I have learned that no matter how bad things are...

I have learned that no matter how bad things are, you can always make things worse. 

If pain is inevitable, then misery is optional. Pain like suffering comes unbidden. 

But they often do not stay for long. Once the bad news is announced, or the bad event comes, they - like messengers - take their leave. 

They bid you farewell. They have done their part. Their work is complete. The rest is up to you. In their departure, what is often left behind is either misery or hope, helplessness or resilience, resignation or resolution. 

I believe a time is given for mourning. A time for reflection. A time for grieve. After that, it's time for recovery. You can either make it better or make it worse. 

You can ruminate until it hurts. You can sleep all day and refuse to move a muscle. You can mope and sulk to attract pity. You can play the victim and soak up the attention. You can make it worse by refusing to make it better. 

Your choice counts. Your response is invaluable. Your resolve matters.

When you have hit rock bottom, it is often said that the only way to go is up. But many are forgetting that rock bottom is a breeding ground for false comforts too. 

Many will seek solace in staying down instead of drawing hope in standing up. 

To many, wallowing in "rock bottom" is a form of negative rejuvenation where hopelessness and helplessness take turn to demoralize the victim down a vicious spiral of restless desolation. 

So, if the mother of invention is necessity, then the mother of overcoming is proactivity. We take control of the messiness in our life and set things right once again. 

It is a tough undertaking no doubt but every step forward is nevertheless a step that deeply empowers. Falling flat or falling forward is still our choice. 

What makes the crucial difference is a choice that is invested to change our life for the better. The changes may be small, seemingly insignificant, but the circumstantial forces rallied around that one act of proactivity contain the power to break down many walls that conspire to cage us in. 

Never underestimate the power of positive chain reaction. 

Viktor Frankl, a survivor of the Nazi occupation, in his bestseller "Man's Search for Meaning" made this observation:- 

"We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in numbers, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms - to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances - to choose one's own way." 

So, yes, times can indeed be bad, no sweat. You are there to make it better. 

Let me end with this reminder. 

There is a crack in everything that God has made. The crack is to allow His light to enter; or else, we would be in a very dark place. 

This light seeks to lead us to the rock that is "higher than I" where we can stand above the trouble waters. It is a place of hope, a place of faith, a place of blessed assurance. 

But the journey to the rock starts with a crack. It starts with our surrender. It starts with letting go and not holding on. It starts when we return to the innocence of a child and not become entrenched in the arrogance of a religious scribe.

As T.S Eliot puts it in "East Coker":-

"In order to arrive at what you do not know

You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.

In order to possess what you do not possess

You must go by the way of dispossession.

In order to arrive at what you are not

You must go through the way in which you are not.

And what you do not know is the only thing you know

And what you own is what you do not own

And where you are is where you are not."

To me, that is faith. Not arrived faith, but journey faith. Not righteousness declaring, but imperfection overcoming. And not riches in appearance, but riches in the eternal hope of His reappearance. Amen. Cheerz.

How do you raise a child in a doomed world?

How do you raise a child in a doomed world? 

Roy Scranton is a professor of English at the University of Notre Dame. 

He bemoaned a world that his daughter is born into. He wrote that "in our selfishness (referring to himself and his partner)" we have "doomed our daughter to live on a dystopian planet, and I could see no way to shield her from the future."

This is a future that climate change has created - a world of vast, irreversible and unsalvagable destruction. 

In fact, Prof Scranton cried twice when his daughter was born. 

"First for joy, when after 27 hours of labour the little feral being we'd made came yowling into the world."

The second time he cried was for sorrow. 

She was born into "a world of extinction and catastrophe, a world in which harmony with nature had long been foreclosed." 

Like he said, a dystopian planet.

The foreclosure seems imminent and unavoidable. 

He wrote: "Barring a miracle, the next 20 years are going to see increasingly chaotic systemic transformation in global biological adaptation and a wild spectrum of human political and economic responses, including scapegoating and war."

