Singapore celebrates her 45th birthday today. Or rather, yesterday, seeing as it's past 12 midnight.
It was a momentous celebration - At least, I thought it should be, since the government always comes up with new things, new tricks, new gimmicks, new songs to entertain Singapore as well as to give her some nice gifts from the people she has nurtured one way or another. One very important thing kept nipping at my mind. The one thing that almost every single Singaporean and foreigner in Singapore would agree was a definite saving grace of our country.
Security.
Yes, there are crimes. Yes, it seems like there are a lot more than it used to be. More reports, greater focus on rising teenage crime rates, that sort of thing.
But one must not forget that Singapore is a small country, and the magnitude of one report, however small, can rival that of several dozen in a bigger country like the U.S.
Face it - Despite all our whining and complaining and bitching and scowling and critcising, we all know that it's because we have a much, much greater amount of safety in our country than other nations that we can actually find the time and energy to do all these, instead of implementing heavy security measures around our houses and banding people together to form vigilante corps to safeguard the neighbourhood.
Likewise, I feel that there's an even greater need for vigilance on my side.
There's been....peace. At least, a relatively reasonable amount of peace in my life for a while. It almost feels as though the trials have stopped, or I have somehow overcome them without even realising it.
But I know, that is not so.
There's a famous saying here that my reservist CO has always mentioned at the start of his address to the battalion: "In times of peace, prepare for war." While there are certainly no soldiers raging around our borders, raiding and invading our HDB flats and making off with our discounted goods, the 'war' is simply a metaphor of a struggle between me and myself as well as me and other things.
So this peace I'm enjoying...It isn't permanent. And I'll be a fool to even consider taking it easy, because a new school semester is beginning - My second last.
--------------------------------
Many students often say a new school term fills them with trepidation - That is, something of a mixture of fear and exhilaration. Being a 3rd year, that feeling should have been long absent by now, but even before this it felt as though there was something I needed to fear.
That's right...my results. I wasn't the most hardworking student, nor the brainiest. Neither did I (and I probably never will) like sitting at a library table for six hours straight, doing nothing but studying, going to the washroom and chugging truckloads of coffee.
I needed something good. I needed to be a good finisher, because throughout my university life, the boredom was literally killing me. Sometimes the familiar faces you see can't even erase the seemingly permanent ink of loneliness drawn across the canvas of your life.
Failure to make friends. Reluctance to get involved in clubs. The inability to hold conversation or attention. Unable to get good grades. That contributed to a barren university life which should have been filled with fun, laughter, excitement and great memories.
Not that I don't have any, but I could probably count them on one hand.
Which is why all the more I needed to treasure the last few semesters I have in in campus. The last few laughs I will have with many people, the last few projects I'll be doing, the last few tears we might shed with each other....That kind of thing.
In a full circle, this simply means that I can't afford to slack off too much now. There's too much at stake - my studies, and my personal battles.
-----------------------------------
Again, feeling that odd feeling. I hesitate to christen it with a name or stamp it with a definition, because I fear that doing so would throw my emotions into turmoil. The boundaries between this emotion and that would become blurry, and that itself is a dangerous thing.
There are a few problems, of course. The seeming hopelessness of the situation, the season that seemed inappropriate for the examination of such emotions as well as the desire to wait for the Lord's instruction about this. After all, He is probably responsible for allowing such things to come, and they are not exactly malicious - if perhaps misleading - little faeries that sprinkle you with a little magic dust then force you to do whatever they want with you.
The good thing is, this supposed 'hopelessness' isn't so hopeless to me at this point in time.
It felt really weird, but somewhat good at the same time, that I could look at this with a calmer attitude than before. Gone was the angst and exceedingly emotional behavior, hopefully for good. There was actually significant improvement, after all, as compared to when the seed was first sown. There's perhaps a bud here, a tiny flower there. It takes long, but when I look to the Lord about this, it is then I shall not wait in vain.
Secondly, the suppression of these emotions are having an opposite effect. There more I force it down, the more they surface. Thing is, when they do surface, I don't feel the insatiable urge to allow my imagination to roam wild and freely. There was definitely a greater degree of control. Instead, it feels like I could dream about these things, yet not be terribly affected by them....As long as I have hope in my heart.
And lastly, the Lord's instruction. The Lord's vision. The Lord's promise. All are things that I've been waiting and praying for. But more than that, in this time of peace, I require a fierce vigilance of the domain of my own heart and soul to remind me that He is the one I'm looking to, not his blessings.
And even as I'm troubled by issues faced by friends as well as myself, my God is with me.
Remember the story of Footprints on the Sand? Well, perhaps this is the time I'm still walking on the beach with Him, but there will come a time where there will only be one set of footprints.
The footprints of the King who carried and will continue to carry me.
No comments:
Post a Comment