Irene In Christ

There has been quite a bit of heavy stuff here on my blog recently, what with my Paul, Barnabas & Timothy stories and my Kuching God story. 😅  So, here I am, taking a break from my Kuching God story for a bit to share something more light-hearted. And, maybe to some, it may not be significant but I felt led to share about it, nevertheless.  Okay, first the story.  Tuesday afternoon, I brought my daughter for her 2nd dose Covid vaccination. (OK, let's not focus or argue or comment on whether Covid vaccination is necessary. Let's be excited about my parking God story.) So, here are some things that you need to know: The time, it's peak hour. I picked her up from school and drove to the clinic. So, it's lunch hour. The location, it's at city centre. It's congested at normal non-peak hours, so I dare not imagine how heavy traffic will be or how hard it will be to get a parking.  But because of my schedule, I went ahead.  So, of course I prayed.  Firstly, I (obv

When I first started writing my Kuching God story, I hadn't planned on writing about objects - cup and rubber band and what not. 😂 ( But somehow, under the hand of the Holy Spirit, it just came naturally.) I told of my cup and my rubber band story previously, of how these 2 objects/ analogies described me and my situation so aptly. Or so I thought.  Because, apparently, that was not how God see or think of me.  (If, when you were reading my stories, you felt like you can relate to the cup and rubber band, I am convicted and convinced that that is not how God see and think of you. You will see why.) I am not a cup, neither am I a rubber band.  I am a pipe.  How did this revelation come to me? Well, the Wednesday night after my Sunday breakthrough (the moment where I was able to, from the heart, forgive and reconcile with my mum) was Regional Night.  Note: Regional Night is a bi-monthly night where those who are leading or assisting in a Connect Group (what churches usually call CG)

I wrote of my  cup story  previously.  I shared about h ow, in my relationship with my mum, I used to be a filled, drained and emptied cup, over and over again.  And the toil it had taken on me.  Without me realising it, I grew bitter, taking offence at my mum's responses, words, intentions.  At the beginning of this year, I found myself struggling more and more. Even when I came before God (to be filled) in prayer before every conversation, instead of being conscious of God's presence and anointing upon me, I felt (and focused) on the weight of the issue at hand.  (Well, fixing our eyes on the problem in prayer is never a wise thing to do. I'm sure you have heard of the saying - 'Don't tell God how big your problem is. Tell your problem how big your God is.') Needless to say, instead of being filled, I started every conversation with my mum, already feeling weighed down. And, unfortunately, a half full cup only gets drained empty at twice the speed. 😔 It came