I come from Malaysia, which is very close to the equator. It’s hot and humid all year round, with lots of rain throughout the year. I have experienced cold weather while on holiday in Ooty in India, when I was a little child, and then in the UK as a student, and subsequently in a few other places when on holiday. The latest was in January 2025 in Istanbul.
I’m not put off by cold weather. There’s something romantic about it, especially when you’re writing about it from the warmth! Truly, though, I like experiencing the cold. There’s a crispness about the air and a coolness it plants on my cheek which I simply love. I love it when there’s an event to get all dressed up for. You don’t feel sticky at all- and everything from your makeup to your hair remains in place, unperturbed by sweat. It’s brilliant for photos!
Yet, would I want to live in the cold? I don’t think so. It makes everything more difficult. Going outside isn’t just a matter of stepping out in what you’ve got on. You’ve got to be properly attired. I also feel it gets really complicated because it can get very warm in a stuffy sort of way when you’re layered up. I find that I’m always putting on and taking off layers, like it’s a fun pastime.
If given a choice, I’ll choose the heat – especially if it’s by the sea. There’s a magic that happens in that weather that remains unbearable for me. So whilst I don’t hate the cold, I’ll stick to the seaside sunny-ness that I love with all my heart.
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Whilst I have had my share of broken bones. It’s not something I recommend trying to get a share in. It’s not fun.
My first broken bone was when I fractured my elbow. I must’ve been around 6 or 7. I remember it clearly till today. My mum had just left home and was already walking past a neighbour’s house when it happened. She dropped her stuff on the road and ran back.
I’d been reading a book and had decided it’d be a good idea to continue reading as I navigated the staircase. I missed the last three stairs and landed rather unceremoniously near at the foot of the staircase in agony.
It all ended well in the end.
Some years later, I think I was in my teens at the time, we had family visiting. My dad and I were outside with some of our family and I don’t even know how to explain what happened, I started pretending to push against him, except that I’d stop before I got to him. We were all laughing and in my mind, I secretly planned to push all the way in the next minute. I wasn’t to know that at precisely that minute, my father’s secret plan was to step away. So I ended up lunging forward, missing my dad, and falling flat on to my wrist. That’s how I fractured my wrist.
Also in my teens, I started having very bad pains on my knee. When they did an x-ray, they realised there were a lot of hairline fractures on my shin that were healing. We have no idea how that happened. I just remember the shock we had when we saw it. This was the start to a diagnosis of ‘growing pains’ which is thankfully long behind me!
The last bone I broke, and I hope it remains the last, was my nose. This happened when I was in university in the north west of England. I was walking down a street on the 3rd of January. It was extremely quiet because people were still recovering from partying. As I walked downhill, and was about to step off one pavement onto the next, I slipped. I’d no idea what had happened but I fell face forward, hitting myself on the pavement. I’d slipped on black ice. I come from Malaysia- we don’t have sleet and black ice here. I ended up breaking my nose and sustaining a fracture on my skull. It was awful.
Unlike the earlier fractures, this last one happened not long before my final exams at university. We couldn’t afford for me to defer my exams and I sat for them with an oozy head. The effect that’s lasted is that my final grade suffered. In the end, I’ve still done well. I just often wonder what other doors would’ve opened if I’d got the best grade I was capable of at the time.
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What’s one small improvement you can make in your life?
There are so many areas in myself that I want to improve upon. If I had to choose one, it’d be to improve my sleep discipline. I’ve been working on sleeping better for some time now. As someone who is struggling with an autoimmune condition, I’ve felt the impact of getting enough sleep. When I get enough sleep, I find that my pain levels aren’t as bad, and that my recovery time from any exertion is quicker. More significantly, I find that when I stick to my sleep routines, my mind is rested. One of the worst symptoms of my disease is chronic fatigue. Whilst sleep isn’t always good during this time, getting all the rest I can helps with the tiredness that my mind feels in those times. I recognise too that when I’m okay, sleeping well makes me stronger mentally to face the times when a flare strikes.
