Believe in you

These past few days I have been quite emotional and rather nostalgic. As I read Path to Wholeness, there was a passage that emphasized the role teachers play in the lives of students and how they can make or break a child. I had also been hearing a resounding message in the readings about believing in the God of the impossible. I remember my encouraging teachers and trying to see what they saw in me.

 

I came from a violent home because my father was an alcoholic. My mother was a public figure and we had to protect our family’s reputation. So, we didn’t speak about the home in public nor did we discuss the violence that happened there. One didn’t simply wash dirty linen in public. We had to portray a picture of a normal family.

 

Aside from my faith, I took refuge in schoolwork. Because I got good grades, I received affirmation from peers and teachers alike. But I remember particular teachers that made me feel like I was someone and that I mattered. The first teacher I remember was a nun in my elementary school in Chicago, I was a new student and I couldn’t speak English very well. So, I had to sit with her for a couple of weeks. As she taught me, she said, “I’m sure you know this” and from those words, I felt confident and I began to understand. When she met with my parents, she only had praises for me and the belief that I could be integrated into my normal grade with no problems. I had some stumbling blocks but, in the end, English was my favourite subject and I excelled in Spelling too. I even won the school Spelling bee and received my first Walkman. Throughout my stay in the school, I was a consistent honour roll student. This was because one teacher showed me that I could do it. What a difference one teacher can make.

 

The next “teacher” I had was the school registrar of my high school in Abu Dhabi. She was my bandurria teacher in fact and not an actual teacher in my school albeit being the school registrar at the same time. She took all my adolescent angst and received them with love. She would invite me to tea parties after bandurria practice and we had amazing conversations although she always said that I could talk in front of a mirror. What she didn’t know was that I couldn’t speak so freely with anyone else. I was a bit shy with others but with her I could talk about any topic under the sun. She also told me that smiling suited me. That was the start of the transformation of my becoming a smiley person. I looked at myself in the mirror and indeed I looked grim when I didn’t smile and that I didn’t look half bad smiling. So I did. Her belief in me as a good person and not the angsty teenager I portrayed opened my heart to receive love from other people. She made me feel that I could be loved. So, I believed that I was loveable.

 

Another instrumental teacher was my Economics (Social Studies) teacher who believed that I should join an essay writing contest. I didn’t even know I could write. He saw something I didn’t see, and he made me believe that I could write. He made me write about being a migrant and my experience as a migrant child. The theme of the essay was “The Filipino in me”. It was the first essay contest I ever joined, and I won third place in my category. I couldn’t believe it when I received the letter, some money and I got a trophy too. So, that was a turning point in my life. I had initially wanted to be a doctor but instead I took to the letters and finished a course in journalism in University with honours. Had these teachers not taken time to appreciate and show me that I was not who I thought I was – someone who couldn’t do anything nor excel at anything, I would have stayed an angry person filled with regret or hatred.

 

So as I read the readings of how people believed in Jesus, I remembered these teachers who had faith in their students’ capabilities. I am not comparing myself with Jesus of course. I am emphasizing the fact that He is the God of the impossible. For all the things I thought were impossible to me, He used these teachers to show me that I can believe in myself, that with their help, I can overcome my own disbelief in me.

And so I wanted to say thank you to these wonderful people who took time to plant a seed of hope in a student who had so much doubt and lacked self-confidence. If it weren’t for them, I would not be who I am today.

 

So I thank all the teachers out there (special mention to my best friends Jam Hernandez Doyle and Janis Yu) who make and made a difference in their students’ lives by seeing their hidden gifts and bringing it to life, by being loving to the hurting students who may be suffering from their personal lives and for the hope that they bring to every student and letting them believe in themselves because all it takes is one person to believe.

 

Of course, I also thank God because He put these people in my life. He knew what I needed and He believed in me first. I thank God for believing in all of us that we are worthy of His dying on the Cross because we are special to Him. I hope as you read my little reflection, you too will stop in your disbelief and believe in yourself – that you are worthy and you are special and that you matter because God believes in you.

 

Tuesdays with God

About two years ago, I started a date time with God and called it "Tuesdays with P.A." in imitation of Tuesdays with Morrie. It was a weekly ritual of writing down God's message to me for the week. It was a consecrated time when I would sit down and write and share with other people, through my writing, my pondering about God.

