The right vision

I was channel surfing last week and caught a portion of an episode of Oprah where the women were singing the praises of using a vision board. There was also a panellist who had a book about healing the past through forgiveness.

I had to laugh for all these are not original ideas and are deeply rooted in the Christian tradition. The ideas have just been repackaged to appeal to a wider, secular audience

Coincidentally, a cousin of mine recently asked me if I had read the best-selling book The Secret? My response to her was why should I buy the book when I already know the secret - the secret to achieving or acquiring unlimited happiness, peace, prosperity... all the good things in life?

I haven’t read the book so am not qualified to make any comments on it but can see its widespread appeal. Who among us does not want to be happy, rich, at peace, living the life we want?

Guess what, this is what God wants for every one of us and if we are able to live out our faith in congruence to our everyday life, to who (and what) we are called to be, then we will have achieved the secret.

It is as simple as that. Truth often is. It is people who complicate truth when they rationalize or accept a partial or distorted version of the truth.

We are all born wanting to be good, attracted to good. Yet, somehow the world’s definition of good connotes a lack of freedom and is seen as something not desirable as it implies living a life bound by rules and less pleasure.

Living life in accordance to God’s will when lived out of love and not duty is empowering, librating and pleasurable to the extreme.

How do we do this? First by accepting the gift of God’s love and absorbing it fully in our minds, hearts and bodies. If we are able to accept His gift of love (of "who I am" and of how much "I am loved" by Him) with openness and eagerness, then we can allow love to radiate outwards – and we can then give to others and allow others, in turn, to give back to us. And thus be able attain what we desire in life.

So I am going to find time to draw up my vision board soon for it’s a great idea to take stock of life and see if I am heading in the right direction. I will do it with one fundamental difference - by allowing God to be the centre of my vision.

As I do it, I will let the words of this old Irish hymn I love guide me:

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Be Thou my battle Shield, Sword for the fight;
Be Thou my Dignity, Thou my Delight;
Thou my soul’s Shelter, Thou my high Tower:
Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

High King of Heaven, my victory won,
May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heaven’s Sun!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all.

* A vision board is a poster board of a collage of images that appeal to you: images of who you want to become, things you desire/want to do, places you wish to visit, etc.

Memorial gift

Early this morning, I was given a dream.

In it I saw my father who was happy, healthy and chatting easily with my 2nd aunt, and my 2nd and 6th uncles after a weekday afternoon mass at the Cathedral of the Good Shepherd. We all happened to attend the same mass and had spotted each other and were standing around in the car park for a quick chat.

When I saw him standing there in his blue pyjamas, I was overjoyed to see him. For it was so great to be able to see him smile, standing there looking so well even though it was a dream.

It is five years to the day since he passed on. I still remember his last day with us very vividly. The eventual realization that it was indeed his final day as he slowly slipped into a coma. And how the night before he must've known the end was near for he thanked us for taking care of him.

Thinking of him still makes me weep and I don't think I will ever stop mourning his loss. It is something I am glad for, for it proves to me that love is stronger even than death, and I know that this love that binds me to him will eventually see us reunited in the Father's embrace.

Regardless of loss, time moves on inexorably. Rather than wallow in sorrow, I choose to celebrate my father's life every day in the way I try to live up to his ideals of honour and integrity.

Every act of care and selfless giving to my mother.

Every deed of generosity that echoes his willingness to help those who were less privileged.

Every endeavour to forgive and actively foster family ties.

Every meal that is cooked with love and seasoned with his tastebuds of perfectionism.

And so tonight Mum and I sat down to a fine repast of fresh oysters, bratwurst and chilled white wine to give thanks to the man who lived life to the fullest in every sense of the word.

While life with Dad had its moments, there were also wonderful memories.

I choose to let go of the bad and cherish the good and I am grateful for the wonderful gift I received this early morn.

Olympian efforts

What a day of Olympic watching! Michael Phelps won his eighth goal, an absolute coup, although not unexpected. Especially coming a day after his previous spectacular win in the 100m butterfly by 0.01 of a second.

