Time for repose

Walking forward, a mist encroaches. The end is not in sight, everyone has moved on.
Wading forward, the paths diverge and the choice is unclear. There is time for repose, there is time for thought.

Quiet delight, unfathomable sea of feelings, just the ennobling sensation of contemplation.

Sitting within the ancient room, with the borders cup half filled with hot chocolate. The heater works and the air of autumn seeps in through the opened window. I have been reading my book for hours and hours on end. There is no time passed, just the dimming of lights from the wider outside. I close my eyes and thank the heavens for times such as these, when a tiny portion of this planet is enclosed to the words before me or my planet has shrunk into the contemplative peace of a room.

The Lord is near, I place the book back on its shelf. Turning the lights off, the sanctuary, the quiet, the solitude, the disciplining of aloneness. The delights of the heart are found in the rest of the Saviour, in the arms of Love and love has found rest for me.

Seeing Father laugh

I saw a young child run up to his father today. Giggling to himself, the boy was caught up in the humour of his own world and in wanton abandon, hobbled forth towards the counter to share some of that joy with his father.

The gawky dad, bends over, reaches forth, lifts the chirpy boy to his face.The boy smiles, points at some toy within the enclosed casing and continues to giggle. Dad relishes the laughter of his son and joins in the amusement. Son gushes over the toy, Dad gushes over the son.

Seeing his dad smile, he is rather pleased that his father is amused at the toy too. He begins to change his focus and play with his dad's nose. Dad laughs, hugs his son and carries him to the table.
As i look at father smile, i thank God for memories, that ever so vivid recorder.

For when the summer pales, the shadows of autumn glows

When the summer pales, the shadow of autumn glows in the wistful plight of certain change,

The earth before its sleep, thrusts forth its final burst of life, in gold, orange and fiery red.

Beauty at its best- is melancholy with colours ablaze- for what better, the blissful swan song?

This stoic old gentleman, whos' spring now forlorn and summer but memory, is defiant to end,

One last song, one kiss goodbye, one book for the road, one blazing smile, one final prayer.


i think of autumn as the romantic charge into the final phrases of pending end. The balding trees are matched by the brilliant colours of leaves in fiery display. The cooling breeze that bring the smells of nearing winter, sweeping the falling leaves into the distant far away. Spring is too chirpy, summer to bright but autumn is glorious. Only Autumn is real, because it reflects mortality and continuity at the same time. It ends the seasons but returns again. Like life, it blazes towards its end like an army's last stand, courageous and assured of its approaching finality.

There is much to learn from the seasons

A thought on Primers

I have a team of 37 Primers, each of them incredibly valuable and lovely in the eyes of God and the officers. I use the word team because I would like to work with them as equals just that I can share from the extra experience I've had in the longer life that God has so graciously granted me. I think of 37, not as a numerical statistic but each as a face, with a name and their own unique qualities. I've never felt the need to boast about the large number of primers, because the great indicator of excellence is not growth or even learning but God's pleasure. Thus my impetus to pray over them whenever opportunity presents itself.

I thank God that in the past year He has grown them tremendously, whether they know it or not. And through His mercies, I am painfully aware of my own limitations, that my time is severely constraint and that I cannot give them the sort of quality time I would like to each one. I belong to the old school of leadership, much gleaned from the officers of those olden days, where they were distant, feared, admired, worthy of much emulation and turned to only when the fires were insurmountable. Because of that, we turned to friends and I confess that though I am into forward thinking rhetoric, my persona of what officers should be like still stems from those who once trod this officer path in my BB Boy days.

I've learnt much from this little platoon of Primers and the younger officers from our motley band of people. Leaders are arising, many of them far superior to myself and for that I am eminently pleased. Since the day I've stepped back into the 12th, the sense of the ephermal and temporal has been very real. We are more than a CCA, we are fast becoming a way of life - at least thats how so many of us who once came through the doors see it. And because time is short, God's will must be abided to the letter and principle.

This batch of Primers is unique and it has been my prayer that through the remaining months, they will discover the fullness of His love through the ministrations of His Spirit and carry the cross until the vast and nearing end.

moving along

Am back in office. Now that school has started, its quite a dampening experience to be called back for work related matters, and having to don the long sleeves again is a weird experience nonetheless. But one thing I've noticed, I tend to blog whenever the stress levels are high, a somewhat unconscious (until now) manner of balancing high intensity. Extrapolating that further, if i should ever not blog, it might be construed as a lax period in life. The ironies and reverses in life, the analysing and second guesses, ever so implicit and subtle in the constitution of Humankind.

Recently, I've had a BB Boy come up to give me candid feedback about matters that I've overlooked for a long time. Its a good check and what he mentioned gave me good fodder for thought for the weekend. I guess, good candid feedback should always be welcomed.

I think the British reserve has had an effect on me since returning last year, or maybe its just the effects of accelerated aging. Steely firmness and the ability to categorise issues into varying compartments have grown in me the Napoleonic adage of creating drawers in the mind, easy to open and shut at will. Whilst that gives the advantage of moving from issue to issue swiftly, its quite disconcerting when i realise how fast I've overlooked certain matters, and put less weightage to human emotions. Things get done, but people might not be very happy, and I'm not sure if thats the best way to do things after all.

If I slowed down, would it be better for everyone? I wonder what God thinks about all this. Though snuggling up to Him will give me the answer in a jiffy

Written in the stars

It is very odd indeed that I have always enjoyed this song by Elton John for years, but only recently have i bothered to search for the lyrics. It is interesting because I usually take time to search the lyrics of the songs i enjoy singing, but not this one... never knew that was what it meant.

Written in the Stars

I am here to tell you we can never meet again
Simple really, isn't it, a word or two and then
A lifetime of not knowing where or how or why or when
You think of me or speak of me or wonder what befell
The someone you once loved so long ago so well

Never wonder what I'll feel as living shuffles by
You don't have to ask me and I need not reply
Every moment of my life from now until I die
I will think or dream of you and fail to understand
How a perfect love can be confounded out of hand

Is it written in the stars
Are we paying for some crime
Is that all that we are good for
Just a stretch of mortal time

Is this God's experiment
In which we have no say
In which we're given paradise
But only for a day

Nothing can be altered, there is nothing to decide
No escape, no change of heart, no any place to hide
You are all I'll ever want, but this I am denied
Sometimes in my darkest thoughts, I wish I'd never learned
What it is to be in love and have that love returned

Why was i suddenly inspired to search for this song.... well its because of Shakespeare, that while i was reading, this famous line "The fault my dear Brutus, lies not in the stars but in ourselves" struck me as pithy and intense. Not in the stars but in ourselves...