Author: anitastephen2015

For little Gamora, the whole world is as it should be. She’s such a joyful little pup and her bounciness is infectious. Her love for adventure knows no end. Neither does her love for mischief and getting her own way! She’s quite entertaining. 

Gamora’s half pug and half dachshund. Both breeds are known for their propensity to gain weight. Little Gamora is showing that she has fully embraced this part from both her parents. How she loves her food. I used to think that my first dog, Patches, who earned the name ‘the Turkey Thief’ because of the time he stole a turkey at Christmas, ate it, and couldn’t move for three days, had a ferocious appetite. Mind you, he was at least four times bigger than Gamora. But I have since learnt that Gamora will not be outdone by her bigger older brother that she never met. She’s either faster or on par with Patches when it comes to the speed of wolfing food down. It really is the vacuum cleaner effect. To top it off, she is always hungry! Her appetite is voracious! Two seconds after a feed, she’s ready for the next feed. She even has the ability to look like she’s been starving for days on end. It’s highly manipulative as it makes all our visitors feel bad for her when they sit down to a meal. She’s conspicuous by her silence, as she broods in a corner in the most dejected fashion ever. When she feels like she cannot keep silent, she starts popping up next to you or at the end of the table like a little Jack-in-the-box! On days when even that isn’t enough, she goes all out and paws at you. Her tenacity is unmistakable. She keeps at it. She knows I will cave at some point. 

Gamora’s behaviour patterns seem to be predominantly dachshund. She’s such a hunter. She’s caught and killed birds, squirrels, and countless lizards. She freaked out a very, very, very long snake once, and she’s dying to catch a monitor lizard or a cat. It’s incredible how she spots things even before I can. Of course her eye level isn’t the same as mine and I’ve started looking down first to see what’s on the horizon. The other day in the park, she spotted a monitor lizard having a swim in the lake. It wasn’t even close to the edge of the lake, but she sensed its presence and went into attack mode. Attack mode is when her body goes all stiff, her eyes are fixated on something, and when she starts making whiny, puppy noises to disarm her prey and make them come nearer. Some of them are stupid enough to draw close too! In my garden, Gamora uses a tree and some potted plants as camouflage. She’s really good at it too! It’s impossible to see her until she shows herself. She tries hard everyday to catch something and she patrols the house – both inside and outside to secure the borders. She’s hilarious! 

Initially, I thought all the people stopping by the house to say hi to her was a passing fancy. After all, she was just a puppy and people tend to be fascinated by puppies. In March 2025, it will be two years since Gamora came into my home. I can report that the fascination by neighbours or other passers-by hasn’t ended! One of my neighbours has to walk up to our gate to greet her every time he’s getting ready to go somewhere. On some mornings, he stops his car outside our gate and has a chat with her. He doesn’t need to see me. The visit stops with Gamora. Another lady who walks vigorously in the mornings makes sure she stops by and has her own little routine with Gamora. One of my neighbour’s helpers is another fan. Gamora loves her too and the squeals that happen when our visitor actually steps into the garden are full of unmistakable delight. Gamora has favourites among the delivery people that come to our home. If we happen to be upstairs and they arrive to make a delivery, the squeaky squealing sound she makes is so loud. It’s hard to believe she’s not very big. Gamora’s on fire when she’s with people. She enjoys the attention. 

One of Gamora’s many (and I mean many) nicknames is ‘shorty’ or ‘pendek’ in Malay. She is short. The nick is apt. Still, she’s not put off by her height disadvantage. Gamora practices trying to scale walls. I’m sure I’ve written before how she angles her run and jumps against the wall to see what thrust the momentum gives her. She practices. I notice that she uses this to also worry her prey. The birds outside, or lizards that come into the house get stressed. They could be high up in safety, no where close to her, and all her busy activity below causes them stress. It worries them so much that they think their only chance of safety is either flying low close to her, or in the case of the hapless lizards, it’s jumping down to the floor and trying to run across to safety. Safety is an illusion, for she is swift. She usually wins. Of course the big loser in all this as far as I’m concerned, is me. I have clean up. It’s utterly disgusting. I find myself gagging and feeling so grossed out. As I’m spluttering trying to clean up after her kill, she looks at me with the most innocent eyes. She doesn’t get what the fuss is about. 

One of the things that I always joked about when Loki was around that I had named him aptly. Not that he was naughty. He was nowhere near Gamora’s league of naughtiness! I joked that my Loki just like Loki from the Marvel comics, the god of mischief, the prince of the Jötunns, adopted by Odinson, did not like thunder. For the later, it signalled the arrival of Thor, his brother and nemesis. For my Loki, he was afraid of thunder. There was no comforting him. Thunder and fireworks drove Loki and Patches under my father’s chair, or onto my lap. They were terrified. Then there’s Gamora who sleeps through thunderstorms or loud fireworks like nothing is amiss. She’s not worried in the least. 

Gamora knows the friends and family who come to our home. She’s ever ready to greet them. Trying to get her to be calm is a work in progress. Saying that, she has really improved greatly! It’s funny watching her try to remain down while her bum is shaking furiously at the arrival of our loved ones. Gamora loves and is loved. 

I love little Gamora. It’s lovely to see how she’s got her own little thing going on. Gamora’s galaxy is such a busy place, with lots of delights. It’s so full of activity, hustle and bustle, it feels. Every day, whether it’s going to the park, or playing ball in the garden, there are many extras that she enjoys. It is beautiful to be a part of Gamora’s galaxy! She’s on top of the world. 

