Coming Home.

Oh, how I've missed this space.

All those ideas that flitted about in my mind: words, phrases, eloquent sentences; how they so eagerly awaited to be splayed across these pages as memoirs, never to be erased, and certainly never to be forgotten. Words, words, and more words that circled, filled, and ever so vibrantly coloured my mind; it was so much like flora bursting to life at the first glimpse of the new season of spring. These words danced me to the end of the world and back; they have shown me abundance of beauty and knowledge beyond my comprehension, leaving me no choice but to drink up all that life had to offer me...

And now, these very same words have led me to this end of the road. The journey was almost surreal, and I find myself still unable to completely comprehend the life that I've spent here.

It's been over three years. With that has come what I've known to be some of my highest of highs, and no doubt has seen my most desperate of lows. I could never cease to forget how frustrating it would be to maintain this blog - desperately stringing words and phrases to conjure up something emphatically pedestrian, and then pasting a pathetic sorry by the end of an entry whilst kicking myself for failing to meet my usual standard of creativity. I would almost panic if I'd ever leave myself no time to write an entry - more than two days with no posts certainly would have me nervously scraping at nothing and everything just to satisfy this craving for my words to be posted and to be read.

Consequently, this canvas has certainly not been left plain or untouched. It displays the fullest and most vigorous strokes of the last three years of my life - some of the most intense memoirs which can never be forgotten as they resonate from the block letters on our screens. It is full of contradictions - times of undeniable joy interwoven in moments of utter downheartedness and pain; downcast faces mirrored by ones resonating with momentous hope; hurricanes of confusion and loss, and yet certain peace in a still heart, and a faithful light bringing warmth in the darkest, dampest of hours. It has withstood irrationality, impulse, and intense emotion, and yet, it had not once failed to be my solace.

Yet... The more I think about this, the less I am certain that this canvas which I have for so long toiled over needs anything more. There are very few holes, more or less merely in need of the final touches; bits of refining paint, and that finishing gloss to complete it. And now, when I turn to gaze at this piece, I find myself almost completely satisfied with the result. I'm happy to put down my tools, cease working, and leave this piece to speak for itself.

For once, I'm content with this blog.

Now, I know that I don't need fancy letters or picturesque paragraphs to round this off, but I feel that after so long, nothing else would do this blog justice, heh. It's almost laughable how hard I had tried for this, and how I would somehow always find reason to fail myself from achieving any sort of commitment.

But truly, really, I am happy. I'm happy that I can leave this all behind, and (perhaps finally) grow up. I definitely won't stop writing, and I most certainly won't forget this space, but I feel that it's time for me to leave these last remaining words to ring for themselves.

I hate corny thank-you's, long speeches and emotional dedications. But I can't leave without saying how blessed I am to have you guys (my readers) support me through these three years, and helped made my blog whatever it has become today.

But what can I say? You guys make my life, sort of. :P We all have our ups and downs, but it's all these things: mistakes, regrets, impulses, reactions... all these make us who we are, and if it happened any other way, we wouldn't be who we are today, nor who we are intended to be in the future... you get? Heheh. :)

And I praise God that He gives me a reason to smile when I become blinded by the things that overwhelm me. He's pretty cool like that. (:

Well, that's me, over and out. I hope you all enjoyed the ride with me, and in some way I hope my blog (or even just fragments of it) stays with you as it will with me for the rest of my life. It's been a good one.

Sincerely,

PTL/LOL, Sarah.

The Foolish Heart.

Meeting you is like finding treasure.

I am trapped in the allure of having finally made a fantastic new discovery: one unseen, one unheard of. And amidst this ecstasy my eyes widen, and I am filled to the brim with utter excitement, and it wants so desperately to escape from under my fastened lid.

But I can't let it escape, I dare not let another being even hear of your existence. You are now far too precious to the ignorant world. They wouldn't appreciate you, they wouldn't love you as immensely as I do...

But what can be helped? Because deep inside, I know someone else already knows all of your secrets, all of your treasures. And my feeble attempts to keep you sheltered from the world, as though you were mine and mine alone, are inept. For though I desperately love you and long for you to be my own, you already belong to nature, and another, and I can't tamper with nature. I certainly know that if I dared to chip you from the foundations on which you stand, your brilliant glow would immediately begin to fade, you would sooner die than survive and be called mine...

And now, all that I have done, my entire journey and my efforts in seeking, finding, and discovering the beautiful creature that you are... It is all futile, for my time and efforts have been sacrificed for something beautiful, and yet it is tragic, for I know so well, and so clearly, that I could never have you.

