Wenslyn's Corner

Heaven's Eye

2011-11-12T12:15:00.005+08:00

"It's all a matter of perspective," people like to say. In a sense, that is true. No problems in life are insurmountable and many measly things are valuable....when we view the world through heaven's eyes.

Verse 1:
When I only use my earthly vision,
I would see my troubles looming high;
But I learn to live through each condition
Looking at my life through Heaven's eye.

Chorus:
Though I, looking up, am seeing mountains,
He is looking down and seeing plains;
Though life's trials come and go each moment,
He, omnipotent, will always remain.

Verse 2:
As I face each challenge life may bring me,
I won't harbor sorrow or complain;
Knowing that my God provides completely,
I can smile through tears and laugh through rain.

Two Plus Two

2011-05-31T00:50:00.003+08:00

This song, a wedding gift for my best friend and her groom, is inspired by their first meeting years ago at a nationwide high school math contest. It is also a tribute to how God has led their lives together. As for the bad arithmetic in the song...I take the blame. Congratulations, Abi and Fitz!

Verse 1:
I planned my life with fierce precision,
Counted every day,
Calculated each decision,
Charted every way.
Yet with you came a revelation
To these plans I owned,
With you came a new equation
I had never known...

Chorus:
Where two minds plus two hearts
Is equal to one,
How greater and higher
Was what the Lord had done.
For I could, I could never
Calculate your love
When two plus two is one.

Verse 2:
I dreamed my dreams through each occasion,
Formed each fantasy,
Gathered all the information
As to what I'll be.
Yet with you came a revelation
To these dreams I owned,
With you came a new equation
I had never known...

Do You Remember?

2010-07-29T15:05:00.003+08:00

We love because He first loved us. We know Him, because He first knew us. Way before we heard His voice, He was calling us in ways we did not know...

Verse:
Do you remember the time
A friend gave sudden comfort to your soul?
Do you remember the time
You found that extra strength to reach your goal?
Do you remember the time
A peace you can't explain came to console?
That was Him, that was Him,
Do you remember?

Do you remember the time
Your broken path still somehow made it through?
Do you remember the time
A whisper brought you hope out of the blue?
Do you remember the time
You found the best without a single clue?
That was Him, that was Him,
Do you remember?

Chorus:
That was Him, that was Jesus
Holding tight upon your hand;
That was Him, bringing you through
What you'd never understand.
That was Him, that was Jesus
Guiding through each circumstance.
Do you remember?
Do you remember?

I Will Lift Up My Eyes

2010-06-04T17:04:00.004+08:00

This song--written for the Shalom G2 ensemble to sing on May 30, 2010, in UECM--reflects a spontaneous spirit of praise. The singer does not pause to ponder deep lyrics or climb dramatic musical leaps. Yet he sings with passion...that God alone is glorious and worthy of his praise. Find other songs by G2 here.

Verse 1:
I will lift up my eyes into Your glory,
I will lift up my voice to sing Your praise,
And as I lift up my eyes into Your radiance,
I can't help but say...

Chorus:
You...alone are glorious.
You...alone we praise.
You...alone we'll follow,
Follow You all of our days.

Verse 2:
I will lift up my eyes to see Your beauty,
I will life up my hands in joyous praise,
And as I lift up my life, a living offering,
I can't help but say...

Verse 3:
I will lift up my eyes with joy to Calvary,
I will lift up my heart in endless praise,
And as I lift up my hopes upon Your promises,
I can't help but say...

A Mystery

2010-05-26T13:46:00.003+08:00

College years let me learn a lot...but some things still remain a mystery, no matter how much I might learn. My thanks to the friends who commissioned and inspired me to write this song =)

Verse:
I learn of many mysteries
Humanity has solved,
I learn of how each star can shine,
Of how the earth revolves.

I learn of how the rivers form,
Of how the oceans swell,
I learn of how each living thing
Forms homes within to dwell.

Pre-chorus:
But though I understand each part
Of mountain, sea, and land,
There's still one constant mystery
I cannot understand...

Chorus:
I cannot understand why You chose me,
Why You would for a worthless soul
Take death on Calvary.
I cannot understand how it can be,
Your love will always be a mystery.

Your Love

2010-01-09T09:49:00.003+08:00

In this new year...no matter what may come and go...no matter what I might gain or lose...may I always know the love of God which knows no end.

When friends abound,
When family's near,
When love is new and dear,
I turn away,
And soon would lay
Aside the God I've found.

When friends forget,
When family's far,
When love wears pain and scar,
I then would cling,
And to Him bring
Demands of love and debt.

No matter friends,
Love, family...
Be near or far to me,
May I possess
And know as best
Your love which never ends.

A Sweeter Song

2010-01-06T11:44:00.004+08:00

I have thought much about which composition to choose as my new year post. And this song...written long ago in the midst of heartache...finally emerged as the best choice. No matter what my foolishness might tend to do, may the new year bring me closer and closer to my Savior, as I live a lifesong of satisfaction and love to Him.

Verse:
I brought to You my foolish dreams
And threw them up to You,
Requesting that You faithfully
Make all of them come true.
"I'd do my best, You do the rest,"
As long as each of them comes true...

I brought to You a battered heart,
All torn beyond console,
Requesting that You faithfully
Redeem and make it whole.
You tore it more, and then restored
That sweeter song unto my soul...

Chorus:
A sweeter song I sing
Of all that's pure and true,
A song no man can bring
Though everything he do,
A song my life resounds,
A song of love profound,
A song of love I found,
When satisfied in You.

The Blossom

2009-12-22T22:50:00.002+08:00

Those who know me well know that I have a special love for weddings. As a result, I often write wedding songs for no reason. This particular song celebrates the wonder of love founded upon a beautiful friendship. It is my dream to be not just my future husband's lover and helper and homemaker...but also his playmate, his comrade, his friend.

I waited long for something
The world said I would find,
I waited for enchantment,
By love that'd make me blind,
Yet as I learned to trust Him,
I tenderly uncovered
How in His perfect timing
I'd joyously discover...

That the blossom bloomed from friendship
Blooms the brightest of them all,
And the love that led from laughter
Laughs through every tear and fall;
Arm in arm, towards, tomorrow,
Guided by His hand alone,
Timeless love, through joy or sorrow,
Will be ours till years unknown.

Every Line of Poetry

2009-09-06T01:37:00.003+08:00

If ever I did write...it was only by the grace of our Savior. And as I soon return to an academic environment, I am determined to still walk closely with our Lord, to let Him hold my heart and my hands, and by His leading, to continue writing His wonders and truths. Lord Jesus, I love You.

Oh Lord, I know so well in me
That every line of poetry
That I could ever write
Is written by Your precious grace
Upon each titter and each trace,
And by Your strength and might.

And every time that I draw near
And learn to keep You close and dear,
You make my hand to write
So many words of wondrous truth
To aide, to guide, to cheer, to soothe,
And to uphold the right.

And yet whenever I divert
And do what in Your heart would hurt
Or pain You in Your sight,
You answer silence to my plea
And take these words away from me
So that I cease to write.

Oh Lord, please let it never be
That I would wander aimlessly
And turn to my own plight;
But let my pen be Yours to use
To give Your praises all their dues,
And to uphold Your light.

If I Could Sing

2009-08-27T14:14:00.002+08:00

Sometimes...the beauty of a song is not in its craftsmanship, but in the memories of how it is written. This is one of those "spontaneous" pieces of praise that simply came out over some ice cream and laughter. Sometimes...these pieces are lost soon after they're written. But lucky for me, this simple chorus has remained a part of me =)

If I could sing, I would sing You a new song,
If I could sing, I would sing all day long;
If I could sing, I would sing to every day,
If I could sing, I would praise You all the way.
For in You, we have love,
For in You, we have peace.
If I could sing, I would sing You a new song,
If I could sing, I would sing all day long.

Love in PCC is...

2009-08-16T11:00:00.004+08:00

This is a little fun piece inspired by the College Bookstore display back in February. There are two lines here quoted from that board, and I give credit to whoever contributed those. Feel free to add to these with your comments =)

Love in PCC is...

...rushing early to the Crowne Center but still being late to get to your seat for chapel

...thinking that a stopover at Dixon is the closest distance to get from the Crowne Center to Young Tower

...standing in the cold to "meet and say goodbye" to someone at Rawson Chapel

...eating breakfast with your girlfriend at 7:00 a.m. even though you don't have class till third hour

...having a reason to leave a voice mail every single day

...a guy carrying around a lady's pink school bag and actually feeling proud about it

...a girl wearing a guy's suit jacket and actually thinking she looks good

...going to the 2:30 Vespers with your special someone even when you have a 1:00 card

...going on a diet two months before fine arts to fit into that dress that he had liked

...hunting down the halls of the guys' dorm for a tie that matches her dress

...subconsciously starting to walk and open doors backwards

...adjusting your seats in church to have that hymnal right between you

...circling the Campanile from 10:00 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. on Sunday evenings

Someday

2009-08-03T20:27:00.002+08:00

My mom was married at 21. Ever since I was a kid, I thought that I'd be getting married by now. But God had other plans. If I had tried to get married at this age, I wouldn't have gone away to college...and life would just be completely different. God is faithful, good, wise, and true. I post these lyrics, one of my most favorite compositions, on my 21st birthday...knowing that God will continue to guide my heart as another decade of my life unfolds.

This song is somewhat based on author Joshua Harris' last chapter (titled "Someday I'll Have a Love Story to Tell") in his book I Kissed Dating Goodbye. I have personally experienced the amazing impact of godly love stories of people in my life, and I want to be able to do the same one day as well. Someday, someday, Lord willing...I will tell, together with the love of my life, a miraculous story of purity, patience, hope, and faith rewarded.

Verse 1:
I hold my heart within my hand
With dear anxiety,
For I know I won't understand
What His plans are for me;
I'd rather live the way that I
Now think would make me free,
Yet knowing that if I comply,
He knows what's best for me.

I store my dreams within my heart
As I remember you,
For though we may be far apart,
His love can see us through;
And though impatience drives me on,
I know that in His time,
The One who calls us both His own
Will write our tale sublime.

Chorus:
Someday we will tell His loving grace
To a generation who is seeking for His face;
Someday we will tell His wondrous love
In a perfect match made from what dreams are fashioned of...
Someday...

Verse 2:
And many younger souls will see
How in His perfect plans,
He's brought me to you, you to me,
By wondrous circumstance;
And when they see how He has done
His miracle on us,
Then they can find the strength to run
Their race with hope and trust.

So when my heart forgets and fails
To trust His time and grace,
I think of how His will prevails
O'er any human ways;
And I remember how one day
We'll have our tale to tell,
So in our hearts and lives, I pray,
May we portray it well.

Chorus:
Someday we will tell His loving grace
To a generation who is seeking for His face;
Someday we will tell His wondrous love
In a perfect match made from what dreams are fashioned of...
Someday...someday...
Someday.

His Present

2009-07-30T14:40:00.003+08:00

God has blessed me with many very precious gifts in life, in the forms of both people and things. And yet, there is one that tops them all...

Verse:
Sweeter than the roses placed in tender virgin hands,
Richer than inheritance of houses, wealth, and lands,
Dearer than the teardrops shed upon a broken heart,
Is the present I received...

Grander than regalia that royalty display,
Fresher than the blossoms gathered midst the dew of May,
Softer than the teddy bear I hold against my heart,
Is the present I received..

Chorus:
The cross was His present,
Bought by His bleeding hands,
The cross was His covenant
For God and sinful man;
The cross was His gift to me,
Bought by His death and shame--
A present given lovingly...
That I can never be the same.

The Beauty of a Place

2009-07-22T11:56:00.001+08:00

Strolling around a near-empty campus during lockdown week, I realized the incredible amount of memories that have been formed upon those grounds throughout the past 30 years...but is it really the place that matters?

The beauty of a place lies not
Upon its selfish charm,
It lieth rather on the lot
Of human melancholy wrought
Upon that selfsame spot;
One place of sweetest dreams for me
Might be of dread for thee,
'Tis not the place that earns the grace,
'Tis human memory.

Kept For Me

2009-07-11T21:06:00.005+08:00

I wrote these lyrics as a personalized wedding gift to my musician friends Mark and Jocelyn. Even though their whole love story won't fit here, I can bear witness of how their lives testify to God's amazing sovereignty in keeping both of them unattached for many years until they met each other and fell magically in love...to be each other's first and last in a world of broken hearts. And whenever I fear that God would let me miss out on what's best, I remember their story, and I find comfort in knowing that God would keep me and my groom for each other, according to His perfect plans.

Verse 1:
There were times I felt there was no one
Who'd know me as I am;
There were times I thought I'd settle for
Whatever was at hand,
Yet somehow God would have me wait
In search for something more,
For in His perfect, sovereign plan,
The best was still in store...

Chorus 1:
And through the years, He's guided me
To where I stand today,
Breathless at what my eyes see,
And robbed of words to say.
And through the years, there was no one,
For looking back, I see
That He was keeping me for you,
And keeping you for me.

Verse 2:
There were times I felt there was no one
Who'd love me as I am,
There were times I thought I'd never find
Someone to understand.
Yet somehow God would lead me through
An unexpected door
That opened to a world of love
I'd never known before...

Chorus 2:
And through the years, He's molded me
To who I am today,
Breathless at what my eyes see,
And robbed of words to say.
And I thank God there was no one,
For looking back, I see
That He was keeping me for you,
And keeping you for me.

Bridge:
The first to see inside of me,
The first to hear "I love you,"
The first to sing within my soul,
Are you...

Coda:
And looking back upon the years,
I sing with ecstasy...
That He's been keeping me for you,
And keeping you for me.

And here is the video that they made out of the song =)

A Morning Prayer

2009-07-07T23:14:00.004+08:00

I have always been a night owl, and waking up early every day, ready for a day's challenges was difficult for me as I faced college life. Yet God has been my strength; His glory my motivation. On happy days, exhausting days, or painful ones...these were the words that greeted my mornings, and drove me through each day.

In the morning I arise,
Stretching arms and rubbing eyes,
Wondering what course should lie,
On my way today.

In the morning, silently,
As the sunrise creeps on me,
I can't help but question why
I need face the day.

Not for love and not for fame,
Not for praises to my name,
Not for mem'ries passing by
Must I live today.

Christ alone, my heart's desire,
Gains the flame and feeds the fire;
Lord, upon You I rely,
Use me, Lord, today.

To Fear to Lose

2009-06-29T14:16:00.003+08:00

I penned this poem this past May, a time when inspiration brought some of my best pieces ever. Not a person in the world, no matter how good-looking or outstanding, is spared from the fear of losing the one he or she loves. Love longs for security and usually never finds enough of it. God gave me this poem because He knew how often I need to hear its message; and I share this poem because I know many others would benefit from it as well. Love not from God is fleeting. True love, when given by God and based on God, can never be lost.

I often wonder why at all
That you would choose to love me so,
I trip, I stumble, and I fall,
I have no faults you do not know,
I am not beauty's prideful claim,
I have not charm's gentility,
My talents, skills are all the same,
If not much less, than what can be.

And with these thoughts within my mind,
I often fear that you would go,
I fear that I would lag behind,
Another's charms, another's flow;
Yet then my heart reminds my fear
That never did you love me so
Because of charms or manners dear,
Or anything that swiftly go;
Our love has friendship as its stand,
A friendship founded on the One
Whose plans we cannot understand,
Whose will, when said, is good as done.

Then why fear I that you would go
To seek what never did draw you?
You love me and I love you so
For who He is, for what He'll do;
And since I never can lose Him,
I know that I cannot lose you.

More Than a Song

2009-06-23T23:56:00.003+08:00

I typed down these lyrics on the breakfast table at my cousin's house almost a year ago. The words were soon set to music by my cousin Theo, although I still haven't heard the whole piece myself. For now, this song is a reminder for me to not merely sing praises with my lips, but to pour out my life for my Lord and my God.

Verse 1:
More than a song, with my life I will worship,
All the day long, with my being I'll sing;
Be it heart, be it soul, be it all that I own,
I will live, I will give You alone.

Chorus:
Praise You, O Lord, I will praise You in the morning,
Praise You, O Lord, I will praise You in the night,
Praise You, O Lord, every moment I am living,
Praise You, O Lord, praise with all my might.

Verse 2:
More than a feeling, with rev'rence I worship,
Humbly I'm kneeling, before You to sing,
Be it now, be it then, be it then and again,
I will raise, I will praise You alone.

Bridge:
Over and over the years,
Giving You all that I am,
Freed from all trembling and fear,
Praising You all that I can...

