It' almost 2am in Singapore and I'm in front of my laptop furiously finishing a report for my work in Manila. And since I am blogging, it means I am obviously not "working." Why so? Well, I need to get through my grief process. You see, my Mac died on me the first night I flew in to Singapore (a week ago). That's a Mac iBook G3. My shiny white handsome companion for the past three years. I had budgeted for it to last me 5 years and I had high hopes that this would be the case, since I have been told Macs never crash. So much for a committed long-term relationship. Sigh.
When I walked back to the guesthouse after being told this bad news by the lady at the Mac Clinic, I was emotionally numb. Carrying my Mac in my backpack and walking past shop windows along Orchard Road, I stared stupidly at myself and thought I looked good. I walked on and thought what a good thing I brought my umbrella as I felt a light drizzle. I was numb. Funny how the Lord makes us numb when "tragedy" hits us...maybe that's His way of administering anaesthesia to my poor pained soul.
Then I thought hit me..hmm...good thing I wasn't able to name my iBook, that would have made its dying more painful! When I got back to my room, I put the shiny white iBook on the table and decided to press the power button and see what happens. After trying gazillions of times (probably my way of working through my grief), it did a Lazarus! It blinked on for a while and allowed me to go and save my personal files (yes, I admit to the sheer stupidity of not backing up files!! At least the personal ones...) After that, it came on again a few more times (after pressing the power button another gazillion of times). It's fierce grinding noise as it came on convinced to me that it was in the throes of death. Maybe coming on was its way of saying goodbye to me.
I don't have much time to grieve, not with work breathing down my neck. So I was off to Funan Centre and Sim Lim Square to find a new PC (I will be declaring bankruptcy very soon...) when my iBook was pronounced clinically dead. After much asking around and pretending I understood what the salesman was saying about RAM, DVD Multilayers, blah blah, blah, I decided to go back to PC. I would have given Mac and Steve Jobs a second chance to prove themselves but they didn't have stock. As Singaporeans would say, "What to do, lah!"
So I am now in front of my Toshiba laptop, and able to thank God that my iBook died on me while Singapore is in sale season, thus able to get a Toshiba at an incredibly low price (plus rebate) that I would never be able to get in the Philippines. This eased my grieving a bit. But am now a little bit more cautious about developing a personal relationship with machines. So I don't think I will be naming this one...
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Glimpses of Paradise
Manila. The mere mention of the name conjures up images of smog, trash, beggars, crime, traffic and all things negative. No wonder we see more and more people leaving Manila for either Western countries (read: clean and modern) or smaller towns (read: clean and safe).
I have yet to meet anyone who would admit to enjoying Manila living. I wouldn’t admit to that myself! Yet there are certain things that has made living in Manila bearable, and even fun.
Amidst the dirt and grime, if you look hard enough, you can see glimpses of paradise.
*On the daily commute:
a. Observe how you can confidently pass your jeepney fare from one passenger to the next and have it reach the driver even if you are sitting on the farthest spot.
b. Observe how, when you have a seemingly deaf driver, everyone helps you scream “para” when the driver zooms pass the spot you’re suppose to get down.
c. Observe how everyone helps bring the little old lady’s heavy basket into the jeep so she doesn’t have to struggle getting on the jeep and struggling with her heavy purchases at the same time.
d. Observe how drivers sometimes crack jokes at each other while trying to beat each other to the next stop.
e. Observe how many funny incidents you’ve experienced from your daily commutes.
*In your neighborhood:
a. Observe how you can still swap stories with your neighbor who sells yummy (and cheap) breakfast and lunch meals.
b. Observe how people can often patiently endure hellishly awful karaoke singing by obnoxious neighbors. (although I’ve heard of tragic endings that befall those who insist on singing ‘I Did It My Way.’)
c. Observe how children play with the simplest of toys with glee—hardly annoyed that they are robbed of the right to a proper playground.
*On the streets:
a. Observe how you can still find somebody who would gladly share their umbrella when you’re caught in a sudden downpour.
b. Observe how you can still find concerned citizens who will tell you to zip up your bag when you’ve forgotten to do so, and thus save you from pickpockets.
There could be more one can add to the list. Glimpses of paradise, touches of God’s grace---helping us endure the harsh realities of living in Manila.
I have yet to meet anyone who would admit to enjoying Manila living. I wouldn’t admit to that myself! Yet there are certain things that has made living in Manila bearable, and even fun.
Amidst the dirt and grime, if you look hard enough, you can see glimpses of paradise.
*On the daily commute:
a. Observe how you can confidently pass your jeepney fare from one passenger to the next and have it reach the driver even if you are sitting on the farthest spot.
b. Observe how, when you have a seemingly deaf driver, everyone helps you scream “para” when the driver zooms pass the spot you’re suppose to get down.
c. Observe how everyone helps bring the little old lady’s heavy basket into the jeep so she doesn’t have to struggle getting on the jeep and struggling with her heavy purchases at the same time.
d. Observe how drivers sometimes crack jokes at each other while trying to beat each other to the next stop.
e. Observe how many funny incidents you’ve experienced from your daily commutes.
*In your neighborhood:
a. Observe how you can still swap stories with your neighbor who sells yummy (and cheap) breakfast and lunch meals.
b. Observe how people can often patiently endure hellishly awful karaoke singing by obnoxious neighbors. (although I’ve heard of tragic endings that befall those who insist on singing ‘I Did It My Way.’)
c. Observe how children play with the simplest of toys with glee—hardly annoyed that they are robbed of the right to a proper playground.
*On the streets:
a. Observe how you can still find somebody who would gladly share their umbrella when you’re caught in a sudden downpour.
b. Observe how you can still find concerned citizens who will tell you to zip up your bag when you’ve forgotten to do so, and thus save you from pickpockets.
There could be more one can add to the list. Glimpses of paradise, touches of God’s grace---helping us endure the harsh realities of living in Manila.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Top Ten "Ickiest" Remarks Made to Singles
If you want your single friends to cringe..these are the Top Ten Comments to make...(and suggested answers for singles):
1. Don’t be too choosey!
(Hmm…shouldn’t I be, since we’re talking about “till death do us part?”)
