Staying single and lawn mowing...

This is my hand mower which I manage easily.  I bought a petrol run mower which stayed in storage after my brother Nimrod left Sydney, the reason being I could not start it.  It is now dysfunctional--(in line with the theory of üse it or lose it).  My brother Art was suggesting I bought a chain saw to manage my hedge.  Big Nah!!  I don't think I'll be able to manage it if he also leaves..

It is total darkness now in my neighbourhood. All the humming of the lawnmowers from different gardens around me had ended. Thank God!  This had truly driven  me crazy all through the day.  One out of 100, I might be the only one who's  awake...

It looks like I am back to my normal custom of spending what I'd call quality time with myself.

Ah, why isn't there still someone in my life so at least I can have someone to eat late supper with?  A question I asked from time immemorial and many people who know me---but rather put it in a different way.

My young niece then (now 18 years old) rephrased the question, "Why are you alone?"

What is wrong with me? And what is also wrong with a few men who chased me then?

When someone comes along (and someone did!), I tend to ask myself, "can I truly spend my whole life with this person without being bored?"  From hindsight, I realised this was a foolish question to ask--but I had asked it, (and still asking it, anyway!)

At the bus stop, I shared garden and life notes  with few "widowed" women by divorce or death of spouse, I became acquainted with. Surprisingly, a few of them ended up living with the man who offered to cut their lawn.  One is contemplating marriage. I said to myself--WoW!  That easy? Something must be worth investigating here...

And because I became aware of these stories of women at the bus stop, even if there were at least two who offered to cut the grass for me, I declined the offer.  I think I'd rather be on the careful side. Cutting the grass, being in a relationship and eventually moving to my house---definitely are distinct and unconnected matters.

My older friend, who by the way, after being a widow for a few years now still hopes to meet someone.  And because she does as well as other widowed and divorced people in her circle, a few of whom are now in  new relationships, it has been a big puzzle for her why someone in her words "so pretty and clever"as me still hasn't got new relationship yet!  She said, surely there should be someone out there after that big redhead who by the way, is so ashamed now to show up his face in my house after I discovered him, with solid evidences, to be a perennial philanderer and pathological liar! 

No, there isn't anyone yet! I wish there was--so there's someone who'll replace the two light bulbs in my kitchen...so I do not have to struggle mowing my lawn...and so on. 

I think we can all blame that "clever"part description of me by my older friend.  As the song goes, "fools rush in where angels fear to tread." I think I am more of an angel than a fool, that's why.

Anyway, I will stay single.  I still have the  hand mower which I acquired with the help of my ex-significant redhead. I'll manage the grass in my property (to save $$$$ for holiday perhaps) and leave it to the Council to cut the nature strip.  

And in the later later years, I could always call the Grey Army to cut the lawn for me.

I think this is in keeping with being clever...

I am at home again.  Ah, how many Sabbaths will I just stay at home?  I want to go to church, however, the forecast today is 33 degrees C.  

What's in the church, anyway?  Ah, what a question!  There's nothing there technically, at this stage of my life. If I want to fellowship with God and continually expand my knowledge of Him, I do not necessarily have to go to church.  The Bible is open and I can read it myself asking the Holy Spirit to give me wisdom and guide me.  With the advanced technological developments and access to a wide range of information including commentaries on Bible passages and their different translations, I can on my own initiative continually study the Word of God and thereby continually grow in my experiential knowledge of God.

But then Hebrews 10:25 is making me feel uncomfortable--I feel like some convicting spiritual substance of neglect streaming down rapidly in my system even as I type this out...

Yes, I should go to church.  Why not? Only for the sole reason that there is Sister Paz, whom I know loves me.  Hm... I sound so delinquent as this echoes back to my ears. I could not just go to church because of a person.  I go to church to meet God and to be an encouragement to the brethren even if I do not belong to any club or cliche.

