Seasons of Grief

He was standing silent over the casket.
Lost in his thoughts.
Soft I touched his shoulder and alerted him to my presence.

My dear friend of my childhood days
I can sense your grief, and in turn, your loss.
Truly, I wish I knew your grandpa, but the season's come and gone.

And then in my own silence, I too am grieving.
Today's the day- how could I ever forget?
The 10th day of the 10th month.

A year ago, it was so vastly different.
Life was sweet, dripping with the hope of perhaps
The end of my search, the lonely road alone.

A year later, I still walk alone, I am tired.
So tired, of searching after shadows, I am weary.
Too many unfit candidates out there
I won't repeat the same mistakes again.

I have never been too choosy, I just took what life threw me.
Like a beggar picking up the meager earnings of the day.
Enough of it. If that is what it means to love, I shall love selectively.

I used to be the butt of jokes among my friends (sorry, ex friends- they've moved on)
because of my uber low standards when it comes to women.
Not to say that the girls I dated were of low standard,
It was simply that I didn't cared.

Now, I'm all but worn out. I've seen hundreds of girls go by-
Taken ones, Single ones, of ever shape and size, creed and color.
And what I saw filled me with dread.

I fear I shall never find the one I seek.

Dominoes

The first man set his eyes upon the cursed fruit.
Never in his short existence could he foresee the far-reaching consequences
Of
Just
One
Bite.

Fast forward to this day.
This is my third week.
Also, this will be my third funeral.

Death, so much death around me.
And one day too, my frame shall fall
And to dust shall I return



"...till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken;

for you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

said the Lord God unto Adam

And to dust did Adam return.

So too did his sons, and their sons in like fashion.
Like an intricate setup of dominoes.

It is an uphill task.

The saints are all being called back to glory, one by one,

Striving, dying, reaching the prize that is in Christ.

But the work goes on, and the workers dwindle.

In this war of attrition we are rapidly losing ground.

True, I am here, of my generation, to serve, to seek for the lost ones

Alas, where are the youths who made merry with me?

Where are they? All, gone. And the generation war is lost.

We're losing the battle. This time, we'll win ourselves a war.

Let's win back our teens for Christ.

Ashes to ashes

I woke at 5am this morning
It was yet dark, yet I bolted upright.
Work calls, and I must obey.

Today marks my return to the Morning Watch- my church's prayer group.
And then it's off to breakfast with the venerable Pastor Leung and the CG.
CareGroup  Coffee Group. Yes, they call it that

Oh, I was a tad intimidated, being around that pastor from chinese service.
He looks severe, and I don't think I've ever seen him smile before this.
So that's why I kept out of his way in the past

Readers, I was wrong. I mistook deadpan humour for strictness.
He is one of the funniest men in the ministry,
And there's no end to the funny anecdotes and jokes we shared over breakfast.

However, the smiles and the laughter must soon end.
I was to go observe and assist the pastors at the funeral.
Yes, you read correctly. I said fun-eral.

It was kind of numbed and routine about it.
Nod mutely at the grieving relatives, shake some hands
Take some notes, look sharp and contemplative, yes yes.

And then, the trigger. A pink rose pressed into my hand.
No. Not a rose, please, it hurts, it hurts so much.
Because I remember, I remember too clearly- the last time I held a rose.

I was walking near Bukit Bintang plaza. It was Valentine's eve.
Saw the rose, thought she might like it, and without a thought, bought it.
It was red, and cold, and alive.

As soon as I got back to the room, it started to show signs of decay.
Just like our love, falling apart. A petal here, a petal there.
The rot set in. I tried to save it. I chucked it in the fridge.

ALL THINGS DIE. I was back at the crematorium.
The rose still had a thorn, it pricked me. I did not bleed. Not outside.
I couldn't save my rose, and like all things, it died.

It was dead when I pressed it into her reluctant palm,
as dead as the body laid in state in front of me.
And a tear formed and threatened to run down my cheek

I held it in check, it was not proper. I must be strong.
She left with the dead rose, and the dead love
And my dead heart refused to remember the dead joys.

