Marang, Bay!

What’s that smell?

Whoa! there it is again! Whew!

What other fruit would give such a strong olfactory impression other than the (in)famous durian? Everywhere you go now in Davao, and many other cities in Mindanao, you see them precariously piled high in all their thorny splendour. If the aroma is not a scent to behold for you, then maybe the sight does! Not many fruits look as interesting as a durian—and that’s why it gets a lot of attention--and loyalty from fellow Mindanaoans.

So, I am afraid that I have been subjected to much persecution because I dare to admit that I don’t eat durian. I like Marang better—that declaration should be enough to assure people that I am still very much a true blue Mindanaoan, but no, sir, it doesn’t!

I don’t understand why the lowly Marang is overlooked and underrated. Hey if you give the Marang a chance, you’ll realize that it has better qualities than the overrated durian!

Firstly, its just as odd-looking as the durian but not as harmful. If you accidentally drop a Marang on your foot, you’ll be a bit sticky but you’re okey--but if it’s a durian….(never mind, don’t want to get into too much gore here.)

Secondly, its aroma is definitely not going to make you wrinkle your nose or (to some others) violently sick. Its mild scent invites people to come and savor it, unlike the durian who boldly proclaims its aroma (or odor, depends who’s smelling) but delivers quite a different taste.

Thirdly, check out its mild, sweet taste! Why go for the bitter zing when life’s already giving you heaps of that? Just let the Marang's sweet taste melt in your mouth and you’re in 7th heaven.

Fourthly, with Marang, nobody’s going to run away when you suddenly burp! While the durian has been known to break up marriages…(alright! temporarily, at least..!)

May the Marang get better press from now on, it deserves the honor!

Where I Lay My Head

*written October 11 in GenSan

I just woke up from the third bed I’ve slept in since I came to Gen San 7 days ago…another new bed, well-slept. If I were asked to count how many beds I’ve slept in since I left home to work, I would never be able to tell!

My six-month stay in Thailand a couple of years ago is pretty much a description of my life: wandering from one place to another by plane, train, tuktuk and car and sleeping in a grand total of 36 beds.

I’ve slept on a rock-hard mattress on the floor, on a lopsided bed ready to collapse anytime, on an upper bunk of a very shaky bunk bed (look ma, no railings!), on a rickety bed of a chugging train, in a sleeping bag on a breezy bamboo floor, on a lovely, firm queen-sized bed. I’ve slept on a bed with a bat hanging upside down above it. I’ve slept on a bed possessively claimed by the owner’s cat. I’ve slept on a bed with a lizard crawling up my leg in the middle of the night.

Having slept on so many beds, you’d think I can sleep well anywhere. How I wish that were true! The thing is, along with the different beds, comes different situations, different conditions and so, different sleep.

In all this time, I can only remember one particular bed on which I not only had wonderful, deep restful sleep, but also the most fantastic Technicolor dreams that leave me with a wonderful feeling when I woke up! I told my host this and she said that she prays over her guest room—that the Lord will grant anyone who uses that room good, restful sleep. Isn’t that a wonderful thing! But then, that was just for three days...and then I had to move on to another city, and another bed.

It must be nice to sleep on just one comfortable, sturdy, queen-sized bed for the rest of your life—a bed I can often come home to---my own. A bed I can dream dreams in, a bed I can lie down on happily falling asleep as I see my dreams fulfilled. A bed that I can fall asleep crying on, like a close friend’s shoulder and wake up comforted. There’s no one bed who has seen me through all my good and bad days—no bed I have shared lots of memories with.

Interestingly, one Man had it worse! He said, “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.”( Matthew 8:20)

Not an easy thing, to follow such a Master. But I am looking forward to one day having my own bed, enjoying good rest and the Master’s presence forever.

That Off Line Feeling

I'm hanging out at my aunt's place in Gen San the past two days and its been pretty laid back, just the pace I like my vacations to be. But what was really curious was my reaction when I found out they had DSL!

