A War to Remember

In the small city of Soest, Germany, a church that was built on the year 1150 was damaged seriously during the 1945 war. The local people, during the post-war restoration, decided to keep the bullet and mortar holes on the surface of huge post at the left side of the altar as a stern and sad reminder of the atrocities that some of their countrymen have done – the unparalleled evil that roam-free during that time.

The sin of some is not the sin of all.

Open discussion or debate about the Nazi era has been banned and made illegal throughout Germany. Swastikas or any Third Reich symbol or posterity are outlawed. But while the outside world would smirk at this notion that Germans were also victims of the war they started, this is a stated historical fact. Many German males refused to join their inhuman conquest for world domination but were forced to by the military. So for others, like Joseph Ratzinger (our beloved Pope Benedict XVI), hiding in the forest or running to other countries was their only option to avoid being jailed or killed. Many families were separated from their fathers or brothers who kept hiding from their own countrymen. Some ended in tearful reunions years later but most have lost tracts of their loved ones.

And when the Allied forces have started their bombings and invasions of Germany at the later part of the war, it was the local German people who took the brunt of the military upheavals. The dam reservoir of Soest was bombed and hundreds of Germans who were living in close-proximity of armament factories drowned and died.

As our host narrated those terrible stories, I can’t help but feel sorry for all the innocent souls, whether they were Jews or Germans, that suffered at the hands of those Godless people. I can recall some harrowing scenes from the movie “Schindler’s list” and I got goose-bumps all over.

But on hindsight, it is more pitiable for those persecutors who have never found the chance to repent from their sins and in all likeliness are suffering eternal damnation for their deeds.

Yes, only the absence of God will result to a blank and cold heartedness of a person. Only a proud and arrogant heart can refuse God’s tears of mercy towards His beloved people. We, the Filipinos, have shared the same horror during the Japanese invasion. This is what happened during the ethnic cleansing in Bosnia and Rwanda during the 1990’s. This is what is happening in the on-going genocides of Sudan.

Let us offer a short prayer to our Lord to help mankind finally put a stop to all these mass-killings in the name of religion and other geo-political differences, and not to allow us people to be led again into this horrible path like the holocaust.

Please Lord, never again.

Selling God

“You’re baby is soooo cute. Manang-mana sa daddy at mommy nila,” audaciously remarked by a sales person in breaking the silence as my wife and I are left pondering at his offered condominium unit. We have long been reading about the revitalized and booming property market in the Philippines but were still dilly-dallying whether to jump in or not due to some cash flow concerns.

But the salesman’s side-comment sales pitch caught my attention, not just for its half-truthfulness (our son Zek looks closely like my cute wife and not me) but for being reminded of the often-heard of marketing schemes that includes upfront flattery to favorably sway a prospective client into accepting (or buying) his offer.

So what makes a good sales person?
Is it the pushy style?
Is it through employing deceptive techniques?
Is it being manipulative to the extent of being annoying?

I believe the main and primary requirement to be one is that you believe in what you are selling.
Whether it’s just a shampoo or a state-of-the-art gadgetries and gizmos, you must be convinced yourself of its benefits and effectiveness. You must be certain that it falls under the category of WANT and NEED. You must have tried it before and is personally convinced and convicted of its rewards.

As Christians, we are also called to be sales person of God to sell “God-products” and “God-ideas” to the people around us. But just like any good sales person, we must have the personal experience first before we can testify to the relevance of His many blessings. In opposite, however, "selling" God must be free since we received it first freely. The profit we know as heaven was already paid in full by Jesus in Calvary.

So let us join others, by word and most importantly by our works, who have been doing their God-pitch,
Anxious? Doubtful? There is absolutely no reason to be, because the Holy Spirit will be the one doing the convincing and conversion of our clients.
We don’t really need to make the sale or to convert someone.
We are only called to offer or to endorse.

Jon Fischer, a pastor friend and associate of Rick Warren (author of Purpose-Driven Life book) wrote in his reflection: “It’s all in knowing the difference between our business and God’s business. God reveals. God opens eyes. God blinds eyes. God turns on the light. Remember how he did it for you. You can give another person credit for accepting you, giving you worth, and introducing you to Jesus, but you can’t give another person credit for changing your mind. You made the decision and God turned on the light. We need to give others, and God, plenty of room to work.”

Everybody knows that Jesus’ very first salesperson was a sinner by the name of Peter, a less educated, ordinary fisherman folk who after proclaiming his undying loyalty to Him has denied even knowing Him thrice. And we all know how many hearts he won for the Lord. The Lord does not call those qualified. He qualifies those who answered His call.

So let us all buckle up for work and reach out to as many prospective clients – family members, new friends, old acquaintances, any people who crossed our paths. You just might be amazed that many are actually in search for Him and have been waiting for someone to offer Him into their lives.

The consumers are many but the sales person are few.
Come and be one of God’s sales person.

Or to re-phrase it more Christianly – Come and be one of God’s share person.

PS. You are right! My reflection should be aptly titled - Sharing God. It was a marketing strategy.

Empty Tomb

Our Catholic Church believes that Christ's resurrection from the dead is the single-most important event in the bible. Not only did it fulfilled the ancient prophesies about the Messiah but has also culminated the salvation of humanity. All the preachings, miracles and sacrifices leading up to His crucifixion on Calvary would have been for naught if He did not came back to life. All His downtrodden apostles and disciples would have easily dismissed Him simply as one of the greatests prophets of his era should the tomb have not been emptied after 3 days.

Nobody really understood this during His 3 year ministry no matter how basic He narrates the events that was to unfold. Mainly it was due to their different expectation of his Messianic purpose at the time, thus seeing their would-be-king dying like a normal thief was devastating to them. His seemingly-meaningless death rattled their rich experience with Him during the past years.

His resurrection was the life-changing event for His scattered followers
One by one, the unbelief in their hearts turn to belief as Jesus showed Himself to them in the succeeding days.

They grow stronger in their faith.

In our present-day, we have the privilige to have the biblical accounts recorded and narrated for us beforehand.
It is like reading through the script before the movie is even completed. So we can relax a bit after the burial and sit back to enjoy the triumph of Jesus after 3 days.

Or can we?

Most certainly not.

We may have been spared the anxious and gruelling 3-day wait for the resurrection to happen, yet we are still tasked to seek within us how our "unbelief" can be genuinely turned to "true belief". We can not claim authentic faith in our lives if we continue to immerse ourselves in the whims and vains of this world; to practice dishonesty in our workplace, to occupy our thoughts with impure images, to continue withholding our services to those in need, to sacrifice family time in liue of money and career, to misjudge other people, to think highly of ourselves than others etc. Because if this is still our way of life, then it is still Good Friday in our lives - Jesus is still hanging and suffering on the cross to this day.

We must repent, confess and change our lives so the true meaning of Easter will grow within our grasp.

Only we ourselves can stop His suffering now.
Let us lay our Lord into his resting place, so He can rise up again.

Only we ourselves can keep the tomb empty afterwards.
Let us invite our Lord to fill our hearts instead.

