Our children camp ended successfully and with a blast! Three days and two nights can be so short when everything is so exciting and fun. As the camp master of this camp, of course I am making this camp fun and memorable for those little children.
I write this post so that in the future I can always look back at these wonderful time we shared together.
Day 1
Welcoming - opening ceremony - talk 1 - monopoly outdoor games - praise and worship - prayer - movie sharing.
Day 2
Morning prayer - morning exercise - praise and worship - talk 2 - souvenir making - food making - taizé prayer - advertisement talent show
Day 3
Morning prayer - morning exercise - praise and worship - souvenir making - talk 3 - sharing and reflection -bye bye
Thank God for giving us good weather during these three days. Thank God for giving me the grace to pull it through though was still having slight fever and sore throat. Thank God for giving us helpful people who made things run smooth. Thank God for everthing.
Up next: Candid shots with handsome peeps and beau.
Move it with me! Admist the busy weeks ahead, I still managed to squeezed out some time for Madagascar 2: Escape 2 Africa.
Alex the lion, Marty the zebra, Melman the giraffe, Gloria the hippopotamus and King Julien the lemur never failed to cheer me up. The five reminds me of myself. Oh gosh, sometimes I really think I have this multiple personality disorder which I am able to control so well.
Alex to me reminds me of my Alex-ism. I always think that my problems are big problems, my issues are big issues while others are small little beans, therefore brushing off others just like that. Self-centred, often I am, carrying the burden myself and not wanting to share with others. I really hope I can be less self-centred and be more caring to others, I will try, I will try.
Marty, on the other hand, reminds me that at times you cared for others so much but were left unappreciated. I felt that too. You did your best to help others but some people just won’t appreciate what you did for them not to say a simple ‘thank you’. I do feel sad but I won’t be nice to that person any more, I let him rot. Well, my Marty-ism will still show compassion when my wrath has lessened.
Melman. Hmm. He’s a funny guy who is so pessimistic. I am too at times, sombre and melancholy with bleak outlook of the future. Whenever I turn to the state of Melman-ism, I really someone like King Julien to motivate me, to give me the ummph! Everyone needs motivation and incentives from time to time.
Gloria. Perhaps I too have some similarity like this fat hippo. Perhaps my best friend is someone beside me but my eyes are just too small to see them or I am always on the outlook at the greener pasture at the other side. Perhaps I should pay more attention at the present, got to remember Gloria-ism.
I especially love King Julien, he’s such a funny little creature who talk non-stop and I admire his self-proclamation everywhere he goes. He reminds me of one thing, my self-proclaimed narcissism. When I am in the state of Julien-ism, I could cheer lots of people up, offering them comfort and lending them ears.
Let’s move it, move it!
PS: Sunday School camp is starting next Friday. I go lalalala, fafafa, shitshitshit. I really hope I have more time to carry out what I need to do. So much to do but too little time. All those lilliputian preparations ranging from games to opening ceremony, songs to presentation just need massive time to prepare.
PSS: Seanz contacted me that there’s some glitches with the bus route surveying work. I have no idea what to do. Too many things in my mind at the moment, let me sort things out one at a time.
In loving memory of my late grandpa. It has been ten whole years that he left us. I still remember one day before his departure ten years ago, my mum came to school to fetch me back to grandpa’s place for my grandpa is at his critical state.
Having admitted to Normah Medical Specialist for a few days, the hospital discharged my grandpa on the ground that he was only waiting for his time to pass. My uncles brought my grandpa to his very own place, a two-storey wooden house he built with his own hands, a home filled with family bond.
I knew my grandma was very sad. She stood by him all night. Imagine a 70 year old woman holding the hands of a 80 year old man. The look on her face - sad and uncertain. A couple who had spent almost half a century of their lives now had to say goodbye.
At the moment my grandpa breathed his last breath, I could see him struggling for a while before passing in a peaceful manner. That’s the way people die, I think. The room was filled with sadness and tears. I can not helped but shed tears, tears dripping down my cheeks. That was the last time I cried badly, real bad.
Nostalgic moments retold. My grandparents, they were the one who brought us up when we were kids. From my pre-school till Form 2. When I was studying in the morning session, the good ol bus driver would fetch my sisters and I to my grandparent’s house. We had lunch there while waiting for mum to fetch us back home after she finished teaching.
When I was in my secondary school years, my dad would dragged us to our grandparent’s house on his way to work. Every morning, life was so routine. We washed up, had lunch at my grandparent’s place before walking to school. Sometimes, I played at their garden where they planted all types of vegetables - lady’s fingers, brinjals, cucumbers, bok chois, kailans, chilies and etcetra.
What I loved most is the scent of the roses my grandma planted. I used to go and smell the red roses when I was bored studying. Sometimes I pricked my fingers while studying the petals. Sometimes I ran like hell because bees were busy sucking its nectar. Those were the days in the garden.
Once a month, when grandpa noticed that my hair is long, he would take his bike out and give me a ride to the nearest barber. Those were the days when barbers had good business before the advent of salon. An oldman riding the cycle and a young grandson sitting at the back grabbing his grandpa’s waist. What a sight.
But then, those were the days. That was ten to twenty years back. I can’t turn back the clock. Even if I have the super power to do just that, I won’t. While I was in Kuching for my cousin’s wedding, I decided to pay my grandpa a visit. It was a day after All Soul’s Day.
His resting place was located behind 7th Mile’s Sacred Heart Church. That’s why I love being Catholic. You come to earth, baptised with water, confirmed with the Holy Spirit, and die simple. No crappy rituals but just a Requiem Mass for the deceased.
By the sweat of your face will you earn your food, until you return to the ground, as you were taken from it. For dust you are and to dust you shall return.
~Genesis 3:19
On November 14, 1998, Andrew Chong Nam Shui left behind his wife, five sons and two daughters and more than a dozen of grandchildren.
PS: You might wonder what Liew has to do with Chong. That’s a long history which until now I am not able to comprehend fully.
