Hello, how are you? I hope you are fine and doing well.
I have been waking up for some days now with a smile on my face. It took me some time to realize why but I now know that it is because I am loved. Maybe it is because of this that I’ve been feeling that I also have sooo much love to give. So, know this: I love you. (with a wide smile on my face). I have been sooo happy lately I just felt the urge this morning to want to sing and dance and write songs…or simply write. Let’s have fun tomorrow at Embassy (oh, I wish those in India could come *wide smile again, without the braces now, mind you*) and sing and dance and laugh (writing is for quiet places and it’s definitely not Embassy). That is, if I still have the energy to do so after watching Sarah and John Lloyd’s “You Changed my Life.” I hope Papa P doesn’t get jealous that I am watching John Lloyd’s movie while I didn’t watch his movie with Angel. Oh, I am just the jealous type. *big grin*
Remember, I love you. *mwah*mwah*mwah*super big and tight hugs*
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Fifty
I was reading the text of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s short story “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” when I reached the lines below that almost made me laugh.
The scene was during a dance between Benjamin and Hildegarde (Cate Blanchett’s role equivalent in the short story). Benjamin looked fifty but as many of us have learned from the movie adaptation, he was probably in his late teens to early twenties at the time, which Hildegarde didn’t know yet. She thought Benjamin was fifty years old.
***************************************************************
"I like men of your age," Hildegarde told him. "Young boys are so idiotic. They tell me how much champagne they drink at college, and how much money they lose playing cards. Men of your age know how to appreciate women."
Benjamin felt himself on the verge of a proposal--with an effort he choked back the impulse.
"You're just the romantic age," she continued--"fifty. Twenty-five is too wordly-wise; thirty is apt to be pale from overwork; forty is the age of long stories that take a whole cigar to tell; sixty is--oh, sixty is too near seventy; but fifty is the mellow age. I love fifty."
Fifty seemed to Benjamin a glorious age. He longed passionately to be fifty.
"I've always said," went on Hildegarde, "that I'd rather marry a man of fifty and be taken care of than marry a man of thirty and take care of him."
The scene was during a dance between Benjamin and Hildegarde (Cate Blanchett’s role equivalent in the short story). Benjamin looked fifty but as many of us have learned from the movie adaptation, he was probably in his late teens to early twenties at the time, which Hildegarde didn’t know yet. She thought Benjamin was fifty years old.
***************************************************************
"I like men of your age," Hildegarde told him. "Young boys are so idiotic. They tell me how much champagne they drink at college, and how much money they lose playing cards. Men of your age know how to appreciate women."
Benjamin felt himself on the verge of a proposal--with an effort he choked back the impulse.
"You're just the romantic age," she continued--"fifty. Twenty-five is too wordly-wise; thirty is apt to be pale from overwork; forty is the age of long stories that take a whole cigar to tell; sixty is--oh, sixty is too near seventy; but fifty is the mellow age. I love fifty."
Fifty seemed to Benjamin a glorious age. He longed passionately to be fifty.
"I've always said," went on Hildegarde, "that I'd rather marry a man of fifty and be taken care of than marry a man of thirty and take care of him."
Monday, February 16, 2009
Death
From the blog of Pastor Joey Bonifacio:In the winter of 1987 Marie and I attended a service while visiting Washington DC. The pastor's name was Mark Caulk. That Sunday morning I heard a message that today 21 years later is as fresh as the day I heard it. It was message on death.
Long before the idea of One Life To Live, Mark made the point that has stuck with me and has impacted my life decisions in so many ways. His message was about the deathbed.
Mark explained that one day when we find ourselves in our deathbeds we will realize that very few people will be there.
While our business associates, friends, colleagues and neighbors may pay a visit at best they will be token expressions of concern. But the only people who will be around that deathbed 24 hours a day seven days a week will be our spouses and children. The picture of the deathbed moment never left me.
Over the years I have added to the picture. I imagined the moment when I'm fighting for every breath. I wanted my wife and children to be certain that they were the real priority of my life. That when we look into each others eyes there will be no hint of doubt that they were the love of my life. Snce then till today the picture has served me well.
Eventually I would add a final thought to the picture. That when I finally die, not even the eyes of my wife and children will be there. The only eyes that will be looking into mine will be that of my Savior Jesus Christ. And the saddest day of my life will be when I realize that he was not the priority of my life.
Just as man is destined to die once, and after that to face judgment, so Christ was sacrificed once to take away the sins of many people; and he will appear a second time, not to bear sin, but to bring salvation to those who are waiting for him. Hebrews 9:27-28
Thank you Mark Caulk for that message. Today 21 years after it is as fresh as the day you preached it. Not only has it helped me see things from an eternal perspective, it has helped me realize how important my role as a pastor is.
