A change for once (2)

Not being back in Singapore for Christmas meant for YK and I a reluctant departure from a time-honored and much cherished tradition of having Christmas celebration dinner with our best friends. We felt lost not being part of this annual ritual.
Our consolation was that for once both our children were with us for Christmas. We were looking forward to a quiet dinner with the 2 of them but Val decided to threw a party for twenty instead. The occasion provided an opportunity for YK and I to get to know some of the young people in LCC better.

Christmas traditions

After dinner Victor had to scrape ice from the car before we could proceed to midnight Christmas service at SM, a church near the university. It was my first midnight Christmas service ever and I was really surprised by the big turn out. People in their Christmas best had braved the subzero cold, the inadequate parking and the odd hours for this. We had to stand for half an hour before we found seats. Maybe more churches should be conducting similar services since there is a ‘market’ for it. How many in this crowd made their once-a-year pilgrimage because it was Christmas?
I always wish we would sing more carols for worship during the Advent season but LCC, like LSBC were not very much into it. For once I got to sing many of my old favorites accompanied by the most beautiful music from the organ, harps, flutes and timpani. The prayers were exquisite. Communion on Christmas Eve felt special. The speaker was very witty and highly entertaining but that was it. It scored low on spiritual value – no reference to Bible, God, saints or sinners. A golden opportunity to work with the Holy Spirit was squandered. Instead a stirring worship service was reduced to the level of a fully sold out Christmas concert.
Boxing Day sales were known to be spectacular but we headed for the mountains instead. We drove more than 2 hours to Crystal Mountain to play in the snow. There was no fresh snow and the slopes were icy but it was our only free day. The last time Victor had snowboarded was 10 years ago. He signed up for classes again while Valerie went skiing.

Vic's snowboarding lesson

Val, with Jim

YK and I took shelter from the cold and waited for the 2 of them.

Crystal Mountain

They returned aching all over after 5 hours of hard exercise and much falling. Then it was time to head home. Another Christmas was behind us.

A change for once

feliz navidad on our window

This year we decided not to fight the unpredictable winter weather and the usual year-end travel chaos to go back to Singapore for Christmas. Victor still had to get through record snowfall and bad weather to make it to Seattle. No complaints because many of his schoolmates had their flights canceled. He was glad to be back for all the ’support services’ of home. Living alone in his own apartment during term break is not fun.
We also decided this is a good season to do door knocking for the three neighbors nearest us. Armed with a jar of homemade lemon curd, we started with J and G who live right next door. They are young grandparents who often work long hours. We also brought along a bag of beef jerky for their 2 dogs, hoping that friendly dogs, like young children would be good ‘door openers’. J invited us into the house which is one step closer than exchanging pleasantries at our fence. C and her plumber husband lived next to J but they had left for holiday. Val delivered their jar of lemon curd after we left for Singapore. The neighbor opposite us O, works in the University and returns after 10.30pm everyday. After 6 months here, we had not met her. We left her jar of lemon curd with a note in her mailbox. People here are nice but they keep a safe distance. It is going to take a while to get acquainted. J, an old timer in this neighborhood said she might organize a summer BBQ for us to meet C and O. That would make a good icebreaker. Finally for added measure, we also left a bag of cookies in our mailbox to bless the postwoman.
This is the first time we observed Christmas in the church (LCC) here. This year, LCC participated with other churches in a four-Sunday exercise called the Advent Conspiracy. It was a good attempt to put the Christ back into Christmas. One meaningful thing we did was to give gifts of time or service instead of buying presents. The money saved would go help the poor and oppressed. For YK and I who are poor shoppers, it takes the headache out of buying the perfect gift. With record unemployment here it is right to celebrate Christmas sensitively and soberly. All these led up to Christmas Sunday when we brought our gifts as individuals and families to the altar. What a fruitful Sunday! Many of our invited friends and guests made a decision to follow Jesus and $100,000 was also collected on that day.
The gifts would be used to drill wells for fresh water, provide medical kits for Aids sufferers, send children to school and free children from sex slavery. The first three were for mission work in Africa and the last in South East Asia.
Our favorite Christmas carol: How many kings.

