Faith. Hope. Love: Part 1 - Singapore

8/2/2019 Faith. Hope. Love: Part 1 - Singapore

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2011 Brook ElaineEmail: [email protected], [email protected]

Faith. Hope. Love.Introduction

1

As I was walking through the wilderness of this world, I came to a placewhere there was a cave. I laid down in that place to sleep, and as I slept I

had a dream in which I saw a man dressed in rags standing in a certainplace and facing away from his own house. He had a Book in his hand

and a great burden on his back. As I looked, I saw him open the Book andread out of it, and as he read he wept and trembled. Unable to contain

himself any longer, he broke out with a sorrowful cry, saying, What shallI do? (Bunyan, John. THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS IN MODERN

ENGLISH. Bridge-Logos Publishers, Florida. 1998. pg. 3.)

The hot, desert sun cascaded over my shoulders and down my arms as I stood in

awe, gazing at the indescribable wonder before me. A river did this? Thisbeautiful carving, like the sculpture of an artist, was in fact the work of God. AndI was thankful for the opportunity to see it in person. I had driven across the

United States and back again. But this is not where I began. This was a result ofgrace. First I had to walk through "the wilderness of this world".

Like John Bunyan's character, Christian, I was conflicted but not consciously

searching for the "Celestial City". I did not realize I needed a Savior...until myburden became so insanely heavy and then I pleaded for One. But who would

come? A fireman? A policeman? Some bigger-than-life comic book character?Who had already come? Was it possible to ever have peace?

A fire burned within me yet I was seemingly of two minds. That is where I

started...not in quietness, trust, or strength (Isaiah 30:15). But in loud, deafeningfoolishness which made me scream out (in an attempt to shout over it) in

repetitive petition. But this was the norm for me in this season... high stress. Wasthere any other state of being?

I know the Book mentioned in Bunyan's writing. I had even tried, uselessly, to

apply its written laws and way of living to my mundane days. But it was all fornot...legalism would not bring me harmony, serenity, tranquility, justice. I would

toil in vain. The motions without heart or purpose were worthless...pointless. I

could not save myself from that which weighed me down. It was not until gracethe Book became my life.

So what did I do? I went along my course as it was designed. Each steppingstone lovingly placed before me. But I was blind to this initially. Everything was

all about me. I was self-centered, self-absorbed, self-serving, and seemingly self-sufficient. Thankfully and fortunately for me though, God knows my heart

despite my words and actions. For thirty years my hours were filled with


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Faith. Hope. Love.Introduction

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worldliness and God was limited to Sunday mornings. Then, slowly mostmoments became about Him and I squeezed in everything else (if I had time).

This did not happen over night. It was a progression.

How did I get to this point? How did I get beyond myself?

The Grand Canyon, though massive, was deceiving in appearance. The ColoradoRiver appeared so small and innocent on the canyon floor. My feet felt as though

they were in an oven as the sun beat down on my dark shoes. The air was crispand fresh, like a spring morning while the dew is still on the ground and the birds

are chirping cheerfully as if to welcome the new day.

Sin, like the Colorado River may not look like much (from a distance) but overtime it can create a gorge between us and God (which makes me think of the

great chasm mentioned in Luke 16:26).


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Faith. Hope. Love.Chapter One

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13So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of theseis love. (1 Corinthians 13:13. ESV.)

I did not travel to escape. I was not looking for a way to lose myself or adapt. I was not

in search of peace, enlightenment, entertainment, or understanding. I simply went forgain. On a business trip, if you will. Get paid to travel? Could I ask for anything

more?

I had gone off on my own once before this. When I was in high school I ventured toEurope with a group of peers and some chaperones. This time I was an adulta very

young adultbut one just the same. I left my apartment and roommate, new furniture,

old job (which I loved), car, possessions, family and friends to experience more of theworldtwenty four hours by plane and seemingly a lifetime away. I only took whatcould fit in my luggage and left the rest behind.

My parents saw me to the airport gate. There were tearful goodbyes (on my mothers

part) and numerous hugs. I surveyed the group with which I was traveling. They weremy family for the next five to nine months. I was never one to stay put, reallya pilgrim

since the day I could spread my wings and fly. And exploring by myself came easyIjust closed my eyes and jumpedright into the deep end of it all. I knew I could swim.

The engines of the plane hummed steadily as strangers became acquainted, sharing

names and hometowns. A handshake and a smile sealed the deal as if to say, I knowyou now. A few had worked together before but no one looked familiar to me. We

were a crew of vagabonds, nomads that had jumped a means of transportation and wereoff to disappear into the sunset. The clouds were an ocean below us. And, our former

lives an alternate universe. Money was no object.

It was piping hot in Singapore. The sun warmed my face like the soft stroke of a handagainst my cheek. Stand in an enclosed place long enough and it turned into a sauna. I

grew up in Florida so the tropical climate was comforting. I cannot say the same foreveryone else. There were some complaints about the portable potties on our work

site. We did not have running water facilities. A person entered the restroom sticky from

humidity and exited it, after a quick tinkle, looking as though he or she had just climbedout of a swimming pool. It was hot, dang hot! But I did not mind so much. It remindedme of home.

