A YEAR OF THANKSGIVING

I was organising my ribbon stash - those left over bits and pieces after we have opened the Christmas presents- that I do not have the heart to throw away because they are too pretty and perhaps one day I might have use for them, when I decided to look for the cellotape to stick the loose ends together.

That is when I saw that the end of the cellotape was neatly folded over so that the next person using it would have no problem finding the end of the tape. Believe me, finding the end of the cellotape could be tricky business if you have short nails. The whole procedure could end up in frustration especially when the tape decides to split into two lengthwise.

Now, I knew I didn’t fold the end of the tape and my daughter Sonya was the last one who used it, so probably she did it. That certainly spelt focus, forward thinking and most of all consideration for the next user.  

Thinking of the whole 365 days, I can only sum it up with one word: THANKSGIVING.

In Malaysia, we have Thanksgiving night on 31 December, and I sorely miss this.

We would go to church around 9pm and after praise and worship, we would testify of what the Lord had done for us for the year. It was altogether very spontaneous and after the initial hesitation, more and more would go up to the pulpit and grab the microphone because our hearts were bursting with joy and gratitude. When the children were young, we would even bring pillows, bolsters and comforters along. Then the countdown began and we would usher in the new year.

I am thankful for my family and for the privilege of being a wife and a mother. I am thankful for my beloved because he is constant and a great support. I am especially proud of my children and my friends ask me how I have raised them to be who they are today: focussed, independent, forward thinking and considerate.

People say there is no guidebook for parenting, but I choose to differ. I rely heavily on 3 great sources: the Bible, the good practices of my parents/culture and the knowledge that I am the parent.

The Bible is the basis of love, forgiveness and discipline. It is the moral yardstick of bringing up a child to worship God and to live a life set apart from the acceptable but unhealthy practices of the world. The child knows how much he is loved even in his mother’s womb. (Psalms 139). I wouldn’t have a clue about parenting if God hadn’t given me the full proof guidelines.

I am thankful for the fact that I am born Asian. The values of respect and honour for others, especially our parents and those who are older than us, are ingrained in us from a very young age. My son Samuel would buy back supper (chilly clams - my favourite) for me when he returned home late at night or drive me to IKEA just to browse.

When I was in Dublin having lunch with my daughter Audrey, she made sure I started my meal first before she ate her first bite. (媽媽，請吃飯). Another mother who was sitting at the next table overheard what she said and jokingly chastised her daughter for not doing likewise.

I am thankful that I am not afraid to be the parent - to call a spade a spade or to address the elephant in the room. I am not afraid to set boundaries and to discipline or to let go and let the child reap the consequences of his mistakes and I will not be too quick to rescue him. Believe me, the parent feels more pain when the child suffers for his follies. I have the privilege and the authority to stand in the gap and intercede in prayer and fast so that they will grow in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man. (Job 1:5; Luke 2:52)

I am not afraid to teach even though it could be difficult when viewpoints differ.I asked my daughter the other day to videotape herself doing some winding down exercises because I wasn’t doing enough cooling off exercises after the gym and I needed to learn how. When I told her that the recording was splendid and very clear, she said, ‘I learn from the best teacher.’

 
 

I am thankful for the bountiful harvest. Everything that we planted and nurtured, blossomed and fruited. There was a great abundance of food. I pickled and froze the surplus (and that will last us till next summer) and we blessed others with our produce.

I am thankful for the many friends that I have. Friends who are caring and loyal and encouraging. Friends in different parts of the world who have touched my heart.

I am thankful for all the trips that He has given us this year - some for pleasure and some for necessity. I went home three times this year and He proved His faithfulness over and over again. Miracles happened and health was restored. Transgressions were forgiven and reconciliation occurred.

God has given us so much and He has been very faithful to us in every sense of the word. He has never failed me and in Him we have no lack. His blessings have been poured out on us, pressed down, shaken together and running over. (Luke 6:38)

Like Michael Caine in the Muppet Christmas Carol, I will sing on this last day of 2018…

‘Yes and every night will end, and every day will start

With a grateful prayer and a thankful heart…’

A LITTLE BIT OF CHARITY THIS CHRISTMAS

It was an icy cold Sunday morning and I was thankful that I had found a parking spot. It wasn’t easy to find one as the streets were busy and people were rushing here and there. I headed towards the church, head bent low against the ferocious wind and feet shuffling on the side walk as fast as I could to keep warm and to get out of the cold quickly. The thought of  colder days ahead wasn’t exactly very pleasing.

