my journey

The Dungeon

2012-12-08T21:20:00.000+08:00

I live in a dungeon...at least that’s what my boss calls it. I cannot say that he’s totally off the mark. After all, I, myself, cannot decide if the apartment building I live in in Cebu is undergoing a renovation or if it’s a candidate for demolition.

Mounds of sand and rock welcome visitors as soon as they enter the gate. Stacks of plywood and stuff take up one corner of the garage. And even if it’s the middle of the day and the sun is out in full glory, the halls and the corners of building are cloaked in dark overcast.

And my studiopad, as my landlady calls it...well, let’s just say my sister’s storage room (or Harry Potter’s closet of a room) may be bigger than my unit.

Why stay there, I bet you’re asking. It’s a 15-minute walk away from where I work. It’s a 10-minute walk from my favourite spa. It’s a 5-minute walk from the grocery. It’s 2 minutes away from the coffee shop, the bakery, the laundry and the nail spa. Best of all, it’s a 3-minute walk from the Redemptorist Church where I get to hear Mass and be nourished every day I’m in Cebu. The building’s just behind the church and I have to say this is its top redeeming factor (get it? redeeming? redemptorist? redeeming? hehe)

Have I mentioned that the road (if you can call it a road but I guess it is since it actually has a road/street sign with an actual street name on it)...that the road to the building is one lane and is only wide enough to carry a small car going in OR out (not going in AND out, mind you). So even if I took the taxi going home, I’d get off at the top of the road and walk a bit.

One day, I was walking on the rough road (oh yeah, I failed to mention - it’s a rough road leading to the apartment). My head was bent as I texted on my cel. And suddenly, it hit me. I mean, it literally hit me. I hit a post. And I looked ridiculously funny. I always knew it’s not a good idea to drink and drive... nor to text and walk. But hey, tao lang po.

Anyway, as I turned away from the post and looked up at the building, it hit me. This time, not a pole but a realization hit me. That I am also a dungeon. I am also a cross between undergoing renovation and demolition.

I recalled Max Lucado and this book of his I read. He said/reminded that the bible defines sin as “falling short of”. And just as the apartment building falls short of beauty and ambiance and comfort, so do I. Every single time I think or say badly of someone, I fall short of consideration; every time I turn a blind eye or deaf ear to someone in need, I fall short of compassion and kindness; every time I get annoyed, I fall short of patience and tolerance; and every single time I grumble and whine and complain, I fall short of faith and gratitude.

I await with bated breath and hope the apartment’s makeover and restoration, because just as the building leaves much to be desired, there is so much more to be desired in me. And in spite of this, my Father blesses me and fills me with grace as He incessantly looks forward to my own complete and full renovation.

SOME MORE KIDDIE MOMENTS

2012-12-08T18:59:00.001+08:00

Since going Global and moving to the Visayas, my time with my niece and nephew are so precious and far between. I try to visit them every month and in every visit, Isabel, my 3-year old niece, never fails to surprise me what can now do…or say, for that matter.

OMG - Isabel’s favorite expression these days seem to be “Oh my God!” “Oh my gosh!” “Oh my golly!”

When I heard her say these, I thought to myself, “Oh my Lord! Where does she hear all these?”

Stuck – My sister, Miles, tells me Isabel accidentally locked herself inside one of the bathrooms. From inside the bathroom while trying with all her might to wrestle with the doorknob, Isabel called out to her mom, “Mom! I’m stuck here…forever!”

Miles, in a frantic, kept saying, “Isabel, unlock the door! Open the door, right now! Turn the lock and open the door! OPEN THE DOOR RIGHT NOW!!!”

Isabel calmly replied, “OK! OK, Mom, don’t panic”

Don’t panic ka dyan!!!

Drowning – When I’m in Manila, I stay with Miles and family. One night, after coming home from a tiring meeting in and an exhausting commute from Makati, I was sooo drained. To relax, I went straight to Isabel’s room and joined her watching a Pirates show on Disney Junior channel. In one of the scenes, Isabel excitedly pointed out the hole in the pirates’ ship and narrated, “Look at the ship, aunty ninang! The pirates! They they they put a hole!”

Aunty Ninang Maan, even in exhaustion, tried to join in the story-telling and continued, “Oh no, the ship is…the ship is… the ship…” my brain cells apparently too tired as well, grasped for the right words, “the ship is…drowning!”

Isabel looked at me strangely for a second or two and corrected, “It’s sinking, aunty ninang. Sinking!”

Hehehe Drowning daw?

Poker face - Lady Gaga music video clips have been so visible on TV with all the promotions for her concert. Isabel picked up a line from one of Lady Gaga songs and she keeps singing over and over, “Kevin slice, Kevin slice, don’t wanna be a poker face….”

I guess it’s true- the controversial lyrics to Lady Gaga’s songs are just a matter of interpretation.

Math - Isabel is fascinated with numbers (it’s no surprise really with a math genius for a father). One time, while punching out and reciting the numbers in the calculator, she asked her mom what the plus (+) sign was for.

“It’s for adding numbers” Mommy Miles explained. To illustrate, she cited an example “Say, you have one dog you and you have another dog. So, using the plus (+) sign, you add 1 dog + 1 dog, and you’ll have….?” Mommy Miles asked Isabel.

Isabel answered excitedly, “Many dogs!!!”

Oo ng noh?

Inigo – In the car on our way home after a long day of lakwatsa, Inigo, my 5-month old nephew, started getting fidgety and sleepy. As he cried in frustration, his mom, yaya and I all but tried everything song and jiggle and bounce to settle him down. Nothing worked….until Isabel held his hands, said, “Hey ‘Nigo, it’s ok ‘Nigo.” and started singing to him in a soothing voice, “Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder….”

Inigo calmed down until we got home, soothed by his ate’s singing. Awwww! What a beautiful sight!

Bless the food - Isabel leads the prayer before meals anywhere we may be, at home or in a resto. One time we were in Shakey’s and amidst the noise inside the full resto, Isabel, in a voice loud enough to carry out her words throughout the nearby tables, led the prayer, “In the name of the Father….Bless us oh Loooord, en this this gift, which we’re aaaabout receive, thru Christ, Lord. Amen! In the name of the Father…”

After the prayer, Isabel blurted, “Oh no! I forgot again ‘from thy bounty’!”

She then made the sign of the cross and started praying again…and, of course, forgot again the line “from thy bounty”

Kiddie Moments

2012-12-07T19:11:00.000+08:00

My sister and I were “testing” 3-year old Isabel on family names...

What’s the name of mommy? – “Miles” she’d say.

What’s daddy’s name? - “Daddy Ricky”

What’s your brother’s name?

Isabel got stumped at that, surprising both me and miles. Inigo, her 10-month old brother, was sleeping in the adjoining room and so mommy miles thought of asking the question in a different way. “What’s the name of the boy sleeping in the other room?"

“Iñigo!!!” Isabel excitedly answered.

So we asked, “So who is Inigo?” thinking Isabel would answer “my baby brother”. Instead, Isabel answered, “the boy sleeping in the next room.”

Oo nga naman.

Melanie Marquez moment

Isabel loves to bake...or rather loves to help out and “put in her own flavour” while mommy miles or daddy ricky bakes.

One time, as mommy miles and Isabel were putting finishing touches on a fudge brownie, Isabel placed pieces of coco crunch as toppings on the cake. Mommy Miles said, “Wow! That is so beautiful Isabel. Good job, honey!”

Isabel replied proudly, “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without myself.”

Idol si Melanie Marquez?

Bisaya moment

Isabel has a Baby Alive doll which actually drinks and wets her diapers. One time, while playing the doll with her yayas, yaya Lingling asked jokingly, “Totoo kayang umiihi sya?