For those pinning for a miracle, whether religious ones or a technological breakthrough that would launch us off to colonise another habitable planet like earth, the weary and wary professor said:-

"...geographer and environment scientist...argue that the most effective steps any of us can take to decrease carbon emissions are to eat a plant-based diet, avoid flying, live car-free and have one fewer child - the last having the most significant impact by far."

But here is his sincere groaning for a lost world:- 

"The main problem with this proposal isn't with the ideas of teaching thrift, flying less or going vegetarian, which are all well and good, but rather with the social model such recommendations rely on: the idea that we can save the world through individual consumer choices. We cannot."

He added: "Society is not simply an aggregate of millions or billions of individual choices but a complex, recursive dynamic in which choices are made within institutions and ideologies that change over time as these choices feed back into the structures that frame what we consider possible."

The good professor's lamentation is for a world that has been set on a direction that we have decided quite unwittingly for our children and their children's children. 

It is a world of adaptation with choices that have brought us to wherever that had given us a semblance of safety, security, convenience, glory and pride. 

But it is not a direction that sees the context and the future of what our collective choices have wrought, which is towards a certain doom and gloom. 

Although we had realised this not too late decades ago when we first stumbled upon a suffering earth by carbon build-up, yet none of us, even the best leaders amongst us, seemed to have the political and social will to change course and fight for a future that our children can live in and be proud of. 

Professor Scranton wrote: "In all the most important ways, it's already too late. Our children will not face the choices we face. They won't have the opportunities we now have for action. They'll confront a range of outcomes whose limits were determined by the choices we made."

Lesson...? Bear with me...

Two nights ago, my 7-yr-old daughter did a sweet thing. Before we slept, she offered to tuck me in. 

She said that it has to be perfect, that is, the comforter has to stretch out to the perimeter of our bed. That, to her, was perfect. 

Then, she reminded me sternly that I am to keep it that way when I wake up the next morning. That is, to arrange the comforter in the same way, spreading out to the perimeter of the bed.

The next morning (Sunday morning), I woke up and did not do as I was told the night before. I left the comforter in a mess. It was not neatly spread out. I got a earful last night from her.

Undaunted, she tucked me in again, yes, neatly spreading the comforter to the edges of the bed. And then, she pointed at me and said to not forget what I had promised her. I said okay. 

This morning, I woke up and the first thing I did was to arrange it as she had commanded. The comforter was neat and tidy, spread out with her sleeping in the middle like a princess. 

After my morning routine, buying the papers, I returned home to wake her up and found her all dressed and ready for school. 

But, the comforter was all messed up. It was not perfect as she had taught me to do the night before. 

So, I turned to her and cheekily reprimanded her. In her sleepiness, she looked up at me and gave me a wide smile. 

How is this relevant, mike? 

It is not entirely relevant to a lost world in some future she will be living and making a living in. But then again, that may be her future or it may not be. 

Who has the crystal ball to truly and accurately foretell anyway, right?

However, I see the relevance in my little exchange with my daughter in the present moment - not some distant future. I see it as all we have as her father and she as my child in the time we have here and now. 

While I have my anxieties about a future beyond my control, I also remind myself that I have to make every moment count in the present that I nevertheless have control. 

They are not going to be big moments of celebration, but small, significant ones no less that results in the launching of a simple smile, a tease, a tear and a hope. 

I trust that the building block of our relationship is in what I can do now with her, to deepen the love and joy, to build resilience along the way, and less on worrying about a future, whether predetermined or otherwise. 

Let me end with another encounter. This time is my wife telling me the story. 

Every morning, my wife and I would drive joy, my 7-yr-old, to school. We would put her down in front of the school gate and I would drive off further down, make a u-turn, fetch my wife where I alighted her with joy, and drive for breakfast. Joy would by then walk into school.

When my wife came into the car, she told me that there was this boy who stood at the school gate, refusing to enter the school. 