Site: http://joeybonifacio.multiply.com/journal
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Ex
That syllable, or word, has been playing in my mind over and over again for some time now (so, let me write down my thoughts on it just to get it out of my mind). “Ex” has always had a tragic connotation for me. It means that a relationship didn’t work out in spite of several attempts (sometimes just one or none at all…depends actually on the people involved) to fix it. And we know that fixing relationships is not as easy as fixing a leaking faucet. Fixing a relationship doesn’t only require time and physical exertion of effort; it also requires emotions and that makes it doubly or triply hard (whatever…it is always harder!) and all the more tragic if everything would be in vain.
My friend has been referring to her ex-boyfriend in our conversations as “ex.” I still do not understand why she still cannot refer to him using his name when she said that she had moved on… or maybe not yet. That could explain it. I feel bad when people refer to some people in their lives as “exes” although I have my share of exes and whenever I refer to them as such, I feel bad. I have an ex-best friend and an ex-friend. I would like to think that I also have an ex-boyfriend or an ex-fling (I have yet to resolve what to call that relationship) but I refuse to call him my “ex” simply because he has had a positive, profound effect in my life. He taught me things about business and the more important things in life like forgiveness, patience in dealing with people, and humility so I often refer to him by a nickname I coined for him instead of calling him my “ex-whatever”.
For me, calling someone “ex” means crossing out someone from my life, like totally wiping him out of a slate, like putting liquid eraser over his name on the list of people I value and love. And that is sad. Because no matter how badly things turn out for a relationship, there are lessons to be learned, as always, if not from the person himself, at least from the experience.
I have been on both the extreme ends of saving a relationship. I was once the person someone reached out to so she could save our friendship. But I was too proud and hurt by what had happened in the past that I didn’t reach out my hand in return. She might have gotten tired of saving what could have been a 12-year friendship by today that she just stopped reaching out altogether. By the time I had shaken the pride and the hurt, she was gone. Yes, she is the ex-best friend. Sad.
I, too, reached out to someone to save our friendship. But I think we all come to a point when we realize that something is not working anymore; that we can only do so much to save a relationship; that our own efforts will not be enough because unless the other party dances with us and complements our steps, the tango will not be a success. I got tired of dancing on my own so I stopped reaching out. Yes, that person is the ex-friend. Sad.
The truth, though, is that even though I would like to put liquid eraser over their names on the list of people I value and love, they will still leave their mark on the list because of the space they will be creating. The mark of the liquid eraser on the list will still be visible even though I write a new name over the dried liquid eraser mark. The truth is, even though I try to obliterate them from my life, I cannot because I learned lessons from them and/or the relationship. Even though I could be successful in forgetting the feelings those people’s presence in my life brought to me while we were still together, shards of memories would remain. Even though I wouldn’t feel joy or pain anymore when I remember our times together, the memories will remain. And even though I shake off the memories, the lessons remain. The truth is, I cannot utterly remove them from my life.
So, let me think of a new term. Former friend? Past friend? Onetime friend? What do you say?
My friend has been referring to her ex-boyfriend in our conversations as “ex.” I still do not understand why she still cannot refer to him using his name when she said that she had moved on… or maybe not yet. That could explain it. I feel bad when people refer to some people in their lives as “exes” although I have my share of exes and whenever I refer to them as such, I feel bad. I have an ex-best friend and an ex-friend. I would like to think that I also have an ex-boyfriend or an ex-fling (I have yet to resolve what to call that relationship) but I refuse to call him my “ex” simply because he has had a positive, profound effect in my life. He taught me things about business and the more important things in life like forgiveness, patience in dealing with people, and humility so I often refer to him by a nickname I coined for him instead of calling him my “ex-whatever”.
For me, calling someone “ex” means crossing out someone from my life, like totally wiping him out of a slate, like putting liquid eraser over his name on the list of people I value and love. And that is sad. Because no matter how badly things turn out for a relationship, there are lessons to be learned, as always, if not from the person himself, at least from the experience.
I have been on both the extreme ends of saving a relationship. I was once the person someone reached out to so she could save our friendship. But I was too proud and hurt by what had happened in the past that I didn’t reach out my hand in return. She might have gotten tired of saving what could have been a 12-year friendship by today that she just stopped reaching out altogether. By the time I had shaken the pride and the hurt, she was gone. Yes, she is the ex-best friend. Sad.
I, too, reached out to someone to save our friendship. But I think we all come to a point when we realize that something is not working anymore; that we can only do so much to save a relationship; that our own efforts will not be enough because unless the other party dances with us and complements our steps, the tango will not be a success. I got tired of dancing on my own so I stopped reaching out. Yes, that person is the ex-friend. Sad.
