To Have and To Hold

The moment I knew you as a Bubble in my Being,

The feeling of your fragile soul breathing within me,

The thought of knowing that I was partnering

In the greatest known miracle,

That moment of awe that I ‘helped’ creating,

That’s when it struck that this was truly ‘To have and to hold’

Those months of watching, waiting and praying,

The nervous excitement, the scans and reports

Those trips to the doctor, to watch you grow,

The awesome sense of wonder that had seized me so

That’s when I knew that this was indeed ‘To have and to hold’

When I laid my eyes upon you, you looked right into mine

Filling me with awe at the Power of the Divine

Throbbing was my heart, when they said “It’s a boy,

Though groggy after surgery, I was giddy with joy

And then when I held you for the very first time

That rush of love within was so sublime

Indeed that moment has stood still in time

And then I knew truly what it was To Have and To Hold

The agonizing wait of those eight years,

Getting angry at God or fighting my fears

Moments of swinging between hope and despair

Resigning, reviling to trusting in prayer

Reaching the point of saying ‘I don’t care’

Standing at the point, where my sorrows lay bare

That’s when Christ embraced me, and I felt His embrace

Then I knew what it was To have and To hold

The days are rolling by, yet the wonder doesn’t cease

And with each ticking minute, my love shall increase

In you I search for a little bit of me,

Though deep inside I know you came with your own identity

And through your little ways of trusting implicitly, depending completely and loving unabashedly

I learn of God’s great love and think of how much God pampers me!

Your innocent eyes, that cherubic smile, to these I am completely sold

Hugging you in my arms I know that this is truly to Have and to Hold

As we gratefully celebrate your second birthday,

With trembling hearts and lips we say,

“Lord, thank you for this miracle babe,

Born to us after a tireless wait

Teach us to bring him up in your mighty ways

So he will seek You today and every day

As with each passing hour Your plan you unfold

I will always remember what it is To Have and to Hold.”

 Written for little Joshua George Kathett who turns two today, April 30, 2011. Please uphold him and us as a family, in your prayers..

secret diary of Yours Truly

One of the things I loved and still love to do is write diaries....

I don't know how many people write diaries but even as a young girl I loved to write these 'secret' notes in 'my diary'...the notes were often a source of shame and embarrassment with an inquisitive little brother reading aloud, my  sometimes 'irreverent' thoughts penned down in the book that for me was just a notch below the Bible...a tirade of questions, a massive fist fight, warnings from Amma and some tears later the diary would be returned to its rightful owner for safekeeping away from the prowling eyes of the brat....

sometimes the diary entries would not be publicly read out but would be used as a threat....Do this or I will spill the beans....and the goody two shoes that i was I never did want to get into trouble....well, i mean who does?

At one point it was such an addiction that I would write on any page I found and often forget to tear them, leaving the world to read my anxious thoughts....it pained me when the 'world' read and laughed....my mother gently chiding me not to leave my 'thoughts' lying around!

I remember this particular incident, when a cousin staying with us, coolly read my diary and then in all earnestness went and reported to my mother about my first crush (perhaps she feared that I would elope with the fellow!)....Amma ofcourse handled it with  her signature style...Cool Head and Hard Hitting Words....I still remember my eyes stinging with tears while wishing for a safe secret place for my diary.

The diary was often a gift from Amma, one from the many diaries that she got as a New Year gift at the office. These usually had 'Bank of XYZ' or 'ABC Co Ltd' emblazoned on the cover, sometimes with Ma's name embossed to add that 'special customer-is queen' touch to an otherwise boring looking book which would slip away into oblivion under the piles of files on any table.It was a nondescript, mostly maroon/brown rexine bound book, the first 50 pages of which were usually filled with irrelevant-to-my-teen-mind, phone numbers of police, fire stations, banks,branches of banks etc..etc..etc.

Writing diaries started as a way to admire my own handwriting....to write pages and pages of neat gibberish that made complete sense to me, then it began to feature in my list of 'hobbies' ...that actually helped me handle awkward conversations with people I didn't know. Sample this:

Appa and Amma at a get together introduce me to a girl they want me to be friends with (you know how parents can be....'Go play with her' they would say....as if we had known each other forever..).

Girl (daddy's friend's brother's cousin's friend's daughter) : Hi! I am EneyWon

Me:  Yeah! Hi!...hmm,umm!...what are your hobbies?

Girl: Singing, Dancing...painiting

Me: I love to write diaries....

Girl: Oh! wow!....

And the conversation flows.....

Soon it became a thrill to own your very own secret...eventually though, after i realised that my 'privacy' was threatened by my curious little sibling and at the advice of Mother dearest who feared that my silly and harmless stories and idiotic imagination would be fodder for many unnecessary conversations at home , I decided to give up on diary writing.....it lasted for some time until I resumed diary writing this time with adequate 'safety measures' like picking up the most boring looking diary and starting the page with 'Dear Jesus' and not 'Dear diary', hiding it behind a pile of lingerie and away from prying eyes....(he wouldn't look at girly stuff anyway!!!).....

With the passage of time, the entries underwent a transformation....I would write pages and pages...'Dear God,today was a good day/sad day...I began sharing.my disappointments, loneliness, grief, anger, happy things, scary things....often as I wrote, I felt a voice chiding me if I were moping in self-pity, or humbling me if I had my head in the clouds......and diary writing transformed into recording prayers...."dear Jesus" became a more meaningful entry and topics ranged from the sundry to the serious....sometimes after a couple of months of writing an entry, I would read it to find that the issue had been sorted appropriately....From the petty to the most profound....I had never known a God who was so interested in the details....something miraculous was happening....I knew this because I was recording this in the diary....prayers were being answered and I was being transformed......

I still find it extremely liberating to write a Prayer diary....though i don't write regularly (There are no prying eyes, they've grown up and have their own prayer requests, I'm sure)  and I recommend it to you...write down your prayer request, however simplistic or sophisticated and submit it to God and then when you flip through those pages, you will see His faithfulness....

However there are some things I don't write about, things I cannot express.....but even when I don't ' record', I rest assured, that He knows what what's written on my heart!

2011

So 2011 has begun and we are well into the 13th day of the first month of this New Year. I began the year resolving to keep 'No Resolutions' but I am rethinking that resolve and trying to draw up a couple of resolutions that I can keep or may be break.

The New Year started on a quiet note for me, nothing fancy, the weather itself was such a spoilsport. It has been so chilly and cold and it is only now that the Sun has met with some success at trying to push its way through the fog and clouds...but the Sun's attempt was sincere, to say the least.

