This is for you

When I look at you, I see how much you can do and how far you can go.

You exude the strength of the young, the freedom of the free. It’s as if there’s always that wind that pushes you from behind, whispering, commanding you to move and spread your wings. How long you have been stuck, I don’t know. Sometimes, I watch how you move, from the way you relax that bottom jaw ‘til you let loose those lips. There’s that smile but there’s also that bewildered sigh. I see it, no matter how you try to hide it. I’ve dealt with that years ago. I recognize the pressure in it – the old familiar feeling that mostly comes with being in early 20s!

I want you to know, however, that there’s nothing wrong with going through the slow motion phase of life. In a world where everyone wants to be the first in everything, life wants to show you the beauty in slow downs. I was 24 when I got my dream job, three years behind my timeline. But it didn’t hurt me like I thought it would when I was your age. In fact, it prepared me for this moment when all there is to life is busyness. The thing is, circumstances, emotions, even people, are not exactly what you think they are when you get to experience them outside your imaginary world.

So don’t believe the crowd when they tell you it’s too late. Because it’s not. It’s not late to pursue another dream. To study again or to get better at what you do. To get your dream job or your dream car. To nail your board exam. It’s not late to be easy on yourself. To be kind to the person that you are, to the phasing you now have.

My dear, I’d love to see you get there, waving, smiling, dancing in victory. But more than the joy of seeing you reach your full potential is the joy of watching you thrive as you make your way up.  

Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. You do not want to reach your peak, ugly, do you? Work hard but know that sometimes, it won’t really get you that far. Not now, at least. So work hard still, but don’t get trapped by your expectations of the future. Your mind will be your biggest battlefield, your catapult to either doom or greatness. Fight for it, win it! And please, don’t ever believe yourself when it insists that your success (money, gadgets and all material things) is your identifier. There’s more to you than that!

I pray that you see the person I am seeing in you – kind, vibrant, persistent, more than able. Where you are now is the best time to enjoy the perks of being young. The world is for your taking, don’t rush. Remember, an anxious heart may accomplish much but a happy and patient heart will definitely experience more! 

Trust me, you were born to soar!

Ulan at kalungkutan

image from Google

Ni hindi ko nga alam kung ano ang dapat kong isulat. Pakiramdam ko, tinatangay ng bawat patak ng ulan yung emosyon na gusto kong palutangin. Alam mo yung para kang nakakulong sa isang bagay o mahika? Nagpupumiglas ang emosyon. Bumabaha na ng halu-halong damdamin pero hindi mo alam eh. Hindi mo alam kung pano kumawala. Magulo. Nakalilito.

Kaya ayaw ko minsan sa ulan. Pakiramdam ko kasi ang lungkot. Sobrang lungkot. Kapag naririnig ko ang karera ng bawat patak, parang sumisigaw yung kaluluwa ko ng ‘sobrang unfair!’ Bakit ang ulan pwedeng bumuhos kung kelan niya gusto? Bakit ang panahon, pwedeng maging masungit kung kelan niya maisipan ito? Bakit ang langit pwedeng mawalan ng bughaw na kulay? Bakit ang ulap, pwede nitong ipagsigawan ang pagod niya sa pamamagitan ng tunog at patak ng ulan?

Bakit nga ba nagiging malungkot ang tao? Bakit kailangang malungkot ng isang taong tulad ko o tulad mo?

Alam ko naman talaga ang sagot sa tanong ko. Ang saklap di ba? Alam ko pero hindi ko alam. Ganon naman yata. Kahit anong lohika ang ibigay ng utak mo, alam na alam mong hahantong ka sa konklusyong may mga bagay talaga sa mundo na walang tiyak na kasagutan. May panahon na parang maayos ito sa pakiramdam.  Pero may mga panahon, katulad ngayon, na alam mong may mali pero hindi mo lang sigurado kung saan. Parang may kulang. Parang may puwang na dapat mapunan.

Ano sa tingin mo?

Ang sakit sa ulo noh?

