Random thots: Moments of Love.

This is random. This morning she was seated next to me. I was reading and she was playing with her food. I turned around and saw that image. I felt I needed to save it. So I snapped it. It’s largely instinctive, unthinking. 

Giving it a rustic feel, it came out the way it did. Admittedly, it was an amateurish attempt to eternalise that which captured my heart, and paused my world for that window of a second. 

Anyway, that’s my girl joy. She’s only nine. She was in a pyjamas her grandma gave to her. She is preparing for school. 

That image was a moment captured by a father in his daughter’s lifetime. I believe there will be many moments like that, countless even. Moments where your child is seated beside you. Or she is nearby. And you are doing your thing and she hers. Moments you don’t even know existed, but can be felt somehow. 

These moments come and go. We don’t pay attention to them often enough because we too are caught up in moments of our own. Moments that keep us busy, not without a purpose of course.

Anyway, this is not so much a musing about whether we fathers spend enough time with our child. It is not about us, not an self-inquisitorial probe. There will be time for that in my other posts.

It is however about them, about her, about our child. More relevantly, it is about such moments, moments that come and go. 

I captured it because I do not want to forget it. Moments like this are innumerable, and everyone of them chronicles a life growing, learning, playing, enjoying, and even struggling. 

These are moments that connect. They fill a space in my heart. They create a warmth glow that lingers. They join together pieces of life’s puzzle that forms a picture of meaning in my soul. 

They are moments I believe I will take with me when I heave my last breath. For the feelings they evoke are instantly timeless. 

As a father, I try not to miss them. I try not to leave a wide chronological gap between them. In other words, I try to capture them with intentional parenting, hoping to weave an image of continuity, largely seamless. 

Continuity would mean that the images of the moments I capture show how she or he has grown from birth onwards. Each moment links to the next like a story unfolding. 

I don’t desire a disjointed narrative, that is, from birth and then jumped to graduation, and her first job. But I desire a narrative of one from birth, to her first step, to her first word, to her infectious giggles, to her tears and disappointments, and to her smile after her tears and disappointments.

These moments are magical and beautifully intangible because they not only measure their growth, they measure mine too. 

I often forget that when I look into her eyes, I see my image in them. I see me. I see how myself has grown as a father, a husband and a human being. It is a reflection of mutual maturity. An image of interdependent growth. 

So, to complete the story for this morning, I lingered for a while to see her playing with her food in her pyjamas. She then turned to me and smiled. I smiled back. Our forehead touched, and I left a kiss on her cheek. 

These are the moments that words struggle to capture; even a picture doesn’t paint enough. But it speaks volume to a father’s heart, and it also reminds me that my life has a glowing purpose. It is one about nurturing another life, and this is not done with possessions acquired, but by a life dedicated.

President's Scholars - the heart of parenthood.

A family rejoices when the child does well. A nation celebrates when their sons and daughters leave for overseas studies as President's Scholars. 

Today's paper is about academic excellence, all-rounder's achievement, that is, President's Scholars (PS). There can only be a handful for that prestigious title. The best of the best gets the crown.

But that's not what I'm going to write here. What however captured my attention are the words of one of the PS, Lee Tat Wei, who paid the highest tribute to his parents (see photo inset). 

Lee is going to Yale University to read liberal arts. In fact, all five of the PS are taking the less conventional paths (instead of going for law and medicine). 

One of them from SOTA (the first), Cheri Wee Jin Ting, is going to read psychology and philosophy at Oxford. The other is doing Science in France. The latter, Jaspeep Singh Hundal, FYI, did Chinese as a third language at RI and scored A1 for it. 

Let's go back to what Lee said. His words resounded in my heart. 

He said that his parents are his greatest role models. "They weren't very educated but they gave me moral support...My father encouraged me to take up sport, to do what I love." 

Lee's father works as a taxi driver and his mother, a part-time sales assistant. 

