Fruit that Lasts

I hear there's a bumper-crop harvest of durians these days.  I like durians, though I don't go crazy over them. So you won't find me Q-ing just to get hold of the cheapest deal in town for Musang King, Black Thorn, Red Prawn, D24 or Blue whatever...not that I know the difference anyway; I am quite happy and easily satisfied with the kampung variety.  

The other day I saw a very nice shot of a  handsome, shirtless hunk with fabulous six pack abs selling durian posted on social media. Apparently a couple of young college students had opened up their own durian stall aptly named Muscle Durian. So whoever buys from them can get free gawks at both durians and muscle, like getting free smells from Amos Cookies or Rotiboy.  And then of coz there was this famous cosmetic entrepreneur selling his home-grown durians, some at only RM5 per kilo, to quote him "for fun and charity." Apparently  over 1000 kg of durians were sold per day at his temporary 'pop-up' durian stall. 

I know durian-lovers are happy but I think farmers must be the happiest people when they see whatever seed they plant bloom to harvest. Be it fruit, vegetables, or grain.  I am no farmer, nor do I have much of a green-thumb. But I derive much  satisfaction watching the kangkong, spinach and leafy stuff (which I don't even know the names of ) growing  in my back garden. Though  I despair of the relentless repeated attack of insects, snails, squirrels and whatever else that keep 

destroying the plants.  I scold my cat for always chewing on the papaya shoot that's died and resurrected and is now dying again. Yet somehow there's sufficient yield of greens to feed me and family at least 1 dish once a week.  It's not much, but hey, it's home-grown. 

Every morning in my quiet-time as I sit looking out to my front garden, I am happy to see at least some flowers blooming even as the birds and butterflies visit awhile. They all grow despite my bungling attempts at amateur horticulture. For I confess I am just too lazy to keep up the endless rounds of watering, weeding, pruning, and spraying that's required maintenance work for a "proper" garden.  And I absolutely hate the insects; somehow the long pants and gloves I don are no protection to their bites. 

 Every day I look to the  skies, hoping for rain so I don't have to lug out the watering-cans.  Yet despite all my (non) efforts, my little garden-plots do bloom. The orchid that was part of  my second daughter's wedding gifts is still flowering after more than 3 months, even  though I just left it in a corner. The hibiscus is thriving, shooting up high, though its flowers only last a day. Even the plant that's like at least 15 years old  that has never bloomed is now bearing flowers.       
                                                                                                                                                      

Truly as the bible puts it in 1 Corinthians 3:7 So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.  Obviously it's not just plants God's talking about. I am so blessed to see the fruit of the seeds I planted years ago in people's lives. Not that I actually have anything to do with it growing. The point hit home when the other day a young man called out to me as I was sweating it out in my front garden. He had accepted Christ in my sitting-room couch a long time ago as a teenager growing up. At that time I had my doubts as to whether he really really believed or it was out of force of circumstances then. He drifted out of my life soon after that. I heard he went through a difficult period, struggling with drug-addiction and family issues.

Now more than 20 years later, as we sat in the same sitting-room once again, I saw a totally different person. Then he was a bit on the chubby side. Now he is lean, and very fit-looking. Apparently he was training for a marathon. But it was more than a physical thing; his eyes were glowing. And when he spoke, it was with joy and a quiet confidence.  When he said thank you, aunty, I teared up - the prodigal had come home to his Abba Father in heaven. 

I remembered his mom. Way back then, I had visited her with moon-cakes in hand and shared Christ with her. She had (politely) shown me the door , stating she wasn't interested in my God. I can't remember exactly when, but it was quite some time, much much later,  that I bumped into her by the road-side. She excitedly told me she had become a Christian and was going to church, and would I please pray with her for her family. I have been praying everyday for this family since then. 

