..The Face of Christmas..

I was in the elevator flipping my old Nokia phone. Let me describe it to you: I received it months before I graduated in college, some of the white face cover is peeling off and you have to hold the battery pack to counteract the law of gravity. Why I'm still using an obsolete phone? Because the worth of the one who gave it to me is far more than the worth of the phone itself. The woman smirked at me as I carefully  flipped it to answer a call. In a world that puts greater weight on material things, I felt I was measured by the face value of my phone. To put an end to the uncomfortable look out of using my "advance" Nokia mobile, I took my iPhone5 and read the reminder I kept for sometime that says "Don't give up your joy". Believe me, the smirk disappeared. 

It has always been a repeated question in the many Christmas Eve Mass that I have attended asking, "What if the Inn-keeper knew that it was Mary, the bearer of God's promise who is knocking at his door in that unholy hour?" 

Was she also a victim of a world that puts an emphasis on face value?

This Christmas, I pray that we all look back to that little world of manger. He could have given Mary the suite room booking  in Makati Med to deliver Jesus. But why He had chosen the simplest, humblest way?

I can only think of one.

God wants us to Simplify.

It's not what we have that makes life beautiful. It's what we can give that makes the lives of others worth living. Because between the silent of the night and the roar of heaven, God is teaching us to be more kinder than we can, more loving than we should be, more grateful than you already are, and  far better than good. 

I pray that you will see what gravity cannot take away: LOVE, PEACE, SURRENDER.

Merry Christmas!

..Finding Love and the Size 7 shoes..

I was out one day to look for a gift for our Thanksgiving Party. I happened to visit a store which really has good finds for clothes and shoes. A pair of white strapped sandal caught my attention primarily for its simplicity. I fit the right part with a marvelous smile as it looked so perfectly well with my foot. With time constraint to be back at the hospital before the curfew, I hurriedly took my size and paid it. Days unfolded fast and came the day to flaunt my new foot wear. I slipped my right foot and fixed it righteously. Then came the left part. I wondered why I can't fix it well since I managed to do it without sweat to my right foot. The big shameful realization hit me like an ice bucket challenge. 

I paid for a different pair of what I seemed to be a size 7 shoes.

Since I made it to a point not to give up my joy in whatever circumstance I'm in, I took a deep breath, not just once but how many times until I find laughing at myself.  

While I was on the bus going to the party and the sunset is so melodramatic I can't figure out where it took its stunning spell of beauty, I tried to extract the lessons from the loophole of hurrying things in life. 

Especially in love. 

Lesson # 1.

Just like buying that shoes, not because it fit well on your right foot, you have to forget the left one. In any relationship,  I believe in the cliche that goes "it takes two to tango". And in order to do the tango, the two should compliment each other. One has to give, the other to give in return. He must be interested in your passions, and you propel him to excel in things he believes make him better. 

Even if that means watching NBA together.

I don't think you can move forward gracefully with a different pair of shoes.

Chemistry is not a subject. It has to be in the subject(s).

Lesson #2.

Not because Time is ticking like a bombshell you have to sacrifice the entire reasons for committing to someone. I remained single for years because I believe you can't force love to take place. It has to happen naturally. Not "just because" everyone's getting hitch I'll hook up with someone else. Over my dead curves ( I mean my nose bridge) haha  

If you do so, you might just end up paying the price and later realize it's not worthy enough.

And useless enough.

Lesson #3.

That day, I wore slippers instead going to the hospital. Its comfort is still my refuge.

Choose the kind of love that makes you feel good about yourself despite of your many inadequacies. The one you can walk with distances you never thought you can manage to traverse. Because his presence enables you to aim higher. Distance then, becomes a number.

Sometimes, among the many shoes you're looking for, you'll realize that the slippers in the silent corner wins your heart over a stiletto.

Find a good slippers.

I'll keep that mismatched pair of shoes. One day, I'll snuggle in bed with my "best pair of slippers" and I'll whisper in his ear how I came to finally find our perfect fit after all the mismatches.

..The Soft Rants Of A Girl Who Writes: An Anniversary Special..

Four years ago, I fell in love. A cup of coffee, an empty space, my flair for words, my comfort with solitude, chewing some courage, digesting the light of my every experience, and the passion that resonates within me gave birth to my 4-year blogsite.

I was worst with writing back then. There were times when I cannot spell properly and for someone who loves to read and memory gap hasn't taken its toll on my healthy brain cells, it's quite disappointing that I have to Google it. There were times that despite the racing heartbeat to make an article, I ended up signing out and goes to sleep. There were times when I would say, "God, I can't write!"

 But my tenacity to express eluded my fears and setbacks.

Who cares if I will tell my stories? Who cares if I cannot use the right subject-verb agreement?  This is my platform, my stories are the prose I am able to rant. I'm going to write until the day comes that I won't be able to scribe.

I remember the words of Mother Teresa in one of the documentaries of her life. "If I didn't pick up one man and carried him in my arms, I wouldn't have able to carried the hundreds and thousands of poor in the streets. Take a single step in faith."

179 posts, 4 years of sharing fearlessly, 4 years of "still learning" in most humble ways, 4 years of being in love every day with what I'm doing, 4 years of still choosing to be in love with the gift He endowed to me. And it started with a single article 4 years ago.

