Gazing At the Window Sill

Gazing At the Window Sill, originally uploaded by puresolitude.

To the right of this window sill is the small table I put my laptop on. The light that shines through the glass is soft and hazy. It caught me this morning because it gave a kind of softness that was soothing and tender. I stared at this space for quite a while thinking about my flight back to Manila at 5:20pm and how my Dad's recovery will be in the next few days.

He's initially scheduled to be discharged on Tuesday. But his almost 2 weeks stay in the hospital has not completely healed the swelling of his infection.

I am also thinking about the coming days at work where I will have to be catching up with a lot of things.

In all these things I am praying that I will find the right amount of rest in between moments. Just like this little moment of gazing at the window sill in this corner of the room.

On Coffee and Rain

On Coffee and Rain, originally uploaded by puresolitude.

This large cup of Gloria Jeans' caramel latte was something I enjoyed yesterday during my visit to the hospital. It was raining and the taste of coffee was cozy on my lips. I laid the cup on the window sill because my Dad had asked me to move next to his bed. He wanted to show me a couple of presentations he had from work and was teaching me about some concepts that might help me with my new job.

It's been a while since I sat with my Dad tutoring me like that. I remember how he used to wake me up at 3am in the morning during my gradeschool years to study for a math exam.

My "inner vision" seems to be more alert these days without my SLR with me. How ironic.

I love the shadows in this photo. I love the reflection of the coffee cup on the windowsill. It speaks to me of a mood just right for coffee and rain.

Greater than the Human Heart

Greater than the Human Heart, originally uploaded by puresolitude.

Almighty Father,
the love you offer always exceeds
the furthest expression of human longing.
For you are greater than the human heart.
Direct each thought, each effort of our life
so that the limits of our faults and weaknesses
may not obscure the vision of your glory
or keep us from the peace you have promised.

- from the Daily Roman Missal said in today's mass.


______

This picture was taken along Gov. Roa street as I walked to Cebu Doctor's hospital this morning.

On Grandparents' Bed

The day is over and I’m back on my bed here in the guest room of it Tita Virgie’s house. It’s a lovely bed with lavender flowers printed all over the bed sheet and a cozy lace canopy draped over. This was my grandparents’ bed.

The day is over and today marks my last full day here in Cebu for this visit. I’m leaving for Manila tomorrow afternoon so that I can go back to work on Monday. I leave with slightly a heavy heart. I didn’t want to leave my parents behind since my Dad is still in the hospital. He is recovering well but the infection will take time to heal because of his diabetes. The experience of looking after him for one full week wasn’t easy and I know that being here was a big help. I am happy that I was able to support my parents this way.

I sleep tonight feeling a little bit rested than I had expected to be at the end of this week. I was expecting to feel tired from all the chores and the work that I needed to start catching up with little by little. But I suppose the Master Planner has taken care of everything because the Goal Setting Activity that I have been preparing for has been moved yet again to Thursday next week. Giving me some ample time to breath and pick up my pace as soon as I get back.

The internet isn’t working here tonight and neither is my wireless Smart Broadband. I suppose tonight I am meant to sleep reflectively. A little bit closer to folded hands, closed eyes and bended knees.

Solitary Hospital Chair

From the solitary hospital chair pushed to the wall's edge facing the window I see more about life. I see how the passing of time has aged my parents and how different it is now that they are growing old. Taking care of my dad at 61 makes me realize the significance of how he took care of me when I was born. Covering him underneath the blanket to keep him warm. Bringing him to the bathroom to urinate. Combing his hair so he looks fresh. Feeding him his meals so he doesn't go hungry. Giving him a glass of water so his mouth doesn't go too dry.

From this solitary hospital chair I see my mom's nurturing character which I have never seen before. I see her teaching me and my sister how to help my dad with every little thing. I see her withstand many nights of interrupted sleep. I see her patiently carrying my dad's weight on her shoulders so he can walk himself to bathroom.

From the solitary hospital chair, I see how God's is unfolding and unraveling. I see how He transforming and healing. I see how life is reconstructed and renewed. Somehow in a seeming backward motion. Like life is played in reverse. Where the father becomes the one provided for instead of the provider. Where the wife becomes the head instead of the follower. Where the children become the nurturers instead of the ones nurtured.

From the solitary hospital chair I sit the day away trying to absorb the flow of thoughts regardless of the many visitors that come in from nurses to doctors to family and friends. I try to absorb everything so I will never forget. Never forget. Never forget.

An uncle and his wife around just now and jolt the quiet a little bit. Engaging my sluggish father into a conversation of what seems to be his purpose in life -- fixing problems. How timely that I realize this now when I just told him this morning that it seems that I find myself in situations always filling gaps and fixing messes of people who walk before me. My dad in full authority and wisdom said, "That is your purpose in life." I don't know whether I should laugh or cry. But I suppose I just have to laugh this off right now and enjoy how amusing it is that my dad can still muster such fortitude from his hospital bed.

He is clearly restless. His feet stretches back and forth like it's skating over the surface of the bed. He is not one who is used to being sick this long. I hope he finds more meaning in his life though. These moments should give him room for introspection. I am curious about what passes through his mind. I hope my dad was a writer. He'd probably fill in numerous stacks of journals with all the things he's learned. I wish the same for my mom. It would probably have made me feel a little bit better growing up with all these struggles if I knew my parents went through the same thing.

From this solitary hospital chair I've heard so many conversations and watched so many expressions and I realize how important again and again life becomes when you view it backwards.

Now if I can only live it forward without losing the wisdom from introspection.