2. There’s somebody I want you to meet…
(Psycho music plays..)
3. You should put on more make up and dress up more…
(If we should look like Barbie, how come they don’t look like Ken?)
4. You’re too smart, guys might get intimidated.
(Duh.)
5. You don’t pray hard enough.
(Gee…maybe I should also fast for 40 days…)
6. Don’t worry..just wait, the right guy will come...
(I might die if I hold my breathe too long..!)
7. Go out more often, maybe you’ll find somebody.
(Que horror! I didn’t know I look like I live in a cave!)
8. Hey, your younger brother got married before you did!
(If I knew it was a race, I would’ve grabbed the first guy I saw on the street and dragged him to the altar before my bro beat me to it!)
9. How about him?
(Psycho music gets louder.)
10. You should go and catch the bouquet!
(Sigh.)
To all singles (and married folks), carpe diem!
This is the day that the Lord has made, we will rejoice and be glad in it. Amen.
1. Don’t be too choosey!
(Hmm…shouldn’t I be, since we’re talking about “till death do us part?”)
2. There’s somebody I want you to meet…
(Psycho music plays..)
3. You should put on more make up and dress up more…
(If we should look like Barbie, how come they don’t look like Ken?)
4. You’re too smart, guys might get intimidated.
(Duh.)
5. You don’t pray hard enough.
(Gee…maybe I should also fast for 40 days…)
6. Don’t worry..just wait, the right guy will come...
(I might die if I hold my breathe too long..!)
7. Go out more often, maybe you’ll find somebody.
(Que horror! I didn’t know I look like I live in a cave!)
8. Hey, your younger brother got married before you did!
(If I knew it was a race, I would’ve grabbed the first guy I saw on the street and dragged him to the altar before my bro beat me to it!)
9. How about him?
(Psycho music gets louder.)
10. You should go and catch the bouquet!
(Sigh.)
To all singles (and married folks), carpe diem!
This is the day that the Lord has made, we will rejoice and be glad in it. Amen.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Missing Him
“I miss you.”
Three good friends sent me this same message today: by text message, by YM and by email. Such heartwarming words. Yet in them is a taste of both the sweet and the bitter.
These words have in them a sense of…
Longing to touch, to see, to talk or to simply BE with another.
Wishing that another is with you as you walk through certain patches in your life.
Frustration that a dear one is not within grasp or hugging distance.
I miss my friends, too, in varying degrees, in different occasions. There are days I wish I could gather all my friends together for a tight group hug that would squeeze away pain, sadness, loneliness and self-pity, and infuse joy, togetherness, peace, and faith.
In this imperfect world, that couldn’t happen. So it eases the frustration just to know that ‘I miss you” can also mean
becoming an important part of someone’s life.
being appreciated.
being longed for
being held dear.
being loved.
There’s One Person I have missed every single day since He made Himself known to me.
Glimpses of Him in His love letters strengthens my resolve to trudge on through rough patches.
The brush of His loving fingers on my cheek in the warm summer wind lightens my spirit.
His tight embrace through the arms of a friend assures His healing comfort in grief.
Still I miss Him. I long to see Him, to stare into His keen, loving eyes, clasp His hands and feel the scars against my palm. I long to lean my brow on His, feel the warmth of His presence near me and simply Be with Him.
Miracle of miracles, He misses me too. So much so that He won’t allow anything to stand in the way of my journey to get to Him. Every obstacle I face, I push away with His strength and walk on. Every time I am down, He buoys me up with His love.
The day when I finally see Him will definitely come.
My friends will be there as well.
We will all be together.
We won’t miss each other anymore.
I won’t miss Him anymore.
Three good friends sent me this same message today: by text message, by YM and by email. Such heartwarming words. Yet in them is a taste of both the sweet and the bitter.
These words have in them a sense of…
Longing to touch, to see, to talk or to simply BE with another.
Wishing that another is with you as you walk through certain patches in your life.
Frustration that a dear one is not within grasp or hugging distance.
I miss my friends, too, in varying degrees, in different occasions. There are days I wish I could gather all my friends together for a tight group hug that would squeeze away pain, sadness, loneliness and self-pity, and infuse joy, togetherness, peace, and faith.
In this imperfect world, that couldn’t happen. So it eases the frustration just to know that ‘I miss you” can also mean
becoming an important part of someone’s life.
being appreciated.
being longed for
being held dear.
being loved.
There’s One Person I have missed every single day since He made Himself known to me.
Glimpses of Him in His love letters strengthens my resolve to trudge on through rough patches.
The brush of His loving fingers on my cheek in the warm summer wind lightens my spirit.
His tight embrace through the arms of a friend assures His healing comfort in grief.
Still I miss Him. I long to see Him, to stare into His keen, loving eyes, clasp His hands and feel the scars against my palm. I long to lean my brow on His, feel the warmth of His presence near me and simply Be with Him.
Miracle of miracles, He misses me too. So much so that He won’t allow anything to stand in the way of my journey to get to Him. Every obstacle I face, I push away with His strength and walk on. Every time I am down, He buoys me up with His love.
The day when I finally see Him will definitely come.
My friends will be there as well.
We will all be together.
We won’t miss each other anymore.
I won’t miss Him anymore.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Mom's The Word
Ours is not a Hallmark Card-type family. Meaning, we don’t smile at each other goofily, hug each other and say, “I love you” every 30 seconds. (Yikes. I’d consider that type to be on the other end of the dynsfunctionality continuum!!)
If I start going Hall-marky on my family members, they’d most probably think I’m dying or have gone bonkers. I’d feel the same if they did that to me.
Before you start thinking we’re a heap of cold fish, I would have you know that I can go “Hall-marky” to friends who are into it. It all depends on the cultural norms of the relationship I am in.
But before I get carried away with that stuff (hmmm….this topic merits a lengthy blog), I’d just like to talk about my mom. As I said, we weren’t brought up amongst sunshine and roses. There were lots of things that happened when I was a kid that scarred me—but who doesn’t have childhood scars?
I credit my mom for bringing us up well despite the scars.
She was a tower of strength in tough times, yet she taught us not to lean on her so much that we become weak and spineless.