It sounds almost boring and I feel at points that I’m missing out on things with friends and family. But I’ve learnt to be content with the exceptions I make to my sleep patterns and to enjoy the overwhelmingly wonderful results.
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I love this topic! I’m a leader, but I think the only reason I’m a good leader is because I can follow. There are times when I’m in a setting and there are quite a few drivers. In those instances, I find that I’m able and content to let them lead. I don’t feel like I must always have the reins- but I make sure I speak up when I need to.
I think what’s often missing is that people want to lead but not follow. Leadership that’s inclusive and kind (and consequently, strong), requires people who’re able to follow. Otherwise, it’s impossible to listen to or empower others.
My hope is to keep growing my ability to follow and to lead. Growing in humility isn’t easy – feels counterintuitive, even, but is a necessary lesson.
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So, there are one or two more recent live performances that I’ve been to, but the one that I want to talk about is the U2 concert I attended in Singapore on 1 December 2019. It was just before the travel lockdowns started with COVID, and it was my last trip for quite awhile because of the pandemic. I had for the longest time, wanted to go for a U2 concert. When I found out U2 were coming to Singapore, I knew I had to! This felt right.
There was a huge setback because my friend was at the last minute unable to come for the concert because she was recovering from an illness. Another friend took her place, and that ended up working out fine. Getting to Singapore was a bit of a struggle, though. My flight, which ordinarily would’ve taken an hour ended up taking 6-7 hours, thanks to some bizarre weather conditions, that I later found out, had affected other flights too.
Whatever the hiccups, I was in the Singapore National Stadium well ahead of time. Sound levels in the stadium were beyond anything I know. I can’t remember if it was my watch or my friend’s that showed ‘danger levels’ for sound exposure. It was thrilling. And the stage – my goodness, the stage was set up in true U2 style.
It felt almost like I was having an out of body experience. The tunes that were sung were all well-known. Everyone sang along. People screamed, danced, and sang their hearts out. The atmosphere was sizzling with the heat of U2’s magic. It was amazing.
I don’t think I’ll be going for another concert like this again. As much as the music pumped the ferocity of the blood running through my veins, I was painfully aware that my body was different, thanks to the progression of my long term illness. There were things I struggled with, which I wished I didn’t. Still, I’m thrilled to the bone that this was the concert that I managed to get to. If it’s to be my last big concert, this was simply the best way to go!
U2 was magic on that hot, sticky night in Singapore. The colours of the lights from the stage warmed my body. The tunes they churned gladdened my heart like an old friend popping by for an incredible chat. I’ll never forget this out of the world experience.
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What’s a job you would like to do for just one day?
I’m not brave enough to do this, nor am I willing to give up anonymity, but if I could do something for just one day – it’d be to be a lead singer of a famous band and do a concert. I love the energy I see from the stars that do this. I love the lights and the grandiose arrangements of the sets. I love the way they connect with people- so many people, at one go. This is the best part, I’d think. So yes- to doing this for just one day! Then I’d like to crawl back into my life- with my pooch, family and friends and a whole lot of quieter creature comforts.
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I’ve just had a very eventful morning. I had to go to the dentist today, for the third part of a painful root canal. This was most unfortunate, because a former filling had cracked, and a cavity had set in somewhat sneakily. Sneaky because I never felt it until it was too late. The filling protected me from pain, which would actually have been a good thing, as it would’ve acted as a warning. As a result of this whole fiasco, the process has been a little fraught. There were some ‘suspicious’ swellings on my gum, which the dentist was worried about and the unholy word — ‘biopsy’ was mentioned. This has been at the back of my mind for some time. I’ve missed my father, because I’d have ordinarily had him to talk to about this. I hadn’t realized how anxious I’d been until I was given the ‘all clear’ today. I felt my body relax. It was magical!
