Snowflake Palms (Portrait Poem -Elsa in Disney's Frozen)

You were once isolated in your room.
You were once afraid of the world.
You were once worried to the extreme
of your sister's safety
as well as the kingdom's peace.

In all those years,
you store your secret shut
in your two gloved hands,
surrounded by four frozen walls.
The coronation day
was the day you dropped the bombshell.
Your fate had changed
when you lost your patience,
summoning a wave of sharp ice in front of your royal guests.
Your automatic incantations were jagged and harmful
that forced you to retreat from civilization.

And here you are,
finding a solution to the depression and anxiety
you have held back in all those years.
Your mind warns you to keep your gloves,
but your heart tells you to toss them away.
This incredible power
flows and glides from your hands
in swirls of fluffy white in the air
and blocks of blue into a tower,
your new refuge.

Way to go, snow queen.
You've stood tall and proud.
You've conquered your fear
by becoming a rebel,
showing the gods above what you want to reveal.
Your frost fabric glistens and your translucent cape gleams
under the sunrise rays.
Yes, you know it.
The snowflakes are cheering with glee.
This is where you belong,
Elsa the Great.

Be A Diamond, Not A Talc (Poem dedicated to the victims of the Philippines' Typhoon Haiyan)'

Be a Diamond, Not Talc

A fierce vortex may carry a roof away.

A gigantic earth fault will clash and clutter the walls.

A sliding slope will drag houses down like a waterfall.

An extreme army of wind and rain will drown the innocent beings.

A furious conflagration might incinerate the mortals' fragile skin.

A flowing ribbon of lava will engulf a tree's beauty.

Yet we are still alive.

Who knows when a plane will crash against a skyscraper?

Who knows when a ship will overturn in the deep cold blue?

Who knows when a bus will skid towards a train?

Who knows when a young lad will get shot?

Who knows when death is cursed on a loved one?

Yet we are still alive.

We may live in a world weaved with catastrophes.

Poverty and prostitution still do exist.

One innocent mind will be harmed one day

by the awakening of reality’s rage.

Yet have no fear

that when faith knocks on your door,

Not even grenades of disaster will crash onto you.

We may lose our current plans.

Our shelters, together with our belongings

may be destroyed and no longer in use.

We may be devastated

to see earth turned to deadly black,

yet there is one tiny spark hidden beneath the soil

that will soon grows and glows with great glory,

a luminescence that will revive our hearts.

Dear people,

don't be a sectile, bendable talc.

Your heart may be twisted like its rubber-like body.

Your spirits may be shattered like its weak bonds.

Your soul may be torn like its easily-scratched surface.

But

do remember the spark that will illuminate

right before your eyes. 

It will help to rekindle your heart,

like a flame of hope that ignites in brilliant warmth.

Let the flame in you ablaze with wondrous power.

Let's stand up from the debris left on the ground

and lay hands on one another's shriveled wings.

Let's be diamonds that conquer misery,

strong and resistant.

Its surface cannot be damaged

but reflecting beams of bright silver

that an enemy's eyes be blinded. 

Don't let hypocrisy and sarcasm overcome your thoughts!

Get up on your feet now!

Fix the cracks and ruins

to create a renewed world. 

Keep in mind that you are not engulfed in isolation

for we hold you in our prayers

and God will lend you his mercy and grace.

So open your eyes now.

Be a diamond,

not talc. 

World Kindness Day 2013: Post a love message!

I don't know whether you are aware of this, but today is World Kindness Day. I don't have any money with me, except my debit card and countless pennies in my wallet so I can't buy gifts, but I would like to share this message with you all.

For those who can't find something to make someone's day better today, you can do this simple task on Facebook, twitter, or any other social sites (even email =P). So here's what you can do with your laptop in front of you. Post a short message of love as your status update OR as a special message to a friend or two. If possible, you can post your message to as many friends as you can think of. Here's an example:
"I just want to let you know that you're perfect just the way you are. You are the reason why I'm being myself and living here in this world with a smile. I love you, and I hope you'll never forget that you are always loved. Spread this to the people you care by (posting this as your Facbeook status/ tweeting this to your friends). Happy World Kindness Day!=)"

You can copy the example above as your own love message, but it would be better if you create your own love message and share it with your friends. Be creative, but simple, meaningful, and inspiring! Your message will make a person's day joyful. Compose a short poem, quote a portion of lyrics from a good song,share a bible verse...anything you want to make your love message perfect!

If you find this task a little cheesy, then you can grab your coat and start something bigger! One of my favourite Youtube artists, David Choi did a great example to show a random act of kindness. Check out his collaboration with Jubilee Project here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8rSMRM9_TZo

In this video, he sang one of his singles "Can't Take This Away" in order to get some lunch money from passers-by. In the end, he ended up giving all the lunch money he earned to a beggar at the store. So, why can't you? Go and do a random act of kindness by donating a quarter, a toonie, or a dollar to a person in need! Just don't spare cash to those fake, lazy beggars! They are just trying to trick you! If you see someone who is desperately seeking help, let your heart to be softened and give a silver or a green to that person.

There are, of course, other ways to do something kind. If you don't feel like doing something nice, then I suggest you to start by doing the online task above. If this encourages you to do something more, post more of your love message, and eventually, you'll find yourselves walking down the aisle and help your family, friends, or even strangers with a good deed. You wouldn't want to miss out on this special day! Today is a practice for you to do something good for other people! So....what are you waiting for??? START NOW! =D As Ellen Degeneres always says: "Be kind to one another"!

God is Life

http://www.photoblip.com/pictures/98055/the-definition-a-good-person.html

A friend sent me this link yesterday and recommended me to incorporate this into something deeper, that is the true meaning of life. Being a child who is raised in a Christian family, I wondered why we went to church every Sunday,and I was called a "church kid" because I was taught about God and received God throughout my childhood. To be honest, I didn't truly understand all those teachings about Christ back home, but after living with a bunch of church sisters back in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, as well as being involved in conferences and retreats with the Canadian saints, I realized that, with God, life is full of meaning.

So, the picture above is the link I receive. Many Christians believe that they should do good in order to please God and to get closer to God. I agree that we should be good in the eyes of the Lord. However, there is one thing that a lot of them don't know. They have a little hole in their hearts, and they're finding the missing patch to sew it back on. The patch is God as life. Their true, real life. What I mean here is that they have to allow God to enter into their hearts and to guide them every day in every place and every minute. God is a real person, not just the Holy Spirit. If we open our hearts and listen to His speaking, He will tell us what to do. In this way, the things we do in life will not only satisfy ourselves, but also God Himself!

