A Song

Worth Having (July 30, 2012)

It’s been some weeks
Since I last got to spend some time with you
Don’t want to complain but you know
My love, I’ve been missing you
Everyday it gets harder
Every second just seems longer
Cause you’re so far away
But my heart keeps getting fonder
And I just keep falling deeper
Why does it have to be this way?


Anything worth having, anything worth keeping
Is worth waiting for, worth fighting for
Love, you are worth having
Love, you are worth keeping
You’re worth waiting for, worth fighting for
One day we’ll look back at everything that we’ve been through
But yes I will say
It was worth sticking out through the fight with you

It will be some more weeks
Till you and I can meet up again
Don’t know if my heart can wait
But I guess I’ll hold it in till then
Everyday it gets harder
And every second just seems longer
But we’ll have to find a way
Cause my heart keeps getting fonder
And I just keep falling deeper
Well this will all be worth it one day

Anything worth having, anything worth keeping
Is worth waiting for, worth fighting for
Love, you are worth having
Love, you are worth keeping
You’re worth waiting for, worth fighting for
One day we’ll look back at everything that we’ve been through
And yes I will say
It was worth sticking out through the fight with you

Post a Week: Tears

We cry for lots of reasons: sadness, pain, fear . . . and happiness. When was the last time you shed tears of joy?

November 2012. A script, a notebook, a hot pink phone. Frustrated tears roll down my chin as I struggle to verbalize the turmoil of emotions that have been welling up inside my chest for the past few months or so.

I laugh at myself, feeling like a telesalesperson with that sheet of muddled up writings in front of me. You laugh too, telling me you won’t let me live this down.

Struggles. Questions. Misunderstandings. I let my awkward words stumble and tumble out.

Kind words. Apologies. Resolutions and affirmations. The pain subsides and I find myself smiling through a new set of tears.

Tears of relief. Tears of new found joy.

Let’s make this fun, you say. Yeah.

Let’s. :)

via http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/03/28/daily-prompt-tears/


To Those Who Love

February’s almost at its end, dearly beloved. But even though this “love month’s” nearly over, it doesn’t mean that we should keep our love from running over.

And so I shall share with you the stories that have made up this month’s batch of retellings. I shall share with you the stories which are not only hidden deep within the scriptures, but are also hidden deep within our hearts.

Stories of waiting. Stories of mourning. Stories of forgiving. Stories of just simply delighting.

I went back to some Bible stories to get some gleanings about how people loved back then. I tried rewriting them in first person (and in present tense – phew!) so that we all could empathize with them a bit more.

These are the finished pieces. They’re still rough and need more polishing, but they should do for now. Just click on the images below and read, read, read.

I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. :)

Spread the love!

To Those Who Wait
To Those Who Mourn
To Those Who’ve Fallen
To Those Who Delight

P.S. You might have been expecting a “Thoughts on … ” piece. But just as some shows get postponed to make room for special episodes, I’m postponing the “Thoughts” piece to next week. :D

To Those Who Delight

Eden is delightful. That sentence itself is redundant, since “eden” literally means “delight”. But it is. A delight, I mean. Glorious trees surround my home. Flowers shining like gold, sapphire, ruby — every colour imaginable — they fill its every nook and crany. Fruits — succulent, rich, and mouthwatering — they grow everywhere and I can feast on them all, save for a certain kind of fruit growing from this one certain tree.

There are plenty of things to do here. Just today, my Lord brought the animals to me, asking me to name them one by one. It’s great fun. I love speaking names out. I love declaring. I love discovering a creature’s essence and I love calling it forth to life.

It’s strange though. As I did my assignment, I noticed this very peculiar thing. All those animals — there was always two of each kind.

Why did they come in twos? I’m not complaining. Yet why — why is it that when it comes to me, there seems to be nothing — nobody else the same as me?

I close my eyes. Sleep comes. The last thing I see is the face of my Lord — my Father — smiling down at me.


His eyes are soft. Yet as I look on, I sense a burning fire in them — red hot, a mixture of passion and devotion.

I call Him “Father”. He was the first Being I have ever had the privilege to see. He was the One who led me around the garden so that I could look upon the animals, munch upon the fruits, and drink upon the beauty of the blossoms and the trees.

I love everything about Him. Yet, though I know I am complete, I feel like something — a part of me — is missing. Or perhaps I am the missing part of something?

