From Strength to Grace — A Personal Sharing

 From Strength to Grace — A Personal Sharing

I want to share something that’s been stirring in me lately—something that speaks not just to where we are in life, but who we are becoming. It’s this idea of moving from strength to grace.

You see, I remember what it felt like to be strong. I remember the days when I could carry my children in one arm and groceries in the other. I remember making decisions at work, running around without needing to sit down every few minutes, being the one others leaned on.

Strength used to feel like certainty. Like control. Like something I could depend on. But these days… things have changed.

Now, the stairs feel a bit steeper. My memory, well—it sometimes takes the scenic route before arriving at the right name. I forget what I walked into a room for. I find myself needing help more often. And you know what? That’s not weakness. That’s the beginning of grace.

I used to think grace was only for the times I messed up. But I’ve come to see it’s also for the times I slow down. Grace shows up when I stop trying to prove I’m still the same. It meets me in the letting go. And maybe that’s the point—we spend the first part of life building, doing, holding everything together. Then we reach a point where God says, Now let Me hold you.

It’s not easy. I’ll be honest—I don’t always like being on the receiving end. I’ve always been the giver, the planner, the caregiver. And now, someone’s helping me up the stairs, driving me to the clinic, reminding me of dates and appointments. And I have to bite back the instinct to say, No, no, I’ve got this.

But grace whispers, It’s okay. You’ve carried others long enough. Let yourself be carried.

There’s a verse in Isaiah that comforts me: “Even to your old age and grey hairs I am He, I am He who will sustain you.”

It reminds me that I’m not forgotten. Not left behind. And neither are you. We’re not just the people we used to be—we are the people we are still becoming. Grace doesn’t stop working when our hands stop building. It begins to deepen in our hearts. In our stories. In our presence.

And maybe that’s one of the gifts of growing older—we have time to look back. To reflect. To say, God was good then. And He’s still good now. We have stories that carry the fingerprints of His faithfulness. And now, we get to pass that on.

Not through sermons or lectures, but through the way we live. Through how we forgive. How we smile. How we sit beside someone who’s grieving and simply stay. That, too, is ministry. That is grace in motion.

And when I think of what’s ahead—of heaven, of going home—I don’t feel fear like I used to. There’s a peace now. A quiet trust. The kind that only comes when you’ve seen God come through again and again and again.

So yes, the muscles may soften. The pace may slow. But the soul—it ripens. And the spirit—it shines.

We are not in decline. We are in transformation.

We are moving from strength to grace.

And grace, my dear friends, is where God does His best work.

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37Clement Chin, Samuel Ooi and 35 others

The Common Enemy

 The Common Enemy

I didn’t realise I was the enemy until my son was about six.

At first, I thought I was doing alright as a parent. I had the whole routine running like clockwork—mealtimes, no snacks before dinner, bedtime by nine. I was the CEO of Structure and the Minister of Discipline.

And then my father-in-law moved in with us.

Now, let me say this: I respect the man. He’s wise, experienced, a man of few words. But somehow, he managed to completely unravel my parenting without saying a single sentence to me.

It started small. I told my son, “No ice cream, you’re coughing.”

That evening, I saw the two of them sitting side by side in the kitchen, happily sharing a tub of Walls. My father-in-law even gave him the last bite. I walked in, raised my eyebrows, and he just gave me a blank look like, “Ice cream? What ice cream?”

The next day, I told my son to finish his homework before TV. Ten minutes later, I found him watching cartoons while my father-in-law was asleep on the couch beside him—remote control still in his hand.

And that’s when I realised.

They had formed an alliance.

It wasn’t official—no handshakes, no terms and conditions—but it was strong, silent, and effective. Whenever I put down a rule, my son would run to Grandpa. Grandpa would give a little nod, a biscuit, maybe a story from the 1960s, and suddenly I was the unreasonable one.

I had become the common enemy.

It was like they were both united in a secret resistance. Not violent—just gently subversive. Like how England does sarcasm. Or how church aunties ask, “Why you look so tired?” when they actually mean “You look terrible.”

At first, I was annoyed. I thought, “Eh, I’m trying to raise a decent human being here. A responsible, polite, sugar-regulated child.” But slowly, something shifted.

