Furry Tale

You’ll never guess what living creature I almost bumped into on my way to work this morning.

A duck.

Really. I am not kidding. While walking on the sidewalk in between EDSA and 7-11 near  Boni Avenue, there was this duck wobbling towards me, showing its cute little bottom. I wanted to laugh out loud when I saw it. How in the world? And it was so early in the day for it to go gallivanting around the wrong side of town. And unaccompanied at that! (Unless the woman next to it was its owner. But why wasn’t she holding it or at least looking? I will never know.)

And just when I thought I have already seen it all.

I’m not sure if this recent feathery apparition beats the time I (and thousands others) saw a cat walk across the stage in Araneta Coliseum. It was an Amy Grant/Michael W. Smith concert. While Amy was playing her guitar and singing “Father’s Eyes,” a cat nonchalantly walked in front of her. The singer had to stop in the middle of the song and remarked how extraordinarily strange it was to see the cat “share” the stage with her, and inadvertently steal the show. She was incredulous. And laughing too.

A duck on  the sidewalk. A cat on stage. Animals are funny creatures. Especially when they show up in the most unexpected places.

My first and only

It’s the last day of the first month of the year and four days ago,  I promised myself I will do something I love before February rolls in: Write. For pleasure. Just because. So here I am, fulfilling a promise to myself and wondering where my thoughts will soon take me (I seldom write with an outline).

January is one of the best months of my life ever. No, I did not go to an exotic place for a vacation, nor did I get a promotion or a raise at work. And no—even if many of you are wishing this for me—I did not get a marriage proposal.

Rewind to several weeks back and if you were two feet away from me, you would’ve heard me saying out loud: “I want to start the year—and the decade—right.” And God, who is always within hearing distance even if I can’t see Him, took notice and granted my wish.

For seven days sometime this month, I did something I have never done before: I fasted. Now, I am not saying this to get any Oohs and Aaahs, or to make you think that I deserve the “Most Pious Christian in history award.” [Skip to the third paragraph from this one and you will know the reason why I am divulging this supposedly private information.]

The challenge to fast was given during the service I attended when the congregation was encouraged to spend a week soaked in prayer and self-denial. Now, I have a confession. Prior to this, I did not have any actual fasting experience that lasted more than twelve hours [the 30-day period I did not eat chocolates does not count]. So even I surprised myself when I blurted out, “Lord, I’ll do it. I love You more than rice.” [pause] Uh-oh! I meant it but can I back it up with more than words? Can an Italian say, “I love You more than pasta,” or a Japanese, “I love You more than sushi”? I could go on and on and talk about burritos and mashed potatoes, or noodles and phad thai, and recite all the international dishes I know. You get the picture.

And so began my week-long faith journey of prayer and extremely limited food intake, or on some days, no solid food at all. Absolutely no rice. It wasn’t easy. After 12 noon of Day 1, I wanted to give up. Did I really think I can make it to Day 7? I told my friend who was also on fasting mode, “I don’t think I can do this on my own. I really need God’s help.” And more than help He did. He gave me all the energy I needed, and I have never felt more mentally sharp than I did that week. I survived and came away from that humbling experience with several pounds carved off my body, a soul refreshed, and a heart overwhelmed .

The reason I had to mention my experience is because it’s the only way the succeeding lines will make sense. I want everyone to know why I am saying thank You. Look, this is what He has done for me. He helped me do what I thought I couldn’t (some other things He enabled me to do, I’d have to keep to myself). If there was an equivalent of an Oscar Awards ceremony and my name was called on stage, I’d immediately get on my feet and sashay to the front. And even if I am wont to getting sucked into mental black-outs during tense moments, I won’t carry a piece of paper with a short speech on it. With all of my heart, I’d say:

Lord Jesus, thank You. For loving me so much and seeing beyond who I once was—I may not have been a murderous criminal, but I was a wretched sinner nonetheless. Thank You for saving me from the penalty of my sins, and that I do not have to ‘bribe’ God anymore with all the good works I have done and can think of doing. Thank You for not giving up on me when I slide back again and again to committing my favorite sins. And thank You, Lord, for proving to me that You are the Bread of Life and the Living Water, and that Your love is better than rice.

Life is great. My heart is at peace; it is easily moved to gratitude for the big and small things. A good fare bargain, wisdom and patience needed to solve the blue screen of death computer problem, an unexpected ride home when I am bone-tired and wishing to reunite with my bed ASAP—getting these blessings and more prove to me that we have a God who wants to blow our minds away with His love and grace. He sees right where we are and gives us what need, and sometimes, even what we want.

My first and only—I am referring to this entry for this month. If God were on Facebook, I hope He reads this and clicks  ”Like.”

