What’s one small improvement you can make in your life?
There are so many areas in myself that I want to improve upon. If I had to choose one, it’d be to improve my sleep discipline. I’ve been working on sleeping better for some time now. As someone who is struggling with an autoimmune condition, I’ve felt the impact of getting enough sleep. When I get enough sleep, I find that my pain levels aren’t as bad, and that my recovery time from any exertion is quicker. More significantly, I find that when I stick to my sleep routines, my mind is rested. One of the worst symptoms of my disease is chronic fatigue. Whilst sleep isn’t always good during this time, getting all the rest I can helps with the tiredness that my mind feels in those times. I recognise too that when I’m okay, sleeping well makes me stronger mentally to face the times when a flare strikes.
It sounds almost boring and I feel at points that I’m missing out on things with friends and family. But I’ve learnt to be content with the exceptions I make to my sleep patterns and to enjoy the overwhelmingly wonderful results.
I love this topic! I’m a leader, but I think the only reason I’m a good leader is because I can follow. There are times when I’m in a setting and there are quite a few drivers. In those instances, I find that I’m able and content to let them lead. I don’t feel like I must always have the reins- but I make sure I speak up when I need to.
I think what’s often missing is that people want to lead but not follow. Leadership that’s inclusive and kind (and consequently, strong), requires people who’re able to follow. Otherwise, it’s impossible to listen to or empower others.
My hope is to keep growing my ability to follow and to lead. Growing in humility isn’t easy – feels counterintuitive, even, but is a necessary lesson.
So, there are one or two more recent live performances that I’ve been to, but the one that I want to talk about is the U2 concert I attended in Singapore on 1 December 2019. It was just before the travel lockdowns started with COVID, and it was my last trip for quite awhile because of the pandemic. I had for the longest time, wanted to go for a U2 concert. When I found out U2 were coming to Singapore, I knew I had to! This felt right.
There was a huge setback because my friend was at the last minute unable to come for the concert because she was recovering from an illness. Another friend took her place, and that ended up working out fine. Getting to Singapore was a bit of a struggle, though. My flight, which ordinarily would’ve taken an hour ended up taking 6-7 hours, thanks to some bizarre weather conditions, that I later found out, had affected other flights too.
Whatever the hiccups, I was in the Singapore National Stadium well ahead of time. Sound levels in the stadium were beyond anything I know. I can’t remember if it was my watch or my friend’s that showed ‘danger levels’ for sound exposure. It was thrilling. And the stage – my goodness, the stage was set up in true U2 style.
It felt almost like I was having an out of body experience. The tunes that were sung were all well-known. Everyone sang along. People screamed, danced, and sang their hearts out. The atmosphere was sizzling with the heat of U2’s magic. It was amazing.
I don’t think I’ll be going for another concert like this again. As much as the music pumped the ferocity of the blood running through my veins, I was painfully aware that my body was different, thanks to the progression of my long term illness. There were things I struggled with, which I wished I didn’t. Still, I’m thrilled to the bone that this was the concert that I managed to get to. If it’s to be my last big concert, this was simply the best way to go!
U2 was magic on that hot, sticky night in Singapore. The colours of the lights from the stage warmed my body. The tunes they churned gladdened my heart like an old friend popping by for an incredible chat. I’ll never forget this out of the world experience.
What’s a job you would like to do for just one day?
I’m not brave enough to do this, nor am I willing to give up anonymity, but if I could do something for just one day – it’d be to be a lead singer of a famous band and do a concert. I love the energy I see from the stars that do this. I love the lights and the grandiose arrangements of the sets. I love the way they connect with people- so many people, at one go. This is the best part, I’d think. So yes- to doing this for just one day! Then I’d like to crawl back into my life- with my pooch, family and friends and a whole lot of quieter creature comforts.
I’ve just had a very eventful morning. I had to go to the dentist today, for the third part of a painful root canal. This was most unfortunate, because a former filling had cracked, and a cavity had set in somewhat sneakily. Sneaky because I never felt it until it was too late. The filling protected me from pain, which would actually have been a good thing, as it would’ve acted as a warning. As a result of this whole fiasco, the process has been a little fraught. There were some ‘suspicious’ swellings on my gum, which the dentist was worried about and the unholy word — ‘biopsy’ was mentioned. This has been at the back of my mind for some time. I’ve missed my father, because I’d have ordinarily had him to talk to about this. I hadn’t realized how anxious I’d been until I was given the ‘all clear’ today. I felt my body relax. It was magical!