She made sure our wants and needs are provided for, forsaking her own, yet not so much as to make us giddy and greedy over worldly excesses.
She disciplines us when we misbehave, but just enough for us to know our boundaries and not so much that she breaks our spirit.
She cares for us when we were sick, but doesn’t fuss over us so much so that we become soft and whiney.
Mom is the only daughter of Chinese immigrants who came to make a new life in the Philippines many years ago. Her own childhood was empty of gentility and creature comforts. Rough was a word they lived by. All these toughened her spirit, but thankfully, not her heart.
I remember sharing a box of tissues with her over soppy movies. I also remember her being concerned for strangers even over small things, like when an old lady was at a loss on where to line up to buy food in a cafeteria. I also remember her going out of her way to act as peacemaker over many a family mess (hers or a friend’s).
Our house will never make it to the cover of Martha Stewart Living. There are stacks of magazines and newspapers piled high on certain strategic corners of the house—a sign that my mom has not gotten over her hoarding tendencies probably developed during her tough childhood days. The kitchen wall has a stain of oil splattered on it— a sign of the many delicious Cantonese dishes she’s whipped up for us. The curtains in the living room don’t match the sofa’s upholstery—a sign that she is more concerned with the fact that we had curtains and a living room to enjoy!
She’s no paragon of love modeled by silly smiling TV moms who lovingly feed their kids with MSG-smothered instant noodles. (Thank God!) She has shown her love in so many other ways—and the fact that three of us kids grew up relatively level-headed, confident and considerate of others, is enough proof of her love.
This blog would no doubt embarrass her (and me—if she reads it). Thankfully, she doesn’t know (or care!) what hi-tech nonsense a blog is. She’s too busy these days being the doting grandma to my two nieces.
I pray,
for the most unselfish human being I know,
a mom who never considered her own needs, only ours,
that as she now basks in the warm glow of her sunset years,
the Lord will be merciful to her and shower her
with much joy…and love,
no matter how soppy.
She deserves it.
If I start going Hall-marky on my family members, they’d most probably think I’m dying or have gone bonkers. I’d feel the same if they did that to me.
Before you start thinking we’re a heap of cold fish, I would have you know that I can go “Hall-marky” to friends who are into it. It all depends on the cultural norms of the relationship I am in.
But before I get carried away with that stuff (hmmm….this topic merits a lengthy blog), I’d just like to talk about my mom. As I said, we weren’t brought up amongst sunshine and roses. There were lots of things that happened when I was a kid that scarred me—but who doesn’t have childhood scars?
I credit my mom for bringing us up well despite the scars. She was a tower of strength in tough times, yet she taught us not to lean on her so much that we become weak and spineless.
She made sure our wants and needs are provided for, forsaking her own, yet not so much as to make us giddy and greedy over worldly excesses.
She disciplines us when we misbehave, but just enough for us to know our boundaries and not so much that she breaks our spirit.
She cares for us when we were sick, but doesn’t fuss over us so much so that we become soft and whiney.
Mom is the only daughter of Chinese immigrants who came to make a new life in the Philippines many years ago. Her own childhood was empty of gentility and creature comforts. Rough was a word they lived by. All these toughened her spirit, but thankfully, not her heart.
I remember sharing a box of tissues with her over soppy movies. I also remember her being concerned for strangers even over small things, like when an old lady was at a loss on where to line up to buy food in a cafeteria. I also remember her going out of her way to act as peacemaker over many a family mess (hers or a friend’s).
Our house will never make it to the cover of Martha Stewart Living. There are stacks of magazines and newspapers piled high on certain strategic corners of the house—a sign that my mom has not gotten over her hoarding tendencies probably developed during her tough childhood days. The kitchen wall has a stain of oil splattered on it— a sign of the many delicious Cantonese dishes she’s whipped up for us. The curtains in the living room don’t match the sofa’s upholstery—a sign that she is more concerned with the fact that we had curtains and a living room to enjoy!
She’s no paragon of love modeled by silly smiling TV moms who lovingly feed their kids with MSG-smothered instant noodles. (Thank God!) She has shown her love in so many other ways—and the fact that three of us kids grew up relatively level-headed, confident and considerate of others, is enough proof of her love.
This blog would no doubt embarrass her (and me—if she reads it). Thankfully, she doesn’t know (or care!) what hi-tech nonsense a blog is. She’s too busy these days being the doting grandma to my two nieces.
I pray,
for the most unselfish human being I know,
a mom who never considered her own needs, only ours,
that as she now basks in the warm glow of her sunset years,
the Lord will be merciful to her and shower her
with much joy…and love,
no matter how soppy.
She deserves it.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Six Things I Love About the Philippine Summer
1. Fire Trees in Full Bloom—nothing beats the sight of these magnificent trees that boasts of fierce fire-orange blooms. The best summer treat is a super long row of fire trees blazing the way somewhere on the Batangas-Manila route.
2. Halo-Halo- every thought freezes as the ice-cold sweet blend of ice shavings, milk, sweet beans, leche flan, nata de coco, gelatin, ube and ice cream melt deliciously on your mouth.
3. Long days—isn’t it great that you can enjoy an hour more of daylight before the sun sets? Just to delight in being able to find your way home by the sun’s light instead of the weak light of a streetlamp.
4. Children’s laughter—what could cheer one more than kids giggling and playing outside your door early in the morning because school’s out? 5. Dry clothes in a jiffy – what could be more convenient than having your wet laundry, hung up in the morning, dry by early afternoon?
6. Dry streets – what could be easier to walk on than streets free from flooding and mud and muck that rains inevitably bring?
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Sandpaper People
One of the most interesting relationships in life are those with people who have sandpaper-type personalities. Yes, you guess it, people who are gifted in rubbing others the wrong way.
Like sandpaper, they also have degrees of roughness. Some of them are so rough that people would rather jump in front of a rampaging bus rather than talk to them. Others are mildly rough but irritating enough for people to prefer eating raw garlic, if only to ward them off!
I remember countless times when I mentally winched and groaned in agony at the company of sandpaper people. If I grit my teeth some more, I might have to get dentures to replace my ground-out teeth...and charge the cost to these sandpaper people.