Forgiven

It was one of my most traumatic childhood experience.

I was about 8 years old then and was riding my bicycle that time. I was slowly navigating through the throng of kids playing on our small barrio street when suddenly this little girl streaked-out from a blind alley. I panicked and tried a full stop but my front wheel still nudged her in her left thigh. She fell down taken aback. Hurriedly, I got off my bike to apologize and help her up but she stood up fast as well and ran to her house.

I stood there for a moment and thought that the little girl must be OK since she did not cry at all while she ran away. I proceeded home. Nobody was there yet.

After some minutes, I heard a disturbance outside and saw a lady followed by a small crowd knocking heavily on our steel gate. I went out to talk to her but she pulled me on my arms and, while gripping me tightly, dragged me into their house with the group inquisitively trailing. We came to her house and she shoved me inside.

I saw the little girl again. This time she was crying. With a heart beating like drum, I caught a glance of a slight bruised on her left thigh which without a doubt came from my bike wheel.

The furious lady was her mother!

I tried to speak out but was halted.

The next thing I knew, I was being condemned in full view of our neighborhood; some persons standing inside the house, others on the doorway while others peeking through the window glasses.

The mother ranted and shouted expletives at me and all I could utter were words of apology for hurting her little girl and for not going after her to make sure she was alright.

But the mother would not believe any words I just said and continued her rage and verbal abuse of me and on several occasions, also of my family. To her and to the crowds, I am a hit-and-run criminal on the loose to harm children on the streets so I deserve her full vent of ire.

I felt like a tiny ant being stepped on, so helpless, unaided and humiliated.

After some more minutes that felt like forever, the mother seemingly have used up all her expletive vocabularies and pushed me outside their house. I slowly walked away, crying intensely and never bothering to look back. The crowd was jeering, so I started running away as fast as my small feet can.

I never told my parents about it for fear of more confrontation.
It took many months again before I decided to ride my bike again and much more to use that street way once again.

People can be cruel sometimes.
You make a single mistake and no apology can rectify it in their judgmental hearts.

I am glad that God understands our weaknesses and joyfully accepts our acts of contrition.
In Him we all can find consolation that while making mistakes is human nature, forgiveness is also for every repentant heart.

He did the absolute act of forgiveness when He died for us.
Nothing and nobody can take that away from us.

May we all be able to reflect and to immerse ourselves again in His mercy especially during this Holy Week.

God bless us all.

Heeding God's Call

THIS IS A JOKE
A little boy was overheard talking to himself as he strutted through the backyard, wearing his baseball cap and toting a ball and bat. "I'm the greatest hitter in the world," he announced. Then, he tossed the ball into the air, swung at it, and missed. "Strike One!" he yelled.

Undaunted, he picked up the ball and said again, "I'm the greatest hitter in the world!" He tossed the ball into the air. When it came down he swung again and missed. "Strike Two!" he cried.

The boy then paused a moment to examine his bat and ball carefully. He spit on his hands and rubbed them together.He straightened his cap and said once more, "I'm the greatest hitter in the world!" Again he tossed the ball up in the air and swung at it. He missed. "Strike Three!"

"Wow!" he exclaimed. "I'm the greatest PITCHER in the world!"

THIS IS NOT A JOKE
Whatever happened or did not happen in our lives that were not according to our plans are only perceived failures. They are temporary setbacks,at worst, that are part of the building blocs of God's plan for us. This basic lesson I was able to learn and absorb only after more than 10 years of wondering and pondering what is ultimately in store for me with the "detours" God was laying in front of me.

My parents have tried moving heaven and earth to guide my life as their lifetime offering to our Lord. I can still remember the times that my father will carry me during Sunday masses so I can see over shoulders all the activities that the celebrant priest are doing. And suffice it to say, I was the greatest motivator for our mother in her unceasing prayer life with the sole intention that I be blessed with the vocation of priesthood. So it was very difficult for me to see my mother cry an ocean of tears when, after a short stint inside a seminary, I was asked to leave for "lack of vocation". And it happened during the time that I was also convince myself that I do want to be a priest someday. There was a gaping hole and an unquenchable yearning in my heart during that moment of my life.

Yet, I did not give up after that. The next year, I tried, albeit in secret, to make a comeback which subsequently yielded again the same refusal after I failed to meet the stringent monthly recollection gatherings. The only consolation was that my parents need not to feel deprived again so this time the burden of sadness was mine alone to wallow in.

My life, henceforth, moved on.

Tonight as I sit down in our bed looking at my sleeping wife who will be celebrating her birthday tomorrow, our 2 month-old Maia beside her and Zek in his deep slumber a pillow away, I can only give my utmost thanks to our Lord for His most beautiful plan for me after all.

Tonight, God reinforces once again what He has been telling me all my life.
Many are called but few are chosen.
The rests are given other vocations.

My vocation is my family.
May we continue to recognize and utilize God's graces in sustaining each of our own vocation in life.
God bless us.

Thoughts about growing old

Most people I know would like to live only as long as they are productive.

Beginning with myself, I mean, I dread to imagine myself at age 70 years old, bed-ridden and unable to even bring myself up to tend personally to my basic needs. That, in which opening my mouth or chewing my food brings total discomfort to my sagging facial muscles, is unthinkable for me. Signing-off with relative youth seems to be the best retirement plan to make.

A silly idea indeed from a silly person like me.

For how many septegenarians or octogenarians have we read or heard who have been living productive lives despite their late ages? A lot, we can say.

And then I watched Violet Hensley from Arkansas (United States) on one prime-time news. My jaw dropped with awe at seeing this 90 year old lady playing the fiddle with gusto, making her own fiddles ( and selling them as well ) in her own home and whose hobby includes......(get ready for this)....bare-back riding horses. Her life is full with vigor and enthusiasm with a picturesque smile ready to infect everyone who stikes a conversation with her.

To think that I always have a soft spot when seeing my 62 year-old father lifting mineral waters and LPG gas tanks during deliveries to his regular customers. I am always tempted to put a stop to his activity by promising to offer more financial support to him and to our mother.

But it is not all about the money, I believe, as my thinking matures through the years.It is about living their own productive lives.It is about not sitting down or not laying in bed waiting to grow older.

As I write this, my father is also practicing his bowling skills as a participant in their upcoming Knights of Columbus tournament (I bet Paeng Nepomuceno will attempt another comeback if he ever reads this). And my mother? Well, she will likely be filling his spot in our modest store (minus the deliveries, of course), frantically running around when the students at the adjacent school starts buying simultaneously.

Most of our grandparents and parents have known the secret, it is not the age that makes us old rather the "oldness" that we imaginatively feel with our age.

Do not limit ourselves with what God has not even hinder us with.
Make plans for your 65th, 70th, 75th and so on years.
Indulge in your hobbies and doctor-recommended exercises.
Try new things. Try old things you forgot to do before because of your busy life. Laugh with your granchildren (or great grandchildren at that! ). Keep serving the Lord in the littlest of things your frail body can do.