I then turned my attention to the second problem this morning. As I was driving to the dentist, I heard a flappy sound. I thought something had got caught under my car, so when I parked, I had a look to see what it was. Lo, and behold, my car tyre was flat. There was an immediate sense of missing my dad when I realized the flat. My dad constantly kept an eye on my car and if the tyre had been slightly less inflated, he’d have said. The pang that I felt within me was real. Still, I knew exactly what to do. I called the mechanic in our town, who’s known me since I was about six. He and his sister faithfully served my dad. He said he needed some time to get to me as he was out. No problem.
I decided to get a Grabcar back home while waiting for the mechanic as he did say he’d be late. Again, I was thankful, as I got a ride almost immediately. The driver was grumpy and in all honesty, I didn’t care much for him. It didn’t matter too much, though. I couldn’t wait to get into the house for that effusive Gamora-welcome I knew was awaiting me. That’s when it hit me. I’d left my house keys in the car. My first response was to start and call out ‘Pa..’ That pang hit me again. Papa’s not there.
Everything worked out in that, I got another Grabcar back to where my car was parked, picked up my keys and came home. It’s almost comical, when I think of it. Is this the moment when I’m officially ‘over the hill’?
Gamora’s greeting was brilliant. It was so much needed. The outpouring of love is unmissable. She knows what it’s like to miss.
Easter Sunday had been surprisingly difficult. In the middle of my church, as the service started, I felt the enormity of not having my mum and dad by me. It took a lot of effort on my part to blink back tears. Not that I think tears are inappropriate. I just didn’t want to have to explain them, nor did I want to hear remonstrations of why that feeling was so inappropriate on Easter Sunday. After all, I believe that Jesus’ resurrection means a resurrection of all believers when He comes again. I should’ve been rejoicing and singing out loud, glorying in every single word of praise of my Redeemer. Instead, I was inwardly sad, blinking back tears, and have been in the dumps since.
When I’m sad, I find myself watching some of the Jane Austen adaptations over and over again. I love the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice (1995), I love the many adaptations of Persuasion, and I love Sense and Sensibility with Emma Thompson and Kate Winslet. My familiarity with the dialogue of all of these is somewhat comforting. There’s another dialogue that I find comforting as I watch these. Dialogue with my mum about these books and some of the adaptations that we watched together. I remember such intense discussions, giggling, and just a sheer sense of enjoyment, that feels almost tangible, as I revisit these haunts.
Still, this wave of missing my dad and my mum is washing over me. I cannot adequately express how sadness feels. When the wave comes over me, I feel my senses overcome, and it’s almost as if I’ve been sucker-punched. There’s a sense of difficulty in breathing, and a definite burning in the eyes as tears bitterly push their way out. At the same time, all around me, I see land. There’s a buzz going on. Life on land doesn’t stop. I hear laughter from the land on one corner, some gibber jabber of sorts, all the sounds associated with life moving on. When the wave comes over me, I feel like I lose sight of land.
The only thing I don’t really lose sight of is God. This feels almost inconsistent, doesn’t it? How can someone who’s feeling this intensity of sadness, see God?
I’ve been contemplating on the event Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, as I’m preparing for an elective on grief for church camp that’s just around the corner. The passage is rich with many, many different points to look at, but for the longest time ever, I’ve been fascinated with John 11:35, which simply says ‘Jesus wept.’ It’s hard to fathom why He’d weep. I mean, he’d just said to Martha, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.’ I doubt very much that Jesus needed to be reminded of the gospel point, considering He was, and still is the gospel point!
I believe that Jesus is fully God and fully man. It’s not easy to explain this — it’s not a 50/50 case of God/man or a two in one sort of effect. I lack the eloquence to explain this, though it makes sense to me, deep in my bones. He had to be human, because He took my sin on the cross. I don’t always hold myself in high-esteem and often have to work on issues of self-doubt, but I’m terribly sure that a lamb, no matter how fat or cute (or whatever the standard is), cannot be an equal substitute for me. I am of far more value than it. There is nothing it can do to be sufficient to pay for anything I’ve done. My understanding of human nature, limited as it is, sufficiently demonstrates to me that we really don’t have the best thoughts all the time. We’re not deeply good or pure. Our motives, our words, and actions, betray us, even when we try our best. We’re fallen creatures. It makes sense to me, that only someone pure, far greater than us, can take our place should they want to protect us from the punishment we truly deserve. To this end, from the depths of my heart, I can see why Jesus’ death for us was the one perfect sacrifice. Legally, it makes sense that He can say when believers die, that He has paid for their souls. He demands justice for us. Why He did it when He really didn’t have to, tells me how superior His love is for us.
