..when birds bowed down ..

Photo Credit to I Heart It

How do you begin to sum up a life?...

I sat and laid my keys on the cloistered coffee shop. I chose that time of the day to eschew noise from the other customers. I woke up with dwindling enthusiasm (yeah, optimist do have that). My confidante knows why. I sat as usual to the corner near the glass pane where I can see the leaves swaying and  birds keenly looking for feeds on the grass. They would fly then back to the ground then fly again. Why birds are like that? They have wings to search but they keep coming on the level ground. Humble act. They were orchestrated to bow down no matter how high they fly. Or else, they won't survive. My order arrived and I was distracted from that thought. I opened my Kindle and continued reading a newly downloaded book from my sister.  How do you begin to sum up a life? This was the question that added to my feeling of nostalgia. I put it back to the table, careful not to spill a drop of hot choco that I was stirring relentlessly as I cannot shake off the lines that provoked such powerful emotion. I grabbed the fork and knife and started slicing the cheese croissant that was served hot, fresh from microwave. I was about to drew the first bite when the passerby smiled. That's the only disadvantage of sitting on a transparent corner. You get distracted, or you become the source of distraction. I took the sip of hot choco and look at the man on the counter. His good understanding of English prompted me to try throwing the question at him. I repulsed with the second thought that he might think  I'm out of my mind (without noticing the existing injury to my brain cells) and drive me out to my comfy space. I instead bit my lips, keeping in mind that I am living in a city that knows no democracy and public relation of opposite sex is a gross disobedience in the rule of thumb. Another customer came in and made his order (eavesdropping's an easy task when you monopolize the space). That was the time I formulated how to begin a conversation. He started operating the machine grinding the ice for a frappe when I asked, how long you've been here? And he continued doing his job. I'd like to think that he didn't hear me. Maybe. It was the first time I felt a man is not interested in  a woman. And I promised myself never to ask him again. Sometimes, when my insanity strikes, I fear for myself. Pwamis.

Back to the question, the birds I saw earlier led me to at least make a sane answer before stepping out of that coffee shop. That many times in my life, I experience moments of being "high". Success is not foreign to me, and I don't want to brag anything about that word, for I am still a persistent traveler. Many times though, like those birds orchestrated to bow down , I get a taste of being grounded back to the level ground. I don't complain for in my sullen weaknesses, I found more grace. It brings me to a point that enables me to understand people going through the same experience in life. That my loose grips are occult blessings so I can hold closer to Him. That makes me survive. And the day goes on. 

So then, I can start up to sum up my life by beginning to enumerate my wounds, my struggles, my afflictions. From there, too, I can start elaborating twice the blessings extracted out of those blemishes. Many calls it insanity. I call it opportunity.

When the sky turned to dusky red, I took the last sip of my drink. I will remember this day when birds bowed down. Wherever my feet will lead me, or my mind will reach the endless possibilities, I will  have this thought that strength is at its fullest when we learn to humble ourselves and receive the unfailing love of the One who made bowing down a part of creation. 

"Faith is about doing. You are how you act, not just how you believe".-Have A Little Faith

..staying connected..

As the main door of the hospital swung open, I had the taste of  warmth of the evening air. Since the bus  hasn't arrived yet, I sat on the nearby ally and watched the people passing by. It's a busy hour for people who wanted to be well. There's a sight of a father throwing his baby boy in the air in giggle, a daughter pushing the wheelchair of her old mom, children running and playing, footsteps in rhythm, doctors arguing of what's-the-final-diagnosis-of-who, smoking guard sitting on his post, and the musical noise and clutters from people everywhere. I saw the highest tower in the city glistening in prudent, changing its lights as if dancing to the pedestal. I saw my shadow from where I am sitting and my hair being blown away by the gentle wind of which the scent of my shampoo reminds me that it's been past 12 hours since I opened my eyes and called it a brand new day. I just sat there, swinging my legs in patience, thanking the One who gives all the noise and clutters, the very moment when I am tired from work and He would give me some moments to look at the world in its truest sense, to feel the unhurried wind caressing your hair, to fill your lungs with every joy of just being there...present, alive, with a beating heart. 

