I guess it’s the nature of the role. Plus, the fact that I am a 48 year old practitioner who claims a 20+ years practice background. These factors mean I cannot expect to remain in a technical/mechanical role for an extended period of time, without being pulled into expectations involving issues such as turf and personality tussles. I am neither too young to be given basic tasks nor too old to be given an administration role. I am at that age and level of experience where I am expected to be in the thick of agenda setting, issues wrestling, improvements as a priority and people and strategy management as a core skill.

I can enjoy those tasks – but only at personal costs which I am reluctant to pay. Those tasks make me do things I am reluctant to do – such as staring people down, working phones and corridors to strategize framing issues and zoning people into corners they’d hate to be in, calling bluffs, and basically not switch off for 15 hours a day. Can I enjoy working these spaces? I think so. Will I be willing to park a few years aside to work these aspects? I don’t know.

What is the alternative? I have not been trained to do anything else and to do this requires a commitment to incur this cost of a deep dive. It may mean looking back one day and asking why I spent years doing this. But what else is there to do?

 

Work is starting to get to me. At any one time now, I have 4-5 major assignments and torn amongst respective champions of the relevant causes. Each wants the clauses drafted, opinions provided, emails responded to, letters issued, all around the same time. And I’m still extracting myself out of here as close to 6pm at the latest, as possible. Weekend work has become a norm, and my boss now makes no apologies for handing out tasks on Friday nights and expecting turnarounds by Monday. He even sends out emails on Mondays asking if those tasks could be delivered “ASAP”.

Coupled with the escalating workload and the pressure that comes with it, is the resignation of a team mate. One of 3 full time permanent lawyers (a full time contract lawyer and my boss make up a 5 person team) her resignation is a significant blow to us in that instantly, the collective workload shoots by 20%. This, against an already seam-stretching scenario.

The sweet start of leaving not long after 5pm with nary a weekend work, is now a distant memory. Colleagues have started to remark I look haggard and my shoulders are dropping now. I’m glad I still manage to sneak into the gym as before, and get some exercise in. My daily 8km or more is still regularly clocked for now, so at least life is still not too bad.

This morning, I was a bit tired and in trying to clown around with the dog, I promptly forgot my lunch and more importantly, I also forgot my belt. There was to be a 9 o’clock with a client so that was going to be embarrassing. It is probably my self-conscious tendencies, more so than client actually noticing an absence of an often obscure piece of accessory. Still I felt incomplete.

As I was finishing off my run on the treadmill with a steep walk I felt a jab to my side. I turned and was Tress – looking far fresher than my sweat soaked self. She had responded to my hour of need and brought both my lunch and my belt. It wasn’t my regular belt but I felt less incomplete none the less. Far less. I felt really loved and cared for at that point, and was utterly grateful for a loving and caring wife.

The busy work load sort of didn’t matter after that. I could take on anything…almost…

Work is starting to get to me but a dear loving wife makes it easier. Very grateful indeed…

There has been a bit of a biggish wave of work and pressure building up. Not quite the big kahuna but certainly substantial enough to make me think I should brace myself, hold my breath, and say “hit me!”…

And so I get in a bit earlier, stay back a bit later, and drink a little bit more coffee to keep up. Sometimes I feel my clients are happy, sometimes I feel they are insatiable bastards. Either way I try to switch off when I leave the building.

It is only a few hundred feet between my building and Platform No. 4 at the Parliament Station where I wait any one of four lines – Blackburn, Lilydale, Upper Ferntree Gully or Belgrave to deliver my homebound train.

If I leave at my normal time I usually wait no more than 5 minutes for a train to arrive. If I go after 6.30 it can be a 10 minute wait. As that would mean I would have worked a 10-11 hour day by then, it can feel like an interminable wait, although in a past life (in Malaysia), (1) a 12 hour day is a daily occurrence and (2) anything within a 20 minute wait for public transport is very acceptable.