The women's marathon saw 38 year-old Constantina Tomescu-Dita from Romania break away from the pack midway to take the gold over a minute before the other runners.

What also made the marathon gripping to watch was that world record-holder Paula Radcliffe of Britain who chased the elusive Olympic medal yet again had to concede defeat from injury (she's still recovering from a stress fracture in her thigh bone). Her courage in completing the race despite having to stop midway to deal with leg cramps was inspiring.

In my book, every woman who completed the marathon is a winner. It is as St. Paul would put it a case of running "the good race" where determination, perseverance, strength, discipline and a whole lotta heart are needed. Every runner displayed all these qualities in full measure.

In the case of Phelps's eighth goal it was the US swim team's effort that made it possible. Working as parts of "one body", bringing their individual strengths to play to pursue a dream and attain it. It was high drama at its best.

The Olympics underscored all that I have been absorbing over the last few weeks about the body. There is no separation of spirit and body and it is the force of the spirit within a body that enables a person to strive and attain his or her goals.

Through the body we connect to the world. The Olympics idealizes the best of human bonding where political differences are set aside and a common bond is forged through the love of sport and the ability to hone the human body to physical peak and display its prowess.

Those of us who can't, just sit in front of the telly and marvel at how the human body can be pushed to the limit and achieve what seems to be impossible.

We are reminded that the impossible is made possible if we but only try.

Spiritual time outs

There is an article by columnist Erma Bombeck which she wrote when she was diagnosed with cancer entitled "If I had my life to live over" and in it she enumerates ways in which she would have been less concerned with doing things efficiently, practically or responsibly and been more spontaneous and laid back.

Essentially she would have taken more time to smell the roses, live in the moment and not sweat the small stuff.

It's hard not to rush along in life doing, doing, doing for the culture we live in applauds accomplishment and achievement, measuring success by concrete acts and material wealth.

So how much money have you made today? How many people have you saved?

What about how many people have you made smile today? Who has felt loved today by your care and concern?

Often we forget it's the small gestures that can mean a lot. A common courtesy. Acknowledging the presence of the other by giving our utmost attention to the person. Taking the time to listen to someone and be there for them.

We are so conditioned to focus on the destination or goal that we forget the importance of the journey. Or to have fun as we journey.

I am guilty of doing this quite often. Trying to keep to my daily schedule, I rush from place to place. I cut out the niceties and tend to be very business-like in my dealings.

When I get into efficiency mode, I usually feel depleted by day's end for I sacrificed quality by doing and forgetting to enjoy what I'm doing. Worse, I set out trying to do too much and feel like a failure when I do not accomplish all that I set out to do.

And it all becomes so much meaningless activity.

It's nigh impossible to slow down the pace of my life but I have learnt to create spiritual time outs during the day.

To create spaces where I converse with Jesus and thank Him for the small graces that touch my life as I go about my day: the sun shining in a blue, blue sky, the food stall seller who did not charge me full price for my breakfast, or the appearance of the bus I need when I am running late.

Constantly touching base with Him and offering my day to Him helps me surrender any anxiety I have over things not going my way. Quite vital for a control freak like me who likes to exert her will over life.

And I am also reminded to open my eyes to the beauty of the world around me, inhale life and exude enjoyment for all that He gives me every day.

It thus becomes time well spent.

A perfect love

Today at lunch she said to me

Who is this new man in your life?

Who has got you aglow with joy

Blooming, like a morning glory?

Come on, out with it, tell me his name

For you are clearly not the same.

I said to her there is no man,

No one new: He’s been in my life

From the very start; the first time

I drew breath, He was there, smiling.

In his eyes, a deep love shining.

It’s just that now I see him clearly.

How could I begin to explain?

What I experience in my being

Is something the world dismisses

As unreal, too good to be true.

The primordial promise often sought,

In worldly things that come to naught.

It took me a while to find him

Whispering in the wind he’s barely

Discernible. You have to choose.

Are you the grain of wheat that dies

To bear new life, take on new guise?

Or are you made of stone, just lawful?

As our love grows, a nuptial fruit

I live in him and him in me.

