Our days isn't countless...

Our days isn't countless, it's countable... I wake up everyday and praise Him for He has done great miracles in my life. I testified to Kent's  parents last night on how God healed my back pain, how I gained my period after it stopped completely for 4 years through prayers (both modern and traditional medicine didn't work), how God has laid his hands on my family... but I am yet to testify about my depression, I believe I'm not ashamed of it. It's just not something that you would simply share with anyone, as it involves so much emotional battle in it.

Kent 's mum questioned me about Kent's baptism last week. They knew I am a Christian and I shared some of my experiences with them sometimes but not about Kent receiving Christ. I believe in testifying God both in words and actions (actions is more reliable than words).  That's what I told one of the youths last week too. See! How great is our Lord. He made me experienced what I said to others immediately. Kent was quiet last night, I wasn't disappointed, I know God has His timing. I did my part to testify Him. I hope too, that all this while when they told others I'm a good daughter-in-law, even if it doesn't glorify God, it has not shamed God.

Kent received Christ in the 10th year of our relationship, when I was healed from my depression (we almost didn't make it in the relationship...). He claimed to witness how great is the Lord and kept telling me that I could not/should not leave God. 

Our discussion ended peacefully, they didn't receive Christ, but I had testified God the same way I did with the rest. The rest, to God, I surrender.

Our days isn't long, time doesn't wait and would not stop for anyone or anything. We don't understand and will never understand His plan. Just like how hopeful some people were when they prayed for Vincent but he just passed on, contradicts to what we hope and want. This life isn't long, but it's enough to allow God to work His miracles in our lives. We were touched by the Holy Spirit to receive God, so easily, with some of us without much affliction, we are the choosen ones who live in a peaceful country despite some man-made political issues, we are safe and still harmonious. We despise some courses and talks offer by the church, even the preachers sometimes, make excuses to not joining any services and fellowhips, complain how bad and difficult things are for us while in some parts of the world, people thirst for gospel, having a bible is difficult than to get a warmth clothes during the winter, some or perhaps many have no chances to get anything like we do, some Christians are killed to stand for God. We are not prefect and nobel, no one is, we are merely sinners as low as dust. But His love is too great that He chose to forgive our ignorance and wait for us...

Nothing in life is greater than He is, not our problems, not our family, spouses/partners, not our pride, beauty, youth, talents and wealth, not even health... whatever He gives, He is capable of taking it all back... Job 1:21 [and said, "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart.  The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praise."]

Sorry for being so straightforward sometimes and making myself sounds so perfect, I am NOT! There are days  when you won't see me at all, not at church, not serving at all, because I'm not made perfect by God, perhaps some of you are going through the same thing too (I don't know-shrugged), but whatever it is, He is there, always, waiting faithfully for us to turn to Him, to repent and bow low so He could work in us. Let's encourage each other, walk this through together, because He is the one who stands between us. Whatever I'm sharing and writing here is when I'm physically, mentally and psychologically fit to do it, there are days when I can't do it at all, I need you to share the miracles God has done in your life to remind me once again how great is His love. God doesn't want us to be alone and doesn't want us to live in bitterness, but to experience joy and peace. Let's go home 🏃🏿‍♀🏃🏿‍♂👬👭👫💒 because our time is running low... life is priceless...

Flashing back

My thought is racing everyday and that somehow implies I'm alive, from the inside, I think. Some asked, do I really have so much to write everyday. I don't know how to answer to that, as I have never thought about that before. I started writing when I was in standard two, wasn't something like what I'm writing now, but more to movies. I somehow wrote down the movies I liked, I remember writing about Batman, Anne of Green Gables series, especially. My imagine ran so wild that I wish I would one day be a writer doctor 😂 but I ended up being a teacher who writes but not a writer. Being the first child in the family, and both parents busied fulfilling their responsibilities, one as the sole bread-winner and another one religiously serving the family, I filled my time watching a lot of English movies and books on my own, despite stealing cigarettes from my grandparents who owned a store downstairs, smoking with my sister and friends was one of my serious businesses when I was young 😂 I was good at wandering around with my childhood buddies too, Leonard (my bff), his sister, Lesley, Li Kwong, Wee Li, and his bully brother, Wei Ren. My sister, Brenna, who is 3 years younger than me tailed every where I go faithfully. But somehow you just unknowingly left those who used to trust you and follow you from the back, I had my own life after I moved out from the house in form 6... to one point, I blamed myself so much for not being with her through her difficult times in life, as if I was the one whom betrayed and abandoned her... I used to dream that I left her in the dark crying... I couldn't forgive myself... but I did after that, knowing God has different plans for everyone and everything is in His control. Alleluia! She's happily married with two kids (my godchildren, another one soon to follow). Those were the ones etched in my memories. And, of course, Aunty Rubby, my nanny, whom I never have the chance to meet for nearly 30 years. Ironically, my sister is the one whom met her few times in this recent years. She was the forever gentle feminine in my childhood memory, with her flare skirt and long curly hair. I have never forgotten her, but deep down in my heart I'm sacred to see her again, I'm scared to lose all the good memories I had with her in the past. The forever young and gentle her.

