Yesterday after lunch at Jalan Gajah Berang, I headed towards "Popular" Bookstore. This secular bookstore attracted me less and less since I had discovered three Christian bookstores in Melaka. Nonetheless, it was a good place to learn about general Malaysian readers' tastes. After buying quite a number of books, CDs and DVDs at a discounted price during the sales at "Su Fes" last month, I did not plan to return there so soon. So, instead of sitting and shivering with cold another two hours in the air-conditioned library or the computer lab of the campus building, I preferred hanging around at room temperature in the bookstore.
Needless to say more, the book shelves were conquered by cuisine recipes, fiction, new age theories, ideas to get rich, etc. Under the topic "Religion", less than ten books in Chinese were about Christianity and all the other books in Malay were of course not for Christians either.
I was hoping to find an unwrapped book of John C Maxwell when I came across an English title "God Speaks Your Love Language" under the topic "Self Improvement". I did not know the author Gary Chapman. But out of curiosity, I took it and started reading. I immediately recalled one of the sequences of the marriage counseling on video we were shown at Calvary Life Assembly (CLA) several weeks ago to encourage the participation from married couples of the congregation. While I was surfing this book, I realized the five love languages were biblical and could perfectly apply to my past life in order to understand why I was specially close to someone. They could also be developed in my present relationship with God as a child of His, as well as my daily communication with my surroundings as an individual.
I grew up in a non-Christian family. Before I knew God loved me, there was a man who had first spoken those love languages to me. That was Dad.
Words of Affirmation:
Dad often showed me verbal approval when I gained fame for our family by winning a prize, having my article published in the newspaper, being appointed as the representative to give a speech in school, etc. When I first arrived in France, Dad sent me a letter from home. As soon as I read the beginning where he was addressing me as "Good Daughter", tears just rolled down my cheeks. When I was already a working adult, he would give me advice based on what he had learned from the media about other single ladies.
Quality time:
Dad actually desired so much to spend his free time with us but he often had functions to attend in the evenings. And he was so committed to his job as a journalist that he never took leave even on weekends. However, when he was chatting with me at the breakfast table, on his armchair or on the sofa, I enjoyed the moment a lot no matter how brief the conversation was. I would wake up early in the morning or stay up late to wait for him to come home from his functions to have his presence in the living room.
Receiving gifts:
I always remembered one Christmas during my childhood, Dad gave me a toy ambulance as my birthday gift, making up the story that it was from Santa Claus who had passed by our house calling my name the previous night while I was asleep. When I grew up, Dad did not give me presents anymore but while he was living a very simple life, he was very generous to invest his money in my education and to sponsor things that he judged necessary for me.
Acts of service:
They were many times related to the transportation. As a rare species who did not know how to drive a car, Dad left me a memory of fetching me home with his scooter from my flooded primary school. He would always buy tickets for me when I still travelled to Melaka by express bus or arranged my brother to pick me at the airport when I was back from overseas. That was how he took a good care of my safety.
Physical touch:
Dad was a typical Chinese man, so physical touch was minimal. Since small, Dad always called my nick name with an affectionate voice while caressing my head or slapping my back lightly.
If I rank the love languages Dad spoke to me, the first scene that always comes to my mind is when he brought Ping and me out for a night walk, holding our small hands. We would buy a white loaf from the coffee shop nearby and sit on the bench of the Shell petrol station behind our old house to watch the traffic lights changing colours at the intersection. Then he would decide a colour when it was time to stand up and go home.
Every time I drive past that road and that petrol station in Batu Pahat, I still feel strongly Dad's love.
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