Isabel answered in a firm voice, “ ‘ Di man!”

Ay! Bisaya ka ‘day?

Parking angel

2012-10-25T21:22:00.000+08:00

I have just got to say this...God hears all our prayers...even the smallest, most trivial of them all.

I was rushing to the mall one late afternoon to buy a very vital piece of item - SHOES! And not just a pair of high heeled comfort sole shoes but a pair of high heeled comfort sole shoes on sale! With a sale going on, I knew parking was going to be a challenge. And so as I neared the mall, I kept praying, "Lord, please send me your parking angel! Please, please open "slots" of opportunities for me."

Even with the "Full" sign on, I went in the parking area inside the mall. I drove past rows of jammed parking spaces. I turned around to try my luck on other lanes only to find them packed with cars. As I made yet another turn, I heard a whisper, "Slow down". It was so clear and pronounced that I turned my head in reflex at the sound of that soft voice. Slow down I did and drove the car to a crawl. After a few seconds, a couple appeared from nowhere and rushed to get in the car where I waited.

Swoosh! The car glided in the space so tightly guarded by my parking angel.

So here I am, about to head out and face the traffic. Will be calling my "hawi" angel sson. : )

Iñigo moments

2012-10-25T20:53:00.000+08:00

My 10-month old nephew is such a delight to be with. He smiles at everybody and everything...and I mean EVERY THING.

One time while being carried by his mom at the mall with the whole family (and by whole I mean the whole she-bang - mom, dad, granma, granpa, cousins, uncle, aunt, yaya and driver to boot), they saw him smiling at no one ...or so they thought. They looked around and no one was nearby for Iñigo to give a smile to. Granma looked at the direction of Inigo's smile and, lo and behold, he was giving a wide toothless smiling at the poster of a K-pop star endorser with a big toothy smile.

__________________________________

Iñigo has limited vocabulary as is expected from a 10-month old baby. But I just love the words he has learned so far.

The first word he learned was "A-te" for ate Isabel (awwww)

Then he learned to say "Dad", then , "Pop" (for papa which we all lovingly call granpa), then, "Ma" (for mama which is the endearment for granma).

But my favorite word so far is his term for his mommy which he calls (braze yourself) ..."Dede!" He cries out for his mom, "Dede! Dede!"

our own little Vietcong

NEGA-star

2012-09-02T16:36:00.000+08:00

There really is no need for you blink twice, it won't change. And no, it's not a misspell. I am a Negastar. But with the birth of the Transformer Robots, I guess it’s just in style to call me a NEGA-tron instead...well, at least I was a NEGA-tron.

I used to worry like crazy it made the people around me go crazy. I was so panicky, it stressed people out. I was always on edge. I’d go into frantic and anxiety attacks about things that have not happened and might actually never happen.

In my travels, if I’m not en route to the airport at least 4 hours before my flight, I panic and go into a mantra saying, “I’m going to miss my flight. I’m going to miss my flight…”

My sister tries to calm me down and tells me to think positively. And I try! I change my mantra to, “I’m positive I’m going to miss my flight. I’m so positive I’m going to miss my flight….”

I’d easily get anxious about the traffic, the weather, the bills, my work, my bosses, my friends, my sister and her family, my health, my love life (weeeeeh! char!)… I worried just about everything else. I did mention I was a NEGA-tron!

But I have come to see that every moment – that moment in a heavy traffic, that moment when my laptop crashes just when I need it for a presentation, that moment when the queue is sooo long breakfast has turned to dinner, when a loved one is sick, when I’m amidst strangers speaking in a strange language in a strange island called Cebu, that moment when I’m slapped with more work than anyone can handle - is where God is. And to complain, to worry, to panic, to stress IS to show ingratitude to where HE has put me at that moment.

Many times I fail miserably and let my negative thoughts get the better of me. But I bounce back, allowing God’s grace and divine providence to work it’s miracle in my chaotic life. I’ve come to learn that when I offer and lift that moment to my Father, everything works out and falls into its proper place.

My transformation from being a NEGA-tron is a slow one. But I’m moving along and am so looking forward to becoming OPTIMISTIC Prime!

TRANSFORMERS - Volt in! (Ngyeeee! Naging Voltes V)

Me time

2012-07-29T17:53:00.000+08:00

It was a rainy Saturday afternoon in Cebu City. It was “alone” time for me - a rare treat for me not to be in the office as is my usual sched on a Saturday; I didn’t join the tour of the city by officemates from our Panay office; I didn’t go to the mall. It was “me” time, donned in comfy clothes (a.k.a “pambahay”), enjoying browsing through the internet on my laptop while having coffee at the Brown Cup Café, a cozy coffee shop just a minute’s walk from my apartment building.

I had come across a video of this 10-year old girl, Jackie Evancho, belting out an operatic rendition of the Lord’ Prayer. It was amazing! It was gripping! Her performance was touching! And I thought to myself, “I have GOT to show this music vid to mommy. She’d enjoy this!”

It took about 2 seconds for reality to sink in – my mom’s not here anymore. It has been five years and I think of her all the time…but for the nth time, I had actually forgotten I wouldn’t be going home to her funny and loving presence. For the nth time, I had forgotten she wasn’t waiting up for me on a late night. For the nth time I had forgotten I wouldn’t be able to buy this blouse I saw in the mall which I thought perfect for her. For the nth time I had actually forgotten she is gone.

My view of the laptop screen blurred as my eyes filled with tears, threatening to fall and ruin my make-up (J). I looked out the window, avoiding the eyes of anyone looking on. Surprisingly, while there was pain and heartache, I felt, more than anything else, blessed…wonderfully blessed! Blessed to have had the fun times with mom, the long talks, the lessons, the love.

Am once again reminded of how short life is, of cherishing the here and the now, of appreciating – and showing it to – the ones we love, of overlooking the flaws and centering on the good, of how beautiful life is, of how generous and merciful our Father is.

Am once again reminded that though mom has gone on, I am not alone. I have been gifted with an awesome presence – YOU.

Father

2012-07-28T19:18:00.001+08:00

Wally, a colleague in the office, is a proud new father to a cute 5-month old baby boy, Elijah. One time, he was showing off pics from his mobile phone of baby Elijah with a big toothless smile, of Elijah sitting awkwardly in-between cushions, of Elijah doing absolutely doing nothing but look curiously at the camera. Wally was beaming with pride! And I wondered why…Elijah was doing what every baby boy does.

Not to be outdone, I showed a video of my 7-month old nephew, Inigo, being turned-over in a forward roll by his teacher at Little Gym (Yes, 7-month old Inigo is already in school doing baby school stuff). I showed a video of Inigo crawling eagerly to get a toy, of inigo drooling over a ball, of Inigo doing absolutely nothing but look curiously at the camera. I was a proud aunty! And then I understood why Wally beamed with pride and joy.

I recall these moments with a smile….because as proud as Wally and I were, I realized that must be exactly, may be even more, how our Father looks at us. How loving and tender He must look at us as we come to Him in thanksgiving. How He must look at us with compassionate and kindly eyes as we come to Him, humbly asking for favors. How He must look at us with joyful eyes as we show our love and compassion for the unlovable and generosity for the needy. How He must beam with pride at us…we are, after all, His children.

But children grow up. And sometimes we grow to forget to give thanks. Sometimes we grow to think we can rely on our own reasons and strengths. Sometimes we grow to be indifferent and petulant and even unforgiving of those who have less. Sometimes we forget our Father. And it is at these moments when our Father looks at us with eyes of pain and heartache.