As I listened to the son now sharing how God had powerfully worked in his life, through all his ups and downs, in the bleak seasons of his life, I knew his mother would have cried many many tears for him. Speaking from personal experience,  that's what all Christian moms and dads do when we see our children wander off here, there and everywhere. Tears and prayers are the only things we can offer up to our Father God, as we trust in the His faithfulness and power to do what we cannot do - make buried seeds that seem dead grow and fruit. 

The best part was hearing this "new" man talk about serving full-time in his church drug rehab centre. Truly this is the kind of healing and transformation that only God can do in a life that used to be so broken and messed-up. (If we are honest with ourselves, aren't all human beings broken and messed-up in some way or another?? Isn't that the reason why the world is in such bad shape??)..  I felt so so blessed to be able to pray for his onward journey with Christ. He gave me star-fruits from a relative's orchard, apologizing that though they looked over-ripe and not so nice, but  actually they were very sweet. Which as it turned out, were indeed very sweet.

That's so like human lives. The tiny seed of God's love that I was given the opportunity to plant into these 2 hearts took such a long time to bear fruit. It had started out looking so hopeless. I never had the chance to tend/follow them up. I could only pray and pray and pray. And God answered; He is indeed the good (and great) gardener, and the fruit He brings forth is always sweet, no matter how bad it looks. So as it should be, to God be the glory. 

Jesus said, "You didn’t choose me. I chose you. I appointed you to go and produce lasting fruit...." - John 15:16 

Choices & Consequences

 Now I know what's the meaning of the (slang)word "boh"..no, it's not about boh  tea. To know the meaning, you gotta go catch our very own 100% made-in-msia 

movie Polis Evo 3 (PE 3).  I guarantee you will find it a very well-spent 2 hours watch. Especially if like me,  you qualify for  senior citizen discount ticket and can get to sit in the best seats in an almost empty cinema hall on a weekday.

The last Malay movie which I also enjoyed very much was  Ola Bola. But PE 3 is literally a different ball-game altogether. Hats off to our wonderfully talented Msian team who wrote, produced, directed, acted and brought to life this larger than life story of our men in blue. I anticipate and await more of such high-calibre made-in-Msia action films in our national tongue. 

PE 3 gives us a glimpse of the world of good cops, funny cops, bad guys and bad cops.  Well, what do you expect... it is a show about cops! Most of the time, for most of us ordinary mortals anyway,  the only face encounters we have with the police force is not very pleasant. It's usually when the guy in uniform is writing out a summons for us dashing a red light, or we get caught driving with an expired road tax or license. Sometimes it can be the guy/lady  seated behind the desk in a police station, when we have to lodge a report of some unpleasant incident, usually a road accident or worse a fight,  robbery, break-in or other serious crime. We have little or  absolutely zero knowledge of the inner workings or active operations of our police personnel. Our  impressions come from...(what else!)  movies of cops-n-robbers, the good guys versus the bad guys, as glamourised ala James Bond style.

Well, PE 3 is indeed comparable to Bond, minus the fancy gadgets, which makes it all the more realistic and therefore more relatable for me. The action is really top class. I cringed at each blow, each kick, each throw, magnified by appropriate sensurround  music no less .  I bit  my nails as heroes and villains took pot-shots at each other in ambushes. I gasped at the spectacular car chases and crashes. I held my breath, wondering if bombs will explode or whether the expert really knows which wire to cut.  Heck, there's even a cross border smuggling heist for an international flavor.  Top it all with handsome Msian hunks in uniform - what's there not to like! Such a welcome change from the "normal" blond hair, blue-eyed heroes, imported from Hollywood. 

But the real stealer that tugged at my heart was the very human angle of tough guys facing conflict in choosing the "right" thing to do in the face of enormous pressures. Who is to say saving 300 (unknown) lives is more honorable than saving a loved one whose life is held in the hands of a mad man? Is betraying a partner, or a best friend for the sake of country excusable? Does an oath of duty over-ride love? These are by no means easy questions, and choices made, one way or the other, come with far-reaching consequences. Plenty of what-if's to consider, and regrets of what could have been.  