Then I heard a voice, ‘Any spare change for the homeless?’

I looked up and saw an elderly man with dishevelled hair sitting on the steps of a public building. He held out an upturned hat to me.

My head told me to move on quickly because he might not be a genuine case of someone in need of help. He could be part of a bigger syndicate, he could be an ex-murderer having served time or he could have been irresponsible in his youth (which led to his present predicament). In fact I never forgot the time when my father gave ten ringgit (2 euro) to a beggar who upon receiving the money, instantaneously headed to the nearest alcohol store to spend his new found wealth. But my heart told me he could have fallen between the cracks or was just a victim of unfortunate circumstances.

Why are there so many homeless and displaced people on the streets?

Homelessness in Ireland is an evolving social issue.

According to FocusIreland, the number of families becoming homeless had increased by 24% since July 2017. If before it was due to the pervasive impact of  the Great Famine (1845 - 1852), 20th century homelessness was associated with senior males who might have alcoholism or addiction problems.

The present day homeless population includes women and children as well. The reasons given are possibly the economic downturn coupled with the impact of reduced familial incomes, mortgage arrears and rental increases.

Having a home is a basic need that many of us take for granted. I have never been without a home. I cannot imagine what it is like to be caught in such a situation - to not know where your next bed is, to be constantly on the move and to be surrounded by fear and uncertainty.

The street lights are all up now and the stores are beautifully decorated for the season. People are busy doing last minute shopping to get all the presents to put under the tree. Chimneys are puffing smoke as fireplaces are lit. Mothers or fathers are labouring over the hearth preparing the children’s favourite meals. Even pets have their own special treats and tiny coats to keep their bodies warm.

And amidst it all,we do not see or we choose not to see the needy who are lying in our path. When a homeless person is found dead in a derelict building in Limerick, then there is public outcry and tributes start pouring in.

So I walked on and entered the church and soon the congregation started to sing. Except that I couldn’t sing.

I walked out and went to the nearest cafe and bought a takeaway meal and a cup of hot tea. Then I walked back to my car.

The elderly man was still sitting on the stairs.

I put some money into his hat and I gave him the packed meal and tea.

‘Is this for me?’ he said barely looking up.

I replied in the affirmative and decided to chat with him. Did he have children? Yes, a son who is living with his girlfriend. He had been sleeping rough for sometime now.

After that I walked back to the church for the rest of the sermon.

I know I can’t help all the homeless but just for that day, someone who could be my father or my brother, had a hot meal on the steps of a building on O’Connell street.

            Have a Blessed Christmas.

STEPPING INTO NARNIA

When I was a child I didn’t dream of visiting Disneyland. Instead I wanted to go to the land beyond the wardrobe. I wanted to go to Narnia, where it was perfectly normal for animals to talk and there was a free flow of Turkish delight. My sister had bought us a complete set of The Chronicles of Narnia and at ten they were the best books ever!

So like Lucy Pevensie, I pushed the soft folds of the clothes in my mother’s wardrobe hoping that I could go deeper and deeper beyond the back of the wardrobe so that I would feel something soft and powdery and extremely cold beneath my feet. I was hoping that I would see the lamp post and that Mr. Tumnus the faun would be waiting for me.

 C. S. Lewis had captivated children of all ages with his Narnia tales which had sold 100 million copies worldwide. As a young boy, Lewis spent much holiday time in the Mournes and Rostrevor in particular. He is reported to have written a letter to his brother saying: “That part of Rostrevor which overlooks Carlingford Lough is my idea of Narnia”

And the wonder was still there when I followed the Narnia trail in Kilbroney Park in Rostrevor, County Down and entered the magical doorway. The door has become an icon in ‘The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe’ which is the first book in the series,I saw the beaver’s house, the castle Cair Paravel, the dancing lawn, the four thrones and most of all the lion Aslan himself.

The image of the door captivates me.

Whether in ancient mythology or in dreams, the door symbolizes the transition and passageway from one place to another. It stands like a divide between belief and disbelief, between cowardice and valour, between betrayal and reconciliation and between life and death.