One night, I walked past the room and saw them reading together. My son was curled up next to his grandfather, giggling at some old joke about rubber trees and kampung chickens. My father-in-law was doing the voices, laughing like a child himself. And I realised—this wasn’t rebellion.

It was relationship.

They weren’t teaming up against me. They were teaming up with each other—for something bigger than homework or bedtime. They were building trust. Memories. Love.

And yes, I was the odd one out—but maybe that was okay.

Because maybe that’s the role of a parent sometimes. To set the limits. To say “no” when it’s needed. And maybe—just maybe—grandparents are there to break the rules once in a while, just to show our kids that love can be soft, unexpected, and sweet. Sometimes literally, in the form of a forbidden ice cream cone.

So yes, for a while I was the enemy. But I also got to witness something beautiful—a bond that skipped a generation and went straight to the heart.

And one day, if I’m lucky, I’ll be the grandfather handing out biscuits behind someone else’s back.

God has a funny way of teaching us grace. Sometimes through sermons. Sometimes through Scripture.

And sometimes... through two conspirators on the couch, eating ice cream in silence.

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71Ivyida Seow, Clement Chin and 69 others

Realiti Penjagaan Warga Emas di Malaysia: Apabila Kuasa Tak Terbendung Bertembung dengan Birokrasi Kaku

 

Realiti Penjagaan Warga Emas di Malaysia: Apabila Kuasa Tak Terbendung Bertembung dengan Birokrasi Kaku

Oleh Fong Muntoh
Pengendali Pusat Jagaan & Aktivis Industri Penjagaan Warga Emas

Malaysia sedang menua. Ini bukan ramalan—ini realiti. Menjelang tahun 2030, 15% daripada rakyat Malaysia akan berusia 60 tahun ke atas. Gelombang demografi ini sedang meningkat—pantas, besar dan mustahil dibendung.

Malangnya, apa yang menghalang gelombang ini adalah satu objek yang tidak bergerak: sistem pentadbiran kerajaan yang perlahan, terpecah-pecah, dan ketinggalan zaman dalam pendekatannya terhadap penjagaan warga emas.

Inilah situasi klasik: satu kuasa yang tak terbendung (populasi yang semakin menua) bertembung dengan objek yang tidak bergerak (sistem pelbagai kementerian yang diikat dengan pita merah dan dikawal oleh 'Little Napoleons' di pejabat tempatan masing-masing).

Biarpun bertahun-tahun sudah berlalu dengan pelbagai kertas kerja, pelan tindakan dan sesi libat urus, apa yang benar-benar berubah? Kita masih dikawal oleh dasar yang bertindih antara KPWKM (Kementerian Pembangunan Wanita, Keluarga dan Masyarakat), KDN (Kementerian Dalam Negeri), KPKT (Kementerian Perumahan dan Kerajaan Tempatan), MOHR (Kementerian Sumber Manusia), dan kini, dengan serba kekok—KKM (Kementerian Kesihatan Malaysia), yang bergelut untuk menguatkuasakan undang-undang lapuk iaitu Akta Kemudahan dan Perkhidmatan Jagaan Kesihatan Swasta bagi sektor yang sudah jauh berkembang melampaui skopnya.

Bayangkan, KKM cuba mengawal industri penjagaan warga emas yang pelbagai dan kompleks menggunakan undang-undang yang asalnya dicipta untuk hospital dan klinik swasta. Ia seperti cuba mengarah lalu lintas kereta elektrik menggunakan peraturan kereta lembu.

Bagaimana mahu melesenkan pusat jagaan yang menawarkan penjagaan berasaskan komuniti, rehabilitasi pasca pembedahan, penjagaan demensia, pusat jagaan harian dan penjagaan sementara? Bagaimana mahu mengkategorikan fasiliti yang menyediakan kemudahan seperti hotel tetapi turut menjalankan penjagaan paliatif? Jawapannya: tidak boleh. Bukan kerana ia mustahil, tetapi kerana kerangka undang-undangnya langsung tiada.

Fasiliti sah di satu daerah boleh dianggap haram di daerah lain, bergantung pada siapa pegawai bertugas hari itu.

