When We're Feeling Ill

Only when we’re feeling ill do we realize how good it really feels to feel well.

Just like any other blessing, the gift of good health is being set aside and ignored until the time comes when health fails. We don’t actually realize that waking up feeling well is one of the most common yet most precious blessings of all. Not every one wakes up feeling well, and come to think of it, not every one wakes up at all..

Still, some people simply couldn’t manage to feel grateful for waking up in the morning. They choose to agonize over things they can’t have and things they can’t do instead of enjoying the things they actually have and the talents and skills they are blessed with.

Life is hard, or it isn’t, it depends on one’s perspective of it. And no amount of brooding and moping will make it any better. So, instead of doing exactly that, let’s start every day by making a mental list of the things we are thankful for, another morning, the person beside you, coffee, breakfast, etc., and utter a sincere thank you for each and every one of them.

Sweeter Cyber Romance

Honestly, I don’t know if cyber romance is sweet, basically because I didn’t have a chance to try it. I put up my first yahoo mail the year after I got married. So, I think I have nothing to say in the matter except those I heard from friends.

And speaking of friends, I know of two people who found each other again on Facebook. Twenty years ago, they were just acquaintances. They weren’t close. They weren’t friends. Then, last year, we put up a group and all three of us were invited as members. Incidentally, they were both using account names different from their real names, so, neither has an idea who the other was.

So, they were kind of surprised when they found out about each other’s identity. The next thing I knew was that they hit it off and they seem to be very happy together. I’m happy for them, of course, but I was never into cyber romance thus my skepticism. For me, you could only say you love someone if you know him or her well enough and how could you know someone you only see and  talk with online?

Well, that’s only for ME. I could be wrong and they may be right, right? Well… I just wish both of them happiness.. :)

How Rare is Opportunity?

I would say very.

How many smart, talented and hard-working people got wasted because they weren’t given an opportunity to show what they got?

It’s sad.. and frustrating to see such people settling for something less than they deserve. Sometimes, we can’t help wondering why that is? Some people say everything happens for a reason, but what reason? We see them try as hard and even harder than others, and yet, they simply don’t make it, is it fate? Is it misfortune? God’s will? What? We don’t know, or maybe we don’t need to know. Maybe that’s just it. Maybe that’s just what life is, either you make it or you don’t, and that’s all there is to it.

Then, what is the point of dreaming? And of trying? If you wouldn’t get it after all because it isn’t meant for you. What is the point of wasting valuable time and energy over something which will never be yours because it isn’t meant to?

Bitter? No.. not at all. I just feel regretful over those people who were given opportunities but waste them due to lack of gratitude and determination. They don’t know how rare those opportunities come by…

Stubborn Love

May* was the middle of the three daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Pacheco. May was kind of stubborn, a rebel, in fact. She loves to do what her parents said she mustn’t. Her father was an overseas contract worker and her mother was a public school teacher. Being a responsible father, Mr. Pacheco tried to impart his work values on his children while as a teacher, Mrs. Pacheco preached on various virtues including respect not just to parents but the elders in general.

May, obviously, was tired of her parents’ self-righteousness. For her, they are just that.. self righteous and hypocrites. So, she waited for every opportunity to defy them.

Then, one day, her ‘perfect’ sister made the mistake of falling in love with a bum. Their parents tried everything in their power to separate their first born from the good-for-nothing guy and they were so relieved when their eldest daughter came to her senses and broke up with him.

May saw the opportunity. A few months after her sister’s break-up with the bum, she ran away with him. At first it was fun. The guy was so cool. He just did whatever he liked. He followed no rules and answered to no one. Then, after a few weeks, May was beginning to panic. Her money was running out and the bum showed no intention of looking for work.

Then, one morning, May woke up with a severe stomach ache. She was hungry, something that never happened to her before. There was no food anywhere in the house. The bum was in his regular drinking session out on the street. May felt alone and stupid.

She packed her bags and without looking bag, left the bum, who didn’t know she left or maybe didn’t even care. She came home to her parents who took her back without questions.

*not real name

The Facebook Account

Last week, I received a distressed call from a friend. This friend of mine is a smart and tough guy. So, I was kind of surprised when he sounded distressed. But then again, as he spoke over the phone, I eventually realized it wasn’t distress I heard, it was actually frustration.

It seems like, our college friend, Sarah*, who happened to be his girlfriend for a short while in the past, has been calling her every time she and her boyfriend have a fight.The calls have become constant lately which means, they constantly fight. So, one time, my friend, the caller, logged on to Facebook and sent her a private message encouraging her to just break up with her boyfriend. But Sarah simply said she couldn’t do that and she would just wait for her boyfriend to grow tired of her and dump her. (Can you believe that?) Her boyfriend happened to be married. So, that makes her other woman, right?

Then, the next time my friend, the caller, logged on to FB, he found a message from Sarah. Only, it wasn’t from Sarah but from
the jerk her boyfriend, confronting my friend for encouraging Sarah to break up with him. My friend was enraged and they argued which ended up putting Sarah in the middle.

Bottom line, why does the jerk have Sarah’s password? She gave it to him. How did I know? She told it to me, herself.. :(

The Bravest Things..

I’m not a brave person. I’m scared of a lot of things. I’m scared of dogs, of fast vehicles, of blood, of drunk. I’m even scared of dentists, of nurses, of crossing a busy street. Sometimes, I find my fears irrational and very embarrassing.