In all the busyness of her little Galaxy, Gamora always wants me near. If she had it her way, we’d both be stalking hunters! It’s true. My little girl just wants me to be there with her. When she’s a bit overwhelmed by all the attention in the park, I’m the one that she wants carrying her or hiding her. She wants me to share in everything. When the deliveries or friends arrive, she comes to get me. When I’m busy in the kitchen or doing the laundry or something else around the house, she’s ready ‘to help’ me. She waits for instructions where to go, whether to wait, and so on. She wants this community with me. 

I am so thankful to God for little Gamora. In my church on Sunday, we resumed our series on Matthew, where Jesus addressed the issue of greatness in the kingdom of God. Dependency on God is key. Jesus used the example of a child. I get the example. There’s total dependency by a child. I don’t have kids playing out this example for me. I have a four-legged mutt who shows me what it means to be totally dependent on someone. She’s dependent on me. When I go away, I have to do so much to make sure she is cared for. When I’m with her, I have to be ready to meet her needs. She doesn’t know better. She just knows her needs get met. I must take from this lesson. There have been so many times that God has come through for me. I would never have imagined His providence but it is there. More often than not, things I don’t know to ask for or have not the wisdom to seek are granted me. I do nothing to earn it. I just turn up and accept it. Yet, I forget time and time again how faithful and good He is. Gamora is far better than me that way because she never forgets me. She never forgets that I’m there for her. She misses me when I’m away. Oh little Gamy girl! What a lesson. I’m so thankful to God for Gamora! 

Nineteen years ago, on this very day, 7 January 2006, I lost my mum. I remember the whole period leading up to her passing from the month before she died vividly. It’s a strange memory now. I’m fascinated by it because of how much it saddens me. My mother was my strong support. She was fierce in how she loved me. She didn’t hesitate to tell me off when I needed to be told off. I’m thankful for that. It’s been nineteen years and it all feels so alive in many aspects. Losing my dad just a little over a year ago has compounded this. He’s not here to share this moment with me. I remember how his shirts were drenched in tears when he returned from the stairwell. He had stepped aside to process the news we received about mum having six hours left to live. He cried his heart out too. It was such a hard time for us. I used to have papa to share this time with.

Mummy and I shared everything. I am thankful for this. She didn’t manipulate me. She spoke to me candidly about how she felt about different things. This has perhaps shaped me. Maybe it is why I value conversation so much. It was why I missed her so much. My dad was a lot less natural at conversations. He was quiet and though he would have things to say, he enjoyed not talking. I think he was quite the introvert. While it was harder teasing out discussions with my dad, with mum they flowed. 

In the past I have shared much about my wonderful mother. I think what I have had the chance to reflect on now that my dad is gone is that there was a part of her that only he brought out. I remember them discussing things. It’d be all sorts of things- even as mundane as what we should eat for the week. The thing that was good about them was that they talked. They talked about a lot of things. When I was very young, they’d wait till I went to bed before having the adult chats. A few times, when I suspected they were discussing me, I’d try to listen from the middle of the staircase, only to be caught out by my reflection in the display glass! I think what I really loved at that time was that there was this conversation going on and I wanted to be a part of it. Good conversations are hard to come by. 

My parents didn’t always have the easiest of marriages. Mum’s illness took a toll on both her and my dad. People around weren’t always helpful in advice. Mum saw this much later, and shared this with me just before she passed away. She said that whenever I had friends who were married, I needed to always help them uphold the marriage. She didn’t mean things like remaining in an abusive marriage, but she meant making sure that advice wasn’t inflammatory but rather conciliatory. Over the years, I’ve come to really appreciate this. My dad worked his socks off to support my mum in her illness. Because of what he did, she was able to work right to the end. Because of the sacrifices he made, she was able to do a lot. She saw that. As she studied the Bible, these were things that she grew to be grateful for. Contentment, I’m told, is a powerful sign of grace. It means we’re looking at the giver of our blessings with thankful hearts, not demanding for what is next. For this reason, as I reflect on my mum and my dad, I am thankful for the struggles they had in their marriage. It has helped me understand too what my strengths and limitations are. This has helped me see what is important.

I too have impacted my own mum. She loved no one else more. She talked of me with pride. She was anxious for me. She cheered me on. She held me when I cried. It brought out a side so strong in her. This part of her protected my dad a lot too. I always thought of papa as cool as a cucumber and I always thought I inherited that calmness from him. After mum passed, I started noticing his anxiety on the rise. There was once in 2007, a year after mum had passed, when I was driving home very late from Melaka, with music blasting and me singing along, that I completely missed my father’s phone calls. He was frantically trying to make sure I was fine. I was quite near home when I realised the calls and answered. The relief was so obvious even over the phone. It made me see a side of him that I never saw before. I started seeing him trying to cheer me on. Not that he didn’t do it in the past, but he would let her use her flair with words to encourage, comfort, or even confront. After the late drive back from Melaka, I did have a chat with my dad. He admitted that now, without mummy being the worried one, he had lost his buffer. Each of us brought something out in the other that only we could do. 