Many times I have caused that sad look in His eyes. Many a times I have caused His heart to break. But still, I feel His hand reach out in love as He blesses me in more ways than I deserve. He loves me still… in spite of my sinfulness. In fact, He sent His son FOR me.

I long and will try my darndest to put that beam of pride and joy in my Father's eyes. It IS going to be tough. It IS going to be long. It IS going to be a challenge. It may take days....nay, years, maybe decades even. No matter if it takes me 7... or 70 years...the beam of joy in my Father's eyes will be well worth it.

Lost in translation

2012-04-29T17:25:00.004+08:00

The long respite from blogging the goings-on in my life as an OFW has, hopefully, come to an end as I embark on a new journey… and I mean “journey” in the literal sense as the Training team relocated to its new base- CEBU CITY!

Just when I was getting used to the life in Iloilo, a marching order for the whole team to transfer to Cebu was issued. A new culture. A new language. A new home. A new set of people to work with. A whole new world! I bet it’s easier for a Manileno to adjust in California than in Cebu…or maybe the problem’s just with me.

Everybody insists I should speak Cebuano. The thing is, I have never had a penchant for languages. Any language outside Tagalog or English simply is alien – mind you, not just foreign, but totally alien to me! As I try to learn my way around Cebu City, I needed to learn the Cebuano version of “bayad” – its “pliti” And I swear, every single time I say “pliti” to pay my fare, I hear in my head the song from West Side Story that goes, “I feel so pliti, oh so pliti…”

When you’re in Cebu and you’re riding a jeepney, I’d advise you to practice puckering up or keep in hand a five peso coin. Urban Dictionary defines “pucker up” as sticking out your lips in preparation for a kiss. So why “pucker up” or keep in hand a five peso coin you ask? Well, one can do both or either of these things to signal the driver that you’re getting off: 1) tap the hand rail three times with the coin or; 2) “pucker up” and make a loud “tsup, tsup” kissy sound. No “para mama!”

And, for the life of me, I always seem to be interchanging “dili” and “diri” (or is it spelled “dire”?). So when I was ordering my snacks at a food stall in Shopwise and the cashier asked, “Makaon dire?” A bubble thought appeared before me as I tried translating what she just said: was it “Dito mo kakainin (as in “for here”)?” or “Hindi mo kakainin? (as in “to go”)? I simply stared right at her and nodded my head in agreement to whatever she just said. I decided that if she wrapped my food “to go” style, I’d simply unwrap and eat it.

I’ve totally decided to look for another room/apartment even if I have to pay double what I’m paying now. I’m renting a teeny-weeny tiny room in an apartment that I’m supposed to share with another tenant. I hate to complain but to say I’m out of my “comfort zone” is an understatement. Aside from the fact that I share the toilet and bathroom with another tenant and “spiderman”, the only things I can do in my room are: stand, turn and look around, bend over my luggage to get my stuff and lie down on my bed. If I make any big moves, I’d bump into things (the bed, the side table, my luggage, etc). Or maybe it’s just I have too much stuff - I arrived in Iloilo with a big luggage filled with what I thought I was all I needed. When I left Iloilo, I brought with me my big luggage, two balikbayan boxes and two smaller boxes… plus of course let’s not forget my foldable ever reliable comfy mattress.

I’ve been in Cebu City less than a week and so far:

1) I’m still so disoriented with the public transpo system I had to ask bespren Randy to pick me up and drop me off the apartment everyday. Maybe in a year’s time I’ll get the hang of it

2) I’ve been “chanced upon” – in Tagalog “na-chansingan” ako when this guy rubbed his arm against mine as we were walking along the busy streets of Fuente area. I wonder though – was he really trying to RUB against me? Or was he trying to ROB me of my watch? Hmmm….

3) I’ve been cursed at….at least I think so. I really wouldn’t know since whatever they were saying (rather, shouting) were alien to me. I guess there’s some good in not really understanding an alien language hehe

Hey! All these sound so familiar. They’re so like Manila! Maybe I’ll feel right at home sooner than expected.

But there is one place I am so sure I am always welcome, one where I will never get lost in, one where I always feel at home in - it's my home in the loving arms of my Father and that is where I bask in when I feel alone and lost and questioning. HE places me right where I should be and right now, lost though I may be, in translation and among crowd and in the busy streets of Cebu City, I trust…I believe…I know I am where He wants me to be.

oh boy!

2012-02-26T20:15:00.002+08:00

I had a most enlightening conversation with a 17-year old boy.

I was in Cebu recently on official business. One of the meetings we had was with the Executive Director of the Center for Industrial Technology and Enterprises (CITE), the school we’re dealing with for our company’s Dual Training System project. CITE is a college/school for boys so it was really no surprise that the boys stared, albeit politely, at moi, the lone female at that time (as far as I could tell) in the school.

As the long meeting was winding down over freshly brewed coffee, I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room. Since it WAS a school for boys, finding a ladies’ room can be quite a challenge. I was told it was on the top floor and so up I went only to find myself lost among the labs and classrooms. I finally had to ask for directions from a group of boys who looked more like thirteen than seventeen. I was told the only ladies’ room was at the visitor’s lounge on the ground floor. I probably looked confused so one of them was kind enough to offer to walk with me.

On the way down, the boy sheepishly kept looking in my direction, as if trying to make up his mind whether to talk to me or not. He finally got the courage, squared his shoulders, cleared his throat and in a tiny, squeaky voice of an awkward boy, asked politely, “Dinadalaw nyo po anak nyo?”

With a smile still pasted on my lips, I told him I was there for a meeting. But my thoughts went, “Anak ka dyan! Anak ka ng…”

Yes, that truly was an enlightening conversation.

heaven is that moment

2012-02-26T19:22:00.002+08:00

It has been a month-long Valentine celebration, I swear! I can still hear those mushy, cheezy lines –

“Dalawang bese lang kita gusto makita : Now and forever.” - Ang KESO mo!!

“Para kang centrum... coz u complete me!” - Baduy mo, ‘tiong!

"Pustiso ka ba? ‘Coz I can’t smile without you.” - Ewwww!

And people certainly haven’t had enough yet of the love songs – they’re played on radios, on PCs, in the malls, sung by the staff at my back, he‘s about to piss me off! (bitter?)

One song – just a line really- by Karen Carpenter stuck in my head, “… and heaven is that moment when I looked into your eyes…” It was early Sunday morning. I was reading a book, seated by the fire escape stairway in my apartment building when I heard that song, that line, played for the nth time. I stopped my reading, rolled my eyes, annoyance seeping in. And then I looked out from my third floor view and there it was – my bit of heaven. The sky was gloriously blue and the sun was joyfully bright, as if smiling down at me.

And I understood. “Heaven is that moment” when I’m with my sister and her family. “Heaven is that moment” when amongst friends. “Heaven” is laughter. "Heaven is that moment" in prayer. “Heaven” is food. “Heaven” is work. “Heaven” is this little piece of room I now call my mini-home. “Heaven” is that e-mail or text from a friend. "Heaven" is looking outside my balcony and marveling at my space flowers. “Heaven” is waking up to a new day, a new chance. “Heaven” is Isabel’s new wily story and Inigo’s chubby cheeks. “Heaven” is that sincere smile from a new friend. ‘Heaven” is going with a friend to shop, to party, to bowl. “Heaven” is talking for hours with friends about anything and everything. “Heaven” is getting through pain. “Heaven” is knowing all is well. “Heaven” is this…talking to you. YOU are my bit of heaven.

I always, always have “moments of heaven” every single day. There is always something to be grateful for. But I guess I was looking so much at the lack, at the pain and fear and frustration, they blind me to see those heavenly moments. Focusing on what I don't have instead of the wealth of blessings that I do have rob me of the joys of these moments in heaven.

