Welcome Home!

My younger brother is coming home today. I am so happy. It is like a new beginning.
I cleaned his room 2 weeks ago, and washed his bedsheets, and wipe his bedroom walls yesterday. I wanted to throw away the mirror that cut him few years ago because I don't want the same thing to happen to him. I cared for him and love my brother alot, just that as we grow older, it seems difficult somewhat to express my love. It seemed that aside from spending time together, the other thing I tend to over-do is to buy lots of stuff for him, not that I am making up for the "Absent-sister" sydrome, which was never an issue ever since we were under the same roof. I often thought of what he needed and what he might lack, but then again, I am frequently wrong.

I tried getting a shirt 2 years ago, which he claimed that he liked but then wore it only once. I got him many winter clothes but they were either the wrong colour or wrong style. I got him a wallet last year when I saw that his was tattered and torn only to realise that that was the "in" look! So the wallet I got was again useless. He then mentioned that I should not get him what he already has. This year I got him a pair of jeans, and although he already has one, I thought maybe 1 is not enough especially for guys. Our in-laws also got him a Mp3 player by ScanDisk a popular storage maker in the U.S and a mug bearing his name.

I think of homecoming in the train this morning. I thought of something along the line of what God said, "eagerly yearn and groan for our home which is in heaven". I tried to imagine how I should be feeling. God must be talking about the intense feeling of anticipation, a churn in the stomach almost, but more than that, it is the deep longing to go back where I belong. How many people approach life on the exit this way, since I think it is only through our expiry date on earth that we can go home in heaven? Before we got it all wrong, God is not asking us to seek to end it all, but illuminating The way we are purposed to live. It is when we know where we are going, then we know how we can get there. While we are here, God bestowed many gifts. His gift of holy spirit guides us, leads us and interceeds in groans for us when we don't know how. I cannot imagine life without the holy spirit. In times of my struggle and helplessness, the all-knowing holy spirit sticks his head out for me, provides for me and perfomers miracles for me. God also gives me peace, he keeps my footsteps sure. It is also sweet to know that my rested sleep is a way of how God shows me he loves me.

I'm not sure if the gifts I got will sit well with my brother this time , but I am thinking perhaps what he needs is something I cannot buy. I prayed for him the gift of Holy Spirit and the gift of peace, strength, faith, wisdom and his BIG BIG love so that his spirit will be nourished and fed. Maybe his spirit is yearning for premium gifts, the type that is priceless but only God can give. I hope that his homecoming will be pleasant. I hope he will feel belong. I also hope that he knows the gifts that God gives are readily available. I am heading to the airport this evening with great joy in my heart. I can imagine how God feel if he was heading that way too.

A second lease

I haven’t read anything that tug at my heart strings for a long time. I mean those that I couldnt even let go at meal times were the literature books and suspense novels painted wild with imaginations in my entire 5-13 years of age. I started reading factually, out of necessity. Miraculously, I still wrote.

At 10yrs old my aunt saw an essay I wrote for a school assignment and told my mum how wonderfully I have written. I didn't think of my aunt very much then, afterall she peeked at my unfinished essay without permission. Out of interest I went for English tuition, my tutor always read my essays out loud in class. I started writing creatively and enjoyed the entire process of dreaming up new characters to fit into imaginative plots. At 16, these essays became the saving grace for my life. In an unexpected turn of events, my academic results tumbled. Somehow the ability to produce something out of a seemingly nothingness of my life was God's way of stretching his hands and whispering to me "Come, try again". I never gave up on life. I also tried my exams a second time. My parents took me to another school. My lady principle, though I cannot remember anything significant about her looks, did something. She gave me a second lease of life. Once I felt like a stray puppy on the street, then I was given an instant make-over. In that year, I won a nation wide essay competition, tying a merit prize together with the brainiest girl in class. Look what grace did to me.

We failed in life. Once, twice and so times more as a child, as a friend, as a wife, as an employee. I always thought artists were irrational, mostly drug addicts, social misfits, unfathomable genius who could not get along with anyone. Mozart, Vincent Van Ghoh & so many tell a past that I wouldn’t want to be part of. Yet I realised how many times I had allowed what I see dictate where I go. I have left my first love - writing for a long long time. Now I am coming back. I am asking for a second lease of life. One of my favourite author, Shannon Woodward said this “Real writing changed lives, made people think and offered hope.” I felt a tug at my heart and I saw what was on God’s mind. He would have added “It’s never too late”. May his grace be ever so sufficient.