Just the other day I was chatting with my friend. She mentioned that her friend Stacy was having problems with her adopted daughter, Crystal. Crystal went into Grade 1 at the beginning of this year. Until now, she failed to grasp the idea of addition. For failing to add 2 and 3 together, this is the second case of supposed normal girls I have come across. My cousin's youngest daughter had this problem. Her teacher was at wit's end. Her mum screamed at her own inability to make things clear. In the end, it took the father's patient coaching over a three-day weekend to get her across the hurdle.
Years later, I asked the father how did he learn to do special education. He said he did not have any such difficulty himself, but he had to help all his brothers and sisters. Sure enough, he was the only graduate in his own family. I suppose if dyslexia run in that family, his daughter was suffering from discalculia.
I have no problem with calculations. But I did have some difficulties teaching my eldest son the time tables. He can recite it alright at age 10. But twist the problem a little and he got waylaid, couldn't apply either multiplication or division to solve the problem. For Grade 1 and 2, he was doing well. But when the times table was slowly introduced, he did not understand the principles behind it at all. Yet for standard problems, he could solve them. So he was not doing badly in terms of marks. I was highly stressed those few years, diligent as I was in drilling, he was not making any progress. Then, interestingly, it happened exactly as my husband predicted. Somewhere towards the end of Grade 5, over one weekend he leaped. On Friday night I was still shaking my head over his failure to spot the tricky problems. Surprisingly on Monday night he aced and had no more problems with all types of questions to do with multiplication and division from that point on. I was shocked!
Years later, I read that this happened when the nerve bundles in the child's nervous systems become fully myelinated. Imagine individual nerve as electrical wire, each should be totally insulated. In the case of wire, we need rubber or plastic insulation. Nerves, on the other hand, are insulated by fatty acids or such like organic compounds. According to the experts, prior to perfect insulation, electrical signals crossed wire. Hence, all my hard work drilling was going no where. Yet when he was ready, the nerves individually insulated, he could not only understand, but he could solve all kinds of problems on his own. I did not improve in my teaching at all, but he had the needed apparatus and hence could hold his own.
Interestingly, even though he was not particularly gifted in mathematics (in his case, he is able to pick up phrases rather easily in any foreign countries), he did not require any more coaching in maths from that point onward. Once he got past pre-u mathematics, he excelled in linguistics.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
(847) Battle of will
There was a baby boy of a neighbour who seemed to try to keep his mum at home. It went like this: through the difficult pregnancy, mum took maximum medical leave. It was a long and drawn out labour. Mum took no pay leave to care for infant. After a few months, junior was passed to the care of a trusted babysitter. Mum went back to work. Junior started sleeping during the day and kept awake at night demanding for frequent change of nappies and attention. Mum fell ill through insufficient sleep and stayed home. Junior went back to regular and normal sleeping pattern.
After a few bouts of exhaustion, mum quit her well paid job. It was hard to believe, the toddler now eats well, sleeps normally and is finally thriving. Of course now he has a stay-at-home mum.
*BlanketFlower.JPG from wallpaper-valley.com
(846) Stories I told my Nephew 3
I told my nephew real courtship stories of three couples.
Sean has been pursued by his present wife since he was in Form 4. She somehow at age 14 could see something in him she liked. With the help of her sister and brother-in-law, she spent every Sunday with Sean even though her mother forbid her to see Sean. Seven or eight years later, they were married. Sean is a graduate holding a job that entailed lots of overtime. Yet he was also the one who does every bit of house work and he wakes up at night to do night feed.
John went out with a group of young people. He originally has his eye on a quiet and rather shy girl. But another bolder specimen chased him and managed to corner him into taking her out at every possible opportunity. A few months later, the girl's side pressured him into marrying her. John has school going children. While his wife sleeps until ten am, John wakes up at five to prepare breakfast for his children, he took them to school before he goes to work. Apart from ironing her own clothes, John's wife does not deign to wet her little finger. Since he preferred not to have a maid, he does every chore in his house.
Ian is an old fashion gentleman, he took over his best friend's girl friend when she dumped the latter for him. The abandoned man was consoled by another girl waiting in the wing. This rather enterprising girl dumped a high school graduate for a college educated engineer. Today she lives in a big house. Funnily enough, she could bake two loaves of bread a week but her own immediate family eats store bought loaves.
My nephew asked me if all three girls are youngest in the family. The 1st and 2nd are but the 3rd is a middle child. He asked if all are city girls who grew up in the capital. The 1st and 2nd are but the 3rd grew up in the countryside.
Interestingly enough, all three wives do not cook. To this, my nephew responded that if a woman does not do house chores, then at least she should cook. "Then, what do they do in their free time?"he asked. Well! Shopping...watching soap opera on TV...playing mahjong...following the poor husband everywhere they go... There is no accounting for taste, it just seemed like when a woman is capable of taking the initiative to pursue a man she chooses, she is also bossy and manipulative enough to make sure the husband toes her lines at home.
Sean has been pursued by his present wife since he was in Form 4. She somehow at age 14 could see something in him she liked. With the help of her sister and brother-in-law, she spent every Sunday with Sean even though her mother forbid her to see Sean. Seven or eight years later, they were married. Sean is a graduate holding a job that entailed lots of overtime. Yet he was also the one who does every bit of house work and he wakes up at night to do night feed.
John went out with a group of young people. He originally has his eye on a quiet and rather shy girl. But another bolder specimen chased him and managed to corner him into taking her out at every possible opportunity. A few months later, the girl's side pressured him into marrying her. John has school going children. While his wife sleeps until ten am, John wakes up at five to prepare breakfast for his children, he took them to school before he goes to work. Apart from ironing her own clothes, John's wife does not deign to wet her little finger. Since he preferred not to have a maid, he does every chore in his house.
Ian is an old fashion gentleman, he took over his best friend's girl friend when she dumped the latter for him. The abandoned man was consoled by another girl waiting in the wing. This rather enterprising girl dumped a high school graduate for a college educated engineer. Today she lives in a big house. Funnily enough, she could bake two loaves of bread a week but her own immediate family eats store bought loaves.
My nephew asked me if all three girls are youngest in the family. The 1st and 2nd are but the 3rd is a middle child. He asked if all are city girls who grew up in the capital. The 1st and 2nd are but the 3rd grew up in the countryside.
Interestingly enough, all three wives do not cook. To this, my nephew responded that if a woman does not do house chores, then at least she should cook. "Then, what do they do in their free time?"he asked. Well! Shopping...watching soap opera on TV...playing mahjong...following the poor husband everywhere they go... There is no accounting for taste, it just seemed like when a woman is capable of taking the initiative to pursue a man she chooses, she is also bossy and manipulative enough to make sure the husband toes her lines at home.
(845) Anne's House of Dreams by L.M.Montgomery
This is the book I like least in the series. It was heart breaking to have the much awaited baby dying soon after birth. I suppose life is often like that, it strikes out at one when she least expects it. But I like how Montgomery wove together Leslie Moore, Owen Ford, and Captain Jim.
When Cornelia sent Owen as a boarder to Leslie, she was just being helpful as Leslie needed money to repair her house. Owen found the material for his great Canadian novel in Captain Jim's Life-book. Captain Jim could read through the newly published book, breathed his last and went out with the tide at dawn's first light just like he wished for. What a way to go! Leslie was being selfless in taking the idiot whom she thought was her husband to Montreal for treatment. As the idiot regained his faculties, they realized he was her deceased husband's cousin. She was then free from a disastrous marriage. Leslie and Owen made a lovely couple. Much, much later, Kenneth Ford married Anne's youngest daughter, Rilla.
In modern life, for folks like me who live in a metropolis of a few million people, what is the chance of any one of my children marrying a child of a couple I know? Practically, the answer is almost zero. I suppose that is why reading an old fashion book like this is immensely satisfying.
When Cornelia sent Owen as a boarder to Leslie, she was just being helpful as Leslie needed money to repair her house. Owen found the material for his great Canadian novel in Captain Jim's Life-book. Captain Jim could read through the newly published book, breathed his last and went out with the tide at dawn's first light just like he wished for. What a way to go! Leslie was being selfless in taking the idiot whom she thought was her husband to Montreal for treatment. As the idiot regained his faculties, they realized he was her deceased husband's cousin. She was then free from a disastrous marriage. Leslie and Owen made a lovely couple. Much, much later, Kenneth Ford married Anne's youngest daughter, Rilla.
In modern life, for folks like me who live in a metropolis of a few million people, what is the chance of any one of my children marrying a child of a couple I know? Practically, the answer is almost zero. I suppose that is why reading an old fashion book like this is immensely satisfying.
(844) Anne of the Island by L.M.Montgomery
Here we find Anne studying for her B.A. in Redmond. She was with Priscilla, Gilbert and Charlie. In this book I like the chapter on Patty's Place. I can just visualize the simple cottage among the mansions on Millionaire's Row. Trust Anne to find Priscilla, Stella, and Phil to room together to save on living expenses. It was a God send for the four girls to have Aunt Jimsie to keep house for them.
The romantic side of Anne encouraged Roy on for almost two years. But when things came to the crux, Anne could not say yes to his marriage proposal. On the one hand, she had treated him pretty shamefully. Yet on the other hand, she did imagine herself in love with him. I suppose it was difficult to refuse money, position, good looks and good breeding in a man.
It took a life threatening disease in Gilbert to shake some sense into Anne. For someone who had had admirers all her life, it is easy to take Gilbert as a boyhood friend and no more. It took the two years of being courted by Roy to help Anne realize the difference of what is being in love and what is feeling flattered by the attentions of a highly eligible man.
In fact different people marry for entirely different reasons. Anne had chosen love.
The romantic side of Anne encouraged Roy on for almost two years. But when things came to the crux, Anne could not say yes to his marriage proposal. On the one hand, she had treated him pretty shamefully. Yet on the other hand, she did imagine herself in love with him. I suppose it was difficult to refuse money, position, good looks and good breeding in a man.
It took a life threatening disease in Gilbert to shake some sense into Anne. For someone who had had admirers all her life, it is easy to take Gilbert as a boyhood friend and no more. It took the two years of being courted by Roy to help Anne realize the difference of what is being in love and what is feeling flattered by the attentions of a highly eligible man.
In fact different people marry for entirely different reasons. Anne had chosen love.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
(843) Anne of Windy Poplars by L.M.Montgomery
While Gilbert was studying medicine, Anne was working as the Principal of Summerside High School. This book is mainly made up of excepts of love letters written by Anne to Gilbert.
