It was not even seven in the morning, and yet the sky was already on the brink of bursting into its full glory and brightness. As we jogged along the park connector to the beach, Cliff turned to me to say, “Isn’t that beautiful?”
“Huh? What? This long-kang?”
In Singapore, “long-kang” is a slang term used to refer to a big drain.
In Canada, your usual running trail was on a stunning stony path, next to a natural winding creek of clear rushing water called Credit River, surrounded by tall, towering trees hundreds of years old and beautiful forest flowers. Once, you joked that the canals so often seen alongside the running paths and park connectors here were the “concrete rivers” of Singapore.
So when you said it was “beautiful”, I was puzzled. Clear rushing water amidst lush green trees against an azure sky in cool, crisp Canadian summer weather- sure, that was beautiful. But this? Beautiful?
“Huh? What? This long-kang?” I asked.
“No, look- the reflection of the street lights in the water. Isn’t that beautiful?” You replied.
As soon as I took a picture of the glow in the water with my phone, the lights flickered off as the clock hit seven. All I saw was a big, ugly concrete drain filled with murky water and moss at the sides, with a waft of a peculiar smell just faint enough not to be called a stench. But you taught me, that by simply adjusting our focus and perspective, we can always find reason to rejoice in life.
I saw a long-kang, a big ugly concrete valley, and you saw a beautiful urban river mirroring the quiet, orange glow of street-lamps, arranged in perfect sequence until infinity.
It reminded me of the time, just a week ago, when we had a conflict and you asked me in exasperation (I was being unreasonable then), “Why do you always see the bad in every situation?”
It was then that I woke up from my lull. It was true, and you were right. My eye is quick to critique and capture the fallen-ness in everything, the broken-ness in what is seen and un-seen. And as I become quick to absorb and see the fragments within myself, I often project them unfairly onto you, expecting the worst, mis-reading and mis-judging your good intentions. I confessed, and apologized. It was a painful awakening, a self-discovery of sorts.
And so it reminded me, of another run we had along the beach over the weekend, when you looked at the sky and commented with glee, “Look at that nice cloud, it’s so short and fat.” You often point these random things out to me on our runs, and on a few occasions, you have enjoyed pointing out cumulus clouds to me in particular, in admiration of God’s fluffy creations.
“Short and fat, haha. Like me, haha,” I said, in mock condescension and disparagement.
Immediately I knew that statement wasn’t true. It was my poor self-image talking and poking fun at myself, the kind that almost every modern woman nowadays assimilates into her being as part of being “modest”, but is in fact, thoroughly detrimental and unreflective of God’s nature.
You were quick to pick up on that, and even quicker to reply. “No, ‘short and fat’ is not you. Look more closely,” you said, pointing to the same cloud. “It’s actually a cute and fluffy bunny. Now that’s you.”
“Hey, wow! It really is a bunny!”
It amazed me, to see how you consistently see the good and beauty in life. How, even in our relationship, you constantly choose to see the good in me and not my shortcomings, constantly finding opportunities to praise my packing your breakfast every morning, cooking for you, painting my next book, instead of commenting on how I sometimes fail to pack enough food to fuel your entire day, how I leave a huge trail of dishes which you willingly clean up after every culinary endeavour I undertake, how I have transformed what was supposed to be your personal reading room into an art studio of messy paints and colorful drafts strewn on the floor.
You choose to see the beautiful in life when I fail to. You choose to praise God when I am doubtful. You choose to say, “Let’s trust that God already has a plan for us waiting for us to discover” when I question “Why hasn’t He shown up yet?” Maybe that’s why you’re so impossibly optimistic and joyful- even cancer couldn’t hold you down.
You choose to see beauty and goodness when I am blind to them;
you choose to point them out to me, so that I can enjoy them with you.
Thank you, Cliff, for showing me the light in the valleys,
the bunnies in the clouds.
So to my readers, what is it that you are not seeing today?
May God open and unveil your eyes, to the wonderful miracles around us.
Even when we feel like we are in a ditch (or long-kang), let us choose to fix our eyes on beauty;
Even when we are amidst trials and feel worthless, let us remember that His view of us,
and His thoughts toward us, are precious and cannot be numbered.
Open your eyes today, to what is good, and noble and pure and worthy.
And let us find reason to rejoice this day and week ahead.
Love.
Open my eyes that I may see
wonderful things in your law.
-Psalm 119:18
How precious are your thoughts about me, O God.
They cannot be numbered!
– Psalm 139:17