The dead memories were buried, all nicely, with a headstone.
Jon's heart. RIP 2013. So long and thanks for all the fish.
Until the moment the pink rose was pressed into my palm

I cringed, I looked away. No, this rose is dying too.
It was alive, but it started dying as soon as it was severed from the bush.
All things die, and so does this rose. No exceptions.

This is my new life, I remembered. No more dark days.
No more memories that condemn me to sorrow.
No more love, and I laid the pink rose upon the wooden casket.

I turned away and prayed that I may never ever
Have a love as dead as that rose with a single thorn
No, let me die knowing that love that is Undying.

The First 3 Days

Sunday:
Work began with the setting up of the reception counter.
Sis S. taught me how to arrange the items on the table and what went where.
That was about all. Well, I went and watched a movie at the cabin,
Yes, apparently watching movies is part of my job description, deal with it.
Then the usual choir practice, and I'm off.

Monday:
Woke up around 5 something-ish, took the train to Tmn Bahagia station.
My mentor picked me up there and we arrived at the Desa Park City branch.
Was commissioned to carry a few stuff around here and there
Then F. pulled me into the traffic warden dept.
Directed members to the church for a few hours.
Called back to the sanctuary for P&W session
Mentor introduced me to a missionary (A.) and his family.
A. dropped me back near my house.
So far, so good.

Tuesday:
First real day at the office.
Learned about the setup for staff devotion session.
Attended staff devotion
Packed up staff devotion
Briefing with my Mentor.
He gave me a really good bible (Thanks, Mentor!)
and assigned me tasks.
Met up with 5 staffs to get weekly tasks
They served snacks. (Yummy!)
and then I did a lil bit of sorting stuff here and there
And then I had lunch with the kitchen staff
and delivered food for them to the daycare
Then I was assigned my first big task:
The packing of the newsletters.
I now realise how many members our Chinese service has.
Thank God for so many souls!
Wrapped up the day by attending the staff meeting.
Let me say this. This is a staff meeting like no other,
And I'm glad to be a part of it.
Never have I foreseen this happening
Only God could've done this for me.

Headway

So much has passed since I last wrote in this blog.
I apologize for taking so long, dear readers.

Last month as I lay dying,
The edges of my vision, slowly narrowing,
the final thought in my mind was:
I'm at peace, and I'm not afraid,
For there is sweetness in death, but
I don't want to die now.
And cue blackout, and loss of consciousness.

It is bright, all around me, blazing, pure white light.
I am standing in whiteness, and there are no shadows to be found.
The light was intense, but not blinding, warm, but not scorching
Yet brighter than any ray shone forth by the sun.

And I, my clothes, were in the purest white.
Then He spoke to me, in a voice deep and strong,
Not like Morgan Freeman's,
yet a thousand times more commanding than any voice I have ever heard
This Voice had power and authority, and He spoke to me
Not just as a Father to a son, but also as a Commander in Chief to a private.

And He said,

"Now is not your time. Serve me, and live!"

And I lived. I woke up in the Emergency Room, with tears in my eyes,
and the vital signs that were falling rapidly the whole time I was out,
Rapidly shot up into the stable regions within the next few hours.

The docs and nurses were baffled, and when nothing could explain how I did not die
(They told my mom that night to expect a funeral the next morning, if I'm not dead by then)
They took blood samples, and discharged me when they couldn't keep me there any longer.
I was in there for five days. And I lived to tell the tale.

Alright, Lord, said I-
Enough signs. I surrender. You Win.
Now show me what to do next.
And in my gut I felt~ Contact your church leaders. I have sent you.