I am an unadorned woman, probably lacks many skills when it comes to written media. But for the past years of blogging, I learned that I can trust my intuition. I learned that I can trust my heart. That if you want to touch lives, you have to be brave to learn to unravel the daily lessons that mostly comes in disguise of pain and discomfort, the dark lengths and corners, the inevitable gloomy days.
Because everything that happens has something to do with making us stronger, more resilient with what is coming, more trusting with the grace that won't leave us and will never leave us until we finally able to say that life is always and has always been beautiful if our hearts are open to be empowered.

Thank you once again for the years we've been together. For the unholy hours I would publish my posts and you would read it along with your cup of coffee or your worn out pajama. For forgiving my injustices when it comes to grammar and all. For allowing my own experiences to guide you in your struggles. For taking my life's lessons as your pointing arrow to either follow it or making it better.

Thank you for knowing me by reading my stories.

In my austere simplicity, I knew I am loved.
So I'm giving it back through the girl who writes.

..Don't Trade What You Can't Afford to Lose..

With all the good things that seemed to have taken me aback, I lust for "slowing down".

It's not that I'm complaining for all the scandalous blessings that I am receiving, for heaven knows how I feel so unworthy for my buckets of "thank you God". 

But in a world fixated by "more", I'm loving the idea of "enough".

Last July, I celebrated my birthday in a different way. Partly because there's no loud music and drinks, and well, being tipsy is not tolerated in my conservative family. ( Don't tell my mom my binge drinking experience). There's a grain of truth in what they say that as you matured, you clearly identify what's more valuable in life. Family, for one, is something you cannot trade with anything else. 

I want to write articles about anything under the sun, but truly, I confess that I write better when I talk about family.

I am a nurse by profession, but when a family member is sick, God knows I can easily forget I am a licensed one. An ICU nurse, for that matter.

I could be a sister to anyone, but when Robz is calling me Manang, I swear my heart burst for joy.

I can be a daughter to my older colleagues, but when my mother would hug me to sleep, I know she never learned to let go of her little girls.

I was eavesdropping to a mother talking about her kids, about raising them and the struggles of being a single parent. She got my heart when she said " I can take losing all the battles in life. But not the battle when it comes to my children. Not them."

It was early dawn and I cannot sleep. Probably because the aircondition in the hotel where we stayed for a night is too cold for my skin to bear. Probably because I can't get over with the joy of having us together in one table, dressed smartly, as we never did in the past. Or probably because I love the habit of stalking my family, all in one room, hiding in the comfort of thick blankets and the spacious bed. Probably because it's too much to contain that of the many blessings thrown at you, it's not a sin to filter the ones that makes you a better individual.

In that vacation, my relationship between me and my sister was tested  when we had an almost come-to-life argument about my booking in my out of the country travel. Tension was already building between our exchange in messages. It came to a point when I decided dropping the travel if it will cost our relationship. I was amazed when my sister said, "I'll do everything that I can so you can get the booking". Under the drizzles in our roof, my tears made a louder sound.

That's when I realized that in life, choices are at hand. It's a question of priority; and relationship should be the least, or as much as you can avoid, not the one to suffer.

Tomorrow is Sunday, how's your relationship going on? 

Have you trade it lately with the busyness in career? 

If you can't afford to lose what is deemed important to you, then probably it's time to give it a second thought. 

..The Unexplored Part of Happiness..

Long way back months before going home, I was able to had this hearty conversation with my Auntie. For a normally thinking person, a question thrown like  "when you were my age, what were those things you wished you did that you weren't able to do?" might give you a hint that the one asking this is a) in a questionable emotional state of equilibrium b) "may pinagdadaanan" (going through something) c) avoiding future regrets.

I have spent the better parts of my vacation thinking about the concept of Quarter-Of-A-Life crisis. That which as I defined n. something incomprehensible that you are trying to comprehend. 

On tougher nights, I would cry in sobs I don't want to hear. On brighter days, I simply stay where I needed to be.

I was in Calaguas Island for days. 

I slept in a tent beside the shore, under the canopy of stars. The lights are off at 7 o'clock in the evening. No Facebook, no Instagram. You can hear the splashing of waves against the boat anchored securely on mangroves, giving a blinking red light among the shimmering horizons. There's no trace that a city is existing at hand. There's only you, your God, and the things in your heart. 

Looking at the blinking light, I wondered why I waited for me to turn 29 before doing these things. I've been working hard for years that I felt I failed to reconnect with myself. Success is so tempting and I understand why many bask in its glory and attention. But it could be so blinding that it diverts your energy to fleeting moments. Moments you have given up, like sitting inside the tent watching the sea and breathing the unmolested air of serenity. Moments of sipping a cup of coffee with your love ones, talking how the neighbor's daughter got pregnant at 18, and laughed why her own daughter hasn't brought any man at home. Moments when you removed your costly Birkenstock sandals, and realized that there's nothing more tactile than walking barefooted and feeling the earth's heat. Moments you woke up sweating from long hours of sleep as the afternoon sun peeks inside your see-through tent roof and you brace yourself saying, "where all those years gone? 

