It’s About Time

Today we sent WeiChee and family off to the field of Irian (West Papua). It is a joyful/sad occasion. Sad because our friends are leaving us for the Lord’s work; joyful because they are obeying God’s leading for their lives and we as a church were part of that journey; that process. We were obedient in sending them off to the Lord’s field.

Many of us arrived at the Budget Terminal about 2hrs prior to departure time. It was a casual and light occasion at that time. Kids ran around oblivious to the heavyheartedness of adults. Still it was fun watching them expend energy in the departure hall. Adults meanwhile, ‘loiter’ around in small groups having chit-chats. Some regular visitors turned up: MeiLeng, Angelia, as well as Jeff and Patricia. Stephanie came too.

When 16:00 hrs came, I asked Daniel to gather the folks for group picture. It was quite a breeze since the folks knew what they were supposed to do. Then came the difficult moment – to pray for the missionary family on behalf of the church. Difficult only because one can sense the sadness around.

Tears flowed as I prayed for the Lam family prior to their moving off to Departure gate. It was understandable. Inevitable I might add. The people of NTBC love them dearly. That is wonderful. I do wonder if it’s our turn, will they likewise?

As a side note, I was pleasantly surprised to see TzeCheh (aka Tracy) and Jasmine. Both are married with kids in tow. Both whom I have not seen since 1993 when we left SBBC. Frankly I missed them much though not expressed. I missed their ever positive outlook. The life of the party so to speak, in a positive manner. I missed their fervor. Sadly they are not attending church since the fiasco in ’93. only thing to do is to pray that the Lord will prompt their hearts to yearn for worship and communion with God and His saints.

Last Friday, Amanda wrote this to me, which i thought it was sweet.

Amanda's handwritten note

Then yesterday, after her phonics class, while at the supermarket, she told her mother that she wanted to give me a “treat.”  When asked why Papa deserves a treat, Amanda answered it’s because Papa takes care of her, and bought her books (I did last week).  My wife took opportunity to commend her on her sense of appreciation and thoughtfulness.  Told her that “you want to show Papa your appreciation” rather than “treat.”

It was heartwarming to hear this when my wife related it to me.  We’ve been trying to inculcate in her a sense of “gratitude-attitude” so it’s heartening to note of such things.

Yesterday while driving, I was listening to the radio when there was talk about nicest nasi lemak stall in Singapore.  Listeners were urged to sms their recommendations to the radio station.

Nasi Lemak is a Malay staple food that is easy to eat and tasty too. Easy because it was mainly rice cooked with coconut milk and pandan leaves; the hot sauce (here we say chili sauce) is called sambal.  Traditionally it has small fish — ikan kuning (literally, yellow fish), deep fried with ginger spices. Not forgetting a thin slice of fried egg.   As time passes, the Chinese begins to sell it; often adding fried chicken wings, fried fish cake, plus other stuff.  Being a traditionalist (maybe hardnose), I don’t eat food cooked by those outside of the ethnic group. By that I meant, if it’s Malay food, I must eat from Malay stall; if it’s Chinese food, only from the Chinese.  Not a segregationalist, I just feel that those outside cannot cook as well. I suppose I’m just plain stubborn. And why waste time trying out a Chinese cooked nasi lemak? I just go straight to the Malay stall and order it. period.

Somehow, a series of words conjure up memories of my childhood. When my three neighbors (3 brothers – Ah Hui; Ah Lek; Ah Leng) plus my elder brother and I would take a 2.5 hrs bus ride from our house in C’wealth Cresecent, Queenstown, to Changi Point.  Every Sunday morning, the 5 of us would take bus no. 2, eagerly aniticpating the sight and smell of Changi.  I think bus no 2 still ply the same route after all these years.

Being poor– we would save up our money to have just enough to pay for our bus fare (10 cents each way) and nasi lemak (20 cents).  The Malay boys from the nearby kampong at Changi would ply their trade along the beaches.  The highlight of the trip (after swimming) would be to eat that precious packet of nasi lemak.  It’s a heavenly joy for us kids.  By the way, we were just about 8 to 13 years of age.  My brother being the oldest and Ah Leng and I were both 8 years old.

We’d guard our money otherwise, not only does it mean we don’t get to savor nasi lemak; it’d be a long road back to Queenstown from Changi Point.  For some it might be very dreadful thing but for us kids back then, it was part of life.  I recall walking to Capitol Theater from Queenstown. Almost everywhere we went we walked. Why? No money, that’s why. We developed endurance anyway. When I got enlisted into the army. Road march was never an issue with me.

Last night, I came back late from Church because I had to speak with a couple who visited with us.  Amanda didn’t go to Church because she hasn’t yet fully recovered from recent flu.

I was pleasantly surprised to see a note with drawings on my laptop keyboard in the office.  It makes the heart warmed alright.