The song is called "I Just Fall In Love Again". Now wouldn't THAT be heavenly if I really just did fall in love again? But until such time (if ever), I will enjoy and be grateful for these many, many "moments of heaven".

the spa

2012-01-30T07:53:00.000+08:00

One of my former bosses in NPC e-mailed and gave me an update on the dizzying amount of work she’s doing in the office. Her detailed account of the reports and letters and presentation materials she did on a Friday was enough to make my head spin. But her account made me look back at the work I did on that same Friday – at least 15 correspondences , 2 coordination/negotiations with training providers, review and processing of training requests, draft a training proposal and rehash of a concept paper. Whew! It’s no wonder I found myself with a stiff neck and a back ache with colds to boot as I stressed out trying to meet and beat deadlines.

My neck was so stiff and sore I thought I’d go get myself a massage at The Spa Elements once again. I was on my way there and as I neared their building and saw their signage, I vividly recalled the last (first actually) time I went there just a few weeks back.

The reception area was so cool and inviting it was enough to relax and de-stress anyone. With the package I chose, I was first given foot, hand and head massage. I was seated in one of those big cozy spa chairs as the girl masseuse started working on me – soaked my feet on a spa machine with essential oils followed by the foot and leg massage proper. I don’t know if I really got a “proper” foot massage because every single time she put pressure on my stressed feet/legs, I’d go, “Hee hee hee hee!” She’d stop and give me an amused look. She’d start again after a few moments and of course, I’d also go “Hee hee hee hee” again. It went on for the whole foot/leg massage session. My giggles were the only noise inside that hushed place. I thought I wasn’t ticklish anymore since I’m used to getting massages but I guess a few months without massage made me ticklish once again.

So we finally gave up on the foot/leg massage and off we went for my body massage. The slow circular and not-so-hard pressure on my back was so soothing. I had my eyes closed feeling my back muscles relaxing when all of a sudden, “Whack!” My eyes opened wide in surprise as the girl started giving me hard hitting karate chops!

“A-a-a-a-a-ya-ya-ya-ya-wow-wow-wow ko-ko-ko-ko-ko nya-nya-nya-nya-nyannnnn!” (ayaw ko nyan) I was saying. But of course she was done giving me karate chops when she finally stopped to ask, “Ha???” to which I replied, “’LA NA!!!”

That vivid memory made me finally decide I was better off without their massage and off I went and just took Alaxan FR. Sabi nga ni Manny Pacquiao - "Di ako takot umaray...may alaxan if ar!"

Rains

2012-01-17T12:23:00.001+08:00

The sound of sudden surge of heavy rains brought me out of my daydream. I didn’t realize my thoughts had drifted in to a reverie as I sat and listened to the priest’s long homily (but then do we EVER realize our thoughts are about do go adrift?). Guiltily, I tried to re-focus. It was only then I noticed people were looking outside the church’s doors and windows watching the rains pour, their faces filled with concern.

The rains kept on. And I too felt the beginnings of worry creep in. I started to look around…but then I heard this voice, so soft. A whisper. Or maybe it was just a thought. It said, “The storm will pass” and I literally felt calm blanket me all over.

The Mass ended shortly. And the heavy rains had also dwindled into a trickle. The soft voice…the whisper…made good its promise. And as I walked the damp streets of Iloilo City that night, I could not help but splash a smile. The storm has passed. And so, too, the storms of my life will come to pass. The soft calming voice will make good His promise . . . as He always does.

"lula"

2012-01-11T07:52:00.001+08:00

I had just come from a grueling, if not punishing, meeting that started morning and ended til early evening. "Ended" here is a loose term since we didn't finish at all. We probably looked exhausted (another loose term) so the powers that be decided to take a break for the night and we'd start early first thing in the morning.

"Overwhelming" is another term used loosely and lightly in describing the work my team has to handle this 2012 and onwards. My boss, during this work plan meeting, was doing crafts as a form of therapy. But I guess doing craftwork was not therapeutic enough because he just about exploded and, right in the middle of the meeting with the VPs and some members of Management, threatened to resign from work.

Resign...now that's a thought I entertained. I had seriously considered this. I was literally getting feverish just looking at the work program WE had designed for the year. My boss, and even our VP, think the work ahead is "nakakalula" (their term, not mine), and yet... nothing. I've been with the company barely two months but it feels more like three years! (And I'm paying a dear price - my health) I thought the "Russians" had me pretty loaded but this was just too much!

By late afternoon, I was staring at the laptop monitor, not really listening nor particularly caring what additional assignments they were handing out in my direction. I was serious. I wanted to quit. But as I stared at the monitor, I found myself staring back at me. And as I stared some more at my reflection, asking myself if "quitting" was an option, another question came to me, "What if God quit on you because you're way too much to handle?"

That question certainly got me off my "quitting" thoughts. I am a handful. I am difficult. I can be a bit much to handle. And I certainly don't want my God (nor my friends) to go quittin' on me just because.

Yes, this new life can be more than a handful. Yes, the job can be a tad difficult. Yes, the work ahead may be a bit much to handle. But, you know what? I remember a saying of Mother Teresa that said perfectly what was exactly on my mind, "God will not give me anything I cannot handle. I just wish He didn't trust me so much."

P.S.
It's 6:45 and i'm off to prepare for my morning meeting. So I guess I'm staying put (for now hehehe)

makeover

2012-01-09T21:26:00.002+08:00

I was going through my “Someday List”, ticking off adventures and misadventures I’ve started or completed. As I read this one to-do item on my list, it hit me on the pes that I had just done this and was ready to tick it off. I had written:

“Get a complete makeover (change everything, from your hair style, hair color, image, clothes) and get a different look: one which you would never have thought of trying!”

AND I DID!

I hadn’t even thought I’d be getting a makeover but that’s exactly what happened when make-up artists – yes, in plural form – tried revolutionizing my look during the office Christmas party.

The first artist, Stanley, a.k.a. Gwen, put on dark blue eye shadows that made me look a vampire from the coven in the Twilight series. He/she then put on the same dark shade to highlight the bridge on my nose. AS IF! Para tuloy akong ilong na tinubuan ng mukha! Then came the curls or messed-up-hair look that made me look like I was going to play li’l orphan Annie in a musicale!

To say I wasn’t happy with the look he/she gave me was, suffice it to say, an understatement.

Then came Vincent who was more suplada than Gwen. I found him/her putting on last touches on the already beautiful Jam, the VP’s Executive Assistant, and as I passed by them, he/she looked at me with incredulous eyes, probably wondering if I was going for the Lady Gaga look. Well, I did look like a “gaga” so I guess he/she wasn’t that far off the mark.

I asked Vincent if he could “remedy” my look and with his/her “I-can-do-anything” look, he said in a high-pitched, haughty voice, “Of course!”

So “remedy” my make-up he did…and the result? Well, he managed to make me look like a bading vampire! Glamorous maybe, but still a vampire and a bading at that!

I had to pay twice to look like a bading vampire when I could’ve done that myself with no effort at all! I was exasperated to say the least. Two, not just one, mind you, but two make-up artists worked on my pes. So let’s pes it – the problem’s not the make-up, it’s my pes! What a makeover it turned out!

But then, I thought to myself “Isn’t that exactly what I’m in the middle of right now? A life makeover?”

I had said “Yes” to My Father for a life makeover. Amidst the fears and questions and apprehensions, I found myself saying “yes” to a new life, a new job, new home, heck even new names - some in the office call me “Ann”, there are those who call me “Ma” and a limited few call me “Timmy”.