A study conducted in Harvard University states that many people today goes to bed more stressed out and burned out. The house and car mortgage, the iPhone6 plan, the WiFi bills, the condo rentals, and the thought of your next profile pic. There are more people who are nurturing envy since a friend just checked-in in an out-of-the-country, where-the-who-is-with-whom status, more people less grateful since they too have practiced the Art of Comparing. 

The social media can do.

The world is so challenging and it's a battle of the fittest. But perhaps, the goal is not to get out of life surviving. Because surviving is impossible without accepting that not all questions have answers, so as not all incomprehensible can be comprehended--haunting as they are.

I saw the kids pumping water for taking their bath. I asked them to smile as I focused my lens on their direction. They did without asking why. 

I guess, I should learn to do the same thing. 

I should abandon everything to the One who are all-knowing. That's the only way to explore the unexplored part of happiness.

..Mr. Perfect and Mr. Right..

(C) Lovewaits

It was the first time I get to stalk someone else. When he would steer his notebook on his index finger, the only thing he would bring to school aside from his pen. He would put gel on his hair every teenage boys does on highschool days. I love to steal stares on his dark eyes. That's when I realized that beauty and brain is a fact. I proved it true that butterflies could survive in your stomach whenever I would open his love letters, with dictionary by my side. That's when I also realized how poor I was in grammar. I was the luckiest to be his girl.  I fell inlove with Mr. Perfect.

So they say that love is good, but love is not easy. I had the taste of my first heart break.

So came another one. And because I knew how hard bouncing back from a break-up was, I've been more cautious. Cautious not to fall inlove with my best friend who've been there all along. I'm the first to read the poems he would compose, thinking that it was meant for someone else. Or so I thought when he disclosed one day, out of our confrontations, that it was for me. They say that friendship is the best foundation of any relationship. If that is true, then I could have mistaken that I've fallen inlove with Mr. Right.

The coffee in my table started to cool down from my typing and deleting. It's not Thursday for throwbacks but the night compelled me down the lane of bittersweet memories. But that was it. Memories.

I learned a hard-earned lesson when I went on a blind date some years ago. When we met, he was sort of shorter than me, faster to hold my hand when we were inside the movie house. I phoned my sister to rescue me out of the situation I promised I'll never do again. 

It's when I learned to wait.

Because life will give us people who will teach us to redefine our views of Mr. Perfect and Mr. Right. Heartaches go with it. Expect moments of abyss. When it feels like doubting. When nights are unforgiving. When details are disappointing. When the pieces doesn't seem to fit. 

Because Mr. Perfect doesn't necessarily be your Mr. Right. And accept that Mr. Right doesn't have to be perfect.

On the other part of the world, someone is sleeping soundly. And how I wish I was there staring at him, touching his face, pinching his nose and soothing it after with a soft kiss. Someone who defies distance. Someone who defies time. He could have been Mr. Perfect, and Mr. Right. 

But I believe most in Right Moment. In God's Best.

..the past pain is making sense..

I was on board back home from Siem Reap, Cambodia. Still feeling melancholic because my holiday is nearing to end, and at the same time, feeling fulfilled for the opportunity that I dated myself alone for the 4 days of travelling. The lady beside me keeps on staring, and I started to feel unsettled. I shy my look away from her and instead, I focused my gaze on the clouds.

"Are you the daughter of  Arlene?". She broke my pensive thought upon hearing my mother's name. I nodded and she started to tell her story. 

A mother of 3, she's been working abroad for years to bring food on the table and send the kids to school. I thought that she's flying for a holiday. "My husband just passed away. I don't know why but I remember your mother the time when your father died. We were in the same situation then.". I feel like there's a lump on my throat I can hardly swallow. The clouds momentarily blurred as tears started to well. No words came out of my mouth. I reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. That's the best thing I can think of doing to let her know I understand her pain. I listened to her as she poured out her struggles to be in that flight. And I discreetly weeping inside. Her eyes looked weary from days of probably crying. I remember the days after my father's death when it seemed to be so dark I cannot see the clouds. Only the so much anguish of being left behind with words unsaid. Sitting beside her, and the clouds passing by our window, I knew God works in peculiar ways we seldom understand. 

The plane landed safely. I reached for my wallet and found the remaining dollars I was supposed to spend for a Khmer massage and fine dining to see an Apsara dance back in Cambodia. I folded it in her palm. She was hesitant, but I insisted.  

My friends keep on asking me why I chose to travel in Cambodia. I cannot exactly tell. But I know there's a reason why I have chosen that place, reason why on that exact date of flight, reason why I am on that seat number, reason why I was not able to have that massage and fine dining, reason why I need to feel the hurts of the past, reason why I am on that flight. 

God orchestrated things to work for good. 

And sometimes, He uses you for all those reasons.

I told my mother all the things that happened on that flight when we had our lunch together. "The past pain is making sense", she tearfully commented. 

It's my best flight so far.

..conquering my Goliath: The Cambodia Travel..

After making through the days of staying under the heat of the sun, travelling hours by land and by water, and the type that which your clothes haven't even dried yet, I'm up again to saunter a different kind of travel.

I have a confession to make.

