a click for my thoughts

It was 10:00 this morning when I felt my niece, who was sleeping beside me, woke up. I didn’t move, hoping she would go back to sleep. If she did, that would give me a reason to continue sleeping. But, it was 10:00 in the morning. Like what she usually does, she sat up and checked if I was awake. Seeing my eyes closed, she looked around for something to do. Perhaps her eyes were caught by the hazy white light coming from the half-closed blinds of the window because she crawled to take a peek. And like getting up to the blaring sound of an alarm clock, my sleepy eyes were forced open by her joyous exclamation, "It’s snowing! Look Auntie, it’s snowing! Auntie, it’s snowing, Auntie!" Of course, we all know that not paying attention to such gladness is as serious as committing a crime. Besides, who can resist such exuberance? So I raised my head and looked out the window. Sure enough, there was the snow, blanketing almost everything. While somewhere in my head I was groaning, " Here we go again…" to start complaining about winter and the cold weather, I can’t help but notice the glint of happiness as well.

Snow, tho’ a sign of cold temperature–something I detest–never fail to bring wonder. Its whiteness is its beauty. It is winter’s flower, a consolation for the thorn of cold spells. It is not really winter without it. And without snow, the Yuletide Season is aesthetically dull. It has been an icon for Christmas cards and decors, and one of the mental pictures that pops into someone’s mind when the word ‘winter’ or ‘Christmas’ is mentioned.

So, as my niece kept on going with her excited outburst at the sight of snow, which made her sound like a broken record, I paused to correct myself. "Here we go again…" remained an unfinished idea, and in its place was an appreciation of winter’s beautiful face. (It was a good thing that the day didn’t turn out to be sunny or else, the snow would’ve glared at us.) I smiled. "Yes baby, it’s snow!"

Earlier this evening I wore my winter jacket and my boots, and I went outside to do an errand. With the darkness that had set in, all the glory of the beauty of the snow was veiled. The white snow that lay on grass undisturbed was not as glamorous as it was this morning. What can clearly be seen are the ones that were stained with mud from the roads and the slushy melting ones along the sidewalks and gutters, illuminated by the lampposts that lined the street. I felt the cold air on my face. The soft breeze was freezing.  Without seeing the consoling beauty of the snow, winter (tho’ technically it’s still autumn till Dec. 22) suddenly became nothing but plain cold again. Yet, the crisp air seemed to cure negativities as well for after a dose of winter cold night air, I was overtaken with warm nostalgia.  There was this particular scent in the air, distinct only when snow had fallen. It was the fresh and crisp, yet cool scent of winter. And tho’ it was apart from the scent of cinnamon, scented candles, cozy crackling fire, warm baked pie, and other homecooked meals, the scent still reminded me of the festive mood of Christmas, of memories of family gatherings and reunions, of happiness and sharing, and of fun excitement and sheer joy. And I found myself smiling alone while the cold bit at my exposed skin.

Now, here I am smiling again at the recollection of how I smiled because of the first snow.

There are times when one feels *thinks* …blah. And tho’ there were joyous occasions I had experienced and been a part of lately, and tho’ there were moments that gave me natural highs lately, I still find myself feeling ‘blah’ sometimes. In fact, lately, I feel detached from my normal self. I wonder if it was what most people think: the wheel of life. Sometimes you are up and sometimes you are down. Or is it a hormonal thing?

I feel like there is something that weighs me down, like guilt. But I also wonder…did i just do something wrong? If so, to whom and what? Surely I’d like to know. I dislike conflicts and misunderstanding, and if I have to say I’m sorry first, I will. Sometimes, I find myself saying it even if I don’t have to. If it means mending things, I could care less if I have to apologize first.

But being confused as to where I would get these seemingly guilt feelings tortures me. I have no idea if what I feel is really guilt or not. And if it is, I don’t even know why. I hate being in the state of limbo–this confusion…it tires my brain. It gnaws inside me, causing myself to slowly shut myself in and keep everybody out. At this early stage, I can see myself hardening into a cold stone, numbing the emptiness that has started to creep in. Smiling and laughing when needed, but struggles with the thought when alone. Oh, I hate the idea! But I’ve seen it happen before.

Am I so detached from friends? Am I longing for such companionship, for the familiar sense of belongingness I receive from them? Am I being ambitious of something, discontent with what resources I have in hand? Do I need to flee and regroup myself? *sigh* It’s futile to wonder… it only hastens the dreaded numbness.

Romans 8:28

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.” NIV

*And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God* (another version)

Indeed, God always make a way. He works in many wondrous, mysterious, and unexpected or even unconventional ways. And yet, the results are always the same—always for our best interest. I’ve seen the hand of God work through people least expected, and I have experienced His providence through unexpected ways. And one of those unexpected ways happened in August 2007