He created me and He most certainly can recreate me. And I know my Father, my life artist, will NEVER make me look less than a beautiful princess. But my past look, my past life, has been swathed with flaws and bruises and scars.

Let me tell you though the secret to a beautiful makeover….it starts with the right foundation. And that’s what my Father is doing right now in my “life makeover” – putting on a powerful foundation not just to cover up but to totally do away with my life’s flaws and scars and imperfections. But before I could get THE look deserving of a daughter of a King, before this life makeover gets completed, my pes, my life, would have to be cleaned up and washed away of the dirt I seem to have problems letting go of.

My Father, the King, isn’t done with me. And as I go through foul-ups (even in make-up), I will take courage and just trust that these foul-ups and struggles are exactly what I need for my life’s renovations.

Christmas toddler moments

2012-01-03T08:51:00.001+08:00

I went home for the holidays and my three-year old niece, Isabel, as usual, was funny and full of surprises!

During the Christmas lunch reunion with the Samonte clan, all of us " young" adults were called to assemble in the living room to play some games. The teenagers were most difficult to call as they were glued to their laptops in the dining hall. Isabel, hearing our exasperated calls to the teenagers, marched over to her teenaged cousins and, with a voice of "authority", said, "Where's team spirit! Where's team spirit!" while stomping to and fro the living and dining areas.

Now where did she learn that?

The 3-year old, and not the oldies, got the young ones out of their seats!

____________________________________

On our way to hear Mass for Christmas, my sister Miles and I were talking about where to go for lunch and some shopping while Isabel, we thought, was fast falling asleep in the car. I mentioned that I missed the tyangge at Greenhills Shopping Center. Isabel suddenly blurted out, "I DON'T LIKE TYANGGEEE!"

Mommy Miles asked, "So where do you want to go?"

Isabel answered, "Eastpud!" (Eastwood)

Ngyeee! Sosyal?

_____________________________________

The afternoon of New Year's Eve, Isabel and I were playing "beach with baby" inside their house. As I watched Isabel lay down the imaginary beach towels as she did a monologue on what happens at the beach, I felt sad and missing Isabel already as I thought of going back to Iloilo the following day. Isabel, sensing my melancholy, dropped what she was doing, went over to where I was seated, looked me in the eye and said, "Don't worry, Auntie-Ninang!"

Magical words from my angel!

____________________________________

At the strike of midnight New Year's Eve, everybody was jumping and greeting out loud, "Happy New Year!"

Isabel joined in and said, "Happy New Here!"

Yes, thank you Isabel, for reminding me to be happy in the here and in the now!

Precious!

broken

2011-12-07T21:57:00.004+08:00

In filling out personal forms, I write “S” under social status, meaning “Single”. Should I fill out such forms any time soon though, “S” would now mean an entirely different thing for me...”S” for Separated. Yes, I am separated...from my family, from my friends, from everyone and everything I love and know.

I have been in Iloilo, in my new job, for a couple of weeks now. And I AM excited about learning and doing something new. I AM eager to make new friends. I AM ready to try out a new life. But every night, at the strike of 6, I look up from my cubicle and find the other people from work rushing about, smiles on their faces knowing they’d be home soon to their families or to their friends for gimmicks. And me...well, I’d try to study more or get some work done, maybe ‘til 8 pm or later. Then I’d head to an empty, lifeless room.

Everybody says, “Sa umpisa lang yan!” I’m taking their word for it and assuring myself that it is. But nobody ever says how long “umpisa” is. Does “umpisa” last for 2 weeks? 4? 6 months? A year? Because I can’t wait for “umpisa” to be over and I’ll be counting the days ‘til then.

Don’t get me wrong . . . it has been fun and different. People are nice. Work has been occupying most of my waking time. And I’ve been an “uto-uto”, accepting hosting gigs here and there hehehe. But nights and weekends can be bad.

I was early to church this weekend for the Sunday Mass. I wasn’t sure of the Mass schedule so I thought I’d come early just in case Google was mistaken. Turns out, Google was spot on again. As I sat waiting for the Mass to begin, people in droves came in. These droves were either families or ‘kadas and I couldn’t help but feel alone and lonely. And grateful though as I am, try as I might to feel joyful and be in high spirits, I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t. I put on a friendly smile I did not feel. And I had to admit – upbeat and bubbly though I try to be, I am a broken spirit.

But my Father, being my Father, wouldn’t get me on that path for long. There, in the middle of the Mass, I found myself staring at the big and strong and defeated and rejected Jesus that was His Son crucified. His death IS the reason – the cause - for the celebration that IS the Holy Mass. Yes, WE CELEBRATE HIS SUFFERING AND DEATH! Because His death gave birth to our new life.

And so will I celebrate my broken spirit. So will I celebrate my weakness. So will I rejoice amidst this brokenness. For it is when I am weak that He is strong. I never really understood that line from a song – “let the weak say I am strong, let the poor say I am rich...” now, I guess, I know. It is now, when I am broken - when I have nothing and no one - that I feel His presence, His provision, His strength.

I WILL celebrate! My brokenness, my loneliness, my lack. Because I trust that this will give birth to something (or maybe someone wink wink) wonderful of a blessing!

In filling out personal forms, I write “S” under social status, meaning “Single”. Should I fill out such forms any day soon though, “S” would now mean an entirely different thing for me...”S” for Separated. Yes, I am separated...from my family, from my friends, from everyone and everything I love and know.

I have been in Iloilo, in my new job, for a couple of weeks now. And I AM excited about learning and doing something new. I AM eager to make new friends. I AM ready to try out a new life. But every night, at the strike of 6, I look up from my cubicle and find the other people from work rushing about, smiles on their faces knowing they’d be home soon to their families or to their friends for gimmicks. And me...well, I’d try to study more or get some work done, maybe ‘til 8 pm or later. Then I’d head to an empty, lifeless room.

Everybody says, “Sa umpisa lang yan!” I’m taking their word for it and assuring myself that it is. But nobody ever says how long “umpisa” is. Does “umpisa” last for 2 weeks? 4? 6 months? A year? Because I can’t wait for “umpisa” to be over and I’ll be counting the days ‘til then.

Don’t get me wrong . . . it has been fun and different. People are nice. Work has been occupying most of my waking time. And I’ve been an “uto-uto”, accepting hosting/singing/dancing gigs here and there hehehe. But nights and weekends can be bad.

I was early to church one weekend for the Sunday Mass. I wasn’t sure of the Mass schedule so I thought I’d come early just in case Google was mistaken. Turns out, Google was spot on again. As I sat waiting for the Mass to begin, people in droves came in. These droves were either families or ‘kadas and I couldn’t help but feel alone and lonely. And grateful though as I am, try as I might to feel joyful and be in high spirits, I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t. I put on a friendly smile I did not feel. And I had to admit – upbeat and bubbly though I try to be, I have the beginnings of a broken spirit.

But my Father, being my Father, wouldn’t get me on that path for long. There, in the middle of the Mass, big and strong and beaten and rejected was His Son, crucified. His death IS the reason – the cause - for the celebration that is the Holy Mass. WE CELEBRATE HIS SUFFERING AND DEATH! And I remember Bo Sanchez saying we celebrate Jesus’ death – the greatest tragedy - because from this came the greatest blessing, the greatest victory.

And so will I celebrate my broken spirit! So will I celebrate my weakness. So will I rejoice amidst this brokenness. For it is when I am weak that He is strong. I never really understood that line from a song – “let the weak say I am strong, let the poor say I am rich...” now, I guess, I know. It is now, when I am broken, when I have nothing and no one, that I feel His presence, His provision, His strength. He HAS time and again proven this...I just need reminding.