In my nearly four decades of life, I can name very few things I did that I can consider courageous. Among such things were: joining a writing contest in college when my chances of winning was very very slim, joining a nationwide search for writers in a popular magazine, staying with my father when he was dying of the big ‘C’ and accepting failure of the thing that I thought I was exceptionally good at.

It was my last semester in college when I finally joined the annual writing contest. I wasn’t after the price money nor the prestige of being a winner. I simply felt that I would regret not taking that last chance. I ended up third place in the contest making that single moment of triumph my most memorable in college.

I was a mother of two girls when I found out about the nationwide search for the members of the Wise Moms Club of the Good Housekeeping Magazine in 2001. I was after the free subscription of the prestigious magazine if I became a member. Getting accepted made me realize that I really could write.

In 2004, my father came home from the US. He was dying of cancer. I was able to watch him catch his last breaths, not because I was brave or courageous, but because I couldn’t stand the idea of not being with him at the last moments of his life.

Last year, I gave up a longed-for position as a preschool teacher in a nearby Christian school. It was the bravest thing I’ve done in my life so far. I had to do it, though, not for myself but for the sake of the students under my care and my colleagues who would get affected if I mess up big time. Giving up something I’ve always wanted to do was a big blow to me. I felt as if I wasn’t good enough for anything, I was worthless. I was useless. Though I knew, I shouldn’t dwell on that, I still did. But only for a time. I gave myself a chance to mourn over something very very important.. my self esteem.

But that was several months ago, practically history. Here I am now, trying to make things better not because it’s the least I can do, but because I strongly believe I could make it.

‘Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something is more important than fear. The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all. (The Princess Diaries)’

When Your Child Has Grown

Everybody in the family thinks my youngest child, my son Daryl is my favorite. I don’t think that’s true because I don’t have any favorite. If I tend to be more protective of Daryl, it’s only because he’s the youngest and he’s the last baby in the house.

In fact, I still see him as a baby, my baby. I know I’m not supposed to treat him that way anymore, but I can’t help it. It’s just too difficult to let go. There are times that I miss the babies they once were and I want to just hold them.

Lately, my son has been going out in the afternoons to play with the other kids in the subdivision. Though I always remind him to come back before sunset, he always forgets claiming that he lost track of time because he was having so much fun. I don’t want to be KJ but I worry about him being outside when it gets dark. Though I’m sure that he could come home by himself and that he’s just playing nearby, I still feel uneasy.

I know I’m not the only mother who feels this way when her kids grow up, and in time I know I’ll get used to the idea that my kids have already grown. The least I can do right now is to pray to God to send an angel to watch over my son all the time..

Whose Love Letter?

Dante* is a simple guy with simple needs. He works hard to put food on the table for his family and as long as the earphones of his MP3 are plugged into his ears, he has no complaints. He doesn’t trouble anybody so he doesn’t expect trouble from anybody as well.

So, he was understandably pissed off when the wife of one of his fellow tricycle drivers accused him of seducing her. According to the woman, Dante has been courting her and in fact has been sending her love letters. But Dante’s reaction to the accusations was a little.. too much.

He was raging mad. Then, eventually, we found out why. To one of his very few trusted friends, he ranted how he couldn’t even read nor write, so where did the love letters come from, who wrote them, or do they even exist at all?

Well, obviously, the woman has been lying to everyone. She is probably hiding something from her husband and chose Dante as the fall guy. Unfortunately, she doesn’t know that particular truth about Dante.

*not real name

What Practice Can Do

I’ve been hearing the saying ‘Practice makes perfect’ for as long as I can remember. When I was younger, I found it a little annoying. But when I got a little older, I finally proved to myself that it was actually right.

It applies in sports. Though I’m not a sports minded person and I seldom watch games, I know how much time athletes spend in training. My friend, a billiard champion in the province can attest to the importance of practicing his sport. Every day, he spends a few hours playing billiard until such time that he could already anticipate the movement of the balls.

It applies in music. My brother, a musician, spends a few hours every morning to master a particular song. He said that he wanted every part of his body to get accustomed to it, the movement of his fingers, the tap of his feet and even the slight swaying of his hips in order to feel the music flow in his body. He says, when he practices hard enough, playing would just come out naturally that it would be like he isn’t playing at all but just snapping his fingers or blinking his eye. Well, don’t you just want that level of mastery??

It applies in writing. When I started blogging, I read some pointers on how to be a good blogger and among the top tips to become one is to keep on writing. At first, I thought it was pointless. If you are a good writer, you would come up with something anytime you like. Words would flood your mind and flow out of your fingers.

Well, I discovered, the hard way unfortunately, that it wasn’t that way at all. In 2012, due to some unfortunate events, I nearly stopped writing. I neglect my blogs posting only almost twice a month. After more than a year of negligence, my enthusiasm came back and I found myself excited to write again. But it hadn’t been easy. I spent hours staring at the blank screen waiting for my mind to work and come up with something sensible to write.

I realized, then, that I needed to practice in order to refine my writing skills. So, I decided to post on my blogs three times a week. After three months of doing exactly that, I find it easier to write about something, anything. Practice makes it easier for me to think of an idea and to elaborate that idea and put into writing.

Now, I enjoy blogging more than ever. After all, writing is my passion, alongside teaching and crafting.

