If not for His grace

Choices

2010-05-11T01:22:00.000-07:00

So I am faced with a decision I must make in the week ahead or whatever is left of it. And which could or rather most certainly will affect my life in the next couple of years. For obvious reasons this shall at this moment remain a mystery but suffice to say a large portion of my life will change depending on what I choose.

I am at once placed in a position of fear and tremendous blessing. Oxymoron, you say. Not at all. God, I realise, loves to put us in places like these. It is in these moments that we find ourselves completely lost without Him, that each step of the way we find ourselves having to turn to Him constantly asking for guidance asking for help asking for His Holy Spirit to sustain us because we do not know what to do or how to choose. Sadly but this is the truth we human beings and certainly myself do not turn to God out of pure love and obedience that arise from the goodness of our hearts, but from pain and helplessness at which point we truly understand how a Christian means "Christ" without whom "i.am.nothing" (C.h.r.i.s.t.i.a.n. for the benefit of the sometimes slow in brain like yours truly).

It is 1.19am and I ought to be in bed. The past one and half weeks had brought about such immense and intense pain in my life, which I may finally bring myself to write about one day, but I give thanks. I thank Him that He has brought me through relatively unscathed and with a heart yearning and longing and seeking after Him. He has shown me that despite my deliberate disobedience and sinning against Him He has never once left. Not once. Not for a moment and it is this very thought and truth that sustains me each moment each day.

xx
In His beautiful, wonderful and perfect love
Claire

So you would come

2010-04-11T17:21:00.000-07:00

Before the world began
You were on His mind
And every tear you cry
Is precious in His eyes
Because of His great love
He gave His only Son
Everything was done
So you would come

Nothing you can do
Could make Him love you more
And nothing that you've done
Could make Him close the door
Because of His great love
He gave His only Son
Everything was done
So you would come

Come to the Father
Though your gift is small
Broken hearts, broken lives
He will take them all
The power of the Word
The power of His blood
Everything was done
So you would come

Powerful song, which words shot through my heart. That there is nothing I can do to make Him love me more. And nothing I have done that could make Him close the door. For too long, I have chased after human affection, or at least some anyway. It gets tiring. Here is my Father saying "Come to Me. I have always loved you this much. And I will always love you this much." The enormity of that blows me away, again and again. May it blow your mind, too.

xx
claire

Mustering the mustard seed

2010-03-27T02:59:00.000-07:00

I started on an entirely different note, using entirely different words. Then I thought I am not writing to put up a front. So here you go, what you see is what you get.

I have been very preoccupied with him lately. Make that very very preoccupied. And it struck me how scary it is, when you subconsciously make someone the priority in your life (or at least one of them) it is so easy to be disappointed. You impose on them (again subconsciously or not) the ideals that you always imagined or expected of a perfect person. Except you forget there is no such thing.

Only God is perfect. What would it take to make me realise that? I mean, truly realise that.

How high you place that something or someone on the pedestal is how disappointed you will be. And I am terribly disappointed at the moment.

Serves me right.

I don't envy myself. And sometimes I wish I have the guts to call it quits. Or at least the simple respect for myself. Or even not that, at least the mustard seed of faith that the Lord Jesus Christ spoke of. I don't, I'm afraid, have even a millionth of that mustard seed in me right now. I feel lost and so far away from God it is not funny.

Yet the Lord has a strange way of reaching out - a very close friend told me today that no matter what state we are in we have to remember that God loves us all the same. Indeed, His love for me does not grow with what I do nor diminish with what I do or do not do. Although clearly this is no excuse for sinning, for continuing to push Him away and say Lord please stay out of my life. It was a fresh reminder that overwhelmed once again, much like a blast of cold air that shouted of His perfect love.

Only God is perfect. Would it be too late when I truly, if ever, realise that?

claire

Life; fragility

2010-01-24T01:44:00.000-08:00

It was a piece of news I dread but always knew would happen at some point.

Apparently my dad had had some mild heart attacks in the past. I don't know if he knew and simply pretended, or if he was truly not aware. All this arose out of a health check up where the doctor refused to give him a clean bill of health, saying his ECG was abnormal. So now the situation is I think rather serious and he needs to see a heart specialist.

At which news my mum admitted that apparently recently my dad had been sprouting odd words re dying. I know he's been experiencing pain in the heart area for years but simply refuses to see the doctor. What's with the older generation and the absolutely illogical belief that ignorance is bliss? No! It's unfair that you subject yourself to this when you may well be cured if anything should be found at the early stages. At home, we are all so exasperated at the degree of his stubbornness. It is rather unfathomable.

I had never wanted to deal with the (obviously very real) possibility of any of my parents' passing on. It is a thought too painful to bear that the mere idea of it could send me into tears. I love my dad and my mum with a love that is sometimes so selfish I am ashamed - perhaps it could hardly be called 'love' in light of their selfless and amazingly sacrificial love for me. But I love them, to the best I can anyway. And the idea that they could be taken away from me just kills me.

My parents are unsaved. And much as I always liked to believe that for the past 10 years of my Christian life, that I truly (for many years really) believed and served and trusted in God with all my heart, my life and my soul, somewhere beneath, I doubted that as I know if my parents were to die unsaved, I would in all likelihood renounce God immediately. It was a thought I could not bear thinking and so one I had put off till today.

I am unable, I conclude, to accept death without salvation, not when you are talking about my loved ones. I know I am silly and my faith is weak. But in all my "humanness" and my inability to comprehend His ways, I refuse and I reject that. I cannot believe that God, being love personified, could do something so cruel. I know, His ways are higher than my ways. I don't deny that. But like I said, in all my humanness, I could not, and would not, accept that.

Things like these make you think of life and how fragile it really is. How the small things that we obsess about are so minute, really, in the final analysis. I sometimes wonder why He puts up with us, in all our pathetic wretchedness.

claire

Weariness

2010-01-23T03:20:00.000-08:00

I think this will be one of my most (painfully) honest posts yet.

I am tired of being a Christian, and of knowing Christians who don't follow Christ. No finger pointing here, because I am heading in that direction. It makes me ill to the core when people who proclaim to be Christians behave in a way that shame the cross. I digress.

It hit me today as I was having this conversation with my mum, that I have subconsciously or otherwise been so disillusioned with Christians that that is no longer a prerequisite when striking a friendship, when building a trusted relationship or finding a life partner for that matter. So very not biblical, eh? I'd admit, maybe I have been brainwashed recently by this guy I'm seeing who isn't a Christian. That aside, I could tell you stories. What about that guy before this who had a girlfriend all along, who is - check it out- Christian? And who conveniently forgot to tell me that he was attached all this time? I would just say he goes to church, much like I would go to a mall. What about that guy who broke my heart into pieces, that I thought my heart would die (or maybe it did), who effectively was the cause of my anorexia? He is a Christian through and through. Would you call a girl every night for a few months for hours each time, go out with her often and make her call you everyday no matter where you are so she could share her QT with you so you could discuss deep things of God together, because hey you love her as a sister-in-Christ? I don't need that really. Save it for the suckers who would.

I don't know why I blurted all of that out. But for way too long, that resentment and anger at being treated ridiculously by Christian men has made me very angry with them and with God. It's as if the Lord is creating a huge joke out of this. And now this guy who is not Christian, who seems so wrong but yet I cannot help but hang onto him even though I know I should probably let go before I get plunged back to the depths of depression. It's insane, really. And much as I hate, or perhaps subconsciously refuse, to admit it, I blame God.

I know, matters of the heart - such a silly reason to be angry with God, no? I agree. Could not agree more. But in my very rebellious state, I don't care really. I resent being alone for the rest of my life, with all these Job-like "friends" in the background telling me that His ways work higher than my ways and that I must have sinned and I should not blame God.

Sorry for the rant. It's bedtime now, and I can't help but feel that I need to get right with God. But somewhere, deep down within, those years of hurt, of simple pure faith and of being let down time and again, that kind of disappointment, it's hard to ignore.

claire.

Consumed, blogging and fresh perspectives

2010-01-18T23:35:00.000-08:00

I sometimes feel so frivolous, to be consumed by the small things in life that somehow manage to clutter up my sight. And in the process, looming larger than life. What is this problem, really, when you think about the city ruins, the looters, the rubble and the aid workers' agony that is Haiti? This pigeon hole is so small, it's stifling.

In other news, I read in one of my favourite blogs today about blogging. She said that the problem with a blog is that you can only write about the small stuff, those that affect your life in a relatively insignificant way. The big stuff, you must leave out, because of professional ethics and general conduct of propriety (yes, she's a lawyer too). That pretty much aptly sums up the problem I face. I do write about the bigger stuff - otherwise defined as stuff that affects me in a relatively rather significant way, but I can only do so in cryptic terms. Such is the problem with privacy or lack thereof, or that which you give up in being a professional member of a society deemed too honourable to be found otherwise.

In other other news, being on secondment to an investment bank brings a fresh perspective: They pay twice what I earn! Materialistic observations aside, it is refreshing to realise that the law isn't all that matters. Lawyers are but a cost centre in a bank - i.e. you spend money (think salary, appointing external counsel for advice because you can't, and don't, know everything). Unlike a law firm, where you are the money making machine. Here, you realise the world does not revolve around you. You must know even if you don't know. You find out, somehow. These are things I always knew but to see it unfold everyday is a different matter altogether.

Darn, I am going to get found out.

xx
claire

Losing yourself

2010-01-18T01:55:00.000-08:00

I should probably be asleep at 1.48am on a Monday morning, but sleep eludes me. In the past couple of days, I have gone through an emotional rollercoaster of sorts. I surprised myself. Perhaps I ought to have known. Perhaps I should never have allowed myself to play with fire, thinking I'm old enough now and I'll never get hurt. I never expected our time together to grow on me, that when it is no more, it feels like a part of me is gone. When you give so much of yourself away, without a sure sign that you will not lose it all, that sense of immense vulnerability I cannot explain. I feel fear as it should not be, not in God's word. "Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." - John 14:22

I am going to bed now. I hate this sense of deep anxiety. I am ashamed to bring it to the Lord in prayer, perhaps because I know what He would say. Why do I do this to myself? I am so wretched, Lord. Help me, for I do not know how to help myself.
xx
claire.

Of old times in new year

2010-01-04T01:40:00.000-08:00

First work day of twenty-ten, and it feels incredibly odd. It doesn't help that The Boss requires the naming of documents with calendar dates. 100104 looks terribly weird beside good old 091214 (or something). (No, don't ask me why The Boss insists on reversing the dates - I have forgotten to ask this for the past five years.)

This and recent other events make me ponder of the new and the old. We are so happy with old things, aren't we? I know I am. Think a recent lunch with a good old ex-classmate I have not met for 10 (although he says 6) years. I can't describe the comfort I felt. We chatted merrily about all things under the sun and more - what he's been doing (lecturing in University? No way! He's nuts, I concluded but to each his own; he's still a wonderful friend), what I am doing (slaving away for peanuts - yes it really is if you consider the hours put in; in the words of a mathematically inclined friend: 'worse than Mcdonalds'. No kidding. So maybe I'm the true nut), his wife who aspires to be a stay home tai tai at the grand old age of thirty, the work place shing bang yada yada.

It was obvious to me: I trust this guy. Although we haven't met in the past ten (or six he says) years, my brain somehow connects him subconsciously or otherwise to our good days of old, when we were sweet and innocent and all of 18. When things were simple and we all trusted one another to do what he says he'll do and say only what he means. It's funny, because, obviously, things could have changed in the past ten years. But there was this instinctive connection and sense of trust, I cannot explain it.

