the weathered post
December 7th, 2004 by boon
I went for my colleague, KH’s wake last night. I didn’t really like it because his death was particularly disturbing due to his young age. Makes you think, at the very least. Anyway, I’m kind of thankful I didn’t understand what the relatives and dad were saying in Cantonese. I kind of got the gist of it, and the gist is about all I wanted to know.
Just as I expected, everyone gets on with their own lives… as they should, as they know how and none other… bereaving the relatives. And I should, as well. We all stopped, for that point in time, and then maybe made some decisions about our own lives… and then move on.
So I asked myself what makes life worth all of it. I turn around this weird office place. I see the faces of people, and the life exuding from it… even though we’re mostly dull, patterned by the motion of our work. I look at the colors of the walls inside, and the greens on greys outside the window… I imagine what the air smells like out on the streets. And Caedmon’s Call plays through my ears, like… so soul-ish, it makes me calm and spirited at the same time. And I’m thankful for it all. Even last night, the soft warmth of my pillow and my body on the bed was so comforting… I’ve never reflected on that so much before.
What we believe really makes us who we are. Plainly, the hardness of our hearts can be a ‘good’ thing, in that we’re not so swayed around by the countless offerings of our times. But I’m in that long process of learning to be sensitive to God’s heart… and it takes a lot out of me. Because on one hand it’s easy to just ‘act naturally’ and let myself be guided by my comforts… and on the other hand is God trying to show me that my comforts need to be discarded for me to move on. To be more aware of the plight of others, of ownership and fellowship in the kingdom, and of the person of Christ himself and my knowing him.
I’m glad that this life is not something I’m creating for myself. God is the one urging me on. He’s got plans with blessings over the horizon. He’s offered his hand in mine. And I used to dream of things from storybooks and movies to write my life, but now I’ve put that aside. Someone else authors that story now.