Be always young at heart and enjoy life on earth in its full term.
Just remember, no matter what your age is now, we are still "children" in God's eyes.

God bless us all.

Ash Sunday

Four days ago was our Ash Sunday.

You see, in this part of China, our small community is not under any parish and is only visited by Fr. Adams, a volunteer priest from Hongkong, on every 1st, 3rd and 5th (if any) Sundays of each month to celebrate mass for us. So you can just imagine the adjustments in our liturgical year celebrations. We have only 2 Sundays of Advent. We have Christmas mass on the Sunday before the actual date. The same goes for our New Year mass. We will have Palm Sunday and Good Friday mass together during the Holy Week. So it is always a blessing to see Fr. Adams flexing, not only his tight schedules, but also the Sunday masses to celebrate the more relevant Catholic events that we will miss in the next 2 weeks.

So the idea of Ash Sunday simply follows this reality.

Anyway, Fr. Adams, during his homily, has added a golden spiritual nugget to the message of Ash Wednesday, the start of our 40-day Lenten season. He beautifully expounded the phrase - "From dust we came and to dust we will return", by suffixing it with - "And with our dust we will glorify God in eternity". Returning to dust is not the end for us even for our physical bodies. It simply takes another natural form while it waits for the time that it will be raised up again during the resurrection of the dead. And with this same purified and sanctified ashes our "new body" will rise up to glorify God in eternity.

Pondering at Fr. Adam's reflection made me understand more about God's plan for us to have an earthly death. It is not to make the final separation of our spirit from our weak, withered, illness-battered physical bodies but to cleanse our bodies from all the effects of years of sinfulness before our spirit can rejoin it in eternal and heavenly praise of God.

Death, as we all know, is not the end.It is the start of the consummation of God's divine plan for our salvation.And on the first day of eternity, we will see and recognize each other in heaven - body and spirit together.

......I believe in the Holy Spirit
The Holy Catholic Church
The communion of saints
The forgiveness of sins
The resurrection of the body and life everlasting.
Amen.

May we all have a meaningful Lenten season.
God Bless.

A Christian Challenge – Love First

A 5-year old girl and her elder sister were playing near a riverbank when the elder one slipped into it. Luckily, she was able to hold into a rock but nevertheless is slowly loosing her grip.

Knowing that her strength is not enough to pull her up, the 5-year old ran to the main road to ask the help of 2 men who were passing by.

”You and your sister should have known better not to venture into that place,” one of them quipped. “It is too dangerous a place to play”.

”And who are you to tell these kids where they can play, you are crossing the line here,” disagreed the other.

”Well, I know for a fact that 2 children have drown in that same river the last 3 years. They should have at least worn a life vest if they really wanted to play there so their chances for survival after an accidental fall into the river will be high,” the first man replied , “Doesn’t your parents remind you about safety?”

”Oh, my parents taught me better than that. They also brought me up knowing how to keep my opinions to myself unless solicited?” answered the second.

”Well, I am sorry for you, because my parents are never mistaken when it comes to safety matters. They are leading authority figures and have vast knowledge and training regarding these things,” the first man proudly beamed, “Keeping silent will not educate anybody how to be safety-conscious.”

”Even if it is true, you still have no right to reprimand these kids and impose your knowledge on them,” concludes the second man.

Meanwhile, as the friendly exchange was going on in front of the bewildered and confused 5-year old, the elder girl has finally lost her grip and fell into the flowing cold water of the river.

She drowned.

”The smallest act of kindness is greater than all the grandest intention put together” - unknown

How I found my one true love

I used to belong to the pantheon of hopeless romantics in search for their one true love, the often-hoped-for-but-eventually-would-slip-away soulmate.

I was in 4th year high-school when I finally mustered enough guts to hog -tie my shyness and court the girl that I really liked. It was not that easy because she currently has a boyfriend, so not only was I risking a flat rejection from her but also possibly courting the ire of his mean-muscular bodied bf (note: I thought about this second problem thoroughly so I am counting on my fast feet to deal with it). She was polite and civil about my intention to court her. In fact, she couldn't tell me personally that she loves her current guy and I simply have no chance to swoop her away. I had to learn it from her best-friend. It was good since we have parted ways after that school year and the dejected feeling have faded easily.

Next chance. There was this friend in college whom our barkada at times teased me with. And after a year later, I grew some kind of fondness for her that I decided to eventually court her. I wrote her a letter expressing my sincere intention but not even a well-prepared, down-to-earth profession of my feelings touched her heart. She said she was not yet ready for such a commitment and that we should take our time to know each other more. Round 1 was unpleasantly hurting.

Round 2. Another 3 months or so passed and once again I proclaimed my affection to the same friend in one of our barkada gimmicks. I awkwardly brought along a stuff toy and chocolates in blind obedience to my relationship-consultants ( a.k.a. her friends). Without batting an eyelash, she maintained her decision for us to be friends. I wanted to take back my gifts (just kidding, of course) but then our barkada were already having their way with the chocolates so I let them be. Being "knocked-out" in this second round led me to graciously accept my fate.

At about the same time that this was happening, another girl-friend of us who transferred to a nursing school were planning to hold her debut party with cotillion. The participating boys will be from our barkada and the girls will be her present friends. I was not that excited due to my bruised ego and luckily I was not included in the line-up. Anyway, I still attended their practice in order to make fun of my friends while they were learning the formal dance.

For over a month then, one of their practice venue was Paco Park with all that old shady trees and small tombs adorning the centuries-old walls. It was eerie. But on one particular day, I was, in my own self, criticizing the poorly maintained place with all the leaves and yellow flowers strewn along the pathway when I heard a voice from among the girls who were walking in front of us.

"Wow, ang ganda naman ng mga flowers na nasa daanan natin," went her sweet voice.

So there I was grumbling about the nature's "trashes" while she was seeing them from a totally different and positive perspective.

I asked the name of the girl - Menchie.

I never took my eyes off her again.8 years were spent emotionally and spiritually nourishing our relationship. 8 years, by this April, is how long our marriage has been going now. It has been 16 years since God sent my one (and only) true love.

It was 16 years ago when God gave me the grace, to pause from looking and simply recognize the most wonderful person I will ever meet.

So for those who are still searching for their love of a lifetime - "Seeking and finding" is the norm but "looking around and recognizing" is a wonderful option as well.

Not sure which way to go?

You should consult the ONLY legitimate love expert.

Pause and close your eyes.

Empty your heart.

Pray to our Lord.

TWINKLE - for my niece Maia

Welcome to the world.

Welcome to the Santos family.

Welcome to God's family.

Even before you were born, when you were just a twinkle,You were already longed for and loved by your mommy and daddy and Kuya ZekAnd now here you are - little fingers, little toes, big eyes, button nose, so lovely and cuddly. The twinkle is now a full blown star in our midst! And what joy you bring. What promise you hold in your hands. You who's innocence - is God's love manifested.Every baby is a miracle but you are OUR SPECIAL MIRACLE.

