Month: November 2005

State of the Union…


State of the Union Report – taking stock of myself

Physical

I am happy to report the physical aspect of the union is holding up reasonably well. Healthy appetite, regular exercise and fastidious supplement taking mean I am generally well. Intake wise, I could use more fruits and vegetables and less junk foods. My fruit intake now is confined to a banana and about half an orange a day. Add to that 2-3 kiwi fruits and maybe 1 avocado a week and maybe, just maybe, I have just about enough fruit intake per week. As a family we are still eating more junk food than we should – chips and nuts at night with the television have become overstaying guests. Other than that, weetbix and muesli for breakfasts, simple sandwiches for lunches and our Asian staple of rice (small serving, maybe 1-2 table spoons only) and 2 dishes for dinner constitute fairly healthy diets. Wine (especially red) consumption is down but beer has gone marginally up, as has whisky. Overall, the drinking must definitely come down. Exercise – the crook knee has started healing, now that I have begun consuming Usana’s procosamine, a glucosamine variant which is more potent. I re-commenced running again on Saturday, after a few weeks’ of sticking to push-ups and total body workout machines in the gym. Did 6.5km on Saturday and 7.5km this morning, in ultra slow time, with knee brace/guards tightly strapped. No pain after the runs. Supplements in the form of Usana multi minerals, antioxidants, calcium, selenium, omega-3 and garlic pills add up to a formidable cocktail which this mid-life crisis sufferer can really use.

Emotional

Still wobbly. My time at work is running out. Things have not worked out. My faux pas of a start, from the very first week, has meant things have been uphill all the way and things have not softened up to a plateau. I have not taken to work in this sort of set up and have begun looking elsewhere. Thankfully, things are superb with the wife and kid. Lots of love and laughter at home, which I have been working hard to maintain, seeing that this is the last bastion of my happiness. Their happiness is mine and they are happy only when I am. So I heave an almighty sigh when I get home everyday and with gargantuan efforts, unload all of my emotional pains accumulated at work, dumped them all in the car and get into the house wearing a smile to warm things up at home. It has been working and I love the way things are at home now. The occasional passing of thoughts of things at work bring about audible sighs but these are quickly and deliberately forgotten.

Spiritual

I am now down on my knees several times a day – by the time I leave home in the morning, I would have come to our God and cried before Him 3-4 times, half of them on my knees. I spend time reading His word too, looking for a message, a word of instruction, of comfort and assurance. I finished reading the bible last week and have begun Genesis again this week. Reading this morning of God leading Abraham made me ask Him to let me hear Him, see His hands so that I can hold them, close my eyes and let Him lead. The challenge is always to seek His face only, and leave all else to Him.

This morning I received a report my brother wrote for the church in Klang. It dealt with a few members’ visit to Cambodia. His experience and lessons jolted me into thinking about India again. There was this slight tingling to make another visit although given my current circumstances that would be an extremely remote possibility, at best. This past year has been spent waiting on God for providence of personal matters. Maybe I should, in spite of these circumstances, look beyond these immediate needs around me and see things from His eyes. To cast my eyes on the mission fields again.

 

Material

We are still looking for a house to call our own. Last Saturday we attended an auction for a property we seriously wanted but were out-bid. We have continued looking, more vigorously than before.

 

Conclusion

So what is the state of the union of this crumbling middle-aged person? I’m too tired to think about it to be honest. Just writing the above has taken more than the 10 or so minutes I normally allow myself for a blog. Will have to think about it some more first before drawing any definitive conclusions, I guess.

 

Grandfather Story


Some 20 years ago, my late Grandfather wrote a short account of some parts of his life. He had this published and distributed to quite a few persons. I too was given a copy when it was first published. Sadly, he wrote it in Chinese and for all these years that I have had it, I could only appreciate the grainy black and white photographs. Until now. My uncle Stephen had it translated and earlier today he emailed the translated work to us. There were quite a few gems.