I have an ostensibly poor sense of direction.

Though I love my solitude most of the time, I'd never went through any travel by myself. It's one of my Goliaths.

This year as I turned to crispy digits of 29, I figured out how it is to get out of my secluded cocoon and experience something I always wanted, but never done before. 

To travel alone.

I ensconced myself in a 10-minute drive Paradise Eco-Resort in Siem Reap, the gate way to the great Angkor Wat.

The lush green veranda welcomed me as I woke up to a fine bed of silk adorned by mosquito net. It seemed like I am existing in the 13th century atmosphere.

{BELOW} 

The incense-filled temple that was once the center of religious activities was invigorating. It swept away the scorching heat of the sun. Momentarily, I close my eyes and venerate the God I believed in.

Striding the insides of the Khmer Empire, the intricate wall carvings, the art that stood the test of time, proud of its existence despite of being ruined is undoubtedly breath-taking.

{BELOW} The mystical faces of Baylon Temple

I've never been to the highest point of my life, literally speaking, until I managed to reach the top of Baylon Temple. It's was Buddhist day, the day of their worship when I stroll around, so some of the peaks were close for foreigners according to tradition. Luckily, I was escorted by a tour guide fluent in English. I questioned my own accent. 

This photo was taken by a Canadian photographer, of whom after taking the picture asked, "did you like it?". 

And I wondered where Starbucks is located at that moment. 

{ABOVE} 

How nature can be as robust as the structures of Ta Prohm, made famous by Angelina Jolie's Tomb Raider.

More than the faces I've seen in the Baylon Temple are the faces of different people. People, whom like me, is on journey. For Service.

For Mystery.

 For Mercy

 For Life's special gifts.

For Dreams yet to fulfill.

 For Love.

As the sun beats down, and the air brushes my hair sweetened with Cambodian breeze, I realized that Time is sometimes a traitor. It slips away undetected. It doesn't wait. It passes away quietly while the world is hurling by so many noises, like it did for how many centuries to the great Angkor Wat, to the Khmer Dynasty. But we are not like these structures. We will decay in no time. We will be ruined by nature. We will be forgotten. We will be ruined by Time. 

And so while life hasn't snap away, while you can play with time, go out and explore both the nonchalant and clandestine corners of the world. Don't be afraid, for help will always come. I've seen it in the face of strangers I met, in the face of Cambodian children selling souvenirs for a living, in my driver, in Soepo, my hostess, even the intangible touches of sun and air. 

I've seen God's different faces. 

And I like it.  

..if you want to travel light..

I am waiting for my boarding time as to this writing. I was fetched by my sister from the airport yesterday. We were sharing stories as we usually do. This one grasped my heart the most....

How did Isaac found Rebecca?

Abraham was very old then when he ordered his servant to look for a wife for his son Isaac. Without Isaac's knowing, the servant travelled as far as outside the city as he was ordered. It was late afternoon, the servant  along with his camels rest near the well and prayed to the Lord:

*"You, Lord, are the God my master Abraham worships. Please keep your promise to him and let me find a wife for Isaac today. The young women of the city will soon come to this well for water, and I’ll ask one of them for a drink. If she gives me a drink and then offers to get some water for my camels, I’ll know she is the one you have chosen and that you have kept your promise to my master."

While he was still praying, a beautiful unmarried young woman came by with a water jar on her shoulder. She was Rebekah, the daughter of Bethuel, the son of Abraham’s brother Nahor and his wife Milcah. Rebekah walked past Abraham’s servant, then went over to the well, and filled her water jar. When she started back, Abraham’s servant ran to her and said, “Please let me have a drink of water.”

“I’ll be glad to,” she answered. Then she quickly took the jar from her shoulder and held it while he drank. After he had finished, she said, “Now I’ll give your camels all the water they want.” She quickly poured out water for them, and she kept going back for more, until his camels had drunk all they wanted. Abraham’s servant did not say a word, but he watched everything Rebekah did, because he wanted to know for certain if this was the woman the Lord had chosen.

Did Isaac know that his father Abraham is doing all these things for him? No.

Did Isaac asked Abraham to do all those things for him while he was busy doing the things his father asked from him? No.

Just like God who is our Father, He too works in silence for our best. Even without our asking! Even without our knowing! Sometimes we might overlook and think that God is asking too much from us. "Lord, anu na naman po ito?" But what tears that escaped our eyes that the Lord does not see? What pain that crushes our hearts that He did not feel? What cross we are carrying that He did not win? What battles are we going through that He will not triumph?

I surrender my all to You who are all-knowing, Lord. Take my yoke. You know my soul, You know my heart. My soul is at peace with Your unequivocal love. Grant me the courage to say YES to Your will as You work behind  for our "Rebekah".

With that, I know I can travel light.

.. the rear view ..

I was on a driving lesson with my uncle. The sun is about to set when I finally able to have a smooth hold on the steering wheel, sweating hands and all. Who wouldn't when you're driving without a license (hi cops out there!). 

