heaven is that moment

It has been a month-long Valentine celebration, I swear! I can still hear those mushy, cheezy lines –

“Dalawang bese lang kita gusto makita : Now and forever.” - Ang KESO mo!!

“Para kang centrum... coz u complete me!” - Baduy mo, ‘tiong!

"Pustiso ka ba? ‘Coz I can’t smile without you.” - Ewwww!

And people certainly haven’t had enough yet of the love songs – they’re played on radios, on PCs, in the malls, sung by the staff at my back, he‘s about to piss me off! (bitter?)

One song – just a line really- by Karen Carpenter stuck in my head, “… and heaven is that moment when I looked into your eyes…” It was early Sunday morning. I was reading a book, seated by the fire escape stairway in my apartment building when I heard that song, that line, played for the nth time. I stopped my reading, rolled my eyes, annoyance seeping in. And then I looked out from my third floor view and there it was – my bit of heaven. The sky was gloriously blue and the sun was joyfully bright, as if smiling down at me.

And I understood. “Heaven is that moment” when I’m with my sister and her family. “Heaven is that moment” when amongst friends. “Heaven” is laughter. "Heaven is that moment" in prayer. “Heaven” is food. “Heaven” is work. “Heaven” is this little piece of room I now call my mini-home. “Heaven” is that e-mail or text from a friend. "Heaven" is looking outside my balcony and marveling at my space flowers. “Heaven” is waking up to a new day, a new chance. “Heaven” is Isabel’s new wily story and Inigo’s chubby cheeks. “Heaven” is that sincere smile from a new friend. ‘Heaven” is going with a friend to shop, to party, to bowl. “Heaven” is talking for hours with friends about anything and everything. “Heaven” is getting through pain. “Heaven” is knowing all is well. “Heaven” is this…talking to you. YOU are my bit of heaven.

I always, always have “moments of heaven” every single day. There is always something to be grateful for. But I guess I was looking so much at the lack, at the pain and fear and frustration, they blind me to see those heavenly moments. Focusing on what I don't have instead of the wealth of blessings that I do have rob me of the joys of these moments in heaven.

The song is called "I Just Fall In Love Again". Now wouldn't THAT be heavenly if I really just did fall in love again? But until such time (if ever), I will enjoy and be grateful for these many, many "moments of heaven".

the spa

One of my former bosses in NPC e-mailed and gave me an update on the dizzying amount of work she’s doing in the office. Her detailed account of the reports and letters and presentation materials she did on a Friday was enough to make my head spin. But her account made me look back at the work I did on that same Friday – at least 15 correspondences , 2 coordination/negotiations with training providers, review and processing of training requests, draft a training proposal and rehash of a concept paper. Whew! It’s no wonder I found myself with a stiff neck and a back ache with colds to boot as I stressed out trying to meet and beat deadlines.

My neck was so stiff and sore I thought I’d go get myself a massage at The Spa Elements once again. I was on my way there and as I neared their building and saw their signage, I vividly recalled the last (first actually) time I went there just a few weeks back.

The reception area was so cool and inviting it was enough to relax and de-stress anyone. With the package I chose, I was first given foot, hand and head massage. I was seated in one of those big cozy spa chairs as the girl masseuse started working on me – soaked my feet on a spa machine with essential oils followed by the foot and leg massage proper. I don’t know if I really got a “proper” foot massage because every single time she put pressure on my stressed feet/legs, I’d go, “Hee hee hee hee!” She’d stop and give me an amused look. She’d start again after a few moments and of course, I’d also go “Hee hee hee hee” again. It went on for the whole foot/leg massage session. My giggles were the only noise inside that hushed place. I thought I wasn’t ticklish anymore since I’m used to getting massages but I guess a few months without massage made me ticklish once again.

So we finally gave up on the foot/leg massage and off we went for my body massage. The slow circular and not-so-hard pressure on my back was so soothing. I had my eyes closed feeling my back muscles relaxing when all of a sudden, “Whack!” My eyes opened wide in surprise as the girl started giving me hard hitting karate chops!

“A-a-a-a-a-ya-ya-ya-ya-wow-wow-wow ko-ko-ko-ko-ko nya-nya-nya-nya-nyannnnn!” (ayaw ko nyan) I was saying. But of course she was done giving me karate chops when she finally stopped to ask, “Ha???” to which I replied, “’LA NA!!!”