This is the same Jesus who wept, just before He raised Lazarus. He wept not because He didn’t understand the gospel or the impact of what He came to do. He wept because He was deeply saddened by the sorrow that we go through when we lose. He knew that our understanding of His work, even when it’s being preached to us on Easter Sunday or on any other Sunday, or when it’s screaming out at us from the words of Scripture, doesn’t remove the pain of the loss we feel. His weeping just before He raises Lazararus, is, I think, an outpouring of compassion and sadness that He feels for us because of the brokenness of the world. In His perfect human state, He’s able to reach into the emotion of pain and despair that we sometimes feel the need to shield ourselves from. In His perfect human state, his anguish is brutal. In His perfect God state, He shows a compassion so deep and is moved to tears for the plight of humanity as it grapples with the pain of loss. In His perfect God state, He foresees the pain of separation that the Trinity is about to face, when He dies for us upon the cross.
It is all too much to take in. As I remember these truths, I feel strength within me. I feel revived. My father and mother aren’t with me, but, my LORD is. I don’t have to blink back tears when I’m with Him. I don’t have to smile and say that I’m okay, even when I’m not. I don’t have to gauge how He’s doing before I drop my load on to Him. He’s strong enough to take it. Strangely, as I think about Him, I feel a sense of joy within, knowing that it was my mum and dad, who grew me in Him by His grace. This piece of shared history between us doesn’t end with their passing because He is very much alive. So, I am most grateful for Jesus, and for how He wept. He’s given me space for my tears, which thanks to His sacrifice, are only temporary.
Papa and mummy, whether it’s the dentist, or conversations with the mechanic about how we all were in the past, or at family gatherings, or whether it’s in the middle of full church on a Sunday, where I am surrounded by lots of familiar and loving faces, I still miss you. I miss you. I’m so grateful that in Christ, I can feel these waves of grief, which connect me to you, without them drowning me.
It’s Good Friday today (18 April, 2025). Christians all over the world will be reminding themselves of Jesus’ crucifixion that took place on that wicked hill called Golgotha, ever so long ago. This morning, I went to church — which was a bit of a feat in itself, because I’ve hurt my back. Before you give me any sympathy, let me just say that I’ve hurt my back out of sheer stupidity and I’m not impressed. As I attempted moving a full bucket of water with my foot, I was telling myself not to do it. It’s hard to explain — it felt a bit like a horror show, watching myself not listen to the voice of sense that was screaming from inside my brain, and attempt the act which I’ve already described. I had to walk sideways, holding on to the outer walls of my house to get inside, grab my car keys, and drive through the pain to see a doctor. Thankfully, I’m so much better already. I’m not sure how quickly I’ll recover over my own stupidity, though!
There were three reflections in church and friends have been forwarding all sorts of messages about Good Friday. One friend in a group of ladies I read the Bible with shared one that was particularly hard hitting. It reminded us all the Judas sat at the same table as Jesus and the other apostles and our Lord showed him love. This is devastatingly shocking to read, because we know that Jesus knew who His betrayer was. The little WhatsApp share also reminded us how we’re all sinners — like Judas! That’s hard to take.
The Bible’s constantly going on about the prophecies about Jesus. The accuracy of the Psalms that refer to His character, His death, and even His resurrection is pretty stunning. We looked at Psalm 22: 1- 18 and Isaiah 52: 13 – 53:12 in church today. I’m constantly blown away, when I consider the way Jesus is described, not just as the long-suffering servant, but the Man of Sorrows, and unlike king David who’s described as ruddy, handsome, with beautiful eyes (1 Samuel 16:12), Jesus is described appallingly. Imagine this — we’re told that Jesus’ appearance is ‘marred, beyond human semblance,’ (Isaiah 52:14) and that ‘he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, no beauty that we should desire him’ (Isaiah 53: 2). The contrast to king David is unmissable.
However, David (whom I like very much), as good looking and majestic as he is, and with the kind of frenzied support he had, didn’t treat people so well all the time. For starters, there’s that whole episode of lusting after Bathsheba, who was already married to Uriah. David stops at nothing to get the woman he wants — which includes ensuring that Uriah, who was a faithful servant to him, is killed in battle (2 Samuel 11). David was also a pretty rubbish father to his daughter when she needed him the most (2 Samuel 13). David didn’t deal with his son Amnon who raped his daughter Tamar. This injustice causes David’s son Absalom to rise up against him and this eventually leads to Absalom’s death (2 Samuel 18). So much for majesty, riches, being a powerful warrior, and being so good looking!
So, years later, when Jesus arrives — born in extremely humble circumstances, the scene is set for the contrast. Jesus grew up in a small, insignificant place called Nazareth. In fact, in John 1:46, Nathaniel’s response when he first hears about Jesus is ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’ We’re also told that people took offence at Jesus — after all, He was the carpenter’s son (Matthew 13: 53 – 58 and Mark 6: 1-6). Suffice to say, such responses combined with some of the prophecies that spoke about Jesus in such appalling ways inform us that His majesty, His beauty, His power — were all hidden. He truly did humble Himself to come into this world to die for us.