I then turned my attention to the second problem this morning. As I was driving to the dentist, I heard a flappy sound. I thought something had got caught under my car, so when I parked, I had a look to see what it was. Lo, and behold, my car tyre was flat. There was an immediate sense of missing my dad when I realized the flat. My dad constantly kept an eye on my car and if the tyre had been slightly less inflated, he’d have said. The pang that I felt within me was real. Still, I knew exactly what to do. I called the mechanic in our town, who’s known me since I was about six. He and his sister faithfully served my dad. He said he needed some time to get to me as he was out. No problem.
I decided to get a Grabcar back home while waiting for the mechanic as he did say he’d be late. Again, I was thankful, as I got a ride almost immediately. The driver was grumpy and in all honesty, I didn’t care much for him. It didn’t matter too much, though. I couldn’t wait to get into the house for that effusive Gamora-welcome I knew was awaiting me. That’s when it hit me. I’d left my house keys in the car. My first response was to start and call out ‘Pa..’ That pang hit me again. Papa’s not there.
Everything worked out in that, I got another Grabcar back to where my car was parked, picked up my keys and came home. It’s almost comical, when I think of it. Is this the moment when I’m officially ‘over the hill’?
Gamora’s greeting was brilliant. It was so much needed. The outpouring of love is unmissable. She knows what it’s like to miss.
Easter Sunday had been surprisingly difficult. In the middle of my church, as the service started, I felt the enormity of not having my mum and dad by me. It took a lot of effort on my part to blink back tears. Not that I think tears are inappropriate. I just didn’t want to have to explain them, nor did I want to hear remonstrations of why that feeling was so inappropriate on Easter Sunday. After all, I believe that Jesus’ resurrection means a resurrection of all believers when He comes again. I should’ve been rejoicing and singing out loud, glorying in every single word of praise of my Redeemer. Instead, I was inwardly sad, blinking back tears, and have been in the dumps since.
When I’m sad, I find myself watching some of the Jane Austen adaptations over and over again. I love the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice (1995), I love the many adaptations of Persuasion, and I love Sense and Sensibility with Emma Thompson and Kate Winslet. My familiarity with the dialogue of all of these is somewhat comforting. There’s another dialogue that I find comforting as I watch these. Dialogue with my mum about these books and some of the adaptations that we watched together. I remember such intense discussions, giggling, and just a sheer sense of enjoyment, that feels almost tangible, as I revisit these haunts.
Still, this wave of missing my dad and my mum is washing over me. I cannot adequately express how sadness feels. When the wave comes over me, I feel my senses overcome, and it’s almost as if I’ve been sucker-punched. There’s a sense of difficulty in breathing, and a definite burning in the eyes as tears bitterly push their way out. At the same time, all around me, I see land. There’s a buzz going on. Life on land doesn’t stop. I hear laughter from the land on one corner, some gibber jabber of sorts, all the sounds associated with life moving on. When the wave comes over me, I feel like I lose sight of land.
The only thing I don’t really lose sight of is God. This feels almost inconsistent, doesn’t it? How can someone who’s feeling this intensity of sadness, see God?
I’ve been contemplating on the event Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, as I’m preparing for an elective on grief for church camp that’s just around the corner. The passage is rich with many, many different points to look at, but for the longest time ever, I’ve been fascinated with John 11:35, which simply says ‘Jesus wept.’ It’s hard to fathom why He’d weep. I mean, he’d just said to Martha, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.’ I doubt very much that Jesus needed to be reminded of the gospel point, considering He was, and still is the gospel point!
I believe that Jesus is fully God and fully man. It’s not easy to explain this — it’s not a 50/50 case of God/man or a two in one sort of effect. I lack the eloquence to explain this, though it makes sense to me, deep in my bones. He had to be human, because He took my sin on the cross. I don’t always hold myself in high-esteem and often have to work on issues of self-doubt, but I’m terribly sure that a lamb, no matter how fat or cute (or whatever the standard is), cannot be an equal substitute for me. I am of far more value than it. There is nothing it can do to be sufficient to pay for anything I’ve done. My understanding of human nature, limited as it is, sufficiently demonstrates to me that we really don’t have the best thoughts all the time. We’re not deeply good or pure. Our motives, our words, and actions, betray us, even when we try our best. We’re fallen creatures. It makes sense to me, that only someone pure, far greater than us, can take our place should they want to protect us from the punishment we truly deserve. To this end, from the depths of my heart, I can see why Jesus’ death for us was the one perfect sacrifice. Legally, it makes sense that He can say when believers die, that He has paid for their souls. He demands justice for us. Why He did it when He really didn’t have to, tells me how superior His love is for us.
