..the morning I left my battery..

(c) Sarah Matthew

One night, I took my clothes from my mother's closet and put it in the bag. A traveling bag. I'm not going to elope, I swear to my mom. I'll be traveling alone. Off to where the waves are. Off to where nobody knows my name, my job, my story. I charge the battery of my DSLR the night before going to sleep. The voice of my Tito Bong back in the condo where my sister and I spent for dinner resounded.."don't go back without seeing Boracay". My obedience is apparently unquestionable. I'll go heading to Boracay.

I woke up before my alarm. That's not how much excited I am. My mother took a toil in waking up early too just to be sure I have all my "important baggage" with me and that I'll reach the port safe and sound. Before we left the house, I was asked by her probably twice, or thrice. "Do you have all that you needed?". I was so sure to say my big grinning yes. And my mother always trusted me with that. We reached the port, she waited for me to settle down as she has a tendency to be a stage mom. I opened my camera so we can have a picture together, but I wondered why it's not working since I charged the battery.....the battery....the battery is still in the charger. At home. Thirty minutes ride, if not traffic. She glanced at her watch and looked at me quietly. I can't afford to drop the trip just because my camera doesn't have a battery. She kissed me goodbye. And I, sitting there, wished that it was still the night I'm packing my things. Or in the house before she locked the door. Or before I was so sure to say yes. I put back my camera to its bag, and waited for the boarding time. How that small square can now be this significantly big. I took the breakfast she prepared for me. She's always been that sweet. And she's now at home. Probably back to sleep after waking up so early today. The guard called my name, telling me that a lady is looking for me. My mom..waving in the window, showing her hand with the battery. I hide the tears.

The year is about to end. As I waited for my laundry in the spinner and watching the Christmas lights while lying in the couch, I remember this story. This year, there could have been times we doubted God's goodness in our life. Eventful and life-changing circumstances happened by way of many losses- the death of  the people we love, and the number of tragedies that united the world. For some, it could have been a year of unanswered prayers, or a failing health, or a feeling of being stuck and nothing is absolutely changing. For some, it's just God being deaf and being blind. 

As we look forward to another year, God is like my mom asking us twice, or even thrice. "Do you have all that you needed?". Our answer is a grinning yes. Because we have a high-paying job. Because we have a stable relationship. Because we have just bought the new iPad Air. Because our house is fully furnished, and we can afford a luxury travel. Because no one in the family is sick, and everything seemed become accessible, affordable, and stable. Then LOSS snap our security ground. Everything stumble. Everything was dismantled. The God who is all-good becomes the God who turned His back.

What could have gone wrong? We forgot the "battery". We put God in a box, so small that we forgot the God who operates in our lives. We forgot that nothing could work out without Him. Even if it seems  that we have all that we needed.

Today, you may have felt lost. You might have grown weary from trying how to be strong.You may have forgotten how it is to be loved. You may have forgotten that there is God.

Today, God is waving in the window of our hearts. "I am Here. My name is Jesus." 

..night travelers..

It was supposed to be my rest day when I was called to go on on-call duty. It's nearly midnight, but the call of profession knows no time. I hurriedly prepared, and off the night I rode the bus. I sat comfortably, being the only passenger in that trip. I wanted to close my eyes so I can have a cat nap, but there's always beauty concealing among the dark sky I cannot shy away not looking at...

Not so long ago, I attended a beautiful mass in Carmel. It was nearing Christmas. But the manger is still empty. "They are still traveling in the dark night", I wanted to tell the priest. Imagine how a pregnant woman riding on a donkey, pacing on a night of cold, trudging in a place without lamp posts, without Facebook to share  her check-in, without a certain place to stay. Imagine how it is to finally find a place, only to find out it's full, and a door just closed right in front of your face. Imagine how it is to labor among animals, and to give birth in a nook, without the flowers and balloons welcoming your bundle of joy, without the banquet of foods to celebrate His birth, without the world knowing that a Light just broke in the dark night. From the poorest of the poor, none of us was born this way. 

In the most profound way, God delivered a beautiful gift that didn't come with fireworks, or a big applause, or a large crowd to create noise. It's heart-warming to think how God uses simplicity in manifesting a greater kind of love. It's not the food we have on our table, for many are in hunger. It's not the clothes we wear, for many are suffering from naked injustices. It's not the big Christmas tree, for many are homeless. It's not the glamorous lights, for many are in darkness and wounded. It's not what we received, for many are waiting for givers. Let us go back to that night when God is teaching us what matters most in life. To be a comfort to others. To be their lamp posts. To be their home. To be their keeper. To be their manger in their dark nights of travel. 

Looking at the Nativity, what could be more lacking? Warmth is there. Beauty is there. Acceptance is there. Joy is there. Gratitude is there. Contentment is there. Total Surrender is there.

Love is there.

How do you prepare His manger? Can He stay in you?

Merry Christmas! 

..turning point..

My sister and I are having a quiet talk back in the hotel in Bali during our first out of the country vacation. In one of those talks, he related to me how he turned down one applicant during an interview for our newly opened business. He is a nurse by profession, and since he "badly" needed a job, he applied. My sister told him that he is overqualified for the position and that he can serve well if he can practice the gift in rendering service for the sick.  Frustrated at my sister's response, he said that he was undermined. "I do not undermine what you can give. My sister is also a nurse", Robz told him. By saying "no", my sister redirected him to a future "yes" in his career. Because she believes in his purpose.

I remember this story as to this writing. My blog site is celebrating its 3rd year anniversary. Yes, 3 years of publishing articles. God is just so good for always inspiring me to pour my heart out through writing. In any starting point, there's no such thing as easy. Because this blog site, just like the story above, is a product of  a redirection.

The Story of Rejection.

Years ago, I am already waiting for my US career. Everything was set. I passed all the exams, hired as a Staff Nurse in Washington, enjoying life knowing that a greener pasture is at hand. I already pictured out bringing my family with me, having a house with a chimney, and celebrating white Christmas with them. I said I'll raise a family there, and would save a lot so I can send poor kids to school as it has always been my dream. Then the detour happened. My application's dead as recession in the States progressed. 