He is my way, my truth, my life

My lover forever, my knight.

Although, at times, I lose the fervour

He is there, loving as ever.

The perfect man, a perfect love

How did I do it, you may ask?

You must seek in order to find

What is there in the beginning.

For only then what is fright’ning

Will be revealed as the priceless pearl.

Saying yes

Finally, the mountain of work has been conquered and the book (yes the mountain is a book of sorts) goes into printing tomorrow. I've had to work almost every day while I was in Melbourne (just got back Saturday night) but thank God for movable deadlines where the impossible is made possible.

I am humbled by how the Lord knows exactly what I need and provides so generously. And I am encouraged to keep saying yes, even when I say yes to things that scare me and that I do not think I am good enough to tackle them.

This has been my biggest learning lesson of the summer.

In the movie Out of Africa, Karen Blixen makes this wry comment: "When the gods want to punish you, they answer your prayers."

I used to subscribe to that cynical view on life. Now looking at the quote, I see that the operative word is "gods", not God.

Anyone who has tried to serve two masters or worship false idols will know that choosing something or a course of action that stems from selfish desires may bring joy, but it also brings with it suffering - usually to those around him, if not to the chooser himself or herself.

Over lunch today, C. just shared with me that someone we both know, a staunch Christian in the past, has now chosen to abandon his role as husband and father in order to pursue his own personal happiness.

It made me stop to think how easy it is to stop saying yes to God and to say yes instead to the pursuit of self pleasures.

How easy it is to forget that Jesus really loves us and He wants only good things for us, that it's never in His plan to make us suffer.

How easy to take such an unselfish love for granted and not treasure the very thing we are seeking for in life.

How easy to fall from grace.

So what is it that can change the hearts and minds of good, even great people, and make them do a 180 degree turn, eschewing all they chose and worked for previously?

A lot hinges on how we view God. Do we view Him as vengeful, a policeman god who will punish us for our transgressions?

Or as a Santa Claus god to whom we pray only when we want something from Him?

Or a watchmaker god who creates the world and then steps back and lets it function on its own, a benevolent but distant being?

I used to think God was all of the above until I experienced first-hand that compassionate, merciful, unconditional love that the psalmists write about in the book of Psalms.

It was like falling in love for the very first time - a special and unique, never-before experienced event - so memorable that the event is burned indelibly in my consciousness. A true burning bush experience.

But like all memories, it can get displaced by wants and desires and even such a deep, personal experience of love can be discounted and forgotten.

And so it's important to say yes every new day, building on the first time I said yes to Jesus as I accepted his warm embrace of love.

Saying yes involves hard work. It's not an action I carry out on principle, on "blind faith". I have to work at getting to know Jesus as a person, what are His Father's plans for me and constantly finetune my ability to discern how the Spirit moves in my life.

It's all about making informed decisions and choices in life every step of the way.

This also involves getting to know myself and understanding myself better as a person, accepting myself, the good and the bad, and having the courage to allow Him to mould me as He wills.

The latter is the most difficult for it requires purification and reformation, which, at times, can be most painful. So why do it you may ask?

No one else in this world will love me with such depth and kindness - who accepts me for who I am and who is always there for me, till the end of time and beyond.

Now how can I say no to that?

Body power

Wow, what a week! Intense in terms of content to be absorbed as well as the gruelling pace of the days.

The day starts with daily mass, followed by classes from 10:00 am - 5:00 pm. Home I go for a quick dinner followed by work till past midnight. I've been averaging about six hours of sleep every night and I am just glad my body seems to be holding up.

Speaking of body, I have begun to look at the body in a whole new way. I am awed at the richness and depth of the late Pope John Paul II's thoughts on the subject, on how there is a theology of the body.

I am amazed at how his writings encompass and synthesize what I have been absorbing from various sources as well as from my own real life experiences in the last four years.

I can only sit back in wonder at how He has led me to this point, which is a point of affirmation of my being, deep in my ensouled body.