You see, I had been in Gen San for about a week already, but the first few days, I was holding a workshop and staying in a place where the outside world was only accessible either by my cellphone or by tricycle. When my hosts mentioned this, I was quite cool about it. In fact, I thought, this would be great since it will give me a chance to just disconnect and focus on the workshop plus throw in some retreat time for myself. Well, the 4-day stay went quickly enough and I was pretty proud of myself for staying nonchalantly disconnected all that time.

Until I got to my Aunt's place...with the workshop done and nothing else to focus on but thoughts of next week's work schedule...I started to get that "I-must-get-on-line" feeling. I wondered when the twicthy feeling would pass since I was almost positive that I would have to stay off-line for a few more days--since I assumed that my Aunt didnt know a thing about going on line--until I saw their computer and my cousin typing away on it...and ventured to ask the all-important question, "Do you have DSL?"

The feeling I had must be similar to that of a coke addict finally taking a hit after days of trying to stay clean...hmmm...not a pleasant comparison, but I have to admit that this has become sort of an addiction. Sigh.

So here I am on-line, relief flowing through my veins as I checked my inbox and answered all the important(?) emails. I had thought I would simply spend my time at my aunt's place resting and enjoying "other stuff" that being off line would bring me. So I am not sure this is a good thing...being on line that is.

I hope I can go off-line after this...though I would'nt bet on it...would somebody please start a webaholic anonymous group???? On line???

Babel-Tongued

“Di tsai iya ba kung asa ang pinakalami nga restaurant dito sa Davao?”
“Ay, hindi ko baya alam, better siguro kung di khi m’ng Bebbs na lang.”

If you are not a Cebuano-speaking, Davao-born Chinese, you would be scratching your head, wondering what the above gibberish is all about. You might be able to guess part of it, but would be hard pressed to figure what language it is exactly.

Well, there’s no name to it, but just to say that the above exchange is a concoction of 4 languages: Hokkien, Cebuano, English, Tagalog. It can get more complicated than that, depending on who you talk to, what region you are in and what context.

I guess if you are an overseas born whatever—Chinese, Indian, Filipino…etc. etc., you’d end up becoming as linguistically mixed up as I am. People are so impressed that I speak 5 or so languages (throw in Cantonese to the above list)...what they don’t realize is that I am a jill-of-all-trades but a mistress of none: I am not fluent in any of them!

To my shame, I can only say that the language I am most comfortable with speaking and writing in, is English. Shame because that shouldn’t be…my ethnicity is Cantonese Chinese, so why can’t I be identified as such in my speech?

But the world has grown much more complicated than that.

Globalization has done a lot of good things for the world, but then it also has its setbacks…like producing mixed-up people (yours truly as Exhibit A) who don’t exactly know who they are, and where they belong.

Finding my center in Christ has been a real relief for me—this has helped me celebrate instead of denigrate my uniquely blended identity (and embrace the eccentricities that come with it!). His truth has somehow helped me identify and (try to) live out the best of who I am….obviously a lot of tweaking is still called for, but I am thankful that He has given me an identity that I can hold on to.

Simple Life, Simple Problems

Locker Room Wisdom

The only thing I had expected to gain from going to the gym was fitness. Little did I realize that there was much more to gain, like advices you get or overhear in the locker room. Some are wacky, some ironic, some true but all are interesting, to say the least. Here’s some I’ve picked up…(you supply the comments)

1. To gain your ideal weight, eat only meat buns for one whole week.
2. The best (and cheapest) steak in town is just a block away from the gym (tip from one of the gym instructors).
3. Instead of eating chocolates when you’re hungry, try bananas.
4. Exercise more so your husband won’t go looking for another woman.
5. You must look stylish while you exercise…buy these exercise costumes from me!
6. When you exercise a lot, you’ll be so addicted to it that you'll look for it everyday.
7. Gym instructors usually punish you on Mondays with high impact exercises for your lazy, pig-out weekends.
8. Manang (Big Sister) Alma, the cleaning lady, sells the best bibingka (rice cakes).
9. The thin ones are often addicted to exercise...the fat ones have to drag themselves to the gym!
10. You must wear bras with maximum support if you are going to jump up and down at aero!