Real sandpaper loses its roughness after much sanding—the problem with a number of the sandpaper people I have come in contact with, they themselves don’t seem to lose their roughness! In fact, they seem blissfully unaware of their effect on people!
The sinner in me would absolutely love to smooth their rough edges by coming up with stinging comebacks like, “Here’s a hundred pesos, maybe you can go rent some poor desperate soul to talk to!” Or “You know, you look like you could win a role in one of those Harry Potter movies!” Or maybe, “We’d really like you to come with us, but we don’t have enough room in the car for your head.” I know they sound cruel—but let him who has never had a cruel thought cross his mind cast the first stone…!
Okey, so I shouldn’t be cruel. What would be a good alternative? Is it to mindlessly, silently chant, “They are good for us…they are good for us..” like a Good Friday penitent who whiplashes himself on the back or like a child being force-fed with liquid cod liver oil (ugh)?
But the Christian side of me, reminded by the grace of Jesus Christ, insists that I do not lash back, but to instead, turn the other cheek. Obviously, easier said than done. One way I have tried to turn the other cheek is to bite my tongue and not allow my homicidal thoughts to get the better of me, but as my anger gets bottled up—it doesn’t fizzle out like a punctured balloon—but waits to burst like a can of thoroughly shakened Coke. Imagine the mess when the can is opened.
I think I've been around long enough to realize that worse than getting hurt by sandpaper people is to have to clean up the mess after a burst of angry words. Contrary to what popular culture advises, revenge only leaves festering wounds and emaciated spirits (on both the sander and the sandee).
So I am striving on another way of dealing with sandpaper people—it’s a process a friend once told me about called Cognitive Reinterpretation, which simply means being positively philosophical when you are at the receiving end of sandpaper comments.
Meaning, instead of waiting for the right time to blow them away to Kingdom come with my own sandpaper-like comeback, I could:
1. …think, maybe they had a bad day.
2. …take the high road, and respond with dignity that is reflective of Christ.
3. …perceive it as God’s way of smoothing my own rough edges.
4. …reexamine my own life…maybe there is some truth in what they said about me and discovering that truth might help me become a better person.
5. …just let it go, life’s too short to be spent bickering and wallowing in anger.
6. …look at it with a dose of humor.
7. …try hard to look for something positive about the other person.
8. …remind myself that Christ was at the receiving end of much worse tongue-lashings.
9. …remind myself that they are as much an image of God as I am, and pray for healing for whatever wounds that torment their souls.
10. …if I have the nerve, follow the Matthew principle and speak the truth in love. If they do not respond, I release the matter to God.
Having done much of item number 4, I realize that my own sandpaper quality can be quite high. I realize I have hurt many people myself with my own brand of 'sanding.' I wish I could claim that my brand of ‘sanding’ is God’s way of smoothing their rough edges, but that would be the height of arrogance and the most pathetic excuse for lashing out.
This may be a worn out cliché, but all through my life as both a sander and sandee, I am deeply grateful that I am under a gracious Father who will lovingly work out my life and give me many “second chances” to smoothen out my many rough edges.
Like sandpaper, they also have degrees of roughness. Some of them are so rough that people would rather jump in front of a rampaging bus rather than talk to them. Others are mildly rough but irritating enough for people to prefer eating raw garlic, if only to ward them off!
I remember countless times when I mentally winched and groaned in agony at the company of sandpaper people. If I grit my teeth some more, I might have to get dentures to replace my ground-out teeth...and charge the cost to these sandpaper people.
Real sandpaper loses its roughness after much sanding—the problem with a number of the sandpaper people I have come in contact with, they themselves don’t seem to lose their roughness! In fact, they seem blissfully unaware of their effect on people!
The sinner in me would absolutely love to smooth their rough edges by coming up with stinging comebacks like, “Here’s a hundred pesos, maybe you can go rent some poor desperate soul to talk to!” Or “You know, you look like you could win a role in one of those Harry Potter movies!” Or maybe, “We’d really like you to come with us, but we don’t have enough room in the car for your head.” I know they sound cruel—but let him who has never had a cruel thought cross his mind cast the first stone…!
Okey, so I shouldn’t be cruel. What would be a good alternative? Is it to mindlessly, silently chant, “They are good for us…they are good for us..” like a Good Friday penitent who whiplashes himself on the back or like a child being force-fed with liquid cod liver oil (ugh)?
But the Christian side of me, reminded by the grace of Jesus Christ, insists that I do not lash back, but to instead, turn the other cheek. Obviously, easier said than done. One way I have tried to turn the other cheek is to bite my tongue and not allow my homicidal thoughts to get the better of me, but as my anger gets bottled up—it doesn’t fizzle out like a punctured balloon—but waits to burst like a can of thoroughly shakened Coke. Imagine the mess when the can is opened.
I think I've been around long enough to realize that worse than getting hurt by sandpaper people is to have to clean up the mess after a burst of angry words. Contrary to what popular culture advises, revenge only leaves festering wounds and emaciated spirits (on both the sander and the sandee).
So I am striving on another way of dealing with sandpaper people—it’s a process a friend once told me about called Cognitive Reinterpretation, which simply means being positively philosophical when you are at the receiving end of sandpaper comments.
Meaning, instead of waiting for the right time to blow them away to Kingdom come with my own sandpaper-like comeback, I could:
1. …think, maybe they had a bad day.
2. …take the high road, and respond with dignity that is reflective of Christ.
3. …perceive it as God’s way of smoothing my own rough edges.
4. …reexamine my own life…maybe there is some truth in what they said about me and discovering that truth might help me become a better person.
5. …just let it go, life’s too short to be spent bickering and wallowing in anger.
6. …look at it with a dose of humor.
7. …try hard to look for something positive about the other person.
8. …remind myself that Christ was at the receiving end of much worse tongue-lashings.
9. …remind myself that they are as much an image of God as I am, and pray for healing for whatever wounds that torment their souls.
10. …if I have the nerve, follow the Matthew principle and speak the truth in love. If they do not respond, I release the matter to God.
