Isn’t it just wonderful

Nothing beats the feeling of being in love, is there? When Matt Nathanson said, ‘If I could walk on water, if I could tell you what’s next, make you believe and make you forget’, he must be in love.

When it hurts to not be around him, when his silence is your sleepless night and when his touch brings 40 kinds of happiness, then you know you’re in love.

And then there’ll be times when you walk with every step remembering him, talk of everything that reminds you of him, and see the beauty in everything the day brings you, you’re in love.

And to finally know that you’re not alone anymore, that someone can actually love you for what makes you and forgives your past and takes you now, for the future, then suddenly the tantrums of the heart subside.

And to be able to look forward to tomorrow, just because you’d be spending it with him...

Isn’t it just wonderful
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Praying To 'Win'

The first time I read this story was when I was 15, when I was still struggling to build my inner strength after my mother passed two years before. Wanting to be helpful, my very worried, eldest sister handed me a few books to comfort the soul. One of the many stories I read that stuck with me was this one, as its lesson I carry to this day. Enjoy.

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Title : Praying To 'Win'
Author : Unknown

My son Gilbert was eight years old and had been in Cub Scouts only a short time. During one of his meetings he was handed a sheet of paper, a block of wood and four tires and told to return home and give all to "dad."

That was not an easy task for Gilbert to do. Dad was not receptive to doing things with his son. But Gilbert tried.

Dad read the paper and scoffed at the idea of making a pine wood derby car with his young, eager son. The block of wood remained untouched as the weeks passed.

Finally, mom stepped in to see if I could figure this all out. The project began.

Having no carpentry skills, I decided it would be best if I simply read the directions and let Gilbert do the work. And he did. I read aloud the measurements, the rules of what we could do and what we couldn't do.

Within days his block of wood was turning into a pinewood derby car. A little lopsided, but looking great (at least through the eyes of mom).

Gilbert had not seen any of the other kids cars and was feeling pretty proud of his "Blue Lightning," the pride that comes with knowing you did something on your own.

Then the big night came. With his blue pinewood derby in his hand and pride in his heart we headed to the big race.

Once there my little one's pride turned to humility. Gilbert's car was obviously the only car made entirely on his own. All the other cars were a father-son partnership, with cool paint jobs and sleek body styles made for speed.

A few of the boys giggled as they looked at Gilbert's, lopsided, wobbly, unattractive vehicle. To add to the humility Gilbert was the only boy without a man at his side. A couple of the boys who were from single parent homes at least had an uncle or grandfather by their side, Gilbert had "mom."

As the race began it was done in elimination fashion. You kept racing as long as you were the winner. One by one the cars raced down the finely sanded ramp.

Finally it was between Gilbert and the sleekest, fastest looking car there. As the last race was about to begin, my wide eyed, shy eight year old ask if they could stop the race for a minute, because he wanted to pray. The race stopped.

Gilbert hit his knees clutching his funny looking block of wood between his hands. With a wrinkled brow he set to converse with God.

He prayed in earnest for a very long minute and a half. Then he stood, smile on his face and announced, "Okay, I am ready."

As the crowd cheered, a boy named Tommy stood with his father as their car sped down the ramp. Gilbert stood with God within his heart and watched his block of wood wobble down the ramp with surprisingly great speed and rushed over the finish line a fraction of a second before Tommy's car.

Gilbert leaped into the air with a loud "Thank you" as the crowd roared in approval.

The Scout Master came up to Gilbert with microphone in hand and asked the obvious question, "So you prayed to win, huh, Gilbert?"

To which my young son answered, "Oh, no sir. That wouldn't be fair to ask God to help you beat someone else. I just asked Him to make it so I don't cry when I lose."

Children seem to have a wisdom far beyond us. Gilbert didn't ask God to win the race, he didn't ask God to fix the outcome, Gilbert asked God to give him strength in the outcome.

When Gilbert first saw the other cars he didn't cry out to God, "No fair, they had a fathers help."

No, he went to God for strength.

Perhaps we spend too much of our prayer time asking God to rig the race, to make us number one, or too much time asking God to remove us from the struggle, when we should be seeking God's strength to get through the struggle.