Now you probably know the story of Adam and Eve in the beginning of the Bible. God made them for a significant purpose, that is to express Him and to contain Him as a vessel. God gave them two types of tree: the "tree of life" and the "tree of knowledge of good and evil" (Lee, 104). "God's placing man in front of the tree of life [so that] men [can] receive Him as [life]"and to take him in as "food" (Lee, 110). He is our real food! He is found "in the Word", which is the Bible (Lee, 110). In fact, the tree of life represents God himself! Praise the Lord that He is life! We have to take Him as our "center" so that he can supply our empty hearts with his life. His life becomes our life which is real to us (Lee, 110). God also desires us to take Him as "food", as it says in John 6:48: "I am the bread of life" and John 6:57: "He who eats Me, he also shall live because of Me." (Lee, 110-111). The fruits that grow in the tree of life are organic and fresh for us to eat and enjoy, and this will help us to experience God's life as well as his eternity. John 6:51 reminds us: "I am the living bread, which came down out of heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he shall live forever. And the bread which I will give is my flesh, given for the life of the world". On the other hand, the tree of knowledge of good and evil is portrayed in the picture above. People who only believe in the matter of good and bad are dying. Genesis 2:17 says: "But of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, of it you shall not eat; for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die". Eve ate a fruit from this tree and she experienced death, so did Adam. Same goes to us today. If we eat the tree of knowledge of good and evil, all we believe is morality and values, which causes us to fail in experiencing God's presence! Yes, you go to church but if you do not feel that God is knocking the walls of your heart and begging you to let him break through and reach you to breathe him in, then you are not satisfied with the way you live just like the woman in the picture. Ask yourself, dear reader. Do you want to eat the tree of life OR the tree of knowledge of good and evil? I would like to hear you say: "I want to eat the tree of life so that I can depend on God as the real life!"

Life is like flowing water that gushes out of a fresh, crystal clear river. John 4:14 says, "But whoever drinks of the water that I will give him shall by no means thirst forever; but the water that I will give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into eternal life". Many Christians take this as a doctrine, thinking that the fountain of living water is only a metaphor or an illusion of God. But here's what I learn from this precious verse. This specific type of water is a source that we as thirsty, desperate, empty human beings are seeking for to survive spiritually. It "[flows] within us", "[proceeding] out of the throne of God" (Lee, 153). "This river was made to water the garden [of Eden] that [it] might grow things of life" (Lee, 153). The world's first garden, the garden of Eden is introduced in the book of Genesis, and this symbolizes that today, the garden of Eden is in us! The greenery (trees and flowers and fruits and all you can find in this garden) depends on the amount of water flown from "the river of water of life" (Lee, 163). If a person's garden is dying, it means that he or she doesn't have the right amount of water from the river of life to water the garden. So what can we do to water the garden in us? Simple. We need to open ourselves to the Lord to allow the "fountain [to emerge] as a spring, and the spring flows out as a river" (Lee, 152)! We need the Lord to whoosh his waters of eternity all over our spirit, our soul, and even our body so that we can experience Him as our only life!
If you're interested, here are a couple of hymns about God as life.
"Christ Has Come To Be Life"
http://www.hymnal.net/en/hymn.php/ns/149
"Take My Life and Let It Be"
http://www.hymnal.net/en/hymn.php/h/445

Lee, Witness. Holy Word for Morning Revival: Crystallization-Study of  

Genesis: Volume One. Anaheim: Living Stream Ministry, 2013. Print.
Lee, Witness. Holy Word for Morning Revival: Crystallization-Study of 

Genesis: Volume Two. Anaheim: Living Stream Ministry, 2013. Print.

So..yeah...that's pretty much it! XD I've spent two hours writing this out, but it feels great to share this to you. Thanks to these two books as reference (as shown above), the points here are linked to the real matter of life. Only God's life is ideal and full of hope and glory, and with it, we can no longer suffer!

Oh! And as a special treat, this is a favourite video of mine about the Christian students at UBC (University of British Columbia) who sang a bible song from John 6:51.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3d6pZ8CVQoE

What do you think of this post? Leave your comments below. ;) Thanks for reading! 

Don't Play Your Life, A Gift God Has Given To You

I take the second introduction to Psychology this semester, and we have to do this term paper about antidepressants. A part of this project is to listen to the three parts of a radio program called "Rethinking Depression", and if you're interested, you can listen to the recordings in the CBC website (www.cbc.ca) (go to CBC Radio 1-> Ideas -> type "depression" in the search box -> click on "Rethinking Depression Part 1 or 2 or 3). I've finished listening to this program a few hours ago (I listen to a part of the program per day) and what I've noticed is that there are millions of people who suffer from depression (either mild or moderate or even major). All of us (admit it) do feel depressed at times and we will think of negative things such as the "Oh! This is the end of the world!" effect or the common thought of "I wanna kill myself." People who suffer from depression (including major depression) will eventually either get help or commit suicide.

Okay, let's put the "commit suicide" issue aside first. Depression victims usually get help from medication, and I'm talking about antidepressants. You probably heard of this famous type of antidepressant called "Prozac" (P.S this is the first time I heard of it). For many years, people who suffered from depression take this drug in and the results escalate high like rockets. However, such a drug can also lead to negative effects that scare the hell out of consumers. According to the radio recordings, the interviewees share their stories about hearing sounds that don't exist in their subconscious minds or seeing visions that got them afraid of their future, and countless nightmares too. And when this happens, they go hungry for different drugs or any other medication that could "possibly" cure depression. This, in the end, will lead to the "final" thought of perishing themselves.

I just don't get it why people need drugs to heal depression, or any kind of mental issues. I suffered from depression as well due to the fact of being bullied back in elementary school and secondary school. I complained to myself that school was an unsafe place. I planned to commit suicide when I was fourteen, but thank goodness I didn't do it. The vision of me holding a knife towards my chest frightened me, and God reminded me not to do such a sin. It was a relief that the bullying finally stopped when I was in ninth grade. And as for this Youtuber, Anna Akana, she was being open to the world by posting this video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zvkbHIrrrvU
If you watch this, you'll get the sense that killing yourself makes everything goes upside down. The people that love you will get confused and miserable, and once you banish your body away, you'll waste God's gift. You'll waste the life that God has given to you. Don't you see? Satan is hiding in you to make you forget what you're made for and live for. Yes, it's not just God who lives in you but Satan who also lives in you. Eve ate a fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, so that makes us sinners, which means Satan has injected himself into us to make us scatter away from God. The reason why people commit suicide is because Satan is telling them to do so. God doesn't want to see them throwing their lives randomly! God doesn't want to see YOU thrashing your one and only precious life!