The Gift

2009-06-15T13:47:00.003+08:00

The conversation in this poem was inspired by the tale "The Nightingale and the Rose" by Oscar Wilde, something I read in English literature class. Yet I have also drawn deeply from personal experience for this piece. My first composition in blank verse, this long poem answers a question for all who are patient enough to read and understand it...What is the best gift love can give?

The little boy came to the nightingale
And asked with youthful curiosity,
"Dear love-bird, if I deeply love a girl,
What present can I give to prove my love?
I've never loved a person more before
And want to give what no one else can give."
The nightingale looked on him long and sure,
"That present only truest love can give."

The little boy gazed at the nightingale
And asked with patient, slight uncertainty,
"Dear love-bird, if I want to give to her
What I can never give to someone else,
What present can I give to only her?
What present can I give to prove my love?"
The nightingale looked on him kind and long,
"That present can be given only once."

The little boy sighed at the nightingale
And asked with young frustration in his voice,
"Dear love-bird, will you please tell me today
What present's worth the most in all the earth?
I want to give what money cannot buy
For she is worth far more than jewels are."
The nightingale looked on him sweet and kind,
"This present's worth is irretrievable.

"Dear boy," the bird replied, "this special gift,
This present that you seek to give to her
Is never bought, though often rashly giv'n,
Is never earned, but granted undeserved,
'Tis what no other one can give to her,
'Tis what no other can receive but her,
Its worth is priceless, for there only is
But one in every human life on earth."

The bird continued as the boy, so filled
With love, did strain his youthful ear to hear,
"This gift is truer than fine silvery;
This gift is giving what is part of you.
Her heart can melt when you give it to her,
But you must give with warnings in your ear:
For this dear present, once given away,
Can never be outdone or taken back.

"If you should love her till the end of life,
Then only do you have the right to give;
But if you cannot love her till the end,
Then you should hesitate to grant this gift."
"Oh what's the gift?" the boy would want to know.
"No matter what the cost I'll gladly pay,
No matter what the work I will accept,
For I love her more than I love myself."

"The gift is simple, priceless, and profound,
'Tis given once, yet given not alone,
'Tis given with a record you must bear
No matter what may change in days to come.
The gift you seek is rightly named as--'First'
And it is given with whate'er you choose:
A song, a kiss, a hug, a word or three...
You give it only once eternally."

"Oh that is easy!" the young boy exclaimed.
"Oh no! 'Tis not!" the bird did reprimand,
"For once you give this gift away to one,
No human being can have it again.
You might give greater, better, stronger things,
But 'first' has ownership for one alone.
So please, be wary of what you decide,
For though you've found the gift, please bide the price."

The boy in love looked happy yet confused,
He's found the gift, but many warnings too.
"Oh be not sad," the love-bird sweetly said,
"For love would give what can be given now,
But save for last what's best among them all.
The choice of what to give and what to save,
Is yours to make, with wisdom, love, and sense,
And yours to keep throughout your days ahead."

The young boy hesitated for a while,
Then lifted up his visage with a smile,
"I think I've learned what gift is best of all,
'Tis not a gift of passion or of gold,
'Tis not a gift of words or one of praise,
But 'tis a gift I give once and for all."
And off he skipped to give his special gift,
While silently, the nightingale did muse.

"I hope that this one makes his choices well,
Lest I have one more saddened tale to tell,"
Spoke thus the bird, spoke thus the nightingale.

To This Place

2009-06-08T13:26:00.003+08:00

This is a song that came to me when I was doing my devotions in our dorm prayer room several months ago. The more I come to know who I really am, the more I am amazed at the wonder of God's love and grace.

Who am I to stand before Your throne?
Who am I to be among Your own?
Who am I to claim a part when You had rolled the stone?
Who am I to come to You alone?

Who am I to have Your hand in mine?
Who am I to know Your love divine?
Who am I to claim a part and at Your table dine?
Who am I to witness Your design?

Amazing love...amazing grace...
Amazing glory in Your face...
Amazing mercy that would cover my disgrace
And bid me enter to this place.

想起你 (I Remember You)

2009-06-06T07:14:00.004+08:00

Even though the Chinese language may be my mother tongue, it is definitely not my mother pen. Thus, I was so happy when this song flowed effortlessly when I was walking around campus. To those who could actually read these lyrics (hehe), please keep in mind that this is basically a pop song. Don't read it as a wisdom piece, for it is not written to be so. It is just a mushy love song about remembrance and romance. Hey, I get to have silly girly moments too, right?

路中初吻的回憶

互換眼神的呼吸

樹下雍抱的情意

恍然地想起你

雨中同傘的天氣

交換軟糖的甜蜜

夕陽散步的美麗

想起便想起你

一百一千一千萬分

的柔情蜜憶

不停地回轉於我的記憶

一百一千一千萬分

的捨不得你

不停地教我不能夠放棄

路中吻別的回憶

互訢愛你的信息

十指緊扣的情意

教我無法忘記

一旦想起，不自禁想起你

Shadow of the Cross

2009-01-17T02:05:00.004+08:00

Near the end of the year 2008, I fidgeted in my plane seat, on my way home to the Philippines. And as I sorted through my hopes for the year to come, I realized that the only desire worth having would be to live with a constant awareness and assurance of Christ's redemptive sacrifice. I scribbled down these words as I went through the air...oh Lord, in every day to come, please keep me near the shadow of the cross!

Verse 1:
You are Lord of heaven,
Owner of all things,
Author of each harmony
Humankind can sing;
Yet you left Your heaven,
Came to die for me,
Paying all redemption that
I might be made free.

Pre-chorus:
Lord, You loved in such humility...
Help me now to be as You would be...

Chorus:
Keep me near the shadow of the cross,
Make my soul abandoned to its frame;
Help me count all gain to be as loss,
So I'd live to glorify Your name.

Verse 2:
I was born a sinner,
Living selfishly,
Proudly thinking I could own
Self-sufficiency;
Yet You loved this sinner,
And Your love bestowed
Grace that led my eyes to see
All that I now know.

Strength Each Day

2009-01-10T16:45:00.004+08:00

In the midst of personal aspirations and external expectations, it can be easy to be disappointed about the results of our strivings. Yet with careful thought, one realizes that God is so much closer when we feel the need for Him moment after moment, day after day. God gave me this poem in the heat of college pressure, and it will continue to be my encouragement in days to come.

How often in our hearts we hope,
That we might shine in all we do,
Yet somehow, though we strive and grope,
He would not let our dreams come true.

For there are times we have the need
To know we've come to our end,
That we might learn to fully heed,
Our one and only, truest Friend.

His strength shall be our lasting aid,
His joy shall be our constant song,
And when 'fore Him our cares we've laid,
We've strength each day--however long.

Stay in the Castle

2009-01-06T19:28:00.003+08:00

In a booklet entitled "Stay in the Castle," a Christian author writes of the importance of waiting upon God's timing for the perfect romance. It is an inspiring tale, and as our collegian (college girls' organization) staged this little story, I was moved to write this song. May every young lady truly learn to stay in the castle, trusting and waiting for our Father's perfect plans.

You dream about that special day,
When love will finally come;
You dream about how he would say
He loves you as his own.

That sparkle in your eyes
As they look beyond these walls,
Awaiting every sunrise,
But child, please realize…

That I have plans for you,
More than all your dreams-come-true,
And more than anything your heart
Will have you do.
However long it takes,
I will never make mistakes,
Stay in the castle
With Me.

Packets of Oatmeal

2008-12-29T22:36:00.004+08:00

Although a composition I wrote for English class, this personal narrative lies close to my heart. Perhaps it did get me a good grade, but I know that it was more than that. The lesson I learned in the story is a lesson I am still learning today, and perhaps a lesson I will be learning for life.

“We’re here!”

Voices reacted in unison as my family filtered into the crowded restaurant private room the evening before we left for the United States. Since my parents would be dropping me off for college there, that evening comprised the last “complete” family reunion for a long time.

“Are you ready?” people repeatedly asked me.

“Yeah, I think so,” I would reply.

I did think I was ready. After all, so many people had already given me everything I needed. Yet, I did not know that I was going to bring with me a reminder of the most important thing of all that night.

The initial commotion gradually subsided. Everyone—aunts, uncles, and cousins, adults and infants, Grandpa and Grandma—gathered around the circularly-set tables.

Although there was still no food, many things cluttered the tables. There were colorful placemats, hand-painted tea cups, dainty platters, nice little chopsticks, and in the midst of them all, some packets of instant oatmeal.

The presence of those boxes looked strange to me as I sat down, but I was too busy chattering to give it much thought.

“Do you have a computer yet? Clothing? Shoes? Suitcases or bags?” the questions continued.

I continued to answer in the affirmative. I already had everything I needed. Then whenever they mentioned something that I did not have, I would decline to receive it, mostly because those items were too heavy or too bulky to carry overseas.

I prattled on with everyone around me, until Grandma called me. Then I realized that I had not talked to her the whole evening.

“Yes, Grandma?”

“Take these,” she thrust the packets of oatmeal over to me, her voice slightly shaky, “You can have them in your dorm when you’re hungry.”

“Oh, but Grandma, you didn’t have to! I wouldn’t need them,” I began to decline again, but she continued.

“Oh, these won’t take too much space in your luggage. They won’t be heavy. You could slip them in between your packed items,” her teary tone intensified, “You could bring them so that you don’t go hungry.”

My instinct told me to decline. After all, I really did not need the oatmeal. Yet when I looked at Grandma, then at my parents’ wise gazes, then back at Grandma, I started to realize the point.

“Thank you, Grandma,” I received the oatmeal, emotion beginning to grow in me as well.

I didn’t need the oatmeal, and I still don’t. Yet Grandma needed to show her love, and I needed her love. I could have been ready with everything, but all that everything would be meaningless without my family’s love.

Now, I still don’t need the oatmeal, and they just sit inside my drawers. Yet seeing those little packets remind me of Grandma, and of the love from home that I will always need.

They are worth far more than everything else because they are more than packets of oatmeal. They are packets of love.

Are You a Stranger or a Friend?

2008-12-26T00:02:00.003+08:00

Perhaps it was reading too much Pride and Prejudice, or maybe it was reciting to much Victorian poetry. Whatever the reason was, I composed this poem with an Austen ballroom in mind. It is a rather inconsequential poem in terms of content, but it still did make me practice a complicated rhyme scheme and the depiction of a particular moment of thought in human interactions.

I saw you right across the room
And knew you right away,
Within a crowd of coats and plumes
My eyes still somehow lay
Upon your face, your countenance,
Your actions, words, and bends,
Then to my heart I asked, perchance,
“Are you a stranger or a friend?”

I saw you walk towards my side
With smile upon your face,
But as you walked your youthful stride
Below the ballroom’s daze,
My heart pulled back in hesitance,
My hand I could not lend,
For then I asked myself, perchance,
“Are you a stranger or a friend?”

I knew you not, yet you I knew,
A paradox was done;
Familiarity in you
Was equal parts to none.
So I smiled back and walked away,
The audience thus did end,
So now I cannot ever say
If you were stranger or a friend.

Nothing in the World

2008-12-16T09:55:00.003+08:00

I seldom write pure lyrics, lyrics that do not resemble poetry in any sense. But with this song, the words flowed out of me so naturally as I composed beside my cousin Theodore. I remember that evening of composition very well, just as I remember the song very well. Truly, nothing can satisfy once one has been found by the One who finds.

Time and time again,
I’ve felt a longing deep within,
Trying hard to find my place
Within this world of sin,
Time and time again,
I’ve searched my dreams all over
Saw them formed, fulfilled, and lost…

Until the day I said
I couldn’t do it any more,
His love called and restored me
To all I should be living for.

And so I found by being found,
And I was freed by being bound,
And bound to Him I’ll always be,
For in His goodness I am free.

And nothing, nothing in the world
Could ever satisfy,
For Jesus, He is everything
I’d ever want in life.

Your Work Continues All the Same

2008-08-30T12:41:00.003+08:00

One of the most dramatic chapters of my life is coming to an end. And as I settle down to college life soon, routine will come again. While I look forward to it all, I know that perseverance will be tested in routine life, and I know that God's hand might become humanly less easy to trace. Yet, just as in this poem that I wrote for my best friend a few months ago, I shall still have motivation to do my best. And as I tentatively part from this blog...this is my good wish for all my readers, no matter your duties comprise family, work, studies, church, or otherwise.

Each morn, each hour goes passing by,
Each word, each task, each smile, each sigh,
Each tiring deed, each daily need,
“Lord, is there more?” I cry.

A smiling face to greet the day,
A tender word a friend should say,
Still don’t remain; life stays the same,
“Lord, is there more?” I pray.

My duties day and night I do,
I stay obedient and true,
Yet there’s no fire, no keen desire
To draw more close to You.

Lord, help me trace Your loving hand,
Lord, help me hear Your voice’s command
Through each small thing each hour might bring
To make me understand

That though each day may lack the flame,
Your work continues all the same,
And I must strive, each day I live
To glorify Your name.

Help Me Keep Myself for Him

2008-08-19T09:25:00.004+08:00

Mom and I have observed how the girl left un-partnered at the end of a story always has to go abroad. I can’t help but laugh that I must be that girl while the rest of my friends all pair up…but seriously, as I experience more intimacy with God, I find beauty, satisfaction, and reliance upon Him that knows no comparison.

I don’t know if God has prepared anyone for my future; He knows best and will reveal His plans in time. What I do know, however, is that nothing can be done without His enablement, and I pray that if there is such a person, may God help me faithfully guard myself henceforth for him, even when my distance from family and home church makes the challenge even harder. And as I understand more and more of God’s love, He will decide when, how, and whether or not to lead “me to him, and him to me.” How better a matchmaker could one ask for, right?

Help me keep myself for him,
Whoever he may be,
Though the chances may be slim
That he would ever see
How I battled on within
To live with purity,
So to save alone for him
The depths of love in me.

Help me guard myself today
From those who seek my heart,
Trying with the words they say
To earn if just a part
Of the love which, come the day,
Should have with him its start—
Sworn in covenant to stay
And never to depart.

Help me watch this heart of mine,
And all my words and deeds,
Help me walk the narrow line
That perseverance leads,
Have Your glory in me shine
When I find all I need
In Your love, so pure and fine,
The love my heart must heed.

And in this love that my heart needs,
And in this love that his heart needs,
Him to me, and me to him,
Your loving hand will lead.

Teach Me to Remember

2008-08-07T12:36:00.004+08:00

I wrote these lyrics soon after I finished the book "Growing Up Christian." This book, written in particular for church-grown kids, challenged me to reevaluate my views on salvation. Have I become self-righteous? Have I taken my salvation for granted more often than not? In the end, I could only cry...Lord, teach me to remember. For a while, I could think of no tune suitable for the words that I felt so intensely about. Then finally, two weeks back, my cousin Theodore wrote the perfect music for it. Now, it is finally a song-prayer that can be sung.

Verse 1:
There are times when I forget
How my soul is long in debt
To the holiness which You, my God, demands
There are times when I retort
How I’ve failed and fallen short
Of the glory found in You and Your commands.

Pre-chorus:
Yet when in Your Word I see
All the wickedness in me,
Can’t help but plead Your mercy to remind me once again…
When in Your Word I see
All the wickedness in me,
Can’t help but plead Your mercy to remind me once again…

Chorus:
Lord, teach me to remember
The price You had to pay;
Lord, teach me to surrender
More of myself each day.
Please help me not forget,
Please help me not neglect
The grace You showed when on the cross You laid,
The miracle that I am Yours today.

Verse 2:
There are times when I would do
All the things You want me to
And imagine that I did it on my own;
There are times when I would live,
I would love, and I would give,
While forgetting all had come from You alone.

A Self-Revelation

2008-07-26T15:36:00.004+08:00

In a world that rants about "following your heart" and "discovering the real you," learning what is truly inside of oneself doesn't seem like a bad idea. Yet the fact is, what is inside is terribly ugly...and every time I read this poem, it pierces me with pain and terror almost like a horror film....and yet, God is still amazing.

I looked to God and said one day,
“I give my life to You,
All things I do, and think, and say,
I dedicate anew.
I know what I could give is few,
And undeserving too,
But all that can be done of me,
I offer now to You.”

And in my heart, I felt so sure
That He must have felt grand
To have a life so young and pure
Entrusted to His hand.
So great then was the shock I knew
When all I reckoned true
Was called unfit, the time when He
Was seeking for His due.

“Lord, isn’t there a little bit,
A little bit for You?
A little bit that could be fit
A bit that’s good and true,
A little bit that I could do
To sacrifice to You?”
His shook His head and look at me,
“Child, that was from me too.”