When Love Turns OA

Alfred* is my childhood acquaintance. We were practically neighbors and though we weren't close, we felt a kind of familiarity that only people who grew up together have. Though I left our hometown when I went to college, I still heard news about  my old acquaintances including Alfred. I learned that he married another one of our distant neighbors, that they had two children and that they got separated after a few years of marriage. I also knew that he found someone else, someone from a nearby town and that they've been living together even since.

So, I was sort of shocked when, after attending our grand alumni homecoming last February, I heard that he was courting one of my very close friends. For one, Alfred is living with someone and second, my friend is married, though their marriage is on the edge. It seems like Alfred has been in love with my friend since we were in high school and now that he found her again, he didn't want to let her go.

My friend was shocked and hurt when he learned that Alfred was with someone at the moment. His justification was that he knew that my friend would not give him a minute's notice if she knew he was involved with another woman. Alfred begged, cried and even postponed his flight abroad just so he could earn my friend's forgiveness. Not wanting to be responsible if Alfred lose his job, my friend forgave him and urged him to go.

Encouraged by my friend's kindness, Alfred went on with his job overseas.  But he calls my friend every single day since he left the country. But when asked about his family here in the Philippines, he said that he doesn't call nor text his 'wife' and that he doesn't have any intention of going back to her and he would ignore her until she leaves on her own will. It was to prove to my friend that she was the one he loves.

My friend found it preposterous and unfair. Since she didn't want to be the cause of another woman's despair, she talked with Alfred telling him that it was wrong and he had to stop. Alfred threatened to kill himself if my friend stop accepting his calls. But my friend refused to be emotionally blackmailed. Then, Alfred told her he would come home as soon as he earn enough money to buy a ticket. Naturally, my friend tried to talk him out of it and he promised to stay if she would give him her word that she would wait for him. But my friend wouldn't.

Alfred, probably feeling that his threats wouldn't work, promised to stay for the sake of my friend. At this point in time, my friend grew tired of Alfred's attempts to manipulate her and I congratulated her for it. As for Alfred, well, he's one OA guy..

*not real name

Some People Don't Want to Be Helped

I know I’m not the only one who know such people. I don’t know, though, if they feel the way I do about those people. I feel frustrated.

I may be a person of very simple means but I treat my friends like family. I go to so much trouble to help them out in any mess they get themselves into and I may not be able to help them financially but I give the most precious thing I could, my time and undivided attention.

And I feel frustrated when I see them give up the fight and give in to self destruction. It hurts to watch them brood and mope hating life and everything around them. But it hurts more to feel helpless and rejected. The feeling that you could have helped if only they would let you eats at you.

At first I blamed myself for not trying hard enough. But then again, I learned to forgive myself and let go but the forgiving and the letting go usually come after a long while. Still, it made me feel better about myself and I learned some valuable lessons. No matter how much we love our friends and how much we wanted to help them out, we simply can’t solve their problems for them.

When Things Ended

My friend *Jessica has been married with her husband for twenty years. Out of those twenty years, fifteen had been perfect. The sixteenth was clouded with suspicions and distrust and the last two were spent apart.

Jessica started to suspect that her husband was cheating on her when he began to spend less time with her and their kids. Then, he started to put his cellphone inside his pillowcase when he sleeps, stay beside the cellphone when being charged and take the cellphone with him inside the bathroom.

When Jessica saw a  silver ring inside the secret pocket of his jeans she put it back assuming it was for her, but her birthday has come and gone, but the ring was never seen again. When Jessica found two stubs of cinema tickets in his jacket pocket, she couldn't help but confront her husband, who, naturally denied they were his.

Neighbors and close friends told her how her husband was constantly seen with his ex-girlfriend whom her husband introduced as childhood friend. Jessica told her husband how jealous she feels about the girl and asked him to do something to assure her that there was nothing going on between them, but her husband found her request unreasonable.

After three years of living like that, Jessica took their children and went home to her family. Her husband considered it the ultimate betrayal. He blamed Jessica for every single thing that befell their marriage. It was Jessica who left him alone and broken and he could never forgive her for that, EVER.

Two years had passed and Jessica still hopes and believes that things will go back the way they used to be, but when asked if he still love her, he couldn't answer, but simply said.. '..everything was all your fault. If you didn't leave me the way you did, this won't happen to us...'

How many jerks do we have to meet in one lifetime? Because I keep on coming across them through my friends.. :(

*not real name

Self Imprisoned

Honestly, I can’t imagine why someone, ANYONE, would choose to imprison herself in an invisible cell of her own design. All the more so if that someone is pretty, smart and healthy.

My friend Tanya* was 19 when she got pregnant by her conceited boyfriend. Considering no other choices but to marry the jerk, she did, and as we expected, she was verbally and emotionally abused. The unhappy marriage lasted for several years until the guy grew tired of her and left her for someone else.

Tanya nursed her broken heart for quite a while until she met someone else. But Someone Else was married. Probably desperate and convinced that the guy would leave his wife for her, Tanya went on with the relationship. And just like the first jerk, this second jerk treated her unfairly. He was jealous and possessive and he kept on ordering her around.

When I invited her to sleep over in our house, she felt embarrassed and told me that her boyfriend doesn’t allow her to go somewhere unless he’s with her. When I asked her if she’s still happy with their relationship, because as long as she is, then that’s fine by me. But it seems like she felt not only  unhappy but also trapped.

