Little Blog Inspiring Gratitude One Person At A Time. Watch Incredible Things Happen To Change People One Experience At A Time.
Doris Lim Writes Gratitude
Bread Stories – Breaking of Bread
I prefer bread stories over rice or noodles stories.
A fact that doesn’t go down well with my Chinese Mother, who will tell anyone and everyone that she hasn’t eaten – if she doesn’t eat rice.
It was a problem for all and sundry.
“You haven’t fed your Mother? How mean!”
“Please, you must give her food to eat.”
“She is old; you can’t starve her!”
“What you are doing is just WRONG!!!”
There were other neighbors who, shall we say, more eloquent in their expressions and expletives!
Mimmi told me that as we lugged in a gunny sack of durians to her Mother’s kitchen.
Mimmi’s Mother looked up and said,
“I haven’t eaten rice today.”
I spied the remnants of kuih (Malay cakes), biscuits, and noodles on bowls and plates left in the tiled sink.
There were plastic and newspaper wrappers stuffed in the recycled kerosene pail “dustbin.”
Mimmi gestured with her chin.
“Dory, you scoop out the rice from the rice cooker. Loosen it with chopsticks first. Yes, the black ones.”
“Well, I haven’t eaten a grain of rice today, you know, Ah Girl?”
Mimmi’s Mother complained to me bitterly.
I nodded.
The pungent durian scent was overpowering.
I squeezed the thick coconut milk from a muslin bag, sieve it, and put in a pinch of salt to taste.
Mimmi nodded from across the kitchen table.
Her arms twisted, and gloved hands pried open the durians.
“It’s surely easier if she just uses an ax,” I thought to myself.
In the background, the rant goes on.
I haven’t eaten a grain of rice today. I haven’t been fed a single grain of rice today. I haven’t eaten a grain of rice today.
This takes us to the importance of rice and not Bread in the Asian diet.
Why is Bread vital?
For me, growing up, I remember my mom taking me to buy Bengali bread.
Nothing beats the unmistakable whiff of freshly baked Roti Bengali.
There is something unmistakably comforting about Bread.
The crackling sounds came from cooling loaves, and the warmth of its wholesome goodness imprinted in my memory.
I remember going to the back of the bakery to watch the big Bengali bakers kneading the dough by hand.
I could see the hard work and the uncles drenched in sweat – the wood-fired ovens heated the air.
My favorites were the soft coconut and sweet buns.
We bought loaves of Roti Bengali bread at home.
The thick brown crust and fluffiness of thick slices were chewy.
Growing up, I would have the buns for breakfast – this time, I bought from the ‘roti man’ on their bicycles.
The Roti Man (The Bread Man)
I remember my Roti Man with fondness. He left his bride in India and started to sell Bread in my neighborhood.
When he came, he couldn’t speak Malay nor any of the Chinese dialects.
He would ride his big black bicycle with a wooden and glass cupboard attached, stacked high with loaves.
Later he added more items to the staple of Roti Bengali bread, cream buns, butter cakes, and dangling bunches of snacks.
As Malaysians, we all have a soft spot in our hearts for the trusty roti man and on his bike.
Bengali bread is never eaten on its own.
Malaysian love to eat it toasted and spread with butter, kaya, sambal, honey, or dipped in soups and curry.
I don’t remember the Ane (Tamil for Uncle) ever falling sick or not showing up.
He only goes on extended leave every year to India to see his wife and family.
What is more astounding than Sliced White Bread?
There are few attitudes more incredulously packaged than pre-sliced White Bread.
I live dangerously. I take sliced white bread with butter – Doris Lim
I used to work for a man whose wife had so many opinions about everything.
She knows many things I don’t.
A lot of people also know more than I do. But she makes a sore point of pointing that out.
One day, I was eating my folded sliced white Bread (nothing inside – no one knows)
She scolded me.
Then she began the monologue, the dangers of White Bread.
How unhealthy it was.
That I could kill myself eating it.
I smile.
That was when I said, “I live dangerously. I take sliced white Bread with butter.”
To this day, she would wonder if I’m still alive – eating horrible, terribly wrong, and disgusting white Bread.
To this day, I smile at breakfast.
I can afford butter now.
I smile when I remember her. I wish her quiet Wisdom.
IGNORANCE shouts.
Hope is quiet too.
We look to live a happy life by being happy.
The Breaking of Bread (Acts 2-40-47)
The Breaking of Bread refers to the fact that the early church was a. communal church; they gathered together often, even daily.
We are told they ate their Bread with generosity and simplicity; they shared in.
Meals together, they were like a family as we saw and talked about.
Inspirational Source: Bread Stories – How Bread is Interwoven with our Lives
A Day Worth of Eggs – Story for Life
Let me start with a day’s worth of eggs – the basic building block of life.
What is the Worth of Eggs in a Swanky Cafe?
I have listened to many conversations and often wonder how eggs are always traded up.
Cafe owners planning menus often want to sell two eggs at the highest price possible.
