Bouncing back

What a great trip home that was!

Seeing Gabe leave the nest to set up his own home was a lovely memory (and sad). As was seeing a proper convocation ceremony (for Matt) this time, without the strange social distancing we had two years ago at Gabe's convocation. That seems so long ago, and somehow unreal. We had to sit in chairs that were spaced apart, like some kind of detention class where you can't do anything or talk to each other. Did we really go through that?

I have posted on social media some of the things I felt at the wedding and the convocation but didn't really get a chance to say all that I wanted. Here are those thoughts are meant just for you guys. I loved that all of you pitched in to help out for the wedding - and it felt like I missed out on something even though I was sort of updated by mummy on most of the prep. The one thing I am glad I did was to start categorizing our family photos way ahead of time, and so it was relatively easy when you boys wanted some photos for the dinner segment. That was a great part of dinner by the way - it was quite fun and kudos to whoever came up with it.

Seeing you all work together for one of best days of our family life was truly a blessing. And hearing Gabe acknowledge Matt and Ethan in his speech and having my friend commenting on that brought me great joy. It was one of the proudest moments of my life. You have a bond with each other that I only came to have a taste of much later in life with my own brothers. As you begin your own families and start having your separate lives, I pray you will never lose this bond. 

I have been to many weddings and felt, as another friend of mine also described so succinctly, that Gabe's speech was sweet and heartfelt. I know mummy was extremely touched when he said he learnt to love unconditionally from us. Above all, I was just struck by the sheer joy in Gabe's face. I don't think I have ever seen him happier.

It was also incredibly touching to see Gabe's friends really showing their love, and it was gratifying that they see the good in him that we do. I can't describe it exactly but I could sense it from the way they interacted with Gabe. I guess Gabe must have shown them a lot of love for them to reciprocate. 

I am also extremely proud of how Matt and Ethan were wonderful hosts and able to make our friends and relatives feel comfortable. You guys never shied away from the task and seeing you as confident young men taking things head on, almost makes me feel like my job is done. Or rather, that Mummy has raised you well - I can't take any credit.

Oh and it's funny how at least two persons thought that I had chosen the music for the wedding dinner. I guess I educated you well in your music choices heh... I was busy throughout the night talking to friends and family and didn't hear much of the music. Send me the playlist.

And Matt graduating means my job is done... because Ah Kong is taking care of Ethan's fees hahaha... But we're extremely proud of you Matt, and again like at Gabe's and Charrisa's wedding, watching your friends interact with you at the commencement shows us how loved you are.  I pray you have a wonderful career and may God bless you and make you (just like your brothers) a wonderful testimony for Him.

Suddenly I am acutely aware that time is passing quickly - but only when we are having a good time together. Seeing everyone again, having great meals together, whether it is at a fancy restaurant or in a hawker centre, or eating takeout at home. Just being able to talk when we want to, about anything was very comforting. It's not the same when we do calls where you feel you need to keep up a conversation for the call to continue you know? Not sure if you get what I mean.

The three weeks seemed to fly by. Coming back to London alone, with the exhaustion finally catching up with me, was not fun. As was having to face the reality that there was more than 2 years to go before I am coming home. Thinking about it seems to freeze the time passing. It was a little depressing.

I was also having quite bad jet lag this time and it took me almost a week to get it out of my system. I was tired all the time.

But no matter how tired I was, I needed to get back into shape. The 3 weeks of extreme eating back home, and hardly any exercise, had taken its toll. I was shocked at how quickly I had lost my fitness. Running was difficult but I was determined to kick start my exercise regime again and decided I would try to run every day, no matter how short the distance. 

Well that lasted for a week. At least I made it that far. I just wanted to prove I had the discipline to do it if I wanted to. But it was not easy I will admit. I think I was carrying an extra 10 pounds at least. It being summer helped. Not sure I would have been so motivated in the winter. I should make a note of that. After a week, I decided to go back to my tried and tested cross-training. It's easier on the legs. Instead of swimming, cycling and running, now my cross-training involves running, cycling and...golf. There are pools that I can go to but it's too much of a hassle. For now. I might give it a go sometime.

Happy to report that I am almost back to normal. Running alternate days, cycling alternate days, doing workouts at home - oh the office is going to open a gym at the vacant premises we own at No. 2 Wilton Crescent. It used to be the High Commissioner's residence but then it was moved to a house in West London. Once the gym opens I will be there. They are putting in a shower too which is great.