Follow the star to a place unexpected
Would you believe after all we’ve projected
A child in a manger

Lowly and small, the weakest of all
Unlikeliness hero, wrapped in his mothers shawl
Just a child
Is this who we’ve waited for?

Cause how many kings, stepped down from their thrones?
How many lords have abandoned their homes?
How many greats have become the least for me?
How many Gods have poured out their hearts
To romance a world that has torn all apart?
How many fathers gave up their sons for me?

Bringing our gifts for the newborn savior
All that we have whether costly or meek
Because we believe
Gold for his honor and frankincense for his pleasure
And myrrh for the cross he’ll suffer
Do you believe, is this who we’ve waited for?
It’s who we’ve waited for

How many kings, stepped down from their thrones?
How many lords have abandoned their homes?
How many greats have become the least for me?
How many Gods have poured out their hearts
To romance a world that has torn all apart?
How many fathers gave up their sons for me?
Only one did that for me

All for me
All for you
All for me
All for you

Subzero lessons

at Snoqualmie Pass

Long long ago  in some cold corners of China,  there was this little boy who would lie in his parents bed in winter to warm it up for them before they go to bed.  The point is filial piety, but how does one fully appreciate that  in oven- hot Singapore?    Now in this subzero freezer cold the story came to my mind and I thought what a gem of a boy!     But in this day and age, thank God we do not have to resort to child labor and child abuse to warm up a cold bed any more.   There is the wonderful invention of electric blankets to do the job more effectively throughout the night.   There is a place also for fleece bedlinens.  Cotton ones  are cool in summer but cold in winter.  And why stop at the bed?  In the toilet,  warm padded toilet covers replaced icy plastic ones to made sitting on the throne less torturing.  And then there are our indispensable portable heaters good for any room - just wonderful for toasting cold hands and feet.   All optional for creature comforts but why suffer unnecessarily?

YK  had taken on winter by storm, long before it made an official appearance.    While it was still hot in summer he had already attached  weather strips around the garage door to keep the cold out.     Even the huge water heater in the garage got a blanket  around it.  Last month, he put up plastic shields on all the windows and hung up thermal curtains to further insulate the house.  Some of these are to ward off the cold but they also to save on heating costs.   And of course he remembered to wrapped up the  two exposed faucets on the outside walls of the house to keep them from freezing over.    To be kind to himself, he outfitted the garage door with an automatic door opener so that one car could be kept conveniently under shelter.  That would save him many chilly morning’s worth of scraping ice/snow from the windscreen.   The other car is still in the open begging for a shelter.

drinking water in car frozen!

scrapping ice off car

wrapped up

fire hydrant under shelter

Everyday on the news we hear about frozen pipes bursting all over the place.   We were together with everyone else, surprised by the sudden sly wind from the north – cold arctic air that sent temperatures plumeting to a record low of -8C.   Brrr..  this is severe cold.  One can never be over-prepared for winter.    Like it or not, winter will show up like an uninvited guest sure to outstay its welcome.  And no one can predict how nasty it will be.  We try to be prepared (for what we can) and then pray hard (for what we can’t).    YK had done careful homework and diligent preparations for winter although there is still much more to learn.   Being unfamiliar with winter is a bad excuse for being unprepared.   One cannot be  ’sluggard’ as the book of Proverbs calls it and hope for the best. Thank God YK is not a sluggard.

A time to pause

cool autumn

YK and the burning bush

giant promegranates

carpet leaves

After sampling the four seasons, I decided autumn is my favourite season of the year.  Spring is  beautiful and showy with a profusion of flowers.  But their pollens in the air give allergy sufferers something to really sneeze about.   Summer is for catching up on all the fun in the sun.  But the heat can be so bad, I can be forgiven for thinking that it caught up on me from Singapore.  Winter for ‘tropicanas’ like us is suffering – cold hands, cold feet, and for YK cold all the time.