While staying at home brings and gives me rest, relaxation, and flexible time, I feel it also dulls my mind. And though I love spending time with my niece and play with her, and closely watch her grow, I still feel I am cut-out for something else. But because my future plans for the career I have chosen has slightly been put on hold, I look forward to actually work for a living. Hence, I started looking for a job in a field related to the university degree I received. My qualification was only limited to a small range of job offerings from the science field, but with much prayer and after several months of looking, I found one I can apply to—a position as a laboratory assistant. I couldn’t believe how it seemed to pop out of nowhere all of a sudden. The job would provide me with a good laboratory experience plus it welcomed recent graduates, offers training, and does not require related experience. So I sent my resume and was amazed when I received a phone call on that same day. I was asked to come in for an interview the following week. I praised and thank God for, surely, all of that had happened wouldn’t be possible without His guiding hand. Yet, while preparing for the interview and as the date closes I began to wonder. Who would take my place as my niece’s babysitter? But “be anxious for nothing” the Bible said, so I still went to the job interview. After a couple of weeks I was asked to return and attend the second interview. This time I was even more concerned about my niece. Although I knew it is technically not my primary concern and that I have prayed for this job opportunity, I can’t help but wrestle with the thought and the decision of having to actually work in case I would be offered a position, and leave nobody to take care of my niece. My mom was willing to take my place in taking care of my niece, but that would mean she would resign from a stable job. If that would be the case, the arrangement seemed to be temporarily advantageous and would be a disadvantage in the long run. And though it seemed that the opportunity was God’s answer to my prayers, I, along with prayer of thanksgiving, continued to pray for assurance that acquiring this job is according to His will; and if it is not, then let His will be done.

My second interview went well. A week passed and no job position was offered. I love the idea of working, but I kept praying that God will help me decide nonetheless. Another week passed and still no call from the company. I prayed that if the company hires me by the end of the week, I would take it as a sign that it was His will for me. But if not, then He has something else planned for me, and in the meantime I would continue taking care of my niece until I am able to leave for a mission trip. Yet, another week passed and I didn’t receive any offered position. Thanking God for the opportunity and experience, I made my decision to concentrate on my other goals and allot my time in taking care of my niece. So after much prayer, I made an arrangement with my sister to take care of her daughter for a given period of time. Soon after that I was asked to babysit another child to which I easily agreed to since it’s what I would be doing anyway.

After at a least a month since my second interview for a position as a lab assistant, and just when I was convinced I would never hear from that company again, I received a call from them along with a job offer. I felt pleased and honored, but I declined their offer in honor of the new commitment I made with my sister and with a friend. And looking back, I do not regret making such decision for though I may not have gained a big monthly income, I gained a greater blessing.

I consider the experience to be something in which God’s providence was at work. Indeed His timing was just right. Though it may seemed that His answer to my prayer for a job was a little too late, to me, it was just perfect. If I received that offer earlier, I wouldn’t have been a part of His answer to a friend’s and a sister’s prayer for a sitter. If I had been hired earlier, I would be waking up very early each morning of every weekday, or making up for the absences presented from acquiring my Canadian citizenship. Instead, I am enjoying lots of free time and quite a flexible schedule that allows me to travel to US with my family to attend a wedding and to visit my cousin, and a time that allows me to work on achieving my other goals. And though I don’t take care of Chloee anymore, I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the wonderful and fun times with her if I had been hired earlier. I wouldn’t have been able to closely watch my niece, Yzabelle, grow and appreciate the things she learned and discovered to do. And I realized that if I had been hired earlier, I would have to postpone fulfilling my promise to God in serving Him as a short-term overseas missionary.

I also knew that if I had been hired earlier, God will bless me still. Whether I was hired because my insistence or because He willed it, I know His blessings would still continue. His blessing fall upon both the wicked and the righteous, does it not? But if I was hired earlier because I was insistent and regardless of what He wants for me, I wouldn’t have experience this greater joy of knowing what this particular experience taught me.

I also knew that if He willed that I’d be hired, He will find answers and make a way to provide for the concerns I had. He will make all things work out; and that was just it—He did make all things work out for good. Perhaps not through the way I expected it to be, but He still made it work. Perhaps it wasn’t my time to provide service to other people just yet. Who knows? But God knows best. He allowed the call to be a little late to help me decide, yet He also made it possible for me to receive that call so I would get that boost of morale I needed. To me, God seemed to be saying, “You are able and qualified for that job, but I needed you for something else.” And that made my heart glad, my confidence intact, my faith a little stronger, and my mind at peace. This experience gave me another evidence to testify to His goodness, faithfulness, and promises.  I know that I can count on Him for I know “that all things work together for good to those who love God”. Praise be to God!

"We love your sweetness, your wit, your comical side, and the whole shebang—all distinguished by the unique you… Happy Birthday!"

Older brothers are cool. Sure there was a stage when they are so annoying. But I think life would be less exciting without them.

I happen to be blessed with an older brother. Tho’ he is far from being the perfect brother one could have, I love him still and for the most part I remain as an avid fan of his.

My brother is 4 years older than me. Growing up with him was like being a cat living with a dog. When I was old enough to remember, I can recall how I would always lose my temper and cry because he teases me so much. It was heaven for me when we do get along at least the whole day. So imagine what it was like for me when he left to attend a boarding school. Sure, I love it! But I can’t lie about missing him. And to my surprise he came back changed! He never teased me anymore…or perhaps, I changed and learned to handle such playful remarks, learned to take it as a playful endearing gesture.

