Cross-stitch

I’m almost done with this cross-stitch project! Yay. All that’s left for now are outlines and filling in the eyes and noses. Here are pictures of the progress since July.



8th Sept: Bear No. 5 starts to take shape.

11th Sept: In his little pouch… (I don’t know why I called it a “he”. But somehow it seems more natural to give bears a masculine pronoun, doesn’t it?)

19th Sept: And oh, look, it’s a sock!

2oth Sept: Hints of Bear No. 6 start to emerge from the bottom…

Work on Bear No. 7 (the final one) thus begins…

I didn’t work on it everyday, but only when I was able to afford a bit of time to work on it. I want to finish this before I return to Brunei. The pictures I’ve put up here are the more visible progressions.

21st Nov

27th Nov

The almost complete picture!

Just the outlining and final face details to be added in. I’ve already got the next cross-stitch project lined up, but I’ll have to buy the Aida cloth back home before I can start on that.

`

…This shouldn’t be the sort of hobby that young twenty-something girls ought to be doing, right?

A little drop.

It’s been raining almost ceaselessly since last night. The weather brings me back home as I recall long hours of being cooped up at home, listening to the sound of the falling rain.

I love the rain. There’s something so soothing about it, and I love watching drops of water on windows trail down the window, leaving funny trails behind as each drop falls away or merges into another. I love rainy, cold weather, for the warmth that awaits at home when you come in from that weather.

I love falling asleep to the sound of rain for the lullaby that lulls me to sleep as I lie in the warmth and comfort of my bed.

I love the rain; it brings connotations of blessings and sadness all at once, in all its symbolism and what it means to different people around the world.

And ever since coming to this mostly dry climate here, I’ve come to miss rainy weather, and so when it comes, it fills my heart with a nostalgic warmth.

The clouds are unable to hold back anymore
As the weight of rain threatens to break through the gates.
Darker and darker the sky grows,
Almost ominously
As if something terrible is going to happen.
But the gates are drawn back slowly,
A drip, and more -
And suddenly the pouring rain.
Showers of blessings upon this dry, parched land
A much-needed cleansing from the dust of the desert.
It doesn’t appear to let up,
Teases, when it wanes a little,
But it continues pouring, quells that hope.

The wait continues,
Expectantly,
Knowing that after the rain
The sun will shine;

And even through the storm,
He’s behind the shadow of the clouds.
Waiting,
Expectantly -

He’s been there all along.

A step into the past… and then forward.

My piano teacher who helped me through my DipABRSM back in 2005 when I was in Perth emailed me out of the blue a few days ago.

The funny thing is, I’ve been thinking of contacting her too, mainly because my results and certificate are still with her (after all these years!) I actually needed those results if I wished to proceed with my plans to undertake the LRSM next year (the Licentiate, which is basically the next level after the Diploma). So I wanted to contact her to forward the results to me.

And the other funny thing is that, I’ve been wavering again lately about whether I should actually press forward with this goal. Many posts back, I blogged about the growing feeling of despondency (again) over my piano learning. I’ve actually put my lessons on a hiatus for almost two months now, because of the assignments and workload I had to deal with post-semester break. I wonder if the piano teacher still remembers me.

`

So I’m at this point where I’m (about) to give up again.

Then this email came from my ex-piano teacher.

It reminded me of my year in Perth. In retrospect, I think I must have been crazy to do the DipABRSM at the same time I was going through my year 12 exams, which are actually a pretty big deal for year 12 students here wanting to go on to tertiary level. The course of your choice hinges upon the results of the year 12 exams. Those results, in a sense, determine your future.

So there I am, still naive and innocent. I wanted to take the DipABRSM because, well, I’ve been playing those pieces for almost two years, and I was getting sick of them. And it was about time to do the exams otherwise I’ll just regress. So I registered, paid the fee, and waited for the exam dates to roll around.