So if you're reading this, I'm not saying that this is what you should do. I'm writing this post to share with you what I believe in. Whoa! I just realize that I've spent half an hour writing this! Anyway, I just hope that....for those who plan to commit suicide, or if you're about to do so, please reconsider. Think about what will happen to the people around you, your future, and your religion. If you ask me what should you do if you want to kill yourself, I would say, "I'm not a psychic, but killing yourself will shake the whole world...and God Himself." You are given a life, and you should be blessed that you're alive. You are breathing to reveal a chapter of your journey in your life journal. So if you're feeling depressed or uncomfortable, find something that keeps you happy and seek help from the people you trust. But don't forget to stay strong, and put in faith to your religions. As for Christians, God is always there to listen to you, don't feel abandoned.This is your life, treasure it like God really mean it. =)

Fog poems: Silver Curtains vs. Topaz Through The Thick

Hey, guys! So...I've written two poems about the foggy weather in Coquitlam, BC this month and I'm wondering which of these two poems is better/ worth reading as a perfect fog poem. Topaz Through the Thick is written during the sunrise while Silver Curtains is more of a dark poem and it's written in the evening. So what do you think? Take note that they're just drafts. Choice A (Silver Curtains) or Choice B (Topaz Through The Thick)? 

A. Silver Curtains 

Swirls of white ribbons roll by,
blown by the pipe of a nature ancestor.
Its curtains caress through me.
The chilly breath hit against my skin.

Up the hill, under the grey sulking cotton,
I watch in this deserted park
as the clumps of fog frolic by
like animals spirits.

Thicker blinds overshadow the pine trees, surrounding the circle.
Oh, poor greens!
Their stomata eyes blink, gasping for ripe oxygen.
Drowning in the Lost World.

The overlapping waves of mist slowly fade
as minutes tick by.
They creep and shawl around me,
slightly mending the cracks in my glass heart.

Even though I can't feel my bones,
I still sit under a red-dyed tree,
watching and longing
to stay for a little longer.

B. Topaz Through The Thick

Skin burns around my face.

Finger bones seem to freeze and crack.

Temperature drops at dawn,

forces me to wonder when will God

summon the morning sphere. 

Hours crawl by.

Sunlight spreads over the earth.

An overlapping wave of gold

filters through unquenchable swirls of mist.

Its natural illumination dominates over all living beings,

signalling a new day.

Alas,

disappointment stings in my heart.

The rolling clusters of fluffy silver

vanish in transparent sight.

How I wish I can stand at a better spot

under the chilly climate

and gaze admiringly at the view.

Oh, dear fog,

please don't go 

just for this once!

Mimosa (New poem)

You'll probably find me weird but Mimosa Pudica is my favourite wild plant. I enjoy touching this special grass ever since I was seven and I never get tired of touching its sensitive leaves while watching it folding. Pretty much, the mimosa plant connects to my personality, that is being a shy introvert. To those who know that I write a novella series called The Magic Mimosa Plant, the inspiration I get is basically from a mimosa and I turn it into a magical object.I can't find a mimosa plant around Canada, and that's sad..so I write this poem to remind myself that I'll look for one when I go back to Malaysia. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy reading this short poem. =) 

Where are you, my touch-me-not?
Your emerald leaves are indeed one-of-a-kind.
A palm of leaflets never fail to amuse me
with your bashful demeanor.

Where are you, my sensitive darling?
I can't wait to lay one finger on you.
Your long, thin ovals shut before my eyes
like a toddler that hides behind her mother's skirts.
You're hiding a secret, I can tell.
Cracks are approaching around your barrier
and through my sixth sense,
you're longing to break through.

Where are you, my humble favourite?
You're so timid that I find you beautiful.
You're like a servant to a master,
so loyal and true.
You're not the only one who fears.
I'm looking for you
so that I can accompany you.

Where are you, my enchanted inspiration?
You're stunning when untouched and free
but shivering when encountered and trapped.
A wallflower that connects to my insecurity.
Yet you revealed a magic swirl around me,
giving me hope to create new ideas.
Please approach to me
wherever you are now.
I haven't seen you for a long while
and I miss hearing your lonely whisper.

Lord, We're Waiting For Your Return! (College Retreat September 2013)

"Come, Lord Jesus
As we become the same as Christ
In life, nature, expression, and function,
We are qualified to work with Him
For His Body.

As We trust in the Lord helplessly,
Depend on Him as our love and strength,
And listen to His speaking,
Our hope is to be raptured
Through the redemption of our body.

And out prayer is 
Come, Lord Jesus!
And our prayer is
Come, Lord Jesus!
Come, Lord Jesus!
Lord Jesus, come! "

The sweet hymn above is one of the songs we sang in the college retreat today, and once I close my eyes, I could feel that I'm singing this hymn to the Lord face to face.
http://www.hymnal.net/en/hymn.php/ns/285
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kvO0F0m2B5s

The message we discuss this weekend is about the Lord's return and this is what I enjoy so far. I appreciate that we, as college students, are encouraged to get the highest education as possible. We are advised to get at least a college degree, get the highest grades, and reach to advanced levels (The Lord's Return (Part Two) Western Canada Retreat 2013 booklet, page 28). I don't think I can get the highest grades, but I'll definitely try my best to reach till a master degree in fine arts. And when this happens, we will be useful for the Lord. We will be needed for the Lord's recovery. I also enjoy that we need to learn another language other than English/ our mother tongue. We need to be at least bilingual so that we can preach the gospel to other people and be useful to the Lord as well. I remember how much I hated Mandarin and Malay back then. But after realizing that I have learnt 6 years of Mandarin back in elementary school and 11 years of Malay in elementary school AND secondary school, I must not regret too much that I've learn these two other languages. And so...I guess I can try to speak a little more of these two tongues. I'm thinking of learning Japanese too, so I'm finding the opportunity to do so. =)

