Life is a complex journey with many stopovers,
Until it reaches its final destination;
We begin life on earth without knowing our origin,
Without our consent we appear and exist;
What choice do we have but to march forward,
Where are we heading to?
Now we are given choices to decide,
And search for the meaning of life,
And the purpose of our existence!
Don’t chase after rainbows of wealth and fame,
They give only temperal joy and happiness,
Causing lots of anguish and pain!
Search the scriptures fervently,
The word of God will reveal the truth!
We will know the purpose of our existence,
And death is not to be our permanent home;
God will reveal Himself,
To those who earnestly seek Him,
Our eyes, heart and mind will receive His grace,
May this Christmas specially bring,
Jesus into your heart and home!



Long ago on this Christmas day,

My Saviour came to earth as a babe,

In a humble manger,

Because there was no room in the inn!

The shepherds and wise men came,

Paying homage to the baby king,

While angels joyously sang in heaven!

Christ has come to seek and redeem us,

And reconciled us to God the Father,

He humbled Himself to become one of us,

That through His death the penalty of sin is forever paid,

His grace shows His great and unfailing love for us,

Let us celebrate and thank Him this Christmas,

And look forward to His second coming soon!





A group of seniors was discussing birth and death one morning.
“We know when we are born but we do not know when we die!” the eldest of them remarked. All the others agreed. “But I’ve never asked to be born and yet I am here! I can do nothing about it! It is against my wish and choice to be born!” said one of them while the others laughed.
Since growing old is such a painful process, why don’t we be given the choice to end life itself?
Now the whole discussion turned to “Suicide”! Is it right or wrong to kill oneself?
The moral law does not permit one to commit suicide. Does any religion permit one to kill oneself? If yes, why is it so? If no, why not?


Lum's space

HOME is a topic which is very close to my heart. I remembered I shared my thoughts of an ideal home to my girlfriend (now my wife), both of us agreed to try our level best to make our home as ideal as we possibly could. Years have flown by and just with a twinkling of an eye, we have been married for almost 43 years!

Some time ago, I have written on A HOUSE IS NOT A HOME. Today, I have written a poem on AN IDEAL HOME. Let each of us try our level best to make AN IDEAL HOME!

A HOME is not built with sticks and stones,
But with sweat, love and warm;
Where laughter and tears are shared,
And fear is non-existent!

A HOME does not evolve in a day,
It takes years of toil and care;
Every one within has to play his part,

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Irrational fear eats and gnaws,
Whole body covers with cold sweat;
The mind is temporarily malfunction,
Feelings and thoughts are muddled up
Unable to sort things out!
No remedy to respond;
Panic attacks come suddenly,
Body unable to cope physically,
Mind cannot control confused thoughts,
Thoughts rises to the crescendo!
What will happen next?
Faith in God intervenes,
Divine guidance calms the nerves,
Attacks slowly subside,
Body is physically drained,
Mind is exhausted with fatigue,
Just slump onto the floor,
Danger temporarily averted,
When will the next attack come?
Who knows?


Lum's space

When mother was alive,
She would soothe my aches and pain,
And wiped the tears from my eyes;
When I was afraid and fearful,
Her hugs banished all the anxiety and fear;
When I did some mischievous wrong,
She admonished me seriously with a song;
Now that she is no more around,
I have to soothe myself the aches and pain,
And wipe the tears from my eyes;
Face the anxiety and fear bravely alone,
And bear the consequences of my mischievous deed;
O how I wish that I have not out-grown,
The protective arms of a dear mother’s care!

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Lum's space

O spider,
From whom do you learn,
To master the technique of weaving,
Such beautiful and intricate webs?
How much patience and pains you spend,
To complete such a masterpiece?
Yet the cruel wind does not appreciate,
Your fine arts and creation,
Tears down the work you laboriously create!
Through years of practice,
I try to perfect my art;
With much tears and toil,
I am back from where I start!
How I wish to learn your secret,
And produce just one masterpiece of art,
Not for others to appreciate,
Just to satisfy my lust!

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