I had neglected that ritual for some time now.

But I wanted to share what has happened to me recently.

It was on a Tuesday that God gave me a car in a lottery at the office. I had never won anything so big in my entire life. I was so surprised that I was shaking for a few hours and I went to mass to give thanks to God that day. I couldn't stop crying. Good thing the mass was a remembrance mass for the dearly departed. My tears of joy was masked as tears of sorrow and remembrance. That was 19 November.

Winning the car was a funny story. The lady that called me to say I had won it was a classmate in French class. I thought she was calling to ask about our homework that day because she had been busy organizing and participating in our office's bazaar. This was the conversation:

A: Hello, this is A, may I please speak with Ms. E.
Me: Hi A, this is P, your classmate in French.
A: Who am I speaking to?
Me: A, it's me, P, the Philippine, your classmate in French.
A: The little Philippine in class?
Me: Yes, that one.
A: Oh my God, P, you won the car!
Me: What? Oh my God! Oh my God!
A: (Talking ... but I couldn't concentrate on what she was saying)
Me: Oh my God ... (walking out of my office and going to my friend's office saying: I won the car. Smiling and shaking)

It was also funny that at the closing of the bazaar, I took a picture of the whiteboard with all the winning numbers. I thought I would check the numbers when I go home. Little did I know that I would win the grand prize.

I didn't tell anybody else that I had won the car that night until I found the ticket. I told my family though and I said I had to check where my ticket was. They asked if it was a hoax. When I found it at home and went to mass that Tuesday, news had already travelled and everybody greeted me with a congratulations as I entered church. The lady that sold me the winning ticket had already told everybody. When she sold me the ticket she had expressly said, "Take this ... this is my favourite number". I bought it and that was the winning ticket.

Two weeks later, on a Tuesday, 3 December, I finally received the car. The German ambassador, whose Mission had donated the car, had come to the VW garage for a photo op. The car - a VW eco up! - was unveiled and Voidieu (short for Voiture de Dieu - in English - Car of God) was given to me. We call her V for short, thanks to a friend's prodding.

So, it was on a Tuesday that I dedicated myself to God and on the same day, God gave me a wonderful gift.

I had planned to write this on a Tuesday but I had been busy so time permitting, I wrote it on the Sabbath which is also a day dedicated to God.

It's not to say that God is not present any other day but I just feel even more special that God on our date day gave me such a wonderful gift.

Thank you Lord for the gifts you shower me with everyday of my life. I am not worthy yet your love abounds for me.

I love you too.

It's my Christ year! 3Ds

That's what I've learned to call my 33rd birthday whom a dear friend told me.

On the eve of my Christ year, I ponder many things. Firstly, the homily this evening. Father Bob said he cringes when the Gospel or the Word says you must hate your family and friends. But in deeper detail, he says that the translation actually means to be detached. He said that was understandable.

I'm not a very addictive person but I may get too attached to some things. It can be people, or things or habits or whatevers.

This year before my Christ year, I have gone through a sort of detachment. I have been able to lessen my involvement in certain activities which allows me more time to be with God. I have also avoided people whose negativities bring me down. But I have quickly replaced it with other things like my revitalized passion for fishing.

A few days ago, I broke my ribs. It's a long story which I will not recount. The message is that I should not devote all my time to only fishing. I have to make time for God.

Church activities, though meaningful, do not necessarily equate time with God. I often think about the Gospel in Matthew when God teaches us how to pray - in seclusion, just with the Creator and no rambling because He already knows. It's a two-way dialogue that requires listening as well as speaking. But we most often do the latter that listening is put out of the picture.

So, this Christ year, I hope that I will be closer to God. With my recovery, God's presence and teachings are ever so evident. One is God's love and the need to love Him, and the other the love we have for our neighbour. God is so loving that whatever we do, He is there.

Last week, after breaking my ribs, though not knowing it yet, before mass, we thought we would miss the bus. To walk would be quick if I didn't have an injury but God knew my pain and somehow, the bus which should have left, stayed a bit which allowed us to ride. We then had to walk, a chore for me because my leg was still painful. After mass, we got on the bus to go somewhere to eat. A few friends saw me and said for me to sit, I said it was painful. They must have seen the pain on my face and said, don't eat yet, just go straight to the clinic.