We stopped at a nearby top of the hill. The bedazzled city started appearing with lights scattered like stars in a smoke-filled sky. I sat on the driver's seat, comparing the busy life out there and my laid-back moment in here. I saw the darkened path from behind when I glanced at the rear view mirror. The trees formed an arch alongside the street giving me an impression that I just went out from what it seemed to be a tunnel-like way. The mountain is obliterated. And lights from household also started to appear. I imagined smoke coming from their kitchen, preparing their tables, and someone must be staring down from that height. Staring at where I am. And wondering what kind of light it must be. Not knowing that inside that car, I too, is wondering what kind of lights down in there.

I started the engine again, my hands more relaxed, my heart overwhelmed with a reverberating sound. I don't know if I should call it JOY, or PEACE, or GRATEFULNESS, or probably, a concoction of both, or of all. I wonder how to freeze moments like that, when nothing seems to matter anymore. When you forgot what you worry about. When you forgot to worry at all.

I keep my hands steadied on the steer, looking at the rear view every now and then. What's left behind is utterly beautiful.

I drove home silently. I figured out our house with smoke coming from the kitchen, table prepared for dinner, and my family waiting.

I keep my hands steadied on the steer, more focused on the forefront. What's coming is perpetually promising.

I was dumbfounded.

Roads are meant to be traveled forward.

Goodnight!

..You may not know me, but I know who you are..

(c) littlerosetrove

One day, a man went to a souvenir shop to buy something for his wife. 

It's about noon time when he entered the shop and was greeted by the sales lady in the counter. 

After sometime of waiting, the lady asked what he is looking for. 

He said he want something for his wife. He hadn't missed a Sunday not seeing her.

 "Only that she doesn't recognized me. Alzheimer's", he said without a tint of regret.

"Why do you keep on visiting her when she doesn't even know who you are", the lady asked attentively.

"Because even though she might not know me, I KNOW WHO SHE IS".

It was Father's Day of last year when I heard this story in The Feast PICC with my sister. I was a first time attendee, and indeed, it's one of the happiest place on Earth. Robz and I were holding hands while we were praising the Lord for all the undeserved blessings. 

Oftentimes, I myself am undergoing episodes of Alzheimer's. It's a disease that occurs when we set ourselves apart from God. 

When job invades our time .

When bills are engrossed.

When deadlines keep knocking at our doors.

When disappointments are unbearable.

When hurts are overwhelming.

When prestige and success are blinding.

I believe God is not susceptible to memory loss, to brain hypoxia, and even to anterograde and retrograde amnesia. For even though there are a hundred and one instances we tend to stray away, you are enough to be His hundred and one reason to say, "It doesn't matter if you don't know Me. What matters is I know who you are. My beloved".

What's your "Alzheimer's"

Here's a friendly prescription:

Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne?

Though she may forget, 

I will not forget you!- Isaiah 49:15

..a little badge of joy..

I went out of the hospital holding an almond-chocolate ice cream bar. It's the sweetest thing I had next to the full moon illuminating the lush green garden. I put my thumb on the sky with one eye close. Nicholas Spark is right. "Wherever you are in the world, the moon could never be bigger than your thumb". It just took an ice cream to release those happy hormones. Low-maintenance chick defined ;)

Just as life undergoes different seasons, it's a gift to have a courageous spirit to endure every stage. The moments when green leaves start to turn brown, and the soil that was once capable of helping you grow is now parch. It doesn't mean that life begins to fade as well. Because living requires a decision. Everyday. Every fraction of a moment. Every strike of light from nowhere. Just as what I've said in my longtime status:

Life can be likened to season. We toil and sweat to meet the unending needs that oftentimes arise from wanting things. We cannot avoid the blaze of trials and difficulties, of losing time from unanswered opportunities, words unsaid, love never showed, embraced left untouched, dreams left unfulfilled. You feel so scorched. It's like Summer, and you wanted some rain somewhere. When things go the way we want it to be; blessings pouring, no strain of getting the latest gadget, business doing well, bank accounts getting fatter, complacency starts to set in. You forget what a hug feels like, or getting a warm smile on ordinary days, or a company of a nice stranger. Coldness knocks in your door and you wonder why. It feels gloomy. It's like Winter, and you wanted sunshine somewhere.

Life is like a season, my friend. It does not stay long. If you are scorched and burned out and all, rain will fall somewhere. Dance with it. If you got a chill when nothing seems to be changing, rays of sun will strike somewhere. Embrace it.

Seasons come and go. And before it leaves, it will teach us what matters most and who matters most in life. Whatever season you maybe, cheer up. It will not stay long. Take a higher leap. Because seasons come and go. Only God stays. Because only God is NOT a season. 

Ended up this day with another patient who underwent an open heart surgery. As I walked past the lush green garden,  licking my half-bitten ice cream, I come to think that somehow, along the grassy plains of my life, my heart is still beating. It's a little badge of joy to ponder.

Under the full moon's smile.

And a Bigger God.

Goodnight!

..how do you love your job?..

I helped him out of the bed because of urinary incontinence. It's nearly an hour since the last time I changed his beddings. He sat on the chair, watching me putting the soiled linens in a yellow plastic bag. He looked at me with face contorted for probable reasons in his mind: 1)how someone can tolerate such a nostril-stimulating-odor 2) why overly concern of already "soiled" linens, and 3) how the heck a 48kg chick manage to do that all alone. But none of these put an end to his seemingly amused face. He got up from where he was sitting, sat on the bed and looked at me..."how do you love your job?"