Pero kung may isang bagay akong patuloy na mamahalin sa bawat kalabog ng mga mumunting patak, iyon ay ang kamalayang kaya ko pa palang makaramdam. Lugkot man ito o tuwa. Pangungulila man o pagkahapo o kapahingahan. Sa lahat ng bagay na naranasan ko nitong mga nagdaang buwan at taon, natatakot akong mamanhid ang puso ko. Sa mga bagay na nakita ng mga mata ko, mga kwentong paulit-ulit na narinig hindi lang ng tenga kundi ng buong kaluluwa ko, natatakot akong pagod ng makiramdam ang puso ko.

Pero hindi. Kaya pa. pwede pa.

Tulad ng unti-unting pagtila ng ulan. Tulad ng pagtigil ng agos ng luha. Maaari na muling punuin ang ulap. Kaya na muling tumanggap ng puso.

Summer Stories: small things with great value

I am going back to Tacloban with kit kat, stick-o, wafers and pringles in my luggage.

It’s always like this during summer – my take home would be chocolates or a pair of sandals or anything under the sun.

Hurray to being my mother’s child!

It is not the items that matter, though. I can buy things on my own and can opt not to go through the hassle of packing them on my luggage. But being child-like once in a while breaks the monotony of working life. I think everyone needs that sometimes.

And so I love it when my mom allows me to sneak some goodies to her shopping basket. I laugh it out when I insist that I am still her child and that she has to buy a thing or two for me. She gives in, of course. That gesture represents many things to me, including the thought that when I am with her, I am simply her child.

I also appreciate it because in a society where a child, after landing a job, is expected to be the one buying things for the family, my mom is simply the opposite. She keeps on giving until she can. She is not someone who tells you to buy me this and that because you have money. My siblings and I grew up with a mindset that we are not obliged to earn a living for the family, that we are not in debt to them because of our education. We were never forced to think like it is our responsibility to give back. They taught us the value of sharing but emphasized that we should give because that’s what we want to do and if we don’t, it won’t be taken against us. Talk about free will.

It was that kind of upbringing that aroused the generosity in us. It was also that kind of upbringing that made us appreciate the pleasure and privilege of both giving and receiving. So the next time you see someone eating kit kat after coming home, you might smile with the story behind. 

Lastly, with the things and schedules that go with growing up, I appreciate the limited time when the family is able to buy things together. To us, it’s luxury.

This is short (our schedules won't meet) compared to the past summers we had together but it's fun just the same :)

To me, it means I can leave again without worrying of what lies ahead because there will always be a summer to look forward to – summer that includes chocolates and wafers and home.

BacktoBasic - It's okay to wrestle

Google Image

Christian life is never an easy life. I’ve been warm and I’ve been cold; I’ve been here and everywhere but I never settled.  To be honest, God’s and mine isn’t the most stable relationship.

These past days, I’ve made a resolve to go back to where relationships normally start- the getting to know you part. To me, it meant going back to Genesis, absorbing every word, down to the most boring parts. In my mind, I’ve known the stories all along but I had to bring myself to keep going back because I thought, maybe a part of me has stopped remembering. My heart needs to be reminded.

I needed to be humble.

Webster dictionary defines pride as inordinate self-esteem.  When it persists, it consumes the heart so easily. It makes you think either so highly of yourself that you become too proud to admit mistakes or too detached you forget you’re part of a bigger circle. Pride makes you callous you no longer know inclusion. And so I love it when I re-read the account where Jacob wrestled with the Lord. Really? After deceiving his own father and taking his brother’s birth right, he still had the nerve to wrestle with God and ask for blessing? I mean, duh! Parang ang kapal naman masyado ng mukha.

But then I came to admire Jacob’s guts to ask for what he wants. There are times when I would hurt God and I would end up guilty. Then the guilt turns to self-condemnation then shame and coldness and eventually pride. It takes a lot of humility to ask from someone you hurt so badly. It takes a lot of fighting with your own self to finally reach out again.

And the man (God) did bless Jacob. I wonder why.

Maybe it wasn’t an easy feat. It was an overnight struggle and I wonder how that looked like. Were there heavy words thrown at each other? Was there shouting or begging? The Bible didn’t tell the in betweens. But to me, one thing is for sure.

I need to be as bold as Jacob.