This is a fair to middling book. Not the best of the series, not the worst either! This particular time I read it, I was highly entertained by the wedding at the Nelson's at Bonnyview. It is in Chapter 15 and starts at page 102. There were six daughters in the Nelson household. Four were married off. Anne went to be a bridesmaid to Sally. Nora, the last single daughter was certainly not having a good time with all and sundry teasing her.
The problem with Nora is that she loved to quarrel with her child hood sweet heart, Jim. She took his loyalty and unswerving devotion for granted. All seemed well until they had a big, loud quarrel and Jim gave up coming to court Nora. Anne, being her impulsive self, decided to help Nora by putting a lamp at the attic window to summon Jim over for the shore dance. Well, Jim was away until 1 am. Anne, distracted by having a good time at the beach, forgot all about taking the lamp down. Poor Jim, he rushed over the bay and was caught embracing his beloved in the downstairs library in the middle of the night. Goaded by an ancient aunt, he proposed in public. Much to his shock, Nora accepted the proposal immediately.
I suppose it is rather unfair that an unmarried woman past forty is called a spinster. Yet an unmarried man in his forties is eligible. Being parents of girls, we worry if there are no suitors. If there are too many suitors, it is a problem. When a daughter decides to marry, the mother is ambivalent until quite a while later before she can be sure that her daughter made the right choice. Now that girls are well educated and have equal opportunities of being employed outside of the house, things are much better than before.
This is a fair to middling book. Not the best of the series, not the worst either! This particular time I read it, I was highly entertained by the wedding at the Nelson's at Bonnyview. It is in Chapter 15 and starts at page 102. There were six daughters in the Nelson household. Four were married off. Anne went to be a bridesmaid to Sally. Nora, the last single daughter was certainly not having a good time with all and sundry teasing her.
The problem with Nora is that she loved to quarrel with her child hood sweet heart, Jim. She took his loyalty and unswerving devotion for granted. All seemed well until they had a big, loud quarrel and Jim gave up coming to court Nora. Anne, being her impulsive self, decided to help Nora by putting a lamp at the attic window to summon Jim over for the shore dance. Well, Jim was away until 1 am. Anne, distracted by having a good time at the beach, forgot all about taking the lamp down. Poor Jim, he rushed over the bay and was caught embracing his beloved in the downstairs library in the middle of the night. Goaded by an ancient aunt, he proposed in public. Much to his shock, Nora accepted the proposal immediately.
I suppose it is rather unfair that an unmarried woman past forty is called a spinster. Yet an unmarried man in his forties is eligible. Being parents of girls, we worry if there are no suitors. If there are too many suitors, it is a problem. When a daughter decides to marry, the mother is ambivalent until quite a while later before she can be sure that her daughter made the right choice. Now that girls are well educated and have equal opportunities of being employed outside of the house, things are much better than before.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
(842) Search for the Green Leaf Tribe
I participated in a missionaries' conference recently. Here I will recall one particular testimony. One couple, the husband is from the Philiphines and the wife is from Sabah, were called to a hill tribe in Indo China. Mr Missionary has had a recurring vision for many years. At first he did not know where the tribe is, nor did he know the name of this tribe. After much prayers, he has a burden for Laos. However, Mrs Missionary thought she was called to China. While preparing and waiting, each prayed for his or her country. As the years passed, Mr M's burden for Laos deepened. Mrs M gradually cared more about Laos than China. They joined a mission organization, received relevant training and raised support.
One day, they flew to Laos and learnt the language. Still, they do not know where their tribe is. When their language teacher went back to his hometown for a visit, our harassed missionaries thought they too would take a little trip and leave the capital city. In the hotel, Mr M flipped through some government publication and to his surprise, he saw his tribe (exactly as appeared in his vision) listed with its name and location. Here we will call them the Green Leaf people.
They become very excited and bought bus tickets to that province. Sad to say, these people were quite illusive, they weren't in the area the publications said they would be in. Mr and Mrs M almost given up after a four day search. Mr M said they would look for one more place as suggested, if they cannot find the Green Leaf people, they would go back to the capital.
That night, Mrs M dreamed that she and her husband traveled on a motorbike taxi, they followed a yellow river as it meandered. As the river forked into two, in the dream they took the right hand fork and crossed a stone bridge.
The next day, they went to the town suggested by the bus station master. No one seemed to have heard of the people group they were looking for. As Mrs M walked across a wooden bridge, her left sandal parted from its heel. She limped over to a small stall and was talked into having her hair washed. As she was chatting with the shampoo man in Laotian, her husband came back and spoke to her in Sabahan. Suddenly the shampoo man burst in a big smile and spoke to them in fluent Sabahan. It seemed he went to work in Sabah for two years as a foreign worker. As he asked what this couple was doing in so remote a village out of the tourist scene, they confided they were looking for the Green Leaf tribe. He chuckled and called a small boy from the noodle stall next door. That urchin is from the Green Leaf tribe. Together the shampoo man and the urchin found a motor taxi willing to take the couple to the Green Leaf village.
The journey they took was exactly as Mrs M dreamed. They traveled on rutted roads for many miles following the winding of a yellow river. When they approached the fork, even the taxi rider was not sure where to go. Mrs M insisted he followed the right fork. Soon after that they reached the few bamboo houses on the road side. They have found their tribe!
One day, they flew to Laos and learnt the language. Still, they do not know where their tribe is. When their language teacher went back to his hometown for a visit, our harassed missionaries thought they too would take a little trip and leave the capital city. In the hotel, Mr M flipped through some government publication and to his surprise, he saw his tribe (exactly as appeared in his vision) listed with its name and location. Here we will call them the Green Leaf people.
They become very excited and bought bus tickets to that province. Sad to say, these people were quite illusive, they weren't in the area the publications said they would be in. Mr and Mrs M almost given up after a four day search. Mr M said they would look for one more place as suggested, if they cannot find the Green Leaf people, they would go back to the capital.
That night, Mrs M dreamed that she and her husband traveled on a motorbike taxi, they followed a yellow river as it meandered. As the river forked into two, in the dream they took the right hand fork and crossed a stone bridge.
The next day, they went to the town suggested by the bus station master. No one seemed to have heard of the people group they were looking for. As Mrs M walked across a wooden bridge, her left sandal parted from its heel. She limped over to a small stall and was talked into having her hair washed. As she was chatting with the shampoo man in Laotian, her husband came back and spoke to her in Sabahan. Suddenly the shampoo man burst in a big smile and spoke to them in fluent Sabahan. It seemed he went to work in Sabah for two years as a foreign worker. As he asked what this couple was doing in so remote a village out of the tourist scene, they confided they were looking for the Green Leaf tribe. He chuckled and called a small boy from the noodle stall next door. That urchin is from the Green Leaf tribe. Together the shampoo man and the urchin found a motor taxi willing to take the couple to the Green Leaf village.
The journey they took was exactly as Mrs M dreamed. They traveled on rutted roads for many miles following the winding of a yellow river. When they approached the fork, even the taxi rider was not sure where to go. Mrs M insisted he followed the right fork. Soon after that they reached the few bamboo houses on the road side. They have found their tribe!
(841) Crocodile meat as medicine
A friend was having lots of phlegm in her lungs and coughing continually but did not seem to dislodge it. I thought of my experience with Michael when he was about three years old.
Around that time I was working part-time in a local college but was sending Michael to a full time nanny. Michael was prone to cough and cold. One particular episode of flu was unusually virulent. He went through three sets of antibiotic plus other medication but was still coughing badly. My nanny's husband was a rather over bearing man. He instructed me to go to one village medicine shop (Chinese physician), ask for crocodile meat and whatever herb accompanying, boil them as instructed and force it down Michael's throat.
I was at wit's end then, so accordingly I did exactly as he instructed. The boiling formula was to add two bowls of water to the ingredients and boil it on low fire until I have one bowl of liquid left in the pot. I measured two bowls, started the slow boil. Then I sat down in the kitchen wondering how on earth would I know when to stop. After all, my eyes cannot tell me how much liquid would make one bowl. My dear husband walked in and asked me why I was sitting there watching the brew heating.
When he heard my difficulty, he tried not to laugh. He took a spoon and showed me the level of liquid with two bowls. So he said that when the liquid level falls to half that mark, the brew is ready. He used the spoon upside down, there was a leaf conveniently carved on the handle at the level where I should turn off the fire. I thought, why was I so stupid not to think of that myself. The big problem being solved, so I checked the brew every five minutes until it was done!
I remembered my husband and I forced fed the smelly medicine down my poor son's throat at about 5 pm. That night(at 1:30am) he woke up gagging and vomited a large pool of thick phlegm on the bathroom floor. The following day he was completely well.
My friend said her God ma did cook some foul broth twice like I said but it did not help her. She commented that if she were to go through what I related: having the difficulty of judging liquid level, she would be soundly scolded by her ex-husband. He could not accept the fact that she is not as clever and accomplished as he is. After about twenty years of being ill treated, put down, humiliated, emotionally abused... she finally called it quits. Her divorce finalized three years ago. She is rather happy earning her own keep now.
I believe she and I are both dyslexic to a certain extent, for her certain traits are more severe, I could have overcome my short comings a little further. I suppose it helped that my parents treated me like gold. I have spent the earlier part of my life earning honors. God was good that I won a scholarship to an American college. Many smarter people applied but could not go. I worked hard and graduated with honors. More than that, I was honored by the nomination to Phi Beta Kappa. Even if my husband dared to belittle me, I would not meekly swallow it. I know my own worth. It is not that I deserve honors, it is more of the fact that God has endowed me with lots of talents. He more than made up for all my short comings.
As I continue to listen to this woman who has suffered much. She in turn is helping her niece. That niece displayed even more classic symptoms of dyslexia. Well, the niece is fortunate that her aunt stuck her neck out to explain things to the former when she was 21. She will have many years of understanding and working within herself to overcome what needs to be worked on. She would not fall prey to others who might put her down because she could not help being what God made her to be.
Even for my friend who first learnt that she was merely dyslexic and not brain damaged at age 47, there is healing in God. As she accepts herself, peace and confidence would be her portion.
Around that time I was working part-time in a local college but was sending Michael to a full time nanny. Michael was prone to cough and cold. One particular episode of flu was unusually virulent. He went through three sets of antibiotic plus other medication but was still coughing badly. My nanny's husband was a rather over bearing man. He instructed me to go to one village medicine shop (Chinese physician), ask for crocodile meat and whatever herb accompanying, boil them as instructed and force it down Michael's throat.