One day, I will see you. I will hold you in my arms and kiss you too. But for now because there are seas and mountains between us, I will ask God to send His angels and they will take a kiss and a hug from you. And when the angels have done that,I will plead for them to hurry back to me. So that they can give me their precious bundle. And I will put the the kiss and the hug in this thing that beat inside me. It will keep me going until that one day - when I see you, precious one.

My dearest Maia,

I love you.

Tita Ela

What a mother’s love can do

You wouldn't believe if I tell you that we were supposed to be rich?

The problem was that I was a frail and feeble boy since birth. If I stayed under the sun even for a short period of time, I will have a headache. If I overplay and forget to wipe off my back-sweats, my brothers have to prepare themselves for another sleepless night of barking and howling from me. If I inhale dusts in any form, then you can be sure I will be gasping for air the next few hours while looking for my Ventolin medication. What do hepa-A, chickenpox, measles, collapsing due to over-exhaustion, typhoid fever, mumps, severe sun and skin rashes, dog bites, broken ear drum, milk allergies have in common? They all felt at home in my body at one time or another. This is just a short list. Yes indeed, I am a walking biological specimen for any viral and bacterial studies.

The often-repeated family joke then was that all our nearby barrio clinics have since become 3-floored hospitals mainly due to my philanthropic illnesses. Everybody will have a nice laugh out of it including me.

Everybody except one.
Our mother.

Because for every single pain I murmur and every single gasping I take, our mother felt them too. For all the inconvenient nights I spent over at the hospital, our mother was present too. For all the tears I shed in pain, our mother was crying too.I have physical miseries, she has untold agonies.

She suffered with me and she was my pain-absorber.

One instance I can remember clearly was being "isolated" from my brothers upon doctor's advice. I have jaundice caused by hepatitis-A . I have zero appetite and was feeling weaker by the day. Only my parents dare to go near my bed-corner and talk with me. And at night, after the lights were turned-off and while they thought that I was sleeping already, I can hear my mother crying to my father how she wishes that the illness be transferred to her so I can be spared from the pain and isolation.

They will lay their hands on my head and pray over me for healing.

Our father will try to get some sleep later while she stays and pray some more.So in my young mind, despite being bed-ridden and weakened by any illness, I was certain that everything will be just fine and I will be cured always - because I have my mother beside me all the time.

Without any doubt, God will never refuse the prayer of a grieving and faithful mother.
A mother's love is God's love personified and personalized for each one of us.

Happy Birthday to you, Mom.
We love you.

Bethany

The compound was located near the end of the barrio dirt road which we were hiking. Through the rusty steel gate we were able to see the grass-filed surroundings that seem to have been trimmed a few days back. The lot area is roughly 400 square meters. The dorm-like hall has small beds and the kitchen has one small rectangular table and a few chairs.

After introduction and exchanges of pleasantries with the nun caretakers, the kids numbering about 12, aged between 3 and 8, came rushing out of their room to see who their visitors were.

Bethany is a small orphanage center we never thought existed a few hundred meters away from our school. Their funding comes from the diocese-in-charge and from well meaning sponsors.

It was the first apostolate duty of our class. Honestly, we were a bit apprehensive on what to do during our visit that our spiritual director has arranged. We brought along some candies and snacks which orphans gladly partook with each other. We introduced each other and the kids did the same. We had "ice-breaker" games and sang some songs. What a sight to behold! Kids running and playing around, laughing with gusto, and adolescent students reading books or telling stories to those who preferred to sit down amidst the mini-festivity going around. No formal programs or modules to follow.

Some of us opted to chat with the nuns, learning a story or two about the orphans they were caring for. Mostly left for adoption by parents who simply cannot feed another mouth in their jobless states, some stories are more heart-breaking to hear particularly about children who ran away from home to avoid the physical harm they were suffering from the hands of their very own parents. One orphan has physical and mental disability caused by an illness when he was still a baby.

It was a short 2-hour stay for us. Even so, we all can feel the sad mood of the orphans when we announced that we have to go. One kid was embracing my classmate and would not like to let go despite the nun's persuasion. Only after re-assuring him that we will be back again did he let go.

Many of us were misty-eyed after we left.

This once-a-week apostolate lasted for a few months more with the cycle of fun and hard-to-say good byes. The nuns were aptly right to remind us to avoid spoiling the children with "food-gifts" because they might not be able to keep the practice after we leave for good, so we all focused on spending more quality time with them instead.

More apostolate and catechetical activities were assigned to us in the following months but Bethany left an indelible mark in our young hearts.

Another 21 years have passed since and I cannot remember anymore the names of the nuns or children of Bethany. All I can recall now are the smiles and laughter of those days. My eyes still get misty whenever I remember those sad innocent looks of the children who were deprived of their own family. In a deeper sense, nobody is really an orphan under God's Fatherhood. And it is our brotherly duty to help them feel that way.

I just have to go and visit Bethany once more.

This time, I will tag my family along so Zek can meet his other brothers and sisters while he is still young.

Congratulations! Please claim your prize

It's in today's news.

A certain Minela Dolor from Ilocos/La Union won a whopping 1 million pesos from the government's promo of "Premyo sa Resibo" but almost forfeited her prize because of her reluctance to even admit to herself that she did win. She claimed that all her life she never won anything and only heard of other "chance" winners from televisions and other media means. Add to the fact that hoaxes and scams are very rampant.

It was until a few days before the 60-day claiming period will expire when a long distant relative of her went out of her way to convince her that she did win before she started verifying from the involved agencies and eventually claiming her prize.

It's striking resemblance to our lives is profoundly obvious.

We are all WINNERS already to begin with. And we don't even have to buy any ticket or follow dizzying game mechanics to win it. We only need to recognize it, accept it and live it so we do not forfeit it anymore. Isn't that wonderful?

Jesus laid His life as our wager for us to "win" the opening of the gates into Heaven.

Oh, and by the way, we should also become a "distant relative" to others and go out of our way as often as we can to inform our brothers and sisters about their prize waiting to be claimed. Remind them that all they have to do is dial Heaven's toll-free-toil-for-the-kingdom hotline.

Congratulations to all of us!

Proud to be his brod

I was never close to my younger brother J-ben. I think it was this subconscious sibling enmity that I felt since we were young. My kuya and I were always at home trying to help out in the household chores (note: we were 4 boys and the elders were the lucky ones to get the complete course in house help), while he was always out with his friends. Of course, he does stay at home every meal time and afterhours when only the cricket sound is left audible in our surroundings. My mindset has always been that no good thing can come out from his frequent barkada adventures. I also admit that there is a pinch of envy and jealousy on my side believing he was brought up to be a Jeproks (aka. ang taong lumaki sa layaw).

But as we get older (ouch!), I can't help but notice his responsible and entrepreneural side emanating from within. Being an outdoor junkie, he makes his knack for any in-demand business since he has first hand knowledge and experience of what has potential local market sales. From his furniture shop, to seasonal retailing of bags, shoes and breads, to guitars and second hand cars and reconditioned motor bikes. He hauls his merchandise just about anywhere, from the northernmost part of Luzon in Ilocos to the tricky side-streets and alleyways of Divisoria. He is one street-wise entrepreneur.