And so over the next few days I met in short order:
Tuesday: Pastor Mark of Serving in Missions
Wednesday: Reverend Timothy of KLBC (Assoc. Pastor)
Thursday: Reverend John of KLBC (Senior Pastor)

It seems it's not His will for me to enter Seminary next year,
but instead I must grow more and pass through 15 months of church internship first
Last Sunday, D.- the church staff, passed me an internship form

After much praying and deliberation, waiting and hoping
(If this is Your doing, Lord, You get me through this!)
He gave me His thumbs up the day before yesterday.

The church's board members approved my internship application
Which in itself was a close shave, since I left my internship form at home,
I rushed with Pas. Tim. to the office to fill another up before the board meeting.
Which starts in about 15 minutes time.

I was desperate. I didn't have my 2 referrals,
I didn't have the time to compose a nice long essay
(Usually when I have time to write one, I tend to exceed 500 words)
So that may have worked out in my favor.
I think I only got till 200-250, handwritten words from my heart.
No fancy language, no flowery ornaments.
Just the earnest, simple statement why I am applying for internship.

At 10:20pm thereabouts. I got the news. The pastors texted me.
Bad news, says Pas. Tim., your holidays ends on the 15th.
Congratulations, says Pas. John, the board has approved...
I needn't read on. I got it. God opened the doors for me yet again.

The next morning, I dropped by the office to finalize it.
Hallelujah, I'm one step nearer.

Love

Love has been a continuous theme in my life.

I have struggled with the concept of it in my childhood years.

Growing up in an Asian family meant that my father doesn't openly show his love to me.

And mom had to work to support the family, and was seldom around.

I was packed away to the babysitter who took care of me for the money my mother paid,

and at home, I lived in the mortal terror of an abusive father who didn't know how to relate to me.

As a slow learner, I was the source of constant exasperation for my teachers in kindergarten, and they showed their displeasure at my behavior easily.

So, whilst I was a child, I yearned for love. I didn't fully know what it was, but it was that empty spot inside my heart that needed to be filled.

I wanted my perfectionist dad's approval, I wanted the love of a mother who could be there for me when I needed her the most. And then I learned to cope by drawing into my own self. I started daydreaming, and in my head, were the other me who approved of what I did, and was there for me whenever I needed someone around who cared. But imperfect reflections of reality that they were, I still ached inside.

I tried to find love in friendship, and sought out to befriend others, but I was an awkward and withdrawn person, hardly the life of the party, and when I tried, it often showed through its plasticity that I was trying too hard. I soon learned that friends are fickle, and are like me, only human. They err, they lie, they take advantage of me. And friends leave, and friends die. As much as they love to chant the mantra that friendship lasts forever, the sobering truth is that friendship takes constant maintenance to last longer than a flash in a pan.

And then there's women. Good Lord, this is going to be a long post. Here goes.

I guess it's the first time I've written about this in detail.

Unofficially, the first time I've had an interest in a girl was in kindergarten. No one really knew what it was about, only that it was fun and I had a playmate by the name of S- W- (What? You'd think I'll kiss and tell???) Now, she was the only one among us who didn't mind playing with me and we really had fun. And in my childish innocence, I didn't know the implications behind a ring, and presented her with one. Her parents freaked the hell out, and that was the last I ever saw of Ms. W-. Till today, I wonder what had become of her. Fast forward to when I was 10. There was a girl in my class who was top of her class, and she was my rival for top spot in English. She was beautiful, and was a prefect. Y- L- Y- was her name, and I often daydreamed of her, or rather the idea of being accepted by her. Anyway, I lost contact for a great many years after I shifted school, and when we got back in touch, I could barely recognize her when we reconnected. I learned from that experience that time changes people. Then in my 13th year, I met this girl who was one year my senior. She was tall, funny, and had a great smile. She's a badminton player from my church. I made the mistake of speaking my mind one day to her and got a tight slap for my troubles- she never spoke to me ever again. And the next year, I guess a crush really hit me hard when I got to know a girl from my music school- G- Y- S-. She was a real stunner, had a laugh that was ... like the pealing of bells, and she's a harper. The way her hair falls over her shoulder gives me chills to this day. Ah, the follies of youth, I loved her truly, but as a greenhorn, I didn't know what it was to be a boyfriend, and soon she got bored of me. At the end of the year, she dumped me at youth camp, and that was my introduction to the harsh realities of rejection. I couldn't understand, and couldn't cope with pretending to be ok with seeing her every sunday in the youth group, and so I left. And worse, I started experimenting.