But I am looking forward to this 2011...especially now that I have some resolutions to keep, albeit simple ones...but I bet you agree with me that the simple ones are the ones that are tough to follow...like back in school...my resolution every year would be...'I will get 90% in all my subjects'....eventually, I learnt not to keep unrealistic resolutions so my hopes don't get dashed.

Talking of hopes getting dashed, my heart goes out to the family of Rajeev Jolly Wilson, a strapping young man in his 30s who lost his very life, in a freak road rage incident....Devastating! I wonder where Tolerance and Peace are...The two probably realized that the last time they made news was when Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi was shot dead. Their Claim to fame - The Newspaper headlines on 31 January 1950...

                             MK Gandhi shot dead... end of the road for Tolerance  and Peace

Speaking of newspapers, there's been a significant change in what's been making news in the last couple of years...as for me, I usually choose to start my day with the daily supplement mainly because this ensures harmony at home and there are no fights over who gets to read first. I choose to be the sweet, benevolent spouse ready to give up her claims!

Call me an escapist, but with news of road rage, murder, rape and honour killings, I would rather escape into the colorful pages of the Delhi times, where smiles may be fake and the grapevine rife with news of the    'Munnis'(courtesy: Dabangg) and Sheilas (courtesy  Tees Maar Khan) of our times, but at least it is a welcome relief, however short lived, from the stark news of our life and times. Indeed on the 1st of January 2011, Delhi woke up to the headline of how a  young woman had been brutally marauded by men who decided that the way to celebrate the New Year was by assaulting a woman's dignity and looting her of her greatest possession, her self esteem. This, on a day when more than 30,000 khaki clad were patrolling the streets of Delhi.

News has reached an all time high or low (pick what suits you) with inflation, sexual preferences, scams and crimes of passion hitting headlines...depressing.

Yet as I search for my haven in the glitz and glamour of the Supplement, I am innately aware, that this is not the real world because a lot of the celebs featured are paying fat salaries to their PR agents who do the job, that perhaps a lot of them are fighting depression, loneliness and alcohol and drug abuse and are battling their greatest fear of dying alone.

I shudder to think what a difficult world, my little boy has to grow up in...A world full of choices but no clear distinction between good and evil...where 'alternative' is the word of the day because it stamps a seal of approval over everything from lifestyle, religious belief, sexuality, food habits,agriculture and even fertility. 

Sigh....Sometimes I want to bundle up the little fellow and put him right back into my womb...where I can shield him. But then that's not possible and won't be correct. So then what will be?....

I guess it is time to take some resolutions. Not just frivolously but purposefully...not for the heck of it but to take stock of things....to do my bit to create a better world for my little son, to teach him the value of prayer to train him to listen to God's voice in the cacophony of the world so that when 'alternative' becomes his 'Word of the Day'....His only alternative will be to listen his heart, a heart that is right with God.

Time to turn back to God....Thanking Him for the years so far and trusting Him with the year ahead.

Happy tenth anniversary, Mancha!!!

We've made it thus far, crossed the first bridge,

Completed a decade in our Historical Hitch,

The walk's been good, since the one down the aisle,

We've already outlived the Seven Year Itch!

Being 'husband' and 'wife', sometimes made us twitch

I must admit, I've fancied if the 'roles' we were to 'switch'

So I claim not perfection and admit to many a glitch

But with Jesus in our hearts, we smoothened the marriage pitch

I know not why God chose you and me, His reasons still have me bewitched

We always agree to disagree in this, Our Glorious Hitch

Yet today completing 10 years of that Historical Hitch

I know this decade with you Manucha, has me so enriched.

I cannot think of better words that rhyme with the word 'hitch'!

So I am going to end this little poem, I hope you dont' say 'Tch, tch!!'

Before I go, I hope and pray that God gives ten times ten,

Another 90 years with you is what i'd like to spend

We'll grow old together, and laugh till we're in splits

In all the moments thus far, we've enjoyed most bits!

I thank you darling Mancha for having and holding me to be your 'lovely' wife

I may not be the Proverbs 31 woman, but I sure as heck have tried.

So God be with us Mancha; Joshua, you and me,

For He saw through our emptiness and made us family

We'll get by with God, through the laughter and the pain,

And this I pray till life's end, devoted to Him, we remain

shame on me

alright alright! i accept, i have been away far too long to tender an apology. i cannot tender a resignation since this blog is really me and I cannot resign from myself...i have tendered too many apologies as well and i have kept my little blog hoping that i will get back soon...soon has never been this long...so well, what can i say, shame on me...but well the positive spirit in me never dies and i have been wanting to tell you so many things that i shamelessly come back.

So why is this time any different- my little bro from Down Under, Ashi sent me a sleek Net book, that is my latest obsession as of now and gives me no reason to not be able to blog. we still have to get a WiiFii connection (hope that's the way to spell it, any way you can't tell)

but this time, hopefully this time, it is going to be for good and for a long time. lots of changes, lots of events, lots of happenings, lots to report, lots to be joyful of, lots to be embarassed of, lots to learn....in the words of Robert Frost....I stil have promises to keep and miles to go before i sleep...yes miles to go before i sleep...
Sounding so profound and melancholic. well i am pushing 30 now and so i must look and act profound to say the least. so that's it from me...another post on Hope for my Hopeless blog....no, you are not hopeless, i am hopeless..you are my without hope....

you gotta trust me this time, again...i know it ain't the first time...but surely all the nice news i have to tell you will make up for it....look, don;t sulk now ok..i even placed an apt title to this post...i have made my apology public...lets forgive and forget...
Love for now and always...
Me

Happy Birthday to Me!

turned thirty today and now thirty doesn't seem old...back in school we would talk of thirty year olds as though they were 60...but now at 30 having completed 3 decades of life, 'old' is the last thing i am feeling....may because this birthday is so veryspecial to me....very very significant....am a Mommee now...Joshua my little son is born to me this year....my mom was 21 when she had me and i was 21 when i got married, which means she was as young as 42, but when mylittle one is 21...i would have already completed my Golden Jubilee...sheesh, now that does feel a little old...Maybe when i do touch 50...old is the last thing i will feel...Until then look on the bright side, it will be so much easier for Joshua to calculate his mother's age since she is a multiple of 10 as compared to his age....Knowing my dyslexia towards Math (and I sure hope the little boy hasn't inherited that gene!) these tricks should come in handy for calculations...\

Sheesh...how random is that....it is my birthday and i celebrated it in style....Pa took me for a great dinner at this amazing seven star hotel called Dream...Ma and Joshua in tow, we had a fantastic buffet...husbandji is away in delhi so maybe i will have another celebration there....now, let's just see!!! Until then I will be 30 going on 13!!