Tanya is only 40 years old at the moment. Her kids are almost grown up and she still has a great chance to find someone who will make her happy. But how could she find someone if she chose to imprison herself with the life she thought she deserves?

*not real name

A Sponge

Leo* and Sheila* had been close friends since college. Sheila fell hopelessly in love with Leo and Leo knew it. But to save the friendship, Sheila kept her feelings at bay and remained the warm and casual friend to Leo. In fairness to Leo, he acted just as casual as Sheila did.

Sheila felt relieved when they finally graduated from college and eventually parted ways. But after a couple of years, Leo found her and paid her a visit. Just like before, they talked a lot. But Leo did most of the talking and Sheila, as always, assured Leo’s undeclared fears, smoothed his ruffled feathers and made him feel good. Then, after that he disappeared and Sheila didn’t hear from him again.

After several years, Leo tracked her down. He told her how much he’d changed. He was no longer the uneasy fellow he once was. He was proud of his newly-found confidence. He was already ranting for minutes when he finally thought to ask Sheila how she was. Sheila said she was doing well with her life. She was settled and, in fact, there will be a celebration in their house the following week and she even invited Leo, sincerely wishing he would come. Leo promised but didn’t show up.

After several more years, Leo found Sheila again. But this time Leo already made a name for himself. He told Sheila about his transformation and how thankful he was to her for being the one to bring about that transformation. As she used to do, Sheila just listened, saying the right words and asking the right questions. But she was beginning to realize how Leo was treating her all this time.

Tracked down when needed and discarded after use.

As Sheila expected, she never heard of Leo again for another year. And when she did, it was when Leo was starting to feel down and unsure about himself. And she finally learned what she was to Leo. She was a SPONGE, not a FRIEND. And she felt very very sorry, not for herself, but for Leo. Because all this time, he never knew what he's got.

*not real name

We Didn’t Need the Internet in the 80's and We Survived

Yes, we didn’t but we managed to survive. Moreover, no one can say that we are less smart than those kids who were born during the computer era. 

So, why is the internet so crucial in our live today? Why is it that we feel so doomed when the internet is out? Why do we feel painfully frustrated when we can’t login to Facebook or we can’t post on Twitter?

Why do we let ourselves so..  dependent on the internet that we feel oppressed and seemingly depressed when we don’t have it in our lives?

I can understand those kids who grew up with it. They don’t know otherwise. But for us who were used to snail mail and chatting-under-the moonlight and libraries, why do we allow slow internet connection to get to us when we didn’t have it then?

Have we grown too lazy to read reference books because we got used to googling? Have we grown too impatient to wait till morning to say what we have to say to our friends that we have the urgent need to send a private message on Facebook? Have we become too needy that we need to post our complaints on Twitter to let other people know how we feel at the moment? Most importantly, have we no sense of privacy anymore that we post on social media everything that goes on in our lives?

Maybe I’m just too traditional to keep the old ways of life like reading printed pages instead of googling, taking time to visit friends instead of sending private messages and enjoying moments of privacy with family, relatives and friends without posting pictures on Facebook.

It’s not a sort of rebellion. I simply.. prefer it that way.

I’m not a hypocrite as to say I don't need social media or ultimately the internet. As a matter of fact, my husband works abroad and we get in touch regularly through Skype. I am also a blogger and I make small amounts of money online. So, for me, to say I don't need social media makes absolutely no sense.

So, why am I writing this article? 

I just want to point out that slow internet connection is not the end of the world and that we need to spend time away from social media to do something else, like... 'stop and smell the flowers..' 

I know I sound old-fashioned but believe me.. I enjoy life, I mean.. life away from the internet, and I want others to enjoy it too.   

Time is a gift. Let's spend it in meaningful ways, because when it passed by us, we can never have it back again...

When We Stop Caring

Yesterday, I met two of my close friends in college. They are both smart and I like them a lot. But there are something about both of them that, not actually, bothers me, but, makes me feel.. wary. They both have a tendency to freak out, as in really freak out. And when they do, all hell breaks loose.

They said they can’t tolerate stupid and incompetent people. I find it a little.. harsh(?). Well, I told them that stupid people are everywhere and there is nothing any of us can do about that. Then, they told me about the time that they had ranted at people and I found myself wincing at their stories. But as I listened to them, I came to the conclusion that they wouldn’t rant unless they were provoked. By my, how often and how easily they got provoked..

As for me, ranting is the last resort. And I can remember only two instances that I ranted. And though I got what I wanted, I wasn’t happy with what I did. I felt that I failed somehow and that I should have handled the situation more diplomatically. But it was done and there’s nothing I can do to undo it, so I have to live with the guilt and the shame of embarrassing and hurting other people by my ranting.

Then, I asked my friends.. ‘When you rant at people, do you ever consider how they would feel?’

And they said they don’t care..

Well, that’s it. That’s the difference between them and me. Because I care, in fact, I care a lot about how other people will feel. And I don’t want to stop caring.. EVER.

College Infatuation

Well, I know it sounds.. cheesy. Besides, I don’t even know if there really is such thing as college infatuation, high school infatuation, yes, but college, I’m not really sure.

Anyways, when I was a college freshman, I met this really really smart guy. At first, you would actually mistake him for a nerd. But then again, when you get to know him better, you will realize that he really is cool only three times smarter than the average guy and I liked him.