Let me give you the different faces of a nurse..

For parents who left their children..
(an excerpt from my 1st Anniversary article)

The best time of the month for us singles is Pay Day. That's needless to elaborate. Time to give ourselves some little pampering, feeding your vanity if ever you have one. We all our own set of obligations to the people that we love. Silently as I am enjoying that "highlight" of the month, there are other people who have there own set of sacrifices. Ate Ellen, our hippy and bubbly mother-figure, is one of them. As for the record, she hasn't been home for the last five years. Hasn't attended five birthdays of her two sons, haven't been there in their five Christmas and summers. The sick days of her Josh when she's so busy attending our sick patients or the times Aidan got high grades and mom is not around to give him a pat on the back or that cheerful mommy-hug. The countless times she wished her sons were also eating in Jollibee whenever she step foot on the food store. Whenever she would say how she missed her boys but is helpless anyway. Because the reality of life strikes hard. I cannot fathom where she is getting the strength to endure the long years of not being there as a mom; as a wife. Where she is getting the patience to wait for the sun to rise and the moon to set to call it another day. Hoping that it would turn faster to weeks, then to months and months to years until finally she will utter the words "I'm home".


For children who left their parents.

For years,  Ate Tin hasn't seen her mother who is on a battle of fighting lung cancer. Because her needs take over more than her utmost desire to go home. To take good care of her just like the way she is doing hands-on with our patients.
But this is life.
We live between the tension of two opposites.
I remember one afternoon when we are reviving a patient. It was one afternoon she received a call that has no turning point. The same time we are resuscitating our patient, is the same time her mother succumbed to her final breathe.
Life's irony at its best!

So how do you love your job?

It's because we are the first to see a newborn's eyes open, and the last to see a dying's eyes close.
It's because a shout of a doctor can be forgotten by a simple "thank you" from our patient.
It's because I was able to send a kid to school..(more to go).
It's because I've come to realize how rich I am simply by looking at my 10 complete fingers and toes, thanks Anatomy!
It's because setting foot on a non-familiar road led me to know that long distance relationship is still possible (pag Skype jud ta gah) ;))
It's because I believe I was made for this..for you, as my patient.
It's because I learned how to serve God by serving others.
It's because I do not see it as a job, but a profession.
It's because I cannot see myself being not a nurse.

How do I love my job?
.. I do not really know.  Probably because loving doesn't entail explanations. It demands actions. Service doesn't require too much words, but too much love you put into service. And that is where we are good at, that's why I cannot explain. That's why I can only show. And that's why you asked. Because you noticed.

I would like to honor all of you who are in various situations. Be it for someone who was left behind, who left a love one, who dared to go out of their comfort zones and fearlessly facing the reality of life., Let's take a moment to remember our colleagues who've been victims of deadly virus but kept their feet grounded in the name of SERVICE, who never left their post to the last breathe, never gave up being a light to the afflicted, even if it took their own lives. To give credits to all of you who are denying what is due for yourself for the sake of your family and the people who put their trust in you. To boost your courage that the true warrior is someone who possess weaknesses in the face of becoming a better person but chooses not to dwell on them but on his strengths to become the best. I would like to commend your strengths, your determination and perseverance, your sacrifices and endurance wherever it is coming from.

At the end of the day, two things will happen..

It's either you touched a life.

Or they touched yours.

Hail to the people with ugly hands but with beautiful hearts!

..if only life is as simple as watching sunset..

It was about sunset and there he was sitting beside me. I'm a bit conscious probably because it's been a whole afternoon and I smell, errr, nevermind. Or probably because I never get near too close with him all the time we were together. Or probably because I fear that he might hear my heart's lub-dub. Or simply because his presence is enough to caused me goosebumps. He never held my hands, but I wished he did. He never looked at me in the eyes, but I wished he did. Because those dark eyes are my all-time favorite.  The glance that says so much more than what he is capable of saying. The stares that swept you off your feet.

He walked me out of that green grass where we sat watching the river. If only life is as simple as watching sunset, I can stalk him watching sunset forever. I kissed him goodbye on the cheek, and again, wished that it was somewhere else. So he'll have all the firsts'. 

Seeing him standing far as the jeepney moves away, and turning my back around brought a pinch of pain that a Cadburry chocolate failed to soothed. Perhaps, it's true that in life, there's a one true love snapshot. 

Moved by the beauty of sunset on my way home, far from that river where he and I visited once many many years ago one summer afternoon, where love simply lost its ability to be spelled and define, memory brought me there again.

No matter how picturesque a sunset is, it's impossible to own it. He is too beautiful to be own that in the process of showing his light for me, he had forgotten how to show that light for himself. I don't want to destroy that light.

I've learned that in life, you have to learn to open your palms. To set something free. To know that if you're not capable to give what he deserves, be generous to allow the person to receive what he deserves..from someone else. It's awful that way. But nothing in life is easy. Nothing in love is easy. 

There's so much in young love I can go back to. Sunset, usually reminds me of it.

..a world without filters..

My Mom's love letter.