Despite this, Jesus, unlike David, does something that David or none of us can do. He humbled Himself and embraced the man that would work with conspirators to lead Him to His death. He didn’t chase Judas away. Rather, He allowed Judas to sit at that table, washed his feet, and let him eat in His presence so that you and I won’t be cast away from that table. Because Jesus let Judas lead Him to His death willingly, He fulfilled the demands of God’s law and obtained justice for those who believe in Him. We have a place at the table because of Good Friday.
As I reflect on Good Friday and Easter Sunday, the death and resurrection of Jesus, I am overwhelmed by the magnitude of the gift. I know I am a sinner. I know that I’m not easy to love. This is true for all of us. Yet, Jesus died for such as us. This comforts me as I think about my own mum and dad. They brought me up believing in Jesus and they died believing in Him. The events of Good Friday and Easter Sunday inform me that one day, I will see them again, when we are united in Jesus’ Kingdom. The Bible tells us that He will return in glory (Matthew 24:30). That will be a sight to behold.
Papa and mummy, I miss you both so much at times like these. It was so wonderful to have conversations with you about all these things that truly mattered. Thank God for Good Friday and Easter. Christ died for us and He rose again.
Describe one positive change you have made in your life.
I started walking some years ago- and it’s been a really good thing. I take my little dog with me now, and we go to lovely parks. I enjoy the timeout in the mornings – and it does wonders for the mood (and health!). Love it.
The last two months of 2024 were filled with stress because I was losing my job. Being made redundant has not been a pleasant experience. It really delivers a sucker punch and sucker punches make you reel. There has been angst about direction. It’s hard to plan when you’re reeling. I’ve lost the sleep rhythm that I worked so hard to gain. Since November, sleep has been fitful at best. Not great.
Yet, this morning, there’s a song in my heart. There’s been such a huge turnaround in how I’m feeling. Tomorrow, on 8 March 2025, in conjunction with International Women’s Day, I am launching a new consultancy. I’ve had the desire to set up some kind of business for some time now, having done so in the past. Some of the journeys that I took were great, but not easy. Well, I say that I’m ready, now, after ages of waiting. I had such a great experience with a partner when I set up a business from scratch. There was so much I learnt from him about fairness and contentment in negotiations. I learnt about boundaries from him and it meant our partnership was healthy. When we ended the business, it was nothing to do with us not getting along, but rather that it was time to move on. To me, having a partner was such a great journey that I always thought that I needed to have a partner to start something new. Hence the delay. It’s not easy to find someone on the same page as you. Before anyone says anything, okay – so maybe my page has got a few dog ears, rips, and isn’t terribly pristine!
When I started taking a look at jobs to apply for, there were lots more things I needed to think about this time. I have been working from home since before the pandemic started, partly due to the different time zones, which made it impossible to keep a 9-5 schedule and partly due to changes in my own health situation. I struggle with rheumatoid arthritis and RA is a progressive disease and at that point I was dealing with terrible fatigue. Right now, as I write this, inflammation levels are normal and I’m target for remission if I can keep this going for a bit. The sickening part is that even if I do things right, I don’t control how my body works and how the disease behaves. I am conscious of how this affects my commuting to a new job and with all that’s being done to reverse things to onsite work, which I find most frustrating, taking a job in the city, may mean moving to the city. At this point, I’m not sure it’s what I want to do. I’m not as enamoured as I was about living in the city some years ago. A move feels like additional change. I feel I need a bit of stability given how much change has taken place in such a short time. These are all now factors that I cannot ignore when considering job options.
The other thing is I’ve not found a rhythm since losing my dad. What does this mean? It means I no longer have someone at home with me to be there for or who is there for me. I don’t know how to manage it. When I had Patches, Loki and for the brief period that he was alive when Gamora arrived, my dad helped me with these furry creatures who wormed their way into our hearts and home. It made a difference. I was free to go out and work and even if my workday ended up being a twelve- or fourteen-hour day, my dad was at home with them. They weren’t locked in on their own. I don’t have that same back up with Gamora now. I have to really thank God for my cousin, whom I call Gamora’s fairy-godmother who turns up for Gamora more than I expect. Tomorrow, when I host the drop-in for my new venture, she’s taking Gamora with her for the day. Her mum, my aunt who says she’s Gamora’s fairy-god-grandma also steps in a lot. A lot of the time on short notice too. The reality is, my cousin is working in a demanding job herself. She has a lot on her plate and my aunt has a lot to do in her life. It’s different from my dad who lived here with me and was just there. I used to come in and say ‘Papa, I’m so sorry and thank you,’ on the days that I was especially late for I knew that my four-legged darlings were safe. This isn’t the only way, but my dad’s not being around has made such a difference to my life. It is another factor for me to consider as I think of next steps work wise. It’s easy to throw out suggestions like a dog day care, but as much as Gamora’s a bouncy little juggernaut, her bounciness and confidence comes from her closeness to me. She’s terrified otherwise and I see it when I take her to get her nails done. She cannot handle all the other dogs and you can see how overwhelming it all is. Her little heart thumps so fast and loud that when I carry her back to the car, I can feel it beating. I don’t have a rhythm without my dad.
