Keeping the dream alive.
Montag, Februar 27, 2006
The Puny Tricycle.
There was a little girl..around 1..
every morning..
when her parents leave for work..
she'll load her puny little tricycle with her pillow and bloster..and maybe a toy or two..
and she'll pedal as fast as her short legs can carry her..
and end up 2 doors down the corridor to another house.
At this other house..
She was treated like a princess..
She was hand fed every meal.
even if she just had to walk about, crawl about, jump about..
she was chased around with her bowl of smashed up jumbo.
The aunty at this house looks after her..
and the little girl...treated this home as her castle.
she took possession of the little boy's toys...
and gave him the toys that she didn't want to play with.
even though..all the toys in the collection was his.
When he was caught bullying her..
He got scolded by the nice aunty.
In short, she was a bully.
A tyrant.
And yet she was loved.
The aunty loved her.
The little boy loved her.
The big girl loved her.
The big boy loved her.
The uncle loved her.
and she loved them all back.
She was there till she started kindergarden..
then she shifted.
and over the years.
That family shifted too.
and years drifted by..
and they gradually lost touch.
until yesterday when the little girl's parents bumped into the big girl at an exhibition.
the big girl wanted the little girl to contact her.
and..
the little girl did.
after a few emails.
the big girl found out that the little girl was in Foochow Methodist Church.
and..
the big girl told the little girl that the dear nice aunty is also in FMC.
but she's at the mandarin service instead of the english 8am service that the little girl attends.
and the little girl is so amazed.
Amazed at how the world is so small.
Amazed at how the person you've been searching for for so long is just under your nose.
Amazed at how the Lord works.
the little girl is just amazed.
Now..
the little girl has to stop running around after service.
and sit at the carpark downstairs on sunday.
she's usually running to somewhere.
either running upstairs to the youth ministry.
or running outside to go home.
she's always running.
and now it's time for her to be still.
and wait.
every morning..
when her parents leave for work..
she'll load her puny little tricycle with her pillow and bloster..and maybe a toy or two..
and she'll pedal as fast as her short legs can carry her..
and end up 2 doors down the corridor to another house.
At this other house..
She was treated like a princess..
She was hand fed every meal.
even if she just had to walk about, crawl about, jump about..
she was chased around with her bowl of smashed up jumbo.
The aunty at this house looks after her..
and the little girl...treated this home as her castle.
she took possession of the little boy's toys...
and gave him the toys that she didn't want to play with.
even though..all the toys in the collection was his.
When he was caught bullying her..
He got scolded by the nice aunty.
In short, she was a bully.
A tyrant.
And yet she was loved.
The aunty loved her.
The little boy loved her.
The big girl loved her.
The big boy loved her.
The uncle loved her.
and she loved them all back.
She was there till she started kindergarden..
then she shifted.
and over the years.
That family shifted too.
and years drifted by..
and they gradually lost touch.
until yesterday when the little girl's parents bumped into the big girl at an exhibition.
the big girl wanted the little girl to contact her.
and..
the little girl did.
after a few emails.
the big girl found out that the little girl was in Foochow Methodist Church.
and..
the big girl told the little girl that the dear nice aunty is also in FMC.
but she's at the mandarin service instead of the english 8am service that the little girl attends.
and the little girl is so amazed.
Amazed at how the world is so small.
Amazed at how the person you've been searching for for so long is just under your nose.
Amazed at how the Lord works.
the little girl is just amazed.
Now..
the little girl has to stop running around after service.
and sit at the carpark downstairs on sunday.
she's usually running to somewhere.
either running upstairs to the youth ministry.
or running outside to go home.
she's always running.
and now it's time for her to be still.
and wait.
posted by [E]imaJ, 11:34 PM