 

In the late 40’s he was sent to prison on suspicion (yes those detention without trial days started all those years ago) of being a collaborator for the Communists in Malaya. There were 2 reasons for this suspicion. He and someone else were going around canvassing investments in post-war China. Of course, the communists were on the ascendancy then so the tenuous link was there I suppose. The other reason was apparently, an Englishman had a few years before, wanted a gala trip to Pulau Ketam for some surreptitious moral dereliction. He approached the Hwee Ann (a branch of Hokkien) Association for assistance and grandfather who was a chief of sorts then, refused. This Englishman (named Hilbert or something) was unfortunately the District Officer of Klang and had a grudge to accompany his good memory. He was the one who falsely dobbed grandfather in. The result was that grandfather was wrongly imprisoned for almost 2 years with immense consequential sufferings on grandmother.

 

The other was less heroic and came as no surprise. It was his abject failure in reading business trends. He went into a diverse range of business ventures, almost all of which failed, resulting in gargantuan debts. I recall him complaining once, about an uncle of mine who buttered his bread and then had some jam on it as well. Grandfather thought it should be either, not both butter and jam. I guess such frugality always has its roots and in my grandfather’s case it was the serial failures of his business ventures. I recall citing the family’s poor track records in business ventures as a reason for getting out of practice as a partner in a wonderful law firm in KL. We just don’t have it in us to mint the dough.

 

I’m itching to put the whole account in a blog but I don’t know how grandfather would feel about that…

Sayonara (Early Wrong Fit, Now Out of Shape)


I did not seek out this job. The agent I went to for a different role asked if I wanted to give this job a shot and I thought why not, anything would do. I feel now that that wasn’t the wisest thing to do in the long term. If my mind and heart weren’t tuned to it, I’d be a wrong fit and that would mean a whole lot more effort is required for me to slot right in. Anyway the “why not” is now fully answered, I think. I’m afraid it takes a lot more to teach an old dog new tricks.

 

I cannot live by marking time, in terms of six minute units, and billing them on a series of Wills and Probates, moms and pops shops (or some other backyard recording industry), conveyancing, and small debt collections. A 1-minute phone call is charged on the basis of 6-minutes. A 5-minute letter is charged on basis of 2 units – that’s 12 minutes. If it actually took 12 minutes, it would be billed 3 units, or up to 18 minutes. They all add up, and these suburban clients pay them. Most do without too much grudge, but many unhappy albeit not expressed.

 

It is different if they are corporations, especially large ones. I have no qualms to make them pay because it is a cost of doing business. They squeeze others and accept that others squeeze them.

 

Well, it has come to a boil. Things have not worked out. I will not be here for long, I believe. Boss and I had a talk 2 days ago and we both said what we thought and felt. Things haven’t been the same since. I am dusting off my resume now. Maybe re-work some business plans I had at the back burner.

Happy Anniversary, 6 Chek and 6 Chim


My late grandfather (Chye Heng) had 8 children – 2 girls and 6 boys. The eldest was a girl, Swee Lian. Her husband (Teck Jin) was the Uncle I blogged about a couple of months ago (I think) – the one who fell ill. My father was the second child and the first son.

Stephen (Hui Been) was the fourth son and the sixth child. He is the uncle I am closest to. He has a wonderful parental instinct which never seemed to have abated over time.

My father was a trader who had to travel all over Malaysia. In our younger days, when he travelled and my mother followed him, my brother and I would stay over at our grandfather’s house. We grew up in that house. It was in the middle of a rubber estate in the village of Kampung Jawa, about 6-7 miles from Klang. We moved out from that house when we were maybe 5 or 6 years old, to a rented house in Jalan Melawis. We returned to the house however, during my parents’ occasional forays inter-state.

Stephen was the Uncle who took care of us the most whenever we stayed over in that big house. I will try to recollect the ins and outs of that house.

There’s a dirt road that runs for about maybe 100 feet before you come to a tall wiry gate. Past that gate, I see a garden which fronts the house. There’s an unforgettable guava tree at a corner on the left, at the junction between the dirt road and the short driveway to the front porch of the house. Usually there are a few dogs sleeping on the front porch. They get up only when there’s someone cycling or walking on that dirt road.