Now what? Shall I justify myself today for not going to church? Well, I do not hold any office in the church--and I do not intend to-- because there is so much freedom not being committed to anything.  I remember all those years when I was actively involved in church activities and I could not even get sick, particularly when I was discipling youth for Christ.  Rain or shine, I should be there to open and close the church gate--so to speak.  So am I complaining now about all those years?  Nope!  

There is a right time for everything and those years were just the right time for me to use my optimum energies to minister to others and afterwards to my mother who, two years ago, went to be with God.

Now, that I have a few medical conditions, my ministry now is to my own self and to all the people I love both near and far, in land or sea which I could only do in no other way but through prayer. 

Yes, I have been celebrating Sabbath in my own personal way. Nobody can contest that.  This is between myself and the Lord of Sabbath.

Well, how do I celebrate Sabbath particularly today?

Here I am sitting before my laptop--sharing my thoughts while I admire all the splashes of geranium colours in my courtyard.  God has made me happy--it has been quite awhile when my courtyard is bereft of colours.  It is amazing how they display their warm colours this summer. God must have known I am weary about trivial things like the overgrown grass in the nature strip which Council claimed was already booked to be cut after the many phone calls I made since January.  I could hear the mowing sounds from different directions in my neighbourhood whose major business is to cut their lawn.  

Well, I do not mow on Sabbath.  I  would not clean the backroom of my house, either.  It is Sabbath---I am going to read the Bible in Spanish and possibly write and afterwards I am going to eat noodles for lunch, maybe eat pancakes for afternoon tea and---then give myself a rest.

This is a collage I made to show the geraniums my eyes always love to look at each day until the sun goes down.

Spaghetti, Simple Flowers and Solitude

As the crepe myrtle blooms are fragile, I float all the tiny fallen blooms in this dish.  I did not light the candle because I kind
running in circles to do some house and garden chores.

What a title for my blog today!  Spaghetti, simple flowers and solitude---the three s's that summed up to a spectacular day!  

Life is pretty much challenging to me and my siblings.  One of my sisters is awaiting a result of a biopsy.  Are we worried? I am!  I am reminded however, as always Why worry, when I can pray?

I pray. Why not? Why not? Although, I have to admit I find it hard to laugh, to smile and to be happy.  I retired last night not having a good laugh, basically because Everybody Loves Raymond, the show which inevitably   makes me laugh had not been  rerunned in the usual screening time.

I put some of the flowers I picked from my front yard in this snail-shaped container which I also sat on that rattan-woven duck figurine on the coffee table near the sliding door of my house extension.  I have books here so when I sat on the floral arm chair for a break, I have something to browse or skim through.


So I went to bed asking God to make me happy. I remember when my Mum was still around, I was usually singing a song as I made breakfast for her.  Truly, life had dramatically changed for me since that day she went to be with God.  Yes, It has been quite awhile and I should really have been used to being alone. I am! If I am not called to work, then my world stops at my gate.  

I am not working today.  When I woke up and checked the time,

I put also some flowers on the big study table in my now big
library.  I put pictures of my Mum under the  glass on this
table to look at when I get tired of reading, writing or
studying.

I accidentally pressed internet on my phone.  I smiled because I saw a message from my young nephew.  Funny, because once we start messaging each other, I do not know when to stop.  So sometimes, he has to tell me not to reply anymore.

I thank God for the opening smile He gave me for the day.  Actually, I did not just smiled, but really laughed out loud! Even if this nephew is across the miles, I really like him and he always brings me out a smile.

After breakfast, I trimmed the overhanging plants by my front gate because I do not want them to come in contact with my skin.  Also, when my brother came to trim the hedge

These are some of the jars I collected and grouped together.  I put with these, that dish where I
floated the tiny blooms of  crepe myrtle as I brought them inside from my front yard.

I put this vase of flowers in the round table also in my big
library now.  The green stem is actually Agapanthus which
already shed its purple florets.  I did not throw it so it will
complement those red blooms I also picked from shrubs in
my front yard.

between my house and that of my neighbour and I helped my dragging all the cuttings to my backyard, my skin developed an allergic reaction as these came in contact with my skin.  So to do myself  'bien' (as my mother always said then), I trimmed all those that might come in contact with my skin, including all those African and yellow irises that lined the footpath from my gate to my house.