The Story of Redirection

I asked permission from my mother one night. I said I was already hired to work as a nurse in Riyadh. And she would not believed me, since she's already oriented of my US dream. But knowing her daughter, she didn't hold me back. I set out trudging unfamiliar roads. I learned to cook meals, wake up to wash my clothes, and independent and accountable of my own decisions. I learned that I am not a traveler, but a pilgrim. And that the world has many faces hidden among the daily struggles of being weak at times and choosing to be strong when needed. I learned that the vast deserts have many stories to tell, and I questioned once if it also cries. All these learnings, I came to put into writing, the birth of this blog site 3 years back. Should I have stayed in my comfort zone, remained to be idle in waiting for the dream that is not "yet" mine, I would have not made any one of these articles which are mostly based on my daily encounters with my patients, my moments of solitude, the braving times of being away from the people you love and the comfort of them just being around. This is my most prized detour, my most applauded redirection,  my longest running commitment, my valued turning point.

I would like to thank all of you for being with me for the past 3 fruitful years. I am a nobody who writes behind the screen, nonetheless, I never felt less knowing that I am making a connection to someone else whenever you would stop and read my posts.  For all those strangers who left their private messages of gratefulness, I am empowered everyday to reflect on my life because I know, out there, someone else can somehow relate to my articles. I am not afraid anymore to be alone, for most of my reflections are done out of being at peace even in an unlikely corner. Thank you, my dear readers!

Whenever I would start an article, I would always close my eyes and say, "Teach me God how to write". And He sustained me for the past years. And so, it is lawful for a servant to honor her Master. Thank you God for holding my hands all these years. I can hardly enumerate the bounty of Your mercy. I am afraid, but I won't hold back.  Grant me the courage to do Your will. Use my life for Your Greater Glory. I am all Yours!

And to Chameleon, my Third Place, I don't know where to pick up my sanity without your presence. Our relationship has no demands. You understand my silence, you are good at it. Thank you for aptly absorbing all that I can give, even those that I can't. My life had never been the same when you allowed me to write. 

More of Life's Great Lessons with you!=)

..to the end, love searches..

(c) Naked Truth About Literature

Isabelle went to their meeting place. But Bonifacio was not there. Their lives were changed...forever.

She admired how he plays guitar with proficiency. He admired how beautiful she was in those slender dress. Being an undergraduate, and her, being a licensed Pharmacist, at the start, their worlds are set apart. Born to be a man of intelligence hindered by poverty, he worked to earn a decent living. That, captured her heart. But not of her family. And yet, love as mysterious at it is, provoked them to face the world against all odds. She carried his child out of marriage. She was disowned by her family who has a prominent name in the society. They set off a plan to meet. On that afternoon of hope, while Isabelle was there waiting, Bonifacio failed to show up...

And so Isabelle, in her pregnant state remained with her parents until she gave birth to a baby girl. She named her Linda, after Bonifacio's sister. Macario, the man whom she had always turned down over her love for Bonifacio persistently win her despite having a child out of wedlock. He married her. In those times when her life was set right, Isabelle still communicate with Bonifacio's sister. Until one day, it just stopped...

It was around Christmas time when  a car stopped by our gate. A woman on her 30's is looking for my Lola Linda. She introduced herself. Her name is Linda, her mother is Isabelle. I was there when my grandmother hugged her tight, while Linda was crying. Isabel is now in her old age, and never save a photo of Bonifacio. Linda came to see a picture of his father whom she never met her whole life. And the message of Isabelle, whose love for him never grew weary all those years. Despite being married to the man who loves her. Despite of everything.

When Linda left, it puzzled me how Bonifacio was so insensitive to just let her go. When she was ready to leave everything behind. When she defied the rules out of love. My grandmother told me that sometimes, lessons in life are being taught by just one single act.  Maybe, in another lifetime, they will see each other again. Maybe.

To the end,  true love searches. I saw one that day.

How come I won't, Bonifacio is my grandfather.

..imagine a day without the thing you needed..

I planned my activities for the following day before going to bed. I said I'll have an unhurried bath, empty my hamper which defined my week's schedule, I'll cook a decent meal, and probably will clean our bathroom. I woke up and went to the receiving area, laid for a moment in our couch, imagining the scrambled egg and Tender Juicy hotdog for breakfast. Then I heard the grumble of my flat mate while she's holding her hamper back to her room saying, "no water supply for today". NO WATER SUPPLY FOR TODAY? The image of scrambled egg and hotdog faded in an instant. 

I was able to share this story to my cousin Anne when we were able to had a good catch up online. That day, when the water, the basic need of every human being was cut off, I found myself bargaining. That I would have wanted to have no electricity than to have no water at all. In the absence of the basics, we realize how extra ordinary they are. A patient will set aside a branded shoes as soon as her doctor will say that her leg needs amputation. Or a father will drop off a big time close deal meeting when he learned that his son got a car accident. Or a successful business man would trade his bank account to regain a cancer-free body. Or those who experienced a gargantuan destruction of typhoon who would exchange their valuables for the safety of their family. God is wise enough to give us a day when we experience a threat of losing the things and people we often take for granted on a daily basis. Because we think that they are anyway accessible everyday. They are just there. So you don't find them that eager to take care of. That day, when I heard the gushing of water in the kitchen, I ended my habit of wasting it.

What can you afford to lose in order to retain what matters most? How will you imagine a day without that very thing you needed? 

It's not too late to start to declutter your life.

..a good sneak out..

(c) Jem Ven Ar

I sneaked out of the flat in robe. The guard is now fast asleep with lights in the hallway off. I took the stairs, careful of my foot steps since I don't want to create noise that might wake up the occupants of the building this moment of dawn. I stopped in one of the floors, thinking that someone might see me, and  it might provoke a "conjuring" thought. But I was born a non-conformist. I reached the top of the building, pushed the door open, and the morning air embraced me. The sky is clear after a day's downpour, as if preparing for a triumphant day. The full moon's glow is superb, illuminating in pride as if savoring the moments while it is still the queen of the night. I stand looking at it for a minute or two as I encircled my arms to keep warm. The winter is nearing.

I stared at the sky.  It's not everyday that I am grace with a chance to be at peace with being alone. I don't know if I should be afraid with being comfortable in my solitude, but I am happy. The clouds continue to move, passing the stars that remains in the sky. I am aware of the fact that while I remain glancing at the stardom of gratitude, my countrymen are suffering of mammoth loss. And again, I still trust God who holds the blueprint of our lives. He will restore, rebuild, reassemble whatever is wrong at the present. Just as how He managed to breathe life out of dust. I can't get away from comparing the beauty of the night when the sun will soon rise. There's so much in darkness that only shines bright away from the spotlight. It is my prayer, that the night I am experiencing, the night my country is facing at the moment, the night some of you are also battling at, that we never run out of source of hope amidst our fall. God is here, even if He is not obvious.