In the meantime, August is a typically slow month as most of the Europeans go on their summer holidays. And the Brits too. Well they wanted out of Europe hahaha... if you didn't get it, I will explain it.

This has given me some time to think about the future. Two years and a bit to go. I don't want to stop working and my current coaching assignments have really given me a new lease of life. I really enjoy it and I have found great joy in helping others finding clarity in their journey. I wish I had such guidance in my own career in those early years. I think I managed to get there in the end though trial and error, through getting out of my comfort zone, through toughing it out in bad times, but mostly getting clarity and finding peace with the way things are.

Well if you boys ever need a coach, I know someone who works cheap...

I find that coaching is one of those things where I get satisfaction from, and also get feedback on. I feel like I make a difference. And there are not many parts of my life where I feel that. Definitely not my current job. Doesn't mean I don't try. I will always try to do good work - but the motivation lacks that extra oomph you know? Remember that if you ever supervise people, tell them what they are contributing to, not just how they are doing. We all need to feel we are working for something bigger than ourselves. Whether it's our job, or whether it's family.

And that's a nice segue way to finish on. I have always tried to do what's best for you. Didn't always work out and sometimes you might feel I didn't do much. Sometimes I didn't and I am sorry I let you down. Sometimes I didn't because I think not intervening might be better, especially for you. Trying for yourself and failing, and hopefully learning the right lessons is sometimes for the better. Anyway, we have faith in our Lord, and sometimes He makes things happen or lets us do things in a certain way so that we come to trust in Him more.

Love you all.

Paris memories

Paris is supposed to evoke certain feelings, especially if you’ve had nice memories of it, or associate it with romance a la Bogart and Bergman in Casablanca where they’ll “always have Paris“. Wonderful romantic movie that you should watch with someone you love. 

I’m fortunate enough to have visited it a number of times, over different durations, at different times of the year, and come back with quite different impressions every time. On this trip, it’s probably the first time I’ve experienced like quite a full spectrum of the senses - from the sublime to the grimy.

The recent riots (thank goodness I was not there) are a disturbing reminder that all is not well there but it is still a wonderful place to visit for the most part.

Outside the Gare du Nord with a flying pig?:)

I arrive around two in the afternoon, walking to the hotel from the  train station at Gare du Nord. It didn’t take long as I deliberately chose a hotel near the station - I had to catch another train to Rotterdam a couple of days later. The train is my favourite way of getting to Paris, though it is often not the cheapest. But you avoid the hassle of air travel - no need to get to the airport early, the quicker security checks (there are checks on the Eurostar but less stringent) and you are right in the heart of the city on arrival.

Hotel L'Aqueduct. Modest hotel that, as the old joke goes, has much to be modest about.

It is in a quiet section of the city and the streets are not that clean, the sidewalks have fallen into a state of some disrepair and there are potholes in many places. The hotel is tiny as I showed in the video I shared. And for more than €300 a night! (Though I think it's just the peak summer price) Still it is clean, though the walls are thin and I’m very near the elevators which makes it noisy.

After checking in, I went back to the reception and asked for recommendations for lunch. The hotel reception recommended a nearby pizzeria but I needed something more substantial and appetizing. And why eat pizza in France?  Maybe she thought I was American:) I walked around, looked at a couple of places (sushi, kebab - these seem to be universally available in Europe) and finally decided on a little bistro place as it seemed to have quite a few locals dining there which is always a good sign. The owner was sitting outside doing some admin stuff and did not really look up to ask me to patronise the joint. Which is a good sign in some ways I suppose. It meant that it was unlikely to be a tourist trap.

 This was a huge portion of veal. I hardly touched the pasta.

The next day was a free day and I spent the entire day just rambling around. Lunch was at a poke bowl chain place and it was really good. I've never had one before I think but it is very similar to a don isn't it? Anyway this was quite a good combination of salmon, mango etc. which was very refreshing on a hot day. Again there were a number of locals and it's good that people seem to like eating healthy. The staff were I think South American. You can see similar trends in London where service staff are less and less likely to be locals. Brexit was I think partly a reaction to this. Primal feelings about race and ethnicity will always come to the fore when times are not good. The focus almost always shifts to someone who is "not one of us". Though ironically, Brexit did not result in locals taking over such jobs, at least not in a big way and this is where many big cities have the same issue. As affluence grows, expectations rise and locals don't want such jobs - there is a tipping point after which such jobs are associated with low wage foreigners, even if the economy tanks and jobs become scarce. People would rather complain than lower themselves to take on such work.