So one can sympathize even with the villain, who was really a good guy caught in a very bad situation. It could happen to anyone, really. How to blame a man for  choosing to save a pregnant wife instead of protecting his country? It reminds me of a question which was posed in a discussion about faith: If a terrorist points a gun at my family member and orders me to renounce Christ or else he shoots my loved one, what would my answer be? Honestly, it's well and easy if he points the gun at my head - I would have no hesitation to answer Go ahead, shoot. I don't fear death for myself, since I know where next I go when I leave this world, thanks to my Savior and Lord Jesus. But if the gun is pointed at any one of my children....would I still be able to answer so easily?  As a fellow Christian admitted, he would give up his faith if it was his wife being threatened with death. His response would be "sorry Lord, You know my heart."

Who is to say we will not fail God? Or country, friend or family for that matter. We think we "get over it" but the truth is some  things we have done or not done in our past, decisions and choices we make in life do come back to haunt us and keep us bound in fear, bitterness and hate. The heroes in PE 3 are tough as nails - they are cops, they have to be. But they are also very human. So the whole sad scenario replays in the protagonist Khai's life as his ex-partner, gone crazy and out for revenge, sets things up to force him to choose between love and duty. Not only he, but those around him, must deal with the horrific consequences of past choices made.  

How many of our men in blue have paid heavy prices to protect this nation, so we ordinary folks can sleep in peace (most days)? Some pay the highest price of being killed in the line of duty, as heroes whose stories pass away from society's memories after awhile. Beyond that, many have to put family relationships on hold to honor the oath of duty. Like Khai who keeps the lady-love of his life (and the entire family) waiting, waiting, waiting for him to pop the question of marriage. It's not from lack of love, but out of fear of the past; that he will not be able to protect her, when the call of duty messes up his personal life; as he knows it's bound to happen sooner or later. PE3 paints a very poignant picture of the struggles of these ordinary people caught up in the roller-coaster drama of life, which they got on when they signed up to be protector of the nation's peace and security. There's really no glamour in it, unless you count well-honed bodies and smart uniforms glamorous. Whether one is in the front-line firing off guns at villains or in the back-room, tediously fiddling with hand-phones and computers to crack codes to track down a murderer on the loose. Or the one who literally sweats to cut the correct wire in a last-minute effort to deactivate ticking bombs. 

Yet how long can we can go on fearing... sickness, lack or loss of this, that or the other, and the finality  of death in our lives on earth? In the end it's still love that wins over fear. After all, there's only 1 Creator, Giver and Protector of all life. So if He deems it's time for me to leave this life on earth, there's nothing that anyone can do to extend it. For those who are already secure in the knowledge that death is but life forevermore when we believe in Jesus who died and rose again, there is no fear anymore.  But if it's not yet time, there's also no power - be it disease or terrorists - that can steal my life out of God's mighty hands. Yes, there will be heartaches, betrayal, disappointment along the way.  Because the truth is God never promised anyone who believes Him a rose-garden. Heck, even roses come with thorns. 

But ultimately, good must win over evil, love must triumph over fear, in the movies and in the real world. It may take a (long) while and involve huge sacrifices, but the bad guy always loses ultimately because... well, that's the way it should be and must be; as God created all things to be good. And the greatest  sacrifice was already paid for by Jesus for all mankind - Love hung on a cross.  

I John 4:18-19 There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear....We love because He first loved us.

LEARNING FROM CATS

The wind outside was playing blow-me-down games with the plants in my garden. But it was hot air that wafted into my living room through the open glass doors.

Our old fat cat Maffin was snoozing in his fave place in his own basket. That's just one of his many indoor fave spots, which range from the sofa, the arm-chair, the dining table, the food-cover, the top of the cupboard and the laundry basket as long as it's filled with clothes (clean or dirty doesn't matter.)  But these days even he is feeling the heat. So after a while he lifts himself out and plops         

  onto  the marble floor, falling asleep again within seconds. I am always amazed how easily and fast cats go into dreamland.