I cried, I shook, I closed my eyes,
I could not understand,
Were all my off’rings merely lies?
Had I nothing at hand?
“Lord, surely it could not be true
That all I’d say and do
Were merely from me and for me,
And not prepared for You?

“It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be!”
I hid my head in tears.
And it took quite some time till He
Could coax me to come near.
I shuddered at what I now knew
I sobbed o’er what was true
“There’s nothing, Lord, coming from me,
No, not one thing for You.

“The words I’ve said, the deeds I’ve done,
The thoughts of sacrifice
Were done for pleasure or for fun,
And for man’s earthly eyes;
I can give nothing good to You,
And all that I’ve been through
Was just a masquerade of me,
And nothing about You.”

I wept and dared not look above,
I knew I had been wrong,
Then after shelt’ring me with love,
For days and ages long,
He said, “Child, look and tell me who
You now can see in you.”
“Nothing but old selfish me,
A mess, unfit, untrue.”

He looked at me and smiled and said,
“That’s what I want of you,
That you should see how you are dead,
How ugly and untrue,
That you should see how I’ve loved you,
How faithfully and true,
So that You live accordingly.”
“I will, Lord…I love You.”

Wedding Blessing

2008-07-15T12:26:00.002+08:00

As pastor's daughter, I witness many weddings every year. And as the people pray with the musical Lord's Prayer at the end of every ceremony, I can't help but wonder if there is an alternative. If I should whisper a blessing for two friends in holy union...what would I utter? The result was this composition. Combined with my mother's beautiful melody and layered chords, this piece brings with it many good wishes in Christ.

May each dawn that you greet, be a witness of His grace
May He meet every need that comes your way;
May His love and His peace, be your comfort in each place
And His hope rest you through each dreary day.

May His heart be the heart, that will seal two hearts as one,
Through each smile and each trial, just as when it first begun;
May each day of your lives, be a heavenly embrace,
May He stay in your home as in this place.

May His love be your love,
May His hope be your strength,
This we pray…
Amen.

A Writer's Prayer

2008-07-04T14:43:00.004+08:00

I am barely a writer...but this really is my prayer...

If I could ever write a story…that could capture only one fragment of Your sovereign plans, then it would be the greatest masterpiece on earth. No, it cannot be. That is a wish beyond humanity.

You are the one who created it all.

You invented what people call characterization. You have made millions upon millions of human beings over the course of history, yet not two have been the same. You designed every tendency, every inclination, every preference, every talent, every interest known or unknown to man…and You combined them in unique ways that outwit probability. You planted such varieties of personality, and You set each new concoction in different circumstances. You designed character background, more richly, deeply, and diversely than any single human mind can comprehend. You dictated which parents would bear which children, and which building should house which child, and which cultures would reach which soul. You created propensities so tiny yet significant, that only a family member could tell. You search through every motive and form of selfishness harbored in the heart, even those hidden from one’s own eyes. You did not create sin, yet You understand it and see it manifested in ways as diverse as the human creatures You have conceived. You write character after character, create person after person…yet You know each by name, You understand each one as thoroughly as if he had been the only one made.

You write with purposeful plots. There are three main plots in life, and You control them all. There is the main plot of redemptive history, of which You are the focal point. There is the main plot of the humanity’s history within this universe, which often leaves individuals seem incredibly insignificant. Then there is the main plot of everyone’s own story, for truly no story is ever of greater consequence in one’s life than one’s own. No human being can understand the world except through the context of his own story. For him, for her, for me, that is the main plot. You write each one. You personally write each one. You write each one with precision inconceivable.

You are a God of order, and You are a complex God. How You can interweave billions of main plots over time is beyond my understanding. I can only marvel. One man heads one household, one long chapter within his lifetime. His children, growing under his roof, portray stories of their own. Every day, the family meets; every day, the family lives. Every day, they share certain instances common to all. Yet the significance of an event varies among the stories, even as each of them respectively resolves into what is best. The ending of one story is often the beginning of another. The punishment of one character may well be the reward of another. The consequential progressions of each tale merge together as they take their place in the main plots…in a pattern inscrutable.

You are just, and poetic justice is but a shadow of Your standards. Evil shall be punished; good shall be rewarded. Though achieved in means sometimes elusive to human wisdom, justice is served by Your hands. Ultimately, wickedness does not prosper, evil does not prevail. The humble and righteous are lifted up as You Yourself have promised.

You set the tone of each line, page, and chapter within every tale. Yet in them all, You are glorified. The Christian’s moments of triumph magnify Your faithfulness. The penitent tears of the sinner direct to Your abundant mercy. The achievements of man prove Your common grace. The calamities of nature thunder of Your power and might. From a mother’s healing touch to a judge’s severe sentence to a friend’s jovial tease…You work, You manage, You write.

You write the unexpected, yet You write with consistency to Your character. So paradoxical are You. What man calls good might be a curse; what man calls evil might be a blessing. You ask that man give up his life to find it. You ask what is impossible. Yet You make it possible.

You let man plan his way, but he can never know what is beyond the page, the line, the very word he is living. You know all, yet you let us know so little. You render Your characters helpless under Your pen. There can be no peeking ahead.

Yet You promise what is the best, and the one who would not trust You does so at his own demise. You do know best, and the best way to appreciate that best is through believing in You. You write what is best temporarily, as well as what is best eternally. I cannot understand how, but still You do that. You always give the best, and I could choose to see that best even while its happening, or only when it’s over. Or wait, that is wrong. It is never over. Your lovingkindness is never ceasing. That’s how incomprehensible a writer You are…You do not merely write for the best interests of the whole; You write for the best interests of every one who loves, obeys, and belongs to You.

You make all things beautiful in Your time. You are beyond time, yet You write humanity’s story within this dimension. You never begin one storyline when it’s too early, and You never forget a line until it is too late. You combine fleeting moments of bliss and extensive chapters of sorrow to write the perfect tale.

You write in every language ever known. You write in the hearts of the educated and uneducated, of the heathen and the Christian, of the elderly and the young. You give instruction and demand compliance. You give love though we give hate. You write in the tongues of men and of angels, though they are below You. You take the wisdom of all You are and write it in words man’s weak nature could blurrily decipher. You write both in majesty and in meekness. You write both in thunders and in whispers.

You write everything. You do not neglect any detail. You do not add insignificant facts. You write without error.

I could never end in praises and in awe. You are the Master Author, truly, the Beginning and the End.

Lord, take my pen. You do the writing…write with my words…write with my life itself.

I know You are the one writing anyway, whether I say so or not. But just to let You know…I want You to write.

I can’t write. You do the writing. Write beside me, write through me…write with me as Your pen.

The Rest of Them

2008-06-26T17:09:00.003+08:00

People-pleaser that I am, I very often have to utter this song as my prayer. More than the heartfelt melody, these lyrics reflect what I often plead to God about. May He constantly help me to seek His pleasure alone and lay down any earthly approval that I have idolized.

Verse:
There are people who come and go in life
Who try to take away the heart that’s Yours;
And when I have turned away
To less important things,
Have me, bring me, pull me back to You.

Chorus:
None other may I love but You, O Lord,
None other may I seek but You alone;
And the rest of them,
No matter who they are,
May I lay them down before Your throne.

I Pray These Things for You

2008-06-18T14:58:00.005+08:00

The year 2008 has been a year of numerous comings and goings in my life. So many faces have come and gone. New/old friends, mentors and students, church crowds and long-time coworkers and dear relatives...including myself...all have been part of the cycle. It's all quite bittersweet, and my mind recalls this composition.

I wrote this song as a gift to my best friend when she and her family moved to California almost five years ago. Now, even while I wish the same things for the other coming/going people in my life...I try to hope that all my family and friends share this prayer too...

Verse 1:
I look at you one final time
Before I let you go,
The time to pass before we meet,
Only God can know.
How to face the things beyond this land
Not one of us know now,
But look to Christ, our Master,
He’ll be there to show you how.

Verse 2:
The changes that will happen
Within the years to come,
May bring you pain and hardship
Or jubilant song.
The years ahead lie blurry
Like a bend upon the road.
But today let’s join our hearts to thank
What God has since bestowed.

Chorus:
Faith will give you confidence
For every day in view,
Hope will give you promises
When things look grey and blue,
Love is greatest over all,
For it will see us through,
No matter what tomorrow brings,
I pray these things for you.

Homesick for Heaven

2008-06-10T14:27:00.002+08:00

People sometimes do not understand why I say I'm homesick when I'm actually spending the staggering majority of my time at home. When I say I'm homesick nowadays though, I'm referring to quite a different home, a Home more real than anything. Am I suicidal? No. Yet sometimes, I do get homesick...in this piece, I've once again borrowed a few lines from a friend. If you read this, you know who you are. Thanks for the help.

When struggles always reoccur…
When battles in the soul refuse to end…
I’m homesick, I’m homesick,
I’m homesick for heav’n.

When those one cares about the most…
Fall short of what ones wishes they had been…
I’m homesick, I’m homesick,
I’m homesick for heav’n.

When I discover in myself…
Repeatedly what I detest to see…
I’m homesick, so homesick,
So homesick for heav’n.

When knowing what is right to do…
Cannot equate to making it come true…
I say, “Lord, I’m homesick,
I’m homesick for heav’n.

“Lord, burn me hard, and burn me bright,
And burn me fast until the end,
That in You, I soon might
Be back home in heav'n."

He Would Say

2008-05-27T15:04:00.003+08:00

It's another one of those compositions that often makes me teary-eyed. It is hard to capture the soul of this song without its dramatic melody and chords. Yet it's always the lyrics that have the message, after all. The more one understands one's failures, the more overwhelming and indescribable God's love is. I can only say so much; He says it all.

Verse 1:
At times I fall,
At times I wander away,
At times I’ve failed
And turned resolutely astray,
And yet when He,
He looked at me
With eyes full of wonderful love,
He’d hold my hand and say, “I love you.”

Chorus:
“I love you,” He’d say, in His own wonderful way,
“I love you,” He’d say every day;
“I love you,” He’d say, though I would wander astray,
These words to me He would say.

Verse 2:
At times the pain
Would be too heavy to bear,
And I would doubt
If He ever really did care,
And yet when He,
He looked at me
With eyes full of wonderful love,
He’d hold my hand and say, “I love you.”

Verse 3:
At times my wrong
Would leave me dark and despaired,
And His own hand
Would hurt me each time He repaired,
And yet when He,
He looked at me,
With eyes full of wonderful love,
He’d hold my hand and say, “I love you.”

Bridge:
And I will never know enough of all He’s done for me,
I only know I’d never love as He,
And I can only say that I can live victoriously,
Because He first loved me.

I Will Grow

2008-05-14T05:30:00.002+08:00

It's one week till junior camp! And here's a sneak-peek--the theme song lyrics. Yet again, we've opted to compose an all-original theme song. Although I had to work through revisions and replacements for this project, it's still really not a model work of art. Yet, it should serve its purpose well, especially in aiding theme verse memorization. May we all grow together, as we go "Leaving Neverland: Time to Grow Up."

Verse 1:
When I was a child,
I talked like a child,
I thought like a child,
I reasoned like a child.
I looked for what’s fun,
I looked for what’s free,
I looked for what’s great
And awesome for me.

Chorus:
But I will grow, and I will grow,
More work to do, more things to know,
More care to give, more love to show,
As growing up I go.

Verse 2:
When I was a child,
I played like a child,
I lived like a child,
I acted like a child,
I looked for what’s fun,
I looked for what’s free,
I looked for what’s quick
And easy for me.

Wife Checklist: Seeking the Answers

2008-05-04T23:56:00.005+08:00

This counterpart to February’s “Husband Checklist” has been extremely difficult for me to prepare. How dare I publish it while I continually discover so many shortcomings in myself? Yet for the same reason I wrote the former counterpart, I compiled this one with the help of a few male advisors. May the guys be reminded to seek these qualities; and the girls, including me, to pursue them--the qualities, that is.

1. Does she find joy in being a woman?

2. Will I trust her with the training and caring of my children?

3. Will she be a good partner to help me in my life calling?

4. Does she exercise self-discipline over
heart and deeds alike?

5. Does she enjoy making the house a home?

6. Is her outlook submissive or complaining?

7. Does she exhibit modesty in dress, speech, and actions?

8. Would she support me in my struggles
and rejoice in my triumphs?

9. Would I take pride in her hand in marriage?

10. Does she seek to serve more than to gain?

11. Does she pursue inward character
more than outward beauty?

12. Will she help me grow in Christ?

13. Will she honor my parents?

14. Will she let me put God first?

Psalm 138

2008-04-28T15:52:00.003+08:00

If I am not mistaken, this was my very first complete versification work, completed seven years ago or so. As an aspiring poet, I became inspired by Isaac Watts' compositions, and I tried my hand with the activity as soon as I got the chance.

I praise You, Lord, with all my heart,
Before all gods I sing;
I bow towards Your holy place
And praise You, faithful King.

You’ve lifted up above all things
Your word and wondrous name;
You’ve answered me and strengthened me,
The kings Your praise proclaim.

All earthly kings must hear Your word,
They sing Your holy ways;
Your glory is magnificent,
I’ll praise You all my days.

Though lifted high above all things,
You look on humble men;
The proud You shun from far away
And turn not back again.

Though hazards cover all my life,
My soul You still preserve;
My enemies You crumble down
As they justly deserve.

Your hand brings me deliverance,
This promise I believe;
Your love forever will endure,
Your presence I”ll perceive.

God's Reply

2008-04-16T20:39:00.003+08:00

I had originally intended to keep this precious poem tucked away for years, until when perhaps circumstances and time would be my protection. Yet when I witness so many young hearts being bruised because of impatience or carelessness, I can't help but share it. I do not claim to have permanently learned the lesson in this poem, for I find myself asking God, hearing His reply, getting hurt, then learning to trust again and again...yet fickle as my emotions may be, His reply stands constant and true.

Dear girls and girls-at-heart, this poem is dedicated to you in particular. May we all guard our hearts faithfully and as carefully as possible, for whomever the Lord has written for our future, in His most perfect plan.

The world conspires and says to me
I have to seize what I can see,
And give my life and heart today
To love not guaranteed to stay.

It feels so tempting to accept
This thought that my sane mind rejects,
For though security’s not giv’n,
A temp’ral love still sounds like heav’n.

It’s hard to hold myself against
The charm that my soft heart had sensed;
It’s hard to trustingly forego
Affections he now seems to show.

The time’s not right; I know this well,
Yet still in me emotions swell.
“Lord, can’t I take him, just for now?
If it’s Your will, You’ll show us how.”

Then God replied in tenderness,
So firmly, “Child, would I give less?
Would I give less than what is best,
When I have given you the rest?

“There is a story kept for you,
A story written for your due,
I wrote it with My loving hand,
It’s best—though not what you demand.

“There’ll come the day when you will see
A person made for you by Me;
I know it’s hard to let things be,
Yet I want you to wait on Me.

“If he should be the one for you,
Then let me mold both of you two
Until you’re ready for that day
For love committed e’er to stay.

“If it should be another one,
Then do not rush before I’m done;
In case you love someone untrue,
Someone I hadn’t made for you.

“Just trust Me, child, I love you so,
My love is all you need to know;
Would I retain from you the rest,
When I have given you My best?”

I'm a Cat

2008-04-05T15:32:00.003+08:00

These lyrics were originally requested by some friends of mine, but they turned down the piece when they said it didn't fit the purpose. Oh well, at least it was fun writing it. The meter is very loose, so I would hardly classify this as a poem. It is just three verses of playful rhyme, the product of too much Dr. Seuss in early childhood.

I’ve a fuzzy little body,
With fuzzy little paws
That turn when I am angry
To hard, ferocious claws…
I’m a cat, I’m a cat,
That goes meow, meow, meow,
I’m a cat, and a cat am I.

I’ve a wetted little nose
With whiskers all around,
I’ve a sharp and squealing voice
That can make a purring sound…
I’m a cat, I’m a cat,
That goes meow, meow, meow,
I’m a cat, and a cat am I.

I’ve got eyes that shine in moonlight,
I’ve got ears with pointed ends,
I’ve an appetite for fishes
And no mousy, doggy friends…
I’m a cat, I’m a cat,
That goes meow, meow, meow,
I’m a cat, and a cat am I.

My Love Affair with Translation

2008-03-24T11:29:00.007+08:00

It never was love at first sight. It was more like an arranged marriage.

