Reader, with a word unbury him

And thus do I resurrect my blog, which has not seen a post since the last day of the A Levels. Perhaps it is fitting that as the results loom ever closer I should deliver a new post.

I find that there is surprisingly little that can be said here about my recent history. I cannot condense my army experiences into a few words here. All attempts invariably result in a patchwork of fragmented incidents and anecdotes that, while providing glimpses into that world, fail to convey the full extent of my experience. In any case, it is not an experience I wish to relive here. What I can say is that I am passing out from Tekong soon, in fact that will be in two weeks time, following which I will have two weeks of leave. At present however I am only concerned with the coming week.

The reasons for this are few and simple: This week promises to be one of the most strenuous weeks I've had in a long time. Starting from tomorrow I will have a 16km route march, and then a whole week of repetitive and tiring exercises. But the real terror lies at the end of the week, when the results are released. It is a thought that robs me of joy in many moments, because I simply cannot predict what my scores will be. When I think back on those stressful days not too long ago (and yet to me I can now barely recall them), they fill me with uncertainty. I do not know whether I wrote those essays correctly, whether they were good enough, and deep down inside of me there is a real fear that they did not meet the mark. But fear has a strange way of making me feel as though I am the only one who feels this way, that I am alone in my fear, although I know this to be untrue. In all probability the people around me fret as much as I do. They just don't show it. And yet how well I know that misery loves company. It is the reason why I get irritated when I am surrounded by happy faces in the midst of my gloom. Thankfully I've found a few friends in camp who share similar feelings. In my worst moments, the bitterness I feel usually stems from the fact that there are too many people with whom I do not connect, not that I want to, because their company is not exactly pleasurable. It therefore helps a lot to meet a familiar face here and there who understands, or whom I think understands. In any case, in most instances, the silences are enough for me. Indeed they are what I want, and do not want.

My one hope to which I cling as I face Friday is and has to be God, Whom I have found to be dearer and more faithful to my unfaithfulness than I've ever felt before as I plow through army life. It is true, after all, that in the wilderness experiences we often encounter our appalling inadequacy and then run to the source of all fullness. What a joy and comfort it is that His love is so humble it accepts even these pitiful excuses we give when we turn back. After all, how noble can we seem if we only run to Him when our ships are sinking? And yet even so, His grace is sufficient for me.