Conversely, human beings I meet in my current (older sob) state in life, I tend to distrust. Even if perhaps they (seemingly) gave you no reason to. There could be no (apparent) (oh I'm so cynical) lie so far, but I'd just think 'not yet; you never know'. Perhaps it was the experience of having been betrayed by a person you trust with your life. Perhaps it's just part of "growing up", whatever that means.

I am growing incoherent as it's almost 2 am on a first day of the new year. Bed time! I will proof read this at some point. Please forgive any errors for now.

Blessings to all; I leave you with a quote from my best friend, that I will with His help make my personal goal this year.

God’s Will -- Make Me Your Instrument…
Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy.

Beautifully phrased. It took my breath away. And for once in a very long while, I felt His Holy Spirit moving so strongly deep inside.

xx
claire

Risk

2009-12-20T22:17:00.000-08:00

I am frightened by what this is doing to me. The fear of losing bits of yourself in the process, yet wishing to dance like no one's looking. 'To live is to risk death.' - how insanely true.

As I sink deeper, I pondered what love is. Speak He did, to me.

"Love suffers long and is kind;
love does not envy;
love does not parade itself, is not puffed up;
does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil;
does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth;
bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never fails. .." - 1 Cor 13:4-8

Words that repeat themselves too many times somehow find a way of not getting in. Think reciting of the national pledge every day of the school year. Yet if He shows them to you, they jump out and you cannot hide.

Memories of the unnecessary irritation shown at loved ones shame me. And so I must admit if you mark it like this - and so He says it must be - I love no one, not even those I genuinely believed I do.

'My heart belongs to Jesus alone, and I will have it no other way. Yet it feels like I have been in the desert for a bit.' - a very dear friend echoed my sentiments at this moment.

claire

Work and Sunday nights...and Settling.

2009-11-29T23:04:00.000-08:00

So it's a public holiday here and on a quiet Sunday night which ought to be reserved for catching up on Gossip Girl (don't even ask me why I watch this; embarrassingly, I enjoy it), I am seated on my now half torn leather chair - working.

Reading up before my conference call tomorrow morning with a dear client who took a year - 1 year and 7 months, to be exact - to revert on an advice. Now, I appreciate that the advice was 15 pages long (quite reasonable since the questions were two pages long), but whoever takes a year to come up with questions? Expectedly, I would think said client does not wish to pay for the follow up queries, and even more expectedly, said client would want an update on the changes in the laws and regulations which occurred to date. If I have a single gripe, it's that the regulatory authorities here work waayy too hard. They change the laws every other day! Taking a step back, it is all very impressive if you ask me. But pity us, won't you... each time, just as I am decidedly very pleased that I am finally familiar with the law, you just have to change it.

B*tchfest is over. I promise it is the late night and the looming Monday blues speaking.

In other news, without divulging too much for obvious reasons, I'm afraid I'm not quite as out of it as I would like. Sometimes this seems like a giant joke. Or a dream (not quite a nightmare). Some days when my eyes open and stare at that familiar bedroom ceiling, I wish someone would tell me, hey dream's over, he ever existed, figment of your imagination. On many other days, when the smses appear on my phone, I know I'm not dreaming. I could choose to stop this if I want to. But I don't know if I want to. This is all too complicated for me. Why could not life be that much simpler? Yet I believe this is because God knows that He has not built me that way, that if I were to live the typical life that too many do here - go to Uni, grow up (or believe you have), find someone you could marry (not too appalling, someone you don't mind but perhaps could never really love in the way God meant love to be - see Song of Songs), move in, give birth, and live with three fat babies crying, waking up at odd hours of the morning, live the days, count the hours, go to work, darn - I could not. That is a prison I could not imagine, and one I see too many settle for. I don't believe I am better than them or vice versa. To each his own, I always believed. I just hope I have that integrity and simple faith to stick it through, to hold out for what He had always intended for me.

xx
claire.

Count I will

2009-11-29T04:15:00.000-08:00

Despite how this may be cliché and tired-sounding after the three million and one blogs on thanksgiving, I decided that I have to do this. Not for tradition's sake but really to remind myself of how beautifully blessed I am. Count I will, and here I go.

I am truly grateful for:

1. My family -

My dearest Daddy, whom I know loves me more than I know. Even though you do not explicitly say so but your actions shout it out so loud. They say, ignore the words for words are cheap; just look at the actions. I love you, too.

My dearest Mummy, whom I know loves me to pieces, with a vast, boundless and sacrificial love. I will give anything to have, and be, a mother like you. I love you, too.

My beloved brother: I am glad I wrote that piece on your birthday. The wonderful Lord, He works in beautiful ways, doesn't He? Thank you for everything. I love you, too.

My beloved sister, aka my dearest Cong: Thank you for the joy you bring to this family. For your patient, kind and loving temperament that puts me to shame. Each day, I cannot believe that we are close friends despite our 9 year age gap. I love you, too.

Truly, 'I am everything I am, because you love me'.

2. My best friend

Eleven years ago, we were strangers. Actually, make that very mere acquaintances. Rather, I remembered you as the very bad-tempered friend of a friend (you do have a very black face, you know; but a heart of gold :D).

Eleven years later - of shared secrets, hopes and dreams, of love lost, of travelling experiences, of tender moments and of a quiet and sure love - I am eternally thankful for a bestest friend and soulmate in you. God did a beautiful, beautiful thing that very day when I shared with you that which would bring us together.

Here's to drossing around our favourite place at 80 years old and on walking sticks :). I love you, too.

3. My job

I would never imagine myself saying this, say, two years ago. Indeed, He has brought me a long, long way. To where I am now, with healed relationships and a sense of confidence despite the new challenges each day. Simply remembering what He has brought me through brings me to my knees, with gratitude. I am here for a season. I don't know when this season will end, but if and when it does, I would not regret a single minute spent in this place. For it made me who I am today, stronger as an individual and in Him.

4. Love lost

I think of him today with a distant sort of fondness. If that makes sense. We last met a year or two ago, and probably wouldn't meet anytime soon. That's fine; I have long ago come to terms that it was not meant to be. I will probably never understand why. Sometimes still, I whisper to Him, what the h*ll Lord, why? He was so right and it was so right. I don't know and I guess I will only ever know when I see Him face to face.

Yet I thank Him for I felt Him say time and again that He has brought, and will bring, each person into our lives for a reason. He taught me what it was to love God before any (and I mean any) human being; I will never forget the conversations we had when I was so broken from my illness, and he was simply there to ease me back to Him. I could be long lost from His kingdom, if not for him and God working through him. Thank you, for that.

5. Long runs

I love 'em. They clear my head like nothing else would. Try one, with worship songs pounding away in your ears. Perfect for a heart to heart with Him.

6. Chocolate

I have descended into the frivolous, if you haven't already noticed. But hey, who says these aren't things to be grateful for? Love, love, love CHOCS. Endorphins, endorphins and yet more endorphins! Just had some choc daifuku flown all the way from Tokyo. Hearts to my lovely friend who sent them :)

7. Friends

A friend is a 'person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically exclusive of s*xual or family relations'. (I am blocking out any potential words that may get my blog deleted, which apparently occurs randomly.)

I am grateful for real friends, not the ones who stab you in the back. Not the ones who smile and pretend they adore you. The ones whom you know will stick with you through thick and thin, through smiles and tears, whom you know your secret is safe with. Heck, whom I can trust my life with.

I can count them with both hands. That is an endangered specie, all by itself. I am thankful.

8. Make-up

How frivolous am I? At the risk of sounding defensive, I have to say I am grateful for make-up, because I guess vestiges of my illness remain in the form of self-esteem or lack thereof. I don't think I've ever stepped out of the house nowadays without some form of make-up. Exceptions of course apply when I go for a run. Call me vain if you will. I will honestly admit that I guess that plays a part, but more than anything else, it is a self-esteem issue. (I cannot believe I just admitted that. This blog had better remain forever anonymous.)

9. Coffee, coke, caffeine!

I am such a caffeine fiend. Honestly, I am grateful for it. Not for the yellow teeth and bad stains. I guess, it makes me a lean, mean, efficient machine. I need to cut the dose, I believe. But I am thankful for this amazing creation, or rather, discovery.

10. Dearest God

Last but not least. My dearest Lord, Jesus Christ. Without whom I am nothing. I struggle each day to draw closer to You in recent times. Yet You never fail to reach out to me in my darkness and unbelief. Father, I believe, help my unbelief, Lord, I pray. I thank You for carrying me through each storm of life - through my debilitating illness anorexia, my ridiculous number of years of education and countless exams, my long droughts in my walk with You, my lack of faith and sitting on the fence, my struggles with You, the thoughts of giving it all away, the fear of so many things that this life can bring, the back-stabbers (albeit very smiley ones) and the physical, emotional and mental pain - through it all, Father. Thank You for You.

I am feeling so rich now, I could burst.

xx
claire

Bless the Broken Road

2009-11-03T00:03:00.000-08:00

I set out on a narrow way, many years ago
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road
But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you

Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true

That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
Yes He did

I think about the years I spent, just passing through
I'd like to have the time I lost, and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You've been there, you understand
It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true

Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true

That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

But now I'm just rolling home into my lover's arms
This much I know is true

That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you.

Currently on my ipod repeat list. Beautiful, beautiful song. May you (assuming you desire so) play this at your wedding one day...and mean it:) He has made all things beautiful in His time. If only we (I) could see it more often, and cease to doubt.

xx
claire

Happy Birthday, My Dearest Lil Brother

2009-10-31T23:58:00.000-07:00

My Dearest Brother,

Happy Birthday to you.

I sat down today thinking about our 'sibling-ship'. I recall the days of old, before you got your first girlfriend (7 years ago!), when we used to talk about everything under the sun and moon and stars, when we used to be best friends. I miss those days. I recall too the days before you came to the Lord, when you were so shattered when your first girlfriend broke your heart. That you cried and I remember we sat down on the floor of my room, when together we prayed and I committed you so securely into the hands of Him who loves you so very much.

I remember when I asked if you believed in God, if you would say the sinner's prayer with me. And I remember the immense sense of deep joy I felt, when I could see it in your eyes and sensed it in your spirit that you did. And how you did.

Today, I see you grow from strength to strength in Him, in leaps and bounds. And my spirit leaps too, at that thought. Beautiful are your feet for you bring His good news.

Over the years, I see how we have slowly drifted apart primarily as we grow up and lead our own separate lives. And also with your car and active social life, you hardly spend any time at home. I'd admit I resent the way you throw your temper, the way you treat this home like a hotel sometimes, the way you show irritation at so many things. Yet deep down when I reflect upon it, I see how the Lord has already changed you in so many ways and I know He is still doing a great work in you.

So today, I want to celebrate you for the wonderful brother that you are. I truly appreciate how you are just like a good friend to me, a lovely brother-in-Christ. I am refreshed by our morning conversations when you send me to work, when we share about things of Him, when I hear and see how simple yet deep your faith is. When I see how He has altered the way you see and live your life, I am truly heartened, encouraged and grateful. And thank you, for not complaining when I drag you up to give me a lift to work.

Thank you, mostly, for loving an imperfect sister such as me. A couple of days ago, I was feeling really down, when I saw the lil ornament you had given me years ago which says:

"My Sister,
A golden string no one can see has bound us from the start;
My very precious sister;
It's Love that ties our hearts."

I could not help but tear at that. I thank God for giving me a brother and a brother in Christ in you. Siblings sometimes fight to no end, and people are constantly amazed that we are like close friends. Nothing short of one of the largest blessings God has bestowed me with, I would say.

