Sadness comes knocking - love life.

 

One day, sadness came knocking. 

I told her to leave. I was not ready. I had company. Now is not the time. 

She didn’t say a word. She kept still. But I knew she’s still out there. I knew she has not left. 

For some time, silence became our companion. A closed door separated us, and not a word was spoken. Yet, we can still feel each other. It was as real as the breath I breathe. 

Sadness knocked again. This time, it was softer than before, but more persistent. 

I knew I could not walk away from her. Her presence held me in emotional ransom. I then leaned against the door. And I heard sniffing. I think sadness is crying. She wanted to talk. She needed to share. I think it’s serious.

She broke the silence with a word. Nothing fancy, or deep. She just said, please. 

My heart broke. I knew I could not carry on as before. I rested my head against the door and cried too. I couldn’t hold back the tears. I felt responsible for leaving sadness out there. Her pain was mine. Her hopes were mine too. What was I thinking? What have I done? 

When I opened the door, she fell into my arms. Sadness was cold, limp. Oh god, I have left her out there for far too long. And all she could say to me was a faint thank you. 

By then, as I held her in my arms, I saw her tears have all dried up. She has been crying her last breath out. I pleaded with her to wake up. I told her I was sorry. I told her I was just not ready. Didn’t I tell her I had company?!

At this time, misery came out of the living room. He was pissed. He shouted at me. I couldn’t hear a word he was saying. Strangely, that was the first time in my life I was not listening to him. His words were a blur to me. 

Sadness then whispered. Her words were faint. But I heard every one of them. For the first time, our hearts were one. I heard her as clear as a voice within me talking to me. 

That night, sadness said to me...love life. That was all she said. I knew she could say more. But even in that state, she didn’t think more needs to be said. 

Love life. That was all. Sadness didn’t elaborate. She felt no explanation was needed. It was a message that spoke more to my heart than to my mind. I believe that was her intention. 

Like a seed, it is hardly noticeable. But over time, it grows on you. It changes you. It transforms you at the most subtle crossroad - hardly noticeable too. 

Right at that moment, I felt a sudden dawning. That feeling was familiar before. But, not in the same way it was familiar to me now, as I held on to sadness in my arms, finally allowing her into my heart. 

And right at that moment, I knew what I needed to hold on to and what I needed to let go. 

I then turned to misery and told him to go. I told him this time I mean it. He just has to go. Misery knew I was serious. He knew this time is for real. His complaints suddenly died down. And he left. Not a word. 

I carried sadness to the living room, and rested her besides me. Finally, I could see her clearly. Her face was not one to be fearful of. Alas, I have been running away from an angel. She was as beautiful as the dawning light, and her voice was as clear as still waters.

Yes, love life...I closed my eyes and fell into a deep, restful sleep. It was a first time for a very long time.

 

Sadness is essentially about resignation.

"Sadness in its purest form is essentially about resignation." 

And Pastor Davy Sim had every reason to do just that, that is, resign to life and give up. But he chose otherwise. He fought back, not just the tears, the pain and the disbelief, but he fought for life, memories and hope. 

His son, Benjamin, only 16, will be cremated today at Mandai Crematorium. The younger of his two sons had been the source of joy for him. 

Pastor Davy Sim said that he was the livewire of the family.

On Tuesday, Benjamin was running to improve on his 2.4m timing when he collapsed after the run and passed away in the hospital. 

Pastor Davy Sim lamented: "This week has been overwhelming. Seeing my son in the casket, it is beyond words." 

Yet, despite the grief, he solemnised a couple's wedding on the same day. He did it as a duty to the couple, and to his call as a minister - in good or bad times. 

What compounded the irony is that Pastor Davy Sim was also a grief counsellor. That is, he comforted those who too lost a loved one. 

And these poignant words captured the pain even more:-

"I lecture people about stage 1, stage 2 and now it's my turn...because this is my flesh and blood, I grieve inside. It teaches me about loss. Now, I can tell people I actually lost a son and it's too much to bear. I'd rather die, I'd rather be in that casket. Every parent wants to go first."

Lesson? Just one,

I once told my children deadpan that I was prepared to die for them. 

But words are just words. No doubt it remains a vow of love to them, but living through the numbing reality of grief is a whole different dimension of experience altogether from merely mouthing the words out. 

The raw truth is that as a Christian, death (when it happens to you) is a very difficult reality to accept - to put it mildly. 

More so if you are a servant of God, giving your life selflessly as a pastor for decades, taking care and nurturing the people He has entrusted you with. 

The natural mind would expect this unspoken earthly bargain with omnipotence: "Lord, I serve your people, please protect mine." 

But the Kingdom principle does not work the way the world operates in quid pro quo fashion. Favors in kind may not be returned with favors divine. 

Doing for God, serving Him, is not about keeping scores, tallying the social merits table, and calling in a solid from God when imminent death knocks on the mortal shell of a loved one. 

Indeed, it's far easier to offer oneself to be taken than to allow a loved one, especially one so young and has so much life ahead, to be taken. 