The city was modern, spotless, and buzzing with action. The streets teamed with people

going here, there, and everywhere. Not a single wrapper or wad of gum defaced thegrounds. There was not the slightest hint of graffiti of any sort threatening buildings,

public benches, or other structures. Orchard Road was done up like a huge Christmas


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present. Was I in New York gazing at the Macys store windows decorated to the hilt?No, this place was too clean. I was in Singapore and the department stores were

sparkling, festive, and ready to welcome the holidays. Giant displays looked as thoughthey had come straight out of a storybook. The shoemaker had gone to bed and elves

went to work decking the halls overnight.

Without parental supervision we were left to our own devicesa small hoard of youngadults released into a foreign environment where the consequence for an infraction was

caning. I did not dare test the boundaries or push the envelope. With a crime rate of fourpercent I was free to walk about the city-state alone without a single individual bothering

me. No one approached me or harassed me. It was peaceful and stress free. Taxis

swarmed the roads like bees around a hive. There were so many of themblue though,as opposed to the yellow ones that overrun the avenues of New York City. English beingthe business language made it simple for me to maneuver around. Women had a voice

so I could be heard by each and every man whether taxi driver, merchant, or doorman. Iwas empowered to get what I wanted or go where I chose, when I desired it. There was a

hint of a European undertone. (Not surprising since it was under British rule in 1824(before it became independent in 1963) and its legal system has its roots in English

common law.)

My condominium was brand new, completely furnished, and even offered a maid service.With a work schedule of six days a week from 9:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m., and two

roommates, it was nice to have the help. The square footage was lovely but had plenty ofsurfaces where dust and dirt could collect. The front door was of heavy wood and

opened into a hallway which swept visitors into the dining and living areas. The floorswere a cool tile against the tired, sore soles of my feet. And white grout! Who likes to

keep light grout from turning gray? The outside kitchen branched off of the entrywayto which the door remained closed at all times. Bars were the only thing on the

windows, no glass or screens to hinder insects from investigating our housing andfoodplenty of room for a cat to fit through but too tight for a human. The pint-sized,

front load, stacked washer and dryer set sat waiting for action in a compact walk-inlaundry room (which resembled a pantry) where dirty clothes could easily collect and

take a person hostagenever to be seen or heard from again.

The main room windows opened into a large, cobble stone courtyard two floors below.The sounds of fellow employees danced through the air, filtered passed the drapes, and

bounced off the vaulted ceiling. A fan purred as it slowly rotated and pushed sultry airabout the rooms. The sunken bathrooms, bedrooms, and kitchen caused me to stumble

each time I missed the miniscule step while coming and departing. My modest sleepingquarters were nothing short of a single bed and wardrobe which matched the shiny wood

floorsperfect for one person.


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The night life flourished at a chain of picturesque European bistros across the street from

the complex where I lived. This is where I spent most evenings as I did not have a familywaiting for me at home to prepare and serve them dinner. Each restaurant front lead

into a dimly lit, nook of a bar or caf area then opened through the back into a vastdinning patio of themed spaces packed with tables and chairs. This setup applied to each

establishment along the stretch of the boulevard except the one on the end referred to asThe Wine Cellar. The atmosphere fitted its name and was reminiscent of the tasting

room of a winery. There it was not unusual to see lovely ladies sporting a glass of wineand escorted by gentlemen with cigar in hand or mouth.


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Faith. Hope. Love.Chapter Two

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As I mentioned before, I have had a love affair with traveling for quite a while...since1994 when I made my first trip out of the states and visited the breathtaking countries of

France, Switzerland, and Italy. As a junior in high school the experience wasindescribable...The way the food danced, leapt, and (even at times) practically melted in

my mouth (thus beginning my appreciation of prosciutto and olive oil), bread warm andsoft inside yet so crispy it crackles on the outside, the architecture, the art (especially at

the Louvre Museum and Sistine Chapel), the locations (like Notre Dame Cathedral, thePalace of Versailles, and the Roman Colosseum), the romantic vibe (like along the River

Seine in Paris), the hustle and bustle in Paris, the people, the freedom!!! Yes, theindependence! Apparently it was noticeable...the change in my attitude after I returned

from Europe. I had been bitten by the bug. I was in love! And there was no cure (or

anything else for that matter) for it. My only choice was to feed it, cultivate it, tenderlynurture it, and give in to its every whim. Ah love!

I spent the next three years trying to find a means to travel. My sights were set on a jobin Japan (for which I applied many times to no avail) but little did I know God (I

personally do not believe in fate, coincidence, luck, karma, or magic for that matter) hadan alternate plan for me...and it included Singapore, Taiwan, and Australia! Okay, God,

you win! I will gladly give up my grand ideas of Japan...for now.

Visiting a country is like opening a book on the subject and hopping into its pages. (Iremember studying world geography in second grade (I believe it was) and imagining I

could do just that. I walked my fingers across the text we were going over (as though mydigits were a tiny version of me) and I "swam" through the pictures...participating in

whatever was taking place in each. The two destinations in which we dabbled that stickout in my mind are Vancouver, Canada and Ethiopia.) In real life, I wanted to drink up

every ounce of information possible and experience the culture and way of life. I wouldwander, either alone or with others, to various areas of the city-state to listen to the

sounds, breath in the scents, touch what was before me, gaze upon the sights, and (if Iwas brave enough) taste the delicacies synonymous with that district.