I was curious: did I have it in me to replicate what she did to me? To heartlessly ditch her once I've ensnared her. I repeat, I was curious, not malicious. That was way later. However for this next one, I chose an innocent victim, a common friend I shared with G- Y- S-. Her name is A- W-, and she ... she had a good heart, at least back when I first knew her. I went through the motions of being somewhat a semblance of a boyfriend, but I was wondering what awaited at the end of it all. And then I realized that I have actually fallen for her, and I came clean. Sure, she was hurt to know my original intentions, but she accepted my true feelings for her. However, it was our important year in terms of academics and our grades were being affected by our flirting so I had to call a time out for our relationship. I promised her that I would wait for her after our Form 5, and walked out the door reluctantly. True enough, I kept my promise, and we got back together years later. However, time changed her, and she wasn't the same A- W- that I knew and loved years ago. She had changed, as did I, and we mutually agreed to part ways. However, I found my answer-

Yes, to say goodbye to a loved one hurts like a kick in the balls.

After the 2 aforementioned serious relationships with GYS and AW, I decided not to go serious. That's when I knew Melia and BZX. Melia's one of the few I dare name openly, because she's a dear friend whom I truly loved whom I immortalized in the naming of my classical guitar. Everytime her name crosses my mind, I am reminded of her genuine care and friendship. She kept me company on the telephone for countless nights, and it staved away the tides of loneliness. BZX was a tragedy, and I was the one at fault. I loved her too, and in a false moment, sealed my fate by heading to TARC for F6 instead of going back to MBSSKL, back to the girl who came for me, and found me elsewhere. BZX, if I could wind back the clock, I would've come back for you. I didn't know you seriously came for me, and I beg your forgiveness.

Then came Serious#3, Alexis of Butterworth. I knew her whilst working as a librarian in KTP, we met online, and it was my first long distance relationship. We carried on for more than a year, and even into university. But I got distracted there, and wasn't around for her, and then tragically, she died in a car accident. We never met, and never will. Sometimes I wish she were still alive, and we'd be together still. I learnt from this experience that no one is immortal, we must love whilst we must.

And then in my rebellious phase of my life, I decided to date Serious#4- the antithesis of the girl my parents would approve. She was into metal music, a free spirit, and sexually promiscuitive. She was short, brilliant, and...Malay. ahahhah, yeah. She educated me in the Venusian arts, but we never went all the way. A.M. was her name, and I found out later that her ancestor was the much celebrated Abdullah Hukum. Well, whaddaya know, she shocked me one day by converting to Christianity without my knowledge. However, my dad couldn't accept her, and it was a cause for contention between my dad and I. In the end, due to irreconcilable differences, I let her go.

There are too many rejections to list while I was in uni. There was Rachel, and Angela, and Angelicia, and countless others. Sometimes I wish I've never met them, and that I wouldn't be as scarred as I am today, but each of them taught me valuable lessons that have shaped my being me today.

Then there's S- T- or now my brother and I refer to her affectionately as Satan. She was special, for she dated my brother and I at the same time. And we fought, my brother and I, over her, and for a year, our relationship as siblings were strained. We were both dumped in due time, and now we share a burning hate for the being we call Satan. However, she inspired some of the best pieces of music I composed, but not the best.

After her was the Innocent Violinist, J- W- Y- L-. She was really an angel, and about 8 years my junior. She's really talented in the arts of music, but I couldn't tie her down. I wanted a physical relationship, so she just wouldn't do. Also was Hanna of Philippines, my short-lived prank relationship designed to shock my friends and hers as well. It didn't go well. I fell in love with her, and had to cut her loose before more damage was done. By now I knew I was a bad influence, and I tend to hurt the ones I love.