I was at wit's end then, so accordingly I did exactly as he instructed. The boiling formula was to add two bowls of water to the ingredients and boil it on low fire until I have one bowl of liquid left in the pot. I measured two bowls, started the slow boil. Then I sat down in the kitchen wondering how on earth would I know when to stop. After all, my eyes cannot tell me how much liquid would make one bowl. My dear husband walked in and asked me why I was sitting there watching the brew heating.
When he heard my difficulty, he tried not to laugh. He took a spoon and showed me the level of liquid with two bowls. So he said that when the liquid level falls to half that mark, the brew is ready. He used the spoon upside down, there was a leaf conveniently carved on the handle at the level where I should turn off the fire. I thought, why was I so stupid not to think of that myself. The big problem being solved, so I checked the brew every five minutes until it was done!
I remembered my husband and I forced fed the smelly medicine down my poor son's throat at about 5 pm. That night(at 1:30am) he woke up gagging and vomited a large pool of thick phlegm on the bathroom floor. The following day he was completely well.
My friend said her God ma did cook some foul broth twice like I said but it did not help her. She commented that if she were to go through what I related: having the difficulty of judging liquid level, she would be soundly scolded by her ex-husband. He could not accept the fact that she is not as clever and accomplished as he is. After about twenty years of being ill treated, put down, humiliated, emotionally abused... she finally called it quits. Her divorce finalized three years ago. She is rather happy earning her own keep now.
I believe she and I are both dyslexic to a certain extent, for her certain traits are more severe, I could have overcome my short comings a little further. I suppose it helped that my parents treated me like gold. I have spent the earlier part of my life earning honors. God was good that I won a scholarship to an American college. Many smarter people applied but could not go. I worked hard and graduated with honors. More than that, I was honored by the nomination to Phi Beta Kappa. Even if my husband dared to belittle me, I would not meekly swallow it. I know my own worth. It is not that I deserve honors, it is more of the fact that God has endowed me with lots of talents. He more than made up for all my short comings.
As I continue to listen to this woman who has suffered much. She in turn is helping her niece. That niece displayed even more classic symptoms of dyslexia. Well, the niece is fortunate that her aunt stuck her neck out to explain things to the former when she was 21. She will have many years of understanding and working within herself to overcome what needs to be worked on. She would not fall prey to others who might put her down because she could not help being what God made her to be.
Even for my friend who first learnt that she was merely dyslexic and not brain damaged at age 47, there is healing in God. As she accepts herself, peace and confidence would be her portion.
(840) An Autobiography by Agatha Christie
This is a rather thick book, all 551 pages of it. I feel very blessed when my daughter, Elizabeth, borrowed it from her uni library for me. Had she chosen to take up a study loan and gone to USA, I would not be writing this blog.
To you, there may not be any thing special about getting hold of this book. I have been buying Christie book one at a time. Through the years, my family has collected 62 books of hers. Many a time, I saw this autobiography in a book shop. But I have never thought of spending about $100 to buy it brand new.
After reading in between the lines through many detective novels of hers, it is wonderful to find out more about her as a person as she told it straight in the book. Here I will focus on one incident: the mother of Christie's death and Christie's decision to grief alone.
Logically speaking, Christie had one sister and a brother; she need not take it upon herself to spend months clearing her childhood home. Moreover, by then she had much funds. She also had quite a number of women whom she trusted as secretary, nanny or house keeper. Surely she could make arrangement to have a small team of trusted retainers to sift through those things and she herself went one afternoon every weekend to make final decisions on what to keep and what to throw or sell.
But I suppose she had neglected her mother's advise that a woman's place is by her husband. Particularly that Christie's first husband was the type that was rather attractive to other women. When she turned down her husband's suggestion that they both spend a few months in Spain, the die was cast. A few month's separation opened the door to her husband having the opportunity to see other women in gay London; he promptly fell head over heel in love with a woman he did not fancy just a a few years previously.
But I suppose it is rather good riddance to bad rubbish! A man like that is liable to fail his wife in the most delicate situation. It is good fortune for Christie to be rid of this unfaithful man when she was young enough to dare to take on a second husband. She made an excellent choice! An archaeologist would not cast aside an aging wife for a newer model. Finally, she has a person she could depend on by her side for the rest of her life.
To you, there may not be any thing special about getting hold of this book. I have been buying Christie book one at a time. Through the years, my family has collected 62 books of hers. Many a time, I saw this autobiography in a book shop. But I have never thought of spending about $100 to buy it brand new.
After reading in between the lines through many detective novels of hers, it is wonderful to find out more about her as a person as she told it straight in the book. Here I will focus on one incident: the mother of Christie's death and Christie's decision to grief alone.
Logically speaking, Christie had one sister and a brother; she need not take it upon herself to spend months clearing her childhood home. Moreover, by then she had much funds. She also had quite a number of women whom she trusted as secretary, nanny or house keeper. Surely she could make arrangement to have a small team of trusted retainers to sift through those things and she herself went one afternoon every weekend to make final decisions on what to keep and what to throw or sell.
But I suppose she had neglected her mother's advise that a woman's place is by her husband. Particularly that Christie's first husband was the type that was rather attractive to other women. When she turned down her husband's suggestion that they both spend a few months in Spain, the die was cast. A few month's separation opened the door to her husband having the opportunity to see other women in gay London; he promptly fell head over heel in love with a woman he did not fancy just a a few years previously.
But I suppose it is rather good riddance to bad rubbish! A man like that is liable to fail his wife in the most delicate situation. It is good fortune for Christie to be rid of this unfaithful man when she was young enough to dare to take on a second husband. She made an excellent choice! An archaeologist would not cast aside an aging wife for a newer model. Finally, she has a person she could depend on by her side for the rest of her life.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
(839) Trying to be kind to our maids
Ming Choo went to visit her brother's family. They recently brought in a new Indonesian maid. While the working members were out at work, Ming Choo went out to meet up with friends. She returned and got in with the keys given to her and heard weeping in the kitchen. She walked quietly in and handed some tissues to the maid and settled down to listen to her.
The story went like this: the maid came from a rural area and was used to eating rice three meals a day. She did not look for much except salted fish, chillie paste and lots of hot white rice. Her Mam was being kind in insisting that she eats noodle and meat and vegetables just like Mam for lunch. She hiccup and confessed that she was very hungry, a bowl of noodle even with much meat could not fill her. She felt a hollow in her middle and had no strength to work.
It takes Ming Choo quite some time to mediate between Mam and maid, even Sir was brought in. At the end of discussion, the working daughter run out and bought a kilo chillie padi(tiny chilly pepper), half a kilo of small cheap salted fish and ten kilo of the normal white rice. The maid was given leave to cook however much she pleases to eat, at the same time Mam said that whatever other food is available, the maid could eat as well. There after, they have a well fed, happy and hard working maid.
The story went like this: the maid came from a rural area and was used to eating rice three meals a day. She did not look for much except salted fish, chillie paste and lots of hot white rice. Her Mam was being kind in insisting that she eats noodle and meat and vegetables just like Mam for lunch. She hiccup and confessed that she was very hungry, a bowl of noodle even with much meat could not fill her. She felt a hollow in her middle and had no strength to work.
It takes Ming Choo quite some time to mediate between Mam and maid, even Sir was brought in. At the end of discussion, the working daughter run out and bought a kilo chillie padi(tiny chilly pepper), half a kilo of small cheap salted fish and ten kilo of the normal white rice. The maid was given leave to cook however much she pleases to eat, at the same time Mam said that whatever other food is available, the maid could eat as well. There after, they have a well fed, happy and hard working maid.
(838) Stories I told my nephew 2
The second time I chauffeured my nephew to work, I asked him about his preference on the location of his future house.
You see, the house opposite my brother's is up for sale. My brother is due to take out his EPF (employee provident fund) soon. A few days ago my mother happily suggested that my brother considered buying it up, let it out for the time being until my nephew gets married. However, my sister-in-law responded very off hand that probably he wouldn't want to live in such an old neighborhood. Being a quiet person, my nephew listened to all that without saying anything.
I pointed out to him that should he decide to live in this city, his wife would probably have to work full time for her entire adult life unless she is moneyed or my nephew strikes it rich. By the time they have children, if they choose to have children, it will be very convenient to have one set of grandparents nearby. In the event that he chooses to live in another part of the country, a property in this neighborhood would never go below the price he pays. For the past twenty five years, houses in good areas in this city have the highest rates of growth. He could easily sell it off to build his dream house in another town.
After a few moments of thinking, he expressed that he did not think so far. The area they are living in is peaceful and safe. Perhaps that house opposite is rather run down, but he would not object to another in the vicinity. He did recall that during my father's last illness, my brother drove, he and I had our hands full in helping the old man to walk to the clinic toilet. He could appreciate the fact that I chose to live near my parents. After this conversation, I reported all details to my mother. She will judge when will be a good time to relate to my sister-in-law. Within these six months before my nephew is confirmed at his job, they would have ample time to look for a suitable property. With the expected rental value, he would have to set aside the difference(between rental and installment payment) to help pay for his house. That will be good discipline in learning not to live a high life on his pay.
You see, the house opposite my brother's is up for sale. My brother is due to take out his EPF (employee provident fund) soon. A few days ago my mother happily suggested that my brother considered buying it up, let it out for the time being until my nephew gets married. However, my sister-in-law responded very off hand that probably he wouldn't want to live in such an old neighborhood. Being a quiet person, my nephew listened to all that without saying anything.
I pointed out to him that should he decide to live in this city, his wife would probably have to work full time for her entire adult life unless she is moneyed or my nephew strikes it rich. By the time they have children, if they choose to have children, it will be very convenient to have one set of grandparents nearby. In the event that he chooses to live in another part of the country, a property in this neighborhood would never go below the price he pays. For the past twenty five years, houses in good areas in this city have the highest rates of growth. He could easily sell it off to build his dream house in another town.
After a few moments of thinking, he expressed that he did not think so far. The area they are living in is peaceful and safe. Perhaps that house opposite is rather run down, but he would not object to another in the vicinity. He did recall that during my father's last illness, my brother drove, he and I had our hands full in helping the old man to walk to the clinic toilet. He could appreciate the fact that I chose to live near my parents. After this conversation, I reported all details to my mother. She will judge when will be a good time to relate to my sister-in-law. Within these six months before my nephew is confirmed at his job, they would have ample time to look for a suitable property. With the expected rental value, he would have to set aside the difference(between rental and installment payment) to help pay for his house. That will be good discipline in learning not to live a high life on his pay.
(837) Stories I told my nephew 1
While my nephew is waiting for the delivery of his first car, I was drafted into sending him to work every Tuesday. Since I am a firm believer in grabbing the opportunity of instilling a lesson, it is wonderful to have a captive audience once in a while.