One such quarter was the ethnically authentic Little India. A disorienting whirl wind (in

the form of a cab ride) whisked me away and dropped me, dazed and confused, smack

dab in another land. As I stood reeling with culture shock my eyes and nose wereassaulted! This was NOTHING like the other territories of Singapore! Now, I am notgoing to go into detail about the geography or demographics of Little India. A person

can check out that information (along with photos) on the internet or at the local library.As my feelings toward Little India create a chaotic circus in my mind I scarcely know

where to begin regarding my experiences that evening!


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Faith. Hope. Love.Chapter Two

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During this excursion for Diwali (or Deepavali the "festival of lights"), I was not alone,and thankfully so! Had I been I would have stepped right back into the taxi (completely

overwhelmed) and said, Never mind. Take me home. There were five of us and theguys walked behind the gals so they could keep an eye on things. I felt out of place,

like a fish out of water if you will.

The first time I ever went scuba diving was with a professional diver who led me andsome friends around the ocean bottom for a set period of time (30-60 minutes). As we

submerged with oxygen tanks on our backs and regulator mouth piece firmly in place anearly overpowering sense of claustrophobia crept over my body as though I was in a

sinking car in a river and trying to hold on to every breath as if it could be my last. The

water lay heavy on top of medeceivingly inviting. Any wrong move or miscalculatedmeasurement (of remaining air supply) could be life threatening. It was a lot toprocessthe new environment, the potential dangers, the complete change in everything!

These were my feelings in Little India as well. My world had been turned upside downand I was not quite sure what to make of it or how to maneuver through it.

I walked with hesitated step. The sun had gone down before we arrived casting looming,

menacing shadows across what might otherwise be cheerful in the day time. Residentsstared as if I was a three headed hydra. My dark hair and deep brown eyes blended in

with those of everyone else however my olive skin paled in comparison to the rich,chocolate shade of theirs. (Now, my friend who has beautiful blonde hair and sparkling

blue eyes with creamy white skin probably stuck out a bit more than I did and our buddywith his radiant African American features mostly likely fit in better than myself.)

Debris littered the sidewalks and streets and men sat gathered, blotting the landscape.

They stopped their conversations to watch as we passed. Store windows were filled withmerchandise familiar to the culture. We window shopped and stepped in and out of store

after boutique touching fabric and admiring the vibrant colors, tassels, and dangling,glittering accents on various outfits. Each concession was nearly whimsical as incense

poor out, filled our nostrils, and beckoned us to come in and stay a while. Maybe wewould like to purchase something?

The women were stunning in their dresses, sandals, and golden jewelrythe gentle curveof their faces; sun kissed glow to their soft looking skin; contour of nose; perfect size,shape, and spacing of their eyes made them gorgeous---yet the way they kept their bodies

covered from neck to ankles struck me as humble, classy, and enchanting.


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Faith. Hope. Love.Chapter Three

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When I first moved to California, I lived in a part of the Los Angeles (L.A.) area. Littertumbled like weeds along streets and sidewalks, freeways were grossly congested, and

there was always this brown haze that lingered about in the atmosphere. Some days Icould barely make out the downtown L.A. skyline. After moving to Northern California,

the L.A. funk became more noticeable to me each time I made the trip back and drovethrough. It hovered like a gray cloud forbidding the sun to break througha toxic mist

that covered the city like a blanket.

The air quality in Singapore was monitored daily due to fires in Indonesia. On gooddays, locals went about their business unaffected. On bad days, each sported a surgical

mask. Being I am originally from the sunshine state of Florida, I was not used to

checking the PSI (Pollutant Standards Index) or API (Air Pollution Index) each day. Thehighest PSI reading of record in Singapore was, around the time I was there, inSeptember of 1997. It was listed as very unhealthy. Fortunately for me, the managers

of the company for which I worked made sure I was well informed and looked out for myhealth and well being. Otherwise I would have been clueless.

There are very few smells sweeter to me than after it rainsthe fresh, wet, clean, vibrant

fragrance of the earth as it rises into the heavens. Gazing out the window as the dropsfell to the ground, saturating everything within its reach, stirred up a desire within me to

race outside and take in a deep breath. This was the case the day I visited with acolleague and it began to pour. (Her unit was located just across the cobblestone

courtyard from mine.) The moment the downpour stopped I promptly made my waydown the stairs to the damp grounds below. I let the after-rain-smell fill my nostrils but

to my ghastly surprise, the scent was not as I imagined it to be at all! Rather it reeked ofwet dog! My face contorted and I quickly covered my nose as I raced home. In my

opinion, the climate in Singapore was tropical and similar to that of Floridahot, humid,without truly formed diverse seasons, and with adequate rainfall. After my wet dog

experience, though, I hesitated to bask in the aromas following precipitation. Admittedly,it was not always that of a damp mutt. Other days the odor was quite pleasant, alluring,

and relaxing like springtime in a lush field full of wild flowers and white butterflies.

