty that I had soulfully miss. It reminds me of the infiniteness of the universe and the Lord. His mega and awesome presence. The King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

Today, I manage to locate the full video by Jonathan Livington as well as the lyrics and will like to share them. Yes, music explains profound emotions. .

I found another video The Odyssey which I fell in love. All of them magnify God's wonderful creation of every land, every ocean, every living creature, every man, every mountain and storm. All nature in itself. Including the Light and life He created..

Yes, God passes by.

Be, By Jonathan Livingston Seagull

Be, by Neil Diamond (By the reader)

Thanks Reader, whoever you are.

Lost
On a painted sky
Where the clouds are hung
For the poet's eye
You may find him
If you may find him

There
On a distant shore
By the wings of dreams
Through an open door
You may know him
If you may

Be
As a page that aches for a word
Which speaks on a theme that is timeless
And the one God will make for your day

Sing
As a song in search of a voice that is silent
And the sun
God will make for your way

And we dance
To a whispered voice
Overheard by the soul,
Undertook by the heart
And you may know it
If you may know it

While the sand would become the stone
Which begat the spark
Turned to living bone
Holy, holy
Sanctus, sanctus

Be
As a page that aches for a word
Which speaks on a theme that is timeless
While the one God will make for your day

Sing
As a song in search of a voice that is silent
And the one God will make for your way

Exodus 19:4 You yourselves have seen what I did to Egypt, and how I carried you on eagles' wings and brought you to myself.

The best of Pink - Where flowers mingle

I took a cab that sent me detouring twice around the estate when I finally reached the block of house where my dear friend stays. The cab driver apologized profusely for missing the block in which I smile nonchalantly. It doesn’t really matter to me at all.

As I stepped into the hallway under the block, tables with lovely pink tablecloth strewed the entire place. Pots of fresh pink flowers with mini black corsets tie around the pots, lay every table. There were flowers everywhere. I felt I have entered into the garden of Adam and Eve.

In the background, a 70s’ pop song played. It reminded me of all sweet sentimental memories and nostalgia of the past when I was young. Everyone was dressed in pink, kids and adults. Different shades of it. I saw a cute little babe scurrying after the mother in pink surfer shorts. The little girl showed me a pink lip balm in her hand and I chuckled, giving her a pat on her head.
I am not in paradise, am I?

I entered into the hall, taking my pace slowly as if in need of every moment to sink into time and space. The evening wind blew, indeed it was a beautiful night. The surrounding park and street light made this up a perfect place for romance. I was in awe of the rejoicing atmosphere.

I was offered a place to sit by my dear friend’s brother in law. I sat and dig myself into a plate of snacks while I waited for her to come.

Two days ago, I received a message from this friend saying, “Stan passed away peacefully today”. Her husband has fought a good fight with cancer.

I feel the sadness seeped into my heart. I stopped plugging away on my office laptop and sat staring out of the wide window pane. I sighed at the reality of his passing, the fragility of life, the vulnerability of life after a loss one, the thin line between life and death, the blessing and curse, the love and bitterness. All thoughts came like the raindrops against the window. Then it all became blurry.

She came, and we held hands. I tried to smile an encouraging smile. She looked serene. I try to grasp her emotions as we sat in silent. We started talking and I asked her about pink. Why pink? “Well, my husband want it that way.. he wants everyone to rejoice and dressed in the color. I am not sure why he chose pink of all colors. “ I stare at my dress, “Hey, how can I be in black?” She broke into a smile.

She chose him a white casket she said, as I walked over with her to pay him my last respect. Pink roses framed his handsome, suave picture. Beautiful pink again complimented by his wondrous smile. “He has been strong, very strong and positive”. She added as both of us stare ahead at the altar.

We talked about his dying before he left for eternity. “Two days ago, he mentioned he saw light, but he told me he doesn’t want to go and he wants me to go with him.” And I answered him” , You know me, I am always late for everything, I dressed late, come home late, do things late, carried out my chores late. So I have to be late in coming with you.”

I tried to hold back my tears. I turned my head and stare out to the street as if to catch in a deep breath. The splashes of pink, her words, his words speak so much of a paragon of deep love. I thought of God. God is love. It reminded me of a poem I read somewhere. What a tribute of love as he waited for his wife, curving every expression of love.