If giving our life to the calling is such that we secretly expect prosperity and blessing and protection from the one who calls us, then it is not a service anymore. It is a transaction. And more relevantly, it will never be transforming. It is mere convenience. 

Personally, the strongest, most effective minister I know are those who readily serve with the scars of experience they quietly and gladly bear because they have been there, that is, the darkest hour just before dawn, and they never gave up - neither their faith, their service nor their love. 

When my father-in-law threw his body without care on his son's casket and wept uncontrollably just before we move on for the cremation last October, I witnessed not a defeated father, but a wounded and stronger man. I also witnessed true, unconditional love expressed at the worst of times. 

That image was not an epitome of hopelessness, but resilience. It was not an image of resignation, but determination, to live life to treasure and nurture the bonds, to fight on with hope, and to never keep scores with God. 

I guess love is not just about overcoming, but becoming, as we move forward and grow through the uncharted journey of grief, pain and sorrow, and then become the person we thought we will never become because we'd never expected that such tragedy could ever happen so close to home. 

Thus, after the overwhelming, comes the overcoming, and then the eventual becoming, in anticipation of one's homecoming, that is, a celebration of that longed-after tearful reunion. 

Alas, God always makes room for us to be human, that is, to live our life despite the sorrow, hurts and grief, and to become human means to have a heart of compelling love, never weary in doing good, while walking on clay feet that readily prepare us for the trials that await. 

So, people like Pastor Davy Sim and my father-in-law (Pastor Clarence) have taught me that a loved one is like a fire over some twigs and branches. The glow he or she produces keeps the heart warm and hopeful whenever we draw near to them.

As fathers, the fear is that one day, the fire of our loved ones may just go off. And it eventually will. 

But for now, we keep it alive by gently blowing on it to increase the glow, to deepen the bond, and to draw strength from each other to face the world. 

Truthfully, we will never know when that day will come, but the one thing that death can never take from us is the hope, warmth and glow our loved ones leave behind in our hearts when their fire burns out. They will be the resilience that grow and move us forward when they are gone. 

As Pastor Davy Sim told one of his members at the wake, "Love your son. Love him unconditionally." That, I will. Thank you. Amen. Cheerz.

Happiness is having the right kind of sadness.

I was in the national library recently browsing through some books about happiness. Honestly, I didn’t expect any advice out of the ordinary. I have read numerous books about happiness myself. I know nurturing relationships figures prominently in all the books. Some of them advocated keeping oneself healthy and others talked about enjoying what you have. Still others talked about having personal goals that play to one’s strength and engaging in the flow of the moment. Most of the advice shun the blind 
accumulation of material possession as the source of happiness. This is most understandable.

But what caught my attention that day in the library was this phrase about happiness which I don't think I have heard often enough. It reads, "Happiness is having the right kind of sadness.”

Mm...now that was to me quite refreshing. The right kind of sadness, I mused. The juxtaposition between "happiness” and “sadness” had a compelling contrarian logic that somehow caused
me to reflect deeply after I had left the library. What is the right kind of sadness? How is happiness about being sad in a right way? Is there a right way of experiencing sadness that translates into happiness?

I guess if my reflection had taken me anywhere, it would be the resilient optimism of confronting raw reality. For me, this is the kind of sadness that doesn’t paralyze or disable. In fact, it does the opposite. It allows me to wear two lenses at the same time, that is, reality and hope. Acknowledging my everyday reality is what keeps me grounded and staying focus on hope is what uplifts our spirit.

Without either, I am just happy for happy’s sake. It is no different from someone who goes bingeing on alcohol just so that he can forget about his pain or worries. Or someone who escapes from home just so that she can avoid the consequences of her choices. Or someone who attends a how-to-be-happy seminar and feels all charged up only to have his bubble bust when he returns to the unsparing reality of his life.

To me, the right kind of sadness confronts life and everything ugly about it. It is fully aware that growth comes with pain, uncertainty is a fact of life, full control is an illusion, mistakes are lesson to be learned (not a death sentence), death affirms life and not devalues it, time is the quiet healer and not a sadist, hope is not lost when loss happens, and the feelings of joy and sorrow are merely the flip 
side of the same coin (more importantly, both are transient).

I guess the right kind of sadness turns pain into purpose, monotony into meaning and disappointment into hope. It is forward looking because it rejects the time-stopping mindset to wallow in my own misery and self-pity. Personally, I believe that if I move forward in life, I will learn that failure and success become merely an innkeeper's rest where I stay for a night or two and then continue on with my journey. 
I should therefore not be paralyzed (by failure) or feel a false sense of security or invulnerability (by success). It is also about not being too obsessive or complacent with my present state of experience that I mistake what is impermanent (be it arising from failure or success) for what is permanent.

I recall a saying that life is like a giant eraser in the sky. I take that to mean that all my accomplishments can be wiped out just as completely as all my pain. Depending on them, and putting all my eggs in one basket, only keeps my
focus narrow and my perspective closed.

