"When Enoch had lived 65 years, he became the father of Methuselah. And after he became the father of Methuselah, Enoch walked with God 300 years and had other sons and daughters. Altogether, Enoch lived 365 years. Enoch walked with God; then he was no more, because God took him away."
- Gen 5:21-24
I was reading Gen 5 and wondered why I didn't wonder before about Enoch. Why was his life on earth so much shorter than all the other men mentioned in the bible who lived in that day? Why did God take him away? Because he walked with God? Because...? Genesis 5 speaks of Adam and his descendents. With each man, it describes how many years he lived for, at what age he fathered a particular son and it finishes with "and then he died. With Enoch, there is no "and then he died. He was walking in God's ways here on earth, then suddenly, the bible says that "he was no more". So just like that. No more. God took him away.
I tired to find out more about Enoch, but there's nothing conclusive. Lots of postulations and suggestions about his life and his being taken away.
Then, as I thought about it all, I was reminded once again of what was said at lifegroup last night. We are aliens and strangers in this world. Merely passing through. There is an eternity to look forward to. Having said that, what we do on this earth does matter. It matters much. We've been put here for a purpose. A God-given purpose.
On that note, I shall stop pondering about Enoch and get on with life on earth.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Monday, January 15, 2007
Procratination
Procrastination.
It's a big word.
Worse still, it is a big feature in my life.
It's hopeless. I'm blogging about procrastination cos I'm procrastinating.
Right, someone jab me in the ribs, pinch me or something.
I really need to get to work.
It's a big word.
Worse still, it is a big feature in my life.
It's hopeless. I'm blogging about procrastination cos I'm procrastinating.
Right, someone jab me in the ribs, pinch me or something.
I really need to get to work.
Is it better?
It is better to have tried and failed
than to not have tried at all.
It is better to have loved and gotten hurt
than to not have loved at all.
It is better to have ventured and gotten lost
than to not have ventured at all.
It is better to live
than to merely exist.
Now, here comes the difficult part
Overcoming the fear
- of getting hurt, of failing, of losing my way
To do what is better.
than to not have tried at all.
It is better to have loved and gotten hurt
than to not have loved at all.
It is better to have ventured and gotten lost
than to not have ventured at all.
It is better to live
than to merely exist.
Now, here comes the difficult part
Overcoming the fear
- of getting hurt, of failing, of losing my way
To do what is better.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
My love-hate relationship with milo
Just finished my second cup of milo today.
I have a love-hate relationship with milo.
Yup, I am referring to that chocolate malt drink in green packaging.
As a child, whilst my friends had "milo peng" in the school canteen, I had just about everything else. I refused to like milo. Whatsmore, I'd claim that ovaltine is better than milo. This is a statement that I'm sure most would disagree with. I do admit now that my claim is somewhat unsubstantiated.
You see, my dad worked and still works for the well-known company that owns milo. Being the very loyal and company-proud employee that he is, he would be full of praise of just about everything that the company manufactures. This was evident even when we were in the supermarket, where he would even "inspect" the shelves to ensure that their products were neatly arranged, much to the annoyance of mum. She would "remind" him that he works for the finance department, not marketing. Every month, we dad would return from work with our monthly order of maggi mee, nescafe, coffee mate and other essential company wares.
So in true yh stubborness, I decided that ovaltine was better than milo, myojo better than maggi, you get the point...
Perhaps that was teenage rebellion, yh style.
Things changed when I left S'pore for the UK. Suddenly, everything that once brought me comfort and security was taken away. I wasn't forced to go to boarding school. My parents offered me the opportunity, which naive 16-year-old me happily accepted (thinking it'll be lots of fun). All of a sudden, reality hit. It's almost as if I had to grow up overnight. I'd lost the comfort of my family, friends, home, routine (or lack of) and here I was, in this cold, dark country, stuck within the confines of a boarding school where I was forced to conform to their routines, where I was "gated" if I was so much as 5 minutes late for housecall, where I had to eat at certain times, shower at certain times and was only allowed out of the school grounds on certain days for a few hours.
Suddenly, all things familiar become much treasured- my family, my friends, even the material things that cannot be obtained in this foreign land. Yup, even the milo that I resented.
With time, I made friends. Many of them were M'sian (I was the only S'porean). I remember one of them telling me that she grew up in a family where every morning, she, along with her 4 siblings would stand in line whilst grandma shoved a large tablespoonful of "Scott's cod liver oil" into their mouths and a cup of milo in their hands. I discovered that milo meant something special to her too.
Milo does evoke warmth in my heart. But I never bought it. A part of me did always feel that to buy milo to bring back to the UK would be no different to admitting defeat. After all, I was always the one who insisted that milo is not nice.
Perhaps I've outgrown that childish behaviour. Just perhaps. After 9 years in this country, I carried my first packet of milo back from S'pore. I've only been back a week and I've finished more than half the packet! Guess I'm making up for all those lost milo years.
I bought that packet of milo when I was in the supermarket with dad. I even half teasingly asked him, "There's S'pore milo and M'sia milo, dad. Which one is better???"
Dad: "Of course S'pore milo!"
Me: "Why?"
Dad: "S'pore one not so sweet."
I couldn't help but smile at my dear daddy's predictable response and happily picked up my "made in S'pore" packet of milo, even though it costs 30 cents more than M'sia milo.
Hah milo... it's marvelous what milo can do for you!