Indeed when we were young he loved to make me cry, and I often wondered how a person can enjoy by constantly making someone’s day miserable unless he is pure evil. Yet, I can’t say my brother was pure evil even though he used to tease me a lot. For despite of how he had a way to get into my nerves, he can be so sweet I can’t help but disregard his pestilence. He’d annoy me to the point that I ended up hitting him on the head with a glass bottle. Yet, even when I got to give the last blow, he was the one who apologized to me crying. He’d tickle me until I burst into tears, yet he can talk me into playing with him still. He’d tease me to exasperation and yet he can make me laugh with his simplest, silliest remark. He tricked me into getting into trouble with him, he tricked me into going into a dark room with him only to be left behind after he was done with what he needed to do, he tricked me into going outside the house by threatening not to play with me anymore if I don’t, when in fact, we were fully told not to. He tricked me into climbing a tree only to scare me with a huge black spider, and he tricked me into spending more for both us when we go to the mall together. However, I buy all his jokes all the time, and I always wanted to hang out with him. He’d make me cry in the morning but you would see me in the afternoon gallivanting with him, climbing trees with him, and tagging along with the adventures he’s willing to share with me, thrilled and excited at, and enjoying the opportunity of being able to hang out with him.

His ways of saying “I love you” and “I care” are subtle, yet I know. I remember when I was sick, he came into my parents’ bedroom where I was and had a chat with me. Knowing I couldn’t go outside to play, he provided entertainment using a hairbrush. All he did was throw the hairbrush up in the air and catch it when it falls. If he catches the handle he’d simply throw it up again; but if he catches the brush, he’d scream and let go, pretending he got scared. Silly, right? But it served its purpose well—I forgot I was ill. It was also the time when I was just learning how to swallow a capsule. He was there to witness me finish several tall glasses of water to no avail. And when my mother resorted to dividing the capsule into two, more tall glasses of water were consumed, even the smooth coating melted already. He was sent out of the room because he can’t help but laugh at my predicament, and I can’t help but laugh with him. He came back afterwards to continue the whole hairbrush entertainment.

I also remember when he blackmailed me into disobeying my mom and urged me to play outside when we were not supposed to. We split after the stealthy escape from our sitter. He was with his friends and I was with mine. And when I made the wrong choice to go with the flow of jumping off the jeep and ended up busting my lip on the rough concrete ground, he came running to my side stricken with guilt, crying, and apologizing.

My brother is not a touchy, huggy, person or eloquently expressive. His sweetness is shown in his own simple, subtle way. He got me a CD album by The Corrs just because he knows I like it. He got me another album and used Valentines Day as an excuse for giving me one. When I was in highschool here in Canada and he visited my school to attend a seminar, he purposely looked for me to visit with me even tho’ I would see him on the weekends. Along with the brief visit, he gave me money for no reason at all. (And all my friends who saw it, wished he was their brother.) When the church family went to Vermont for a heritage tour, he gave me the stuffed-toy he got from playing a coin-operated game machine. Same thing happened when he took me to Canada ’s Wonderland for my 18^th birthday. He played the game, I got the prize. But one of the things that stand out the most out of all memories of his sweetness is when, one Friday night, he came into the room I share with my sister to simply chat with me. Along with his guitar, he sat on my sister’s bed and played his guitar. He continued playing in silence until I fell asleep.

As we grow older, we get along perfectly. We’d go out on little day trips just the two of us. He’d let me tag along with him and his friends, let me lounge in his room even when he is there, or drive me to places when he is able. I don’t think I ever felt he was ashamed of me as some with siblings might have experienced. I feel that he is proud of me. And I admire how he respects my judgment, for I never felt he was overly protective of me. He knew of the guys I became close with, or the guys I liked, or the guy I dated, but I never feel the need to be embarrassed or to hide. Although I think he would never beat every guy who messes with me, his concern nonetheless can be felt by his comments and opinions, which would always be delivered in a comical way.

He shares similar interests in music and movies with me. He lets me go through his CDs and DVDs and doesn’t mind if I had been in his room or if I am still in the room watching. There was even a moment when we were both watching a movie in his room and I fell asleep on his bed. He didn’t wake me up to transfer to my room, but let me sleep for, who knows how long. He occasionally indulges me.

New discoveries he thinks I would take interest in are shared with me with excitement. Though he does not splurge on me, he is not stingy either. Compared to others within our immediate family, sometimes he easily grants my requests such as ice cream cravings, cake cravings, chip cravings, favor to be driven to a certain place, a movie I wanted to see, a song I wanted to have, and other little favors to be done or obtained. Perhaps it is because I seldom ask or perhaps I used to be away all the time. Nonetheless, he usually complies…and often complies easily.

He is not the greatest skateboarder, or the greatest guitarist, or an amazing cartoonist or artist, or even the greatest singer, or the funniest comedian, but to me he is a star. He is not the most learned. But he never pretends to be.  Still I believe, he has great potentials and I have high regard for him. He is not perfect or righteous, but neither am I. And tho’ there are certain decisions and actions I disagree with, and certain choices that disappointed me, it never changes the fact that I still have my respect and my love for him. For me, he’ll always be my older brother, my Kuya. A one of a kind brother: the kind who made my childhood years temporarily miserable and yet interesting and filled with fond memories, whose imaginations draws my curiosity, someone who amuses me by his love for children’s story books especially those with colorful pictures; the kind who laughs along with me even if the subject of my laughter is him, someone whose choice to watch horror films despite of getting scared amuses me; the kind who could annoy me but someone I always would sympathize with, whose disposition can easily be off-set and be easily soften, whose cheesy lines have their way with me that I find them funny; someone who can be smart about his ignorance, and someone who can annoy by teasing but who can console by his own sweetness. And through the eyes of his little sister, he is neither a god nor a saint to be worshipped, but a brother to be respected, to be admired, to be appreciated, to be loved, and to be cherished—unique and irreplaceable.

