Beth uses the H word

Yes, my precious, precocious 3.5-year-old finally did it.

One day, while she was in the midst of a huge tantrum because Mummy wouldn't let her do something, she screamed, "I HATE YOU!!!" with all the ferocity of a tiger cub.

Normally, I might have caved in and felt overwhelmed and vulnerable, but for some reason, I felt quite together that day and resisted all attempts to make me give way. It was a curious sensation, being there and yet feeling like an outsider looking contemplatively at me responding to the assault. It was the age-old battle of the wills.

In the end, Beth surrendered, flags flying, and made up quite quickly with hugs and tears. She even managed an "I love you Mummy" after the storm had blown over, to which I teasingly replied, "Didn't you say you hate Mummy?"

There is much to be said for not sparing the rod.

I hope Beth has learnt that she cannot always get her own way, and more importantly that she will not get it by emotional blackmail. Having endured a traumatic childhood and adolescence at the hands of an emotionally erratic parent, I understand more than most how critical it is not to let the cycle (or generational curse) repeat itself.

Great Grandma Goes To Heaven

14 Feb 2006
Mum informed us that Grandma was not doing well. She'd had a minor stroke, didn't sleep at all on Sun nite, and had confided in the family maid that she would like to see my cousin who works in Melbourne.

The whole week was like a long-drawn-out drama, with daily pronouncements and guesses that today might be the day that Grandma would be leaving for a better place. She was semiconscious, bedridden, stopped eating, had to be fed glucose water by the teaspoon, and could not speak at all. Everyone was on call around the clock, taking turns to hang out by her bedside to read to her from the Bible, to sing her a song, to hold her hand.

On 22 Feb, she finally went home to the LORD, a great relief for the family, but also a time of grief and loss for her children and grandchildren.

In the midst of all the depressing uncertainty, it was a great comfort to have Beth around. Just 3.5 years old, she has already gone through the death of her paternal grandma. Besides, we make it a point to take her along to wake services of friends and church members, and to explain what has happened to the departed person and where he or she might have gone (easy enough if the person was a Christian). She has grown accustomed (if there is such a thing) to the language of illness and death, and is not averse to peering into the casket (perhaps she is too young to have developed any horror, repulsion or fear of death?).

A day or two before Grandma died, we brought Beth to say hello/goodbye. The first time this happened, Beth had been extremely reluctant to greet Great Grandma (GGM). This had usually been the case even when GGM was well and sitting in the living room in her wheelchair. Perhaps the young do not take well to those who have grown wrinkled and bony with age and illness. Perhaps Beth was terrified of GGM's shaky hands (caused by Parkinson's) and shrill voice insisting that she sing a song for GGM.

In any case, this time Beth not only consented to hold GGM's hand, she also sang to GGM in her winsome, slightly garbled fashion. Mum was touched, and praised Beth for her compassion.

Me - I was just so proud that my only child had not only done "the right thing" (which would score the highest possible marks in the family register), but had been used by God to reach out to a dying old lady who could barely register what was happening.

I like to think that though GGM could no longer speak, her spirit and soul were nevertheless comforted and blessed by the innocence of a little child God used to lead her homewards.