I met Gordon, the Roman Catholic guy who came to the Korea Worship Festival that was held in our MMC few months ago, at the bus stop near church.

I hesitated before going up to him and asking him if he remembered me and stuff. Found out that it's his birthday today. We chatted, got on the same bus. He talked about tennis and coaching little kids and stuff, linked it to religion and talked a little more.

I realised that I had no problems talking with him. He was an adult. Like, probably older than my parents kind of an adult. I always have problems talking with adults, I don't ever seem to get pass the fact that they are older; salt more than I eat rice thing. But today, I realised that I am capable of doing so!

Now, I must think; what was different.
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Feelings are fleeting.

Discuss.
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God seems to be adamant about making sure I make it sink deep in my head; that He's the one in control, the one to whom ALL credit is due, esp with worship leading.

I've been amazed/blown away/awestruck time and time again at how I can feel so utterly horrible about leading; everything crashes, there are major awkward silences, hand signals are blatantly ignored, and I really feel defeated - walk-off-stage-and-crawl-into-hole kind of defeated - AND YET I have people coming to tell me how God spoke to them through the songs, or how they've experienced healing during these worship, or how they were just so ministered to.

He's so gracious; has every right in the world to ignore us, judging by the quality of our worship, yet He doesn't.

I'm so grateful that DR has committed worshippers, who are all worship leaders in their own right, regardless of the instruments they play. We may be short handed, we may not have the best equipments, we may be so stretched week after week, may have suffered hard blows during the week, yet there's always that genuine heart of worship, ready to go. I appreciate you guys very very very much. :) Let's press on together and infect the rest of them alright!

I love Dunamis Rock very much. We might be going through some tough stuff, but I know God has great plans for us and He'll see us through this rocky patch. Spirit-filled Nights are His powerful reminders to me that He will. I think last Friday was pretty amazing. Incredibly humbling. It starts somewhere. I believe we can be change agents. We probably already are. :)

to all DRockers: if you've not been to our spirit-filled nights, you're missing out! Not even kidding.

Yay. God is good!
A child in awe of You:)
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There's danger in melancholy, in sadness. It's like quicksand. You want to get out, but then again, why not just stay here a little longer, too much effort is needed.

Sara Bareilles' Gravity has been on repeat. Something's wrong with this song. Set me free, leave me be; I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity. Truth is, she really wants to fall over and over again.

I think this song can be used to described sadness, or even depression. Who really wants to stop feeling sad when you're sad? There's something safe about sadness. It comes alongside you and takes your hand. Makes you comfortable in it, creates a warm cosy cushion of sadness around you.

I don't know how to deal with sad stuff. I sleep it off. I reduce it and downplay it to the very minimum, to the point that sometimes I wonder if there was reason at all for me to be sad in the first place, maybe I was just being melodramatic.

Am I feeling better? Yes definitely. But am I really feeling better about it? I don't know. It's been buried. I guess I'd only know if its dug up again. And I probably have to do it soon ish to settle it once and for all.

Maybe I'm really just tired. I've been hearing "Are you tired? You look really tired/horrible/zonked," so much it's not even funny any more. I have no choice, do I? Stop rubbing it in my face please.

Mehhhhhh. I'm no supergirl, no tireless worker. I hate many of the adjectives that people use to describe me. I'm strong, I'm independent, yes yes they probably have reasons to say that. At times that's nice and good. But there are always times I really just want to curl up and cry buckets. At times I really just need somebody. Though I'm not sure I know how to fulfill that need; need someone. My needs always remain needs till they disappear into the horizon. Which is why prior to discovering Gravity, I was hooked on Use Somebody - Pixie Lott's cover. But that is another story for another day.

So, please treat me with tender loving care. <3 I would appreciate that thank you very much!

*exhales*

*BIG GRIN*

K! Bring it on world. Janine always gets better, in time. She just hates the (self-imposed) expectation to get better better quickly.

Eeeees, we need to talk. I need to talk. Please force it out of me. You know I'd wriggle my way out of it if I could.

Lord, help. This is hard. I'm like, confused. :) Silly right? I know. Thank You for being so patient with me. ILY!

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I'm no different from you. I need love and protection too.



There are doors I feel like opening just to slam it shut again.

I held my heart out in my hands. This is what I get. Thanks.


Why does it always feel like people think I have no feelings. Do I seem that strong? Are my needs any less important than that of others? Is that fair?

I have feelings too. Today, I just want to be selfish and wallow in self pity.
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... stolen pockets of time. Away from the crazy rush; neglecting all my responsibilities for just a few hours, to breathe. To take time to listen to myself. To take time to reflect and mumble on and on about how I feel. Listen. To process different thoughts and throw different views and ideas that could be absolute logic, or just purely whimsical.