Bicycle Girl

bicycle girl, originally uploaded by puresolitude.

bicycle girl what are you thinking?
what do you dream?
lying on that bed of yours
don't feel like strawberries and cream
the early wake of morning
feels like such a toil
to open your eyes bicycle girl
when its covered with soil

bicycle girl what do you feel?
what are those thoughts
lying inside the messy curls of hair
are they flying or dying
encircling hope or is it despair?

bicycle girl maybe you can keep riding
the road your cycling through
with a smile on your lips and
a song in your heart
and find in the turning of wheels
round and round in your dreams
a hope for the cycle to make
them come true.

Somber Sightings

Somber mood finds me this morning. I had to get out of the hospital room for a bit and walk out to Gloria Jeans. Starbucks was too far away. My chat with Adi this morning left me thinking about so many things. Past. Present. Future. It left me with the very melancholy conclusion that LIFE IS DIFFICULT. What brings comfort is that I do not have to go through it alone.

I went to the hospital early this morning because my mom needed help with my dad. The caregiver we hired to assist us couldn’t come in today because she had to go home to celebrate their barrio's feast. I parked just outside the pay parking area because it was still closed. We parked at the same spot yesterday too. I got drawn to this little girl lying down on a bicycle cart. Her hair was messy and she was covered with ash and dirt. I wonder what kind of life she must have waking up to a morning without a soft bed underneath.

little girl

I ran past some children riding a truck. Their laughter and noise caught my attention while walking back to the hospital. I wondered where they came from and why they rode a truck instead of a bus.

truck kids

It’s raining today. And I welcome it gladly because it soothes me again and resonates with my somber mood. I laid my large cup of Gloria Jeans Caramel Latte by the window to listen to my dad share to me some of the best practices they have at work. He eagerly showed me presentations that he found useful and gave me advise on what to implement in my new job.

gloria jeans

One of the things I thought about during the darkest moments of this experience was how my Dad always gave me advise about work. And how I would miss that when that stops. So here I am trying to make the most out of this second chance. Hopefully filling in the gaps that were created through the years of our relationship.

I noticed an eager exchange between my Dad and I. My mom would jump in once in a while and we had a healthy exchange of ideas like grown ups would. I felt at ease. I felt walls crumbling down. I felt my parents’ respect for me.

Second chances are indeed refreshing. I suppose it really is a blessing to have gone through this and overcome it. I am filled with an even deeper gratitude for the Giver of Life after having experienced my a series of little deaths.

Another Kindred

I was pleasantly surprised when I woke up to this sitting in my inbox this morning

I have read some of your writing at :: http://www.mycreativeintent.com/profile/Katherina and this morning...once again, out of the blue I was lead to follow the patchwork quilt dots! One point about your writing that I believe makes it worth reading is the the fact that you deal with our "very human" issues so delicately ... but clearly. You seek ... you ask.... you observe... I truly appreciate that I was drawn to you this morning and that your words - thoughts - deeds - bring all humanity in touch (tune) with one another. Love without action is just intent.

Thank you so much - you have a gift, I can't wait to see where you go with it! Together we are opening doors and changing the future through our collective collaborative spirit.

- by DeZengo

I find it ironic that I get this today because I was just telling Adi how I've struggling with my writing for the past few days. I find it such a blessing to get this today because it soothes the struggle and cushions the tension.

Thank you kindred heart! <3

Jollibee Walk

The walk to Jollibee today was a quiet one. My sister has left for Manila. Despite the sudden outburst of creativity early this morning, I still remain cluttered. Mildly irritated with mother's display of panic. I realized how panic is so contagious. Anybody weak of heart will surely get disturbed with even a wift of it.

Unfortunately I am one of those weaklings. I can barely stand a wave of being swept into somebody else's panic yet ironically i=I always find myself hovering in these situations.

Why am I surrounded with really high strung people? Obviously birds of the same feather flock together, so I know I'm one too. But is there any chance of liberating myself from this? I'm not so sure.

I'm standing at one corner of this tiny Jollibee branch located in Osmena boulevard waiting for 10 minutes to pass till my tuna pie orders become ready. Ahhh here they are. Now to fill my hungry tummy.

Writing Like Hemingway

So I'm talking to Adi and she's trying to tell me that I can write like Hemingway. Hemingway. Hmm. I've always wanted to try imagining myself writing in the middle of a busy street waiting for a cab. Or...perhaps somewhere in the middle of a crowded Starbucks scribbling down my Moleskine quite absorbed in my thoughts. But that never gets to happen. I don't know why I want to be able to get self-absorbed like that in the midst of vibrant life. I suppose it's my way of trying to exist while breathing everything in. Not the usual way I get so paralyzed in the middle of a circumstance that attempts to change or shatter. Move. Inspire. Liberate.

She just went offline and my muscles are a bit sore. Helping my Dad do a little shindig of a workout on his bed gave me quite a workout too! I bought 2 Nike yellow resistant bands for my Dad a few days ago so that he can stretch a bit since he's been bedridden for more than a week now. He finally decided to use it. I find it funny how my Dad gets all excited about new activities like that. It's amusing to me for a 61 year old to get giddy about little things.

Now he's off to snooze. His snore gurgling to escape his open mouth. At times I get nervous listening to him snore when we're here in the hospital because it feels like it'll never end. But there are times when I find it funny too because his lips twitch uncontrollably until the snore comes out to a full sigh.

One of the days I was left alone to watch him, I saw his whole body twitch. It gave me quite a scare because his health wasn't so stable then. I never thought my Dad was such a lucid sleeper. So I tried to nudge him and ask him what was going on. He groggily woke up and said, "I was dreaming that I'm riding a train and was chugging along with it." He fell back to sleep and true enough his body was chugging along again.