Ghosts of the Past - Musings on a Holy Saturday in 2009

They crept up around her, she didn’t know a thing. They startled and scared her. They even surprised her. Were they still lurking around…lurking around in the dark corners of her soul, her heart, her very being? These Ghosts of the Past!

She had read somewhere that time is the greatest healer, she had even believed it, had hope in it and for a little less than a decade she had also been able to live it to the fullest but may be some sores are just too deep to be healed completely. Those years gone by were blissful…blissful because of the associated oblivion…she became innately aware of the fact that it was indeed only the oblivion which had kept them away…only the oblivion…because they were still lurking, lurking in the dark corners of her heart…These Ghosts of the Past!

And now she stood face to face, they were staring at her, laughing mercilessly, poking fun at her…These Ghosts of the Past.

She wanted to run…run far far away… for the truth and the pain of this was bitter...Why was the truth of it bitter? Strangely because the Truth was one big Lie and there was nothing she could do to change that. She felt extremely helpless in the face of it and try as she might, she could not change it…the sorrow overwhelmed her as she dwelt upon the absurdity of life and another’s life having such a deep impact upon her.
Why? Why? Why? Certain questions are much like hitting one’s head upon a wall. Other than the hurt and the bloodied state of the head, there is nothing one can gain out of this.

She had moved on, or so she thought. But when they came for her again, she felt like a soldier without his armour…the open battlefield and the enemy advancing…They mocked at her, jeered at her, called her names…these Ghosts of the Past.

But she thought she was made of stronger stuff…she had matured over the years. Mellowed a great deal, Life had been gracious but also taught her some beautiful lessons. But today she felt helpless; she had abhorred that feeling, that feeling of helplessness where she could do nothing. Nothing she said or did seem to make any difference. Oh! How she loathed that feeling, that emotion of being less loved despite having gone the extra mile.

She turned her face away, her eyes tightly shut, the brimming tears could hold on no longer, they gave up their balancing act and trickled down from the rims of her eyes. Then a strange peace wafted around her…a strange peace…the kind that passeth all understanding.
Her mind took her to a Face, disfigured, with a broken jaw, wounds on every inch of space on that Face, a bloodied mess! Yet through it she saw a smile…the smile startled her. How could one smile through all this pain? The smile seemed to say…I felt the same, yesterday…

Yesterday?... yesterday was Good Friday.

Note: Dear readers, perhaps a lot of you are wondering about the meaning of this post. That Saturday, I was thinking about how certain memories in our life just lie there...events, ideas, thoughts we think we have gotten over and then suddenly when they rear up again, how we are caught unawares. i was just pondering on that thought, when these words flowed on to form this post...I didn't think too much before penning down this post...just allowed my fingers to type effortlessly and speak whatever was coming to mind...perhaps some one can find a reflection of themselves, an old fear, a little guilt, a feeling of being hurt...resurfacing and causing us to gasp...So what is it that we do....I gave it back to the One who took away all the pain, all the sins, all the trauma, threw it in the deep, blue sea and as some nice preacher said it, 'He put up a sign saying- NO FISHING'

Hmmm!

That title aptly describes my current state of mind. I have slipped into pondering mode. Just finished polishing off a plate of pazham pori...etekya appam for those from Kottayam side...Plaintain bhajjis for the Non-mallus and Banana Fritters for the completely uninitiated...I can't explain any further. I am not particularly a fan of these fritters...i am not fond of the fruit Banana in general and Kerala has a variety of these...I wish it had more varieties of orange which is my favourite fruit.
So you're probably wondering why then did I 'polish' of the entire plate...well the entire plate had just 4 fritters on it...they were piping hot and if you were enjoying Cochin weather currently you would have also gorged on these!
It is 6:30in the evening at Cochin and we have just had a nice little shower of rain, that has the atmosphere really nice and cool...I love the rains when I am sitting at home...the way one enjoys Delhi rains is with a hot cuppa Chai and some garma garm pakodas - in Cochin it is with a hot cuppa Chaaya and some amazing 'etekya appams'... different strokes for different folks....After that satisfying snacking...my tummy is all well- fed and saying..burp...
May be the title of the post ought to be Mmmm! and not Hmmm!

Trying to Get back after a Hiatus

Tis' been a long time...hence aptly termed a Hiatus..but I guess the more important thing is to be back. So here I am...willing and wanting to write....I do hope there is no hiatus post this Post.

Love, PottersClay

Taxi Cab Chatter

Well, its strange how certain phenomena can have such a deep effect on people. Take the simple case of the place where I work, I have cabs that pick and drop me from work. The last I remember being picked and dropped was when I was in school. A red coloured ChunMun transport bus would pick us from the bus stop where a bunch of us would wait with eager anticipation. The driver was usually a surly old man with a patchy face and it was usual for him to first twirl his moushtache and watch us as we boarded the bus and then look nonchalantly across the road to see if there was some poor soul, who was late and was running at top speed, flaying her arms and the pig tails, red ribbons coming undone, with a parent in tow,carrying her bag or tiffin. The driver would more often than not, accelarate in a bid to make the already harried student, run like a sprinter running her last Olympic.
The next "pick and drop" was when I was in college - the wait for the U-Special, the last minute scramble for seats, ah! the madness, it was worth every memory I have. Those were then and to my mind, pick ups and drops were meant for student life.

But then came the Outsourcing culture, offices in the outskirts of Delhi,nocturnal work timings and with that came the now prevalent culture of taxi cabs. Well, they certainly are a welcome relief from the ordeal of waiting incessantly at a bus stop or haggling with crazy autowallahs. Most companies add 'Free Cabs' as an means to motivate people to take a job at a place that is 65 kms away from home and no person in a sane mind would choose to travel that distance on his own.

The cabs, apart from the fact that they transport one from office to home and home to office are also a great team building factor. For example, my cab mates have changed nearly thrice since I joined, which means that I know atleast 10 new people in the office.

The radio plays a huge role in binding unlikely cab mates. The nonsensical chit-chat of the friendly Radio Jockey can set many a conversations starting. It can cause a flurry of giggles amongst hitherto unknown people, who are now joined in laughter at the silliness of that one joke. And then with time, you become better colleagues, friends and better people. I know of people who are sad to leave a particular cab because they get so attached to the group.

