Psalm 139

This song is the most selected one on the ipod, a Deb Fung cover…. I say cover because I believe many centuries ago, people used to take these words and put them to song as well … a beautiful song to remember how terribly fragile we mere mortals are in this universe yet so highly esteemed by God.

Well, this is for you, whether you know Him or not …

“My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand.
When I awake,
I am still with you.”

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God is God and I am not
I can only see a part of the picture He’s painting
God is God and I am man
So I’ll never understand it all
For only God is God

~ Steven Curtis Chapman, “God is God”

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For some, marriage is the the icing on a fairytale story. For others, marriage is a form of escape – from warring parents, from crazy siblings, from overbearing relatives. Yet some get married because they can’t live without the other.

It’s beautiful to see a couple walk down the aisle whose story you are well aware of. We don’t know what the future holds for them; after the honeymoon’s over, the princess has to get off the horse someday, you’ve still got your warring parents/crazy siblings/overbearing relatives, and there’ll probably come a day when you feel like strangling the other person …

Nonetheless … my best wishes to this rather oddly compatible couple. It ain’t easy, but the One who sealed their marriage will hold it together.

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Caught the literary meme bug from faithtoh’s website. Went on to look at the source of this interesting little wordbug and discovered quite a few others doing it … Yeah, call it a fad or whatever, but this is probably the only time you’ll ever hear of all the embarrassing stuff I never told you … Am a bit late in submitting this though … Took a week to write this entire thing!

So here goes ….

I’m that girl who before 3 loved dogs, the one who at 3 was chased by a neighbour’s crazed pomeranian, the one who ran and hid until it was dark, the one who loved cats instead. I’m the girl who at 18 went to a friend’s house for a project, the one who tried running away from the jackrussells, the one who fell in love with dogs all over again before that night was over.

I am the girl who had no toys except a trunk of old clothes. The one who wore mismatched shoes, pearls, an oversized yellow fishnet shirt and her mother’s Hepburn sunglasses and felt like a star. The girl who wanted to be a lot of things but most of all she wanted to be an actress and have the Prime Minister give her the prize like Zoe Tay.

I’m that girl who upset the sarong that dumped her baby sister on the floor, the one who caught grasshoppers after school, the one who smuggled Bin Bin biscuits up the bus and left powdery crumbs all over the bus uncle’s floor. I’m the one who had a cute smirk for the bus auntie who never caught her eating.

I’m the girl who got sick and wore a wig.

The one whom you diagnosed with a deadly form of ovarian cancer, the one you joked with even though the diagnosis was so bad, the one you said that the “sweet smelling apple perfume” would put her into a nice deep sleep, the one you promised, “Everything would be all right”. I’m the girl who remembered your smile among the sombre faces, the one you talked adult stuff with, the one you pulled funny faces for. I’m the girl you studied, the girl you discussed about with the medical interns, the girl who got that “rare disease”. I’m the girl you gave the all-clear signal to 6 years ago, the one you finally told of her true condition despite her mother’s objections, the one who asked you awkwardly, “Can I ever have children?”. I’m the girl you watched become a woman, the one who talked with you about blogs, boys and her wanting to be a famous news broadcaster, the one you still joke, “How many kids do you want?”.

I’m the girl who almost died, the one who lived to tell you the story.

I’m the girl who feels more than she thinks. The girl who began on the wrong foot with her bestest pals.

I’m that girl who was asked by the teacher to sit with you in Secondary Two. The girl who complained to her clique that you irritated her. The girl who preferred to do group activities alone. The girl you knew didn’t like you. The one you persisted in making her your friend. The one who cried when you went to a different class. The one who keeps in touch with you years after graduation. The one you surprise to this day with your dedicated love for the Saviour.

I’m that girl who laughed at your fear of heights, the one you teased about her blurness, the one you shared your deepest thoughts. I am the girl you treated as a confidante, the one who turned away from you, the one who walked out of that friendship. The one you forgave, the one you allowed back into your life.

But I’m the girl whose great regret is you.
The one who should have never assumed your dependence for love. The one who should have known that you would be a good friend but nothing more. The one who cried till her stomach ached the day she found out you had feelings for another. I am the girl who did not spare a thought for your feelings. The one who regretted it immediately. I am the girl who walked up the hill to deliver your birthday present, told your brother not to tell you, and walked away alone. I am the girl who realised too late that you never loved her, who never said goodbye when you left, who called you but you never called back.

I’m the girl who believes a good talk is therapeutic, a deep sleep powerful, a prayer to the One heavenly.
The girl who believes that true love is both fact and feeling, commitment and chemistry, and worth waiting for.
I’m the girl who tells you to listen to your mother, count your blessings while you still can count, and know where you’re going once you’re dead and gone.

I am the girl who gives you thanks.
The one you birthed, the one you spotted the first sign of illness, the one you give money to now even though she can earn her own keep.
The one you fetched around without complaint, the one you encouraged to choose her own path, the one you accepted even with her radical ideas.
The one who relies on you for moral support, the one who keeps you awake with midnight talks and jamming sessions, the one who can’t believe you’re 6 years younger.