Some of the more interesting sights from the day's exploration. I walked about 20 km in all! Started off at 10 plus and got back to the hotel around 9pm? 

The interior of Galeries Lafayette which I love

It was difficult to resist grabbing one of these pastries! This was at the food hall of Galeries Lafayette

It was hot and I saw many people queuing for this inside Galeries Lafayette and I just had to try one for myself! It was pretty good, especially with all the pistachios. Then Mummy reminded me about Berthillon, the famous ice cream place in Paris and convinced me that if I walked there, I could afford to have another ice cream with all the calories burnt! Debated it for a while and since it was still early, I decided to do it. Used Citymapper to navigate and as I neared the destination which necessitated crossing the Seinne, I saw this just after the bridge!  Cafe Berthillon. There were people queuing and though the directions indicated that the ice cream place was actually still some distance away, I thought maybe this is another branch or small outlet - they were selling it at a kiosk just outside the cafe.

This is a yuzu sherbet and it was perfect for a nice summer day.

But there was a nagging thought in my head that maybe this wasn't the correct place. So I continued following the Citymapper app directions and it led me to the correct place!

Important to pay attention to details. The ice cream place is just Berthillon, not Cafe Berthillon! The staff at Berthillon confirmed the two places are not connected. But you have to give props to the cafe. They used the same font as well on their signboard. And their location was quite strategic and it just makes sense to 'catch' people who cross the river. And of course, pay attention to Citymapper! I ordered two scoops - I had worked for it!  Chocolate and bitter cocoa. Heavenly. Might just be one of the best ice cream I have had.

That day also happened to be the summer solstice and there was a music festival going on. Performances were taking place all over the city and I came across some of them.

This was my absolute favourite performance. Just such a warm and lovely voice that carried in the still evening air - it was a little muggy but I had my yuzu sherbet while watching it. And the tune is just a beguiling seductive little ditty and it will be one of my favourite memories of Paris.

Bucket list

The original title of this post, which was started some time ago and then dropped, was "Palliative care". Mummy recommended that I watch a Prayer and Praise Service sermon by Adriel Low(?) because she thought I’d like him. I understood why when he started with an analogy about football fans and their viewing habits. He also made a reference to Linkin Park, in particular their song In The End and how it had a negative view of life that influenced some who were mentally disturbed. 

His topic was about focusing on the things that give our lives meaning and purpose and he  made a reference to palliative care and how people have regrets.

It struck me, first  as an uncharitable thought, that palliative care can last very long. Like the 20 odd years your grandfather’ lived’ with us. He essentially decided that his life was over when he lost his home and status. We tried our best to give him some meaning and purpose, but he could not really overcome his negativity.

But then I realised that our lives are all inexorably moving towards meeting our maker from the day we come into this world. We are therefore in a sense, all in palliative care. And this is the essence of Jesus’ commandment to love everyone. Because that’s how we are helping others understand the end that is in store. 

That said, the main uncertainty in life is we don’t know when our demise will happen. So each encounter with someone is an opportunity for us to convey our love. (This was the point where I probably got distracted by another post, which was about going back to church and how that affected me in that I started seeing opportunities to help strangers. I forgot to add another story, and that was at Sainsbury where a lady was struggling to reach a bottle of water at the back of the top shelf. So I got it for her. And not long after, another lady tried to get the last bottle and I got that for her as well. Strange how these opportunities came in quick succession)

But I digress. As usual.

Bucket list. I watched a Jerry Seinfeld stand-up bit about how he was so old he was no longer interested in new experiences, and the joke was that he changed the first letter of 'bucket' to 'f'. I shared it with Devin and he enjoyed it. I said I felt pretty much the same way about such a list - I said the older I get, the less I feel the need to see or do something. Other than making my tee time. The problem with a bucket list is you don't know how much time you have left. Whereas there's a pretty good chance I will make the next tee time. Heh.

I was also reminded of this recent reflection about my mortality when I recalled a conversation with one of my contacts here who is expecting a third child. He said he started a journal because he wanted his kids to know who he was, in case he 'checked out early'. And that is why I started this blog - actually there are a few, all on different topics (if you've been paying attention). The links are all there.

We don't talk much but I've tried to talk to you guys on topics I know you care about. Unless it's about chess, computer games, chess on the computer, yakuza on the pc... And occasionally I write on stuff that I think are important for you to know, for you to know about me, about mummy, about mummy and me, about us. Maybe other families connect better, but this is the way I know best, and it is also something that will be here, long after I'm gone. Unless AI takes over the world and wipes this out. Or you lose the links.