I took the one last view of the sky before closing the door. Everything will be alright.

..it belongs to the Cross..

(c) Kostas Satlanis

I stand at the top of the mountain. It was about noon time, and sunset is at hand. From afar, a mystic beauty of the beach caught my attention. Two chair were there, empty. It was one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. Glistening somewhere in it is the Cross. It made me decide to go down from where I've been and followed it. I don't know exactly how it happened, but I crossed the river. My feet can feel the smooth rounded stones underneath. I was not taken away by the currents. For there was none. I passed a strait, good enough for my size with water still flowing in it at the level of my waist. I breathe in, not so sure if there were other people crossing with me.

I reached a road, a passage towards the place that swept my heart away. I walked passed a group, they are barefooted., playing on the ground. I can't understand their noise so I continue walking. Along my strolls, a woman in her old age warned me not to enter the place. I reached the nearby parameters anyway, almost there. But why is it, that when I'm near to the beauty that captivated my peace, I feel so lonely? The beach, the mystery inside, the empty chairs, all of these added to the melancholy while I am standing at its entrance. I am eager to go inside, find out what's in there, what made me crossed the river when in fact, I haven't done it in my previous soul-travel. Why it is such a lonely place when from afar, I saw the Cross in there, shimmering among the rays of the sun.

I was about to sign my name at its entrance when I woke up. I close my eyes again, wondering what time is it, recalling the vivid dream that made me cry early in the morning. I was born to have abnormal dreams, those that is supposed to be for people who are living a life of piety. But I get by with it, for none can say what it conveys. And so when I'm sober, I consoled myself with the thought that probably, there are things in life we can be amaze at by just looking at them ONLY from afar. To revere the mystery at distance. To be content gazing to the joy it brings without having to make it your own. For taking them into our hands, owning them, pushing ourselves to get in  will not make us totally happy in the long run.

What lies inside that place, I cannot say. It's probably not for me...

 It belongs to the Cross.

..just like the feet..

The empty receiving room, the absence of noise, the spacious couch. I'm home..

I poured the 2-liter container of milk into the glass, grabbed the pillow from my room and settled in my favorite corner of the house. Elevating my legs is one of my simple joys of the day, and it became a habit. I love the moments of solitude when a glass of milk saves me from conserving energy of cooking meals. I have all the time in the world watching my feet, and why my mom loves to hold it everytime. I wonder what would it be if God created them facing backward. I'll twist my waist then to lace my  shoes, probably rotate some angle of my head for me to fix it because I'll be wearing them the other way around, and I'll be moving, errrr...backwards. I shake off the morbid thoughts, watch my toes fanning out, bending and wiggling them such as to say they are a happy feet. And thanking God He orchestrated it magically perfect I doesn't have to do all things I imagined above.

How beautiful life becomes depends on how beautiful we look at things. Sure, we have our own keepsake of unwanted memories. Those that withhold us from experiencing the true joy of living. If only we can learn to simplify things, honor the blessings starting from ordinary people surrounding us everyday, channeling the bad circumstances into something which we can draw lessons from, and making the deepest pit of our trials into a bouncing leap of inspirations, then probably, there will be less lonely people in the universe. If our feet can say the hidden truth why they were made that way, I would like to think of it this way: that just like our feet, life is meant to be traveled forward, no matter how complicated it is, no matter how unsure we are what lies ahead in there, no matter how many times we hit rock bottom, no matter how much we've been rejected, despised, tested, and pushed to our limits. Because between those stops and pauses, light shines somewhere in the depths of our hearts. I don't know what you call it, but I believe it's the inherent power of the human soul to keep on moving. Whatever the things we conceive in our mind, remember , God is already there.  He'll be the last man standing for you.

..some kind of traffic..

I sat on the last seat portion of the bus. It's a bit late as my day is filled with such an enormous adrenaline rush I can feel I really am an ICU nurse. But when I take off my scrub suits and leave the unit, shaking off the scenes and grumblings that might elude my inner peace, I am there at the far most space leaning over the glass window, thanking  God I still have the strength to watch the evening sky. The bus started to move, and I am oblivious of the bumper to bumper traffic. Many people on that street are fathers  and mothers who are in a hurry to see their kids back home, probably excited to get kissed and hugged by their toddlers to soothe their aching muscles of all day's work, or probably teenagers who are preoccupied of the class thesis to be finished, or someone with a drain battery of laptop with urgent office files due first thing in the morning, or someone whose stomach complains of something to be a grind. Nobody would want to be stuck up from such a time consuming waiting..and waiting..and waiting.

Momentarily, out of the many hassles of the day, there will always be a moment when you are retracted back to that comfort, quiet zone. There, you are able to recount how you were able to passed life's perplexities and emerging victoriously as a strong soul. Success has its own adverse effects. Going after our dreams can sometimes make us forget the essence why we go after it. There is no pause button in life. Everything moves fast. People age, our bodies age, the world age. We are in one moment on a security ground, then one moment on a course we never planned. Some kind of traffic. We need that once in a while to slow down, to rectify our priorities in life, to put value on people and goals that will make us conclude that there are things in life we cannot pack to heaven. A quiet time for yourself, a time for God, a time for life. That's something traffic taught me to think over about.

Goodnight! =)

..if seconds are left..

I sat on my chair under dim light as I keenly watched the tracing on his monitor. Some lights in the station were already put off. It's enticing to close my eyes, but being assigned to a case of "anything-may-snap-at-any-moment" drove me to stay afloat. Her beloved other half was there, holding his hand in tears while he bravely tapped her shoulder as if saying that everything will turn out right. Married for 25 years, and having no kids at all, I understand where her fears are coming from. To devote yourself to a man in a relationship, and having lasted that long despite all the "we tried everything to have one but nothing worked out" melts my heart. And now there she was, clinging on the flimsiest hope that the man she loved her whole life will get out from the place away from defibrillator, away from another attack of arrhythmia, away from bustling nurses whenever the tracing becomes unstable. And unstable is an under rate word.

Even if the Fundamentals of Nursing taught me how to avoid counter transference and terminating a relationship with your patients, I am poor at regulating my own emotions. Simply because books can never teach human being how and not what to feel. The hardest part of my profession is to deny that at one point, you are emotionally entangled to people you know will never be there for too long.  You take care of them, feed them, change their gowns when it is soiled, give their medicines in due time, wink at them when they are looking at you and smile at their warm "thank you's". At the end of your shift, you realized that it is actually them who is teaching you to live the best of your days. I started this article inspired by someone who hold on to every unstable seconds of his life. I am immensely blessed for that little while I was his nurse, and he was my patient. I was his student, and he was my teacher. And our class that usually takes place in a deathbed, on a 12-hour shift ended when he finally let go of those seconds left.