I had to stifle a laugh because I didn't think it appropriate for me to let out a guffaw in this situation. My Dad's such a character. I love him. He's starting to be annoying when he's restless but as I said yesterday, it's definitely much better having him that way than how he was a week ago.

So yes Slick, you're right. I think I can start writing like Hemingway.

An Incessant Need

I need to create.

This is What It Means to Be Held

Perhaps it's for my own keepsake and so I will never forget how God has delivered me and my family during this time that I chronicle these words that kept my heart from breaking.

________________

Psalm 112:7-9. This Psalm came to me during the end of 2008 and carried me through my fears and anxieties in transitioning to my new job. The job that God has provided for me as a way out of the hopeless situation I was in. This Psalm persisted in its promise as I clung to it with all my heart upon hearing my Dad's situation.

7 He will have no fear of bad news;
his heart is steadfast, trusting in the LORD.

8 His heart is secure, he will have no fear;
in the end he will look in triumph on his foes.

9 He has scattered abroad his gifts to the poor,
his righteousness endures forever;
his horn ^[a] will be lifted high in honor.

_________________

Romans 4:17-21. These verses from Romans lifted my heart and made re-focus on what truly matters. Amidst the despair and the fear, I held these verses close to remain steadfast in my belief.

He is our father in the sight of God, in whom he believed—the God who gives life to the dead and calls things that are not as though they were. 18Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, "So shall your offspring be."^[d] 19Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact that his body was as good as dead—since he was about a hundred years old—and that Sarah's womb was also dead. 20Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, 21being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised.

________________

The Pilgrim's Progress. Is an essay by John Bunyan found in a compilation of essays found in the library of CS Lewis. Javi found this essay by chance when he flipped open my book and prophetically showed to me something I believe God had wanted me to read so I will remain in hope.

Now I could see in my dream that the High-way Christian was to travel on was protected on either side by a Wall, and the Wall was called Salvation. Burdened Christian began to run up the High-Way, but not without great difficulty because of the load he was carrying on his back.

He ran this way until he came to a place on somewhat higher ground where there stood a Cross. A little way down from there was an open Grave. And I saw in my dream that just as Christian approached the Cross, his Burden came loose from his shoulders, fell from his back, and began to roll downward until it tumbled into the open Grave to be seen no more.

After this, Christian was glad and light. He exclaimed with a joyful heart, "Through His sorrows He has given me rest, and through His death He has given me life." Then he stood still for awhile to examine and ponder the Cross; for it was very surprising to him that the sight of the Cross alone had brought him complete deliverance from His Burden. So he continued to look and watch until springs of tears welled up in his eyes and came pouring down his cheeks.

Then, as he stood watching and weeping, three Shining Ones suddenly appeared and greeted him. "Be at peace!" The first announced. "Your sins are forgiven!" The second one stripped off his tattered clothing and dressed him in bright new garments. After this, the third one set a mark upon his forehead and handed him a Scroll with a seal on it. He directed Christian to study the Scroll as he traveled and to present it upon his arrival at the Celestial Gate.

__________________

God's Word Today November 2008 Edition. This thin pamphlet like magazine was resting on my Dad's side table by his bedside. I found it immediately after I read Pilgrim's progress because I was looking for something to bring to Cebu. In bold letters, the Editors Note is entitled Resist Fear...Embrace Hope!

Fear is a normal reaction to the unknown. While science and technology have pushed back the frontiers of the unknown, we still know very little, if anything about where and in what shape this planet will be, let's say, in the year 3000. Natural disasters, reduction of non-renewable resources, nuclear, chemical and biological threats, terrorism and genocides make some people fear that the day of Armageddon or Doomsday is near.

Quite a few will turn to the book of Revelation--the Apocalypse of John--to confirm their apprehensions and will not be reassured by what they find in some chapters of this last book of the New Testament. It would be very unwise to remain blind to or even to minimize the threats we are facing today, but this is no reason to read into the Apocalypse the script of what is going to happen tomorrow.

When John wrote the Apocalypse, he and his community had many reasons to fear. James had been martyred in Jerusalem in the early forties, Peter and Paul in Rome in the early sixties; war and destruction had been raging in Jerusalem at the hands of the Romans; and now John himself is a prisoner in exile in Patmos and some of his brothers have been martyred, "because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus" (1:9): It is a time of "great ordeal" (7:14). things coulnd't be worse, and reasons to fear were many.

But in no way do John and his community yield to fear or resignation. The very first words John hears from the mouth of Jesus himself are: "Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last" (1:17). These are the words that John needed to hear from his Lord and that he vowed to pass on to his community.

In times of tribulation, the people of God have no need for prophets of doom, but for prophets of hope. John, the Seer of Patmos, has rightly set the focus on the Victorious Lamb and on the future inaugurated through his resurrection. His numerous and vigorous appeals to courage an dpatient endurance are welcome in this day and age. Be not afraid to read his book, and you'll find compelling reasons to embrace hope.

Hold On To your Dreams

Hold On To your Dreams, originally uploaded by puresolitude.

This poster catches my eye on the 4th day of my visit in Cebu. I was probably too harassed and preoccupied with my Dad's condition that I did not see this hanging on the right corner of my Tita Virgie's guestroom.

This one makes me smile today.

A Repost: The State of My Soul

This is a repost from Matt's blog.