I am the girl that was fearfully and wonderfully made, the one You chose to be adopted into Your family, the one You bless everyday, the one You forgive despite her pride, her self-centredness, her evil.

I am the girl who is happy to be alive.

O yes, I’m that girl. So who are you?

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Although it’s getting late, I’d better blog this first.

It seems that a lot of things have happened in the last few weeks but I haven’t had time to reflect and write what I thought about them. Then, if I did have a pocket of time, I didn’t feel like writing or thinking, instead, choosing to fritter away my time on mindless stuff.

Is it just me, or are so many things happening just like that? It’s as if when I turn every corner, I meet some kind of situation that forces me to think about The Greater Scheme Of Things.

First, I’m getting crap from my boss at work ever since I hastily made an official announcement during our team devotion about my leaving before handing in my letter (I would never have done this, but why this time is a long story for another time.). Since then, everything’s gone downhill at work. I’ve never come to a point where I dread going to work in the morning and yet I am now! I want to write my own 39-page thesis about everything wrong with the world, but I can literally feel a restraining hand on my fuming pride, telling me to go slow. Inside’s a struggle to stand up for my ego, whilst the other side of me knows that this is a test I have to go through. My strongest weaknesses (what an oxymoron!) have risen to the surface and I can’t sweep them back into the cupboard any more.

Secondly. I have never experienced such a time of humbling during YA/church until these few weeks. I prayed for my friends on and off but I don’t think I really expected God to answer my prayers in the way that I prayed so I forgot to pray after a while. It scares and delights me at the same time that months later, He remembers what I prayed so long ago and answers them! Each YA meeting/church worship session has been so extraordinary. There were the tears, and the laughter and the sudden spark of comraderie … and this is more than skin deep. It’s something I used to experience in Campus Crusade but after I left, I’ve never seen such a strong work of the Holy Spirit in the lives of my peers. And who am I that I should gain the opportunity to experience God’s goodness in the lives of my friends?

However, the reality that I can no longer be stagnant is sinking in. If anything, I need to be heading in the right direction myself before I can get my friends to follow me.

There should be a thirdly but I’ll just summarise everything and go to sleep.

In between the stress of work, and the open-mouth awe of His miracles, are the little things that sometimes make or break your day. I’ve been having a double dosage of both.

Sometimes, the devil wants to overwhelm you so you don’t know where to start praying. However, our task is to keep at Him no matter how insignificant our work may seem. Even if we have to just pray for one thing at a time, it still works because God listens anyway. We don’t have to go into long meandering prayers that hardly mean a thing. He doesn’t like it too.

Pray for me won’t you, as you read this post?

Pray for strength, and also the wisdom and the grace to go through what I have to go through.

And also, for the joy of just living for Him.

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You could actually find yourself talking so much but realise that no one’s talking TO you.

That’s a rather lonely situation, really.

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I tendered my resignation yesterday.

My last day will be Friday, 25 November.

2 years 5 months and 25 days.

This is my first job that gave me opportunities I never knew and also the place that shaped my faith and thinking.

I’ll be sad to leave my wonderful colleagues and always encouraging listeners, but also glad to head for a change in environment.

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Geez … been really slow in updating my blog, haven’t I been?

Tons of things have happened in the past couple of weeks … I want to put up more pictures about my farming experience, about the YA 2nd birthday, etc, but I haven’t been able to find time!

Sorry that you keep reading the old stuff. Be patient, Ruth will be right back.

Ruth the Farmer

Yes I know. Delightfully attracted to a little lettuce seedling.

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It’s a dream that every girl has.

A dream that leaves a smile cloying on the lips even long after one wakes up.

A dream of fluffy white chiffon, chains of luminous pearls, lacy gloves, dainty hand wearing a sparkling diamond solitaire making sun rays dance.

And I’ll live happily ever after ….

I met Sylvia Kho, one of the first female entrepreneurs in Singapore and also the lady who started up the wedding industry in Singapore. Her gowns are so unique and timeless that the National History Museum had a whole collection of them on exhibition earlier this year. At the grand old age of 90, she’s still making exquisite wedding dresses for blushing brides even though she can’t read her own handwriting.

Well, the whole story began when my boss kept nagging at us to bring her to the station for an interview and to get him out of my hair, I agreed to do it this week. Chop chop finish so that no one gets a rankling. Her birthday is next week and Mrs. Boss wants to make a CD to give as a thank you gift.

However, when this octogenerian looked at me with her piercing black eyes, I was hooked. She talked about what she did during the war and how she witnessed through her wedding gown business as though it only happened yesterday. Suddenly you forget the war has been over 60 years already. Peppering her perfect English with Malay colloquialisms, she came alive from the wheelchair and it was no more a 90 year old woman talking, but a 25 year old lass running through the forest in an oversized baju and soot smeared on her face.

Before she left, this lovely lady gripped my hand, peered into my eyes and said with all seriousness, “When you get married, come to me and I’ll make you a wedding dress.” Yes, that’s the photo up there when I’m laughing so hard you can’t see my eyes. Dreams come true all right.

As the car turned out of the driveway and I waved good bye, she turned around and put a finger to her temple as if to say “Remember”.

I’ll remember. Please be at my wedding.