Amanda's Love Note to Papa

my wife told me that Amanda explained to her that the lines indicate her love for papa.  Her love goes through her to mine, so she said. How cute.   Makes my day, for sure.

Last Saturday morning, while trying to read book to Amanda on bed, I accidentally sprained my neck muscles without trying hard. The pain increases as the day wear on. Man, it was literally “pain in the neck.” 

Pasted salonpas on the shoulder region nearer to the right side of the neck. It was “minty” but during the night it was terrible as the neck is so sore that to turn from one side to another, I had to support my neck with the palm of my hand.  Really pathetic.  Didn’t sleep well.

Next day on Sunday, mentioned this to Thuan Wee, one of our deacons who is a doctor. He says it’s called “aged”   Well, aging or not, it was painful. Thankfully, he and Daniel gave sound advise to help remedied the situation. Basically needed to slowly stretch the muscles region. Been doing that and it really helped.  Now I am almost out of the “stiff neck generation” category. 

Never had that kind of pain before. Well, there’s always the first time. . . .

Never thought it would come so soon but not surprised that it might; that my little girl needs glasses at the age of 4 1/2.  Recent MOH eye screening done at her Kindergarten resulted in a medical referral slip to Geylang polyclinic. After further test, the optometrist says Amanda has astigmatism though not myopia (which is great).

We brought her then to TTSH’s eye alignment center (for children) to see an ophthalmologist, where she explained possible causes for our girl’s condition.  It was educational for us, but it does mean she has to start putting on glasses and make it habitual.  Though it wasn’t a big deal yet there is somewhat tinge of sadness cum disappointment in our hearts — I guess from both bespectacled parents’ point of view, we both hope it would not come so soon (at least not during childhood!).  Not that we were unrealistic, it’s just that we would like her to enjoy playing carefree– without least form of hindrance. At least for a while.  Yet we’re thankful it didn’t bother her to wear one and she quickly took to it. Personally I’m glad she heeded our instruction most of the time regarding placement of the glasses.

I don’t know much about my dad.  Most of what I know came from remarks by my older sisters and occasionally by my mother.  According to them, Dad was a principal in a school in Malaysia (don’t know if it’s primary or secondary level).

Prior to that he was from China, fled with his mother to Taiwan and subsequently to Singapore when the Japanese overran the respective countries.  My paternal grandmother died the day I was born having fallen down several days prior. Back to my dad – he was a resistant fighter against the Japanese in Malaya/Singapore in the early 40s during Japanese occupation.  His story somehow became muddled after that. Nobody really talks about it in my family except that he was flamboyant and often changes cars and watches.

He subsequently converted to Islam and logically was allowed to marry a second wife (actually I doubt if there was consent by my mother).  In my mind, it was a conversion of convenience after all, it made bigamy legal in the Malaysian govt eyes; besides being a Muslim meant easier access to job opportunities in Malaysia – after the Malays had a go first, I believe.  At least that was my impression.

He comes back to Singapore about fortnightly albeit juggling between two families who are in essence at odds due to envy as well as anger for obvious reasons.  We’ve never met all of our half-brothers or sisters. I remembered only one, that’s all.  I must say that my mother was quiet about the whole thing. Never ever have I seen her upset or depressed over this (if she did it never showed).  The whole marriage thing must have hurt her badly since my mother prior to her settling back to the role of homemaker, was also a teacher along with my dad.  The second wife was also a colleague and good friend of my mother (imagine the sense of betrayal!).  Nonetheless mother stoically soldiered on in life.

Dad was hardly home long. Only overnighters when he does come back. He never spent time getting to know us kids (maybe the older siblings).  My older brother Fred and I didn’t for sure.

I have only two or three recollection of my personal moments with dad. One was when he stayed overnight and the following morning, gave me a ride to school.  I was so overjoyed because dad brought me to school. We never spoke but that ride made my day.  I was only primary 2 (second-grade) at age of 7 ½ yrs.

The other memory I had was when I was 11.  we were playing football outside the flat along the corridor with neighbors, Ariff, Asli, Tee Kia, Fred, Ah Lek.  It was a noisy but fun affair when my dad who was home then, came out without warning and whacked my right arm (cos I was nearest to our door). That effectively ceased all activities as our friends retreated to their own homes and Fred quieted. I didn’t cry nor protest. Only smile in defiance essentially.