Time. Relationships. Passion. True enough, we will never put value to anything unless we learn that our life is like a thread stretched out from its roll. At any time, it can snap away. While you might be reading this, there could have been few unsaid words we hoard to ourselves for the people we love. Say it. We might have been delaying forgiveness to the people who hurt us. Give it. We might be consumed of anger and disappointments to the people we trusts. Let go of it. Don't wait for "seconds left" to come before you celebrate life. Live it. "We're meant to lose the people we love. How else would we know how important they are?" Show it.

..On Failing..

"He got a failed mark". 

This was a morning greeting when I called my auntie the other day. We were talking about my 11 year-old cousin who just entered high school. I hadn't fixed my hair yet while looking at the broad mirror and holding the phone and listening to her grumblings. I must admit that an ache reached a certain part of my heart. Not because I have too much expectations in him. Not because I love him so dearly that I am treating him like a younger brother to me. Nor because I am paying for his tuition by my own free will. It hit me because I know what he felt. Failing itself is not the issue, it's the feeling of having failed someone else that is. How come I won't know? 

When I spent my vacation last June, I saw the medals I received during my competitive years in school. All those symbolic tangible evidence of my hardships were still kept securely by my grandmother, my avid die-hard fan. It reminds me of many things; that I can't wear those metals around my neck to succinctly describe my character, that I can't make them as an extenuating excuse not to live a decent life. But the most remarkable realization was that no matter  how accomplished you are, once in your life, you failed someone. The greater pressure is when that someone keeps on forgiving you, accepting you, blessing you all the more, loving you all day in and all day out, making you feel that there's always a chance to bounce back.

Many years ago, I am like a child fear to approach my grade card to God. I am ashamed, because many times I have "failed" Him. I won't show up in prayers, and would go deaf when He would whisper. But He was persistent in pursuing me. That's how crazy He was. One day, I laid down my failed card to my Father's hand. He grabbed my cold palms, ran His warm hands and lift my down cheeks high saying, "You can always try again. I won't get tired on you. I'm not giving up on you."

How many times do you run from God's mercy? When would you give up resisting Him to do wonders in your life? How long will you run from God?

P.S.

My greatest failure is the main reason why you are reading this blog. Fail many times, bounce back double! God loves you! =)

..wake up call..

It's still dark outside when I woke up, literally dark in the sense that it's only midnight. And once again, I put the blame to my aging limbic system for a dysfunctional sleep-wake pattern. I grabbed a cup of milk straight from the fridge and settled at the empty couch in our receiving area. I envy the ones who are in dreamland this moment of dawn while I am leisurely in a pensive thought. The previous month just culminated to a good close and another one set out casually. At the start, September wakes me up.

The silence is cajoling for another article with the absence of cacophony and the right atmosphere. I came to think of the passing days, which is indeed faster to someone who is: consciously making oneself busy, forced to become busy, or all of the above. Whatever is your situation now, step on the break and loosen up. Like you have a time to check what a cacophony is, or reading a good book to increase your word bank, or refining old skills like cleaning out and tidying your closet, setting aside social gossips from news feed of which contents consist mainly of "feeling--". That's what democracy tends to snap away. And I'm guilty as charged.

It's dawn, and the moment is riveting to count the leaps and bounds of grace we received passively. There could be moments we felt our spirits are at the lowest ebb or situations that are seemed impassable. But the day closed to a night, and the night ends to another day. 

When I first learned to drive, I used to complain when I'm hitting roads of many bends. Because it's a lot easier to manipulate a car on a fine road. But it depletes you of a chance: a better driver (in my case, without a license..but this is between you and me).

Consider those awful days like you are driving to a road with humps, lots of it. And what do you do when the car is nearing a speed hump? You slow down, you grip tight. Because a smooth road will never make a good driver. Just as an easy life will never make a tough warrior. I don't know if it's a good analogy, but our moments of undulations are wake up calls to see things around, feel things around, and love things around.

I love when I'm awake at the middle of the night. Things are slowing down. Things are quite different.

Happy Sunday! =)

  

..from afar..

The hazy surrounding makes it difficult for me to see his face. But my  heart recognizes his vague motions. I was surprised how he'd knew my whereabouts since it's not kind like of me to tell him what I feel. I am comforted with the space he left many years back. I knew I went off to bed with all those additional weights of thoughts on my shoulders. And I'd like to keep it to myself as much as I can. You know, to prevent the spread of contagious negative vibes. Of course, an optimist does have that. I reckoned he figured out my mixed emotions, and in many occasions, when he is less felt, I'd like to think he trusted me enough. But sometimes, how I wished he doesn't. And this day is one of those. I rarely had time to have a private conversation with him, simply because we were used to that.  I don't want to give him the impression that I don't need him anymore, or that he was forgotten of any sort. Or that I can always stand on my own. Because when no one is looking, when the light dimmed and I needed to shut my little world to my own space, the man I rarely talked to held me from afar. It's as if he knows what I'm going through without me having to tell him, it's as if he knows my struggles even though I have aptly hid them. And I find it strange being a daughter. But not until I realized that I still have a father..watching me from afar, praying for me from afar, intervening for me from afar, trying to get through me from afar.

I shed much tears since I left home, but I haven't felt so comforted; that in all my bearings and burdens, in all those unspoken cry for help, when my buoyancy fails me at times, and the abating strength is at its verge of succumbing, from afar, he made me feel that I can be brave again. Because he taught me to be the day he left.

And again, I feel strange. I missed him so much...

..Chuckie and the pink bag..

I am standing on queue waiting for my trip back home. The weather is gloomy, and the drizzles just started. I can still feel the effect of the hangover from the previous night of "occasional drinking". I left my heart to that place that so far made the best of my vacation. There's a small grief while I'm clutching the pink bag that was given to me. I feel like upon returning from that trip, that something was left behind, and that the days are over to retrieve it. My attention was transfixed to those afternoons of watching waves flippantly chasing one after the other, the grandiose clear sky my hands are incapable to put on a canvass, the laxity of time that passed gracefully because you are at the moment detached from the world's uproar, the silent moments you count your blessings and thanking God for all the undeserved explosive gifts. I will always treasure those mornings of sweet waking, of getting up with messy hair just to watch the sunrise among the calm horizons, watching people walking on the sand because it is their joy, people walking going to work, and I honestly don't envy them, people walking to stay fit, people walking because they needed to. And me, there at the beach side, forgetting about what walking is and simply being taken away by serenity. Those priceless nights where you cannot gauge how wide the sea is but you believe anyway that it has no end, the lights you cannot appreciate by day time, but only when the darkness sets in. Those, I wouldn't exchange for the world...