So dear young people and all Christians, you must endeavor to gain the best education! You also need to learn a new language! The more, the better! Oh! And I guess why I enjoy the retreat so much is because of the brothers' speaking, including brother Willie's (Willie Wise-in case you're familiar with this brother, he used to be an NBA basketball player back in the old days, I don't know when but he sure was famous at that time, yup we have a former celebrity here in the church family). I remembered that he shared with us a brief testimony. He said that he was in Taipei back in the 1980s and he joined a group for door-knocking to preach the gospel. A couple stood at the door and they were surprised when he said a Mandarin phrase (I couldn't remember what he said). We all laughed when he showed a surprised expression and shouted, "Hei Ren Jiang Hua Wen!" (That black man speaks Chinese! This was the reaction from the couple, not him). I learned that even one phrase of a different language will get a person to listen. There will be a connection between two people who can speak one word of a second language. Brother Robert, another speaking one, also shared a testimony with us and it was about him who was disappointed of not knowing how to speak Filipino language even though he was raised in the Philippines for many years of his childhood. He was a Filipino Chinese, and he learnt English and Mandarin throughout his school days. He dreamed of going to America to study, and this caused him to hated Mandarin (sound familiar? This is a coincidence =P). He made it to America to study in university, he lived with four Chinese brothers who couldn't speak English, so he had no choice but to speak Chinese with them. I guess, what he's trying to say is, even though we might hate speaking our mother tongues (sometimes), we have to know how to speak it. We are encouraged to be bilingual (at least). Psychologically, those who are bilingual are meant to have better character. I actually agree on this, because I've learnt about bilingualism back in the Psychology course I take this semester. Speaking of character, "we need to build a good character" by "exercising ourselves to build a character that is useful to the Lord" (The Lord's Return (Part Two) Western Canada Retreat 2013 booklet, page 28). We need to have a good character so that we can be vessels to contain God. But most importantly, we have to allow God's attributes to work in us (Philippians 4:13~I am able to do all things in Him who empowers me).

I also enjoy that "we must pursue and grow in our spiritual life", and we can do this by "maintaining a living fellowship with the Lord, fully consecrating ourselves to Him and having proper dealings with Him, to be the Lord's overcomers" (The Lord's Return (Part Two) Western Canada Retreat 2013 booklet, page 28). To be succinct, all we have to do is to just simply love the Lord! Just. Love. Him. It's that easy! Do you love him, Christians? We must "grasp the opportunity to love him" (The Lord's Return (Part Two) Western Canada Retreat 2013 booklet, page 28). Mary is an epitome to this matter. She "sat at Lord's feet and was listening to His word, having heard and received the Lord's word and revelation concerning his death"; she even "looked for the opportunity to anoint Him before he died" (The Lord's Return (Part Two) Western Canada Retreat 2013 booklet, page 28). She listened to the Lord because she loved him. So we should listen to the Lord's speaking if we love him.

We are reminded that the Lord's return is near. We need to be watchful and eagerly awaiting for the Lord to come back for the second time. It is said in the Scriptures that he will "steal" "His treasures" (those who love Him), as a "Bridegroom" for us to enter into His wedding feast, and as a "judge" to the nations (The Lord's Return (Part Two) Western Canada Retreat 2013 booklet, page 10-11). He will also come back to "solve all social problems in the world", including "injustice", "sicknesses", politics, and negative activities (going to clubs, drinking, smoking, premarital sex...) (The Lord's Return (Part Two) Western Canada Retreat 2013 booklet, page 5).

Christians, we're living in a corrupted world and Satan is behind all this. Don't you want all this to be put to an end? There are nice things that we can't take our eyes off, and plans that we're waiting to begin in the future, but there's not much time. Christ is coming, and he's approaching soon! I have a lot more to say, but I'll stop here.  If you would like to know more about what we talked about in the retreat, let me know in the comments below. =)

LORD JESUS, PLEASE COME! COME QUICKLY!

O Love, That Wilt Not Let Me Go (another favourite hymn of mine)

" 1. O love, that wilt not let me go,
       I rest my weary soul in Thee;
       I give Thee back the life I owe,
       That in Thine ocean depths its flow
       May richer, fuller be.

   2. O Light, that followest all the way,
       I yield my flickering touch to Thee;
       My heart restores its borrowed ray,
       That in Thy sunshine's blaze its day
       May brighter, fairer be.

   3. O Joy, that seekest me through pain,
       I cannot close my heart to Thee;
       I trace the rainbow through the rain,
       And feel the promise is not vain
       That morn shall tearless be.

   4.  O Cross, that liftest up my head,
        I dare not ask to fly from Thee;
        I lay in dust life's glory dead
        And from the ground there blossoms red
        Life that shall endless be. "
This hymn is taken from Greater Vancouver Young People Songbook, page (I'll add the page number as soon as I can)

" Nice song. By George Matheson

History of Hymn

“O Love That Will Not Let Me Go” written on the evening of Matheson’s sister’s marriage. His whole family had went to the wedding and had left him alone. And he writes of something which had happened to him that caused immense mental anguish. There is a story of how years before, he had been engaged until his fiancé learned that he was going blind, and there was nothing the doctors could do, and she told him that she could not go through life with a blind man. He went blind while studying for the ministry, and his sister had been the one who had taken care of him all these years, but now she is gone. He had been a brilliant student, some say that if he hadn’t went blind he could have been the leader of the church of Scotland in his day. He had written a learned work on German theology and then wrote “The Growth of The Spirit of Christianity.” Louis Benson says this was a brilliant book but with some major mistakes in it. When some critics pointed out the mistakes and charged him with being an inaccurate student he was heartbroken. One of his friends wrote, “When he saw that for the purposes of scholarship his blindness was a fatal hindrance, he withdrew from the field – not without pangs, but finally.” So he turned to the pastoral ministry, and the Lord has richly blessed him, finally bringing him to a church where he regularly preached to over 1500 people each week. But he was only able to do this because of the care of his sister and now she was married and gone. Who will care for him, a blind man? Not only that, but his sister’s marriage brought fresh reminder of his own heartbreak, over his fiancé’s refusal to “go through life with a blind man.” It is the midst of this circumstance and intense sadness that the Lord gives him this hymn – written he says in 5 minutes! Looking back over his life, he once wrote that his was “an obstructed life, a circumscribed life… but a life of quenchless hopefulness, a life which has beaten persistently against the cage of circumstance, and which even at the time of abandoned work has said not “Good night” but “Good morning.” How could he maintain quenchless hopefulness in the midst of such circumstances and trials? His hymn gives us a clue. “I trace the rainbow in the rain, and feel the promise is not vain” The rainbow image is not for him “If the Lord gives you lemons make lemonade” but a picture of the Lord’s commitment! It is a picture of the battle bow that appears when the skies are darkening and threaten to open up and flood the world again in judgment. But then we see that the battle bow is turned not towards us – but toward the Lord Himself!  "

Source: http://www.hymnal.net/en/hymn.php/nt/432#ixzz2f5jAHCIP

This is also a favourite hymn of mine. The tune is just so soothing that sends my heart to a calm, joyful mood. The lyrics are poetic as well with such beautiful, encouraging words that expresses the love of God. God is our lifelong friend, and he is always there even when you're alone.