From discourses on cooking, to palmistry, to sharing a common passion for food. Discovering new facts: Did you know that the Nawabi name of Golgappas is Paani Ke Bataashe or that in Bihar, the humble Paani poori is also known as 'Gupchup'. From discussing irritating landlords, to finding a place on rent, to discussing the significance of a 'Fast on Monday/ Thursday... These cab conversations are light hearted and can take one's mind off the crazy schedule at work. Those 60 minutes in the cab are exclusive and worth it.

For my blog

Hi! after sooooooooooo long....are you mad at me? i guess you are..i know you are and well! you have every right to be and so i am not going to waste your time offering any apologies that you are not going to accept anyway...nevertheless i will be modest and admit that i haven't been able to see you in a long time...that does not however change/affect/ modify any of the feelings that i do have for you. I still love and respect you for who you are and what you mean to me. It is just that i don't think i need to say sorry because it will sound so empty.
I hope the fact that i did come around though after nearly three months.....does mean something to you and makes up for that gap?!!

Alright! alright...if that does not make you very happy let me tell you something that will...i am sure you are not aware of this but people have been catching a glimpse of you and admiring you..you know. Aww! you're blushin'!! You have the privilege to! After all, you are my blog aren't you?
so no promises now..cos i can't seem to keep up with them, but i do want you to know that telling you how i feel about people, things, the weather, my highs and lows is so very satisfying. To cut a long story short....I love you blog....Stay in touch with me okayyyy!!!!! a ton of Muddugaoo to you...

P.S. Muddugaoo is what Shobhana said to Mohanlal in the award winning Mallu hit..Thenmaavin Komabathu...it means Kisses in some nice tribal dialect.
The movie ofcourse is a Must Watch.. Adios Amigo...(just for now!!)

I am not the Lost Son....I am the Lost Sheep

I haven't blogged for a long time now. not that thoughts and ideas haven't come...not that I have lost all interest, it is just that I have been struggling with some of the lessons that God has been trying to teach me.

Simple truths are the most complicated to drive home....A paradox isn't it?! Well, that's what my life has been for the past months. A fellow blogger, blogged on her blog saying that she would write about her not-so triumphant experiences, while she was going through them rather than wait for God to work a miracle, experience the deliverance and then write a testimony. That thought mirrored my own existence and left a deep impression within me.

To not wait to see God's deliverance...but to believe that He who called me is faithful and has given me victory already.

the last two weeks since we came back from our trip home, the husband and I seem to be having these never ending bickerings. they usually start off as something small but then i can see the proverb...Making a Mountain out of a Molehill literally come to life. then the entire family gets dragged in, we start calling each other names and then another proverb comes to life...Anger is a letter short of Danger. When we go through the fight, it almost feels like it will never ever end, thankfully it does. And almost always, in the aftermath of it, I fall silent and seeth with guilt and shame. and then I make all these tall claims about how I will never fight, never talk an ill word, never joke too much in fact I won't talk at all and will and maintain a 'distance.' It Never Works... because Communication is the core of a Christ ordained marriage. The other day, just after one of those quarrels, I sat down with my Bible, tears flowing down my cheeks. I knew I was in the wrong and God kept convicting me as to how I had let anger conquer me. About how I had shown disrepect to my Godly husband.

And then began this conversation within me. Me and Jesus.

I said," Lord, I don't know my way back to you. i don't know how to control my anger. I feel far from your presence.
God was quiet. I could not hear anything.
I sobbed a while and told the Lord that I needed consoling. that i felt alone, very unloved and very unworthy. my self worth had hit an all time low and I was falling for all of Satan's tricks.

LORD! I CAN'T BE THE LOST SON AND COME BACK TO YOU...I AM THE LOST SHEEP.... I NEED YOU TO FIND ME....LEAVE THE 99 AND FIND ME LORD!!!

the thought startled me, and as it pervaded my senses, it filled me with an inexplicable calm. Yes! He would come to search for me, if I didn't know the way back. I felt like a little child, her little ego hurt, who out of sheer sadness and her own inability to obey had given up.....but the Father wouldn't give up. he would leave the rest and come in search of me!! My perspective changed and I prayed with confidence.

God healed the little blister in our marriage immediately.

He Strengthens Me

Cry out my heart, let the soreness slip away with the tears, the heaviness in my heart that weighs me down,
Negativity that sucks me into the deep abyss of despair; weakness and hopelessness surround.
My heart wants to holler at the mundane around me, to scream profanities at the foolishness around me,
Questions, questions, more questions I see, Peace, Hope and Faith, these virtues elude me.
There is a battle within, a war in my soul, as though my soul is two pieces of a whole,

I quell the voices within and the feeblest one, I pick,
The one that gently tells me not to fall for the Evil One's trick
To believe is a choice, a tough one to make, but I will make it for His Name sake,
Faith is the answer, His love is the key, I can do all for He strengthens me.

Surprises...good surprises

It came as a pleasant shock when the husband told me that we were taking off to Agra the next day! You know for one, my husband is not really into travelling and definitely not into spur-of-the-moment plans. He is a very careful spender. The kind who saves for a rainy day and me, well...let's just say, i am not the careful spender that he is, though I am sure he wishes I would be. so when he suddenly told me that we needed to take off for a weekend holiday, i was pleasantly taken aback.

I realise that with time now, that we are the proverbial DINK (Double Income No Kids- for the uninitiated), who have reasonably good paychecks, live on our own and don't have to think twice about packing our bags and leaving for a holiday. There have been times when I have moaned to the Lord about not blessing us with children. He chides me, when I complain and tells me to bask in His love for me and to wait on Him.

And sure enough, I love the way God packs a blessing into everything. its like you open your tiffin during lunch at school, to realise dismally that its the same ol' BBJ (bread-butter-jam), that you've begun to detest but then Amma has also packed a bar of KitKat and that's what makes you look forward to finishing your BBJ and then relish the chocolate. (did you get the comparison??)

So on friday night after dinner at 10:30, we sat to surf the Net to look at the various weekend getaway options available. i just love the premise on which the Internet is built - Sharing! If used well, I think it is such an amazing tool which teaches us that it is only in Sharing that we Grow. it is quite the opposite of the idea that says- Don't let the other person know your skills, for fear that he might take it. The Internet strongly believes that No one can take away your mind from you. that's yours, yours alone and no one can steal that from you.

Anyway the Internet gave us 'too' many options. Jaipur, Agra, Nainital, Mussourie, Manali etc...etc, so we decided to 'disconnect' and zeroed in on Agra. Since he would do all the driving, it was better to chose a closer place. that done, we called up our friendly neighbourhood Malayalee tour operator, who promptly suggested to us a hotel of our 'type'.

