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Are you Jesus?


A few years ago a group of salesmen went to a regional sales convention in Chicago .. They had assured their wives that they would be home in plenty of time for Friday night’s dinner. In their rush to catch the plane home and with tickets and briefcases, one of these salesmen inadvertently kicked over a table which held a display of apples.

Apples flew everywhere. Without stopping or looking back, they all managed to reach the plane in time for their nearly-missed boarding…

ALL BUT ONE!!! He paused, took a deep breath, got in touch with his feelings and experienced a twinge of compassion for the girl whose apple stand had been overturned.

He told his buddies to go on without him, waved good-bye, told one of them to call his wife when they arrived at their home destination and explain his taking a later flight. Then he returned to the terminal where the apples were all over the terminal floor.

He was glad he did. The 16-year-old girl was totally blind! She was softly crying, tears running down her cheeks in frustration, and at the same time helplessly groping for her spilled produce as the crowd swirled about her; no one stopping and no one to care for her plight.

The salesman knelt on the floor with her, gathered up the apples, put them back on the table and helped organize her display. As he did this, he noticed that many of them had become battered and bruised; these he set aside in another basket.

When he had finished, he pulled out his wallet and said to the girl, “Here, please take this $50 for the damage we did. Are you okay?” She nodded through her tears. He continued on with, “I hope we didn’t spoil your day too badly.”

As the salesman started to walk away, the bewildered blind girl called out to him, “Mister….” He paused and turned to look back into those blind eyes. She continued, “Are you Jesus?”

He stopped in mid-stride …. and he wondered. He gently went back and said, “No, I am nothing like Jesus – He is good, kind, caring, loving, and would never have bumped into your display in the first place.

“The girl gently nodded: “I only asked because I prayed for Jesus to help me gather the apples. He sent you to help me, Thank you for hearing Jesus, Mister.”

Then slowly he made his way to catch the later flight with that question burning and bouncing about in his soul: “Are you Jesus?”

Do people mistake you for Jesus?

That’s our destiny, is it not? To be so much like Jesus that people cannot tell the difference as we live and interact with a world that is blind to His love, life and grace.

If we claim to know Him, we should live, walk and act as He would. Knowing Him is more than simply quoting scripture and going to church. It’s actually living the Word as life unfolds day to day .

You are the apple of His eyes even though you, too, have been bruised by a fall. He stopped what He was doing and picked up you and me on a hill called Calvary and paid in full for our damaged fruit.

Sometimes we just take things for granted, when we really need to be sharing what we know….Thanks.

The nicest place to be is in someone’s thoughts, the safest place to be is in someone’s prayers, and the very best place to be is in the hands of God🙌

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Lily Myers’s Shrinking Women


this beautiful poem awaken me in so many ways and I’ve heard way too many times of ladies muttering “I feel fat” but since when a body part (and why only fat) had become a feeling? Do we also “feel fair” “feel lungs” “feel hair” feel skin”?

Humiliation crushes self esteem and when you start allowing it, you will start accommodating to others for all the wrong reasons (e.g pass someone a knife and allowing yourself to be slash).

I am fat but i don’t feel fat and wont allow others to use it to make me feel bad. Only I can make myself feel bad. Shrink for the right reason, else you will always find a part of you no longer belongs to yourself.

this article from bustle said it best

Her mother, Myers tells us, is the latest in a line of shrinking women in her family, women who grow smaller and smaller, who eat as though they think they don’t deserve food. The poem touches on so many things: eating disorders, women’s tendency to say “sorry” all the time, the way we socialize boys and girls differently, our relationship to our parents and the things we pick up without meaning to. And throughout the poem, food connects to all these things, as though women’s complicated relationship to food is connected to their self-esteem and their childhoods and their families. Which, of course, it is

“Across from me at the kitchen table, my mother smiles over red wine that she drinks out of a measuring glass.
She says she doesn’t deprive herself,
but I’ve learned to find nuance in every movement of her fork.
In every crinkle in her brow as she offers me the uneaten pieces on her plate.
I’ve realized she only eats dinner when I suggest it.
I wonder what she does when I’m not there to do so.

Maybe this is why my house feels bigger each time I return; it’s proportional.
As she shrinks the space around her seems increasingly vast.
She wanes while my father waxes. His stomach has grown round with wine, late nights, oysters, poetry. A new girlfriend who was overweight as a teenager, but my dad reports that now she’s “crazy about fruit.”

It was the same with his parents;
as my grandmother became frail and angular her husband swelled to red round cheeks, round stomach,
and I wonder if my lineage is one of women shrinking,
making space for the entrance of men into their lives,
not knowing how to fill it back up once they leave.