Check out the soundtrack right here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VxbPPa-AafM

And the instrumental version:
http://www.hymnal.net/en/hymn.php/nt/432

My favourite hymn "God hath not promised skies always blue"

" 1. God hath not promised always blue,
Flower-strewn pathways all our lives through;
God hath not promised sun without rain,
Joy without sorrow, peace without pain.

Chorus: But God hath promised strength for the day,
             Rest for the labor, light for the way,
            Grace for the trials, help from above
            Unfailing sympathy, undying love.

   2. God hath not promised we shall not know
       Toil and temptation, trouble and woe;
       He hath not told us we shall not bear
      Many a burden, many a care.

  3. God hath not promised smooth roads and wide,
      Swift, easy travel, needing no guide;
     Never a mountain, rocky and steep,
     Never a river, turbid and deep. "

This hymn is taken from Greater Vancouver Young People's Songbook (hymn no. 128)

I wonder how many of you who read this blog are Christians, especially those who are in the church life (for the Lord's recovery). I would like to share this hymn with you all, because this is my favourite hymn. I first get to know this hymn when I was browsing through Youtube back in my Taylor College days (Subang Jaya, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia) in the year 2011. I watched this video posted from a brother who played this hymn with his guitar (quite well actually, but I forgot his name). I couldn't remember his background well, but I think he was a former soldier or something (or navy?). Through his playing and his voice, I could tell that this brother loved the Lord. This tune caught in my head from that day onwards, and it faded for a while. Then, this hymn came back to me again when I arrived in Vancouver six months later. I joined the large Young People meetings there, and I couldn't help enjoying this hymn. The tune (new tune) was so melodious and the lyrics were so poetic. I sometimes forced myself to open  my mouth to call out this hymn to be sung in home  meetings, and I always shook with excitement and satisfaction when we got to sing it.

If you're Christians but not in the church life like I do, then I recommend you to listen to this hymn. In fact, everyone should listen to this! This hymn helps me to go through dark times. I'm writing notes for Psychology, but due to a cold I'm catching, I can't concentrate entirely. My favourite hymn suddenly came to my head, and I have the urge to share this with you guys. =)
Here's a Youtube video that covers this hymn:
   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8P75mvWH_k

And here's the instrumental tune together with the lyrics like the ones above:
http://www.hymnal.net/en/hymn.php/nt/720

In case you're curious about the writer of this hymn:
http://onthejourney7.blogspot.ca/2012/07/what-god-hath-promised-annie-johnson.html
I wonder who's the blogger? =)

Bible Reading As A Part Of Our Life

I didn't realize that I had read the entire book of John during the three weeks of summer break. As a reward, I received this gift from the serving ones (thanks Sister Jenny and Brother Tony =) ). I guess the reason why we had this bible reading challenge is because we are encouraged to "consume" the word of God every day. And yeah, I post one verse or more than that on Facebook as my status every time after I read a passage in the Bible.  And now the bible reading challenge is extended to six weeks, I'm emboldened a little more to read the Bible every day after school (as well as on weekends). Even though we have school, we are encouraged to read either one verse, the entire assigned passage, or (even better) read with our two/three selected companions and serving ones. Reading the Bible is not only to allow me to let God into my spirit and spread throughout my soul and body, but it also reminds me to do it as a habit.

So here's what I would like to advise to other Christians. Read the Bible! Some of you might think that it's a waste of time or the Bible is too ancient or difficult to understand. You don't have to understand solidly! You just have to take in God's word like food and enjoy God's grace. And if you read at least a few verses or a chapter every day, you'll be surprise to see that you will have a smile on your face and your life will change forever.

Well, we'll see how it goes. Btw, I'm saving the jellybeans for tomorrow. =P

Last Day of Summer, Under The Evening Ribbons

                                        Under The Evening Ribbons 
                              The mighty blazing sphere gazed down
                              with a smile that glistened with golden teeth.
                              Their amber glow spread out
                              that radiated rays of summer luminescence.

                               A ribbon of its light overlapped the top of a hill.
                               I arrived at the park,
                               eyeing at the clear view.
                               Vanilla cotton scattered in the azure heaven,
                               greeting me with a whispering "hello".
                               I slowly breathed in the ripe swirls of oxygen,
                               drinking in the lush green pine trees
                               that surrounded the sides of the park.

                               Thanking God for his grace to the weather,
                               I lay my tote bag flat on the grass
                               under one of the tall shady plants
                               and sat on it like a picnic mat.
                               Ah! Nothing got better
                               than taking a breather
                               on such a beautiful evening.
                               From a corner of my eye,
                               a tiny brown spider swayed steadily in midair.
                               A nerve signal in my brain urged me to move away
                               but I glanced away from my book
                               and stared at the insect without a reminder of my entomophobia.
                             
                               The little spider clung on an invisible thread.
                               It set up a defensive bubble around itself,
                               overcoming a gust of wind
                               that was blown from the Nature Goddess.
                               It swung slightly to the east
                               and then slightly to the west
                               It climbed a few steps higher in the air,
                              maintaining its balance like an acrobat on a tightrope.
                              This young-looking fellow
                               delivered a message to me:
                               never give up on life
                               even when the wind blew that carried your body away.

                               15 minutes had passed
                               swift as an hourglass in a game of Boogle.
                               All I wore on my face
                               was a smile of satisfaction and glee.
                               There went my last day of summer
                               and I yearn to do it again
                               as I packed up and strolled down the hill.