I still get a couple of hours of just chilling out with a glass of wine, either reading or watching the telly with the wife, before I hit the sack and call it a day. So everything is still good. I see things creeping up though. Creeping up possibly to later hours, or bringing work home with me more than before.

I guess that is not all bad.

Last night Tress and I watched the Four Corners program on ABC. It was a story about a British photographer who was injured on assignment in Afghanistan. He lost 3 limbs – both his legs and his left arm. After a year and a half of rehab he returned to Afghanistan and photographed victims such as himself. Numerous people, including a number of children lost limbs to IED’s – improvised explosive devices.

It was a very touching story. The photographer demonstrated a lot of courage and humanity, in returning to the scene of the carnage and in engaging local victims of similar tragedies. On their faces, the captured emotions ranged from a sense of bewilderment and hopelessness, to a desire to return to their previous lives with families. Some bemoan the inability to continue being breadwinners to large families.

Pictures of open wounds at the end of severed limbs were distressing but they are the realities of all that is ugly about wars. Prosthetics are made in attempts to restore the lives of the victims as much as possible but their resoluteness notwithstanding, the victims face a lifetime of untold miseries. Many of them are children – some very young children – and some of them were blown up while making their ways to schools.  

I’m not sure what can be done about these IED’s that appear to litter war-torn countries like Afghanistan and Iraq. They are most likely made by rebels against foreign forces but the civilian collateral damage comes with such a terrible human cost. Lives are literally torn apart and the bloody trail is a terrible reminder war is to be avoided at perhaps all costs.

And yet the usual argument of applying necessary force to prevent worse outcomes is not far away. The reported atrocities of regimes such as the Taliban are far too common to be ignored. War and its bloody consequences, appear to be necessary.

I don’t know… as a mere lay person who reads and listens to such news, I hardly know how to view this intelligently. The bend is almost entirely emotional and by itself, it is such a persuasive argument against waging wars.

I worked a touch late on Friday, and left the office just before 6.30. We had a quick dinner at the Paparich place in Nunawading, got a DVD (Brad Pitt’s “Killing me softly”) and went home. I was just looking forward to a quiet night in and sleeping in the next day.

We got home and Kiddo skyped in so we just spent the night chatting with her instead of watching the DVD. We went to bed reasonably early and still sort of slept in the next day.

We’ve been having brekky at home on Saturdays for a while now. The coffees, toasts and eggs would have cost us $25-$30 eating out and maybe $5 at home. And we could take our time, walk around in our trekkies and have the radio on, with the little fellow at our feet.

We eventually left home close to 10am, Tress going for a haircut. Then it was our usual laundry drop/pick up and grocery shopping and then a late lunch at Madam Kwong’s.

Then we went home and watched Brad Pitt’s movie in the arvo before going over to Alex’s to catch up with him and his family over some home cooked mee hoon kueh and equally delicious Japanese whiskey. Li Har has become such an accomplished cook and it was great to just sit down over a quiet home cooked meal and talk as old friends.

We went home just after 11, watched the Ashes for a bit and then went to bed.

On Sunday we went to St Alfred’s as we have for the past 3 months now. This time however, we were there as members – I think. The previous Sunday we handed in our membership papers to Peter (the Senior Minister) and I’m assuming and considering ourselves as members. It’s only a form however, albeit an important one.

I caught up with Pam, the Secretary of Missions Interlink. She asked how I was going, having re-entered my old world of in-house legal work. I told her I was enjoying work but it wasn’t what I had wanted to do. I had wanted to remain in a role that made me feel like I was contributing in a more direct manner, towards making a difference in God’s kingdom. I didn’t say this to her but I guess she knew what I was saying. She said she was meeting Richard Dickins on Tuesday and I asked if she could convey my best wishes to him.