Ah, there are still tons of work to be done in my garden.  But I take my time.  I do not need to stress.  
As I finished my garden chore for the day, I was ready to do a bit of laundry.  I wanted to just throw in the machine the jacket I bought in France (Who-oooh!  when "live",  I got to say the phrase I rehearsed a couple of times till I got the pronunciation right  "Acceptez-vous la carte de credit?).  However, I noticed that it has got a delicate design which the washing machine might damage, so I decided to hand wash it.  On my way to the laundry, my eyes settled on the picture of my Mum below on my big study table.  As always, I said "Hi" to my Mum.  I like this photo of my Mum because she is looking at me and seems to be smiling to me all the time.

I also put some flowers here.  Flowers made my Mum always glad then.  I thought maybe these will do the same
trick to me--- and they did.  I felt like singing the song I learned when I was a  pupil at SDA school back in Manila.
"God made the sun, the moon and stars.  He made the  flowers too. He made the birds that fly so high.  Just for
 you and me."



Well, that should be it for the morning.  And now what?  Awaiting
for me was  plate of spaghetti!  Yay! Cooked by whom?  Myself, who else?  Hahaha!

I don't have any beef mince on the fridge---so here it is my vegetarian spaghetti with parmesan cheese.  Thank God for provision of my daily food.


That was my spectacular solitary day today with vase of simple flowers and a plate of spaghetti---plus a big smile! ...and this blogging! Thank God!

[...and domesticated Lilian is now signing off to bring her  washing..." ]

Dreaming dreams..

Every single night before I go to bed, I look at the picture on facebook which I labeled meiner liebe. As of writing, I know that my dream is the only place I'll able to see him again.  Hm.. I don't think it is a crime to still dream dreams. Even better, as my friends on facebook often say and I  quote, libre ang mangarap ( it is free to dream), so I just keep on dreaming.   Besides, being still fully human, it makes me feel good to have found him. I feel like I am alive!

Even if he is not French-speaking and I am not probably going back to France even if I've seen  in my book called France that I've just seen a tiny southern part of the country, he has been like my inspiration in learning  French.  

It amused me that as the following  expressions came one after another in my French lessons one morning, and I repeat after the tutor each phrase, I said to myself "Ah, this is him."

Il a une belle voix ; Il est beau; Il est drole; Il est gentil;Il est grand;Il est mignon; Il est patient; Il est serieux; Il est sophistique; 

Needless to say the  above phrases came back easily to my mind.  So instead of doing what my father taught me since I was a kid this time of counting sheeps one by one to fall asleep, I am uttering these expressions one after another:  Il a une belle voix (He has a beautiful voice); Il est beau (He is handsome);Il est drole (He is humorous;); Il est gentil (He is kind); Il est grand (He is tall); Il le mignon (He is good-looking); Il les patient (He is patient); Il est serieux (He is serious); and Il est sophistique (He is sophisticated). 

Well, I am not exactly thinking I am doing or saying a magic spell for him to appear in my dream, so needless to say except on two occasions in a span of eight months, he never visited me in my dream.

The funny thing was my philanderer ex-significant other has been visiting in my dreams.  Weird!  and every time, I wake up, I always tell God "I don't like to see him even in my dream!" I wish there was a legislation where I could apply for a "Apprehended Dream Order", so I do not have to see him in my dream.

Last night I dreamed again...instead of seeing him who is  Il a une belle voix ; Il est beau; Il est drole; Il est gentil;Il est grand;Il est mignon; Il est patient; Il est serieux; Il est sophistique; I dreamed instead of a young man who is Il est maigre (He's skinny) and Il est lent (He's slow).  The horrible thing which woke me up was I agreed to have a date with him to eat pork. 

  

Just for the heck of blogging...