So Happiest of Birthdays, my Dearest Little Brother. I hope you know how much you mean to me.

God bless you with His richest, and Immeasurably More.

In His love,
your lovely sister :)

And now for some memories of the lovely food at Etna @ Upper East Coast

Now, the order is entirely intentional (in my humble preference).

Linguine con Capesante

Flat pasta with scallops in a pink lobster sauce

I say yums! Can't say no to scallops and pink lobster.

Capricciosa
Tomato, mozarella cheese, boiled eggs, cooked ham

I give this a 7. Splatter some cheese and chilli, and it's 7.5
Pity about the crust, could have been harder and crunchier.

Linguine al Granchio e Crema de Aragosta
Flat pasta with crab meat in a pink lobster sauce

Don't ask me why but the sauce somehow tasted different!
I preferred the scallops version.

Etna
Mozzarella cheese, porcini mushrooms, parma ham,
cream cheese, pistachio (from Bronte in Sicily)

You would have thought a pizza named after the restaurant would be its signature dish.
Well, apparently not. It's its worst! (Are they trying to be funny here?)
In the words of my foodie sis expert, "very bland".

Vanilla and Chocolate Gelato

Earnest, but vanilla tastes sour.
Redeemed by the dark chocolate.

Vanilla and Hazelnut covered in Pistachio

Very Kinder Bueno to me. Not too bad!

I would give it an overall 7. Not fantastic, but for the prices (less than 20 per person), what more can you ask?

When joy is spelt F.O.O.D

2009-10-31T03:57:00.000-07:00

Food cam-whoring day. So here goes. Not very many words are necessary. ;)

Seriously, did I really consume these in one day?

Beautiful thing is - praise the Lord - I don't care! Am truly grateful, once again, for this freedom to savour food. For He shall set you free, indeed.

Marinara Spaghettini at Canelé Pâtisserie Chocolaterie
Mussels, scallops, squids, prawns
cooked in white wine tomato sauce with chilli and Italian parsley

Great, fresh seafood; and above average pasta.

Nougatine Sweet Crepe
Filled with Nutella (!), salty caramel, caramelized Filo,
Nougatine ice cream (!!), vanilla crème chantilly

Killing me softly with Nougatine.
Not a fan of crepes, but this will so change your mind.

Abalone & Sliced Fish Congee
@ Crystal Jade
Need I say more?

Fried bean curd @ Crystal Jade
Not a tofu fan but this passes the test

Virgin tasting @ The Coffee Connoiseur

Yes, despite having one at the Fish Tank
Not as bad as rumours go, but some others taste better
(only IMHO, of course - can't get rid of the occupational hazard, can I.)

Unagi flavoured potato chips

Very unique. Very Japanese.
Very Yums; I meant Boomz (now I don't mean to be sarcastic, it is quite an apt word sometimes, don't you think?)

Also you get the very cheap thrill of pouring in the seaweed powder
and shaking it vigorously to your heart's content.

Just Perfect.

xx
claire.

Come Home Running

2009-10-29T01:57:00.003-07:00

Without going into too much detail, I must praise Him for His amazing grace.

Never in my life did I think I would get myself into a situation such as this. Suffice to say, I placed myself in a position much like what my earlier post described - a shortchanged place. From the start, he was so clearly wrong. Yet I dabbled into the gray area. Nevermind, Lord, it's too early to tell.

Always trust your gut. Apparently (and I can testify to that) your mind picks up silent signs, body language and what not, that contribute to this idea or feeling you have about someone, commonly known as a gut feel. It is not an unidentifiable or illogical 'feeling'; it's a combination of the subtle signs your body is wired to pick up; stuff you never knew was there, or perhaps you did but unconsciously blocked out.

I treasure His gift of forgiveness. And I am so, so grateful that He has lifted me right out of this. Before it is too late.

It is scary to know that my previous post spoke exactly of what happened a couple of days thereafter. It was as if God knew. Well, not as if. God knew. To be honest, I regret it deeply. It was surreal, and on hindsight, terribly troubling. It was as if I had turned into someone I didn't know, overnight. Hello, stranger, I do not like you.

But I would not change the experience, which I know happened for a reason. he was worldliness personified - good looks (being English, maybe it's a preference for all who look different), interesting personality, same job thus sharing some sort of understanding, affectionate - name what the world looks for, and you have it. Yet he does not have the basic decency in so many things; he does not have the fear and love for Christ or even human beings. Very importantly, he does not respect me (when I say no, I mean no) and I believe all other women previously in my position.

I compromised. I settled. I naively believed in what my best friend so aptly coined 'counterfeit oneness'. The trap that so many women fall for. I who genuinely believe I would never be "so stupid" was taught a lesson. These women are not stupid; they are merely looking for love. But sadly, in all the wrong places.

Coming out of this, I am grateful that He showed me what the world is like. That He has far, far, FAR better Hope and Plans for me. That He loves me. Despite my failure. Despite my stubborn straying. Despite my denial of Him. Despite that I was caught in the middle, "between the altar and the door". He found me, right in the middle.

It is funny. You spend so much time running away from Him. Perhaps out of fear, out of disappointment at what life had dealt you. You run and you run and you don't want to look back. Yet, when you are panting and exhausted and you feel like you could run no more, you find that home seems no further than that doorstep from which eons ago you had stepped out. You find that He is right there, with His arms wide open, whispering to you to please come home.

Oh heart of mine, why must you stray?
From one so fair you run away
And one more time you have to pay
The heaviness of needless shame

Oh heart of mine, come back home
You've been too long out on your own
And He's been there all along
Watching for you down the road

So come home running
His arms are open wide
His name is Jesus
He understands
He is the answer
You are looking for
So come home running
Just as you are

Oh child of God so dearly loved
And ransomed by the Savior's blood
And called by name, Daughter and Son
Wrapped in the robe of righteousness

Whoever, or whatever, you are settling for: it is not worth it. I should know.

xx
claire

How Big is your God?

2009-10-19T23:43:00.000-07:00

Uncanny, given that I was waiting to post part deux of my divine encounters with the Lord, that He blew me off my feet (once again) with this message. A bit long, but I needed to hear it.

How big is your God?

Waiting for God’s "Immeasurably More"

Cindi McMenamin

"Lori looked away as she sat across the table from me and told me something she knew I didn't want to hear.

"It's not that bad. I was over-reacting. Besides, it's better to have a little pain with him at times, than to be alone."

Lori was choosing to stay in a dating relationship that was clearly unhealthy and unsafe. I knew God had more in store for Lori. But Lori apparently didn't believe that. And she was settling for far less than she should.

So often we, as women, settle. We think, at times, that it's better to stay with a boyfriend who mistreats us - verbally, emotionally, or physically - than to have no man in our lives at all. We reason that it's better to stay at a job that we hate, than to look and pray for something better. We would rather be around negative people who bring us down than to feel we have no friends at all. And when we settle like that, we are clearly saying to God and others that He is not capable of giving us anything better.

I remember feeling that way, too. I had just met the man of my dreams. But he lived 1,000 miles away. And my on-again, off-again boyfriend of four years lived just across town. That relationship was convenient. It was comfortable (for the most part…except when I was crying my eyes out!). And it was better to be with someone, than to be alone, I remember thinking.

It was my sister who finally burst my unbelieving bubble with the truth.

"If you settle for what you have now, you are denying God the opportunity to bless you with a man who will love you like He intends for you to be loved. Don't break God's heart that way, Cindi. Let Him bless you with His best for you."

My fear to make a change was denying God the opportunity to bless me? God used those words of my sister's to convince me to trust Him and walk out of an unhealthy dating relationship that was slowly drying up my soul. And as I did…God proved Himself true to His Word. God had something far better for me. He was just waiting for me to believe it.

In Ephesians 3:20, we are told that God is "able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us."

In another translation, that verse reads: "God can do anything you know, far more than you can ask or think or imagine in your wildest dreams…." (The Message).

Now I can imagine quite a bit. I'm sure you can, too. And yet God promises to outdo far more than we can even imagine or dream up. That's pretty spectacular, if you really think about it. That gives us a glimpse of just how big and just how perfect our God is. He is a God who is able to do immeasurably more.

Are you settling for less? Do you know that you can do better in your dating relationship or your job or your present circumstance, but you just don't have the strength to make the change? Or are you holding onto something bearable because you feat God cannot bring you anything better?

Whether it be an unhealthy relationship or a job that is sucking the life out of you, you could be settling for second place when God has first place waiting for you in the wings.

Psalm 84:11 tells us "The Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord bestows favor and honor; no good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless."

The God who counts the number of hairs on your head (Matthew 10:30), and records your days in a book (Psalm 139:16), and has thoughts of you too numerable to mention (Psalm 139:17-18) wants to blow your expectations out of the water by coming through in a mighty way for you. So let me ask you: How big is your God? You answer that question by what you are willing to accept and what you are unwilling to expect.

Lori ended up trusting that God had immeasurably more for her. She asked some friends to stand by her and hold her accountable, and she gained the strength to walk out of her hurtful relationship. She believed she'd be walking into a realm of loneliness, but she trusted her Lord, anyway. Today she is happy, healthy and blessed beyond reason.

Expect immeasurably more, my friend, when it comes to God's plans and purposes for your life. For you have an immeasurably big God who is waiting for you to believe it."

Encounters So Divine - Part I

2009-10-18T02:36:00.000-07:00

You know how it is, you could ask and knock and all you hear is God's "deafening silence". Yet when He speaks, He blows you away, so clearly so unmistakeably you know it could not be any one else. Much less your own imagination.

So here it is, a list of some of my divine encounters. Been meaning to put it down in writing for some time now. It is important to remember that He is faithful, even in the small things. Particularly in the small things.

1. The MRT Incident

It was midnight and I was on my way home. Don't ask me why but I looked around and took the short route - the lift that would bring me straight to the ground level so I don't have to go down an escalator and up another. It looked safe enough. It's always safe enough, in this country. Or so too many erroneously believe.

So I was waiting for the wonderfully creaky lift to move up from the ground level. It took forever. From the reflection, I saw a dark, seemingly dodgy man walk towards me. There was no one else around.

At that moment, the real life story I read some time ago came to mind. If you have not heard, it occurred I believe in the US. A woman - let's call her B for Blessed - walked through a dark alley, past some dodgy men, and reached home safe and sound. But the woman after her was assaulted. B was very curious and decided to ask the police to see if they could find out why from the assailants. And their response was, 'oh she had three huge bodyguards surrounding her.' They were angels! All B did was to utter a prayer to the Lord Most High, and He sent His angels to watch over her. Literally.

So that story appeared in my mind, while That Man walked stealthily towards me. Fear gripped my heart, because seriously he looked terribly iffy. Not a good place to be. Deserted lift with Dodgy Man. So I prayed very hard. And I heard a voice. I wouldn't say it was audible (i.e. if there was anyone else beside me, I don't believe he or she would have heard). But it was loud and clear in my mind.

"Turn around and look at him in the eye." The voice was powerful and commanding. Almost compelling. I stood rooted to the ground and thought: No way am I going to turn around! Are you kidding me? This guy looks dangerous.

Again the voice came. "Turn around and look at him in the eye." At that point, I was pretty certain it was the Lord. What with the story of the angels and the repeated command.

So I obeyed. 'Okay, Lord, I am freaked out, but if this is what You say, I will follow', I whispered to Him.

And I turned around slowly, and looked at Dodgy Man straight in the eye without blinking.

Dodgy Man paused and stopped short in his tracks, looked at me look at him, and Turned Around and Walked Away. Now that was a sure sign that he was up to no good!