Gilbert's simple prayer spoke volumes to those present that night. He never doubted that God would indeed answer his request. He didn't pray to win, thus hurt someone else, he prayed that God supply the grace to lose with dignity.

Gilbert, by his stopping the race to speak to God also showed the crowd that he wasn't there without a "dad," but God was most definitely there with him. Yes, Gilbert walked away a winner that night, with God at his side.
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The Unfair Universe

When I was growing up I had many instances when my mother would say, ‘Looks aren’t everything. Try to see the good in people, regardless their physical features’, things like that.

When I hit my teens, the theory found itself in my life. When my first boyfriend, the first guy not related to me, loved me and had affections for me (despite me being an ugly toad then), I was overwhelmed. I was 19 and we adored each other. I also had a close girlfriend, which I confided in, and shared stories with, about the love of my life then. From all the time I spent with my girlfriend talking to her about my boyfriend, it never crossed my mind that this girl was absolutely attractive. It also never crossed my mind that she would use her looks and all the stories I shared with her (about my boyfriend’s likes and dislikes) to get close to my boyfriend. It never also crossed my mind that she would flirt with him, and be the subject of his affection, which she did, which then left my heart broken in many pieces. The trauma I carry even now in my adult life. After that, the theory I wrote in stone.

Now, I tell my nephews the same thing too-‘When you are old enough to look for girls, don’t go after their looks. See what’s in their hearts first’.

And then it struck me-the theory is inaccurate. Not all good looking people are bad. Unfortunately, (for ugly people like me) there are many good looks out there with good hearts to boot. And it’s unfair to judge all the good looking people bad and ugly looking people good. I mean, look at me, I’m ugly and I can’t claim that I am a good person, either. There were un-good things I did.

I don’t know the reason I’m writing this. It just crossed my mind and i decided to record it at my blog, for future reference.

May 15th 2009-Ayu discovered that unfortunately, not all good looking people are bad. They are rare occasions when they are good inside and out. Meaning, I have a lot to worry about (since I’m not good looking inside and out). Meaning, the world is the world is a cruel world. Click Here to Read More..

Reunion with the Old Self

When I received a text from a high school friend, I squirmed even before I even read the text. ‘What is it now,’ I thought. The last time I met her was two years back.

‘Hey, Ayu. You’re still using the same number? Just wanna let you know our friend from form 6 is getting married this weekend. You coming?’

A friend’s wedding. An old friend’s wedding.

Means there are many friends coming.
Means that I will be meeting friends I haven’t met for the past 8 years.
Means that many questions will be asked.
Means that I will be feeling insecure.
Means that I will freak out and bail.

I was reluctant to reply the text. The same hour, the texter called. I ignored.

That night, the texter texted me again, saying ‘Hey, I’ll be meeting other friends at the meeting point by 11am tomorrow. Be there, ok?’

I didn’t reply. I went to sleep without a decision.

The next morning I woke up and looked in my closet. ‘What the hell am I supposed to wear?’ I have gained weight and the people I’m gonna meet up at the meeting point are fab looking people, with big paycheques. Very unlike me’

I grabbed one of my raya kurungs, and got ready.

I met 3 more of my friends at the meeting point, all looking the same as they did when we went to school together. I was impressed on how time doesn’t really change anything. They succeeded in surprising me again when we started our conversation. The way they talked, the way they wear their attitudes are as the same as the old days.

I remembered then, when meeting with them that day, just how much I missed that-all of what makes them.

It also reminded me how I, now in my adult life, have evaded being the person I was as a teenager. I was carefree, I was spontaneous, I was spunky. Adult life has made me reserve a few of those traits, out of insecurity, which is surprisingly new-found.

My friends that day were being themselves, one of them a mother and another was a mom-to-be. Bur regardless of that, they are still refreshingly the same. I was back into being the teen I used to be after only a few minutes being with them, and I felt OK.

We arrived at the wedding and met our other friends. We chatted and guess what? Nothing changed! The weight issue, the bigger paycheque issue was drained away with every hug we shared. I don’t know whether any of them felt as insecure as I did before meeting up. Maybe they didn’t. But what I took back with me that day is the fact that I am me, and it’s OK to be just me.

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