Ten hours a day, six days a week were spent at work. My time off was used exploring

the sights and Singapore lifestylewhether it was shopping on Orchard Road, atTakashimaya, ordering (or watching others request) stingray, satay, or various differentSingaporean cuisine at a hawker stall, indulging in Mongolian Barbeque, hiking,

grabbing a bite to eat at Boat Quay or Clarke Quay along the Singapore River, or sittingdown with a Singapore Sling at the Raffles Hotel.

One afternoon at work, and I honestly cannot remember how this came about, my

colleagues approached me, said they were making a coffee run during our one hour


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Faith. Hope. Love.Chapter Three

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break, and did I want to come? We could make it there and back in sixty minutes?! Iwas not quite convinced but always up for an adventure, I went. The second our break

began we bolted from the venue, ran across the street, through an open piece of land, andwent down the stairs to a train platform I did not even know existed. My heart pounded

as each minute mattered. Tick tock, tick tock, we passed station after station. I had noidea where we weredowntown maybe? I made sure to stay close as the cars stopped

and the doors opened. On the heels of the person in front of me we winded our way tothe store front. There was a line! Would be have time? I was not even a coffee fan!

Why was I here, again? I asked what was good. Try the frozen drink, I was told.One blended beverage with whip cream, please.

The group waited for everyone to make it back out of the shop then we were off andrunning again! This time the path reversed. I must not lose the way and get lost! Ticktock, tick tock. It was going to be close! And no one could afford to be late! There was

no margin for error. How many times had they made this venture? We inhaled ourdrinks as we blew through one terminal after the next. On what colored line were we?

Was there a map at which I could look? Screeching halt, doors, onward ho! Twominutes left! Hustle! We crossed the finish line without a moment to spare. Phew, back

to work.

Whenever in a foreign place, I find comfort in familiar things---whether it is food,activities, or people. Because I am American (and grew up across the street from a lovely

Japanese woman who used to cook wonderful things for me to eat), I am drawn, like amoth to a flame, to stuff that reminds me of the United States (and Japanese cooking).

One evening when I was in Switzerland, my peers and I ran into another posse of Yanks.While these individuals were complete strangers, it felt as though they were long lost

pals. We were ecstatic to see them and they were likewise overjoyed.

When a second set of workers from the States came to Singapore to do advertising for ourorganization, there was a feeling of familiarity at first sight. We visited them at their

location, went out to dinner, took a walk, and just chatted it up. However, once I realizedone of them was flirting with me I cut the rest of my time with them short. Flattered, yet

not interested.


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Faith. Hope. Love.

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Have you ever sat on a balcony, at night, in Hawaii? When the wind is calm and the air

is warm like a soothing bath? If you hold your breath, there is no sound except forperhaps the ocean waves crashing to the shore (if you are close enough to the beach).

Everything is tranquil and comforting. That was my experience in the temples inSingapore. Silence, warmth, stillness.

Some of these holy places were in busy areas. Other, smaller ones, were in secluded

spots. One in particular was on a hiking trail surrounded by lush, green plants and trees.Everything seemed motionless. As I approached, candles burned like tiny, dancing

lights. But there was not a person in sight. Sometimes there was a stone Buddhastanding by, watching over the moderately sized places of worship. A pleasant

expression, unyielding, upon his face. Though not familiar with his teachings I believe

them to be about harmony, maybe enlightenment, and to respect all forms of life big andsmall. Possibly reincarnation is mixed in there too. (In 2009, my younger children and Ibriefly studied the history of Buddhismalong with Islam and Hinduism.)

I stepped closer to the establishment although not wishing to stay long just incase I was

not properly dressedI did not want to offend anyone. I picked up what looked to be astick or piece of incense. I held it to a flame until it caught fire, smoldered, and offered

up thin plums of scented smoke. I did not meditate while there. My God is not Buddha.He is Jehovah and He has a Son, Jesus (John 3:16). When I wish to commune with Him,

I simply go before His throne of grace.

Growing up in the church I learned about all the most popular events in the bible. Youknow, the ones that have been turned into childrens stories. I sat in the pew every week

we attended, half listening and partly daydreaming, following along in the hymnal as wesang---(which I have to say I much prefer hymns to the contemporary songs that are used

in services now days).

The best part is, Gods word never returns void (Isaiah 55:11). So though I was notpaying attention 100% of the time I was still receiving the message which was going

straight to my heart.

Because of the nature of my job in Singapore and the popularity of the company for

which I worked, it was not unusual for me (and my associates) to get stopped while inpublic for pictures and the occasional autographthough I could not really understandwhy. Would they not look back on the photo years from when it was taken and ask,

Who is that and why did I want a picture with her? I am just mea young adultexploring the intoxicating city-state of Singaporeno different from an individual who

backpacks through various countries and stays at hostels.


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Faith. Hope. Love.

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This particular day (while I was wandering and discovering houses of prayer) was no

different. A small group of people approached me at the beginning of the footpath.Excuse me, said a soft, gentle voice. I turned to find an agreeable young lady. May

we get a picture? she continued. Oh course, I answered as I stood amongst them andsmiled. They humbly thanked me as their eyes sparkled and faces showed with

excitement. They went about their way and I started my trek.

