ORLANDO BLOOMS

I flew 44 hours last week.
Spent seven days in Orlando, Florida, to attend a conference and meetings at headquarters. Highlights:

1. Having the room at Merriot all to myself for three days (room-mate decided to stay somewhere else with friends). Spent wonderful "let's talk" time with the Lord, especially when I was wild awake and home-sick in the wee hours of the morning.

2. What fascinated me at the two-and-a-half-day Synergy Conference: Judy's daughter Michelle, who's like sunshine; Scot McKnight (he inspired me to study and think), Carolyn James (I'll never look at Ruth and Boaz the same), and Judy's final message on the Holy Spirit's power (that's what we must emphasize at every conference).

3. Staying with Hugh and Joanne Roberson: my old friends from Manila GCTC days in 1978. Through them, I finally discovered what keeps people forever young: passion for simple things in life and ministry.

4. Meeting up with the Lechliters (my colleagues from EAO) again. Just imagine: Evelyn (who's ABC) and I talking at the same time very loudly in an Italian restaurant, Jerry injecting dry witty words ever once in a while, and Jennifer, their wonderful daughter, trying hard to not look amused.

5. Attending the WR team meeting where everyone was tuned into Facebook, Thai take-in, and every topic under the sun.

6. Looking out from Judy's office window and listening to her talk about alligators in the lake outside headquarters. Cool.

7. Speaking at the wives' meeting on the last morning. Everyone's been so kind with their feedback on the "One Thing" talk.

8. Laughing and being serious, talking about nothing and everything with Jennifer, my Charlie's Angel, at Park Avenue.

9. Visiting with EAST alumnus Steve Ang Moh Cole and his wonderful colleagues at the prayer center. That was like tiramisu to my banquet at Orlando.

10. Sitting next to Fay - out of all the people in this world - on the long 14-hour flight from New York to Tokyo. She's from China, received Christ in the US, is now a dentist in Orlando, knows and likes Campus Crusade. Her five-year-old was sugar and spice to an otherwise very long and exhausting trip home.

REFLECTIONS FROM 2 CORINTHIANS

The only real strength we have to boast about is our weaknesses.
The only real work we should do everyday is rest in Christ.
Our glory is the Cross.
Our lessons come from our pain.
Our treasure is in earthern vessels.

We may botox, make over, and slap on the anti- potions, but the outer man is still decaying.
We may groan and grit, and be pushed and punished, but our tents are only temporal.
Our body is not naked, our approval comes not from man.
Our house is not built by hands, our home is not in this world.

For when we die daily, we truly live.
When we have nothing, we possess all things.
When we separate from the world, we are one with God.

Let us give in our deep poverty for we shall be enriched in everything.
Let us sow abundantly for God will make all grace and all sufficiency abound to us for all liberality.

YOUR children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

(M.Scott Peck, quoting Kahlil Gibran, in The Road Less Travelled)

too many minds

Tom Cruise wanted to be a samurai in "The Last Samurai."

He knew how to handle the sword.

He had the fire in him.

But he couldn't beat his opponents.

That was when his Japanese friend whispered in his ears, "Too many minds. Mind the sword. Mind people. Mind the enemy."

"Don't mind."

And so he learned.

To not let his "too many minds" distract his focus, and weaken his moves.

And he became a warrior.

In this season of celebrations, camps, and year-end commitment, let us not let the "many things" bother us and cause us to lose sight of the "one thing" that is needful, Christ Himself.

Let us not be too many minds.

Don't mind.

deadringer

Last month I attended five funerals - of five men.

Two died suddenly, without warning.

One of them, in his sixties, was still jogging the week before the heart attack took him.

Two struggled with long illnesses but knew the Lord before they passed away.

The last one, the grandpa of one of my students, was the only non-believer.

But his funeral was also the most unforgettable.

It was a Hindu ceremony.

At the last rites, the deceased's three sons had to make a final journey around his coffin.

One of them, in white robes, carried a clay water-jug that was filled to the brim, on his shoulder.

The three men had to walk around the coffin three times. At the beginning of each round, the water-jug was slightly cracked by the priest to allow water to leak out.

Then at the end of the walk, the jug was suddenly dropped to the ground.

Crash!

A hundred broken pieces of clay and water splashed all over the floor spoke vividly of the fragility of life, and the finality of death.

That day I turned my mind to Eccl 12:6 where we're told that there comes a time for every man when "the pitcher by the well isshattered and "the wheel at the cistern is crushed"; and man returns to his eternalhome and faces his Creator.

But before that day arrives, which will come surely, andoften without warning, let us live and love well.

Let us enjoy the people God has blessed us with, and be faithful to the task He has called us to.

MY BABY HAS GROWN UP

As I watched her walk across the stage to receive her degree, my mind raced back to the day she 'graduated' from kindergarten.
The mortar board, the robe, the 'degree', even the feelings - everything seemed familiar. My baby has graduated from University.
My baby has grown up.

I remember during her first year of uni, the night before a project was due, her computer suddenly crashed (it was 2 or 3.00 am).
She cried inconsolably. Actually she screamed.
And she had every reason to. She had worked on it for days.
My husband tried to rescue the destruction but it was futile.
It was too late.
Suddenly, she stopped crying. She walked to the kitchen, gulped down a drink, got back to her desk, and started on a new design without a word.
I remember thinking, "My baby has grown up."

One day she called home during a camp she'd volunteered for abused and abandoned kids (Royal Family). She was a counselor.
"Mum, it's tough," her voice was soft. "The kid I'm assigned to is hard to handle."
I prayed for her and told her not to give up.
When she came home three days later, she slept the entire day and didn't say much.
The following morning she announced, "Next year I'll serve with the group again."
And she did - for the next and the next years. She even recruited other counselors among her uni friends.
I remember thinking, "My baby has grown up."

Our children grow up. We never could quite predict when; but when it happens we know.
For me I knew in many unexpected moments.

Like when I said "No" to something she wanted (and my heart was so torn) and she responded, "Ok mummy."
No tantrums, no argument, just gracious acceptance.
I was surprised.

Like when once in JC she told me to my face that my remarks about so-and-so were unfair. "You don't even know her," she said calmly.
I was taken aback.
Because she was right. But more strikingly, she spoke to me like an adult. A more gracious adult.
I was pleased.

Like when she emailed me an article last year and said, "Mum, read it. You will like it." I did like it.
It was inspiring - both the article as well as the sender, who thought about feeding my mind.
I was humbled.

My baby has grown up.
I'm fortunate because I've had the privilege of being there to witness, savour, enjoy, and even learn from her maturity and individuality.
Got to be one of the most blessed things of parenthood.

HAVE A BREAK

I'd been busy. But over good things.

Went to Mongolia on a ministry trip for two weeks in May.

Had the best time. Also because this time round Roland - and a colleague Jeremy who's a gentle soul - were with me.

Then we came home for a wonderful reunion with our long-suffering daughter who singlehandedly took care of the plants, fish and cats while we were gone.

The good news is none died.

And she missed us.

That was followed by a flurry of activities.

Went for a short trip to Bintan for beach, snorkling, and swimming.

Then I spoke at a youth camp.

In between (I know this sounds confusing), went to Malacca with my family.

It was a great treat getting to know my niece and nephews, and tall and handsome Brandon (mum's grandson no 1) who flew in from Vancouver.

Breaking from the routine.

Always good for the body (especially the getting out of Singapore) , refreshes the vision (teaching the Mongols was faith-stretching and rewarding), and warms the heart (the 24 kids who stood up for commitment at the youth camp encouraged my soul).