If you have been following my upbringing series, you would know that Elizabeth, my daughter, is a dyslexic who has accepted all that the good Lord had programmed into her wiring. She is confident, joyous, energetic and ready to take on the world.
Just the other day, she created a certain "difficult situation" in her office. At the end of listening to the long and short of it, I realise the root cause is how she classified time. Well, sit tight, relax and let me give you a small glimpse of the land of the learning disabled.
One client, let us call him Mr. Lee, made an appointment to see Elizabeth at 4:00pm. She located his file, place it near her working space. Four o'clock came and went. Since it was not an urgent case, it would be quite alright for him to come the next day.
At five o'clock, Mr. Tee (another client, totally unrelated to Mr. Lee) called and requested that Elizabeth not leave yet. He proposes to come in fifteen minutes' time to settle his payment. Elizabeth took out Mr. Tee's file and placed it on top of Mr. Lee's file, then she went on with her administrative tasks.
At five fifteen or thereabouts, a male customer came to present a cheque for the accounts staff to frame. It was Elizabeth's fault for assuming him to be Mr. Tee. The cheque was imprinted with the amount Mr. Tee owed, let's say it was $4,000. There the mistake arose, the amount should be $40,000 as it turned out that the cheque bearer was Mr. Lee.
Here, you may be laughing that it was a twist of fate over the family names that sounded almost the same. But the crux of the matter was that Elizabeth did not even consider the possibility of Mr. Lee turning up. For whatever reason, she consider afternoon to be 2pm - 5 pm. By five o'clock she mentally clicked in that Mr. Lee would come the next morning, since he did not call. The fact that he would turn up late never occur to her.
By the mercy of God, Mr. Lee was very gracious about the whole matter. He regretted that he only brought one cheque. So it was arranged that the office boy would go to his house to collect the cheque the following day.
Mr. Tee did not come. Not at 5:15pm or the following day. But he sure threw a spanner into the works and gave Elizabeth a tough time. I suppose these things are sent to to test us. From this experience, Elizabeth learns quite a few lessons.
Well, you may ask me: why is it that I could understand Elizabeth? No, I did not have this difficulty myself. But I have seen it more than once in my college dorm. Let us wind back time to my early twenties when I found my floor mate weeping on her bed at six o'clock around dinner time. Since I care for her, I sat down with a growling stomach to find out the head and tail of this crisis.
It was her birthday. Her boy friend promised to call her in the afternoon. She had been waiting for the call in her room since after lunch. She even kept the room door open so she could hear the hall telephone. (This was long before the e-mail and the hand phone.) That explained why I could see and hear her sobbing her heart out. To me, six pm is still afternoon. But to her it was classified as evening. As we were talking about how the time of the day was segmented, the phone rang. All was well. Her beloved kept his promise after all, albeit a little late. So the little busy body foreigner went for her dinner.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
(392) Time capsule
While going through some papers from my shelves, I came across a letter I wrote but did not send six years ago. That was around the time I had to pack up the entire house to relocate back to my home town. No, no one expected to receive that letter. One night I was reading some prayer update from missionaries from a small island in Indonesia, I presume the next morning I wrote the letter at the spur of the moment. Some how it was packed and escaped detection for almost eighty months. The same missionaries have moved on to the island of Borneo by now. It would not make any sense to send the letter now.
Somewhere in the letter I was relating my experience in recycling for mission. That particular night a well-to-do couple brought 45 beer cans and seven engine oil containers as well as a few huge collapsed carton boxes. Andy went to service his vintage Mercedes in the morning. As he remembered to collect his own empty engine oil container, he asked the mechanic if he could collect those containers he saw thrown right out side of the workshop. The mechanic replied in the affirmative. After he left the workshop he took his wife Dottie shopping. This time Dottie spotted a few carton boxes that looked clean. In order to fit those boxes into his boot, Andrew collapsed and folded them. After a light lunch, they went for a seven mile up and down hill run with the Harriers. Then the big group gathered to eat a well-earned dinner at the club. As usual, the President brought out cartons of beer. Andy and Dottie collected many beer cans.