What do I like about autumn?

Firstly the ‘make hay while the sun shines’ frenzy of summer activities winds down.    The stifling heat of summer gives way to a mild chill, like airconditioning only much better because it is natural – fresh and crisp.  Daylight gets shorter, signaling all ’rushsians’, to slow down for our souls to catch up with our bodies.

This is one time where everyone’s yard look alike, a colourful palette of bronze and gold against the conifers and evergreens.  The leaves take centre stage vying for attention.   Millions of leaves changing colours on their own accord, forming a splendid panorama everywhere one looks.    Only God, the Master Gardener and Artist can put up such an impressive and awe inspiring display year after year.  Soon the show will end. Slow down the clock, even briefly, enjoy it while it lasts.  Time flies, another month, another season will be gone.  Soon it’s time to clear the leaves and put the garden to rest for winter.

This is time for Thanksgiving.  A time  to pause and reflect on God’s goodness and grace – his providence, presence, provision, protection, promises and power.  Autumn is also harvest time, for pears pumpkins, persimmons, promegranates, potatoes, and a whole lot more.    This is a land so blessed by God, a land of fruitfulness and abundance, a land flowing with milk and honey, with more than enough to go around.   Yet at the same time, beggars on the highways and byways are also heart-wrenching and constant reminders that this is also a land that is groaning with countless who are  homeless, hungry and hopeless.  When we are gathered around our table with our loved ones how could we express our thanks to God for our food without also praying and hoping that those without food will somehow be nourished.

Don't drop that pumpkin!

A time to plant

The  Mid Autumn Festival was always to me about mooncakes and lanterns.   This year it dawned on me that it actually meant what it said - that it marks the middle of autumn.    When we returned to Seattle, the trees were dressed in their pretty autumn colours of  red, yellow and gold.   Only God in his wisdom and power can so effortlessly change the scenery with the seasons.  The temperature had also dipped and it was much cooler than when we had left at the end of summer.    We were sleeping with airconditioning in Singapore on one night and 24 hours later, here we were in another place needing heating instead.    Not surprising since Singapore is 1 degree north and here we are 47 degree north of the equator.

After 6 weeks what greeted us at our front yard were plants and weeds  spilling crazily out of the flower bed.  Even our sad looking ‘blonde’ lawn (no thanks to this year’s record hot and dry summer)  had miraculously turned green with overgrown grass and dandelions.    God had sent rain to do its work while we were away.  I  imagine this place would make the perfect setting for Sleeping Beauty Castle.   A whole jungle  could grow over this entire place  in far less than a hundred years.   And no spell needed from the wicked witch either.  Blackberry shoots  are sneaking out of the ground faster than YK in all diligence can clear them.  Our contractor when renovating our place had removed a long thorny piece of dried  blackberry cane  from  above our ceiling.  Still a puzzle how it grew into the house but we don’t need another to get in to find out.

The wonder of nature is that it seems to have an indomitable life of its own.  The combination of seeds, soil, rain and sunshine inevitably  unleash the miracle of  life.  I am learning this as a novice gardener tentatively flexing my green fingers.

Green leafy vegetables  are only available at the Asian store so I thought why not plant our own?   Two weeeks before we left for Singapore, I planted a short row of Chinese greens.  The instructions  were simple enough.   Clear the ground, scatter the seeds, cover with soil and water liberally.  It took faith to believe that  if I did my part, they would grow and become edible vegetables.  I was excited when tiny  leaves emerged in about a week’s time.

baby veg grown in faith

With some help from Valerie who kept them watered while we were away, they grew furiously.   We were greeted by a bumper harvest on our return - giant stalks of vegetables,  american size of course.  That’s the other reason I wanted to plant my own veggies.   Only XXL ones are available at the store.  I prefer them to come in S size (like those in Singapore) instead of these XXL ones.    Just the leaf (minus the stalk) measures a whopping 12″ (about 30 cm)!  They were so enormous, each time we could only consume one or at most 2 stalks.

giant veg

veg dwarfing the flowers!