Even Pretzel (the sometimes prodigal) is the same. Pretzel is making more trips back to home base these days. Maybe he's getting tired of the other hooman (whoever it is) who feeds  him outside. Nowadays he will even stay the whole nite sometimes when he waltzes into the house for dinner, and waltzes out come morning. Fickle, that's what he is.
                      
It's a long weekend. The kids are away. My one and only son has gone off outstation with his frens whilst my no 2 is at her in-law's place, spending time with her husband who has just returned from overseas. I now understand what my neighbor across the road means when she says the house is so big and empty. She's a widow with a live-in maid; just 2 of them in a huge double-storey corner-lot house with a big garden. I always tell her she isn't alone really, coz there are angels all around her. Now I tell myself the same thing. 

Well, actually I am not quite all alone, since Maffin is around most of the time. Not that he does much apart from eating, sleeping and sleeping, eating. He meows his commands to me to feed him predictably in the morning, noon and evening. When he wants to go out after dinner, he will plonk himself by my chair. He knows very well he can squeeze out the house-gate but he refuses to. If I ignore him, he scratches the chair. Most times I oblige His Laziness, but I draw the line when he wants to come back in. It's a sort of power-game with us. So I don't bother as he sits outside waiting. After awhile he gets it that I am not going to open the gate for him, and clumsily squeezes himself through anyway. Every now and then when he's in the mood to be petted, he tries to jump onto my lap. Most times I don't indulge his antics, coz he's heavy.  But it's nice to stroke him as he dozes. He would stretch and grunt his meows, though still very much in cat-dreamland.  

Today I join Maffin on the floor. Yes, I know my mother said it's not good to lie on cold hard marble, because can get "fong sup"- the "wind" enters the body and will cause aches and pains. Well, what else is new? Old bones will get achy anyway, with or without the "fong" from the floor tiles. And it's hot, hot, hot these days.  Even for the cats. 

Yet when I observe Maffin, he's pretty cool about the heat. He just ups and moves to a more comfy spot and continues his sleep.  He carries on confident that there's always some place in this house for him to rest, where there's always someone to  feed him food and water, when he needs it. Where he is much loved, even though he doesn't do anything particularly "useful" around the house; on the contrary in fact he gets his fur (worse -fleas) all over the place.

Come to think of it, so many problems can get us all hot and bothered about life.  It takes snoozing cats to remind me actually I can choose not to stress, since I already know the God who created all things can very well take care of all things. And if He hasn't, it doesn't mean He can't. It just means He's got His ways and His time to do His (good and perfect) will.  Whatever happens or doesn't happen in my life, in this whole wide world,  I can rest secure and safe in a love that abides, no matter how "useless" or "dirty" I may be. Even Pretzel (who, to me, is just plain ungrateful) takes for granted and knows our doors are always open to him, whenever he comes back from his gallivanting all over the neighborhood.  Just so is the unmatchable love of a God who willingly opens His arms wide to every returning prodigal son or daughter anytime, every time. 

It tickles me that Maffin isn't bothered by my ignoring him sometimes. He doesn't take offense.  Unlike humans who are so easily offended not only by other humans, but by God, becoz we think He ignores us or we don't like what He does or doesn't do. We even deny His existence. Thank God He is ever patient and long-suffering with humankind. He doesn't give us what we deserve for all our sin and sinning. Repeatedly in the  Bible, we are told "His faithful love (mercy) endures forever."  So great is this love that He has done everything necessary to reconcile, release, redeem and restore us into right relationship with our Maker and with each other, through Christ Jesus. On the cross of Calvary, the work was finished. 

Methinks I should be more like the cats...and sleep easy. Hot or cold, rain or shine; becoz like the old hymn goes, whatever my lot, God has taught me to say it is well with my soul.