In the letter I recorded that I started to collect recyclable materials in my neighbourhood starting from April 18 that year. I would walk with my children in the evening and pick up aluminium cans and mineral water bottles. After that I tell everyone who would listen what I was doing. Then quite a few families would collect stuff and deliver to my door step. Looking back, it was amazing that from April 18 to Dec 31 we managed to raise more than a thousand dollars for mission in a South East Asian country.
The next thought was : a few are called to go spread the good news in a foreign country, most are called to pray and to support financially those who went. Since I was a home-maker and did not have any monthly pay cheque, for that period of my life I found a creative way to raise fund. Now I could no longer do that as I live in a pigeon hole. Six years ago I lived in a five bedroom house with more land than build up area.
For a long time I haven't thought about the fellow recyclers I met in the recycling shop. Some of them are homeless. Others were retired and poor. A few went round on motor-cycles with two big bags precariously balanced on front and back. Many were on bicycles. A few walked and dragged bags behind them. According to the owner of the shop, most of the old men depend on the money they scavenged for their daily meals. That was why the recycling shop opened seven days a week. The only day they closed is on Chinese New Year first day. The Indonesian maid told me that her boss would hand out "Ang Pows" (Red packets with a small sum of cash inside) to those who come on the eve. That way, the really poor ones would not go hungry the next day.
These men were of all three races - Malay, Chinese and Indians. They are definitely an unreached group. The Malays and the Indians were surprisingly jovial and did not resent me going to recycle in my tiny borrowed car. The Chinese men would not even look me in the eyes, let alone to joke and laugh with me. That place was not a rural and poor area. It was just 200 Km from the nation's capitol. Until I frequent that shop to sell my collected stuff, I did not know there was such a big band of the aged that live on the rim of hunger. Jesus loves them, yes, each one of them, as much as you and me. Yet who can bridge the socio-economic gap to go and tell them that?
Somewhere in the letter I was relating my experience in recycling for mission. That particular night a well-to-do couple brought 45 beer cans and seven engine oil containers as well as a few huge collapsed carton boxes. Andy went to service his vintage Mercedes in the morning. As he remembered to collect his own empty engine oil container, he asked the mechanic if he could collect those containers he saw thrown right out side of the workshop. The mechanic replied in the affirmative. After he left the workshop he took his wife Dottie shopping. This time Dottie spotted a few carton boxes that looked clean. In order to fit those boxes into his boot, Andrew collapsed and folded them. After a light lunch, they went for a seven mile up and down hill run with the Harriers. Then the big group gathered to eat a well-earned dinner at the club. As usual, the President brought out cartons of beer. Andy and Dottie collected many beer cans.
In the letter I recorded that I started to collect recyclable materials in my neighbourhood starting from April 18 that year. I would walk with my children in the evening and pick up aluminium cans and mineral water bottles. After that I tell everyone who would listen what I was doing. Then quite a few families would collect stuff and deliver to my door step. Looking back, it was amazing that from April 18 to Dec 31 we managed to raise more than a thousand dollars for mission in a South East Asian country.
The next thought was : a few are called to go spread the good news in a foreign country, most are called to pray and to support financially those who went. Since I was a home-maker and did not have any monthly pay cheque, for that period of my life I found a creative way to raise fund. Now I could no longer do that as I live in a pigeon hole. Six years ago I lived in a five bedroom house with more land than build up area.
For a long time I haven't thought about the fellow recyclers I met in the recycling shop. Some of them are homeless. Others were retired and poor. A few went round on motor-cycles with two big bags precariously balanced on front and back. Many were on bicycles. A few walked and dragged bags behind them. According to the owner of the shop, most of the old men depend on the money they scavenged for their daily meals. That was why the recycling shop opened seven days a week. The only day they closed is on Chinese New Year first day. The Indonesian maid told me that her boss would hand out "Ang Pows" (Red packets with a small sum of cash inside) to those who come on the eve. That way, the really poor ones would not go hungry the next day.