This is the same Jesus who wept, just before He raised Lazarus. He wept not because He didn’t understand the gospel or the impact of what He came to do. He wept because He was deeply saddened by the sorrow that we go through when we lose. He knew that our understanding of His work, even when it’s being preached to us on Easter Sunday or on any other Sunday, or when it’s screaming out at us from the words of Scripture, doesn’t remove the pain of the loss we feel. His weeping just before He raises Lazararus, is, I think, an outpouring of compassion and sadness that He feels for us because of the brokenness of the world. In His perfect human state, He’s able to reach into the emotion of pain and despair that we sometimes feel the need to shield ourselves from. In His perfect human state, his anguish is brutal. In His perfect God state, He shows a compassion so deep and is moved to tears for the plight of humanity as it grapples with the pain of loss. In His perfect God state, He foresees the pain of separation that the Trinity is about to face, when He dies for us upon the cross.
It is all too much to take in. As I remember these truths, I feel strength within me. I feel revived. My father and mother aren’t with me, but, my LORD is. I don’t have to blink back tears when I’m with Him. I don’t have to smile and say that I’m okay, even when I’m not. I don’t have to gauge how He’s doing before I drop my load on to Him. He’s strong enough to take it. Strangely, as I think about Him, I feel a sense of joy within, knowing that it was my mum and dad, who grew me in Him by His grace. This piece of shared history between us doesn’t end with their passing because He is very much alive. So, I am most grateful for Jesus, and for how He wept. He’s given me space for my tears, which thanks to His sacrifice, are only temporary.
Papa and mummy, whether it’s the dentist, or conversations with the mechanic about how we all were in the past, or at family gatherings, or whether it’s in the middle of full church on a Sunday, where I am surrounded by lots of familiar and loving faces, I still miss you. I miss you. I’m so grateful that in Christ, I can feel these waves of grief, which connect me to you, without them drowning me.
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It’s Good Friday today (18 April, 2025). Christians all over the world will be reminding themselves of Jesus’ crucifixion that took place on that wicked hill called Golgotha, ever so long ago. This morning, I went to church — which was a bit of a feat in itself, because I’ve hurt my back. Before you give me any sympathy, let me just say that I’ve hurt my back out of sheer stupidity and I’m not impressed. As I attempted moving a full bucket of water with my foot, I was telling myself not to do it. It’s hard to explain — it felt a bit like a horror show, watching myself not listen to the voice of sense that was screaming from inside my brain, and attempt the act which I’ve already described. I had to walk sideways, holding on to the outer walls of my house to get inside, grab my car keys, and drive through the pain to see a doctor. Thankfully, I’m so much better already. I’m not sure how quickly I’ll recover over my own stupidity, though!
There were three reflections in church and friends have been forwarding all sorts of messages about Good Friday. One friend in a group of ladies I read the Bible with shared one that was particularly hard hitting. It reminded us all the Judas sat at the same table as Jesus and the other apostles and our Lord showed him love. This is devastatingly shocking to read, because we know that Jesus knew who His betrayer was. The little WhatsApp share also reminded us how we’re all sinners — like Judas! That’s hard to take.