I asked her why. She said she thought about that too, and so she asked the boy. "Why don't you go into school? What or who are you waiting for?"

He said: "No, no, I cannot enter. I'm waiting for daddy." 

My wife squinted and said: "But he had dropped you off and expect you to walk to school."

"No, no, he's coming back. He will u-turn and I can wave at him. He'll wave back."

And sure enough, a car came around, and the boy waved back enthusiastically. I can imagine his joy. I too can imagine his father smiling back. 

That's my point about relationship, a bond that endears most in the present moment. 

It is build up in the present moment, with every priceless smile, a transforming leap of a heartbeat and a warmth glow in our child's face when we engage with them fully in the present moment. 

Now, I really do not know what the future holds for our children. Humanity has shown that they can be both destructive and resourceful, wanton and yet resilient. My fingers are crossed, with hope and trepidation.

But for the present moment, the greatest gift is still about building up a little life we are responsible for and sharing moments with her or him in a way that they will keep in their tiny hearts for good, that is, a storage of vibrant memories that will define our relationship, fortify our hope and prayers for them. 

Indeed, while the future is uncertain, the present is not because we can make it special, memorable and enduring, and even transforming to allow them to face their own future with hope and overcoming love. Cheerz.

#fordaddyisalwaysrelevant.

Pritam Singh - Don't be a jerk.

What can you learn from the opposition MP in his speech at a graduation ceremony at NUS Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences?

Well, Pritam Singh seemed to have started with a confession. He said that he "wasn't a straight-A student. For years, he struggled to cross each successive hurdle in the education system."

He added: "I fumbled badly at the Primary School Leaving Examination, entering the Normal stream in secondary school, and really bumbled my way into junior college and university."

When he got into the Arts and Social Science faculty, he said he felt like he had "hit the lottery".

The Aljunied GRC MP eventually won the Straits Steamship Prize in 1999, "awarded to the top history and political science undergraduate of each cohort."

I have two lessons here captured in Pritam's words about success and life.

The first is what he said. "But make no mistake about it, when you are through that door (education), all bets are off. I hear this more and more at all workplaces - a degree is only as good as your work, attitude and diligence."

And second, he said this. "And as you climb the ladder of success, be nice to people along the way. Because you may meet the same people on the way down."

If you put the two lessons together, you get what I would call "don't be a life's jerk". Pardon the straight talk. 

You see, you can be rich and be a jerk about it, and you can be poor and yes, end up a jerk too. 

The dictionary defines a jerk as a contemptibly foolish person. 

And rich or poor, or somewhere in the struggling middle, you can be foolish and contemptibly so about it. 

When Elon Musk, co-founder of Tesla, offered to save the boys trapped in a cave with a self-designed, state-of-the-art miniaturised submarine and was told that it was "not practical," he was not happy. He fumed in fact.

He even called one of the cave rescuers a paedophile. Unsurprisingly, it was reported that the value of his company Tesla fell by millions after that remark. 

And recently, when Kim Kardashian's sister, Kylie Jenner, was tipped to soon cross over the billionaire dollar mark when her net worth was estimated by Forbes to be US$800m, the New York Daily tweeted this: 

"19-year-old Kylie Jenner is worth $900 million and on pace to become the youngest self-made billionaire ever. What are you doing with your life?"

The response? 

Well, in an article written by Christine Emba today, she wrote that it was "deadpan", with one that reads: "I am a priest." 

And another reply came from a former refugee turned clinical neuroscientist PhD holder. Still a number of them replied by saying that they "were mothers raising special-needs kids, and millennials just struggling to get by."

Alas, not everything that gives us meaning and character come from having deep pockets and topping Forbes' list. 

In the end, I think the greatest lesson (or aim) in life is not about raking in the dough, or chasing that elusive dream, or beating the competitors to stay at the top, or winning accolades and fame from all quarters of society. 

You can do all that, and yet be a jerk about it, that is, contemptibly foolish. And the world lacks no examples of how such jerks look like. 