I've been following his blog for about 4 years now ever since I started blogging in Xanga. I'm trying to catch up on my blog subscriptions this morning because I believe that those I've been subscribed are really instrumental in helping me keep my faith steadfast.

Today this comes to me like my own words have been taken from my mouth. The struggle of articulating what you feel as an expressive release is an arduous task especially when you are most vulnerable. But I admire people who are able to express their vulnerability with so much tenderness because it shows me how much they trust God's love.

So this inspires me today and fuels me again to keep walking regardless of how the state of my soul is in.

________________

I think I found it so hard to answer because the state of my soul has been, above all else, needy.

The past semester was very difficult. It has been the most difficult academic challenge of my life, and the coming semester will be more so. Last semester I got an A, another A, an A-, and a B+. That leaves me with a gpa of 3.75 for the time being. For those who care about such things, it is a very fine gpa. For those who care greatly about such things, it is merely fair. For my own part, I am pleased and learned a great deal.

The most important thing I learned the past semester was not biblical exegesis nor the finer shades of Greek grammar nor physical and psychological development nor the various schools of psychotherapeutic theories (in my personal order of descending importance).

The most important thing I learned was simply that I need grace desperately, daily, a constant supply. I am the broken one, hospitalized with the oxygen tube of grace in my nose. No, let me be the more severe case, wearing the full oxygen mask. And give me a feeding tube of grace. And give me an IV drip, but let it not merely drip. Let it flow always, let it gush and roar and rage into me. Helpless, let the air and sustenance and liquid gold of grace be my everything.

I've known, but only begun to know, how weak and needy I am; how futile and frail on my own; how carnal and wretched; how craving sin; my being fairly crouching at its door, awaiting the slightest hair's breadth opening to lunge against it and engorge myself on folly. Or how reluctant toward good, toward self-sacrifice and servanthood, toward shining and radiance and worship, so slow, hesitant, and wayward in pursuing glory. Or how tolerant of icy drafts seeping in through cracks and crevices to chill the heart and slow its motions.

But by grace I sought Him, held Him as one being held by Him, seeking even while fallen or filthy or wayward or frail. And I manage to seek Him still, and I learn daily to cast myself upon Him.

Last semester was glorious. It was an awesome journey of learning and love. I saw Him move through minds and hearts and felt Him deeply in my own. I was loved, and I loved. I touched and was touched. I stood amazed in His presence, and drank in His word. All these I experienced as but a drop in the bucket of what could be, but the little drop grows. However, I learned above all this one cherished lesson - that I am weak and He is strong.

- Mystic Ramblings, January 16, 2009

New Life. New Hope. New Creation.

This morning I am awake early. Listening to songs that my cousin Sister Jennifer has been sending me for the past few days to comfort my family during this time of healing. My heart latches on to this song that's playing on my iTunes now. It's called Be Still.

The layers of my heart that's been constricted because of fear is slowly loosening up. And I am taking in all the air I can breathe in of this new life and new hope that's being given to my family. My perspective has changed about a lot of things. More willing to let go of what's transitory. More eager to cling to what's eternal.

Be Still - Sister Jennifer Villa

the taste of being sweetly healed

the taste of being sweetly healed, originally uploaded by puresolitude.

My Dad's recovery is a nothing short of a miracle. I have to say that my appreciation for medical expertise has grown over the past 3 days. My appreciation for knowing about creatinine levels, sugar count, white blood count, glucometers has grown and has become a necessity.

Seeing the process of healing and transformation of the physical body magnifies my belief in how significant the spirit's healing can be.

My Dad's now back to his normal humor. Now asking for fruits and more water because he has been deprived of it for almost one week. He's now restless always looking for the remote control and his laptop. But I suppose I'd rather have him that way than how he was a few days ago.

Behind The Exterior

It's been a week since my Dad has been hospitalized in Cebu Doctors Hospital because of infection complications caused by a small eruption of his skin in the scrotum area. It's been two weeks or so since I started my new job. It's been almost 2 months since my grandmother passed away.

Barely recovering from another, it piles up on you like a stack of unfinished work. I know I have seen God's grace in all situations and I have witnessed his glory fall upon my life. But there are still some things that are left dwelling in my emotions that need to be healed only in God's time.

The human frailty still exists but I find myself even more persistent in enduring what this life is giving me. Not quick to succumb to despair. But ever so quick in holding on to hope. I am certain that what sustains me now isn't my own strength, not even my own will. For I am not a patient person nor am I an easily forgiving soul.

I am watching my Dad sleep on the hospital bed. Finally the series of visits have died down for today. I'm hoping that it will stay a little bit more quiet for a while so that I can hear myself think. The residue of fear is still quite fresh. I was almost prepared to give up and accept the inevitable. I stared at it in the face and a flood of memories rushed through me. The pictures printed on my memory bracelet stood out on waking moments where I'd stare into space wondering how my Dad was doing while I was still in Manila. I was already trying to imagine what it would be like should he not survive this. Thinking about it caused such a painful ache in my heart.

It is quite different when you face the reality of death this way. When it is your Dad's life ticking on a clock. I can now imagine what kind of pain my parents felt when they lost their own parents too. I am quite lucky though because I am given another chance to understand what dying and losing someone means before it actually happens. And so I am able to live the new chapter of my family's life a little bit differently.

This Christmas Season has indeed been different. Starting off this New Year full of promise and hope manifests a little bit differently for me this time. But despite all the seeming tumult that shakes the exterior circumstances of my journey, I am growing more steadfast in faith. Closer to seeing the truth the lies behind REAL LOVE.

Flying With Hope

Today the flag of victory rises higher.