Kung sino man ang matamaan, siguraduhin nyo lang….dahil ‘di ko sasabihin. Kung sino ka mang nakakasiguro, ‘wag mo sanang masamain. Ako lamang ay naghahayag ng saloobin nang maibsan ang damdamin.

I miss you. It’s been a while since the last time. It seems my memory of you is being questioned, being replaced with something I cannot fully fathom.

We used to have fun. We used to see each other regularly; and tho’ I totally understand why it can’t be like it was before, and neither am I expecting nor demanding, I just want to say: I miss it. I miss you.

I used to get excited upon knowing we’ll see each other, but now it seems the pleasant feeling is or will be accompanied by awkwardness. I used to be able to hug you tight at will, but now I longed for those moments when I can do so with true feelings of closeness. I miss it and the times when I can rest my arms on your shoulders or lean on you. I miss being able to share with you and laugh with you. I miss us being silly. I miss us being funny. I miss learning from you and admiring your wisdom. I miss you.

I used to know for sure you are proud of me and that you beamingly refer to me with esteem. But now, I want to know if you still do and have always been. I appreciate the times you were a witness to my accomplishments, and I’d love it if you are a witness still. I’d be content just to know you’d be rejoicing with me.

I used to talk to you with ease and sheer transparency, and be my truest self around you. But now, I feel I can’t let my guard down in fear of what you’ll think of me.

And tho’ we had never been always together, I sure do miss having you around and the idea that you’ll be around on those usual moments.

Perhaps one day I’d be able to express myself freely and directly, and I am sorry that I presently couldn’t. But for now, let me say it this way. I miss you.

081107

Nice Girls Who Get Noticed are Often Taken for Granted

-"Nice Guys Finish Last" and "Good Girls Don’t Get Noticed" they say. But, ever wonder about the nice girls who do get noticed? Some nice girls are in luck to get noticed by nice guys, but a lot are not so fortunate to find themselves in a same lot. There are those who get noticed and yet end up unappreciated. So, here’s for those nice girls who get noticed yet taken for granted.

This is for the nice girls who, though were found and though didn’t lower their standards, are taken for granted, undervalued, and who are less appreciated for what they are and for what they do. For the kind of girl who is taken for as ignorant when in fact those who say such things do not realize the difference between ignorance and naiveté. I am talking about the nice kind girlfriend who does the best she can to be supportive, caring, and attentive to her man’s needs, and the type who take every opportunity to learn more about him so she will be able to provide understanding rather than jealous rampage. For the kind of girlfriend who loves, not only with all of her heart, but loves with all of herself, this is for you.

A nice girlfriend, being a nice girl that she is, is always there for him. She may either be right beside him or miles away, but she is ready and open to feel his hurt and share his load. And tho’ often he thinks that she can never understand nor feel the pain he feels because she is not physically present, she just listens to him complain. Tho’ he often forgets she can imagine and try to understand what he’s going through, her patience extends a little further more. She lovingly listens to his pining, offering assurances of love and comfort even tho’ that doubt he has, has drove her to be silent about the pain she feels for him and mute about the added hurt brought by the fact that she can’t be physically beside him despite of her great desire to be there. And tho’ he goes on about how lonesome he is, instead of whining for him to consider her plight—that she too longs for his comfort, she offers comforting words instead and take satisfaction to the simple idea that his happiness will be her happiness as well. Such kind of girl is often appreciated less than she deserves.

There are also nice girlfriends who share the same geographical location with their man, and yet are still doubted upon. I meant the kind of girlfriend whose role is misunderstood as silent buffers for his rant of a bad day. I meant the nice girlfriend who is so patient enough to let her man rebuild his ruined ego by continually complaining to her yet still goes on saying she can never fathom how he feels. She is sharp enough to hold her tongue before being misconstrued as someone who nags. She is quick enough to keep her peace and let him talk all his frustrations out. She is asked what she thinks but expected to say what he wanted to hear. And tho’ she is considerate enough, she’s either misunderstood as someone who doesn’t have to say anything because she can’t understand or as someone who doesn’t understand because she said something. Yet despite of choosing exasperated frustration, she chooses loving understanding.

There is also the nice girlfriend who doesn’t easily get annoyed when in the middle of expressing her frustrations he disrupts her to tell her his complaints. And tho’ they never get to talk about how she felt, she lets it slide knowing she was able to comfort her man. She is patient with these common occurrences even though he came to use such tactic as an excuse from talking about conflicts they need to deal with. And tho’ she hopes he would show more maturity, she painstakingly waits for him to take the initiative to change. However, this kind of girlfriend are too quickly seen as a doormat and spineless rather than understanding.

I am talking about the nice girls, who were taken granted for their kindness. They are often underestimated and seen as too giving and too trusting rather than being truly admired for being able to focus on the goodness of the people around them. And when these nice girls hurt, they are often looked down upon, blamed for being too nice. Their loving nature is often seen as martyrdom rather than seen for their strength to endure challenge. Their faith in all the good concepts of humanity is seen as a downfall rather than encouraged by guarding the trust they willingly offer. And when these nice girls choose love and forgiveness, society sees them weak, but the world doesn’t realize that it takes more strength and courage to rise above hatred, anger, and bitter resentment.