Nineteen years on, I miss this. I miss my mother. Now I miss my father as well. His absence makes hers worse. Her absence makes his worse. I cannot separate the two. Talk about a no win situation! I am able to function well despite this sadness. It really is a part of me. Sorrow isn’t always a bad thing. In the beginning, I used to think it was wrong to feel sad. I don’t feel that anymore. Sorrow has its place in my life. It is the place where I remember how much I was loved. It is a place where I am thankful for my mum and dad and for how they loved me and I loved them. It is a privilege we were given and I am thankful for it. Let this sorrow always remind me of the goodness of God, for I couldn’t have had a better mum or dad. I recognise too that sorrow isn’t always granted a place at the table. There will be times when I won’t be given a space because I carry this sorrow. I’m okay with that too. I like remembering that Jesus was a Man of Sorrows. Maybe He is using my sorrow to help me long more for Him. 

Mummy, it’s been nineteen years. Way too long for my liking. I miss you and I’m struggling too with papa’s absence. I’m thankful for how God helps me see His goodness in my sadness. When my time comes, we will be reunited with Him- and different days will then follow. I won’t have this pain for there will be no more tears. I know I will thank God so much for that then. For now, this sorrow is familiar and it brings both you and papa close to me. For now, I will be content. For now, I can thank Him for the sorrow that lives in my heart nineteen years on. 

There’s definitely something lovely about the Christmas season. Many people take time off and there are all sorts of things going on. Even people who don’t believe in Jesus celebrate the holidays. It is a time out. It is lovely catching up with family and friends in many instances, and there is a distinct slowing down of time. At least that’s how I feel. I want to say right up front that this season isn’t the easiest either. Some cave under the pressures of putting out and being present. Others struggle with loneliness, are grieving or struggling with some kind of issue or other.  It’s hard to spot them amidst the bright lights of the season and the focus is definitely on the prettiness and excitement of the moment. 

This year, as I wrote earlier, I have struggled with missing my father and mother. It’s been hard. There is a sense of loss that I am now feeling, which feels like a new appreciation of the loss in itself. It feels like a rather gut wrenching punch and the sensation of being choked is right up there. Yet there has been much to be thankful for. I’ve had a string of catch ups and events all through the month, and it’s been good to have some time off work which has been challenging. Now I can’t help but find myself looking forward to 2025 and wondering what it will be like. 

Social media platforms are full of things to do to achieve a better you in the new year. There’s all sorts of things out there. Some feisty sounding lists like ‘5 things to stop doing in the new year,’ or ’10 practical steps to achieve better communications.’ Oh there are so many ‘just do this’ and don’t do that’ lists out there. There’s also at points some quieter voices urging for the building of habits rather than the forming of resolutions. Apparently the former has a better chance of success than the later. They’re probably right, but it also feels old. It feels repetitive and familiar. The resolve that we try and pump into ourselves in these last few days of the year is phenomenal, as are the efforts of rallying the troops. ‘We can do this!’ Here’s to a better year ahead!’ It feels old. 

Even in these lovely, shiny days filled with celebrations of all sorts, where family and friends have been raising their glasses to good times and good things ahead, there have been some not so pleasant things going on. Airplanes crashing,bombings, and a whole host of other things including losses in sport (for those who take those things seriously). So it feels like no matter how much tinsel or fairy lights, and ornaments there are, it cannot hide what’s going on in the underbelly. Put some of these goings on next to a list of five things to improve the coming year, you’ll see how weak it all is. 

I’m not in the least suggesting that we stop trying to be better. Gosh, no. That would be too defeatist. We must always look forward to growth in ourselves and our community. This is always a good challenge. I’m just overwhelmed at the simplicity in which we approach self-improvement and resolve. It’s almost romantic to think that whatever we struggle with in this year will magically fade away in the year ahead, or that we will develop some super strategies to deal with the  various situations that we’re in. The truth is that our circumstances don’t change overnight. Not even in the lead up to a new year. It is great if you’re taking forward a great set of circumstances. For instance if you’re getting married and are planning a wedding, there is a lot of joy that’s being carried forward. Or, if you’re starting a new job, or moving into a new home, there are general levels of excitement that may have some usual anxieties alongside. These are in general good things and these are fine to carry on into the new year. I think, anyway. What if you’re dealing with not so pleasant situations? What if you’re dealing with a marriage ending and needing to work out what life looks like after this? What if you’ve lost your nearest and dearest? How do you pick up the pieces? What if you’ve got a chronic or terminal illness and need to march forward into the new year? How does it bode when you’re not sure how your illness will progress? What if you’re don’t have a home or loved ones around you? What if loneliness is your closest friend? What if you’re dealing with some financial burdens? The list of such difficulties is long. The worst part is that they carry on into the new year and the bright shiny year is now tainted by the past. There seems to be no escape. It can be devastating and overwhelming. I feel that the advice and motivations on how to do or be better in the year ahead have very little impact in the face of some of what we’re going through.

As I walk into 2025, I feel a stab of sadness. I start remembering my mum’s passing as her nineteenth anniversary comes up. I’ve never stopped missing her grounded wisdom in Christ. I’m sad as I go into another year without her and this is now compounded by my dad’s absence. Another year without him. I don’t want it. I had him for absolute ages after mum passed. Admittedly, we communicated very differently, but we connected. I don’t want to head into another year without either of them. I’ve read different articles on moving ahead in 2025, I feel they fall short of helping me with what I really need to do. When I wake up on 1 January 2025, I will feel the same absence of my mum’s and dad’s presence in my life. That’s my reality. 

There are various challenges that I’ll be taking with me into 2025. I’m not about to spell them all. I’m very sure that everyone out there is going to be carrying some not so great situations into the new year. Some things aren’t going away by 31 December 2024. That’s the truth. 