But what?

Suddenly, I see him. Suddenly, he sees me.


I have just woken up. And what is in my view? Lo and behold, a creature of great beauty!

I have never seen anything like her. She’s — is there even a word fit to describe the being before me?

She looks at me tentatively, yes, even bashfully. What should I say? I must say something to break this silence. I must — Oh, what should I say, what should I say?

I feel for my heart and then I notice an odd sensation just below my chest. I touch my rib cage, feeling for the bones underneath my skin. Something is different.

Suddenly, I know what I must do. Suddenly, I know what I must say to the maiden before me.


“At last!” He says. “This one is bone from my bone and flesh from my flesh! She will be called ‘woman’ because she was taken from ‘man.'”

I blush. I look around for my Father and I see Him smiling at me. “Go on,” His eyes seem to say.

I take a step forward. The man reaches out, gently taking both of my hands.

“My name is Adam. You… you shall be called ‘Eve’. You shall become a mother of all who live.”

Father’s soft yet passionate glance seems to be reflected in the man’s eyes. I gaze into them, feeling a shy smile creeping to my lips.

“Hello, Adam,” I breath. “Yes I am Eve. I shall be called your Eve, a mother to all who live.”

We walk, hand in hand. We turn our heads to our Father. The Father grins.

He is delighting in Adam and me.

Based on Genesis 2


To Those Who’ve Fallen

I have sinned. Greatly. I am not worthy to be called king. I am not worthy to stand in this throne.

I killed somebody. I took away somebody’s life by making him fight in the front lines, by positioning him in the most dangerous location of all.

All because I was enamoured. All because I was enraptured. All because —

All because of her. Bathsheba.

But I love her. I do.


My lord, my king — how we have fallen. I knew I should have taken those cleansing rites somewhere else. I knew I should have said no when your messengers sent for me. I knew I should have told you that you couldn’t have me, that I loved and respected my husband too much to commit such a despicable act.

But what’s done is done. There’s nothing I can do to change what was.

I must face the consequences of my own actions.

I must learn to be responsible for the choices that I — yes I — have made.


She was such an unusual beauty. She was such a marvellous creature. And she was bathing in broad daylight for me to see. I was idle. I was tempted.

I gave in.

And then she sent me the message. “I’m with child,” she said.

I tried to patch things up. I asked her husband to go home. I even encouraged him to sleep with her. But he didn’t. “How could I when my comrades are camping out in tents and in the open fields?” he exclaimed.

I was left with no choice. I had to.


You should know it broke my heart, hearing how my husband died. I somehow knew you were behind it. I did love him. I loved him very much.

You took him away from me. You took my pride away, too, together with my dignity —

You — Oh, how is it that even though you are a murderer and an adulterer, I respect you, honour you and even — gasp —

Love you?


I know what I did displeased God. I know what I did has brought a curse upon my home.

But I know His grace is unending. I know His forgiveness is encompassing. His love —

Oh, I am not worthy to receive His love.

Oh, but create in me a clean heart, O God. Renew a loyal spirit in me.*

I must go to her. I must give her my comfort. I must tell her that she is forgiven, too.


I understand that God washes us of our guilt, that He cleanses us from our sins. I understand that even though we have fallen to the deep end, He has already restored to us the joy of our salvation.*

My king, I am yours. God has forgiven me, so I choose to forgive you.

And I — I forgive myself, too.

Based on 2 Samuel 11&12, mixed in with New Testement concepts on forgiveness
* From Psalm 51, David’s Psalm after he had committed adultery with Bathsheba


Post a Week: Look Forward

It’s Valentine’s Day, so write an ode to someone or something you love. Bonus points for poetry!

Time is transitory
Sadness temporary
All I’m feeling now will soon all pass
Cause I’ve been missing you
But you’ve been missing too
Tell me that this loneliness won’t last

But I’ll
look forward to forever
When time
and distance will barely matter
And you and I will be together forever
And you and I will be together forever

Time is filled with beauty
Joy and love surround me
I know that waiting can still be sweet
So I’ll wait for you
And as you still wait too
I’ll hold on to the promise ‘coz this love’s worth it

Everything will fall in place in its perfect time
Like the way your hand will fit perfectly into mine

via http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/02/14/cupids-arrow/


To Those Who Mourn

I miss him. Terribly so. Naomi is a comfort. I am thankful she’s here, putting on a brave face, consoling me even though she has suffered greater losses herself.