The idea of starting a business, is as I said something I’ve been keen to do. Yet my hunt was for the right partner, and the right idea. Whatever it was had to be sustainable. Whoever it was with had to be workable. I admit I have worried about this a lot. Over a conversation, one of my wise friends said that it sounded almost as if the perfect partner was Jesus. It’s one thing to know Biblical truths, it’s quite another to have some of them repeated to you in a thoughtful way. I did wonder what the hold back was. Maybe I was worried about this partnership. The truth is, in a partnership between Jesus and me, the only one likely to fail is me. Ouch.
My prayer has been for several things. It’s been to help quell the intense sadness I feel without my dad, which in turn is opening up my mum’s absence. My parents were such ordinary people. Not at all savvy in business or the ways of the world. They didn’t know naughty nuances in language, so they didn’t get a lot of naughty jokes. They weren’t brilliant at investing their funds – it was always safe options. There was a lot of learning to live within our means. They didn’t keep up with anything trendy. It was not their thing. Yet, they were faithful to their God. They taught me all about Him to the best of their abilities. They made mistakes and talked about failings. They apologized when necessary. They were practical about things that were life and death. There was a steadiness about them. There was nothing flash. Just faithful, calm, steady folk. I miss them. I longed so much for the opportunity to just chat to them about how things unfolded in my last job and all the things I need to now consider as I take steps forward. I miss their quiet wisdom. My other prayer has been for direction. I don’t know whether I’m meant to get a job or if I should start a business. I’ve been applying for work and somehow there’s been a push to go about doing things to set up a business. There have been conversations about freelance opportunities and the idea of setting up a website came up. As I applied for jobs and moved about to set up, I found myself more drawn to the later. There were more pieces falling into place and before I knew it, I am here, on the eve of launching my new consultancy.
I’m excited and nervous all in one. I’m sad because I miss my parents. I’m exhilarated from the work done on the website. How I enjoyed working on it. There was so much support on how to get the technicalities done – it was more than a prayer answered. I feel a deep sense of satisfaction and a drive to keep going every time I sat down to work on it. It’s such a wonderful feeling when you’re content. I’ve enjoyed conversations on work and options that lie ahead. There’ve been introductions and amazing suggestions. These offers and suggestions have spurred me on. I felt a sense of worry slip away. As I worked on my website, some gave me great feedback, little things that you miss because you’re in your head. It was helpful to make tweaks and find myself feeling an even greater sense of joy as the webpage unfolded. Some gave me praise and many assurances. I cannot tell you how supported I’ve been feeling with my launch happening tomorrow. One cousin drove from so far just to drop stuff off for me to use for the launch. I walk a tight balance of managing RA related fatigue, so this help goes a long way. She’s been asking me to keep her posted on what else needs doing. My other cousin, Gamora’s fairy-godmother has offered to take Gamora out and keep her for the day. The stress that takes off me where managing Gamora is concerned is inexplicable. Friends have been checking in and doing all sorts – I am so grateful.
As I consider how things unfold, I realise that there’s been only one reason why I’ve been so supported. For me, it is crystal clear that God has been making sure I don’t sink. I’ve been feeling embattled, inadequate, and scared. I worry about my relevance, my expertise, and my ability to move forward. In the past, I would’ve focused on all the people who haven’t turned up and I’d have lost even more confidence. This time, I feel almost like the birds of the air and the grass of the field that God looks after (Matthew 6: 25-34) – I am cared for! I’m seeing this through the different people that have come into my life. Today, I took some minutes to send a special message to some of these who have been especially prominent – I am beyond grateful.
My circumstances haven’t really changed. My home is shattered as is my heart. I don’t have my mum and dad with me. I think there’s no recovery there. I’ve had to say goodbye to working alongside some of the loveliest people I know. Six years getting to know them and developing friendships and those regular interactions are now different. I’m saddened by this upheaval. I need a job – well a source of income, and starting a new business isn’t the easiest thing to do. Has anyone looked at the state of the economy recently? I’ve reason to be worried. Yet, there is a peace deep within. I’m not spiraling despite all that’s happened. I have joy, even. Unexpected joy, but unmistakable. There is contentment. There is excitement. Maybe it is because I’m experiencing God’s love through all the different people He’s sending along. I’m being cared for, cherished, and it’s mind blowing. I am indeed a recipient of grace.