It’s hard to leave out Christmas from all these thoughts that come flooding into my mind. Christmas is when we hear the words ‘love’, ‘peace’, ‘joy’, and ‘hope’ being spoken, sung, and stuck even on greeting cards and gift wrapping materials. It is everywhere! Even in commercial Christmas, this is the season of love, peace, joy, and hope. Commercial Christmas’ concepts of love, peace, joy, and hope fall short, I think, very much like the how to be better lists and advice of the sages. There is a shallowness because it cannot deal with our circumstances in the future. The hope of Christmas, I am reminded, is in Christ. Conversations with fellow believers and reading scripture confirm this. The celebration of the birth of Jesus isn’t the same as how we celebrate a newborn into our homes. The celebration of his birth is possible even in the midst of some tragic or difficult circumstances because of the hope that he brought. He brought hope that one day we will all be reconciled to God. This may not be very exciting on some levels, but it really should get us rearing to go. 

It’s hard to really explain the sense of weariness I get when I read the various ways to do things better, or how to be more effective. The list of how tos is long! The problem is it all depends on me. It depends on me doing something or other. There are days I cannot do much. On days when I’m drowning in grief, the last thing I have on my mind is how to be better at something. On the days when my chronic illness’s favourite symptom, which is chronic fatigue, shows up, I can barely open my eye lids. I don’t think any of the how tos is even in my blurred thoughts. I’m not alone in this. So many of us are weary. We’re going through so much. Yet we’re constantly being pushed to be better, and to make our lives better. 

It’s precisely here that I can stop and say that I am thankful for Jesus. In Matthew 11: 28-30, Jesus makes a startling claim (yes, another one!): “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”  What a claim! It’s one that I have thought about at different points in my life. Perhaps now, as I am at my lowest because of this grief I’m carrying, and because life keeps moving forward and I’m struggling to keep up with its pace, this claim brings me a semblance of peace. The struggle to be the best, even in terms of living out my faith, can be laid to rest. Why? Because all that is asked of me is to trust in Jesus and the salvation He has provided. 

Jesus’ coming into the world demonstrates the love that God has for us. A love so deep that He was willing to humble Himself as man and die upon the cross. It was a horrific death too. Total abandonment- even God the Father turned His face away. And there it is, right there. Jesus came into this world and lived the life I couldn’t live. I cannot imagine showing such humility in the face of anything He went through. I struggle with humility. It’s something I need to deepen. He lived perfectly. We don’t need to go far. My thoughts display a despairing lack of perfection, and we’ve not got to my words and deeds. Recently, I wrote a very angry email response. I did what I tell people I’m training not to do! My response was rather harsh and I was disappointed in myself for having sent it off. I did apologise later, and I regret my choice of expressions. That is but one failing. I have made many, many, many such failures. I gawked when I read a list of how to communicate more effectively in the new year. One of the suggestions was to change the words I use in my own thoughts when thinking about the people who offend me. Good luck! 

It’s all of these things that make me realise that yes, whilst I want to work towards a better me, the battle isn’t mine. If it were, I’m quitting right now. I’m thankful that Jesus took it up for me. I’m thankful that He got it right for me. He kept mum when He was taunted, ridiculed, and treated most unfairly. And because He’s paid for my sin, I don’t need a list on how to be better. I don’t need to fear the hard situations from 2024 that will follow me into 2025. I just need to focus on Him and let Him grow me through them. The work is His. It’s hit me so hard that for the first time, the power of Matthew 11: 28-30 where Jesus claims to give us rest, is real. I am thankful for this. Small growth spurt before the year ends! Because of Jesus, I know that the challenges that will follow me into 2025 are going to shape me in His image. I can live with that. 

Papa and mummy, I wish I could share this with you. I must trust Jesus with this grief. I know it doesn’t mean I will stop crying these tears. It just means I can take a moment and cry without the pressure of needing to be better and run at the pace set by everyone else around me. I love you both and miss you. Thank you for teaching me about Jesus. 

This Christmas feels infinitely different. It is my eighteenth Christmas without my mum and my second without my dad. It is also my second Christmas without the both of them. There is an overwhelming sense of sadness that’s enveloping me. I feel the depths of the pangs of missing both papa and mummy. I never imagined my heart could be so broken. Let me say, though, that I am blessed. 

I’m going through a bit of a whirlwind. One day I hope I can write about it. Suffice to say that the messages going up and down are painful for various reasons. I’m not pleased with myself for having written and sent one message in anger. I know better than that. Christ should be the lens through which I view and respond to all problems. It’s been helpful to apologise for it and my next step is to make sure I’m remembering not to repeat this again. May God help me here. Saying this, a faithful brother has been going over and beyond to help me through this situation. He has been tireless in this. I’m in awe because I feel he has so much to deal with on an every day basis. It is clear to me that the energy he is displaying here is Christ-given. It has been a blessing to watch. I am blessed. 

Yesterday, a couple of my girl friends came over. These two were former colleagues and their willingness to come over and spend time here, chatting about all sorts really moved my heart. I’ve not put up the Christmas tree or any decorations. My home is definitely missing the festivity. I’m not feeling it now that my dad is no more. I miss my mum (I’ve not stopped missing her for the last eighteen years) and I miss my dad. Yet these two lovelies came with so much grace and my home felt full. It was a good feeling. I am blessed. 