And when I see bold it means I can argue with God. Psalmist David did. Even Job. God, in the past days, has taught me how to be more open to him – with my shame, my fears, my doubts and even my questions pertaining to his being just. He has been teaching me what I’ve known all along – that He can be my friend, my confidante, my father. He knew I have questions in my heart that I try to repress with the worship songs I sing. But He knows better and He wants me to let everything out and that it won’t lessen His love for me. Only when I become bold with my weaknesses, even to the point of figuratively having the hollow of my thigh dislocated (believe me, it can be too painful), that the Lord could have His way. It’s hard because it requires honesty – the kind of honesty that bares the smallest dirt there is.

I know. These are all easier said than done but I believe that the Lord honors a heart that seeks Him. I’ve realized that I can only do better with my relationships on earth if my heart is settled with my Maker. It’s going to be tough, even tougher than I thought it would be but like Jacob, I’m not letting go ‘til I get God’s yes.

And for whatever it may take, I know it’s a fight worth fighting.

Let's not go for safe

I say it because I want to do it myself. I don’t want  to be afraid, I hate being afraid. I want to be able to say no when I have to and stay committed to my yes when I let it out.

I want to tell a story that includes the crazy, bitter, nerve wrecking, heart wrenching, and adrenaline rushing side of life. I want a heart that’s steady not because it is overly protected but because it has been through worst and it knows too well, that there’s always a way out.

I want to be open to the possibilities of getting hurt, of being bruised even to the point of hitting rock bottom.

I want to bleed not for the sake of bleeding. I want it because what if the things that hurt are actually the things that make up the beautiful?

A mother giving birth to her child.

A caterpillar waiting ‘til it becomes a butterfly.

A gold being refined by fire.

What if the things I am most afraid of are actually the things that will lead me to where my heart belongs? What if the ugly and the messy are prelude to something grand?

I say let’s not go for safe because safe cuddles excessive fear. It shelters doubts and it covers reservations.

Let’s not go for safe because it takes commitment out of the equation. Commitment is courage. It is bold, strong and resolute. No, it is not the whiffle-waffle thing.

I will not go for safe, no matter how my heart trembles just by writing about it because I know that I am stronger than I think I am. And should boldness suck the best of me, (yeah, courage also hurts) I’ll just tap the dirt off my sleeves and try again. That’s life, isn’t it? It is not a one-sided affair with the good. I take it. I can live with it. I’d choose it over safe because safe is dead end.

And if there’s any consolation from welcoming all the risks, it will be the realization that my heart is always tougher than it seems.

He's the man

Let me tell you one of the closest stories in my heart - my dad’s.

This man’s life is a perfect example of 180 degree turn around.  He is, in all sense, a product of unmerited favor, of overflowing grace.

My dad grew up in an unstable family.  His father served in the military, was deployed and had children in Luzon and Mindanao (winner!).  His mother, my Mama Old, was a beautiful woman who later on became an alcoholic.  At an early age, I think daddy knew that it’s going to be a tough life for him so he persevered.  According to him, he wanted to become a lawyer but his father couldn’t afford.  He then went to his uncle who supported him in his studies.  It was there that he met the brat girl (niece of his uncle's wife) who reasons out to avoid washing the dishes, who sticks her tongue out when she has coca-cola while he has nothing, and who will eventually become his wife and my mom (I'll write their love story next year :-).

Soon, Daddy went to Middle East and accepted different jobs so he could save up.  When he had enough, he went back to the country, became a policeman and married my mom.  That’s when his countless tales in the village began.

My father is fondly called Palos in our community.  Palos is the filipino word for freshwater eel, known for its being elusive.  He had several encounters with death but he’s always been spared.  One of his enemies before told us that he was about to secretly shoot my father straight in the head when he passed by our house.  Fortunately, my father took me from my mom (I was still a baby) and so he had to back off.  

Everyone was afraid of him but in a good way.  He was never a smoker, but gee, was he a drunkard!  When I was about 6, my sisters and I would run to the room and pretend we’re asleep every time we hear his car coming.  He never laid a hand on any of us though.  I even remember him mentoring me when I joined a competition.  But it was excessive alcohol that got the best of him.  My mother, who I admire for her patience, was I think a not so happy wife back then.  And you know how such family atmosphere can affect a child? Not good at all.