I do feel that my detour into that world – a sticky beak into the world of ministry – was a bit of a failure. A lot of that had to do with my parallel experience with the church at that time I suspect. I don’t know if that world would re-surface for me. I feel as though a lot of what I experience at work now, is familiar territory – a lot of corporate merry go round which doesn’t seem to add value in things that matter the most. I know that’s not the only way to view things and putting on different lenses would allow me to see this work as another funnel for me to contribute. It is after all, interesting, challenging and satisfying work.

Most importantly I guess, are the twin factors of a (thoroughly) full day’s work – one that makes me feel, at the end of each working day, that I have put in a full working day and spent myself – and of work that paid well. Not grotesquely well by any stretch of the imagination, but certainly well enough to meet the extras arising from opportunities which have come kiddo’s way. At least it wouldn’t make a dent to an already meagre retirement pool, and even add to it a little bit.

Anyway, we also chatted with a handful of other people, including Tress’ interaction with the church treasurers to offer some book keeping services advertised in the church bulletin.

Jason and Mel were visiting – it had been a healing service which I mentioned to them about – so just a bit after 12pm, we left for a lunch date with some old ICC members at a new Indian restaurant in Mount Waverley/Syndal –  a place known as Corlam’s Kitchen on Blackburn Road.

After lunch we went to Auntie Hooi’s and Uncle Marloney’s for some fruits and only came home just after 5pm.

It was raining then, so we stayed in. Tress cooked some soup for the week, I played with the little fellow and surfed the net, before paying homage to the Masterchef franchise and then going to bed.

We tried to skype kiddo – having heard earlier that the general elections would be held on 7 Sept – but she was out so we went to bed, just after 9pm. Early but such is our life now. We aren’t unhappy that’s for sure. But it remains mundane…

Maybe that’s the secret to happiness – seeking out the small wonders and little joys of everyday life. This morning for example, I did a 10k run. Standing under the shower after that, I did not feel tired or washed out. So I thought, I should be happy with that. And I was. I had dropped a handful of kilos since about 3 months ago, and I’m running more comfortably now. The tits are sore from the hour long pounding but other than that I was fine.

I also enjoyed the packet soup we got over the weekend. It was just your regular Campbell processed stuff – stuff that is probably sodium laden but with croutons and the creamy texture, the hot savoury beverage was near perfect accompaniment for a chicken mayo and sliced tomato sandwich. That too was a small wonder – little joys – but one can find happiness and satisfaction there, quite easily.

And now as I look out the windows on my 19^th floor office, into the north eastern horizon of outer Melbourne – some say we can see the Macedon rangers on a clear day – I realise what a privileged position I’m in to see the beautiful sunset every day from my desk. The glimpse of beauty – albeit transient – is a wonder to behold.

 

I’ve been back to walking the little fellow long after the sun sets. A busy work schedule has seen us back home late recently and this means I could only take him out after 7pm. Sun set is around 5.30pm so it’s just dark by then.

He didn’t seem to mind too much and remains as excited as ever, bouncing around and trotting from one side of the walkways to the other, stopping every ten seconds to sniff at God knows what.

Sometimes he’d hear voices coming from houses we walked past and he’d stop, look towards the source of the noise, and turn towards me to check if everything was ok. I’d laugh, say “good boy, Scruffy” and that would set him off happy and trotting again. This makes me happy and while tired after a long day at work and wanting to just sip a glass of red in front of the telly, walking him under such circumstances made me happy and contented. I suppose such is the mundane nature of our lives now that it is little things like that which made me happy.

But sip a glass of red I do, and quite often, the little fellow would jump up onto the couch, and sprawl himself over my laps and occasionally lick my face when I look stroke his chin. I think that made us all happy – him, Tress and I…

Kiddo has now settled into her new digs for just over a week. This time last week Tress and I were at some hawker place in Bencoolen/Bugis in Singapore, having brekky while waiting for her to make her way from the western fringe of the CBD, into the city to see us. The journey was a longish one – close to an hour from door to door – but the process is not quite as painful as it may sound.