My preparation was very shoddy, in truth. I didn’t practice everyday. And even when I did, it was haphazard and messy. Writing my programme notes was an ordeal. My musical general and theoretical knowledge was hardly enough to help me (as opposed to the amount of learning I have behind me now, thanks to this music degree I’m doing).

Another thing I had to wait in anticipation for was the release of the exam dates for the Year 12 exams; I prayed that my exams won’t clash with the DipABRSM exam, because they all fall in the same period. (Thank God they didn’t clash!)

Let’s put this another way – it’s the equivalent of you guys doing your A-Levels, and at the same time, you have another major exam to worry about. And the thing with musical exams is that you really need to dedicate hours and hours of practice and effort into it as well, the same way you’ll put in hours of studies to do well in the academic subjects. I had barely enough time to cope with everything.

I was really between the rock and the hard place in that year. It was a difficult year. First time away from home at seventeen. Midway through the year, I receive bad news from home regarding parents’ health. Then the growing panic and fear over my lack of preparation for the piano exam, and the knowledge of the high failure rate did not help. And my studies weren’t going too well either in the second half of the year – it kinda went downhill and I felt powerless to stop those falling grades.

`

Maybe you’re surprised to hear all this. I’m not surprised at your surprise; this was all under the surface, and I kept all these to myself.

But in the midst of all that storm, God proved to me His faithfulness, even when I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Did I mention that I passed the DipABRSM by only 3 marks?

I was stunned when I heard that from her (the piano teacher who taught me in Perth). 3 marks. It’s crazy. I messed up my viva voce (general question-and-answer) and my sight reading had been atrocious. And I passed?!?

It’s miraculous.

`

And my year 12 results were disappointing by my standards (or by the standards that everyone has come to expect of me anyway). I never told anyone, but I really, really felt disheartened when I received my results. The thought that I had at that time was, “There goes my future.” I wanted more than anything, a redo of the entire year. God, just turn back time for me, please. It had been one big mess that I didn’t handle very well at all. But those results were just enough to get into this current double degree that I’m doing, and after fighting ‘myself’ and God, am now ironically enjoying.

Both parents recovered and are now in remission (and it’s truly by God’s grace and I thank Him for that).

I came to Melbourne, not that I had much of a choice, but because this ended up being the only university I could go to. Frankly I felt like a failure when I first arrived here in 2006. Australia had never been my first choice.

All the way, it seemed like I failed, but God keeps affirming me all along the way.

`

And the email out of the blue a few days ago? Well, my ex-piano teacher wanted to pass my results to me when we meet up in Brunei later in December, the very same subject matter I wanted to contact her about, and did not do because, well, I just didn’t find the heart to…

It all speaks of a Higher power who knows me better than I know myself. Even when I want to let it all go and in a moment of weakness, yell, “Forget it”, He refuses to let go and urges me forward in spite of my failings.

In John 6, the recount of the miracle of Jesus walking on water is short and simple – it’s profound how John doesn’t even mention what happens to the storm. We don’t know whether it stopped, whether it continued raging or not. All that he tells us is that, the disciples were glad to see Him, and welcomed Him onto the boat. And the boat reached its intended journey safely.

And that was it.

Jesus walked through storm and wind to reach his beloved disciples. And with Him in the boat, it doesn’t matter if the storm is raging or not. It doesn’t matter that the wind threatens to capsize this boat.

All that matters is that He is in this together with me, and this boat will reach its destination safely.

A pensive end to a day.

I came across this blog – it’s too good not to share. The stories that she shares will leave you in tears and occasionally laughter, but more often than not, tears; and above all, a deeper appreciation for life and the things around you. Most of all, it makes you think. This latest post is particularly moving.

The study desk

Books spread out, primary coloured and underlined, scribbles abound;
Biscuits and snacks within an arm’s length, a glass of comfort.
My precious MacBook in front of me, a distraction every now and then;
Headphones plugged in but I hardly hear the music as I read;
Just one more paper,
Two more weeks,
And I’ll be home.