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worth trusting in

December 30, 2014

funny-children-quotes-dad-illustrations-spaghetti-toes-martin-bruckner-14Last night, I wanted to say the above picture (quote from a three year old, design by her dad) was representative of my year. Because the dark spots glowed brighter than the good. Today, calmer, it doesn’t sound the same. I want to keep the picture though. Mmm.

2014 has been as eventful as 2013, but for better reasons. Not, that that made the year easier- just better, and then only on hindsight. The bad is still the worst, the happiness the highest.

I’m trying to reflect on the year, but not much seems coherent. I’m a disjointed gathering of phases. I had a word earlier; uncertainty. But such vagueness it brings, and so unfairly, for a year that deserves more.

2006-2010, the uni years, the pet ones. The two years after, striving at work; mistakes and wrestlings. 2013 and 2014 seem now as foggy as those once did. What do I have to show for the work years, what have I to show for these?

The test these days seems to simply, be with each one, sit with each day, still and knowing God. The simple things can be hard to do sometimes. So my heart takes out an umbrella and cracks a little, in the rain. How can I be faithful in the unending summer days?

Summer is here; the days are long and hot. My ex-housemate has invited me to her pool, but my car is waiting quietly in a mechanic’s workshop, two gaskets blown. Poor Mr Attntion; I hope you get well soon. And your hospital bills honourably settled. Remember, all, to do the dip test and water check before setting off there, if you want to come back again. But I ramble.

Tomorrow is the last day of the year; I wonder what I have to show for it. A cert in counselling; half a year away? Some cooking skills, perhaps.

Have I loved and served as I ought, would my Master be proud of me? My husband says I have grown; yet I am not the beaming calm I would like to be. I’m not sure I’ll ever be- but it’s nice to try.

God’s goodness is worth trusting in; I could do with reminding myself more often. Uncertainty may be the current of the times, but my God’s the captain of the waves. Viewed like that, life is an adventure- even the still summer days.

So I will read out the length and heat of it, find myself by the pool sometimes and return to the kitchen to get that bit better. I will be useful and good, for God’s goodness is worth trusting in.

Here’s to 2015

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today, while clearing my room, i reached up and uncovered a long letter. by long I mean it was enclosed by two envelopes on either side, and taped in the middle. curious, i tore the envelopes to reveal what they had kept safe. it turned out to be a letter i’d written four years ago, meant for a birthday person, but never sent. it was warmly written. so much changes in four years.

last night, i had the perfect conclusion to everything.

December 9, 2014

you’re the prettiest no matter
why you romance me
, he says

tonight we’re talking sweet nothings. i am a dinner of durians and tea of yumchar. my grandmother just called asking for me, forgetting she has already passed me her ang bao of goodwill. she wants to have a meal with me on saturday. let me send messages vibrating to other parts of the island. hmmm.

December 6, 2014

my world is an exercise in cream, brown, and gold. only my sea-blue nails don’t match.

there are marks on the wall; mysterious scratches and bits of blu tac. was someone counting down the days? one gauge for every five. i like the setting sun’s rays best. it is easy to be lulled and content then. only my green-blue nails are alert.

hullocollarbone.

Perth is faraway, a remnant of a nightmare where things are proper and i am shoring up karma points for Life. here, the colours are different; my country’s favourite stone is cement. my floors and walls are swirls of grey. i can be incongruous here. comfort food is a five minute walk and the real deal. i don’t have to make do with interpretations.

do all migrants feel this loneliness, this displaced; what consoles them in the strangeness? i am witness to history’s last survivors; soon, the retro boomers will perish, the coolies fade away. i will remember her black knee-length skirt, and his shoulder’s sack of rice under the orange streetlight. in their eyes, are there shanghainese women of old?

Meals from my first day back home:

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oh, beautiful teh, how i have missed you

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i announced to anyone who would listen what i planned my first meal home to be. and so it was.

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Next up

On spaces: shelvings and rooms

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hi, could we have a spiral staircase too? ours could lead nowhere <3

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you don’t say

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