You Want to be Healed?

I am reposting here a very insightful blog by Rica Peralejo-Bonifacio.  Bold italics are mine since these were what blew me away.  WOW!

The Confession We Should All Make

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Of course, who doesn’t like hearing the personal vows of the couple in a wedding, right? As I’ve said before, that is one of my favorite parts in the ceremony. But sometimes, perhaps out of sheer character and peculiarity of the couple, other parts become just as- if not more, meaningful, as well.

Case in point was the last wedding we attended, that of Edrei and Thine. Edrei is a campus missionary who works with my husband and back when they were still dating, Joe and I have already developed a relationship with both Edrei and Thine. We’ve  had them tell us about their story before but I always wondered, what is it really, that keeps these 2 so connected, so in sync, so MFEO??? Well finally at their wedding, my number 1 question was answered.

Both Edrei and Thine think and feel and know they are truly blessed to be the children of their parents.

Right before their vows, the couple actually chose to honor their parents before everyone. Out loud and in much tears, they poured the overflowing gratitude of their hearts to have grown up with them instead of any other. It was a touching moment.

I think it’s powerful when parents, recognized as the authority in a child’s life, know how to confess their sins and ask for forgiveness. Not only does it set a good example, but immediately corrects a wrong midset they might’ve instilled in the child’s brain.

They were thankful for so many things. One of which was how both sets of parents have financially provided for them without making them feel the weight of what they were, in truth, carrying. (Joe and I have agreed that no matter what happens, our children will not have the poverty mentality! We will see to it that always feel full and not lacking in anything.)

But the thing that caught my attention the most was when Edrei began talking about his parents and how they were not only quick to forgive, but also quick to ask for forgiveness,

“I wanna tell that to all parents here…all of my hurts were immediately healed just because my mom and dad always said sorry…” 

At that point I remembered this verse from the Bible,

“Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed…”

James 5:16

It was an AHA! Moment when I first encountered this verse, suddenly understanding why I wasn’t healed from many of the hurts I’ve incurred in my life. It was because barely anyone took the time to confess they’ve sinned against me, and that they’re sorry. What’s worse was that I was the same, too. I never really knew how to admit, confess I’ve done wrong, and ask for forgiveness. And so I thought that probably, many people still linger wounded from my sins just because I failed to say sorry.

Confession is key. 

Even to parents, perfection is not key, no, not even being right, but confession is. Edrei grew up healthy and happy and healed, because his parents knew how to say sorry.

It’s probably like 2 people dating. You never really know where you are, what you are, and where to go, unless it is defined and both of you confess it. You cannot just be thinking it. You have to confess it. (Walang mag-BF/GF na naghuhulaan lang, Someone has to say it, diba?)

I think I heard it from one of Andy Stanley’s preachings. That not asking for forgiveness is like having a debt that when you come face to face with the person you’ve wrong some time in the future, that debt is always going to be in the back of your head. Confession and forgiveness are for both parties, I believe. It’s always gonna be a secret in your heart you’d want but unfortunately, fail to keep.

I realized it is the same with mistakes, sins, offenses. We have to confess the wrong, so we can identify what’s right. We have to confess our sorrow in having hurt someone, so we can heal. Most important: confession restores….the broken peace, the broken sense of right and wrong, the broken relationship.  

Sadly, some circumstances don’t allow us to ask or to be given forgiveness anymore. And at this point, we can really just rely on the healing power of Jesus. But what I am trying to encourage us to do today and for the rest of our lives is to try leading a lifestyle of admitting our mistakes, confessing them, and asking for forgiveness. Whether we like it or not, wrongdoings (which we are all capable of!!!) break people. And though we can’t bring back the past, I hope that like me, you also see the hope in confessing, verbalizing, identifying our sins, and really humbling ourselves so to unbreak hearts and souls and allow them to heal. And at the end of the day I hope we remember that while we can’t be perfect, we can surely confess our sins and be truly sorry.

A Time to Walk Away

Why You Shouldn't Believe Everything an MBA Tells You

The True Meaning of Life

A boat docked in a tiny Goan village. A tourist from Mumbai (Mumbaite) complimented the Goan fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took him to catch them.