Next time I hope to be around to harvest them when they are still petite.   And I shall not plant so many because we can’t seem to finish eating them.    A packet of seeds cost less than $2 and there are still lots left. Growing our own veggies is cheap but nothing beats the convenience of just going into the garden to pick what is needed.  They are also free from pesticides and chemical fertilizers.  Of course  there are worms and bugs,  but even after sharing with them, there are still lots to spare.    It has been a good learning experience but no more planting till winter is over.

Of Corns and Croissants

on your consciene

 

 

 

Even on holidays Victor had to clock in his hours of practice.  This is the lot of all musicians and sportsmen but it made it hard for us take long trips.  Val, just back from Canada suggested taking a scenic drive on the Chuckanut route.  It is about an hour’s drive north, not too far away.  Enroute, we could take a stop at Walmart for Victor to buy more stuff.  He does not have a car in Baltimore so coming home gave him an excuse to shop and stock up on whatever is needed.  Living in USA without a car is inconvenient to say the least.  Walmart  is not popular around where we live but there are several on the way once we head north.

To get to the Chuckanut scenic route, we droved past vast stretches of farmland.  More land than we would ever get to see in Singapore.  Earlier in spring we had driven all the way out here to admire beautiful  daffodils and tulips in bloom.  Now these farmlands are full of corn in different stages of growth.  The climb up the scenic route was not too steep.  It was a leisurely drive on a fine weekday afternoon.  We were not trying hard to be tourists this time, just a family,  spending time together.  We took only one stop to take in the view.  The trail did not lead us to the water edge but there was a sign that says that crab catching was permitted  – a limit of 5 to each person.  We had not come equipped for crab catching - neither the paraphernalia nor the know how.  What a pity.  The crabs in this waters are big and sweet, comparable to the Sri Lankan crabs, but with softer shells.   This is a good place for seafood.  We passed an oyster bar driving uphill too.  One wonders who would travel all the way up these hills just to eat oysters but I was told that it was quite a popular eating joint.  There were oyster farms around the area but we had no plans to visit one.  We did not even push ourselves to complete the scenic route before turning back.

Making our way home, we did make a stop to pick up freshly harvested corn.  These corn cobs are american size, not like the puny ones we import into Singapore.  The farmer had just left his corn cobs in a trailer – a NMO (no man operation).  Take the corn cobs you want and deposit the money into the box.  There was a long-winded sign to ward off any would be corn thieves.   Not high tech or sophisticated but it probably served its purpose well enough.   We ate the corn for dinner and they proved to be the best  we had ever eaten, so sweet and juicy.  At the supermart, they would have cost 40 or 50 ct apeice on offer.   At 20 ct apiece, it was a steal!

For Victor’s birthday which was just before he flew back for his new school year, we had planned for high tea at Queen Mary’s near the University district.  High tea at Vancouver or Victoria is more readily available because of their British past.   Just across this side of the border it had took me a while to find a place that offered high tea.  But not surprisingly Victor had a different craving when his special day arrived.  He wanted to eat croissant in West Seattle instead.   The croissants in this bakery are made on the spot and are big, buttery and flaky.  Not the usual birthday celebration but it was what the birthday boy ordered.   As we celebrated his birthday we were reminded of how we had to leave him in Baltimore last year all alone in a new city on his 21st birthday.  With God’s help and by his grace, he had survived his first year in college and did well.  For that we offer God our praise and gratitude. 

Victor flew back with two suitcases, bulging with goodies, including his favorite oatmeal carmelita that Val had baked for him.   His departure also signaled that summer is coming to a close.  Thousands of miles keep us apart but I appreciate that Victor is able to come home more frequently because we are living on the same continent.  Whether he is back for a  week or a  month it was always too short, always time that passed too quickly.

