wet!

I went with my sister to Isabel's (my niece) class at the Little Gym one Saturday. Classes had already begun when she and her mom got in to join the other toddlers and moms/dads. But true to her “Dora, the Explorer” form, Isabel didn’t immediately join the other kids in class and, instead went running around exploring the different gym equipment. I guess that's why the teachers came up with the moniker, "Isabel, the Wander Girl." Soon, the other toddlers were following suit and were exploring as well.

At one point, Isabel and Maya, another toddler, were both rushing to go play at the obstacle course. Isabel got there first but Maya bumped into her and tried to hurry her along. Isabel turned around and looked at Maya square in the face and said, “Wet!” (translation: Wait! I got here first you know. Wait for your turn when I'm done. If you had gotten here first ...- well, really, she just meant "wait" )

Wow! What a lesson coming from my 1 ½ year-old niece!

I carried this lesson as I was driving home that night amidst the rains and the slow moving drivers. I was tempted to overtake the slow cars or, at the very least, blast my horns to move them along. But my niece’s “wet” incident gave me pause and I just patiently trudged my way through traffic. This made driving more relaxing and even enjoyable.

The lesson from our 1 ½ year-old "wander girl" reminded me once again that I am where I should be. Being stuck in traffic may mean I’m being kept from something unpleasant from happening. Getting stalled in a long line at the supermarket may be God’s way of teaching me patience. And maybe, when prayers seem to go unanswered, God is telling me that His answer is for me to trust and to just..."wet".

mang arthur and aling fanny

Ricky, my bro-in-law, organized a luncheon treat in honor of Mang Arthur, their school bus (well, it was a jeepney really) driver during their elementary and high school days. An assembly of "old" students formerly chauffeured by Mang Arthur paid tribute to their beloved Mang Arts for painstakingly ferrying them from home to Marist School and back. Adventures of boyhood past with Mang Arts were also reminisced, giving the occasion a mood that's both deeply moving and light.

That same week, I found and made "friends" on FB with Aling Fanny, our"old" lady guard at Stella Maris. Aling Fanny said she remembers us girls but couldn't for the life of her recognize me from my FB profile pic. She said I looked good on my picture...which only means I look bad in person. Why, that old geezer...hmmp! (kidding!) No really, chatting up with Aling Fanny on FB and remembering with school friends our comical experiences with her was fun and funny!

But we didn't just make "chika" with her...we thanked her for years of protectively looking out and after us while under her watch. In our own miniscule way, we honored her for being a part of our lives.

The tribute to Mang Arthur and touching base with Aling Fanny got me to think - "Do I see...and I mean really see...the "little" people I encounter everyday? Do I exercise patience with my yayas at home or with the cashier at the grocery? Do I ask the guards or janitors in the office how they're doing? Do I greet back their "good mornings"? Do I thank these people? Do I even stop to look at them?"

It's easy enough to acknowledge and thank important personalities, those in position or with money, those with "power" who help us get ahead. It's sometimes even easy enough for us to think that we're better than the "Mang Arthurs" and "Aling Fannys" of this world. Are we? Really?

In spite of the concerns I face, I feel blessed…and in return, I also like to give back and be a blessing to others, particularly to those who are usually taken for granted. Being a blessing to others doesn't have to cost me anything, does it? It doesn't have to be a grand gesture like what my bro-in-law did (God bless him for his generosity), does it?

It wouldn’t cost me anything to smile at the sales clerk, would it? Would it take much effort to say “Thank you” to the security guard who graciously opens the door for me or to the waiter who hurriedly serves me food or to my yayas who take care of the house or to the driver for bringing me safely to my destination? Will it cost me much to politely say "Excuse me" or "Salamat" to the janitor cleaning the rooms and the hallways? Not much effort or cost is needed to carry out these small acts that could spell the change in someone's dreary life.

I look at my almost 2-year old niece, Isabel, and envy her innocence. She clings to and plays with and hugs her yayas with affection, waves goodbye at the security guards or says "hi miss" to the sales clerks at malls...without judgment, without prejudice, without concept of master or servant, rich or poor. I wish we could all be Isabel-like as we deal with the "Mang Arthurs" and "Aling Fannys."

As many "Mang Arthurs" and "Aling Fannys" have been a blessing to me, so will I try my best to be a blessing to them. Doing our own very small acts of kindness could not only make a difference in someone else's life...it could actually be the difference in our own lives.

dream come true

Yes it did...my dream did come true!

No...my dream was not the impossible wishful thinking kind like "I wish I had Brad Pitt for a partner" (someone who looks like him would do, though) or "I wish I had billions of Pesosesoses" (or maybe just millions of pesoses). It was actually a dream or a vision of sorts that I had last week and it was of me reading during Holy Mass.

Our high school batch got together last Saturday for a general assembly, a Thanksgiving Mass and a salu-salo. During the assembly meeting, in preparation for the Holy Mass, Atty. Kristy asked volunteers to read the readings and the prayers for the Mass. As others enthusiastically volunteered to read, I kept still, looked away and hoped to go unnoticed. Why? Well, I was "testing" the dream. I wondered "Do dreams really come true? I mean literally?"