Mind you, it cuts both ways and being in poverty does not give you tribal immunity against being a jerk. 

You can be crying, wailing and self-pitying over spilled, stale and stinking milk all your life because you just refuse to clean the shit you have partly contributed to and leave the heated kitchen once and for all to make something decent and noble out of your life. 

Let me end by saying this: I generally avoid a religious person. 

You can be religious in many ways without ascribing to a religion. The common thread (or rusty barbwire) that runs through all religious person is that he or she claims to know everything or has found the answer. 

It is basically an arrived-state-of-mind. The journey of learning has thus ended for such as this. 

For me an atheist can be religious when he boasts to you that he is dead sure there is no god. A preacher can be religious when he claims that only god endorses his thoughts. And a politician can be religious when he refuses to listen to the people (or listens condescendingly or patronisingly), or thinks he knows the answer to all their problems. 

This is different from a person who in my book is spiritual. 

Unlike a religious person, a spiritual person is a pilgrim, learning as he is travelling from one place to another, one phrase of life to another, and one growth to another. 

A spiritual person never arrived (or even implies it) because one lifetime is just too short to know much, not to mention to audaciously claim to know everything there is to know about knowing everything.

And I find an enduring affinity with a spiritual person because when we acknowledge our ignorance in the infinite scheme of things, we come together in the same and common journey of learning, of humility, of character, of fallibility and of correction. 

It is a journey that is mutually enriching because there is no ladder of superiority to boast about. There is also no scale of achievement to split society or class divide to stereotype, stigmatise and discriminate.

It is just a flat and equal cobblestone pathway for the both of us to walk, learn and grow. Cheerz.

Vera and her amazing parents.

You can find meaning anywhere, in any life, if you choose to never give up. That’s the main lesson for me this morning. Read on to know why...

This lesson is bundled up for me in the life of Vera and her amazing parents who never gave up. 

Senior Writer Wong Kim Hoh wrote the story simply entitled “Her daughter’s every birthday is a triumph” and I read it with a clearer, sharper sense of what life ultimately means in the larger scheme of things.

Vera is 10 years old today, but when she was born, it was not a day of celebration, but one of confounding silence.

Vera’s mother, Ms Tham Yin May, recalled: “Giving birth is supposed to be a happy time but we were talking about death. It became the worst time of my life.”

Why death? Because doctors confirmed that baby Vera had an error in cell division on Chromosome 18. In layman's langauge, she had three copies of Chromosome 18 instead of the usual two.

In other words, Vera was born with Trisomy 18 and that additional division made all the difference medically and physically for her. It also changed the fate of her family.

FYI, “a Trisomy 18 error occurs in one out of every 2,500 pregnancies...and only 50 per cent of such babies carried to term will be born alive.” The risk of a stillborn birth is relatively high for such a condition.

Although Vera beat the odds, she was however born with “a lateral cleft palate and defects of the brain, heart, stomach, airway, spine, ears, fingers and feet.”

Doctors also told them the grim road map ahead caring for Vera. They listed 150 complications associated with Vera’s condition and most babies will not live beyond two years old.

Ms Tham recalled that she asked “what is the best case scenario was” and the reply? “They told us to take her home and enjoy our time with her."

Presently, Vera “wears pink-frame glasses and has a shock of black hair. She cannot talk, walk or swallow, and has to be fed through an opening in her stomach. She cannot see, hear or breathe well either. She can only move her left hand, often reaching out for a reassuring touch from her mother.”

Taking care of Vera is an “arduous and perilous” journey for Ms Tham and her husband.

Ms Tham said that they “almost lost her to a debilitating lung infection but she clawed her way back.”

And two years ago, the “developmental progress Vera made - including moving her legs vigorously and babbling - was lost...when she caught a respiratory syncytial infection that compromises the immune system and leads to breathing difficulties.”

Yet, Ms Tham and her husband never gave up.