Nothing screams brunch like a hollandaise-drenched poached Eggs Benedict – an open-faced sandwich of two halves of an English muffin.
Each is topped with a poached egg, hollandaise sauce, and bacon.
You want to go to New York, the origins of Eggs Benedict, where the food is worth the wait.
Is Worth of Eggs Lesser to Raise a Child?
I once met a woman who sponsored a meal every day for needy students. She told me, “For the price of eggs and some rice, you can raise a child.”
Some students are so weak that it was the old meal they got each day.
What is the Worth of Eggs for a Birthday?
Chinese red eggs are bright pink colored cooked chicken eggs.
These longevity noodles are what mothers make for their children’s birthdays.
The eggs are first hard-boiled.
In the old days, wet red calligraphy paper was wiped over the eggs to create pink coloring.
In Chinese culture, it is common to hold a red egg and ginger party at the baby’s first birthday.
This story was very close to my heart!
One day, Victor took his students out on a field trip.
A quiet boy from the class kept pestering Victor and the bus driver.
The Boy wanted the bus to detour to a small town that was off their route.
Victor decided to go along with the plan.
When the bus reached the little town, an old lady was standing in the middle of the street.
The Boy said, “It’s my Grandmother.”
The old lady boarded the bus with a basket full of red-dyed eggs.
One for each child.
She had collected the eggs from her chicken and borrowed the rest from neighbors.
She made 30 eggs, 28 for the students and one for the Teacher and Driver.
Some of the rich kids scoffed at the eggs and refused to take it.
The red dye came off and stained their grubby hands.
Some threw the eggs on the floor.
The Boy cried.
The Grandmother was in tears.
Teacher Victor told me, his eyes welled up.
I cried.
“Now, you know the Worth of Eggs?”
Yes.
What is the Worth of Eggs for a Farmer?
I re a story told and retold on the internet.
An older adult was selling eggs on the street, a rich woman stopped by and
She asked him: “How much are you selling eggs for?”
The old seller replied: $3.00 a dozen, ma’am.’
She told him: ‘I’ll take six eggs for $1.20 or I’ll leave.’
The older man replied,
“Come and take them at the price you want. Maybe, this is a good start because I haven’t been able to sell a single egg today.”
She took the eggs and walked away, feeling she had won.
She got into her elegant car and went to a posh restaurant with her friend.
There, she and her friend ordered brunch and had Eggs Benedict.
They ate a little and left much of what they ordered.
Then she went to pay the bill.
The bill cost her $45.00.
She gave $50.00 and asked the restaurant owner to keep the change.
This incident might have seemed quite reasonable for the owner.
The same eggs the poor egg seller sold for a few cents cost almost $18.00 cooked and served in a fancy restaurant.
I once read somewhere about the Worth of Eggs.
‘My father used to buy simple goods from poor people at high prices, even though he did not need them.
Sometimes he even used to pay extra for them.
I got concerned by this act and asked him why he did so.
Then my father replied, “It is a charity wrapped with dignity, my child.”
What is the Worth of Eggs?
Many go through life showing power to the poor.
They send expensive gifts to the rich to impress them. They give broken things to charity.
That is the price of their generosity.
Is Dignity Lesser than the Worth of Eggs?
I have always wondered why we always try to bargain with hard-working people.
We ask for discounts for a value that is insignificant a few cents or a dollar.
When I was young, my wealthy friend would take me shopping by the wayside, often buying clothes and accessories that were gaudy.
She never wore these.
She will go to the end of the market with the least foot traffic.
There, she will buy a few items and ask for the best price.
She will pay that and give the same amount in tips.
I remember telling her, why don’t you take two sets of the same – since you paid double.
She would just smile and tell me when you realize why – you can say to me.
Source:
My Heart Is Fragile – Please Handle Me With Care
Dear Future Lover, I must tell you that my heart is fragile.
If I trust you, will you handle me with care?
I’ve had my heart broken so many times – I have completely lost track.
I’ve cried an ocean of tears, drowned in my tears, and now live in the sea.
You know the poetry I love but refuse to share?
I write poetry when I fall in love.
Endless poetries written in longhand with a calligraphy pen are invisible prose. I drank the ink—now you know why I’m not fond of squid-ink pasta or any black food.
I’ve drunk my tears.
They drip into the noodle soup that MG bought for me.
MG kept asking.
I could only say, “The noodles aren’t salty. The cook forgot to put salt on me, and I can’t eat it – too bland.”
My Heart Is Fragile – I live under the sea.
Dear Future Lover, I am a paradox.
Once, I dreamed that I lived in the sea and looked up and saw you, Star.
If you know me and know me. You will see it.
Mermaids who survive the danger of the ocean can still be defeated by their own Heart.
My Heart Is Fragile – I’m rebuilding my heart.
Dear Future Lover, My heart is fragile.
There is no logical explanation.
My heart is fragile.
Everything I do runs contrary to my expectations – your expectations of me.
There is no valid reason for true happiness.
You ask why I am happy.
“You are content.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Happy?”
“Of course.”
I know this leads to a seemingly self-contradictory or logically unacceptable conclusion.