I WILL celebrate! My brokenness, my aloneness, my lack. Because I trust that from this will come something (or maybe someone wink wink) wonderful of a blessing!

bday (iloilo journal part 2)

2011-11-26T21:23:00.001+08:00

Did you know that Iloilo City is tagged as the City of Love? I certainly didn't! It seems the word IloIlo was derived from ILOveILOve (or maybe this was something they made up) Hmmmm....

Anyway, you know how I welcomed my birthday? Well, November 19, around 9:30 pm, I was staring at my dirty clothes and decided I needed to do my laundry...only to realize I didn't know how! (Pathetic with a capital bold P!) So I googled how to go about the chore - washing cycle, fabric conditioner, and all. Close to midnight, I was done with the spin dryer and so I welcomed my bday hanging my laundry on the clothesline at the back of the guest house where I'm staying temporarily. . . only to be told by Manong Guard that it rained hard early in the morning! Do I even wash them again? No time to even think about it since I was going to be late for Mass. So I left the clothes still on the clothesline, thinking I'd deal with them when I get back.

So off I went to hear Mass at St. Clement's Church. It's a big, newish church with an amazing choir... I mean, if I was bulag, I'd fall in love with the male singers of the choir! But of course, no guy has yet topped my "ex-man"!

After Mass, I met with friends from the office to look for a place to stay. I found one - small but livable.

Then we commuted to SM City. Getting a jeepney or tricycle ride to anywhere here is, well, different. The jeep/taxi/tricycle terminals are called "parkingan". Vans or FX as we call them in Manila are called "Vhire". The tricycles have their routes and you get off at designated drop off points unlike in Manila where tricycles give a "door-to-door" service. So as i rode my first jeepney ride to SM City, I got to say my first Ilonggo (the correct term is Hiligaynon) line, "lugar lang" (meaning "dito lang" - i think).

I treated to lunch as a sort of "thank you" these two guy friends from the office for taking me apartment hunting and bringing me to the mall. Actually, one of the guys I've known for years in NPC and he's like a kuya to me. This other guy I asked out (see, I'm getting brave at these asking-guys-out thingy) is a training staff and has been real nice ever since I got here but is waaaaay too young and is like a young brother...in other words, harmless.

After lunch, I asked the young guy if he wanted to see this movie I wanted to see. I wanted a good laugh so we saw "Praybeyt Benjamin". I really had a good laugh more so because he treated me to the movies.

We separated ways at Gaisano since I had to look for stuff I would be needing for my new "home" - curtains, linen, etc.

I got back to the power plant complex around 7ish pm, wondering if the clothes have dried off or if I should do my laundry again. I went to the office first to drop off some stuff...and what do you know, it's now after 9 pm and I'm still in the office since it's been raining real hard since I got here (outpouring of blessings, I guess). My clothes!

Goodness! My bday started with laundry and I guess I'm going to end it doing laundry...again!

Iloilo journal

2011-11-20T23:24:00.003+08:00

I'm trying to "journalize" my first few days here in Iloilo and in my new work, so here goes (first 4 days- Nov 16-19):

The power plant complex (which houses 2 plants - diesel and coal-fired) is ok naman. Since the office is within the plant complex, I'm issued my own hard hat, safety shoes (skechers), safety glasses, earplugs, etc. I hope I don't have to wear them - wa poise noh!

The people are friendly. I've been making chika with the training staff (a young guy) and the exec asst to the VP na girl who are both mabait! Super bait talaga si Bro kasi there's this IMS manager from Cebu office who's been real nice, sobra. Parang "ate" sya and so funny pa. Pero balik muna sya Cebu e kasi naga-audit lang sya dito but she'll be back. Kaya may "ate" ako dito, for awhile at least.

I want to learn ilonggo. Sabi nila, dapat daw madilaan ako para mas madali akong matuto. So ngayon nagpapahanap ako ng didila sa akin and not the "pwera-usog" na pag dila ha. The full monty ang gusto ko.

I'm billeted for 2 weeks sa guest house within the power plant (sabi ko when I arrived na I'm not a guest so dapat sa staff house ako). Sobra bait ng nag-arrange kasi I love the amenities that I have in my room. Bait talaga ni God!

Am impressed with their computer system/IT here - hi-tech! or baka sobrang low-tech lang sa NPC.

Pero much has to be said about the work flow or system or baka ganito lang talaga sa private, mabibilis ang pangyayayri - email trail lang, pde ng authorization/approving document. Kasi when I was Oh-I-See, I was looking for approvals (hard copy na signed docs) before endorsing trainings, participants and the expenses, pero apparently ok na pala yung email from a VP that says, "hope you can attend."

Pinoproblema ko ngayon ang paglalaba.... di ako marunong! (pathetic). Sa guest house, may washing machine and ang alam kong washer ay yung sa states na isalpak lang ay wait na lang for the beep. At sanay din ako sa "Carol, paki-labhan na 'to, please" hehehe Kya gusto ko na ring makanap ng own place ko so I can find a laundry place.

Isa ko pang pino-problema...ang Christmas party theme is Hollywood - Red Carpet. So bonggang naka-gown ang mga girlash ditech! Kausap ko kasi minsan yung mga managers when they mentioned THE event. Apparently it's a big thing here. Haay! what to wear? Magmumukha na naman akong bading nito!

So far - emcee ako on their Fireworks Olympics, member of the choir, bowling team (daw), taebo class (may crush sa 'kin yung bading na instructor - nag ilusyon na naman ako! at sa bading na naman! ano ba yan? mag-iilusyon na lang di na gwapo at bading pa!!!)

And of course, of all things, na-dead si Sam... as in si Sam J. Sung. siguro na overcharge ko. And my warranty is in Manila. Adventure talaga!!! Nandun ang Iloilo contacts ko so pag nawala ako...If you don't hear from me in a week, call the marines! Buti na lang may back-up fone ako pero i didn't bring that to be used as fone- TV ang habol ko sa kanya kaya ang sakit sa ulo gamitin.

Oh Man! (conquering fear part 2)

2011-11-11T17:49:00.001+08:00

I asked him out! For the first freakin' time in my life, I asked a man out! Oh sure, I've asked male friends to go out for whatnot but these were friends, "walang malisya" so to speak. This guy, however . . . We've known each other way back but we weren't friends. We had mutual friends. We sometimes talk though and so that was how it happened . . .

I was pacing by the window, fidgeting, looking out and wondering if I should do it. I have been meaning to, for days now . . . 137 days to be exact. This was not me. This would be so uncharacteristic of me. Unfamiliar. I'm not one to gamble with matters of the heart. At least I WAS not. But I did it anyway.

I called him up, "Hey, it's Maan. I need to ask something. Can I see you?"

Him, "Hey, what is it?"

With heart pounding like mad, I said, "Uhhh...I can't tell you over the phone."

Him, "Ok. Come on over."

As I prepared to go over his place, I put on some powder and some lipstick, thinking these would mask the nervous wreck that I was. As I neared his place, I squared my shoulders and strode with steps of confidence I did not feel. I knocked on his door and peeped in. My heart gave loud thumps and I wondered if he could actually hear the thudding.

He let me in and for the first time, I realized that my plans didn't go as far as actually asking him out. Picking up the phone to tell him I had something to say was as far as my plans went. So...

"Hey, What's up?" he asked.

I looked at him with a silly smile on my face,"Uhhh...."

As he waited with a look of wonder, I decided to just plunge right in, "I'd like to invite you out...coffee maybe."

He looked dumbfounded AND amused. I caught him off guard. Heck, I caught myself off guard. It took him a few seconds to let the words sink in but it had seemed forever to me...forever wondering what he was going to say.

