While I was talking to a friend at his housewarming party, I drew his attention to the wall clock. Something about it caught my attention. Maybe it was the wooden body. Maybe it was the simplistic, minimalist and elegant design. Maybe it’s cause we don’t see many clocks these days. I complemented him about it. He told me it was a clock he bought from Japan. Being the mechanical engineer that he is, he explained how the clock syncs with radio waves from Japan. You don’t need to set the time yourself. The radio waves would. Unfortunately, the radio waves can’t reach Sydney so that functionality of the clock is made moot here.

There was another cool feature. During the night, the second hand stops ticking. This is so that you wouldn’t hear the sound when you sleep. The clock is still running but you won’t hear ‘tick, tock, tick, tock’. The Japanese do think of everything, don’t they.

As he kept talking, I realised I have known him for more than 6 years now. I can’t say that I know him very well but I have known him for a long time nevertheless, since first year uni. It’s funny that I still recall a lot of events in my life through uni years. First, second, third and fourth year. Ask me to recall something now, I have to think for a while. Was it in 2018? 2017? 2015 perhaps?

Everything feels like a long time ago now. My first flight. My first day of school. My first friend. My first crush. My first mistake. My first scolding. My first heartbreak. My first confession. My first coffee. My first day of uni. My first part-time job. My first degree. My first full-time job. How quickly time flies.

In 6 days, I will be 25 years old.

I think every now and then, we need to slow things down and reflect on where we are. Much like the clock, we need to “stop” the second hand. Some days, we need to “stop” the minute hand. Other times, the hour hand.

Some days, we need to “stop” the day itself and let history pause.

Let it stop ticking.

When I was young, I was told the story of my mother’s difficulty in carrying and giving birth to me many times. She had to go the hospital each month because she would be suffering so much bleeding. At one point, she suffered so much bleeding that she thought she lost me. My whole family thought I was gone. At six months and three weeks, the doctors said my mum had to give birth to me and that there was no other way. Somehow, my mother and I survived. Somehow, I am able to grow to be as healthy and tall as I am.

Growing up, my mother spoiled me and loved me so much but she was also stern and strict. As most Asian kids would know, we needed to be competitive. We needed to know many skills and able to learn as much as we can. I needed to learn art, gymnastics, piano, Mandarin, Mathematics and English outside of school. It wasn’t that my mum made me do more. It was that every other kid was asked to do more.

I had enough of it that eventually, I gave up on them one by one. I remembered my mum telling me that I will regret it one day and she was right. The repeated failures and the inability to finish what I started motivated me to do more and give it everything I have as I grew older.

At the age of 15, I sat for my lower secondary school assessment (PMR). There were seven subjects. The goal was to get the highest grade possible, which was 7As. My parents didn’t have to tell me what to get. I wanted to achieve it myself. I studied as hard as I could but ended up falling short. I was “only” able to get 6As. When my friend texted me my results, I didn’t know how to react. It was also the day I was going to Singapore for holiday. As I said goodbye to my grandfather and told him my results, I started crying. I felt that I have failed everyone especially myself. It was only a lower secondary school assessment but I acted as though the world had ended.

My parents saw how affected I was and was gentler in their approach. They would still push but not as hard as before because they know I pushed myself harder than they do. Sometimes, they have to be the ones to tell me not to worry and that it’s okay.

There would be parallels in my spiritual journey too. Every time I go to confession, I end up with the same list of sins, if not more. I would confess my sins to the priest, felt relieved only to find myself falling back to temptation again a few days later. It was demotivating, at times disheartening and at worst, feeling completely helpless.

That’s some of my history.

Along the way, I would have come to know a lot of people as well. For some, I’m still friends with. For some, space, time and life experiences made us more distant. For some, we are still the best of friends. Seeing my friends leave was never easy though. I have seen my friends leave because of work, visa issues, family commitments and vocation. It was tough seeing them go having been through so much together.

Of course, I was also heavily involved in the Catholic Asian Students’ Society (CASS). It was one of the few times that I felt I was truly called to do something. We were called to create a safe space for Catholic international students so that they can flourish and grow in their faith. For five and half years, I was involved in that. It was hard to leave it because I was in it for so long and at times, burned out by it.

It all came to a head when I was at the Australian Catholic Youth Festival. I was at a praise and worship session with Matt Maher. As he was playing a tune instrumentally, he said to, “bring all of your troubles here, let go of yourself, fall into Jesus, whatever you are going through, just leave them here and rest…”. I couldn’t remember much of what he said. At that point in time, I just broke down, in the middle of everyone and my friends. I started crying uncontrollably, crushed by the weight of my history.

As I closed my eyes, I felt one by one laying their hand on my shoulders. Friends and strangers putting their hands on my shoulders, to comfort and console me. I don’t even remember who it was and how they look like. I could only feel Jesus lifting me and telling me that it’s okay.

That it is going to be alright. I got you.

Once upon a time, I remembered a good friend telling me, “Augie, you are at this level (raising his left hand) but you always see yourself at this level (raising his right hand much higher than his left),” It wasn’t until recently that I truly understood what he meant.

All my life, in my studies, in my work, in my relationships and in my faith, I see myself needing to be at a level much higher than I am actually at. I want to aim for the skies but I am not there. At least, not yet. I want to do everything but forgetting I’m not superman. Often, I would be so disappointed with myself when I made a mistake. I set such a high standard for myself that I end up falling short over and over again.

History has shown me my downs but it has also shown me something else. From my very birth, I have experienced His grace. He gave me the most loving family one can ask for. Thinking that I’m alone and homesick, I have not one, not two but three good friends from Malaysia with me in Australia. One from my hometown. One from KL who I still play FIFA with despite him being in Perth. One, who is actually my childhood friend and godbrother. Most amazing of all, God gave me my girlfriend, who is also now my best friend and draws me even closer to His love.

Fortuitously, she shared a quote from St. Francis with me today, “Have patience with all things, but chiefly have patience with yourself. Do not lose courage in considering your own imperfections, but instantly set about remedying them – every day begin the tasks anew.”

It is so important to be patient, especially with myself.

Sometimes, that requires stopping your clock. To allow yourself to breathe and comprehend all that you have been through. To understand and learn from your memories and history. Because if we don’t understand ourselves and accept our own history, how can we accept the history of others?

And remember that history always happens for a reason.

Some days, you know why.

Some days, you don’t.

The amazing thing is all of that can be changed by a moment or by a person. You just haven’t met it yet. A very dear friend once told me,

“There are many people who we loved or liked before but I reckon it’s not until you find that one person that you think you know, this is the right person for me, that it puts things into perspective. And it brings to light that there are different ways you can feel about someone, but it takes that one person to kind of give you almost like an epiphany.”

She was talking about relationships then but it’s so much more. How some moments are able to lend so much more clarity and significance to the past.

A few years ago, I told you I’m still learning to breathe. I’m still learning to trust in Him. Learning to be patient. I don’t think that will ever change. One thing is for certain, I will never want to change my history. I rather live through it all than to not live at all. I’m glad to have lived through those years and learned all those lessons. I’m more assured of myself than I ever have been.

If I do struggle to breathe, I know my girlfriend will be there for me. So will my family and friends. My Paraclete, through the quiet winds, will always breathe through them to me.

One day, I know I will get to where I thought I would be. I just have to take it slow and give myself time.

To learn from history, to create history.