I remember the first time I was on stage, reciting my when-I-grow-up-I-want-to-be speech. She was at the back seat of the many proud parents. I was wearing a mint green dress, with white ribbon pinned on my apple-cut hair. I used to bring my bottle milk on kinder class, and she would tolerate me..or else, I'll cry hanging on her legs. Our white-painted wall becomes a graffiti whenever I'm holding a pencil, sketching stick people, writing alphabets, and most of the time, my name that used to be spelled out as Rolene Kim. I remember being wise in an early age for I usually break my crayons into two so she'll be forced to buy me a new one, hoping this time, it would go beyond the primary colors. I think, that was the beginning of my underground painting and writing career.

One day, I went home feeling so proud after being the top highest pointer in the exam. So she prepared sardines and rice topped with margarine for breakfast. Commercials make mothers more creative, I bet. I cannot leave home without her putting handkerchief on my uniform, and my P3.00 baon in my pocket.

I feel like having the longest hair in the class whenever she would walk me to school. 

The older I get, the more I've come to realize how much of ourselves we owe to our mothers. That one day, that little girl she used to walk to school now walks with her in dress for a date, conversing with  her about life's harsh truths and bittersweets. I can now be her "handkerchief" in her graceful years.

Thank you mom for showing me the world of colorful crayons, of walls where I can freely write my thoughts, for the encouraging words when I feel like being not my best because I am always one for you, for listening to me since the day I recited my "All Things Bright and Beautiful", for walking with me holding hands, for hugging me even on humid nights. 

I know what it is to be in a world of pretensions, because you showed me a world without filters.

Happy Mother's Day!

..never get tired of being grateful..

(c) Straight Talk

I've been looking at my clean screen for quite a while. Clean in such a way I can't jump-start an article. My unforgiving duty schedules and the unceasing call of responsibilities robbed my time of something I always love to do: tell a story. And yet, solemn moments drag me back to the corner where I can be halfway between the world of solitude, privacy, peace-and how come these words became so expensive in this technology-driven world.

I lined up in the ATM machine this evening. While waiting for my turn, I've been in a pensive mode I remember one morning I went to the bathroom and realized that I haven't been to the grocery lately. That moment when you needed to put water in the shampoo container and shake it to increase the amount of lather. I'm still lucky I need not to do that in my toothpaste tube. I smile at my own lunacy.
Looking around, I have my own apprehensions. So does everyone else. What if it's already your turn and the ATM machine runs out of money? I survived that "what if".

I don't know how to write this in a more succinct way. Probably because gratefulness has no better way to contain than to let it flow. I know tough times, I know what it is to have nothing, I know how it feels to be empty. By far, I know too, that God has never been an ATM machine that runs out of supply.  He always, always, always provides. That is a redundancy we ought to memorize.

We are all blessed in how God has chosen to bless us. Some of you may have been given a faithful partner, a trusted confidante, a patient mentor, an understanding co-worker, a cheerful friend.
It may not all come in a package we want it to be, but God knows that is what you needed to show you His way.

Never get tired of being grateful. TGIF!

.."Let Me Takeover"..

She deteriorated so fast after she'd been admitted for 2 days. The doctor said she acquired the infection from the hospital that anytime from now, she will be connected to ventilator to help her breathe. The day we feared came to close when she succumbed to respiratory distress. Tears keep flowing from my eyes as I do ambubagging to keep her breathing while the machine is being set-up. I forgot where God was that time, though it had been my habit to pass by the hospital's chapel before going to my area. And in my own lose grip of faith, a colleague approached me and said, "let me takeover". I suddenly recognized where God was. He is on duty, too, to save my patient, my grandmother. 

"Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died", Martha said to Jesus. This could have been my family's aphorism on that Good Friday 20 years' back when we lost my father to murder. "Lord, if you had been here".... How many of us would want to utter these words? When a newly wed lost her beloved husband to aneurysm? Or a couple who's been into years of trying to have a baby and lost it to Ectopic pregnancy? Or the hundreds and thousands who died in the super typhoon Yolanda? "Lord, if you had been here"..

I never had any experience of rain pouring on Good Friday. It's always usually hot and humid you can wring your handkerchief. Figuratively, the air is heavy it must've connive with the feeling of losing someone. And that someone is no ordinary. He is His One and Only. What could have the Father felt? It's the same with you and me. Anguish. Bone-searing. Debilitating pain. 

But what is ours that does not belong to God? What can we give up that did not come from Him? What could we surrender that He hadn't given?

Nothing. 

No one. 

I may not know everyone of you, nor I have the least of idea what are the many "crosses" you are carrying. Sometimes, it feels like the weight on our shoulders are too much to bear. It's ok to stumble. It's even alright to cry. For even Jesus fell thrice. Even Jesus wept. He even cried out loud in the cross, "Father, Father, why have You forsaken me?".

I pray for your courage, I pray for your strength, I pray for Simone of Cyrene to aid with you in carrying your cross, I pray for patience to endure your Good Friday, and most of all, I pray for a clear visage as you look forward to your Easter Sunday. 

Let God takeover.

"I'll make all things new" ~Jesus

..when God asked me to have a double chocolate chip muffins..

