On playing with fireworks...

There's so much peace now, knowing there is no one hovering around, going 'She is volunteering because of me'.

And the truth of the matter is, I didn't know I was bothered by it, until the void of it happened this year. 

The heart just wants to play. 

My purpose and intention has always been that simple. 

But that narration was twisted.

A sick, twisted sense of joke? 

The need to be recognized as someone important enough to 'make' me volunteer?

The remark left a bitter feeling inside where it matters. 

Where all things were in their places when it comes to serving God.

I thought I had let it go, but turns out I had just buried it instead.

Now, without;

It feels like an oppression was lifted. 

It feels like a fresh breath of air.

It feels like nothing is there now to corrupt what God said is good. 

It feels like I should celebrate.

Because in all the things that has happened, in the midst of it all, I was set free.

Thank you, God. 

My Father who sees all things and knows all things. 

I didn't know it could be so free.

It's taking some time to breathe in this air. 

To sit and bask in this freedom. 

Where the heart matters...

Let's not take it out of context. 

Of two worlds apart.

Of dreams and wishful thinking.

This is a pleasant one though.

One that I would say Yes to.

As crazy as it sounds to.

Yet maybe I am just sleepy.

Just as he is being silly. 

Down the MBTI rabbit hole we go...

The supposedly 'fun' personality test done today led to some interesting unexpected results.

But it got me analyzing, they shouldn't have specifically ask about writing.

Maybe music or art. 

Any other creative options but writing. 

Because.... 

a) Creative writing was a course I wanted to get into. 

b) I had done world building once upon a time. Don't remember what happened to it, but I remember thinking hard and thoroughly about it. 

c) I still beta read for Nana, if that counts. 

d) It reminded me that I have a blog. 

So maybe it's time to remind myself to go back to being abit more NFP when I'm off work. 

The last 3 months and Sayonara

The last 3 months...

You taught us how to make salted fish meatballs. 

You spoke in all the old Hokkien that I have forgotten with the lack of use day to day. 

You taught me there's such thing as good days for haircut in a month. 

Even though I was there for your sake, you maintained old gentleman propriety all the way to the end, through and through.

Whether it was in making sure I got home safely, or telling me to get you if anything arise in the middle of the night. 

Or in all the meals we had together. 

The nyonya fishes you bought just for me and you made sure I was accountable to eating.

In how you tried sparkling water and liked it, Korean fried chicken which wasn't your thing and consistently still enjoying fries at the old age of 95.

And even to the very end, in how you worried everyone would be of heartache when your time was up and it was Sayonara.

My earliest memory of you is one in Klang where you asked me, or rather chuckled proudly, about your grandchildren. 

And of you in the big container lorry, packing away all our boxes and furniture for the big move back.

Despite all the proper rankings on your side of the family, there has never been a proper calling name for you, who is simply Uncle to us.

The hope was for you to have a peaceful death in your sleep and I'm glad it happened. 

R.I.P., Uncle. 

Turning over to the other side

There was a time when I couldn't imagine still being here today. 

Where the darkness whispers 'one slit is all you need', Your goodness have won instead. Over and over again. Every single time.

Thank you Jesus.

Without You, I would not be here today.