Wow, huh? I was blown away. Completely. By God.

So it's 2.30am and I will continue with the next encounter, probably tomorrow.

Hold your breath, because the Lord, He is a living, breathing, caring and loving God. And He will never cease to amaze us with just how much He loves and cares for us.

Amen to that!

xx
Claire

Good Enough for Him

2009-10-12T00:04:00.000-07:00

I wept today, while crying out to the Lord.
For the past couple of weeks, I felt particularly far from Him.
I could not put my finger on what was causing it (or maybe I can).
My spirit was uneasy.
Prayers were brief, almost not quite sincere.
I felt He was "unfair" in so many ways.

Today, while I worshipped Him with "This Kingdom" (lyrics and music from Geoff Bullock) in the quietness of my room, something in me broke.
I felt Him say again what I need to hear over and over.
"I love you, my child."
He whispered. Quietly, but surely.
And that was enough for me.

Hours later, this message sank deeply within.
It's a message we all need, yet desperately do not seem to know.

So many times we let the world tell us: 'You are not good enough.'
'Not good enough to get good grades.'
'Not good enough to be a good parent.'
'Not good enough to do a good job.'
'Not good enough to be promoted.'
'Not good enough to get married.'
'Not good enough to be desired.'
'Not good enough to have close friends.'
'Not good enough to beat this illness.'
'Not good enough to be loved.'

"You are good enough for Me", says the Lord.

And if you, you, and each and every one of you, are good enough for the Maker of this universe, the God of heaven and earth, the Lord Jesus Christ, at whose Name every knee shall bow and every tongue shall confess that He is God, you are Good Enough.

Don't you let anyone tell you otherwise. (Note to self as well)

xx
claire

"We Are All Prophets Now"

2009-10-10T20:54:00.000-07:00

I am officially suffering from withdrawal symptoms. Flash Forward! Oh, I need ABC to air Episode 4 like right now (okay, make that the entire season).

For those not in the know, Flash Forward is the newest series premiere rolled out by ABC Channel in the U.S. It tells the story of a global "black-out" for a brief two minute and seventeen seconds, where during this time, human beings see a flash forward or a vision of what they will be doing or what they will become six months on. Some see what they don't like, some see what they don't understand while some others don't see a thing and wonder if they will still be alive. And during that "black-out", there was massive world wide destruction: planes are dunked and cars crashed and humans drowned.

Amazing show. Most of all, it got me thinking. I'd admit that at some points in my journey through life, I'd asked God, "Why can't You just let me know in advance what will happen, so I can stop worrying, stop bothering, stop fearing, stop asking You for a wish that will never come true?"

So in an unexpected way, the show gave me my answer. Or rather, God made it obvious through the brilliance of the novel writer (the original plot came from a book) that we human beings, in our finite (although sometimes we naively believe infinite) state of intelligence and emotional capacity, are not able to comprehend. We are simply not able to deal with this "knowing". We will end up living our lives according to the "future"; frightened to death if it's something we don't wish to see; consumed by what we know and perhaps living each day trying so hard to avoid what is to come.

What if you knew that six months down the road, your marriage will end? When all seems fine and dandy with your spouse at this moment. What if you knew that ten years later, you will die in a car crash? What if you long all your life for a spouse, but twenty years later, you see yourself living and dying alone? What if all your life you longed to get out of poverty, but you know that five years later, you will still be living from hand to mouth, worrying unceasingly where your next meal will come from?

Will you still trust God, that He knows best? Will you still love Him?

It's funny; it's just a show, they say. A sci-fi flick. But I say the Lord speaks through medium you don't expect, through people, events or shows that you don't imagine He ever would. And I feel very satisfied with my prayer answer today. That He has shown me so clearly, through a Very Awesome Show, that He knows best. A Lot Better than we give Him credit for.

In other news: I love cravings. Nah, I mean I love satisfying cravings. Aren't we carnal creatures, all. Here are some of my favourite cravings, when satisfied (of course) as they usually are almost daily. :)

I LOVE Real Coca-Cola.
The Lovely Darling Sits Happily Half-Drunk on My Office Computer.
(Don't be too appalled by the Hello Kitty ornament)

Manhatten Fish Market @ Central Rocks.
Could not resist polishing off all ze fries!

Sure made the Very Lengthy Wait in the car for the Mass Lantern Walk to pass us by, all worth it.
(Seriously though, Mass Lantern Walk in the middle of roads smacked all across Chinatown, on a Saturday night? What were the organisers thinking?)

Hearts and Love to Moi Dark Chocolate. What would I do without you?

The Best Matcha Ice-Cream (that you could get from a supermarket)
Mmm..

Surprisingly Good!
Fresh, fresh, FRESH Sashimi @ the Jap place beside Asian Kitchen at Raffles Place
(Sieve for a Memory Me forgot the name again)

To satisfied cravings!

xx
claire

Mad Typist Me (Without Caffeine)

2009-10-10T20:50:00.000-07:00

98 words

Speed test

Check this out! There are just, oh over a couple of thousand people, who type faster than me. And I thought I was a geek. ;)

claire

For crying out loud

2009-09-28T01:45:00.000-07:00

8.7 kg baby born in a North Sumatra province a couple of days ago (beside a 2.3 kg lil one).

Love this pic. Big or small, we are all beautiful ones brought into this world by the hand of the Lord. If only we could remember this each step of our way.

All the same inside

2009-09-21T17:03:00.000-07:00

Funny, how we are all the same inside.

I could be male and you female or we could be of the same gender.

You could be an extrovert and I an introvert, according to Myers-Briggs at least.

To the world, I could be sullen and you cheerful.

We could be miles apart or right beside each other.

We could be of the same race or you could be black and I white, or you white and I yellow.

We could go to the same school and work in the same place.

Or you could be what the world sees as poor in a village in Nepal and I could be what the world sees as rich in a penthouse in Upper Manhattan.

We could be as different as the East is from the West.

Yet.

We think the same thoughts, feel the same emotions and dream the same dreams.

We hope to make the same connection, get hurt by the same callousness and ache and heal in the same way.

We fear the same fears and long for the same rainbow.

We are overwhelmed by the same thoughtfulness and are made fragile by the same love.

We are stung by the same sarcasm and are drawn to the same genuine souls.

We are flooded by the same questions and are heartened by the same revelation.

We are grieved by perhaps varied experiences yet which when torn apart cuts to the same disappointment and discontentment.

You and me, we are built to run on the same petrol.

On His love.

claire

Missing unreality

2009-09-19T03:04:00.000-07:00

The night owl is on the prowl. Bed time calls out, but fails miserably as I insist on writing. Note to self: Bad habits must be axed before I age uncontrollably. Standing joke between me and a dear friend that we may wake up one fine day and find that we have aged 20 years overnight. Acceleration you know, after all those stubborn, unnecessarily late nights.

So I have been posting quite a bit - in secret. Posts that remain in draft form and are not published. I realise I am very much a private person afterall. Part of what keeps this blog going is the (perhaps foolish) belief that not very many people are reading and this pretty much documents my deepest thoughts that are locked up safely in cyberspace. Yet there are thoughts that I would rather remain with myself, for now. Perhaps I will share when ready.

Anonymity. It is a treasured thing. Very much taken for granted, and very much cherished when lost. Ask them celebrities; I am certain they will not cease nodding.

In other news, I love a great tui na massage and a miracle facial. Pampered to death today. Love spa-ing (forgive the non-english word). It brings me for that little moment a glimpse of heaven. So now you know, I am a superficial, pretentious yuppie...

Well, seriously, I have never been more tense in the past 20ish years of my life, as I have been in the last five. The latter spent working, obviously. The Lovely Masseuse from China - sleazy sounding, but she is really this wonderfully chatty lady who works miracles with her nimble hands - found out today, after almost a year of dishing out her power massages to yours truly, my occupation in the real world.

"Oh. You know, I have some other customers who are lawyers too."

"And all of their bodies are like yours!"

"You must fight a war, everyday."

True. I go to war everyday, and pray there isn't an unexpected landmine that blows up in your face. With no intention of griping, I do wonder, yet again, if there is an end to this all. My poor physical body, at least, is crying out for mercy.

Lovely Chinese Masseuse has changed my mind about those from her homeland. I would admit to deep prejudice, based on various reasons and experiences. So yes, I am ashamed at stereotyping once again. Don't we all need a little wake up call from our preconceived notions of so many people, of so many things, and of Him and how we expect Him to move in our lives. As I commented in another blog, the beauty of being human is that we could not be boxed in. And so much more, the Lord.

It's been a mish mash of thoughts. But that is pretty much where I am on a very early Saturday morning. With Cotton Wool for a Brain. Cannot wait to catch up with a Dearest Friend tomorrow. One of the precious gems in my life that keeps me going.

xx
claire.

Waiting

2009-09-13T02:26:00.000-07:00

I spent pretty much a lot of my life waiting.
Waiting for the Lord to move mighty miracles.
Visible ones, please. With eyes closed and hands clasped, I whispered to Him.
I need to know that You are there.
Over the years, I find myself still waiting.
This time around, with the wait, comes peace.
Not a 'knowing' that He will grant me precisely what is asked.
But a conviction that all things will work for the good of those who love Him.
Not as much as I'd like. But assuredly, I can say: anxiety, it ceased.
Believing what you do not (yet) see. Foolish, perhaps, to some.
But that is what faith - cut away religiosity and playing church - is all about, isn't it?
So today, I do not pretend that I'm not waiting, still.
Knocking, still. Asking, still.
Today, a very dear friend dropped a note.
Life updates. And sharing about the pain.
The pain that came because that waiting apparently ceased.
Sarah and Haggai: will we never learn?
Today waiting continues.
The Lord will move mightily. He is the same, yesterday, today and forevermore.
He promised to come. And He will. To bring us to a place, where tears are no more.
Blessed hope, it's all I have, and it's all I will ever need.
xx
claire.

In Celebration of Food, Glorious Food

2009-09-12T03:48:00.000-07:00

This refusal to sleep. It's insane.

Anyhow, I am celebrating food today. Glorious food. Not simply food. Each picture reminds me of a loved one I shared the dish with. Of the memories, of the conversations and the pure comfort and joy in each other's company. Most of all, I celebrate the freedom the Lord has given me - to enjoy food, without worrying a single ounce regarding my weight. That mental jail that I never thought I could possibly escape from? Literally non-existent. Gone. Forevermore. In His name. Praise the Lord.

So perhaps this explains my penchant in recent times to take photos of my meals. They warm me. Reminds me that I don't count calories when I eat. Reminds me that the days of imprisonment are over. No more are the minutes where I retreat into that shell of mine, drifting off from conversations to count calories. Seriously, life is more than that.

To freedom. To the truth. To miracles. To Him whose name is above every other name. To Him who can do exceedingly, abundantly, above all than you can ever hope or imagine.

Cheers.
Claire.

Din Tai Fung. Enough said.
Love love love their xiao long bao! xx

Spicy crabmeat. Limited edition.
love and hugs to my sweetest juiciest spiciest crabmeat baby.
Get. It. Now.

Chicken + Mushroom in to die for Japanese curry
Pasta de Waraku: no one does it better.
Irrahshaeemaseh...burp.

Chicken + Egg in their signature Wafu sauce.
Done differently on days. Wetter version trumps.

Grilled sotong in black ink sauce.
Lovely, crunchy end-off to that pasta.

Cappucino happily drenched in chocolate.
Sin never tasted sweeter.

Lao Beijing's version of the humble bao.
I'd go with DTF, anytime. Of course, this could be my not-a-fan-of-pork self speaking. So don't mind my biased take (or blatant attempt at CYA).