"Not very long," answered the fisherman.

"But then, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more?" asked the Mumbaite.

The Goan fisherman explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.

The Mumbaite asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"

"I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, play guitar, sing a few songs... I have a full life."

The Mumbaite interrupted, "I have an MBA from IIM-A, and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat."

"And after that?" asked the Goan.

"With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers. Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Panjim, or even Mumbai. From there you can direct your huge new enterprise."

"How long would that take?" asked the Goan.

"Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years," replied the Mumbaite.

"And after that?"

"Afterwards? Well my Friend, that's when it gets really interesting," chuckled the Mumbaite, "When your business gets really big, you can start selling stocks and make millions!"

"Millions? Really? And after that?" asked the Goan.

"After that you'll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, Sleep late, play with your children, catch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings doing what you like with your buddies."

"With all due respect sir, but that's exactly what I am doing now. So what's the point wasting 25 Years?" asked the Goan. And the moral of the story is? Know where you're going in life. You may already be there.

Life in the present world is indeed a rat race. Many who have good qualifications too do not know where they are going in life.

Mga Tanong

1. Bakit malungkot ang nag-iisa o lahat ba ng nag-iisa ay malungkot?
2. Kapag masaya ako, green ang damo. Kapag malungkot ako, green pa rin ang damo. So, sino ba talaga ang may issue, ako o ang damo?

from a film presentation during VCF’s 25th anniversary concert

And my own:

Why do people end relationships only through text nowadays? Are the people who do this cowards? Or does it depend on how committed they once were to the relationship they are ending and the person they once were with?

Packing Bags, Uncovering Memories

I called the one I was supposed to surprise with the apartment “my star” but I realized that you are the original star, the one whose light has never gone out. Yes, you have always been there…you stayed at the side lines after we had parted ways while I found a new star whose light later dimmed.

*****

At the very center of my bed right now is a red box with a diamond ring. “Wear it to our dinner on Saturday and I will follow you to London,” you said when you brought the ring to my apartment a week after you had learned about my plans to leave the country. You must have sensed my confusion because you added, “It’s not an engagement ring.” So what is it exactly? Just some sign you need from me for you to leave everything behind and be with me in London? Yes, you said.

It is Friday. Tomorrow, we go out to have dinner. I have been trying to ignore that red box. I have been delaying having to make a decision—do I want you back in my life? Do I want you with me in London? I still have so many things to do—turnover at work, send-off parties to attend, bills to settle, and independent films to see. I still have to pack so many things. I still have to sort which of my stuff to take with me to London and which to store at my parents’ house. I have been trying to ignore that red box. I have been trying to push the thoughts of you away from my mind. But as I pack my bags, as I gather all the things I have brought into this apartment for sorting, I realize that you are in almost all of them, that almost every nook and cranny of this apartment has some memory of you in it.

You were not the reason I got this apartment. You knew it was supposed to be for someone. After we had parted ways, I met someone and the apartment was supposed to be a surprise for him. But things happened and plans changed. Still, I kept the house. It was here that I healed myself and picked myself up. Or better, it was here where you picked me up from the mess that I had become and helped me be whole again.

The apartment was as plain as it could be with its dark wood and off-white motif. Plain and lifeless as was my life after I had parted ways with the person I was supposed to surprise with the apartment. Then, you started putting color into it as you started putting color back into my life…as a friend, as you put it.

You had gifted me with a 32-inch flat screen TV with cable subscription so I could have something to entertain me…though you had known I didn’t watch TV a lot. I still don’t. You had said you couldn’t imagine me staring out into space and crying my eyes out every time I would be home alone. Later, you admitted that you had gotten the TV because you had nothing else to do while waiting for me to get home from work. And I didn’t want you to pick me up from work, anyway. I had given you the key to my house because you would always come over anyway and I hated the thought that you would always have to wait somewhere else while I was at work. A week after I had given you the key, I woke up to the smell of ham and cheese omelet coming from my kitchen. Yes, you just prepared a “real” breakfast for me—with bread, juice, coffee, and fruits—and not just some microwaved food from the convenience store across the street.