That vivid memory made me finally decide I was better off without their massage and off I went and just took Alaxan FR. Sabi nga ni Manny Pacquiao - "Di ako takot umaray...may alaxan if ar!"

Rains

The sound of sudden surge of heavy rains brought me out of my daydream. I didn’t realize my thoughts had drifted in to a reverie as I sat and listened to the priest’s long homily (but then do we EVER realize our thoughts are about do go adrift?). Guiltily, I tried to re-focus. It was only then I noticed people were looking outside the church’s doors and windows watching the rains pour, their faces filled with concern.

The rains kept on. And I too felt the beginnings of worry creep in. I started to look around…but then I heard this voice, so soft. A whisper. Or maybe it was just a thought. It said, “The storm will pass” and I literally felt calm blanket me all over.

The Mass ended shortly. And the heavy rains had also dwindled into a trickle. The soft voice…the whisper…made good its promise. And as I walked the damp streets of Iloilo City that night, I could not help but splash a smile. The storm has passed. And so, too, the storms of my life will come to pass. The soft calming voice will make good His promise . . . as He always does.

"lula"

I had just come from a grueling, if not punishing, meeting that started morning and ended til early evening. "Ended" here is a loose term since we didn't finish at all. We probably looked exhausted (another loose term) so the powers that be decided to take a break for the night and we'd start early first thing in the morning.

"Overwhelming" is another term used loosely and lightly in describing the work my team has to handle this 2012 and onwards. My boss, during this work plan meeting, was doing crafts as a form of therapy. But I guess doing craftwork was not therapeutic enough because he just about exploded and, right in the middle of the meeting with the VPs and some members of Management, threatened to resign from work.

Resign...now that's a thought I entertained. I had seriously considered this. I was literally getting feverish just looking at the work program WE had designed for the year. My boss, and even our VP, think the work ahead is "nakakalula" (their term, not mine), and yet... nothing. I've been with the company barely two months but it feels more like three years! (And I'm paying a dear price - my health) I thought the "Russians" had me pretty loaded but this was just too much!

By late afternoon, I was staring at the laptop monitor, not really listening nor particularly caring what additional assignments they were handing out in my direction. I was serious. I wanted to quit. But as I stared at the monitor, I found myself staring back at me. And as I stared some more at my reflection, asking myself if "quitting" was an option, another question came to me, "What if God quit on you because you're way too much to handle?"

That question certainly got me off my "quitting" thoughts. I am a handful. I am difficult. I can be a bit much to handle. And I certainly don't want my God (nor my friends) to go quittin' on me just because.

Yes, this new life can be more than a handful. Yes, the job can be a tad difficult. Yes, the work ahead may be a bit much to handle. But, you know what? I remember a saying of Mother Teresa that said perfectly what was exactly on my mind, "God will not give me anything I cannot handle. I just wish He didn't trust me so much."

P.S.
It's 6:45 and i'm off to prepare for my morning meeting. So I guess I'm staying put (for now hehehe)

makeover

I was going through my “Someday List”, ticking off adventures and misadventures I’ve started or completed. As I read this one to-do item on my list, it hit me on the pes that I had just done this and was ready to tick it off. I had written:

“Get a complete makeover (change everything, from your hair style, hair color, image, clothes) and get a different look: one which you would never have thought of trying!”

AND I DID!

I hadn’t even thought I’d be getting a makeover but that’s exactly what happened when make-up artists – yes, in plural form – tried revolutionizing my look during the office Christmas party.

The first artist, Stanley, a.k.a. Gwen, put on dark blue eye shadows that made me look a vampire from the coven in the Twilight series. He/she then put on the same dark shade to highlight the bridge on my nose. AS IF! Para tuloy akong ilong na tinubuan ng mukha! Then came the curls or messed-up-hair look that made me look like I was going to play li’l orphan Annie in a musicale!

To say I wasn’t happy with the look he/she gave me was, suffice it to say, an understatement.

Then came Vincent who was more suplada than Gwen. I found him/her putting on last touches on the already beautiful Jam, the VP’s Executive Assistant, and as I passed by them, he/she looked at me with incredulous eyes, probably wondering if I was going for the Lady Gaga look. Well, I did look like a “gaga” so I guess he/she wasn’t that far off the mark.