The little boy's voice interrupted the ripples I am savoring. It's started to rain, and he was consuming the limited space of shade outside the gate from where I am standing. It's needless to say what he wants at the moment, for his hand was shaking while he lay it open wide for something. I grabbed the Chuckie drink I put on my pink bag and was about to give it when the woman on my side prevented me. Don't tolerate them, she casually told me. I waited for sometime and watched the little boy. I can feel a connection, probably because I feel gloomy within. "Hindi ko kaya", I told the lady beside me.  I handed him the chocolate drink, and he ran away. She just stared at me, and I looked at the direction to where the little boy ran. Jesus would do that.

Among the crowds that day, how many of them are having drizzles within? How many are on the battle of walking through tough past, inconceivable future, and a puzzled present? How many are rejected just because we are heading other's voice and not ours? How many Jesus would you turn your back to?

Thank God for Chuckie and the pink bag! 

..let the rain fall..

It was one afternoon of no turning back. I sat on one of the empty chairs being the early bird. The wide transparent glass gave a view of the mountain hiding behind the formed clouds. The scenery of grass-covered field is at its greenest while the sun joyfully hailed its rays in the sky. My flight has been delayed, and  it's tempting to fall asleep. But I'd given homage to the sight right before my eyes. The parched runway slowly turned gray as the sun seemed to be a little bit shy it slowly lose its splendid glow. The clouds became heavier covering almost half of the mountain's sight. It's obvious what transpired in the next few minutes. The heavy downpour started. I sipped the can of soda while my hand is shaky probably due to the room's temperature. I watched the grass standing still despite the blow, receiving all that the sky is pouring in. The once soul-soothing landscape is now all in the memory. 

I waited in patience, trying to figure out a "kick" from within while finishing my brownies. Slowly, the tip of the mountain appeared from where I am settled. It's like a curtain was removed before the great show. And there it was, the sun peeped in a lazy manner. The picture in my memory formed real again, bringing back the soothe in my soul. 

Like life, we cannot guarantee a safe ground for almost everything. One instance everything is sunny, another instance, our world becomes gloomy. Downpour can shake the landscape of security we have, and rain will fall somewhere, eradicating our ideal view of the world. It's easy to throw a thousand why's and wallow in defeats, but we can choose to be sober like the grass. If your life is being raged with all the problems in the world, remember that usually, the grass is at its greenest after the bouts of heavy downpour. Allow God to wash you, let the rain fall. 

..you'll never be your age again..

Photo Credit: Robz Tan 

I feel like I got a good massage after a warm bath, a moment for a while to shy away from all the days of toil. The water trampling on my feet creates a hush I savor for more few minutes. The tan lines on my shoulders are still very visible, and I love it. It has many stories to tell, but as private as I am, I would like to keep it as private as it should be. My mentor sent me an assignment but as of the moment, it still hangs open for me to even make a jumpstart. It made me think to outline my priorities in the next couple of years. Yes Sir Bo, I plea for extension =) 

I just turned 18 (ahem)  a couple of days ago, and I can feel a bizarre jolt whenever I'd think of the things that made my sanity on ground. Madness to life, I have lots to tell so I cannot be an object of your envy just in case...

-Games are not my cup of tea. I've never played Farmville, Plants vs. Zombies, and Candy Crush Saga. If cops would handcuff and throw to jail innocents of online games, I'll be the lone occupant, the President and Muse behind bars.

-I only learned to carry make-up when I was 27. As I mentioned before, my guy will never be pressured because I'm a low-cost maintenance girlfriend (soon). If you would raid my bag, I'm sorry to disappoint you that it contains old receipts..from ATM receipts down to credit card receipts dated don't-ask-anymore-ok. But be glad to know I dumped it all before turning 28=)

- I often forget to bring a towel to the bathroom. When my alarm would wake up almost all the people in our flat, it's automatic that my feet would drag me to the bathroom. And only after I have a good bath would I sometimes realize that people who go to take a shower should bring a towel with them. Or you'll end up tiptoeing with your old big shirt. Been there, done that.

- I cheated twice in my life. The first time was when I first made a love letter. I do not know how to make an introduction that I needed to copy lines from the Bible. The second, when I chase after a love I'll never have.

Years are turning fast. Chances come and go, some of them are one-way road. The sun will still shine 10 years from now, but you are not sure if you are still there on that sunrise .So wear that bikini while your waist line can be measured, while your skin can still lock moisture, while the lines in your face are the lines of laughter, and the structure of your body can support your jump shot, while you are still at your best shape, and you don't need an external memory to remind you how it is to be happy. Dream the wildest dreams your imagination can afford and live life as if it was the day you were born. Where everything is new, everything is something you look forward to discovering and learn, where there are no "if only", "I shoulda' and woulda' and coulda'". Don't be afraid to make mistakes and look stupid at times, for happiest people in the world are the ones who do not need to think what others will think. They live within their outlines, by simply being who they are. Lastly, don't be sorry for loving someone. It's the most contagious disease in the human history.

Live the life you always wanted. For you'll never be your age again.

..on flying by Business Class..

I stepped out from the plane with a heavy heart. My 42-day vacation is over and so far, the best laid-back days I could ask for since the day I started earning on my own. I arrived at Singapore Airport with drained enthusiasm but I needed to get going. I presented my connecting boarding pass to verify my gate number expecting that by midnight, I'll be on a trip back to Riyadh. And the big, unexpected humungous twist happened. I was informed that my flight would be 12 in the afternoon the following day..THE FOLLOWING DAY. So if my Mathematics skill is not yet rusted from all-out swimming, that would be more or less a 12-hour stopover, with my baggage already checked-in, my heart bruised from melancholy of missing my family back home, and with only books on my bag. I breathe as deep as I can, inhaling the priceless, tax-free air. I walked around like a backpack traveler, my mind wandering how to kill time.."Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.", my memory grasped this verse. I continued my steps and realized that I'm lucky being in an air conditioned place, lights are shimmering everywhere I don't need to carry candle to watch over my steps. I am determined. I will enjoy the present situation, I will make the most of this total shift of adventure. Afterall, I wanted to be a traveler.