I heard my father laugh an ecstatic "Hurray" this afternoon when his doctor told him that he can now drink unlimited amounts of water. During the past days of his hospitalization, they limited his fluid intake. Now his kidneys are doing better. Creatinine levels are down to 2.2 this morning. The results of his ultrasound show that the infection HAS NOT gone to the liver.

I never thought I could see the rainbow after the rain. But in 1 day, the day of the Sto. Nino's feast, hope shone through.

There are still so many things on my mind. There are many details that are woven so intricately and I am still amazed at how the events reflect the hand of God's lovingkindness.

Today, I fly with hope. Today I live with hope.

Mustard Seeds

The relief I felt having seen my Mom's SMS light up the screen of my mobile phone saying, "Your Dad's sugar level has gone down from a high of 225 to 125. Normal level is 100. Praise God." is something I will never be able to fully describe in words.

I suppose the closest would be is that I feel like I am breathing again.

My sister and I have booked our flight to Cebu tomorrow morning. I was afraid that I would be jumping inside a plane with a clouded spirit again, just like the last few trips I had back there. But I am grateful that it isn't so.

My Dad isn't out of the woods yet. But his response to the new treatment gives me hope. It is an opening. A small opening. Small as a muster seed.

I know it's not by chance that I've been reflecting about mustard seeds as of late. Now I'm watching and waiting for the mountain to be moved as promised.

Come Holy Spirit

When I was in first grade, my Dad taught me this prayer that his father taught him. He always says that it's what made him get through school exams and claim the valedictorian award for both gradeschool and highschool. It's what got him through graduating college with a magna cum laude. He said that whenever he has an exam, he prays this prayer in soft and gentle whisper so that he will know what to do and what choices to make.

I don't know why I remember this prayer today. But it goes:

Come Holy Spirit
Enlighten me, I follow thee
Teach me what I do not know
Show me what I cannot do
Come to me with Thy Seven Gifts
Amen.

My Dad's situation has become persistent. He is experiencing rhenal failure complicated by his diabetes and the unknown infection that's been pervading his body. This morning, I called my mom and she said that there are 3 doctors who are checking him up and changing his treatment to address his current state.

My emotions have gone from peaceful, to anxious, to despairing, to indifferent, to hopeless, to trying, to hoping again...a whirlwind cycle. And now, I am just hungry and eager to get some food in me.

I've tried to check the flights available today and tomorrow and next week and realized that the prices scaled so high because of the Sinulog Event going on in Cebu at this time. Flights are all booked today. There are still some available tomorrow. Flights next week are expensive.

Next week's work schedule is hectic.

The human mind can certainly carry a lot of things. But as to how well it's carrying all of them, it's a matter of grace.

So yet, another day is to pass with fervent hope for more good news. Straining to clear my vision of all the cloudy haze and the dust of doubt to fully engage in the belief that Miracles Happen.

A Moment of Grace

As if last Christmas Season's challenges wasn't enough, another one visits my family this week. My dad got hospitalized last Wednesday because of an unidentified infection spreading throughout his body. My dad has never been hospitalized for any sickness in his entire life. The anxiety of dealing with this predicament must be unimaginable for him. I have always sensed his aversion to the helpless feeling that unexplained sickness leaves one with. Watching loved ones hospitalized for the past 3 years and passing on is a wake up call on the reality of mortality.

I have barely gotten over my grandmother's death and my cousin's seizure attack and here I am faced again with something like this. Not to mention the increasing pressure that is picking up in my life at work.

But amidst all these, I am grateful for the peace that has found me today. Through the encouragement of friends. Through the knowledge of God's grace. Through the certainty that miracles happen. Through discovering what truth really means despite of what the facts in this life may say.

The week is over. The day is done. And I find myself finally alone in my room. Struggling less and less with anxiety. Giving in more and more to peace that surpasses all understanding.

I haven't found a lot of time this week to be alone with my thoughts. But this experience reminds me that I can't allow myself to be swept up in too much busy work forgetting what really matters most.

So I end this night with a little ode to my father.

_______________

you wrapped me in your arms
as tight as you can somewhere
in between a struggle of love
torn between a fight that
leaves a wide gaping hole
inside your heart

you hold on for the last 60 years
to everything you know
only to find that reason or
intelligence cannot explain
the mystery of what you're going
through today

so tonight i pray for the letting go
of strength you tried to keep up with
so that you will receive the only
strength you need in this moment of grace
and find that in letting go of all reason
a miracles shines upon your face.

On Mother's and Breakfast Preparations

I just got to work. I left pretty early this morning because I woke up early too. I woke up early because I had to prepare my lunch since our house help has gone on vacation.  I went down to the kitchen and found my Mom cooking.  It was a pleasant sight to see.  I never saw her do that all the time when we were young.  But it's a beautiful transformation that even now as I grow older, I am able to appreciate how my Mom is being such a mother to me.  

After she prepared our food, she started sewing the new pairs of slacks I bought over the weekend.  I wanted to cut some length because they were too long.  I appreciated this a lot because I know that her routine every morning was to go to the mass and the Adoration chapel. I've always found myself being thrown off my center whenever a routine of mine is broken.  But my Mom willingly received the short-term transition.  

As a reaction, I dutifully cleaned a bit of my room and made sure I didn't leave it messy for the day.  I missed a little bit of prayer time but I was glad that the morning drive wasn't so heavy that I got to work early enough to have a bit of silence in the prayer room.

