monkey's 2 cute frens...

2 thorns and a rose? altho must say the colours r a bit off? purple rose? n 1 white and 1 gween n white striped thorns? n the curtains bright red.... bagan is so cool! u peeps out there must go visit.... :) 

slweepie sisters....

i stole penny's bloster.... oink oink!! *snort* 

the touch of Jesus

Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like.

james 1:22–24 niv

i find myself so guilty of this...no excuses.... i m guilty....for knowing Your word, listening to it.... yet so many times doing things my way...refusing to obey.... so defiant... rebellious....disobedient...

have i forgotten what You said? no....

why did i choose to disobey? so many reasons...it's easier....d wider path leads to destruction...i know....why do i choose to walk in it? so many times i allow myself to be deceived by the big liar....to let d impostor lead me into sin... n then jus let it be...because it's so easy to fall...but it's so hard to get up n continue walking...

read this....jus now....when my heart was hard and unyielding.... when it said no....even to God....

My Father spoke....

written by Max Lucado....

For five years no one touched me. No one. Not one person. Not my wife. Not my child. Not my friends. No one touched me. They saw me. They spoke to me. I sensed love in their voices. I saw concern in their eyes. But I didn’t feel their touch. There was no touch. Not once. No one touched me.

What is common to you, I coveted. Handshakes. Warm embraces. A tap on the shoulder to get my attention. A kiss on the lips to steal a heart. Such moments were taken from my world. No one touched me. No one bumped into me. What I would have given to be bumped into, to be caught in a crowd, for my shoulder to brush against another’s. But for five years it has not happened. How could it? I was not allowed on the streets. Even the rabbis kept their distance from me. I was not permitted in my synagogue. Not even welcome in my own house.

I was untouchable. I was a leper. And no one touched me. Until today.

One year during harvest my grip on the scythe seemed weak. The tips of my fingers numbed. First one finger then another. Within a short time I could grip the tool but scarcely feel it. By the end of the season, I felt nothing at all. The hand grasping the handle might as well have belonged to someone else—the feeling was gone. I said nothing to my wife, but I know she suspected something. How could she not? I carried my hand against my body like a wounded bird.

One afternoon I plunged my hands into a basin of water intending to wash my face. The water reddened. My finger was bleeding, bleeding freely. I didn’t even know I was wounded. How did I cut myself? On a knife? Did my hand slide across the sharp edge of metal? It must have, but I didn’t feel anything.

“It’s on your clothes, too,” my wife said softly. She was behind me. Before looking at her, I looked down at the crimson spots on my robe. For the longest time I stood over the basin, staring at my hand. Somehow I knew my life was being forever altered.

“Shall I go with you to tell the priest?” she asked.

“No,” I sighed, “I’ll go alone.”

I turned and looked into her moist eyes. Standing next to her was our three-year-old daughter. Squatting, I gazed into her face and stroked her cheek, saying nothing. What could I say? I stood and looked again at my wife. She touched my shoulder, and with my good hand, I touched hers. It would be our final touch.

Five years have passed, and no one has touched me since, until today.

The priest didn’t touch me. He looked at my hand, now wrapped in a rag. He looked at my face, now shadowed in sorrow. I’ve never faulted him for what he said. He was only doing as he was instructed. He covered his mouth and extended his hand, palm forward. “You are unclean,” he told me. With one pronouncement I lost my family, my farm, my future, my friends.

My wife met me at the city gates with a sack of clothing and bread and coins. She didn’t speak. By now friends had gathered. What I saw in their eyes was a precursor to what I’ve seen in every eye since: fearful pity. As I stepped out, they stepped back. Their horror of my disease was greater than their concern for my heart—so they, and everyone else I have seen since, stepped back.

Oh, how I repulsed those who saw me. Five years of leprosy had left my hands gnarled. Tips of my fingers were missing as were portions of an ear and my nose. At the sight of me, fathers grabbed their children. Mothers covered their faces. Children pointed and stared.

The rags on my body couldn’t hide my sores. Nor could the wrap on my face hide the rage in my eyes. I didn’t even try to hide it. How many nights did I shake my crippled fist at the silent sky? “What did I do to deserve this?” But never a reply.