These men were of all three races - Malay, Chinese and Indians. They are definitely an unreached group. The Malays and the Indians were surprisingly jovial and did not resent me going to recycle in my tiny borrowed car. The Chinese men would not even look me in the eyes, let alone to joke and laugh with me. That place was not a rural and poor area. It was just 200 Km from the nation's capitol. Until I frequent that shop to sell my collected stuff, I did not know there was such a big band of the aged that live on the rim of hunger. Jesus loves them, yes, each one of them, as much as you and me. Yet who can bridge the socio-economic gap to go and tell them that?
Monday, April 25, 2011
(391) Agony
In the beginning of the year, I prayed for a temporary job. In my heart, I thought Elizabeth and I would get temporary posts at an advertising company. She applied for data entry and I was thinking of consumer interviewing. It was interesting, the timing was out. When she was available, there was no vacancy. Just 28 days after that, an offer came. By then she had settled in her new job, quite reluctant to leave. Even though there was one more vacancy in her current firm, I did not dare to get involve in form pushing and administration. From past experience, I know that this is my weakest area.
About a month after Elizabeth started at her stressful job, I went for my blood test before my medical appointment. After the blood test, I decided to visit a non-denominational mission organization. As soon as I rang the bell and the door was opened, I could see the surprise on the Director's face. Apparently, he was on the phone leaving a message with my daughter for me to call him. And I just materialized in front of him a few moments later. Sure, I thought, it was more than chance that ordained my turning up out of the blue. Since the project was within my capability, I agreed without much hesitation.
Less than a month later, the above-mentioned project has not started yet. A book came into my hands, the author was looking for a translator. I was surprised, few people knew I could translate. Since I have never translated professionally, I did not have any track record. After asking a few questions, I realized why it was difficult for the author to find a translator. First the translator has to be a Christian, next he/she has to believe in end time prophecy.That combination of requirements obviously reduced the number of candidates in the playing fields drastically.
Here comes the difficulty: Should I take it? How much should I charge? How long should I ask for? Shouldn't I just turn it down and save myself lots of headache?
Then I thought, such an opportunity comes perhaps only once in a life time. I decided to commit it to God, ask for a longer period and promise that if I could do the job within a shorter period, I would hand in earlier. And prayerfully I would submit a higher price, if it is not mine, then the job would go to another person.
About a month after Elizabeth started at her stressful job, I went for my blood test before my medical appointment. After the blood test, I decided to visit a non-denominational mission organization. As soon as I rang the bell and the door was opened, I could see the surprise on the Director's face. Apparently, he was on the phone leaving a message with my daughter for me to call him. And I just materialized in front of him a few moments later. Sure, I thought, it was more than chance that ordained my turning up out of the blue. Since the project was within my capability, I agreed without much hesitation.
Less than a month later, the above-mentioned project has not started yet. A book came into my hands, the author was looking for a translator. I was surprised, few people knew I could translate. Since I have never translated professionally, I did not have any track record. After asking a few questions, I realized why it was difficult for the author to find a translator. First the translator has to be a Christian, next he/she has to believe in end time prophecy.That combination of requirements obviously reduced the number of candidates in the playing fields drastically.
Here comes the difficulty: Should I take it? How much should I charge? How long should I ask for? Shouldn't I just turn it down and save myself lots of headache?
Then I thought, such an opportunity comes perhaps only once in a life time. I decided to commit it to God, ask for a longer period and promise that if I could do the job within a shorter period, I would hand in earlier. And prayerfully I would submit a higher price, if it is not mine, then the job would go to another person.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
(390) Pain 17
It was a gathering for old friends. Some of us have been in the same class at different years practically since seven years old. There was an air of ease, not much need for sieving our thoughts, checking our words before any could escape out of our mouths. If anyone gets too frank and says something down right tactless,someone would rap her hard, we would laugh and all would be forgotten in the atmosphere of "Well! She has been like that all these years, what else do you expect?".