Another cousin and his family arrived a little after my friends left. He too lost his mum. It was just two weeks after my dad had passed. It was a tough blow to the family. He mentioned how they also weren’t feeling too festive. We talked about this and we also recalled some old stories. Some of the tales of past were hilarious. It was hard to speak because of how hard we were laughing. We were reeling from loss, united in our faith, laughing at old stories, and looking forward to the future with the risen Christ. I am blessed. 

This morning, before I left for church, yet another cousin, Gamora’s fairy godmother, came by. It was a quick brekkie because I was running off to church and a short choir practice for the Christmas Eve service. I’d been a bit worried about leaving Gamora alone but that wasn’t to be. Gamora’s fairy godmother arrived to be with her, bringing her a rather lovely present – a giant ball. My little one’s joy is obvious. The guttural sounds she makes when she plays with the ball is a dead giveaway. She loves it. For me, it was just a sense that she was alright at home. I am blessed. 

I cannot handle Christmas parties at the moment. Yet, I am thankful and joyful for the birth of Christ and what it means. Everything will be okay in a way that I cannot even imagine. No more pain. No more tears. How’s that going to be? It’s beyond me. I don’t want to mope, and I’ve been thankful for my visitors. I’ve also been thankful for the opportunities to do stuff at church. It was lovely attending a Christmas guest nite with a friend, where talks and a fabulous choir brought the magic of Christmas to life. It was lovely watching old friends coming together in this Christmas season a week later, when I was privileged enough to accompany one of them to a special event. It was lovely watching some close old friends come together for a Christmas lunch that a good friend of mine organised. I loved hearing these ladies (closer to the nineties) sharing their stories. A couple of them shared their love for dogs. Now they’re waiting to meet Gamora. I’m thankful to sing with such a fabulous choir at Christmas Eve. The practice today, led by a dear friend, was lovely. I was also grateful to visit an uncle and aunt for a Christmas present drop-off and pick up. It was followed by a lovely lunch with another girl friend. Gosh, how we chatted! So many things coming together in special ways which aren’t too overwhelming for me right now. I am blessed. 

I miss my father and my mother more than I can say. I’m tearing up as I write this because I miss them so much. I miss my home as it used to be. I’d take it all again – good times and bad. I’ve cried some painful tears these past few weeks as Christmas approaches. My favourite season feels hard to bear. I had wondered if I would feel empty, but I don’t. I’m in pain because of this grief, but I’m not empty. In fact, I am blessed. 

So I want to say a big thank You to God. He put all the right people in my path, at the right time. Not only did I get a wonderful gift through the coming of Christ at the first ever Christmas, there is continued providence and grace at a level that I cannot aptly describe, except that it is perfect. In recent times, my favourite king David’s Psalm 23 has been on my mind a lot. The first verse tells me that I shall not want because the LORD is my shepherd. That is swiftly followed by a picture of green pastures and still waters. How that happens when you walk through the valley of the shadow of death is hard to imagine. But I am in a valley. I am in a valley where I’m at the lowest I have ever been, without both my mother and father. I am facing a challenge, where I sometimes wonder if the others in play are enemies. It feels like it. Yet, I am blessed. How can I say this? It is clear to me that I am receiving comfort through God’s Word, which does hold me true to certain things (hence the apology for my angry message). I am also comforted by this same Word. The reminder of my Saviour in the language of a shepherd caring for me. He has lined my days with all the right people and conversations that have been helpful and uplifting. So I am convinced that even as I navigate this valley, that goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever. 

Papa and mummy- I miss you. 

I love the mornings when Gamora and I get to go to the park. It’s not always easy to get there because the park’s quite far away. There’s the office hour traffics to contend with, even when we leave early. I’ve not decided whether Gamora is crooning along to the hits rolling off my Spotify playlist, or if she’s complaining intensely at the traffic we go through. At any rate, I feel quite a bit of sympathy for myself because I have to focus on traffic with a screechy mutt properly secured in her car seat next to me! Sometimes she hits some really high notes. I’m not remotely suggesting they’re on key, merely that they’re really high. Mine ears have heard the Gamora screech! 

It’s no secret that Gamora’s enjoyment of the park translates into my own enjoyment of it. Her little legs move so quickly and she’s super busy scurrying around trying to follow scents and spy things with her little hunter eyes. I cannot explain with accuracy the swag that this short little sausage roll has at the park. It’s almost like she’s walking to the beat of magic! It’s adorable. She makes known her frustrations with squirrels and birds. At points I think tree climbing classes may benefit her but when I think of the chaos after that, I dismiss the idea. It does amuse me, when I watch her consider what’s before her. It’s almost as if I can see the wheels of her mind turning. I enjoy it! I really do. 

As we walk, I try to take photos. The water lilies especially, have a hold on me. I keep thinking of how glorious the world must’ve been when God first made it. If there’s beauty now, how would it have been before all the destruction. I cannot imagine. As we walk, we also meet friends. Some faces have become familiar. Gamora gets some attention at points or meets a fellow doggie. She absolutely loves this! Gamora can also get tired quite suddenly. It’s almost like she’s run out of gas. At that point, she jumps up and looks at me, ever so expectantly. She wants to be carried. And you know what? I comply. It is a delight. She uses the time she’s in my arms to catch a breath, but she’s also looking out intensely, taking everything in from a different perspective. 

By the time we get back to the car, she’s ready for home. There’s absolutely no screeching on the way back. I count my blessings there! Then, it’s just a contented little pup with her tongue lolling about or fast asleep. Usually, it’s the later. Even that, I find so adorable. The joy at finding ourselves back home is quite funny. Gamora’s tail starts cranking up with full speed. She starts thinking of food, I imagine. And that’s really what happens next. She gets fed. I usually grab a quick coffee and some toast and fire up my laptop. I need to start work. As I do that, I see my little girl flip over contently and fall asleep. It’s absolutely delightful! 