The truth, though, is that even though I would like to put liquid eraser over their names on the list of people I value and love, they will still leave their mark on the list because of the space they will be creating. The mark of the liquid eraser on the list will still be visible even though I write a new name over the dried liquid eraser mark. The truth is, even though I try to obliterate them from my life, I cannot because I learned lessons from them and/or the relationship. Even though I could be successful in forgetting the feelings those people’s presence in my life brought to me while we were still together, shards of memories would remain. Even though I wouldn’t feel joy or pain anymore when I remember our times together, the memories will remain. And even though I shake off the memories, the lessons remain. The truth is, I cannot utterly remove them from my life.
So, let me think of a new term. Former friend? Past friend? Onetime friend? What do you say?
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Not/Writing About Love
Tonight, I don’t want to write about love. I don’t want to write about a failed romance or broken promises. I would like to write about how a lightning as sharp as the sword used by the samurai, with its pointed tip and jagged edges, slashed open the nimbus clouds in the afternoon while the world in this corner was busy with humans typing away on their keyboards, talking to someone on the telephone, stopping by a cubicle to chat with a colleague, or knitting their brows to conjure up that next big idea, the one that would make the bulbs above their heads light up.
As the lightning poked the sky, a downpour began. The raindrops hit the ground, unmindful of how the city dwellers hate the rain because it makes their commute harder and longer, unless they are in bed, hugging and cuddling someone with the cool breeze and the gentle splatter of the rain outside serving the music to their dance. Beyond the city walls, the farmers rejoice and thank Heaven as the rain seeps through the soil and nourishes the grains of corn or rice planted in their fields.
I stepped out of the concrete edifice that had been my dwelling for the last eight hours, sometimes fifteen, a sad fact but a fact, nonetheless. I opened my red umbrella and felt, heard, the raindrops land on it and after, they fell to the ground and formed puddles at my feet that wetted my pants. I walked the street to the train station and chanced upon a boy of seven selling sampaguita. No umbrella over his head, nothing to protect him from the angry rain. While the sharp rain hit his head, his whole body, as he shivered in the cold, I heard the gentle plea uttered by his eyes as he raised his arm towards me, his hand clutching the stringed flowers. I took out a bill and bought some of his goods while I covered his head with the red umbrella in my hand, and told him to go home.
Tonight, I don’t want to write about love, the kind that makes me giddy and dreamy, the kind that makes me smile as I stare out into space. I would like to write about the kind of love written in the Good Book, the second commandment, “love your neighbor as yourself.”
As the lightning poked the sky, a downpour began. The raindrops hit the ground, unmindful of how the city dwellers hate the rain because it makes their commute harder and longer, unless they are in bed, hugging and cuddling someone with the cool breeze and the gentle splatter of the rain outside serving the music to their dance. Beyond the city walls, the farmers rejoice and thank Heaven as the rain seeps through the soil and nourishes the grains of corn or rice planted in their fields.
I stepped out of the concrete edifice that had been my dwelling for the last eight hours, sometimes fifteen, a sad fact but a fact, nonetheless. I opened my red umbrella and felt, heard, the raindrops land on it and after, they fell to the ground and formed puddles at my feet that wetted my pants. I walked the street to the train station and chanced upon a boy of seven selling sampaguita. No umbrella over his head, nothing to protect him from the angry rain. While the sharp rain hit his head, his whole body, as he shivered in the cold, I heard the gentle plea uttered by his eyes as he raised his arm towards me, his hand clutching the stringed flowers. I took out a bill and bought some of his goods while I covered his head with the red umbrella in my hand, and told him to go home.
Tonight, I don’t want to write about love, the kind that makes me giddy and dreamy, the kind that makes me smile as I stare out into space. I would like to write about the kind of love written in the Good Book, the second commandment, “love your neighbor as yourself.”
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
A Letter in Need of Answers…or Maybe Not
I have been meaning to ask you why it was so easy for you to let everything go. You know, just cut it off and move on? Like the fifteen months never happened. Like there was no regard at all for the friendship that we somehow had (I would like to believe we somehow had). I, on the other hand, went through all the stages of grief. Wikipedia said that one would go through at least two and I went through all the five—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Talk about exceeding expectations! And just like what Wikipedia said, I didn’t go through grief in that order although of course, acceptance was the last stage. Actually, I think I had gone around in circles—bargaining then denial then anger then depression then bargaining then anger again—before I finally came to acceptance. I have forgiven you although you have never apologized. It was hard but the coldness I received from you somehow helped. It would have been so much easier to remain angry but I didn’t want myself to suffer in silence in my corner of the world and be eaten up by anger and be defeated when you were probably out there partying and having a grand time. So, I chose to forgive. Now, when the memories come back, I do not choose to forget, because I can’t, at least not for now, but I try to choose not to remember.