Journey or Destination?

Our new place has a direct bus to downtown and the bus stop is just a few minutes’ walk away.  Victor and I decided to spend some ‘quality time’ together, leaving YK home to his DIY tasks.   Off peak bus fare is  $1.75, exact change required.   No link cards here.   But any bus rides within downtown are free.  We got off at the Chinatown stop and wandered around tourist-like.  Nothing much compared to Chinatown back home or elsewhere.   The most interesting shop of the day was this one without any signs and not opened but had these cute rubber chickens hanging upside down in their huge display windows.   Hainanese Chicken Rice anyone?   We also stumbled on a Food Bank where a big crowd was helping themselves to the free bread and vegetables.   With all these people milling outside we mistook it for a popular oriental grocery store.    Deciding where to eat lunch was complicated.  Could restaurants without lines waiting to get in be any good?  Hah, a long line had formed after we spent half an hour checking  out other eating places.   That, and our hungry stomachs decided this was it.   The dim sum here came in american sizes, 4 pieces to a basket.   Bad idea.  Dim sum should be small and dainty, 3 to a basket, the better to try a wider variety.

With Valerie  away in Canada for a week, the Friday that Victor did not have to practise on his organ, we decided to go somewhere.     He would decide where when he was up.  But first homemade waffles for breakfast per his request, chocolate chip waffles for the men and blueberry waffles for me.  After packing a sandwich lunch,  it was 11am when we left the house.  Victor had picked the Olympics National Park.  It was a good three hours away that was further extended by another hour when we stopped for a break at Silverdale for retail therapy.

Hurricane Ridge, we were back again and this time we made it to the summit.  It was quite a cloudy day so we could not see very far.  At more than 5000 feet  it was a dreamy feeling walking above the clouds.  YK thought the view was like a chinese painting.  There were rows and rows of mountain peaks that were green with coniferous forests.  The sun was hot but the air was cold, confusing the body about whether a jacket was needed or not.  By the time we finished our hike, it was after 4pm.  We gave up on Neah Bay, our next stop, as it was further than we thought.  A wrong turn brought us into Port Angeles instead.   A short walk around the waterfront and we were headed for dinner at the casino in Bly.   Prime ribs buffet for $16 each.   The waitress gave YK and I a senior discount without our asking – $14 each.  We did not know whether to be amused or to be amazed.  Smart waitress, no one would complain about being charged less.   Another break at Silverdale before we drive home.  Target closed at 10pm -  allowing us an hour of shopping.

We ended spending more time in the car than sightseeing but it was a good time to catch up with Victor.   All that time to get to and fro the Park and all we saw was Hurricane Ridge.   YK and I liked everything planned ahead but Victor like everything free and easy, lived in the moment.     Life, is it about about the journey or the destination?

On the heights

Summer has been in full swing but we were too busy fixing up our place to take advantage of it.   With Victor home after summer school, it was time for the whole family to take a rest and also catch up.   A day trip to Mt Rainier is what we prescribed.

Mt Rainier  can be spotted in the far distance on those days when the weather is good and the air is clear.  On some days it even takes on a lovely pink hue.   Although higher than Mt Fuji, it is not as shapely nor as well known outside of USA.  However it is an icon as well as landmark in this place.  Like Mt Fuji it is an active volcano and it is the highest volcanic peak in the Cascades.