What drives me is the loss of what little connection I had with my own parents. They are no longer around. The most meaningful connection I had with my father was when he was lying in hospital, just a week or so away from his eventual passing. I like to think I have done a bit better as a father. And that's really what all parents want. For their kids to do better than them. I hope my parents would agree if they saw me and you today.

Matthew 11:28

"Come to Me, all you who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

It has been some time since I felt the urge to write, and perhaps it is not a coincidence that I am doing so when I need Him most. The above verse was one of those that popped up when I googled for biblical verses that talk about loneliness.

It is difficult to find someone to talk to about such things, and writing is my way of expressing my innermost thoughts and finding release - and also therapy. Maybe if I was back home, I might reach out to one of my small group and ask him out for a beer. I don't have that connection with anyone here. In truth, I have not tried hard enough.

When I first had to live in London alone, I did not think I would have a problem. I grew up in relative solitude - my brother was deaf and I could not really communicate with him and my youngest brother KM only came along many years later. There was a bit of a generation gap and by then I had become a bit of a loner. I did not learn to form lasting friendships, and in some respects I was too judgmental to ever really bond deeply with anyone. Sure I had friends, but invariably I would drift apart from them once the original connections were no longer there - whether it be working together, or playing together. It wasn't that I saw these relationships as transactional but I never made enough of an effort.

I used to think of it as being comfortable in my own skin, and with my own company. And so my hobbies in my youth and young adulthood tended to be solitary activities such as film and reading. 

In the last two weeks, I have felt a deep pang of loneliness.

The mistake I have made is to think I was fine with being alone, when in fact what I was comfortable with, was with solitude. I can do many things on my own and do not need the company of others to derive energy from. I am an introvert in that sense. I do enjoy engaging with people, but it saps my energy.

Today I had an epiphany about solitude and loneliness.

I think under the right circumstances (and up to a point of course), a man can endure solitude as long as he knows he is not really alone. If he knows that someone out there cares about him, misses him, loves him, he will pull through the deprivation of human contact. The bonds are his armour and he will withstand almost anything.

On the other hand, a man can exist in the world and be with people, and yet feel utterly lonely. The lack of a connection, of human warmth renders his interactions with others superficial.

This is where I am now.

What brought this on?

I can't pinpoint any one thing but there have been a few factors besides what I have mentioned above. Having expectations and being disappointed by people is one. Being unproductive is another. Or to be more accurate, I am trying to be productive but have no idea if any of the work is meaningful or appreciated. What does not help as well is feeling that I don't really matter much, if at all. Reaching out, not getting a response. Things not working. Falling ill and not recovering (at least covid only lasted a day or two). Feeling old.

The only solution, as with all things, is to turn to Him.

And this brings me to a recent discussion I had with someone about faith. I said the problems of the world, or at least the most trenchant ones, are beyond human solutions. The more I struggle to see how we might have a better world, the greater the tendency to fall into despair. We cannot overcome sin ourselves and only Christ offers us hope of a greater world beyond.

But Christ also offers us a practical solution for overcoming despondency in our daily lives now. Instead of us just waiting passively for deliverance, and possibly being miserable in the process, He taught us that besides loving Him, we are to love others. It is this focus on the external, rather than on ourselves, that ironically is the path to greater happiness and joy for us.

The person I had the discussion with did not disagree, but mentioned that before helping others, we needed to first take care of that popular obsession these days - our own mental health. I said that perspective was still a self-centric view. (Note: I also think that society today is overly obsessed with self and thus any suggestion that you can in fact love yourself more, leads to all manner of unhealthy fads and worship)

If there is anything Christ has taught us, it is that we can have an infinite capacity to love others. He loves the most wretched of sinners. An act of love can be the smallest gesture, and it does not require us to first be in a good place. In fact it is all the more praiseworthy that we help others when we are less equipped to do so. And if we always have this attitude, then we are always ready to love others no matter our circumstances.

Someone once took issue  with my point about this central aspect of love that defines our faith. He said that love was something that was not unique to Christianity. I agreed but said that the key difference was that we are called to love all, even the most unlovable, even our enemies.

Chasing the wind

Ecc 3:22 “So I saw that there is nothing better for a person than to enjoy their work, because that is their lot.”