A nice girlfriend often ends up being neglected and forgotten. When he fell into temptation, her feelings are set aside and in apology’s stead, he places excuses. If she is not blamed, she is expected to understand his carnal manhood. Rather than hearing ‘I’m sorry’ she hears ‘I’m a man’, expected to accept the alibi that emphasizes men’s weakness, deviating the focus from all human’s power to decide. Her human capabilities are forgotten. She is forgotten as someone who, like him, is faced with the same temptations; and he forgets that like her, he can choose to remain true. She is forgotten as someone who feels loneliness too, someone who needed assurance and comfort, and as someone who is capable of feeling pain. And in the place of remembering her feelings and trust, reigns his excuse that she would always understand.

Nice girls who stand by their man for whatever cost, who pour their best to the relationship they have committed themselves into, who muster strength when he feels weak, who look for and keep the tiny spark of hope when all he sees is despair, who take up the role of a witness of his life—whether through good and bad times—sharing both laughter and tears, accomplishments and failures; who do not just stand by without offering help, who chose to commit themselves in a relationship rather than play with the game it was mistaken for, and who chose to act and remain in love rather than mere professing it, they are the ones who often get short of what they deserve. And though they get noticed, it is often they get noticed for the wrong reasons. It is a sad reality that most often they are sought out only for what they can give, what guys can get away with being with them, for what they can make others feel, but not for what and who they are or for who and what they can be.

Nice girls are now extinct species. Although there are nice girls who are fortunate to meet their wonderful destinies, there are so many who does not get such luck. We wonder why nice girls are rare, yet we failed to see that our perceptions and acceptance drove them to dwindling existence. Seldom were glasses raised in a toast to offer the accolades that are due them. Seldom were they praised for what they really are. But to you, nice girls who are taken for granted, I raise my voice in tribute. I encourage you to stand firm to your standards and be firm of setting the bar reasonably high enough. Continue to be nice and kind without losing your great individuality and nobility. Remain unselfishly patient without giving up your  rights. Though your benevolence and compassion is not limitless, though your strength is fueled with exhaustible fire, and though your patience may one day run dry, may you rise above the petty rush of wrath like you’ve always done. Your continued existence soften the coarse edges of life’s reality, for in a fast changing world we still desire to maintain order and goodness. For without such nice girls, who would show grace to unruly men? Without you, would there be second chances for those repentant ones? Without you, there is no hope for the remaining nice guys to stay nice.

Belle, ON 082605

"How do you solve a problem like Maria? How do you catch a cloud and pin it down? …How do you hold the moonbeam in your hand?"

I can’t seem to grab hold of my muse. I wanted to write, and there are ideas in my head I’d like to put into writing. However, I am experiencing some sort of mental embolism, for a huge block seem to let the ideas flow in a trickle. Hence, rather than being able to fully translate my thought into something concrete, I had chunks of paragraph repeatedly rephrased and typed, only to find myself deliberately deleting them completely.

It was good while it was in my head, but somehow it eludes me when I have to actually put them all down into writing. It’s as frustrating as not being able to sneeze when you really wanted to. And so you are left tortured with an itchy nose and watery eyes. It’s like you almost got it, but not really. *sigh* Forever reaching but always come short.

And since it seems futile to waste my time sitting here and trying to rack and torture my tortured brain…I will resign. It’s been too long. Until I am fueled and inspired to try again, I shall remain welcoming new thoughts to add to the collection I may have seemed to lock within this grey matter of mine. Perhaps the quantity can cause all to just freely overflow or perhaps burst the chanel open and all I have to be concern about is getting my slow fingers to type them all down. Perhaps…but for now, I must resign. And temporarily cease, I shall.

I just turned 2 decades and a half, but in a most youthful way.

I have dreamed of celebrating my birthday by having a kiddie party. Yep, a kid’s party that includes balloons, games, and cake. But I never really have the time nor money to plan it or to make it happen. However, I was blessed with a sister who was glad enough to make it happen.

My brother acted as the decoy while my sister, together with my mom, conspires with our relatives and a few of my close friends to surprise me. So my brother took me out of the house to buy my gift, fetch his girlfriend, and go to PMall to get my mom’s watch fixed. After several hours of entering and exiting stores, we went home only to find an empty house…which by the way I was expecting to be filled with a few visitors (since I already knew that Uncle Adon’s family is coming over). I came home to a house that seemed hurriedly vacated only to find out that I will be left alone by my brother who has somewhere else to go to. While I was wondering where the rest of my family might be, the phone rang. Seeing my sister’s name on the display window, I thought I’d find answers only to find out that I must do an errand. After saying yes, I realized I won’t be able to execute her request because it required leaving the house and I don’t have the keys to lock the door. The dilemma was solved when my dad came. So I went down to the building’s lobby to where my sister said she’d be. To my surprise I was summoned to my kiddie party! The visitors I was expecting were there, and so were a whole bunch of people. I can’t help but grin widely as they shouted surprise and popped balloons and sang the ‘happy birthday’ song. We had food, and games (including pin the tail on the donkey), and trivia, and we even had balloons, party hats, piñata, and cake, and loot bags! I even received gifts! It was a real birthday party because we have spaghetti…a real Filipino party because we also have pansit!