I never was given much of a choice. Well, not that my parents forced me to become a pulpit translator, nor did my church. I don’t remember any coercion, but nor do I recall any voluntary enthusiasm. I just know that one statement stands true over the years: “Translation chose me, not I translation.”

I “debuted” as a pulpit translator just a few months after turning 15, but my training came far before that. You know how those young girls in countries with arranged marriages are taught since childhood that they would one day marry in a so-and-so way? It was the same way with me. It’s just that it wasn’t about marriage, but about translation.

At age six or seven, my parents commented often on how their talkative daughter had the potential to become a translator. They didn’t know that my young mind absorbed those comments, as well as their discussions on how to train me sooner or later. There was an expectation lingering in the air for my ministerial future, and nowhere was it stronger than within my own family.

When I was promoted at age 13 to adult worship service from junior worship, my mom advised me seriously. “Wen, listen and learn from the sermons,” she said, “One day, you can be, you will be a translator.”

So I did. I listened, I learned, I observed, and I distracted other translators by my constant inaudible lip movements during sermons. I practiced, I drilled, I jot down notes. Translation was calling me.

The years went by quickly, and I was 15. That December, translation called up for a first date.

A birthday party was scheduled by an acquaintance living nearby, and she hoped to insert some pre-evangelism into the program. It was a family gathering for them, so that there would be both young and old in the same party. My dad would be sharing a short message, and they needed a translator. My mom had another appointment at church that night. Oh…I see.

“Wen, could you translate for your dad tonight?” my mom asked as we all crowded the master bedroom (essentially the only living quarters in the house).

“Um…sure,” I heard myself answer. I was both scared and excited. Something I had only prepared for was actually becoming real. “If there’s a need, I’ll try.”

As my dad acquainted himself with the people that night at the gathering, I sat alone on the side, not eating a bite, pouring over the Bible verses my dad had given me. As if I wasn’t nervous enough, the secular program dragged on as the people drank beer and sang karaoke. I wanted to go home.

When my dad was finally handed the microphone, I took my Bible and stood up next to him. It was late already, and he didn’t even refer to the passage I had so painstakingly studied. It was a 20-minute sharing, but it was enough for me to let out a long hidden sigh of relief at its conclusion.

“How did it go?” my mom’s eyes shined with both curiosity and excitement that night at home.

“Schedule her once or twice a quarter at church,” was my dad’s mechanical reply. That was his way of affirmation.

I caught my breath. It was for real.

A month later, I translated through my first full-length 45-minute church sermon. There were only 60 people in the afternoon service congregation, but they were enough to make me conscious, and to pressure me to a good session.

Apparently, they were also enough to start what I did not know was the beginning of a pattern for years to come. The praises started pouring in.

I never thought myself to be a stellar translator. I never understood why I was considered to be better than others. I was fifteen years old, I was doing what I thought I should be doing, and somehow, people thought I was great.

Most people were simply encouraging me to strive for Him. Others were just honest about how helpful effective translation was to them. A few were flatterers, but it was obvious from their way of talking. From my perspective, however, the results they rendered were basically the same.

I never chose translating. Yet in a way, translating chose me. Over the years, many people have wondered or consulted me, “How do you do it?! And at such an age?”

I usually answer that it is all by the grace of God, which is absolutely true. Skill-wise and training-wise, however, I myself had no idea how I honed those skills. I never strived hard for translation. I just started translating. That’s it. Then somehow, people liked it.

I wasn’t in love with translation at all back then, nor did I even like it a lot. I was apathetic to it, to be honest. Yet somehow, as I translated regularly, as I translated for more people, as I translated for other churches, as I experimented with other languages, the affirmation continued. To my childish and vain mind, that was what made me happy.

It was like wanting a certain boyfriend/girlfriend merely because of the popularity boost that accompanies him or her.

That was what I felt about translation.

As the months went by, however, some things changed. I was realizing that translation did not only give me self-satisfaction or popularity. It demanded sacrifice.

Regular translation meant taking care of my voice full-time, sometimes to the denial of many favourite foods or practices (i.e. talking endlessly). Translation duties required me to travel around with my dad, even if I missed my friends at our church. And once people’s fascination over my “translating prodigy” status began to get old, my pride began to miss the adulation.

If it had been an arranged marriage, then I had gotten over the honeymoon.

For a time span of almost a year, I wallowed in my disillusionment. What was it about translating that I did like anyway? I had lost my passion for translation. Or perhaps it had never been there?

Those months were long for me as I went on from one translation assignment to another, without finding joy in the process of it all. The people were still relatively affirming of my skills, but I wasn’t enjoying the skills at all. My translation skills…those skills that had come so effortlessly to me, were becoming burdens to my selfish teenage heart.

For a while, like a rebel against tradition, I wanted to escape that relationship. I wanted to opt out of translation, because it (or rather, the attention that accompanied it) was no longer satisfying me.

I, along with a few faithful prayer partners, prayed earnestly to God in abundance that year. I did not see the source of my problem. My subjective perspective told me that perhaps translation wasn’t a calling from God. If it were, I would find joy in it, right? It took a while for me to realize otherwise.

Looking back at my own selfishness and childishness, I could only wonder at the grace God showed to me. Instead of taking away the chance for service from an ungrateful girl, He held the hand of His daughter and showed her a far more beautiful picture.

Once I directed my vision to what God wanted me to see, I saw differently.

I saw friends who could not understand English come to our church and react with joy upon every statement that helped them understand the sermon. I saw the beauty of a ministry that could lead people to a clearer understanding of the most important part of every worship service—the preaching of the Word. As the church became more choosy over translators when we merged the two existing services, I realized that I had an edge over others translators even more experienced than I was. I never did anything to gain those skills, but those skills grew on me. They came to me. Translation came to me without my asking. In other words, it was a gift.

Hey, right. It was a gift. It was a special skill given to me as raw talent, then trained in me subconsciously by my surroundings and upbringing. Perhaps it wasn’t a biblical spiritual gift, but it was a present, a present from God.

God gave me that chance to experience the joy of explaining His teachings to those who could not understand. God gave me the skills which became my stepping board to witnessing numerous other ministries and churches at work. God gave me the talent to share His word alongside different speakers, and gain may priceless friends in the different congregations as I do.

Sure, that present came with its responsibilities. Improving my skills require discipline in reading the Chinese Bible, discipline in voice care, the skill of stage confidence, critiquing my own voice recordings, and struggles with pride as I stand in the pulpit spotlight. Every gift, every possession requires stewardship and effort to maintain. Sessions teaming with excellence are often followed by translation flops that spell public embarrassment. The above were just some prices to pay for the joy of reaching people, and the realization of God’s hand in my life and skills.

When I realized where those skills from nowhere had originated, I found my source.

When I realized what those skills could achieve, I found my goal.

I fell in love with translation, and I am still. There are days when we don’t get along; there are days when we are in perfect harmony. Yet still, I love it. I love it not because I enjoy the task. I love it not because it forms my identity. I love it not because it makes me popular, though the temptation may often be very real still. I love it most because it is a gift from the Lord, a result of grace I could never have imagined.

It is something I do not deserve. It is a present that came with many other packages of joy, and it was from the Lord.

Translation chose me, not I translation. Of course it did, because I never would have been wise enough on my own to choose it. Of course it had to choose me first, because it was something I did not deserve. Translation chose me…no wait, God chose me. He just acted through translation. It was and is His grace all along.

I love translation…because I love my Lord—my Giver, my Source, my Goal.

Thy Will Be Done

2008-03-14T11:58:00.004+08:00

Due to a belief that works ought to be polished before they are shared, I very seldom post "fresh" compositions, least of all those merely a few hours old, written in the wee hours of the morning. Yet now, I am in no mood to post anything other than what is the cry of my heart.

Daily I pray that Thy will shall be done,
Daily I pray that You will be the One
Who would control all that's coming to be,
Judging with wisdom regarding to me.

Yet when the matters and changes abound,
I lose the answers I thought I had found;
All the best hopes that were filling my mind
All fall apart, far away, and behind.

Lord, I don't want all these things to be true,
Lord, I don't want to think this is from You,
Yet the reality stands in my face--
This is the portion You've given by grace.

Grant me submission, then, this now I pray,
Grant me the strength to be faithful each day,
Grant me a heart that finds joy even now,
Though my affections do not tell me how.

You are my Answer, and You're in command,
I will not try if I could understand,
For I do not, and I've only one call--
"Thy will be done" in my heart, life, and all.

Creation's Ensemble

2008-03-11T15:30:00.003+08:00

This is one of my more playful, though supposedly grand, compositions. It is not technically superior, but the personification and imagery capture the imagination. Besides, it resounds with one of my personal favorite phrases. What's not to like?

Verse 1:
Oh let the birds chirp out in chorus,
Let the leaves whisper their song,
Oh let the hills resound their voices
In high praises all day long;
Oh let the brook repeat its laughter,
Let the pebbles sweetly sing,
Oh let creation’s grand ensemble
Raise its praises to our King.

Chorus:
Let creation join in worship,
Let all mankind raise its voice,
Let us marvel in His goodness,
And in unity rejoice.
Let us marvel in His goodness,
And in unity rejoice.

Verse 2:
Oh let the ocean roar its assent,
Let the waves break forth with joy,
Oh let the sunshine glow in worship
As the earth its warmth enjoy;
Oh let the breeze howl adoration
Let the dolphins’ voices ring,
Oh let creation’s grand ensemble
Raise its praises to our King.

Bridge:
For every rock, and tree, and creature
Stands a testimony of
God’s miracles in nature
And echoes of His love.

To the Lady Charmer

2008-02-26T12:42:00.004+08:00

Somehow, guys always wish they were (or imagine themselves to be) the ladies' man. Well, considering the fact that women fall easily for them, such ambitions might be understandable. Yet if comes the day such a man asks for a woman's love by pledging his own, I wonder how she could respond.

You met me one day and called me so fair.
I had but to say, and you would be there.
You helped me with smiles and perfect delight,
And each leisured while, we’d talk into night.
I’m touched and I’m moved and I’m glad to be me.
Yet if I am loved, then howcome I see
Young ladies abound wherever you be,
Receiving in round all you’d given me?
How then can I be assured of your heart
If repeatedly, I’d see since the start,
Young ladies like me, receiving like me,
Wherever you be?

I Sit Beneath the Willow Tree

2008-02-16T11:54:00.002+08:00

Yes, yes, I'm taking advantage of February to post all my better works upon the theme of hearts and romance. When else could I post them, right?

There is a dream within the heart of every young girl of waiting for her prince. I wrote this almost four years ago, but the dream persists for me today. I often wonder if I've met him already, or not yet. I sometimes wonder if he exists at all. Yet, "still I'll wait so faithfully, beneath the willow bower."

I sit beneath the willow tree,
There waiting for my lover;
With heart and soul and all of me
Quite bursting in the cover.

I cannot wait until the time
When he should come to shower
My tingling ears with loving rhymes
Beneath the willow bower.

I long to have his tender eyes
Meet mine with love enamored,
And soon dismiss as petty lies
The world—so bright and glamoured.

I yearn for times when he would clasp
My hands in fervent passion,
With all our lives within our grasp
In heartfelt dedication.

I look towards the time when he
Will hold me near heart’s beating,
That I might close my eyes to see
Our dreams in one mind meeting.

I sit beneath the willow tree
There waiting for my lover;
I do not know, by chance, if he
Is just a dreamy rover
Who’ll rampart in my fantasy
Until my life is over;
But still I’ll wait so faithfully
Beneath the willlow bower.

The Heart I Kept for You

2008-02-07T15:10:00.000+08:00

I spend a lot of time praying and urging young ladies to guard their hearts and keep it pure for God, and for their respective future husbands, if God so wills. Yet what would they get in return for keeping their hearts undefiled? This poem is a challenge to the men. Even as the girls ought to save their hearts, the men ought to earn them. May each guy prove himself worthy of the heart of the girl God prepared for him, cherish that heart, and guard his own for it.

Will you value me for keeping pure
The heart that I had saved for you,
Or would ridicule and tease allure
You from what I had kept so true?
Will you guard your heart against the rest
Who battle for your feelings now
That you might preserve for me the best
As I have saved my best for you?

Years have gone, I understand that you
Could not have gone through them unscathed,
Yet if given chance to prove as true
Your heart which you before me laid,
Would you pass the test of time which you
Had challenged me to keep for you?
So when I present a heart so true,
Would you deserve it as it’s made?

I don’t ask for riches or for wealth,
Appearances or gentle smiles,
I can bear through illness or through health,
And I can go the extra miles;
All I ask of you is this: that you
Would treasure what I kept for you,
Take sincerely what I fought for you
Today, before, and all this while.

Husband Checklist: Questions to Be Answered

2008-02-02T11:24:00.001+08:00

It’s the month of love, a good time to post this entry. This is a list of important questions I’ve gathered over many years. Since so many people ask me to answer the question "What do you look for in a guy?" I realize I might as well ask them to read here. Besides, these questions are for every Christian girl, not just me.

I’ve also decided to publish it for two reasons: Firstly, that my female readers might be reminded to seek the qualities that really “matter at fifty” and secondly, that the guys might be reminded once more to prepare for husbandhood in God’s definition. Be thankful you have a lady friend’s perspective to help you out, hehe…Advanced Happy Valentines’ Day to all.

1. Do I trust his judgment enough to submit to him?
2. Will he be a good father?
3. Can I help him at what he does?
4. Does he exhibit self-discipline?
5. Is his heart undivided and true?
6. Is he a good leader? With humility & vision?
7. Does he respect women physically, verbally, & otherwise?
8. Will he be a protector & provider?
9. Am I willing to find my identity with him?
10. Does he face problems with calmness & wisdom?
11. Is he attracted by beauty or by character?
12. Will he guide me to grow in Christ?
13. Does he love my family?
14. Does he love God more than he loves me?

Family

2008-01-15T21:36:00.000+08:00

Although these reflections came from my own pen, they are responsible for having cheered, encouraged, or slightly rebuked me at the times I felt frustration with the people in my life. No family is perfect, yet God made each one. Then surely, it's all for sharpening His children to greater glory.

Family...
Are the people who don’t notice your bad hair day,
because they’ve seen it too many times...
Are the people who can be oblivious to a new outfit,
or forget the one you had for 7 years...

Are the people who can snap at you for no reason at all...
Or shower you with gifts for equally no reason...

Family...
Are the people who know
what you’re going to say before you say it...
Are the people who waste your time by
saying what you knew they were going to say in the first place...

Are the people who would never wonder,
“What if he meant this?”...
Are the people with whom you don’t have to worry
“What if it sounded like that?”...

Are the people who might not always sympathize...
but always care...
Are the people who can always complain about you...
but still be proud of you...

Family...
Are the people who don’t ask if you’re okay...
because they know it when you really aren't...

Are the people who force you to give up comfort…
Are the people who give up their comfort for you…

Are the people whom you forgive again and again...
And who forgive you more times than that...

Family...
Are the most imperfect people you’ll ever know...
And the people who love you most in spite of your imperfections...

Family...
Are people who come in all shapes and sizes...
Are people who come as parents, siblings, friends, relatives...
Are people who come into your life seemingly out of nowhere...

Family...
Are the people God tailor-made and sent to you...
To make you all that you are...for Him…

All Done for You

2008-01-07T02:43:00.000+08:00

It's another new year, and I can hardly keep up with everything I want to do in every area. I admit the tendency to pursue only what I want to do, instead of what I should. Yet all our pleasures on this earth are temporal, and I can only pray for God to help me keep an eternal perspective, no matter what sacrifice it requires.

My heart is beating, beating, Lord,
Each moment of each day;
The time is fleeting, fleeting, Lord,
As hours refuse to stay.
O may Your voice repeating, Lord,
Remind my heart today
That when in heaven meeting, Lord,
In Your eternal day,
All done for me proves fleeting, Lord,
All done for You will stay.

Mary's Lullaby

2007-12-24T20:23:00.000+08:00

It is Christmas Eve, a time for remembering the birth of Christ. I wonder how Mary felt when she held her first child in her arms and sang Him to sleep under the stars. He was her child, yet He was not hers. He was in her care...yet He Himself would come to save the souls of millions, including hers. But upon that first Christmas, He must have been a small, sweet baby in her bosom, resting in His mother's temporary embrace.

Lullaby, lullaby, my baby Boy,
Rest in my bosom today.
Lullaby, lullaby, my baby Boy,
Tenderly sleep while You may.

Lullaby, lullaby, my baby Boy,
Soon You’ll bring mankind to light.
Lullaby, lullaby, my baby Boy,
Stay with Your mother tonight.