He is now happily married for 4 years and has 2 lovely daughters.

But it was this recent incident that really notched my respect and love for him a few steps near heaven.

He and his wife went out to withdraw 100K php from a bank to be used in their business. Being the safety-conscious person he always is, they simply picked-up the cash bundles the bank staff gave them, put them in the bags and scurriedly went back home. Lo and behold! The money bills were double the amount when they counted them at home. After recounting them, he made a quick phone call to our father because his major concern now is the dire consequence to the bank staff who made the serious mistake. And so he even made sure to return the money as discreetly as possible. I can only imagine the huge sigh of relief from the teller who must have kept her thanks in whispers to avoid calling attention to themselves.

To think that, a few months back, my brother confided to me that his small businesses are not doing well and is even asking my assistance to look for any China job he can fit into, have made him more deeply admirable for returning the "opportunity" money without blinking an eye.

I can still feel our father's proud tears when he retold me this incident some weeks ago.

No funfare.
No accolades.
Good deeds in secrecy.
Simple honesty.

That's my brother.

It was a humbling revelation for me.
Now, I am mighty proud of him and a firm believer that God reigns inside his heart no matter how often outside the house he stays.

Just another day in God’s busy time of giving out blessings

Cord-coiled baby is nothing new to us because our Zek was double-coiled during the last trimester but the OB-Gyne doctors never gave us any reason to be alarmed.

Not for our baby Maia who who just turned 8 months in her mom's tummy.

Last week, when Dra.Perez has noticed that Maia's cord-coiled is "tightening up", she has to make a worrying decision. My wife has to be injected thrice with medications that will advance the lung maturity of our baby to prep her up for an eventual emergency CS if the "choking" does not cease.

Another test a week later will be the deciding stage whether the untimely CS has to be carried out asap. Between those days, we persevered in prayer for our baby to be spared of that possibility. That she turns the other way is what my wife whispered to her every night. We asked prayer intercessions from our families and friends as well.

That test happened a few hours ago and the result was simply heart-warming.

Everything is normal.

The coil is totally gone and our baby Maia is sleeping soundly as if nothing happened.

Thank you, Lord for another miracle in our family.

How is God calling us to serve

This inspiring WFT reflection was forwarded by a cousin in New Zealand. It is a timely reminder for anyone of us who may still be trying to figure out what God really meant us for in this world. Only a handful has experienced St. Paul's flash-of-lightning conversion and discipleship. For most of us, it is a "Moses journey", appearing long and tedious, at times daunting, some mysterious and for some, even a flat-out venture into the unknown.

It is extremely comforting to know that God has been with us through all these long waits and that He can turn every experience in between useful for His purpose. So regardless if the worldly problems we have nowadays are crushing our shoulders to smithereens they will all be useful to God if we let Him be.

Who can better understand and counsel rehabilitating alcoholics or addicts than those who at one time or another been an alcoholic or addict themselves.Who are the most convincing speakers of Pro-Life advocates? They are those who have regretted having committed abortions themselves.Who are those people who can forgive freely? They are who know and felt how it is to be forgiven by God.Medical miracle inspirations? Ask any healed cancer patients.Feeling alone? Listen to a widow’s story.

Even Jesus chose to experience becoming like one of us and to physically suffer, so each single one of us can feel His work of salvation.

Have a blessed day.

The Word for Today
Thursday, November 30th, 2006
Used By God
It is God himself who has made us what we are.Ephesians 2:10 TLBLook at how God prepared Moses and you'll understand how He prepares us.
(1) He begins with your character, then works on your calling. Usually this begins in obscurity. In Moses' case God spent 40 years tearing down the old structure and rebuilding it from the ground up. Those years in the wilderness must have seemed unending. Yet it was during this time that he encountered God in the burning bush and learned to know the voice of God from every other voice. How valuable is that? Especially when you're working with stubborn, opinionated people.
(2) He never wastes experience. If Moses hadn't been raised in the palace Pharaoh would probably have viewed him as some crazy shepherd with a bad case of sunstroke and killed him. But his past prepared him for his future. Because of his desert training he was able to protect and lead Israel through the Sinai wasteland. And the very fact that he'd been born into slavery gave him the compassion to say yes to such a task. So, don't run from your past - learn from it!
(3) He'll give you an emotional investment in the work He's called you to. How ironic, Pharaoh ordered the death of every Hebrew male under two, yet he was raising one in his own palace who would liberate Israel and bring down his throne. The Israelites weren't some unknown group; they were Moses' own people. Their cries had echoed in his ears for 40 years, now he was willing to lay down his life for them. That's what it takes to be used by God - an emotional investment.

Keeping Fit

My leg muscles are cramping and I can hardly take a step down the stairs of the factory.Everybody conspicuously notices my pained steps.No, I am yet a senior citizen card-holder but I certainly feel that way.

It all started last Monday after finally setting my year-long plan of morning jogs into motion.I used to find plausible (I have one) and lame excuses (these I have a lot!) for not doing it before but I simply ran out of ideas anymore.

Indulge me to say a few of my famous lines to myself:
”O, the summer heat is too strong, I might dehydrate and wilt while running.”
”O, the winter breeze is too cold, I might catch a flu outside.”
”My goodness, I am hearing sweet singing voices under the bed, I think I will lay down longer and listen to them.”
”But why does Zek have to wake up at 9am, it is so unfair.” (and swoosh goes the quilt over me again)
”I cant believe it, I am dreaming that it is morning already, I must get back to sleep to wake up later.”

However, if my wife is the one reminding me about my exercise, I am left with no other choice but to use the ultimate melt-her-heart excuse. ”Honey, I am saving all my energies to play with Zek whenever he is awake and to help you with the household chores. I need all the rest I can get, ok?” (Thank you Lord for my understanding, or should I say, very enduring better half)Lazy to the bone.

At present, my wife and kid are on vacation, and after another month of mustering my will power, I finally did it.

How physically rewarding it has been so far! It is making me more alert the whole day and giving me sound sleeps the last 4 nights.

The morning sights and sounds are doubly uplifting.Inside the elevator, a father assists his son with his school bag.Along the pathway is a barkada of children walking half-awake (imagine their Chinese eyes still half closed and you can get the funny picture) towards their school while chomping their breakfast with their chopsticks or just fooling around with each other.A bus loaded with students slowly navigating through a narrow road. A mysterious floating school bag (which was actually hooked on the small frame of a very young student) A grandmother pulling her basket trolley to the nearby wet market eager to prepare for her family’s lunch.Two elderly men jogging in my direction (too much pride is at stake here so I tried hard to catch up with them in the most discreet way).Another middle age man whose built makes me sigh in relief at how hopeful my bulging tummy is.

The autumn breeze is refreshingly cool.
Yellow flowers popping out of the verdant grasses.
The sun’s morning radiance greeting everyone and everything that feels its gentle warmth.