A large dark-wood front door on the right of the porch takes you into the house. To the left is room used as an office, first by my grandfather and years later, by my father. To the right is a lounge area. Just outside the office is a very old piano, which I played on my own when I am there and have nothing to do. A large dining table is just behind the lounge set. This is a special dining table.

Every Saturday night, my grandfather sat everyone down around that table and convened family worship together. It was the family altar. It was at that table we learned to sing old hymns “Amoy” style – hymns sang in Hokkien using romanised lyrics. Then 1-2 chapters of the Bible would be read out, with each taking a verse around the table. Then grandfather would expound on that text. He had several pages of handwritten notes to refer to from time to time. We then ended with a prayer and supper after that. I think that table was the site many seeds were sown in our hearts. If I tool a quick survey with all the grandchildren, I think many would agree that table could easily be the bedrock of sorts for our spiritual growth!

There’s a wall next to the table, behind which were two toilets and a bathroom. That bathroom had a mini pool which starts from just outside the bathroom and continues into it. Occasionally one of us would do a mini scuba dive in and out of the bathroom through that pool. Just outside that bathroom was a wash basin with a mirror over it. There was a shelf at the bottom of the mirror. Often there would be a bottle of white tablets on that shelf. It was a face powder – I think it is what was called the “bedak sejuk”. One takes a few tables in the palm of one’s hands, wet them and spread the resulting paste on one’s face as a cream. It had a cooling effect.

Directly across the toilets and bathroom was another sort of open area, with a couple of chairs and tables and a long row of cardboard lining the wall to the left, which was the bottom of the staircase. Behind this open areas was the meals area. To the right and back of the other dining table was a door just next to the “pool”, which opens outside. I remember the times when 1 or more of the dogs would wander in to the dining table and grandfather would throw a or more slices of bread (buttered!) for them.

Further behind the tables were two bedrooms. I think Keat Bin, Thomas and Tibby occupied these rooms. Keat was actually Tiat Been, I think. He was older than Stephen. Thomas was Kok Meng and was the second last child. Tibby was Ing Been (“Tibby” came from his initials, “TIB”) and was the last child. He has successfully warded off marriage even till today. I think this is one of grandmother’s remaining concerns …

Keat, Tom and Tib were all educated overseas. Keat and Tom went to the Western Australia Institute of Technology (“WAIT”) and did Engineering and Accountancy respectively. Tib went to the US and I think attended Tennessee Tech and University of Mississippi.

Keat unfortunately had a serious motor accident and remains affected by it. He lives with grandmother now. Tom migrated to Sydney about 20 years ago and now lives there with wife Pauline and daughters Melissa and Sarah. Tib was living with grandmother and Keat in Klang, but has been in Beijing for work for a couple of years now.

Grandfather took care of the children of his elder and younger brothers and treated them as his own. Consequently, we called his brothers’ children as though they were grandfather’s own children. Wei Sheng for example was my grandfather’s elder brother’s son. We called him “Ah Pek”, as though he was my father’s elder brother. Tian Chiok (George) and Tian Hoe (Joseph) were Ah Pek’s 2 children and they have always been first cousins to us. Ah Pek’s father had died early and grandfather brought up Ah Pek as his own son. Ai Meng was grandfather’s second son but became our “3 chek”. “4-chek” (Hoe Peng) was my grandfather’s younger brother. Keat was “5-chek”, Stephen was “6 chek”. Hoe Peng’s younger brother, Chong Peng (Henry) was “7-chek”, Tom was “8 Chek” and Tib was “Beh Chek”). Get it? Phew…

Swee Har was the second daughter and has the same infectious guffaw of a laughter as my grandmother. She has the prettiest face of all grandfather’s children (including “adopted” ones). She and hubby Shu were living in Melbourne for a few years. They are now back in Ipoh but their son David remains here. He was married end of last year. He and Charmaine now live in Hawthorn East.