Having done much of item number 4, I realize that my own sandpaper quality can be quite high. I realize I have hurt many people myself with my own brand of 'sanding.' I wish I could claim that my brand of ‘sanding’ is God’s way of smoothing their rough edges, but that would be the height of arrogance and the most pathetic excuse for lashing out.
This may be a worn out cliché, but all through my life as both a sander and sandee, I am deeply grateful that I am under a gracious Father who will lovingly work out my life and give me many “second chances” to smoothen out my many rough edges.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Friday, April 21, 2006
Confessions of A House Plant Killer
I just killed another potted plant.
As I cleared a pile of files off the top of my office cabinet, a poor little dead houseplant revealed itself behind it. It looked vaguely familiar, then I remembered the robust looking plant my boss gave me a few months back. To brighten up my office, she said.
My officemates snickered knowingly. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they placed bets behind my back on how long before the plant dies.
I wonder how long it had been struggling for survival! The poor thing looked like it had been gasping for water for quite some time before it finally gave up its spirit. But it might not have been THAT long since there was still one tired-looking leaf left that remained green.
After pausing for a moment of silence in respect to the house plant’s demise, I dumped it in the thrash can with a twinge of regret. If only I had been less forgetful! Maybe next time….
Oh well, who am I fooling here?
I believe that what is important to you, you won’t likely forget, whether its an errand, an appointment, a pet or a plant.
Friends tease me and wonder if maybe it’s because I'm too much of a free spirit. That is, not wanting or allowing myself to be bounded by anything—whether it's a responsibility to another person, a plant or a dog.
That really unsettled me. I do fancy myself a free spirit, but I wouldn’t like to think of myself so free as to be irresponsible. As far as I can remember, I very rarely missed appointments, or deadlines.
I go back to my original premise. I think it is a matter of viewing something as important enough to merit attention. Not to say that keeping a spot of greenery in my room is not important—unfortunately, there were other, more important things that distracted me, like appointments and deadlines.
Oh well, keeping a goldfish is now officially out of the question.
Sigh.
As I cleared a pile of files off the top of my office cabinet, a poor little dead houseplant revealed itself behind it. It looked vaguely familiar, then I remembered the robust looking plant my boss gave me a few months back. To brighten up my office, she said.
My officemates snickered knowingly. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they placed bets behind my back on how long before the plant dies.
I wonder how long it had been struggling for survival! The poor thing looked like it had been gasping for water for quite some time before it finally gave up its spirit. But it might not have been THAT long since there was still one tired-looking leaf left that remained green.
After pausing for a moment of silence in respect to the house plant’s demise, I dumped it in the thrash can with a twinge of regret. If only I had been less forgetful! Maybe next time….
Oh well, who am I fooling here?
I believe that what is important to you, you won’t likely forget, whether its an errand, an appointment, a pet or a plant.
Friends tease me and wonder if maybe it’s because I'm too much of a free spirit. That is, not wanting or allowing myself to be bounded by anything—whether it's a responsibility to another person, a plant or a dog.
That really unsettled me. I do fancy myself a free spirit, but I wouldn’t like to think of myself so free as to be irresponsible. As far as I can remember, I very rarely missed appointments, or deadlines.
I go back to my original premise. I think it is a matter of viewing something as important enough to merit attention. Not to say that keeping a spot of greenery in my room is not important—unfortunately, there were other, more important things that distracted me, like appointments and deadlines.
Oh well, keeping a goldfish is now officially out of the question.
Sigh.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Addictions
Bejewelled.
Soduku.
Spider Solitaire.
Coffee.
Coke Light.
TV.
Email.
What do they have in common?
They are my addictions.
With any of the aforementioned games, I have to be mindful of the time spent on them or else I would use up half my waking moments playing, while downing Coke Light or sipping hot coffee. And if I am not careful, the other half of my waking moments would be spent watching TV or doing email, while downing Coke Light or sipping hot coffee.
On the bright side of things, I could be addicted to MORE stuff!
And I thank God I don’t have a TV—so coach potato-ing has become more of an incidental addiction.
Why is it so much easier to be addicted to “bad’ stuff rather than good ones?
Instead of being addicted to chocolates, why can’t we be addicted to vegetables?
Instead of being addicted to watching movies, why can’t we be addicted to helping the poor?
Instead of being addicted to on line games, why cant we be addicted to teaching kids at Sunday School?
Instead of being addicted to gossip, why can’t we be addicted to saying the nicest things to the most unlovable cad?
Wouldn’t this kind of addiction make the world a better, healthier place?
Well, at least, I have one newly-acquired “almost-but-not-quite” addiction that I certainly hope will end up to be a positive one: blogging.
And by the way, I have given up Coke Light…I have switched to Pepsi Max and had just triumphantly tore myself away from playing Bejewelled for 15 minutes.
Soduku.
Spider Solitaire.
Coffee.
Coke Light.
TV.
Email.
What do they have in common?
They are my addictions.
With any of the aforementioned games, I have to be mindful of the time spent on them or else I would use up half my waking moments playing, while downing Coke Light or sipping hot coffee. And if I am not careful, the other half of my waking moments would be spent watching TV or doing email, while downing Coke Light or sipping hot coffee.
On the bright side of things, I could be addicted to MORE stuff!
And I thank God I don’t have a TV—so coach potato-ing has become more of an incidental addiction.
Why is it so much easier to be addicted to “bad’ stuff rather than good ones?
Instead of being addicted to chocolates, why can’t we be addicted to vegetables?
Instead of being addicted to watching movies, why can’t we be addicted to helping the poor?
Instead of being addicted to on line games, why cant we be addicted to teaching kids at Sunday School?
Instead of being addicted to gossip, why can’t we be addicted to saying the nicest things to the most unlovable cad?
Wouldn’t this kind of addiction make the world a better, healthier place?
Well, at least, I have one newly-acquired “almost-but-not-quite” addiction that I certainly hope will end up to be a positive one: blogging.
And by the way, I have given up Coke Light…I have switched to Pepsi Max and had just triumphantly tore myself away from playing Bejewelled for 15 minutes.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Come and See
Come and see, come and see,
Come and see the King of love;
See the purple robe
And crown of thorns He wears.