I know that one day You’ll grow tall and fine,
I know that You never truly were mine,
Yet while the angels watch over today,
Rest in my bosom, I pray.

Lullaby, lullaby, my baby Boy,
Born to be Savior of all,
Thank You for lullabies, sweetness, and joy,
Mine in this Bethlehem stall.

A Time to Share

2007-12-13T23:20:00.000+08:00

The finale song number of "Care for Christmas?"...this song echoes in my mind. Perhaps beyond the rythmic meter and the repeating words, there is a deeper call. During this holiday season, may God truly help each one of us bear each other's burdens and let our deeds reflect the compassion of our Lord.

A time to share, a time to care,
A time each other’s burdens bear;
A time to feed with word and deed
Each hungry soul we see in need.

A time to hold and to behold
The helpless child in bitter cold;
A time to place a tearful face
Within the Savior’s warm embrace.

A time to heal, a time to feel
The love of God so pure and real;
A time to tell the sweet noel
About the Christ we know so well.

Beloved, let us love not merely with our words,
But may our deeds reflect the compassion of our Lord.

A time to share, a time to care,
A time each other’s burdens bear.
A time to love and tell them of
The ageless home we have above.

It's a Cold, Cold World

2007-12-06T13:21:00.000+08:00

Even though this dramatic song from the climax hospital scene of "Care for Christmas?" has long been a 'scheduled-release' on this blog, the words of the song seem to rebuke me from the screen today. The world is cold and it pulls us with it. Oh may God help every one of us keep that warmth and glow within our hearts. May He help me set aside the envy, discontentment, vanity, and selfishness the world encourages...and let His love radiate from within me.

It’s a cold, cold world
Full of cold, cold things.
Don’t let it touch your heart
With the cold it brings.

It’s a cold, cold world
With a cheerless smile.
But if your heart is warm,
It may glow awhile.

So let the glow, so let the warmth,
Remain forever in your heart.
Despite the wind, despite the cold
That try to tear your soul apart.
The bitter world may bring you low,
Leave you in the dark,
But there’s a hope, and there’s a glow,
That you can keep within your heart.

So let the glow, so let the warmth,
Remain forever in our hearts,
Despite the wind, despite the cold
That try to tear our souls apart.
The bitter world may bring us low,
And leave us in the dark,
But there's a hope, and there's a glow,
That we can keep within our hearts.

I Don't Care

2007-11-24T10:26:00.000+08:00

Probably the meanest song I've ever written, this is the third excerpt from "Care for Christmas?" and the song for the memorable Pilgrim sisters' quarrel scene. I could almost hear our director's voice pronouncing "A' don't kur" as she re-directs the scene again and again. While I like this work for its near-perfect craftsmanship and uniqueness, its words are the last words I hope I would think and utter during this Christmas season.

I don’t care what you think, what you like, what you say,
I don’t care what you can, what you may,
I don’t care where you are, where you go, where you stay,
I don’t care all about it anyway.

I don’t know why you shout, why you scream, why you cry,
I don’t know why you weep, why you sigh,
I don’t know what you want and why I should comply,
I don’t know why I even have to try.

Why do you have to act like this?
Why should this happen everyday?
Why can’t you stop being you for once
And just do things my way?

I don’t like how you move, how you sit, how you stand,
I don’t like everything you demand,
I don’t like how you make every wish a command,
I don’t think I will ever understand.

I don’t think you are good, you are smart, you are bright,
I don’t think you are nice, you are right,
I don’t think you are worth any more than a mite,
I don’t know why you’re putting up a fight!

The Busiest Time of Year

2007-11-12T19:51:00.000+08:00

As the Christmas season approaches, the words in this "Care for Christmas?" office scene excerpt are coming true again. Even though these lyrics may be the weakest in the musical, I like them for their realism. With parties, presents, travels, and all the rest piling in during the holiday season, it really is becoming the busiest time of year...besides, this was the first (and perhaps only) rock song my mother ever wrote. It should be worth something just for that, hehe...

Richard:
Thank you cards to send away,
Christmas bonuses to pay,
Meetings, parties, everything upon one single date.
Five more messages to send,
Three return calls for this friend,
Gotta go within the hour, and goodness grace! I'm late!
Can't believe that Christmas's here...
The busiest time of year!

Jack:
Master Richard, please sign here,
Goods are late again, I fear.
Richard:
Not again! I needed all those stocks immediately.
Call them up and see if they
Will come faster if we pay
All the money through a check signed right away by me.
Can't believe that Christmas's here...
The busiest time of year!

Jack:
One contract done today,
Two will be for later.
Kim:
Sir, your wife is on the phone,
And she would like to talk.
Richard:
Kim, please tell her that I--
That I will be home shortly.
Can't believe that Christmas's here...
The busiest time of year!

It's Christmas

2007-11-03T14:02:00.000+08:00

Perhaps due to my leisure, I have been prematurely pre-occupied with Christmas this year. Well, Christmas is a very happy time of year, so I am going to continue to indulge in my early nativity spirits.

This song is the grand opening number to our in-house, all-original Christmas musical production "Care for Christmas?" in December 2006. Involving almost the entire cast, it is a song that set the stage of "Christmastide" for the play, and I hope it does for reality today as well. It's Christmas, my friends! May glory be to God on high, on earth goodwill to men.

The Christmas lights are twinkling
In colors sharp and bright.
The Christmas trees are glistening
With branches green or white.
And Christmas shops are opening
From morning into night
While Christmas kids are caroling
With all their heart and might.

It’s Christmas, Christmas,
It’s Christmas once again.
May glory be to God on high,
On earth, goodwill to men.

The Christmas cards are sent away
To friends and family
As Christmas children laugh and play
Around the gleaming tree.
The Christmas figures on display
Reflect nativity
For Christmas time is on its way
In joy and gaiety.

It's Christmas, it's Christmas,
It's Christmas once again.
May glory be to God on high,
On earth goodwill to men.

Hong Kong, I Come

2007-10-21T14:20:00.000+08:00

This is a simple poem I penned around the time of a recent visit to Asia's global city Hong Kong. Describing the impressions of a passenger on an arriving plane, this poem captures the feelings I have every time I approach the family's "favorite city."

A shining sleepless city,
Beneath the summer sky,
I scan the harbor city,
As soaring high I fly.

The sighs of hustling people,
The sounds of screaming trains,
The sight of scraping steeples,
Below the surfing plane.

As I the city sighted,
As engines lowly hum.
I catch my breath excited,
Hong Kong, once more I come.

Never Apart

2007-10-09T13:21:00.001+08:00

I wrote these lyrics as an entry to an online contest last year. Written to the tune of Chinese celebrity Vicki Zhao's song "With and Against the Wind," this song has little classic content. Still, it won me the competition, it's sweet, and I'm happy.

Every echo in the wind,
Every whisper from the ocean,
Every hustle in the twilight air,
In love’s lasting song,
Every thunder in the night,
Every question from the nightingale,
Every shower from the waterfall,
In love’s lasting tale…

Tells me even though the universe
may keep us from each other,
There is nothing that can ever truly
separate our hearts…far apart…

Even if the ocean spans the world,
Every wave would repeat the lasting vow,
That we held so dear, clinging near and
Loving, trusting, holding to each other’s hands.
Even if the sun sets upon our love,
Every cloud would repeat all the promises,
That we made that day, on our way to
Recreating dreams made just for me and you.

Even if the matters of this world
may keep us from each other,
There is nothing that can ever truly
separate our hearts…far apart…

Even if the storm should steal the night,
Every lightning bolt would light the flight,
Of our fantasies, over seas and
Mountains, valleys, travelling years to the end.
Even if the waters flood the land,
Every echo of the falls would verify
Every single word, that it heard when
Laughing, dancing, we stood within it again.

Amazing Grace

2007-09-25T12:49:00.000+08:00

Grace, grace, grace...somehow the majority of my recent compositions have revolved around that word. Yet who could ever experience grace enough? I was not facing any trials or worries when I wrote this poem, but the grace that was sufficient then is still sufficient now. His grace is ever more than enough, amazing grace indeed.

“Amazing grace,” they often say
And quote from day to day;
“Amazing grace,” they so recite
At home, at work, at play.

“Amazing grace!” so they exclaim
When they have reached their aim,
“Amazing grace!” they would delight
When countless blessings came.

Yet which of us within this place
Would shout it on the days
When only wrong comes from the right
And troubles block our ways?

Amazing grace…more than enough
For times both smooth and rough
Will be the comfort of my plight
Through tests and trials tough.

“Amazing grace!” shall be my cry
Though times call for a sigh,
For by His grace I claim that Light
Who brightens every sky.

Wasted, Tired, Torn, and Worn

2007-09-14T12:51:00.000+08:00

Ever tried to find God's promises in your own name? The feeling is quite amazing.

Wasted, tired, torn, and worn,
Ever faithless to my King,
Now I come with form forlorn,
Shamed with everything I bring.
Lovingly Your eyes You show,
“Yet will I forsake you, child,
Never will I let you go.”

Bend in the Road

2007-09-01T14:16:00.000+08:00

At the end of the book Anne of Green Gables, Anne faces "a bend in the road" as she weighs circumstances and considers major decisions during her late teens. After reading that novel years ago, I wholeheartedly identify with Anne now. Yet just like her, in the midst of conflicting thoughts, plans, and emotions, I trust there is something better in store, around this bend in the road.

Gingerly, carefully, holding my breath,
Taking so sparingly each tiny step
On to the future which blurringly bodes
Round yonder corner, that bend in the road.

“Lord, I can’t see You,” I fearfully cry.
“Lord, I can’t feel You,” I tearfully sigh.
Still I’m led forward as each step unfolds,
T’ward yonder corner, that bend in the road.

Chilly the wind blows, and softly the rain
Pecks on my elbows and over the plain.
“Lord, let me trust You,” I cling to this ode,
Nearing that corner, that bend in the road.

I dare not wonder what’s over the bend,
I know not what will be started or end’d,
“God gives the best,” this the promise bestowed,
He will be with me o’er bend in the road.

珍惜 (I Will Treasure)

2007-08-29T21:27:00.000+08:00

This is my only presentable Chinese composition. I wrote these lyrics as part of a story that I had been formulating in my mind before. Though the story never took form, the song did. I might prepare an English paraphrase, but more than half of the beauty would be lost in translation. But for now, here is the emotional love song 珍惜.

當我跟你并肩
看著天邊黃昏的太陽,
那美麗的片刻!
那温和的心腸!

當我跟你携手
一起守候歸來的海浪,
那清涼的海風!
那刻心的痴狂!

我要珍惜, 珍惜,
每分鐘在一起;
我要珍惜, 珍惜,
我心目中的你,
不會忘記.

當我跟你相見
一起回念分開的沮喪,
那痛心的眼淚!
那動魄的迷茫!

當我跟你對眼
等著實現真愛的夢想,
那狂烈的心跳!
那無比的天堂!

我要珍惜, 珍惜,
每分鐘在一起;
我要珍惜, 珍惜,
我心目中的你,
不會忘記.

Baptismal Testimony

2007-08-22T12:47:00.000+08:00

Reading the baptismal testimony of my friends has reminded me of my own. It has been almost three years since I started my first baptismal class, and the event of my baptism feels both remote and recent. When we see how God's hand works in our individual lives, what else can we do but praise?

I was blessed to be raised in a godly family. As I grew up, my parents taught me how I was a sinner in need of salvation. By the time I was five years old, I knew all about Jesus and consistently called myself a Christian. Deep inside, however, I didn’t understand how I was a sinner. I considered myself perfect except for fighting with my brother or disobeying my parents once in a while. Ultimately, I didn’t hand over my life to Christ.

In May 2001, I attended our church’s junior summer camp. I thought that it would be just like the countless camps I joined before; it would be fun and fleeting. On the last sermon sermon of the last day of camp, however, our speaker said something that sparked the greatest change in my life.

She told us that joining a camp was useless—unless our lives were transformed after going home. That statement made me evaluate my life seriously for the first time. I noticed I hadn’t changed much for many years. Though I had recognized Christ could be my Savior, I hadn’t made Him my Lord. The week after camp, I closed my door and prayed to God. I asked Him to forgive my sins and rule over my life. He did.

Today, I still struggle with handing every single part of my life to Him. When I remember His wondrous love and amazing grace, however, it becomes easier. I know I am still far from perfect. It seems that the more I grow the more imperfections I discover in me. But God does not make empty promises. I believe that “He who began a good work in (me) will be faithful to complete it.”

Soli Deo Gloria! To God be all the glory.

To Him I Cry

2007-08-13T22:29:00.000+08:00

A recent worship rehearsal drove me me to tears for several reasons. Since it was fellowship night, my friends and family couldn't comfort me with their company. I was all alone in my sadness. At least, I thought I was...that loneliness, that helplessness led me to turn to Whom I must turn. A friend told me later on upon knowledge of the incident, "I am glad I wasn't around you then." Yes, I had to be alone. I had to remember Who was with me.

I finished these lyrics a few days afterwards. The words are not all mine, for some of them are my friend's. But I know what matters is the lesson, the spirit of the song. More than once since then, I have been laden down in burdens, irritation, or tears...but remembering at least, that I need look no farther than where I was.

Trapped in my own corner,
Abandoned by the world,
I feel just like a loner,
With no one here with me…
I need to cry to someone,
I need to rant this out,
I want to clutch a shoulder,
I need to sport a pout,

But everyone seems far away,
So far away from me…
And I can’t help but want to say,
“Lord, where on earth’s my company,
My friends, my family?
Where can I find a person who
Would listen now to me?”

Then suddenly I hit my head
The truth had just hit me,
I had the world’s best confidant
Right there with me…

“Okay, okay, You got me, Lord,
I don’t need them, and I
I won’t need anyone but You
No matter what goes by.

“I’m sorry, Lord, please have me now,”
I whisper with a sigh,
“I am all-satisfied in You.”
And so to Him I cry.
And so to Him I cry.
And so to Him I cry.

Comfort of Comforts

2007-08-04T13:31:00.000+08:00

There was recently a time when I ended a day with conversations with multiple friends who were having troubles great or small in their lives. I carried a heavy heart with me as I prayed for all of them that night. Their worries made me worry...yet as I entrusted their concerns to God, their trust made me to trust as well. I began this poem that evening, completing it the next morning. Great indeed is the comfort that a knowledge of God's sovereignty brings.

Though my confusions,
My worries and cares,
Follow me throughout
Life’s turbulent fares,
I seek my refuge
By trusting alone
On ev’ry promise
To those called His own.

Comfort of comforts,
What wonder to know
Every trial,
Each worry is so
Solely because our
Wise Father bestows
Each as a blessing
In plans just He knows.

I do not know what
His purpose will bring,
I cannot lie that
Each burden and sting
Is a great comfort
To my earthly flesh,
Yet yielding to Him,
I know all is best.

Lord, As I Come to You

2007-07-26T00:04:00.000+08:00

This is a song that I wrote for use in my personal quiet time. I often sing the simple tune to prepare my heart in personal or corporate worship. It is nothing but simplicity in words and in song, but it indicates a dedication to living for God every single day.

Lord, as I come to You,
In this most holy place,
Please silent down my heart
And consecrate my praise.
Remove my earthly cares
And worries for the day,
Please cleanse my every sin,
And dwell in me today.

When I Am Gone

2007-07-13T15:59:00.000+08:00

Over all these years, this has remained my favorite poetic composition. It is the poem that I hope to live by, and it is the poem I wish to have read at my death. This, after all, is what really matters, when I am gone.

Remember not my weaknesses,
Remember not my shame,
Remember not how I had worked
To glorify my name.
Remember not accomplishments
That people called my own;
Remember not the words nor deeds
That blessed me with renown.

Remember now the instances,
Though few and scarce they be,
When you beheld my human form
But saw the Lord in me.
Remember all His promises
Of faith, of hope, of love;
Remember that I have returned
At last to home above.

Your Symphony

2007-07-04T14:00:00.001+08:00

I very seldom write with analogies, and this is one of my attempts. As a music lover, I often revel in the wonder of numerous instruments coming together to form thrilling symphonic music. Yet the wonder of the music could not come together by chance. Each instrument had to faithfully and patiently follow the music score, and the Conductor.

Lord, write with me Your symphony,
Beginning to the end,
That I may grow and learn to blend
With heav’nly harmony.

Lord, help me when the single notes
Form chords I cannot play,
And trust that each progression will
Resolve in Your own way.
Lord, help me wait through interludes
Though measures long they be,
And still believe that in Your time,
I’ll hear the symphony.