Most of us have college going children, one even has a grandson. The late bloomer who got married just celebrated her tenth anniversary. While listening to her talk about how grateful she was that her husband has a solid job, and whine that he is too inflexible to change job after forty five; we chuckled and concluded that the honeymoon is finally over. Each of us look at another with sheepish eyes, we all know our spouses' shortcomings and must have said something at sometime or other. Then all eyes rested on our "sweetie", who still has smiles that melt hearts and retains her even temper. Not a word we can wrestle out of her. She had come, sat and listened, but never said anything negative about her marriage or spouse or children. None of us are deceived that everything is picture perfect. Yet we respect her choice to keep things in her heart.
This past meal, our usual facilitator looked haggard and even a little unkempt. My honorary chauffeur mentioned that she had never seen her like that. Well, off and on, I have caught her looking not herself. Usually it would not last long, a few weeks at the maximum. I have attributed the lack of grooming to feeling down, not in top physical form, depression, and lately, being reclusive to have time and space to think through whatever that bothers her.
This time, my theory is like this: both "sweetie" and our de facto facilitator married their very first date as well as boy friend. Looking back, I don't think either of them had ever dated another chap. Perhaps, as a result, they could not visualize lives without their important men. Their great love for their special men dictates that they give and give. While their men succeed and made lots of money and became men of status, they were busy both at house-keeping and keeping up with the changes in their spouses. Now, that is not easy for them if they happened to have married men with roving eyes.
In comparison, my beautiful chauffeur and I had experienced broken relationships. We married relatively later in life. We were no longer starry-eyed as brides. Here is where earlier set backs in our youth work to our advantage in later years. We are perhaps more realistic, more skilled at gentle negotiation. Maybe have a better gut feel in when to give in and when to persist to make our stand in things that really matter to us. No, we don't have model marriages, but are glad to note that our husbands do not hold all the cards in their hands.
Most of us have college going children, one even has a grandson. The late bloomer who got married just celebrated her tenth anniversary. While listening to her talk about how grateful she was that her husband has a solid job, and whine that he is too inflexible to change job after forty five; we chuckled and concluded that the honeymoon is finally over. Each of us look at another with sheepish eyes, we all know our spouses' shortcomings and must have said something at sometime or other. Then all eyes rested on our "sweetie", who still has smiles that melt hearts and retains her even temper. Not a word we can wrestle out of her. She had come, sat and listened, but never said anything negative about her marriage or spouse or children. None of us are deceived that everything is picture perfect. Yet we respect her choice to keep things in her heart.
This past meal, our usual facilitator looked haggard and even a little unkempt. My honorary chauffeur mentioned that she had never seen her like that. Well, off and on, I have caught her looking not herself. Usually it would not last long, a few weeks at the maximum. I have attributed the lack of grooming to feeling down, not in top physical form, depression, and lately, being reclusive to have time and space to think through whatever that bothers her.
This time, my theory is like this: both "sweetie" and our de facto facilitator married their very first date as well as boy friend. Looking back, I don't think either of them had ever dated another chap. Perhaps, as a result, they could not visualize lives without their important men. Their great love for their special men dictates that they give and give. While their men succeed and made lots of money and became men of status, they were busy both at house-keeping and keeping up with the changes in their spouses. Now, that is not easy for them if they happened to have married men with roving eyes.
In comparison, my beautiful chauffeur and I had experienced broken relationships. We married relatively later in life. We were no longer starry-eyed as brides. Here is where earlier set backs in our youth work to our advantage in later years. We are perhaps more realistic, more skilled at gentle negotiation. Maybe have a better gut feel in when to give in and when to persist to make our stand in things that really matter to us. No, we don't have model marriages, but are glad to note that our husbands do not hold all the cards in their hands.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
(388) High demand children
Yesterday afternoon Elizabeth and I went visiting. Our hostess' only child was very wide awake and active throughout the afternoon. Someone asked if the child still takes afternoon naps. The answer, interestingly, turned out to be yes for weekdays, and no for weekends.