Whilst I cannot guarantee that the clarity I have in this moment will remain constant (though it be my fervent prayer!), I am thankful for this insight. We’ve not been promised lives without trial. It is through these trials that we experience grace. Grace when it comes at these points is sweet. It overwhelms you. It nurtures and fills you. It is in this moment of grace that I can say ‘Oh taste and see that the LORD s good!’ (Psalm 34:8). My favourite king David wrote that psalm when he was in such turmoil that he had to pretend he was a nutcase. He received grace. I pray that this will always be my posture – to be a ready recipient of grace despite the circumstances that come my way.
Papa and mummy, I think you’d be proud of this new venture. How I wish I could share it with you! I love and miss you.
The bloom that greeted me this morning from my Lombok creeper.
I went to Istanbul with a couple of old girlfriends. I cannot remember what made us decide to go to Istanbul. I remember thinking it was a miracle that we found suitable dates for the three of us, and I remember that whenever we talked about it, Istanbul was so far in the future. I know I felt enthralled on some nights when I threw myself into rereading the history of the battle for Constantinople. I remember vividly my father telling me the history of how the young Sultan Mehmet II outsmarted the Emperor Constantine XI by circumventing the great chain of the Golden Horn. I couldn’t help but remember too how my mum kept drilling the meaning of ‘tributary’ into my head. The Bosporus Strait divided the European and Asian sides of Istanbul. The Golden Horn, I remember her telling me, was a tributary that divided the European side and flowed into the Bosporus. I think we looked at the Encyclopedia at the time, but I cannot remember this very clearly. I just remember loving the conversations with them. As I read up more on Türkiye, I remembered too the fall of the Ottoman Empire in 1923. How devastating it was to the line of rulers who once commanded lands and peoples. Such a fall from their glory. The similarity with the loss of glory that the Byzantine Empire suffered at the hands of the Ottomans never escaped my notice. I felt the excitement build up as I reread some of this history. I couldn’t wait for Istanbul!
I think I spammed my friends in our WhatsApp group as I kept sending them details of hotels, and various activities for us to do while we were there. We didn’t have a lot of time, and it was important that we maximized what we had. It truly was wonderful. So much must be said for reviews! We booked into a lovely little boutique hotel, which was about 120 meters away from the Blue Mosque. We were in the heart of the Sultanahmet area. All we needed to do was step out of our hotel, take a few steps, and be at the Hippodrome. Brilliant!
How we walked! We’ve not stopped talking about the amount of walking we did. It’s amazing how curiosity, chatter, laughter, and a little FOMO combined can keep you going and going. We did good! The crisp winter air of Türkiye helped. I can’t imagine walking outside like that at noon in Malaysia, in the heat and humidity. It’d be a bit too much to handle. Whatever it was, we had a wonderful time walking. We crossed the Galata bridge, and it felt like the people fishing remained fishing whether we were coming or going. We didn’t enjoy the haggling at the bazaars. In fact, you could feel the pressure to make a choice. Pick something – anything. The sellers were willing to serve you endless cups of tea with Turkish delight and baklava to improve your buying experience. They made their displeasure known if you don’t make a purchase, and I think a few times, we made ours known too. It was quite a clash of cultures, I’d say!
Istanbul was wonderful. There were moments we worried we’d lose one of our friends to the cats of Istanbul. Till today, I’m not sure she’s back here in Malaysia! We flew on different flights. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has taken up residence there. The birds and dogs were huge! The pigeons were about half of Gamora. It made me wonder how Gamora would react if she saw such a big pigeon. In our home, she terrorizes the pigeons. She’d have a bit of a shock, I think if she saw the size of the pigeons of Istanbul. Then there were the dogs. One of my friends joked that they must be on steroids. I believe it. They were huge! They were also incredibly docile. The only times we saw them charging and causing a ruckus was when the rubbish lorries or police cars with sirens drove by. Those trigger them out of their dozy stupor. There was a lot to take in. One of my friends almost kissed the tram lines on Istikal Street because her eyes were on a dog about to do something very private in a very public area!
Istanbul reminded me of the notion of living up to past glory. There is so much that restauranters, merchants, guides, and even scammers do to bring your sights and senses back to the glories of old. They do have some good stories. They have rich history. Yet there’s no more wealth, economically there’s a struggle, and the cost of living has rocketed. As I walked into the Hagia Sophia, I felt a true sense of this past glory. A majesty that was there but which is now visible only in your imagination, aided by the sights you take in within that old structure. I did feel a sense of that in the Basilica Cistern and in the old Greek and Jewish quarters in Fener and Balat. It felt strange to be walking about so casually in places that used to be so grand and where life bustled at a different pace to what it does now. As you look at mosaics and old relics of the past, or old structures which are in desperate need of refurbishing or maintenance, you get the idea of how exhausting it must be to try and keep up with past glory. It is well and truly gone. It will be impossible to get it back. The glorious history resides in the past. There it will remain. Glorious in memory for as long as memory serves.