Another experience I recalled was when we received word from my uncle (Dad’s younger brother) that Dad has passed away after suffering from lung cancer.  We visited him only once at TTSH when he was ill. I didn’t know he was already suffering from cancer but I remember that he cried.  Anyway, my uncle told us that my dad’s second wife didn’t want us to know and had wanted to carry on with the funeral without the other children of his around.  My uncle couldn’t bear to do that so he came to inform us. We all went to the funeral and the woman was furious and hostile.  An old neighbor who used to live in Waterloo Street asked if we wanted to smash up the funeral (he was a gangster) later since such inconsiderate behavior by the woman was manifested towards us -especially my mother whom I was surprised that she was so cool, calm and collected.  While my older siblings wailed, my elder brother Fred and I didn’t.  We tried to pretend that we did but ended up laughing because it was so silly and pretentious.  Thankfully it didn’t incur the wrath of anybody.

I suppose in some ways I was angry with my dad.  he was absent from our lives while we were growing up. I used to think how nice it would be if dad was around to provide for us financially – he didn’t.  How much a difference it would make if he took interest in our education. He didn’t.  He was parent-in-absentia.

I never know what it’s like to ask dad for advice. He was never around long enough to know if I had one.  I never know what it is like to disagree with him for the same reason. But I remmeber wishing he was there for us but he didn’t.

We went through hardships but I guess you can say that it fortify us in different ways that was good for us. We can’t help not having dad around.  It’s not our fault. Perhaps he has tried but he didn’t have the energy to do so. Would others have forgiven him?

I know I wouldn’t to be like dad. He was absent.

Today, while driving to Jismyl’s school to fetch her home, Amanda asked while we’re at the traffic light (cross-junction), “where is Jesus?”  To which I replied, “Jesus is in heaven.”  “Where is heaven?” she followed up. “Well, heaven is above but more importantly, it is where Jesus and God is.”

“I want to go to heaven.” Amanda said on her own accord.  “How do you get to heaven?” I asked, wondering if she knew the answer. She said, “Believe in Jesus.”  I said, “Yes, you need to believe in Jesus in order to get to heaven.”

“Well, the Bible says that we must believe in Him, and importantly, we must know that we are sinners, and need Him to forgive us of our sins, and believe that He died for our sins. Believe that if we trust in Jesus, He will save us.” I explained.  ”Do you want to do that?”  After pausing for awhile (the traffic light turns green in our favor and I drove on).

“Yes” she said. So I led her to pray the modified version of sinners’ prayer and she did. After which I told her about John 3:16; 14:3 (both verses she knew).

The background that led to this conversation is that she attends Shalom BP kindergarten which is 10 minutes drive from our home.  Since last year she was exposed to the Gospel presentation during their chapel sessions.  In fact, she asked several times, “why did Jesus die on the cross?”  We answered her duly but no further we weren’t sure if she was trying to impress us with facts that she gained or what.  Furthermore we didn’t want to rush just to extract a “conversion” since she was almost 4 years of age then.  However, we were sure she is thinking about the subject and periodic coverage of the Gospel continually either in kindergarten or our church’s Sunday school.

Today, at chapel (Friday afternoon is chapel time where a pastoral staff will teach the children); I suppose the teacher/preacher covered the topic of heaven, thus the question that she raised to me.  And the rest was that she prayed after me.

As we reach Jismyl’s school gate, I told Amanda that perhaps she would like to tell her mommy that she has believed in Jesus.  She said, “Mommy would say, ‘wow!’”  True enough, that’s what came out of Jismyl’s mouth.

Of course, we can only ascertain later on in her life for evidence of salvation.  Right now, we’re glad that she understands much more than she did earlier – that Jesus died for her sins; heaven is for those who have trusted Jesus Christ as Savior.

Posing for shot in front of memorial

After spending one week in Beijing, we made our trip to Harbin, a place where many almost immediately shake to tell us it’s a terribly cold place.

Doubtless, it is a cold place but not unlike Dunbar, Wisconsin, or St Paul, MN, where we had lived for 6 years in total.  Of course, Harbin pale in terms of amount of snow – dismally little.  I was disappointed because I had wanted to play with Amanda and teach her how to make snow man and snow angel. Oh well, maybe next trip to the States.

Harbin, is renowned for her ice-sculpting competition.  These folks could carve almost any creatures out of block of ice. 

Along with it is the snow sculpting competition on Sun Island.  This city is close to Russian border and thus according to folks there are many Russians that come during summer for trading.  True to form, the ice sculptures were magnificent.  Technorati Tags: China, Harbin, Holiday

Last Friday during the Children’s Camp, Amanda wanted to have a ride on my shoulder.  I consented and while i was holding to her forearms with both hands, she slipped while trying to climb up.  In the process her left elbow joint was slightly dislocated and caused her great pain.

Thankfully Thuan Wee and Daniel were both around to attend to her and helped to pop it both in position again.  Learned that it is fairly easy for little kids’ joints to be dislocated so caution must be exercised in such activities, innocent though they might be. 

I’m glad we didn’t have to go down to KKH at the end of the day to ascertain the pain or type of damagers inccurred.