The most pleased about our trip was our maid, my all-in-one, dependable Razia, who must have been praying to Allah for a 'holiday'. Her otherwise solemn face, lit up like the thousand bulbs on Rajpath in Dilli around Beating-the Retreat, when she heard about her unexpected holiday. 'Apna honeymoon enjay karo', she said cattily, to which my husband seemed visibly surprised at the use of the terms 'honeymoon' and 'enjoy' by Razia. Razia is actually pretty good with English terms, almost leading me to believe that she has a fetish for the language. I have often heard her use English terms with great ease, not even stopping to check if they were appropriate. She doesn't show the same regard for Malayalam and is kind of 'embarassed of the language. But whatever language she speaks, she is an angel.

I suspect this entire trip was Razia's doing. Her life reminds me of the lines from the Alchemist - when you want something really badly (read: holiday), the entire universe conspires to help you achieve it. Speaking of which, I strongly suspect that she must have wanted a break on Sunday and would have not wanted to ask me but would have wanted it desperately anyway.

God bless her, thanks to her...I got to see the Taj...More on the trip in my next post!

Breakfast for the Boys- John 21

Uh! okay, Bloggie...so you're mad at me for not visiting you in a while. Well, I haven't been able to give much thought to my words or rather I haven't been able to give words to my thoughts...See! how confused I am! Anyways this one is a rant...to be read by all the readers of this blog. I mean, why can't people leave a comment on the blog itself? Unless they want to say something really nasty, which has not happened thus far. It would make me really happy,to see a comment on this blog. It is so encouraging to see a mail saying 'New Comment' on blog. but i get to hear it on mail or in person or on the telephone.
Come to think of it, we are all such social creatures...atleast I am. I am amazed at myself because when I started this blog I told myself that this was only my free mind putting across my free thoughts and that I 'didn't care' if someone read them or not.Well, it doesn't seem like I am holding on to that philosophy any longer. I want to be read and encouraged!!!

Personally I think encouragement is just so important in life. To be told that what we do/ did is good or that it makes a difference.. I am sure it is the same case with most people, Encouragement works like magic. Flattery ofcourse, doesn't get one anywhere but true encouragement can do wonders to the soul. Christ is a great Encourager.

I am reminded of the time when after the Crucifixion and the Resurrection, the disciples went back to fishing... their old trade, and even after a whole night of toil... they caught no fish..It must have been so disappointing to know that the ocean, once their 'friend and mainstay' who had always given itself in abundance to them, was suddenly 'empty'. And then they see Jesus who encourages them to cast their nets to the 'other' side. And what a catch it was ...153, silvery, slippery, delicious fish!. The disciples' eyes' must have popped out of their sockets.
Methinks, when Jesus said cast it on the other side, He meant cast it onto the side of 'faith'; this was the hitherto unseen side of the ocean - the ' faith side' that the disciples had missed seeing.
Also note how Christ doesn't get angry at them for getting back to their 'old ways', back to fishing. He could have been irritated and told them that He had, for three years, taught them to be Fishers of Men! but yet the minute He was crucified, they thought all had ended and they went back to fishing. Three years of training, of prayer, of seeing miracles, of preparation all gone down the drain....in this case down the sea!!

It is like Amma taking three hours to teach me Math and I shake my head to show that I understand and yet after half-an-hour, I still make the same error... it is so exasperating.
As a leader and as the Son of Man, He may have been disappointed but as God, as Father, He didn't get angry that they had gone 'back to square one.' Instead there too, He fulfilled their need and asked them to cast their nets on the other side.

i believe that Jesus did this to show that even in our daily everyday things , things that we think, we know like the back of our palm and yet we err in - even in those things God can work.
The disciples, were confident, while Christ was with them (in human form) and while they were with Him, they were genuinely 'good boys' who did everything without question and wanted to please Him, even if it didn't make sense to untie an unknown person's little donkey and to tell Him, that the Master' had asked for it.

Even in my walk with the Lord, there are moments when I am so filled with His spirit that all I want to do is please Him, yet there are other times when i don't know how to pray and I try all my old ways. But He gently chides me for not casting on the 'faith side', but never gets angry. He understands our fraility as human beings, yours and mine. I am sure it must have disappointed Him nonetheless that His disciples, who were literally His shadow, and whom He had prepared for such a great Commission, when He was no more with them in physical form, they did not realise His spiritual presence and went back to their old trade.
Yet He encourages...he blesses them with another miracle and this time not only do they catch fish, they catch 153, their nets stay unharmed and what's more He is waiting on the shore, ready to cook Breakfast for the Boys....what a loving Father , Friend, Encourager, God!!

Which brings me back to my rant that I wish that people who read my blog would encourage me by posting their comments on my Blog itself. Try it people, it will make this blogger really happy..

My Brother's Prayer

It wasn't eloquent, words cascading like waterfalls, there wasn't much clarity of thought or the choicest vocabulary. Yet it was one of the most beautiful prayers I had ever heard. It is something that has stayed with me as a beautiful reminder of the fact that when we talk to people we are guarded, our speech seasoned with salt, our words carefully chosen, but with God...there are no such rules...He is the only one who understands the gibberish in our prayers. My brother's prayer was simple, straightforward and from the heart, in fact he has not even bothered to change the words of his prayer- what he was taught at the age of 6 has stayed with him as he turns 26. Family prayer was an integral part of our growing up years. I still recall Amma constantly calling..."Shilpa, Ashish come to pray." This Azaan (Call for Prayer) was a daily ritual at 6:40 am, just before we left for school. Appa would invariably be under the sheet or razai (depending on the weather), staring sleepily at the newspaper trying his best to look as 'fresh' as possible so his little ones did not feel that they had a raw deal in getting up so early for school. There was always a certain order to our family prayer and we both knew how it was supposed to be. First, Amma would read the Bible, then the Daily Reading, my brother would pray first, then I and finally Appa would pray in Malayalam and we would then round it off with the Lord's prayer. Then a mad scramble to the bus stop. Tiffin boxes shoved into our bags, down a glass of milk and we were off! Amma taught both of us the first prayer we ever prayed.

• It had to start with a Thankyou to Jesus for the morning that he had blessed us with.
• Then a list of all the 'important' people in our lives whom we had to 'bless' in His name
• Any people/relatives who were ill and needed special prayers. I remember us praying for the heart operation of amachy's sister. She had a hole in her heart.
• Any known people travelling were prayed for and wished a safe journey.
• Exam days meant special prayers for an ' easy question paper '
• Special events like birthdays, anniversaries of dear ones were also remembered.
  