Actually I started this entry to talk about Stephen. Today is his wedding anniversary. He and 6 chim (Paddy) were married on this day I think in 1979. Their eldest daughter, Ruth is now a medical intern in Canberra and I remember her as a quiet but determined kid, when my mother baby sat her all those years ago in Klang. Joy is their second child and now works in a publishing company (I think) in Singapore. Their youngest is a boy (Caleb) who is sitting for his HSC in Sydney right now. Stephen and Paddy moved to Sydney almost ten years ago and remain there now.

Stephen – used bedak sejuk on us, made us take long afternoon naps in the big house in Kampong Jawa, introduced us (also in that big house) to Kraft cheddar cheese and tomato juice, made us do our homework and challenged us to do better in our school work. All this when he was maybe I don’t know, 20 years old? He was advisor to the church youth group we grew up with and was therefore a spiritual leader to us as well. He worked with a level of energy quite unlike the other uncles I know, and was always determined and positive. He introduced me to my first job in an electrical trading company in Klang (a client of his when he was working in the United Asian Bank, the forerunner of the Bank of Commerce and now known as BCB in Malaysia), after I finished my SPM, while waiting for my results. He helped my father while with the bank by providing overdraft facilities.

Recently he travelled to Klang from Sydney to spend time with grandmother and celebrate her 86th birthday. He then wrote an essay setting out in pretty much her own words, her recollection of her childhood. As I read that account, I could almost hear her saying those things herself.

Stephen was a great example. I must blog properly about him one day. For now though, that has to do. Happy Anniversary, 6 Chek & 6 Chim.

Four Keys to Hearing God’s Voice – Two-way Conversations with God!


I dont know what to make of this – will try to digest and if appropriate, put into practice and revert

Elitism


Elitism

Elysia is not elitist. I am quite sure of that. That does not mean she does not appreciate recognition and attention. I think this is what the current hang-up in our home is about. A few weekends ago she took a test for an “enrichment” program for her secondary education in the Mount Waverley Secondary College next year. This program would have extra curriculum to stretch students more, and maybe accelerate their learning process. When we took her to the school for the test we met with many other expectant parents. Over 120 students took part in it and only about 50 would be selected for the next stage.

She was selected for the next stage, which was an interview. That took place yesterday. I took her there and attended the interview together with her. She did all of the answering while I sat next to her. She appeared to be a ball of nerves but was able to sufficiently control the frayed ends to answer the questions properly. It was shorter than I had expected. Her portfolio of work (all interviewees were asked to bring one) was also smaller than some of the other candidates’.

The last 2 points made me worry. I now worry that this may turn out to be a first big disappointment in her life. We have been making sure there is a good balanced approach to this. We have been telling her that even if she doesn’t get into this program she could still excel in secondary school. Conversely we also told her that even if she does get in, it would take hard and consistent work if she were to do well – no different from if she is not inside this group. I think she agrees with that. She also knows that there is nothing like experiencing the real thing. If she doesn’t make it she will be disappointed. We will have to be there for her, and continue that assurance and support. As would parents of the other candidates who don’t make it into the program. Theresa was able to ascertain that only about 25 of the 50 would go on to make it. So there’s a 50:50 chance.

To be sure I don’t think the intention is to create a sense of elitism. It is simply intended to identify and encourage students who are capable of more, and push them to realise their potentials.

The effect however, would be an elitist group. Hopefully that would not result in victimisation in the school compound on the one hand or pride and elitism on the other. Hopefully this would not create a us versus them mentality. It doesn’t matter if Elysia is in or out of this group – this schism should not be there.

If she does get in, I hope she retains her friendship with her present friends one way or the other. She often tells us one reason she has been happy in Melbourne is her friends. I hope that does not change. That would be my prayer for her from now on.

Neil Mitchell


There’s a star on Melbourne morning talkback radio on 3AW by the name of Neil Mitchell. If this was Malaysia Neil would have been locked up under the Internal Security Act (“ISA”) by now. There have been so many issues which he just thumped the governments with, both State and Federal. He like many Australians has this wonderful tendency to speak his mind no matter who it tends to embarrass or hurt. He certainly doesn’t come across as someone who looks behind him before speaking.