The Bible’s constantly going on about the prophecies about Jesus. The accuracy of the Psalms that refer to His character, His death, and even His resurrection is pretty stunning. We looked at Psalm 22: 1- 18 and Isaiah 52: 13 – 53:12 in church today. I’m constantly blown away, when I consider the way Jesus is described, not just as the long-suffering servant, but the Man of Sorrows, and unlike king David who’s described as ruddy, handsome, with beautiful eyes (1 Samuel 16:12), Jesus is described appallingly. Imagine this — we’re told that Jesus’ appearance is ‘marred, beyond human semblance,’ (Isaiah 52:14) and that ‘he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, no beauty that we should desire him’ (Isaiah 53: 2). The contrast to king David is unmissable.
However, David (whom I like very much), as good looking and majestic as he is, and with the kind of frenzied support he had, didn’t treat people so well all the time. For starters, there’s that whole episode of lusting after Bathsheba, who was already married to Uriah. David stops at nothing to get the woman he wants — which includes ensuring that Uriah, who was a faithful servant to him, is killed in battle (2 Samuel 11). David was also a pretty rubbish father to his daughter when she needed him the most (2 Samuel 13). David didn’t deal with his son Amnon who raped his daughter Tamar. This injustice causes David’s son Absalom to rise up against him and this eventually leads to Absalom’s death (2 Samuel 18). So much for majesty, riches, being a powerful warrior, and being so good looking!
So, years later, when Jesus arrives — born in extremely humble circumstances, the scene is set for the contrast. Jesus grew up in a small, insignificant place called Nazareth. In fact, in John 1:46, Nathaniel’s response when he first hears about Jesus is ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’ We’re also told that people took offence at Jesus — after all, He was the carpenter’s son (Matthew 13: 53 – 58 and Mark 6: 1-6). Suffice to say, such responses combined with some of the prophecies that spoke about Jesus in such appalling ways inform us that His majesty, His beauty, His power — were all hidden. He truly did humble Himself to come into this world to die for us.
Despite this, Jesus, unlike David, does something that David or none of us can do. He humbled Himself and embraced the man that would work with conspirators to lead Him to His death. He didn’t chase Judas away. Rather, He allowed Judas to sit at that table, washed his feet, and let him eat in His presence so that you and I won’t be cast away from that table. Because Jesus let Judas lead Him to His death willingly, He fulfilled the demands of God’s law and obtained justice for those who believe in Him. We have a place at the table because of Good Friday.
As I reflect on Good Friday and Easter Sunday, the death and resurrection of Jesus, I am overwhelmed by the magnitude of the gift. I know I am a sinner. I know that I’m not easy to love. This is true for all of us. Yet, Jesus died for such as us. This comforts me as I think about my own mum and dad. They brought me up believing in Jesus and they died believing in Him. The events of Good Friday and Easter Sunday inform me that one day, I will see them again, when we are united in Jesus’ Kingdom. The Bible tells us that He will return in glory (Matthew 24:30). That will be a sight to behold.
Papa and mummy, I miss you both so much at times like these. It was so wonderful to have conversations with you about all these things that truly mattered. Thank God for Good Friday and Easter. Christ died for us and He rose again.
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Describe one positive change you have made in your life.
I started walking some years ago- and it’s been a really good thing. I take my little dog with me now, and we go to lovely parks. I enjoy the timeout in the mornings – and it does wonders for the mood (and health!). Love it.
Me and Gamora
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The last two months of 2024 were filled with stress because I was losing my job. Being made redundant has not been a pleasant experience. It really delivers a sucker punch and sucker punches make you reel. There has been angst about direction. It’s hard to plan when you’re reeling. I’ve lost the sleep rhythm that I worked so hard to gain. Since November, sleep has been fitful at best. Not great.
Yet, this morning, there’s a song in my heart. There’s been such a huge turnaround in how I’m feeling. Tomorrow, on 8 March 2025, in conjunction with International Women’s Day, I am launching a new consultancy. I’ve had the desire to set up some kind of business for some time now, having done so in the past. Some of the journeys that I took were great, but not easy. Well, I say that I’m ready, now, after ages of waiting. I had such a great experience with a partner when I set up a business from scratch. There was so much I learnt from him about fairness and contentment in negotiations. I learnt about boundaries from him and it meant our partnership was healthy. When we ended the business, it was nothing to do with us not getting along, but rather that it was time to move on. To me, having a partner was such a great journey that I always thought that I needed to have a partner to start something new. Hence the delay. It’s not easy to find someone on the same page as you. Before anyone says anything, okay – so maybe my page has got a few dog ears, rips, and isn’t terribly pristine!