I struggle to grasp concepts which are pretty revolutionary in a world that mostly sees the body in a very reduced way, in a very primitive sense that brings to mind what Paul said about seeing 'through the glass darkly' for we seem to live in a world that sees through a mainly obscured vision.

We have bought into a world where we see ourselves as creatures governed by our sexual urges with a distorted vision of love against which we are powerless to make choices that are true and good.

As God is love, and we are made in His image and likeness and therefore are made to love and be loved, the human quest for love is very real, as evidenced by the music, film and literature of our times and times past.

And yet, this quest for love (and happiness) which has taken us down the widely accepted route of casual sex, hedonistic lifestyles and a rejection of God and God's ways seems to have bred more loneliness, unhappiness and violence in the world.

Worse, we see perversions and abuses against humanity in new ways and increasing numbers every day.

Where have we gone wrong? What have we lost? Why is love, and happiness, so hard to experience?

JPII leads us back to the beginning, to the creation of the world, the first man and the first woman in the book of Genesis.

In his proposal of what is original solitude, original unity and orginal nakedness, which together form the essential core of every true and real experience of love, he points us to the body - for it is in the body that we exist, there can be no separation of a person from his or her body.

"I am in my body and my body is what connects me to the world. My body is a reflection of Christ's love to myself and others. It is through my body that I can concretely receive and give love of the highest order."

What we have lost is a reverence for our own body as a precious gift from God which, in turn, is a gift to our own self and to others. And thus, through our body we can be fruitful, not limited merely to the function of procreation, but to the depths of creativity only humans can plumb. We can live out the full expression of our being in our body.

Unfortunately, we rarely live in and live out the truth of our body, which is done only if we answer the call (the appeal to accept His gift of love) from God wholeheartedly.

Oftentimes, we are afraid that saying yes to the gift means a loss of freedom, a life less pleasurable and fulfilled, a life governed by outmoded rules and legalistic prudishness.

Contrary to popular belief, saying yes to God brings with it a freedom that grounds and connects us, through a love that precedes commandments and strictures of the law.

It is a giant leap to trust in God's love, that it can bring us our heart's, and more importantly (so it would seem in today's world), our body's desires.

Therein lies the paradox of Christianity: one must lose one's life in order to gain it, to die before one can live.

So we must take that leap to live out our identity as a child of God, a child of flesh and blood, living in close communion to the Father.

Only then will we begin to understand the wonders of His mighty love, the true value of the body and view the world with supernatural clarity.

TOB time

I am so psyched! I managed to make it to Melbourne despite my misgivings and the incredibly intense work pace I've been experiencing lately.

The writing job is still not done but the mountain of work has been reduced dramatically and it is now manageable. I can handle the home stretch as long as I keep pace.

The journey to come to Melbourne has been an interesting one. I've read the book (the light version), viewed the DVDs and have come to see the beauty in John Paul II's Theology of the Body over the last few years. So when the opportunity to come to Melbourne and take the certificate course presented itself, I was immediately drawn to the idea.

Of course the practicalities were dampening: how could I take off from work for such a length of time (my clients and boss would not be happy plus I would have no income for the period of 12 days), how could I leave my mother to fend for herself (unhealthy guilt I know but it does exist) and how would I pay for it???

Was this desire a frivolous one? A selfish one? So I offered it up to the Lord. If indeed it was not His desire enfolded in mine, then all efforts to make it happen would come to naught. I told myself not to be disappointed if it did not come to pass for if I allowed JC to lead, then I would have to accept where He led me.

First I got my leave approved. Then I worked through my guilt regarding my responsibilities as a daughter. Then the writing job literally fell from the skies right into my lap and the money issue was solved. If that's not providence I don't know what is.

I look forward to the first day of class tomorrow.

I look forward to spending time with my uncle and his family and building familial ties.

Most of all I look forward to this sacred space of getting to know Him a little better and learning to love Him in new ways.

Birthday blessings

When birthdays roll round, I like to take stock of what has happened in the year before and what do I see (what is His will for me) happening in the coming year.

After all, it should be a year older, a year wiser, especially since the body seems to be breaking down despite my feeble attempts at maintaining it so the least I can do is cultivate my mind and spirit. (Hah! as JJ my Texan friend who lives in Taiwan would say.)