There is nothing better, and nothing harder for me. It is my lot and I am cursed by the fact that I am unable to let go, to just coast through the remaining period here and enjoy retirement. There are many things to put right but I get nowhere.

I try to persuade, to put across my point as delicately as I can, but the responses are telling. They either betray an unwillingness to engage, a wilful blindness if you will; or worse, a tendency to stick to risk-averse positions that break down under closer scrutiny.

I reach out to those who are supposed to help and support me but no help or sympathy is forthcoming and I fight on alone. Maybe they think I’m in the wrong, maybe my approach is not as palatable as I thought it was.

It has been a very difficult week, made more difficult by the realisation that no one really cares. Everyone’s doing their own little charade - perhaps that is uncharitable of me but that’s what it feels like. I have no real clue or confidence that much of what I do actually matters.

There’s no feedback - no one likes negative feedback but for me it would be at least evidence that someone cares. Indifference is my worst enemy.

That was my lowest point in my working life. Never have I felt so despondent. No one noticed, or cared. And it’s funny but it becomes almost a point of pride that you would not tell anyone how you really feel because to do so might be a sign of weakness. So you suck it up and soldier on. But it eats away at you inside. And so even in some extreme circumstances, people would always remark after the fact, “but he seemed so normal and seemed to be doing fine”. They don’t understand. Doing your best to appear that you’re on top of things is the last vestige of the depressed.

The reason I’m telling you this is not for sympathy. There’s a lesson here - and many more that I alluded to. We are to love, so reach out to people. Ask how they’re doing, show them a little kindness, listen to them a little more attentively, give them your time.

But God is good. A few days later, someone sent me this article which I shared with you. 

https://thereformingtrombonist.com/2016/04/29/on-making-good-shoes/

Not sure if you read it, but it really struck a chord with me because of what I was going through. And it reminded me of what is really important about the work we do. This verse quoted in the article said it best:

 Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ. (Colossians 3:23-24)

I am encouraged to work heartily, not seeking any positive acknowledgement from men, and so whether they accept my views or suggestions is not important. Whether they respond or not, also becomes irrelevant to some extent. We just need to pray for wisdom that we are doing the right thing and to seek God’s help in opening hearts and minds.

Just like in the spreading of the gospel, what matters is not  only converting / convincing someone - otherwise most of us would be considered poor Christians - but that in our conduct we are giving good testimony. 

In the examples at work I gave, this testimony would then be about selflessness (that it’s not about you), and courage in speaking up. But always with kindness, which can be extremely difficult. I did not do too well there.

But my head is clearer now and there’s no longer a burden. I am but one messenger and there will be others who carry the fight subsequently.

remembering my father (and mother)

After the busy week I had with the delegation in town, I took it easy on Saturday just chilling out and catching up on my chores which had been neglected the whole week. The place was a bit of a mess. Sunday I played golf with one other chap - the rest were either fasting or travelling. Quite apart from the fact that it had been a long time since there were so few of us playing, it was also a day when the temperature was a frigid -2 degrees when we started.  I said on our golf chat group later that day that both of us who played should be awarded the Holland Park Golf Club Gallantry Award "for dedication in the face of sub-zero temperatures and risking frostbite, without any regard for personal health and safety." (Note: I don't know why it's the Holland Park Golf Club as only Devin, my American friend lives there. Along with a certain David Beckham and Posh Spice. But hey it's the chairman's prerogative to name the club)

The cold was not that bad - there wasn't much wind. That would have really made things miserable. But we were actually quite comfortable, all wrapped up. The challenge was to dress in layers that would be easy to peel off. The sun came out and it actually felt quite warm, even hot later in the morning. Golf is an even more interesting game once you really get into it. With the freezing temperatures, the ground was quite firm and we had to adjust our game. A bit like life. You need to roll with it, to take what life throws at you and make the best of it. No use making excuses, especially if everyone had to deal with the same conditions.

Then when I was at home, I remembered that the anniversary of my father's passing was a week ago, the day of the delegation's arrival in London. I had been so busy preparing for the visit that it had slipped my mind - I didn't forget the March babies though:)  To be fair it was 10 days earlier so no excuse.

I was slightly upset that I had forgotten. Whenever I'm home, I'd always arrange to meet with my brother for a drink. We would spend time reminiscing about him, and exchange stories to fill in the gaps because we each had our own perspectives and experiences. We are 8 years apart, but when we were growing up, it felt like more. My parents were not those that showed much outward physical affection, nor communicated that much to us either. But they cared about us in their own ways.