Some think I sinned. Some think my parents sinned. I don’t know. All I know is that I grew so tired of it all: sleeping in the colony, smelling the stench. I grew so tired of the damnable bell I was required to wear around my neck to warn people of my presence. As if I needed it. One glance and the announcements began, “Unclean! Unclean! Unclean!”

Several weeks ago I dared walk the road to my village. I had no intent of entering. Heaven knows I only wanted to look again upon my fields. Gaze again upon my home. And see, perchance, the face of my wife. I did not see her. But I saw some children playing in a pasture. I hid behind a tree and watched them scamper and run. Their faces were so joyful and their laughter so contagious that for a moment, for just a moment, I was no longer a leper. I was a farmer. I was a father. I was a man.

Infused with their happiness, I stepped out from behind the tree, straightened my back, breathed deeply … and they saw me. Before I could retreat, they saw me. And they screamed. And they scattered. One lingered, though, behind the others. One paused and looked in my direction. I don’t know, and I can’t say for sure, but I think, I really think, she was my daughter. And I don’t know, I really can’t say for sure. But I think she was looking for her father.

That look is what made me take the step I took today. Of course it was reckless. Of course it was risky. But what did I have to lose? He calls himself God’s Son. Either he will hear my complaint and kill me or accept my demands and heal me. Those were my thoughts. I came to him as a defiant man. Moved not by faith but by a desperate anger. God had wrought this calamity on my body, and he would either fix it or end it.

But then I saw him, and when I saw him, I was changed. You must remember, I’m a farmer, not a poet, so I cannot find the words to describe what I saw. All I can say is that the Judean mornings are sometimes so fresh and the sunrises so glorious that to look at them is to forget the heat of the day before and the hurt of times past. When I looked at his face, I saw a Judean morning.

Before he spoke, I knew he cared. Somehow I knew he hated this disease as much as, no—more—than I hate it. My rage became trust, and my anger became hope.

From behind a rock, I watched him descend a hill. Throngs of people followed him. I waited until he was only paces from me, then I stepped out.

“Master!”

He stopped and looked in my direction as did dozens of others. A flood of fear swept across the crowd. Arms flew in front of faces. Children ducked behind parents. “Unclean!” someone shouted. Again, I don’t blame them. I was a huddled mass of death. But I scarcely heard them. I scarcely saw them. Their panic I’d seen a thousand times. His compassion, however, I’d never beheld. Everyone stepped back except him. He stepped toward me. Toward me.

Five years ago my wife had stepped toward me. She was the last to do so. Now he did. I did not move. I just spoke. “Lord, you can heal me if you will.” Had he healed me with a word, I would have been thrilled. Had he cured me with a prayer, I would have rejoiced. But he wasn’t satisfied with speaking to me. He drew near me. He touched me. Five years ago my wife had touched me. No one had touched me since. Until today.

“I will.” His words were as tender as his touch. “Be healed!”

Energy flooded my body like water through a furrowed field. In an instant, in a moment, I felt warmth where there had been numbness. I felt strength where there had been atrophy. My back straightened, and my head lifted. Where I had been eye level with his belt, I now stood eye level with his face. His smiling face.

He cupped his hands on my cheeks and drew me so near I could feel the warmth of his breath and see the wetness in his eyes. “Don’t tell anyone about this. But go and show yourself to the priest and offer the gift Moses commanded for people who are made well. This will show the people what I have done.”

And so that is where I am going. I will show myself to my priest and embrace him. I will show myself to my wife, and I will embrace her. I will pick up my daughter, and I will embrace her. And I will never forget the one who dared to touch me. He could have healed me with a word. But he wanted to do more than heal me. He wanted to honor me, to validate me, to christen me. Imagine that … unworthy of the touch of a man, yet worthy of the touch of God.

The Power of The Godly Touch

The touch did not heal the disease, you know. Matthew is careful to mention that it was the pronouncement and not the touch of Christ that cured the condition. “Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man and said, ‘I will. Be healed!’ And immediately the man was healed from his disease” (Matt. 8:3).

The infection was banished by a word from Jesus.