Lord, help me play when instruments
Of those apart from me,
Don’t join with mine like music done
For godly harmony.
Lord, help me then to play my lot
Within the score You’ve giv’n,
And trust that all of us could form
A symphony for heav’n.

Lord, write with me Your symphony,
Divinest harmony...

Tale of Love

2007-06-21T17:13:00.001+08:00

I think I've been attending one too many weddings recently. These two months, my mom and I observed how there are very few good Christian wedding songs. The songs we hear are often not Christian, not good, or extremely over-sung. So, being a bookworm, I wrote this wedding song...for indeed, how wonderful the things in store when God writes your love story.

Bride:
I turned the pages of my book,
The one I called romance,
And prayed that God would bring Prince Charming
Under dreamy circumstances

But as I read the book I held,
I realized that He
Refused to give me what I wanted
But someone more than dreams could be
He wrote the book with loving hands
And He led you to me.

Groom:
I turned the pages of my book,
The one I called my life,
And prayed that God would make a gorgeous
Girl that I would win to be my wife.

But as I read the book I held,
I realized that He
Refused to give me what I wanted
But someone more than dreams could be
He wrote the book with loving hands
And He led you to me.

Together:
And so the Lord wrote down this story,
One new book combined from two,
One new heart formed from two others,
One new song, one spirit true.

And may the Author of this story,
He who joined two books in one
Bless us as He writes each chapter
Till this tale of love is done.
Till this tale of love is done.

So Frail and Pale I Laid in Bed

2007-06-16T12:39:00.000+08:00

This is a poem written soon after my recovery from an illness this past summer. I was never as sick as the poem describes, but call it hyperbole. In spirit of the English-American poets of the 1700s, I tried to take on the relatively less familiar long meter and incorporated a more challenging inter-stanza rhyme scheme. Yes, I'm a literature freak, I know.

So frail and pale I laid in bed,
With pillow ‘neath my aching head;
My arms, so helpless, lay beside
The ailing body in my stead.

I could not sleep, I could not eat,
I could not simple words repeat,
I had no choice but to reside
Upon my bed, while seconds beat.

I was in pain and misery,
With not one soul to be with me,
With not one person by my side
As I laid on so painfully.

There was not either work or play
That I could do, that I could say,
I could not do a thing besides
To silent down and softly pray.

And so I prayed, and prayed some more,
Since I had need to ease my bore,
But as I learned to thus confide,
I saw what prayer had in store.

My illness was no curse nor test,
It came to me just to attest
That God is ever by my side,
Re-molding me as He deems best.

Lust Is a Guy Thing.......Is It?

2007-06-06T23:55:00.000+08:00

This is an article I wrote for our youth fellowship, but this is the first time for it to be published. As a young girl, I might not have enough insight to write this message powerfully enough as yet. So I hope that my dear readers, no matter who you are, would be kind enough to leave a comment or send me an e-mail if you find any mistakes, see any inaccuracies, or hope to make any suggestions. May we all continue to strive together for excellence--for His ultimate glory.

Many people think that lust is a sin primarily limited to the male mind. Growing teenage boys struggle with changing hormones. Already grown men need to keep their eyes only upon their wives. Girls are warned from dressing scantily so as to prevent creating temptation for fellow Christian brothers. It’s all a guy thing.

Isn’t it?

In actuality, female adolescents undergo the same hormonal increase as their male counterparts. Young women are attracted to the opposite sex as much as men are. But then why isn’t there a modesty requirement for men’s clothing?

Well, because boys don’t like skin-tight clothes and mini-shorts as much as girls do in the first place. Secondly, because girls do not lust in the same way as their guy friends do. For girls, it’s not about physical lust—but emotional.

The Stupidity of the Matter
When a pretty girl complete with make-up and fashion apparel appears in a room with guys in it, heads are turned, eyes are brightened, and wordless whispers mouthed. Ooh, knockout. She has their attention.

When a very handsome fellow enters a room with his gelled hair and suave walk, however, only half of the girls drool over him. The other half smirk. Later, when the guy pulls over to one of the smirking ladies and whispers, “Hi, I noticed a while ago that you were unhappy. Anything I could do to help you? You are after all such a pretty girl,” and smiles tenderly, she wouldn’t change seats with anyone in the world.

Now, don’t tell me you’ve never seen such things happen. I know they happen everyday. So, are girls stupid? Honestly….yes and no.

No first. Most Christian young ladies have enough sense to know that sweet-talking guys aren’t worth their while. These boys, either consciously or subconsiously, try to charm their way through things to avoid the hard way or longcut (Guys, admit it). They flatter the teacher to prevent punishment for a late assignment. They schmooze their parents to allow them an advance in their allowance. And, of course, they charm their female companions to get their approval. Girls know that. They don’t want that kind of guy for a husband. That’s gross. These guys make nice flatterers, but when they're your leaders or partners, you’ll have to do all the work, and no lady in her right mind wants that to happen.

That’s the no part, now the yes. Girls are stupid because as clearly as they may know that sweet-tongued guys are cheap, girls still like them (Girls, don’t give me an outright denial here). When compliments, no matter how general, are showered on a girl, her heart goes to the speaker. Why? Because of the whole point of this article—emotional lust. A miniskirt on a girl suggests to guys that they may have her body. Likewise, sweet compliments made to a girl makes her hope that she may have the guy’s heart.

God made woman to be a helper and companion for man. On the other side of the equation, God made man to be a leader and protector of woman. Girls have the instinctive desire to be protected and loved. They long to be able to fill the hearts of men and vice versa. They enjoy being soothed, comforted, and complimented. They want the esteem and feelings of guys.

The Reason of the Matter
Now, since girls want to be flattered and guys love to flatter. Why not let things take their natural course?

Well, why not just let all womenfolk go naked since guys like to look and girls like to be looked at?

While physical lust is a violator of the purity of the body and mind, emotional lust ruins the purity of the heart. When guys sweet-talk their female friends, they are actually robbing the future husbands of these girls of the emotions and feelings the girls ought to be giving them. The virginity of the heart is not less important than virginity of the body. Let not anyone tamper with the innocence of young Christian hearts.

The Conclusion of the Matter
To the girls: Watch out for your heart. Do not easily dismiss lust as a guy thing with which you have nothing to do. Perhaps your eyes may not be lusting over a person’s body, but maybe your mind has been constantly re-playing and indulging the unwarranted compliments you’ve heard from guys that are not to be your future husbands. Keep not merely your body and mind, but your heart pure as well. Do not entertain boys who play with flowery statements. Do not encourage them, for your good as well as theirs.

To the guys: Guard the hearts of your sisters in Christ. Do not think that compliments will get you anywhere. They do more harm than good. Encourage your female friends, but do not allow your words to be “immodestly dressed,” lest they arouse wrongful lusts in the hearts of young women. Even as you learn to keep your mind pure, help keep your sisters’ hearts pure. Believe me, they’ll grow to thank you for it.

Image of Your Heart

2007-05-28T22:44:00.001+08:00

This is a set of lyrics that I originally wrote for the theme song of our summer camp "Heartsync." Since the camp did not prefer another original song that year, this song remains in my archive.

So many voices in the world
Say what I ought to be
From people and from things that want
To take control of me.
Yet louder than these voices is
A call from up above—
A call to walk the footsteps
You have planted by Your love.

Chorus:
In the image of Your heart,
Make me, Lord.
By the power of Your love,
Mold me, Lord.
For the pleasure of Your will,
Change me now.
Through the blessing of Your blood,
Make me Yours.

So many times I’ve turned away
To less important things,
And wandered from the principles
Set by the King of kings.
Renew my heart today, O Lord,
That I may grow to be
The person that You had in mind
When You created me.

Learning More of Who You Are

2007-05-19T11:39:00.000+08:00

During youth fellowship one day, our advisor led our closing prayer. In the middle of her prayer, she said, "Help us, this I pray; by learning more of who You are, each day unto each day." The meter struck me immediately, and this is the poem that resulted that night.

When I am faced with pressures that
I cannot rightly face,
With expectations adding up
Beyond my fastest pace,
Please help me be like You, O Lord,
In all I do and say—
By learning more of who You are
Each day unto each day.

When I am faced with sorrows that
I cannot lay aside,
With paths of life all dark and bent
And pain with every stride,
Please help me be like You, O Lord,
In all I do and say—
By learning more of who You are
Each day unto each day.

When I am faced with friendships that
Are crumbling all apart,
With tears instead of happiness
Abiding in my heart,
Please help me be like You, O Lord,
In all I do and say—
By learning more of who You are
Each day unto each day.

When I am faced with blessings that
Bring joy and peace to me,
With overflowing gratitude,
Please help me still to see
That I must be like You, O Lord,
In all I do and say—
By learning more of who You are
Each day unto each day.

Autumn Leaves

2007-05-11T16:19:00.000+08:00

It is two days before Mother's Day, a fitting time for me to post this short story. This 2,000-word composition came to me as I typed non-stop for one evening when I was in Grade 10. Of all the stories I have written or attempted to write so far, this one lies closest to my heart. Its theme is not as light as many of my other compositions, but the soul of the story touches me every time I read it.

Do you remember the wild oak tress that used to surround our houses? The showers of spring? The breeze of autumn? And the white winter snow that never failed to bring along frost and cold?

I remember.

Do you remember our first winter clothes? The scarlet sweaters? The woolen mittens? And the thin boots that let in the snow?

I remember.

It’s all more than thirty years ago, but I remember quite well.

I also remember what Ma wore. I remember the brown shawl draped around her thin shoulders. I remember the ill-fitting blue cap that balanced on her straight, tan-gold hair. Her only sweater was dark blue, but it turned lighter and lighter as I grew up. I also remember the gloves that were patched again and again to fit her ragged hands. Ma was less then twenty-five when I learned to recognize her, but she could easily be mistaken for someone much older.

Our house was made of logs, I remember. The logs were of dark wood, and that made the whole little house darker. There was a little shed attached to our house that I used to play in. We also had a garden, I remember. I even had a corner to myself. The rest of the garden was for “useful things” said Grandma.

Grandma was there all the time. She sat on the squeaking rocking chair near the window. I don’t quite remember her anywhere else. Grandma was the one that gave me my lessons. She taught me reading, writing, and arithmetic. I never liked arithmetic or writing; I only liked the stories Grandma told me.

Grandma told me lots of stories. She told me the stories of Adam and Eve, Noah and the boat, David and Goliath, and so many more I’ve lost count. Ma never told me stories; she was always doing something else, but she always gave me a smile when I looked at her.

Life never changed for me. During spring, I would pick flowers from the woods and give them to Grandma; Ma was too busy to notice little things like flowers. Summer was the time when I ran about and played with Jake. He lived over the little hill near our house. In autumn, I would eat Ma’s pumpkin pies. Then in winter, I would study while I wore things Ma knitted.

There were only three of us in the house. I thought that would never change.

Then one autumn night, Grandma suddenly began to cough violently. I was twelve years old already, so mom sent me off with a lantern to get the Doctor. I broke into a run. I remember that I ran until my heart wanted to fall out. The woods were dark and cold, but I knew the way to the Doctor’s cabin. The fallen leaves crushed under my thin feet and fluttered off behind me. I ran and I ran and I ran until I stood shuddering at Doctor Willow’s front door.

Doctor Willow was quick to answer my knock, and we sped back to our house on his horse. Once we reached the clearing, Doctor Willow jumped down and ran inside the house. When I followed in, no one was moving. Grandma lay still on the bunk bed with her hands beside her, the Doctor stood along the bed with his hat in his hand, and Ma sat on a stool near him, her eyes looking unblinkingly at Grandma.

That was the first time someone I loved died. From then on, I never tried to love anyone else. After Grandma was buried, Ma continued to wash, iron, sew, knit, mend, cook, plant, weed, clean, fix, and do all the other things she used to do, but she never smiled anymore. As for me, I gave my soul to studying. I poured over every book my Grandma and Pa left behind. I made sure I knew everything written in those pages. I thought of nothing else.

Four autumns after Grandma died, Jake told me he was going to the town academy. My heart thumped so madly when he described all the books he’d read and all the people he’d meet. I wanted so much to go with him.

“Why don’t you come along?” he said, “You’d have to pay a tuition though. I’m going to work while I study so I can afford the tuition. You also have to ask your Ma. You can’t come home regularly if you go to the academy.”

My heart sank when I heard that. I hardly if ever talked to Ma. But for the sake of the academy, I just had to try.

“Ma,” I said as I sat on my bed that night, “Jake is going to the town academy next week, may I go with him?”

I held my breath.

Ma didn’t say a single word. She turned her face away from me for a long time, and she motioned me to go to sleep. I slept very badly that night.

The next morning, I was reading when Ma suddenly approached me with a small package in her hand. I looked at her.

“This will be enough for your first semester’s tuition. Take it,” she handed the package to me. “I’ll send the rest month by month.”

I could hardly contain myself at that time. I wanted to hug Ma like I used to hug Grandma, but Ma looked so serious and grim that I kept my arms to myself. I only nodded slightly and said, “Thank you, Ma.”

Then Ma walked away.

The week after, Jake and I started on our trip to town. We were going to travel on foot, and Jake’s folks all came out to bid us farewell. Ma just stayed inside the house. Breakfast was on the table when I woke up that day, and all my books and things were in the sturdy bag Pa left behind. Ma said she didn’t feel well that morning, and she stayed in bed until I left without saying goodbye.

Jake and I arrived at town the next day. It was late autumn already, and my boarding house’s walls offered little warmth. I took out the jacket Ma made for me. It kept out the cold just fine.

My classes began within two weeks. The academy was bustling with life on the first day of school. There were more people than I had ever known in my life. There were so many teachers, and so many workers, and so many students from both town and the country.

My life changed notably from that day on. In winter, I would attend classes in the mittens, coat, and cap I brought from home. When spring came, I would study outdoors and pick flowers for my room. I had summer classes, and they consumed all the days of the hot season. In autumn, I would wear my sweater and wait for Ma to send a pumpkin pie.

Ma always sent a pie in autumn, warm clothes in winter, a book in spring, a hat in summer, and money every month. The money for my tuition never failed to arrive, not even once. And I always had spare money after the tuition was paid.

Things stayed that way for the two years I spent at the academy. One day, when graduation was just around the corner, Jake suddenly asked me what I would do after the “big day.”

“Well,” I replied, “I’d probably become a teacher like my Pa. I’d stay in town and teach in one of the two schoolhouses. They seem to need English teachers anyways.”

Jake nodded. After a pause, he said with his face to the sky, “I’m going home for a while. Father was sick when I visited last summer, and my folks might need some help with the farming.” He paused again, then he continued, “I know some people say it’s a waste to study in town then become a farmer, but I think that’s what I’m supposed to do.”

Jake left the day after graduation; I stayed in town. The two schools already had enough teachers, so Ma continued to send money as I looked for a job. The next month, money didn’t arrive for me. I supposed that Ma forgot, though I knew in my heart that Ma couldn’t “just forget” about anything. I had already found a job at the bank, anyhow, and didn’t need the money.

Money never came again after that, and I wondered if Ma had realized I had a job even though I handn’t told her. I continued working without giving it much thought. I worked the way I used to study, and a year passed before I knew it.

One autumn night, I was struck with a loneliness I never knew before. I walked about my small library and pulled out a book. It was the book from which Grandma used to read to me. It had all the delightful stories of David, and Joshua, and Esther, and Paul. I loved the book, but it was the one book I never read since Grandma died. It reminded me too much of her.

I still felt teary-eyed when I started to read the heavy book that night. It captivated me somehow from the very beginning, and I read late into the night. I read without stopping until I reached a phrase that said, “Honor thy father and thy mother.” I stopped abruptly. Somehow, I just couldn’t read on.

I don’t know how long I sat motionless on my desk before I was startled by a knock. I walked to my apartment door and opened it to see a tall young man.

“Oh, Jake!” I cried and let him in. “It’s been a year since you went home. I am glad to see you again.”

Jake only smiled slightly at my exclamations.

“Irene,” he said as he caught my arm, “sit down. I brought something for you.”

His tone suggested something serious, and I sat down slowly.

Jake took out a small envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to me. “This letter is for you,” he said. “I delivered it as soon as I could.” Then Jake left, ignoring all my entreaties.

I looked helplessly at the letter in my hand. My hands shook as I opened the envelope. A sheet of paper with smooth handwriting fell into my lap. It read:

Dear Irene,

I know you like the ways of the city, and I know you have found a home there. But please do not forget who it was that made it possible for you to have the life you now have. Please come home before it is too late.