I joke about the bliss when Gamora is sleeping. It’s definitely true. She’s quiet and there’s no busy running around the side of the house. The pitter patter of her feet is silenced for a while. The birds in the garden are safe, as are any other creatures that may be lurking about. The stray dogs outside are free from being told off. The sound of silence is golden! My little security unit is fast asleep. 

Gamora sleeps soundly with her legs up in the air and her body twisted into what feels like uncomfortable positions. Sometimes she’s curls up or pushes herself against the wall. Most of the time she takes a nap on the couch. If I’m sitting somewhere accessible with my laptop, she makes sure she’s sleeping pressed against me. Apart from the fact that I find it ever so endearing, there’s something I’m realising. Gamora is resting. That’s a big deal. I’m listening to myself and to my friends speak about all that is going on in our lives. The one big thing that is missing is rest. No one is resting. Rest is so very important. There’s a time for catching up with others, working, improving ourselves, and doing all sorts. How many of us are factoring times for rest? 

One of the reasons Gamora sleeps so soundly is because she’s secure as she rests. Why? She knows that her mama’s got her back. She knows that her mama will protect her if needs be. She’s so secure that on the days she’s walked long and far, she’s in really deep sleep that she doesn’t even hear the delivery or visitor if they come. This is quite remarkable because Gamora loves deliveries and visitors. The former she loves because she imagines everything that’s arriving is for her. The later is because she loves having friends visit. Usually she’s out making greeting noises. So it is a big deal when she’s snoring away with her feet high in the air! She makes up for the delay when I get up to receive the delivery or visitor by making loud squeals, just to make sure everyone knows she wasn’t shirking on the job. Yeah, right. I find myself laughing, though, when this happens. She is truly adorable. 

Adorable as she is, I can’t help but feel she’s teaching me a valuable lesson. God is much more secure than I ever could be (even if I tried really, really hard). But how well do I rest in Him? At the moment, as I’m facing challenges, I’m trying to take a page out of my little sausage’s book. Rest. Not just rest, but rest in my God. I don’t plan to ever adopt any of Gamora’s sleeping positions. Honestly, I don’t think I could (even if I tried really, really hard!), but I must adopt her posture towards rest. Lately I’ve been pondering on Psalm 23 and the first verse of the Psalm struck me, where it literally means that I shall not want because the LORD is my shepherd. I’m now struck by verse 2 of Psalm 23: ‘He makes me lie down in green pastures.He leads me beside still waters.’ This is a wonderful picture rest. Rest so blissful and nourishing for the soul. King David goes on to say that ‘[God] restores my soul.’ Why is this making sense to me now? After so long, listening to so many talks on this Psalm, it is finally resonating with me more deeply than ever before. It is because David is so secure in his rest that he can go on to say in verse 4 that even though he walks through the valley of the shadow of death, he will fear no evil, for the LORD is with him; the LORD’s rod and staff comfort me. Why? Because ‘the LORD is my shepherd.’ 

I’m so grateful for this lesson from little Gamora. God certainly knows how to use His creatures well! I have been in need of reminders of security and protection as I feel under attack and unprotected, especially now after my father’s passing, as it means neither he or my mum are around. They used to be my security blanket! Gamora’s teaching me that just as she has me to secure her, I have a protector in my God. He protects those who are His. I will use this lesson to pursue rest in my God. 

Little Gamora turns two tomorrow (6.12.2024). Right now as I write this, she’s sulking! I’ve made her a little birthday cake with minced beef and a topping of sweet potatoes and she was drooling as I made it. Much to her disappointment, it went into the fridge not into her bowl. Mind you, she’d just eaten! It’s amusing to watch her fall asleep as she dozes off midway sulking. When I go close to cuddle her, her tongue pops out to give kisses. It’s really cute. 

Tomorrow my aunts, an uncle, and a couple of my cousins are coming by for lunch. I’ve decided to celebrate Gamora’s birthday. Gamora’s going to have a good day, if all goes to plan. I’ve taken the day off. I hope we can go for a morning walk. Then when we get home, I’m going to get food from the Chinese restaurant nearby. It’s yummy! Gamora can eat her cake! 

Gamora’s even getting presents! I cannot believe that family and friends are getting her things. Tennis balls are always in high demand – she loves them. My aunt has made sure her supply continues! My little brat is so spoilt.

All this fuss and she doesn’t really understand. How could she? She’s a pup! She knows to eat what’s put in front of her and to enjoy her walks and toys and to round it all up with long snoozes. Hey, it’s a dog’s life! I’m not even close to thinking of her as human. I wouldn’t do that. There’s a beauty about her as a pup, created by the same God who made me, and who made sure she came to me. What a blessing she has been. 

This little creature cannot take the place that my dad left. That space in my home is empty. She adored him and made her feelings known when he passed. Gamora never met my mum. She’d not be so spoilt if she had! Eighteen years down the line, the space in my home which my mum used to fill remains empty. Gamora cannot take this place. My heart is full of sadness from losing my dad and I still deal with pangs of sorrow when I miss my mum. Gamora doesn’t change any of this. 