When I started taking a look at jobs to apply for, there were lots more things I needed to think about this time. I have been working from home since before the pandemic started, partly due to the different time zones, which made it impossible to keep a 9-5 schedule and partly due to changes in my own health situation. I struggle with rheumatoid arthritis and RA is a progressive disease and at that point I was dealing with terrible fatigue. Right now, as I write this, inflammation levels are normal and I’m target for remission if I can keep this going for a bit. The sickening part is that even if I do things right, I don’t control how my body works and how the disease behaves. I am conscious of how this affects my commuting to a new job and with all that’s being done to reverse things to onsite work, which I find most frustrating, taking a job in the city, may mean moving to the city. At this point, I’m not sure it’s what I want to do. I’m not as enamoured as I was about living in the city some years ago. A move feels like additional change. I feel I need a bit of stability given how much change has taken place in such a short time. These are all now factors that I cannot ignore when considering job options.
The other thing is I’ve not found a rhythm since losing my dad. What does this mean? It means I no longer have someone at home with me to be there for or who is there for me. I don’t know how to manage it. When I had Patches, Loki and for the brief period that he was alive when Gamora arrived, my dad helped me with these furry creatures who wormed their way into our hearts and home. It made a difference. I was free to go out and work and even if my workday ended up being a twelve- or fourteen-hour day, my dad was at home with them. They weren’t locked in on their own. I don’t have that same back up with Gamora now. I have to really thank God for my cousin, whom I call Gamora’s fairy-godmother who turns up for Gamora more than I expect. Tomorrow, when I host the drop-in for my new venture, she’s taking Gamora with her for the day. Her mum, my aunt who says she’s Gamora’s fairy-god-grandma also steps in a lot. A lot of the time on short notice too. The reality is, my cousin is working in a demanding job herself. She has a lot on her plate and my aunt has a lot to do in her life. It’s different from my dad who lived here with me and was just there. I used to come in and say ‘Papa, I’m so sorry and thank you,’ on the days that I was especially late for I knew that my four-legged darlings were safe. This isn’t the only way, but my dad’s not being around has made such a difference to my life. It is another factor for me to consider as I think of next steps work wise. It’s easy to throw out suggestions like a dog day care, but as much as Gamora’s a bouncy little juggernaut, her bounciness and confidence comes from her closeness to me. She’s terrified otherwise and I see it when I take her to get her nails done. She cannot handle all the other dogs and you can see how overwhelming it all is. Her little heart thumps so fast and loud that when I carry her back to the car, I can feel it beating. I don’t have a rhythm without my dad.
The idea of starting a business, is as I said something I’ve been keen to do. Yet my hunt was for the right partner, and the right idea. Whatever it was had to be sustainable. Whoever it was with had to be workable. I admit I have worried about this a lot. Over a conversation, one of my wise friends said that it sounded almost as if the perfect partner was Jesus. It’s one thing to know Biblical truths, it’s quite another to have some of them repeated to you in a thoughtful way. I did wonder what the hold back was. Maybe I was worried about this partnership. The truth is, in a partnership between Jesus and me, the only one likely to fail is me. Ouch.