I seldom got to see my dad, he'd some businesses outside. Aggressive, brutal, courageous, ambitious, outspoken, call him anything that has to do with masculinity, that somehow affect the way how I see men. I always believe men should be brave and stern, well, I ended up married a man with few words and at times, I'm a better fighter than he is 😅😂 My mom is the ever perfect woman I have ever meet in life, her OCD with hygienic, her hours of "runway show" and make up session before going out, I am the contrary of her. She would never wear sluggishly like I do, she complains about my messy hair, faded shirts, dark skin due to sport, not wearing skirt, being not feminine enough etc to this very day 😂 but I still love her very much, she's the most loving mother in the world, if it wasn't because of her, we could never survive and somehow able to live a quite happy life now (My dad WAS an abusive dad). I thank Lord for what He has done to our family, my dad has eventually chose to bow down to Him, to us, he is now a toothless tiger who needs a lot of attention and love 😂

I miss both sides of my parents' parents. I remember saving money to buy my bed-ridden grandfather a pack of dumplings weekly without failed during my secondary time, we shared stories and news and history. He couldn't see and walk, but he read the time well. He was the second person who received the salvation after me (but according to him, he was a Christian before he's 16, before he came to Malaya). My petite grandmother who grumbled a lot, small but strong, and love us. She's the one who sent us to school when we were young and brought us around with a piece of cloth tight on her back. Too bad that when she's badly ill, I was in UPM, I didn't even get the chance to meet her at her last breath. For that, I cried a lot, almost every year, I never celebrate April fool after her death. (Now I remember I do cry... how could I just skip this in my mind?) Then my grandma of my mother's side, I called her up every week either by house phone or public phone at school after my basketball session, a day before she went into comma, she called me up for the first time and the last time... the older my mom is now the more she looks like our grandma, and I see her shadow in her... and my grandad whom passed away this year...

I guess I'm blessed... I managed to have good relationship and memories with the 4 of them, three received Christ except my grandma who was the first to pass away and I was way too young to share the gospel with her... my faith grows stronger as I look back, knows that God was already there for me even before I know Him. So much ignorance, hurt and pain, has all gone with the wind. Good memories stay, hope grows stronger every time after the darkest hours passed. To the glory of God, who lives in us.

This is the outcome of my preparation for tonight sharing in youth ministry 😂👆 as usual never short and always grumpy 😅 I'm happy that I'm still able to write after all that had happened... it's a gracious blessing...

1st May - Cry

I have never seen crying as something good to do until yesterday. I have a total different view on this after a hiking with the youths, after the prayer meeting last night.

I don't remember I ever have the need to cry. The one last time I cried was back in 2015/2016 when I first watched ""The Passion of Christ" for the first time after avoiding watching it for years. I cried as I felt I wasn't there to help Jesus (a foolish thought, of course; my spontaneous humane response towards His misery) and I cried because He was despised and left alone.

Minus the death of my closed ones, I don't cry, I just don't, no matter how heavy and pain I feel inside of me. Not even the night sis Lai Mun cried the night we prayed sang for her in the hospital. Watching her cried and followed by another two sisters who came with me, I buried all my feelings so deep inside. The most I would do share my sorrow through words with those few I trust. Even Kent cries sometimes, watching movies and listening to songs. He will turn his head at me and expect me to do the same, which I normally end up either laughing at him or ignoring him.