I Stand and Wait
I stand, and wait, and wonder where she is, my eyes on Jesus.
Where else shall I go?
What Jesus blessed and broke so long ago
fed thousands meals I would not want to miss.
Those loaves and fishes perished.
So will this,my daily bread for which I pray, and though He has provided,
still, I do not know when I will break this bread with one of His.
I ask the Lord of you, and seek His face, and stand before Him,
knocking at the Door, for Jesus knocked at mine and gave me grace
when I had opened up to Him
before He could prepare for me an honored place
with Bread and Wine and love forevermore.

I know what the pink means, my dear friend. Its His Love for you, his steadfast love, always romancing, reverently surpassing any worldly understanding, even death do not part ways. Instead, the bond of this everlasting eternal love transcends Heaven and Earth, connecting you and Him in every glorious moment. All else doesn’t matter now.

A tribute to you, Stan Joseph Fernandez.

And my dearest friend, this is dedicated to you, your favorite song. Its one of my favorites too.

Love, Me By Collin Raye

Song of Solomon 8:6 Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame.

Your unfailingly love is my Comfort.

Coming up..Faith Book

I wrote earlier about keeping a Love book, have you read?

I like this photo which I took many months back. Now I can use it. It remains me of Psalm 139 which God has graciously lead me to read through a friend. Thanks Feryl again. Indeed , Psalm 139 is about a Faith on Trial.

How about a book of Faith this time.

Your Steadfast Love

Exhausted from a day of work, I decided to deviate from my usual path home and take a walk. Letting my heavy footsteps lead me. Letting Him guide me. And incidentally I look up.

I stared in bewilderment and pause. With my phone, I captured this moment of grandeur. And Don Moen's song came into my mind..
Your Steadfast Love
Your steadfast love extends to the heavens
Your faithfulness it reaches to the clouds
Your righteousness is like majestic mountains
And your wisdom like the depths of the sea
And you come to me
Filling my heart with your loving kindness
I find my peace in the shadow of your wings
I eat my fill from the abundance of your household
And I drink from the streams of rejoicing

Indeed, You are my King

Duty

Pictures speak a thousand words. Thanks Brother Feryl for sending this lovely movie.

He&Me

It reminds me of 2 Corinthians 6:3.

And later of 2 Corinthians 7:2.


James 1:12 "Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him"

But the greatest of these is

A friend of mine popped by impromptu.

"Hey, remember the necklace I made and wore yesterday? I know you would like a piece. How about I get the necessary stuff later and make it for you?"

I stared up at her absent-mindedly, my thoughts still racing over the work I am preoccupied on. My mouth gaping in thirst of a break very much needed after a tiring week.

"Ahh? Oh... Okay!" I'll...

I have not completed my sentence and off she went in a huff.


Some time later, she came back with this lovely creation. A heart melting choker with metallic butterfly shapes and stones.

1 Corinthians 13:13
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

The Witness

I shuffled out of the train among the crowd squeeze and was glad to get myself a space in the lift from the train platform down to the ground gantry level. As I pressed the close button, I heard an audibly loud “Thank you” from the next lady besides me. As they said expressing gratitude for a gesture we did, helps to elevate anyone's mood. Indeed it elevated my mood momentarily after a long, fragile week.

I turned wanting to acknowledge her greetings and find myself suddenly couldn’t muffle any word from my throat.

Holding a walking stick, short hair, lovely smile, I least expected that she is blind.

Next to her is a lady holding onto her elbow lightly. I knew from observation that the lady was a passer-by who has kindly offered her assistance. I trod behind them still beating myself up over my missed acknowledgement to her when I saw the good samitarian checking with her again whether the direction that she needed was the way they are heading. The blind lady nodded in reply and followed the kind lady obediently in steps.

Isn’t this God want us to do, to put all our trust and faith wholeheartedly and mindfully in him and walk in obedience. How many times have I went through tug-of-wars with him over my overstuffed bundle of doubts, problems and worries when the fact is always shining bright like the noon day sun, that he can carry the bundle for me. He can make the journey lighter.

So seldom do we notice people with disabilities along the streets when we drowned ourselves with concerns of our own. So her presence did strike a deep impression yet so subtle it can go unnoticed if one does not give a glance.