In Alaska, one can begin at the foot of a great, thick glacier (accented with deep blues)and make their way along a winding path to the glacier head. The calving ice announces

its separation and departure with a roaring proclamation we called, White Thunder.Free from the mass, the ice crashes into the body of water peacefully at rest below. The

walkway coils through dense, scenic forest. Butterflies flit about among the foliage as

the breeze makes her presence known. She whirls about delicately, careful not to step onanyones toes. Her hair whips about her face and there is tranquility.

In Singapore, the finish line of the course is not only marked by a breathtaking view atthe top of a steep, inclined plain, (perhaps it was the highest hill in Singapore) it is also

marked by what was like a flag pole encircled by medium sized, black, glossy rocks withrounded edges (which stood on end) that massaged the soles of the feet as one stepped

upon them.

In quietness and in trust shall be your strength, (Isaiah 30:15) flows through mythoughts. There is nothing like the cool patience of serenity as sunshine warms the

depths of the heart and soul as it touches the skin. I was not only a traveler on thisunfamiliar island, I am also a pilgrim in this world searching for peace and love.

7And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your

hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:7. ESV.)


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Brook ElaineEmail: [email protected]; [email protected]

Faith Hope LoveChapter Five

1

During my stay in Singapore I was able to finish reading a few books. One of myfavorites was How Stella Got Her Grove Back by Terry McMillan. The first time

I saw this book was at my boyfriends apartment before I left for Singapore. Hisroommate (a female) had been reading it. There it sat and curiosity got the best of

me as I picked it up and read the synopsis. When I came across it again inSingapore among the shared books, I had to indulge.

I met Stella before grace (Ephesians 2:8). Her independence and adventurous

nature struck a chord with me. I admired how at a moments notice she packed asuitcase and went off to Jamaica all by herself. I felt I could relate to her on some

levels though our lives were nothing alike. (First of all, and most importantly, she

is fiction and I am not.) There were twenty years between us and she was asuccessful business woman with a son and a home. I, on the other hand, was in arelationship though lived alone (well, with a female roommate), had no children,

no house, and was neither prosperous nor an executive. Yes, I had an excellentjob, paying me decent money, and was traveling but it was a short term gig. It

would all come to an end in just shy of a year.

After a few months in Singapore I called my boyfriend to find he was moving onand in essence, dumping me. (An old flame, the one that got away from him

was interested in rekindling their relationshiphe had talked about her often, Iknew it was only a matter of time.) One of my colleagues came over and I sat on

my twin sized bed, in my silk (pant and long sleeve shirt) pajamas, verbalizing mydisappointment. As my heart spewed forth its sadness there was a knock at the

front door. Two thoughtful associates informed me there was a party and would Icome? I declined. My only desire (at that particular moment) was to remain in

my room licking my wounds for a bit. Stella would not tolerate this! She woulddress in a smokin hot swimsuit and head for the beachand who needs a

boyfriend anyway? The next opportunity I got I was going to be like Stella! Iwas going somewhere alluring, wonderful, and chalk full of beautiful men! (Not

to say Singapore was not magnificent. It was.)

The ocean always has a way of rejuvenating me. Its proud waves may reach the

coast yet go no further (Job 38:8-11). But, I did not frolic by the seashore whilein Singapore. Though this city-state is similar to Hawaii in that it is made up ofislands, the recreational shorelines are not prominent. Only twice did I go to the

waters edge in the five months I lived there. Once, a local was showing me howI could look across the water and see the shore of Malaysia. The second, I was

attending a social gathering at Sentosaan amusement park type place withanimals, fireworks display laser light show, and picnic areas.


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Brook ElaineEmail: [email protected]; [email protected]

Faith Hope LoveChapter Five

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My mundane was time served at work. Though I loved my job---I really did---itwas physically demanding and draining. My breaks were spent taking a catnap,

walking around the venue, or immersed in Jamaica with Stella. I was her travelcompanion whether she liked it or not. (Being she went public with her trip, I

assume she did not care.) I have never been to Jamaica! I would not mind goingthere either only I have yet to find a means. So, for now, Stellas groove-seeking-

recount will have to suffice.

I sit at my table wearing my yellow, company issue sweat suit (because it is sostinking cold in the place), head down, eyes fixed upon the pages, imagining

myself digging my toes into hot sand while the crash of the powerful waves fills

my ears. I put sun block balm on my lips as they are kissed passionately by thesun. The breeze coming off the water lifts my hair from about my neck andgently plays with it. I rub sunscreen like a fragrant lotion to cover my exposed,

olive skin. I can taste the salty sea air on my tongue. Ah, Jamaica! You makeme thankful to my Maker for all of creation (Romans 1:20).

The smell of coconut tanning oil fills my nostrils. I should get a

drinksomething cold, crisp, maybe even fruity with a cute umbrella poking outthe top. My cabana chair creeks as I shift in it. The tide is threatening to come

close and try to jump in my lap. I move my fabric bag to a saferlocationwouldnt want my wallet, cell phone, other electronic devices, and

book to get wet. I exhale audibly as I close my eyes and lay my head back.Mmm, Jamaica! You seem so lovely. I open my eyes to find words gazing back

at me. I close the book. Ten more minutes then it is back to work.


