(1011) Called in Sabah

June said I wanted to come to Sabah. Actually that is not true. Since my father returned from a stint of working in Tawau, I had the impression that northern Borneo was the end of modern civilization.

One Christmas John went to an end-of-year dinner of some club and bid for a hotel stay in Sandakan. He spent many weeks talking me into flying into the town. Finally it was because I wanted to see Lilian's baby that I reluctantly came.

While here, I caught a beautiful view of the bay from a look-out point near Agnes Keith House. No, that peek was not why I am here now. After all, I've seen much more beautiful sea views near San Francisco.

The second night I was in Sandakan, I woke up between two to three am. I thought I heard someone call me. No, it was not my husband; he was snoring. Being Asian, I did not reply. I remembered one of the childhood stories my grandmother used to tell me: the old folks say one should not answer to calls of one's name if one could not see the caller, hence my silence. I puzzled for a moment then went back to sleep.

It was on the plane that I suddenly wondered if God had called me. And I beat myself for not answering, “Yes Lord, speak, for your servant is listening.”