I related a real incident in my life. My uncle was a government servant. His wife is a home-maker. When a government long serving servant retired, there is a decent amount of gratuity given upon his 55th birthday. This couple came to the agreement that they would split the gratuity half-half. There after she would not touch a cent of his pension. He also agreed that when the children chipped in house keeping money, he would not demand any.
All went well until the eldest son has been working for a year or so. He then noticed that his father would avoid sitting and talking with him in the lounge area. Over a drink, he casually asked me what could have gone wrong. I tuned my data base of Chinese customs and shot my first question,"Did you greet him on the way out to work? What about when you reached home in the evening?" Answers were in the affirmative. Next question,"When was the last time you gave him money?" The answer was the last Chinese New Year. I was shocked! Since my cousin was educated in the national language, I have to start explaining that giving money to an elder is a very Chinese way of showing love and concern. He has to give regardless whether his father needs any allowance from him or not.
My cousin was teachable. He started giving his old man $50 in a red packet the very next month. He was laughing when he related how his dad bought him a six pact of beer for him the week end after. Then the following month, his dad accepted another $50 but bought him two pairs of very nice bermuda pants( foo- pants in Chinese meant wealth, the old man is blessing his first born son.). This time, I had fun estimating the value of the pants and told him that he actually gained numerically when he accepted the pants. I was happy to note that father and son were closer than before.
And with the real incident, I taught my nephew that he should give whatever he could afford to his parent who controls the housekeeping. In his case, he needs to pay monthly car installment. Suppose if he gives $300 to his dad who shops for food, he could lovingly gives $30 to his mom as a gesture of love. Unless they refused to accept it, he should continue to give. Then as he gets increments and promotions, he should increase his contributions proportionately.
I related a real incident in my life. My uncle was a government servant. His wife is a home-maker. When a government long serving servant retired, there is a decent amount of gratuity given upon his 55th birthday. This couple came to the agreement that they would split the gratuity half-half. There after she would not touch a cent of his pension. He also agreed that when the children chipped in house keeping money, he would not demand any.
All went well until the eldest son has been working for a year or so. He then noticed that his father would avoid sitting and talking with him in the lounge area. Over a drink, he casually asked me what could have gone wrong. I tuned my data base of Chinese customs and shot my first question,"Did you greet him on the way out to work? What about when you reached home in the evening?" Answers were in the affirmative. Next question,"When was the last time you gave him money?" The answer was the last Chinese New Year. I was shocked! Since my cousin was educated in the national language, I have to start explaining that giving money to an elder is a very Chinese way of showing love and concern. He has to give regardless whether his father needs any allowance from him or not.
My cousin was teachable. He started giving his old man $50 in a red packet the very next month. He was laughing when he related how his dad bought him a six pact of beer for him the week end after. Then the following month, his dad accepted another $50 but bought him two pairs of very nice bermuda pants( foo- pants in Chinese meant wealth, the old man is blessing his first born son.). This time, I had fun estimating the value of the pants and told him that he actually gained numerically when he accepted the pants. I was happy to note that father and son were closer than before.
And with the real incident, I taught my nephew that he should give whatever he could afford to his parent who controls the housekeeping. In his case, he needs to pay monthly car installment. Suppose if he gives $300 to his dad who shops for food, he could lovingly gives $30 to his mom as a gesture of love. Unless they refused to accept it, he should continue to give. Then as he gets increments and promotions, he should increase his contributions proportionately.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
(836) Abduction and murder
Recently a five-year-old was abducted and later her remains was found burnt in a palm oil estate. She apparently went out to buy eggs for her mum to cook breakfast. Bystanders saw three men bundling her into a car. Out of the three suspects remanded, one was her biological father.
While this was shocking, I can't help but recall that at five years old, I was commissioned to send a tray of coconut sweets to the cottage industry neighbor every afternoon at three o'clock. (My mum led all the children in wrapping sweets to earn a few dollars a month.) Of course that was well over forty years before this. Therefore, things weren't this bad many years ago. As a child, I was out of the house after breakfast until it was lunch time. Then we weren't allowed out until about four pm when the sun was not quite burning our skin. We were expected to go back before sunset. Of course we roamed in packs, both boys and girls, the older ones being in charged of the younger ones.
When my children were young, I was most careful not to let them out of my sight. Even then we heard of children who were missing being sighted in a neighboring country begging for syndicates. Most of those tales related the child missing both legs or in one case an older child was missing a tongue.
These few years, quite a few young girls were taken. One or two were found dead and tortured. The rest were just missing with lots of photographs pasted in public places. Common sense tells me that they were either dead or had been smuggled out of the country much earlier.
While this was shocking, I can't help but recall that at five years old, I was commissioned to send a tray of coconut sweets to the cottage industry neighbor every afternoon at three o'clock. (My mum led all the children in wrapping sweets to earn a few dollars a month.) Of course that was well over forty years before this. Therefore, things weren't this bad many years ago. As a child, I was out of the house after breakfast until it was lunch time. Then we weren't allowed out until about four pm when the sun was not quite burning our skin. We were expected to go back before sunset. Of course we roamed in packs, both boys and girls, the older ones being in charged of the younger ones.
When my children were young, I was most careful not to let them out of my sight. Even then we heard of children who were missing being sighted in a neighboring country begging for syndicates. Most of those tales related the child missing both legs or in one case an older child was missing a tongue.
These few years, quite a few young girls were taken. One or two were found dead and tortured. The rest were just missing with lots of photographs pasted in public places. Common sense tells me that they were either dead or had been smuggled out of the country much earlier.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
(835) Murder in the Vicarage by Agatha Christie
"I remember a saying of my Great Aunt Fanny's. I was sixteen at the time and thought it particularly foolish." ... "She used to say,'The young people think the old people are fools -- but the old people know the young people are fools!' " (Miss Marple said this in her old age)
Just like Miss Marple, I grew up with a wise old grandma who knew a proverb for every occasion. Nowadays I find myself trying to remember them, usually my mother had them word perfect. It is funny that a peasant could have a storehouse of folk saying that is not recorded in the written language. I spent six years learning proverbs in school and another six reading newspaper and magazines. Yet somehow I don't remember coming across some of my grandma's sayings.
Now that there is a fair amount of grey hair on my head, I realized my grand ma was wise. I am in turn considered old and obsolete by the teenagers of today. And so history repeats itself!
(834) America by Stephen Fry
When I first landed in the US, I started making a list of states I have walked on. Of course then I was sure I would stay for a long, long time. Reality is certainly a long way from wishes. Now the way things are it is most unlikely I would add many to the fourteen I have visited. It is no longer regrets looking back. I choose to be thankful for wherever I was privileged to have been, whatever I have done and whomever I have met.
When the above book came into my hands I have a whale of a time going through the fifty states that Stephen visited in making his television show. While he shared what struck him about one particular state, I relive what I like most about that state. We start with South Carolina. One of my college mates took me home the first spring break I had. All the way we drove to South Carolina, I saw an entire hill filled with the most beautiful trees in full blossom. Some pink but mostly white. They looked like brides lining up along the country road. They were peach blossoms. Had I visited South Carolina at any other time, I would not have been treated to such a beautiful and delicate sight.
Next I think of Texas, where I spent a summer. What I like most was the arid hill country I drove through. While most people may not think it scenic, I really found the scene peaceful. Had I stayed on and married the nice young man who was courting me then, it would not be a far out idea to live on an acre or two among such hills. There I experienced dry heat which was much more bearable than humid heat. Yet it is ironic that I did come back and got back used to intense humid heat and daily hope for cooling rain.
Then I see in my mind's eye the blue, blue ocean of California. My "little sister" from college was driving me along the coastal highway while I feasted my eyes. My brother's landlord was right that the stretch just north of San Francisco was more than beautiful. I love the Californian weather. No matter how hot the sun was, one just have to step into some shade and it is rather cooling having the sea breeze blowing.
Although now I live in a very green country, nothing here can compare with the shiny dew drop green velvety grass on a mountaintop in Hawaii. Since I don't remember travelling on any boat while in Hawaii, it must have been on the same island as Honolulu. Since that day I have only seen the same intense green in the scenery of The Lord of the Ring -- New Zealand.
Now I don't feel quite so alone when listening to Star Spangle Banner brought tears to my eyes. Stephen Fry confessed to feeling the same way. Out of the huge, wide world, Stephen and I are two of a group of people who just happened to be partial to America.
When the above book came into my hands I have a whale of a time going through the fifty states that Stephen visited in making his television show. While he shared what struck him about one particular state, I relive what I like most about that state. We start with South Carolina. One of my college mates took me home the first spring break I had. All the way we drove to South Carolina, I saw an entire hill filled with the most beautiful trees in full blossom. Some pink but mostly white. They looked like brides lining up along the country road. They were peach blossoms. Had I visited South Carolina at any other time, I would not have been treated to such a beautiful and delicate sight.
Next I think of Texas, where I spent a summer. What I like most was the arid hill country I drove through. While most people may not think it scenic, I really found the scene peaceful. Had I stayed on and married the nice young man who was courting me then, it would not be a far out idea to live on an acre or two among such hills. There I experienced dry heat which was much more bearable than humid heat. Yet it is ironic that I did come back and got back used to intense humid heat and daily hope for cooling rain.
Then I see in my mind's eye the blue, blue ocean of California. My "little sister" from college was driving me along the coastal highway while I feasted my eyes. My brother's landlord was right that the stretch just north of San Francisco was more than beautiful. I love the Californian weather. No matter how hot the sun was, one just have to step into some shade and it is rather cooling having the sea breeze blowing.
Although now I live in a very green country, nothing here can compare with the shiny dew drop green velvety grass on a mountaintop in Hawaii. Since I don't remember travelling on any boat while in Hawaii, it must have been on the same island as Honolulu. Since that day I have only seen the same intense green in the scenery of The Lord of the Ring -- New Zealand.
Now I don't feel quite so alone when listening to Star Spangle Banner brought tears to my eyes. Stephen Fry confessed to feeling the same way. Out of the huge, wide world, Stephen and I are two of a group of people who just happened to be partial to America.
Friday, March 16, 2012
(833) Self esteem
What we are today is affected to a certain extent by what happened in the past. I have a friend whose mother married three times but none of the marriages last. In her old age, the old lady amassed all her alimony and lived very well. She shopped. She has tried every new restaurant in town. She flew oveseas at least twice a year for expensive trips. She played Mahjong and has a crowd of other ladies of leisure to socialise with.