I am now staring at a rack of McCormick spices. I still don’t know which to use for soups, steaks, and fish but with your sophisticated taste in food, you were always able to identify what was in your food even with your eyes closed. With you, I always had restaurant-grade meals at home. I sometimes complained at my lack of culinary skills “but you could bake,” you said. And I shot back, “but I couldn’t be eating brownies all the time!” And you laughed. My kitchen is the way it is now because of you. I was content with a microwave and a convection oven for baking but you added the stove and the pots and the pans. You would use those to cook for me, you said.

When I got home one weekend, I was surprised by the Malang painting in my receiving room, and on to my bathroom was a blue shower curtain and yellow towels. You knew my colors. I thought that your being an architect benefited me. Yes, I had this little thought that you might be gay but I knew otherwise.

I called the one I was supposed to surprise with the apartment “my star” but I realized that you are the original star, the one whose light has never gone out. Yes, you have always been there…you stayed at the side lines after we had parted ways while I found a new star whose light later dimmed.

I am sitting here on the sofa bed that I bought for you. At my lowest point after my star’s light had dimmed, you decided that you would sleep over as often as you could…just to keep me company. You saw me crying myself to sleep. You saw me waking up at 3 a.m. crying. You saw me walking around my apartment mumbling questions I would have asked the star whose light had dimmed. From here on the sofa bed I am sitting on right now, you saw me make a fool of myself. From this sofa bed, you reached out your hand to me and you helped me slowly make myself whole again.

I had this fear that there might be something in the sleepovers, in the meals together, in your cooking for me. And I wasn’t ready for whatever it was. Not so soon. It wasn’t fair for you. I was still healing. Yes, I was whole but the scars had yet to heal. The seams had yet to disappear. So, I asked for my key back.

I am walking back to my bedroom to get the red box with a diamond ring in it. I have a decision to make.

Reactions and Reflections

Someone reacted to my blog “Let’s Talk”:

I understand what you say... I always felt that the days when I had
less money were more fun…

I think it’s money that drives as all apart. The more money we make,
the more we become justifiable and while we may call it
responsibilities... it’s more like we have to sweat for the money that
we are being paid. And since we are all conscionable people, we work
harder and longer and therefore neglect the people who mean the most
in our lives…

Yea... I thought I shall email you later but since that would then be
planned and forgotten... I thought I shall do so immediately.

We never see a little flower that grows in a park you know. It takes
time. It takes effort to bend down and see its petals. Same is the
case with friendships. We have to invest time in this one Mar. I need
you to be there in my life.

*****

Somewhere in my journal, this is written:

As I get “richer,” as I get “more successful,” or the higher I go up the corporate ladder, the more I realize that a car, a house, or a high-paying job should and will not make me happy; the more I resolve to humble myself more; the more I take simple joy in taking the bus and the train, in bonding with my family and friends. There is just so much joy in simple and uncomplicated living.

I use my time more wisely now—lesser time on Facebook, more on reading and writing and being with family and friends. For several times this year, I was “on call” for friends who needed to be comforted (even at 12 midnight as I was about to go to bed after a long day at work!) and I have friends who are also just one text away whenever I need someone to have a meal or movie with. I thank God for my friends who, as varied as they are, keep me sane and grounded. I strive to have a more genuine and personal way of keeping in touch with them and not just through Facebook or Twitter, which are so shallow anyway, as one friend put it…because we have to invest time…we have to make time for the ones who really matter.

*****

And I keep this in mind:

1 Timothy 6:17-18

Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share.

Timelines and An Epiphany (finally!)

In how many ways could one end a friendship? And what could be the reasons for its end? In the past many, many months, I’d heard, or must I say, read (through text!), the most unbelievable lines that ended a friendship, lines that had me in shock as my mind raced with questions that were only answered recently.

Several days and nights had found me weeping, not merely crying, at the loss of such relationships. Friends, those who have stayed, had found me staring out into space during conversations. I had so many questions like “how come it was so easy for them to end the friendship as if with just the blinking of their eyes or the snapping of their fingers?” Behind all the questions was one big “WHY?” Why the betrayal, why the lies, why the end? With the passage of time, the questions had remained unanswered. No explanations had been offered, no “closure talks” had taken place. We’ve since gone on with our lives, changed addresses, met new people, gone places without the other, and made plans without thinking of the other. I’ve been attending to my enlarged, and still enlarging, territory.

