At last, I have arrived in London. Sitting at Starbucks St Pancreas Station, I am wondering how I survived a 12-hour stop-over sandwiched between two 7-hour flights before getting here. But fatigue is nowhere at the forefront of my mind. The 12-hour transit might have been one of the most interesting learning expereinces for me, for the following reasons:
1. http://debbiemuses.wordpress.com/2009/08/04/road-angst/ I may have never heard a more soul-moving testimony than this one. Prayer – and indeed, the sharing of one’s testimony – should seldom be focused on the Self; rather it should exalt Him. Such was the impact of this testimony that I found myself praying more than ever after I read it. Nothing of a miracle in the physical realm, but definitely one of spiritual encouragement. Definitely worth anyone’s read – especially if you drive (in Malaysia).
2. http://www.freerice.com/ A website which facilitates a donation from sponsors of 10 grains of rice to the poor per correct answer you get. Not only did I help the poor, but I also learnt that it is ‘I learnt about his (not him) winning the comptetition’; and that it is ‘Jane, as well as her friend, is (not are) coming’.
3. Lee Strobel’s Case for a Creator, and Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time. I have always known that science is the beauty of God, but never has it been this clear to me that science also points us to Him. Nothing happens (or happened) by chance, unless one decides to be ignorant . And this decision to be ignorant takes more ‘faith’ (in the light of scientific advancement) than to conclude that He created the universe and everything in it.
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Sitting here at Starbucks, I cannot help but be overwhelmingly thankful to God for bringing Debbie in my life. Not only has she been a constant spiritual blessing to me, but I also have her to thank for making me read Hawking’s Brief History of Time and for knocking me out of my ignorance to realise the horrific state of my English grammar, as her patient proof-reading of my PhD draft has revealed. Without her, there would be none of the preceding paragraphs; and sitting at Starbucks would not bear the meaning it does, given the numerous times she patiently bore with me while I wrote my draft at Starbucks in Borders. Missing her is an understatement; and my love for her cannot be overstated.
Edit: on a random note – there’s this guy behind me whistling a free-style improv to the tune playing at Starbucks now. What the bug (ck)… 
You make my toes smile!- Yinks, for you.