It has been years since those days of family prayer. Much has changed. My prayer has become more eloquent. I do feel blessed that God has given me the ability to remember verses and to pray. I know it is His grace. I can recall verses and parables and I pray using those, with no other intention, but to make my prayer more meaningful and to glorify the Lord and once in a while earn a compliment or two. but I feel guilty that sometimes I find myself 'practising' my prayers because i want to impress!! But Ashish, I know, is very content with his style of praying, sure of himself and knowing well, that flattery or spouting long verses are not going to get him anywhere with the Lord who knows him for what he is. I remember him in his teen years, arguing with Amma to raise the curfew time of 9 for him to get home. Whatever time he came back, however tired he may be, I would see him sit up on his bed, hands folded, eyes tight shut, lips sometimes silently moving in serious prayer. He is no saint, though my grandma would vouch that there ' Aint no Sun, shinier than her golden Boy', he did all the naughty things that boys his age do, he got caught for most of them, but everyday in his own way, he went back in prayer to his Redeemer, baring his soul, seeking forgiveness, making candid confessions, asking for counsel from the One who made him.

As of now we are all in different places Cochin, Delhi - and my brother Ashish is in another continent! But I miss hearing him pray. To this day, I am sure he prays the same way. and you know what....I am also sure that the Lord listens.

Dear Ashish, you just turned 26, last Sunday, and I believe that you prayed the same prayer in your heart as you rose from bed...the one that Amma taught you. I may have never mentioned this but I want you to know that I am truly impressed by your prayer. it is sincere and from the heart with no pretensions. i do hope that the simplistic zeal with which you pray will keep you closer in your walk with the Lord at all times. Your compassion, kindness and the loving heart that you are blessed with are qualities that will hold you in good stead. All those around you feel truly blessed by your life and I pray that in the coming years too, you continue to bless our lives. I pray that the Lord blesses you abundantly and my fervent wish for you is that in the coming years, you continue to pray and grow in the Lord and pass on the prayer to the next generation..the same prayer that Appa and Amma taught us years ago is the prayer that is keeping us alive and united even as we are miles apart . God Loves you and SO DO I !!!!
Happy birthday Bro!!!

Dress Sense - a not-so- Short Story

Sudha was a conservative dresser, conscious about her height and her physique. Fashion to her meant comfort and not having to adjust plunging necklines or tugging at tops too short to hide her ample derriere! Salwar kurtas were her clothes of choice and people who cared most had almost always told her that her frame was best suited to the Salwar Kameez. they reminded her of her home in Kolhapur, Amma at her sewing machine, lovingly 'designing' kurtas for Sudha. Yes! They made her feel 'at home'.

Office fashion was undergoing a slow metamorphosis.She wasn't one to follow the trends. So she wore the pretty salwar kameezes, her favourite colours being green and black and white, they seemed to monopolise her wardrobe. But India's commercial and economic skyline was changing, Western companies were affecting the way people thought, ate and even dressed. IZEE technologies, where she worked, was no exception. Suddenly Power Dressing meant Trousers-Suits-Scarves. Sarees were a thing of the past, an attire for another generation, or to be saved for 'special' occasions. India had more options, more stores selling western wear suited to the Indian woman. No longer did one have to wait for a relative living abroad to send something that was one's size and looked good too. And so there was this urge to metamorphose from traditional to trendy. She decided she would invest in some 'westerns'. She would free herself of the mind block and make herself comfortable with this new decision she had taken.

"Wow! Miss Sudha Patil, you look great,pal!" said Tanya and Lata in chorus. They were pleasantly surprised at the sudden transformation. Tanya, Lata and Sudha had joined office on the same day. Similar backgrounds, similar tastes and similar interests brought them together. They were typically birds of a feather and so logically they flocked together.
'Thanks guys, frankly I was a little nervous', said Sudha,tugging at her top for the umpteenth time. 'Amma won't be happy at all', and to think that I invested nearly 10,000 bucks on my card to buy this stuff!,Thank God atleast you liked it'

'This looks fine on you. it will takes us some time to get used to the 'New You'! Though I hope will see you in those pretty salwar kameezes too. And you spent 10 grand!!!! Woah! that's quite a figure,'quipped Tanya.

'Arre yaar! i just thought, we are working in this MNC and everything around us is American, thought i should change with the times. We are working US times, eating hamburgers, why not wear their clothes too...You should try it too. I think in some sense it is liberating...to let go of the Small town Girl tag....and somehow I feel Reema, Riya and Pooja have an edge over us because of their clothes. Don't you think so?' Sudha said.

I don't know! Maybe they do, but really,at the end of the day, isn't it our brain factor than the drool factor that really matters?!' Tanya reasoned.

Anyway this change is for the better and so long as you don't change as a person, that's all that we care about, right Tanya?, Chalo! atleast there's one from our group who is into stylish Western, India's answer to JLo?!! , grinned Lata.

Weeks went by and Sudha dealt with stares, admiring looks, flirtatious glances, she was enjoying all the attention. but she also noticed a major change in her own attitude. she was suddenly more 'open.' she didn't mind a casual touch, a handshake a tad too longer, a lingering gaze, a casual wink. The other day Reema had walked up to her to ask her join her for lunch. it was the first time in the 10 months of having joined IZEE technologies that she was not lunching with Tanya and Lata. She could feel the distance that had crept in between Tanya, Lata and her. They often called her, but she always had an excuse, as though being seen with them was suddenly, a little awkward. She wanted to be 'Reema's friend'. She ignored the warning signals of a friendship at the brink of breaking. Was this truly her? Or is it that people perceived her according to the clothes she wore? Frankly she didn't care because at this time she was relishing the attention.

The most meaningful glances came from him. Jaydeep Mulgaonkar, her boss. Jai was gorgeous. With a curly mop of dark brown hair, freckles and a dimple in his left cheek, he was a real looker. he was a topic of discussion with most of the women in the office who went ga-ga about his looks. Sudha had known Jai's family since she was a kid. They had lived in the same block, went to the same schools and their fathers worked in the same office. In fact it was Jai who had recruited her at IZEE.
She noticed that he often came to the vending machine, diagonally opposite to her cubicle, constantly filling cups of tea or coffee all the while, furtively glancing at her. It sometimes sent a 'happy' shiver down her spine. Sudha always knew she had feelings for Jai, even as a shy teen. She wasn't sure what he felt. But his glances were confirming her secret joys.