Mt Rainier National Park is about 2 hours drive away.  Leaving at 7.30 am, we made good time and arrived at our first stop, Paradise.    When you see the lush meadows  carpeted in wildflowers you will understand why it is so called.  It was so much like a scene out of the Sound of Music that YK broke out singing, “the hills are alive with the sound of music..’      We picked a short trail for a hike to take in the view of the mountains and the flowers.  The deers along the trail were so accustomed to humans trespassing their grounds,  they did not bat an eyelid when our paths crossed.  Even when we got close for a snapshot of a fawn, mother deer was not bothered.   The other interesting thing we spotted on the trail was this big piece of rock that had been hollowed by the elements.  Val was still supple enough to fit into the hollow.   Suddenly inspired, YK proclaimed: Rock of Ages, cleft for me!    Our souls were wonderfully restored by God’s beautiful creation.  The trail was not too demanding but we soon got hungry from the exertion.

Our next destination was Sunrise and we intended to find a picnic area along the way for lunch.  But our stomachs could not wait so we stopped at the first scenic spot along the way.  Our car transformed into a small restaurant with a big view:  Reflection Lake, with Mt Rainier as a backdrop.  Cold noodles went well with the splendid scenery.

Sunrise is 6400 ft in elevation and is the highest point in the park accessible by car.  Mt Rainier felt close enough to touch but we were not even at half  her elevation.   Unlike Paradise,  Sunrise receives much less moisture than Paradise and the difference is clearly reflected in its dry terrain.  We picked the shortest trail in the subalpine meadows but it still proved challenging for me.  Some parts of the trail was steep and we kicked up clouds of dust with every step.  The wildflowers here have to be very tough to survive the strong winds, harsh sun and severe cold.   Not many trees grow in this hostile environment and the mountain slopes were brown and not as luxuriant as those in Paradise.   After the hot, tiring  hike, I was craving afternoon tea – scones and ice-cream would be delightful to round off our outing.  At the Sunrise Day Lodge’s cafeteria the menu proved disappointing – hamburgers, hotdogs, chilli.  Disappointing American fare but not afternoon tea.

Then it was the long descent down the winding slopes to get home.  During the  day, Valerie, Victor and YK took turns at the wheel.  Since the children were tiny tots, we had visited countless National Parks in and out of USA but they had been the passengers.   Now they are not only old enough to plan this trip but competent enough to negotiate the narrow mountain roads and hairpin bends of this mountain range.   They are growing up but I am growing older.  My hips (already for so long walking by God’s grace) protested a lot more on the uphill stretches of our hikes.  And already for my sake we had hiked the easier trails.  The heart is willing and the flesh weak but the spirit, with God’s help had to be strong to pick up the slack.    But I thank God for each hike I completed with the family.  There had been many such hikes since we moved here because the place is not at all flat.  Each hike might be a slow struggle but also more than a physical achievement.  For each challenging climb, Hab 3: 19 is my mainstay.  It carries me where on my own strength I can’t go.  Each time it takes on new meaning and relevance:

The Sovereign Lord is my strength;

He makes my feet like the feet of a deer,

He enables me to go on the heights.

Time is on my side

cuckoo clock keeping time in our home

I was reading a compilation of  interviews  done with people who were terminally ill.  In the midst of all the talk about dying was an article : “time is on my side”.    

The authors made me sit up  with their mathemtics .  The maths was simple enough but an exercise few of us would have attempted on our own.    Now that I know the maths, I hear the clock tick louder than before.  Gosh did I let that many thousand seconds slip through my fingers each day?  Well and good that time is on my side, but now that I am older, time is also quickly running out.    Thank God over on the other side of eternity, time shall be no more.  No more maths needed either, for we shall live in endless days  (Rev 21:25 ‘for there will be no night there’).   

Here’s the article:

The Rolling Stones sang, “Time is on my side.”  Yes, it is but sometimes it doesnt seem that way.  We often say that we don’t have enough time to do the important things that bring the greatest joy to our lives.  We complain that we just don’t have enough time to get everything done today.  Yet in reality we all have the same amount of time in a day.  And we all have all the time there is.