My thoughts straight away ran to a scene: there I was after a marathon three day weekend entertaining my son. We had been everywhere and done everything he liked to do. He was still running on high octane fuel and was tickling me at eleven pm. I just nod off while tucking him in. Thank God I could send him to his nanny at seven the next morning and I could choose to run home to nap for two hours. First class wasn't on until eleven am on Monday mornings.
That energy draining son of mine would proceed to his nanny's and sleep throughout the day except for meals and bath time. That kind of thing would definitely happen on Mondays. Perhaps for Tuesdays if Friday was a public holiday. On Monday night he would come home bright and ready to play. Praise God that children do eventually grow up. It was difficult to have such a child to care for at nights even for a part-time teacher like me. I was extremely fortunate that none of my other children were like my eldest son.
My thoughts straight away ran to a scene: there I was after a marathon three day weekend entertaining my son. We had been everywhere and done everything he liked to do. He was still running on high octane fuel and was tickling me at eleven pm. I just nod off while tucking him in. Thank God I could send him to his nanny at seven the next morning and I could choose to run home to nap for two hours. First class wasn't on until eleven am on Monday mornings.
That energy draining son of mine would proceed to his nanny's and sleep throughout the day except for meals and bath time. That kind of thing would definitely happen on Mondays. Perhaps for Tuesdays if Friday was a public holiday. On Monday night he would come home bright and ready to play. Praise God that children do eventually grow up. It was difficult to have such a child to care for at nights even for a part-time teacher like me. I was extremely fortunate that none of my other children were like my eldest son.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
(387) Neighbourhood food providers
Very near where I reside, there are four sellers of coconut rice. When I first moved here six years ago, there was only one stall set up opposite the school. This one is run by a middle-age couple of Malay descent. Whenever I got tired of eating bread, I would choose to eat a packet of coconut rice. Of course it contains, among many things one can choose to add, two pieces of cucumber, a few fried peanuts, some fried anchovies, a tablespoonful of hot chilly paste and a quarter of a hard boiled egg.
Then an Indonesian lady opened a tiny eating shop and offered coconut rice, fried rice, fried bee hoon (rice noodle) and fried mee(wheat yellow noodle). Without thinking, I tried buying food from the new stall and found that I quite like the way she fried her bee hoon. I guess I made the mistake of first buying the bee hoon and then walked to the original stall to get coconut rice for my children. Lo and behold, the Malay couple gave me a no nonsense talking to for buying from the "dirty" and "unworthy" Indon. I was shocked! Even though I did not argue with any of their recriminations, there and then I resolved never to buy from them again.
So you can imagine my glee when another Malay lady set up a new stall at the end of the block! Once again I have the option of choosing to buy from either stall that I decided to patronize. Imagine my surprise when this new seller told me that she believe in free enterprise. She said that it is God who provides her daily needs. She welcome other sellers, whether Malay, Indonesian, Bangladeshy, or Indian to set up stalls, after all, a congregation of stalls would attract customers from far and wide. Only those who consistently provide tasty and clean food at reasonable prices can survive long term. Oh my, how refreshing a thought!
Then recently the struggling Indian restaurant was sold and the new owner decided to join in the melee and become the fourth supplier of coconut rice. Now my joy is complete! Some days I choose to buy a packet from the Malay lady because I like the spicy chilly paste. Other times when I am in a hurry to send my offspring to work I quickly grabbed a pre-packed coconut rice from the Indian restaurant and run. And the wonderful thing is that in these days of soaring food prices, I can still get such delicious breakfast for one dollar at three of the four stalls. (the grumpy couple sells at one twenty, I heard.)
Then an Indonesian lady opened a tiny eating shop and offered coconut rice, fried rice, fried bee hoon (rice noodle) and fried mee(wheat yellow noodle). Without thinking, I tried buying food from the new stall and found that I quite like the way she fried her bee hoon. I guess I made the mistake of first buying the bee hoon and then walked to the original stall to get coconut rice for my children. Lo and behold, the Malay couple gave me a no nonsense talking to for buying from the "dirty" and "unworthy" Indon. I was shocked! Even though I did not argue with any of their recriminations, there and then I resolved never to buy from them again.
