Anita’s Blog

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.

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.

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.