Too bad he was already involved with someone else that time. Besides, I didn’t even know if he would like me the same way I did him, right? Still, it was enough for me to be just an ordinary acquaintance to him. I felt flattered when he would engage me in a sort of philosophical discussion that was actually Greek to me. What I enjoyed most, however, was when we discuss literary stuff. I read as much as he did so I guess we were in equal footing. He was the one who introduced some classic novels to me and I actually read most of what he recommended.

Who would ever know that we would meet again after more than two decades. The moment I saw him, I felt the same.. awe that I had always felt for him. And when he spoke, I was enthralled and was taken back to the time when I was a college freshman with my head filled with ridiculous ideas and eyes all dreamy with infatuation.

The only difference is that, I am now older and wiser and tougher. And as we talked, I realized why I liked him before. He is so… ‘not ordinary’.

I was so happy to see him again and I really wish him all the best life can give. Wherever he is, may he continue to use his talents and skills to make a difference in the world.

Do We Teach Our Kids to Pray?

This is a re-post. It originally appeared on another blog on Feb. 12, 2014. It is re-posted for sentimental reasons.

When my kids were young, we used to pray together before we go to sleep. I told them to thank the Lord first for all the blessings that we receive every day. Then, ask Him to keep all of us safe and healthy, to watch over them while they study and play and finally to make them good and smart kids. I told them to ask everything in Jesus’ name.

Though we have stopped this ritual of praying together before going to sleep a few years back, I believe in my heart that they do pray on their own.

Last year, my eldest daughter’s close friend had a problem. It seems like, her mother, who has been separated from her father, who already has a new family, was seriously ill.

Trying to comfort her friend, my daughter told her to pray for her mother’s health and to ask for strength from God in order to overcome whatever it was they were facing at the moment. My daughter was stunned when her friend said she didn’t know how to pray. At first, she thought her friend was joking. But when the girl cried, my daughter realized that though her friend goes to mass every Sunday, she didn’t really learn to talk to God.

I felt sad for my daughter’s friend. I know that her parents have been separated. Her father has a new family and her mother is working abroad to support her and her brother. They may have the latest and most expensive gadgets available in the market, but I guess they feel lonely sometimes. I hope my daughter was able to teach her to communicate with God, because if that is so, she wouldn’t feel lonely anymore.

So Much for Childhood Friends

Paul* has been my friend since we were in grade four. Ours was a friendship that neither of us recognized at first. I can still remember how we used to bicker with each other and how I rolled my eyes at him and he would throw me a disgusting look that told me I was the most ridiculous person in the world.

Things changed when we went to high school. By that time, though we never talked about it, we knew that we’ve gone a long way back. He knew he could count on me and I knew I could depend on him. Aside from my own circle of girl friends, Paul was one constant thing in my routine. He usually dropped by at our house to talk about anything. Among the topics we usually discussed were the time he was selling ice candy around town, the time his mother died and the girl he was head-over-heels in love with. I can still remember buying a load of pandesal from him at dawn to help him finish early and helping him smuggle a picture of his lady love. Those were such ‘good ole days’.

We went to college and we matured and so did our friendship. Then he got married. I was happy for him. I met his wife and I was glad that he found such a nice and smart woman. They had been through difficult times and through all those times, I made my presence felt. The difficult times were long and they were taking a toll on Paul I started to worry about him. But I stood by him no matter what, replied to his text messages even in the dead of night because I knew he needed someone to talk to.

So, I was more shocked than surprised when I learned he’d gone abroad. I was happy for him, I really was. But going so far away without letting me know, without even dropping a hint was a blow to me. I felt hurt, but I assumed he had his reasons. He was abroad long when I finally received an email from him. I was so glad to hear from him I forgot how hurt I was for what he did. We started to chat regularly and I was genuinely happy for what he was starting to make for himself.

Then, I didn’t hear from him for a couple of months. So, when I learned that he had come home and was already back abroad, I wasn’t just hurt, I was angry. It was such an unfamiliar feeling I didn’t know how to handle it. This time, I didn’t need to justify him. It was for me plain and simple. He didn’t want to see me and that was that. For whatever reasons he had, I simply don’t care anymore.

Today, I saw his picture on Facebook and felt sad. And I realized how much I miss him, not that smiling man on Facebook but the young boy I grew up with. Because wherever he is now, he is still my friend and the times we shared together will never be changed, not even by him or me.

*not real name

Coincidences vs Miracles

This is a re-post. It originally appeared on another blog on Feb. 07, 2014. It is re-posted for sentimental reasons.

Most of the time, I’m so preoccupied with my problems that I fail to notice the hand of God working on me and my family.

When I quit my job in 2012, I was thinking so hard and so bitterly why the plans I so carefully laid out didn’t work out. A few months later, my daughter had an accident and underwent surgery. I thought how good the timing was that it happened when I didn’t have any other responsibilities and I was able to attend to her with undivided attention.

And during that time also, my husband was doing well at work that he was sending more than he used to which covered my lost income. Again, timely. But when my husband’s luck ran out and he was back to sending the usual amount, I panicked. How could I make both ends meet now with my eldest in private school in college.

Then, my daughter announced that she earned a full scholarship for the next semester.

Coincidences? No, they are miracles..

There are more. In fact, there are so much more that I can’t count them. But the bottom line is that God watches over me, fixes my problems and provides for my needs and I am humbled by his generosity.

Let us be thankful for all the miracles that God grants us every day and let’s try not to be like this..

