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