Born Yesterday(?)

This morning, I woke up to the sound of my cellphone’s robotic text tone. Trying to clear the sleep fog from my brain, I checked the message and boy, did the message zap the fog away fast!

“PHIL. CHARITY FOUNDATION inform (sic) that ur CELPHONE NO# had won (800,000.00) During our 50th annvrsry text ur NME, AGE& ADDS. 4MORE INFO, CAL NOW, REY T. OSMENA. +639286087535”

Whoa! Brain jumpstarts….
Hmmm…Brain starts whirring…
Oh…Brain realizes that owner of brain is not born yesterday…
Yeah, right…Brain snickers…
Duh! Brain wonders if people actually believe is kind of baloney…

But after that less than 30-second-knee-jerk cerebral processing, I began to wonder again, but what if…?

As they say, there’s a sucker born every minute…I don’t consider myself one, but in this case, I decided there’s no harm checking this one out, but not by replying to Rey T. Osmena and thereby biting the bait. I texted my dear lawyer-friend and got her reply:

“That’s a hoax. Call PCSO and ask if there is such a foundation and promo.”

Well, for a minute I began fantasizing on what to do with 800,000.00.. the currency was indicated, so I started wondering…

Yen? Yikes, hope not…
Peso? Hmmm, okey lang
US Dollars? Hmmm….wish wish…
British Pound? Hmmm….Yes! Yes!

Oh, well…no harm done. But I wonder about others who’ve been suckered into this scam…I wonder how much they ended up losing.

Well, to Rey T. Osmena, (or whoever you are using somebody else’s name), you will definitely reap what you sow.

Beware of Korean Dramas!!

Since I’ve been based in Davao for the past three months, I have spent my bonding times with mom watching Korean dramas on DVDs. I have had friends tell me that they are addictive, and that they have great plots. Since I have never really been a soap fan, I never bothered to check out how true (or false) my friends’ claims were.

And then I came home to a mom who's on a self-imposed retirement—and filling most of her time watching Korean soaps (the DVDs are faithfully supplied by her friendly suki Abdul in downtown Davao). So how do I bond with her when her eyes seldom stray from the TV???

The first one I watched with her was a weepy one called ‘Spring Waltz.’ It just happened that I liked it and got really hooked—even to the point of enduring the really dragging parts of the soap.



The English subtitles were impressive on the first half…so by the time the English went from bad to undecipherable, I was already far too emotionally involved with the romance of Eun Jung and Jae Ha to break away. But since the weepy tale did have a good plot, good-looking actors (a must for me, after all, this kind of stuff is supposed to be escapism, right??) and it ended happily, nobody had to stick a gun on my head to get me started on the next Korean soap.

That’s how it started to get frustrating.

The next one was 16 dragging, weepy episodes long (my mom cried at every episode) and, que horror! the lovers both died at the end!! Argggghhhh!!! How could the producers of the show be so sadistic as to pull my emotions up and down like a yoyo through 16 episodes only to send me crashing at the end?!

Because I am an idiot, I allowed myself to be conned one more time. I found myself shattered, yet again, when the heroine died on me, leaving me dismayed at having to cope with another tragic end!

So this is a word of caution to all of you who are still on the verge of getting hooked—if you don’t want to fall prey to sadistic Korean directors, check out the ending first!!!

Ok, I think I’d better get back to having a life now…

PS. Check out Super Rookie though, it’s funny, has superb English subtitles, the lead actors are good looking, and most importantly…it has a happy ending!


PPS. At least I got to bond very well with mom…and this is still my (best) excuse for watching Korean dramas…

Cherish, Dont Cling

In the past three months, I saw:
My laptop crashing.
My eyeglasses snap.
My wristwatch break.
My thumbdrive not working.

Weird that all of them should go, one after the other. In a span of a few months. For every object that broke, I kept saying to myself, these are just “things.” There’s more to life than “things.”