It is a fascinating way of waking up and recognizing God’s love in the simplest of things that we normally don’t mind during the busy hours of the day. You can feel the ripple effect into your heart.

Now, I must maintain this morning activity.It does keep me fit in more ways than I can imagine.

I am already daydreaming about the near future when Zek and I would often do this together and share God’s morning doses of blessings.

It will be our father and son’s morning highlight reel of the day.

My theme-song with God

The theme song of my life relationship with God is “Take me out of the Dark” by Gary Valenciano. That is why when a friend of mine gave an MP3 copy of the acoustic version, I kept it in my MP4 player as the first song always. The other songs can be replaced from time to time, but not this song.

It very much summarizes my life story as a struggling sinner,

And though you’re in me now
I’d fall and hurt you still.
My Lord, please show me how
to know just how you feel.

You have forgiven me
too many times it seems
I feel I’m not what you might call
A worthy Christian after all
And though I love you so
temptations find its way to me.

About God’s assurance,

You never left my side.
You gave your hand to me
To hold on, Jesus.
I”m no longer in the cold.

And God’s love that conquered all of our sins,

I’ve never known a man
Who’d give his life for sinners like me
And yet because He loves us so
He promised us eternity.
And we can have that promise and be His
If we have faith and just believe.

Finally, my daily prayer to Him,

Teach me to trust in You with all of my heart,
To lean not on my own understanding.
I just forget, you won’t give me what I can’t bear.
Take me out of the dark, my Lord
I don’t want to be there.

So what is your theme-song with our Lord?
But the more important question is, what is your life-theme with Him?

Find one song and be refreshed everyday listening to it.
Find Him and be refreshed in eternity.

Tita Eden

She is an epitome of simplicity, dedication, total self-denial and immense perseverance of someone for her family. I have never personally known anybody else who have worked sweat and blood to support her family while raising her 3 children to be good and responsible young adults.

You see, our Tito Wency passed away years ago when their youngest daughter is just a toddler. Having been a simple housewife to our seaman uncle has brought enormous challenges to her, primarily in providing for the basic needs of her family and sending them to decent schools.

The idea of a sari-sari store in front of their house is the recourse she took to juggle her time between earning and watching over her growing kids. From early morning until late hours, 7 days a week, their sari-sari store is open. During reunions and Christmas gatherings, she would courteously excuse herself or just drop by for a few hours so she could still open their store and take advantage of the holiday spendings of their neighbors' kids. I remember her giving me "aguinaldo" while soft-spokenly apologizing for the small amount she just handed out. During Sundays, she would attend mass at the barrio chapel which is a stone's throw away from their house. And after the mass, she would stride back to their store with the hope that the throngs of church goers will need to buy something on their way home. For Tita Eden, every single purchase, a small piece of candy notwithstanding, is part and parcel of their next day's provide.

Where did she draw strength from?
I think the answer is obvious.

I never heard her complain about God's "insensitivity" to their plight. She was always a picture of complete trust in God. Secondly, during All Saints Day, I can notice her spending a lot of time in front of the tomb of Tito Wency and I will not be surprise if I will hear her conversing with him. Our circle knows how much she loved him before and even after he left for heaven. And lastly, her children have been good and very helpful to her all those times. In the few occasions I passed by their place, I always saw my cousins either helping out in the store or studying their lessons, sometimes even both at the same time. They are always together as one family, through good and tough times.

Last January, we were able to hold a small reunion and Tita Eden and her family was there. Their eldest is now married with a baby boy in tow. The second one graduated also and is presently working. Their youngest just recently passed the professional licensure for electrical engineers after hurdling her 5 years of college scholarships.

What did Tita Eden have to say about all of her accomplishments?

"Sa awa ng Diyos ay naitaguyod ko na rin sila, ngayon nasa sa kanila na ang ipag-tatagumpay nila sa buhay nila. Pwede na ko magpahinga ng kaunti", she humbly remarked with a smile after I told her that she did it.

For a widow who sacrificed her whole life to bring up their fatherless children, Tita Eden is one truly remarkable and inspiring mother many will wish they have.

Tomb Story

Let me tell you a personal secret.

I never felt at ease in deep waters due to the obvious reason, I only know buoyancy by definition but I can never get myself to float no matter how hard I flap and swing my arms and legs. The underwater gravity is just too strong for me to resist.

I am also afraid of heights especially during plane rides. It has nothing to do with the post 9/11 era but more so with my acrophobia (fear of heights) since childhood. I get dizzy just by looking down from a tall building. So no matter if I have been traveling by airplane in the last 6 years, my chest thumps are still very audible during take off, during landing and any turbulence in between.

Simply put, I am a land person. If I will not be mistaken for a cuckoo-head, I would have kissed the ground every time the plane is safely on the ground.

Now what is my point here?

A few days from now and it will be All Soul's Day. We get to remember our departed loved ones. Some will recall sweet memories and others will remember tough moments. Most will offer prayers. Still others will take note the way they left this world ? a untimely heart attack, a gradually lingering illness, a peaceful sleep turn permanent one, a violent death, a sudden accident or an unanswered mystery or disappearance.

Personally speaking, if there is anything that I will ask God for about my death in the future is that, if possible, it will not involve the water or sky. It is really a pitiful way to ?sign-off? as it would be really abrupt and fearful for me. I’d prefer a terminal illness that I can fight off first and be an inspiration to others - a movie-type story that my family can even sell to movie outfits. Just like everyone else, I wish to be remembered as to had have experienced a "meaningful" death.

But the truth is, neither I nor anybody else will be able to know the time, the place and the way our lives will end. This is solely the prerogative of our own Maker. It is not even productive to be thinking or be even anxious about it at anytime of the day. It should be 100% none of our concern.

Instead we should only be concerned with what the Lord gave us control with - how we are spending our living moments. Are we using His blessings for His purpose or for our own? Are we bridge-ways for others to know God or walls that hinder? Are we reaching out to our least brethrens or snatching off from their pockets to make life harder for them.

Because in the end, what really matter is, not how we will die later but how we are living our lives now.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord.
And let perpetual light shine upon them.
May they rest in peace.
Amen.

Each Moment Counts

House scenes last Saturday night after my work:

No child opening the door for me and taking my hand for a “bless”.
No wife to greet and kiss me as I enter the house.
No cooked food waiting for me on the dining table.
No “today’s highlight” stories as I ate my dinner.
No new gimmicks to be presented.
No small arm pulling me away from the table to the playroom.
No extra dishes for me to wash.
No child for me to hand-feed while moving around the house
No running and goofing around the house before sleeping.
No snuggling and wrestling on the sofa while watching a TV show.
No dancing child during jingles of commercial ads.
No child’s pee for me to wipe off the floor.
No “washing” time before going to bed.
No family prayer before sleeping.
No goodnight kisses.
No sleeping wife and child to watch in their serene sleep.
No “Rocky Balboa” punches and kicks during the night from a tossing toddler.

The next day I woke up.