The loneliness, however, was treated by a touch from Jesus.

the touch of God....have i been that to many? or have i been the hands that have hurt, that have sinned.... crimson red....

God, in all my pride and vanity, i have fallen...

self righteous ness.... always though i would not suffer from it...

unforgiveness.... it's a big disease in my life....

anger....

resentment.....

Father, heal me if you are willing....

I want to believe by faith.... by Your stripes, we are healed...

the touch of God.... God, heal me....

jail birds?

well...at least the bars look nice rite? n got 3 cute guys to teman me.... sam mengabaikan diri.... 

carrying the burfday monkey!!!

hehe....i cheat la...jus put hand there.... the guys did a good job... marcus me monkey's burfday celebration at shangri-la! ate loads man.... :) 

i hope so too....

most of d time... i'm too stressed to feel blessed....yet so many times...gotta remind myself to count my blessings... :)

des being nottie

bugs bunny? haha...des trying to bunni-fy jo n i... trying to spread his bunny infleunce....

no fair, how come chern yuen x kena bunni-fied? 

all of us.....

where's my 2 boyfrens? hehe... MIA... joe d "thorn" among the roses.... :) 

my turn at last....

is this suppose to be my cool look? haha... i suppose so.... hee hee.... lolz... 

sarinda.... so cool...

hey... whose backside is dat? haha.... sarinda d cool guy...cedric said, "full marks for sex appeal?" haha.... 

ji...my yi ka jie....

so cute la u.... smiles.... hee hee... :) *hughug* 

jun... so slweepie wan....

hehe...this is jun's cool look....hehe... slweep oso show all your teeth....can be in darlie ad d... blessed christmas, fraeya!!! 

jenny....sweet lass

u have been a true blessing and still is one...continue to shine, dear! :) 

joe....me lil' brother!

lead dancer...wow...u can dance, brother!!! have a blessed christmas! :P 

jun dear

hehe...dun we look d same? 2 yeh - lows....dancing.... la la la.... :) 

yin's burfday

okie...a lil bit small.... hehe...gals at yin's b day dinner....we had fun.... i practically "ta pao" ed half a bottle of wine... :) 

strawberry anyone?

yin's burfday....strawberry mania....hehe....she ate it la.... her burfday mua.... *hugs dearie!* 

georgian reunion dec 05'

we have all grown in different ways.... who would thought 4 yrs ago.... we were still in pinafores?
blessed christmas and a prosperous new year! :) 

beauty and the sleeping "beast"

haha... actually think i suit d role of beast more... u r so not beastly.... n i m feeling very beastly now.... i need a hug!!! *hughug* 

hehe....ain't he han`sem?

okie...sarinda dun get big headed...missing you d.... sigh...sri lanka seems miles away.... u did good job for pmc idol....hehe... enjoy your hols...*hugs* 

sis, desmosome n i

who's d fairest of them all? actually think it's des...he's so....pale.... hehe... and i m d most blweck blweck 1... :) 

d pmc idol contestants n frens....

L2R - hafiz(runner up), ji siong? cousin david, judith, sam ko chuen wen, and me!!!(okie, i....) 

sharing the greatest gift of christmas...

it may be sweets and goodies to the little children... to me...it was more... it was sharing the love of God with those He loves...little children.... :) 

as we carol....

carolling in peds ward in gh..may we have brought you joy God..and your love to many.... the little kiddies were very happy to receive sweets, goodies and toys... from big "ko ko"s and "jie jie"s.... God bless them... 

dance dance dance....

danced for pmc idol...on monday... was great....but ntg can ocmpare to imu friday nite!!! i miss all you peeps in imu!!! esp...my darlin, tai ko, piggy, shien, elaine.... dearest...even u altho i jus saw you...owlie... wen chyi.... cangkerik.... babi hutan....and everybadi else too... 

harmless flirtations?

is there even such a thing? harmless... many would say yes...and also no.... to me.... it's hard to draw the line.... do i flirt? yes.... is it harmless? sometimes it is... sometimes it's not...