Soldiers mock, rulers sneer
As He lifts the cruel cross;
Lone and friendless now,
He climbs towards the hill.
Come and weep, come and mourn
For your sin that pierced Him there;
So much deeper than the wounds
of thorn and nail.
All our pride, all our greed,
All our fallenness and shame;
And the Lord has laid the punishment on Him.
Man of heaven, born to earth
To restore us to Your heaven.
Here we bow in awe
Beneath Your searching eyes.
From Your tears comes our joy,
From Your death our life shall spring;
By Your resurrection power
We shall rise.
We worship at Your feet,
Where wrath and mercy meet,
And a guilty world is washed
By love’s pure stream.
For us He was made sin—
Oh, help me take it in.
Deep wounds of love cry out
‘Father, forgive.’
I worship, I worship
The Lamb who was slain.
-Graham Kendrick
Friday, April 07, 2006
No Cellphone for A Day
“I left my cellphone at home!”
After a thorough combing through of my huge bag where a PDA, a coin purse, a wallet, a make up kit and other knick knacks jostled for space, I came to this realization.
Then came a slight tightening of the chest, a slight shortness of breath, slight blurring of vision, and a slight trembling of hands.
Overreacting? Well, I DID say "slight!”
This wasn’t the first time. But the reaction had not changed (improved?). That sick helpless feeling still trickled down my spine and set my teeth on edge.
“What if there’s an emergency?”
“What if it’s a one-of-a-kind call that shouldn’t be missed?”
‘What if….?”
I realized this right before the workshop I was attending started. So for the first 15 minutes, I stared at the facilitator, his mouth was moving and in my mind’s eye, it seemed like he was saying, “You have a dozen missed calls and a gazillion text messages!!!! Read them! Accept the calls!! Now!!” Aarrrgghh!!
It took a while before I could re-attach my soul to my physical body and really BE at the workshop and not miles away, in my house, beside my bed, where my lonely cellphone is dying for my touch.
To make a long story short, I survived the day. Got home and read four (!) not-so-earth-shaking messages and zero missed calls.
No ego trip here, since my ego just tripped…and fell flat on its face. Hah! As if people’s lives would fall apart just because I can’t reply to their text messages A.S.A.P.! Who's important now?
Anyway, thank God, we don’t need cellphones to get to Him and thank God no human is put in charge of holding the world together in the first place.
Today’s forgetfulness did my soul some good.
After a thorough combing through of my huge bag where a PDA, a coin purse, a wallet, a make up kit and other knick knacks jostled for space, I came to this realization.
Then came a slight tightening of the chest, a slight shortness of breath, slight blurring of vision, and a slight trembling of hands.
Overreacting? Well, I DID say "slight!”
This wasn’t the first time. But the reaction had not changed (improved?). That sick helpless feeling still trickled down my spine and set my teeth on edge.
“What if there’s an emergency?”
“What if it’s a one-of-a-kind call that shouldn’t be missed?”
‘What if….?”
I realized this right before the workshop I was attending started. So for the first 15 minutes, I stared at the facilitator, his mouth was moving and in my mind’s eye, it seemed like he was saying, “You have a dozen missed calls and a gazillion text messages!!!! Read them! Accept the calls!! Now!!” Aarrrgghh!!
It took a while before I could re-attach my soul to my physical body and really BE at the workshop and not miles away, in my house, beside my bed, where my lonely cellphone is dying for my touch.
To make a long story short, I survived the day. Got home and read four (!) not-so-earth-shaking messages and zero missed calls.
No ego trip here, since my ego just tripped…and fell flat on its face. Hah! As if people’s lives would fall apart just because I can’t reply to their text messages A.S.A.P.! Who's important now?
Anyway, thank God, we don’t need cellphones to get to Him and thank God no human is put in charge of holding the world together in the first place.
Today’s forgetfulness did my soul some good.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
My Non-Negotiables (Revised)
As you can see from the title, I have revised this list. After much thought, I realize these are not values in the sense of 'being' or character values (what makes you tick or what ticks you off) but these are aspired operation values, that is, values of 'doing' (how you tick). As for character values, am going on a retreat, so will think through that list and blog them one of these days...meanwhile....this it it! I hope that sharing these will help you think through your own.
Caveat: Some of the operational values listed are already in operation in my life, while others are those I aspire to have and am committed to work on. After all, we are all works in progress, aren’t we?
1. Honest Self-Evaluation--Aware of my imperfections and wanting to always be made aware of my blind spots, I constantly seek to evaluate myself, my actions, my reactions and motives in the light of what blesses people and helps me grow as a person.
2. Liberating Boundaries--I want to rid myself of the “Messiah” complex. I understand and accept my limitations and release matters that are beyond my control to God.
3. Responsible and Strategic Stewardship—My fear is that one day, I will look back to a life full of “if only's.” I seek to wisely manage my time, talents, relationships, resources, and health in the light of what benefits the Kingdom.
4. Synergistic Relationship with God and Man—With an understanding that God is an all-wise, all-knowing Father who wants ultimately what is best for me and for His Kingdom, I constantly strive to know Him more, love Him deeper and seek His counsel in all things.
I also understand that no man is an island. Man thrives and grows in the context of relationships. I seek to learn to love, encourage and bless others—helping them bear fruit for His kingdom.
5. Sense of Humor--Humor has been a healing balm that cured many a heartache. It is a gift from God. I insist on using it. I insist on looking at the lighter side of life…to laugh at myself, laugh with others and be reminded to take myself lightly and take God seriously.
6. Analytical Mindset--Modern society offers many attractive concepts and trends. Some of them seem right superficially, some seem wrong at first glance. I fear finding myself following the Pied Piper and regretting too late. I seek to think through and analyze ideas, concepts and trends in the light of Scripture and God’s character.
7. Apportioning God’s Boundless Grace—I am keenly aware of my own imperfections and know that there will be times when I will fail. Instead of quitting, I unashamedly insist on going on, understanding that God in His grace extends forgiveness and gives second chances to those who fail.
I realize that there are operational values that I am holding on that may not be helpful in my growth as a person--these I have resisted putting into this list. I am symbolically (and hopefully in practice as well) letting go of them.