Afternoon snack; lovely mummy warmth. I love her, to bits.

Sashimi drenched in wasabi drenched in soya sauce drenched in ze mouth of yours truly, amidst some sticky Japanese rice. *Love love love and satisfaction.*

Sweet catching up with a long-time friend in the Lord today. God reminds me, yet again, that it is so important for two to connect in Him. Without the Lord holding the relationship together, really, what is it based on? If he is not of the Lord, he is of the devil -- there is no middle ground. It is at once humbling and jolting, to be taught that truth.

Tempura, sushi set (I think) Forgot the name!
To make up for it: food's great, service's fast. Sit at the counter, near the chefs, to avoid the noise.
Check it out now, along Market Street.

Perfect End to a Friday. Loved ones, warmth, laughter, Japanese seafood curry (Pasta de Waraku; alright I'm a sucker: they are good!).
3:43am and I am tired but joyful. And immensely thankful.

Said meal with friend today reminded me again. Disappointments are here, to stay. That's life, and in this life, God says, we will have trouble. But one cannot deny Him. At least, I cannot. Tried. (Ashamedly but admittedly true) But couldn't. Once you have tasted what is good and pure and true, you could never turn your back away from Him. Perhaps you may stumble and fall. And languish in your perceived sad state of being. But after a while, you see His hand move and even if you don't, you feel and you hear His heart speak. Whisper, maybe. But surely, you hear His still, small voice. Deny him, we can't. Because we are lovingly made by Him, our Creator and the Lover of Our Soul.

Being in an Esau place

2009-09-09T02:07:00.000-07:00

The story of Esau. Ain't it hilarious, to lose your birthright for bread and stew (of lentils no less)?

Laugh no more. I chide myself nowadays. It is commonplace. Increasingly where I do not wish to be. Perhaps it is impatience? Perhaps it is the lack of faith, smaller than - alas - a mustard seed? Or perhaps I have looked at the stormy waters and stumbled before I could see the Lord reaching out with His arms before me.

I do not know. It is at once baffling and humbling that throughout history, His Word records de ja vu three hundred and sixty five times over (once for each day of the calendar year). Yet we never learn. I never learn.

When you are tested, you shall come forth as gold. To that truth I hang. Till the day words like these ring true: My God is able to deliver me. Even if He does not, I will not bow down to your golden calf, O man. Grieve the Holy Spirit, I will not.

claire.

Office politics

2009-09-04T01:06:00.000-07:00

Dear Office Politics,

You suck.

Best regards,
Claire

Ties that bind

2009-09-02T02:01:00.000-07:00

So here we are again - I have 12 minutes to blog this. All these time lines are making me nervous; or rather, they make me nervous all day long. Not surprising, given that I am required to clock what I do by a three-minute time block. Always amusing (the first time), how many clients revert to say, "What did we speak on again that day, which you charged 6 minutes for?"

Anyhow, here is an attempt at a jumbled crossword puzzle of thoughts pieced together under the constraints of time.

Ties that bind.

Walking, quickly, half-sprinting, perhaps, to the pantry today, I ran into the Kind Partner, W. He was deeply engrossed in making a fine brew of green tea (not all in the fish tank are addicts, you know). "Hello!", I blurted out in a three-quarter chirpy, one-quarter sleepy, tone. W looked up and smiled his toothy grin. "How are you?" - the same words could come out so differently, when said by some and some others. "I'm good. How about you?", it was politeness more than anything else. W is a really nice guy, but he is no-nonsense and I know he works hard and efficiently during the day just so he could go home to his family. "Don't make small talk; he's probably rushing back to his desk.", I noted silently.

So who would know that the conversation flowed for the next 15 minutes, without ceasing. We bonded - over the Lord. He told me how his three children were healed, miraculously, by His grace and with no help of medical science, of their illnesses. Clear health scans, despite otherwise sad news prior to the healing sessions. Praise God. Praise Him for His goodness, for He never, never, fails. As for me, I told him how God delivered me from spiritual disturbance - I almost forgot if I didn't bring it up earlier - a good ten years ago. God wants me - us - to remember His deeds, His love and His miracles in our lives. Because we forget, too easily we forget.

We bonded over our ties in God.

Amazing, don't you think - I could hold the same 15 minute conversation with another colleague; or make it an hour-long conversation if you will, and it would never be the same. We could go round in circles, exchanging firm 'gossip' (you know, who quit, who's doing what huge deal (seriously, who cares) and which Partner loves which Associate, who's making Partner soon - yada yada.) - you forget the conversation the moment you get out. You can't wait to.

I thank God today for reminding me again, that all things are made new in Him. And all of His children will bond in Him. That all relationships strive because of Him. That without Him, we are nothing. That in Him and with Him and through Him, I can do all things.

So I exceeded my time line by 3 minutes. But you know, things of God could never be bound by time or anything else, for that matter. :)

Till next time.

xx
claire.

The Perfect Fit

2009-08-31T00:48:00.000-07:00

You know how it is - moments when some say it better than you do. Today's such a day and I leave it to His child to reflect my thoughts on the one too prevalent thing I see, in myself and others: a God-shaped vacuum.

"As a little girl, I had longed for a daddy to pick me up, swing me around, and tell me I was lovely and loved. When this childhood longing went unmet, it became an adult emptiness and brokenness that drove me to seek out all kinds of misguided remedies.

My primary remedy was to look for someone or something that would make me feel loved and significant. It's as if I carried around a little heart-shaped cup and extended it to whatever or whomever I perceived might fill it.

I presented the cup to my education: "Will you fill me?"

I offered it to my husband: "Will you fill me?"

I held it out to my child: "Will you fill me?"

I extended it to my material possessions: "Will you fill me?"

I presented it to each of my jobs: "Will you fill me?"

Within these questions were many more entanglements: "Will you right all my wrongs?" "Will you fill up my insecurities?" "Will you make me feel significant?" The more I offered my emptiness hoping something could fill it, the more frustrated I felt.

And when I had grown in my faith, I was especially perplexed. Wasn't being a Christian supposed to fix these kinds of issues in my heart? What was I missing?

Have you ever been there?

Why is it so tempting to look to things of this world for fulfillment? This notion that worldly things can fulfill is all around us. It's on TV, the focus of countless secular songs, and it's what dominates American advertisements. I can't even stand in the grocery store checkout lane without being bombarded with suggestions for a more fulfilling life. A better husband. A better body. A better career. A more beautifully decorated house. The magazines seem so slick, their promises so enticing. They sneak into our thought processes and make us think, "If only I had _______________, I'd be so happy. I'd be so fulfilled."

So, we chase and chase until we bankrupt our relationships, our bank accounts, and our very souls. The reality is every single thing the world offers is temporary. No person, possession, profession, or position can ever fill the cup of a wounded, empty heart--not my heart, not your heart. It's an emptiness only God can fill.

Whatever "if only I had" statement we are struggling with, we can replace it with solid truths from Scripture that will never leave us empty. It's a bold statement to make and might even sound a bit trite, but it's true.

When God's Word gets inside of us, it becomes the new way we process life. It rearranges our thoughts, our motives, our needs, and our desires. Our soul was tailor made to be filled with God and His truth; therefore, it seeps into every part of us and fills us completely. It is the only perfect fit."

- Lysa TerKeurst

Missing that connection

2009-08-24T23:28:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, amidst dollops of fresh udon and mouthfuls of chirashi don at a fine dining Japanese restaurant in town (maybe not so fine dining, but the prices pretend to be), a dear old friend, R, and I concluded that we miss the good old secondary school and junior college days. Of what, we could not initially put our fingers on. Finally, dear lovely R hit the nail on the head: "I miss that connection."

Still happily dipping said chirashi in large saucer filled to the brim to almost overflowing with soya sauce and a huge lump of wasabi, I was partly listening to the conversation and partly to the hunger pangs that could not cease embarrassing me. "Huh?", as I furiously dipped my salmon, overturned it and drenched it further in yet more wasabi. This place serves some terrific sashimi; I'm convinced they are air-flown from Japan.

"I miss that connection. You know, when we were younger and could so easily connect with another."

R got me there. Indeed: it was not too long ago when we were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. When things were simple, people were simple - when they smile, they are smiling (that sounds superfluous but really, if you meet an everyday shark like I do, it's not), when you could confide in your next-door neighbour at Physics lab and you know he or she will not tell it all, will not judge you, and will be your friend (as Oxford dictionary defines it, not the society as it does now).

I miss that connection, too.

Lunch today reaffirmed that loss. Seated across each other in a tiny pseudo food court filled with loud, incessant chatter and a cacophony of noises (some gossip, mostly complaints) across the various tightly intertwined 45cm x 60cm tables (alright, I am no mathematician but you get the point), the claustrophic environment does nothing to hide the lack of conversation and the pathetic effort at making any. Let's just eat and get back to the office - you could almost hear the hushed grunts of our hearts as we stared deeply into our chicken rice and fish noodles soup, wishing they would hurry up and disappear into our tummies so we could just return and finish our work and leave the d*mned office for the day. Collegiality. Colleagues. Alliteration could never bring the two any closer, could it?

I miss that connection, so much.

claire.

Food poisoning and some 'put-pocketing'

2009-08-23T23:35:00.000-07:00

So a double bout of food poisoning of late taught me what I knew but never really knew: without health you have nothing.

Funny how a Client (one of the nicest ever, Mr R from a certain huge bank) told me the same thing last week - "to take care of my health and spend more time with family". Before you think - it's not so bad being a lawyer if your clients are angels. Pause now, take a deep breath: back to earth now children. He is one in a trillion. Of all the clients I've met to date, easily one of the almost extinct genuinely nice souls.

I digress. Food poisoning. Granted, it might not be life-threatening in many cases. But it has to be ranked as one of the worst ailments ever. Honestly, I never felt like dying this much. You throw up, your stomach is perpetually crampy and in pain (with what you don't know since you cannot consume any solid nor liquid), you cannot cease visiting the washroom (in a very civilised manner of speaking), your fever refuses to go away, your head throbs so badly it threatens to split, you cannot eat - anything and everything makes you nauseous, you wish you are dead so you sleep and you sleep and you sleep. And you sleep some more. Until you are that tad well enough to lift yourself out of bed and get to a doctor. You get the point. All that because of some bad beef (before Cambodia) and who knows what (after Cambodia).

Yet I thank the Lord for this. It made me see that I have all this while perhaps not entirely unconsciously taken my health and perceived youth for granted. I've subject my physical body to so much stress and dare I say torment - the lack of sleep, the endless hours of heightened adrenalin, the severe overdose of caffeine, and the lack of sleep and yet more lack of sleep. Sometimes it's inevitable - you either sleep or you be responsible and do your job well so perhaps some bank can make more money but since it's your job you answer to God and not to man so you jolly well do it well. I have no complaints about that. I came into this with eyes wide open.

But on the other hand, I admit I keep late nights even when I'm not working. Because of all those hours spent working, I felt compelled to milk every other second to do something else: be it meals with loved ones, some serious shopping therapy, chilling out with friends, watching a movie, or reading a good book notwithstanding that it's 4am and the poor body is calling out to please let it sleep already. Yet in that blind pursuit of what an enriching life appears to be, I've let my body go. So through this, I felt the Lord say: my body is His temple and it's time I start taking care of it.