As if the surprise wasn’t enough, my sister even produced a recorded message from a few of my friends in the Philippines she was able to contact.

It was really a happy birthday. Mere greetings were enough to make me smile, mere remembrance make me feel special, how much more a party thrown in my account?! It’s enough to make getting old so much fun!!!

That is why for being 2 decades and half, I thank the Lord. For the e-greetings (thru’ ecards, friendster messages, and friendster comments) I thank my friends and family who sent them. For the party, I thank my sister and my family and friends who made it happen.

I thank God for blessing me all these past quarter century, for giving me this length of time to live, and love life, for friends who rejoices with me, and of course for a family who loves me no matter what (even I am quite odd at times).

To be alive for a quarter century makes me realize that it’s good to be in touch with the kid within me from time to time. It wouldn’t hurt to have fun like a child sometimes. The little things in life can bring joy, and even the simplest things can prove to be fulfilling. I can say that no matter how difficult life can get, with God, it’s always good to be alive. I rejoice for reaching thus far—a quarter of a century!

…If a picture paints a thousand words…

It’s been a month since I came back from visiting Philippines; and yet, I seemed to retain my hang-over. This was not my first visit since my family and I immigrated here in Canada. But compared to the first, this second visit to Philippines was more memorable.

The trip to Philippines brought anticipation to us who were going: my parents and my sister with her daughter. But real excitement mounted up when the plane soared above the islands of Philippines. I, who was sitting beside my father in the middle row, asked to switch places with my sister, who had the window seat, so I can look out the window. The excitement was temporarily set aside when we went to collect our checked-in belongings, but it came back when we were on our way to Putting Kahoy, where my parents and I were going to stay.

Eating at Chowking was mere imagination before we left for Philippines, but became a repeated accomplishment when we got there. Leche Flan was not just dreamed of, but was actually something I indulged myself with. And oh, green mangoes! Green mangoes…finally my salivating mouth was satisfied! Forgot Boston Crème, but hello to Bavarian Cream! My lola’s tamales (made of sticky rice) was sampled, and even a trip to the beach was accomplished! I got sunburn but the fun was worth the three nights of sleeping on my stomach and having to limit movements. But what really made the vacation memorable to me were for these reasons: 1. I get to see my relatives again, being able to visit my lola and be with my cousins. To put a smile on my lola’s face, who we can tell was so happy to see us, is such an accomplishment. To chill with my cousins again is even a wonderful experience that I can never completely describe even if I paint a thousand pictures of it. It didn’t matter if it’s been a while since we last saw each other. Our comfortability amongst each other remained the same. We were relaxed among each others company. Of course the playful bickering and endearing teasing common to us were ever present. Ah, good times! And of course, the card game left an impression and created a funny memory. They were taught how to play the infamous Buklo ^_^ and I wouldn’t be surprised if it spreads. (We should have copyrighted it. Tsk!)  I love and surely miss the potlucks we had, the family affairs, and celebrations. Ahhhh….Pepsi Seven-Up will never be the same to me! Olonggapo sure looks different and sure seems closer….hehehe! There was no midnight snack but for sure there was midnight meal. Staying up late didn’t only mean past bedtime, but also staying up till early morning. I can go on and on, from conversations to escapades, they were all wonderful memories I constantly miss and will always treasure.

I was also reunited with my relatives from my mother’s side. The vague memory I have of them was refreshed. The faint memory I had of Negros Occidental was replaced with a clearer picture. I get to experience walking at the tarmac when I went to Negros Occ. with my parents. I got to play with the waterpump and tried the infamous ‘inasal na manok’. I get to eat Aros Velenciana and Calamay Hati, as well as fresh grilled fish. I laughed at myself for having forced to speak broken Ilonggo. But felt so accomplished when I made a sand castle and collected shells on the beach, and when I walked around during the Panaad Festival.  And tho’ I hurt from sunburn, I enjoyed my 5 day-trip to Negros.

2. I get to visit my alma matter and see my friends. We were fortunate to be able to witness one of my cousin’s graduation, and I was even blessed to have the opportunity to be reunited with some of my batchmates. I get to chill with my closest friends and briefly catch-up with my highschool classmates. Reminiscing with them relived the fun I experience when I was still in highschool, which is a memory filled with a whole different fun that is unique to that particular stage in my life. The whole experience with my closest friends made me realize that our friendship stands the test of time, for despite of the fact that we don’t get to keep in touch as often as we always hoped, the  sweetness, warmth, openness, comfortability, and even the craziness of our relationship remained. (I love you, girls!)

3. Enchanted Kingdom. I had always dreamed of going there and I finally did. That was one night of sheer excitement and fun. From Wheel of Fate to Space Shuttle was….WEEEEEEEEEH! AAAAAHHHHHH! And WOOOOHOOOOO! (I’ve got pictures to authenticate my experience.) Not to mention the McDo experience.

4. Escapades….shopping and mere gallivanting were so much fun. Oh, carriedo! Oh Greenhills! And cheers to food trip!

All in all…it was fun, fun, fun! So my thanks to all the people there! I really had a great time. If a picture paints a thousand words, my collection of pictures is not enough to capture the fun I had enjoyed and experienced.