Caveat: Some of the operational values listed are already in operation in my life, while others are those I aspire to have and am committed to work on. After all, we are all works in progress, aren’t we?
1. Honest Self-Evaluation--Aware of my imperfections and wanting to always be made aware of my blind spots, I constantly seek to evaluate myself, my actions, my reactions and motives in the light of what blesses people and helps me grow as a person.
2. Liberating Boundaries--I want to rid myself of the “Messiah” complex. I understand and accept my limitations and release matters that are beyond my control to God.
3. Responsible and Strategic Stewardship—My fear is that one day, I will look back to a life full of “if only's.” I seek to wisely manage my time, talents, relationships, resources, and health in the light of what benefits the Kingdom.
4. Synergistic Relationship with God and Man—With an understanding that God is an all-wise, all-knowing Father who wants ultimately what is best for me and for His Kingdom, I constantly strive to know Him more, love Him deeper and seek His counsel in all things.
I also understand that no man is an island. Man thrives and grows in the context of relationships. I seek to learn to love, encourage and bless others—helping them bear fruit for His kingdom.
5. Sense of Humor--Humor has been a healing balm that cured many a heartache. It is a gift from God. I insist on using it. I insist on looking at the lighter side of life…to laugh at myself, laugh with others and be reminded to take myself lightly and take God seriously.
6. Analytical Mindset--Modern society offers many attractive concepts and trends. Some of them seem right superficially, some seem wrong at first glance. I fear finding myself following the Pied Piper and regretting too late. I seek to think through and analyze ideas, concepts and trends in the light of Scripture and God’s character.
7. Apportioning God’s Boundless Grace—I am keenly aware of my own imperfections and know that there will be times when I will fail. Instead of quitting, I unashamedly insist on going on, understanding that God in His grace extends forgiveness and gives second chances to those who fail.
I realize that there are operational values that I am holding on that may not be helpful in my growth as a person--these I have resisted putting into this list. I am symbolically (and hopefully in practice as well) letting go of them.
Monday, April 03, 2006
A Conspiracy Against the Carless
As I edge my way to the footbridge after work, I find myself a hair’s breath away from speeding buses and motorcycles. If they swerve just half an inch on my side of the road—well, we will then have to include “humans” somewhere in the definition of roadkill.
If you’re thinking, "Hello! Why don’t you use the sidewalk?” Then, you, dear reader, are obviously not from my beloved motherland, the Philippines. In most streets here, the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) and Metro Manila Development Authority (MMDA) deem it more “efficient” for pedestrians to “share” their paths with motorists, food vendors, ukay -ukay entrepreneurs, vulcanizing shops, PLDT and DPWH diggings, carparks for shops and banks, etc etc etc. Sigh.
Anyway, once I get to the footbridge, I prepare for a long climb. For some of us who lead somewhat sedentary lives, this exercise may be welcomed—but I wonder about the old man with a limp who struggles his way up with his cane, or the vegetable vendors who have to heave their carts and goods up the stairs—if you are on a wheelchair, forget about crossing! Because pedestrian crossings, along with traffic lights are fast becoming extinct…all in the name of less traffic, never mind the pedestrian.
When you get on the bus, there is a sign that says, “Sa Fast Lane lang po tayo pag hindi pumayag ang MMDA mag ilalim.” (If MMDA does not allow us to use the underpass, we will have to use the fast (ehem) lane.) Meaning, the bus you ride will have to shoulder its way through millions of other buses that bottleneck at EDSA-Cubao because the underpass is just for private motorists, company vans, and anyone who can afford to take the taxi! Sigh (again).
And please don’t get me started about what the situation is like when there’s a downpour!
Sometimes, I have the blessing of hitching a ride with a “car-red” friend, and as I gaze out to the pedestrians and commuters edging their way down the roads or frantically dodging cars to get to the jeep they want to ride, my heart goes out to them.
Well, there are two good things that come out of this which the anti-carless conspirators can never rob me of:
A. Developing a sympathetic spirit (at least to fellow carless citizens)
B. Deeper understanding of what it means to step out in faith!
So there!
If you’re thinking, "Hello! Why don’t you use the sidewalk?” Then, you, dear reader, are obviously not from my beloved motherland, the Philippines. In most streets here, the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) and Metro Manila Development Authority (MMDA) deem it more “efficient” for pedestrians to “share” their paths with motorists, food vendors, ukay -ukay entrepreneurs, vulcanizing shops, PLDT and DPWH diggings, carparks for shops and banks, etc etc etc. Sigh.
Anyway, once I get to the footbridge, I prepare for a long climb. For some of us who lead somewhat sedentary lives, this exercise may be welcomed—but I wonder about the old man with a limp who struggles his way up with his cane, or the vegetable vendors who have to heave their carts and goods up the stairs—if you are on a wheelchair, forget about crossing! Because pedestrian crossings, along with traffic lights are fast becoming extinct…all in the name of less traffic, never mind the pedestrian.
When you get on the bus, there is a sign that says, “Sa Fast Lane lang po tayo pag hindi pumayag ang MMDA mag ilalim.” (If MMDA does not allow us to use the underpass, we will have to use the fast (ehem) lane.) Meaning, the bus you ride will have to shoulder its way through millions of other buses that bottleneck at EDSA-Cubao because the underpass is just for private motorists, company vans, and anyone who can afford to take the taxi! Sigh (again).
And please don’t get me started about what the situation is like when there’s a downpour!
Sometimes, I have the blessing of hitching a ride with a “car-red” friend, and as I gaze out to the pedestrians and commuters edging their way down the roads or frantically dodging cars to get to the jeep they want to ride, my heart goes out to them.
Well, there are two good things that come out of this which the anti-carless conspirators can never rob me of:
A. Developing a sympathetic spirit (at least to fellow carless citizens)
B. Deeper understanding of what it means to step out in faith!
So there!
Friday, March 31, 2006
From 12 to 39
“…He has been a missionary in the Philippines for 39 years..”
That statement was understandably followed by muted oohs and ahhs from the audience during the ATS commencement exercises earlier tonight. The person that illicited the murmurs of admiration was Rev. Mike Harrison. Kuya Mike to many of us. He was conferred an honorary doctorate by ATS for his many contributions to Christian ministry all these years. I wrote in my ‘congrats’ card to him, ‘Kuya Mike, you deserve it!’
