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Impossibly high ceilings and lots of natural light pouring in; air-con vents were cleverly in-built into the false walls encasing raised eatery — the venue was surely furnished to simulate the outdoors. Outdoors that cannot be found in this hot, humid island. Tourists sauntered around with a slight swag, eyeing each other with approval or disapproval depending on whether you looked like part of the furniture. The sound of careless laughter blended in with the clinking of glasses and shiny metal cutlery against ceramic plates. Everyone looked well-fed and well-dressed; everyone was safe. A sudden discordance churned my insides as I was struck by the utopian opulence and oblivion that these high-rollers gladly fund and gladly couch themselves in.
In the wakes of Haiyan, it was hard to enjoy this complimentary staycation. For every Filipino staff that greeted me with a smile, I wondered what really went on behind their unsmiling eyes. Could they really smile and bask in the faux glistening sunlight whilst their families back home were suffering first hand from the disaster, or was it a grit that I detected at the back of their throats as they forcibly said "yes ma'am" and took our orders? This was supposed to be relaxing, but I could hardly enjoy it. Expensive beds, expansive view, permanent pressed sheets with high thread count, a bathroom larger than my bedroom — I felt disgusted as often as I realised how sheltered I am, and such am indulging in. I felt weary despite the lovely company. But true to this consumerist and selfish nature, these feelings disappeared every now and then, especially when gluttony was served on a plate to me.
--
A three-storey home in a prime district, family and loved ones gathered around, a comfortable wake service to honour a beloved relative who lived through World War I. A walking piece of history laid to rest, I thank God for his life indeed — but again — I was transported to moving visuals of the dead still strewn around the island. There will be no proper funeral service for them, no proper burial for some. No closure for the missing, no relief for their families.
--
And I'm here.
It's too comfortable here. It's too far away from these troubled places. Too easy to hit the purchase button and claim new toys for myself (I type this on one recent purchase, painstakingly saved up for). Too easy to wish for more to want more to do more. And actually be able to do it. Day in and out, in safety and in comfort. And peace. Too easy.
It is a blessing, no doubt, and I do not wish to overcorrect and become ascetic. I'm sure safety and peace are blessings, and part of God's desire for a world He created good. But what am I doing with my life in such circumstances? Am I happily self-indulgent and choosing to stay in this deceptively-utopian bubble? Or am I making most of the time and freedom that I have been gifted with to make a difference, or at least strive to equip myself to be able to do so?
As long as it is called today. May these not be empty words.
For strength; and a never-turning-aside focus on Him. Lord have mercy.
In the wakes of Haiyan, it was hard to enjoy this complimentary staycation. For every Filipino staff that greeted me with a smile, I wondered what really went on behind their unsmiling eyes. Could they really smile and bask in the faux glistening sunlight whilst their families back home were suffering first hand from the disaster, or was it a grit that I detected at the back of their throats as they forcibly said "yes ma'am" and took our orders? This was supposed to be relaxing, but I could hardly enjoy it. Expensive beds, expansive view, permanent pressed sheets with high thread count, a bathroom larger than my bedroom — I felt disgusted as often as I realised how sheltered I am, and such am indulging in. I felt weary despite the lovely company. But true to this consumerist and selfish nature, these feelings disappeared every now and then, especially when gluttony was served on a plate to me.
--
A three-storey home in a prime district, family and loved ones gathered around, a comfortable wake service to honour a beloved relative who lived through World War I. A walking piece of history laid to rest, I thank God for his life indeed — but again — I was transported to moving visuals of the dead still strewn around the island. There will be no proper funeral service for them, no proper burial for some. No closure for the missing, no relief for their families.
--
And I'm here.
It's too comfortable here. It's too far away from these troubled places. Too easy to hit the purchase button and claim new toys for myself (I type this on one recent purchase, painstakingly saved up for). Too easy to wish for more to want more to do more. And actually be able to do it. Day in and out, in safety and in comfort. And peace. Too easy.
It is a blessing, no doubt, and I do not wish to overcorrect and become ascetic. I'm sure safety and peace are blessings, and part of God's desire for a world He created good. But what am I doing with my life in such circumstances? Am I happily self-indulgent and choosing to stay in this deceptively-utopian bubble? Or am I making most of the time and freedom that I have been gifted with to make a difference, or at least strive to equip myself to be able to do so?
As long as it is called today. May these not be empty words.
For strength; and a never-turning-aside focus on Him. Lord have mercy.
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