Week after week, she noticed him looking at her. At the next team meeting, he took a place opposite her. She was sure that it was to attract her attention. Her persona was changing, the shyness and naivety were a thing of the past. Her obsession with Western wear was taking a toll on her. All day long she thought of combinations to wear, Navy blue trousers-white shirt-red sweater or may be the soft grey sleeveless sweater.... Salwar Kameezes were blase, she had Jai's attention now and she was not letting go. She believed that the Western look had done it!

"I think you should stop it, Su, it looks silly and so obvious that you are all over Jai. it embarasses him too.Agreed you've known him but He is your senior and I think this will adversely affect your appraisals, your work is getting shoddy and this is the 5th time that you are messing up the proposal this month. you cannot do this. What's wrong with you? where is the Sensible Sudha,who was so careful about her presentations, so commited to her profession, so upright and what happened to the precision with which you worked? Did you notice Reema and Riya, they were trying hard to stifle a giggle as you made a fool of yourself at the team meeting. Do something before it is too late," said Lata angrily. Tanya nodded in agreement.

Sudha, however, did not agree.

TWO MONTHS LATER

Half-yearly appraisals were on. Sudha was dead sure, she would get a good score. Sure, there had been hitches in the last 2 months but they would take into account the months of hardwork before this. And to top it all, Jai was doing her Appraisal. She surely had an edge. She had it all planned, after the appraisal she would speak to Jai. Sure she was shy, but as a Woman of the 21st century, she would not wait for the man to propose, she would do it herself. The morning of her appraisal, she took a long, hard look at her cupboard. The salwar kurtis, in neat, untouched piles demanded her attention. As usual she picked a sleeveless,white blouse. A tad too tight, it showed off her curves, she had put on a little more weight, she thought to her self. the trouser too fit a bit too snug. She casually draped a blue printed stole and slipping on her black stilletoes, she checked herself for one last time in the mirror. The mirror told her the truth. Once again she chose to ignore it.

The air in office was ridden with tension. Tanya and Lata sat on their respective seats and smiled, formal smiles. The bonhomie that the 3 had shared was clearly over now and deep down, Sudha felt responsible, but right now she didn't care. Sudha switched on the computer to check the list of people lined for the appraisals. She was the 7th. the last one before lunch. Her turn came at 12:00 noon, she walked in with poise and confidence. Jai sat across the table and asked her to take her seat. The discussion began about her individual goals, strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, company goals. He was clearly angry. His kind eyes were clearly disapproving of her and especially of her clothes. She nervously adjusted her blue stole.
'You have changed!, Sudha. Over the last 2 months. I have been hearing constant complaints about you. Your work is shoddy, your look has changed, your concentration is elsewhere.I....I think you should go in for modelling and not IT. The Sudha I recruited is missing now,' Jai's response pierced her heart like an arrow.

The rest of the appraisal was as expected. The ratings were much below expectations and being Team Leader, was clearly out of question.
Dejected, Sudha arose to leave.

" Sudha, wait, I know you are upset but you brought this on yourself. I am sure if you are more focussed, you will give it your best shot.
She nodded, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to trickle. She wanted to leave and not allow the tears to embarass her there. But Jaydeep was clearly in no hurry.

'lets just keep the office matters aside for a while, okay?! let me give you some news. IZee is posting me to the US for 5 years"

"You know Amma has been pestering me to get married. since Didi got married, she is after me to settle down. I finally said Yes and she just sent me the photo of the girl they picked! I know that this is not the most opportune time. But i have to give my answer tonight. Take a look and tell me your honest thoughts."

Jai's deep baritone and the evident sarcasm in his voice angered her. This clearly was not the best time for him to discuss his personal life. She wanted to say 'No' and leave! But after all, he was the Boss and after that terrible appraisal, she could have been demoted or worse, lost her job.

Sudha swallowed the familiar lump in her throat and smiled weakly. Without a word, she stretched out her hand and took the photograph from Jai's hand.

What she saw shocked her! It was a picture of her taken the last time she went home. Graceful, in a white crisp salwar kurta, she almost looked angelic.

" I..i..its Mm..me?

With the picture was a note that said - Sudha, it would make a lot of horse sense to stick with good friends and to this dress sense.....Will You Marry me, Sudha Patil!!!

That's when it made Sense....to Sudha.

Salwar kurtas are now her clothes of choice because people like Jaydeep and Tanya and Lata who cared most had almost always told her that her frame was best suited to the Salwar Kameez.

Methinks

Have been doing a lot of thinking lately. lots of thoughts crossing my mind. you know sometimes my mind so full of things and keeps jumping from one thing to another, that i cannot concentrate. it is as though i am on this merry go-round and things are just whizzing past me. so methinks this post is going to be about all the things that i have been thinking about.
i thought a great deal about live-in relationships versus marriage, when a friend mentioned it. so is it becoming the preferred way of life? I think Convenience has taken over Commitment. Preferences now depend on this basic premise. I used to think that may be guys would prefer a live-in and not women. i presumed women were more hell-bent on the commitment aspect. then again, maybe they want a live-in to eventually become marriage. Or they probably want it only for societal reasons. i don't have too many thoughts on it...but i don't want to be judgemental without knowing the reasons as to why people prefer it that way. As for me, i am a stickler for marriage...guess I belong to the Archaic School of Thought.

God's also been speaking to me about being in His Light.When I say being in His light I am referring to 1 John 1. i have met so many people who are scared to make that commitment to Christ, i have begun to believe that it has a lot to do with walking in the Light. Walking in the Light means not only that God can see You but that You can see yourself in that light. And that Scares the Hell out of you!
it used to do that to me also. I made a commitment to Christ about a decade ago, before that i was just a Christian, but i really committed myself to Christ about a decade ago and I struggle in my Walk in the Light. Because You see yourself for who you are. You suddenly become transparent. God keeps convicting and congratulating you depending on your deed.So much so that many times, I can hear the Spirit tell me that this is wrong, I mean He shows it to me in His Light. There are some days I feel I look really ugly and somedays I feel so beautiful.
Commitment would definitely mean seeing yourself in His light. the awareness of the filth in the soul is painful and fearful.

God's also nudging me to think of my larger purpose. I have been asking God to help me find out what He wants me to achieve. Maybe even through this blog? He has been convicting me about this blog too. There are times when i think my aim becomes glorifying myself and not God through this blog. i mean i am thinking of how to make my blog more readable and try and use good vocabulary to impress. but that wasn't the purpose of Musings by Pottersclay.I should have thought hard and long when i named my blog. You see being Potter's Clay is tough.