You probably don’t know that ever since you left for town, your mother has acted as housekeeper, gardener, and cook to more than one household in our area. Why? Only because she wants you to have money for the education you desire. Your mother worked with all her might those two years. Then more than half a year ago, she fainted while weeding a neighbor’s garden. She pleaded with me not to tell you, and that is why I waited till now.

Irene, your mother contracted a rare disease last year. And though I tried as hard as I could, I have not found a cure. Your mother is now in critical condition. Do you remember how you dashed to my house the night your grandmother died? I want you to do that again now—not to my house, but to yours. I ask Jake to take you this letter with all speed. Come quickly, Irene, or it will be too late.

Yours truly,
Dr. James Willow

I clasped the letter in my hands. I sat still. Then I cried. I cried the same way I did when Grandma died. I cried like the child that I was. I cried until my tears ran out.

Then I got up. I changed my clothes, donned my town coat, grabbed my bonnet, and sped out. All was quiet when I reached the street. It was already past midnight. But I couldn’t wait, I just couldn’t.

Then I did what I did seven years ago. I ran with all the strength in me. I ran out of the cement streets of town into the leaf-strewn paths of the woods. There were many new houses I never saw before, but I knew the direction of my house, my home. The crisp leaves perished under my heels. The branches poured down leaves as I hit them. I ran and I ran until I reached my house amidst a whirlwind of autumn leaves.

I stopped at our door. The house looked exactly the same as it did before. It was dawn already, and my heavy panting sounded so much heavier in the quiet woods. Then I opened the door and stepped in.

And there was Ma. She was propped up in bed and wearing the same old blue sweater, the same brown shawl, and the same ill-fitting, faded blue cap on her straight, tan-grey hair. She turned as I entered. And she smiled at me with what little strength she had left.

“Ma,” I cried, and I fell into her arms. I sobbed incessantly, forgetting how sore my feet were, or how sleepy I was.

Ma hugged me weakly and whispered my childhood name. She lifted me and said breathlessly, “I’m glad you came back. I thought I would never see you again.”

Then she lay down and fell asleep, almost as if she had been waiting for me to say goodnight.

Ma died four days after I went home. She was beautiful even in death. Everyone said she looked peaceful and happy. To me, she looked like an angel, but she also looked like a triumphant warrior. She had done all she should, and now she may rest.

They buried Ma in the woods, where she had spent her whole life, and I believe there can never be a more suitable place of rest.

The woods are gone now. People have built other things in its place. But I will always remember the way it was. I will always remember the houses, the clearings, the flowers, and, of course, the autumn leaves.

No Eye Has Seen

2007-04-29T22:43:00.000+08:00

These are the lyrics to the song we sang this afternoon for our grandfather's 70th birthday thanksgiving service. Building upon my favorite Bible verse, this song describes how wonderful human deeds and thoughts can be...but still be incomparable to what the Lord has prepared for those who love Him. Amazing, isn't it?

Verse 1:
The architect may draw his scale,
The doctor help his frail,
The navigator hoist his sail,
The author write his tale.
Yet none of them could ever show
The wonders of His hand,
For what the Lord has done for us
No man can understand.

Chorus:
No eye has seen,
No ear has heard,
No mind has e’er conceived
What Jesus Christ
Has long prepared
For those who have believed.

Verse 2:
Musicians write their symphonies,
The lawyer makes his pleas,
While tycoons plant their companies,
Philanthropists their trees.
Yet none of them could ever show
The wonders of His hand,
For what the Lord has done for us
No man can understand.

Bridge:
Who can understand His ways,
So higher than our own?
Who can fathom His intent,
Except Himself alone?

Arise and Sing, Ye Children of God

2007-04-27T18:28:00.001+08:00

This is probably the very first hymn I ever wrote. At age 13, I read a novel on hymn appreciation and consequently wrote this simple composition. It's not a perfect work. The thoughts are vague and the meter inconsistent. But even if only for nostalgia's sake, I treasure this hymn in my memory.

Arise and sing, ye children of God,
Bring forth great praises to Him;
He is our Lord, our Savior, our Rock,
Come praise Him from deep within.

His glory expands to all of the earth,
His blessings abundant still;
Return unto Him, whom glory is due,
Great praises with all goodwill.

Almighty god, Creator of all,
Receive now our humble praise;
Thou art the God of spirit and truth,
To Thee our voices we raise.

The Sanctuary

2007-04-07T21:52:00.000+08:00

The inspiration for this poem came when I was strolling about our church's empty sanctuary. I do not find this poem perfect, but I enjoyed writing the imagery, and I love reading it as well.

A spacious room with wooden walls,
White tiles over the floor;
A carpet where the shadow falls,
Small boxes by the door,
Four-columned pews in mannered lines,
Five steps towards the stage,
A pulpit wires and screens define,
Two vases—flow’rs don’t age,
A piano on the speaker’s right,
An organ to the left,
A drum set tops the choir room’s flight,
A book the pianist left,
Two screens announcing nothingness,
Two tow’ring panes of glass,
Some scattered forms for ev’rythingness,
A stack of Supper’s brass
Upon the table, oh so big,
More wires squirm on the floor,
Some dust the naughty kids will dig,
More wires and more and more,
An echo through the empty space,
No lights to show the way,
Communion’s blanket made of lace,
A beckoning to stay,
How warm the welcome there for me,
When weighed by pain and loss,
I step inside our sanc’tuary
And gaze upon that cross.

Hour by Hour

2007-03-28T22:47:00.000+08:00

I cannot believe the first three months of 2007 have already gone by. Time is fleeting indeed. "Remember your Creator in the days of your youth," wise Solomon said. May God help me to keep this lesson close to my heart in the midst of all my strivings.

Hour by hour, the days pass by,
Day by day, the weeks move by,
Week by week, the months go by,
Month by month, the years fly by.

Hours, days, weeks, and months, and years,
How fast they come and go!
And when my youth is all but gone,
What will I have to show?
When wrinkles capture youthful smiles,
When brittle bones become,
When painful moments fill my days
Of life beneath the sun,
The blissful mem’ries of the world
Would prove mere vanity;
Take heed, young heart, and serve today
Creation’s Sovereignty.

Solomon's Prayer

2007-03-15T13:47:00.000+08:00

I am both surprised and thankful when I realize that it has already been almost a year since we dedicated our new church building to God. When I recall that event, my mind goes back to Solomon at the dedication of the Jerusalem temple, and I long to declare along with Him, "Blessed are You, Lord."

Verse 1:
Almighty, there is none like You
in heaven or on earth,
You’ve shown Your lovingkindness as
the God of endless worth;
You promised countless blessings to
the people who obeyed
And You fulfilled them—every one—
until this very day.

Chorus:
Blessed be the Lord,
who guards the ones He loves,
Blessed be the Lord,
may He abide with us.
May He incline our hearts to Him,
to walk in all His ways,
May our devotion be to Him
until the end of days.

Verse 2:
O Lord, this house cannot contain
the glory of Your face,
Yet we beseech that You descend
among us in this place;
Please listen to our prayers and
forgive our sins today.
Please bless the righteous ones who chose
Your truth to be their way.

Bridge:
Our Father, please empower us
to share Your glorious name
That all the peoples of the earth
may give to You acclaim.

Chorus:
Blessed are You Lord,
You guard the ones You love,
Blessed are You Lord,
may You abide with us,
May You incline our hearts to You,
to walk in all Your ways,
May our devotion be to You
until the end of days.

The Filipino-Chinese Engagement

2007-03-05T21:53:00.000+08:00

Want a little satire of our Fil-Chi world?

Kevin Ong and Mandy Chua will be getting married, and today is their engagement day. I, the omnipresent and omniscient narrator, sit by the Chua residence’s open front door.

The living room is steaming, and I can only imagine the heat those ladies in gowns must be feeling under their three layers of foundation and piles of parlored hair. The men have already resorted to strolling and smoking in the parking area outside the door, but the women are somehow still trying to fake composure in their perspiration.

Over to my right, three senior ladies are discussing the couple while furiously flapping their handfans. The first is Josefina Chua, the aunt of the bride-to-be, chatting incessantly about how she had been the matchmaker of the couple (which we know she really was not). Next to her is Mrs. Gomez, the godmother of the groom. She seems relatively quiet compared to the other two, probably because of the tight dress that had been measured for her three months ago, back then in early December. Then lastly, there is Mrs. Adelaida Ong, Kevin’s mother. Oh the pride in her eyes as she talks about her first born!

The three women seem unable to agree whether the groom or the bride deserved the other more. Miss Chua obviously praised Mandy as the undeservedly lucky one, but Mrs. Ong would always argue the contrary. As they will probably not reach a conclusion even if we let them argue for the next five years, let’s leave them alone for a while.

Right across the room from where I sit, there lies a long table filled with pairs of everything. From gorgeous watches to stacks of cloth to the latest hello kitty slippers, the table is laden with red packages and the word 囍. Little Nicole and Lawrence Chua skip over to the table, grabbing at the elaborate gifts. They are immediately rebuked by Lilieth, however, their mother and the wife of Mandy’s older brother. So the chiasmus of toppling presents is delayed for the moment.

As the hour draws near, the guests brave the heat and try to fit into the suddenly very cramped living room. There are insufficient monoblock chairs to go around, and the dining chairs, living chairs, and office chairs are put in continuously by Mandy’s male cousins.

At long last, we are ready to begin. Mandy, who had spent the last four hours in the air-conditioned master bedroom, obviously had no idea of the summer heat, and she appears in a tight pink dress with a curtain upon her shoulders. Everyone could see Kevin smiling broadly as he looks upon his bride-to-be. Escorted by her mother and father-side aunts, Mandy is led backwards down the stairs. They say it’s for good luck, but if luck is defying common sense and walking downstairs in a long gown and silver high-heeled sandals, then I don’t know what’s unlucky.

So she descends in the midst of admiring murmurs. Young Lawrence lets out a scream which brings a loud, “Sh!” from his father immediately. Delighted by this encouragement, the toddler screams again, and again, and again until he and his little sister make quite an orchestral accompaniment to their young aunt’s entrance. Then just when Mandy’s walk is near completion, Lilieth successfully leads her two precious ones to a back corner of the adjacent dining room, though not without a farewell scream.

The ceremony begins! The people take turns putting chains, and watches, and bracelets, and rings, and all sorts of shiny objects on either Mandy or Kevin. The photographer, who is actually an elder cousin of Kevin, snaps picture after picture as he nudges closer and closer to the front.

He trips over a pot of flowers. “Oh!” “It’s okay.”

He sits down on the seat of the bride’s father, which he really shouldn’t, but nobody has the heart to tell him.

Then just when the ceremony is about to close in total amateur perfection, a symphony of boxes tumbling and paper ripping echoes through the living room. All eyes turn. Yes, Nicole and Lawrence have done it again. The tableload of packages is now on the floor by means of a pulled tablecloth. In the very center of the chaos, Lawrence smiles proudly while his sister tears the gifts apart.

Now, the displeasure in everyone’s mind is quite clear enough to me, and to everyone else in the room, for that matter. However, these future relatives seem to find it better if everyone pretends that he or she is not at all disturbed and that the catastrophic gift avalanche is a lovely little episode of childhood innocence.

With such a mutual understanding quickly spread throughout the room, the Chua aunts all help to bring the children aside, examining them ever so carefully for any possible injuries. After a full ten minutes, Lawrence and Nicole are declared fine, and everyone exclaims at the kids’ ingenuity of pulling the tablecloth in order to reach the gifts. Kevin and Mandy exchange the final tokens (which they would have done eight minutes ago if the photographer had not demanded his own presence at the exchange), and the people clap.

Now is time for the tea ceremony. Since someone had apparently remembered to prepare the tea set but not the tea, the ladies have to fan their make-up for five more minutes before the couple is ready to serve them.

First, Mandy holds the tray while Kevin serves the barely-flavored tea. Since he had been visiting with her relatives throughout their courtship, Kevin basically knows her family, and the couple pulls off the first round wonderfully.

Now, round two. Kevin holds the tray while Mandy serves the tea. All smiles, the two offer the symbolic cups to the five representatives of Kevin’s family (it would have been six, but someone told Kevin’s poor little bro that he was “odd-numbered” and could not come). After serving one godmother and one uncle, someone whispers that Kevin should be introducing them to the bride.

Kevin is surprised at his own negligence, and he immediately picks up, “Oh, I’m sorry. Here, this is Mandy.”

The tea ceremony being done after double rounds of introductions (compliments of Kevin), it is time for the all essential food. Everyone is passed a bowl of misua, served in mixmatched bowls, and perhaps a chopstick or two. The three elderly ladies we had mentioned, the parents of the couple, the couple themselves, and all other important guests (which theoretically includes everyone) gather to the dining table, where they are served two eggs in a bowl each.

Nobody is hungry, but everyone has to eat. So they do. Everyone eats one egg and splits the remaining one. Well, to be honest, this activity isn’t at all environmental. Why cook double the eggs when people are just going to eat half of their servings? Ask your grandmother.

At long last, the day is done. As the sun sinks nearer to the horizon in its golden glow, the tired guests finally have a reason to call the time “late.” Companies start their cars and leave off one by one, each family carrying a basket or packet of candies and biscuits. Everyone is happy. Well, at least until they realize they don’t have enough baskets to give away.

In a flurry, Lilieth and husband John rummage through the house, searching for those evasive baskets until they find the said baskets underneath the collapsed table cloth. They breathe a sigh of relief as the most important guests take off with the most damaged baskets, and the ceremony is done.

Wonderful engagement, wasn’t it now? Simply unforgettable.

My Little Brown Piano

2007-02-22T17:41:00.000+08:00

This is a fun little apostrophe towards our beloved piano. There have been so many moments when I would sit upon the piano bench, yearning to play yet not knowing what to play. Sometimes, as my fingers dance over the keys, the piano moves me to play a certain piece, a certain song, a certain music for the day.

My little brown piano,
What music have you
Prepared for my fingers today?
A butterfly’s shadow,
A bumblebee’s flight,
Or soothing adagios to play?

A Mozart’s sonata,
A Beethoven’s song,
A waltz from some pages of Strauss?
A transcribed cantata
Concertos, chorals,
Or concerts to bring down the house?

Chopin and his nocturnes,
Impressions galore,
Or Bach and his marvelous fugues?
A new piece that still yearns
To practice some more,
A Czerny that’s yet to be used?

My little brown piano,
You’re bursting alive,
Awaiting my fingers to play.
Please echo my sorrow,
My joy, and my life
Through music you give me today.

What Will Our Legacy Be?

2007-02-14T15:51:00.000+08:00

This is a beautiful and thought-provoking poem by Stephanie from "The Rebelution." Also included is my reply. Though many have already posted their thoughts at the Rebelution, I wonder what your response is. What will your legacy be?

What will our legacy be?
What will our children see?
Will they proudly cheer
O'er what we've left here?
Or will they hide
The evidence in shame?
What will our legacy be?
What will our children see?
Our daily life is showing
The path that we are going.
Will it point them to the One
Who gave His life away?
What will our children see?
What will our legacy be?

This is my reply:

A legacy of love, a legacy of grace
That makes man look above to God’s most holy face;
A legacy of hope, a legacy of faith
That teaches man to hold on Him through earthly days;
A legacy that leads not to my name alone,
But aids each man to heed the glory of His throne;
A legacy of gain in all eternal things,
A fitting, sweet refrain to songs the angels sing;
A legacy that yields encouragement to youth
To reach the ripened fields awaiting Heaven’s truth;
A legacy that gives not glamour nor acclaim
But through the life I live give honor to His name.

Help Me Trust Thee, Father God

2007-02-03T15:39:00.000+08:00

This is my attempt at "Fanny Crosby" poetry. The theme of this hymn is indeed similar to several of my previous posts. And yet, who could ever trust God less than he should? May this poem be an encouraging prayer to all my brothers and sisters in Christ.

Help me trust Thee, Father God,
Though troubles may arise,
Seeking e’er They staff and rod,
And seeing through Thine eyes.

Help me ever to rely
Upon Thy providence;
Help me ever to comply
With what Thou blesses hence.

And when things be smoothly run,
Please help me not forget,
That all things beneath the sun
Were by Thy power set.

Keep in me a tender faith
That holds through every pain,
Knowing that whate’er Thou saith
Shall soon be rendered plain.

For Every Step

2007-01-29T15:34:00.000+08:00

These are the lyrics to the opening theme of a stage musical on Esther that I will probably never get to complete. Even if the play may never take form, however, I have no reason not to enjoy this song. The meter and rhyme are clearly for lyric form, instead of poetry. Yet no matter what form these words take, the message they convey is universal.