In other news, London is promoting "put-pocketing". Part of an advertising campaign of a mobile phone operator (what's the link again?) which will be extended to other parts of Britain next month. Self-proclaimed reformed pick-pockets play Santa and distribute a grand 100,000 pounds (no there is no typo) by dropping cash into the pockets or handbags of unsuspecting passer-bys on the streets of London such as Trafalgar Square, Leicester Square and Oxford Circus. How very intelligent an idea, given that it promotes the same stealth and 'skills' as pickpocketing and while they are at it these reformed ones say they feel less guilty about taking money out from peoples' pockets all these years (so now there's a cure to crime?). Anyhow, if you are headed for the UK, go hunt down those "Rejoice! Put pockets operate in this area" signs, loiter and go nuts! Tell me if you make more than 20 pounds.

xx
claire.

Love your enemies

2009-08-14T01:03:00.000-07:00

"But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven; for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.

For if you love those who love you, what reward have you? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet your brethen only, what do you do more than others? Do not even the tax collectors do so? Therefore, you shall be perfect, just as your Father in heaven is perfect."

- Matthew 5:44-48

I don't know about you, but this is one of the hardest commandments to obey - for me. Difficult when I feel suffocated, daily, by the unkind words amidst smiley faces and exclamation marks in e-mails; amidst the feigned laughter when the rolling of eyes would be more appropriate in the context of what has been said; and amidst the pretences so false you wish you could ask them to just please quit pretending. (Don't ! :) me when you really mean to swear. Please.) But the Lord is good and He does not test us more than we can bear. Where His will leads, His grace will keep us. And I need to remind myself, each moment, of that.

Claire.

Phnom Penh and the sad state of law school

2009-08-13T01:48:00.000-07:00

So much for National Day Pride. (Quite unlike this amusing display of a cab on a could-not-be-brighter Monday morning a week ago.)

A couple of us (best company ever) took off on a flight to Phnom Penh over the long weekend. Not the most exciting of holidays one would imagine. Snide remarks aplenty, when some hear of my destination. "That's so Not Me. I'm too atas for that (i.e. that is so below me.)" "Phnom Penh? I thought holidays are meant to be happy?" You get the point.

I'd admit that expectations were not high. After all, it was a city ravaged by those haunting three years eight months and twenty days (when Pol Pot was devil incarnate). Albeit having occurred some 30 years ago, time clearly failed - and fails - to eliminate the bruises and scars left amidst the lives of the people even if you suspect it somehow assuages the pain. Wounds are not as fresh and the nation is slowly stepping out of those shadows. Deep down, however, being human will tell you that it could take generations to recover from the depths of such depravity.

Yet it is a gem Phnom Penh, a hidden, unpolished one, perhaps, but undeniably, a gem. Our trip had a bit of everything - S21 (the high school turned security prison in Pol Pot's era), the Killing Fields, the National Museum and Wat Phnom, for a taste of the city's recent dark history and cultural background; the intertwined and quaint, little streets just around our hotel, for some of the best Amok fish (Cambodian favourite dish) and to die for chocolate sorbet; a ride on the tuk-tuk for a glimpse of the simple Cambodian life; a visit to the fresh market and caught back-to-back, arms and legs amidst the local Russian market, and strolling along the very dirty streets witnessing the hustle and bustle and raw reality of the poverty that abides in the people; joining the Cambodian Cooking Class: being embarrassed by how simple pounding could be so difficult, realising how we the very well fed are so weak in comparison to the gaunt Cambodian women, but emerged learning the beauty of Cambodian cooking such as the intelligent use of spices (I love their Amok fish - Best Dish Ever; beats Thai food!); and retiring to our lovely oasis of a home in The Kabiki, one of the best boutique hotels hustled away in a tiny corner, one step from the city noise, yet in its spaciousness and grand decor, miles away from the grind and dirt of the cobbled streets of the city.

So I say: this was one of my best trips ever. Unexpectedly, but undeniably so. Reaffirmed once again: the company maketh the trip. And never say never to any city or location for travel. Cities amaze you for their history, their culture, and perhaps most of all, a reminder that we are so blessed where we are but amidst our 'busy-ness', our preoccupation with the things of the world and our preconceived notions of so many things, we fail to see all that.

Some nuggets of the trip:

Home sweet home at The Kabiki

First dalliance with the Amok Fish

In goes the oil

Of unspoken suffering and pain - the S21 Security Prison

Tuk-tuks galore

Simple joy outside Cafe Yejj

French cuisine - wonderful lunch

Ze Appetizer, not that we need any

Our Salmon Trio

Main course: yet more salmon covered in some cream sauce (I know, I am bad with names)

They do Khmer cuisine too: some more heavenly Amok

Amazing architecture @ the National Museum

Outdoor bathing, anyone?

One of my favourite: signifies that fighting Cambodian Spirit

Yes, Swensens exists in this place

Crossing the maddening traffic on a typical street in Phnom Penh - on the way to a hot stones massage

View from tuk-tuk - amidst a blind trust that the driver can get us to our desired destination (hot stones massage. hot stones massage.)

Not exactly pleased at being hauled out of bed on Monday morning for a Cambodian wet market excursion. But hey this is the stuff of holidays. Reminded me of Tokyo's Tsukiji, somehow.

Dagger glares a second before this was shot.
Perfect timing. And the things that photos never tell.

Cambodian Cooking Class.
Join one and hope everyone washes their hands. Yes you eat what you make.

Our first dish - Chaio Yor (Fried spring rolls)
Taken a moment before the remaining ones flew off the plate.
Positively divine.
Try it: 2 cups taro root (shredded), 2 cups carrot (shredded), 25 spring roll sheets, 1 tbsp peanuts, 1 beat up egg, 3 cups cooking oil, salt, sugar, pepper (to taste)

The Pounding Machine - I turn garlic, shallot, red pepper and hot chillies into mush. What Electronic Blender?

The Bodybuilder takes over

In less than 5 minutes, she achieves what I could not in perhaps double the time (or more)
*hangs head in shame*

Finally, the Amok brews happily in pot.
Try it: 30g young nhor leaves, 3 tbp fish sauce, 3 tbsp kaffir lime leaves, 3 chilli peppers, 500g fish (we used tiger), 3/4 cup coconut cream, 2 cups coconut milk, 1 egg, beaten

Tada.
Oh alright, so the banana cup collapsed. Whatever: my first Amok Fish!!
Could not be heavenlier (I'm not even using English)

Indulge me, please. Another view of The Concoction.
Note to self: Banana Cup Should Not Leak.

Road out of The Kabiki - where no cab or tuk-tuk is allowed. Further left is apparently home to the most VIP of the VIPs of the city. Strangely, deserted keyboard vanishes within the hour we were gone.

Landmark around hotel corner.
Turn left for a quaint conclave littered with shops and restaurants and The Best Chocolate Sorbet Ever.

Extra Bitter Chocolate Sorbet
So Good it Hurts.

Serious Chocolate Overdose

Could not get in a shot without
The Earnest Reporter from Japan snapping away.

Wiped clean: our last and immensely satisfying meal in lovely Phnom Penh. Do yourself a favour and pay the city a visit, won't you?

In other news: the Lil Sister is at this moment deeply preoccupied with Introduction to International Law. On the second day of Law School. Seriously, they used to teach that in the third year. Stress: do they believe this needs to grow with generations?

xoxo
claire.

Wolf in sheep's clothing and running, running.

2009-08-07T14:33:00.000-07:00

It baffles me unceasingly why human beings resort to so much hypocrisy.

Honestly, does it make them feel better about themselves, when every word is a double-edged sword aimed at slicing you apart? No, this is neither a rhetoric question nor a sarcastic comment; but a genuine disbelief at what or where some believe outright lying or conniving will make them feel or bring them (No I have not forgotten what you told me last week, and yes it’s the complete opposite of what you are saying now). Seriously already, is your physical body that dysfunctional that putting someone below you at every given chance creates some sort of mutant endorphins that makes you insanely, deliriously happy? Do you not see that your scathing sarcasm is not obviously subtle, although it appears to be disguised as such?

Forgive me, if I fail to understand why some or, should I say, too many more than some, believe you are the sweetest darling alive, my Sweetest Shark in the Fish Tank.

In other news: nothing like a good, long run to clear one's mind. Plugging on my beloved ipod, with the Lord's music overwhelming my ears and thoughts, I liken the journey to my spiritual one. I love to run, primarily, I have come to believe, for this reason. Me and Him, we always have a good chat during those times. Sometimes, He is quieter than I'd liked, yet I always come through knowing He is there and He listened and is listening still. I always tell Him, that all I want really, is that when I see Him face-to-face, to be able to say 'I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.'

xoxo
claire.

The Flu and other appalling thoughts

2009-07-28T02:26:00.000-07:00

So it finally hit The Office today, amidst a flurry of anxiety and annoyance - the former worrying about one's infection and the latter ticked off at having to cover another. Aren't we just all so self-centred - yes, it disgusts me. And no, I am not exempt from this poor display of the condition called humanity or, depending on how you see it, lack thereof.

In other news, am appalled at let's call him The C - I do not believe there could be anyone more telling of how a man thinks - with his monster. It's utterly vomit-inducing worthy imagery, when you see the action unfold before your eyes. So much for respect.

Sleep beckons, once again. Let me bring with me my self-pitying state of being - of wishing I could be somewhere else, doing something else, but here and this.

claire.

Reconsidering among other things

2009-07-21T03:11:00.000-07:00

It is quite a task - to squeeze in an entry in five minutes. That gargantuan task is my attempt. Surprised I am still alive, literally speaking, after seven consecutive days of sleeping at 4am or 5am or (on one particular day) six am. All in the name of toiling for a huge nameless bank (confidentiality obligations loom). No wonder, looking into the mirror this past week, thought I didn't look very human. Sunken in cheeks, pale complexion and more pronounced eye bags. And most of all, a deeply resigned look that spells "What I was I thinking in my last post?".

Honestly, I could do this, but if you multiply it by ten times the work load, then I say I re-consider.

Six minutes is up - I who live by a three minute time block. So till next ranting.

In other news: Phnom Penh! Fascinating respite awaits.

xoxo.
claire.

Remembering

2009-07-11T01:45:00.000-07:00

I often recall why I became a lawyer.

Childhood 'teacher' ambition plus embarrassing 'teaching imaginary classes' episodes aside, I did not in my wildest imagination think that I would grow up to be a lawyer.

The recollection process is, I believe, necessary, to constantly remind myself that the Lord has put me here, for this season (which is becoming very long drawn out but, at the moment, I am not uncomfortably uncomfortable).

I was walking closely with the Lord when I submitted my application for Law School. My second choice was Accountancy, which I genuinely (bless my ignorant soul) believed was where my other passion lay. Prayer after prayer, came silence, then more prayer, and more silences; but the day I sent in that large, brown envelope, I had a quiet, deep conviction in my heart. No audible voice sounded, no mind-blowing coincidences occurred and no Bible verse revelation descended. Yet, because I whispered quietly, repeatedly to Him, "Lord, whatever Your will is, I will follow. If I get into Law, Father, I know it will be Your will for me.", I knew then that His will would prevail.

Then came The Interview, for entry into one of the most prestigious (I believe till today, the best) law firm in this country. Little did I know that the interviewers were one of the two most feared Partners, and little did I know that I would not get my first choice and I would live to thank the Lord every moment of my life for it. Persistently, my first love then was Litigation. In every application to every firm, that was my first - and only - choice. Us, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed ones, have been, sub-consciously or otherwise, educated to believe that a lawyer is only a lawyer if he or she is a Litigation lawyer. Corporate counsel, what do they know?