Notwithstanding the average of “one long period of hospitalisation”, the breathing issues, the physical handicap, the serious developmental issues, the feeding tube, Ms Tham (who has a blog at http://mylittlevera.blogspot.sg) wrote these inspiring thoughts: -

“(Vera) was lots of joy. She would show that she knew we were trying to connect with her. I’ll never stop communicating with her like a normal child even if she doesn’t understand me. I’m her mummy even if she doesn’t know I’m her mummy. Ours is a bond beyond words.”

Lesson? Three.

My first lesson is how love can make the difference. Contrary to the saying that love is blind, when love is put to the test, it is anything but blind.

In fact, love has a vision that sees beyond the here-and-now to the triumphant and purposeful journey of all trials.

Where normal sight sees only defeat, love sees overcoming. Where normal sight sees only darkness, love sees light, a lone penetrating beam. And where normal sight sees only despondency, the death of hope, love sees otherwise. It sees life, the rise of hope.

Before her marriage, Ms Tham had “a great love for music, one which captured her to enter, and win, many singing and songwriting competitions.”

Journalist Wong wrote that “caring for Vera has taken Ms Tham back to music.” She has written a few songs for Vera.

She said: “I believe Vera hung on for a purpose. Hopefully, these songs about her journey will inspire others. I want to be her voice. I want people to know that children like Vera love and deserve love too.”

Ms Tham is giving most of the proceeds from the songs she has written to the Rare Disorder Society of Singapore, where she met other inspiring families with special children.

My second lesson is in the name.

Ms Tham chose the name Vera because “Vera comes from the (Latin) word “verus” which means true.” And she said that Vera has shown her what is true in life.

I too always wonder the exact same thing: “What is true in life?”

When the truth about Vera’s condition sunk in, Ms Tham had to “grapple with the shock”. She said: “I was breaking down and crying a lot. My husband said: “There will be time to cry when she’s gone.””

She said that her husband’s words “jolted her” and thereafter, they decided to “take it one day at a time and get her to the one-year mark.”

Alas, most times, the truth in life is standing before us and we often miss it.

There is in fact a saying that “men occasionally stumble upon the truth, but most of them pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing had happened.”

For me, there is no greater truth in life than to live our present to the fullest and make everyday counts. My wish to myself and others has always been this: “May we all live everyday of our life.”

This morning, I have learned that Vera’s journey was a long and hard one and her parents’ undying love kept every step they took alive with unwavering hope and meaning.

Recently, they celebrated Vera’s 10th birthday, and Ms Tham said: “She has surpassed all expectations. Every year now is a bonus; we cherish every moment with her.”

Now, my friends, that's what is true in life, that is, a life that not only never give up, but one that loves so unconditionally, so courageously and so compellingly.

My last lesson is shepherd-led by the words of Ms Tham, which moved me deeply: -

“I’ve realised life happens in opposites. The worst diagnosis can be the best outcome. In her weakness, Vera has shown so much strength. In her silence, she speaks volumes of her love. She has only one arm that’s active, but she uses it daily to hug us. With each bonus day of her life, she reminds me to live purposefully.”

Personally, I just can't add anything to that without first asking myself, "What is my problem? What is my complaint?" 

In my weakness, what do I look for? Do I see strength rising even more to meet it? In times of silent self-doubt, what preoccupies me? Do I count my blessings or mourn over my inadequacy or lack? And with two working arms, both equally active, do I use them to build up, touch lives, encourage souls, make a difference, or do I use them to tear myself and others down? 

Alas, do I treasure each day of my life as a bonus and allow it to inspire others to live purposefully? What then do I represent to myself and others, my loved ones, my friends? What story have I written to live each day with purpose? 

And if Vera and her parents and all those around her who love ceaselessly are grateful for each day of life given to them, what excuses do I have to not live mine in that same uncompromising and empowering way? 

Thanks Vera, I may not know you, but in your silence, in your fight for life, you have shown me that the greatest blessing in life is not wealth, fame or power, but the privilege to live everyday of my life. Cheerz.