No feeding bottles to wash.
No “big” breakfast to prepare for.
No good morning kisses.
No small arm pulling me away from anything I am doing.
No child watching and singing (sometimes mumbling) along the “Servant of all kids VCD”
No running and goofing around the house.
No “bath time”.
No “nappy-time”.
No walking around in the afternoon.
No trip to the nearby supermarket.
And so on and so forth.

It was my first weekend away from my wife and son.I would have felt a lot better if not for the fact that this “empty” weekend (and weekdays) will be going on for another 3 months or so.

You see, my wife is 6-month pregnant and has to go back to Philippines until our new baby is born.Considering the many positive benefits of being with families and relatives who can look after them most of the time, the wise decision at this stage is for them to go home. It is not going to be easy but I have to keep myself productively busy to fight my “separation anxieties”.

So for those of us who have the blessing of being with our loved ones at this moment, please use your time of togetherness to make them happy, to listen to their needs and dreams, to be more patient with them, to laugh and have fun with them, to comfort them, to appreciate them.

Make them feel loved by you.

We will never know when our “empty” weekend will come.Maybe it will just be one weekend, maybe several weekends.Inevitable is the fact that one unforeseeable “forever” weekend-away is allotted for each one of us.Let us not wait for that one.I read somewhere that a simple act of kindness is far better that the grandest intention because of time difference – the action happens now while intention happens later (with chances of never happening at all).

Seize the opportunities.
Make each moment with your family counts.

God bless all our families.

Back Step

At 34, I see myself as a young mature person who can analyze things as they happened and put wisdom into my perspective understanding of any given situation.

Or so I thought.

One night, while I was busily washing the dishes, our 2 year-old playful son went inside the kitchen area as he searches for anything to play with. He caught a glance of a 10kg sack of rice beside me and tilted it forward. The successive events went fast ? the sack of rice fell and the grains were scattered on the floor, our son excitedly played with the grains scattering it more, I tried to stop him and he shouted at the top of his voice next to my ear and I lost it.

Wham! goes my right hand to his left hand and he started to cry.He was still shouting so I brought him into a corner but he would not stay put.Wham! goes my hand again to his buttocks twice. Now he was crying uncontrollably.

My wife, who was resting inside our room, heard the “commotion” and took our son inside the room to calm him down and talk to him. I gathered the rice grains and went back to my chore.

”What was that?”, I said to myself trying to figure out what just happened.

What I expected from my 2 year-old son was what I should have shown to him on that given situation - maturity.This incident has cleanly-cut exposed my immaturity.I was deeply sad realizing I failed my son at that instance.

A few more minutes and my son came out of the room. I overheard her mommy telling him to go to me and say sorry for what he did. Slowly he walked towards me and started to say, “Daddy…”

I did not give him time to finish his sentence.I hugged him and apologized myself for being an immature father a while ago.”I am so sorry, Zek. Please forgive Daddy”.

Between sighs and sobs he smiled wryly.

It took an innocent 2 year old to re-emphasize my weakness once again.Now I have a lot of work to do on my self-proclaimed maturity particularly in managing my temper.

Lord, please give me more patience to help me overcome my quick bad temper.

Baby Steps

Talk about being first time parent.

My 21/2 year old boy, like any other toddler in his age, is on full-throttle discovery mode – reaching, grabbing, pinching, tossing, throwing, rolling, dropping, pushing and pulling anything his hand can grab hold.

So imagine my absolute horror when he started to squeeze between me and the kitchen sink while I was mundanely washing our dishes with ceramic plates and knives. Not to be overly concerned about breaking the ceramic plate, I was more worried at the thought of him getting hurt by falling dishes or sharp edges of knives.

“Washy,” his small voice went.

“No, Zek. This is not safe for you. We will play after I finish, OK?”.

He went away and came back after a while.

“Washy,” he eagerly repeated.

“Sorry, Zek. When you grow older then you can do this,” I assured him.

And he sadly moved away.

Pondering at his intention, I recall the times whenever my son will pull me by the hand to anywhere he is playing. Afterwards, he will give me one of his toys on hand or show me his new gimmicks with his toy.

“Thank you,” this he always says when you accept anything he shares to you.
“Cheers…,” this he says when he wants his toy on hand to touch his given toy to you (as in bottle toasting). Then he proceeds to play with you.

That is his routine invitation to me.Now, it seems he just wants me to invite him while I am busy at “play”.My wife noticed my trivial look at our son and she further explained to me that our growing son now wants to play, learn and do things together.“He feels safe and confident doing things under our supervision,” she affirmed.

I couldn’t have agreed more.

Nowadays, if my son comes squeezing again while I do the dishes, then I let him wash the dishes with me (mind you, I still remove the sharp and easily breakable objects). I also scrub the table with him whenever he wants too. This also means additional minutes to my chores and less time for my rest but it is nary a concern for me now. My son wants these moments to be with me and have fun.

No amount of rest can replace seeing his sparkling eyes beam with enjoyment while playing with his father.

Fear or Fun?
With our Zek, I learned that the wiser choice is cautious fun.

This is one of my baby-step parenthood experiences.

Every Breath We Take

Fountain of youth…herbal potions……Dead-sea mud pack……beauty concoctions. The desire to live long and stay young is entrenched in the hearts of many people.

News flash: Recent scientific discovery found that aging is directly linked to our oxygen generation and distribution inside the body from the air around us. Hence, to really stay young, we must cancel this oxygen activity by stopping either our breathing in or our breathing out. Indeed, we will stop aging because we would have died within seconds. Conversely, if we continue to breathe air in and out then we will live longer and die (inevitably) later, albeit older.

Bible-scholarship….daily masses….bare-foot pilgrimage from Batanes to Sulu….24 hour non-stop prayer marathon.

The desire to stay pleasing in God’s eyes is our deepest Christian desire.

Reality flash: About 2,000 years ago, our Lord Jesus came down to personally tell us how to please His Father – believe in Him and feed His sheep. All rigorous religious activities are helpful in understanding and witnessing His infinite, mysterious and mighty ways. We are breathing in His love. In the end, we must also breathe out His love to others.

Only in this way will we never die.

Harry

Harry is a very good friend of mine. He has 3 children and Micah, the youngest at 4 years old, is my god-child.

This is why when the Chinese doctors decided to surgically open his head to relieve it from excessive swelling, I found myself blankly staring at the wall. His wife was finally on the way to China after her week-long processing of passport and visa but she has not the slightest idea about the emergency situation that is on-going at that very moment.

You see, Harry is one person you would least expect to be in such critical condition. He is just 35 years old. He was the head of our maintenance unit. He never declined any difficult job cleaning ceiling-mounted air-conditioners, maintaining and repairing all the greasy, noisy and heavy plant equipments. Name any odd and difficult jobs you can think of in a factory and he can do it. He is simply a strong bodied person.