Knowing this has not kept me from feeling ticked off, to say the least. It’s not just that they happened one after the other, or that this has set me back financially—big time, but it's more the sentiments I’ve attached to these things. Each one has a special reason for being bought, and as I use them, memories pile up to make each thing more valuable than the price I paid for them.

I can choose to go on and feel miserable about it—hey, its fun to wallow in self-pity. But I have a life. So I choose to move on. I realize that these things could’ve been broken relationships, friends who’ve moved, or dear ones who’ve left this life. I’ve had my share of these as well…and I chose to move on as well.

But I have been learned somewhere along my journey, to
Cherish…family, friends, memories, things with special meaning, and not cling on to them, instead, cling on to…God’s Word, His love and His promises.

CONGRATULATIONS, 24!!!

Cheers to the Greatest TV Show on Earth! You deserve the Emmys!

Thoughts of Heaven

How would you feel if you were told that you only have 5 days to live?

That happened to a friend’s friend. And as we prayed for her, I felt, in a very strange way, an overwhelming sense of excitement. A bit twisted of me to think this… I guess it sounds twisted to those who are left behind, they will feel the pain of loss. The one who has left would interestingly, will feel the pleasure of gaining a face to face meeting with the glorious Maker…for eternity!

Even with all of what this life has to offer, it cannot compare with what life would be in the Great Beyond.

What if I was the one hit with cancer and told that I only had a couple of days left? I was reeling a bit at the thought of getting off this life-train and entering the pearly gates, but not with terror but with thrill. But then again, this is all hypothetical. I might feel a bit differently when the time comes to meet my Maker.

But let’s just say this would happen..

Let me see…things I would miss when I get to heaven would be…a friend’s shoulder when I need one to cry on, a warm shower after coming in drenched from the rain, a hot cup of coffee that blasts away the leftover sleepiness in the morning, my mom’s home cooking after having to eat commercial junk while living alone in Manila, a good belly-aching laugh after a really stressful day, a sense of wonder seeing how God miraculously provides after I lose something…

It’s all the “bad” stuff that makes the “good” stuff even better. I guess that is what makes this life “fun” to live: the good stuff that is so much appreciated because of the bad ones that happen.

In heaven, there won’t be any bad stuff that would help me appreciate the good ones. But by then, I guess it won’t matter anyway, I’d be too awed by all the good stuff to even think of anything else.

“Now the dwelling of God is with men, and He will live with them. They will be his people, and God Himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear form their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain…(Rev. 21:3-4)

Color Blind

I spent one lazy afternoon watching a romantic comedy on DVD called Guess Who which was about the snags of a cross-racial relationship (ie. white man and black woman). As I snickered at the hilarious antics of the black dad and his daughter’s white boyfriend, my niece, Nikka came in and out of the bedroom, glancing once in a while at the movie.

At one point, she stopped and stared at a scene and asked, “Why is the dad angry with that man?” I absently replied, “Oh, he doesn’t want that man to marry his daughter.” She puzzled over the scene of the dark-skinned father-daughter pair with the sparkling white boy sandwiched between them, and wondered out loud, “Why doesn’t he like the boy?”

Out of the mouth of babes.

I would have thought it was obvious just by looking at the stark contrast of skin colors...until I realized I was talking to a child. Nikka, at age 8, is still color blind. She still doesn’t have the grown ups’ tendencies of judging people by their externals.

How amazingly peaceful the world would be if we have not allowed the innocence of childhood to be polluted by the so-called wisdom of adulthood.

That short exchange with my niece forced me to look into myself: How "un-colorblind" am I? Do I size people up by what I physically see? Do I treat people differently simply because their skin colors are shades darker (or lighter) than mine?

A few days later, I watched another movie. It was also a color-themed movie but with a darker tone: Crash. The movie centered on two tumultuous days in the lives of certain individuals in Los Angeles, where the color of one’s skin becomes the trigger for the tumult. In some sense, it was painful to watch that movie as it depicts, in an “in your face” way, how all of us have a bit of racism coursing through our blood.