My prayer has been for several things. It’s been to help quell the intense sadness I feel without my dad, which in turn is opening up my mum’s absence. My parents were such ordinary people. Not at all savvy in business or the ways of the world. They didn’t know naughty nuances in language, so they didn’t get a lot of naughty jokes. They weren’t brilliant at investing their funds – it was always safe options. There was a lot of learning to live within our means. They didn’t keep up with anything trendy. It was not their thing. Yet, they were faithful to their God. They taught me all about Him to the best of their abilities. They made mistakes and talked about failings. They apologized when necessary. They were practical about things that were life and death. There was a steadiness about them. There was nothing flash. Just faithful, calm, steady folk. I miss them. I longed so much for the opportunity to just chat to them about how things unfolded in my last job and all the things I need to now consider as I take steps forward. I miss their quiet wisdom. My other prayer has been for direction. I don’t know whether I’m meant to get a job or if I should start a business. I’ve been applying for work and somehow there’s been a push to go about doing things to set up a business. There have been conversations about freelance opportunities and the idea of setting up a website came up. As I applied for jobs and moved about to set up, I found myself more drawn to the later. There were more pieces falling into place and before I knew it, I am here, on the eve of launching my new consultancy.
I’m excited and nervous all in one. I’m sad because I miss my parents. I’m exhilarated from the work done on the website. How I enjoyed working on it. There was so much support on how to get the technicalities done – it was more than a prayer answered. I feel a deep sense of satisfaction and a drive to keep going every time I sat down to work on it. It’s such a wonderful feeling when you’re content. I’ve enjoyed conversations on work and options that lie ahead. There’ve been introductions and amazing suggestions. These offers and suggestions have spurred me on. I felt a sense of worry slip away. As I worked on my website, some gave me great feedback, little things that you miss because you’re in your head. It was helpful to make tweaks and find myself feeling an even greater sense of joy as the webpage unfolded. Some gave me praise and many assurances. I cannot tell you how supported I’ve been feeling with my launch happening tomorrow. One cousin drove from so far just to drop stuff off for me to use for the launch. I walk a tight balance of managing RA related fatigue, so this help goes a long way. She’s been asking me to keep her posted on what else needs doing. My other cousin, Gamora’s fairy-godmother has offered to take Gamora out and keep her for the day. The stress that takes off me where managing Gamora is concerned is inexplicable. Friends have been checking in and doing all sorts – I am so grateful.
As I consider how things unfold, I realise that there’s been only one reason why I’ve been so supported. For me, it is crystal clear that God has been making sure I don’t sink. I’ve been feeling embattled, inadequate, and scared. I worry about my relevance, my expertise, and my ability to move forward. In the past, I would’ve focused on all the people who haven’t turned up and I’d have lost even more confidence. This time, I feel almost like the birds of the air and the grass of the field that God looks after (Matthew 6: 25-34) – I am cared for! I’m seeing this through the different people that have come into my life. Today, I took some minutes to send a special message to some of these who have been especially prominent – I am beyond grateful.
My circumstances haven’t really changed. My home is shattered as is my heart. I don’t have my mum and dad with me. I think there’s no recovery there. I’ve had to say goodbye to working alongside some of the loveliest people I know. Six years getting to know them and developing friendships and those regular interactions are now different. I’m saddened by this upheaval. I need a job – well a source of income, and starting a new business isn’t the easiest thing to do. Has anyone looked at the state of the economy recently? I’ve reason to be worried. Yet, there is a peace deep within. I’m not spiraling despite all that’s happened. I have joy, even. Unexpected joy, but unmistakable. There is contentment. There is excitement. Maybe it is because I’m experiencing God’s love through all the different people He’s sending along. I’m being cared for, cherished, and it’s mind blowing. I am indeed a recipient of grace.
Whilst I cannot guarantee that the clarity I have in this moment will remain constant (though it be my fervent prayer!), I am thankful for this insight. We’ve not been promised lives without trial. It is through these trials that we experience grace. Grace when it comes at these points is sweet. It overwhelms you. It nurtures and fills you. It is in this moment of grace that I can say ‘Oh taste and see that the LORD s good!’ (Psalm 34:8). My favourite king David wrote that psalm when he was in such turmoil that he had to pretend he was a nutcase. He received grace. I pray that this will always be my posture – to be a ready recipient of grace despite the circumstances that come my way.
Papa and mummy, I think you’d be proud of this new venture. How I wish I could share it with you! I love and miss you.
The bloom that greeted me this morning from my Lombok creeper.
Grace for the soul 