Finally, he said, with an amused smile on his face, “Sure! Where? When? Next week would a good time for me.”

“Sure” I said flippantly, as if this was a thing I do all the time.

“I’ll text you,” he said.

THAT was 3 weeks ago! And we haven’t gone out for coffee nor has he texted, not even to tell me that he CAN’T or WON’T make it or DON’T want to do it at all.

Oh please, don’t give me that pity look… it’s ok. Really. It is.

NO.

TRUTH BE TOLD, IT’S NOT OK!

IT HURT! IT'S EMBARRASSING! I FEEL FOOLISH! I FEEL REJECTED!

But what was more embarrassing, what was more foolish was the realization that I have been doing this (rejection) to the one being who should matter.

I went to hear Mass with this guy’s rejection in mind. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it but I just couldn’t get it off my head. So I was distracted the whole time I was in church. This little boy and his sister sitting beside me were so makulit they were starting to piss me off. The baby’s cries at the back of the church irked me. The mother at the far end of the pew trying to hush her children was making more noise than her kids. Everything just seemed to be getting at me when normally I just let such things be and not let these get to me.

In exasperation, I looked up at the crucified Christ to ask for focus and patience when all I saw, and all the world to see, was my rejection of Him.

I stared at Him for long moments. I could actually feel His fatherly smile at me when I heard Him in my heart say, “Now you know how I feel.”

I should feel rejected? When I could not even count the number of times I have rejected my Father when I have been called to service? How many times have I been asked to spread His love and I said “NO”? How many times have I looked at someone with prejudice in my eyes? How many times have I thought of someone as less worthy of my trust? How many times have someone reached out to me and I have not bothered at all? How many times have I turned a blind eye and not “see” the helpless? How many excuses have I made to Him and said I can’t?

Countless.

I have been rejected once and I go ballistic! My Father has been rejected more times than the stars number in the sky. Yet, here He is, blessing me, loving me, healing me.

Yes, I do and should feel embarrassed. Yes, I do and should feel foolish. For hurting and rejecting the one and only being who would never hurt or reject me.

another round of toddler moments

2011-11-11T15:52:00.000+08:00

My almost three-year old niece Isabel was playing with this musical-dancing-bump around bumblebee when the bee's noise and dancing stopped. We looked at Isabel to see what happened and mommy and ninang saw her holding what seemed to be a broken/chipped battery cover of the bumblebee.

We asked, "What happened, Isabel?"

Isabel answered, "It broke"

Mommy asked, "Who broke it? Isabel broke it?"

Isabel paused as if thinking, then said, "Only my foot!"

So hindi lahat fault ni Isabel, foot lang nya...ahhh!
________________________________________

Isabel, after eating chocolates from her trick-or-treat loot bags, hugged me and said, "You're my best friend, Ninang!"

"Awwww" I said, until I realized she wiped her chocolate-soiled hands on my shirt while she hugged me.

Bespren nga!
________________________________________

Isabel almost always wakes up with a smile on her face. Sometimes she'd smile and give a bear hug. One time, mommy Miles and me were watching over Isabel while she took her afternoon nap. When she woke up and found us with her, she smiled, hugged us and said, "Love you Mommy! Love you Ninang!"

Awww! Melted my heart!

Sometimes, though, she'd wake up, smile at her Mom or Dad and say, "SM!"

Shopaholic in the making!

_________________________________________

I call my sister's house the House of Affirmation and Positivity. Everyone and everything is affirmed or thanked for. You open a door, they say "thank you", pick up litter, "thank you", turn on/off light, "thank you". Food on the table, someone says "yummy. Thank you!". Isabel packing away her stuff, "Good job".

And this Isabel picked up early.

She loves coloring or drawing or painting. One time, after putting on paint on a drawing, she said, "Ninang, your turn."

After I've splashed some colors on a flower drawing, Isabel said, "That's lovely, Ninang! Great job!"

"Thank you, Isabel!"

One time, Isabel was singing nursery rhymes learned from her class at Little Gym. After finishing the new song from class, mommy clapped her hands, hooted and said, "Great job, Isabel! That was good! Real nice!"

And with a flip of one hand, Isabel said, "Awwww, shucks!"

Shucks? She didn't hear that from me, mommy!
______________________________________

One time, as I helped prepare Isabel for a bath, she gave me a slight hug and said, "Big tummy, Ninang!"

As her mommy Miles walked into the bathroom, I asked Isabel, "What about mommy's tummy? Is it big?"

Isabel took a moment to look at her mom with her 8-month preggy belly and said, "Mommy's tummy huge! It's like mountain!"

You got that right, Isabel!
___________________________________________

While mommy Miles was sorting through Isabel's toys to choose which ones to give away, Isabel looked around and said, "Mommy, look at the ness! It's nessy!

Mommy corrected her and said, "It's mess, anak! Messy! Not nessy"

Isabel insisted it's "Ness! Nessy!"

And so they went, "Anak, say mes-sy!" "Nessy!" "Messy!" "Nessy!" "Messy!"
_____________________________________

As dogs were featured in a show on Baby TV, Isabel suddenly stood up from where she was sitting and began singing (with matching sway of the body), "B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O and Bingo was his NEMO!"

Isabel, it's "name-o". Naging fish tuloy si Bingo!

My First Time (conquering fear part 3)

2011-11-11T15:50:00.000+08:00

This year I've been on a mission. It has been about conquering...conquering my fears, my inhibitions, my hang-ups. So . . .

His name was Francis and we hadn't known each other long. But I trusted him. We had mutual friends and I've only been hearing good things about him. So armed with this new "Why not!" attitude I've recently adapted, I told myself, "Yeah! Why indeed not!?!" and agreed to meet up with him.

As I entered the 24th floor room overlooking the vast expanse of Ortigas, I hardly noticed the view nor the furniture as I moved around, restless, uneasy, not knowing really what to expect or how things would begin. We made small talk about little mundane things of everyday life. He held my hand while we talked, feeling, holding, touching. Then he went to another room to get his "stuff". As soon as he got back, I was made to lie down.

More restless and uneasy than ever, I sat for long moments making more small talk, stretching time. Then it WAS time. I lay down on my back. He started feeling his way up - my legs, my arms... My hair ruffled in his hands. This went on for what seemed like hours but what could actually be only short minutes.

Then it happened. I felt first some poking before the first thrust of it. I held my breath. I had too. I closed my eyes for mere seconds. He asked me how I was feeling. I couldn't really explain . . . I felt a bit of pricking pain, fleeting pain. Then some numbness and yet there was some sensation to it. And, of course, the heaviness of it. There seemed to be an electrifying feeling to it and I asked, "Should this be how I should be feeling?"

He looked down at me, and with a hint of a knowing smile, said, “Yeah”.

“There’s tension in your muscles. Relax!” he further said.

So I did. And it did feel better, easier, more comfortable. The soreness was still there but it slowly abated as I succumbed to the sensation.

This went on for what felt like eternity but as I took a glance at the nearby clock, I couldn't believe that it had gone on for only a fraction of an hour. And then, like all things, what has begun, must end. All too soon, it seemed.

I lay down for some more moments, taking in everything that had happened.

As I sat up and fixed my clothes, we talked for awhile and agreed to meet again. I don't know...

As I went down that tower of a building, I felt light and I couldn't help but smile and think, "So that's what an acupuncture session is all about! Wow! I survived. I guess there was nothing to be scared of in the first place. Yeah. . . maybe I WILL come back for more after all!"

snapshots of faith (conquering fear part 1)

2011-10-13T23:01:00.004+08:00

I'm afraid to fly, and I don't know why. I'm jealous of the people who are not afraid to die. It's just that I recall, back when I was small. Someone promised that they'd catch me but then they'd let me fall...