Caffeinated Christmas

It’s past 3 am and I’m still awake. Been tossing and turning in bed because sleep decided to snob me at this unholy hour. I don’t have anybody to blame but caffeine. I overshot my quota today with my consumption of gallonfuls of tea (warm and iced), Rootbeer, Coke, Iced Coffee, plus chocolate bar, chocolate cake, coffee cake, ad infinitum. Identifying the caffeine culprits is making me realize, “No wonder I’m still up, alert and ready to join a triathlon!”

Oh-kay, I give up! Instead of facing the mounting frustration of sleeplessness, how about do something productive that will take my head off my pillow and my mind off my problem? Write. Right.

———————-

I have many things to thank God for this year. To answer a friend’s question about new learnings, I replied: “I think I have become wiser.” Setbacks do not throw me off in the same way as before. Sure, I am still melancholic me but I am not as hard on myself now. After a major fall or a big disappointment, I am feeling better and better equipped to move on.

No, I do not mean this to post to be self-congratulatory in any way. It is just that I want to remind myself through this essay—this will be good to remember one, two, or even ten years from now—what my experiences have thus taught me at this stage in my life. There might be some people who think that I am still  lacking in some areas (asking questions like, “Why aren’t you married? Too choosy?”) but really, regardless of my unchanged civil status, this has been a great year. God has been surprising me with unexpected blessings and undeserved favors that come in many forms.

If there’s one thing I would never tire of bragging about, it is this: How wonderfully awesome and loving and kind and powerful God is. And I could go on and on, like the energizer bunny that kept on banging the  cymbals. I have been reminding myself that I will give no one—not a pessimist, or a chronic complainer, or the chronicler of “bad luck”—the power to make me feel less grateful to God. Nobody can and should lead me to say, “God, You’re kinda stingy. Or maybe You forgot about me.”

If He can keep the stars in place in the sky, should I have any reason to believe that He cannot take care of me? That will be like doubting if Michelangelo can draw an apple, or wondering if Shakespeare can spell “dog, ” or if Bill Gates can turn on a computer. Absurd, right?

If Christianity is a crutch, as some atheists claim, then let me say that everyone, with no exception, is born with a broken set of legs. And boy, do I feel relieved that I need not go on limping by my own strength anymore.(Could this be why we Christians use the term “walking with God” to describe a vibrant, ongoing relationship with a real and personal deity? Maybe.)

——————

It is now half an hour past 4 am, and I am still feeling the caffeine running through my veins. In a couple of hours (when the sun says hello), the palpitations and the jitters should subside and insomnia will have to say goodbye. But something inside tells me that it’s good that I have stayed up. This caffeinated Christmas, I realize that some truths infinitely stronger than tea, or cola, or coffee are actually making me feel most alive and awake—the ever-increasing realization that God loves me. And that I did not have to do anything to deserve to be loved. And that I love Him back.

We love because He first loved us. (1 John 4:19)

Me in the middle of a mess

It’s time for a little pruning. No green thumb for me, actually. This pruning is the kind that does not necessitate me wearing rubber gloves in the garden. As I write these words, I am in a middle of a mess. If by some stroke of (bad) luck, Santa arrives at our doorstep and asks to see my room (to check if I’ve been a nice girl and keeping it clean), he’d have to hear this from me: “Don’t bother, Santa. Go to the next name in your list. Now is NOT a good time. (Pause). Oh, you just want to use the restroom?”

I am clad in my most comfortable shirt and shorts, and strewn across my bed are bags, clothes and other knick-knacks that will soon meet their final fate: to keep, to give away or to throw? Since yesterday, I’ve said adieu to many things. Among them, two discmans (or should I refer to them as discmen?) While taking them out of the case, I remembered when one of them provided me entertainment and company on the flight back home from the US several years back. I have very good memories of you, Sony. Thanks.

I do not have a problem letting go, especially of things.  I realize that what we have right now are just on loan to us from God, the Giver of all things. I cannot bring my iTouch, my netbook, my laptop, my cellphone, my clothes, my make-up kit,  and all of my earthly possessions, with me to heaven. At the end of my life, nobody will have to eulogize my ownership of cool gadgets. Besides, who cares that I enjoy using  a really neat white Phillips handmixer with two kinds of attachments?

I might have paused for a while to pin these thoughts down but make no mistake about it: I am pruning like crazy. I’m doing it with the passion of a woman off to take advantage of a big clearance sale at Macy’s (Something’s quite not right with that metaphor but I’m going to let that stay).

Saying goodbye feels good sometimes, especially when after saying it, life will feel much lighter and simpler. I might have less things to call mine but who says that’s bad? Maybe less of what I once had is all I really need.