“Then some teachers of the Law and some Pharisees spoke up ‘Teacher,’ they said, ‘we want to see you perform a miracle.’ Matthew 12: 38

When Fairy Tale Ends

My friend Jamie* married a wealthy foreigner. It was a marriage made in heaven. In her wedding gown fit for a princess, Jamie was the perfect bride. Beside her was her dashing groom, Bob*, with his eyes filled with love and passion.

Bob gave Jamie the life every woman dreams of. He gave her lovely house where she, alone, reigns supreme.  In her end, Jamie made the house the perfect nest for a family. She made it comfortable and warm. She always kept food and nice wine, and the sheets and linens are always fresh. When Bob thinks that Jamie feels down, he books her a flight home so she could visit her family. And sometimes, he would surprise her by making her parents visit them abroad.

When their eldest was born, Jamie’s cup filled to overflowing. However, to take better care of the baby, she started sleeping at the nursery to keep watch and tend to the baby’s needs. Bob understood and thanked Jamie for being such a wonderful mother. When her daughter was born, Jamie’s life was complete.

But minding two children meant less time for Bob. But thinking that her husband didn’t mind, Jamie focused her life on her children, after all, they were his children, too. After several years, Jamie had to come home to her ailing mother. With unlimited funds, Jamie took her mother to an expensive hospital. But money couldn’t buy life, and death couldn’t be bribed. Her mother died and she went back home hoping to find comfort in her husband’s arms.

But her husband though attentive was somehow distant. So, Jamie started to suspect him of having an affair. She nagged him into admission. But when the admission came, it was even worse than she feared. He didn’t have an affair, or if he did, it was nothing serious to be considered. He fell out of love with her.

Then it came down to her how he neglected him and his needs all these years. How he gave her a wonderful life but all she cared about were their children. And because she didn’t hear him complain even once, she thought it was alright, but now she learned that it wasn’t. And his last words to her was ‘you’re a great mother but not a good wife’.

Jamie tried to win her husband back and to save her marriage. But after a few years of trying, she gave up. Late last year, we went out together and I learned that Bob already signed the divorce paper. The children would stay with him but he has been kind enough to let her stay in the house, but not as his wife but as the mother of their children.

Good luck, Jamie, may the Lord give you strength to start again, and may he bless you happiness that you thought you have lost..

*not real name

How Easily We Judged

This is a re-post. This article originally appeared on another blog on Feb. 02, 2014. This is re-posted for sentimental reasons.

Recently, the Philippines was shocked by the news about actor/singer/dancer/host Vhong Navarro being beaten black and blue by a group of men led by businessman Cedric Lee, friend to model Deniece Cornejo who accused the actor of attempted rape.

Photos of black eyed Vhong flooded Facebook followed by various comments mostly of support for the popular actor. In just a few days, the story about ‘the mauling’ and ‘the raping’ were the primary topics in social media as people express their opinions on the three people involved.

‘Rapist’ (to Vhong) and ‘deserves to be raped’ to Deniece were among the comments I had the misfortune of laying my eyes to. I started to avoid any news or comments about the incident since then.

Funny how some people jump at the first opportunity to judge others, insisting that they are entitled to their own opinions. But they don’t seem stating opinions to me, they sound more like passing judgment. It just shows how lowly people think of others which follows that they think highly of themselves.

Are we really that blind to our own mistakes? How can we call someone a rapist when we weren’t even sure if he did it? And who are we to decide who deserves what?

Let’s not forget EVER..

“Do not judge others, so that God will not judge you.” (Matthew 7:1)

We Learned Young

When I was in college, I had this friend, Luna*. She was a sweet thing who was still gullible at 19. She was one of those girls who didn’t think they would be duped just because they weren’t doing anything wrong. Oh well, I was younger than Luna but I wasn’t thinking that way.

Anyways, though I was expecting something like that from Luna, I was still surprised when I learned that his boyfriend got her pregnant and that they were getting married. Ok, so, they loved each other, or so they thought, I guess, as a friend, I have to be happy for them, right?

After four years, we paid them a visit in their cramped apartment and I could say they were actually doing well. So, that time, I felt genuinely happy for them. But I realized my happiness was premature, because after ten years, I learned from other friends that her husband left her for another woman leaving her their four kids.

But looking at her FB account, Luna doesn’t look sweet and gullible anymore. She still looks pretty but tough and I guess it pays a ton to learn young..

 *not real name

The First Step

This is a re-post. It originally appeared on another blog on Jan. 12, 2014. It is re-posted for sentimental reasons.

One day, my 19-year old daughter, Candid, told me a lesson she learned in her young life. She said that she just realized what makes up life. She said that it’s made up of goals.

When I didn’t speak and just waited for her to continue, she did. She said, when she went to college, her goal was to earn a scholarship, even a partial one. And as I posted last November, she earned full scholarship for getting a general weighted average of 1.11. Then, another goal she set for herself was to buy a tablet with her own money. So, she kept her birthday money and saved more money from her allowance.She refrained from buying something on impulse. Until finally, she was able to save enough for a tablet.

Now that she already achieved her two most important goals, she felt somehow lost. She didn’t know what to do next. And then, the answer dawned on her, she needed another set of goals and so she did set up a more ambitious one. She wanted to graduate cum laude with a dream to work in television network.