Atty. Kristy asked me (more like shoved the misalette in my face - kidding!) to read the Prayers of the Faithful. I took the misalette without a word but I wasn't done with my "testing." As other batchmates trickled in to attend the meeting, I kept handing the assignment over...each one refused.

After all the kaartehan, I ended up reading the prayers anyway and it was as I had dreamed/envisioned it to be. As I looked up in between the reading of the prayers, I saw Camille taking a photo of me. Since this "kodakan" was not in my dream, all I could think of at that moment was, "Oh no! I didn't put on any make-up!" (as if make-up would make a difference...I wish!)

In my prayers that night as I reflected on and asked what that dream-literally-coming-true event meant, I heard Him answer, "Trust that your dreams are coming true." And if that wasn't enough to convince me, the message for me posted on FB went like this, "All is going according to plan. Trust that there is a bigger picture. Trust that life is unfolding as it should."

My dreams and plans may not be God's plans for me...but I am letting go and letting God and trusting that His plans are far bigger and better than any dream or plan I could ever imagine. They may not come into being now but I trust that they will unfold...in God's perfect time!

another babes moment

I just love hanging out with Isabel, my almost two-year old niece. One never knows what she's going to blurt out.

While at a Shell gas station on our way to Heaven's Gate for the observance of All Saints Day, my sister, Miles, went to the C.R. while Ricky went to the Select store to buy stuff. Isabel, the yayas and I were left waiting in the car. I had a serious conversation going with Isabel, part of it went like this:

Me: "Where'd daddy go?"
Isabel: (while rubbing her hands together) "Wash."

Me: "What about mommy, where's mommy?"
Isabel, after pausing for some moments and looking up as if thinking, said (with pouty lips), "Wiswiswiswiswis..." (translation: mommy went to pee).

That was the first time she said/did that. Usually, whenever she knows anyone is in the restroom, no matter what one was doing, she'd answer, "Poo-poo."

on the NPC anniversary

Remember the Hotdog’s hit song ‘Manila’? “Manila, I keep coming back to Manila. Simply no place like Manila… I walked the streets of San Francisco, I've tried the rides in Disneyland… Somehow I feel like I don't belong…”

Well, I just realized that that song personifies the story of my relationship with NPC - I just keep coming back to it. I did try out the private corporate world for a few years, but I ended up back in NPC. Some years ago, I was shipped out, literally, to the US of A by my mom in the hopes (her hopes) of finding myself a “papa.” But all I got was a couple of offers from companies vying for my services (instead of a couple of guys vying for my heart - sigh). But - you guessed it - I found myself back in NPC.

I wondered out loud to friends this “I-keep-coming-back-to-NPC” fashion I seem to have developed for myself and a friend reminded and quoted back to me a lesson I had learned and shared: “I am exactly where I am supposed to be.”

After all that’s been said and done, I have come to realize that NPC has been good to me. Never mind the office politics. Never mind the MBA (may-backer-ako) system that seem to be prevalent everywhere anyway. Never mind the oftentimes confusing structure and system. Never mind the frustrations. It was here where I met some wonderful friends and mentors. It was here where work and life lessons were learned. It was the long tedious hours of work in NPC that had become my refuge when I suffered a devastating loss. NPC has been good to me.

Last November 3, NPC marked its 74th Anniversary. The weeklong celebration was the simplest NPC employees had seen or experienced. “Banderitas”and “tiangge” booths that usually adorned the office grounds during its anniversaries signaling a festive mood were nowhere to be found. Employees bemoaned the absence of bonuses. Many found the calendar of anniversary activities lacking excitement and thrill. Amidst the grumbles and the gripes, however, I found myself enjoying and feeling blessed for being part of the festivities.

I always say, “start any activity right – start it with a prayer.” And the anniversary couldn’t have kicked off more right than with a Thanksgiving and Healing Mass that was poignant and assuaging.

The 4 K Fun Run and Aero-Dance were other activities that highlighted the celebration. I was registered and suited up to join the Fun Run. But as soon as the sports official hollered "Go!", I decided to join the Aero-Dance. It was a blast! I simply looooved it. It wasn’t as punishing as the fun run but it was just as fun. I did get tired…from laughing! My cheeks hurt from laughing as I watched my boss do her own version of the dance moves. Now that she’s decided to join the regular dance workouts during Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, I’ve also decided to join if only to watch her do her stuff.

The Fun Olympics was another activity I wouldn’t have missed particularly the “Umbrella-Tissue” relay. Everyone rolled in laughter as players of our group executed the game with "parental guidance" moves. I wish this was caught on video…it would have created a wave on Youtube.

Another activity I truly enjoyed (surprisingly) was the anniversary party/program. It had very little, if at all, dragging or boring moments (again, surprisingly). The band seemed to have upped their level a tinee bit as they restructured their repertoire. I danced my heart out, not on the designated dance floor, but by my lonesome on a mini-dance area by the bleachers I created for myself where I danced like a total fool (nothing new). I simply didn’t care…I was having fun!

