I dreamt of my baby

It’s the last month before life changes forever next month. And this morning, I had the first dream of my baby.

In my dream, I was frantic and was wondering what I had missed out. Then I realise I have a baby.. and she’s out. She was sleeping soundly in a cot, in the room where DR and I were in when we were still staying with my parents. I peeked into the cot, and she was sucking her pacifier, sleeping soundly. Mom was also standing near me.

“She looks like me when I was a baby,” I thought in my dream.

Then I woke up… and I felt God assuring me that my baby will be out to see us soon… counting down to end Jan 2018!


An eventful lead-up to being 30

So, here I am, writing as a 30 year-old. I have finally reached the milestone of being 30 recently. But boy, from the last post to my current one, so many things have happened all at the same time.

Anxiety, fear, grief, loss, joy, hope, strength – all in the past one month before my 30th birthday.

11 August – the passing of Ah Ma and hospitalisation of my dad.

15 August – the passing of DR’s aunt after a 3-month fight against a rare brain disease.

These were just one of the few major things during this period that made me shed tears, made me realise how important family are, and how precious our lives are.

God has been so gracious to me and our family. He is our good Father who comforts us and gives us hope and strength. I believe that as I enter into the next season of life being in my 30s, God wants to remind me that He is my help, my strength and my hope. I really cannot stop marvelling at how God had placed angels to sustain me during those trying times.

Dad was discharged on 21 August. And he is regaining his daily functions. For that, I thank God for healing him, and giving mom the strength, patience and love to help him, even as she is dealing with her grief of losing her own mother (my Ah Ma). I truly thank God for making these trying times short, and helping us along the way. In the future, we don’t know what will come, but God is there, and He is the unchanging anchor we can always trust.





Lord, show me your glory

I was trudging my way back home on Friday evening after work. My day was mundane, my soul was down, my relationships were not exactly rosy and I felt unaccomplished in so many aspects. It was one of those days when you feel, you know, sian. I was dissatisfied.

So I requested to God, “Lord, show me your glory. I know when I see your glory, my soul will be filled once again.”

God replied, “See my glory in the cool evening breeze that you are feeling on your face. See my glory through you breathing and walking right now. See my glory in the house that I have given you. See my glory in your parents – I have kept your mother safe from an accident she met earlier this month.”

And joy and hope filled me. Because the Lord has shown His glory and love to me.

Farewell, Mr Lee Kuan Yew (16 Sep 1923 – 23 Mar 2015)

Earlier this morning, it was announced that Mr Lee Kuan Yew, our nation’s first Prime Minister, passed away.

I teared scrolling through the pictures and articles of him on my FB page after reality sunk in after work. He is gone forever.

My prayer now is for his family to be comforted in this grieving period, that Singapore – his passion in life will continue to be strong, and lastly, that the prayer I made for him last year will be answered.

Quoting my mom, “李光耀去世,好像我们的家人离开这世界一样.”

Farewell, Mr Lee Kuan Yew. 


Remembering Mr Lee Kuan Yew

Different views but still friends

I have been pondering about friendships – those that have been built for many years but shaken due to differences in beliefs or perhaps, less time spent together due to different priorities, work commitments… the list is endless.

How easy it is for relationships to have cracks, and eventually, broken. As I write this, I sense heaviness in my heart.

It is sad to see friendships experiencing tensions, especially due to differences in views. When we were all young, we had no views about the world because we all see it in the same way – bleak due to exam stress and peer pressure, and happy when we were allowed to play and hang out together. But as we grow up, no longer are we limited to simple dichotomies of bleak/happy.

We see things in different shades now.

However heavy this issue feels, I will make an effort to remind myself that despite the differences in views we may hold in our convictions and beliefs, when all these are stripped away, what will remain are the simple dichotomies we use to share and hold true – things that will keep the friendship going.

My father’s words

I came home to stacks of faded and yellowish paper, all packed neatly at our living room, ready to be sold to a rag and bone man. I realised those were my father’s! Finally… after years of stacking them on the table, he has decided to get rid of them.

Curious me decided to look through the stacks of paper. I stumbled upon this piece which had a poetic yet poignant title – <雨丝,思雨>.

It was undeniably my father’s handwriting… so I read on, and discovered his innermost thoughts I never knew existed.


My father lost his father when he was in 15. This piece of writing expressed his pensive poignancy and regret when he recalled the moment he saw his father, who loved him the most, being buried as the raindrops fell. The regret? He did not know much of him.

My father seldom talked to my sister and me, and if he did, his tone of voice was mostly stern, angry or just plain awkward. We never enjoyed an open and accepting relationship with him, so of course, I would never imagine him with an emotional, tender side.

However, this piece of my father’s words stirred up empathy and tenderness within me and towards him.

I thought to myself… My father had also never enjoyed a childhood with the protection of his dad. He never even knew much of his dad. How much do I exactly know my father? Would I, be like him, know very little of my own father?

At 25, I don’t want the same regret too… It was, perhaps, divine intervention that I found this piece of paper with my father’s own penned-down thoughts.


The Holy Week

Today is the start of Ash Wednesday.

Imagine the days leading to the cross… What could Jesus be feeling? Anxious? If I were him, I would try to muster my courage to face the cross, knowing that it’s the right thing to do. But I would still be overwhelmed with pain and heartache, because I know I will have to face the cross physically alone.

The day before Jesus was led to the cross, he was praying…

“And being in agony, He prayed more earnestly. Then His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground.” – Luke 22:44

Like great drops of blood… Jesus was in anguish and that moment in prayer in Gethsemane was so deep, so intense.

Have I ever entered such intense moment in prayer?

Something to reflect upon as I remember Jesus’ journey to the cross, for me, an undeserving sinner.

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