(c) Silver Pen

I always love telling my story of being stuck up in Singapore Airport for 12 hours. For those who wasn't able to read that blog entry, this is a refresher. I was on my way back to Riyadh when I learned that my flight has actually a 12-hour gap when I was expecting of only 2 hours of stay before my connecting flight. Not to mention the a) dreary separation anxiety being away from home again, b) having only a book and laptop in my bag, and c) a half day of having not showered (I swear I had a long bath after). Pessimist called it a series of unfortunate events, while an optimist believed it to be a series of blessings hiding among unwanted circumstances. Because at the end of my unexpected 12-hour lag, I was given a seat. A Business Class seat. 

This reminds me of the many Bible stories of the long wait. How Noah endured the years of building the Ark for that night and day's of downpour, how Moses was prepared for that magnificent parting of the sea, how Elizabeth in her old age gave birth to a son, how Anna waited for Jesus on the day He was offered in the temple, and the list goes on. It can blow your mind to think that those parch years of waiting seemed to be fruitless, agonizing, and I'll understand when Elizabeth said, "how could this happen in my old age?" Again, only one answer can drag us back to reality. God's time is always the perfect time. That a close door to many is an entry way for God. That a No, is a turning Yes when He wade His mighty hand. 

I've been single for years and seriously, I dated no one. You know, emotionally entangled with someone else. This part of my life seemed to be parched, untamed by my own choices and priorities, agonizing in a way I doubted if I am meant to live a life of marriage and raising kids ( I want 5), or simply raising orchids, cross-stitching and feeding and bathing orphaned children (yeah, it crosses my mind sometimes but I would want to get away with the thought. As I said, I still want 5.) I sometimes feel like being one of the stars in the night sky. The one that is not so starry-starry. I'd like to believe though, that in those nights when I would stare at the sky, he would stare at it, too. 

I realized why I was given the chance to experienced a set back that night in Singapore Airport. God was saying, "Miss Tan, slow down. You are not superwoman, but know that I am your super God. Sit down, have a double chocolate chip muffins, read, see me among the crowd, hear me among the sound of boiling coffee, taste my goodness by keeping still. What are you in a hurry of? Don't you realize that I can give you all that you will ask for? Did you forget how gracious your God is? But if I'll give you everything that you want, how will you know Me?"

Do you feel like being stuck up?

Are you having a lag?

God must be preparing your Business Class flight. =)

 

"How Do You Listen To God?"

(c) Rene Tahum

"..Why would so many things conspire to save one for a girl's life?  What if she is no more special than anyone of us? What if we are all unique? And the universe loves us all equally. So much all that it bends on backwards across the centuries on each and everyone of us? And sometimes, we are just lucky enough to see it.."

I entered the beige-color place. Smaller. Everyone there knew who I am. But none of them my memory can grasp. I walked passed in the right corner. It seems like there's a ceremony. A confession, maybe. I stopped when I neared what I believed is the altar. I turned around to find the walls. But it didn't exist. I gazed back to the altar. Water springs from its center, now surrounding the doomed-shaped place. I know where I was. For in my random dreams, I always visit a church. I moved out of the place with mystery, as always. Why I am there, why it has to be me when it can be others. The why's are unending.

Now I can see the whole down view. I realized I am on top of the hill. Walking. But to where, I do not know. The sun is high, illuminating the stone henge surrounding where I am standing. I met a nun. In her old age. Wearing that black dress in which I can only see is the face. And the eyes that seemed to have known me. Back in time "You used to hold that scapular with enthusiasm", the nun said. I touched the thin cord around my neck, felt the little square I always carry with me. Wherever I am.

"How Do You Listen To God?", I asked her with a plea. But she only looked at me the way she did the first time we met. It seemed that I was asked with my own question. I turned around. The blue-green water is suspended in the middle of tall rocks. Calm. Still. I must be on top of the world to see all these things. The nun is nowhere to be found. I crossed the bridge. And I opened my eyes. 

One day, I will come to understand the purpose for this another waking day...

Among the bustles and hustles of life, how do you listen to God? 

With the seemingly nuisance of work, of piling bills, of  annoying traffic, how do you listen to God? 

Amidst the inevitable criticisms, judgments, disappointments, stones thrown at you no matter how good you tried to be, how do you listen to God?

When you cannot fit to the standards built by the world,  how do you listen to God?  

When trust is forge, when loyalty turns to betrayal, when love tears you down, when you are smashed into pieces, how do you listen to God?

I sat on the wooden box for sometime. Winter hasn't totally bid goodbye for the air is still giving me a chill. There are quite few stars tonight. Probably 5. Then I recounted again, for there are smaller ones that were not so bright. They are stars anyway. I felt the pain in my neck staring at them. Nothing to be called a starless sky. For they are always there. And for the longest time, I believed I was watching them. But no, they were watching me all along.

"Here I am, Lord. Speak to me. And let me hear You".

..No life is more important than  another. And nothing  has been without purpose. Nothing. What if we are all part of a great pattern that we may someday  understand? And one day when we have done what we are capable of doing, we get to  rise up and reunite with those we have loved the most. Forever embrace. What if we have to become..Stars."-Mark Helprin