This morning Neil asked why is it that the Victorian government appears to be sniffing for ways to generate more revenue in all imaginable ways, when revenue collection has been at all time highs in recent years. With healthy receipts into government coffers why does it continue to look out for additional means of exacting money from taxpayers? Neil has a theory – the Melbourne 2006 Commonwealth Games is going to be a major blow-out. It was a pure stab in the dark – or at least it sounded that way when I reached my office and stopped listening. Yet he wasn’t worried about speaking his mind – he just blurted it out, almost nonchalantly.

 To be fair finances of the Kuala Lumpur 1998 Commonwealth Games was also a subject matter which Malaysian journalists openly asked about. It certainly made the General cry in public, upholding the then honourable tradition demonstrated by leaders of Malaysia. Shedding a tear was perhaps an acceptable trait of leadership then. The journalists’ calls however, had to do with non-tabling of accounts years after the event. I cannot imagine anyone publicly challenging the finances of the organisers a less than 6 months before the event. Certainly such challenges would not have been given a public airing.

In fact events leading up to the 1998 Kuala Lumpur Commonwealth Games were some of the ugliest to surround Malaysian history. Nallakaruppan, a tennis player of the then Finance Minister and Deputy Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim, was arrested for having a bullet in his home. He was then offered a deal with the Attorney General to have his charges reduced, if he was willing to testify against Anwar. A Pakistani intellectual, whose name I now (unfortunately) forget, was also arrested for homosexual practices. He was similarly implicated and was asked to testify against Anwar. Weeks of street protests accompanied by riot police beating protesters with batons and water canons lead up to the Games. Leaders of the protests were thrown into jail. Many corporate leaders who were perceived to have been Anwar’s allies or financial backers were persecuted. Officers of companies involved were victimised. Civil liberties were trampled around. The intention and the effect, was the silencing of critics. My embryonic plans to emigrate and leave Malaysia were suddenly urgent.

I had been disillusioned with Malaysia since the events involving Rahim Thamby Chik then a governor (chief minister) of the state of Malacca and Lim Guan Eng, son of opposition leader Lim Kit Siang, and an opposition member himself. Rahim was alleged to have had a sexual relationship with a minor and Guan Eng had raised the matter in parliament and distributed pamphlets calling for Rahim to be investigated. I can no longer recollect the technical basis but Guan Eng was thrown into prison. I remember joining public protests including holding a candle light vigil for Guan Eng outside the courthouse in Kuala Lumpur one night. His father Kit Siang joined us but for a father whose son has just been thrown in jail and whose political and professional (he was an accountant) career has been given a kiss of death, he was remarkably calm. Guan Eng’s mistreatment and the feeling that one cannot do anything about it, even speaking up against it, was a defining moment for me. I decided that I must either do something or I would leave Malaysia.

Many around me were nervous everytime we had a chat. Among friends and relatives, I started speaking out against the government’s policies and misdeeds. I was labelled a fool and irresponsible, especially for a father of a very young child. I started joining the then blossoming medium of internet forums which discussed these matters. I took active part and felt frustrated with the climate of fear and keeping quiet.

I wanted a climate where Neil Mitchell’s abound.

During the Anwar crisis, I too was a victim. On the periphery for sure, but I suffered. I decided I was going to leave the country once I loosed myself from the vines that tied me then.

Yet having left Malaysia and settled into Melbourne for about a year now, I suddenly find myself trying to get used to the forthrightness of Australians. Instead of appreciating and thriving in this environment, I find myself feeling like an alien. It is a practice which is new to me – this no-holes-barred mentality. Anyone and any issue is fair game and you stand only on your own two feet and the merits and strength of ones own thoughts.

Maybe it is the mellowing of age, maybe I stayed too long in Malaysia. My mind has been over Malaysianised. I don’t know which the bigger factor is: conservatism that comes with age or the length of time spent in Malaysia. My affinity for open and full throttled comments with no regard for anything other than the veracity and validity of the contents of such comments has become less than what I imagined.

