lifesong
Everyone needs compassion
Love that's never failing
Let mercy fall on me
Everyone needs forgiveness
The kindness of a Saviour
The hope of nations
Saviour, He can move the mountains
My God is mighty to save
He is mighty to save
Forever author of salvation
He rose and conquered the grave
Jesus conquered the grave
So take me as you find me
All my fears and failures
Fill my life again
I give my life to follow
Everything I believe in
Now I surrender
Shine your light in
Let the whole world see
We're singing, for the glory
Of the risen King
Jesus, Shine your light in
Let the whole world see
We're singing for the glory
Of the risen king
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
-9:23 pm
After a hard day of tutorials and studying for the upcoming final year exams, she finally reached the doorstep of the inn she had been staying in for as long as she could remember. It wasn't a 5-star hotel; just a humble place with a homely facade, decorated like a country-style ranch. As she opened the wooden double doors and stepped inside the warm hallway painted in muted shades of earthy colours, she could smell the fragrant aroma of honey roasted chicken and stewed beef wafting from the dining room down the corridor.
"Ah, dinner," she thought, suddenly aware of how famished she was after skipping lunch to make-up for a bio practical. She made her way quickly to the dining room, nervously glancing at the clock and realising that she was late way past dinner time. She approached the dining room with apprehension, not knowing what would greet her. To her surprise, everyone in the inn was still sitting at the dinner table, silence piercing every corner of the room. The only sounds were the clinking of glasses and the occassional clatter of silverware against the porcelain plates held by shaky hands trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as no one dared to make even the smallest of sounds. One look and she could tell that the innkeeper was in a particularly bad mood today.
As she entered dreading the worst, threading as softly as she could on the polished wooden floorboards but failing miserably not to attract attention as the innkeeper turned around and pinned her to the wall with a glare cold enough to freeze hot boiling soup. It looks like there's no escaping this time, as it has been with the previous occassions.
"Where have you been? Do you have any idea what time it is?" came the gruff, accusing voice, signalling the start of the interrogation and an equally painful meal of not only food but of words which would be extremely hard to swallow. She slowly sank into her seat and stared down at her empty plate.
"I've been having tutorials all morning and went to study with some of my friends in the afternoon. I thought I told you last night-"
"Don't you give me anymore of your excuses. Don't think I don't know what you're up to outside. You're still a student and you're already causing so much havoc! What on earth are you thinking? Spending all your time outside fooling around with boys. You hardly come back before dinner nowadays! You treat this just like a hotel."
"We were just studying. There's nothing going on, I didn't-", she pleaded, attempting to defend herself.
The innkeeper's wife added in her shrill voice, "Exactly. You're always not around. Not helping with the chores. Just minding your own business. How selfish can you get? You don't even bother to tutor the boys anymore. Always in your room, shut in your own little world."
The innkeeper was just warming up to the angry outburst. "And why must you always be holed up in your room? Heading straight for the computer once you get back. You don't interact with anyone, spending more time with that machine than with your family. You're just a stranger living in our house."
She suffered in silence, swallowing cold, hard pieces of food which got stuck down her throat, together with the tears she tried to choke back. It's no use saying anything at all. She tried to fight the hurricane of emotions and thoughts threatening to explode with considerable force, struggling to keep her calm and composure. She clenched her fist and gritted her teeth. She had to sit this one out.
She shut out the obnoxious tirade and cacaphony of shouting, willing herself to ignore the screams from within her and quickly downed her dinner and excused herself, starting to run straight to her room once she was out of sight. She climbed the stairs two steps at a time, their words echoing in her head as she dashed into the safe refuge of her room, slamming the door shut behind her. Gasping for breath, she sank to the floor, tearings spilling down the sides of her face, her cheeks flushed and breath escaping through clenched jaws. This would be one of those nights again, the lonely nights when torrent of silent tears would drown out her cries, her pillow soaked by tears, muffling the shuddering sobs which shook her whole body.
They just didn't understand.
It was only in her room that she could find solace. Yet sometimes, they would bang on her door and demand she open up, that she give a good reason for having to shut the door. The need for some semblance of privacy was deemed inadequate. Hence, she had to comply, as always.
She was a stranger in their house. It's now them and her. Not "us" anymore. She was seen but not noticed. Heard by not listened to. The only thing they noticed was her absence. Not that she liked staying out. It's just that day by day, it all became too much to bear. She had to escape it somehow or else she would break. But those hours of brief respite never lasted and were adversely consequential. She would always have to face the music when she returned, even though she was out studying. They were always suspicious of her, they didn't know her well enough to trust that she would not be involved in unthinkable activities.
Nothing could please them. Nothing would. She didn't know what to do anymore. After all, she was just a daughter with a family physically but not emotionally, a girl without freedom, a stranger in their house.
*every time I hold a pair of chopsticks the way you taught me, I still think of you.
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