I asked Vincent if he could “remedy” my look and with his/her “I-can-do-anything” look, he said in a high-pitched, haughty voice, “Of course!”

So “remedy” my make-up he did…and the result? Well, he managed to make me look like a bading vampire! Glamorous maybe, but still a vampire and a bading at that!

I had to pay twice to look like a bading vampire when I could’ve done that myself with no effort at all! I was exasperated to say the least. Two, not just one, mind you, but two make-up artists worked on my pes. So let’s pes it – the problem’s not the make-up, it’s my pes! What a makeover it turned out!

But then, I thought to myself “Isn’t that exactly what I’m in the middle of right now? A life makeover?”

I had said “Yes” to My Father for a life makeover. Amidst the fears and questions and apprehensions, I found myself saying “yes” to a new life, a new job, new home, heck even new names - some in the office call me “Ann”, there are those who call me “Ma” and a limited few call me “Timmy”.

He created me and He most certainly can recreate me. And I know my Father, my life artist, will NEVER make me look less than a beautiful princess. But my past look, my past life, has been swathed with flaws and bruises and scars.

Let me tell you though the secret to a beautiful makeover….it starts with the right foundation. And that’s what my Father is doing right now in my “life makeover” – putting on a powerful foundation not just to cover up but to totally do away with my life’s flaws and scars and imperfections. But before I could get THE look deserving of a daughter of a King, before this life makeover gets completed, my pes, my life, would have to be cleaned up and washed away of the dirt I seem to have problems letting go of.

My Father, the King, isn’t done with me. And as I go through foul-ups (even in make-up), I will take courage and just trust that these foul-ups and struggles are exactly what I need for my life’s renovations.

Christmas toddler moments

I went home for the holidays and my three-year old niece, Isabel, as usual, was funny and full of surprises!

During the Christmas lunch reunion with the Samonte clan, all of us " young" adults were called to assemble in the living room to play some games. The teenagers were most difficult to call as they were glued to their laptops in the dining hall. Isabel, hearing our exasperated calls to the teenagers, marched over to her teenaged cousins and, with a voice of "authority", said, "Where's team spirit! Where's team spirit!" while stomping to and fro the living and dining areas.

Now where did she learn that?

The 3-year old, and not the oldies, got the young ones out of their seats!

____________________________________

On our way to hear Mass for Christmas, my sister Miles and I were talking about where to go for lunch and some shopping while Isabel, we thought, was fast falling asleep in the car. I mentioned that I missed the tyangge at Greenhills Shopping Center. Isabel suddenly blurted out, "I DON'T LIKE TYANGGEEE!"

Mommy Miles asked, "So where do you want to go?"

Isabel answered, "Eastpud!" (Eastwood)

Ngyeee! Sosyal?

_____________________________________

The afternoon of New Year's Eve, Isabel and I were playing "beach with baby" inside their house. As I watched Isabel lay down the imaginary beach towels as she did a monologue on what happens at the beach, I felt sad and missing Isabel already as I thought of going back to Iloilo the following day. Isabel, sensing my melancholy, dropped what she was doing, went over to where I was seated, looked me in the eye and said, "Don't worry, Auntie-Ninang!"

Magical words from my angel!

____________________________________

At the strike of midnight New Year's Eve, everybody was jumping and greeting out loud, "Happy New Year!"

Isabel joined in and said, "Happy New Here!"

Yes, thank you Isabel, for reminding me to be happy in the here and in the now!

Precious!

broken

In filling out personal forms, I write “S” under social status, meaning “Single”. Should I fill out such forms any time soon though, “S” would now mean an entirely different thing for me...”S” for Separated. Yes, I am separated...from my family, from my friends, from everyone and everything I love and know.

I have been in Iloilo, in my new job, for a couple of weeks now. And I AM excited about learning and doing something new. I AM eager to make new friends. I AM ready to try out a new life. But every night, at the strike of 6, I look up from my cubicle and find the other people from work rushing about, smiles on their faces knowing they’d be home soon to their families or to their friends for gimmicks. And me...well, I’d try to study more or get some work done, maybe ‘til 8 pm or later. Then I’d head to an empty, lifeless room.

Everybody says, “Sa umpisa lang yan!” I’m taking their word for it and assuring myself that it is. But nobody ever says how long “umpisa” is. Does “umpisa” last for 2 weeks? 4? 6 months? A year? Because I can’t wait for “umpisa” to be over and I’ll be counting the days ‘til then.