So I say the Lord has a funny sense of humour. He made me a Corporate Lawyer, specialising in financial services work. Dryest of the Dry Legal Work, which I always believed (and still do). I say, 'He made me', because I believe He placed me here. I prayed every step of the way, asking Him for guidance, for His hand to show me, for Him to open doors, and to place me with a mentor He has chosen for me.

Five years, loads of all-nighters, hard work, shed tears, stressed-out weekends, backstabbing colleagues later, and with the benefit of that wonderful thing called hindsight, I say without a shadow of a doubt that I would have it no other way. True, I slogged, I cried and I fought, but also, I learnt (a lot - bless my boss), I laughed and I forged some lovely friendships. Most importantly, I felt this moulding process was necessary, as He was refining me, shaping me, and making me more like Him. I always thought, 'I wouldn't last a minute in this place, but with the Lord in me, I could last forever.' (Alright, not that I want to be here for a lifetime.)

Funny, don't you think, that you plod along, knock on God's door (sometimes a lil too loudly, in anger, in baffled silences and in fear) and scream and lose your temper at Him, thinking, blaming and asking God, 'why, why, why', you settle and mellow into a place where you see things from His secret place, where it's like a cloud has fallen away and, finally, you see the light streaming through, so brightly, so strongly, and so unmistakably. And you tell the Lord, 'Thank You, Father, for seeing it at the beginning.'.

I have three million (that's a tad exaggerated) other thoughts on my mind and it's a pity that I don't have the time to share them as and when I'd love to in the course of the week. It's a price I pay for being in this profession. But it's always like this, with things worth fighting for.

xoxo.
claire

nb: My earlier posts (which suggest I have no passion for my job) seem inconsistent with this one. The entries reflect my thoughts on good and bad days at work. Bottomline: I enjoy what I do, but I am hungry for more; not in the ambitious, corporate ladder-climbing sense, but more of what He wants to do in my life. More of a 'Lord, where do I go from here?' kind of reflection.

Robbed

2009-07-08T02:26:00.000-07:00

I don't know about you, but I feel completely, absolutely and utterly (I know these mean the same thing, please indulge me) Robbed Everyday. Of Time.

Fatigue - it's indescribable. You toil, and you toil. And you toil. All for that very rich corporation, as part of their wonderful plan to get richer. And you toil somemore, and you wonder what you are toiling for.

No wonder He says rest can only be found in Him. To Him who can keep us from falling.

claire.

Passion

2009-07-04T11:34:00.000-07:00

I love John Piper when he calls out for 'passion in the pulpit, passion in prayer and passion in conversation', what he calls deep feelings in worthy forms from God besotted hearts and minds. For far too long indeed, we see 'thin whipped-up emotionalism' all around.

A frivolous picture, I recognise. Put bluntly, I have a passion for pralines, and I wish that that passion may be extended to every area of my life - from my job and my walk with the Lord, to relationships, simple daily conversations and the mundane things of life.

I envy my friends who know so clearly what they want in life (from a very earthly perspective, I'd admit). For example, my friend W knows he loves being a lawyer and would have it no other way. My friend K knows deep down that she was called to something higher, something more meaningful than being a teacher (albeit what most of us would call a very noble profession) - and for that, she has been prayerfully called to set up a social enterprise. She is a closest, best-est friend of mine, a blessing and a glimpse of heaven, and I wish and pray all the best for her, that He will show her through this just how much He loves her.

Passion - it is a lovely thing. Call it workaholism (in the context of a job, which occupies most of one's waking hours), if you will. But I declare it beautiful. It is a rare thing to come by, to wake up each morning, knowing with a deep certainty that this is what the Lord has called you to do; knowing that each day may be difficult, but because you love so much what you do, and you know this is what you are called to do, each day whizzes by and you see nothing but His grace and His hand in all things and with all people you meet. Would you not give it all to hold a job like that?

I know - 'in this world, [we] will have trouble but [He] has overcome the world!' I agree; cannot agree more. Without His grace, I would not be what I am today. And I know I have no grounds to complain; not in the least bit. In this financial and economic climate, I should be screaming at the top of my lungs and thanking God for even holding a job. Yet I am ashamed to admit that discontent has crept in, slowly and insidiously, but surely. There is this nagging doubt that I cannot push away, that tells me that there is something more.

At the moment, I don't have an answer, but I will share in another post what He spoke with me about, which blew me away.

claire.

Of Chirashi and Soul Baring and Chinatown

2009-07-03T11:06:00.000-07:00

I trotted off to lunch expecting a yummy king crab sandwich (despite its very unforgiving price of ten sweet bucks) and a welcomed respite from The Fish Tank (a.k.a the office) albeit one that might be filled with awkward moments. After all, one must not expect conversations to flow smoothly with friends you hardly meet.

Yet the Lord surprises me unceasingly, that perhaps I ought to cease being so.

I ended up polishing off chirashi and some lovely Japanese sticky rice that's tinged with sweetness and blended with an amazingly light matcha taste. What you see above is from Kuriya at Raffles City but I had to put that down for oomph (always acknowledge your sources; a very C.Y.A thing, yeah?) You're most welcome, The Hokkaido Sandwich & Sashimi Deli at The Sail@One Marina (where are my advertising fees now?) That's not it, of course. Well - I don't believe I have shared so much with someone I meet so little, for so long.

The Lovely Friend is struggling with her walk in the Lord and, to be honest, so am yours truly. Some part of me feels like I could not give up, yet on so many truly heart wrenching and hair tearing occasions, I genuinely almost did. So I was in no position to encourage, but it was refreshing, to know and share that we are all the same inside despite living our separate lives and not finding the time to keep in touch. Because we once travelled and spent so much time in close proximity, sharing our thoughts, our ways of lives, our habits and our walk with Him, I believe that that intensity of what we shared has stayed unconsciously with us; and when we meet again eons later, we could simply pick up where we left off. Surely that is an experience that one must admit to being blessed with?

Thank you, my Lovely Friend, for a very wonderful lunch; I want you to know that the Lord loves you, despite how it may seem. I know that I could not and can never let go of Him, because despite the numerous perceived disappointments, seemingly endless silences and drought of his perceived absence, He has delivered me through some of the darkest valleys of the shadow of death and, for that, I could never deny Him. I yearn for the day that I can lift up my hands again to the heavens and yell loudly, happily, and with every ounce of my strength and being, and heart and soul, that Jesus Christ is Lord of all and He loves me so very much; at the moment, it is head knowledge and partially heart knowledge, but I know the day will come when it will be head knowledge and fully heart manna. Till that day arrives, I will hang on and hope in Him, my sole blessed hope.

In other news, I think I actually rather like Chinatown. Had dinner there tonight; not on my own free will naturally. Had to take into account the poor pocket which is suffering from my overdose of SKII. Ever since I got addicted, the Poor Skin cries out to my soul when the bottles are drying up. So Very Thrifty Me marched down to Swanston (this perfect lil shop in the heart of Chinatown that sells 'em at a whopping 25% discount) to enlarge said hole in the pocket. Only to be told by Lady Boss with Perfect Skin that I look very tired - 'your job must be sooo stressful. Come, I recommend you this Korean brand eye gel, oh and this one too. The first one, use in the morning, and the second one, use at night. I used it for 7 years; ahh look at my skin.' I trotted off into the night, with four SKII products and three Korean (I don't even understand the wriggly instructions on the bottles) products. What of the Save Money at Swanston Campaign?

In other other news, it is 5.10am here and I am still here typing this. Man, I need to sleep before the eye cream ceases to work. !!!! Oh alright, forgive my ranting, please. It is the wee hours, they and I just don't agree.

xoxo.
claire

nb: C.Y.A. means cover your a** in legal-speak; that which I'm required to do daily.

Ironic

2009-07-02T09:01:00.000-07:00

An old man, turned 98; he won the lottery and died the next day;
It's a black fly, on a Chardonnay;
It's a death row pardon, two minutes too late;
Isn't it ironic, don't you think?

It's like rain on your wedding day;
It's a free ride when you're already late;
It's the good advice that you just didn't take;
And who would have thought it figures?

Mr Play-it-Safe was afraid to fly;
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye;
He waited his whole damn life, to take that flight;
And as the plane crashed down;
He thought 'isn't this nice?';
And isn't it ironic, don't you think?

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you, when you think everything's okay and everything's going alright;
Life has a funny way of helping you out, when you think everything's going wrong and everything's blowing up in your face.

A traffic jam, when you're already late;
It's like ten thousand spoons, when all you need is a knife;
It's meeting the man of my dreams, and meeting his beautiful wife;
Isn't it ironic, don't you think?
A little too ironic; yeah I really do think.

It's like rain on your wedding day;
It's a free ride when you're already late;
It's the good advice that you just didn't take;
And who would have thought it figures?

Life has a funny way, of sneaking up on you;
Life has a funny way, of helping you out, helping you out.

- Alanis Morissette

Letting (The Curls) Go

2009-07-01T10:34:00.000-07:00

So I am beyond recognition now. The Little Brother walked right past me today, and at the last moment before we parted ways, let out a yelp "it's you! I could not recognise you - it's the hair."

Be forewarned: this is a terribly frivolous post.

I could not, and still cannot, get past the loss of my curls - of six sweet years. Pardon me while I grieve. They were my babies! (Oh alright, that is not a very flattering shot, but the best one I've got that showcases the length.) Concerned colleagues asked what *made* me straighten my hair - you know, in that tone - perhaps expecting me to burst into tears, sobbing that I had lost my boyfriend and thus my life.

Unfortunately I had to disappoint the lot of them and calmly reply that I sat down in The Hair Guru's Chair thinking and believing with all my heart that I was there for a hair cut but as I looked around the salon, with the immense weight (oh they felt like gold) of The Curls pulling towards my shoulders, and the long straight haired ones happily flicking their thin sticks of hair (which were calling out to me to please have them too), I calmly told The Hair Guru that I would like to straighten my hair. All this, despite the look of sheer horror on he who curled my hair four months ago (with me telling him then that 'the curlier the better' so The Curls can stick around for a lovely year). So there. No grand sob story, I'm afraid.

Well, tending to concerned colleagues aside: it could be in a very metaphorical way some sort of release; of letting go of the baggage that has been with me all these six years. I look eons younger, fresher and lighter. It's as if a load of my past has fallen away. Honestly, I do not like how I look with straight hair, yet I felt that each time I look into the mirror (I shock myself without fail as I wonder who's this strange stranger?) I am reminded that the Lord has a new self that I need to discover; that He yearns to reveal in me. So far am I from the Lord right now, it is amazing that He bothers revealing Himself in ways so small yet so divine.

I need to cease typing now because sleep beckons. In other news, the usual ten minute drive along nicoll highway took all of an entire hour today. It's bloody unbelievable. Note to self: ERP does not deter crazy car-philes which this sunny island is infested with; sleep less or sleep earlier, please.

Excuse me while I attempt (hopefully, finally successfully) to wake early.

claire.

Of First Love

2009-06-26T12:56:00.000-07:00

I once fell very deeply in love, and remembering him today brought back memories. Memories that I am happy to say are faded, but yet which you know will never really go away. Moments we spent are cherished, albeit tucked away in those drawers of the heart as you go about your daily (I refuse to say 'routine') life. Life is short - think Michael Jackson, whom I salute as an excellent performer notwithstanding any issues one may find - and I dread to plod along believing I will never love in this way again. I realise I say this, sometimes in the third person narrative, perhaps because a large part of me wants to distance myself from it all. He was, and I believe in some sort of way, will always be my first true love and a very special someone and that will never change. I am no longer (years ago actually) hung up and I thank the Lord for that. Although I admit I have yet to see His hand in this, I am living life believing His heart (that all things work for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose). Some part of me knows none has yet fit the bill and I am trusting Him to find him for me. I recognise this might be the (very little) alcohol speaking, but what the heck, this is the place like I said that I lose myself. I thank God for how He has brought me through and I cannot wait to see what lies ahead that He has planned for me.

xoxo
claire.

