Home Sweet Home

The other day someone asked me what's the most important thing to me. Without hesitation I replied, "My family."

My reasoning is simple. If you lose your job, you can find another one. Same goes for money, possessions, ministry and maybe a bunch of bad hat friends. With the latter, it's better for your health if no replacements are made.

The past weekend had been a trying one. Without going into details, it was a time where I was forced to face the reality of losing someone I love. Someone who is one of the pillars of my life.

I think it was pretty ironic that a few days ago, I was counseling someone who said that she couldn't let go of her partner who is her only pillar in life.

As a counsellor, you are not supposed to dish out advice the way GPs dish out panadols or anti-depressants. So I bit my tongue when I wanted to correct her statement that no human can possibly be our sole pillar in life. They either die or disappoint us with their failings. That's why we cannot make them our sole support mar.

But that pillar conversation came back into full force during last weekend's happenings. And I realised that I cannot and would not let go of my precious loved ones. In them I have found unending love, support and security. How on earth am I supposed to let go of all that?

I suppose eventually I would have to say goodbye to my loved ones through the inevitable jaws of death. But until then, I am determined to enjoy and appreciate them every moment I get. Last weekend I am reminded of that precious lesson. Of how there's nothing more moving and beautiful than seeing a family congregates and do whatever they can to pitch in. Of how the support of someone who cares made everything so much better and bearable. And of how God's grace can pull us through no matter what.

2 Cor 4:16-18 ~ Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

I have been dying to get some practice going on my new toy - the Nikon D50. Yes, I'm a Nikonian now - woo hoo!!

And guess who were my guinea pigs? Unfortunately, my guinea pigs were in their comfortable home clothings and made me swear not to publish those pics. But those pics captured the typical homelife scenes that I love and won't trade for anything else. So, they are rather priceless to me.

The first time mom and dad laid eyes upon my new toy - or rather, the first time I started snapping pics of a typical after-dinner-sitting-at-the-table-to-yak session, their eyes bugged.

"Ooooh, that's a BIG camera. Isn't it heavy for you to lug around?" mom commented in shock.

"Mom, this is one of the smallest in its class. It's cool, trust me," I said.

"How much is it?" that was dad, of course.

I don't know about you, but I dared not divulge the true price of anything that I think my dad would deem expensive. But before I could say anything, he made a good guestimate of the price.

I was gobsmacked. "Dad, how did you know?"

"I've seen it advertised in the papers. I know how much these things costs."

As I moved around the dining room, snapping pics of my family members yakking to each other, I could see mom and dad smiling to themselves.

"She reminds me of me," dad said. "I used to invest a lot on camera equipment and love taking photos of important events." That was true. We have a chockload of photo albums from over the years thanks to him. Precious photos of important moments in our lives.

"Ah, she reminds me of me, too," mom said, not wanting to be outdone. "I absolutely love having my photos taken!" That was true, too. There were many photos of her in her hey days in various forms of poses. Heh heh.

So now you know why I'm both a shutterbug AND a narcissistic poser.

Blame it on my folks.