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Brook ElaineEmail: [email protected], [email protected]

Faith Hope LoveChapter Six

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I do not mind being alone, really. I do not feel there is anything wrong with oneeating unaccompanied, having a drink by oneself, watching a movie, reading a

book, living, or even traveling solo. One is not always the loneliest number.

I have yet to find anything quite as exhilarating and (in a sense) death defying as acab ride in New York Citythough I feel traffic in Paris (and Italy at World Cup

time) is a close second. (I have gone skydiving but that is a different kind ofthrilling and risky!) Aside from the Singapore subway (SMRT/ MRT) and the

Air Con/ No Air Con buses, taxis were abundant (and the most common formof transportation I used).

I suppose you never know what to expect when you climb into a taxicab for thefirst time in a new place. (I am certainly not brave enough to rent a vehicle anddrive myself around!) Though an adventure in itself, riding in a car-for-hire in

Singapore is tame compared to the swerving, high-energy, heart-stopping, nearmiss, madness that is New Yorks idea of public transportation. Sometimes, the

drivers would even practice their English on me.

In the United States I can be found moseying around a bookstore and caf bymyself but here in Singapore it is the floors and stores of Takashimaya or along

the stretch of Orchard Road. I am especially fond of the small section thatcontains two American fast food joints. Now, I would not frequent these places in

the States but here is a different story.

I order my value meal then sit outside in the warming sun. All of a sudden homeseems so much closer. I look around and admire the beauty that is Singapore.

The skyline is breathtaking as the modernized buildings reach to the heights. Thedelicate, orchid looking flowers bob their heads in the humidity. Some have

centers painted by yellow and framed by pure white petals. Others boast oflavender with a sunshine middle. Their cheerful faces greet all who walk passed.

December and January are upon me and with them come an invitation to a

Christmas dinner with some members of my work family and a two week

vacation (though admittedly I am still undecided on where I want to go). Beforemy relationship with my boyfriend was severed I was going to visit with him inEngland but now I am thinking somewhere a little more tropical might be the way

to go. With Stella still fresh on my mind, how can I resist?

I am finding even though I make plans for myself, it is actually God who directsmy steps (Proverbs 16:9 & 19:21). And although I learned of God as I grew up in

the church, I do not truly know Him or his Son. But, God has started a good work


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in me. One I know He will continue until completion (Philippians 1:6). One dayHe will give me eyes to see and ears to hear so I may receive grace from faith

alone (Ephesians 2:8). It is a narrow path and I have a lot to learnfirst of allbeing: God is sovereign. This concept is foreign to me yet I feel it is truth.

In high school I was a member of my church youth group. Between the ages of

ten and eighteen are the years I believe I matured the most in my love for God andHis Son Christ Jesus. I used to sit on top of the trunk of my mothers Mercury

Marquis and stare at the heavens. I watched as the clouds meandered past. Theirwispy, light bodies sailed gently and slowly through the sky. They appeared

friendly and inviting not scary and threatening like the storm clouds that rolled

through at least once a day. I offered up prayers of petitions and thankfulness toGod while light outlined the clouds and illuminated their edges. They pressedtogether and squeezed the sunlight into streams that broke through and cascaded

to the earth. It is at these times I think God is looking down on someone. Shineyour light on me, Lord, I would say. Please let me be favored in your sight.

My peers and chaperones at youth group created a perfect storm, if you will. It

was such a mix of personalities and individuals that complemented each member.We laughed together, cried collectively (Romans 12:15), were challenged,

stretched, and developed as one bodya young body of Christ with many parts(1 Corinthians 12:12-31). Some of my strongest memories of and ties to other

people are from that crowd and it will always hold a special place in my heart.

So how is it I stumbled and fell so far away from God during my very shortattempt at a University before traveling? I had the head knowledge. I strived so

hard as a teenager to apply the bible to my life. But it would not be until gracethat the scriptures would become my life. This heart of mine was still made of

stone (Ezekiel 36:26).


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My first experience cooking with gas was in Singapore. Our L shaped, outdoorkitchen was striking and what I would expect in a cabana on a tropical island in a

location like the Whit Sundayswhere the water is a clear, radiant blue;champagne is served like juice or soft drinks; and fine dining occurs under a vast

blanket of stars.

Being I never really learned how to cook, I refrained from using the gas rangeoften. One time, I distinctly remember lowering my face to watch as I tried to

light the flame. Needless to say I walked away with singed eyelashes on my lefteye and was fortunate I did not loose my eyebrows.

I was asked to Christmas dinner with some others whose friendship I enjoy.Cocktail dress or formal gowns were required. Thirty minutes before washing Ihad to remember to flip the switch outside the bathroom to heat the water. Such a

tiny toggle for a fairly important job. Well, essential to me anyway, I did notfavor cold showers. (Infact, I would rather stink than bathe in frigid water.)

Tonight I remembered. I put on a velvety, maroon, sleeveless number, blacknylon stockings, and heels. With my hair swept into a graceful do and clutch

under my arm I was ready for an evening of sophisticated dining. I spritzed a bitof my favorite perfume on my neck before leaving and left a trail of fragrant

fruity flowers behind me. We headed to an expensive restaurant with asensational view as that of birds.