One recent Saturday, in the midst of watching TV, trying to take a nap, and playing with the dog (talk about multitasking!), the answer came, in a voice so distinct, so clear that it made me pause—it was so easy for them to let go of the friendship because there was no friendship in the first place, or the friendship stood on a wrong and weak foundation.

And now that I have the benefit of hindsight, I believe the answer was right.

While I had felt that there was something amiss in the friendship while I was still in it, I just ignored the feeling, I being not the type to count the cost of sacrifices I make just to make a friendship work or to make it worthy of being called a “friendship.” But how foolish of me for having thought of those relationships as a friendship, and how much more foolish could I have been for having thought of those people as my friends when I myself consider the words “friends” and “friendship” as something so sacred that for me, it takes time and trials to know if a friendship is genuine or to even call someone my friend. Heck, at the slightest sign of pressure or strain, the other person just always decided to let go of the friendship while I would exert all effort to restore it. So much for being tested! And so much for keeping promises of friendship!

Lesson? When you feel you’re being shortchanged in a relationship, in small or big ways or worse, both, you’re probably right. When you feel you are the only one working to keep a relationship, you’re probably right. A friendship doesn’t have to be a burden; it doesn’t have to be difficult to keep if there are two people keeping it. The sad thing is when there is only one person holding it tightly while the other one is ready to let go of it any time the going gets tough. Then, it is not worthy of being called a friendship and the other person is not worthy of being called a friend. Just end the il/delusion and move on.

Things I Never Said

I haven’t told you that I have finally completed the song we were supposed to collaborate on. The words are finished. They are just waiting for their melody.

Did you know that you were one of the reasons I happily decided not to go to France? I didn’t want to miss a single day with you.

I never told you that you were one of the reasons I loved the metaphor of the eagle.

…I saw the movie “Mamma Mia” and remembered the term “blue movie” that you taught me. I thought the movie, a musical, was something that you would love to see. Only that, you would probably see it alone or with someone new.

… I have never told you—my visa has finally arrived. I am off to London in a month. I will finally cross Abbey Road and imagine myself with the Beatles. I don’t know when I’m coming back or if there’s a reason for me to come back.

*****

Before our lunch last weekend, I had already forgotten the last time I saw you. You will find this funny--you once said that I am good at remembering days, at marking off the calendar. You also told me that I am very observant and that I remember what people said and did although I don’t talk about them. I would just often surprise you that I actually remembered things that you thought I just ignored. I never told you that I don’t actually remember everything. I only remember those that are worthy of being remembered. There are those that I choose to forget.

I remember our first date at the restaurant with a mini-orchestra. They played your song for me. I asked you how someone of your stature could love a shy, unassuming lady like me. You just looked at me and smiled as you held my hand. I stared back at you and looked deeply into your brown almond eyes and right there and then I knew I could spend forever with you. I knew I could dance with you in the rain and I would be the one to comfort you when you were in pain. After our dinner, you took me to your music studio. You smiled your dimpled smile when you saw me wide-eyed in amazement as you showed me your music studio. It was my first time inside one. We danced to your songs that night. We skipped and hopped and jumped like crazy to the fast ones and hugged each other while we danced to the slow ones.

Once, we were watching a singing competition. You were surprised that my comments matched those of the judges (there were a lot of flats). You said that maybe, beneath all the business orientation I had was a creative spirit waiting to be unleashed. Maybe. You believed in my writing skills and you encouraged me to write more often. You said we could be like Alex and Sophie in the movie “Music and Lyrics.” I would provide the words and you would provide the music. I haven’t told you that I have finally completed the song we were supposed to collaborate on. The words are finished. They are just waiting for their melody.