Here's the dedication that warmed my heart. Lee said:-

"My parents gave me an environment that money couldn't buy. They never pressured me to get straight As. They taught me to live in the moment." 

Lesson? The words of Lee will form the three lessons for me starting with living in the moment.

1) "They taught me to live in the moment". 

Let's admit it, there's nothing we can do about the past as parents. The past is the past. Whatever mistakes, neglect or regrets we have are done and dusted. 

As parents, we too are learning the ropes just as our children are learning theirs. No one goes into parenthood as an old timer or a seasoned hand. 

It's our maiden voyage for our first kid, and our second kid and third, because no two kids are alike. Each of them comes with his/her own challenges, and stretches us towards growth. 

Living in the moment for me is learning from my past and applying them consciously and intentionally to my present. It is also to remind me to never squander my present time with them with the cares or anxieties for their future.

It is our relationship with them that matters above all. And relationship is not built over the years by looking back ruefully or longing for a future anxiously. 

It is built up moment by moment in the present. If we miss that, those precious building blocks of being present for them, we miss the most empowering gift of parenthood, that is, enduring influence. 

2) "They never pressured me to get straight As". 

Again, let's face it, President Scholars are rare. They don't like manna fall from the sky. Only the best of the best gets the best. Not every child will end up a PS. 

But, that's never the point of parenthood. They are born not to live up to the script of society, but the scribbles of the heart. And the heart's scribbles are the everyday love notes we offer to them when they need it most.

They are not prepared or polished speeches made by orators of public offices. On the contrary, the scribbles from the heart from one moment to another are spoken to elevate the spirit, nudge the soul forward, and strengthen the earthly bond. 

Yes, we can't ensure they turn out to be PS. That's not within our control and is never the endgame of being a father or mother.

But what is within our control, on a day-to-day basis, is to nurture the best relationship we know how with them. It is upon these little (hardly noticeable) milestones of affection and attention that we give them space to grow, and the freedom and courage to be what they want to be. 

And...

3) "My parents gave me an environment that money couldn't buy".

Yesterday, Joy, my 6-yrs-old, came to me crying again. She said she doesn't want to go to school. 

I recall the tender, if not wounded, moment. I was out of words that morning. But I knew whatever I said would make a difference to her little heart.

So, just right there, I remembered that we saw the movie Moana the night before. It was our thousandth time watching it. 

In Moana, there was a phrase she repeated often as she sailed across the ocean to look for the whimsical demigod Maui. 

She said: "I am Moana of Motunui. You will board my boat, sail across the sea and restore the heart to Te Fiti."

There and then, I hugged Joy and whispered these words to her:- 

"Darling, you remember that brave Moana (Joy nodded). She sailed the scary ocean alone. She fought the fire monster Te Ka and won. What did she say to Maui? She said, "I am Joy Jann of Pasir Ris. I will put on my uniform and shoes, and cross the playground to school, and rejoice in my heart always because mommy and daddy love me dearly."

I repeated that again, and Joy broke out into laughter. She then hugged me again and wiped her tears, and like Moana, left for school. 

I then realised that I don't need to buy her toys to cheer her up. At such moment, she needs a human touch, a shared heart, and some words of encouragement to nudge her along. 

These are things money cannot buy. They come from the heart, they are felt from the heart, and they heal from the heart. 

I therefore dedicate this piece to all parents. You are amazing in your own special ways. Your dedication and love are never left unfelt by your kids. 

They are like raindrops in their soul, sunlight in their spirit and the air of life in their heart. Fight on and move forward with them. You make the difference in their little lives. Cheerz.

What to write about?

This morning I woke up and thought to myself, “What am I going to write about?” Seriously, what should be foremost in my heart? For I do not wish to invent anything pretentious. I do not want to write for vanity or self promotion. I desire to write about matters that matter. I want to leave a mark, a lasting impression with my words. I want to write so that I could learn too.