He was also there

I close my eyes and try to see,
the sense in all that's happening to me,
Dusk is settling in, another day gone,
Of lost promises and dreams turned to dust,
The Sun slowly sets on the horizon,
taking my dreams with it, it seems,
Lord, I ask you for you made me,
what are the plans that you forsee?
Puzzled, confused , I want my answers now,
the future is full of Why? When? and How?

An aching soul, a watered down smile,
Downcast eyes, tears brimming, trickle down in a while,
all the guilt and the shame, resurface again,
my mind it plays all the tricks again,
Sin must be the cause, I am the one to blame,
maybe I deserve to feel all of this pain
Self pity creeps in and makes my soul its home,
I single out my pain, and doubt if God really knows.


I close my eyes again to concentrate and strain my ears
to hear the gentle whisper that speaks through the storm,
Cacophony reigns, I cannot hear His Voice,
I am convinced and dejected,
That me, He has rejected,
That's the end of my tether, I am in total despair,
My heart its bruised and hurt, broken beyond repair,
That even God didn't want me, the thought i could not bear.


Suddenly I felt a moistness on my cheek,
I wiped it .. it was blood(!) , I panicked..i freaked,
I looked above my head, to see the source of the blood,
Was suprised to see, twas a picture of the Lord,
It had Him kneeling, His hands folded in prayer,
In Gethsamene, He was laying His heart bare.
Sweat-soaked His forehead, bloodied His brow,
the drop that trickled onto me, was a symbol of love,
Sacrificing His Life as He died upon the tree,
The Purpose of Calvary was to set me free,

He said to me with kind voice, as I held my face to His,
"When alone upon that Cross, I felt exactly like this,
I couldn't hear my Father and cacophony reigned
I called out to my Father and ignorance He feigned,
It broke my Spirit to think that by Him I was rejected,
My heart too was bruised and broken beyond repair,
That my Father did not want me, the thought I too could not bear.
but then I commited my Spirit to his hands, trusted him with all my might
And as I looked heavenward, I saw Him in his glorious light
His arms were open wide, his eyes brimming with tears,
Well done my Son, He said. "Against the Devil, you put up a good fight."

His answer surprised me, I realised with a start,
That Jesus too had felt that way,was indeed a humbling thought,
So I wiped my tears, mustered up my faith and closed my eyes again,
but this time it was different, for I saw My Father through my Pain,
These days when in times of doubt and fear, I strain my ears to hear His voice,
Cacophony still reigns, there is still a lot of noise,
But then I lift my heart, heavenward and whisper a silent prayer,
Father I know you are like my shadow, with me everywhere,
I rest assured and peaceful, though around me there's despair,
My Saviour also felt this way, He was also there.

The Sealing Saga - Part 1

There it was, on the second page of the Times of India, Delhi's premier daily, a fairly big write up and a picture of our office building, the second floor balcony of our office clearly within the frame of the picture. Thankfully, it was without the sign board, which we had just removed a week ago. I stared open mouthed at the piece and realised with nervousness for the first time, that I was going to be affected by an event that was creating national news!! It should have created a flutter, but it gave me panic attacks instead. The MCD 'claws' were closing in on my office space.

You know, reading about the chaos and mayhem is one thing, being part of that mayhem is quite another. Here I was the ' head ' of office of the Delhi branch, sitting and sipping my cup of cool tea, stunned beyond my wits about what was going to happen. my mind was conjuring up images of the Fearful Squad as though they were the Klu Klux Klan, pot-bellied men in their safari suits, their teeth brown and red with stains of tobacco and paan, Cops in their unfriendly khakhi and rude demeanour, and the Media and Press shoving and pushing to take pictures of our office and us, as the defaulters! Defaulters! Criminals!..hoo! boy! i didn't want to make national news of this kind. I imagined us putting up a fight Rang De Basanti ishtyle and then a shiver went down my spine, thinking of the gory end that met the protagonists...."Hmm! what happened?" my husband's question, shook me out of my 'nightmare'. I showed him the news piece. his eyes scanned the piece. he didn't say anything. Just a heavy pause, pregnant with meaning. I stared at him open mouthed. " hmm" he sighed again....hmmm??? just a hmmm?? here i was Paranoia Personified and all he could manage was a " hmmm"....huh!

The scene in office was devoid of the paranoia that I was experiencing. Liz, the Asst Manager was busy at her desk and waved a short 'hi'; Chandini, the trainer was sitting in her track suit and sport shoes in the training room poring over the day's lessons, a few students sat staring at their text books, Kitty, the Nurse Relations Coordinator sat in the same room as Liz flipping the pages of the dreaded TOI morning edition, but obviously not reading it, or she would have been the first one to tell me and there was Pavan, the office assistant obliviously tottering about his everyday tasks. I hated to disturb the peace. A little while later Liz walked into to wish me, and taking one look at me, she took no time in asking me what the matter was.

I passed on the paper to her, with a grim face, true Bollywood ishtyle, my eyes staring glumly at the computer screen, my ears in eager expectation, to hear the gasp from Liz. Sure enough she gasped and said " what are we going to do, Shilpa? "

And with that question began our sealing saga. - A saga that taught us "lessons in sealing" and then came back once again to "test our skills in sealing." A saga that taught me a great deal about team work, relationships, girl power and above all God's love and His Providence through the testing times. It was also about being faithful in small things, in inspiring another and keeping a straight head when all around you are losing theirs. It also taught me that it was okay to not think straight at some time and allow the team to share some of the burden.

There were times when I felt so alone in handling all of the stress,when questions and calls from higher-ups were tough to answer. Therir anxiety was understandable. This was someone else's money that I was dealing with. but one look at my team and the girls and their confidence, I knew i wasn't alone.

it taught me that God can accomplish great things from a completely unlikely bunch of people. I learned patience over frustration, learnt to lean on God. Sealing earned me friendships with colleagues like Liz and Susan and Kitty. Sealing taught me to value my husband and his wise counsel. His rock steady strength was what kept me afloat. In times, when I cribbed about being the Team Leader and wanting to run away and hide in the confines of a new job, he showed me my cowardice and taught me to face my fears, to gather my wits and march on ahead.

But why am i writing about all of this, only to chronicle an event that tested me and I cannot, should not, must not forget the meaning of it. As I look back, I wonder How....how did we and then I see the footprints of the Nazarene - Emmanuel....God with us!!!

To Be Continued...