Love is Right Here: "La Pieta" in the wheelchair..

Walking down the hallway of the Emergency Room, I seemed to be counting my footsteps. It's just one of the lazy afternoons. Or I just really feel that way inside. As the door swung open at the entrance, I casts out my view to the trees being swayed by the wind and the sight of pigeons spreading their wings on a lovely sky. I envy their peace. I envy their faith. Having remembered the story of how God feeds the raven.."you are far more valuable than any raven". I stayed calm, grasping what was there for me to behold. 

It seemed that God wanted to disturb my attention. On the far end of the entrance, a man on his 60's is pushing a wheelchair. Sitting on it is a woman on her black abaya*, face covered in black cloth as imposed by their culture. On her lap is a sight far more to behold. She was carrying a limp body of her son which I presumed to be born physically handicapped and is now very ill. I cannot stop gazing at the three images: the hurt father pushing the weight of the anguished mother because of a dying child in the wheelchair. A perfect analogy to remind me that love is right here.

Applying it on my personal battle, I am as well as many of you who might be able read this post a wounded soul. Wounds that are not visible to human eyes. Many are walking in this life half-dead. Many are living in self-rejection because foremost of all, they cannot forgive there self. And it's impossible to accept forgiveness from Him this way. I for once, been through on this. I was also once a body in limp. Invisible bleeding wounds wanting to be healed. I'm desperate for love, I'm desperate for God. In those bouts of self-pity, it's almost easy to succumb fighting the battle alone. Until He disturbed me again by knowing another wounded soul. That in my being "limp", someone's taking hold of me. Sharing my weight, sharing my loads, my woundedness. Just like when Blessed Mother in her anguished silently yielded to the will of the Father. And in the long escape,  He will always run after you  pushing you to the ER room of healing. No matter how broken you are now, rest assured that someone's in control of the wheelchair. He will liberate you from the bondage of your ugliness. He loves both your past and definitely is insane loving you in the NOW. Until you are able to move the wheelchair for someone else towards healing. Until you become a broken healer.

The sun is shining outside; and it shines both for the good and the bad; for the robust and the feeble, for those with more and with those who have less, for the lovable and the unlovable. At the end of the equation,  no one can question His love. It's both for you and me. It's right here. Embrace it.



*black robe used by Muslim women covering from head to toe

..breaking the cold heart..

For how many years that I had met her, very seldom I saw her smile. Whenever I'll start a conversation with her, I had to breath deep as if I'll choke if I won't do such. I don't know if she's a victim of superiority or what in her past life..or even in the present. All I know is that everyone doesn't like her. As with me, I don't care much since we don't belong in the same department. I'm doing my job, she's doing hers. 

I haven't attended the symposium entitled How To Deal with Difficult People (wish I did). But I happened to discover a much subtle way. Whenever I got an encounter with her, I just have to talk. Saying "Hi", asking something about this or that although in some instances she never get an eye contact with me and receiving nothing but silence. I just continue to be like that in a calm voice, trying to be as casual and well, cute=) Sometimes, I am receiving a call from her department and it happened that she was the caller. When she learned that it's me on the other line, she seemed to have a hold back of her another fiery voice. My golden halo would want to transform to a devilish horn but then again, I have to be patient since I don't want to give stress hormones a chance to circulate on my system. So using my being cute, ehem, I would just affirm and do a halfway negotiation to settle the matters.

One day, I went to her place. "Hi Ate, good morning!", my intro while she's scanning some papers. "We have a shopping later, I hope I can get to the bus on time" her shocking reply. I think she had a good night sleep the other night. Or did Coco Martin appeared on her dreams? My mind's wandering with the possibilities. "Oh, they have beautiful comforters on the second floor, you've got to see them. It's very cheap for gifts" my shocking reply also. Did she ever thought that John Lloyd Cruz appeared on my dream last night?LOL That was a start. And as to this writing, I saw her smiling whenever we rub elbows. She had offered me one time to have a cup of soda. I refused. Because I want the whole bottle. Just kidding.

I believe that there are many wounded souls in this world. Sometimes, they are just misunderstood. It's easy to pass judgment, easy to say words we do not mean, easy to react to a gesture we never understood the nature or where it rooted from. On the other hand, it's difficult to listen when you are pushing your own ideas, difficult to understand when it differs from your own beliefs, to accept and love if the person himself is difficult to be loved. But aren't we at one point also a difficult person to be loved? But that One never gave up until He broke His own heart to melt ours? It only takes one to love, and the whole world will soon love!

I learned that a fist-sized heart has a million rooms. God has given you the task to be the Interior Designer of that piece. What would you put in it to reflect the Owner's face? How would you design your heart?

Be a cold-heart breaker!=)

..no one should be left behind..

The tempting yearning to unleash after a subtle day brought my fingers back to this tenement. Though I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning because of a dream, I was able to made it through the day. And because I want to pamper myself, I decided to go on shopping. With me was my co-worker Ate Bles. I urged her to come with me for she will be on rest day after today. Because I am the "bunso", I was cheerfully given the warm hands to have a companion on a windy night. Overwhelmed by the seemingly scarcity of my independence and the chance to go "unleashed", I ask my ate if I can go somewhere to buy stuffs for my dearest sis after sometime of her accompanying to my whereabouts. One hour is the allotted time for us to complete the "this-is-only-a-one-hour-shopping-whether-you-like-it-or-not". To make the story short, I traveled my way; my own way leaving my Ate. I arrived to where we were to commence but I couldn't find where she was. Worst is that I left my phone back home. And now there I was inside the bus, peeping from every person coming out from the exit hoping that it resembles her at any way. My hands now gripped together, the tracing of my heartbeat if put on an ECG machine would turn out chaotic. The driver started the engine and she is nowhere to be found. I have to repeat my words that there were still two nurses inside the mall.  My tears were on the brink of giving in. "No one should be left behind". I earnestly prayed, fixing my eyes on the magnified half moon casting its shadows as if saying it's about slumber time. The gate swung open, I recognized the girl holding a phone against her ear. She's my Ate Bles!