But her daughter seemed to be suffering from her experiences. Looking at the younger person's figure and appearance, I would think she has plenty of suitors. She is smart and rose up the career ladder quite fast. But somehow her relationships with the eligible bachelors that came a-courting did not lead to marriage. She is now in her mid thirties, not quite over the hill yet.
Perhaps it has something to do with her mum's divorces, she distrusts people like police, lawyers and she is none too fond of judges. I suppose there is still some part of her that is vulnerable, the helpless little girl being pushed from one parent to another. Whether it is a custody battle or being an unwanted child, it did not help with a person's self esteem.
(832) Dumb Witness by Agatha Christie
The other day I met an old woman in the hospital. She bemoaned about the fact that she depends on monthly allowances her six daughters gave her. She said, "Wouldn't it be nice to have my own money and not to have to depend on my children?"
While I was telling her the gift of gratitude: to be thankful that each of her daughters cares enough to give her $50 each month, and to be grateful that her deceased son's fiancee allows her to stay in her apartment rent free; I was thinking of Emily Arundell of Dumb Witness. Arundell did not marry but she had two nieces and one nephew. They each had inheritance from their parents, but one way or another they spent or speculated it. Each of them was waiting for their aunt to kick the bucket so that they could get their rightful share. From my way of looking at life, this woman in the hospital is much more fortunate than Miss Arundell who was independently rich.
You may disagree with me and said Arundell was just a fictional story. That is true. But in real life, things are not that much different! I had a close friend who inherited at least one million from her dad. She has the ambition of not touching the principal nor interest, and she wanted to build the fortune for her children. I suppose life is not fair. She happened to marry a man that her father and kin despised. As things turned out, those relatives of hers were right in that her husband did marry her so that he needs not work anymore but can live a soft and comfortable life. She found herself scrimping and pinching even though she is an heiress. Neither her husband nor any of her children wants to live frugally. It won't be long before they would be waiting for her to die so that each of them could spend her tightly held money.
Money in itself is neutral, but the love of accumulating more money has caused my friend a rift from her comfort loving family. She is not wrong in wanting to add a little more to her holdings. Her family members are not wrong to want her to release some extra money to add to their enjoyment in life.
While I was telling her the gift of gratitude: to be thankful that each of her daughters cares enough to give her $50 each month, and to be grateful that her deceased son's fiancee allows her to stay in her apartment rent free; I was thinking of Emily Arundell of Dumb Witness. Arundell did not marry but she had two nieces and one nephew. They each had inheritance from their parents, but one way or another they spent or speculated it. Each of them was waiting for their aunt to kick the bucket so that they could get their rightful share. From my way of looking at life, this woman in the hospital is much more fortunate than Miss Arundell who was independently rich.
You may disagree with me and said Arundell was just a fictional story. That is true. But in real life, things are not that much different! I had a close friend who inherited at least one million from her dad. She has the ambition of not touching the principal nor interest, and she wanted to build the fortune for her children. I suppose life is not fair. She happened to marry a man that her father and kin despised. As things turned out, those relatives of hers were right in that her husband did marry her so that he needs not work anymore but can live a soft and comfortable life. She found herself scrimping and pinching even though she is an heiress. Neither her husband nor any of her children wants to live frugally. It won't be long before they would be waiting for her to die so that each of them could spend her tightly held money.
Money in itself is neutral, but the love of accumulating more money has caused my friend a rift from her comfort loving family. She is not wrong in wanting to add a little more to her holdings. Her family members are not wrong to want her to release some extra money to add to their enjoyment in life.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
(831) Destination Unknown by Agatha Christie
In page 162, we find " The party of travelers had arrived at the place of no return. Hilary had gambled with death and lost. And she knew now that Jessop's disgnosis had been correct. She no longer wanted to die. She wanted to live. ..."
Hilary realized all these within a few moments. We are of course talking about a fictitious character in a Christie story. According to what Christie wrote, her characters belonged to her. She might have seen them in a public place like a bus or a restaurant. Within a brief time of observation, she selected them for the next story. But if she had a chance to know them or meet them again, then it won't work. She would have to look for other people or go on to another idea.
In 1990 I went through the valley of the shadow of death. It was Elizabeth that pulled me from dying inside. For quite a few years, the wish to end it all revisited. For me, the will and zest to live again came when I moved to my airy five-bedroom detached house with wonderful neighbours. It took me months to feel human and alive, getting up in the morning became a joy instead of a dreadful duty. At the happiest point of my stay in Silver City, I had thirteen chickens to care for. That was also the period of time I attended the training for home tutoring a dyslexic child. A whole lot of suppressed memories came back. I saw my checkered past in a boy I was tutoring. As his disability was being corrected by an expert using the Davies' Method, I felt that my life has turned full circle.
(830) A Dream
There is a retired missionary with a dream: setting up a non-profit Christian hang out place for college students offering Christian as well as other healthy literature and snacks. There is currently no bookshops, no public library nor any second hand book store in that college town.
This missionary happens to have an ex-employer who is rich and influential. More important than that, this rich man has children who are committed Christians. These children who are bosses in their own right have decided to help in providing a rent free venue for this Christian center. Besides herself, the missionary has found two women willing to help run this venture.
Now I must confess that a few years back I saw the need for such a place even in my own neighborhood. There are two schools right on my street. But I have prayed about it and realized that it was not my call. Since we have gone to look at possible venues up in that college town, I have examined my own heart. First of all, I yearn to move back out of the metropolitan area. It would be nice to live in a small town with no traffic jams. Secondly, I have spent much of my free time dealing with books and libraries as soon as my children started reading. They have grown into book loving adults. If God is willing, I will be able to help select donated books, purchase second hand books to build up just such a library my missionary friend is visualizing. But dreams are dreams until the economics are worked out. Therefore I put out a fleece to see if I am the one that should take up this challenge.
Within the next nine months, should what I have been praying for come to pass, then I will gladly move from my current place to that college town. If and when that happens, some of my friends who have not met my Lord will continue to wonder why I do not work for financial security even as I approach retirement age. To that I have a rather trite answer: Seek ye first His kingdom and righteousness, and the rest will be added unto you.
Continued in (993)
This missionary happens to have an ex-employer who is rich and influential. More important than that, this rich man has children who are committed Christians. These children who are bosses in their own right have decided to help in providing a rent free venue for this Christian center. Besides herself, the missionary has found two women willing to help run this venture.
Now I must confess that a few years back I saw the need for such a place even in my own neighborhood. There are two schools right on my street. But I have prayed about it and realized that it was not my call. Since we have gone to look at possible venues up in that college town, I have examined my own heart. First of all, I yearn to move back out of the metropolitan area. It would be nice to live in a small town with no traffic jams. Secondly, I have spent much of my free time dealing with books and libraries as soon as my children started reading. They have grown into book loving adults. If God is willing, I will be able to help select donated books, purchase second hand books to build up just such a library my missionary friend is visualizing. But dreams are dreams until the economics are worked out. Therefore I put out a fleece to see if I am the one that should take up this challenge.
Within the next nine months, should what I have been praying for come to pass, then I will gladly move from my current place to that college town. If and when that happens, some of my friends who have not met my Lord will continue to wonder why I do not work for financial security even as I approach retirement age. To that I have a rather trite answer: Seek ye first His kingdom and righteousness, and the rest will be added unto you.
Continued in (993)
(829) Spousal Abuse
Contrary to general thinking, highly educated women did and do get physically abused in their marriages.
In my last blog, we saw a fried noodle seller who seemed to get away with wife abuse. But this is really the tip of the ice berg. While I was bringing up my babies and toddlers, it is not unusual to see bruises on my neighbours in a poor neighbourhood.
What was unusual was one case that went on for years in an expensive residential area. We were renting a detached house in a small town. I am certain it was definitely spousal abuse. I have seen the bruise that my friend was vainly trying to hide. Her maid told me why her Sir wacked her Mam. My friend's relative confirmed it.
But this woman steadfastly protected her husband. I sat with her regularly for tea once in a while for years. She slowly pulled herself out of her depression. She is not only a college graduate. She is a professional who holds a very important position in society. You may ask me why she decided to put up with it all? I may have lots of data I collected on her through the years, but honestly I can't tell you why. I don't think she loves him anymore. Neither is she financially dependent on him. Perhaps she feared him!? Perhaps she was afraid of losing her children. Maybe she did not want the the stigma of a divorce?!
Throughout this relationship of being neighbours, I was a listener. Whatever decisions she came to, I did not contribute to it directly. If I had been of help at all, the glory goes to God who taught me to listen through personal pain and recovery.
(828) Out Live Your life by Max Lucado
I was reading the first chapter when Elizabeth asked me how did I find the book. without thinking, I answered it made me feel sinful.
"And in the five minutes it took you to read these pages, almost ninety children died of preventable diseases. More than half of all Africans do not have access to modern health facilities. ..." This quote was found on page 5. Now what can I do about it? What have I done about it? Nothing! Never have I thought of praying for the Africans in my weekly prayer nights. After reading this book, I will probably sleep well tonight. Tomorrow the sun shall rise and I will eat my breakfast with good appetite.
My limited links with the poor, off hand, are:
1. Giving small articles like tooth brush, hair brush, face towels ... or some cheap food like biscuits, bread, mandarin oranges, ... once a week to needy old folks in front a mosque for slightly more than a year right before I moved away from Silver City. The money for this project came from a few kind ladies ( from my church and neighbourhood)
2. For the past ten years, I have collected good and serviceable clothes. Destinations were: the hill tribes in northern Thailand, a small village near Bacalod, Filiphines, and a poor area in Java.
3. Recycling for disaster relief with a Buddhist organisation for close to six years.
I am by no means considered rich. Yet I have much more than the poor in Africa. After reading Max's book, prayerfully I want to do more. I am holding three books my neighbour left in front of my door. One is a Malay dictionary for Primary School children. Another is a book of opposites and same meanings. The third is Black Beauty. When I see my missionary friend (the same one in Recycling 6) next, I will ask if she wants to keep them as seed books towards her dream: setting up a reading room in a poor area to reach children who have no books at home. Perhaps I should take her to the second hand clothes store that raises funds for single mothers. The founder of the store runs a weekly English class. Maybe a mobile library that opens once a week before the class would be a start.
(827) Sniper One by Sgt. Dan Mills
This book is written by a career soldier(U.K.) who was excited to be sent to Iraq as he was itching to be in the midst of real action.
It was written in soldier speak with lots of four letter words. In a way it seemed fitting as these folks dealt with heavy weapons that could cost limbs and lives any second of the day or night. Of course I am old enough not to be influenced by the vocabulary of any book I read. Since my youngest child reached twenty one, I have been a lot easier with any books with racy language lying around my house.