I was also happy that I still ran into Adi when I got to work.  It's always a pleasant exchange in the morning.  Another thing that made my morning pleasant was reading through Marie's blog about Tolkien.  She says she's started to finally read Lord of the Rings.  I've had great respect for the author and even have the complete series myself.  Unfortunately, it's one of those things I haven't done yet.  Perhaps, like her, it takes time to be ready to get into certain things.  

Having experienced that little moment with my Mom this morning, I want to cite an excerpt from Marie's blog here because it honors such motherly acts.

Just before the New Year, I was reading Archbishop Chaput's Render Unto Caesar, and in one of the chapters he relates this story:

It's also why asking Catholics to keep their faith out of public affairs amounts to telling them to be barren; to behave as if they were neutered. Nothing could be more alien to the meaning of baptism. The Christian idea of witness, which comes from the Greek word martyr, isn't limited to a bloody death in the arena for the faith. All Christians have the command to be a martyr in he public arena --to live a life of conscious witness where God places them, no matter how insignificant it seems and whether or not they ever see the results.

Years ago I read a story about an Englishwoman named Mabel. She had two sons. It's not clear what first drew her to the Gospel, but she became a Christian shortly after her husband died in the 1890s. She was devoted to her new faith. Every Sunday she would make the long walk with her sons to an Anglican church. Then one Sunday they tried a different place of worship: a Catholic church in a poor area in Birmingham. Mabel already had an interest in things Catholic. She asked for instruction. She then entered the Catholic Church.

Mabel's Catholic conversion angered her family. Her father was outraged. Her brother-in-law ended the little financial help he had been giving her since she became a widow. Her dead husband's family rejected her. She and her sons slipped into poverty. Mabel's health collapsed. Despite this, she remained zealously committed to her Catholic faith and taught it to both her sons. Several years later, she fell into a diabetes-induced coma and died. She entrusted her boys to the guardianship of a friend, a local Catholic priest, who deepened their faith throughout their upbringing.

Very few people remember Mabel and her story. But a great many people remember at least one of her sons: J.R.R. Tolkien. In a letter to a Jesuit friend many years later, Tolkien wrote: "All my own small perception of beauty both in majesty and simplicity is founded" on Mary, the mother of Jesus, and that "The Lord of the Rings is of course a fundamentally religious and Catholic work." He added, "[My Catholic faith has] nourished me and taught me all the little that I know; and that I owe to my mother, who clung to her conversion and died young, largely through the hardships of poverty resulting from it."

I'd sit here all day and muse about Tolkien's journey but I have quite a bit to catch up for work. Finally having a learning outline to work with, I feel a little bit more focused in gaining some speed for the new job to hopefully bear a little bit of fruit.

Ms. Z and Her Zest for Work

Today I had a very animated talk with Ms. Zeny.  She's the technical consultant of our company and a very dedicated quality control practitioner.  

My appreciation for the printing ink industry continues because of really interesting people like her.  She again explained to me the flow of the process and all the nitty gritty details that one needs to consider when working in this industry.  But what I noted specifically interesting today was how she keeps on repeating her very special ability of being aware of a lot of things all at once.  She says it's easy for her to remember a whole lot of detail which makes her contribution to the company really significant.  The conversation moved on to her highly photographic memory when she told me that she easily memorizes car plates and told me, "Yours ends with 555 right?"

I was surprised because I've never seen her anywhere in the parking lot whenever I come to work and I asked her how she knew.  She said with a cheeky grin, "Well, it's because yours is the newest car in the parking lot and it's there everyday!  So I concluded that it must be yours. Simple as that."    

Now that remark just made me laugh.  It was so innocent but then it made real sense!  She then went on to share with me her routine every morning which was an hour of prayer with several portions.  There was the spontaneous prayer.  The Rosary (all 15 decades).  And daily readings reflection.  

Her good natured disposition captivated me that it really made me realize how simple it can be to do a good job and keep a healthy work environment.  

So here I am trying to keep up with all the things I need to learn about the new job and found a really interesting video that somehow summarizes everything I've learned this week.

More on Learning about Printing Ink

So I learned a little bit more about the Printing Process yesterday and there's this department that I'm slowly learning to get more interested in aside from the Creatives section.  It's called the Product Development Department where Quality Assurance and Research&Development are being done.  How do they do it?  Well, minus all the technicalities of the process, they basically test all the materials that are going to be used in a project.  Simply put, THEY GET TO MIX COLORED INK!  Woooo!  How fun!  I told the AVP-Technical Services that I wanted to see how it's being done once they do something.  HAHA.  

So I was telling him, "So when you do the LSD (an LSD is an abbreviation for Light Standard Dark.  It's a proof sample of what the design looks like when it gets printed in different gradient variations of lightness or darkness. There is a certain calibration that they are going for depending on the client's requirements)  it's like you're mixing paint and water to get the right shade? "  

And he goes, "Yes, if the requirement is water-based and if the substrate (the paper) is what matches the kind of ink being used.  If the substrate is of different material then we don't use water but we use a chemical solvent to mix the ink so it calibrates to the right kind of viscosity (WOW. NEW WORD. So it means Viscosity is a measure of the resistance of a fluid which is being deformed by either shear stress or extensional stress. As per Wikipedia)

Being technical-minded in this manner is so wonderful!  Because to me it doesn't sound too technical at all.  It sounds like ART!  HAHA.  In the IT industry, technical really sounds like technical because it gets all geeky and it just sounds like Greek.  It's something I cannot naturally grasp.  But being in this industry and learning all the basics makes me feel like I'm a natural in understanding how the business runs from the core.  

There are tons of documented procedures from the 3 volumes of Manuals that are still sitting here on my desk.  Im trying to form my own process map in my head so that I don't get lost reading through all the details.  But at the end of it all, I am still very much grateful.