I was advised to avail a $45 voucher ; my first blessing after the jolt of  excitement returned. Good thing that there are Filipinos everywhere I was guided with much relief. I was amazed of the thought that I could actually have a gastronomical indulgence for free. I sat on one of the most busy coffee shops in the area, sat like I'm really are a traveler, ordered for a Grande White Choco Mocha and  two pieces double chocolate muffin. Oh yeah, life's sweet with detours sometimes. I opened the book I cannot managed to read on my previous trip. As I sip my cup, it's as if Joel Osteen is preaching to me live..

"I can guarantee you that your difficult situation will never improve as long as you stay in a negative frame of mind. But if you'll develop an attitude of faith and expect events to change positively, then at the right time, that situation will turn around...Your attitude should be "God I know that You are at work in my life. Although the miracle I've been watching for didn't happen today, I know I'm one day closer to it! I'm one day closer to my answered prayer, and I'm not going to get upset. I'll not allow myself to get discouraged. I know that your timing is perfect, so I'm going to stay in an attitude of faith and keep trusting You to do what is best."

I was able to sleep in the middle of my inmost storm that night, in a place where the sun will still shine. Sometimes, our feet bring us to places and situations we expect less. It's easier to complain, to be discouraged and fall into mediocrity and complacency. I learned that God often uses those situations of inconveniences to show us a better way to get out of it, a clearer path to follow ahead, a redirection over what it seemed to be a rejection. That afternoon, when I was able to find my gate for boarding, a miracle I didn't expect was given to me. I was handed a Business Class boarding pass. It shook my world that it's like "a good day to die for" I needed to go back and clarified in the encounter if indeed, it was meant for me. I received a warm smile saying, "it's definitely for you Miss Tan". Should I complain? Of course not! I'm in no ground to question the gift!=) Just at least another digit in my age will be added, I was able to experienced the best roller coaster adventure at 27.

Life's funny that way. When you embrace what's in your present, you expect a best life now.

Happy Sunday!

..She embraced me once more..

Monastery of Mt. Carmel

My half-inch sandals paved noise as I walked into the familiar floors. The sun is high as I waited for the hour of Great Mercy. Its rays entered into the windows and struck a vibrant effect on the turquoise color of the high ceilings. I bowed down to show respect for Her. My hands are a little bit sweaty as my steps culminated into the pew where I always find my resting den. The flowers were arranged in specific lengths, and there are still used candles that were not yet changed anew. The piano is covered in brown clothe at the right far corner. You cannot underestimate the power of melodious songs it creates when the notes are hit right. I pulled the cushioned footrest, barely looking at Her while at the back of my mind, She knew I was coming. And before I was able to kneel, tears have been dropping my cheeks. I looked at Her tender eyes, and gentle sobs begin to fill my empty space. I don't know what to tell Her, nor where to start. I covered my face with my closed hands, pouring out a prayer I cannot say, letting Her know that I am here once again asking for Her strength, imitating Her composure in silence, surrendering the things I don't have the power to control, and the courage to brave the roads yet to unfold. I was not afraid to show Her how vulnerable I can get, because there's nothing I can hide from Her genuine face. The same face I struggle to hold on to when it feels like I'm a waning candle steadfastly illuminating the light needed by someone else. And the soft sobs turned into inconsolable ones..

I heard footsteps coming toward the altar as I buried my face to the wipes I held on my hands. The men carried a new piano placed before the altar. They looked waywardly at my direction, being the one left alone there and I didn't give much care. The man in his 40's started to hit soft keys, and it filled the place with hymn. At the farthest left corner, a responsorial psalm reads.."My Lord is kind and merciful".. 

I sat down on the pew, examined the whole place, trying to memorize its details so I will not forget. The hour of Great Mercy has passed. The inside of the church fell silence again. I am there, emptying the heavy loads I cannot tell to anyone. I know I was prompted to come to Her today, for She always been my liaison to Him.

She listened.

She held my hands.

She embraced me once more.

..a promise fulfilled after 7 years..

I live in a house with few furniture, it's small that sometimes my mother and I would bump into each other. It's small that my mother would invade my privacy (sleeping with mouth open), and I can run from bathroom to our room with estimated 7 steps ( and now you're counting). Yes, that's how small our house is. But within that confined space, I learned how big the world is. 

 I was only a college student having our Psychiatric Immersion when I first visited St. Mary's Home For The Aged. I was surprised that it is actually near our home but didn't know that it existed until that day I first step foot on its gate. We held an activity knowing our elderly and had a chance to have a private time with them. I can vividly remember, although most of the time my memory is not serving me well nowadays (and I'm only 27) that I promised myself to go back there one day. Then life happens. School requirements overlapping one by one, pressures from graduating with decent grades (at least), and passing the Board Exams. Then I was able to received a decent marks on graduation, had my license to practice, and off I went to search my place in the world. The promise I once conceived vanished as goals started to occupy most of my bucket list. Life threw various experiences that somehow made me tough, made me more ambitious and I can tell in a way that I was blessed far more than what I prayed for. I traveled certain parts of the world, but mostly, when I am among the horizons of sand dunes or in the long walks of beach, there's always something that pulls me to go back to that core where I can feel most at peace.That core, that peace, is a luxury for someone who is restless and jovial. Today, I've known how big the world is, how small I am in that big world, but that life can always have a beautiful flip if we learn to give more of our self.

I entered the gate of St. Mary's Home For The Aged today. The bars are rusting and the upholstery in the little area where we held the activities 7 years ago welcomed me as well, for the holes are as visible as the gate. My family was with me and the morning smile of one of the Lolo's there gave an ambiance of melancholy. The chairs in the gymnasium were arranged in rows, prompting me that they have visitors for today aside from our unnoticed visit. I gazed on the garden filled with different plants and variants of flowers..
“Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.  If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will He clothe you"... We went directly in the gymnasium with the sack of clothes we arranged the previous night and waited for them while the caregivers are giving them a bath. I breathe the air that relieved all my worries for all the responsibilities waiting for me after this vacation. But then again, I came here to see them and offer myself in whatever way I know. Then Lola Bukay came in view, vibrant in her golden years, cheerful as ever when I was still a student. I gave her a hug and told her that I met her before, 7 years ago. One by one, the rest of them appeared fresh from morning bath. One of them is on wheelchair. She cannot remember her age or if she had taken breakfast. I ran my hand on the veins under her flimsy skin, held her for sometime while the saliva is leaking from her mouth whenever she speaks. Her head is a bit bowed down probably due to aging muscles on her neck. I bowed down too so she can see me. And when I saw those senile looks, I know how beautiful life is. I'm back to that core. I found that peace.