We stayed in the Philippines for almost a month, and throughout that stay, I felt I have accomplished a lot and a whole lot more than the first time I went back. But like any vacation trip, it seemed so short when it’s time to go back home. (Ah, home! To me, going back to Philippines is also going home.) I found myself missing the people I left behind the very day I was leaving to return to Canada, and even if I hadn’t boarded the plane yet, I already felt a lonesome, longing feeling. And even now, I find myself going back to that memory ever so often.

XCess: Oh how I miss them soooooo much! Guys, you are the best!

My previous post made me reflect more about how I regard my family. There were instances that made me ponder, as well as circumstances that influenced these ponderings. One example is the latest event: Winter Retreat at Camp Frenda. I just got back and the laughter and fun are still fresh in my mind. Out of the many memories I’ve made, one particular memory is the last meal with my family. I consider it memorable for once again we filled the whole table, not with food, but with warmth of our laughter. Once again we end up exchanging recollections of events in the past that made a lasting, funny impression. Once again our bellies ached and our eyes watered from laughing. Ahhhh… good times! Good times, indeed! On that note…

Thank you God for my family!

Another thing I am thankful about my family is support and concern (love is a given thing). I can feel it from them. We are not wealthy in possessions but we are rich in love, and our support isn’t limited to how much we can finance. When we don’t have funds to extend, we offer our prayers, comfort, and love in support. (Not that these are not included when we do have something to give.) We support, applaud, and appraise each others accomplishment. We rejoice in what they attain in life. Those who are accomplished are willing to share the joys and fruits of such successes. And those who receive the invitation to take part in that joy are gratefully content with celebrating with the ‘celebrant’, careful not to steal the limelight of the occasion from whom they are celebrating with. In place of what can commonly be rivalry/envy/jealousy is admiration and inspiration. That kind of support is invigorating, for moral support can send someone a long way to their end goal.

Support also comes in sharing each others grief. Like my grandfather used to say: “O, tulungan mo syang umiyak para matapos na.” It is easy to bear a burden when there is someone helping you with the load. It is easy to take on a challenging and difficult situation when you know someone got your back covered. And that is what family does. As a family we encourage and comfort one another. We hurt for the members that are hurting. However, our “damayan” should not be misunderstood as “kampihan” especially in a conflict. Tis true: blood is thicker than water, but we also try to be objective and aware of all sides of a conflict’s story. Support may come in a form of comfort, but it also comes as a discipline/guidance as well. And I experience all these kinds of support from my family, whether they are immediate family or not, whether they are blood-relative or not.

Speaking of blood relations, somehow that line between such distinctions of connection became blurred. It doesn’t matter whether I am related to you by blood or by marriage or by adoption; for us, family is a family. At least that’s how I see my family sees it. One main thing I admire about my family is acceptance. I may be viewed as biased and very subjective in this, but I am saying these things as a matter-of-factly and not boastfully. I find my family to be welcoming. It seems that we embrace people that gets introduce into our family…you know, boyfriend/girlfriend, fiancés, husbands/wives, even close friends, or friends that might turn out to be ‘prospects’. Maybe someone will say that I am biased. Maybe. But I look at my aunts and uncles who got married into the family and the way they behave is that of someone who is well absorbed in the family. They embrace our family the way we embrace them and together we belong. I have cousins who were adopted and some who are only related through marriage, and they become a part of us, treating us like we’re of the same blood. And in fact family extensions even extend to the family of those who are related to us by marriage.

However, I don’t want to sound as if we impose ourselves to people who don’t want to be associated with us. Of course, these extensions I am talking about are established through long time and close, amiable interactions and fellowship.

If someone within the family (blood or not) feels left out or feels like they don’t belong, I find it to be caused by either of the two reasons: by choice, or a big gap between moral values/principles.

If the reason is a gap of principles, I find it quite a little unlikely. It’s true that there are those whose religious convictions differ, and it might be a likely reason for a particular person to feel left out (However, I am not saying we intentionally exclude those who are not SDA like us. The difference in religious beliefs can indeed make someone feel out of place sometimes. But, this is not an attack to our nonSDA friends and relations. This is not an attack, period.); but, I don’t think a great difference of moral values can easily be the cause of feelings of alienation. Let me elaborate. Within a family, the members value pretty much the same morals, maybe not exactly the same, but still the moral values are consistent among the family members. Values are in a way inherited by the offsprings from how they were reared up as children. So to feel out of place within a family circle due to a gap of principles in life is far likely to happen among the ‘original’ members. But could it happen among members related through marriages? It is a probability, but still unlikely…more likely absurd. There must be a common ground established for two people to be together, wouldn’t it? And I believe that values/principles are one of the required common ground in establishing a relationship. The couple, as they interact with one another, somehow brings with them the same values their family has because their own values are greatly influenced by their family. The differences of values/principles that exist between them should not create a gap, but a variation that can complement each other. If the differences create a gap or, worse, a clash, then it has become a choice…for you chose to marry that person anyway in spite of clashing principles. Thus, bringing us to the other reason of alienation: by choice.