My mother was the typical worrier, but she never really put much pressure on me in school, except when I faltered. In primary school, the occasion that triggered her version of a meltdown was when I dropped to third in class! She wanted me to stop playing softball and it took the intervention of my wonderful teacher who persuaded my parents that I should be allowed to continue. Her way of showing love was material. When I did well in school, she would reward me with something - I never really wanted anything, and the most significant thing she got me for doing well was a Bulova watch. Later I became interested in photography and she funded that hobby too - something that Uncle Kum Leong also enjoyed. I suppose it was because in photography, his handicap didn't matter. In her later years, her worry was that I was not really doing anything with my life - her perspective was the very traditional Chinese idea that if you want to make something of yourself, you don't join the police or army. She would ask me from time to time, whether it was good to be a policeman.

My father was the typical quiet hardworking Chinese father who didn't spend much time on hobbies or anything. I do remember him drilling me in my multiplication tables (ask Mummy if you don't know what this is) when I was in primary school. We memorized them in Cantonese!  To this day, I sometimes still work it out in my head in Cantonese!!! So apart from school, we didn't have that much to talk about but he was there for me when I started doing triathlons, sending me to races. A few of my most treasured photos are of us at one of the events. I can't be sure but I think he was quietly proud of me though he would of course never say it publicly or to me. I say this not because I did not feel loved, or had somehow lost out because I had a less publicly-affectionate father, but it's just a fact. I think he probably felt the pride because one of his closest friends, a distant 'uncle' on my mother's side who was more educated (and who my father respected) always liked me and would often engage me as an equal when I started working.

Anyway back to the topic about Uncle Kum Mun and I sharing our different recollections about our father. Because he was much younger, he got to know our father a little better after he retired and spent more time at home. I had already moved out after getting married and before that, I had been busy working and didn't spend much time at home. (Those first few years were exhausting as I had to do 24-hour shifts as an investigator, and I'd often go home only after 28 to 30 hours as there would be administrative stuff to clear up.) But I had also seen a side of our father that Uncle KM was too young to recall or maybe not even seen - for instance, he had no idea that our father played the accordion! I doubt many others knew this either. He stopped playing quite early, but I still have some vague memories of him playing.

The first night of the funeral wake, we basically just stayed up and talked about how much we missed him. We both cried, and while it was a shame that it took our father's passing to really connect but I am glad we did and it has made us closer since then. The first year after that I spent every day thinking about my father, often tearing up in private. For a while I was torn up because I had made the decision to pull the plug. Did I make the right decision? Should we have waited longer? I had no answers. I also had some regrets of course, that I didn't spend more time with him, getting to know him better. But what I do have I cherish very much.

And so this year, this little post is my way of remembering him, and giving you an idea of who he was and what he meant to me.

Two chiefs (not chefs)

My first experience being on the other end of a delegation visit. I have been on so many, and I know there's a lot of work that goes into it. This has given me a better appreciation of what goes on behind the scenes. The need to be prepared for unexpected situations, for things going wrong or not according to plan, to make sure people have the information they need - and expect you to have.

But my most abiding impression has been in how leadership looks from two very different perspectives. You see, we made two courtesy calls to two partners and I would not normally have taken away very different reflections on these encounters because as the delegation supporting our bosses, we are really just part of the furniture. We take notes, nod approvingly and laugh at the occasional joke. We don't really matter - and it's fine. Until it isn't. 

You see, life is often like that boiled frog analogy. I started thinking about this recently when chatting with my colleagues and we were lamenting the state of some of our admin support (which I really should stop complaining about - more on this later). Somebody then said something to the effect that as former police officers, we are very resilient and 'we survive'. Which is true. We grit our teeth and just get on with it because there is a job to do. And for the most part, things aren't so bad that we can't even do our job.

But in a perverse way, that perspective then become some sort of badge of pride, of honour, that we 'survive'.  And we then forget, or is more often the case, give up trying to improve things. That is not right. Because there is another way to think about this. And that is that we could have done better. How much of how we perform is down to our mental state? That we feel someone has our back, and will do whatever it takes to help us succeed, that we are all in it together? And next time when you are in a position of responsibility for a team, one of your most important tasks is to create the conditions for them to perform. That arguably comes before anything else such as managing and motivating them.

Back to what I really wanted to talk about.