What Gamora does, and this is why I feel she’s such a blessing, is she makes me laugh. I burst out laughing at her silly expressions and actions. She is a scream. It’s such a joy watching her hunt. There is worry because sometimes what she hunts can be dangerous. I don’t ever want her entangled with snakes, monkeys, or monitor lizards! Personally I wish she would stop hunting because I so hate the clean up, but it’s funny watching her practice her runs, camouflage herself among the plants (she’s small enough!), or practice trying to scale the wall. I love her energy. Then there is walking her. The park is a place of joy for this little one, and it is a place I have come to love because of her! She’s delighted by the sounds, enraptured by the smells, and the pursuit of the trail ahead gives her endless joy. There are bonuses on days when there are friendly doggies around and she’s in heaven when people interact with her. She loves the hellos, the belly rubs and even manages to pose for some photos. At home, I love watching her play with her toys. Her collection of tennis balls and soft chew toys grow as friends and family bring her things. She enjoys every bit of her playthings. It never ceases to amaze me how she almost always manages to get her squeaky toys squeaking at full blast whenever I’m on a work call. The timing is hilarious! I even love watching her sleep. She sleeps in the oddest positions with her legs sticking up in the air. It’s terribly endearing! 

This is the blessing – she is making me feel a range of emotions even in my home that feels terribly vacant without my dad or mum in it. It’s not that she’s filling a gap or taking their place. She couldn’t do that- she wasn’t designed to. What she was designed to do was to be a loyal and faithful companion and she does that so beautifully. It warms my heart, which feels cold when I consider the loss of my parents. It makes my home a place of laughter- even when it’s just the two of us. There’s a joy in my heart because of this little tubby creature with her lolling tongue ever ready to lick, and with a zest for life. 

I’m celebrating her birthday because I can. I don’t think I can handle Christmas celebrations at the moment. Easter feels painful too. My birthday is another one. I just cannot handle all that. They were special times with my parents- and I cannot even begin to imagine a celebration of the festivities without them. My grief doesn’t know how. So I’m thankful that God has given me little things that I can be thankful for. He has given me walks in the park, flowers that are blooming in my garden, friends and family to chat to, and this little four-legged creature that brings me so much joy despite all the sadness I feel.

It makes me feel that God sees me. It makes me feel that He understands. He gets me. So I thank God for little Gamora! Happy Birthday, my pet. You’re my little ‘hantu’ and I love you so very much! I cannot wait to celebrate you because it’s something I can do for now. Thank You, God, for Gamora. 

Psalm 24:1

The earth is the LORD’s and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein… 

I’m recovering from COVID. Am negative now, but am feeling rather battered. They tell me it will take two to three weeks before I start feeling better. I can’t wait to be rid of this not-so-great feeling. It has been a little tough on little Gamora. She’s not had her usual walks or morning ball games. I’m hoping to get back into those too. I miss doing them with her. I’ve also not managed the garden very much since the fever happened. It’s another thing I need to get back to.

I’ve been thinking about the morning I was tested. The moment the test kit showed I was positive for COVID, I started to tell the clinic attendant that I needed to protect my father. I caught myself mid-sentence, and stopped. The attendant was lovely. The clinic’s in front of my housing area and my dad wasn’t a stranger to the staff there. So he knew that his passing was fairly recent. He said something very sweet in response and to the effect that loss is hard. It was such a knee-jerk reaction on my part. These still happen when I think about my dad. 

It took about four and a half to five days before the fever broke. It was nasty. I’m certainly hoping this will be the first and the last time ever! The day it broke was a Saturday and I went outside into the garden for a bit in the morning. It was good to be outside and to feel the grass beneath my feet. I was dead excited to see that my Lombok creeper had bloomed and that a second bud was forming. The Lombok creeper, as I call it, is the clockvine creeper. 

Days before he died, my father suggested I book a holiday. My dad’s usually not insistent about things but he was quite keen for me to book a trip for myself. That is how on 20 August 2023, just three days before he died, I booked a trip to Lombok. One of my girl friends agreed to go with me. The inspiration for Lombok was from a dear friend from work who was staying with us for some days during her visit to Malaysia, who had shown me some stunning photos of Lombok. I was so pleased having made the booking. Little did I know that it would be a trip I later made to gain some respite from losing my father. My friend and I stayed at a lovely hotel in Lombok, and everything was top-notch- from the service to the serenity of the location. We couldn’t help but be enamoured by the gorgeous flowers that were blossoming off a massive creeper over the area where we had breakfast. Before we knew it, we were on our way back to Malaysia with cuttings. Don’t ask me how we carried them through. No real attempt was made to hide anything!

I’m not much of a gardener, but I dutifully planted the Lombok creeper. There were several things about the trip that made the creeper special to me. The first was how insistent my dad had been about me booking the break, and the second was how I later found money in his drawer for the exact amount of my hotel stay. He had asked me several times how much my hotel stay was- and I had found it odd. It wasn’t something he usually did. Still – this had happened, and it made me feel connected to Lombok, to the Lombok creeper that now grows in my garden. 

The flowers from my Lombok creeper are pretty. There’s a hint of lavender on white which glistens in the sun. I know Gamora’s super curious about the plant. It’s been through a repotting and just before I was tested for COVID, I’d been trying to fend off an attack to its leaves. I think I still need to do something there. Little Gamora hasn’t tried to do anything to harm this plant. This little creature understands, I think, that the plant is special to me. When we play ball, she uses it as the point where she waits for me to throw the ball. It’s somewhere in the middle of my not so big garden, so whether I’m right at the back of the garden throwing the ball to the front or vice versa, she has set herself an advantage point. The Lombok creeper is useful to Gamora too. 