Voila! Finally I've written a new poem! Thanks to the short walk to the park which is up the hill. You should try to take a breather after a long day of staying at home, sticking to your laptop. It really helps! You can breathe in the fresh air and sink in nature. You can even get a simple inspiration like this to write something! I've finished reading until chapter 6 of my new favourite book "Chicken Soup For The Soul: Inspiration For Writers" and I have learnt a lot from it. I guess all the stories in it caused me to write this poem as well, and not just looking at the green. =)
                 

It All Started With A Paper

          Whenever I meet new people, they get interested once I reveal that I love to write. I'm hit by these two questions "Since when you start writing?" or "How long have you write?". I give the one and same answer, "I started writing when I was nine." To my surprise, they don't ask me how I approach to writing. Sometimes, I roam around my room to look for inspiration whenever I get stuck with a poem or a story. I also allow lines flow on paper in the blink of an eye. But what people don't know about me is that I get inspiration from a paper. A line paper torn from a St.James Primary School notebook.

          I was sitting in a third grade (Primary 3) classroom. I slumped on my chair, surrounded by students who chatter with delight and excitement. Boredom and isolation danced in my head. Suddenly, an idea clicked like a switch that flicked open automatically. I immediately pulled out my school notebook and tore a page. A favourite Barbie movie flashed in my head, and in seconds, my pen glided gracefully in the lines like an ice skater. I also had this method of folding the paper into a small square-shaped booklet before writing down a story. It's kind of like a mini book form, but I got confused once I read through them, trying to figure out which was the next part. I thanked the Lord for providing free periods and substitute teachers because I could continue with my stories of Barbie movies. I copied every scene and as many lines of each character as possible.

         Before school started on January 2003, I returned from a family trip to Singapore with a couple of sticker collections. The Finding Nemo and Brother Bear stickers gave me an idea of creating graphic novels which I called "sticker booklets". I added a sticker that was related to a scene of the story.

        In 2004, a couple of friends made me realized that I write. It was 10 minutes before the teacher entered in the classroom. I was busy writing a Barbie story, while suddenly Sheila craned her neck from the front. Her black ponytail shadowed over my paper that blocked the fluorescent light above me. "What are you doing?" she asked curiously. I paused and looked up, "I'm...writing a story." The next thing I knew, Sheila's dark brown eyes were sparkling. "No way! Can I read it?" I was a little surprised, for I had never show someone my writing before. I didn't realized that I passed my unfinished booklet to her without reluctance. A smile spread on her delicate face. "Oh wow! This is awesome!" Sheila exclaimed with widened eyes, "Kara! You've got to check this out! Michele writes this story!" Our other friend, Kara, approached to my desk with a whirl of interest drawn over her light brown eyes. I saw a smile on her Caucasian countenance that caused my heart to leap in excitement. "Wow! That's neat!" she commented. "Hey! Have you heard of Oliver Twist?" Sheila chipped in, "Maybe someday you can write an Oliver Twist story for me!" I nodded in reply. Oliver Twist was one of my favourite classics, and I immediately recalled on the novel I had read a few days ago. I can't remember how the progress went, but Sheila was delighted when she read my Oliver Twist booklet.

      That was when I realized I should write my own stories in a book. A notebook, to be exact. Once I arrived home from school, I dashed upstairs to the bedroom where I shared with my younger sister, Megan. I rummaged through my shelves and cabinet without having the thought of being yelled by my mother for making a mess. Finally, I found a transparent package of blue and white exercise books deep inside the cabinet. It was like finding a lost treasure hidden in the Caribbean. The first thing that came to my mind was Disney's Brother Bear. I began my series of stories with a spin-off of that film.  It was entitled "Animal Tale" and I remember switching the setting from the ice-caped North America to the cool-misted Mount Kinabalu in Sabah, Malaysia. I can't exactly remember how my own first story went, but I had fun playing with the characters and the plot to make it into my own product.

      During my secondary school years, I found myself writing stories which were inspired from Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, an Australian cartoon series called Blinky Bill, three Barbie movies, and a number of Hong Kong drama shows. Speaking of Hong Kong shows, I have no idea why I watched those at such young ages. Of course I couldn't understand Cantonese so I watched the episodes with Malay subtitles. I guess the reason why I was inspired by those kind of TV shows back then was because I was hooked by the mixture of suspense and romance in the plots. I also spent my pocket money buying new notebooks for upcoming stories which drove my mother crazy, but it was worth it.

        Turning movies and TV shows into words on notebook pages with little twists of characters and plots caused me to lose focus on my studies. Time by time, I filled out countless notebooks with stories that sent  my heart soaring with joy, pride, and freedom. However, once I entered through the college gate, I realized that I had spent so much time copying ideas from media. I learnt the definition of "plagiarism" and that got me worried for wasting time writing stories that were not according to my own ideas.

       Before I transferred to Canada, I was told to clean up my room. I encountered a box of old notebooks while I was dusting my cabinet. They were the vessels that lightened up my childhood. I got all emotional, thinking whether I should get rid of them. It had been so long, and they were not meant to be published. They were squeezed into one stepping stone for me to start using my own imagination and not to be just inspired by the black electronic box in the middle of the living room. Without further thinking, I stuffed all of the old notebooks, scribbled and torn, into a big plastic bag. And the next thing I knew, I placed the bag next to a pile of newspapers and a bunch of other materials at the porch of our house. That day of my flight, I watched with a minor wave of doubt as a worker of the nearest recycle center dumped all of the collections into the truck. There went my stories. My first attempt of writing together with the rest of my trials were about to be transformed into new, common possessions for people.

       Even until now, I regret of throwing one of my precious piece of childhood away. But I am not entirely upset because I have one remaining story that is safe with me. My two "Barbie in Princess and the Pauper" booklets are stored in one of my diaries, and every time I look through them, they remind me to never forget how I start writing and to keep on grabbing my pen or tapping the keyboard of my laptop. An idea is the secret weapon to a story, and a blank paper is the source to a product. So dear paper which I wrote my first ever story, if you have eyes, ears and heart, I just want to say...thank you.

A Bullied One Is A Warrior

      The fourth grade (Primary 4 as we call it in Malaysia) classroom was humid as usual. Heat waves crept through the windows like mist as the sun fiercely radiated the city of Kota Kinabalu in Sabah, Malaysia. It wasn't the temperature that caused me to be boiling in and out. The kid in front of me attacked me with mean, hurtful words. Mandarin words that I couldn't stand. He wasn't just a typical St.James primary school student. Teachers and students admired him  as an English story-telling champion in several years. Every time he was on stage, he attracted everyone with his big, emotional voice. Some strong quality an English teacher in an Asian school looked for. I didn't know whether anyone noticed this, but deep inside, he was a sneaky demon. When a teacher was no around, he shot darts of malign and hatred at me for no reason. He was also like a leader in a group of boys who joined in the bullying. They enjoyed tearing me into pieces. I showed a blank sight of tears in front of them, but within my heart, I was hollering and whimpering.

