a ring is round and has no end...

Every year, I would receive a Christmas card from a certain someone. He had a family business, and while sending out cards to his clients, he would also include me. He continued to send me Christmas cards even though we weren't special to each other anymore. That went on for several years, and I wondered when his customary gesture would eventually phase out.

I didn't receive a card from him in 2006. A big part of me knew that it had to end sooner or later, as we were no longer in each other's lives, but I was disappointed nonetheless. Even though I expected our ritual to end someday, I felt that Christmas 2006 was not the day. I was curious as to why my mailbox remained empty and after a few sleepless nights, I made contact and discovered that the card was addressed to the wrong house number. I didn't end up going to my neighbour's house to check if they had my card. The physical card itself was insignificant; the knowledge of it being sent to me delivered enough contentment, and that piece of assurance made my Christmas a little merrier.

Christmas is only three days away. Like every other year, I hope to receive a card from him, but the only difference is—I’m not expecting it this year. Over time, my expectations have been set to a lower standard. When you’re no longer close to a person, your old habits and perks evaporate like the friendship that once was.

Time is an interesting concept—it is unstoppable, irreversible, and a generous tool to heal all wounds. I used to hold onto my fond memories and made an effort to journal my life regularly. I kept every personal letter, email, and even every funny post-it note that was ever written to me. Good memories tend to linger on, hanging in the air like the delicious smell of baked cookies after a festive tea party; but they can choke you harder than the bad memories.

It's funny how I don't hold the same sentiment towards ex-boyfriends as I do with friends. I only have ex-best friend issues. When reminiscing about my former friends, I feel a sharp pain in my chest, an awful sinking feeling that weighs my spirit down and drowns me in my own pool of nostalgia. Forgetting is only hard when you don't want to. This empty disposition comes and goes as I mourn over my broken friendships, the dead links in my life, and ultimately let them rest in peace.

tree house

When I was little, I imagined what having my own family would be like. I wanted to live on a farm, inspired by Charlotte's Web, where I wouldn't be disturbed by anyone other than my husband, of course. I would collect eggs every morning to make breakfast and talk to the animals when I was annoyed at my husband. My husband and I would have a giant tree house in our backyard.

Now, at 25, I no longer want to live on a farm, but I still want my own tree house—a place where I can seek refuge from modern life.

god's gifts

One thing I’ve noticed about some godly women is their conservative dress sense. It's great that they’re comfortable with themselves and dress down (I'm guessing they don’t pluck their eyebrows either) because their main focus is serving God. These down-to-earth women know vanity isn’t exactly a heavenly virtue.

A friend of mine (I won't name any names, but let's just say Justin Yoon) once pointed out that God never said it’s wrong to look good. Ergo, Justin is all for any girl who wants to glam up, as long as she doesn’t turn her beauty into a stumbling block.

A girl’s immaculate appearance doesn’t necessarily reflect her godliness. Only God can see what’s in her heart. Whether she’s dolled up or dressed down, it’s her inner self that counts. Sometimes, I find myself getting caught up in the earthly affairs of eyeliner and lip gloss, doubting my own godliness based on my mirror time. I have to remind myself that no matter how much mascara I apply, I’m still a work of Christ. God created me to glorify Him, not the mirror.

We should be mindful of how much attention we pay to our looks versus how much attention we pay to God. There’s a fine line between taking pride in your appearance and being self-absorbed. I won’t deny that I can be vain at times, but when I dress up, I’m simply celebrating the gifts God gave me.

So, the next time you see me with perfectly winged eyeliner, remember: I’m just embracing my God-given talents.

relationships

We often hold onto the hope that one day, the right person will come along, and together, we’ll glide through life together like seasoned ice skaters—flawless, effortless, and in perfect harmony. But when we inevitably stumble and fall, we can’t help but wonder why relationships, once so promising, seem so difficult. 