The tagline of the movie was “You think you know who you are. You have no idea.” Indeed.

We may not exhibit our racism in violent ways but it is there, just below the surface, waiting or something or someone to trigger it. Can we ever really return to the innocence of childhood and gain back the gift of colorblindness?

My Boyfriend CK

I realize I will be eating my words with this blog, but the flash of inspiration I’ve had while riding the bus home just was too hard to resist. So, here goes…

I have decided to take the risk of naming my laptop. I know that taking this new “relationship” to the next level means more emotional investment on my part…but I’m hoping that this will help me move on from grieving over my iBook, which still holds a special place in my heart (which goes to show that NOT naming it didn’t make it easier to cope with the loss…sniff, sniff.)

Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce to you: “CK.” Nope, not for Calvin Klein since I’m not really a fashionista…but Clark Kent! Why Clark Kent? Well, it flew in to save me when my iBook crashed, just when Superman was (and still is) all the rage. My laptop has a bit of the “superman” feel to it with its handsome steely look and sturdy feel.

So why CK and not Superman? Well—it’s simple, I would like to go for some subtlety with a dash of style. I realize that unlike the real guy, this one isn’t bulletproof and won’t be able to leap tall buildings but I do hope it will love me as much as Superman loves Lois Lane…sigh!

Now to make sure there’s no Lex Luthor or kryptonite around…

On Goodbyes and Hellos

I looked at this dear couple whom I have come to know and love for the past 6 years, and felt a lump form on my throat. This evening could be the last time I’ll ever see them. They are leaving for their home country soon.

I’ve never bothered to keep track of how many times I‘ve said goodbye. And at the rate I’m going, I don’t think I can anyway.

But saying it often doesn’t make it any easier, obviously. It actually makes it harder.

In saying goodbye, I realize how much power we give to people when we say, “hello,” and open our hearts to them in friendship. In so doing, we give others the power to hurt us even if they don’t mean to, like when they say goodbye.

I wonder sometimes why I bother to open myself up to hurts. Why not just keep people at arm’s length and protect my heart from wear and tear?

Then again, what’s life about if not about the rich experiences with people around us? The things we learn about life, love, joy, tragedy are all in the context of relationships. Life without relationships is not a still, peaceful pond but a stagnant, murky cesspool.

I think I’ll choose to risk the hurts that goodbyes bring for the joys that I glean from the relationships. Anyway, one day soon, we’ll meet in the eternal hereafter and never have to say goodbye again.

‘Til then, I guess we just have to move on, cherishing the memories goodbyes leave behind and embracing each “hello" that comes our way.

Airport Blooper

I consider myself a semi-seasoned traveller. You would think that being in and out of several Asian airports would make figuring out the ETD a piece of cake..BUZZ! Wrong!

I had just breezed though the check in counter and immigration. I gleefully received some money back as tax refund for the computer and software I bought. I also got a nice tote bag full of freebies since I happen to be flying on the 25th birthday of Singapore's Changi Airport.

What perks, I thought as I counted the money I got for my refund. The I checked my boarding pass which says boarding gate closes 10 minutes before flight, then I checked my ticket and did my maths and thought Omigosh! I have 20 minutes left before boarding!!

So I tried to figure out all the signs and decided where Gate E4 was. Halfway down the great long hall, I checked the gates...E22....E24....E25...E26....It took a few more gates down the hall for me to realize I was going down the wrong hall. (Duh)

So after a quick u-turn, I careened down the hall filled with travellers going the other direction (THEY got their directions right!). With my hand carry stuff rattling on the cart, I sped off....

When I got to gate E4, it was closed and after a momentary panic, I noticed the row of bored passengers outside the gate, throwing puzzled looks at me as I tried to catch my breathe and wiped the beads of sweat on my forehead, then realized...ooops...I was one hour early (ie. boarding was 145, that is 1330 and not 1230 as I thought.) *blush*blush*

So I guess there's no sense in me faking that bored air of a seasoned traveller.

Sleepless in Singapore

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.