So, I stared at my computer screen and I thought it stared back at me. It was waiting for me to pour out my heart. It was waiting for some revelation to fill the page. The computer screen was all ready to receive my first seed of thought. I too was eager to write about something meaningful, something enduring.

If you have been reading my blog and Facebook, you will note that I write about various subjects. Religion. Politics. Mega-churches. Politicians. Corruption. Issues of the heart. Pain and suffering. Disappointment. Hope. Faith. Life as a whole. And so on.

Everything seems to interest me. Everything fermenting or fomenting on the world stage intrigues me. Everything about hypocrisy, duplicity, deceit and human folly on a grand and personal scale winds me up.

I have been critical about everything, everybody and mostly yours truly. When it comes to my mistakes, my foibles, I seldom held back the self-flagellation. I believe that I am aware of my own weaknesses. I believe that I see more of the faults in me than others. So, no subject about my flaws, life in general, love and relationships are off limits.

But I am stalling here. I am wasting your time having read so far without providing you with any concrete direction. At the very least, I owe it to you my readers to come clean about what I want to write about this morning. I owe it to you to be forthright. And now, I still haven't thought of the subject before it's time for me to pack up to leave for Church in one hour's time. I am admittedly (and quite pathetically) struggling to rein in and come to terms with my thoughts. I am chasing the wind.

Then, right at this moment, some events in the past struck me. It is a recollection of the most ordinary moments in my life. I am writing them as I am recalling them here. They are nothing grand or portentous like some political revolutions brewing somewhere, some corruption exposed, or some religious revelation moving hearts and minds. No siree. These personal recollections are all too mundane at first sight to stir up anything of any significance.

They are in fact recollections about the time I was walking with my 10-year-old daughter to school. I do this ritual every morning. My mind is directed to our most pedestrian conversation together in the early hours of the morning. I recall her trying her darnest to share a joke with me and I am trying my darnest to find the punch-line. It is one humor needle in an all muddled haystack.

Then, the image of her face smiling at me in a nondescript coffee shop pop into my cerebral screen and the same got written into my computer that you are now reading. Too mundane for capturing any attention I guess.

I also thought about my son, 14 years old. I thought about us running together; he is fast. I thought about him when I sent him off and saw him struggling with his school bag as he disappeared into the crowded bus. Nothing earth shaking right?

Quite unconsciously, another recollection comes in unsolicited and my fingers are busy banging away on the keyboard. The image is about a room, my room. And it is all quiet, pin-drop. My view zooms in onto my 5-year-old daughter, sleeping. She is a picture of unshakeable peace. I guess mothers with young kids know exactly what I am talking (or writing) about.

Words cannot fully capture the moment when your baby sleeps. All that restless, and seemingly endless energy just converges into a singularity of phenomenal tranquility. For that frozen moment, you feel one with your child and all your anxiety gets suck back into a distant blurry blot.

Then, right at this moment, the image of my wife emerges. I recall the time I proposed to her. I was on Sentosa bridge, on one knee, and with a modest personalized silver ring, hardly visible when worn, I asked her to marry me. Her answer still echoes in the chambers of my heart. The elation could still be felt.

That is all I could think and write about this morning and I apologize if I have bored you my readers with the most ordinary moments of my past. I wanted to write something profound, purposeful and provocative even. But I am at a loss for subjects that measures up.

All I could muster is some personal recollection about the simple joys of life. I guess when you think about it, when all the dust finally settles, it is home that your heart is eager to return to. In all your busyness, in all the work issues that consume you, it is home that you can never let go. Ultimately, it is home that your heart has never really left.

And if there is anything worth writing about, I guess for me it would be the one subject that starts and ends with where my heart has always been - home. I therefore wish that you my readers will always hold on to that same unshakeable anchor that keeps you afloat amidst the torrents that seek to draw and entice you away. And that anchor is and has always been... your family. Cheerz.