       It cluttered in my mind like a syringe. He was there, in front of my desk. He was surrounded with a couple of his mates, teasing me on how different and stupid I was. What did I do wrong? I was completely confused, but I wore a stoic mask over my physical face. They didn't see that I was foaming in my mouth, trying to calm the effervescing bubbles in my reddened heart down. Suddenly, their snickering reached my breaking point. I snatched my pink mechanical pencil from my desk and stabbed at one of his eyes. It happened in the blink of an eye. Time froze. I didn't actually stabbed the pointy lead at his eyeball, just at the lower lash line around his eye. I paused like a statue, realizing at what I just did. He covered his injury with both hands clasped tightly. A wave of silence filled the room. I swore everyone in the classroom was staring at me with mouths hung open. Luckily, the final bell rang. I packed my things with shivering hands and dashed out of the room like a rocket. I had never been so afraid in my life.

       I had my lips sealed from my family. I didn't have the courage to tell anyone about the incident. I wished I could stay home the next day, or switch schools so that the boy won't chase after me. I pleaded God that everything that happened that day could be erased from his mind, and my own mind too, but it wasn't possible.

        Nothing got better the next day. As the Mandarin teacher entered through the door, the first thing she did was that she called me to come over to her desk. My heart flipped like a pancake from a pan. I quickly blinked my eyes to prevent from tears coming out as I walked innocently to the big wooden table at the front. She looked at me with her brown eyes glazed with a layer of  concern and anger, "Is it true that you stabbed at him with a mechanical pencil?" I nodded slowly. All I did was nodding and staring at the hardened cement floor. She didn't give me any punishment, but a warning that cling to me like a koala bear on a tree branch, "The lead in mechanical pencils are poisonous. It's dangerous to use them against other people. Hen wei xian de. You have to be careful next time, am I clear?" I nodded for one last time before she allowed me to go back to my seat. (I translate this from Chinese to English, and I add in the phrase in italics to prove that it's originally spoken in Chinese.) I took a glimpse of the boy who sat at the row behind mine. He had a dark bruise on the lower part of his eye. There wasn't serious damage. He gave me this icy glare that killed me mentally; it signaled me to urge myself to run before he raised a sharp weapon from his back to slash my face. I felt stupid for not telling the teacher that his abusive words caused me to react in such a way, but I was the one who caused a bigger effect on him, and that made me feel like a criminal. A 10-year-old, not-so-innocent, criminal. I wished I could just faint so that I could be sent to a mental hospital, and made my parents worried like hell because they didn't seemed to care about my previous endless complaints of being bullied.

       He recovered a few days later, and he still had a playful, evil grin. He harassed me with more words of sin, and I stayed silent for the entire year. He was then followed by more boys who enjoyed making me feel bad during my last two years of elementary school. Every time I tried to explain to my parents or any other adults I thought I could trust, they just won't care much. "Just ignore them." my mom simply replied. But that didn't work at all. Even when I switched seats, nothing got better!

      Not only I got bullied by those mean boys, but I also got verbally abused by teachers too. Back when I was in second grade (Primary 2), I was taught by this horrifyingly-strict teacher who criticized my work in Mandarin class. I don't know, I guess she looked down on students who are weak in Chinese. I encountered her once again when I entered fifth grade (Primary 5) ; she was like Ursula who wanted to murder me with a potion of death. She complained on how messy my handwriting was and my weak progress in completing homework. Wow, so much for boosting a little girl's confidence. I wasn't the only one who got trapped under that shrill voice of hers. A friend in that class, Abigail struggled hard as much as I did in improving her Mandarin and completing her assignments. However, the teacher was not impressed. I had no idea why she was always angry at the two of us. I even felt sorry for Abigail who was being called stubborn and the so-called story of her mother being good friends with the teacher or something. "Your mother is way better than you, Abigail! You should be ashamed of yourself!" the teacher retorted. Man! That's harsh!

         You think my elementary school years were tough? Well, you should see how my freshman year in secondary school ended up into. I was still the silent, timid, antisocial girl everybody knew. Once I was enrolled into the stage of puberty, I told myself that secondary school was all about a new beginning. I would make new friends, be respected, and change myself. Unfortunately, things were not what I expected. I was involved in a group of Muslims and Kadazans (an ethnic group of indigenous in Sabah), and they were not who I called "true friends". From a corner of the school parking lot, I spotted a few of them, and they went on giggling and snickering and whispering. Their eyes were on me, and they gossiped to one another. They were probably talking about how fast I walked, or perhaps how fat I looked. What's the matter with that? I walked fast, so what? That doesn't looked ladylike to you? Fine! But I could felt that they kept making fun of me behind my back. All the time.

         There was this boy back in eighth grade (we called it Form 2) who was like the Joker of the classroom. His target was me. He made faces at me and called me names, attracting others, no..the entire class to pick on me. The teachers didn't notice this. They secretly put on their halos, showing their pure innocence in front of the adults. And shortly, I saw devil horns poking out of their heads. They made me reach my breaking point as well, but I didn't react. They just can't stop calling me a loser, a jerk, or a loner. And the worst part was, they randomly matched  me with a guy I barely even knew in the class. Twice. Well, I ignored that. That entire year, I faced their mean oral assaults. That boy played around, blocking me from going to my seat after every recess. What's so funny about that? Stop messing up with me! I wished I could have the guts to tell a teacher, but I was bubbled up in a shield of terror.

       With all these that happened, I planned to commit suicide. I pictured myself pointing a kitchen knife towards my chest or hanging myself on one of my mom's scarves. I even blamed God for not protecting me from those horrible people. One day, God told me to halt. He reminded me of a verse in the Bible, but I couldn't remember the actual sentence. I was told that committing suicide is a sin. A very dangerous. sinful action. He also made me realized that all those bullying would fade away sooner that I thought. I wondered how the nightmare of my life would last. No one supported me; no one made me smile. I continued to do what I enjoy doing, but not many people came to embolden me.

God promised me that all of these would come to an end. After countless prayers and tears of silence, it happened. When ninth grade (Form 3) arrived, I was surrounded by a new circle of friends. And yes, they were what I called "true friends". New friends that I dreamed of. We had experiences of feeling pain and trying to overcoming obstacles, but we supported each other and stayed strong. I realized that I was not alone. There were people out there who shared the same pain as I did, and they successfully pulled my frown upside down.