When we make a courtesy call on some VIP, the staffers are often invisible and we learn that this is the norm. And so it was with the first call on this trip. The VIP spoke to the leader of our delegation, and not once to the rest of us. He barely looked at us (only doing so at the start when he shook our hands) and the closest he came to acknowledging our presence was to sort of say in general that there were refreshments (scones and fruit). The call ended, and gifts were exchanged between the bosses, and he then left the room, carrying the gifts himself. His staffer then handed out the gifts to the rest of us. 

It was interesting that our leader noticed how the VIP carried out the gifts himself. Often we observe though our own individual lens - e.g. we observe a leader though our experience of leading. Impressions of others are never purely objective are they? In a way, our own biases and perspectives often are a powerful influence on what we notice. We like people who are like us, or like the version of us we believe we are. We notice their positive traits more readily and easily. The converse is also true. We notice the faults in others that do not agree with our perspectives and values and downplay their virtues that we may not have.

Anyway like I said,, I would not have given this a second thought if not for meeting another VIP the next day. He was such a good host, greeting us warmly and then asking all of us to introduce ourselves. And then at the end, he personally handed us our gifts and even said to me, "You know where I am KC", meaning that I could call on him. Not that I am likely to of course and in all likelihood it was just a throwaway line used as a matter of courtesy but it works you know? Making people feel that they matter is so important.

I am not even remotely suggesting that the two incidents are a true reflection of the two personalities. We sometimes have good days, and sometimes bad days. Sometimes we are not on our game and people see the worst of us and think that is us.  Very often there are no second chances to create a better impression. Engagement opportunities are often infrequent - which means each encounter is precious. So we need to ensure we are always as close to the best version of ourselves as we can be.

And this means taking a critical view of ourselves. Self-awareness is so important and I think this is where the Spirit moves us. After that ranting session with my colleagues, I felt no better than the people I ranted about. I get carried away too easily and begin to sound arrogant, or at least feel superior in some ways to them. So I told myself that I will stop doing this. 

I don't mean to stop being critical because that means reverting to being that boiled frog. But I need to watch my tone, become objective, be less emotional. Stop making the story about me because that is what rants are all about.

When the problem is also the cure

It is almost 3 years now since I embarked on this adventure.

It was always going to be a challenge in more ways than one. I thought it would get easier. In some ways it has. I am getting the hang of the work, the role, living alone, cooking, being out of my comfort zone - again. But there are also things that I never gave much thought to because I assumed it would get easier.

I thought I would get used to the loneliness. That I would find ways to occupy my time, and that this would distract me from thinking about what you were doing, what I was missing, whether you were really that bothered by my absence… And these distractions worked for a while.

That’s why golf has been a lifesaver in more ways than one. It has focused my mind on something other than missing home, and it takes up quite a bit of time. Plus it’s with a group of people I really enjoy playing with. The search for distractions also means that sometimes I make impulsive decisions, like going to the Emirates for a night game after playing golf in the morning. It’s tiring but the sense of activity and excitement really helps.

But then the illusion wears off and when I go back to the flat, the emptiness is overwhelming at times. It is mostly a dull, flat soulless existence but sometimes there’s a flood of emotions that comes unexpectedly.

The other day, I watched the movie “CODA” (Child Of Deaf Adults) and it was really good. It’s funny and touching, and I started crying in one of the scenes and couldn’t stop. Part of it was due to the fact that I could relate to the challenge of communication with the deaf, seeing how poorly I manage with my brother. And that I could have done more. But it was also about their struggles, how much is missing in their silent world, and what we take for granted.

But I think it was also because I caught the movie at a time when I was feeling a bit down in the dumps. Even when heading out to golf this morning, I didn’t feel as up for it  as I normally am. And yet I would probably feel a whole lot worse if I had nothing to do and just vegetate at home.

And that’s a lot like how I feel about the work at the moment. I am doing what I can, as much as I think makes sense, as best I can. The thing though is I often have no clue as to whether I make any difference. There’s hardly any feedback, and even where I have issues to take up, I often do not get a response. It is frustrating and depressing. But just like playing golf on weekends, it would feel a lot worse if I didn’t do my work. Hence, the titular description of what I feel at the moment.

Let’s hope for a nice summer to banish the blues. I don’t have any answers.

Happy birthday Ethan!

And the last of my three boys has become a man :)

What an incredible journey it has been so far, for Mummy and I, to see all of you grow up into fine young God-fearing men. It hasn't always been smooth of course but that's part of life, part of the journey, part of the imperfections we see only in those close to us.