This is the island dividing my kitchen & dining area. It's been devoid of clutter for many weeks now. Hallelujah Praise the Lord! I have resolved to think of it as my lab bench, which on my working days as a science researcher, was all technically clear and clean-- devoid of spillage nor breakage or any kind of mess. I didn't just impress myself by this discipline, but also my supervisor when she came unannounced one day to do some stuff herself in the lab. She also commented it was unbelievable I worked so quietly! Why? because she didn't even heard when I put glassware on the bench! It was like absolutely soundless! Hmm.  possibly due to my excellent muscular coordination then?

As I am realising my energy levels going low, I am making assessments plus action plans of how I could conserve them.


There is really a big challenge before me of realising my goal to be minimalist at this stage of my life as  realistically I could pass away soon. I thought I better give myself a chance to live much better--not only health wise, but also home and garden wise. My brother Nimrod said the brain probably could think much better if the house is not cluttered.

Where do I begin? Ah, I thought I should really begin somewhere--and I began with the island pictured above. After I cook and eat, I cleared the area right away. Now, this spot in my house is like the hub of my googling, facebooking, you tubing and most importantly blogging while I sip my hot coffee in between during breakfast which is always like an enjoyable time for me, particularly, if I don't have to work early.  I like to chew my food well, enjoy my coffee sip by sip.  Also, because I am basically a morning person, I think my brain activity is at its highest during this time of the day.

Yeah, I thought it is just a matter of discipline. For example, I have books everywhere--in the lounge, in the bedroom, near every chair or table in the extension of my house. Why? because I tend to multi-task and this include browsing books and also jotting down notes while I am cleaning the floor, dusting stuff around the house, for example, which incidentally become boring to do continuously. So I stop sometimes, read or write in between.  Sometimes,  I pace the house as I  browse some light reading magazines which I keep because I like looking at the pictures for example, of beautiful houses and gardens and also different places in the world.  Ah, that's why I could not just donate my outdated books or back issues of magazines?  I practically could hang on to these, really, because I extended my small cottage house--basically to house my books (this was the Council's approval for the extension.  Although, one impetus really was (and I know this sound ridiculous!!!) so my tall Christmas tree would have enough room and also because I like to keep it up all-year-round! Anyhow, the long-year plan for  house extension came to reality when my mother had a heart failure in 2009 and needed to be rehabilitated.  I thought having an extension would give her  a good area to keep up with her walking requirements for rehabilitation.

I have at one stage consider donating my Science magazines, however,  the inner core of my cerebral hemispheres is protesting and seem not to be very comfortable with this. I am happy I have kept these magazines with me as I realise now, these have served me as a references to research future trends on subjects I may find interesting.

As I am not called to work today except for telephone interpreting, I decided to lop the two-metre jacaranda that helped itself in one of my garden beds. After working for two and a half hours, the job was done and dusted. Thanks to the techniques I learned from my late father and my lost Brett. Most of all, I thank God for the energy He supplied to my biceps which, as I was sawing the branches to lengths that would go flawlessly in my green bin, should be one day like Michelle Obama's if I have to do this kind of task regularly. Well, the next agenda if I am not called to work is to lop one of the now bushy crepe myrtle trees in the front yard. Well, the remarkable thing that happened after doing this chore was my blood sugar went down that allowed me to have for morning tea a piece of traditional German cake (yay!!!), without feeling guilty at all!

I thought having lopped the two metre jacaranda tree should be enough work for the day, so here I am just sitting on the floral armchair behind the small step leading to my small kitchen, listening to some music ( a CD which I probably bought on sale for my late mother and which is called Golden Memories Remember When), the songs featured therein which incidentally I don't like except when Nat Cole's Answer Me Oh My Love came on.

As I listened to this music, I was inspired to blog, in between which, my gaze went past the sliding glass door to my courtyard and all the potted geranium plants giving just a bit of splash of colours. Ah, they truly need repotting and feeding. It was restful to my eyes settling on my green living fence with splashes of orange blooms now.