Mills is a very straight forward writer who wrote things as they were. Through his eyes I see Iraq and its people. Not a pretty sight! But one sees how human endurance could enable the population to survive in the worst possible circumstances.
Although I don't pretend to understand international politics. I do see that soldiers were paid by their Governments to serve as peace-keeping force in a foreign land. It was quite an experience reading what the ordinary citizens had to endure (the actions dealt by the extremist cloaked in religious uprising). Even things are not perfect in my country, I do appreciate the peace we have in this land.
It was written in soldier speak with lots of four letter words. In a way it seemed fitting as these folks dealt with heavy weapons that could cost limbs and lives any second of the day or night. Of course I am old enough not to be influenced by the vocabulary of any book I read. Since my youngest child reached twenty one, I have been a lot easier with any books with racy language lying around my house.
Mills is a very straight forward writer who wrote things as they were. Through his eyes I see Iraq and its people. Not a pretty sight! But one sees how human endurance could enable the population to survive in the worst possible circumstances.
Although I don't pretend to understand international politics. I do see that soldiers were paid by their Governments to serve as peace-keeping force in a foreign land. It was quite an experience reading what the ordinary citizens had to endure (the actions dealt by the extremist cloaked in religious uprising). Even things are not perfect in my country, I do appreciate the peace we have in this land.
Monday, March 12, 2012
(826) Murder She Wrote by Maida & Spornick
This is a study of Agatha Christie's detective fiction by Patricia D. Maida and Nicholas B. Spornick.
I find it gratifying that two authors who obviously knew everything about Christie took the time to write the book. It was published by Bowling Green State University Popular Press, Ohio in 1982. In this book, the authors recorded what they could find out about Christie, which is not a lot of information. Christie was a mystery writer who was mysterious herself.
Chapters 4 Hercule Poirot: Dandy Detective and Chapter 5 Miss Jane Marple: Little Old Lady Sleuth are particularly interesting. The authors placed each book in its year of being written. Each character was being worked at, fleshed out through years of development. The authors thought that Christie based the personality of Marple at her grand aunt.
Somewhere in the early chapters, a mention was made of her disappearing act right before she divorced her first husband. Here I first read that she wrote three letters before she left. Only the content of one letter was revealed to the authorities. She was found in a resort, hale and healthy, registered under the name of the woman who was made correspondent in her divorce case. Later her publisher came to her rescue with a noted mental specialist who claimed that she suffered from amnesia. Her first husband was a poor man, at least when she condescended to marry him. It is rather unbelievable that he decided to abandon her for a newer model just as she was becoming rich and famous. Should we choose to think that she was becoming too pompous and self important for her first husband, another man(Max Mallowan) who was sixteen years younger than Christie had had forty five years of wedded bliss with her.
Next to the bible, Christie is still one of the most published and translated authors.
I find it gratifying that two authors who obviously knew everything about Christie took the time to write the book. It was published by Bowling Green State University Popular Press, Ohio in 1982. In this book, the authors recorded what they could find out about Christie, which is not a lot of information. Christie was a mystery writer who was mysterious herself.
Chapters 4 Hercule Poirot: Dandy Detective and Chapter 5 Miss Jane Marple: Little Old Lady Sleuth are particularly interesting. The authors placed each book in its year of being written. Each character was being worked at, fleshed out through years of development. The authors thought that Christie based the personality of Marple at her grand aunt.
Somewhere in the early chapters, a mention was made of her disappearing act right before she divorced her first husband. Here I first read that she wrote three letters before she left. Only the content of one letter was revealed to the authorities. She was found in a resort, hale and healthy, registered under the name of the woman who was made correspondent in her divorce case. Later her publisher came to her rescue with a noted mental specialist who claimed that she suffered from amnesia. Her first husband was a poor man, at least when she condescended to marry him. It is rather unbelievable that he decided to abandon her for a newer model just as she was becoming rich and famous. Should we choose to think that she was becoming too pompous and self important for her first husband, another man(Max Mallowan) who was sixteen years younger than Christie had had forty five years of wedded bliss with her.
Next to the bible, Christie is still one of the most published and translated authors.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
(825) Crooked House by Agatha Christie
This is a story that Christie truly enjoyed writing.
There was a family living in the crooked house. From the mother side, Christie said she passed down ruthlessness. Yet her clan are honest people. From the father side, he passed down crookedness; the type that made him tons of wealth but he never broke any law. He was, however, a kindly man.
The ruthlessness met with the crookedness in one grand daughter. She murdered her grand father because he would not allow her to have ballet lessons. Often murders were committed for wealth or love, but interestingly here it was committed for such a trivial reason. All in, four lives were taken before the pathetic little monster was stopped.
To think about it, having children is like gambling! Who really would know what kind we would beget? It is a matter of different genetic combinations. Often we get dominant genes; once in a blue moon, we get double recessive - something which has skipped a generation or two has returned. Sometimes it is physical ailments. Other times we get an amoral off spring. May God help the family when that happens!
There was a family living in the crooked house. From the mother side, Christie said she passed down ruthlessness. Yet her clan are honest people. From the father side, he passed down crookedness; the type that made him tons of wealth but he never broke any law. He was, however, a kindly man.
The ruthlessness met with the crookedness in one grand daughter. She murdered her grand father because he would not allow her to have ballet lessons. Often murders were committed for wealth or love, but interestingly here it was committed for such a trivial reason. All in, four lives were taken before the pathetic little monster was stopped.
To think about it, having children is like gambling! Who really would know what kind we would beget? It is a matter of different genetic combinations. Often we get dominant genes; once in a blue moon, we get double recessive - something which has skipped a generation or two has returned. Sometimes it is physical ailments. Other times we get an amoral off spring. May God help the family when that happens!
Saturday, March 3, 2012
(824) Miracle?
This is a real incident that happened last year. An old man took his son to a drug rehabilitation center in a border town. Since he came from far away, he spent a night in that center.
After living with a son who would rob, steal and lie to get a fix for years, he was very careful with his cash. He had two hundred dollars in fifty dollar notes. They were folded neatly and placed in a small sealed plastic bag. It was then pinned in his hidden pocket. You would think the money would be safe, right?
But he had to bathe. Some how he was careless and lost the cash. We don't know if he was forgetful or he was rushed into leaving the bathroom? It suffice to say that the money was with him before he showered. After he came out of the bathroom, his money was no longer with him. That he discovered immediately. He reported the loss to the administrator. Both of them checked every inch of the bathroom. There was no money to be found. As the administrator is a man of faith, he prayed there and then that God would reveal the money to its rightful owner.
The next morning, the old man went to the same bath room to brush his teeth. Lo and behold, his tiny square of cash was sitting in a dark corner. He was so excited that he woke every one up. Until today he did not know if the person who took the money repented and replaced it or it was an angelic restoration. It was not money for splashing, he needed it for his monthly heart medication.
(823) The Gift by Cecelia Ahern
It is an out of this world tale! I have to say this about Ahern, she has extremely original ideas. Before I came across any of her books, I have watched the second half of the movie P.S.I love you. When Elizabeth borrowed the book P.S. I love you, it seemed hauntingly familiar.
Then my niece bought If You Can See Me Now. I heard about imaginary friends from fellow mothers as my children were growing up. Ahern developed the idea to the level of fine arts. I suppose a quiet and lonely child could easily imagine and create a friend he or she dreams about. In Ahern's imaginary world, unseen persons are assigned to at risk children and sometimes adults to help them. It is a wonderful idea!
Next I have access to A Place Called Here. What a neat idea! I can almost see this place with my missing belongings. The part about missing people is not quite so much fun.
More than the above best sellers, I particularly like Thanks for The Memories. I know it is rather weak premise: donated blood does not actually last long in the receiver's body. But what the heck! I love the story.
In The Gift, it is the magic again that distinguishes it from other books. Who actually is Gabe? Is he an angel? For all the things he is capable of doing, he definitely is not a mortal. Lou lives dangerously, sooner rather than later he would die prematurely. I certainly hope that such a person has his insurance and will all up to date for his family's sake. Whoever Gabe is, he has kindly enabled Lou to reconcile himself with every one of his loved ones before he departed. If there is a connection that links each of the Ahern stories, it is the thoughtful caring kindness that run through all of them.
Then my niece bought If You Can See Me Now. I heard about imaginary friends from fellow mothers as my children were growing up. Ahern developed the idea to the level of fine arts. I suppose a quiet and lonely child could easily imagine and create a friend he or she dreams about. In Ahern's imaginary world, unseen persons are assigned to at risk children and sometimes adults to help them. It is a wonderful idea!
Next I have access to A Place Called Here. What a neat idea! I can almost see this place with my missing belongings. The part about missing people is not quite so much fun.
More than the above best sellers, I particularly like Thanks for The Memories. I know it is rather weak premise: donated blood does not actually last long in the receiver's body. But what the heck! I love the story.
In The Gift, it is the magic again that distinguishes it from other books. Who actually is Gabe? Is he an angel? For all the things he is capable of doing, he definitely is not a mortal. Lou lives dangerously, sooner rather than later he would die prematurely. I certainly hope that such a person has his insurance and will all up to date for his family's sake. Whoever Gabe is, he has kindly enabled Lou to reconcile himself with every one of his loved ones before he departed. If there is a connection that links each of the Ahern stories, it is the thoughtful caring kindness that run through all of them.
(822) Outfits
This morning Elizabeth was looking for a birthday present. Her friend is the tallest and slimmest young girl in church. Choosing between a photo frame, a ceramic angel and a small bottle of cologne, I would say the last item would be the winner.
I have been enjoying watching the leggy beauty parading her many beautiful outfits lately. Although she is barely fifteen, she displays great flair in dressing. Even if it is her mum or elder sister choosing her outfits, she at least has the sense to obey the one with great taste.
Thinking along the line of clothes, I recall Elizabeth's prom dress. It was black, short sleeve with beads, a clean neck line and wide skirt ending mid calf. It was very simple. The fabric was somewhat shiny and the cut was elegant. Otherwise it would be down right plain. It is a good thing we did not have to pay for it. Quite a few years ago I received it as a recycled item from a friend whose classmate married into a tin mining tycoon's family. In such notable families, a gown is seldom worn twice to any crowd or function.
One Christmas Elizabeth has to dress in a maroon dress for a play. My neighbor came to the rescue with a vintage Christmas dress: long narrow sleeve, ruffled collars, and bouncy skirt almost ankle length. Elizabeth looked like a princess in that rich tone velvety dress.