Verse 1:
Life may be hard and weary,
The roads be hard to see;
It might be so much easier
To turn around and flee.
Things we don’t understand
Keep coming on at hand;
And it becomes too difficult
To follow God’s commands.

Chorus:
For every step there’s a direction
For every pathway there’s a goal
From every promise there will flow glories untold
For everything under the sun
Has a reason to be here
Be not afraid, God’s plan will soon be clear

Verse 2:
Life drops into confusion
With no expected reason,
And worries trace the hours
Of ev’ry day and ev’ry season.
The hardships faced today
Don’t seem to go away,
And it becomes too difficult
To silent down and pray.

Bridge:
The storms of life come over us on each and every day
The clouds stretch out as far as they can be;
But soon God’s hand will lovingly take all the rain away
His rainbow will be there for you and me.

Let Me Live

2007-01-21T16:39:00.000+08:00

This poem is a product of my dabbling in Latin. May the Lord help me to live with faith, with hope, with joy, with love, with peace, and with gratefulness--no matter what the time and no matter what the language.

When foggy doubts surround Thy will,
When hardened words my prayers fill,
Please help me, Lord, to trust Thee still;
Cum fide let me live.
When burdens weigh with every stride,
When human strength fails to provide,
Please help me e’er in Thee abide;
Cum spe please let me live.
Though troubles darken daily skies,
Though worries endlessly arise,
I drink to Thee with joyful eyes;
Cum gaudio I live

When loved ones cease to love me so,
When friends no longer friendship show,
Thy love I’ll still believe and know;
Amore let me live
When hurt, distrust, and pain I bear,
When turbulence rocks every care,
Please let me in Thy promise share;
Cum pace let me live
Though I know not Thy purposes,
Though I may lose all I possess,
Your faithfulness I’ll e’er confess;
Cum gratia I’ll live

My Treasurehold of Poetry

2007-01-10T18:31:00.000+08:00

I wrote this poem on April 20, 2005, after having left writing for more than a year. As I fumbled through my former compositions that day, I realized how much I had changed, and how important those poems were to remembering my path of growth. In the same way, may the new year ahead herald more growth, more inspiration, and more closeness to God.

My treasurehold of poetry,
So close and dear to me,
Now chronicles the way I was
And shows what I will be.
The past was made eternal by
The scriblings of my pen;
I never can depart from it
And not return again.
Long-labored works and easy rhymes
All come together here
To make a true reflection of
My happiness and tears.
The years fly by with fright’ning speed,
But thoughts are made to stay
By virtue of the faithful pen
I pick up day to day.
I do not know how things will be
When “now” becomes the past;
Yet I believe I won’t regret
My thoughts were made to last.
For every time I search my hold,
I see myself again,
The way I was so long ago
When I picked up my pen.
I never will allow my pen
To lay itself aside,
For through my writing I can see
The girl I am inside.

Dearest Rachel

2006-12-15T16:21:00.000+08:00

Dear Rachel, it's your eighteenth birthday! I still remember talking about our eighteenth birthdays so long ago. Time has flown, and now mine has passed and yours is here. We could not have imagined our current circumstances, but God knows best. Happy birthday! :)

Dearest Rachel, dearest friend,
Times have truly flown;
Now your girlhood’s at an end,
Life and future loom unknown.

I don’t know what lies in store
In the years ahead,
If you’ll have your dreams and more,
Or have tearful pains instead.

I just know that on this day,
You are worthy of
The best wishes I can say:
“Have more faith, and hope, and love.”

Yes, I’m so repetitive
That I seem a bore;
But these lessons learnt and lived
Shall be blessings evermore.

May true faith from Jesus Christ
Help you to be strong;
Though a Christian be despised
In this world of human wrong.

May a burning hope in you
Carry through all pain;
Though some dreams may prove untrue,
In your heart He’ll always reign.

May a solid, Christian love
Never cease to grow
In your heart as in above,
Through each day He should bestow.

Dearest Rachel, dearest friend,
May these vitues three
Guide you, mold you till the end,
When God’s woman you shall be.

Give My Heart a Mission, Lord

2006-12-09T00:09:00.000+08:00

I wrote this poem during one of my devotions several years ago. It is a simple poem, but its simple request demands deeper sacrifice.

Give my heart a mission, Lord,
A vision for the lost;
Help me stand against all strife
And pay whate’er the cost.

Give my heart a mission, Lord,
To reach the ones You love;
Use my life to testify
The Way to heav’n above.

Give my heart a mission, Lord,
To share Your Word each day;
Put Your imprint in my life
In all I do and say.

Psalm 51

2006-11-25T11:52:00.000+08:00

This is one of my favorite Psalms. Even during the era of Kingdom Israel, David had an understanding of his sinfulness and God's merciful forgiveness. "Create in me a clean heart, O God." How true indeed the prayer!

Be gracious unto me, O God,
According to Thy love;
Please let compassion overflow
From mercies kept above.

Please wash me from iniquity
And cleanse me from my sin;
Thou knoweth my trnsgressions, Lord,
And searcheth me within.

Against Thee only have I sinned,
Did evil in Thy sight—
That Thou art justified in speech
And judgeth in the right.

For I was born in wickedness
And was conceived in sin;
But Thou requireth purity
In parts deep and within.

Please cleanse me with the hyssop, Lord,
And then I shall be clean;
Please wash my spirit white as snow,
Let gladness soon be seen.

Let all the bones that Thou did break
Rejoice in joyful song;
Please hide Thy face from all my sins
And blot out all my wrong.

Create in me a brand new heart,
A steadfast spirit true;
Cast not me from Thy presence, Lord,
Thy Spirit, please keep through.

Restore to me that joyfulness
In Thy salvation found;
Help me to guide the sinners’ ears
Unto Thy gospel sound.

Deliever me from guiltiness,
My tongue shall sing of Thee;
Please let my lips declare Thy praise
Throughout eternity.

Thou art not pleased with offering
Though I would gladly give;
A contrite heart and broken soul
Are what my life should live.

Do good to Zion with Thy love,
Build up Jerus’lem’s walls;
Delight in righeous offerings
Giv’n from our best and all.

More Than Gracious

2006-11-18T15:11:00.002+08:00

Just a few days before the dedication of our new church building, I was tidying the house with a smile on my lips and glad thankfulness in my heart. As I carried the boxes around, the phrase "You are more than gracious to me" came effortlessly from my lips. Indeed, God is more than wonderful, more than amazing, and more than gracious to us. With gratitude and awe overflowing from my soul, I completed the song that very day.

Every time I look upon
All the blessings from above,
I can't help but wonder why You love me so.
All the sustenance and grace,
Every kind and smiling face,
Tell the care and tenderness that I must know.

Chorus:
For You are more than gracious to me
Every day and through the years,
Carrying through my joyous hours
As well as silent tears;
For You are more than gracious to me
More than I can ever tell;
Jesus Christ, Emmanuel,
My Savior, Lord, and King.

Every time I think about
All the mercies of Your love,
I will see the low unworthiness in me.
How You died on Calvary
So I'll live eternally
Is forever sacred in my memory.

Zion, Call Forth Every Soul

2006-11-11T16:12:00.000+08:00

This is a piece that grew in its writing. Although a few sentences may yet need to be refined, I enjoy this little work for the fun that it gave me in writing it. I'm glad I managed to pass on the letter Q, but I had no choice but to compromise with letter X.

Almighty Sovereign, He is King
Beyond the farthest lands;
Come follow Him, all tribes and tongue,
Do heed His each command;
Eternal God, He reigns on high,
Forever glorious,
God over every universe,
High King o’er each of us;
Immortal Master of the earth,
Just, pure, omnipotent,
Kind, merciful, and full of grace,
Lamb, sacrificed for men;
More fair than roses in the field,
Ne’er shadowed by the sun,
Omniscient, searching mind and heart,
Perfector, God’s own Son;
Queen Sheba’s jewels fade ‘fore Him,
Rich magi bow their knee,
Such is the wonder of our King,
True, mighty majesty;
Unfathomable, never seen,
Voiced by creation’s best,
With gratefulness and joyous song,
eXalt Him from within.
Yet mighty God though He may be, He lends the weary rest.
Zion, call forth every soul, and praise Him with thy best!

Curtain of Dreams

2006-11-04T11:55:00.000+08:00

This is a liberal adaptation of one of my favorite Chinese poems by the popular novelist Chung Yao. The story that originally contained the poem was about a Taiwanese young girl who was disliked by society because of her dreamy, unrealistic character. Her dreams finally did come true when a dashing millionaire married her and brought her to a life of fantastic romance in Europe.

My curtain of dreams
That glistens and gleams
So few people understand
The secrets you hold
Are so manifold
They stretch towards ev'ry land

The long years fly by
As I with a sigh
Keep wond'ring why there is none
Who would but redeem
Just one of my dreams
Yet now I'm still all alone

O where is the one
Who fin'ly would come
To be with me evermore
For he would esteem
My curtain of dreams
As much as I had before

Dedication

2006-10-26T16:15:00.001+08:00

I wrote this short poem when I was around 12 years old. Although it has been several years since, the prayer found in this poem still rings true for me every day of my Christian walk.

All that I am and hope to be,
I consecrate, my Lord, to Thee;
While I may well unworthy be,
Use me, my Lord, to glory Thee.

My life, my soul, and all of me,
I give to Thee eternally;
No matter what the 'morrow be,
My ev'rything will be for Thee.

The Candy Woods

2006-10-14T17:22:00.000+08:00

This is a fun little piece that I composed for my creative writing course back in Grade 9. It's nothing deep or meaningful, but it is cute and manages to capture my dreamy little spirit.

Long, long ago I had a dream
About the candy woods;
The trees and flow’rs were wonderful,
The fruits were very good.

The pines were made of gingerbread,
Their cones of cinnamon;
The gumdrop flow’rs had diff’rent shades
Of blue, and red, and brown.

The oaks were made of chocolate,
Their leaves had icing rims;
The fruits were coated marshmallows
With dainty sugar trims.

The air there smelled of peppermint,
The sun shone glitt'ry beams;
Unfortunately, I woke up,
And it was all a dream.

Sweet Sixteen

2006-10-06T22:49:00.000+08:00

This is an article I wrote in early 2005. Though I know this posting seems rather belated right now, I still would like to share it. After all, the lesson of this article is something I am still learning every day.

I passed my sixteenth birthday on August 3, 2004. Before the actual day came, many people asked how old I was turning. When I answered, they all reacted, “Oh, sweet sixteen!” I laughed along with everybody else. Deep inside, however, I was feeling down. I sadly thought how I probably wouldn’t have a year of “sweet sixteen.” Like other girls, I had my share of crushes, but I couldn’t imagine anyone liking me.

I spent my birthday at home that year without any cakes or gifts. In the evening, I wrote in my journal:

“Lord, You are the Lover of my soul. I pray that this year be a year of special sweetness between You and me. Please fill me with Your beauty. Lord, please keep me from focusing on how many and what kind of material gifts I receive. Instead, please help me offer my life to You as a small gift in return for sixteen years of grace. Lord, I thank You for today. The day was not spent in pomp or gaiety. It was not built around me. It was a very simple birthday without the slightest celebration. Yet Lord, if You enable me to keep my commitments of purity, love, and devotion, this can be one of the sweetest birthdays of my life.”

November 21, 2004 was one of the happiest days of my life. After undergoing ten weeks of baptismal class, I was officially baptized as a member of UECMalabon. As I stood before people to pledge my devotion to Christ, I felt His love in my heart. I knew then that God has answered my prayer. With Jesus as the Lover of my soul, I would definitely have my “sweet sixteen.”

Turn My Eyes, Lord, Back to Jesus

2006-10-03T20:56:00.000+08:00

I do not know how this post got "unpublished." Since it has, however, I am now republishing it. Perhaps as I face loads of studies, family duties, and ministerial responsibilities, God just wants to remind me once more than I am to focus on Him alone.

In the life that I assume from day to day,
In the midst of all my work, and chores, and play,
Through the countless cries and cares to overcome,
There is little time to silent down and pray.

All the duties that I find surrounding me,
School and work and friends and church and family,
Often take away the focus of my heart
Far from whom I know it really ought to be.

Chorus:
Turn my eyes, Lord, back to Jesus,
Veer my courses back to Him.
Turn my eyes, Lord, back to Jesus,
Make my life an offering.
Turn my eyes, Lord, back to Jesus,
Cleanse me from my ev’ry sin.
Turn my eyes, Lord, back to Jesus,
Make me new again within.

The Little Christian

2006-09-29T15:01:00.000+08:00

This is one of my longer poems. The rhyme scheme is not consistent, and there are certain lines that do not exactly enhance the poem. However, this is a simple little story that I would like to share with all of my fellow Christians who are in service. In the midst of our labors, may we learn from the experience of this little Christian.

There was a little Christian
Who’s working for the Lord.
He strived for pure perfection,
Gave all he could afford.

He worked from day to evening,
From nighttime until dawn.
He never stopped for resting,
But labored on and on.

His pray’rs were short and blurry;
His family’s in discord,
But what could come ‘fore duty?
He’s working for the Lord.

Then came the day when Christian,
So tired without, within,
Was tempted by a trifle,
The tiniest of sins.

“It wouldn’t hurt me deeply,”
He mused within himself,
“Just grant this ‘musement to me,
I’ll shun everything else.”

So Christian tried his ‘musement
And liked it more and more
Until in sounded decent
To try it to the core.

One sin followed another,
And soon he couldn’t stop
Each time he would say, “Never,”
Each time his strength would drop.

Poor Christian lived in anguish,
Hypocrisy and tears.
He clearly knew God’s wishes,
But sin was still too dear.

Until the day when Jesus,
In anger and in love
Reminded him the reasons
To turn to God above.

God loves His little children
And turns them from their sins
If they set eyes on heaven
And trust their lives to Him.

Poor Christian cried so sadly,
Repented then and there.
Then tenderly and gladly,
He prayed his little pray’r.

“Lord, wrongly have I served You,
And wrongly have I lived.
My eyes please turn towards You,
My sins please now forgive.”

Today that little Christian
Is working for the Lord.
Now with but one intention—
That Gods’ name be adored.

Quiet Time Reflections

2006-09-22T23:56:00.000+08:00

Each time I sit down upon my desk, longing to enter the presence of God, I feel an impulse to write of my personal relationship with Him. Sometimes, those reflections result in simple verses that reflect simple desires for an awesome God.

June 25, 2006
Today's Your day, O Lord, my King,
For You alone my soul does sing;
Your mercy lasts from dawn to dawn
With lovingkindness fresh as spring.
Forgive my sins, and cleanse me now,
Fill up my heart and show me how
To live for You from day to day
That I before Your throne may bow.

July 9, 2006
O Father God, I come into
Your holy house of praise today.
Please consecrate my heart for You,
Forgive my grievous sins, I pray.
You are Almighty, King of kings,
And yet a child You make of me;
To You will my whole spirit sing,
To You must my devotion be.
You loved me first 'fore I loved You,
So help me love with love as true.

August 6, 2006
O Lord, my God, You are the King,
The song my heart and soul do sing;
The wonders of the earth proclaim
The glamour of Your holy name.
O Father God, may my life be
A testimony all can see,
A written page by Your own hand,
A beacon leading safe to land.

August 13, 2006
My Heavenly Father, here I stand,
Before You once again;
Please guide me with Your tender hand
To shine before all men.
Please cleanse my heart and make it true
As worshipping I come;
Please turn my courses back to You,
My audience of One.

September 17, 2006
My Father, God, I come to Thee
Impure, unrighteous, worn, and ill;
Again I've wandered from Thy will
To seek what only pleases me.
Please cleanse me, Lord, this is my pray'r,
I beg Thy mercy to descend;
I ask another chance, True Friend,
To be Thy servant ev'rywhere.

Job's Answer

2006-09-18T14:36:00.000+08:00

At the end of his suffering, Job was confronted by Almighty God. God hurled question after question at Job, asking him about the inexplicable wonders of creation. At the conclusion of their discourse, Job could only utter a humble confession, acknowledging the sovereignty and wisdom of the Lord above anything man's mind could conceive. The following is a versification of Job 42:2-6.

I know that You can do all things,
Your purposes prove true.
Though I declared things I knew not,
Those things were known to You.
Instruct me, Lord, this is my pray’r,
Speak now, and I will hear.
For though I’d heard of You before,
My eyes now see You near.
So I retract what I pronounced,
In ashes I repent,
For no soul living on this earth
Can know Your great intent.