I was around 9 when things started to change.  Tatay Oscar, a missionary, came to our village and started his ministry.  My father became a church goer but it ended there.  The Lord, however, has his ways.  One night, my father had a dream.  He said he saw himself in heaven and it was a good feeling.  The second night, he dreamt of hell.  Curiosity got him so he asked Tatay Oscar.  That was his life’s defining moment. 

“Maybe the Lord is presenting you two options.  You have to make a choice.”  And he made a good choice.

My master's graduation was the
first school event he attended.
His car was stuck in the mountains when
he was on his way to my college grad.

I wish I could say that everything turned out well after his change of heart.  But no.  At least for me and him.  Maybe because I witnessed how he and my mom fought.  Maybe because when things settle, and the situation changes, you get a space somewhere in your mind, to think of how deprived you were of something.  I was deprived of attention.  My father never attended any recognition program at school. I was always either with my grandparents or with the house helper.  Ask me then who I would rather have in my life and I would choose my grandmother over my parents.

I had that pain with me while growing up.  I eventually transferred in a different school when I was 10, which worsened the gap.  I remember one time, we were on our way home from the church.  He cuddled me and said that I was growing up too fast.  I didn’t respond.  Maybe because I didn’t know how.  I was never used to it, afterall.  He never won an argument with me.  I would slam the door, talk back and lock myself in the room. Medyo bumait na ako ngayon :)

I started reconciling with him (we never talked about it but it just happened) when I went to college.  Imagine.  For how many years, my sisters would kiss him and my mom on the cheek whenever they leave the house while I, the most hostile girl in the world, would not dare do anything.  I was the girl who can’t be moved haha. How suplada can I get, noh? But college years changed that.  Distance was one of the reasons.  When you’re away, you eventually learn to see the good things in your parents. I began to appreciate how he asks the bus driver to drop by the university guard house just to leave chocolates and chips.   Age also played a part.  As you grow older, you realize that your parents are also a day, a month, a year closer to getting those wrinkles and gray hairs.  And it will dawn on you that the time lost on keeping grudges are moments that are forever gone.     

Through the years, I came to appreciate the man behind the person I call dadsung, daddy, baba or whatever name my sisters and I get from telenovelas.  It took time but I must say that more than anything else, I admire his courage to change. When I got my heart broken, my mom said that it was my father’s greatest fear: for his children, all girls, to experience what he did to other women before.  Karma, eh? But I felt otherwise and he also did after some time.  I knew I had my own story to tell and the curse of his past is no match to the mercy of my God.  Daddy's past doesn't define my future but his being a father does influence it.  I remember writing this on his birthday.

“Have you not been strong enough to leave your old ways, I would not have had such an awesome family. Have you not chosen to be a faithful husband, even with the crowd of women around you, I would never have seen and believed in the beauty of marriage. Have you not responded to the call of God, things would have been really different. Have you not been "kengkoy" enough to sit beside me, put your arms around my shoulder, call me darling and neneng, and jokingly ask me on the things that are going on in my life, I wouldn't have had such assurance of the woman that I am. It takes a real man to do all those things daddy, a real man to become a good father, a wonderful husband, an obedient child of God. It takes a real man to be man enough and you did them all. I can never be more proud for being your daughter and day by day, your life reminds me of how God has greatly blessed me.”

My parents are the most generous people I know.  

His decision to change was a decision that impacted our family.  Writing this now, I see how much he’s been through and perhaps, most of those were too much to bear at his age.  But thank God for His grace.  Thank God because He knew that we needed a father.  Daddy eventually left the service and became a pastor (shocked? yes I’m a pastor’s kid haha).  A lot of people were literally surprised, including his drinking classmates but isn’t this the best thing about grace?  All your detours, your brokenness and your foolishness can actually become your biggest and most powerful testimony.  And the enemy who almost shoot him?  He became a pastor, too.

I wouldn’t say that daddy is now perfect. No, he is far from that.  We still argue sometimes and he still has love quarrels (what a term) with mommy.  But you know what follows those arguments?  An out of the blue couple dance (nakakasuya minsan), his famous composition to tease her when they were young (delia, delia tunggaya, naganak sangalabba) and a coffee date just outside the house.  It’s called pure joy.  It’s called family.  It’s called my dad's better story.