Oh wait, those are lines from a song (aaaadmit it...you were singin'...at nabitin ka!)

The lyrics seem to be the very words I've held onto except it's not flying I'm afraid of, it's the water, particularly big bodies of water like the ocean or a long flowing river simply because they're predictably unpredictable. And like the song, I recall those many times when I tried to learn how to swim. I could feel my heart jump to 200 beats per second (OA!) and I'd go into a state of frantic. And as I panic, I go down and pull down everything and everyone around me. My swimming "teachers" (including my dad) all but gave up on me. I gave up on me.

But I've been on a mission - to meet my fears head on!

So, as my girlfriends, Mela and Kristy, and I packed our stuff (including a fuchsia umbrella) and flew to Cagayan de Oro, I felt my heart pound every time I thought of the white water rafting adventure we'd scheduled. Ziplining, spelunking (with some minor planking) and walking on hanging bridges merely distracted me from my fears. It did not help that Kristy kept recalling the time she went rafting and their boat capsized not once, not twice but THREE...yes, THREE times!

My friends were considerate of my fears and had ourselves booked to take the beginner's course. But I knew they were itching to take the advanced rafting course which involves some large waves (21 in all), rocks, considerable drop and sharp maneuvers. And would take roughly four to five hours to complete.

I took another step to meeting my fears - I agreed to take the advanced whitewater experience.

As the cute raft guide gave out tips and instructions on what to do in case we fell overboard, I could not hear, much less understand him. I got stuck at “overboard” as my heart pounded in my ears.

I hang back as Mela and Kristy boarded our raft. I kept thinking, “Four hours in the water? Rough waters? Will there be a way to stop or go back in case…?”

Then I heard a distinct whisper. Loud and clear. “Trust your equipment.”

So in I went on our raft, sat on the sides and looked around for the “equipment”. With just a paddle in hand, I asked God, “What EQUIPMENT? WHAT EQUIPMEEEEENT?”

Before panic could set in, we were moving along and onto what I thought was our first rapid encounter, only to be told that the waves were not counted and were merely called JJ waves…JJ as in “joke joke” waves. These waves were just joke joke? To me they were MM waves already…MM as in major major!

As we rode the waves, paddled forward and backward, got splashed on and fell on our rafts (not overboard, thank God!), and embraced the raft guide (at least Kristy did) for balance, I finally knew what “equipment” God whispered to me about. It was my faith…I was equipped with faith enough to take steps to conquer my fears. I was equipped with His fatherly love and the knowledge that He will take care of me, of us. I was equipped with trust that I am exactly where I am meant to be…braving the rough waters and facing my fears. And I was equipped with friends who’d jump in with and for me.

A friend once asked what faith is. I could not explain it to her. Now, I can show her not with words but with snapshots of me trusting God, of me believing that He can and He did and will forever pull me through my “rough waters”.

children's quotes and thoughts

2011-10-06T22:01:00.001+08:00

Kids (in general, not my kids- hehehe) are my stress relievers. They have a way of putting a smile on my face and sunshine on an otherwise gloomy day. Am sharing some of the funny quotes i've come across. Enjoy!

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Aldrien (age 7) and Alekk (age 9) witty quips

While trying to open Cebu Pacific's site for its promo fares:
Alekk : Let's go to Japan! Japan! Japan!
Daddy Armand: Taiwan. We don't need a visa coz we have US visas.
Mommy Lisa: Singapore?
Aldrien: Let's go to McDonalds!

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While mommy Lisa was explaining analogies to 9-year old Alekk (tidy is to neat as right is to correct...), 7-year old Aldrien proudly butts in: "Oh, we're doing something like that in school! We're doing cinnamons!" (Uhhhh... anak, I think you mean synonyms.)

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While reviewing for filipino exams:
Mommy Lisa: dalaga means a young lady who's not married.
Alekk : a virgin?
took me a while before i could reply: ummm... yes...sometimes....

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While doing math problems...
Mommy Lisa: What does mas mura mean?
Aldrien: Cheaper!
Me: Good! Now what does mas mahal mean?
Aldrien: Hmmm.... more loving? (then proceeds to hug me!)
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Aldrien & Roman numerals...
Lola: What's III?
Aldrien: Three!
Lola: VI?
Aldrien: Six!
Lola: XL?
Aldrien (after a short pause): Extra large?

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Children’s perspective –

On when should be your 1^st kiss

Pam 6 – when they’re rich

Kurt 7 – the law says you have be 18 so I wouldn’t want to mess with that

On People in love
Brad 8 – people love just stare at each other and let the food get cold…other people care more about the food

How can you tell if two people are married?
Derrick 9 - You might have to guess based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids

How will you make the marriage work?

Roger 6- Don’t forget the wife’s name, that will mess it up

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Classroom question and answer

Teacher: Maria, go to the map and find North America.

Maria: Here it is

Teacher: Correct. Now class, who discovered America?

Class: Maria

Mom: John, why are you doing your math multiplication on the floor:

John: You told me to do it without using tables

Teacher: Glenn, how do you spell “crocodile?”

Glenn: K-R-O-K-O-D-I-A-L

Teacher: No, that’s wrong.

Glenn: Maybe it is wrong, but you asked me how I spell it.

Teacher: Donald, what is the chemical formula for water?

Donald: H I J K L M N O

Teacher: What are you talking about?

Donald: Yesterday you said it’s H to O

Teacher: Millie, give me a sentence starting with “I”

Millie: I is . . .

Teacher: No, Millie…always say, “I am…”

Millie: All right…”I am the ninth letter of the alphabet.”

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Kids' quotes

"Never trust a dog to watch your food." -Patrick, age 10

"Never tell your Mom her diet's not working." -Michael, age 14

"Stay away from prunes." -Randy, age 9

"When your Mom is mad at your dad, don't let her brush your hair." -Taylia, age 11

"A puppy always has bad breath--even after eating a Tic-Tac." - Andrew, age 9

some more toddler moments

2011-10-05T13:04:00.000+08:00

My two-year old niece, Isabel, can be a handful sometimes (well, ok, most of the time). She's just full of energy and makes full use of the skills and lessons learned at li'l gym. So it's a wonderful kind of exercise to be running around trying to match her energy and tumbling exercises.

But she can also be the sweetest girl there is.

One time while watching cartoons with her mom, she turns and looks at her mom, says, "You're the best mom there is!" and gives the tightest hug.

Awwww! Wouldn't that just melt your heart?

One other time, she was playing with her toy cellphone. As she was "dialing up", her mom, Miles, asked, "Who are you calling?"

Isabel answered, "Aunty Ninang"

Mommy Miles asked, "What are going to say to her?"

Isabel, with the cellphone cradled to her ear as if talking to someone on the other end, said, "Thank you gifts, Ninang!"

Awwww!

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Isabel is not just sweet, she's also very smart (no bias her hehehe).

During typhoon Pedring, their new house was not spared of the typhoon's cruel lashing as water seeped in through the second floor windows. As we were discussing the hundred and one ways to solve the leak, Isabel runs to the kitchen, opens a cabinet drawer and takes out an item from it. She rushes back to her mom and with outstretched arms she hands over the scotch tape and says, "Put tape!"

Oo nga naman!

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Me: What's your name?

Isabel (she used to say, "Baby"): Isabel

Me: When is your birthday?

Isabel: Sesember (December) 10

Me: How old are you?

Isabel (in a loud animated proud voice): TWO!

Me: How are you, Isabel?

Isabel (in a loud animated proud voice): THREE!

Ayos!