Lately she has been phoning around for an ice blue outfit for a duet. Choosing between two long sleeve blouses, one short sleeve shirt and an old fashion long dress my elementary school class mate gave me, she might just wear that dress with its yesteryear look. It is often said that it is the dress that make the person. Yet isn't it true that a few outfits would show what a person is inside?
I have been enjoying watching the leggy beauty parading her many beautiful outfits lately. Although she is barely fifteen, she displays great flair in dressing. Even if it is her mum or elder sister choosing her outfits, she at least has the sense to obey the one with great taste.
Thinking along the line of clothes, I recall Elizabeth's prom dress. It was black, short sleeve with beads, a clean neck line and wide skirt ending mid calf. It was very simple. The fabric was somewhat shiny and the cut was elegant. Otherwise it would be down right plain. It is a good thing we did not have to pay for it. Quite a few years ago I received it as a recycled item from a friend whose classmate married into a tin mining tycoon's family. In such notable families, a gown is seldom worn twice to any crowd or function.
One Christmas Elizabeth has to dress in a maroon dress for a play. My neighbor came to the rescue with a vintage Christmas dress: long narrow sleeve, ruffled collars, and bouncy skirt almost ankle length. Elizabeth looked like a princess in that rich tone velvety dress.
Lately she has been phoning around for an ice blue outfit for a duet. Choosing between two long sleeve blouses, one short sleeve shirt and an old fashion long dress my elementary school class mate gave me, she might just wear that dress with its yesteryear look. It is often said that it is the dress that make the person. Yet isn't it true that a few outfits would show what a person is inside?
Friday, March 2, 2012
(821) Genetic variation 3
I learned about colour blindness when I saw the test picture in my science book in my early teens. No, I was not red-green colour blind. One of my classmates was. But in his case, he still could barely discern between red and green.
Later I met my first colour blind friend in college. From biology I know that female colour blindness is statistically lower in the population. If she chose not to disclose that to me, I would never have guessed it. All her clothes were well matched. I have never caught her wearing one green and one red sock.
Then after my children went to an excellent art teacher for two years, she told me that she was legally colour blind. I was astounded. Of course once one is open to such possibilities, the exceptions to the rule are many. Recently I came across a professional artist who is colour blind too.
In my childhood days, my mum, my brothers and I could never agree on certain shades of colours. We would argue with each other about whether a T-shirt is blue or green. Later as our vocab increased, we could not decide that a colour is cyan, aquamarine or turquoise. All I know is that my father refused to make any comment on colours at all. And he loved me and would pay special attention to me. For a chauvinistic old fashion Chinese man, he spent a disproportionately high percentage of his little free time educating a female child on the history, culture and significance of the Chinese civilisation.
With hind sight, I see that I was probably born without a natural ability to discern between blue-green colours at a glance. But somewhere in my childhood years of struggle, somehow I had overcome it to a certain extent. Right until today I would give way to my husband and children in terms of colours. I try not to laugh at any child or adult that picks up the wrong item because of the lack of colour discernment.
(820) Cholesterol
I was in the market when I heard one customer refusing to buy red meat because of the cholesterol content. Being a busy body, I suggested the folk remedy of a few spoonfuls of oats soaked over night. She asked me if I have tried it, I have not. As my cholesterol was and is naturally normal all along. Personally, I know of six people who tried it and found it helpful over a long period of time.
It was interesting to note that I acquired good eating habits from my grand mother. She had a tumour removed from her neck in her forties. Following Chinese herbal beliefs, she abstained from eating chicken, duck, goose and deep fried oily food. I was her shadow since I started to walk. Naturally I refrained from all these and more. It was funny that I found poultry having an unflattering odour -- which my mum said was fragrance. And so I never eat animal skin and thus avoided consuming animal fat. I seldom touch chicken (unless I absolutely have to eat a little to stave off hunger or to be polite), hence I avoided hormones pumped into the birds.
All my children loved pork fat fried into crispy bits but I habitually pick them out one by one. I have yet to meet another child who does not enjoy fried chicken, not in my generation nor my children's generation. In a poor area, we find rickets or beri-beri, now in our society of over-eating, we have cholesterol problems. Well, all God's 'chillen' got problems.
(819) Chinese weddings
My friend Mei Fang went to her home town that is four hundred km away to attend two weddings. She may be young but she is the grand aunt of one groom. Two months ago she was informed of the good news. But is it good news when she is tight financially? I could see her pushing off her house repair. She even stopped eating out to conserve cash.
At first she planned to buy a golden item for her cousin's daughter. After she took a look at the high rate of gold, she changed her mind. As she worried, her mum came to the rescue and told her that it is not necessary to spend that much money. After all these people are her near and dear relatives. They would understand that she does not have any spare cash at this point of life to splash. Since she had always been generous when she was doing better in the bygone years, it is not a sign of being mean.
The night before she left for the trip up north, she told me her game plan. Her mum said that the average gift (ang pow) for drinking the cup of tea served by the bride or groom is twenty dollars in the little village. She planned to have two packets for one set of newly weds -- that will be fifty times 2 = $100. She figured it this way, she came from the city and is considered an elder. An income earning grand aunt will be twice as generous as others. Then since the dinner is not held in a highly priced restaurant, she will give a gift of fifty dollars for herself instead of the average $20 each villager will give. That would mean she will spend $150 for one couple.
As it turned out, she has to come back early to make a presentation. As an accounts executive, she has not much of a choice over this matter. Her company can only survive through its employees putting in their best to win the contracts. And no one would change a client's choice of time and date of a presentation unless it is absolutely necessary.
Therefore she could not attend the second ceremony, nor could she grace the dinner. The only thing she needs to do is to turn up the day before to congratulate the bride-to-be and the parents. Then she would probably hand them a red packet and apologise for her would be absence. Let's say she puts in thirty dollars in the packet. That would be pretty good already. Without taking the seat nor consuming any food, she would be paying more than most villagers.
So apart from the petrol and toll, she could spend $180 plus some incidentals. Thank God for wise mothers.
(818) To wed a widower
My deceased grandma was a wise woman. She had often expressed her opinion that it was better not to marry than to marry a widower. For many years, I thought she was merely old fashion and remembered some funny ancient Chinese customs.
Recently, I met a lady who married a widower more than ten years ago. She was a good friend to the deceased wife. When the first wife died, she took her good friend's husband as her only husband. Now, that sounds quite alright! By Chinese customs, she has to call the deceased woman's mother mum and the deceased woman's father dad. During Chinese new year, she has to pay a visit to them first before she could return to her parents to pay respect. All that, she did without a fault. Now, if it had been thirty years ago, in the deceased woman's house, she would have been called by the deceased's name. Apparently, it was done, jokes aside.
In the recent weeks, the first wife's son has a first born son. The grand father was beside himself with jubilation. It is not that he did not love his second wife. He merely loved his first wife more. It is plain to us bystanders that he obviously preferred his first son to his other children carried by the second wife. Well, it is one thing to have others think that, it is quite another kettle of fish to be heard saying it himself. He put his foot into his mouth when he declared that he only felt like a doting father once in his life spoiling his eldest son. Subsequently, he got wiser and never carried his other children unnecessarily pacing the floor in the small hours of the night. His wife was not around when he made that public statement. However his other children heard it.
I suppose that was what my grand ma meant when she made those rather harsh statements. My mother has spent more years with my grandma. When I related this incident, she said that the second wife should have anticipated this from day one. After all, she was merely a second choice, took on necessarily to fill the room: that is what the Chinese called the second wife (teen fong in Cantonese).
Recently, I met a lady who married a widower more than ten years ago. She was a good friend to the deceased wife. When the first wife died, she took her good friend's husband as her only husband. Now, that sounds quite alright! By Chinese customs, she has to call the deceased woman's mother mum and the deceased woman's father dad. During Chinese new year, she has to pay a visit to them first before she could return to her parents to pay respect. All that, she did without a fault. Now, if it had been thirty years ago, in the deceased woman's house, she would have been called by the deceased's name. Apparently, it was done, jokes aside.
In the recent weeks, the first wife's son has a first born son. The grand father was beside himself with jubilation. It is not that he did not love his second wife. He merely loved his first wife more. It is plain to us bystanders that he obviously preferred his first son to his other children carried by the second wife. Well, it is one thing to have others think that, it is quite another kettle of fish to be heard saying it himself. He put his foot into his mouth when he declared that he only felt like a doting father once in his life spoiling his eldest son. Subsequently, he got wiser and never carried his other children unnecessarily pacing the floor in the small hours of the night. His wife was not around when he made that public statement. However his other children heard it.
I suppose that was what my grand ma meant when she made those rather harsh statements. My mother has spent more years with my grandma. When I related this incident, she said that the second wife should have anticipated this from day one. After all, she was merely a second choice, took on necessarily to fill the room: that is what the Chinese called the second wife (teen fong in Cantonese).
(817) Bible for the deaf
That day I met a remarkable lady. She told us about her involvement with a group of deaf Christians who meet once a month to work on video recording parts of the bible, told in the form of stories.
Well, do you know that the sign language in each country is different? I did not. We were given a chance to view a story told by an Indian national for his compatriots. Then we viewed what the local group did. Indeed it was different, even an uninitiated like me could tell.
It is normally very difficult for a deaf person to obtain employment. Therefore it is hard for him or her to give up any steady job. But really, there is a great need for someone that was born deaf to have the courage to go full time into getting the good news into video sign stories. Once there is a full time person, then the need of premise comes in. We need to pray to the God who owns the cattle on a thousand hills for resources.
For us who talk and listen to millions of sound signals, it is difficult to imagine the difficulties of the deaf. They cannot listen to a sermon unless there is a translator -- from sound to signs.
(816) Inheritance by Christopher Paolini
After waiting for months, the precious book is in my hands. By chance Elizabeth borrowed Eragon a year ago. Later we found and read the companion books. This round, her friend read it once and loan the almost new book to us.
I was careful with the book. Yet the binding was inferior. Before I reach one third, a weak section gave way and became detached. I felt horrible. Elizabeth apologized and offered to replace it with a new book. We thought we would keep the defective one. Her friend was gracious, she said that after we returned Eragon in good condition, she read it again and the book binding gave way too. Since all of us love books and definitely would reread what we like, she said to make sure no pages would be lost.
The saga would end with this book. Although I was having a lovely time reading it, it is sad that there is no more sequel to look forward to. I suppose I am thinking like a regular reader. Authors often got so tired of their heroes that they killed them in their series. A good example is Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot.