Neil Mitchell is entertaining but I cringe at his forthrightness. I shouldn’t but I do.

I don’t know what to hope for my daughter. I think I hope for her to cherish the likes of Neil.

 

Warmed Up Beautifully


Yesterday was a hot day. Although we woke up to a 13-degree morning, the temperature climbed so quickly that by the time we were ready to leave the house for church 2-3 hours later (about 9.45) it was already 24 degrees. Maximum forecasted was 30 degrees. For the first time since arriving in Melbourne, Theresa was decked out in a skirt and a blouse for church. She looked magnificent and I am reminded of how blessed I am. I too picked out a short sleeved cotton shirt and felt a thorough sense of déjà vu, but I wasn’t sure if it related more to the summer months I spent in Sydney back in the late 80’s or to Malaysian Sunday mornings. I think it is the latter, since I have my beautiful family with me.

When we were home after church it was hot and as we sat down at home we all felt dozy. We put a movie on – a Disney-type family movie called “Good Boy” – some la la land story about dogs being “recalled” to another planet.

After that movie I dragged kiddo out as she kept complaining about being bored. We took a walk to her school armed with a tennis ball – she was going to teach me how to play “2-square”. After less than 10 minutes of playing what turned out to be a miniature form of tennis played with your palms as tennis rackets, and having lost the ball to a gutter on a roof we used the school yard and its many apparatus to just spend some time outdoors and talked.

About almost an hour later we decided to walk home, using a long round-about way. We talked some more.

We got to the subject of whether she still calls Malaysia home. She said she was very happy to be in Melbourne, and does not want to return to live in Klang. She acknowledged how much she missed some parts of Klang, especially how everything came easily and naturally. We both acknowledged that here in Melbourne we have to make an effort at everything we do, unlike in Malaysia. I guess we were in a thick layer of comfort zone and stepping out of such type of comfort zone was always going to be a lot more difficult. That however was going to make us better persons. I really appreciated, treasured our talk. It was a special afternoon for me. Thank you, God. On a warm sunny day, God warmed up more than just the weather. He warmed my heart and spirits magnificently.

 

 

Is Australia Home Now?


There is a television program called “20 to 1”. It is the “top 20 whatever” of Australian television. Last night it was the top 20 most memorable television commercials. The countdown plodded on (actually it was quite entertaining) and we eventually came to the top Australian television commercial. It was a Qantas advertisement with a beautiful ballad for a theme song which ends with the words “I still call Australia home”. After hearing that line for a bout two million times, I turned to kiddo and asked her “do you?” She made a face and said “Malaysia”. She still considers Malaysia her home. I don’t know what to make of this. I don’t know if this means she would be happier there. She is a bubbly happy kid most of the time. Her name, in both the English (Elysia) and Chinese (Xin Yue) language, means happiness. I wanted her to be a happy person. She is. It makes me think very hard therefore when I get this feeling that she feels she would be happier in Malaysia. She didn’t actually say that. The question was whether she now calls Australia home. She doesn’t. To her Malaysia was still home. Maybe it is a timing thing. She did after all, spend almost 11 years in Malaysia and she has only been in Australia for less than 11 months. I guess it would not be an easy question to answer, if I asked her directly whether she would be happier here or in Malaysia.

I am still hoping, deep inside me, that Malaysia would change and change very quickly. I want it to be a more open, equitable and honest place. If it was I would return and not think of leaving again. It was after all, my home for most of my adult life. Apart from Theresa and kiddo, all of the other people I care about are all there. I miss them quite frequently. I miss my “home” church also. Klang Chinese Methodist Church had been a part of my life since the day I was born. I had been in that church longer than the senior pastor there! Maybe that was a problem, which I now see. The pride and the excessive comfort level were to some extent, stumbling blocks to growth and effective service. I want so much to call Malaysia my home again but right now my home is Australia

 

Where Is My Lollipop Man?