I almost have to hug her when she came in. She didn't noticed I was right in her front while she was saying my name on the other line. She must have been looking for me all the while. And she cannot leave the mall with me behind.

I encircled my arms around her skinny arm, making sure that she has to be with me back to where she decided to give her time accompanying me. I just realized that no matter how hard life is sometimes, God always make it to the point to reach me out so that not a single of His sheep would stray around. That no one should be left behind. Be it in the form of the windy night, the magnified half-moon, or the skinny Ate Bles who would not leave her "bunso". I always have love around. God just spent time with me tonight. And oh, I never thought He could get shopaholic at times=)

..because I chooses to..

They say that the things you'll regret the most are the ones you haven't done over than the things that you did. I don't know the veracity of these words since I'm skeptical when it comes to hearsay. Nevertheless, I don't wish for a moment to be the solid living proof. I am radical and well, psycho most of the time. But it's my insanity that keeps me sane and grounded. Thank God I attended my Psychiatric lessons in college-an accidental everything that fits so uniquely right. 

Looking at the gloomy sunrise, I happened to have a time-travel down the memory. It was as if the clouds was the theater and the sky was the screen. I cringed over what I saw. I hated the actress of the show. I hated the plot. The whole story combined. I hated me. It's as if no matter how I tried to break the chain of an unfathomable nightmare, the whirlwind keeps pulling me down leading me back to that very piece I consciously labored to overcome. I felt the anguish tormenting my soul. I was broken again.

 I could not lavishly proclaim the life I lived. I am just a "Peter" walking on the water. Crippled by a sly wind, drowned by sly pressures of life. Over and over again, I chooses to keep my feet back to the ground. No matter how hard it is to look at myself in the mirror, to not to succumb to my own fears and transgressions. Because I want to make myself believe that everyone has his or her own stories to tell. That it just so happened that mine had an insolent part. And there's no way of getting things back; what I've lost and what I allowed to be taken away from me. The resonating chasm won't just let me enjoy my peace. Which is so unfair. Unfair because I have been wounded and all just to pull back the pieces. That one day I may be able to look back again in the mirror, loving who I am seeing just as she didn't left me since the day I hated her. I can't cry for I had already learned how to tame my tears, that one day when I'll be able to feel that warmth on my cheeks again, it would be because I had overcome the abyss. 

Time seemed to evolve in a double slow motion. I can feel the weight on my chest. The tear ducts are out of my control, they have their minds of their own. I wept.. I am human.. I am back on myself..

Though Chameleon does exudes optimism, she has her own stories of struggles, of being wounded, of brevity, of healing. I looked up to the same sky that reminded me of my pains. I know it will be there to humble me to look at other people with worth and dignity . Because in every gestures, of the unsaid story in their eyes are the people whose stories was once mine. 

I'll continue to endure, I'll continue to live, I'll continue being healed..because I chooses to. 

..be someone else's rain..

Photo Credit to Jo_Joe

He's been diagnosed of pancreatic cancer. Most often that not he would yell on us, which is acceptable talking about defense mechanisms on the patient's part. There are just times that you are on the verge of loosing grip on your  beliefs and therapeutic communication seemed inapplicable at all. Being a patient's advocate irrespective of their differences, you are tasked to uphold  their self-respect at any given circumstances. Well, that is because I am a nurse. 

One afternoon, I entered his room after a tedious and impatient call. I tried my best not to utter any words that might cause him to pity himself even more. I remember the lines my sister shared to me: " In love, I accept everything. Let Your will be done. In Your hands, I commend myself. In silence and in peace". I drew strength from those lingering words. I decided to speak. I was thinking that if I may not able to say the words I have in mind, I might regret not letting him know what "rain in the desert" feels like.

I was just looking at him for quite sometime until he had spoken again. "I don't feel well". My reply was a faint smile. "You don't have fever, the blood sugar is well-controlled, the blood pressure within normal.  Today, you will feel better because you are taken care of. We are just outside the room if you need us. You don't have to shout all the time." His eyes were not that fierce anymore, and so I continued " Smile a lot. You will feel better if you do that often. We are just outside of your room. Today you are alive, that's enough to paint a smile". (Now that's what I've been telling you that therapeutic communication is not applicable at all times). I continued to stare at him, what  it must have felt being bound to bed and depending on others what you used to do for yourself. I stayed quiet. It was him who spoke again, "thank you sister, I will try". 

At a certain degree in our lives, you and me have been in the "desert"--might be brought by a painful past, a betrayal, broken relationship, an illness, a loss in whatever form. You could have felt that the rain seemed to be hoarded by heavens. The air you're breathing seemed too scarce it almost made you think what's the use of breathing at all. You blamed this or that, you took the different path to find yourself back only to find that you are just moving in circle. You stopped living. You are just alive. Then one day, God might have been missing you so much. He never had a day without thinking of you eversince you stray away from His path. So He sent you rain--in the form of friends, work mates, even sometimes a stranger. And you realized what you missed. You recognized the rain. It was Your Father's love.

Be a raindrop to someone's arid heart. It doesn't cost much.=)