Honestly, I do. I feel a tinge of self hatred, because you truly can only tolerate me. My being to you seems only to trap you, and to suffocate the vivacity that wells up inside of you. It is by far too much to expect you to notice me as a friend, let alone appreciate me for my reckless behaviour. How can you? I'm selfish, and I want you to all to myself. I want to keep you hidden in the corner of my heart, where no one else would dare enter in. But this is only disastrous for you, for you need your freedom, and you need others far more than you need me.

So I can only watch as your enigma is discovered, and even loved, but certainly never appreciated, by the world, and I only hold onto the fact that I could at least share, even for just a little while, in this wondrous treasure that is you...

LOL, Sarah.

I thought this old quote was worth re-quoting, heh.

"...not all the birds and butterflies will stay on your hands forever... some may fly away and come back, some may never come back. But true companionship and trust stay at the warmth of your hands as long you don't close your hands on them..." - NitNav.

The Trees.

I have a huge fascination for people. I'm not quite sure why. It's something about meeting people, the spark in their eye, their little hop in each step that they take, the tiny clicks between their fingers when they point here and there. People are just so interesting.

I love people. I love meeting new people (this is especially interesting, because they are only new to me, but they themselves aren't new at all...) . I love to hear their whole life story, everything they've been through, in hopes (and often to no avail, but that's okay) to empathise with them, to understand where they come from. I want to know what it's like to live their lives, to be human in the way that they see it. I am so intrigued by their reactions; why people believe the things they believe, and how they react in such a unique way to any sequence of events. I want to know their thought process, what they think, why they think it, and how their thoughts play out. And how do those thoughts translate into actions?

It is not only that. I love getting to know the sound of their voice, their nervous laugh. I yearn to anticipate the sound of their footsteps, and to recognise the shape of their back, and their posture every time they walk. I want to see the little features across their face; a dimple, a little flinch, and visualise it in my mind everytime my mind crosses towards them. I want to see how their face lights up when they are met with a gentle surprise, and how their eyebrows furrow at the sight, or even mere sound of something foul to their taste.

I find myself with such a deeply profound interest in every aspect of a person's life, that I don't know what to do. I cannot help but long to know them, to understand them, to recognise every single bit of them, and to isolate them out from the 'crowd'.

--

Whenever I'm on the tram, I like to watch people. Not in the seriously stalkerish way (although the more I think of it, the more I'm convinced I've become a stalker haha), but whenever I pass by a street full of people crossing, I can't help but to glance at each person there, and just wonder about who they are.

Their background. Their experiences. Their knowledge. Their interests. Their hobbies. Their pet-peeves. Their philosophies. Their beliefs. Just... their entire life.

Isn't it amazing to think that each and every single person, young and old, has a whole life that they have lived? How inside the world in which we all live in, there's another totally personal, intimate world that each person can call their own? I don't think you would understand. Not even I do... I just accept that it is beyond my imagination and will never cease to bewilder me whenever I think of it. But it is quite profound, and it is a really humbling experience, just being reminded of how truly small we are in this world, and, although there is one world, somehow there is an endless multitude of worlds within.

--

Sometimes, I feel like I see not the forest, but the trees. It's just that people are just so interesting, and I am constantly astounded by them.

I love people. I am constantly, and perhaps will forever be, intrigued by them.

It's just that sometimes, I wish I were just so too.

LOL, Sarah.

His Cup Overflows.

You never cease to amaze me.

Once again, I have no choice but to come before you... only to be softly, lovingly rebuked... I was always meant to come before you. In all this turmoil, this struggle, and this perseverance of faith, I have forgotten that you had always meant for us to rest. I sooner began to try on my own - try to stand on my own two feet. How wrong I am. How do I proclaim that I am faithful to you, that I remember your promises... and forget to dwell in your spirit?

Yet, you, like an eagle swooping down to catch its younglings, lift me up to a place of rest again, where I need not try, I need not make an effort to be what I think you want me to be. You call me to rest, to be restored, so that in your spirit, I can be guided along the path you have chosen for me.

Because I was never meant to walk this world alone - alone with my faith, standing on my own two feet. I was always meant to walk with your hand resting on my hip, and your arm tightly around my waist, and the other hand holding mine tightly, so that I would never forget just who you are, what you mean to me, and truly, what I mean to you too.

PTL, Sarah.

I type "you" the way that I do because you aren't supposed to be unreachable. Yes, I proclaim that you are God. But you are also our father, our best friend, our lover, and you have made it possible for us to be so intimate with you, to feel you, to hear you, to see you. I don't do this out of lack of respect, but in fact, in gratitude and gratefulness, because you love us too much to be a distant God. You wrap me in your arms of love, and you call me yours.

De-Guise.

I stare and I think, and I think and I stare some more. And yet, it's still all just white space that floods my eyes. There is no slight tremour, no flicker of movement. There is no spectacular spark of beauty, no stroke of vibrance. It is all just plainness, and this time, I fear it is no longer temporary.