I visit others and pray for them. They would cry sometimes. I feel for them deep inside, but I just couldn't have my tears stream down. To one point, I think I am just cold-blooded. My mom sometimes calls me that way, as she is a woman who cries, almost in all occasions. I envy her sometimes and suspected I may just be her adopted child. Despite all this, I like myself for not crying thou. And I don't feel the need to cry or to be taken care of. I refuse every possible help and care from others. I feel I don't need any of this, I am a good practicer of self-sufficiency.

Being brought-up in a family, where I spent most of my childhood watching TV and witnessing my parents argued and quaralled. I grew up telling myself I can't trouble anyone but to take good care of myself on my own. I was just naive, not sad, I think?! But, somehow it has a tremendous effect in my entire life later on. And many years later in my life, then only I realised how much God has loved me so greatly that He found me when I was 5 years old. He knew I was lonely, someting I couldn't understand at the age of 5.

I met a lot of wonderful people in life, who are good to me, but somehow some just changed and left one day. I believe people left because they have no better reasons to stay. So I told myself it is alright. It was alright all this while until my best of friend, someone who has religiously-inspired me, probably the only one whom understands my writing and promised will have my back til the end of time, one day just told me she could no longer understand me anymore as she feels the joy God filled her with. I guess, I scattered into pieces, but it's just so quiet and hidden that I couldn't hear my own voice. We were friends for almost 20 years... we trust each other with our brokeness, and she just walked away and I was left alone lost in the desert. I don't remember if I ever asked why to God, I only remember the feeling of sinking deep in hollow and the thought of she is healed from her depression is a blessing in my misery. Yet I gave thank to God and for a long time I believe that she is the blessed one who is healed eventually. I never had such a bad self-pity but this time.

I noticed a sudden outpouring of sorrow and grief the day I told Peggy, I don't have a best friend anymore. I am good to others and have great number of close friends but never so close... the feeling of every friend is just the same now saddens me. Still, no crying. Keep telling myself that God allows this, because He wants me to be emotionally stronger. Living my life so normal until I was once again dignosed with symptoms of relapse early of Feb. The thought of cutting my wrist struck during praise and workship of one of the Sunday Services at SCMC in March rang an alarm. What a struggle and confusion to go through. The only person I wish to see was Pastor Sim, but not with the intention of sharing anything. Kent has been a good friend and spouse all these years, but to burden him is the last thing I would do. Sometimes, I think I married a best friend whom I feel I want him to be in my life forever but not to trouble him. I even told him if one day, I am too much for him to bear, let's just end everything. I am perfectly alright to live alone. I always believe if I have not met Kent, I would stay single.

I believe God is good, He is with me in the storms that no one notices. Except from cutting off all swimming, no more cooking and jogging, starting to turn down dates, I am good in controlling myself still. I pray more and better compared to the past, in which I couldn't even feel a thing, not even His presence. I think that is a sort of improvement after all. I managed to get up and go out from the house and serve. With my broken soul I asked God to heal, I went and prayed for Lai Mun and others. What an irony. I learnt to experience Him in serving others. A few those I prayed for claimed to be released from their fear and sorrow. Sometimes I question God, when would Him take this on and off relapse from me. There is no one certain answers. He never says anything to me.

But yesterday, for the first time in my life, I wanted to be loved and taken care by others. I admitted my exhaustion of pretending to be strong, as how others always perceive me. I wanted to feel love. By God and by those who don't mind about my brokeness and ugliness at all. God opens up what is sealed deep in me through psalms 86. For all this while, I could only think of to surrender to God and loved by Him, but not others. Last night, it breaks the mould, God says you were badly hurt, but there are others who are capable of loving you and would try to love you because I live in them. Sit and rest next to those who come to you, enjoy the companion. Give your hands to those who wiling to hold you a little longer. I am with you all this while and forever will.

So, I cried, sat next to Rev Wan, one chair away from Kent. For the first time in my life, I enjoyed crying. Continued crying in the car while sharing my real thought to Kent. It heals something in me. The hiking too, I feel alive. When Mic Sew shared how cold the top of the Mount Ledang is yesterday, being an imaginative person, I felt the chill and visualised myself having devotion on top of the mount, only God and me.