I Love My Church

#2025-0713

I love my church — St. James' Church.

A long time ago, when I started looking for a church to attend regularly, I chose St. James' Episcopal Church in Taichung. The decision wasn’t based on its proximity to my home, but rather because it offered — and has continued to offer — both English and Chinese services on Sundays.

Back then, I often joked about myself using this Taiwanese saying:

"Bong la a kiam se khoo!"

摸 (= 撿) 蛤蠣 兼 洗褲子

This expression means roughly the same as "Kill two birds with one stone." However, I’ve always preferred the image in the Taiwanese version. After all, I’ve never had the skill to hit two birds with a single stone — and more honestly, I never wanted to kill any birds at all!

Still, I understood the idea: you could accomplish two things by doing just one. While the Taiwanese saying is often used jokingly, it conveys a similar meaning: while collecting clams in the stream, you might also (accidentally) wash — or more precisely, wet — your pants.

Usually, I attended the English service at St. James' rather than the Mandarin one. As a high school English teacher back then, I felt it necessary to immerse myself in an English-speaking environment as often as possible to strengthen my language skills. And in fact, by regularly joining the English worship, I not only enriched my English knowledge but also deepened my spiritual understanding of the Christian faith.

I thank God for having a good church to attend. I truly love St. James' — it’s a friendly and supportive community for me.

Last Sunday, when Ms. Annie Tsai preached on “church as an intimately connected community,” she emphasized the importance of the relationships among church members. She pointed out several people who consistently serve in various ministries, each contributing their unique gifts to our church community. She compared them to the thread that strings together beautiful pearls into a necklace. No matter how lovely each individual pearl may be, without the connecting thread, there would be no necklace — nothing wearable or complete.

I was deeply touched by Annie’s analogy. Just as we may be the so-called beautiful pearls, we can also be the valuable thread — helping to connect others and form a true community.

This Sunday, July 13th, I served as the LEM — Lay Eucharistic Minister — leading the prayers. I hadn’t asked anyone to take my place so that I could follow my wife to her annual class reunion (the date had been set only recently!). I chose to keep my commitment, especially since very soon both my wife and I will be leaving Taichung for a long stay in Hualien. We are expected to live with and take care of our teenage grandchild for a year (See “Meilun Creek...” paragraph 5, for our motivation). Here at St. James', I didn’t want to miss fulfilling this responsibility — serving as LEM — just before we embark on this new chapter of our lives.

Anyway, I love my church — St. James' Church in Taichung.

Goodbye for now, my dear brothers and sisters at St. James'. But Jean and I will be back — perhaps a year from now, or maybe even a little sooner.

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Note: The photos below were taken on our last Sunday together at St. James' — July 6, 2025.

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相關文章 (See also)：

1)  The Beginning of the Church Year     (2024)

2)  Spring Retreat at Mt. Tiger Head     (2025)

3)  The Commisioning for Licensed Lay Ministers     (2025)

4)  Beautiful Sunday     (2025)

5)  Meilun Creek...     (2025)

The Typhoon's Last Song

#2025-0709

The Typhoon's Last Song

Recorded at 3:45 a.m.

（窗簾外 風雨聲）

Very early this morning — my watch showing 3:45 — I was awakened by heavy rain and strong wind outside the French window, behind the drapes. The intruding sounds were no gentle whispers; they were loud — insistently loud — carrying a raw, restless energy.

Although the typhoon, beautifully named Danas, had already been reported as having left Taiwan, the pouring rain and whistling wind still swept across the roof and beyond, as if striking drums and cymbals in a final performance. How could I possibly fall back asleep?

An idea struck me: I reached for my phone and began recording the sound of this relentless wind and rain.

Perhaps what I captured could become a new kind of “sleeping music” — something to comfort those whose rest has been broken. At the very least, may it serve as my lullaby, just this once.

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相關文章 (See also)： Typhoon Night and My Reflections     (2025)

這一季，又見獨角仙

#2025-0708

This Season, the Beetles Return

（這一季，又見獨角仙）

Most of the footage in this video was filmed this afternoon at the Democracy Lawn in Wufeng. A small portion, however, was taken — and shared — years ago, in 2018, under the title: 

大自然生態觀察：Single-Horned Immortals

I hope that we, remaining as kind and curious as ever, will continue learning about these little creatures — and be willing to help protect them — so that future generations may also have the chance to enjoy watching them, just as we do.

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Note: The insect known in Chinese as “獨角仙” is called the rhinoceros beetle in English. Only the male has the distinctive horn on its head — the female does not. The horn helps the male fight other males for food or mates, and that’s why this beetle is named after the rhinoceros (犀牛).