Future lover, please handle me with care.
As ironic as it may sound – I am strong.
Yet, I am fragile.
I am sad, but I am happy when I am with you.
I am a realist.
My Heart Is Fragile – I had my heart broken before.
Dear Future Lover,
I still trust.
I thought I never would.
It is easier to be incapable of trusting my heart to anybody.
You know how that works – I have trust issues.
I have been repeatedly lied to. Cheated on and deceived.
My future lover, I tell you this. I am fine now.
I had my heart shattered into pieces before, too many times.
But don’t worry, I have stitched the pieces back together so well – you can barely see the marks and cracks from the previous tragedies.
My Heart Is Fragile – Glued like torn Love Letters.
It’s like the love letters I glued together, no longer legible.
It doesn’t matter. I know the words by rote.
I remember every word.
Each poem I wrote, I write to you, my Love.
Every smile.
The easy laughter.
Future lover of mine, this may all seem overwhelming to you.
I know.
Most people expected me to break down completely after all of this.
But I didn’t. I have grown into a more robust and wiser version of myself.
I build a sturdier and more concrete version of myself.
The happier version.
I am my own upgrade. I am the content, happier version with a healed heart.
I want to tell you that My Heart Is Fragile in the meantime.
Dear Future Lover, please learn to handle me with care.
One day, when we can travel through space and time, I will meet you.
I won’t need you to complete me; I am already whole.
I come with God’s lifetime warranty.
My Heart Is Fragile – Be Brave to Love Me.
Dear Future Lover, please be brave enough to receive my Love and love me.
My previous lovers were discouraged after hearing about all the battles and tragedies I have fought and survived.
Most of them promised but failed to love me completely.
I take a long time to unfold the rest of myself.
Please be patient with me.
I am an old poem, dreams written on a napkin.
My Heart Is Fragile – it was full of baggage.
I used to carry a lot of baggage.
I have decluttered.
Once I took to decluttering, everything fell into place after that spring cleaning.
I look to the skies and search for you, Star.
I should have emphasized this from the very beginning –
I am not to be handled by the faint-hearted.
My Heart Is Fragile – I overcompensate with confidence—false Bravado.
I need a confident man.
Dear Future Lover,
I am an independent, confident woman.
After years of being single, I have mastered the art of being alone.
I may not ask for your help (most of the time).
I don’t seem to listen to anyone.
I may appear to know it all.
I was hoping you wouldn’t assume that I always do, even when I appear to be able to handle things.
Or when you think I don’t need anyone.
I could be swimming in the wrong direction, as I always do.
I swim against the current.
I swim upstream.
I get lost.
I fumble.
I run away a little when you love me a lot.
I am silly this way.
I will always come back. I never leave you.
My Heart Is Fragile – Please support me.
Please support me when it seems like I don’t need anybody.
You will find that I may not ask for your help.
If I do, it will be quickly and in half jest.
I will ask, and while you think, I would have gone out to do what is necessary and return to tell you I have done well gleefully.
I will show off a little – only to get your approval of what I can do.
I will show off a lot – it depends.
When I compliment myself all the time, it means I never received any before.
It doesn’t mean I’m boasting.
I’m insecure.
I need you to cheer me on.
Please don’t assume that I can deal with everything quickly alone.
Don’t assume that you’re not needed.
My Heart Is Fragile – I need your support.
I will not ask it.
Instead, please show your support.
Be there, even when I’m not asking you to be there.
Make your presence known.
I secretly want you to be there.
Always, always and forever.
My Heart Is Fragile – You give me butterflies.
Dear Future Lover,
I don’t want to show it too much.
I don’t want to show it at all.
I never want to appear desperate or clingy.
But you make my heart flutter.
You stump me.
I was always quick. I know all the answers.
With you, I don’t.
And now, I think it’s okay not to know everything.
I want you to teach me things I don’t know.
I want us to do everything together.
Star, I want us to do everything together.
My Heart Is Fragile – Choose me over others.
Dear Future Lover, please show me how it feels to be chosen by you.
All the people from my past have failed to choose me over others.
I have always been their second choice, their last resort, their other woman, their almost, their what-if.
I need to know what it feels like to be someone’s priority.
I need to know what it is like to hear the words:
“I will always choose you.”
I’m the little red flower in the garden of blooms.
I hope you see me.
I may say to you, “So, choose another.”
Secretly, I want you to forsake all others and choose me.
My Heart Is Fragile – Don’t let go.
Dear Future Lover,
Please hold me tight so I’ll know what it feels like when someone finds it hard to let go of me.
I want you to be scared to lose me.
I want you to fear the idea of me leaving.
I don’t want to be the woman you can live with.
I want to be the woman you can not live without.
Star, I love you to the moon and back.
My Heart Is Fragile – Love me unconditionally.
Lastly, my Dear Future Lover, please love me in the way that I deserve.
Please make me feel the Love that I am always willing to give.
Show me how it feels to be loved unconditionally. Show me hope.
Choose me.
I promise to love no one else but you.