So, happiness is having the right attitude towards sadness. And it is an attitude that is not consumed or crippled by a momentary victory or defeat. It is an attitude that accepts sadness as part and parcel but also views it as empowered by hope. Most of all, it is an attitude that does not shun sadness but embrace it as opportunities for growth. It is therefore not a dead-end or sink-hole mentality but a forward-moving one.

Postscript: I always wonder, how truly happy is an unbroken heart? How enduring is the happiness of an unfractured soul? Where is the happiness in a life that is forever shielded, protected and immune from harm, challenges and pain - even if good fortune should favor such a life to be sustained? What is happiness to one who has no need to overcome or to wait patiently for hope or to yearn earnestly for recovery or to travail in the furnace of a trial or to stand alone for what is right even when everyone has bailed or to struggle for the sake of undying love or to remain faithful to the end or to have faith when all is lost or to hang on to the future after surviving a tragic past? What kind of happiness will it be for such a bubbled life? And when will happiness for a life of such insularity break to reveal how tenuous or precarious its foundation has been, or will it ever break? And if it should break, will a heart that has broken into a million pieces be able to find happiness? And if found, how different will this newfound happiness be? How resilient will it be? How enduring then? And if happiness is having the right kind of sadness, then maybe such sadness or brokenness is not to be avoided at all cost. On the contrary, it is to be embraced. And to be embraced when one has finally come to terms with it. Food for thought? Cheerz.

A boy confronts anger, sadness, happiness...

A boy confronts anger...

You are a strange friend. You come at a trigger of an event and blow it out of proportion. You stay for longer than you should when you are no longer welcome. You have no "stop" buttons. You have no brakes. It's like releasing the dogs with rabies on a situation that is no longer threatening. Sometimes a little of you is productive, even reasonable. You help me to set things right. You remind me to 
toe the line. You give me that needful push to make a stand for myself, for my rights. But most times, you pushed me too far. You just don't know when to say, "enough is enough." It is as if your internal thermostat is locked on overheating all the time. You need to cool down, chill out. As a friend, I want to work with you. I want to train you up. I want to tell you not to rush into a situation with an axe to grind. I want you to control yourself. To take the time to see things from the other
 person's perspective. To seek to understand first before insisting that the whole world understands you. To live to embrace patience, forgiveness and trust. I believe you can achieve a good measure of all that because deep inside, you are actually a gentle giant.

A child confronts sadness...

You are a friend nobody wants to play with. You are always the sulking one, morose and negative. Spending a day with you suck a lot out of me. You are not noisy
 but you like to whisper into my ears. You would tell me that tomorrow will not be better. You would tell me that hope is for other people. You would also tell me that the glass is not going to be filled, ever. You have a way with me. You always keep me under the weather for longer than I wish to be. When you cast your spell on me, you make me want to sleep the whole day and never move a muscle. You make me want to resign to my fate and call it a day. Like anger, you are a friend who tends to take things
 all the way. You compress reality for me and constrict me in a dark box of self-wallowing and pity. But truth be told and credit be due, sometimes a little of you can wake me up to the reality of life. You can be a timely counselor who reminds me of my own vulnerability. You set me thinking about life in a way that arouses my compassion and deepens my understanding of it. You remind me to count my blessings and to live life with an ever-glow of thankfulness. So, come to think of it, my friendship
 with you has to be prudent and wise. I will have to call on you only when the circumstances warrant it. I will not neglect you my pouting friend, but neither will I give in too much to you. Considering the good and bad, our relationship actually has a sunny side. And the bright side is that you open my eyes to the shadow of all things; without which, I would not be able to see the source of all light.

A child confronts happiness...


You should rightfully be my best friend. You seem unable to do any wrong. Playing with you always leaves a trail of fond memories behind. You brighten my day and keep my smile up at night. I can't imagine losing you as a friend. You always have a way of making me forget about things that dull my mood. You never pee on my parade but instead waters it with a downpour of fun, celebration and rejoicing. But like the other friends, here's a note of caution about you. Too much of you may 
bloat me up from experiencing life as it is meant to be experienced. You can be overprotective and keep me from savoring the less-buoyant emotions that would help me to mature. You only want me to see the bright side of everything and shield me from the side with scant lighting. But sometimes, the bright side may blind me to what I am supposed to see in order to get a better grip on reality. My concern is that you may keep me in a perpetual state of naivety and unpreparedness 
for the rigors of life. I may only see one side of things and lose precious perspective on the other side. As a friend, I have no doubt you mean well and I should be thankful for your uplifting friendship. But, as the saying goes, too much of anything is, well, too much. So, with this in mind, I will always treasure your companionship in my life and will look to you when I am feeling down.

I guess each of you, that is, anger, sadness and happiness, has a
 part to play in my life. Some ought to play a larger role and some smaller. It all boils down to a matter of degree. I will therefore take you guys with me and allow each of you to move me forward with happiness as the wheels of my carriage and sadness and anger the horses kept within the reins in my hands. Cheerz.