The least I could do is go with her. To her home country, to Bethlehem. Her people shall be my people and her God shall be my God.

She advised me and Orpah to stay in Moab but what will happen to me here? I don’t care if Naomi won’t bear any more children. I don’t care if there’ll be no one else to continue the family line.

I shall die where she dies and I will be buried where she will be buried. I will serve her for the rest of my life. I will take care of her the way that she has taken care of me.


Who is that girl? I have been seeing a lot of her lately. There’s something about her — she looks fragile but there’s a strength inside her that I can’t understand.

Oh. She is the Moabite. The daughter of Naomi who has returned here to Bethlehem after her husband and two sons died. So. She’s the one caring for the poor soul now, is she?

Bless her.


Strange. I’ve been gathering leftovers after the harvesters. The thing is, there really shouldn’t be so much left to gather. But for the past days, I seem to be gathering whole bundles of barley as well.

The owner of this field seems very kind. He gave me some roasted grain the other day. I ate till I was full, yet I still had some left over.

Naomi says he is one of our family redeemers. She gave me some strange advice earlier today. She said that it was time for her to find me a permanent home so that I will be provided for. And so…

We’ll see what will happen tonight. Her idea seems quite illogical, but I trust her with my whole heart.


There’s a woman in my threshing floor. One moment, I’m eating and drinking. Another moment, I’m sleeping. And then the next thing I know — Hold on. Why, if I’m not mistaken, the woman lying at the foot of my bed is —



My lord, Boaz, is really so kind. He did not disgrace me when he found me at his feet, covered with the same piece of cloth covering him. I was so frightened. I really didn’t know how he would react and that scared me so.

But he just looked upon me fondly. And he made sure that I went home while it was still dark so that nobody would think anything bad of me.

He said that he will marry me. He said that he will redeem my family, Naomi’s family, the line of Perez. But there is a closer kin. Still, he said he will settle things with him and will let me know if that man will have me or if he’ll let Boaz take and marry me.

I hope he’ll let Boaz have me. Because…

Because I’m already beginning to fall in love him.


She is a remarkable woman. The way she honours her mother-in-law speaks quite a lot. And to think that she’s a Moabite.

She’ll be mine soon. The elders at the gate have borne witness that the other redeemer has passed her on to me.

The elders have released their blessings.

Now I must go and tell Ruth and Naomi.

Based on the book of Ruth


To Those Who Wait

I can not believe father. How could he? How could he do this to me? He knows how much I love him. He knows how long I have waited for him. Seven years. I have waited seven long years for this man.

How my heart fluttered when my eyes first caught a glimpse of him — he was with his flock at the well in Paddan-Aram; I was with mine. How my heart leapt when he spoke to me, kissed me, and told me that we were of kin. How my heart did somersaults when he told father he would work seven years for him if he would give me — me — to him, as his wife.

I counted the days, remaining optimistic though the months were long and unbearable. My anticipation grew each passing year. I knew that, though I must wait and tarry, the night when he could call me his own and I could call him mine would soon be near.

But who is inside the marriage chamber now?

Leah. Not me. Leah.

How could he?

* * *

Last night was… unbelievable. Finally. After working for her hand for seven long years — ahh, seven years are but seven days to a man in love — she’s mine. She’s finally mine. I can finally spend the rest of my life with her. I can finally have sons and daughters with her. She’s mine. Mine forever.

She stirs. Shall I say good morning first? Or shall I drink of the honey of her lips before anything else?

Wait a minute. She isn’t my Rachel.

The woman beside me — she’s — she’s not Rachel.

* * *

Seven more days. Father said to wait for seven more days. He said it’s not customary for the younger to get married before the older. Well, he could have told everyone that before this all happened.

Well, Jacob shall have me seven days from now.

But he’ll have to work for father for an additional seven years.

I honour the man. The arithmetic is easy.

Seven years past plus the seven years to come. He would be toiling a total of fourteen years — yes, fourteen years — just for me.

* * *

Fourteen years, a hundred forty — what is a year to a man in love? What is a week? What is a day?

Time is simply transitory. I love her. I will fight for her. If I have to work in her father’s fields forever, I would.

Because she’s worth it.

She is.


Based on Genesis 29:1-30