Despite all the busyness in my life, I realized I managed to accomplish quite a few things. Chief among which has been my deepening relationship with Jesus. The growing intimacy, the everyday discovery of new facets of self, JC and us (JC n me).

While I have to say my best birthday in terms of thrills was the year I went diving in Komodo, in terms of a deep inner joy, it would have to be this year.

I realized that the biggest gift I received this year has been a freedom from and a freedom for.

I received the freedom from bondage of co-dependent relationships of the past and unhealthy emotional ties. I was given the opportunity say goodbye to relationships, people that I had held on to because past ties, our histories together, were so dear to my heart.

I was given the freedom for being - to be the me I was created to be. To be a woman who loves deeply and boundlessly, unafraid of being vulnerable and open to love's infinite possibilities. To love unconditionally and with the detachment of selfless maturity.

It's incredible how this freedom has given birth to such upwellings of joy and peace. A kind of nirvana. It feels absolutely fabulous!

If there were such a thing as a perfect day, this year's birthday ranks close. All the love I received from family and friends. All the yummy treats (I was wined and dined and birthday caked out). All the beautiful presents.

There are hints already of what is to come over the next 12 months and as I allow things, events to unfold as they will, I am reminded of what E. once said to me, that God is a God of order.

And so I wait... as I continue to exercise the glorious gift of freedom.

Prayer works

I cannot believe it, the first wave of work has cleared.

As of now, I have the morning to write up just one company profile, I have no more on hand. There are still seven companies outstanding (plus two interviews to write up) which can be done at a slightly more leisurely pace over the weekend. Now I am praying hard that everything comes in tomorrow.

It has been a siong or fierce week. Up at 6.00 am, teach or write with small breaks in between to eat. I only make it to bed after midnight. I am amazed at how I have been able to maintain high levels of concentration, long hours at a stretch, despite my tiredness. Slowly, but surely, I've chipped away at the mountain and am now left with a small hillock.

There is a second mountain to face but it is smaller than the first and relies more on quick turnaround time for the first drafts than anything else.

All I can say is I've been surviving on grace. And prayer.

Knowing that I would barely have time to pray (actually I have managed to make time, surprisingly enough) I've asked many of my friends to intercede for me during this crazy week and their prayers have worked.

God has been too kind, as B. would say. He has arranged my time to enable me to write (clients cancelling at critical moments). As long as I remained faithful and diligent, He created the opportunity.

Throughout this week, I've held Psalm 37:4 close to my heart: "Make the Lord your delight, and He will grant your heart's desire."

I get impatient and short when I am tired and panicky but I've made the effort to be find delight in situations and be "delightful".

I've endeavoured to put my best efforts into my writing, even when I've reached the point of giving up.

I've found the energy to teach and enjoy my time with clients despite the tiredness coursing through my body.

I have submitted my desire to Him: to be able to leave Singapore on July 22nd, secure in the knowledge that the job is done and done well.

I now leave it in His hands, claiming the proclamation of Gabriel to Mary, "With God, nothing is impossible".

A big thank you to my prayer warriors. This is to let you know your efforts have allowed me to make it through the week.

Alleluia. Amen.

Panic pill

I am in panic mode. I took on a huge writing project which I have to see to final proof stage by July 21^st, when I leave for Melbourne.

Right now, work has barely begun and the sheer volume of what lies ahead scares me for I am afraid I will not be up to the task and do a good job by the looming deadline.

Doubts and fears all crowd together within me, causing panic. Why did I take this on? Was I too greedy? Why am I so unrealistic about what I can and cannot do?

Today, I even struggled with going for mass – for I was strongly inclined to drop everything, even my precious time with God, in order to tackle the work.

I am glad I didn’t for the entire Eucharistic celebration was God’s assurance that His grace will see me through.

From the comforting notes of “Be not afraid, I go before you always...” to the readings where Paul reminds to walk in the Spirit which is mightily powerful, and where Jesus reassures us that He will carry our burdens: “Come to me, all you who work hard and who carry heavy burdens and I will refresh you”.

