Thebarefootfoodie

Jesus Loves Me This I Know At Primary One, Chapel is not a type of building but a period in a week where we sing really nice songs, listen to stories, close our eyes and try not to fall asleep... Chapel is where we learn that God created heaven and earth, day and night, animals, big and small ( even the yucky ones that suck your blood and buzz around your ears ), Adam and Eve, a beautiful garden, the snake which could talk. And stories about how Adam and Eve did something wrong and something happened to them. Then came more stories about how God came up with a plan to save Adam and Eve and all their children by sending His Son, called Jesus, to take the blame for Adam and Eve, by dying a terrible death on a cross. How is it that one book called the BIBLE, can contain so many stories and still take me to places I've never been before?

Pretty Resilient This little girl grew up, and slowly built her defences. While the rest of the little girls grew long hair and looked into mirrors to admire themselves, this one stuck her nose into books which opened up new worlds and horizons. One day, she could be in a boarding school in England, after a dose of Enid Blyton; or in Greece or Rome, dealing with the frivolity of gods and their idiosyncracies. Another day, she could be the world's most famous detective, solving her next mystery. She felt safe and secure in the multi-layered world of books where the imagination had free reign. Who cares about pretty when she can be smarty-pants?

Affirm, Not Criticise Criticisms take something away from you. Affirmations add something to your heart and soul. If I stumbled halfway during a race, and hands reached out to pick me up, I would double up my efforts to catch up to make up for lost time. But if I was running in a race and hands reached out to push me, then I would still pick myself up, but I would look around warily to see if those hands would do that to me again...I would not be running a good race because my focus is now on preventing myself from getting hurt, instead of going all out with my eyes only on the finishing line.

When I was little When I was a little girl, I dreamt of being an airline hostess. I pictured myself dressed in a fitted Sarong Kebaya, serving delectable tidbits. In my visions, I was beautiful and elegant - everything a little girl hoped to grow up to be. When I told my mum about my dream, she laughed out loud and thought it really funny that I should see myself as beautiful because she did not. She said something that reminded me I was not pretty enough to qualify as an airline hostess. That day, my little heart broke into a million pieces. I learnt that day that words can hurt. Careless, thoughtless, casual words. It shattered my dream. From that day, when I look into the mirror, I saw myself the way my mum saw me - not pretty enough...until I discovered that ugly ducklings can turn into swans. What you are inside recreates the outside. I remember my visions and held on to them Prov 18:21 "...Death and life are in the power of the tongue..."