So you can imagine my glee when another Malay lady set up a new stall at the end of the block! Once again I have the option of choosing to buy from either stall that I decided to patronize. Imagine my surprise when this new seller told me that she believe in free enterprise. She said that it is God who provides her daily needs. She welcome other sellers, whether Malay, Indonesian, Bangladeshy, or Indian to set up stalls, after all, a congregation of stalls would attract customers from far and wide. Only those who consistently provide tasty and clean food at reasonable prices can survive long term. Oh my, how refreshing a thought!
Then recently the struggling Indian restaurant was sold and the new owner decided to join in the melee and become the fourth supplier of coconut rice. Now my joy is complete! Some days I choose to buy a packet from the Malay lady because I like the spicy chilly paste. Other times when I am in a hurry to send my offspring to work I quickly grabbed a pre-packed coconut rice from the Indian restaurant and run. And the wonderful thing is that in these days of soaring food prices, I can still get such delicious breakfast for one dollar at three of the four stalls. (the grumpy couple sells at one twenty, I heard.)
Saturday, April 9, 2011
(386) Upbringing 47
It didn't seem like a long time but I have been away for more than a month.
Today Elizabeth went to a city school and sat for a personality test. That test is supposed to tell admission officials whether the options she applied for suit her. Out of all the government universities, this island university is the only one which requires her to sit for a test.
From early February I was both happy and sad over her offer of a place in a university in USA. I was happy that she was accepted. It was a wonderful feeling to look at the grant offered. After converting to our currency, it is a whopping seventy odd thousand dollars. After a few days of following the exchange rates, I realize there is no way we could send her unless God send some more aid or cash. And the sadness leads to feeling down ...
Hence we are in the midst of applying to yet another university. This time we are applying to one in China. Since Elizabeth is busy clerking at a law firm, her father and I chipped in to help her. I would gather all the information and fill in the forms. Elizabeth would vet through all the entries, then her father would key in the online application pending her final check before sending. Meanwhile, our daughter is learning how to talk to clients, both on the phone as well as by email. She is also picking up the legal speak in terms of selling and buying properties. It is a very responsible position, highly pressured but very lowly paid. It is a temporary position, her boss told her the monthly pay is five hundred dollars. Miracle of miracles, when the pay cheque came, it was six hundred. As long as she is able to learn new skills, the pay does not matter. Yet how are we going to find the money we are short of ? Perhaps this new university would really offer her a full scholarship, that would be a wonderful solution.
Today Elizabeth went to a city school and sat for a personality test. That test is supposed to tell admission officials whether the options she applied for suit her. Out of all the government universities, this island university is the only one which requires her to sit for a test.
From early February I was both happy and sad over her offer of a place in a university in USA. I was happy that she was accepted. It was a wonderful feeling to look at the grant offered. After converting to our currency, it is a whopping seventy odd thousand dollars. After a few days of following the exchange rates, I realize there is no way we could send her unless God send some more aid or cash. And the sadness leads to feeling down ...
Hence we are in the midst of applying to yet another university. This time we are applying to one in China. Since Elizabeth is busy clerking at a law firm, her father and I chipped in to help her. I would gather all the information and fill in the forms. Elizabeth would vet through all the entries, then her father would key in the online application pending her final check before sending. Meanwhile, our daughter is learning how to talk to clients, both on the phone as well as by email. She is also picking up the legal speak in terms of selling and buying properties. It is a very responsible position, highly pressured but very lowly paid. It is a temporary position, her boss told her the monthly pay is five hundred dollars. Miracle of miracles, when the pay cheque came, it was six hundred. As long as she is able to learn new skills, the pay does not matter. Yet how are we going to find the money we are short of ? Perhaps this new university would really offer her a full scholarship, that would be a wonderful solution.
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