On First Days and Work Spaces

I don't remember the feeling of ever having a first day at work. I suppose the last time I felt that was back in 2000. My most recent job didn't feel so much like I had a "first day at work" because it didn't really start on such a formal and structured footing. There are advantages of not being structured. But I realized that if the lack of structure is prolonged too long, the drive that catapults progress declines at a faster rate than growth.

Today was my first day of work at my new job. I came in pretty early and was made to wait for about an hour in the lobby because the receptionist didn't know that the CEO was already in his office waiting for me. On a normal occasion that would have agitated me but there is something significant about a pleasant morning drive void of traffic and full of green scenery that just keeps you calm instead of the usual road rage I experienced after having worked in the city for more than 6 years. Not to mention the overwhelming peace that pervaded my morning for some reason. :)

God's timing seems to always make things work out in an unexplainable fashion. I thought I would be exhausted from the lack of rest because of the busy Christmas Holiday Season but the last 2 days was made enough for me to catch up and get a second wind to sustain me through my first day of work.

What I really love about this first day of work is having my own table. Not that I've never had my own table before but the last year I've been working in my past job provided me with such a small office corner that has become quite unbearable over time. I realized now that work environment is pretty essential in sustaining my job motivation and one aspect that delighted me today is my very own neat and spacious work space.

To be specific: having my own work space is essential in my job motivation.

I was also quite refreshed by the welcoming atmosphere emanating from smiling employees. Quite a change from all the grumble and the frowns that greeted my morning in the past. The CEO's EA is a cheerful one. Her name is Che and she helped me quite cheerfully throughout my first day. I've never encountered such a cheerful worker 6 months into the company. I spent some time getting to know her and was delighted by her light spirit. I'm sure there will be times that the positivism will wane but it helps to see that there are people who remain enthused especially if those people are the ones leading you.

I was invited to attend a meeting later in the afternoon and one stark difference from all the meetings I've attended the past 2 years was how brief and straight to the point it was. Direct questions expecting direct answers. Questions that provoked some thought and creativity. Something I've missed since business school caseroom discussions 3 years ago. It didn't matter to me, the minor shortcomings that perhaps frustrated the progress being expected, I was enamored by how the environment was so light it allowed me to breathe and most of all THINK.

It felt like I found an oasis in a desert.

I realize then that I am motivated when I am led by highly thought provoking leaders who are progressive in their thinking. It is not so much that they are up to date with everything but it's how they think that inspires me to become creative with them. I realize that I am also motivated when I am led by decisive leaders because it encourages the pursuit of willfullness in all my endeavors.

There is a tiny pantry in the Executive Office just right behind my work space. There is a lady by the name of Lita who makes good Batangas coffee for me. She is not as charming as Manang Isabel just yet but maybe I still have to get to know her better.

The Cavite air remains cool all throughout the day. The plant is not centralized with airconditioning but it doesn't feel hot. I was buried underneath 5 huge ring binders filled with information I had to chew on to catch up but I didn't mind.

It's definitely been a breath of fresh air. One that's been long awaited and hoped for.

Finding this job was a miracle. Living through my first day was another miracle. I can't wait to discover the other miracles hidden in this journey this time around.

I See Grace

I'm getting myself ready for my first day at work tomorrow. New job. New year. Hopeful expectations of a better year.

Seeing grace. Being grace. Living grace. In everything.

An Authentic Christmas

It's been a while since I wrote and really sat down with myself to think about everything that has happened for me this Christmas season.

For quite some time, I have been blogging with the sole effort of picking up my writing habit. So that little by little I can start feeling productive as I pursue my writer's dream. For quite some time I have been taking tabs on myself like how meaningful my posts have been or how many pictures I have uploaded in Flickr that caught how many number of views or comments. For quite some time I have been metering myself on my own progress without the knowledge of many so that I know if I am moving or not. So that I can tell myself I am doing good or not. So that I will not be affected when anybody tells me that I am doing good or not.

Experiencing the death of a loved one changes all the perspectives you can have about success or about living a meaningful life or about what fulfillment is for you. I'm not sure if I have gotten mine articulated clearly but I know my perspectives have changed.

I have experienced 4 loved ones pass away but I have never contemplated on the reality of death this long and this deep as when my grandmother passed away. I've written snippets of my thoughts everywhere and have chatted about it with those I constantly confide in. Somehow I can never repeat it enough. My full appreciation for her life came only at a point when she is gone. Mostly because I never understood the way she lived. I never understood the stories I have heard about how she raised her children. I never understood how I witnessed her strict and unpleasant air as she was taking care of my grandfather in his last days. I never understood why I was always afraid of making her cross. I never understood why despite all these, I still follow her and respect her ways.

Perhaps it is this irony that makes me ponder so much upon the effect her death has on me. And why I am suddenly awakened to want to discover how her interior life has been instead of the exterior one. There must be something inside her that I have not fully understood. A feeling. A hidden experience. A trauma. A hurt. That manifested itself as uptightness. As strict-ness. As an idiosyncrasy that never really sits quite well or leaves me at ease. As I reflect upon these things, I also reflect upon my relationship with my own mother and I find several parallelisms in the patterns of our lives woven together. As I reflect upon my own relationship with my mother I also reflect upon the relationships of those I have nurtured. Though I may never be quite the mother many continue to hope for me to be, God has somehow graced me with some experiences that can resonate with what its like to be in a mother's position.