I think if someone feels left out within my family, it is not because we shut or leave him/her out; but because they chose to think, feel, and behave that way. It’s easy to feel aloof around my family, but it’s easier to join in the fun and feel at home. I believe these feelings of being out of place depend on one’s perception and choice. If I perceive that these people are intimidating, I will feel intimidated. If I choose to feel I don’t belong, I will always feel out of place. If I decided to stay where I am in my awkwardness, I will never experience the happiness of belonging. But if I feel awkward and still choose to think and behave I belong, I will find out that I really do belong. If I actually join in the fun, mingle, and interact, and be open, I will realize the fun in the truth as I learn more about the family. One can also feel out of place by choice by choosing to do something upsetting. One’s actions can definitely alienate him/her from the rest, especially those actions that betray and ruin trust. It’s sad to find someone, born into or wholeheartedly embraced into our family circle, trifle with the loving fellowship the family offers through careless decisions or actions. Yet, I am pretty sure that despite of such circumstances we still extend our love towards them. But what’s even sadder or even disappointing is when these individuals refuse to remain within the fellowship by turning away from the grace the family offers.

Our family is accepting perhaps because we are generally trusting people. I think we got it from my grandfather. I, for one, am like that. Though we are trusting, our trust is very, very difficult to earn back once it’s broken; or at least that is how it is with me. The feelings and trust that we risk when we trust someone can be damaged by that person’s wrong decision. The same openness that existed before will be hard to reestablish again. Anybody has a certain breaking point, and I believe a family’s ability to make someone feel accepted has certain limits too. Parameters such as trust limit the extent of our amiable acceptance. Once that trust is broken, how we relate to others change. However, it does not mean we revile. Despite of the conflict, we can be civil. There is still chance for forgiveness and reconciliation for willing individuals. Difficulty doesn’t mean impossibility. Slow, but doable.

It doesn’t take a long time to warm up to my family. Some get the opportunity to experience ‘initiation’. Here is how we ‘initiate’ someone ‘new’ (meaning not born into our family) into our family: 1. Interrogation. Now that shouldn’t be intimidating unless you have a major phobia in talking to people. We interrogate not in a criminology way, but in a friendly way (ie. family background to see if we know any of your ancestors, career to know common interest, and other usual casual stuff). We involve ‘newcomers’ in a conversation or discussion. Discussion is evident in my family, esp. among the young ONCE. One can easily be intimidated, but not because we are intimidating. 2: Teasing. In my family, teasing is a sign of comfortability. If we don’t tease you, that means we are not comfortable enough to venture on how sensitive you are with jokes or playful remarks and we’d rather just be civil and formal towards you. Now, teasing is not attacking your personality. It’s neither that nor rude remarks. We always try to be cautious which buttons to press and which paths to tread. Jokes that hit below the belt or perceived as personal attack are things we apologize for. If you can’t take the heat, or can’t keep up with comebacks and still determined to bask on our loud, boisterous ambiance, better shape up. For though we may be sensitive to your sensitivity, our family is just like that…we tease each other as a form of endearment. If you really can’t take it, don’t be surprised to feel left out. It is highly unlikely that the majority of my family would stop teasing each other just because one doesn’t want to be teased. We just don’t tease that person. Remember: one cannot tease without being teased back. Although teasing in my family is common, we are careful not to cross the line. A lot of us are good sports; we do know how to laugh at ourselves. And those who have onion skins have a way of hinting when others should stop. As teasers, we try to make mental notes of those hints and of those hinters ^_^ so we won’t hurt their feelings when we do joke around with them.

Not all of us are good with a rally of comebacks. I, for one, am aware of my limits and cautious when to bow out gracefully rather than disgrace myself when I lose or rather than make a mistake of uttering a personal attack. We do see through the THs (Trying Hard) and KSPs (Kulang Sa Pansin) for their jokes or remarks are not usually funny. Most often it is easy to detect the strained effort. While TH is not necessarily bad, KSP is frowned upon. TH can either be a sign of a) effort or b) effort to hog the spotlight—KSP. Effort to belong or to ‘speak the language’ is okay, but effort for the spotlight and all attention? Come on; it’s called playful not competitive. We know how to share the glory, and hogging the spotlight is no fun at all. 3. Showcasing. We initiate through showcasing. Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s not the same as boasting or showing-off even though normally showcasing or showing-off can be synonymous. When I say showcase, that means we encourage and even urge the ‘newcomer’ to share his/her talent, esp. in music. Like I said before, my family appreciates and loves music. Sabbath afternoons with a family gathering is described as a jamming session. If you sing, we invite you to sing with us. If you play the piano or any instrument we ask you to play and accompany us. We’d rather make music with you than let you sit in the sidelines. (If music is not your best asset, join in anyway, there are those of us who make an effort, and the rest welcomes it. *when in doubt about singing, I just sing softly so as not to disturb the harmony. Lol* or I just sing the melody ^_^ ) 4. Feeding. In a gathering where potluck is inevitable, expect the love through us inviting you to eat. Meager meal we may have, but when we do share it with you that is because we welcome you, not merely to be polite. 5. Game. We sometimes initiate by making you play with us a game, such as bible games, sports game, board games, or sometime a particular game: variations of modified slap jack.

Now it is up to the person to feel welcome or not. But really, my family doesn’t just do shake hands, it embraces.

I am lucky to belong. My family may not be perfect or the best, but I am gratefully content to be born into this family. For me, it is the best family I could ever belong to. (Of course, others would think theirs is the best, and they are entitled to think that way if they adore their family the way I cherish mine.) Expressing these insight about my family makes me breathe a prayer: “Thank You God for my family!”