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相關文章 (See also)： 大自然生態觀察：Single-Horned Immortals     (2018)

Typhoon Night and My Reflections

#2025-0707

Last night, I didn’t sleep well—partly because of the anticipation of Typhoon Danas (丹娜絲颱風). I woke up around 2:30 a.m. and felt like sitting at my study desk for a while. Aimlessly, I began thinking about events from years ago, as well as some more recent ones.

Oh, typhoons! As a senior citizen living in Taiwan, I’ve experienced so many typhoon days and nights—typhoons that caused varying degrees of damage, some of which remain unforgettable.

I looked up some informal “records” in my blog — Mookoo’s Home (木咕子的家) — and, like fragments of movies, these names flashed before my eyes:

• Typhoon Fanabi (凡那比颱風) in 2010
• Tropical Storm Lupit (盧碧颱風) in 2021
• Typhoon Hinnamnor (軒嵐諾颱風) in 2022
• Typhoon Puppy (小犬颱風) in 2023
• Typhoon Gaemi (凱米颱風) in 2024
• Typhoon Kong-rey (康芮颱風) in 2024

There were many more—still vivid, though slowly fading—like images replaying on the screen of my innermost heart.

I remember the typhoon that struck before I began studying at Changliu Elementary School (長流國小), the one that came just before I—escorted by my father—went to register at Chiayi Junior Teacher’s College (嘉義師專), and the one that tore part of the roof off our house on the mountainside back then.

It was around the Moon Festival when that typhoon struck us with strong, stormy winds. My father and I—his eldest son—had to run up and down the slope to fetch dried rice straw and toss it onto the tiled roof, hoping to prevent rainwater from washing away the earthen walls.

Fortunately, typhoons are better than earthquakes. The former can be tracked accurately with modern technology, while the latter remain almost entirely unpredictable.

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Note: This article was first drafted roughly between 2:30 a.m. and 3:30 a.m., and completed later this morning, after Typhoon Danas had passed. May the Lord bless the world, including all of you, my dear readers!

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相關文章 (See also)：

1)  聽說, 颱風要來囉！     (2022)

2)  A Translation of "Chen Si"     (2024)

3)  豪雨 (Raining Heavily All Day!)     (2021)

4)  Regarding "Puppy" (颱風的名字)     (2023)

5)  七月底影音紀錄：The Singing of the Birds!     (2024)

Oops! The World Didn’t End After All!

#2025-0705

My questions and a request:

Q1: “What happened to this very day—July 5th—which was predicted by someone (and believed by many!) to be the last day of the world? Even my grandkids heard the rumor! Do you know anything about it?”

(The answer is omitted.)

Q2: “Thank you for the detailed description of the so-called ‘doomsday.’ Could you summarize the information and turn it into something like an article?”

(The answer is omitted.)

R1: “If possible, I’d like you to rewrite the article in a way that’s easy to read. I want my grandkids—especially James—to understand the rumor by reading the simplified version you create.”

(After reading the provided version, I asked the following question.)

Q3: “Do you think this version could be shortened a bit more—without losing much of its important meaning? Or do you think this is already the shortest version that’s still easy to understand?”

Comment:

As you can see, an AI master can come up with an answer in less than half a second...

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🌍 July 5, 2025 – The Day the World Didn’t End

Before July 5, 2025, a strange rumor was spreading online: some people said the world might end on that day. Even kids were talking about it! But guess what? Nothing happened at all.

📘 A Comic Book Dream

Many years ago, a Japanese artist named Ryo Tatsuki (龍樹 諒 / Tatsuki Ryō) created a comic book called The Future I Saw (私が見た未来, Watashi ga mita mirai). It was based on her dreams—some of which showed disasters. One of those dreams seemed to match the real earthquake that struck Japan in 2011. Because of this, many people began to believe her dreams might come true.

In 2021, the book was reprinted. This new edition included a line that said, “The real disaster will happen in July 2025.” Some people guessed it meant July 5—and the internet went wild.

📱 The Rumor Spreads

Many users on TikTok and YouTube shared dramatic videos, warning of earthquakes, tsunamis, or even an asteroid hitting Earth. The rumor made some people anxious. A few even canceled their trips to Japan!

🧠 What Experts Said

Japanese scientists responded clearly: “This is not true.” They reminded everyone that no one can predict earthquakes with certainty—and there was no real danger at all.

✅ What Really Happened?