And so I laid my burden of fear at His feet and claimed His promise to refresh me. As we sang the recessional hymn, I received one final reassurance from Him:

“We will run and not grow weary, for our God will be our strength, and we will fly like an eagle, we will rise again.”

There’s much to be said for spiritual panic pills.

Super heroes

As children, who among us has not idolized a particular figure who has super-human powers and uses it to save the world like Superman? We all need heroes to admire, to emulate; people who exemplify everything good that we are not yet but can possibly be; to hope in a better me, and consequently, a better world.

For me it was Batman, a hero who is smart, strong and untiring in his efforts to fight crime. That he has cool gadgets and the Batmobile, I have to admit, added to his mystique.

His personal story struck a chord in the young me as well. Here was a hero who experienced loss at a young age when he witnessed the murder of his parents, but grows up with a mission to fight evil in the world.

He has all he would ever want in terms of material wealth, but lacks a family in the true sense of the word. He has only Alfred, his butler, and Robin, the Boy Wonder, as members of his surrogate family.

Ultimately, he is alone in his world, the "Dark Knight" who can never regain the warmth of his childhood with doting parents who loved him, and so stands apart.

Lately, my heroes have morphed into real people. Just like Batman, they have unique personal histories that shaped who they were. Just like Batman, they were on a mission to transform the world.

Rowan Williams wrote that 'the self is not a substance one unearths by peeling away layers until one gets to the core, but an integrity one struggles to bring into existence'.

Peter, the brash, impetuous and rough fisherman, who denied Christ on three occasions through fear but later goes on to 'feed His lambs' with great courage and wisdom to the extent of being crucified upside-down.

Paul, the learned and devout Pharisee who is struck physically blind so that he may see Christ in his life and goes on to be 'all things to all men' and brings Christ's message of love and redemption to the Gentiles.

These are men who were true to themselves and lived their lives with integrity as best they knew how.

Not perfect, completely human with human weaknesses, but who lived in the supernatural power of the Holy Spirit and thus were able to be, and be models of love made in Christ's image.

I salute these two great missionaries, whose feast day we just celebrated Sunday past, and as it is the start of the Year of St. Paul*, I wish for more of his courage, his unflagging faith, his eloquence and ingenuity, and his ability to deploy his talents fully to transform the world I live in.


* The Church commemorates the 2,000th anniversary of the birth of St. Paul from June 28th, 2008 - June 29th, 2009.

Child's play

Last Sunday I took B-boy to visit my father at the columbarium as it was Fathers' Day and I wanted to wish my father.

As we stopped at the niche where my dad's ashes were, I said, "Hi Dad, Happy Fathers' Day" earning me a look from the five-year-old who clearly thought there was something wrong with his aunt who spoke to a photograph in the wall, but was too polite to say so. Good training, A.

I then proceeded to take him to visit my grandparents and aunt who were a wall away. As I pointed out the people I knew and told him stories of how some of them died, what they did, he soon thought I knew every soul in the columbarium.

He started asking me about other strangers "Who's this?" Running ahead and pointing to a niche "What happened to this person?" I had to spoil the excellent impression I had made on him by admitting "I don't know". Darn!

A child like B-boy readily accepts the authority of an adult for he thinks all adults are there to teach him about the world, not realizing that adults have much to learn from him.

How to be naive, innocent, to trust that the world is a safe and wondrous place, put there solely for his or her enjoyment and pleasure.

How to explore life with no fear, pushing the boundaries, testing limits to gain a better understanding of how the world works.

How to play. Be creative. Let the imagination roam free.

Believe that there is something, someone greater out there to be acknowledged and appreciated every day.

So, for a moment, stop being the responsibility-loaded adult you are and become a child again.

And play!

Father & child

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. A perfect day to be outdoors. Father and son walked onto the field to practise catching a baseball.

Father, a lithe figure, who moved with athletic grace and power, son a slender eleven-year-old, brimming with excitement at the opportunity to show his father how well he could catch a baseball.

