Stuart and I were having lunch that day in a cafe, and a family of three–mother, son and daughter–sat at a table beside us. Each of them had a mobile phone, specifically, an iPhone (of various generations) held in the palm of their hands. This device held their attention captive for the whole while before their food was served.
There were some moments when the revered silence was broken–by the mother and son–who exchanged a few words, before returning to their gadgets. Once again, they resumed their golden language of mutual understanding: Silence.
My nose was threatening to shower me with a string of unwanted liquid discharge every step that I continued to take, so I stopped and fumbled in my bag for tissue. Three seconds later, a big round tyre screeched to a halt before me, and a sixty-year-old looking uncle with white air chided: ‘Why don’t you watch where you go?’. I stared at him, and he repeated that again.
It’s good to listen to speakers who are humourous, tell funny stories and jokes, and have a magnetic voice to go with. It’s even better that they are priests.
Last night’s second part of Church of Christ the King’s Triduum was about God In My Family.
Father Ignatius Yeo, the funny priest who has–in my ears’ opinion–a magnetic voice, brought some examples from the scriptures, and our everyday lives to bring across one point: giving to versus doing for.
Church of Christ the King is celebrating it’s Triduum, and tonight was the first of the three topics: God in our Life.
Father Colin Tan was the celebrant, and he mentioned something which made me instantly think of what I’m going to share now in this post. He said that youth gangs are there because they have a desire to belong. A desire to belong. I cannot agree more, and isn’t it the same not just for the young, but for every human being?
A friend of mine who has devoted her time to developing her career has finally gotten attached. I was so, so, so very happy for her!
We joked about her wanting to end her singlehood for many times, and I was constantly on the lookout for her too (as part of my incessant passion, eh-hem). After many rounds of lip-service, nothing was being done on her part. So, time grazed by, with only her career achievements imprinted on the timeline.
It was a carnival. Music was clapping through the air, sounds of basketballs looping through nets, small and big feet shuffling on carpeted ground and the voice of the emcee rang above all. Children and adults in bright orange, fuscia pink, lime green, pristine white and of course, the hard-to-be-sulky black spread out everywhere like streams coursing through the wide red plain. Camera flashes illuminate the Wall of Positivity, where people stood beside their cartoon selves to commemorate the birth of their penciled clones.
Check out mine!
I must be the last one to learn of Mrs Lee’s passing, I thought. With all the social commitments going on for the past few days, I didn’t have time to catch up on news. So, when I finally caught up today, I was shocked to know that Mrs Lee has passed away. A sudden pang of sadness shot through my heart. Yes, even though I barely knew her. Thank God I still had a chance to say my final farewell as today was the last day for her wake, and I went with my sister.
‘You have to be interested to be interesting.’
I stopped in my tracks, swished around to catch the lady saying this. She was a good-looking woman, in her early thirties, with long silky hair and a pointed chin. The smartly tailored-cut suit nicely shaped her fleshy body and gave her a flattering silhouette. I had the urge to swim up to her and ask: ‘Are you one of my clients? Or, if you aren’t, did you eavesdrop into one of my coaching sessions?’
Of course, she isn’t my coaching client, and neither did she overhear what I said.
I had a sort of revelation this morning when I was praying. An anxious feeling just crept out of nowhere into my heart. So I prayed for God to take away my anxiety. At that moment, something just struck me.
You see, while I was praying, my mind had, once again, drifted away. This wave came out from my head and glided to my right at the two-o’clock position, where my notebook was on the desk in the hotel room. I felt little dots jittering in my notebook, bumping and shaking. I knew it was telling me that I had to write. I need to work. And I got anxious.
Stuart and I were having lunch that day in a cafe, and a family of three–mother, son and daughter–sat at a table beside us. Each of them had a mobile phone, specifically, an iPhone (of various generations) held in the palm of their hands. This device held their attention captive for the whole while before their food was served.