She’d take a 5-10min walk across campus grounds, to a bus stop where she’d wait for a campus shuttle to take her to the Kent Ridge MRT station on the circle (yellow) line. From there, she’ll hop on and get off two stops later at the Buona Vista exchange to take the east-west (green) line and head eastward, getting off at the Bugis station.

Around this time last week we waited at the Bugis station for her to emerge from the belly of the efficient MRT. We then took a walk towards a favourite coffee and toast place known as Ya Kun, just in the next building from where our hotel was.

A couple of days ago Tress and I were already talking about the possibility of making a quick trip over the Melbourne Cup weekend. That however is over 3 months away and by then it would have been just a month before she returned. It would also likely be a busy time of essays, assignments and exams. So maybe an earlier trip would work better.

It was an unusual spot to say our goodbyes but there we were at the Bugis MRT station, just after yet another round of local coffees at a joint of the Ya Kun chain at the station. We saw kiddo waddle off, and that would be the start of her Singapore adventure.

We left home early last Friday morning and drove to Tullamarine. Heavy traffic saw us take longer than we expected so we headed to the long term car park together and then took the shuttle in to the terminal. Qantas took a long time before they called for boarding but soon we were headed to Singapore.

We spent the next few days shuttling between the Bugis area where we lived, and the western edges of the CBD where NUS was. Kiddo has lodgings at the Cinnamon College of University Town (Utown) and before long we became acquainted with the connection between Utown and the Kent Ridge main campus of the Uni. Tress and I also became acquainted with the Bugis area, meandering through Rochor Road, Queen St and Victoria St through the Bugis Village and Bugis Street Mall. Bugis Junction and OG were the other two shopping malls we came to know well.

For meals however, the hot and messy Albert Centre provided wonderful flavours at really cheap prices. The whole area felt messy and chaotic but there was method to the madness and everything worked efficiently and in spite of the sense of mess and chaos, it was actually relatively clean at the end of each day. Several times, Tress and I would walk past the surrounding areas around 10pm after returning from NUS and we saw sweepers diligently tidying the area.

I feel as though we have nearly gone a full circle. We left Malaysia in 2004 when Kiddo was 10. 9 years later Kiddo is nearly back in that part of the world where she’d live and work (ie be a student) for the next year and a half. Tress and I now live in the land Down Under all by ourselves (other than LBJ) and a part of us has returned to part of our roots. It is akin to that nodal model of life’s journey. Maybe. How this node will connect next is anyone’s guess, and in God’s hands.

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Tress, Kiddo and I were on our way to church yesterday morning when we realised it was going to be a school holiday program rehashed in church that morning. “Going bananas” was on the whole of last week and as a culmination of that program, the whole congregation was going to be presented with (perhaps) highlights of what went on.

When I said that was the program, Tress asked if Kiddo wanted to go and visit Bridge church. We were there a few times before landing at St Alfred’s and Kiddo had never been there. I had said to Jason before, that there is no need for Kiddo to visit. He had attempted to get us to visit again as he has been going there.

K said St Alf’s was our church now so we should go regardless of the program. She was right of course and so we ended up there. It was a great call. I rediscovered the value of children’s ministry and saw how a well-planned and well-executed children’s program can be one of the best thing a local church can do to bring God’s Kingdom to the local community. On the way back, I thought about being settled into this church and also about how I might be involved again. Or not.

In as much as LifeGate is well and truly behind me now, the fallout still affects me. I am still fearful to be involved. I might no longer feel restrained in terms of participating in the activities of a regular service meeting – I now join in the singing whole heartedly, actively engage in listening to the sermons to seek out appropriate personal responses, and actively seeking to engage with other fellow believers and seeking to be part of congregational life. I remain however, shy of stepping out to serve, to be part of church life outside of that Sunday morning activities. There’s fear of being exposed and the hurt that may result.

Maybe it is still too early. Maybe I need to just continue in the present mode for a while yet and see what happens. Church-speak may term this letting God lead in His time, I guess. Me I just want to sit it out to avoid being hurt again.