I remember our trip to Tagaytay where you taught me about photography. You were extremely happy with my shots. You said I had a natural eye for beauty. Again, you said that I had a creative streak waiting to be tapped. We were impulsive enough to go straight to Batangas after the photography session. We went to just have halu-halo at Aling Celing’s. Imagine that, a long drive to Batangas for a halu-halo?! The next time we were in Batangas was when you took me to your beach house. We went diving by day and at night we had a bonfire party for two. The white sand glowed under the moonlight and the cool breeze from the sea surrounded us. The only noise was our laughter and the lapping of the waves at the beach. I looked at you across the fire as you were fixing the food and drinks and I asked myself, “How could I not love you?” Did you know that you were one of the reasons I happily decided not to go to France? I didn’t want to miss a single day with you.

But, I never told you one thing: that whenever you would drop me off at my home, after the goodbye kiss, when the slightest whiff of your Bulgari perfume was gone, when the taillights and the sound of the engine of your car were gone, a nagging thought would surface—that fate had a different ending for us.

One afternoon, we were back at the restaurant where we had our first date. There was no music, only the clanking of plates and utensils. Everything seemed to be in slow motion—the waiters taking the orders, the other diners raising their hand to ask for the bill, everyone seemed to take forever to walk from the table to the kitchen, from the counter back to the table—everything in slow motion, a stark contrast to the beating of my heart. There was a decision that I had asked you to make and that day, you were telling me about it. You said you were letting me go. You said you were giving me the chance to soar, to find my own place under the sun, to have the world as my playground…because I wanted those…because while I wanted to spend forever with you, I also had dreams of my own, plans that I wasn’t ready to sacrifice then. You asked me for one thing and we both knew I couldn’t give it then. It was better for us to part ways. I always thought you were a good man. You had always been selfless. You allowed me to soar even if it meant parting ways. See, one thing I had always admired you—you had always allowed me to soar while keeping me grounded. I never told you that you were one of the reasons I loved the metaphor of the eagle.

Still, it was impossible for us not to see each other. We went to the same church. There was one Sunday when we attended the service at the same time. I didn’t see you but my friend said she saw you from afar looking at me with longing while my head was bowed since I was writing something. I never told her that I myself had had many accidental sightings of you in church at the usual time we would attend the service. From where I would always sit at the back of the hall, I sometimes would see you in your favorite seat—on the fifth row of the center front section of the hall. I had memorized your form even when your back was turned against me—when your arms were raised in praise, or when your head was bowed in prayer, and even when you were seated and listening intently to the preaching.

Many months after we had parted ways, I saw the movie “Mamma Mia” and remembered the term “blue movie” that you taught me. I thought the movie, a musical, was something that you would love to see. Only that, you would probably see it alone or with someone new.

The invitation to lunch last weekend came as a surprise. And so we went to our usual place, sat at our usual table. It was too early for the mini-orchestra. And you asked a question that came as a bigger surprise—you asked if I could welcome you back into my life. I just looked at you and smiled. I didn’t tell you that I hoped fate would give us a different ending this time, a happy ending--so I could finally dance with you in the rain--or would it?

By the way, I have never told you—my visa has finally arrived. I am off to London in a month. I will finally cross Abbey Road and imagine myself with the Beatles. I don’t know when I’m coming back or if there’s a reason for me to come back.

How and why I stopped being a serial dater

Excerpt from David Nugent's column in the Philippine Daily Inquirer:

The biggest mistake? Getting into a relationship just for the heck of it. Or to escape a family situation, or a family, or yourself. To escape for any reason.

A relationship isn’t an escape. Never get into it unless it’s for the most basic reason—because you love and respect that person.

And never expect that love and respect go hand in hand. Sometimes, they don’t. I’ve loved people I didn’t respect all that much, and I’ve respected some I wasn’t in love with.

I learned that one has to do more than adore the person you’re with. You must admire him or her as well. I think it’s important to keep in mind that neither love nor respect should be given too easily. Proving love and earning respect take time and patience.

Another big mistake I had was using my partner as panacea for not having dealt with personal issues I should have resolved before getting into any relationship. In the Philippines, we spend a huge amount of time not dealing with our issues, whether they involve parents, siblings or ourselves.

Here’s a suggestion: Before you fall in love—even before you think you’ve fallen—take a breather and call a shrink. We’re a people who should have a national therapy conversation. The most important relationship you should ensure is with yourself first. Unless you fix what is inside, no other person, no matter how wonderful he or she may be, will be able to do it for you.

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?