Seated in an alcove booth we could look out the picturesque windows and see for

miles. The scenery was breathtaking. The city radiated with a glowing vibebelow us. We were on top of the world. Spirits were high as we browsed the

menu. Fifty dollars for a salad and appetizer and one hundred dollars purchased adinner plate with portions so small they barely filled me up. I would most likely

eat again later. But I felt it was worth every penny. I was in great company andwe laughed and posed for pictures with each other after our meal. The place was

deserted as we went from one location to the next for each photoby the vase, onthe stairs, near the bouqueteach change of surroundings warranted a swapping

out of people. (This was before digital cameras so I am not sure how many rolls

of film we went through that night.)

--------------------------------

Before I went out some mornings I walked across the street to a little hole-in-the-

wall place where I got my photographs processed. By the end of my five monthstay in Singapore I had enough prints to fill an oversized album (that was rather

difficult for me to transport). There were hundreds of portraits of people,


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colleagues, and roommates along with landscapes of the Sentosa Merlion,temples, work, the city, and rural areas. Moments of time frozen on four by six

paper until they eventually fade into nothingness. Flashes of a life that can bepasted together into a story.

One final decision stood staring me in the facewhere to go on my vacation?

And as it came together, myself, a member of my work family, and her boyfriendplanned a trip to one of the most amazing places I have ever visitedCairns,

Australia. Following were two more weeks in Singapore, back to the States forone month, then on to Taipei, Taiwan.


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Have you ever experienced anything like a hurricane, tornado, tsunami, volcano,etc? Once (while in the U.S.), I woke to an earthquake in the wee hours of the

morning. I was on the second floor of my rental house and I stared at the movingblinds on the window as my mind tried to wrap itself around what was happening.

The building, foundation, and earth below me rolled as though I was perched onthe deck of a boat at sea. I was unable to stop it, powerless to save myself,

incapable of escape. I was along for the ride whether I wanted to be or not! I wasat Gods mercy!

Having my eyes opened by God was a similar ordeal. The birth pains, if you will,

were small and far apart at firstdifficult to even identify. But as time went on

(many years infact), they became more intense and closer togetheruntil grace.He was calling me and I knew the Good Shepherds voice. I was going towardHim by instinct without thought or hesitation. Could I put on the breaks? I

cannot prevent death. Could I hinder God or thwart His doing? And, why wouldI? I was in His tractor beam and being pulled to the mother ship.

The book God used (in addition to the bible) as a tool toward the end of this

process was Seeking Him: Experiencing the Joy of Personal Revival by NancyLeigh DeMoss and Tim Grisson. It is one I highly recommend. Of course, at that

time I also had a wonderful guide to help me navigate through the book and thedeep, tumultuous waters of my conflicting feelings as my flesh burned and I

transitioned from being a slave to my sin to one of righteousness (Romans 6). Butwhile in Singapore, I was closer to the beginning of this progression. I was still

focused on worldly things and nave in my young age.

Ethics and integrity were always important to mebut so was going out withfriends, dancing (as a guest not employee) at clubs, having a few alcoholic

beverages, cursing, and enjoying life. You only live once you know! And Iwas under the impression God would forgive me no matter what! He loves me. I

can indulge all I want and ask forgiveness later, right? And the overall thought ofGod in general just was not at the forefront of my mind. I flew by the seat of my

pants and ate up every moment. I felt invincible and maybe even above reproach.

One night that stands out in particular in my mind during this season was when alarge posse of coworkers and I went out to a popular restaurant to celebrate.

What, exactly, we were observing I cannot remember but I do recall standing bythe bar with one or two others and exceeding my drink limit. I cannot speak for

anyone else but I for one was juiced, tanked, intoxicated. It all became a blur oflaughing, cheering, chattering (about God only knows what, I have no clue), and

hopping in a cab with a bunch of others and heading to our next destination which


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was a trendy night club. Though I was probably there for hours it seemed likethirty minutes and then a particularly lovely gal from my work family (with

whom I am still friends) took me by the arm and escorted me safely home. Godwatched over me that evening and thankfully so! I imagine He was probably

shaking his head and muttering something about what a terrible mess I was but Hegave me His mercy and protection though I certainly did not deserve it!

Two gals and I returned to that restaurant a second evening for dinner. While

there I made many comments about the bartender and how he had flirted with usthe first time we were there. As my mouth ran away with me, our server politely

asked me how I knew the bartender and stated he was her boyfriend! DEER IN

HEADLIGHTS! Uh. I could hear crickets echoing in my brain as everythought had quickly vacated the premises. She waited my response. I just wantedto climb under the table and disappear! What did my face look like? Was I

smiling or was my jaw just hanging open? I am SO SORRY! I uttered inabsolute embarrassment. I had NO idea! She smiled warmly and gave a

chuckle. We did not even have our food yet and already I could not finish minefast enough. Needless to say I never went back to that establishment again!


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Generally speaking, I do not like to shop. I know. Hard to believe. I have evenbeen asked if I am really a female because of my strong disdain for the subject but

department stores and malls are torture to me and why would I torment myselflike that? Now, I find quick browsing tolerable but fifteen minutes is usually my

max.