I don’t understand how a pastor can hurt someone without seeking – persistently so – to heal that wound. And before that wound could heal properly, that pastor, this time together with his team of “leaders” proceed to hurt another, who was a board member and erstwhile de facto pastor. They plotted behind his back for months, to get rid of him. One of them – David Chiang – euphemised and said they discussed his removal. Laughable because I would have thought any “discussion” would have involved all parties affected. Yet Jason was excluded. How do you discuss his removal, without him being involved in the discussion? Simple – you plot. No, not a discussion. A plot. A nefarious plot.

That the moral decadence of this act is lost on this pastor and his team continues to astound. At one point one of them  – David Chiang again – sought to somehow, twist things around to lay the blame of the hurt on me. I don’t know where the logic lies but somehow, the turpitude of the act was alleviated by the act of Ian Teh, yours truly. That I sent an email to many people, asking them to ask their “leaders” why they plotted to get rid of Jason, was somehow a wrong more grave than their plotting for months to get rid of him. I had sent message to each of those leaders and also collectively, urging and warning them not to do that reprehensible thing to Jason. When they did not respond, I sent it to the wider audience. David accused me of using my own standards in judging the appropriate response time the leaders should have been given before I could justifiably send it to the wider audience.

Really? I sent the email on a Friday evening. The “act” – that of sending an AGM notice setting out their plot to get rid of Jason – was sent on Sunday. Two days later. So what standard did he – the very wise David Chiang – have in mind for an appropriate response time? The AGM notice that gives notice to all that the plot to remove Jason is officially under way, was what I was hoping would be avoided.

That is the sort of hurt people like that pastor and his team – not least David Chiang – in their collective “wisdom” can inflict on the flock? Lead them? Shudders. How does one forget things like that in a hurry? How does one shake out and remove the fallout of such actions on the part of a pastor and his team?

St Alfred’s may be our church now but the fallout of the deeds of that pastor and his team continue to prevent me from being what I think would bring me joy and peace.

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It’s half way through winter. It’s a bit more than half way through the calendar year. We hear this said on most years but it really feels like the year has so far zipped past so very rapidly.

 

I spoke with my mum on the phone last night. She’s still half hoping to make the trip across the border and meet us in Singapore but given my comms with my brother suggest he is unlikely to be there, her next trip is probably headed north instead. May will be moving into their new digs in Xuzhou next month some time apparently and mum is always more at home in China so I’m sure it’d be a good thing that’s she’s looking forward to.

 

The chat to mum also made me realise there was perhaps an unspoken expectation that we’d make a detour to Klang when we’re in Singapore. Tress’ parents asked the same thing and at a lunch with some old friends yesterday, we were also asked the same thing. Alex was back to Malaysia just the past week and he said to us some relatives of ours had told him we’d do that detour.

 

I’m not sure if I said to anyone we’d do that but I guess sometimes that’s just expected. Unspoken for sure but not that doesn’t mean we should expect it. I guess that also means we have now lost touch of expectations of relatives in Malaysia. We’d no longer know for certain how to behave when amongst them, probably.

 

What’s unexpected is the balmy weather this week promises to be. It was cold the past couple of weeks or so and when someone in church mentioned to me that we’d see a 19-20 deg couple of days this week I couldn’t believe it. This morning before leaving home I checked and the 12 deg reading made me smile. All I left home with was just a scarf. With a laptop and my gym gear, any coat or jumper I could leave behind was going to a bonus. This sort of weather right in the middle of winter is a bit odd. Climate change exponents might say to sceptics “I told you so”. But then again weather oddities are probably not the sort of evidence a climate change proponent would rely on too heavily perhaps. But what do I know. I’m just happy to be given a break in not having to lug big coats, jumpers, gloves, beanies et al.

 

It’s half way through winter and a bit over half way through the year. The year has flown past quickly but I hope the balmy winter morning stay a while.