Some people are relationship junkies who can’t handle being single. They need someone, anyone, to avoid the dreaded abyss of loneliness. Then there are those desperate to find their soulmate, but how can you rush a soulmate? I know a girl who’s searching for a perfect 10 despite never even meeting a solid 7. She’s looking in all the wrong places and making a lot of mistakes. Maybe soulmates are overrated.

Some couples marry someone they don’t consider a soulmate, finding compatibility and growing into love. My grandparents are an example. My grandfather wasn’t attracted to my grandmother at all when they met—he was in love with someone else. But an arranged marriage forced by his father led to 60 years of togetherness. They grew to love each other through the family they built. It’s touching but lacks the fiery passion that some might crave.

Then there are the one-sided relationships. Both parties may start with good intentions, but once the honeymoon phase ends, only one is doing all the loving. It’s not that the other partner is doing anything wrong—they’re just not doing anything at all.

And let’s not forget the missed opportunities—the sliding door moments we regret not seizing. Countless friends of mine lament the one that got away, or the potential that never had a chance to blossom. Worse, it could have happened, but neither person took the leap.

Let’s indulge in a bit of hopeless romanticism. Some couples meet randomly, fall in love, and live happily ever after. It does happen.

I’m not as jaded as I might seem. I just pretend to be, because let’s face it, depressed people are more interesting and mysterious, right? It’s all a façade to give my writing some depth. I’m actually a happy-go-lucky girl without real problems—aside from the ones I create for myself.

Relationships are tough because they balance two conflicting human drives: the desire for independence and the need for connection. Many couples struggle with being either too separate or too clingy.

I once read a metaphor: We are all born into the river of life in our own boats. You can’t hop into my boat and live your life, and I can’t get into yours and live mine. Trouble arises when we try to climb into each other’s boats. We each have to paddle our own and negotiate the river’s currents. Sometimes, we may choose to paddle close together, in sync, toward a mutual destination—like marriage.

Today’s sermon on John 19:28-30 was about God’s love for us. Jesus models sacrificial love, loving others for their benefit without putting ourselves first. He showed this most when he died on the cross for us.

But we’re not God, so we struggle with our worldly affairs. Before we can perfect our relationships with each other, we should develop and maintain our relationship with God. The rest will fall into place.

one hit wonder

Adobe Dreamweaver CS3 and Fireworks CS3 training sessions are now marked in my work calendar. My colleague finds my enthusiasm for software training amusing, noting that I’m not usually one to get excited about such things. Maybe it’s the nerd inside me making a comeback after a decade-long hiatus. I miss that nerd.

This feels like being an 18-year-old trapeze artist, reminiscing about peak moments and wondering if everything is downhill from here. Knowing that my last perfect swing won’t be repeated and that my headstand routine will never again have the same flair.

Don’t tell me I’m being melodramatic; I know I am. I’m not fishing for compliments.

It’s just hard being human sometimes.

Deep down, I know I’m a unique and perfect creation of Christ, loved with a sacrificial love that envelops all the darkness in my life. But stuck in this human shell, I have days of anguish, like anyone else who dares to admit it. Lately, I've been struggling with my self-worth. Maybe it’s my successful friends to blame—most of whom are Law graduates and IT whizzes. I’m usually content with myself, but sometimes I wonder if I could be more.

Sometimes I wish my life was different. If I had studied hard and attended school and university like an obedient daughter, I might have turned out better. But the truth is, I peaked in junior high. By senior school, I was lazy, rebellious, and too stubborn to do things the proper way. With my previously impressive academic record and my innocent exterior—crisp white blouse and neat pleated skirt—I got away with skipping classes and late assignments. I figured it was okay to take shortcuts as long as the results were almost the same. I taught myself that words could take you further than works; I let my charm lead the way rather than my effort because humans are fickle and tend to play favourites.

Most days, I’m a happy girl. I appreciate my job and like my colleagues (only saying that because I know one of them has access to this blog site). I’ve been blessed with this position, even though I’m under qualified and just interviewed well. I’m thankful for my job and the positive feedback from my superiors.

But some days, I feel like a one-hit wonder.