The patterns cycle flawlessly. My lack of understanding for my grandmother's tough shell is the same as my lack of understanding for my mother's tough shell. It is also the same for those who I have nurtured as they try to continue to understand me. However there are breaks I have noticed and these breaks signify a certain illumination on my mother's part and on my part as we probably catch ourselves affecting others too strongly with our "fierce" exterior leading to the weak understanding of others on our intentions from the inside.

As I continue to sort out my grandmother's things, I realized the many similarities I have with her and that my mother has with her. The love for keeping mementos. The love for books and reading. The love for quaint beauty. I also realize the similarities in things we dislike. Of which I would rather not enumerate anymore because it is so much easier to dislike things than to love things and this recount is an attempt to increase my own capability to love.

I realize that there is so much meaning in the word HEREDITY. It can encircle you in a certain perimeter and keep you there forever or you can make the circle wider encompassing and embracing more of life in a variety of ways but in the same nature. For example, my love for the art of diary keeping is something I share with most people. My reflections are something I rarely keep private because I find liberation in sharing them with others. But writing is not only a trait I acquired. It is a trait I inherited from my mother who is quite a profilic writer herself and was a thespian in her day who inherited it from my grandmother who I recently found out does her own writing in the form of calendared thoughts on pages of an old notebook. However, the break in the cycle shows that they are both more private with their reflections compared to mine and perhaps that's when my circle become a little bit more wider because as I take the risk to share my inmost thoughts to others I acquire certain experiences that teach me something else that they may not have experienced while keeping their thoughts private.

It is not to discount the value of whatever our experiences have given us but reflecting this way now helps me realize that even with our similarities there can be a point of difference. What to do with this difference now becomes an act borne out of love. Love can bring about further understanding with one another. Patience when understanding becomes a struggle and Faith that understanding will be a new dawn that is promised to one who remains steadfast.

I suppose it is true when they say that in understanding death, you begin to learn how to live. I never quite finished Tuesdays with Morrie but I'm sure I got myself to that part of the book.

My journey to authenticity centers around living my life as meaningfully as possible. Bearing fruit through the love I receive from my family, relatives and close friends. But there is a difference in how I want to remain authentic. I want it effortless. I want it natural. Not because I want to slack off or not work at anything at all but on the contrary. I suppose I want my authenticity to pervade externally as naturally as it can be and that can't be possible without acquiring a certain interior steadfastness of character.

I suppose this is another break in the circle. For generations of my family, developing character is acquired through discipline. Discipline is quite a strong word that never fails to manifest itself through uptightness. This uptightness weakens the expression of tenderness (not to say that it is not present because how can one love without being tender?). But the pursuit of good and noble character becomes a rigourous pursuit for discipline. I would say if one is kept in a straightjacket for too long, one would really ache to break free from a routine that can inhibit the other expressions that one naturally expresses because of their own individual nature.

So the big question is, what can I do to continue pursuing good without becoming too uptight that my pursuit is misunderstood?

As I have reflected in the previous paragraphs, I have inherited favorable traits and unfavorable ones. The general weakness of man tends to magnify the unfavorable ones. Perhaps this is what Catholics call "the effects of original sin". To remain there would be a painful way to live. So how do I live beyond it? How do I magnify the favorable traits instead? I realize now that everything favorable is not a result of my own effort. I have come to a point where I have felt and pondered upon my weaknesses to the core that trying to overcome them on my own is quite an ardous task. If one is already burdened with having to overcome a weakness, how can one effortlessly exhibit a strength?

GRACE.

Of course one can always say that practice makes perfect. Virtuouso pianists practice the whole day. Athletes train the whole day. But what is it that makes them internally willing to go through the rigor and the toil? What makes them even love it? What makes it effortless for them to subject themselves to such an molding of mind, body and spirit?

GRACE.

I suppose a musician knows that without thoroughly completing the scales, his fingers will lose their dexterity. I suppose an athlete knows that without properly stretching his limbs, he will lose his flexibility. Dexterity. Flexibility. Both associate with the ability to bend and stretch beyond what is normally capable. It is an admittance on their part that they become weak in their craft/art/sport if they do not remain a certain degree flexibility in mind, body and spirit.

Taking it to its intrinsic value, what causes interior flexibility?

GRACE.

I may sound like I'm trying to prove a point but I'm not. It's just that I find no other answer in my mind as far as my experience in this lifetime can say aside from the word Grace. And how timely that I just refer back to 2 Corinthians 12:9 where it says "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness."

Someone who knows that his body will not bend that far without a certain surrendering to a routine knows that he is intrisically weak without that routine. For the spiritual person, this routine is prayer. I suppose that's why for musicians practicing their instrument becomes a sacred moment as well as morning walks or jogs are for athletes. The rhythm of repetition in the beginning causes a tension but with consistency produces fluidity and a calming effect that lulls the senses and makes what is being done an effortless motion expressed.

It may seem that I have gone off tangent already but the whole point of extracting this out of my system is to face what I have been absorbing the past Christmas season.

It definitely has made me understand a lot of things. Now making me comfortable in sitting with some of them. And that's all I need to be for now.

Remembering that I belong to a family of women who may live fierce but love just as fiercely. Grateful that I am given the wisdom to understand some things I found difficult to understand. Relying on the grace of God to propel me to move forward and continue to journey the authentic and blessed life I have always longed to live.

I realize now that even if this Christmas may not have been as Merry or as Happy and even if it didn't seem to bring "glad tidings", it has been the most authentic Christmas I have ever experienced because it is during this Christmas I realized a lot about the truth behind significant people in my life and in realizing that I come to know that I have always been loved.