Imperfections. I was reminded of this word by something Mummy shared recently. We do not strive for perfection to inspire, but inspire through showing how we deal with our imperfections. Initially I wrote "how we overcome our imperfections", but realised that that suggests an element of still trying to "achieve" perfection, which is a fool's errand. It is rather like seeking salvation through works, which is in some ways 'dishonest' (for want of a better word). It is then not a selfless act.

Dealing with imperfection is a better phrasing because it indicates acceptance. Acceptance of the fact that we cannot overcome our sin by ourselves. And we hope to inspire through referencing that we have Christ to help us overcome our imperfections.

Here's a funny story that I was reminded of by this perspective I mentioned earlier about how we tend to see imperfection only in those close to us. We see others as having more wonderful lives, more wonderful families and wonder "why can't my family be like theirs?" or "Why can't my life be like theirs?"  Or perhaps more appropriately these days, "Why isn't my life Insta-perfect?"

But long before social media, when I was a young boy in primary school, I had a classmate who was really well brought up, very prim and proper, a refined gentle soul, really the opposite of everything I was... I kid, I kid. But he was a role model to me in many ways, and we were the two best students in our class, swapping 1st and 2nd positions in class each term or year. I considered him a friend, though we weren't that close. He wasn't sporty at all for one. I thought his life was picture perfect and I don't know why but I recall that I once wrote a letter to him asking if I could be part of his family or something like that. Isn't that like the most bizarre thing ever? My memory is fuzzy now and maybe it's all in my imagination...

I don't think my life was particularly bad. We were comfortably middle-class and I lacked nothing in material comforts - one of the simple joys of life in those days was not really knowing what you 'lacked'. We were just happy with whatever we had, making the most of it. I never went on a family holiday, ever. Was I the poorer for it? Maybe in some small superficial way in hindsight but not in any real way that matters to my upbringing.

But still...I thought his life was better. And that's the tragedy of human covetousness. 

Anyways, I love all of you very much and I hope to see you all again very soon. And here's a little reminder of some of the wonderful birthday celebrations we have had in the past.

Happy birthday Matt!

I wish I don't have to miss too many birthdays.

It reminds me of the very first time I encountered such a possibility and you guys probably heard this story before. The year was 1997, and I was overseas on a work trip. It was a trip that had not been planned and I had been activated at short notice to head over there to be part of a relief team. Don't know if you recall but I pointed out the case when you guys came to my department's museum for a family day visit.

I think I headed over in June, and what was envisaged to be a short trip then dragged on, leaving the four of us in the team in a limbo. Days passed and initially we mostly sat around waiting for the call that would send us home. Then we started renting videos to watch, drove to Sydney one Sunday, and even played my first proper round of golf on a public course for the princely sum of 12 Aussie dollars. It's winter and there's frost on the ground. What a way to start playing golf!

After a few weeks with no end in sight, it's almost the end of July and I asked my boss for permission to come home because I didn't want to miss the very first birthday of my son. Thankfully he agreed. I can't recall exactly how I asked but I must have weighed the situation and felt that we were just waiting and waiting and it did not really matter if I left. If the situation was such that we needed all hands on deck I would have stayed.

Anyway, this time round I am going to miss two of your birthdays (at least) but then I remember that I didn't miss too many of your birthdays the last two years. Thanks to the pandemic. And my cataract operation.

Hope you have a great time celebrating and may God continue to bless you all.

Blessed birthday Matt. Advance birthday greetings Ethan! And even more advanced greetings to Gabe and Mummy!!!

Love 

Daddy

Being a good steward

I just got back from Germany and took one of those private taxis which my colleague very kindly helped to book because it was cheaper. Recently I often just hail a London cab because I respect the drivers who have to work very hard to get their licence and feel like I should help them out a little in these tough times.

Then again I should be a good steward too of the resources entrusted to me. Hmmm. And these drivers are also suffering I guess.

Anyway, when we arrived I asked for a receipt. Usually these are handwritten. He handed me a blank receipt and said something to the effect that I could fill in the amount I wanted. I understood what he meant and told him no, he should fill out the amount agreed on, which was £50. He filled it out, handed it to me and I gave him the fare, plus a small tip because it had been quite a pleasant ride and he was very polite and helpful.

When he took the money and saw how much it was, he offered to write me a new receipt which I refused. He asked if I was sure and I said yes. 

I thought about it afterwards and it came to me that I could have added that while I could claim the taxi fare, the tip was from me. It wouldn't mean anything if I just included it in the claim, plus it would also be wrong. I would not have acted like a good steward if I did that.