I have been taught accommodation.
My brother never thinks before he speaks.
I have been taught to filter.
“How can anyone have a relationship to food?” he asks, laughing, as I eat the black bean soup I chose for its lack of carbs.
I want to say: we come from difference, Jonas,
you have been taught to grow out,
I have been taught to grow in.
You learned from our father how to emit, how to produce, to roll each thought off your tongue with confidence, you used to lose your voice every other week from shouting so much.
I learned to absorb.
I took lessons from our mother in creating space around myself.
I learned to read the knots in her forehead while the guys went out for oysters,
and I never meant to replicate her, but
spend enough time sitting across from someone and you pick up their habits-

that’s why women in my family have been shrinking for decades.
We all learned it from each other, the way each generation taught the next how to knit,
weaving silence in between the threads
which I can still feel as I walk through this ever-growing house,
skin itching,
picking up all the habits my mother has unwittingly dropped like bits of crumpled paper from her pocket on her countless trips from bedroom to kitchen to bedroom again.
Nights I hear her creep down to eat plain yogurt in the dark, a fugitive stealing calories to which she does not feel entitled.
Deciding how many bites is too many.
How much space she deserves to occupy.

Watching the struggle I either mimic or hate her,
And I don’t want to do either anymore,
but the burden of this house has followed me across the country.
I asked five questions in genetics class today and all of them started with the word “sorry.”
I don’t know the requirements for the sociology major because I spent the entire meeting deciding whether or not I could have another piece of pizza,
a circular obsession I never wanted, but

inheritance is accidental,
still staring at me with wine-soaked lips from across the kitchen table.”

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Teo clan


I love history – more if it’s roots of my family, having it closer to blood. During my granny’s funeral, i heard so many stories of her and was so fascinated and thirsty for more.. Thanks (or maybe not, i have yet to decide) to facebook, i start to connect with my uncles and aunties through this powerful platforms.

Teo rootsjpg

Recently one of my uncles shared this and i was hooked..

History of Teo Clan
I like to share what I know about our ancestry history. If you have any please add or correct me.

It will be good if you all cousins can organize a trip together to visit our ancestor place which is in Kinmen, Taiwan. Maybe with Christine who is now in in Tainan until January.Tun Lin should have more closer contact with them I think. I did not know where is Kinmen until I google. Its in fact nearer to China than Taiwan. The last time we met our relative from Kinmen is during Grandmum funeral.

His name is Kong Hai. I think he used to be a police chief and later joined politics and became an MP. You all can get more information from Dua Pek, James my eldest brother.

I think our forefathers come to Singapore in the early 1900’s. My mother was born in Singapore around 1930s. So you can see that they have a very difficult life living under British rule in Singapore, World War 2, opium trading, gangsterism, no rule of law, no job opportunities and starvation.

I think my father eldest brother died of starvation. My father and his 3rd brother have to give up their studies to work so that their 2nd brother can continue his studies. Many of our relatives also died in World War 2.

I learn something from my mum about her past. His father, my grandfather was a very tough man. They call him the Tiger of Shandong. He used to be the foreman in the Singapore river dock transferring cargo from the ship to the tug boat later to the warehouse in Singapore river.

Later he became a opium drug dealer. My mum told me that he used to hold a gun in his hand and hold my mother to sleep. Sometimes my mum would walk in the street controls by rival gangs and she would be beaten up. Sound like Shanghai gangster show. It must be the same. That how she is so tough herself.

My grandfather loves his grandchildren very much that he will buy a big basket of durian for all of us. That is why we re all crazy about durian! Later he decided to quit drug smuggling and do a last big deal. However he was sabotage and lost everything.

Suddenly he became a depress man who lost his soul and everything. Mum told me he always appreciate his husband who later take my grandfather into his care. He passed away soon and I cannot remember his face except for the picture I found in my mother’s house.

My mum’s mother is also a beautiful woman like my mother. She is a devoted Buddhist and always seem to be in isolation maybe because trying to atone the sin of my grandfather.

When I was young, my father used to bring me to Telok Ayer Street, and we have the famous lor Mee there and sometimes visit the Hokkien clan Association. I think you can learn more stories from Tua Pek and other uncles and auntie.

Actually I was the most fortunate kid in the family as my father will bring me to go all his friends gathering and I will eat abalone and all the good stuff until I am scare of them.

Please feel free to add your stories and comment to this post. Thanks and have a good day

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Dr Phil and his test


I saw my cousin posted this on his Facebook and thought his results was pretty accurate so i tried it too and i cant help to keep nodding my heard when i read the below.. Apparently the Oprah got 38 which is the same range as mine, shown below…

 

go try it @ http://www.slideshare.net/crazy02omar/dr-philtest-knowyourself