Promises

God has a way of snapping me out of the blues and putting my views into perspective. Many a ways my Father talks to me – while in prayer, in books, mentors, friends, a song, a smile, an e-mail, even in an overheard conversation.

Recently, I was appointed to lead in preparing/organizing a recollection-seminar for our parish. The limited time, zero starting fund, lack of manpower and the dismal number of recruits for the seminar were making me angsty. I was beginning to have major, major doubts – on God’s purpose for putting me in such position, our efforts, our abilities, my trust. I never showed nor said any of my doubts to my members so I carried my frustrations by myself.

During our recruitment drive in church on one gloomy Sunday afternoon, I was manning our seminar registration table. Beside our table was a booth selling cds of the compilation of talks by a young inspiring priest named Father Jeffrey. The booth was a bit frenzied with people asking for signed copies of their cds.

I wasn't in the mood to join their frenzy. I felt just as gloomy as the weather. I was ready to call it quits. Things were not going well with our recruitment and our food sales fundraiser was put on halt. Then I heard a tiny voice amidst the loud crowd milling by the cd booth. A boy of about 7 or 8 was calling out and trying to get the attention of the young priest. "Father! Father! Bless mo ko!" the boy said animatedly.

Father Jeffrey looked up at this chirpy little boy, smiled at him and tousled his hair in greeting and blessing. The boy excitedly called out and ran to his mom and pulled her happily along to where Fr. Jeffrey was signing cd jackets. I looked at the mother who donned a smile so lovely and contagious as if telling the world she had no worries at all. The boy, with his mother in tow, said casually to the priest , "Father, may sakit ako. Bless mo ko?"

"Anong sakit mo?" asked Fr. Jeffrey

"Leukemia" the boy replied.

It was only then that I straightened from my seat to take a good look at the boy. He was wearing a surgical mask that covered half his face. But he was so happy. I saw happiness in his eyes. It broke my heart. I felt like crying but choked back the tears. The priest and the boy talked for a while, both seemingly in awe and wonder of each other. I couldn't hear the rest of their conversation - maybe I wasn't meant to hear any further. Maybe I was only meant to hear that short exchange.

The boy. His sickness. His smile. The mother's smile. These certainly put things into perspective. I was put to shame as I dared to answer, "And you say you have problems?"

I closed my eyes for a moment and said a short prayer for the boy...and for forgiveness. I once again allowed my struggles to overshadow God's countless blessings. Me of little faith. Me of little thanks. I recall reading this quote: “God didn't promise days without pain, laughter without sorrow, sun without rain, but He did promise strength for the day, grace for the trials comfort for the tears, help from above, light for the way and undying love”

Yes, there would be pain. There would be sorrow and rain. But He promised to give strength, grace, comfort, help, light and love. Am banking on His promises.

a mother's love

A mother's love is a force of nature to be reckoned with. It is unparalleled. Unequaled. Unbreakable. Beyond measure. And sometimes oh so funny.

I remember my first trip to the US of A many years back. I was in my early 20s and it was my first travel outside the country. My sister and mom had had their taste of vacation in the US and in Asia so I fully trusted whatever tips they had to give. No prodding or asking was necessary as far as my mom was concerned. She’d give her two cents’ worth of advice whether you liked it or not. And in my ignoramus state (as far as foreign travel), I hang on to my mom’s traveling tips as if it was a life saver.

My mom had all sorts of tips from luggage to clothes to food to money saving and what-have-yous. One of her very first and non-negotiable tips she insisted on was this: “buy panties with zippered pockets”.

I looked at her wide-eyed with disbelief. “MAY GANUN?” Apparently, there are. Granny panties with zippered pockets in front. Gosh! “What in the world do I need these for?” I asked.

Heaving a sigh of exasperation, my mom explained, “What else?” she started, “To put your dollars in.”

“HUWAAAT?” I exclaimed, still not believing she’d make my buy these granny panties. . . or worse, make me put my traveling money in them.

