fade

all these faces, these sights and sounds. purely temporary.

even the memories. even the emotions. 

infatuation, love, attraction, lust; whatever you want to call it.

temporary.

precious

"What can you see outside?"

"I see trees, the sky, and some clouds. Some birds on tree branches."

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Right?"

"That's right."

"But if you knew you might not be able to see it again tomorrow, everything would suddenly become special and precious, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose so."

"Have you ever thought about that?"

"I have."

A surprised look comes over her. "When?"

"When I'm in love," I tell her.

She smiles faintly, and it continues to hover around her lips.

"Are you in love?" she asks.

"Yes."

"And her face and whole being are precious to you, each time you see her?"

"That's right. And I might lose those."

— Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

desperation

my heart breaks for Malaysia.

in the midst of all this madness and chaos and pain and heartache, often times i find myself feeling as though this country is beyond repair. hopeless.

yet he kindly reminds me, to whom, or what, do I set my hope on? for this, he brings me back to Psalms 42.

and even with some — i'd like to think a few — choosing to instigate racism and tension, i am reminded of Ephesians 6:12. that he is able to soften all hearts, and that our war takes place in the spiritual realm. the battle is first won through prayer.

God, your word says that your eyes search the earth to and fro to strengthen the hearts of those who are fully committed to you. and so Lord, here we are, the remnant. a people whose hearts are fully committed to you. a people desperate for your kingdom come, and your will be done.

Father, we set our hearts and eyes on you.

"Our God, will you not judge them? For we have no power to face this vast army that is attacking us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.”

— 2 Chronicles 20:12

conflict

selfish me wants you for my own.

but selfless me insists you deserve better.

longing

it's raining. 

the air carries a nice soothing coolness. refreshing even. the raindrops seem to timidly sprinkle on the rooftop, its music complementing that of the ceiling fan. i'm all curled up in bed, wrapped warm in my blanket. the rain is starting to get heavier, and the air cooler.

and in this moment, i wish you were here with me.

maybe this isn't my calling.