Elysia at Mount Waverley Secondary College – For a Day

It was just starting to rain when I dropped Elysia off at the Mount Waverley Secondary College on Stephenson Road this morning. It was an orientation-cum-test day for Year 6 kids for when they start secondary school next year. Many of her school friends were also walking there at the time, along Jacqueline Road, Lechte Road and Simpson Road.

She was quite worried.  I wanted to drop her off on Jacqueline Road/Stephenson Road junction but she said she didn’t know where the school was! Then we turned into Simpson Road and I told her to cross the road properly. In my rear view mirror I saw her trying, for a few minutes, to cross the road at the Simpson/Stephenson junction. I panicked a little. I parked, wanted to go down to take her to the pedestrian crossing but then she saw the lollipop man further down Stephenson and went to join a friend there.

It was only when I saw her crossing with a friend (she didn’t realise I was observing her from a distance) that I felt comfortable. It was good to see her walking and chatting with a friend, with a smile on her face.

It had been a hot night (temperature wise – before the reader’s thoughts stray) with temperature nearing a record high for November. So the rain and thunderstorm earlier in the morning was a cool respite. It meant I skipped gym again this morning but I was feeling unusually restless through the night anyway.

 

Prayer Meeting (at International Christian Community)

I had attended the prayer meeting last night, after several months’ absence. It was very warm in the room where the meeting was held, and I was wrestling through the session, perspiring at times. Although I had a good time of prayer, I didn’t “receive” what I went there for. I didn’t mind, as I know this would be an on-going process. I simply have to hang on and work on things. Anyway I was also worked up by two things – one was how many felt compelled to say something, the lateness of the evening notwithstanding. This was especially bad (for me) when someone goes on interminably. I know I shouldn’t be worked up as I should have allowed God to work His agenda in His own time, not my own. I could for example take everything in expectantly, go home at 1am and still feel fresh the next morning because God gives good sleep to His children. Anyway, I need to learn, I guess to truly “let go and let God”. To complete this record, the other matter was how Julie (Pastor’s wife) right at the end said she had a message, which was in the form of a song. She proceeded to sing the song. It was a hauntingly beautiful tune. The problem was it was in some foreign language and I didn’t understand a word of the whole thing. I hope someone did, as otherwise it would have gone across the face of what Paul taught – that if someone should speak or pray in tongue there should be someone to interpret. Anyway as a closing message Pastor said God’s communication would continue in the next few days. So someone will hear something in the next few days.

I came home from the prayer meeting tired, feeling dehydrated. Then I realised I hadn’t made the sandwiches for next day’s lunch… So I made these with Theresa but when we finished, I felt I couldn’t sleep – too restless. I was still smarting perhaps at “not receiving” anything in the prayer meeting. A nice glass of chilled Penfolds’ Rawson’s Retreat calmed me down – enough to get into bed with less frayed nerves.

 

Straightening Things Out

Anyway, despite the “cool respite” weather wise I feel tired, almost drenched. I feel like taking the afternoon off –pick Elysia up from school and then go off somewhere with her. This has everything to do with my state of mind at the moment. I don’t know how to break out of this mould of being in a corporate/city firm mindset to re-cast myself as an all-rounder suburban lawyer. People here are very nice almost all the time and most people I deal with are fair-dinkum honest-to-goodness sort of people. Working here can only make me a better person character wise. It would however, erode my interest in matters that used to scintillate me – corporate agenda, potential targets, suitors, available assets, interest rates, bond yields, latest structured products, what the regulators are doing, if they are sniffing on any trails, what the Fed is doing and thinking and all those other ho-hums. I used to be tuned into what the Wall Street gurus’ latest thoughts were on reading the Fed Chairman’s minds. When Ben Bernanke’s appointment was first announced I immediately googled for his cv and tried to track his beliefs and agenda. I don’t know if any of my present clients give a flying toss about who Ben Bernanke is and most wouldn’t know him “from a bar of soap”, I think. So this is still new territory for me – much like Elysia trying to find her way in Mount Waverley Secondary College, I guess. I need to find the lollipop man to help me across the road, find a friend and find my smile again. God, be my lollipop man.