Once more I thank God for this house and garden He gave me. Never mind if it is stilled cluttered with books, clothes, bags and shoes plus all other stuff which belong to my mother and my divorced brother. It would be absurd to build another shed or room just to contain this clutter. Never mind even if I have turned my garden into a bush with all the hedge surrounding me all around. The main thing is I can relax, breathe in more oxygen and enjoy the peace and quiet of my house.

Selfie funtime Series 4---There's Something About a Black and White Dress

There's something in a black and white dress with big prints ...

 and a white hat ????

I must have eaten too much Black Forest Cakes (hahaha!)

I Am Called as a Christian to Minister..

My agenda was to walk from Blacktown railway station to the hospital. However just as I was getting off the train, I saw my adopted parents. That is, not having my own parents now to pray for since their death in 2010s, and having known both the old couple's  medical conditions  having been their interpreter for a number of their medical appointments, I have been praying for them.

 Inang M exclaimed, "So are you the one?" I said laughing a bit, Yes, Ï--I--I-- am the one ( saying this in a singsong which I believe made a Westerner who was listening to me talk at one time to someone asked which language I was speaking and eventually commented my native tongue was a beautiful language!)

The last few times the old couple had their medical appointments, I was not their interpreter, but my sister Daisy, instead, who told me seriously or maybe jokingly, that they now like her more than me (lol!).

After I said I would be their interpreter this time, Inang M immediately said that we---Tatang T, herself and I could all take the bus together to the hospital. I replied I was walking to the hospital and explained walking would lower my blood sugar level. I added too that we all must have missed, anyway,  the early bus to the hospital and since buses comes every hour it would be a long wait.

Inang M suggested then I could go by the taxi with them. I reiterated I really wanted to walk. Tatang T. reprimanded his wife and said, "She already told you she wanted to walk."

Thinking it might cost them heaps to take the taxi, ie recalling it cost me $36 to go from my house to Blacktown Hospital at one stage, I glanced at my watch and told them, they might be able to catch the bus if they were going to catch it from the railway station, instead of going all the way to the Bus Interchange at Westpoint. I also told them I would walk them to the particular bus stand.

When we got to bus stand 7, Inang M persuaded me even strongly to go with them in the bus. She said she was wondering if Regional Dialysis Centre is in the newly constructed building on the hospital grounds.

Having heard this and thinking they might not find their way to the Centre, just like  that Sri-Lankan couple whom I came across during one of my assignments and who told me they had been walking around in circles in the hospital grounds and still couldn't find their way, I told her finally I would go with them in the bus.

I could still recall how tired and exasperated the elderly Sri Lankan couple then looking for the Diabetic Education Centre in spite of having asked for directions from several people. Thinking I might not give or say to them the right directions, I walked the old people to the Centre for which they could not stop thanking me. I  could not stop thanking God, too-- I was of help to this old people---thinking in retrospect it would surely break my heart if the same thing happen to my own parents.

I took my adopted parents to the Regional Dialysis Centre and sat them in the waiting room. I told them I would come back after an hour as that was my booking assignment.

I walked to the Main Entrance of the hospital deliberating in my head whether I was going to do pastoral visits as I still had an hour before my work.

First things first, though, having had breakfast five hours ago and knowing I was due to have my morning tea before my blood sugar level drops, I walked to the Staff Dining Area . As I was savouring my bland home made pan bread to which I spread Nutella, anyway, I was asking God if I should do pastoral visits. My other agenda then, after taking that walk to the hospital, was to go to the library, not to read medical books but to read the book Germany I brought with me and was due to be renewed.

It was not in my agenda to do pastoral visits today so I did not pray for this last night. As a broken record I am oftentimes, I kept on asking God about this as I was having morning tea.

Having done pastoral visits in the past before I became busy with interpreting assignments in other places, I equipped myself with the conviction and confidence coming from God ---and most particularly with prayers. In my experience, it is not that easy to pick, walk and talk with patients who obviously are not well and maybe undergoing tremendous trauma, stress and sickness in their physical or mental states. Well, I told to myself I was like 98.99% well (ie not coughing much anymore), so I could definitely visit patients. Also, so I would not be challenged or struggle so much, I could go through the list of the patients in the hospital and just visit patients from my own religion. As I always make it a habit to make use of my time wisely, profitably and hopefully pleasing to God, I said a little prayer and told myself finally,  I would do pastoral visits.