Money is the biggest discriminator in society.  It separates people according to what they are able to acquire, control and spend. Time, however is the most powerful equalizer.  As we thought about time and life we came to the realization that, while dollars are the currency of the US economy, time is the currency of life.  Seconds, minutes, hours, days and years are the denominations of this currency.  We all have 3,600 seconds per hour, 86400 seconds per day, and a whopping 31,536,000 seconds per year (except for leap years when we get a bonus 86,400 seconds).  These are huge numbers.  If you really think about it, time is actually abundant.  And at the end of the day financially rich people dont have any more than those considered poor.  What none of us know and what will always remain one of the great mysteries of life, is how much time we have in the future.  With the exception of the day on which you die, you do know how much time you have for each day.

One critical difference between the nature of the currency of our economy/money, and the currency of life/time is that money can be saved and accumulated for use in the future.  Time cannot.  Speculation about what we could do if we “could put time in a bottle” makes for a great Jim Croce song, but we can’t put time in a bottle.  At the end of everyday, we have, in the currency of life, ’spent’ all 86400 seconds we received for that day.  Every single second is gone, used up, and vanished, and we cannot have it back.  While we say money has to be earned, time is a gift and that is further evidence that life is a gift.

From Life is a gift by Bob and Judy Fisher

A time to remember

daffodils

clemantis

roses

For a while we had been in suspense, anticipating the dreaded call.  Finally it came while I was in the back yard killing dandelions.   YK came out with the sad news that SK had passed on.  There in my yard, I bade her a quiet farewell:  rest in peace my friend. we’ll meet at Jesus’ feet.

Over the last few months, we had watched in helpless anguish as our friend was ravaged by a most vicious cancer.   I shall always remember that God called her home in the  summer that celebrities like Michael Jackson and Farah Fawcett made their final exits .   Even as their deaths  got big time media coverage, they only served as poignant reminders that big shots and ordinary folks end life the same way -  the time comes when we all have to meet our Maker and Judge.

I don’t care much about MJ and FF but I want to take time to remember my friend.  Especially when I could not be at her funeral.    I popped the question to the man of few words about what he remembers of SK.  He gave a one word answer:  ’short’.   Short as a description.  A physical attribute about the vessel that used to contain her.  Going by outward appearance, she was always simply attired.  No fussy jewelry or accessories.  No cosmetics.  Strangely now that I recall, I seen her wearing only dresses before she was married.  After she was married, I had never seen her in a dress again.

For YK and I, our most enduring memory was of SK doing follow-up with what we called ‘the three girls.’     In my mind’s eyes, I still see SK meeting them in the library at the former New Bridge Road Chapel.  A behind- the- scene kind of person, that was how she served best.    She was the secret helper to her husband’s success as a CPU leader.  She was the one to call if you needed someone to pray for you – and many did call her.

We had been friends for ages.  We had shared teenage secrets.  We  had cried together over the boys who broke our hearts.   We got married around the same time.  With joy we had photographed our infant sons, born less than a month apart,  lying together side by side.   Mostly we were co-laborers in the Lord in the same die-for Jesus gang.

Somewhere in those hectic years of church building and child raising, we got much too busy to tend to our friendship.    But we knew the foundation was  there, just buried under the dust of time.  To my great delight, she took the initiative to reconnect after I moved to Seattle.  It was like old times again as we exchanged long mails.  SK was at her best when she  wrote.  She wrote well, but also in writing,  she would part the veil and share deeply from her heart.  It is one of life’s ironies that we became closer than before when we were far apart.    Life is so fragile and fleeting, so unpredictable.  We had presumed, now I realize so wrongly, that because we grew up together, we would grow old together.   I am grateful to God for that chance, even though so briefly, to clear away the dust and catch up.

SK was a homebody.  Even when we were teenagers, she did not hang out with us at slumber parties.  Instead if we want to spend time with her at all, we had to go to her place.  She disliked immensely those short stays in Glasgow and Sdyney.  Now she is where she is most at home, where she should be, where she wants to be.  For the rest of us, let’s love much and  live well until we join her.

A Song to remember my friend – I can only imagine what she is doing in heaven.