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

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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.