Then, as supplementary goals, she said she must watch a film on her days off from school, which I believe is another preparation for her future if she indeed, gets to work in television. Also, she must read everyday, she must not let the day pass by without reading even a single chapter of a book. And right now, she’s reading Suzanne Collin’s Catching Fire, the second book of the Hunger Games Series.

I was.. glad. Not just glad, but outright happy. I look at my daughter and see a beautiful, intelligent and responsible woman. I’m not a show-off by nature, but at this point in time, I felt so proud for having brought up into the world such a wonderful person.

The Husband

Rudy* was my classmate in high school. We belonged to the same class for four years and all those years I could say we became friends, maybe not very close but friends nonetheless.

Since I’ve always been the one to organize our reunions, I was wondering why Rudy very seldom attends. Then a common acquaintance enlightened me. It seems like Rudy married a hateful woman. It might be subjective but I listened just the same.

The woman almost never let Rudy out her sight. She never let him go out with friends, especially the old ones. She always checks on his cell phone. She even opens Rudy’s Facebook account. She probably was the one who receives my messages and invitations to reunions. She nags Rudy in front of his friends.

I heard a lot more but I didn’t want to listen anymore. I just felt sad for Rudy. But I’m not sure if he was sad for himself. I just wish he’s happy..

*not real name

Problem of Forgetfulness

One of things that I’m so proud about myself was my sharp memory. It was probably the reason why other people thought I was smart, because I remember a lot of things, and since I’m a voracious reader, I  learned a lot from what I read and I was able to share what I learned to others because I remember them.

I remember names, dates, specific details, so I had no problem with history and biology. I remember songs and singers and composers as well as poems and writers, titles of books and authors. There was even a time when I was in mid 20s that I remember serial numbers of air conditioning equipment and my PLDT budget card number which was composed of 16 digits.

I knew how special that gift was. I used it, I enjoyed it and I never ever abuse it in any way nor use it in a bad way. But much as I want to hold on to it for much longer, it’s beginning to slip away, probably due to old age, stress or something else.

For the past 10 years, I’ve been starting to forget things.. like names of old acquaintances, dates of special occasions, places I’ve been to, titles of movies I watched. I can’t even memorize songs lately. Then, I started to forget schedules of departmental meetings, PTA meetings, list of things to buy from the mall, even the list of what to do the whole day.

My husband said I have to start writing things down, so I tried it, but I forgot where I wrote them. And eventually, I forgot that I wrote a list at all so I just wasted time writing a list. But the worst case of my forgetfulness was when I was in the middle of a lecture. I was discussing a topic I knew by heart and the words were just naturally and spontaneously coming out of my mouth, and then… I stopped in the middle of a sentence because I forgot what I was about to say.

I stood frozen in the middle of the room with 30 or so pairs of eyes looking at me, waiting for what I have to say. I didn’t know what to do. Clueless, I turned around and faced the board. Luckily, I wrote down some of the important details I was discussing, so, I got an idea about the topic I had in hand.

I was shaken. After the lecture, I went to my locker and cried. I knew I was losing something very special and I was sad and scared. I was so scared I checked out the symptoms of Alzheimer’s disease. But then again, if it would go, it would go no matter how much I want to hold on to it. And since I don’t believe much in memory enhancers or whatever they call it, I decided to just enjoy it while I still have it and if it goes, it goes..

Sweet Love Turned Poisonous

Cathy* was a second year college student when she met Harold*. Just one look at the boy and Cathy’s parents instantly disliked him. He was the epitome of a good-for-nothing guy who looks for all kinds of trouble. Cathy’s parents warned her to stay away from Harold. But just like other teenagers, Cathy didn’t listen.

They kept their relationship a secret. It was fun. And it was easy because her school was situated several miles from home and she and her sister Judy were just renting a boarding house. Cathy didn’t know which was more exciting, keeping their relationship a secret or defying her parents. But then, she suddenly noticed the change in Harold. He started to show aggressive behavior. Then, she began to notice some evidence that Harold was using prohibited drugs. It was then that she realized how right her parents were about her boyfriend. She talked with Harold to break up with him. Harold got mad and hit Cathy.

After a few months, Cathy’s younger sister Judy began to notice Cathy’s constant bruises, but Cathy didn’t want to talk about it. Judy started to worry and called her parents. Her parents came and forced the truth out of Cathy. They found out that not only was she constantly beaten by Harold, but he also extorted money from her. And now she was pregnant.

Cathy’s parents have Harold arrested. They kept the baby and after several months, Cathy gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Cathy went back to school while her mother adopted the baby and named him after them.

*not real name

Letting Go of Worries

One thing I hate about myself is that.. I worry too much. I don’t want to of course, but I can’t help myself. I worry about a lot of things, everything actually.

I always think about my husband who works abroad. I worry that he might get sick because of working too hard. I worry that my eldest daughter might get mugged and hurt on her way from school. I worry that my other daughter will get addicted to Facebook and texting and will fail in all of her subjects in school. I worry that my youngest son will be bullied in school.

On top of that, I worry about not being able to pay my bills. I worry that I won’t be able to send all my kids to college. I worry that I will die young and more other worries that I know are irrational.

No wonder I ended up having a complicated case of hyperacidity which caused laryngitis. Needless to say, I need to lie low on worrying. At first, I didn’t know how to do that. So, I started to pray and asked the Lord to teach me how to stop worrying. Then, it dawned on me what I had been doing all along. I was worrying about everything and not trusting the Lord to take care of things for me.