It is the process of transition that is the most difficult. We can come out of challenges remaining unchanged or we can experience significant character development. Lucy Pervensie in her simple trusting nature embraces a new life beyond the door but the other characters did not believe her initially.

The door is both full of potential and limiting because we do not know what lies beyond. We can open the door to new knowledge, to liberty and to change. We can open the door to a new self or we can choose not to open the door.

What is it that prevents us from opening the door?

Most times it is the ego. The ego that resists change. The ego that resists being taught. The ego that resists being humbled. The ego that struggles to say I am wrong and you are right. Or we can keep the door closed to harbour a secret. We feel safe behind a closed door because we are familiar with the same old, same old.

At the end of the first book, the Pevensies asked Professor Kirke how they could return to Narnia if they wanted to. His advice was, “Indeed, don’t try to get there at all. It’ll happen when you are not looking for it.”

There is wisdom in that. It takes time for someone to be ready to open the door to something totally different. And just when you are not trying so hard, all at once everything falls into place and the transition becomes effortless.

MUCH TALK ABOUT NOTHING

I was in a confined space for 20 minutes with 2 strangers. It was a totally relaxed space and there was nothing to prevent me from listening to their conversation unless I had ear plugs on. Let’s call the two men Paddy and Ollie.

Paddy: ‘ I was driving to the stadium yesterday for the match. **** the jam was so long you couldn’t bear it in this cold! And the lads were getting hungry and were asking for Supermac’s! **** asking for chicken when the cars are choc-a-bloc! So I called my aunt and asked how she was doing. Grand she said. She was watching the match on telly. And here I was in this ****jam. By the time we reached there it was half time! Then there was this….

Ollie: My lad’s going to San Francisco this weekend for a match. Imagine, all the way there. He’s in Cork you know. Did Masters in Education there and never came back to Clare…..

And both of them went on and on and I wished I could record it all because the talk was so colourful, so random and so peppered with expletives that even your grandmother would blush. I couldn’t find any full-stops in that talk.

Was that a conversation?

It certainly wasn’t a heart to heart or a head to head conversation. At best, it was a talk, albeit an informal one, between two  people, in which news and ideas were exchanged. Paddy and Ollie probably met each other before and knew each other by sight. They were busy talking about themselves and I wonder how anyone could keep track with all the meandering of topics. Was that a dialogue?

A dialogue can mean a focused and intentional conversation - a space where those who differ may listen and speak. It can also mean a way of being - mindful and creative relating - where we set aside the need to win, so we can hear other voices and possibilities. In this respect, no, it wasn’t a dialogue.

Both were too absorbed in talking. You couldn’t get in a word erstwhile and I was actually counting the seconds when Paddy would stop talking and Ollie begin. I wouldn’t be surprised if no one was listening except me.

I am told that this is the way conversations go in pubs as well. It is no wonder when the beloved goes to a local and I ask him what did you lads talk about? He said, ‘Nothing’.

I always wonder why people talk so much and listen so little. I say listen because people hear more than they listen.

According to the dictionary, hearing is simply the act of perceiving sounds by the ear. If you are not hearing-impaired, hearing simply happens. Listening, however, is something you consciously choose to do. Listening requires concentration so that your brain processes meaning from words and sentences.

We choose to hear what we want to hear and we jump to conclusions. Then we react because we think we heard what we imagined we heard. Give me one person who listens before he speaks then a thousand who hear and babble. If only we engage more in appreciative listening, critical listening, relationship listening and discriminating listening.

And when we actually talk, make the talk worthwhile.

There is a place for small talk like being caught in a jam or going to Supermac's 
for a chicken dinner. 

 But that should not be the be all and end all of conversations. 

Certainly it is very ‘safe talk’ because you are not sharing anything substantial. 

But this is very superficial and I can’t see that as a basis for friendships. 

It’s always nice  when some one says, ‘It was a pleasure talking to you.’

I enjoy good conversation where you can walk away sharing a little of yourself and knowing a  bit more about your friend to appreciate her better.. Even if I were to be in the midst of strangers, it would be such a delight where everyone is given a chance to participate in a discusssion on things that they know or do not know.

So after a good 20 minutes, Paddy and Ollie decided to leave. And they turned to me and said,  bye, see you later.

So at least they knew I was there.