The Unfortunate Asian Blush

2009-06-26T09:22:00.000-07:00

I was in the States when I heard her - "Oh I cannn't wait - to end this day with a glass of red wine in my hand and to kick the cat as I lay back on my rocking chair."

'Is she nuts?' I asked the Friend, who proceeded to roll said eyes at me (which is rather normal; I know I have some weird Friends). Teetotaler me was actually referring to the first part. That was a mere two years ago. Then poor frog in the well me discovered beer. It could be European beer or Tiger beer. Give me my beer anytime, any brand. Kick up your leg in the most unglamorous way ever - on a leather armchair - and lean back and really savour and breathe as you sip. Mmmmm. Oh, Tiger Beer, hire me as your model already - I could bring you trillions a year. (yes I am kidding.)

Except of course I have this very lovely deficiency in acetaldehyde dehydrogenase (ALDH2), which they call the Asian Blush. How very not discriminatory. As I use the wonderful Google mechanism, I discover that this deficiency results in a higher risk of esophageal cancer. As Dear Tiger Beer sits happily half drunk on my coaster, at this very moment. Poor remaining Tiger Beer shall visit the sink soon and stay in the pipes forevermore. All of a sudden, I feel an immense annoyance towards the Google brainchild. Honestly, ignorance is bliss.

I am tired and need to cease typing so I can sign off without any elaboration or ado. Sounds very familiar; the Client wrote it in his e-mail today. I yearn for the day when Every Email shall include that - pretty much like a signature sign-off. (Oh, you know, the day before I cease to be a Shark; I mean lawyer.)

a Very Asian Blushed Out
claire.

***

I am increasingly depressed as I find a PLos research finding that confirms the increased cancer susceptibility in us Asian Blushers. Now, now, who will save us from the dearth of alcohol? That doesn't sound terribly Christian I'd admit. But take away the pretence and wanting to be seen in pubs superficialities, I truly enjoy a good beer or cocktail, in the same way that I love my can of real coke (yes, I mean Coca-Cola).

That aside, the Lord is good - I now know why He sent me crashing and subsequently self admitted to a hospital because I drank and ate some stuff that clearly didn't like each other very much (and all that which resulted in that episode is a glass of vodka mango; yeah it's sad I know). That trip eliminated alcohol in all sorts and forms for months, and I never quite figured out what the Lord wanted to tell me, till now. Praise God. And let me go now to silently mourn the demise of a Very Celebrated Friend in my life.

claire.

The Surprise Factor

2009-06-25T10:33:00.000-07:00

Faith is difficult - that much I'd confess. I am learning still, to live each day by faith, whether I have that 'emotional' feeling or not, whether life made sense or not.

The Lord spoke to me (twice) with this very divine truth that we all need sometimes - a lighthouse in the dark:

'Let me use disappointment as material for patience.
Let me use success as material for thankfulness.
Let me use trouble as material for perseverance.
Let me use danger as material for courage.
Let me use reproach as material for long suffering.
Let me use praise as material for humility.
Let me use pleasures as material for temperance.
Let me use pain as material for endurance.'

- Philip Yancey in 'Prayer. Does it make any difference?'

Days still linger where I ask 'How long, Lord? Will this never cease?'. Yet on other days I know He will bring me through.

In other news, Megan Fox is a man? (alright, this is old news I know) Watch the video - in all of a few lovely minutes, I deduce she is either a. on drugs, b. crazy (still on drugs) or c. still still on drugs. Come on already, who at this stage of her smoking hot career would admit on national (and global) TV that she is a he? She is definitely, all of the above.

Disclaimer (occupational hazard..): The foregoing is merely my personal view, taken on a completely biased basis and without further investigation. I do not proclaim to declare it as the absolute truth and you should not believe a word.

claire.

Thinspiration - Not!

2009-06-07T08:33:00.000-07:00

I am a recovered anorexic and I cannot begin to tell you how much that means to me.

It put me in prison for 5 years (or perhaps more if you count those initial stages). No, I don’t mean literally. Albeit a mental one, it was no different from being locked in physically and perhaps worse. No day, hour, minute or even second goes by without my obsessing over what I should not eat. I would drift off from conversations simply because I had to count the calories I had consumed that day. If I fell below target, I would be moody and lose interest in the conversation and pondered at length what I should not eat to make up for it.

It was difficult falling asleep at night because it was too painful to lie on either side or on my back; I would toss and turn trying to find a spot where it wouldn’t hurt so much from the bones coming into contact with the bed. I would look into the mirror and see my collarbone and ribs protruding so prominently, yet I did not see what was wrong. I would wake up each morning hating the day ahead because it spelt long hours of efforts not to eat; of trying to fight that hunger; of hanging on for that bit longer till the hunger passes by. I would feel unclean if I ate what I thought was too much; I grade the day according to how much food I consume – if I ate below 1,000 calories, that day was perfect! Sweet and rosy; although it gave me moments of fainting spells, it was simply worth it. I would feel light and clean and most importantly, thin.

I could think of nothing every day but food; not how gloriously blessed I am to be able to eat at will if I wanted to; not how wonderfully crunchy those French fries might have tasted if I would just bite into them; but how I could not, should not, must not eat. It was hell, it was torture and it was nothing short of a physical prison. I was constantly in a state where I felt I could tear my mind apart just so I could stop thinking about food. I hated myself. I wanted to die; I contemplated death; I was desperate to get to a place where I could just stop thinking about food. I got thinner and thinner and then very very terribly thin, falling below 40 kg (about 88 lb) at one point. I lost my period for a year. I was very very ill, falling so sick I had to admit myself to the hospital several times, and the doctors could not tell what was wrong with me. They say it was my lymph nodes (which for some reason became very swollen) and I had to go for several rounds of injections and consultations, and nobody really knew what was going on inside of me. I was alone in a foreign country. I had to go to school every day, go through those lectures and tutorials and eventually take exams. With my then body and mind, I was in no state to do so.

Fear gnawed increasingly at me. So I did my research, desperately 'googling' on the medical condition, anorexia nervosa (abbreviated as anorexia). Through the websites and books, it was obvious that I had it. Anorexia is not funny – it has been used very loosely to refer to the hordes of teenage girls trying to lose weight. That’s not what it is – it starts that way though; slowly but surely it begins as an innocent weight-losing grand scheme and develops to a full-blown psychiatric condition that eats you alive, and you won't even realise it till it's hit you.

My best friend (whom we shall call K) was the one who shook me up. It was as if I was lost in this world of food and self-imposed deprivation, losing touch of the world around me. K was and is and I know will always be my beloved dearest friend, without whom I would have literally died in the hands of this disease. K was the one who alerted me (after many, many, many failed attempts) that I had a problem and I need to first recognise it before I could walk out.

So it began, the long hours of conversations that K and I had. K told me I had to seek God, the Lord Jesus Christ in whom I could walk out of this valley of the shadow of death. I was then a Christian but a year away from home and the comfort of the home church had somewhat shaken my faith and I had drifted very far from Him. I no longer did my quiet time daily and I no longer leaned on Him each day nor trusted Him in each decision I make. I began to pray so hard each day; I told the Lord that I could not do this anymore, that everyday was a huge struggle and I felt I could never come out of this mental jail, that I was always thinking about food, that if I so much as ate a packet of potato chips, I would feel so dirty and guilty those thoughts could almost kill me. I prayed to God to bring me out of this; I told Him that I really needed His help and His Holy Spirit to get me out of this very dark place in which I was suffocating.

I would not say it happened overnight, but deliverance came. Praise the Lord: Months later, it came. Recovery was staggered and at times I would lapse into the ‘I need to eat less’ state but my dearest friend K would remind me that I should not go there again. I did not seek professional help nor took any medicine.

I want to give full credit to my Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, for healing me completely. It took a pretty long time and much heartache and literal pain, but I am very excited and pleased to tell the world that my Lord Jesus Christ healed me. To an unbeliever, it might sound strange – how can your God heal you just like that, without any medicine or psychiatric help? That is my Lord for you. Nothing is impossible with God. I did not believe, I must admit, that I could ever walk out of this. Time and again, I have doubted that God could help me. Yet time and again, despite my unbelief, the Lord Jesus has gently shown me that I was wrong.

So today, I want to shout and sing of His goodness, of His sovereignty and most of all of His Love. He loves you - and Jesus wants to heal you of any illness, any disease you thought it was impossible for Him to heal. If you are a believer but somehow had come across setbacks in your life, I want to share with you to Keep Knocking On His Door. It took me many months of constant knocking and seeking and seeking and knocking before deliverance came (think the parable of the widow who would never give up). The Lord loves you, so don’t you ever forget that.
:)

with blessings from above,

claire.

Awakening

2009-06-05T13:56:00.001-07:00

This restless yearning inside me; when would it cease? Sleep my soul; rest well and toss no more.

It's all relative

2009-06-04T09:17:00.000-07:00

The Secretary is going on a six month sabbatical. So I learn today (while The Secretary is on her week-long holiday) through the HR department.

Apparently the word is that The Secretary is 'very stressed' from leaving at 6pm everyday, from never having to eat in during lunchtime, never having to type in amendments in Word, Excel or otherwise, and from her sole daily duties of printing, filing and doing up draft bills that sometimes never get paid. So my HR person tells me the last thing they want is for her to 'collapse in the office'. Has it ever occurred to said person that when The Secretary is printing emails, docs and what have you for (say) fifty files, yours truly is doing the work in respect thereof?

They say you shall respect your elders (The Secretary is perhaps a good ten years older). So I will in all my lovely silent self permit The Dear Secretary to leave for her mighty sabbatical, never to return - the HR Person says The Poor Dear shall not return to her 'very stressed' life which will not be any different six months later. Therefore, they will assign her a wonderfully relaxing job somewhere else in The Firm. What ever happened to the recession. Now if you do find one, would you be so kind as to notify me?

Forgive me while I go repent of Secretary Abuse.

claire.

Virgin entry

2009-06-03T10:13:00.000-07:00

So I have (finally) jumped on this 'bandwagon' they call blogging. It's not so much a fad that I'm following (yes I noticed that has passed, thank you very much) but rather it has been a 'burden' on my heart for a while. I feel that I have to share what I went through six years ago in a faraway land that's at least a sweet twenty hour flight from this sunny island.

It took me a while to walk out of that valley. If you know me now - or even then for that matter - you would never have guessed the pain that enveloped me. Amazing how you and me we hide so much beneath that exterior we call a smile. I will come back with my story; even if it were to touch just one heart, I would have done what He had called me to do.

Time to snooze. Work awaits in a couple of hours. If it will be balm to your curiosity, I am a lawyer and am not proud of it. It is just a job - very un-Ally Mcbeal and it makes you wear a persona that I don't recognise at times or like very much. It connotes that you are smart, arrogant and you think the world owes you a living. That is of course true, for some but not others. As with most other jobs. What a world this is: people behaving so much like those things that swim and love blood (sharks) you secretly hope they will literally turn into one and vanish into the Singapore River; you deal with things you never imagine you would five minutes ago (and you must act like you deal with them oh just ten times daily); and five years in practice doesn't make it easier. For better or worse, they don't prepare you at Grand Old Law School for what is to come. Now that is all very boring for all you Lawyer Haters out there. So I shall sign off quite abruptly.

xoxo.
claire.