For a long time, I couldn’t understand how someone could just let go of that friendship. I fight for my relationships especially with my friends and I fought for ours. But you, you just turned everything off as if you just flicked a switch. Just OFF all of a sudden and I guess without a fight. That easily. Why was it so easy for you? Maybe we’re just really different creatures but yes, I remember having done that once. I just shrugged someone off and moved on. Maybe, it was the same for you.
For a long time, I couldn’t understand how someone could just let go of that friendship. I fight for my relationships especially with my friends and I fought for ours. But you, you just turned everything off as if you just flicked a switch. Just OFF all of a sudden and I guess without a fight. That easily. Why was it so easy for you? Maybe we’re just really different creatures but yes, I remember having done that once. I just shrugged someone off and moved on. Maybe, it was the same for you.
Thoughts on a Sunday Morning and Some Days After
1. No one can escape God’s stubborn love. If you are God’s child, He would do everything to bring you back and align your will with His. If He has to break you to bring you back to Himself, He would…repeatedly, if necessary.
a. And I have experienced this twice in my life. If others bite the dust, I ate mud and rolled on it. I was dirty and muddy all over and was way down the pit.
b. On the first fall, I tried seeking comfort from people but they just failed me. I thought I could solve my issues through vices but good enough that I was always too lazy to go out or too stingy to spend on something so fleeting (a bit of wisdom amidst the foolishness). It was a long process of learning, of breaking and molding, and I realized that only God could help me. The season after the first fall, before the second fall, was the best time of my life. I felt completely certain that I was in step with God. And as Pastor Joey said, if God told me then that it was time to go home, I would have made no adjustments in my life because I knew that I was living my life exactly the way I should have been living it.
c. The second time I fell, I knew better. No false expectations from men, no wasting time on vices but my focus was on God. I sought Him and I am still seeking Him but I know that I am definitely out of the pit and onto another enjoyable season of my life. I long to have that back. I would like to be able to tell God that if it is time to go home any time soon, I could gladly say, “Father, I am ready.”
2. Why am I crying?
a. Amidst the worship song “Indescribable”, I cried. The lyrics that made me: You placed the stars in the sky and you know them by name / You are amazing God.
b. So why did I cry? I asked God to fill me with His Holy Spirit so I could truly worship Him and I knew He did so that morning. It felt good to truly worship an amazing God who loves me faithfully in spite of everything I had done and all the mud I had eaten and all the rottenness I had gone through: Incomparable, unchangeable / You see the depths of my heart and you love me the same / You are amazing God.
3. If God’s revelations to me are any indication of wisdom, then I am happy and thankful for the affirmation.
a. Proverbs 9:10-the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom
b. Psalm 25:12-when you fear God, you’re going to be instructed by Him; when you fear God, you begin to think His thoughts (Amen to this! :))
c. I believe that He has been giving me wisdom and instructing me and I have been thinking His thoughts. I believe that my understanding of His Word is a proof of that. Yes, there is reproof but I need that, I should want that.
a. And I have experienced this twice in my life. If others bite the dust, I ate mud and rolled on it. I was dirty and muddy all over and was way down the pit.
b. On the first fall, I tried seeking comfort from people but they just failed me. I thought I could solve my issues through vices but good enough that I was always too lazy to go out or too stingy to spend on something so fleeting (a bit of wisdom amidst the foolishness). It was a long process of learning, of breaking and molding, and I realized that only God could help me. The season after the first fall, before the second fall, was the best time of my life. I felt completely certain that I was in step with God. And as Pastor Joey said, if God told me then that it was time to go home, I would have made no adjustments in my life because I knew that I was living my life exactly the way I should have been living it.
c. The second time I fell, I knew better. No false expectations from men, no wasting time on vices but my focus was on God. I sought Him and I am still seeking Him but I know that I am definitely out of the pit and onto another enjoyable season of my life. I long to have that back. I would like to be able to tell God that if it is time to go home any time soon, I could gladly say, “Father, I am ready.”
2. Why am I crying?
a. Amidst the worship song “Indescribable”, I cried. The lyrics that made me: You placed the stars in the sky and you know them by name / You are amazing God.
b. So why did I cry? I asked God to fill me with His Holy Spirit so I could truly worship Him and I knew He did so that morning. It felt good to truly worship an amazing God who loves me faithfully in spite of everything I had done and all the mud I had eaten and all the rottenness I had gone through: Incomparable, unchangeable / You see the depths of my heart and you love me the same / You are amazing God.
3. If God’s revelations to me are any indication of wisdom, then I am happy and thankful for the affirmation.
a. Proverbs 9:10-the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom
b. Psalm 25:12-when you fear God, you’re going to be instructed by Him; when you fear God, you begin to think His thoughts (Amen to this! :))
c. I believe that He has been giving me wisdom and instructing me and I have been thinking His thoughts. I believe that my understanding of His Word is a proof of that. Yes, there is reproof but I need that, I should want that.
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