... quaint little places tucked away in little corners of busy streets. A place with so many little details that captures one's eyes, like a huge playground would a child's. Bookshelves filled with books - oh books, I'd live in a library if I could - that have stories to tell; not just the author's but the books themselves, oh if they could speak, think of all the stories they'd tell. Of all the people who have pored over them intensely within hours. Or that faithful stranger who comes in every Tuesday and orders a cup of warm Chamomile tea and sits at that very spot, reading for exactly 45 minutes each time, no more no less. Or that one distasteful, weird guy that picked them up and read the first and last chapter *tsk*. And those random music CDs and movies strewn around the room in the most artfully messy way, bits of polaroids just stuck on the wall with good old sticky tape. Chalk boards, walls that are not even completely painted, wooden furniture with not-icky-stains that speaks of previous unique dining experiences.

... to think about the time when I will travel to this place again in the near future when I can steal another pocket of time away from the world. I'd bring a good book and order forest fruit tea because it smells so good. I'd read. I'd write. I'd pretend to be incredibly poetic for a night. I'd pause and look around the room, taking in every little detail, just because everything is so pretty. Have long conversations with myself in my head. Have long conversations with God and have Him blow me away with yet another revelation.

... being out with people I can talk with without thinking too hard. Not needing to edit and think in my head, just blurting out words that are haphazardly strung together. Telling things as they are. Things I struggle with. Things that I need someone else to know. At the same time, being pushed to strive for more. More vulnerability than there already is.

... ending the day with a wide cheesy smile. *grins*


How another person can always see more in you than you do yourself always makes me a little more optimistic. If that's what he thinks, my heart skips a beat just wondering for a moment what God thinks.

Times like this paints a brighter tint in my lens for humanity. Aren't we really all the same when you remove all the junk on top? We need open doors. Everyone does. Really. If you think you're an exception, you are wrong. Life is so much better with open doors. Yes, you'll get hurt at times. It might rain. Dust might sneak in. But it's worth it.

I must learn to be an open door for others. Stop being selfish Janine. Make a fool of yourself. :)

PSSSST! Lord? ILY! Please teach me to love and be open and love some more. Just like You!
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How does it feel to be different from me; are we the same?

What is pain? Numbness is worse. Be thankful you can feel pain.

What's the difference between numbness and optimism? They are quite similar don't you think? Unaffected by situations; just keep going.

I guess the difference is hope?

And I do have hope; so I'm optimistic, not numbed?

Boy, how confusing. I think we humans are too confusing. God must be beyond genius. Of course. He is God. :]
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You know how connecting rooms in hotels work? The connection part; 2 private doors, one from each room. In other to be 'connected' both sides have to unlock and open the door. There are no knobs on the other side of each doors.

Of all the times I can recall of being in connecting rooms in hotel, I remember always leaving that door closed so that the other room had to knock and ask for it to be open. Most of the time (actually all) parents would be on the other side. Being kids, there was something exhilarating about being alone in our own room, and parents' actually having to ask for permission - in a way - to enter. Of course, shortly after that, parents always got their way and the door had to be left open for convenience's sake.

The past few days, I've been thinking about relationships in my life in terms of these connecting doors. Though there's no way one room can physically be connected to so many other rooms; there's not enough room on the walls for so many doors. The main idea is, I decide if my door to another person is open or closed, and the other person has that very same choice.

I have to say, I have many closed doors. I don't even see the other person's door; whether it's open or not I don't know. That's not to say that there is zero communication. We're probably just speaking through the doors or scribbling notes on scrap pieces of paper and slipping it under.

There are doors which are open just slightly, with the safety latch in place. I open these doors whenever necessary, and shut them abruptly whenever it starts to get uncomfortable. Through these doors I get to look into their lives, their rooms. They get to peek into mine through that tiny slit. It's not fair I know.

It gets worse.

Some doors are closed, with me on the other side of the room. I leave my room to the other's and interact with my door safely closed behind me.

But of course, there are doors which are opened. Left wide open. I can count these doors on one hand. But the other sides of some of these doors are closed at times, maybe not intentionally but they are, sometimes. Other times both doors are left opened, but interaction through these doors are rare. Just because there are other things to do. Rare but precious. Always.

-

But that state of these doors are always changing. Opening, closing, slowly swinging itself shut without anyone's notice. Actually, at time, maybe we do notice; just don't want to put in the effort to constantly walk to it and open it again.

When one open door shuts, all the other open doors want to shut too.

But I need open doors. Everyone needs open doors.

So, I'm sitting in the middle of this room. Just me. And God. Of course. And, I know He's telling me to do something about these doors.

Open some, close some.

Choose wisely.

Hard stuff. Hard stuff.

I want to be simple like a child. Love more, think less.

Discomfort comes with vulnerability. But I choose to move towards it, cautiously (ironic huh) but surely.
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