I have so much stories to tell you, of how a mom married to a doctor with an only child is there, or how being single without a family brought an 84 year old and had chosen to live his remaining days serving his fellows. I have so much to tell how that home on top of the hill is a paradise for the elderly who were left in their sundown days. I have so much to tell, but their stories are my fuel when the engine of my hope is a bit rusty, when life is pulling me down to knee. And so I chose to keep their stories in my heart, carry them wherever I am, and re-live it in trying times.

The gate welcomed me without ever asking where I came from, what I am capable to give, what I've been through in life. It opened its vast door with open arms, as if saying, "it may have taken you so long, but you are back. You may have been a different person now, but it doesn't matter anymore. You are back. You have trudged various outlines of life, you were bent , screwed up, well-spent, but you are back. It may have taken 7 years, but you fulfilled that childish promise. Receive my peace now that you are back".

P.S.

St. Mary's Home For The Aged is housing 20 elderly at present. They are located at Brgy. Alangilan Bacolod City. For any donations, you can visit their office at Redemptorist Church near University of St. La Salle.

 But if you want to have some life, visiting them is the next best thing!

..a date on the street..

I waited for sometime while my eyes scanned the surroundings. There are many inevitable changes that took place after 3 years since I've been there. Now the sky is filled with gloomy clouds, and drizzles will fall anytime without notice. I sat on one of the benches and waited, but I saw not even one of them. I stroll around holding the plastics of food that I bought earlier hoping to find just even one of them. I was persistent not to go home until I will find them. And on the grassy edge of the playground, my heart beats faster as Rachel, 12,  is inhaling that plastic container with toxic inhalant. Her blonde hair, mostly covering her face is enough to say that she hasn't been to wash room for days. I called her, and she finished washing her hands on a portion of stagnant water probably from the last night's downpour of rain. With her is Joemarie, age he cannot identify. He grown a bit from the previous years I saw him but just as Rachel, his hair is now blonde. We sat on the bench, and they hastily eat, the kind of hunger you would not wish your love ones to experience. I am aware that moment how it is to have nothing, and how a something could mean everything. I know what refuge is for I know how it is to feel lost. I know what sunshine means for I've been under drizzles many times. My momentary thoughts were distracted when Joemarie said that there are still many of them, and I told him to call them so they too can eat. And without fail, they appeared one by one. One of them asked me if I'm alone, I just nodded as she continued to eat two breads at the same time. She pre-empted my asking if she can bring as well for her mother. Who can say no?

My most hated moment came when the foods are running out of stocks. I can feel some drops of rain fell on my cap. The clouds are growing heavier, but then a portion of the sky is shining. As I watched them eat, I know that I am only feeding their temporary hunger. After this, tomorrow will be another struggle day. I just hope that  another Jesus in Blue Jeans will pass by and provide them with something that is more permanent. I have a long way to go when it comes to self-giving and serving, of delaying gratification and putting other's needs first. I don't have everything in life, but these kids are teaching me how to embrace what life is giving me. It's enough that Joemarie can remember my face, but forgotten my name, and just seeing them again is God's grace.

I texted my mom how I felt so good. And before I left, a beautiful rainbow appeared across the sky just beneath where we are sitting. 

I just had an appointment with God. 

I just had a date on the street. 

..just keep on pushing..

It was one day of energy and enthusiasm when I finally made the last charting, medication and bedside care for my two patients. The last three years, this has been the content of my everyday activities, and I thank God that He created me to be an advocate for the sick. I signed the last pages of my nurses' notes, surveyed the place I'll detach myself for the meantime, and the people that made significant imprints in my career. I never been so in love with my profession, not until death beds taught me to love life deeply with compassion. 

I hurried towards the elevator, smiling at the image I saw in the mirror. Just as I'm about to push the close button, someone is in a hurry to have a ride too. He's in his 20's riding in a wheelchair. He smiled brightly, and it was the most genuine smile I've seen for that day after a load of tasks in my shift. I was waiting in anticipation that someone is pushing his wheelchair, but he's as quick as saying that he managed to ride that chair by himself and manipulated it with a breeze. His speech is a bit distorted while he relates to me that his mother is admitted. I close the elevator and commended his efforts, as if we've known each other somewhere before. I offered to give him a push, and he was so thankful, but it was effortless because he was well-equipped in moving the wheelchair aided by his feet. I cannot even see a faint of  bitterness in his face. He is a handicapped. And he keeps on moving forward, he just keeps on pushing. "You are the most beautiful thing I ever saw today", I told him. And I bid him goodbye. He smiled, and went away in that throne that was his world. 

I always feel lucky having been able to see what others cannot see, and experienced what others could only read in a book. In a rush hour where elevators are just mediums to bring people to where they want to be, I felt that it became a stage where God showed a little piece of heaven. As I continue to walk in life, I will remember my own inner "handicaps", too. It's something that will not stop me to miss the bounty and yet to unfold beauty of life, but something to ring a bell to keep my feet on the ground, and my heart to heaven's above. 

He has access to your heart, just keep on pushing!=)

..that different kind of love..

"When you have your own kids someday, make them feel that you love them equally. No favorites played." I was preparing the due medicines for her mother when he approached me and said these words. I can sense some pain coming  from someone who must be a victim of favoritism. I don't know their family background and so the best thing  I did was just to listen. "She loved him dearly eversince he was a boy and now that she's sick and dying and is empty-pocket, he never gave glance at her". I took a while to stare at her on the bed, her right hand tapping her side as if she is putting a baby to sleep. At 84, it's been her habit to do like that since the day she came to our unit.  She has loving eyes that seemed to be waiting for a familiar face that didn't show up for years. I don't know if my mom feels that way too when her first born hasn't been home for years...