I’ve been reflecting on how the Lombok creeper and other plants have been thriving in the garden. I’ve been so thankful for how Gamora’s intuitive self has been a major blessing on the days that I burned with a fever. It’s not made missing my dad any lesser, but they’ve been things that I can thank God for. They’re simply lovely. I have also been grateful to have some super thoughtful people around with messages of concern offering help or wanting to send me things, or my cousin who came to take Gamora for a walk and to play with her. There’s been generosity at work – I had to take some days off ill. There was also a surprise visit- thankfully on a day when I later tested negative. It’s been surreal to say the least. Another host of things to thank God for. I don’t want to lose sight of that- thanking God, I mean. 

Today, I went into the garden again in the morning. I’m not even okay to water the plants just yet. But goodness, the flowers are in good stead. I looked at my Lombok creeper and was delighted to see that there are about six or seven buds of different sizes forming. I know to expect more flowers. This, even in the midst of its leaves still needing to ward off an attack. The parallel to my life feels clear – there are things that don’t always go right and there can be challenges, but along the way, by sheer grace from God, just like my Lombok creeper, there are things that flower up in my life. I am grateful to God for this. 

Recently, Gamora had a visitor. A lovely little French bulldog who belongs to a friend popped by for a visit. The two of them hit it off. I was so absorbed by their interactions that I wasn’t very attentive to my friend. It’s lovely watching your dogs play, in my opinion. It’s a frolicking that feels light and joyful and it’s extremely engaging. This is all of course when they get along. 

Even when they hit it off, I guess as pet owners we keep an eye on our fur babies. I know the mischievous nature that my four legged ‘goofball’ (as one of my cousins affectionately calls Gamora) can get up to. I know too that she’s extremely used to being the centre of attention and has moments when she can get overwhelmed by things and wants her mama. Sure enough, all these things played out. Gamora’s love of treats means she immediately sits and waits when she knows a treat is on hand. Her little friend in her excitement didn’t sit quick enough for Gamora, and I made the mistake of not rewarding Gamora immediately when she sat. The result was an annoyed, emotional yelp by Gamora as she tried to prance and restore order (according to Gamora). It didn’t bode well with me because I wanted her trust. I wanted her to wait for me no matter what. We’ll need to work this out again. After all, everyday with me and Gamora is full of learning and growing closer and more In sync. It is trust building. 

As I think back on that little incident, I know that there is a lesson in it for me. Perhaps it relates to how I am towards God when I feel a blessing is delayed or when I can’t feel His guidance in a situation. I know I feel injured when I have been especially good (well, Gamora has her standards, I have mine). I dare not even count the number of times I’ve displayed a lack of trust in my Creator, the one who made me, provides for me, and who so graciously redeemed me. In that moment, Gamora forgot all the times I came through for her. She has good reason to also recognise my failures. Unlike God, who I don’t always trust to the fullest, I am flawed and I fail. The realisation is surreal. Unlike Gamora, I have no reason for distrust. 

This little hiccup was over in minutes and the frolicking resumed. They darted and ran and did all sorts until they were completely winded. They’d then grab a drink of water and flop themselves on the floor to recover their breaths. Watching their tongues hanging out the sides of their mouths and their little bellies rising and falling ever so rapidly with deep breaths was just captivating. I love such moments. It is a picture of bliss and contentment in a moment. There is no anxiety, no thought of what’s next, nor is there room for any unnecessary thought. All attention in that moment is on recovering enough energy to  give them a second wind. Lovely. 

There were a few moments where my little creature was not such a great host. This was when I carried the little Frenchie. She was so cute and she didn’t wriggle, unlike my Gamora who thrashes about to find maximum comfort in my arms. I guess for our little visitor, my arms are a strangers’ arms and she isn’t about to make herself comfortable as she would in her mum’s arms. The times I carried our visitor, Gamora would come flying over, jumping up with her ‘mama, carry me,’ signal. She wasn’t having it. The possessive nature of her part dachshund pedigree showed thoroughly. In many ways, I relate to how she behaves. I am an only child. My parents were great with others, but I always wanted them for myself. This bit makes me sad, though. I no longer have them. The bit of security that comes from being in the arms of your parent, given that the relationship allows for it, is simply unbeatable. This is one of the things that I am grieving now that my dad too is gone. It makes me sad. 

In a conversation with a senior leader from my organisation, she asked me how I would redefine myself now that papa was gone. I was always a daughter. I was always Leela’s and Stephen’s only daughter. I’ve not been able to get closer to identifying what redefining myself would be like. I do know that when my mum passed away, I had felt rather lost and was worried about who I had become. My pastor shared with me a poem by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, which ends with ‘Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine. Whoever I am, thou knowest O God, I am thine.’ These words come to mind as a soothing balm. For Gamora, the moment she’s in my arms, she’s extra sure she’s mine. For me, I must remember that on the cross, Jesus gave His life so that I could be His and He could be mine. 

I’m going to need more time to unpack how my dad’s passing redefines me. Now it’s not just my mum who’s gone. It’s the both of them. There are moments when I am unable to speak or write my feelings. It all feels like a haze. Yet, I am determined to use the moments I have been blessed with, like how my Gamy girl and her new Frenchie friend did. I’m going to try being in the moment. Taking a day at a time helps. It may be hard to breathe, but I will focus on my next breath and in the bliss of that moment try remembering that I am in Christ.