In memory of my earthly father.."I have eaten more salt than you rice"

I grew up in a family with three boys and one girl. In all honesty, I think I know my parents the most; not even my siblings. From a tender age my daily routine would be school -> lunch followed by homework -> housework -> gardening -> homework -> dinner -> helping dad in his mini-department store -> bed. you might say I did not have much of a childhood by comparison with many of my friends and classmates.

And so I spent a lot of my time on my studies and my classmates would testify I even prepared my school work for the next day or even week and my geograpphy teacher knows where to borrow the notes to teach!! how shameless of him (bless his soul). And as a result of all the hardwork I graced the top position of my cohort and was awarded an Australian government scholarship to continue my O levels in St Andrew's Secondary School.

And it was in St Andrew's that the Lord finally found me and I received Him into my life on January 18, 1970 (too long ago to remember but I do keep that date firmly in my mind as I want to testify of His goodness and mercy to me all through these years. And so in August that year, I wrote home to dad to seek his approval (at the time I was only 15+ and needed his approval for the baptism) and blessing. It was not difficult for him to approve my case as my two older brothers had already done so in previous years and I recalled him telling me that I would one day join them and that he would not object but hold me accountable for my own actions.

So my parents 'retired' from Christmas Island (dad was only 47 then) in August 1970 and i lost my scholarship and so the hard road began. With not much on hand to see me through the rest of my studies, they decided to set up a hawker stall in one of the coffeeshops to sell fried kuay teow, fried bee hoon and noodles and pork porrigde and with whatever they could earn, financed my elder brother and I through our A levels and later our university programmes. I could still remember my mother coming home every evening and had to apply ointment on her hands - blisters would form as the skin on her hands would react to the soap suds from washing the dishes, bowls and cutlery. And I would try to put down my books to help him prepare the pork for the next day (all the meat had to be ground for the porridge - Cantonese style).

One evening in December 1978, I came home from work (I was working at the People's Association straight after graduation from Singapore University) and decided to bring my father to the National Stadium for an evangelistic rally by Dr Billy Graham and I strategized by making our way to the Mandarin/ Cantonese section so that he could hear the gospel in his native language (oh my father understands English but I just wanted him not to miss anything hence the language sector was thought to be important). And during the altar call, I recalled nudging him and encouraging him to go forward and receive the Lord into His heart and I even offered to accompany him down those flights of steps onto the pitch.

He just sat there and did not move. So I tried again and still there was no reaction but after a few moments he must have been tired of my peskiness and he turned to me and said, "I have eaten more salt than you rice". Silence! and it was the most odd journey home for both of us that evening - not a word was spoken,

Although I was hoping for his salvation that evening, it did not materialize until much later - 8-1/2 years to be exact - and the circumstances to his salvation were miracles in and of themselves.