Then came the final blow- La Mia Bambina Bella, alternately known as Emily (not her real name). In a nutshell, she seduced me, I fell in love with her, she left her distant nonfunctional boyfriend for me, we lasted about 4 months, and then proceeded to dump me on Valentine's Day. She was the only one I knew intimately, and sometimes I ache when I think of those days spent with her. She inspired my greatest composition, an Italian song called Emilia, and though she was the only girl I'd seriously thought I'd marry. Yes, it was so close. But in the end, like a rose plucked from the plant, her love died. Now she is with a guy to whom I was introduced to as "not her type". Apparently I was deceived, and it smote my pride.

Well, there were others after that, like Trinity, and XW. But now I am on guard, and I am trying hard not to fall for another that I may hurt. Or get hurt in return.

And now I despair, I am irreversibly scarred by years of wear and tear, and the strength of my youth has been given to another. I am spent, and I am weary. And now I know that of all these loves I've pursued in life, the only one worth mention is the love of God.

I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.

<Galatians 2:20>

Fiddler on the roof

Sounds crazy no?
But we all are fiddlers on the roof at some point in our lives.
We eke out an existence trying to achieve something big, but not falling off and breaking our necks.
Anyways, while we are talking about fiddling
I was called for accompanying the church worship team for the offering song with my violin, Madia.
Now, I've brought Madia to church every week, but I've never taken her out and played her in front of the congregation before.
And now, with only 4 days worth of practice, I'm standing up there with the top guns...playing with them?

The song chosen was a beloved hymn- All Creatures of our God and King
I love hymns, I grew up with them, and when I listened to and sung them in times of distress,
I was calm, consoled, and I felt safe.
Those words were unto me a power in their own.
The haunting melodies, like a vine, grows on me.
I knew the song by heart, but will my Madia sing?

I found out today. And sang she did! She didn't let me down.
And after that, I was given the music sheet for the doxology- As We Go.
It wasn't a hymn, but my choir sang it once, so I know it by heart.
As it was in F major, it was no biggie, it had only a single flat.
Madia, you darling, you sang that beautifully too!
And at that, my brief time upon the stage drew to a close.

That was exciting. I remember my fingers trembling, my palms sweaty.
Stage fright? After all these years? Ah, the secret is this:
No one ever gets rid of the butterflies in the tummy.
One just learns to deal with it. Embrace the fact you're on the verge of panic.
And ask yourself, what would I trade for this?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. This was my purpose today.

I have a vision. Wherever God sends me, I will bring the gift of music.
I will train up a powerful church choir, I will teach them how to read music, how to make music.
With their hands, with their voices, with their hearts.
For wherever I go, Melia, Madia, and Triste shall follow me.

However, there are pitfalls to avoid when it comes to music, and its making.
I opined to my violin tutor today that music is a very important part of ministry.
And I expected him to agree. But with a stern face he warned me.

"It is important, but only equally important.
remember, the highest importance goes to...Jesus.
Remember, Lucifer was Heaven's Worship Leader once.
His was the music, and his was also the downfall of pride.
It is very often in a musician's life that he is beset by his own ego
and his pride in his mastery of music is the emulation of Lucifer himself"

Heavy words from a man who has himself spent a good part of his life involved in music.

I pondered this. Have I ever let pride take precedence over my worship? Not this time.
I used to feel that way when I performed in university.
Who hasn't heard Jon Black and his violin Madia in the AllOut Cafe?
Who hasn't heard of the blindfolded improvised Romance d'Amor during the International Student's Night?
My heart swelled with pride. Me, I was the thing. The adoration, the applause, all mine.
But not today. Today, it was all about...did I play it right? Did it make the worship beautiful? Have I glorified my Lord through my playing. I suppose I matured a little today.
Food for thought. Who knows, maybe I'll join the worship team for real.
I have a gift, I have been blessed with training.
Maybe its time to give back.