Don’t get me wrong . . . it has been fun and different. People are nice. Work has been occupying most of my waking time. And I’ve been an “uto-uto”, accepting hosting gigs here and there hehehe. But nights and weekends can be bad.

I was early to church this weekend for the Sunday Mass. I wasn’t sure of the Mass schedule so I thought I’d come early just in case Google was mistaken. Turns out, Google was spot on again. As I sat waiting for the Mass to begin, people in droves came in. These droves were either families or ‘kadas and I couldn’t help but feel alone and lonely. And grateful though as I am, try as I might to feel joyful and be in high spirits, I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t. I put on a friendly smile I did not feel. And I had to admit – upbeat and bubbly though I try to be, I am a broken spirit.

But my Father, being my Father, wouldn’t get me on that path for long. There, in the middle of the Mass,  I found myself staring at the big and strong and defeated and rejected Jesus that was His Son crucified.   His death IS the reason – the cause - for the celebration that IS the Holy Mass. Yes, WE CELEBRATE HIS SUFFERING AND DEATH! Because His death gave birth to our new life.

And so will I celebrate my broken spirit. So will I celebrate my weakness. So will I rejoice amidst this brokenness. For it is when I am weak that He is strong. I never really understood that line from a song – “let the weak say I am strong, let the poor say I am rich...” now, I guess, I know. It is now, when I am broken - when I have nothing and no one - that I feel His presence, His provision, His strength.

I WILL celebrate! My brokenness, my loneliness, my lack. Because I trust that this will give birth to something (or maybe someone wink wink) wonderful of a blessing!

In filling out personal forms, I write “S” under social status, meaning “Single”. Should I fill out such forms any day soon though, “S” would now mean an entirely different thing for me...”S” for Separated. Yes, I am separated...from my family, from my friends, from everyone and everything I love and know.

I have been in Iloilo, in my new job, for a couple of weeks now. And I AM excited about learning and doing something new. I AM eager to make new friends. I AM ready to try out a new life. But every night, at the strike of 6, I look up from my cubicle and find the other people from work rushing about, smiles on their faces knowing they’d be home soon to their families or to their friends for gimmicks. And me...well, I’d try to study more or get some work done, maybe ‘til 8 pm or later. Then I’d head to an empty, lifeless room.

Everybody says, “Sa umpisa lang yan!” I’m taking their word for it and assuring myself that it is. But nobody ever says how long “umpisa” is. Does “umpisa” last for 2 weeks? 4? 6 months? A year? Because I can’t wait for “umpisa” to be over and I’ll be counting the days ‘til then.

Don’t get me wrong . . . it has been fun and different. People are nice. Work has been occupying most of my waking time. And I’ve been an “uto-uto”, accepting hosting/singing/dancing gigs here and there hehehe. But nights and weekends can be bad.

I was early to church one weekend for the Sunday Mass. I wasn’t sure of the Mass schedule so I thought I’d come early just in case Google was mistaken. Turns out, Google was spot on again. As I sat waiting for the Mass to begin, people in droves came in. These droves were either families or ‘kadas and I couldn’t help but feel alone and lonely. And grateful though as I am, try as I might to feel joyful and be in high spirits, I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t. I put on a friendly smile I did not feel. And I had to admit – upbeat and bubbly though I try to be, I have the beginnings of a broken spirit.

But my Father, being my Father, wouldn’t get me on that path for long. There, in the middle of the Mass, big and strong and beaten and rejected was His Son, crucified. His death IS the reason – the cause - for the celebration that is the Holy Mass. WE CELEBRATE HIS SUFFERING AND DEATH! And I remember Bo Sanchez saying we celebrate Jesus’ death – the greatest tragedy - because from this came the greatest blessing, the greatest victory.

And so will I celebrate my broken spirit! So will I celebrate my weakness. So will I rejoice amidst this brokenness. For it is when I am weak that He is strong. I never really understood that line from a song – “let the weak say I am strong, let the poor say I am rich...” now, I guess, I know. It is now, when I am broken, when I have nothing and no one, that I feel His presence, His provision, His strength. He HAS time and again proven this...I just need reminding.

I WILL celebrate! My brokenness, my aloneness, my lack. Because I trust that from this will come something (or maybe someone wink wink) wonderful of a blessing!