I came across in the list of Seventh Day Adventists patients a name of a patient who is a member of the SDA church my Mum and I are members. I eased myself and said "Ah, there you go, you won't have to struggle much. After all, this old woman is not only someone you know but someone you always talked to, joked with and prayed with ( and sometimes even sat with) heaps of times. Well, I have had some challenging visits where the relatives of the patients were kind of calculating and sort of examining, if not scrutinising me. And this really made me feel uncomfortable, somewhat scared that sometimes I felt like ....hmmm...I wanted to just say goodbye if not evaporate in the air, even if I had not gone far, supposed to be, in ministering to them. These were the times I really did not care much who were in the lists and just visited patients at random, thinking to myself it does not really matter whether they are Baptists, Methodists, Catholics, Muslims or atheists.

When I got to the Ward B45 and went to the bed of my dear old church mate, I saw that there were some Health Care Providers (HCP) attending to her. So I visited other patients in the ward. I spoke briefly to two patients who were not so responsive-- because one does not speak English much and the second one was so emotional that she would not want to talk as of yet. So I walked along the corridor of the ward eyeing as the Spirit led, which patient I was going to visit. I finally spotted a man whom I'd placed to be in his early 70s. After I got his consent for the visit, I learned he was from Poland. We had a pretty good twelve minute-chat until a HCP came, which was a signal of course that I had to go.

I went back to visit my dear old church mate. As she was in an infection control area, I put on a pair of gloves, a gown and a mask. I was most eager to see her because since I came back to church after my mother passed away, I have not really seen her except for her name as listed among the members who need prayers. Just as I was ready to go in, a group of HCP headed by apparently by a Consultant, was approaching to go in her room. Oops! Not again!

So I took off all my infection control attire and threw them all in the bin and proceeded to my favourite Ward B35 to do more visits. My favourite receptionist from whom I always asked permission for pastoral visits was not around. Hmm.., maybe she was also on holidays. So I jsut spoke to anyone who was at the reception area.

I sanitised my hands as usual and off I walked through the corridor of the ward hunting for another patient to visit. I saw a woman whom I would similarly placed to be in her early or mid 70s and whom I learned later was Polish. Ah, Ï said to myself it is Poland Day for me. That's great! Having just visited a Polish patient who was gentle and soft spoken, the nocturne in E flat Major in my head was suddenly now overshadowed by the introductory piano bangs of Polanaise in A Major. Why, because as soon as I walked in the ward, with her wide opened and staring eyes, she told me she was cold and asked me to get her boiling water. I asked a nurse that just passed by to give this patient more blankets to which the nurse responded promptly coming back with a blanket to wrap around this patient seated on the chair. The patient asked the nurse to give her boiling water to which she also responded promptly.

I got the consent from the patient for a chat and just as she was about to sip the boiling water I emphatically told her not yet---as I know, the water was truly boiling hot and told her to wait till it cooled down a bit.

Our talk revolved around her country and Chopin. She herself used to play the piano and she told me her son at the age of 7 won a piano competition. I said WoW. As we talked however, I was really getting anxious she might scald herself as she kept on pushing in and out her bedside table, and so I kept on putting away a bit further the cup of boiling water.

Even if I was not glancing at my watch I knew I would have to go soon to go back to the Regional Dialysis Centre to work. I was saved by her Physiotherapist and told the patient I would have to go. Having said this, she held out her two hands to me which I held with my two hands, too. She squeezed my hands hard and asked me, "You'll come back again?" I said ÿes

As I sanitized my hand before walking out of the ward my spirit sank. I knew in my heart of hearts, I was not 100% sure of being able to come back. I asked God for forgiveness and said a prayer for all the patients I visited today.