"Keep your eye on the ball and place the mitt up to catch it," instructed Pa, who then threw a slow ball.

Ron cheered, "I caught it! I caught it!"

"Good," said his father smiling with approval, "Now throw it back to me and get ready for the next one."

Ron threw the baseball back to his father and Pa pitched another slow ball. Ron dropped it but caught the one after. Soon he was catching most of the balls that came his way.

"Alright, now I am going to throw a little harder, a little faster," warned Pa.

"OK, Pa."

As the afternoon progressed, the father began pitching hard, fast balls.

Soon Ron's hand was smarting from the impact of the ball as it hit the glove. Each time he caught a ball he winced.

"Does it hurt, Ron?" Pa asked.

"No, Pa," the boy replied, tossing the ball back at his father.

Soon it was time to go home and by then Ron's hand was tender and bruised.

"Well done, son, I am proud of you," smiled Pa.

Ron's heart filled with happiness at his father's words.

This afternoon would remain in his memory as a special day, a day where he and his father did something together, just the two of them. A day where his father told him he was proud of him.

Such days were indeed rare, for there was a war going on and with nine mouths to feed, Pa did not have the time nor the disposition to play with his seven children. Survival was foremost on his mind.

When Ron became a father, he honoured that memory by taking time to teach his children how to swim, how to play table-tennis, how to kick a soccer ball.

After all, this is what fathers the world over do, play with their children. From one generation to the next.

The simple life

I've been enjoying a lull in my teaching hours for it's the June hols and many clients with kids have gone away.

While it's a little worrying for income is taking a dip, I'm also glad for the chance to spring-clean and chuck things that are no longer relevant or necessary in my life. (I also get to spend more time with Mum and cook more which are good things.)

It's mentally very empowering although the sentimental streak in me does mourn the departure of some article of clothing or a treasured book that has given me much pleasure in the past.

I've grown quite merciless in getting rid of stuff for there is just too much clutter from my past lives and my environs must now keep pace with my outlook on life, which has been for the last several years to simplify.

Just looking at the amount of junk I've acquired through the years, I marvel that I do not need or crave for 'things' like I used to.

I suppose it helps when I've been there, done that and do not need to buy that bag just because it's so me and too simply to-die-for.

I've also come to the conclusion ("Finally!" my mum would exclaim - if you saw the amount of stuff I have you would understand where she is coming from) that happiness does not lie in acquiring or possessing material things or wealth.

And, there are other means of getting a buzz besides retail therapy.

Anthony Bourdain maintains that the poorer the country, the more inventive and delicious tasting the cuisine. From basic and usually discarded ingredients, a wonderful meal can be conjured.

So living a material-poor life does not mean I get any less pleasure out of life but rather I am more appreciative of what I already have, and I enjoy exercising my creative juices in gaining maximum output for minimum financial investment.

And yes, I've even created some simple, nutritious and delicious meals for two that cost under $5. While Bourdain may not concur on the latter description, he would have to concede on the former two.

As the psalmist proclaims in Psalm 4: "You, O Lord, have put joy in my heart; more than by giving me wine or food."

So with joy in my heart, I go back to pruning the excesses of my past.

Rock solid

It's easy to lose perspective when life looms enormous, pressing up against you suffocatingly, crushing you under its inexorable weight.

It's easy to be caught in depression's powerful undertow and be sucked under, never to surface again.

It's easy to feel like you're all alone in the world in the endless night, no one out there who will help you, even if they could.

I used to give in and let the darkness overtake me.

Stay away from God even though I know that prayer, talking to Him, would be my saving grace.

I use to question His existence and His omnipotence, disbelief oozing from every pore of my being.

Now I know that I had built my house on sand. My faith a frangible, brittle thing, unable to withstand any of the elements.

I succumbed to worldly distractions and settled for less. Wrestled with my demons and lost which resulted in massive amounts of self-pity and self-loathing.

So what transformed me? Perspective.

Watching my father valiantly fight a losing battle with lung cancer - a horrific, yet heart-wrenchingly beautiful spectacle.