Demi Lovato sings, "I'm a warrior, I got thicker skin, I'm stronger than I'll ever be in my armour, it's made of steel, you can't get in, and you can never hurt me again." My dear wonderful friends from ninth grade to eleventh grade are always by my side, even when I'm far apart from home today. Because of them, I am healed. Because of them, I learn to chase after my dream of doing the things I want to do. The little satans somehow hook in my nostalgic mind, but here's what I have to say: you have hurt me, but I stand tall. You may not realize what you've done to me, but I'll never forgive you until you know what you did.

Behind The Rain Is A Light of God

Brief note: I was thinking of sharing this as a testimony for the saints, but I think it would be better if I share this here to refresh my memory. I might edit this to turn it into a Personal Narrative piece (just for fun) but..I'll see how it goes.Before I came to Canada, I was a half-year student at Taylors' College (in Kuala Lumpur) for the Canadian Pre-University program. Canadian Pre-U (CPU) is kind of like a preparation/transition for Malaysian students to get accessible grades to enter Canadian universities, unfortunately it's only recognizable in Ontario. Anyway, living in my first college life at Taylors for six months was definitely an experience, including when I was with the church sisters in Subang Jaya (the town I lived). I lived in one of the row of houses just opposite the CPU building, and it was rented for church girls. We went to church together and we did spiritual, holy things like reading the bible and Christian books. Of course, we hung out as well but not too often because of our college work.

One of the things we CPU students needed to complete in order to graduate was to do 10 hours of community service. Once I heard about it, I was freaking out. How was I suppose to do that? I had assignments to do and exams to prepare, plus I hadn't done anything like that before. Jesus knew what I was going through, and he sneaked in a miracle for me.

It was a heavy rainstorm. The dark cotton puffs above shed storms of tears down the earth.I rushed to campus with an umbrella in one hand and presentation materials in a bag in my other hand. I tried not to groan too much because of my wet sandals and soaked jeans which was drenched by the rain. There was poor drainage, so there was a sheet of water flooded the roads. I nearly slipped on the shiny tile floor of the CPU building. Luckily, I made it to the classroom on time. A classmate and I had to do a presentation on AIDS in the Individuals and Families In A Diverse Society course (a kind of complicated social science subject).  I settled on a chair in the freezing air-conditioned room before bringing my pen drive to the lecturer's laptop. While doing it, I silently wondered whether the rainstorm would cause more harm to the urban city of Subang Jaya. This thought slipped when I realized that it was my turn to speak. I was shivering, and it was not due to the frosty-like temperature. It was my speech. I remembered saying a line that made the entire class laughed like I was an idiot from an alienated world, and it was about AIDS in sex is caused by gay men (yes, call me stupid). I had no idea where I got that information from.

The class ended as soon as our presentation was over. I made my way back to my temporary crib and groaned even more when the bottom of my jeans sagged heavier than before. Thanks a lot, Mother Nature.


The home phone in the living room rang that made me jumped. I left my early dinner of Swiss roll on a glass table and took the call. I couldn't quite understand what the person on the line was talking about, for I was rusty in Mandarin. Thanks to translation from one of the roommates, I received bad news from the nearest church. It turned out that the roof was leaking and stacks of Christian books which were stored in the attic of the church were soaked with naughty rainwater. The guardian (we usually call him/her a "serving one") on the phone was looking for volunteers to help out with carrying and moving the books away from the soon-to-be-ruined attic. I decided to help out, and most of us sisters in the house agreed to drop by.

We sprinted under the splattering fountain, overcoming its droplets that attacked against our skin like bullets. We went down the sidewalk, past the long row of cafes while avoided from getting distracted by the food, turn right to an opposite block, and at the foot of a flight of stairs. A semicircle of saints crowded there, waiting for a few muscular brothers to climb down with small piles of books in hands. It was like building an anthill. We took turns carrying books passed by the brothers and stacked them in the wide-spaced trunk of a truck.  I had no idea how many books we had to carry. There were saints who volunteered to drive the troubled books down to a building which we called a "training center". It was where we saints were to consecrate ourselves and our lives to God and to be separated from the world, to be perfected for God's second coming.The training center was the only place for us to store the books for a while until the next day.

 I volunteered to go up the stairs to the third floor where the small church was situated. Some sisters sat around the floor, tearing out large pieces of newspapers and wrapping remaining books with them. I recognized some serving-ones and helped them out with the process. I could feel adrenaline rushing in, even through the auras of each sister who fumbled and steadied their hands on the combination of wet and dry books written by the legendary brother Watchman Nee and brother Witness Lee. We were worried that the rain would get stronger and more books in the attic would be spoiled. It was like destroying God's words. However, our mouths were silvered with encouraging, hopeful lines of prayer. The Lord soon strengthened us with his light. A tiny spark of luminescence glowed inside of me, emboldening me.

There were several dozens of stacks left and a sign of luck was shown through the fading rain from the windows. One of the serving-ones suggested that  we should go for a break. I followed a group of sisters to the nearby food court. My heart lifted once I felt the severe drizzle. There was hope that the little flood around the area would diminish the next morning. We were greeted by the buzzing atmosphere of the famous food court in Subang Jaya. The rows of bright fluorescent lamps above shone down the nearly-packed restaurant. Hawkers wore their usual loud voices to attract customers. Night owls, especially men, fixed their eyes on a television screen at the top center while watched football matches live. We sat at a perfect empty table and ordered our desired Malaysian dishes. Thanked the Lord for recharging us with the food, we were ready to go back to work.

The clock struck 11pm, and my eyelids were at their limit. They were drooping so quickly that I hardly could keep myself awake for a little bit longer. One of my roommates noticed and decided to walk me home. Before I left, I scanned around with relief as the number of book piles began to decrease. I was sure that they would be done by midnight. And they did.

 I was pretty sure that Satan was behind all this. He tried to ruin God's speaking by ruining the precious works from our fellow brothers, but he was missing something. God was there to help us. He never gave up on saving the books by encouraging us to transfer the books to the training center as a safe place for the night. Ha! Take that, Satan! We even learnt the power of teamwork among us, reminding us that we were one with God. No..we ARE one with God! Oneness was the key to the expression of God. And another good thing about this incident was that I had performed six hours of community service! By a snap of a finger! Well, for the remaining four hours I had to find something else to do community service, but I had figured it out. That late night, as I slipped into the bottom of the double-storey bed with a smile on my face, I felt blessed that God had solved my problem.