The blogger is currently on a temporary forced hiatus from as many things as possible, namely blogging, drama-watching, and other leisure activities, until the term wraps up in three weeks time. It is officially crunch time; 24 hours in a day feels insufficient to the point where night feels like day, and vice versa. It is the most hated period of every student who has been there, and done that.
The blogger sincerely thanks all the kind souls who continue to drop by this space, and an extra heartfelt thank you for the wonderful, encouraging, and gleeful comments left in the past few days. The sudden traffic has genuinely surprised her, the kinder words and shared stories even more so.
The blogger apologizes that the scarcity of time makes it difficult to reply each one personally, but she maintains that all comments are read, chewed over for hours and sometimes even days, and best of all – they never fail to put a smile on her face.
The blogger will continue to update when she feels like it (because face it, history has shown us that time and again, the moment she announces a hiatus is when you will see a new entry here daily; true story), but there is an urgency to detach from this space temporarily, to better focus upon the frustratingly stubborn Real Life. The latter isn’t necessarily a foe – but it’s not always a friend.
The blogger thanks everyone for their kind understanding, and has a small gift to share.
Thanks to an interesting conversation the blogger had with a friend (who is more Facebook friend than Real Life friend, though the conversation was insightful and worthy of mention), it led the blogger to reflect upon her upbringing – how exactly was hers? What was it that was so different, so much so that she turned out the way she is now? What was it like, truly and sincerely?
Because even as kids, all seven siblings of the blogger, herself included, were so wildly different from each other. Unsurprisingly, their adult selves now can’t be anymore distinct. In trying to come up with an answer, the blogger is reminded of an anecdote written by Third Sis. The blogger returns to this little story often, because it holds the answer, clear as day;
During the fasting month, our 8 year-old nephew lamented over dinner table how difficult it was to complete a full day of fasting. With all the worries in an 8 year old’s world, he had a pitiful frown and hand in cheek. My mum, his Tok Ma, without flinching said one sentence that the rest of us grew up with:
“boy, the words ‘I can’t’ is paralyzing.”
There, right there.
Bless the blogger’s parents; two amazing, strong-willed individuals who taught wisdom not through empty words, but full hearts. Bless them for extending kindness not through deliberate show-and-tell acts, rather through the gentleness of a pat on the back of their sleeping child. Bless them for their discipline and tough love not through mockery, instead via character-building. Bless them for teaching their children about God not through fear, but unwavering love.
Bless them for being love itself, in its many shapes and forms.
Bless them for the numerous times the children broke their hearts, yet they stood their ground and waited patiently for the storm of youth to subside. Bless them for the worries that continue to keep them awake at night, while the children are sound asleep. Bless them for their imperfect and weak human nature, easily muted by their bravest act: stepping up to the roles of a mother, and a father.
Bless them for being parents, already the best and yet they strive to be better.
The blogger is extending her prayers to each of your parents too, as well as each parent out there, who is reading this. On behalf of all children – naughty, nice, difficult, lovable, strong-headed, weak-willed, angry, sad and more – the blogger humbly and gratefully extends a sincere thank you for your amazing spirit, hard work, labor of love, and unmatchable love for your children.
The poem below is dedicated to you wonderful souls;
“Do not ask your children
to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is the way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder
and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting
tomatoes, apples and pears.
Show them how to cry
when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure
in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.”
— William Martin
In remembrance of lessons presented in the poem, all of which were taught to the blogger by her parents – the blogger can’t thank you enough.