There are times when I thought I should witness for God but I think she has done that instead, in her own seemingly unworthy presence yet mightily demonstrate the inner strength and trust of fallen human beings. In this world of this "invisible dying" where we are struggling to balance our life, battling adversity and wondering where life will take us to, this scene is a wake-up call that we should open our heart and learn to live and trust right now in the present moment. Did we do it? Are we even aware of the presence moment?

When I walked home, I suddenly realised she must be thanking the lady next to her in the first place - not me. What would happen if I did reply "You are welcome.." for pressing that 'close' button.

I imagine the entire lift load of people staring at me as I blush tomato red on the spot. That would have been embarrassing, won't it?

Deuterononmy 1:32
In spite of this, you did not trust in the LORD your God

The Parable of Tomorrow

I chanced upon an old newslink from church and thought this inspired me for a while after trying to fathom whats bothering me these days that caused me to get little depressed lately. I must be tired..

John 8:32
Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."

We are all little Children

To love is life and life is light - So Scatter Light
Light is hard yet soft sometimes
It penetrates yet sometimes flicker
Bring it on in darkness
Through the night to guide others
Scatter light
To light their darkest most hour.
E.C

Emily, the nurses called her. I remembered the warmth of her hand and bird-claw-like fingers as she clinged to mine. A pair of sad eyes yet child-like. I missed her dearly. And I missed her singing so much.

She is around ninety year old. Frail little old lady when I saw her for the first time. So frail and thin is her body that it is reduced to skin and bones. She has the most wrinkled face that I have ever seen, with white fraying hair tied to the back in a tiny little knot. Her home is the hospice where all the other chronically ill people stay. On one occasion of a philanthropic event arranged, I was there to participate as a volunteer.

There were children present in the other room as well, also terminally ill. It was pre Christmas and we were gathered together to celebrate the festive season with them. I sat half balancing myself on the small chair together with the kids, my hands holding a bowl of food to be fed to a kid. The children looked the least tired as I imagine most terminally ill patients would. Some stared at their plates and frown but because they wanted to start the games soonest. Some eyes lighted at the array of toys we presented on the table. Restlessly fidgeting, all they wanted is play, the grand finale moment they look forward after their meals.

I spent some time patiently coaxing an adorable boy to finish his food. Around six years old, he was almost bald due to chemotherapy. The darkening skin around his neck showed the after effect of radiation. He swallowed the last mouthful of food, looked at me with a big smiley, and tugged at the corner of my skirt and struggle up onto my lap. So pleased with his climb, he pointed happily to a clown-faced poster that we are supposed to play games with later. I looked at him as if to carefully scrutinize every expression and movement. I reminded myself he was not sick but just a little unwell. .He is not a patient but just a little child..

Although each of us was assigned to take care of one group, I decided to break the rules to be with both. So while the children are playing, I slipped off quietly to the room where the old people are.I met Emily again and this time she extended her frail hand and grabbed mine as tightly as the little boy did. She looked up at me from her wheelchair with an infectious smile. Someone popped a teasing request that she was to sing for us and she happily agreed to the surprise of the requestor. Choosing the traditional 'Silent night' carol, she went off with a lovely belt of the hymns, and oh how her singing stopped every volunteer in their movements. The room hushed into a silence, as her voice echoed. Some volunteers started to look away to hide the awkwardness of tears welling up their eyes. No one, even the men can hide their emotions. She sang with love and we could sense it so well.

We knew she has touched everyone unfailingly this holy night. Amazing love I can't explain that came with her voice. She sang like a child.

Indeed we are all little children of God. Be it a child young or old as demonstrated by these two vastly different groups of people we serve in the hospice. And if you look further the hearts of these children I saw in the room today, so broken and weak in the bodies, yet beautifully endowed with God’s grace, you will see love and spirit that overflowed more than you thought you can give in return.

Last year, Emily left the hospice home to be with God in eternity.

Then Esau looked up and saw the women and children. "Who are these with you?" he asked. Jacob answered, "They are the children God has graciously given your servant."Genesis 33:5

Please help Holly

After ditching blogging for almost four months and back only to write this little note, I felt I have aplenty to update! But the most priority one is this.

Read http://hollyshearing.blogspot.com/, another NF victim that need help desperately in any way, even a word of encouragement do millions. She is already blind and going deaf soon if she does not go for an operation in time. Help Holly and you will help her son, Isaiah.

Read on.

They shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

Isaiah, 35. 10