Ink on Ivory

In under two months, a bride will march down the aisle, dressed in a beautiful white dress, her arm tucked under her father's. She saunters down to a waiting groom standing in eager anticipation at receiving the lovely gift God's given.

The countdown's begun; things are falling in place. Late next week, I envision dear Dorcas and I hunched over tables with nibs of pens tirelessly scratching on ivory cards. To write every single name of every friend that God has introduced into our lives will be a long drawn affair because He's given us so many! But the joy is ours to recognise and pen down so many who have been rich sources of blessing to us through school, through childhood, to adolescence, through university, through recreation, through church, through Christian fellowship and in shared ministries.

Just these past two weeks, I've been sending email after email, SMS after SMS to friends requesting for their postal addresses. You could have been one of them because I'd love for you to be at one of the biggest celebrations God's ever mooted for me. From Theresa & Nona in the US, to Ove in Norway, to auntie Molly, Kevin, Joan & 'Inky' in Australia, it's just been awesome hooking up again.

Jasmine, Wee Kiat & Jonathan, thanks in advance for putting aside work and studies to fly over to celebrate with us our special day! Nona, we know you'll be trying hard. Jul & MN, hope you catch a flight out of Shanghai in August!

But while we may not all reunite in August, I pray we shall sometime again, some day, home or away.

And with friends, we don't have to have ink on ivory before we meet. Because with friends, you don't need an excuse.

Poems from (Army) Camp

It's about the halfway mark before I discard my 'green' skin to be in my own as a civilian once more. I'm NOT reptilian. You see I'm back at the air base doing my time as a corporal for 3 weeks. Welcome back to my annual in-camp training stint (still largely referred to as 'reservist'), where ranks rule in this highly regimented environment. Contrary to popular belief, not all NSMen charge up hills and get two skin tones darker because of their time put in under the scorching sun. I do get my fair share of tan and lots of dust in my face, but otherwise, it's pretty decent and in some odd way, you could call it a 'holiday camp' especially if you're highly stressed at the office. While there's plenty of time to idle and steal twenty winks, I deliberately made time to put words to recycled paper the Private manning the Ops Room had passed me at my request. I was on a mission to rekindle my affinity with poetry having been inspired just last Friday evening by Aaron (from Agapella) who'd launched his 2nd collection of poems titled "Five Right Angles". Congrats bro! Hope you can support him with a copy or two. I last wrote decent poetry in Literature class at secondary school, or maybe for my fiance. Regardless, it's not an everyday artistic encounter. Disclaimer: The following 3 poems may turn you off poetry completely, or make you reminisce your time at national service.

GREEN
Primed for life, the vigour of youth
Yet enthusiasm blends with obligation
A path most would not so choose

Green in camouflage, green they arrive
Black hair cropped, boots shiny black
Fatigued in fatigues
The wait for instructions torturous

Twenty-four months, this camp to call home
Green no more at the point of release.

SKEWERED STRIKERS
Pierced as on skewers
Right arm through to left
Shoulder to shoulder mere centimetres
Bound legs like mermaids
Fling stiffly in unison
A goal on the horizon

Faces affixed to polar ends
Glum and dimmed eyed
Like fish exiting freshness
Yet releasing no odour
Albeit flashy side steps at sickening pace
Much less back-breaking flips
Capable of flinging dust to the swirling fan

Tiny persons ruling the table
Carving goals, conceding goals
Striking misses, missing strikers
Glory is not for them
But the people on the handle
Big grown men

WAIT
A lifetime, a split second
Eternity, an instant
Time ticks, time ends

"How long?", some ask
Results, outcomes, benedictions

Burying patience
Enlightenment dawns
The wait is over
No...wait.

A Stadium Full of His Glory

It's been a while since I'd experienced the magnificence of God's glory and His awesome power when His people come together. At one of the last few events staged at the soon-to-be imploded National Stadium, Agapella was given the honour of supporting homegrown singer-believer & worship leader Clement Chow at the recent Global Day of Prayer proceedings. Think black gospel group in gowns with arms raised to heaven who sway when they sing and clap their hands - that was our role. Ok, clarification - we weren't in gowns, we could have swayed more and being a more restrained traditionalist (not necessarily a bad thing for all my more 'liberal' friends reading this), my hands were no where near being raised though my spirit was.

The energy was electrifying, The spotlights from the towers shone down on us, but God's glory outshone all! As we sang, the winds blew strongly in our faces, refreshing faces and souls. The majestic build-up of clouds towering way up yonder far beyond the stadium's oval parametres were awesome. They resembled pillars ushering you into the grandest of courts where the mightiest sits on a throne. To our left, a contingent of pastors, preachers, missionary leaders and fellow brethren sat with beaming faces. We were one with them and those who had gathered for this event to remember ourselves and the world in prayer.