Get a tin, make it a big tin today! (ok, in my case it was a packet)
I have a love-hate relationship with milo.
Yup, I am referring to that chocolate malt drink in green packaging.
As a child, whilst my friends had "milo peng" in the school canteen, I had just about everything else. I refused to like milo. Whatsmore, I'd claim that ovaltine is better than milo. This is a statement that I'm sure most would disagree with. I do admit now that my claim is somewhat unsubstantiated.
You see, my dad worked and still works for the well-known company that owns milo. Being the very loyal and company-proud employee that he is, he would be full of praise of just about everything that the company manufactures. This was evident even when we were in the supermarket, where he would even "inspect" the shelves to ensure that their products were neatly arranged, much to the annoyance of mum. She would "remind" him that he works for the finance department, not marketing. Every month, we dad would return from work with our monthly order of maggi mee, nescafe, coffee mate and other essential company wares.
So in true yh stubborness, I decided that ovaltine was better than milo, myojo better than maggi, you get the point...
Perhaps that was teenage rebellion, yh style.
Things changed when I left S'pore for the UK. Suddenly, everything that once brought me comfort and security was taken away. I wasn't forced to go to boarding school. My parents offered me the opportunity, which naive 16-year-old me happily accepted (thinking it'll be lots of fun). All of a sudden, reality hit. It's almost as if I had to grow up overnight. I'd lost the comfort of my family, friends, home, routine (or lack of) and here I was, in this cold, dark country, stuck within the confines of a boarding school where I was forced to conform to their routines, where I was "gated" if I was so much as 5 minutes late for housecall, where I had to eat at certain times, shower at certain times and was only allowed out of the school grounds on certain days for a few hours.
Suddenly, all things familiar become much treasured- my family, my friends, even the material things that cannot be obtained in this foreign land. Yup, even the milo that I resented.
With time, I made friends. Many of them were M'sian (I was the only S'porean). I remember one of them telling me that she grew up in a family where every morning, she, along with her 4 siblings would stand in line whilst grandma shoved a large tablespoonful of "Scott's cod liver oil" into their mouths and a cup of milo in their hands. I discovered that milo meant something special to her too.
Milo does evoke warmth in my heart. But I never bought it. A part of me did always feel that to buy milo to bring back to the UK would be no different to admitting defeat. After all, I was always the one who insisted that milo is not nice.
Perhaps I've outgrown that childish behaviour. Just perhaps. After 9 years in this country, I carried my first packet of milo back from S'pore. I've only been back a week and I've finished more than half the packet! Guess I'm making up for all those lost milo years.
I bought that packet of milo when I was in the supermarket with dad. I even half teasingly asked him, "There's S'pore milo and M'sia milo, dad. Which one is better???"
Dad: "Of course S'pore milo!"
Me: "Why?"
Dad: "S'pore one not so sweet."
I couldn't help but smile at my dear daddy's predictable response and happily picked up my "made in S'pore" packet of milo, even though it costs 30 cents more than M'sia milo.
Hah milo... it's marvelous what milo can do for you!
Get a tin, make it a big tin today! (ok, in my case it was a packet)
First post of 2007
I've only just realised that I've not posted anything on my blog this year!
Wishing everyone a blessed 2007!
Update: I'm back in Glasgow. Heard that lots of pple were ill with the snuffles and hacks over the festive period. Little did I expect that on the very day that I arrived I fell ill too. Better now:)
Went to church today... first time since being back. It was so nice to see everyone again!
Pastor Mike reminded us that we need to spend time with God and come up with a "plan" for 2007. I realised then that I've not thought much about 2007. I seem to have ignored the fact that it's a new year. Actually, I haven't done much thinking in the last month. Do I give up thinking and pondering when I'm on Singapore soil? And now that I'm back in Glasgow, does thinking resume?
2007. A part of me doesn't really want to think about it. I hope it's not cos I'm resigned to the fact that whatever will happen will happen. It's just that the older I am, the more uncertainties I seem to face. What I do know is that I'll start work at GRI in Feb until July. After July, that's a big question mark. Will I get into a decent ST programme? Should I go back to S'pore? Ok, so working conditions are crap, but dad and mum aren't getting any younger... What if I really don't like it? God has a plan for my life. I think we're back to patient waiting again.
2007 here I come...
Wishing everyone a blessed 2007!
Update: I'm back in Glasgow. Heard that lots of pple were ill with the snuffles and hacks over the festive period. Little did I expect that on the very day that I arrived I fell ill too. Better now:)
Went to church today... first time since being back. It was so nice to see everyone again!
Pastor Mike reminded us that we need to spend time with God and come up with a "plan" for 2007. I realised then that I've not thought much about 2007. I seem to have ignored the fact that it's a new year. Actually, I haven't done much thinking in the last month. Do I give up thinking and pondering when I'm on Singapore soil? And now that I'm back in Glasgow, does thinking resume?
2007. A part of me doesn't really want to think about it. I hope it's not cos I'm resigned to the fact that whatever will happen will happen. It's just that the older I am, the more uncertainties I seem to face. What I do know is that I'll start work at GRI in Feb until July. After July, that's a big question mark. Will I get into a decent ST programme? Should I go back to S'pore? Ok, so working conditions are crap, but dad and mum aren't getting any younger... What if I really don't like it? God has a plan for my life. I think we're back to patient waiting again.
2007 here I come...
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