Rewind and forward. I was offered a job in China and he resigned from his work so he can put up his own maintenance business. But as soon as an opportunity was available in our company, I recommended him for the position. He accepted it and came to work in China. He worked double-time to learn his new job whilst running his business at night by making the planning and decision about schedules and all technical matters with his wife via chat or email. He compensated his work stress and lack of sleep by eating many Chinese food to his delight. Keeping it to himself, however, he was already feeling occasional headaches and blackened eyesight which were all precursors of something to come.

And then it came. After just 2 months in China, he suffered a stroke which we all thought was just a mild one. He was confined to the hospital for observation after the attempt to remove the clot was unsuccessful. For the next 5 days, our Filipino friends and I have seen his improving condition even-though his whole left body was still immobile. He was always looking for his wife and kids whenever he was partly conscious and was even cracking some jokes on his condition.

On the fifth night however, he started to be non-responsive to our calls. He became heavily groggy and just wanted to sleep without eating that the doctor has to insert the feeding tube up to his nostrils again. By the next day, he was not anymore responding even to the strong push by his attending doctors. They discussed and decided on their next step which was to be the emergency surgery.

A third of his right brain died during the stroke which is now swelling incessantly thus putting pressure on the left brain. This pressure, according to the doctors, must be relieved by removing portions of the dead brain cells to ease the swelling. The surgery need to be done within hours and the waiver must be signed before that. But Harry’s wife has just boarded the plane and can only arrive in the afternoon. They advised me to decide and to sign it instead.

I made several calls and seek other people’s advises. Bringing him to nearby Hongkong was an option but the doctors sternly warned me that Harry’s condition may not be able to withstand the long and bumpy travel ahead. It can speedily aggravate his condition and be fatally harmed. On the other hand, operating on Harry is just as risky as well.

Somebody has to decide and it was only me at that given time.The thought of Harry passing away based on my decision was bombarding my mind that I have to leave the doctors meeting.I went to Harry’s bedside and fervently prayed for God’s guidance.

Finally, the decision was to take our chances in Hongkong and I arranged the transfer. The ambulance doctor confirmed to me also that Harry’s condition is critical at that stage and that traveling was too risky that he decided to re-direct the ambulance to the nearest qualified hospital instead of the originally planned one. He was rushed to the ER and the doctors quickly checked him up. It was the longest 2 hours of my stay in any hospital ER as I hopefully wait for any good news. They administered aggressive doses of medicine and brought him to the ICU while waiting for the diagnostic tests to be finished.

At that time, Harry’s wife also arrived at the hospital and was visibly worried why Harry was transferred from China to Hongkong. She tried to put a brave front as I narrated the events but I can feel her deep sadness.

After a seemingly endless wait, the doctor talked to us. Harry’s condition is out of immediate danger but still critical in the next hours. If his body responds negatively on the high dosages of medicines, then an operation was inevitable. Even if he survived this one, the doctors’ prognosis was lifetime wheelchair condition without any chance to recover his whole left body’s movement. A third of his right brain was dead and unrecoverable. Harry’s wife was devastated.

After a few hours of waiting, Harry’s condition, by the grace of God, took the turn from worse to stable as the doctors finally allowed us to see him. The couple could not hide their tears upon seeing each other so I stepped back outside to give them their privacy.

Everyday for almost 2 weeks, his wife has religiously prayed with him and read him spiritual books at his bedside. Needless to say, all his family members and friends were also praying for a miracle to happen.

God must have heard our sincere and desperate prayers because a miracle indeed has started. His condition continued to improve during his confinement until a time came when the doctors declared him fit to be discharged. Another weeks of rigorous therapy and acupuncture session has helped recover some movements on his left leg and foot. And the next CT scan results gave him the green light to travel back to Philippines. It was July 31, 2005, when he and his wife finally went home and into the waiting arms of their children who tremendously missed their father.

Today is June 18 - exactly a year after Harry’s stroke that almost made his wife a widow and their children fatherless.

Today, he can ably walk without his crutches. His left hand still has limited motion but his therapy is on-going. He is on a strict diet and medicine regimen. He still manages his maintenance business. He still cracks jokes and never really lost his sense of humor. He still enjoys playing with their children. He enthusiastically looks forward to going back to China in the near future.

Most important of all, he has grown to love God more and enjoy more time with his family.We were equally blessed to witness his miraculous recovery and can indeed attest to God’s divine plan for his family.

Thank you, Lord, for the miracle of healing that you are endlessly giving my friend.

My Father, My Hero

What are the top 10 things that I can fondly and proudly remember most of my dad during my growing years?
In a broader scope:
1. He and mom worked tirelessly to support our family’s need.
2. He was always proud of all of us children and enthusiastically shared our achievements to others.
3. He always took our family to outings and reunions.
4. He participated well and directed some of the parents’ annual presentation in our schools.
5. He started, together with some friendly neighbors, the LSS gathering and community in our subdivision
6. He organized the establishment of our Sunday masses for our subdivision using the nipa hut next door as venue.
7. He actively participated and served in any church activities (Actually, he still does).
8. He easily won the vice-presidency of our place and pioneered the establishment of our very own chapel and eventual parish.
9. He gave up the invitation for a higher position after the chapel and parish project was well underway and self-sustaining.
10. He never turned his back to relatives and friends who seek his help. He was always ready to help in anyway he can.

On a personal level:
1. He let me punch his cheeks and blurted out squeaky sounds while carrying me in his arms.
2. He spanked me only 2 times but using his leather belt which became my benchmark for good behavior (i.e. if dad is not angry, then I must be behaving well unless mom did not tell dad about what I awfully did wrong)
3. He seldomly spoke to me (or maybe I did not listen often) but always made his presence felt by his brushing-of-fingers-through-my-hair and pat-on-the-shoulder gestures.
4. He brought my kuya a real guitar and gave me a eukelele during one of his trip back from Cebu. At first I was jealous but later realized that my short hands cannot even hold the real guitar upright. Then I enjoyed my eukelele more.
5. He occasionally got drunk with our uncles but never appeared threatening or disturbing (in fact, he is more funny but not in the sense that I encouraged him to drink more).
6. He never taught me how to swim despite his being a collegiate coach in his university days.
7. He taught me how to drive the car and helped me get my first student license (it was a blast!)
8. He proudly walked beside me during my first communion march and confirmation ceremony.
9. He was faithful to our mom and have never quarrel with her in front of us children.
10. He selflessly loved me in thousand ways I did not notice then but has undoubtedly reverberated in my personal outlook in life.

But above all, I remember and admire my dad for his simplicity, humility and love for God.
He was like that before and he is like that up to now.

You would think that, given all his accomplishments and achievements, he would justifiably expect his share of recognition by this time. Wait until you see him open the steel doors of our grocery store by himself or take out the house garbage for pick-up or sweep our backyard or go to the wet-market to buy vegetables and fishes, then rush home to take a bath before tending to his lay ministerial tasks. Then you will know how humble he is throughout his life and how he loves our God with his lifetime service.

His life is worth my emulation.
I love him and I will surely let him know this again during our weekly internet chat.
He is my father and I will be forever grateful to our Father above for giving him to us.

Happy Father’s Day to all!