It is interesting that the werecats were used by higher powers to lead Eragon and Saphira to the island ruin. There the power balance is tilted, for the first time Eragon and company stand a real chance of winning. It is almost like walking in the center of God's will, we need to make the first steps before God would make the next few steps possible. By then it is faith and obedience that would win the battle, not so much abilities.
I was careful with the book. Yet the binding was inferior. Before I reach one third, a weak section gave way and became detached. I felt horrible. Elizabeth apologized and offered to replace it with a new book. We thought we would keep the defective one. Her friend was gracious, she said that after we returned Eragon in good condition, she read it again and the book binding gave way too. Since all of us love books and definitely would reread what we like, she said to make sure no pages would be lost.
The saga would end with this book. Although I was having a lovely time reading it, it is sad that there is no more sequel to look forward to. I suppose I am thinking like a regular reader. Authors often got so tired of their heroes that they killed them in their series. A good example is Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot.
It is interesting that the werecats were used by higher powers to lead Eragon and Saphira to the island ruin. There the power balance is tilted, for the first time Eragon and company stand a real chance of winning. It is almost like walking in the center of God's will, we need to make the first steps before God would make the next few steps possible. By then it is faith and obedience that would win the battle, not so much abilities.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
(815) Journeyman's cat/ Cat tales 10
Most traders would walk in groups. Some would travel with their guard dogs. There was one who moved around with a big and ferocious cat. Generally cats would be attached to a house. This cat, however, was very attached to his master. He roamed the countryside with his master who deals in sewing supplies. Many a times people marveled at a cat that walked for miles next to a man. Some times the cat would hop onto his master's burdens and hitched a ride. This is no ordinary cat, he was excellent at guarding his master's goods. He did not require his master to feed him, but would hunt for his own food wherever his master stopped for the night. With his night vision, he often attacked would be thieves before the culprits could count one - two- three.
Apparently this fortunate man rescued the cat from being drown. It was common for country folks to tie unwanted kittens in gunny sacks and throw them into rivers. Somehow this kitten did not die. Perhaps the person neglected to place a rock at the bottom of the bag. Maybe he did not tie the bag tightly. All we know is that trader Lee rescued and adopted the kitten. The kitten was given a second chance in life. Lee gained a trusty companion who more than repaid him in different ways.
- Our God is a God who saves; from the sovereign Lord comes escape from death. -
Animals_Cats_Small_Cat._005241_ from zastavki.com
(814) Dare to dream
William Tyndale
Yesterday I assisted a friend in manning a books and handicraft store in a traditional church in a port city. After a video was shown about the life of William Tyndale, a young girl from the target youth group actually walked up and asked me why the story was not made into a movie or an animation show for the big screen.
I was momentarily taken aback. Personally I have watched the video a few times. Yes, each time I felt overwhelmed that so many people paid the price of the bible in my hand with their precious lives. But it never occur to me that I should see what I can do to spread the message using popular media to a wider audience than those in our churches.
The world belongs to just such a young person who thinks big for God. I told her that we need to pray so that God will call together his talented and committed people to work on such a project. With her permission, I joined hands with her and said a simple prayer mobilising God's people and resources to start the project. I think of my pastor's daughter who is currently working on animation outfit in the east coast of USA. I praise God that he is raising up a generation of young people who are IT savvy and who dream big for God. I am honoured to be able pray with the future director of this project. And perhaps my Elizabeth had been training and preparing herself to sing for such a movie for the glory of God. With God, all things are possible as long as it is His will and His timing.
(813) Catching up
I just came back from meeting my husband's uni housemate and family. I remember meeting them once, more than 20 years ago. My husband reminded me that we actually "bumped" into them when we visited Melbourne, Australia.
As we caught up on the intervening years, we noticed that there are a lot of similarities in our experience. We have children who are born in the same period. The two men have been made redundant and have to reinvent themselves into service providers and be self-employed. The wives both talked about the rise of living standards and learned to live simply on less income in real terms. Yet all of us testify on God's goodness and how he enabled us to have enough from year to year.
Even though we have been living in different countries for at least 23 years, each of us have been learning the same lessons in deepening our faith. I was sharing with them how 26 years ago I actually was holding the forms to immigrate but decided not to apply after some prayers. Now I am thankful that I am living in a country where I can survive on relatively cheap take out food. Had I left, I would definitely have to cook every meal at home. With all my children living away now, I hardly have to cook. For the first time after my marriage, I need not spend time cooking two meals a day. Seeing the good response my book "reviews" receive, that would not have been possible otherwise.
Change is the one thing all of us have to expect. I rejoice that my future is in my God's hand.
As we caught up on the intervening years, we noticed that there are a lot of similarities in our experience. We have children who are born in the same period. The two men have been made redundant and have to reinvent themselves into service providers and be self-employed. The wives both talked about the rise of living standards and learned to live simply on less income in real terms. Yet all of us testify on God's goodness and how he enabled us to have enough from year to year.
Even though we have been living in different countries for at least 23 years, each of us have been learning the same lessons in deepening our faith. I was sharing with them how 26 years ago I actually was holding the forms to immigrate but decided not to apply after some prayers. Now I am thankful that I am living in a country where I can survive on relatively cheap take out food. Had I left, I would definitely have to cook every meal at home. With all my children living away now, I hardly have to cook. For the first time after my marriage, I need not spend time cooking two meals a day. Seeing the good response my book "reviews" receive, that would not have been possible otherwise.
Change is the one thing all of us have to expect. I rejoice that my future is in my God's hand.
(812) Cat killed snake/ Cat tales 15
Here is another tale from my childhood bed time stories.
My grandma was a peasant farmer when she was young. After she got married she learned to tap rubber trees. After her husband died, she single handedly brought up five young children. She couldn't read nor write. When she sold her wooden house, she signed an "x" as her "name" in front of witnesses. But when it comes to stories, she was a super-duper story teller. I don't think she ever repeated any story she told me. She seemed to have an inexaustable supply. It reminds me of Salmon Rushdie's "Oceans of stories".
In my grandma's rubber estate, there was an old couple with a young baby. Their young daughter died during child birth. The sad father was a poor man working in a rice shop as a coolie (his job was to load and unload rice sacks from or to trucks).This man's parents lived far away in a small village. He was too poor to take the baby to his parents, anyway. And so he brought his new born to his in-laws. It turned out that in the next hut, there was a nursing mother with a three year old. So it was possible for the grandparents to bring up this new born after all.
One day, the nursing mother who had been caring for the baby had to take her own son to the hospital. It meant an hour's walk to the main road and she had to thumb a lift from passing vehicles. At best, it would take half a day. Suppose if the doctor chose to ward the child, the mother would stay in the hospital. The old grand parents had to tap the trees in the morning before the heat came on. They had no choice but to leave the baby in their house with their cat. They closed all windows except one in the sitting room. The baby was left asleep on the big bed. The cat was on guard in the sitting room.
As soon as the grandma finished the last tree, she hurried home to check on her grand child, leaving her husband to collect her latex. Oh dear! She saw a dead snake in the doorway to the only bed room. The cat was hurt, but still alive. According to my grand ma, it was a small snake, of a bright green colour. The head of the snake was a diamond shape, it means it was a venomous snake. It was extremely fortunate that the baby was safe and the cat did not die. As my grand ma put it, certain things were fore ordained. It was a month ago that the old couple was kind in adopting the cat when one family decided to move to another town.
-Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge.-
cat-standing.jpg fromtippedearclan.wordpress.com
(811) Make the break
Years ago, I read about a man who was attacked by a shark who barely survived. He continued to swim and dive in his beloved ocean.
Yesterday I heard a good friend who has decided that she was going to really live now that she is free of all encumbrance. She believes she has merely existed before. I see her point, she has been a good daughter until her early twenties. Then she spent a few years in London under the care of her elder brother. Shortly after that she was married. She is one of those who gave her entire heart and soul to her beloved. She spent all her married days pleasing her husband who grew to despise her. The past few years of sorrow and pain brought her one thing she lacked in her previous years: freedom to be herself and to do what really matters to her.
I see her spending her hard earned money buying clothes that her ex-husband would have deemed frivolous. She would drive off on a whim and have an adventure in a town she hardly knows getting thoroughly lost before finding the way home. She would chat with those who are troubled late into the night. She finally is able to keep her hair long. It is strange that her beloved detests long hair.
Once a person has stared death in the face and not flinch, she would have overcome the worse fear. Life would be different after that moment. My friend may not be able to swim, yet figuratively speaking, she will jump into life and "swim" to wherever she pleases without a care, no longer curtailing herself and bound by the wishes of others. Live she will, she will pay the price and face any consequences.
Yesterday I heard a good friend who has decided that she was going to really live now that she is free of all encumbrance. She believes she has merely existed before. I see her point, she has been a good daughter until her early twenties. Then she spent a few years in London under the care of her elder brother. Shortly after that she was married. She is one of those who gave her entire heart and soul to her beloved. She spent all her married days pleasing her husband who grew to despise her. The past few years of sorrow and pain brought her one thing she lacked in her previous years: freedom to be herself and to do what really matters to her.
I see her spending her hard earned money buying clothes that her ex-husband would have deemed frivolous. She would drive off on a whim and have an adventure in a town she hardly knows getting thoroughly lost before finding the way home. She would chat with those who are troubled late into the night. She finally is able to keep her hair long. It is strange that her beloved detests long hair.
Once a person has stared death in the face and not flinch, she would have overcome the worse fear. Life would be different after that moment. My friend may not be able to swim, yet figuratively speaking, she will jump into life and "swim" to wherever she pleases without a care, no longer curtailing herself and bound by the wishes of others. Live she will, she will pay the price and face any consequences.
(810) Good bye
After he passed on, I experienced sharp pain in the hand which my dad clung to moments before death. Each time the pain came, I rebuked it in Jesus' name and ordered it to leave. Over a period of three weeks or so, it occurred less and it stopped. For that I am very thankful to Jesus for the authority he gave us over the power of darkness.
Is my beloved dad saved? Nobody on earth knows. I have shared with him the good news many times over the long years.He chose to reject it. While he was able to talk, he said no to my pastor in the hospital. At his death bed, he was unable to talk.For a person who did not say yes to Jesus verbally, Pastor said, my dad died very peacefully. Who knows, he could have called out to Jesus in his heart at the last second! Perhaps that was why a single tear fell from his left eye as he breathed his last.
* 158888547 af741c460e 0.jpa from squidoo.com
For more on healing, read 8, 48, 65
* 158888547 af741c460e 0.jpa from squidoo.com
For more on healing, read 8, 48, 65
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