they Dream.

and the stars traverse their eternal paths above
where we lay; the world ceases not
its turning, nor
the seasons their fading. But tarry thou awhile beneath the
mallorn we adorned
with our dreams; wait
for me there.

and we will traverse the oceans for things glorious, or
fight to the bitter end the inexorable march
of fate. Or
sit we, under our tree and hand in hand dream
of what has been and what will be.

I’m part of the fellowship of the unashamed. I have the Holy Spirit power. The die has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made-I’m a disciple of his. I won’t look back, let up, slow down, back away, or be still. My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, my future is secure. I’m finished and done with low living, sight walking, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, worldly talking, cheap giving, and dwarfed goals.

I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits, or popularity. I don’t have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live by faith, lean in his presence, walk by patience, am uplifted by prayer, and I labor with power.

My face is set, may gait is fast, my goal is heaven, my road is narrow, my way rough, my companions are few, my Guide reliable, my mission clear. I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, deluded, or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of the enemy, pander at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity.

I won’t give up, shut up, let up, until I have stayed up, stored up, prayed up, paid up, preached up for the cause of Christ. I am a disciple of Jesus. I must go till he comes, give till I drop, preach till all know, and work till he stops me. And, when he comes for his own, he will have no problem recognizing me…my banner will be clear!

(The Signature of Jesus © 1992 by Brennan Manning).

I do know it, but I cannot help it. My mother has always told me that things once spoken cannot be retracted; the damage is done, and nothing will ever be the same again.

But a situation avoided is a situation never needed to be encountered, they say. So nowadays I mostly keep my opinions to myself. You can probably count off the people with whom I can speak with (almost) no reservation (by my standards, at least) with the fingers of one hand… but that is not the point.

The point is that when I stand before a person whom I love with all my heart telling me that his dreams are shattered and truly over, the urge to encourage him to keep fighting and keep believing in himself is really too strong to resist. And so instead of holding my peace, I open my mouth and tell him. I tell him to believe in what he can do. I urge him see that patience makes all the difference. I bring him songs of encouragement, and stories of triumph; I drag out examples and hold them up before his imagination; telling him of examples of people who’ve been through the same valley and lived to tell the tale.

I’ve been doing this for almost 5 weeks, and now I know beyond a doubt that all my words have not made an iota of difference. It’s the same story of the same shattered dreams and broken hearts; of familiar disappointment and disillusion. Over and over in the past 5 weeks. They are like forest fires; you see them, and you pour water on them, throw baking soda on them, hurl a blanket over them and try to stamp them out before more damage is done. And before you can take a deep breath, they’re back -the same flames, the same process. They come back, over and over, and you fight them until in your very exhaustion you forget the very thing you are fighting for.

And so it happened; in my desperation to reach him, I forgot who it was I was really fighting for… and in the process, I hurt the person I professed to love. In frustration I tried to impose a quick-fix, an immediate change in mentality. Oh, the blind fool I was, to feebly attempt something that even God would only do accompanied with the manifestation of His grandeur!

It’s a hard thing to learn: for some people, my words will never be enough. I may have an intention the size of a mountain of pure gold, but my words born out of that intention will never be enough to reach them. And it’s important to remind myself that because if I don’t I will bash myself unconscious hurling myself at the brick wall of their despair.

Maybe that’s not the point either. As I write this I’m beginning to see it’s not about me at all. Perhaps this is just a reminder; that instead of trying so hard to encourage someone my way, perhaps the best thing I can do is really just to SHUT UP (like i was was just told to a few hours ago), listen to them, and then bring all these things to God, who holds all things in the palm of his hand.

Memo to me: I must learn to be, “…not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, present [my] requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard [my] [heart] and [mind] in Christ Jesus.” (Phil 4:6,7; captions mine -plural words ‘singularized’.)

Teach me, Lord, to keep my eyes on You, that I may not unconsciously style myself as a saviour for others, but that I may keep an unwavering finger pointed to Your cross and resurrection; the signs You left for those who seek for the unfailing love found only in the arms of Christ, the Saviour of the world.

And now the familiar faces will slowly but surely fade from view; one after the other, in one way or another. Now that we’ll be in different labs across Singapore, there won’t be much of a chance to meet up anymore. Definitely not in a classroom setting, where our greatest fears were nothing more than the upcoming exams. It’s sad, but i guess life’s a long series of hellos and goodbyes.

Here’s to my friends who’ve been so much of my life for the past 3 years and a half. We’ll hold on to the memories, but we’ll just have to try much harder to hold on to one another. Yes, moving on is inevitable -and necessary, but thank God for technology. :)

Here’s to the start of a brand new phase.

Cheers. *clink*

On another note, came across this word while playing FreeRice: Pusillanimous.

No prize for guessing what it means -especially if you’re especially prone to calling people ‘pussies’ for being cowardly. :)

It’s just freaky: a word which i thought was purely colloquial actually derived from a real word. Queen’s English at that.

http://www.freerice.com/index.php

At the end of this series of papers, it would be the end of the another phase -the one where you can step into school and see good ol’ familiar friends either yowling at some joke someone made, or queuing at the photocopy/printing machine, quietly chatting while they wait for their printouts; the rushed lunches and the endless presentations that really made you curse the day you signed up for their modules.

And now all that is coming to an end. Starting today.

I remember the times when we would let him run around the room; he would always find a cozy corner to hide in -in the cupboard, or between the bed and the pillar, giving us heart attacks trying to look for him. Or the sleepy look he would give us when we found him (hours later) peacefully sleeping, wedged between the bookshelf and the guitar case… almost like he was saying, “Where on EARTH have you been? I fell asleep waiting for you to find me!”

I remember how he never complained nor turned cranky during the times when we didn’t change his bedding as often as we should have sometimes, or forgot to feed him once or twice, or when he woke up because we stroked him in the daytime. He took everything in his stride, and endured all things with never-ending patience.

I remember how he loved his sock above all things. How he would “initiate” each new sock we gave him when his old one grew too ragged -by chewing it up, wrestling with it and throwing it all over the place to make it as fluffy and as pliable as his old one. At first he just slept on it, curled up in a ball; later he took to sleeping inside the sock -the first few times he did it we all got heart attacks because we thought he went missing again.

I remember the times when he would terrorize Jacky, Jie’s 3 year old Maltese. The first time they met, Jacky took one sniff at him, and fled across the room. That set the tone for the rest of their encounters; the closest Hammie ever got to making peace with Jacky was when we put him on Jacky’s snow-white fur and let him nestle in there for a while… and all that while, Jacky just looked miserable.

Oh, how i miss him already.

Here’s in loving memory of Hammie; dearly loved, sorely missed, but never forgotten.

How Rare Is Your Personality?

Apparently this survey says i’m unique. But i already know that; didn’t God say the same thing? *grin*

For the sake of our sanity; HOLIDAYS, PLEASE come SOON!