She did though… she made me buy the granny panties - five pairs in all, one for each day of the week. “Yipee!” I thought, “I’d get to wear regular panties on weekends!”. In case you’re wondering, I had them in black, white and pink. Let me ask something though - what’s worse than putting your dollars in your granny panties? It’s wrapping your dollars tight in a colorful, flower- embroidered handkerchief, that’s what! This surely gave a new meaning to the term “pocket money”.

I knew she just meant well, but “No way”, I thought. So being the obedient daughter that I was not, it was such a surprise that I gave in and wrapped my pocket money in a handkerchief and placed it in my granny panties. I did it to please her…hmmm, no, not really. I did it ‘coz I knew I wouldn’t hear the end of it. So off to the airport I went with my pocket money, all intact and safe in the zippered pocket of my granny panties. It’s a wonder my jeans fit me at all.

It was a long travel and the “stash” kept poking my belly. So, while on board the plane en route to the US, I decided to take my pocket money out of its hiding place and put it in my jean pocket.

Good thing I placed my “stash” in my jean pocket – the Immigration Officer at the San Francisco airport asked me how much money I was bringing in and asked me to show it to her. “Whew” I let out a sigh of relief. But as I dug in my pocket I realized one thing – my “stash” was still wrapped tight in the hanky! In double knots at that! As I tried to loosen the knots, the Officer and those in line behind me looked curiously on. It was embarrassing, to say the least! So finally I was able to take the money out of the wrap and show it to the Officer. I moved out of the line and moved on with my life...my funny life with my mom.

I miss my mom terribly - her strange show of love and her out-of-this-world bits of advice.

Yes - a mother's love is a force to reckon with. Unparalleled. Unequaled. And sometimes oh so funny (or maybe it's just my mother's love that is sometimes funny).

if only...at least

It has been sometime since that historic day. That day seemed like any typical uneventful Friday . . . until we learned of the earthquake and the tsunami tragedies that befell Japan. We were in the middle of work when we heard the news. We all stopped whatever it was were doing to take in what was happening. Everyone, in shock, had one thing to say or another.

Some said, not without dread, "Naku, kailangan magsisi na tayooo!"

There were those who prompted us, "Hoooy! Magbago na tayo noh!"

One, however, was more concerned with the pronunciation of tsunami and corrected "that it's not pronounced 'chunami' but 'sunami'" (Goodness!).

And of course there were those who fearfully called to mind the Mayan End of World Prophecy, "Baka nga magkatotoo yung hula sa 2012!"

Embarrassing though it may be, but the first thoughts that came to my mind was, "Dapat talaga mag-asawa na ‘ko...I don't want to leave this world not doing. . . something...anything!!! Heck no!" I even compromised my "list" and said to myself, "Ok na kahit X-men!” Problem is, not even X-men are making "patol". (sigh)

I know I'm making light of and downplaying a serious situation . . . a deadly serious situation. Truth of the matter, the images and footage that splashed on the internet and in the news horrified me. The thought of such disasters taking place here at home shook me (no pun intended). To say that it was heartbreaking is an understatement. It plain scared and saddened me.

The devastation that hit Japan made me see things in a totally different light. This has made me turn my “if only’s” to “at least”. So now, whenever I think -

…if only I am not alone, I say at least I have a sister and her family and my friends who, I’m pretty sure, care and love me. There were those who lost entire families;

…if only I were rich, I say at least I have enough to sustain me, and then some. There are millions in this world who are hungry;

…if only I had a better job, I say at least I have work. There are many who are without jobs or prospects;.

…if only my house is in tiptop shape…at least I have a roof over my head I can call my own. There are those who live on the streets;

…if only I had a newish car. At least my vintage (a.k.a., ancient) car has had its uses and has brought me to places and has been “of service” to many friends. There are those who walk miles just to get to where they’re going;

…if only I were beautiful…at least I’m cute. ‘nuff said!

We as a people complain just about everything - the weather, traffic, workload, finances, food, the government, the church, our bosses, being single, being married, having ids, not having kids, the noise, the silence. Nothing is ever good enough for us.

But armed with this new perspective, I have learned that there is an "at least" in every situation...even death. We will never know why God allows tragedies to happen, or the reasons for them, but one thing I do know and believe in...His plans, His actions, are far better and bigger than any of ours.