Dalam masa yang sama, industri—atas desakan keperluan—terpaksa berinovasi dengan pantas. Usahawan, NGO dan profesional kesihatan membina model penjagaan bertaraf dunia, kebanyakannya tanpa subsidi, insentif atau sokongan struktur. Mereka beroperasi dalam ‘limbo’ undang-undang, dengan risiko ditutup hanya kerana terlalu maju untuk sistem yang ketinggalan.

Realitinya: penjagaan warga emas hari ini bukan sekadar rumah orang tua.

Landskap penjagaan moden sangat pelbagai dan merangkumi:

• Penjagaan assisted living dengan apartmen peribadi dan jururawat sedia ada.
• Pusat jagaan harian untuk membantu anak-anak yang bekerja.
• Fasiliti khas demensia dengan reka bentuk sensori.
• Perkhidmatan paliatif dan hospis di rumah.
• Kelab kesejahteraan senior untuk kesihatan dan pergaulan sosial.
• Jagaan sementara (respite care) untuk penjaga yang perlukan rehat.
• Penginapan perubatan sementara selepas rawatan hospital.

Semua ini tidak muat dalam kategori lama. Tetapi permintaannya tinggi—sekarang. Menunggu kementerian menggubal peraturan sempurna umpama menunggu jawatankuasa melukis matahari terbenam—ia tak akan siap tepat pada waktunya.

Masalahnya bukan kekurangan kepakaran. Masalahnya, kementerian masih melihat penjagaan warga emas sebagai isu kebajikan, bukan sebagai agenda nasional. Mereka masih melengahkan tindakan, manakala pengusaha pusat jagaan pula terpaksa mencari caregiver tanpa skim latihan formal, berdepan dengan peraturan imigresen yang berubah-ubah, dan tidak tahu kementerian mana yang perlu dituruti.

Hakikatnya? Industri sudah mendahului—dan kerajaan semakin tertinggal di belakang.

Tiada satu pun kementerian hari ini yang benar-benar bersedia menangani variasi model, volume permintaan dan keperluan kerjasama rentas sektor dalam membina ekosistem penjagaan warga emas yang mampan. Semakin lama mereka duduk diam, semakin besar risiko mereka ditenggelami arus yang mereka sendiri tak mahu kawal.

Jadi, apa yang perlu dilakukan?

Pertama, kerjasama industri tidak boleh lagi bersifat pilihan. Pembuat dasar perlu bekerjasama dengan pengusaha berpengalaman—bukan mengarah dari atas. Dengarlah mereka yang membina pusat jagaan, melatih caregiver dan menyantuni warga emas setiap hari.

Kedua, tubuhkan Suruhanjaya Penjagaan Warga Emas yang menyelaras semua dasar, pelesenan, latihan dan pemantauan. Model sekarang umpama larian berhalangan yang tiada garisan penamat.

Ketiga, iktiraf penjagaan warga emas sebagai satu industri profesional, bukan kerja kebajikan semata-mata. Beri insentif cukai, geran latihan, dan kejelasan undang-undang. Jangan pandang rendah kami sebagai ‘penjaga rumah tua’.

Dan akhirnya, lihat fasa penuaan ini sebagai satu fasa kehidupan yang bermaruah, bukan beban untuk diselesaikan. Cara kita menyokong warga emas mencerminkan jenis masyarakat yang kita bina.

Selagi kerajaan menunggu, rakyat tetap akan mencari penyelesaian sendiri. Pengusaha akan terus membina pusat jagaan—walaupun peraturannya kabur. Permintaan akan terus meningkat, semakin kuat dan jelas.

Objek yang tidak bergerak ini? Mungkin suatu hari akan tersisih—bukan kerana perbalahan, tetapi kerana sudah tidak relevan.

Kepada kementerian yang masih duduk tinggi di atas singgahsana birokrasi, ketahuilah: kami tidak akan tunggu lagi.

Kami sedang membina. Kami sedang berubah.
Dan sama ada anda bergerak atau tidak, kami sudah jauh mendahului birokrasi yang kaku.