Mixed within the typical chit chat at work circulated a rumor of a fire sale ofsortsor maybe rummage sale would be more accurate. Luxurious, well made

articles of clothing at grossly discounted prices. But the selection did not cater toeveryone and one had to scour through the racks and piles of garments to find

anything. It was first come, first served and the individuals who had made the

discovery waited a couple days before sharing news of it.

It was there I bought a sleek, black blazer (with a double row of large buttons)

made of a thick fabric and lined on the inside. Another gal had found it but it wasnot her size so she pointed it out to me and it was love at first sight. Fitted and

comfortable, it did not leave much room for any growth on my end but I hadsomeone else in mind whom it would fit perfectly. I took my three or four items

to the check out area and made off with my score before irritation began naggingat me. I gave the blazer to a loved one and a couple years later it made its way

back to me. I kept it, a pin striped skirt suit, and a long, straight, sleeveless, lightweight, stretchy brown dress (with black and cream color patterns throughout) for

ten years before finally giving them up to an organization that collects items fordisabled vets and their families.

It was the Hong Kong leg of the travel plans that really interested me in the field

of apparel. Silk suits were said to be top of the line there and I was told I shouldindulge while I had the chance. But the opportunity would never come.

Often times I am completely dumbfounded by the way God operates and what He

ordained (even before the foundations of the earth). It is rarely what I wouldexpect (Isaiah 55:8) because His ways are not like my own. But one of the most

difficult lessons I had to learn about God is it is better to take refuge in Him than

to trust in man (Psalm 118:8). In one of the most difficult seasons of my life(James 14:4) the following verses were my constant companions:

Romans 8:28: And we know that for those who love God all things worktogether for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.

Jeremiah 29:11: For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD,

plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.


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Psalm 42:5: Why are you cast down, O my soul,

and why are you in turmoil within me?Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,

my salvation

Ephesians 3:20: Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly thanall that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us,

Ephesians 6:10-20: Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his

might.11

Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand

against the schemes of the devil.12

For we do not wrestle against flesh andblood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmicpowers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the

heavenly places.13

Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that youmay be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand

firm.14

Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having puton the breastplate of righteousness,

15and, as shoes for your feet, having

put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace.16

In all circumstancestake up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming

darts of the evil one;17

and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword ofthe Spirit, which is the word of God,

18praying at all times in the Spirit,

with all prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert with allperseverance, making supplication for all the saints,

19and also for me, that

words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim themystery of the gospel,

20for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I

may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak.

Philippians 4:4-8: Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.5Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand;

6do

not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and

supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.7

And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard yourhearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

8Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is

just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, ifthere is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about

these things.


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And, a quote from Alan Redpath which states:

There is nothing no circumstance, no trouble, no testing that can evertouch me until, first of all, it has gone past God and past Christ right

through to me. If it has come that far, it has come with a great purpose,which I may not understand at the moment. But as I refuse to become

panicky, as I lift up my eyes to Him and accept it as coming from thethrone of God for some great purpose of blessing to my own heart, no

sorrow will ever disturb me, no trial will ever disarm me, no circumstancewill cause me to fret for I shall rest in the joy of what my Lord is! That

is the rest of victory!


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An ocean of people stood before me as I climbed out of the cab in China Town. Ifelt as though I could jump from a stage and ride a wave of individuals while

being passed over their heads (like I have seen lead singers do). But swimmingthrough this crowd was far from glamorous. We were sardines packaged tightly

together. Shoulders, elbows, and other appendages were bumped and brushedwhile walking Geisha style (with tiny steps) in an effort to get from point A to

destination B. A set of stone steps immerged powerfully on the opposite side ofthe crowd like an athlete exiting a pool.

The sun had already set, leaving a steamy residue behind. Sweat beaded and slid

along the olive surface of my skin leaving a delicate trail of shiny luminance.

Light cascaded from street lamps and surrounding buildings as the tide pushed mealong. I could not help but laugh out loud and received entertained smiles inagreement. This was madness!

Slowly the current thrust me toward the concrete staircase which beckoned me

like sand along a golden beach. I would get there eventually. What did I expectcoming to China Town on the eve of Chinese New Year?

Venders offered me their wares as I floated past. Dragons Beard caught my

attention. The merchant extended it like a child stretching putty or a machinepulling taffy until it was light and airy like lengthened cotton. It blew in the

slight, warm, humid breeze and looked as though it would melt on my tongue.There were only moments until midnight as I continued to bob along, dazzled by

the decorations and very nature of the environment. It was all so enchantingafitting finale to my time in Singapore.

Happiness pulsed through my veins as Chinese music danced about me. It was

the year of the tiger. (I only remember this because leading up to the holiday Isaw plush toys of A.A. Milnes character Tigger dressed in Chinese New Year

attire as though ready to celebrate.)

Finally, I climbed the stairs and looked out over the sea of those that swirled

below. Anxiety nearly kept me from coming to Singapore months ago. I had noidea what to expect before arriving and never would have imagined all that is thiscity-state.

Fireworks exploded in the sky above China Town. The air was sweet yet

weighed heavily upon me. My heart was afire as cheers filled the atmosphere.Singapore was a dreamone I hope to revisit one day. The orchids bowed their

heads as they wished me farewell. Good-bye for now, they swayed.

Documents

Faith. Hope. Love: Part 1 - Singapore