And of course, my favorite part of the program was…drum roll please….the Footloose number by Mr. "Wiling Willie" Dolatre! Need I say more?

Cash and stuff were also raffled off during the party. And though I didn’t win a single thing, I feel blessed enough as Noel, my BBF (Boy-Best-Friend, a label he himself coined and tagged) won the personal refrigerator.

Maybe its this “simple joys”attitude I’ve recently adopted that made all these seemingly simple activities fun and blessing filled; or maybe I’m just a shallow and easy-to-please person; or maybe, the anniversary activities, simple they may be, were really fun and exciting after all.

Next year would mark NPC’s Diamond Anniversary. I may not be around NPC to celebrate such a momentous event. Or maybe, as many are wondering, NPC might no longer be. No matter where the road leads, both for NPC and for myself, I am grateful for the years with NPC.

Thank you, NPC!

on dad

My friend, Mercy, who's an amazing singer, is one heck of a writer. She has penned numerous poems and songs and shorts stories and essays. Whatever form or mood or theme her write-ups may be, they affect and stir up certain emotions in readers...well, I know they do in me.

Last year, as a Christmas present, she sent us 2 collections of her writings, one of which was a digest of songs, poems, essays while the other was a compilation of her short stories. I had previously read her writings but one of her shoutouts in FB led me to re-read her poems and essays.

One of her write-ups was about her dad who passed away some 10 years ago. She paid tribute and recalled the times she had spent with him...their walks and hang-outs and trips to wherever, her dad's favorite lullaby to her, their love for word puzzles and for writing, the little chores they did, the talks and silent moments shared.

I had to stop reading midway. The words were becoming a blur as my eyes filled with tears. And a quiet kind of fear seemed to have tugged at my heart. Fear? Yes, fear for the answers to the questions that have strayed ..."Do I remember my dad as Mercy lovingly remembers hers? Have I forgotten the little details of our times together? Do I miss him? Do I love him still?"

I talk on and on about mom…but it seems that stories of days with dad have become few and far between. So please, indulge me this.

Dad died when I was 19. I was already in my third year in college and, by other people’s standards, was supposed to be old and mature enough to handle life and its blows. But 19 was just a number to me and, really, I was just a kid. Losing a parent, at any age, is devastating, more so for one barely out of her teens. And with Dad gone, I was lost.

Dad was a good, generous and principled man who loved God and family above all else...that much I know. He went to church every single day and enjoyed serving especially kids from financially disadvantaged families...that much I recall.

He loved to make us laugh but was stern with his rules. Two of his non-negotiable rules were: no family fights; and always respect and love Mom...these I remember well. But with 2 strong-willed daughters who had an even more strong-willed mother, arguments were never far off the table. We were sneaky though and almost always got away with those girl fights - almost.

He was an architect and an artist who drew portraits so well and so fast. I so wish we kept some of his works.

I remember him giving his pay envelope with ALL of his salary to mom. Yet it was a wonder how he was always able to buy us stuff. And his gifts (and he loved surprising us with gifts), especially to mom, were quite pricey. It was only later that we found out that as a Chief Architect, he had allowances to his name... hmmm...sneaky too!

When we went malling, I’d find mom and dad H.H.W.W. (holding hands while walking). I thought it sweet but it embarrassed the life out me.

One Valentine’s day, his birthday, I remember him asking me to go out with him to look for a gift for mom. Instead of the usual pricey but practical gift my mom loooved getting, he got her a small white stuffed animal toy from a Sanrio Gift Shop. The gift was unusual of him. It was out of character. It was sweet but impractical and so unlike him. It was the last he would ever give.

My eyes are bright and smiling now - the tears are gone and I have the answers to my questions. I do remember the miniscule details of our fun times with dad. And yes, I do miss him. And yes, I do so love him still. Though I ache for him and wish that he could have seen his girls grow into (ehem, ehem) beautiful women, though I long for his warm and loving embrace, though I miss seeking him out for talks and whatnot, I am so grateful for the gift of a wonderful father and the precious little time with him…for the laughter…for the lessons…for the love…

Thank you Daddy! I love you!

straight from the mouth of babes

My sister recorded on video in her smartphone some of the dance and song numbers we (jubilarians) performed during our SMC Grand Alumni Homecoming.

My almost 2 year-old niece, Isabel, whenever she gets hold of my sister's phone, has been constantly requesting, "dance, nang" (translation: I wanna see the videos of my ninang dancing.) She waves the phone to whoever was around and proudly points me out strutting my stuff on stage. People, of course, always try to indulge babies and say "Ooohh! Ahhhh! Wooow!"

One time when Isabel was showing a video of me dancing, she was asked, "Wow! Dancing si Ninang! Maganda si 'Nang Isabel?"

Isabel, without batting an eyelash, innocently answered: " 'ngit!"

So...there you go. Straight from the mouth of babes!