I write to expose my internal universe, to capture life and its absurdities, and to testify to the reality of God's unfailing love through difficult seasons of our life.
Blow one’s top Go berserk Let off steam Mad as a wet hen A bull in rampage These are the idoms in my writer’s tickler that fall under my scribbles on anger. Alongside are words evocative of the same meaning – rage, indignation, wrath, ire, fury. For the past weeks, I have been brooding over this negative emotion that has caused many an earthling to make brash decisions and actions that have damaging consequences. It has also caused needless grief and heartache. I have encountered people who often display this emotion – at school, at work, at home, in the grocery store, in the parking lot, in the restaurant—practically anywhere. I have also observed that its display is not confined to a particular class or age group. When piqued, kids fight back. When scolded, teens lash acerbic words. When bored or ignored, wives nag. Fathers spank. Bosses shout. Employees backbite. Soldiers shoot. Still, others kill. Where did this ticking time bomb of emotion originate? Why do we experie...
“You are a great teacher, Mommy.” That’s my five-year-old praising me matter-of-factly after I showed him how to brush his teeth properly. I was caught off-guard with his reaction to my three-minute demonstration. It was exhilarating-- almost like winning the jackpot of the one-hundred-million Lotto draw. Whew, I did nothing much to earn that commendation, but as we are often told, kids tell no tales-- especially if such kids happen to be “jailed” in a 67-square meter condo listening to and watching Hillsong kids’ live worship concert on DVD day in and day out. But such innocent quip has started to bug me to no end. It has become a cuckoo in my nest—it made me pause and think hard enough on what being a teacher is all about. Eversince I took to heart my role as a homeschooling Mom, I made every imaginable effort to be the best home teacher I can be. I read books on homeschooling lent to me by a friend in church who also homeschools her kids. I surfed the net, downloaded volumino...
I was surfing the net, looking for a much-admired acquaintance back in highschool when I came across a blog about her, apparently made by her brother. T'was titled, "Remembering My Sister." My heart skipped. Oh, wait, this was some sort of a eulogy. I could see a photo of a long-haired lady smiling faintly. I zoomed it out. Surely, it couldn't be her? The lady in photo, sans any make-up, is a beauty. Seated infront of a keyboard, she sports a sweet, albeit shy smile. Dark-haired and fair-skinned, she is a picture of life. Those eyes... they seem to penetrate as I look at her. Though there are faint circles underneath those eyes, they do not in any way mar her loveliness. Thoughts swirled in my mind. The gal I knew was a beauty. And fair-skinned. And had long flowing mane like hers. I scrolled the blog and there before me was a pre-teen photo of the same gal with the exact facial features of the teener I knew then. The year was 1988. It was the thir...
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