A little girl holding her bag of sweets throw her beautiful smile at me before the bus came. I recognized that smile. It's the answer to my wordless prayer last night when I am lying in my bed, exhausted, holding that scapular that came from Carmel, my favorite church. I held it between my hands tightly, no words could I think of saying. I just held it tight, and tears kept falling from my eyes. I knew by then that I already said my prayer. And that I am well-understood in my silence. 

The things that the world offers complicate our rules to happiness. Today, I may have not attended church, I may be absent from the family's meal, I may have been in a hurry to catch up a ride, or a loose grip of the spirit. But there's always a moment when God is pulling you on the other end of the rope towards Him. It may come as noise and clutters from strangers, a smile from a kid, of just the dancing lights from the tower. Does it matter? Why should it be? It's the peace in knowing that God is making ways to stay connected with us. Feel that connection in the most simple ways. I just did today.=)

I'm always in touch with you.-God

..from strips to brand..

Sitting in a corner and seeing my toes made me realized that I indeed have a busy week and myriad of line up tasks. A comfy couch and a functioning laptop are enough to unleash the pressures of the day. Wherever is my whereabouts at this very moment does not count anymore. As long as my heart beats, air is not overpriced, and love is like shadow that guides me around, I know I always have enough. 

Seeing the sky in a glimpse while my eyes are starting to become heavy, I could not hear anything but just the heaving of the evening air. I could stare at the plain sky in all silence while wondering how wide it can get, and how impossible for me to get out of it. God's love is like that, I assured myself without any hint of doubt. And while the music is playing, I remember a thought that made my eyes teary.

When I was a kid, we have an old neighbor who used to make rags out of excess textiles. Something that has no use, crumpled and rejected by the tailor, extra pieces from sewn garments and considered as "patapon" or garbage. She's very old that I'm afraid she'll sew her fingers and not the extra cut outs of textiles. To my amazement, I spent hours watching how she craftily made each pieces of those "garbage" of different styles, textures, designs, hues and colors fit into that sack that has no use. In a day or two, those cut outs, those worthless and useless pieces become a whole thing, one thing projects beauty, worth and use that she can sell and made value out of it.

In life, we are susceptible to trample down, being robbed by our peace of mind, cut into pieces by different afflictions we do not have any control of. Because as what my mentor said, the thing that blocks our journey towards our destination is LIFE itself. Life pops up, and anything can happen there's no way we can ascertain. We feel shattered at times and stripped into pieces. We do not know how to put things back together, or how to fit into this world of standards. It's a challenge how to find your worth, your value. It dawned to me that oftentimes, we are like those sheets of textiles. We undergo moments of feeling rejected, crumpled and of no use. But just like our old neighbor, God never wastes what He has created. He mastered the art of turning garbage into valuable things, of putting a worth on what the world sees as worthless, of converting what is useless to what is useful. And when He laid His hands on those "patapon", magic happens.   For in an in-depth view, even garbage has no escape from God's unyielding desire to love. Because in His economy, nothing, absolutely nothing goes to waste. 

I know you have a lot to tell the world of how it is being unfair to you. But give God a chance to tell you how the world is too small for Him to hold, how your past mistakes are too small over how cosmic His heart is, how the mammoth problems you hurled is too light-feathered for Him to carry. Oftentimes, being cut out and stripped are just a camouflage of how He is preparing You to be His masterpiece. Be patient in your being broken, hurt and wounded. He will sew the pieces together, make the best out of those cuts, form it into one such beautiful thing and put the best market value in it. And by the way, it will be a limited stock. It's branded by God.

Why it made me teary-eyed? Because I'm not too far from those binned textiles. Not until my Great Tailor sewed those pieces and put His brand on my strips---->"God's Beloved".