My mind has become the body of a manikin, undressed by fancy sentiment, stripped of the trends of eloquence and materialism. I am bare, and I am naked, and now I'm just too afraid and too ashamed to walk on. As it is, I am a mere figure, aren't I? So why can I not feel the tips of your fingers pressing against me as you twist and turn my joints, exercise my limbs and stretch my posture to continue your work? Your work that chisels, chips, and slits deeper into my woody flesh, leaving me fragile, vulnerable, and weak.

... But I quickly forget. I am far too drawn by, and helplessly drowned in, the love pouring from your eyes when my head is tilted your way. The twinkle is right there in your eyes, and I know that what you have in mind for me is far more beautiful than what I could ever dress myself in.

Yet, sometimes, you turn my head away. Sometimes, you don't let me even catch a glimpse of you. I am left, terrified, with only my faith in you to keep me from jumping right out of my skin and deep into another's dresser. I strain to see, but I cannot. My neck is so stiffened for your purposes that all I've left to do is strain to hear that familiar clink, clink, clink! as you chip away at all my rougher edges.

I'm afraid. I'm afraid because sometimes, I can't see you. I can't hear you. I can't feel you. I stare, and there is nothing, and I find that I am left with nothing - nothing but my wavering faith and mere memories of your voice. Your voice that says: I love you, I will never leave you or forsake you, I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

You are the only reason I still stand here, trembling and terrified, completely broken and exposed. Yet I stand unashamed, because I know that only your love can bring me to my knees.

PTL, Sarah.

They'd Say.

They'd say that I was strong, when I couldn't take anything anymore.
They'd say I was positive, when I could see no good in the world anymore.
They'd say that I was happy,when my heart was breaking.

It's not as if I don't have any problems. But it's not as if I'll ever act like I have no problems. I do. I'm just like every other person in the rest of this world. I suffer, I hurt. Sometimes, no one even knows.

But it's not as if I won't say something. It's because every time I feel that I have to say something for an ounce of relief from heartache, there comes a voice. It's a voice that tells me to stop whining and complaining. It forces me to envision so many other broken people, suffering much harsher circumstances and going through more heartbreaking situations than I could even dream about. People who are on the brink of dying, and yet... still rejoice at seeing another day. And truly, truly no one knows what they go through.

It's these people, and they are real, and I'm weaker than that. They're the ones who should be called strong. They're the ones still seeing positivity in the world. They're the ones who are truly happy with nothing.
And I, a spoiled little girl in one of the luckiest countries in the world, should have nothing to complain about. In fact. My life is so wonderfully fortunate. I have all I need, want, and so much more with the God who would have died for me alone, even if no one else would believe.

So I shall, once again, purse my lips, hold my tongue, and refuse to let another tear escape.

LOL, Sarah.

Clothed.

Colossians 3:7-14

⁷You used to walk in these ways, in the life you once lived. ⁸ But now you must also rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. ⁹ Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices ¹⁰ and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator. ¹¹ Here there is no Gentile or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all.

¹² Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. ¹³ Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. ¹⁴ And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

---

I happen to find that life can be like cleaning out a closet. There always comes a time when we have to empty ourselves, lay everything out on the bed, and assess what we keep, and what needs to go. We have grown now, and we need to purge ourselves of childish desires, letting go of the things we do not need, and instead clothe ourselves with the new, be equipped for what is to come.

Where I once laid my childish ways aside, just in a small corner of my closet, I now set it in a pile on my bed. It is a pile I no longer need, for I have grown; clothes of holding on, stubbornness, self-orientation - I let go. A pile that no longer lingers in my closet, taking up space, weighing me down. These must go, for they are too tight, and I suffocate in its cover.

So too, the clothes that must go are the ones that were never mine: clothes I have attempted to put on to become someone else, clothes that don't fit me so well. They must return to their owners, for the clothes which are mine are mine to be worn, not to be left hanging upon the hooks.

And finally, the clothes that are still stained by human's shortcomings: selfishness splattered over compassion, pride seeping in the seams of obedience, and materialistic desires drenching pure, white, love. These clothes will be surrendered, to be laid at His feet, for Him to wash clean, that I may dress myself anew. The stains of sin are washed away by His blood, so that I may be clothed with the robes of a child of God.

And in so doing, I am no longer a sinner, I am a beautiful, loved daughter of God.

---

With the New Year having come around, there are a number of things I must do. There are loose ends to be tied, knots to be loosened, and other strings to be cut off completely. This blog - this string, is one I am not sure how to deal with. Perhaps it will stay a while longer, or perhaps not. But it is a consideration that I need to be aware of, as are many other decisions which I have to make.

Rest assured though, I will offer a valedictory when the time comes to lay this beast to sleep :P

In the mean time, I must immerse myself all the more into my roots in the Motherland (:

Much love,

PtL, Sarah.