 

 

Malaysia’s Aged Care Reckoning: An Unstoppable Force Meets an Immovable Bureaucracy

Malaysia’s Aged Care Reckoning: An Unstoppable Force Meets an Immovable Bureaucracy

By Fong Muntoh

Aged Care Operator & Industry Expert and Advocate

Malaysia’s population is ageing. That is not a forecast—it’s a fact. By 2030, 15% of Malaysians will be aged 60 and above. That’s a demographic wave building fast and with force. Unfortunately, what stands in its path is an immovable object: our government’s fragmented, sluggish, and outdated approach to aged care.

It’s the classic showdown: an unstoppable force (our greying nation) is about to collide with the immovable object (a multi-ministerial bureaucracy held together by red tape and the ever-present Little Napoleons guarding their paper empires).

Despite decades of polite reminders, pilot studies, and roundtable talks, what has truly changed? We’re still being governed by overlapping policies under KPWKM (Women, Family and Community Development Ministry), KDN (Ministry of Home Affairs), KPKT (Housing and Local Government), MOHR (Human Resources), and now—awkwardly—MOH (Ministry of Health), which is struggling to stretch a decades-old Private Healthcare Facilities and Services Act to cover a sector that has long outgrown its original scope.

Let’s face it: MOH is trying to regulate a hybrid, fast-moving, multi-faceted aged care industry using an archaic law meant for private hospitals and clinics. It’s like trying to draft traffic rules for self-driving cars using guidelines written for bullock carts.

How do you license a centre that combines assisted living with post-surgery rehab, memory care, daycare and respite care? How do you categorize a facility that provides both hotel-like amenities and palliative services? The answer: you don’t. Not because it can’t be done, but because there’s no framework to even begin evaluating it.

A legitimate care centre in one district may be deemed “illegal” in another, depending on which officer holds the clipboard that day.

Meanwhile, the industry—out of necessity—is innovating at a pace that is both inspiring and alarming. Inspiring because entrepreneurs, NGOs, and clinicians are building world-class models of care, often without subsidies, incentives or structural support. Alarming because they’re doing so in regulatory limbo, risking shutdowns for being “too advanced” for an outdated system.

Here’s the reality: aged care is no longer just about putting people in nursing homes.

The modern care landscape is far more complex and includes:

• Assisted living centres with private apartments and on-call nurses.
• Daycare centres that support working adult children.
• Dementia-specific homes with sensory design and memory care.
• Palliative and hospice services delivered at home.
• Senior wellness hubs focused on fitness, socialisation, and preventive care.
• Short-term respite care for caregivers who need a break.
• Medical boarding for post-op recovery.

None of these fit neatly into the categories designed decades ago. And yet, they are in demand—now. Waiting for ministries to issue perfect regulations is like waiting for a committee to paint a sunset—it will never happen on time.

The problem isn’t a lack of talent or intent. It’s that the ministries are still treating aged care as a welfare issue rather than a national priority. They twiddle their thumbs at inter-ministerial meetings while operators scramble to hire caregivers (without proper training schemes), navigate immigration rules (that change without notice), and guess which authority to please next.

The truth? Industry is leading the charge—and the government is trailing far behind.

Let’s be honest: no ministry today is prepared for the diversity of models, volume of demand, or cross-sector cooperation needed to build a resilient aged care ecosystem. The longer they wait, the more they risk being drowned by the very thing they’re supposed to regulate.

So what must change?

First, industry collaboration must no longer be optional. Regulators must work with experienced operators—not over or against them. Listen to those who have built centres, trained caregivers, and sat by the bedsides of our elders.

Second, a centralised, fit-for-purpose Aged Care Commission must be created to unify fragmented policies and streamline licensing, training, and inspections. The current model is a bureaucratic obstacle course with no finish line.

Third, recognise aged care as a professional industry, not a charity case. Operators should be supported with tax incentives, HR grants, and legal clarity—not treated like glorified babysitters or halfway-house managers.

And finally, treat ageing not as a problem to solve, but as a phase of life to be respected. The way we support our elderly reflects the society we hope to become.

Until then, the unstoppable force is already in motion. Families will continue to seek solutions with or without government help. Operators will continue to build care models—even if the rules are unclear. And the demand will continue to grow, louder and louder.

The immovable object? It may eventually find itself pushed aside—not by confrontation, but by irrelevance.

So to the ministries still perched on their high horses, please understand: we’re not waiting anymore.

We are building. We are changing.

And whether you move or not, the future of aged care is already here.