The idea of glory is interesting to me. It seems to come up across many aspects of life. I support a football team, who are currently leading the English Premier League. Liverpool is fully back living up to its glory days of old. There was a period of about thirty years where the glory of the league remained elusive. Then the team looked like it was full of promise, but except for a few memorable matches, rarely delivered. As supporters, in that time, we lived in past glory. I think of my friend who supports Manchester United, and I know where he is living when he sends me videos of old victories. Football aside, I was reminded of past glory today. I had the privilege of hosting a small lunch to celebrate someone who turned ninety. My mind was full of memories of my dad’s ninetieth birthday party, which feels like such a wonderful occasion that I can now only look upon in my heart. Past glory. Even as I listened to the elderly friends chattering today, I realized how much they longed for days of old, where they were surrounded by their loved ones, or were doing work that was relevant, etcetera. Past glory. It is everywhere! We look back on our lives where perhaps now we can no longer do the same things we used to. It’s because we’re older, it’s because of different financial circumstances, it’s because we’ve lost someone we love, it’s ill-health. Whatever the reason, we look back and we think about the glory days. Past glory.
As I reflect on my trip to Istanbul, I think of how God promises me a future glory. It’s such an interesting paradox because life as it is, is difficult. As I write this, I have a week left at my job before the redundancy takes effect. My body, despite excellent blood work results just days ago, is never going to be the same again. At least not until Jesus comes again. As for my mind, the things I forget are sometimes so embarrassing. Sometimes I feel like I’ve moved closer to full-time residency in numpty-land! My present circumstances, and as I look around, I include the circumstances that most people are in and the world in general, are all not gleaming in glory. In fact, as days go by, and as cities get even more crowded, or as traffic gets worse, or as climate issues and various other issues that plague our world ramp up, all I can see is a shell of what we used to be. Past glory. We keep trying to work ourselves out of this rut. The Bible steps in at this point and says that ‘sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us,’ (Romans 8:18). The feeling of ‘futility’ likened to the ‘groaning in the pains of childbirth’ (Romans 8: 20 – 22) seems real. In Istanbul, I wondered how would refurbishing the Hagia Sophia happen when there are so many everyday problems that plague the country, which need immediate attention? As they say, life happens. It never stops!
The promise given to me in the Bible is of a future glory, despite present sufferings. ‘The wilderness and dry land shall be glad; the dessert shall rejoice and blossom abundantly…And the ransomed of the LORD shall return…everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; …’ (Isaiah 35: 1-10). Future glory! The promise in the verses in Romans 8: 18-30 reminds us that ‘for all those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.’ Future glory! Future glory is simply unfathomable. It is hard to believe. No wonder why too! For we are all part of a world that is in its past glory, we can’t imagine anything else! It’s impossible! Additionally, it occurs to me that there is some beauty still even in this era of past glory that we are caught up in. Even as I think back on the old structures I saw in Istanbul and traders trying to relive a booming past, as much as there is the sad or ugly side to things, there was a magnetic charm, an allure. It delighted me so much that I forgot about how it would be if some of the old structures were refurbished and given a new gleaming exterior and interior. I stopped imagining what it could be like! This too is the difficulty we have in imagining future glory. Yet it doesn’t mean it isn’t to come.
So much of Istanbul will remain with me. It was the company I had. I was with good friends. It was the timing of it all. It’d been an exhausting Christmas and New Year waiting for things to be finalized at work in relation to my redundancy. It was because there were many elements about the place that took me back in time to my mum and dad, my past glory. I always want to be with them. I miss them. Istanbul was magical for me. Through watching it try so hard to relive and build up to its past glory, it made me think about my future glory in Christ. I hold to the promise in the Bible. I think it was put into my heart by the Spirit that we have been given ‘a secret and hidden wisdom of God, which God decreed before the ages for our glory,’ which not everyone will understand (1 Corinthians 2: 1 – 12). Our future glory and the hope I have in Christ jumps out even more to me thanks to the past glory I met on the streets of Istanbul.