It's still dawn, and I can't force my eyes back to a good snuggle with my pillows. I woke up from a bad dream, a terrible one, and I don't want to remember a bit of details from it. The dim light from our room cannot pacify the fear that comes from the thought of that dream. I'm 27, and I confess that  I haven't outgrown yet being a crying baby when nightmares creep in. It takes a tearful prayer before I became sober. And when the fear subdued, I hold on for the remaining days when a woman would held my legs on her lap and examined the details, veins included,  and would conclude that I have small feet for my age. She doesn't often say she loves me, but her touch is more than all the words combined for a louder "Iloveyou". I know she has a strong faith in me that I can be more responsible with myself the day she freed me from her comfort zone, that I can handle my nightmares now that nobody will be there to wake up and say, "it's only a dream". When I asked her one time what she wanted me to give her, aside from grandchildren,  all that she had said was "just come home". For years, I've been looking for a guide to nourish my faith but it's only when I was away from home did I realized that I was given one the day I was born. A resemblance of selfless love when she opted not to get married again after being widowed at 32, of self-denial when she dropped off everything for herself to cater our needs, to live in grace trusting that God has ears for those who cling to Him. She's always been generous, to the point that she now lives alone in our house because she gave us the chance to live our dreams, learn from our mistakes and understand that we live only once and that we are not getting any younger. She's at peace even when storms are battering her strength. It's always a mystery to me how she'd done all those things. I guess, I'll be able to understand it all when I would be in her place. One day.

I may have been in a romantic relationships, but I will always search in my heart that different kind of love. And I'll get a taste of it in the days to come. 

I'll be home.

..when life requires a PUK code..

I cannot use my phone today. I woke up in the middle of a good sleep and realized that I wasn't able to set my alarm. I grabbed my phone  only to find that it required me to enter the security code. With one-eye-forced-to-open, I confidently entered the 4-digit combination but was denied 3 times until it finally required me the PUK code. Uh-oh, not when I have forgotten where in all my clutters did I place that small piece of paper I find its worth just today, not when all the numbers are stored in that tiny hard square with a bigger memory, not when I cannot memorize even my own number. The thing is, what happened has already happened. And so I went back to sleep, hugging the pillows occupying the bigger space of my bed. I cannot set aside the hundred things that are going right just because of one glitch of a day. Gratefulness taught me to look things that way.

You see, there are many instances when we feel that we can beat the odds and that we are invincible. I often have that feeling too, especially when my prayers are answered and I get to get the things I wanted. Humbling experience comes when we come to face circumstances when life is asking us a PUK code to genuine happiness, to worthy success, to die for relationship,  to unrelenting inner peace, to love unbound. If you trim it down to the last piece, we often find in our sullen days that the only code we needed is the one that never rusts through seasons, never fade in each passing day, never depreciates whatever worth we find in ourselves, and never asking but accepting.

Are there things in life you are eager to unlock? Use the most important code-- > G.O.D

P.S.

It can never be misspelled. =)

..die a little , bloom again..

The parched alley to where I was trudging determines the temperature of the day. Cars were randomly parked it didn't seem they were on a parking lot. I was hoping to see some other shades of happiness, but none was there. All the flowers in the garden already withered, and no remnant can clearly show to me a hint of possibility that somehow, somewhere in that place, hope sprang once upon an arid summer. Dismayed for a glimpse of hope, I opted to sat where I can still see the greater picture of the vicinity. I indulged to the moment when privacy befriended solace, and solitude brings forth a remarkable opportunity to glance back to how it is when you hit a point when it feels that things are starting to die out, and soon "withered" on its time. Seasons are made for a change, indeed.

In between those times of solitude, I tend to retract to my own cocoon. For staying in that place is a safe haven, that being quiet is more comforting than having anything to say, and learning to listen to that inner voice teaches me to stay guarded along the process of recuperating, regenerating, rebuilding. In that way, I am more convinced that when the time is right to get out of that shell, I am more ready to love again, prepared to be a comfort for others without losing something of myself  but gaining more of  what I might lost, and finally, to be able to listen intently when it's time for others to have their own share of being "withered".

For the moment, I can't see that shade and I am thankful. Because I have all the time to merit the things I am capable to do when I'm ready to bloom. I always believe that apart from the changes that are happening outside my world, God is transforming me beautifully, magnificently and miraculously within. I just need to die a little before I can bloom again.

..this side of heaven..

It's one of those days when I just want to feel sheltered from the enumerable drafts of life. That's the hard part when everything seems to be alright, you look for driving force to stay up and afloat. 

I pushed the door and settled myself in my favorite corner. As usual, I'm the luckiest girl being there alone and savoring the sultry side of being single. I've been thinking of making a post, but I was not able to bring with me my laptop. I ordered my usual favorite drink and lazily sat on those comfy sanctum. It's a big relief and surely became my habit to spend afternoons with myself. It seemed like nothing's wrong in the world, and that it is incapable of throwing injustices to gentle souls. I was not born a pious person, nor my little acts of piety save me from those moments when I become vulnerable to what I call "fits" of melancholia. "Dry your tears" said by my Indian friend when I came to her and said that I don't feel good when I woke up that day and unknowingly, tears are falling from my eyes. I can't even give a ring to my mom to avoidfrom giving her some things to worry about. As what I can reiterate, it's not always good when life gives you everything that you needed.

I asked for a paper and a pen from the guy in the counter, I tried to write some notes but I decided to be still and just enjoy the moment of doing nothing. I left the coffee shop and went inside the nearby store. I had a cone of vanilla icecream and chocolate chip cookie. Extra calories to brighten my day. I continued reading the book I can't finish for weeks due to some shifts of schedule. "Why bad things happen to good people?" If I have not known the author, I might say he had read my second year anniversary blog with the same question.=) 

The heaviness I felt was somehow relieved. I am not the type of person who would wallow in those moments of "fits". I have my ways to shake things off and call it a day no matter what. Even if it means spending time alone, or reading a good book while licking some vanilla icecream, or riding the bus with chocolate chip cookie. I reached my phone the moment I came home and called the person whose laughs shrugged off the weights of the world I felt in my heart. Can I ask you something?  "Are you going to get married?" she pre-empted on the other line and I can imagine her shining eyes. In the years to come, my subtle answer. I want to ask you something. "So you're getting married", she persisted. The line was cut off due to a poor signal. I phoned her again and asked, "Ma, how do you keep your being happy?" She was silent for the moment, and I'm holding back my tears for I knew I made her think that something is wrong with me. "I watch derby cocks". And I get a good laugh despite my crying spells. I told her that I'm serious and she said, "As long as you are happy, your sister is happy, everything is alright with me". That's it? "Yes, that's it. And come home".

I still have so much to learn when it comes to embracing the small graces in life. Even when things come to worst, the going gets tough, the tough gets going and the wind whirls up in an untimely manner, I cannot hate anything about life. For even in the darkest part of this world, in the most hurting situations and unwanted circumstances, God has always a way of showing us this side of heaven. My mom showed it to me.=)