Happy Weekend!=) 

..Why Filipino Nurses Are The Best In The World ..

"I solemnly pledge myself before God and in the presence of this assembly, to pass my life in purity and to practice my profession faithfully".. This is the starting lines from the Florence Nightingale's Pledge recited during our oath taking ceremony years back. When I was still struggling during my college years to earn my degree, this Pledge never sink in as much as it did today when I am already practicing my profession. Much more that I am serving not in my own country but in a foreign land. 

I was amazed how people from different nationalities appreciate that Filipino Nurses are the best in the world when it comes to rendering utmost care. I have a good encounter of one patient going to our hospital for treatment, not because we have high end facilities but because "there are lots of Filipino nurses" in our hospital.

Why Filipino nurses are the best in the world? 

We give our time.

Noticed that knowledge is not on my top list. I believe that knowledge and skills are already inherent to Filipino nurses. Time is relevant in sick patients, whether it's a matter of an hour or minutes. And so in a 12-hour shift, if the average urination according to the survey is 13 times in a day, 3-4 times is lucky enough for nurses.  When you sit and open your meal box and about to bite that chicken drum stick that is not already crispy because it was prepared 6 in the morning and you're about to eat it at 2pm, then the patient called and ask for tissue box, the nurse laid down that chicken drum stick and went to answer the patient need. Yes, even if he is only asking for a tissue box. I would want to convey that being a nurse, the best to express your love is giving your time. And Filipino Nurses have so much to give. I don't know for some rich people out there who is saying that we are just "Taga pag-alaga". I beg to disagree but we are more than just that. Maybe old age and death bed can explain better why you should hire a Filipino nurse when your own health fails. 

We listen.

When I came here in the East, language barrier is one of the problems I encountered especially that communication is a basic ingredient in establishing rapport with your patients and their family. As I mentioned above, due to our inherent flexibility in adapting to any circumstances, acquiring new language is an added skill. And to listen, it's not only involving your ears. We involve our heart. That spells out why we are distinct in the delivery of health care services. Sometimes, patients are not only sick physically. They are sick emotionally. More often, they don't need much talking. They need much listening. We became their absorbent sponge. And Filipino nurses don't have two ears. We have extended ears for that matter. I don't know for some rich people out there who is saying that nurses don't have to be good. I beg to disagree but we need to be one, because holistic approach is our goal. Maybe when your money cannot buy someone to listen to you in your senile years, you might appreciate what a Filipino nurse can do.

We don't count the cost.

I was arranging the Crash Cart (literally a cart containing what you need when a patient go on flatline or respiratory arrest) around 9 in the evening, and I am not halfway refilling what's missing when another code was announced. Everything else becomes irrelevant when someone is in need to be revived. The clock is waving it's time for a good ride back home but the messy Crash Cart seemed to be pulling my vision saying "I need some fixing, STAT!" 

Filipino nurses are like that. We left our families back home, enduring the long hours of work just to send the children to good school (and the kids are taking up Nursing just like mom), meet the basics of the family, savings for rainy days and the list goes on. We are like Crash Cart, armed with what you need the moment you go flat. Though behind the cap and white uniform, we too bear our own individual burdens. But we do not count the cost, we count the moments to save life. I don't know about rich people out there saying we are just Room Nurse. I beg to disagree. Maybe when your tracing becomes unsteady and the bus is waiting for a good ride back home, I will not count going home late just to revive you. Because a Filipino nurse is like that.

I could count more adjectives and verbs to elaborate why my profession is a noble one. Though I am grateful that it is acknowledged and honored and profoundly appreciated by others, it's sad to think that your own people is the one who would demerit what should be uplifted. You are entitled of your own opinion. I am entitled, too, not to listen. Because one opinion will not change how I look at my profession, how I carry out my Pledge, and how Filipino nurses renders care. 

I'm a nurse, a Filipino Nurse. And I'm proud of it!