.: 30th :.

Happy birthday to me! I turn 30 today.


And looking back, I have achieved all I wanted to before I reach this age milestone.


But somewhat, there's still that familiar sense of malancholy emptiness inside.


Which begs the question - is that all? There's got to be more to life than this?

.: Trust In You :.

Letting go of every single dream I lay each one down at Your feet  Every moment of my wandering Never changes what You see I’ve tried to win this war I confess My hands are weary I need Your rest Mighty Warrior, King of the fight No matter what I face, You’re by my side When You don’t move the mountains I’m needing You to move When You don’t part the waters I wish I could walk through When You don’t give the answers as I cry out to You I will trust, I will trust, I will trust in You! Truth is, You know what tomorrow brings  There’s not a day ahead You have not seen So, in all things be my life and breath I want what You want Lord and nothing less You are my strength and comfort You are my steady hand You are my firm foundation; the rock on which I stand Your ways are always higher Your plans are always good There’s not a place where I’ll go, 
You’ve not already stood When You don’t move the mountains I’m needing You to move When You don’t part the waters I wish I could walk through When You don’t give the answers as I cry out to You I will trust, I will trust, I will trust in You! I will trust in You!

.: Why? :.

This is just too much to bear.

After being hit again and again and again, all within a short period span - how does one recover?

Why?

All I can scream and ask right now is "Why?"

.: He Maketh No Mistake :.

My Father’s way may twist and turn,

My heart may throb and ache,

But in my soul I’m glad to know,

He maketh no mistake,

My cherished plans may go astray,

My hopes may fade away,

But still I’ll trust my Lord to lead,

For He doth know the way,

Though the night be dark and it may seem,

That day will never break,

I’ll pin my faith, my all in Him,

He maketh no mistake,

There’s so much now I cannot see,

My eyesight’s far too dim,

But come what may, I’ll simply trust,

And leave it all to Him,

For by and by the mist will lift,

And plain it all He’ll make,

Through all the way, though dark to me,

He made not one mistake.

- A M Overton -

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Where do I even start? So much has happened within a short span of time, that I barely remember to sequence of events, even tho it has only been like less than a year.

It has really been challenging times, starting from the move here to Sydney and now, recovering from spinal surgery. It was mentally and emotionally exhausting, and series of events after events befalling on me has really pushed me to the brink of my limit. But thank goodness for His mercy and His grace that saw me through this whole episode. 

It's still a journey, I am not exactly back to life as normal, but it will get there eventually. In His time and in His way, far beyond what I can understand or comprehend. I have to surrender and trust Him and His will for me completely - and have faith that it will all work out. Afterall, he maketh no mistakes. 

.: It's Loneliness :.

It’s loneliness. Even though I’m surrounded by loved ones who care about me and want only the best, it’s possible they try to help only because they feel the same thing—loneliness—and why, in a gesture of solidarity, you’ll find the phrase “I am useful, even if alone” carved in stone. Though the brain says all is well, the soul is lost, confused, doesn’t know why life is being unfair to it. But we still wake up in the morning and take care of our children, our husband, our lover, our boss, our employees, our students, those dozens of people who make an ordinary day come to life. And we often have a smile on our face and a word of encouragement, because no one can explain their loneliness to others, especially when we are always in good company. But this loneliness exists and eats away at the best parts of us because we must use all our energy to appear happy, even though we will never be able to deceive ourselves. But we insist, every morning, on showing only the rose that blooms, and keep the thorny stem that hurts us and makes us bleed hidden within. Even knowing that everyone, at some point, has felt completely and utterly alone, it is humiliating to say, “I’m lonely, I need company. I need to kill this monster that everyone thinks is as imaginary as a fairy-tale dragon, but isn’t.” But it isn’t. I wait for a pure and virtuous knight, in all his glory, to come defeat it and push it into the abyss for good, but that knight never comes. Yet we cannot lose hope. We start doing things we don’t usually do, daring to go beyond what is fair and necessary. The thorns inside us will grow larger and more overwhelming, yet we cannot give up halfway. Everyone is looking to see the final outcome, as though life were a huge game of chess. We pretend it doesn’t matter whether we win or lose, the important thing is to compete. We root for our true feelings to stay opaque and hidden, but then … … instead of looking for companionship, we isolate ourselves even more in order to lick our wounds in silence. Or we go out for dinner or lunch with people who have nothing to do with our lives and spend the whole time talking about things that are of no importance. We even manage to distract ourselves for a while with drink and celebration, but the dragon lives on until the people who are close to us see that something is wrong and begin to blame themselves for not making us happy. They ask what the problem is. We say that everything is fine, but it’s not … Everything is awful. Please, leave me alone, because I have no more tears to cry or heart left to suffer. All I have is insomnia, emptiness, and apathy, and, if you just ask yourselves, you’re feeling the same thing. But they insist that this is just a rough patch or depression because they are afraid to use the real and damning word: loneliness. Meanwhile, we continue to relentlessly pursue the only thing that would make us happy: the knight in shining armor who will slay the dragon, pick the rose, and clip the thorns.

Paulo Coelho : Adultery

Currently reading Paulo Coelho's Adultery