Since then, the moment I wake up in the morning, I thank the Lord for everything and ask him to take my worries and fears away. I ask him to watch over my loved ones and me. Assured that we are all in good hands, I would do things that I find enjoyable. When the bills come, I would pay them and wouldn’t think whether I would be able to pay next month.

In short, I’m starting to let go of my worries. It’s not easy, believe me, but I’m doing my best and  I do hope that in time, I would learn to live one day at a time and give all my worries to the Lord.

Entangled

Arlene* and Marc* were my classmates in my Caregiver Course. Arlene is an unwed mother. At 21, she was a pretty and hot mother of Sean, 4 years old at that time. Then, Marc came. He was living with Karen and they had 2 kids. Karen’s parents sent Marc to school hoping that he would be able to provide for Karen and the children. But then, Marc met Arlene. Then things got complicated.

Since we knew about Karen, Marc tried to disguise his interest in Arlene as, purely, friendly. But I was too old and had seen too many people with various expressions to know better. But I didn’t ask. First, because it was none of my business. The least I could do was express my concern. Second, because if they consider me a friend, I didn’t need to ask, they would tell me if they wanted to.

Of the two, it was Arlene who was closer to me. And as I expected, she came to me one day and told me about her feelings to Marc and that Marc felt the same way about her. I knew she wasn’t asking me for advice, she was just letting me know what’s going on. Still, I had to have my say. I didn’t take Karen’s side nor Arlene and Marc’s but I reminded them that there were children involved, and not just any other children but THEIRS.

Several months ago,  I saw Arlene and Sean. Arlene was pushing a stroller with a cute baby girl, Marc’s and hers.

Accepting Your Nature

One of the most difficult things in life is knowing your flaws. But more difficult still is accepting those flaws. We may try to change ourselves, which is usually the most sensible thing to do, but more often than not, we end up frustrated.

I was already in college when I realized how disorganized a person I was. I thought at first that I was just too lazy, too lazy to clean up, too lazy to put things back, too lazy to do anything. So, I tried.. and tried… and tried, but I ended hating myself because I couldn’t be as organized as other people.

Then, I started working and I realized that I wasn’t lazy at all. I was a student assistant in my university but in a year that I worked,  I never called in sick, nor did I come to work late. As a matter of fact, I even worked overtime without filing for overtime pay while completing my OJT in Industrial Psychology, writing my thesis and writing my case study in Clinical Psychology. I am, in fact, a hard worker.

When I started to work officially after college, I realized another painful and embarrassing truth, I couldn’t work in a clean and organized surrounding. I was more at home with, yes.. mess.

Needless to say, my table was the most cluttered and messy table in a company of hundreds employees. I tried cleaning it but my attempt at organizing took me only as far as alphabetizing my suppliers’ file, and that’s all. What surprised my boss and my co-workers, however, was that I was always the first to hand in daily, weekly and monthly reports. Not only that, my reports were flawless and user friendly. I could find anything, anything, they asked of me in a matter of seconds, about 2 minutes tops. What more, I could answer every single question they asked of me even without consulting my file which I bring out only for reference, in case they wouldn’t take my word for it.

It doesn’t mean though that I would take being organized for granted. I still believe that other people prefer to be neat and organized but at this point in time, I think I just have to accept what I’m not and use what I am for my advantage.

When Things Get Tough

Pearl* is a distant cousin of mine. We grew up together, and when we got old, our closeness though waned a little, did not completely disappear.

When she fell in love and married Zack*, for some reasons, we were disconcerted. But since all we wanted was her happiness, we had to be happy for her. They seemed happy alright. Zack proved to be a good provider. Pearl was like a queen. She put up a buy and sell business and money lending. Though we didn’t conform with her high interest, we left her alone.

After ten years, Zack crossed paths with his ex-girlfriend. It wasn't long before he left his family to go live with the other woman. So, Pearl had to work to support their three kids,. Then the youngest, a girl of barely a year old, was diagnosed with cancer. Pearl had to sell all the properties she and Zack had acquired. No support came from Zack. It was Pearl alone who took all the responsibilities.

After two years of chemotherapy, the little girl died, leaving Pearl physically exhausted and emotionally battered.

 *not real name

Question Answered

Thirteen years ago, on this same day, my father was reunited with our creator. It was the dreadful big ‘C’. Two years prior to that, both my parents migrated to the United States to live with my sister Liz. It was a dream come true for my father and for a while, he lived the dream and I was happy for him.

I thank the Lord for giving him those two years. But more than that, I thank Him for the last whole month He gave my father so that he could live with us, for the opportunity He gave us to tend to my father’s needs and show my father how much he meant to us.

When my father was laid to his final resting place. I had a question more important than the others. Had I been a good daughter? Had I been smart enough and kind enough? Had I been the daughter he hoped and wanted me to be? Had he been proud of me?

At the time, my children were still very young and they needed my attention. So, I had to get hold of myself, I couldn’t succumb to grief. I had to set aside the pain of losing one of the most important persons in my life. I was not able to mourn for my father properly. So, that question lingered, and it lingers still..

Had I been a good daughter?

Now, as I look at my own children, I think I have the answer. My children may not be the nicest and the smartest kids, but they are mine and I raise them with love and affection only a mother could give, and they are my pride and joy, and that is the answer. Neither technology nor modernization could change what children are to their parents.

I am proud of my children as my father was of me..