for me... the heat can be turned up.... and sometimes before i or the other party know it, we are cooked.... because flirting is like playing with fire.... when small...it looks harmless enough, flickering...just a lil' excitement, it won't hurt would it...anyway such a small lil' fire... wat harm can we get ourselves into? so we play.... it's like a tennis game... i hit one into your court... you hit one back... both parties or at least 1 party knowing...whether win or lose, i've got nothing to lose...just enjoy the game..then if i win...it's good...if i lose, it's for fun anyway... so is the way of the world today...

as for me... i shall have no pretentions of being totally pure at heart and mind.... it's like a strategy game...some play with greater skill at bigger stakes....some play small...and less daring to take risks...for fear of losing their hearts....i won't particularly treat it as a game... it is not one i would play lightly.... because i play big....i play to win... and i dun play with amateurs.... and in my naive-ity....i once thought it was harmless.... did it prove to be? no.... did i lose big? yes, i lost.... did the other parties lose too? yes... there was no winners... we all lost... something we thought was totally in our control went haywired.... i've lost.... my heart.... my frens (thank God He fixed that).... my sanity.... where is my rationality? when it comes to flirting, sometimes there is no rational bout the whole situation.... 2 players...sometimes even more, setting out to catch one another.... hoping to net one another.... what it is that catches the eye? is it physical chemistry? yes....i would think so... God made us men n women.... we attract one another... maybe it's hormonal.... still, this chemistry drove the human race for thousands of years.... and still is strong today.... altho guys do no longer behave like cavemen...many still have cavemen instincts.... even in the animal kingdom, males fight for their mates.... the winner takes all.... however, humans we r not guided just by our basic instincts.... we have something special..... a soul.... a spirit.... a mind.... a heart.... we are of God....our Creator.... did He make physical attraction? yes....it would be pretty sad if adam and eve didn't like one another.... we wouldn't be here today would we? if they weren't in any way attract to one another.... if men were not drawn by "something" to women.... n likewise... wouldn't it be devastating? to me, Yes, very....the guys in my life, they are God's miracles... thank God, think life would be so boring without them... and not to say the estrogen levels are killing me sometimes....women, can't live with them can't live without them.... and men too....well, life would be pretty miserable without guys... i must say... they r the best punching bags, listening ears, shoulders to cry on.... and hugging bags too... not to say they have bucket loads of patience, and can tolerate so much crap from me....

sorta strayed off topic... so regardless of everything....is it right to flirt? izit ever harmless? i can't answer this question... am on the journey to discover more about myself.... guys.... my future spouse.... God....would God agree or disagree? i can't answer too... it's not for me to assume God...

i'm not condemning those who flirt...that would be hypocritical...i do it too... and i'm not saying it's right or wrong... jus dun overdo it... my point of view.... dun play too BIG....u will end up losing all.... and getting hurt or others hurt.... make sure both parties know the rules... it's not fair to play a biased game.... and make sure both are willing playas... do not set out to trap others or to screw up their lives....jus because some are blur or unassuming....

i flirt for fun.... i flirt for entertainment... i m repenting from flirting... yet i find myself suddenly drawn to it...especially when the guys who are flirting are very cute....blur....good musicians and accomodating..... they are my type.... and yes, because i'm afraid to be serious, i am afraid of being hurt...after everything.... i do not want my heart to be broken again....yet, do not judge me... i play by the rules...i dun know how to explain... i flirt with no one who do not want to flirt back... n i no when to stop....i dunno if flirting with a conscience is possible... i do it.... keeping in mind...these are people i love and God loves them too.... and so far all my guy frens whom have flirted with me.... we r still frens...very good frens.... we no where we stand....sometimes i won't even call it flirting...to me, it's more than that...i do actually love them....sincerely....and they know it.... and the way i put it... we are building strong bridges.... and we are not shy in expressing our care and love to one another....

i wonder what would my future hubbie think? maybe he'll be one of my flirting partners... i don't know.... judge not and you will not be judged....i try not to.... judge those who flirt shamelessly....without a conscience, those who flirt even though they are attached....

i am as much a sinner as anyone.... and flirting..... what's its definition anyway? i jus talk...no batting eye lashes.... no excessive touching.... i jus talk..... so.... is it any worse or better than the next flirt?