This guiding presence of God through other people are so touching, I almost cried. Not from pain but knowing that God was there.

A similar thing happened when I was on holiday this summer. I went to a church, as a stranger, and I was asked by the church volunteer to offer up the gifts. Who was I - some stranger to that church - to offer up gifts? I felt God valuing my presence. I cried during communion and went home with a smile on my face.

The second lesson is love for others. I have had opportunities to be on the giving side but at this moment in time, I have been on the receiving. I am so thankful to a loved one who has been helping me recover and who is always there to help me in times of need. God has given me a true gift. I could not ask for anything more on my birthday - to be loved by Him and to be loved by others.

That's why it's sometimes hard to be detached because God has given us so many blessings and we can't help but dote on these blessings. But He asks us to dote on the Giver and not to lose sight of that.

So, this Christ year, I hope I can find a balance between detachment, doting and devotion.

Lord, thank you for another year of blessing of life. I cherish every second of it. I'm sorry for all my shortcomings and I pray for good health. Thank you for all the lovely people around me and for all those who have challenged me to be closer to You. I pray for forgiveness.

All this Lord, I cherish and pray, in your name. Amen.

Psst ...

It's almost 3 a.m. and I was on my way to sleep when suddenly, I got called. I started my night prayers and I prayed that I would get to sleep. After a few minutes, I still couldn't fall asleep. My body was surely ready for sleep but my mind wasn't. Then like Samuel I said "Speak, Lord, I'm listening." I kept listening. I even asked: Do you really want me to write, right now? So I tried sleeping again and too many thoughts were raising through my mind.

So, I am taking to my virtual pen and paper and writing my thoughts.

Some of my pondering went to something that happened earlier. Someone had asked me, how did I know God was calling me to serve. If you'd asked me when I was younger, I would say, I just felt it. If you asked me now, I would say, I heeded the call.

I think we are called in one way or another to do something for His glory. Sometimes, the call gets drowned in the world and most of the time, in our own thoughts. We mistake His voice for ours and dismiss it. But maybe that's why along with our thoughts, we feel stirrings, a certain tug at our hearts. Like somehow, we are being pulled to do something. An internal compass if you'd like.

That's how I know I'm being called. Like right now, I was on my way to sleep when I felt this urge to write. Why would I want to write at 3 in the morning? I would rather sleep. But I felt that I had to write, write down the thoughts that were whirring in my head.

So, I am.

Earlier today, someone said that a way to be closer to God is to be in His presence. What that means to you or me may be different. But it definitely struck me. My life is as busy as most people. It becomes difficult to hear God's voice. God exists everywhere and He communicates to us through any medium - be it nature, a friend, a talk or even a stranger. Heeding the call is another thing.

In that busy-ness we are almost always physically exhausted, yet something seems to be still missing. Do we undertake more responsibilities? Ask God, what is it?

Speak, Lord, I am listening.

I had been off work for a week. I had tendonitis in my right arm. It was the worst thing that could happen to me because I was right-handed and I liked working with my hand.

Then I said: Thank you, God. Thank you for letting this happen so I can be with you. It's not everyday that you get to have a full day with God. It was like a God holiday or what my brother aptly coined: Staycation. It was like a vacation because you had to stay.

My injury also left me very vulnerable. Like most people when they are sick, you imagine the worst. And you feel pity for yourself. It was a test of mortality. We are only here for as long as our body holds up. For a 32-year-old, it is scary. But even then, at least I made it to 32.

I couldn't do most of the things that I could if my hand could function. I couldn't even type. Writing this is even a challenge in itself. Yet, for as long as I can do it, I will. A day may come when I will not be able to write and shame on me for not capitalizing on my ability to do so now.

I still feel quite fragile. Earlier today, I had stomach cramps. It seemed to be emanating from my navel. It scared me a little. But I hope it was just a part of the many nerves affected by my tendonitis.

I am no longer a spring chicken. That I know.

And I don't know if God is telling me to take better care of my body or to do what I can now while I can rather than to wait later when time may not be on my side.

So, it's 3 a.m. and I think my ramblings should come to an end.

Yes, Lord, I heard you ... I hope you call again.