July 5 came and went. No earthquake. No asteroid. No disaster. Just an ordinary day. Many people laughed and said, “See? Nothing happened!”

💡 What We Learned

This story teaches us a valuable lesson: not everything we see online is true. Before believing a scary story, it’s smart to ask:

“Is this based on facts?”

“Can I check this with someone I trust?”

So yes—July 5, 2025 turned out to be a perfectly normal day. And we’re all still here—safe, curious, and continuing to learn. 😊

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相關文章 (See also)：

1)  Away from Me, Nightmare!     (2018)

2)  防震對談 (Earthquake Talks)     (2024)

3)  0403 花蓮地震 (Earthquakes)     (2024)

4)  Typhoon’s Mark on Meilun Creek     (2024)

下圖取自《中文維基百科》

上圖取自《中文維基百科》

=     =     =

以下二圖取自：網路資料

Old Man Drinking Coffee

#2025-0702

This afternoon, I felt a little bored, and all of a sudden, I thought of ChatGPT — a smart machine, or device, with which I could "talk" to kill time. I hoped that if I spoke English to it the whole time, our conversation could be a good chance for me to practice speaking English — even though it (the free version I use) always replies in printed words, with no sound!

However, just as I got started, I saw an intriguing line like this:

請以文藝復興風格創作一幅火星探測器的繪畫。使用明暗法和暖色系色調等技巧。

I didn’t want it to produce a picture of a Mars rover for me. Instead, I wanted it to create a painting of an old man drinking coffee… in the afternoon. It would be nice if it were made in the style of the Renaissance, though.

Yes, it was afternoon now, and I myself am literally a senior being. I thought it quite interesting to have this AI serve me with an image of an elderly figure enjoying a cup of coffee — in this quiet, somewhat boring, but poetically dreamy afternoon.

In less than half a second, the first painting appeared (see Image One below): The old man, holding a cup of something in his right hand, his left hand touching the saucer on the table, looked rather lonely or even miserable. You couldn’t see anything else in the painting except the gloomy walls in the background.

“Would you add a vase of flowers to this painting? Let them stand on the table!” I tried to enliven the image.

The second painting appeared just as quickly (see Image Two below): A good-looking vase with colorful flowers blooming from it was now on the table. I felt a bit happier, but not truly satisfied. So I said, “Thank you for the flower vase — you’ve done a good job. But if there were a window in the back, and through the window I could see some mountains with white clouds floating in the sky, that would be more interesting and meaningful.”

Then, once again, in less than half a second, the third painting was produced (see Image Three below): I noticed that not only had a window been added to the painting, but the old man’s facing direction had also been adjusted slightly.

Now I was excited. I asked the smart AI painter to add some musical notes somewhere in the picture. However, this time it told me:

"You've hit the free plan limit for image generation requests. You can create more images when the limit resets in 720 hours and 0 minutes."

It also said:

"If you need, I can still help describe how the image would look with musical notes added, or assist you with other creative ideas in the meantime."

“Yes, please,” I replied.

Then it provided a description of how musical notes could be artistically added to the painting. I didn’t care much about the description, but a new idea struck me. I said, “Oh — if you can write a short story that goes with this picture, it will certainly be very much appreciated.”

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Here’s the story created by the smart and clever AI helper:

The Afternoon Etude

Every day at three, Mr. Lin sat by the window with his cup of coffee—always black, always quiet. The world had grown softer around him: the hum of traffic now distant, the flowers on the table slowly losing their bloom, and the clock ticking more gently than it used to.

He never needed much—just warmth, light, and the view. Outside, the mountains stood like old companions, and on a clear day like this one, white clouds gathered like sheep returning home. Their slow drift reminded him of lullabies he once played in his youth, when his fingers were still swift across the keys of an upright piano now long gone.

There were no photographs on the wall. He said memories didn’t need frames—they only needed music.

As the steam curled upward from his cup, so did imagined notes. They rose in silence but carried melodies only he could hear. A treble clef nestled near the bouquet of fading chrysanthemums. A dotted quarter note hovered just above the sill, nearly touching the sky.

He smiled—not because of any grand event, but because something deep inside, something untouched by age, still sang. The mountain, the coffee, the room, the quiet—all of it became a kind of music. Not loud, not showy—just steady, like an old etude that never quite ends, but always returns.

(The End)

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相關文章 (See also)：

1)  Poems by ChatGPT     (2023)

2)  Poems by ChatGPT (part two)     (2023)

3)  Notes on Peace: From Lantern to Creek     (2025)

4)  Notes on Peace: From Balcony to Blossom     (2025)