Mosaic of the Emperor Constantine who established Istanbul (right) holding a model of the city. The Emperor Justinian who built the Hagia Sophia (left) is holding a model of the building. They present the models to the Virgin Mary and the baby Jesus. Some refurbished colourful houses in Fener & BalatThe Grand Bazaar!Gigantic doggie The Basilica Cistern
The thing that has been on my mind a lot since November last year, was an unfolding work situation. I am being made redundant. Let me say that again. I am being made redundant. There’s a shock element to the whole thing, which has been a challenging part of the process. Redundancy isn’t pleasant even when conducted well, and it’s worse if the process has been a little bumpy. However, in both instances, whether the handholding was skilful or not, there is a shock value, which isn’t possible to eliminate. It’s not something that’s supposed to happen to you. It happens to others, horribly enough, but not you. This is the shock that I am grappling with. Prior to this, when I left other jobs, my employers have mostly tried to get me to stay. At this stage of my career, being let go is a new feeling. I can’t say I like it very much!
A new challenge now lies ahead. I’m at crossroads. Do I apply for another job or do I set up my own business. Having gone through what I’ve just had to, there’s a slight resistance to the idea of working for an organisation, though I like the idea of a steady income very much! I’m not new to setting up a business, and that idea seems good, but perhaps because of recent bereavement over which I am grieving, the challenge feels a bit big. Another possibility too is that the shock of recent events has drained my energy levels. That’s a very real possibility. I’m so very conflicted as to direction. Should I go right or should I take the left turn?
My mind has been in a state of overdrive. I have been doing all the right things, from spending time in the outdoors, talking to God and my friends, reminding myself not to panic, but the buzz in my brain has been going on. I realised the extent of this when I made an error which inconvenienced a trip I’ve been planning. I leave next week and this was not what I needed to deal with. As I shared this with a friend in passing, she just stepped in. She helped iron out the wrinkle. Just like that. She reminded me to show myself some grace. Perhaps it was the way in which she was so matter-of-fact about it, which helped. It made me feel calm again. I hadn’t even told her of how I’d teared up because the mistake made my dad’s absence so clear. Ordinarily, he’d have stepped in. My friend’s gesture has helped the sensation of being overwhelmed because it reminded me of how God sends us help in our times of trouble. I felt like He saw me and came to my aid.
I don’t want to pretend that everything is now okay after that one hiccup. The reality is that this is not a pleasant time. I’ve been feeling such sadness as colleagues have been quietly messaging me to let me know how surprised and sad they are at the news. There have been many warm things said that remind me why this is sad. I’ll be losing people that I love working with. If anyone knows anything about me by now, losing people is not something I do particularly well. I’m grateful for the assurances my colleagues are giving me about how we’re going to remain friends. I pray for this to be true.
It feels like there’s been hit after hit. Loki died, close friends going through terminal illnesses and passing on, so many family members passed on and the deepest cut for me here was my dad. All these since November 2022. I’m not counting other past losses, most significantly my mum’s. It makes me realise a few things. The first is that the Biblical truth of how all things pass away is indisputable. All things are fleeting in nature. While many things are blessings, it wouldn’t be wise to put our hope in them. The second is that there’s really no such thing as karma. Bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad. I don’t think any of the people I know who’ve suffered grievous losses lately or who’re dealing with terminal illnesses fall under the bad category. They’re paying a heavy price. I think some crooked politicians on the other hand, seem to have a pass. I do think that there will be justice when Jesus comes again. It sucks to have to wait, but I’m aware of some of the not so kosher thoughts that went through my mind when I was angry recently. I’m thankful that justice there wasn’t immediate. I wouldn’t have stood a chance! The third thing is that there is so much grace even in such painful and overwhelming times. Help comes in the form of people in our lives, or things working out a certain way. It follows that for us to recognise grace, we need to be in a place where we can receive it. There’s no need for grace when everything is hunky-dory. The final thing I’m making a note of, which by no means is the final word on takeaways, is that even in all my ups and downs, I am loved by Jesus. I feel it. Not just from the words I read in the Bible. There are many days when I go through the motions of reading without feeling a thing. There are moments when someone turns up and does or says something, which they don’t need to say or do. Yes, that does mean grace, and yes I mentioned it earlier, but it shows that there is love. If there is no love, there is no grace.
So in these days that lead to the winding down of my role, and farewells that I’ll have to make, and as I ponder future plans, where my mind may at moments feel a shot of anxiety at what lies ahead, or where I am not my best because of all that’s happening, I’m going to reread what I have written here and remind myself of grace. Grace is never redundant. It reminds me of the love I have in Christ. I thank God for my friend who pointed me back to this through her actions and words, the friend who has been supporting me and helping me work things out, and all the others who have been reminding me of the assurances we have in a faithful God.
I say the words penned by my favourite king David in Psalm 103:1: ‘Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name!’
Papa and mummy, goodness, how much I miss you now.
Gamora’s a blessing that always makes me smile. Beautiful days outdoorsReminders of how God’s care extends to all creationPrettiness that soothes a tired mind
Grace for the soul 