As the disease gained control of his body, he found tremendous psychological and spiritual healing. He reverted to the faith of his childhood - rock solid was his belief in Jesus.

His faith was God's parting gift to him and it enabled him to live out his last days with such grace that it called to something deep within me.

The most precious thing my father bequeathed me was this house of faith built on rock.

And so I began to build my own house on the bedrock of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Before I placed the foundation, I had to tear down the house of lies and distortions that I had sought shelter in for over 30 years.

I had to face and slay the monsters of my childhood with the sword of Truth and reclaim the delightful, precious and beloved little girl living inside of me.

In accepting the gift of who I am, I began to build the house I was called to design with the talents I had been bestowed.

Erecting walls of love and truth, with sturdy doors of forgiveness, sparkling windows of beauty to allow the light to shine through, topped with a roof of goodness.

So when the storms of life batter the exterior of my house and rattle the windows, I am safe in the knowledge that my ever-growing faith will sustain me through the most destructive of hurricanes.

For Christ is my rock. My lodestone in life.

Be like Christ

The phrase “you are what you eat” is usually used as dietary warning. In other words, eat unhealthily and expect your body to protest at some point with health problems (sometimes fatal) or weight gain.

This took on a deeper meaning for me last Sunday, being Corpus Christi.

If I eat the body and drink the blood of Christ, the Eucharist, I will be nourished and healed. For I am transformed as I allow the real presence of Jesus into my body, and consequently into my heart and my life.

I will become more like Him as I die to my worldly self. Yet how often do I really take advantage of the power of the Paschal Mystery?

Do I allow myself to be who I eat? My glib response is yes, as long as no one crosses my path or rains on my parade.

It's hard to remain mindful and to practise virtue when sometimes it seems as if everyone (hates me) and everything (is too difficult) is out to get me.

Nobody appreciates, understands or cares for me.

When the world is a harsh, alien and hostile place and in the words of five-year-old Brian, "I don't like it!."

This is where it's important to lead a Eucharistic life, to have faith and believe that we can rise above our troubles and ourselves by walking closely with the Father, by becoming like Christ.

Jesus came to show us that the impossible is nothing (to quote the Adidas ad campaign) and He left us with two very powerful weapons in our fight against our own foibles - the Holy Spirit and the Eucharist.

And God gave us His son, the Word made flesh, flesh to become the sacrificial lamb who would bring redemption and hope to the world.

So when I am unable to make it to weekday mass to get my Eucharistic boost, I rely on the written Word to remind me of who I am and what I must do.

"When your words came, I devoured them: your word was my delight and the joy of my heart; for I was called by your name, Lord, God of Sabaoth." Jer 15:16

Sup well today.

Mother's Day

I was telling my mother just yesterday that I did not realize today is Mother's Day. I had to be reminded by A.

We both laughed and I went on to say to her, tongue in cheek, that it was because to me, every day is Mother's Day.

It was a promise I made to myself when Dad passed on to treat my Mum specially every single day.

Dad used to say to us, "When I am gone, you all will bully your mother." It would tick me off for I did not see myself as a bully, much less a mother bully.

Upon reflection, I found a kernel of truth in what he said.

Mum is a total sweetheart and she is the most easy-going person in the world. If I were to treat her badly, she would stomach it without saying a word.

So the potential to bully is very high.

In many ways, Mum reminds me of Mother Mary: her gentleness, her meek acceptance of life and her unending patience. I like to think I have inherited some of these traits despite having my Dad's trigger temper.

Friends, do tell me if I am deluded or not?

When people tell me I am a good daughter, I always say I am blessed with a good mother. Mum makes it easy for me to be a good daughter for she is so accepting of my flaws and she eats whatever I put in front of her, good and bad.

Because of her I have learned to be capable, resilient and independent.

I have learned to be in touch with my girly side.

I have learned that gentleness is a strength.

I have learned to laugh and delight in life, be content with what I have.

I have learned to be able to tell a phalaenopsis from a cattelaya and appreciate the beauty of both.



I thank the Lord for the gift of my mother and I pray she will be around for a long time still, for she is one of my anchors in life.