And deserve it he does.
39 years—that’s like the whole of...uhm…somebody’s life! Well, almost the whole…
39 years—gasp! I myself have been serving full time in Christian ministry for about 12 years—not counting the arduous time in seminary. And already, there are days I feel spent, battle-scarred, tired and almost ready to throw in the towel.
What’s Kuya Mike’s secret? 39 years of service and he doesn’t look anything like how I feel in my 12 years of ministry. He still retains that élan and youthful passion for God that I am sure, compelled him and Ate Betty to Asia all those years ago.
If I can guess correctly, the secret is simply not quitting. Did they ever think of quitting? I actually never got to ask Kuya Mike and Ate Betty that. Maybe they did—maybe they do have times when they felt like throwing in the towel, they just didn’t give in to the feeling.
I would like to believe that like little ol’ me, they did feel that way too…and maybe, like them, I can also consider quitting but not give in to the feeling.
Maybe, like them, I can just hold on to God’s grace and keep on, keep on, and who knows?
Maybe one day, it’ll be 39 years later and I will still be found serving with élan and youthful passion for God, and who knows?
Maybe someday, I will be able to hear people gasp when they find out I have been serving for 39 years, and who knows?
Maybe, this will help them wonder about their own service to God, and maybe they will be encouraged to serve and not quit too…
Thank you, Lord for people like Kuya Mike and Ate Betty...thank you for how You use them to inspire us to continue serving You and not throw in the towel.
That statement was understandably followed by muted oohs and ahhs from the audience during the ATS commencement exercises earlier tonight. The person that illicited the murmurs of admiration was Rev. Mike Harrison. Kuya Mike to many of us. He was conferred an honorary doctorate by ATS for his many contributions to Christian ministry all these years. I wrote in my ‘congrats’ card to him, ‘Kuya Mike, you deserve it!’
And deserve it he does.
39 years—that’s like the whole of...uhm…somebody’s life! Well, almost the whole…
39 years—gasp! I myself have been serving full time in Christian ministry for about 12 years—not counting the arduous time in seminary. And already, there are days I feel spent, battle-scarred, tired and almost ready to throw in the towel.
What’s Kuya Mike’s secret? 39 years of service and he doesn’t look anything like how I feel in my 12 years of ministry. He still retains that élan and youthful passion for God that I am sure, compelled him and Ate Betty to Asia all those years ago.
If I can guess correctly, the secret is simply not quitting. Did they ever think of quitting? I actually never got to ask Kuya Mike and Ate Betty that. Maybe they did—maybe they do have times when they felt like throwing in the towel, they just didn’t give in to the feeling.
I would like to believe that like little ol’ me, they did feel that way too…and maybe, like them, I can also consider quitting but not give in to the feeling.
Maybe, like them, I can just hold on to God’s grace and keep on, keep on, and who knows?
Maybe one day, it’ll be 39 years later and I will still be found serving with élan and youthful passion for God, and who knows?
Maybe someday, I will be able to hear people gasp when they find out I have been serving for 39 years, and who knows?
Maybe, this will help them wonder about their own service to God, and maybe they will be encouraged to serve and not quit too…
Thank you, Lord for people like Kuya Mike and Ate Betty...thank you for how You use them to inspire us to continue serving You and not throw in the towel.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
A Change of Plans
This blog should have debuted two days ago. On my birthday.
I was already sorting through stuff in my brain on what I would write as my very first blog entry. I wanted that blog entry to be one special way of celebrating my birthday.
That didn’t happen. My laptop got sick, the office DSL connection was also down with ‘flu. So for the past five days or so, I was tragically, utterly off line. That set me to thinking in the most clichéd manner, “Why, Lord?? Don’t you want me to blog and bless?!”
Well, I figured, the reason is simple. He wanted me to reflect on one certain truth on my birthday: I have other, better plans for you.
For the past 30+ years, that seemed to be the pattern: He has better plans for me.
I wanted to take up Fine Arts in college—but He had other plans, so I ended up taking Communication Arts—and “discovered” my giftings in the process.
I went to Manila wanting to start a career in Advertising—but He had other plans—I ended up working in a IndoChinese Refugee Camp in Bataan—and “discovered” my potentials.
A closed door here, an open gate there, a nudge to the left and push to the right…all these altered plans have led me to where I am now.
It doesn’t mean I like them all the time. I have my share of heartaches and complaints too. But its been quite a ride. I don’t know what’s going to happen next but am sure it will be way better than how I would have planned it to be.
So on this belated birthday blog, celebrate with me, the fact that an infinitely wiser God always has other, better plans for me, for us.
“For I know the plans I have for you.” Declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ Jeremiah29:11
I was already sorting through stuff in my brain on what I would write as my very first blog entry. I wanted that blog entry to be one special way of celebrating my birthday.
That didn’t happen. My laptop got sick, the office DSL connection was also down with ‘flu. So for the past five days or so, I was tragically, utterly off line. That set me to thinking in the most clichéd manner, “Why, Lord?? Don’t you want me to blog and bless?!”
Well, I figured, the reason is simple. He wanted me to reflect on one certain truth on my birthday: I have other, better plans for you.
For the past 30+ years, that seemed to be the pattern: He has better plans for me.
I wanted to take up Fine Arts in college—but He had other plans, so I ended up taking Communication Arts—and “discovered” my giftings in the process.
I went to Manila wanting to start a career in Advertising—but He had other plans—I ended up working in a IndoChinese Refugee Camp in Bataan—and “discovered” my potentials.
A closed door here, an open gate there, a nudge to the left and push to the right…all these altered plans have led me to where I am now.
It doesn’t mean I like them all the time. I have my share of heartaches and complaints too. But its been quite a ride. I don’t know what’s going to happen next but am sure it will be way better than how I would have planned it to be.
So on this belated birthday blog, celebrate with me, the fact that an infinitely wiser God always has other, better plans for me, for us.
“For I know the plans I have for you.” Declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ Jeremiah29:11
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