Well i guess everyone knows by now that our only gold medal hope at Beijing Olympic 2008 lost to Lin Dan.
Nevertheless, we have to congratulate him for making it to the final of the badminton men single. Without doubt, he is the most successful and talented player our country ever produced.
Personally, I am so very much disappointed on the result. Its not because he had lost the match but it is more on the performance of Chong Wei during the final. It is UNFORGIVEN to lost a match like that taking into consideration on his world no 2 status. Its look like that he lack of mental fitness and cannot bear the pressure being our hope to take our very first olympic gold medal. If he had lost with better margin, say for example 20-22, 22-20, and bring the match into rubber set, then I will say that he lost with pride and he deserved to be called national hero because he has done his best. But we know how he lost in most embarassing score of 12-21, 8-21.
He lost in every aspect of the match. From net to baseline, from smash to drop shot, and from physical to mental wise. He don't deserved to lost like that. It is a shameful lost for Malaysia. Chong Wei was too 'nice' last nite and didn't even showed any aggresive smash.
Nevertheless, I know He has done everything he could last nite but things as last nite happen to any top player in the world. They sometimes lost the momentum they needed.Last nite, shows how pressure had made him lost.
Chong Wei, we will always support you and wish you all the best.. There's still a lot waiting for you in the future...
Malaysia Boleh.....
Monday, August 18, 2008
Sunday, August 10, 2008
TEENAGER'S VIEW OF HEAVEN
Got this beautiful story from an email sent to me...
for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. 'I wowed 'em,' he
later told his father, Bruce. 'It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the
best thing I ever wrote..' It also was the last.
Brian Moore died
driving home from a friend's house when his car went off
wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.
The
family portraits in the living room. 'I think God used him to make a
point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it,'
Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their
son's vision of life after death. 'I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in
heaven. I know I'll see him.'
Brian's Essay: The Room...
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in
the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall
covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in
libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order.
But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and
seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I
drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one
that read 'Girls I have liked.' I opened it and began flipping through
the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the
names written on each one.
And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog
system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment,
big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder
and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began
randomly opening files and exploring their content.
Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and
regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone
was watching.
A file named 'Friends' was next to one marked 'Friends I have
betrayed.' The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird
'Books I Have Read,' 'Lies I Have Told,' 'Comfort I have Given,' 'Jokes
I Have Laughed at .' Some were almost hilarious in their exactness:
'Things I've yelled at my brothers.' Others I couldn't laugh at: 'Things
I Have Done in My Anger', 'Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My
Parents.' I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.
Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer
than I hoped I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had
lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each
of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed
this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my
signature.
When I pulled out the file marked 'TV Shows I have watched', I
realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed
tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the
file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by
the vast time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked 'Lustful Thoughts,' I felt a chill
run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to
test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.
I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An
almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one
must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to
destroy them!' In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't
matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at
one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a
single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it
as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.
Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot.
Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying
sigh.
And then I saw it.. The title bore 'People I Have Shared the
Gospel With.' The handle was brighter than those around it, newer,
almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than
three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it
contained on one hand.
And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they
hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my
knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of
it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one
must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.
But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.
No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched
helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't
bear to watch His response And in the moments I could bring myself to
look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.
He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have
to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the
room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that
didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and
began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could
have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with
me.
Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at
one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign
His name over mine on each card. 'No!' I shouted rushing to Him. All I
could find to say was 'No, no,' as I pulled the card from Him. His name
shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich,
so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with
His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and
began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did
it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last
file and walk back to my side.
He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, 'It is finished.' I
stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door.
There were still cards to be written.
'I can do all things through Christ who strengthens
believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.' If you feel the
same way forward it so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also. My
'People I shared the gospel with' file just got bigger, how about yours?
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