The Virtues of Filipino Bravehearts

It was a hot Saturday morning and I found myself on the road again with my photo adventure partner (what's left of two wings since the other one left for London) grabbing a sausage Mcmuffin with egg breakfast at McDonald's before hitting the South Expressway to Enchanted Kingdom, Sta. Rosa Laguna. I was invited to attend this camp because I have always been wanting to get involved in something that's got to do with little children.

Children have a way of reaching me and breaking through the walls that have built the facade that says: ADULT - DO NOT TOUCH - IS HERE FOR BUSINESS. I know this and I have been on the journey of shedding off some skin because I have started to believe that the world is a much more pleasant place to live in if I let the calloused walls of my heart fall down.

__________

I entered the tent and was immediately greeted by Mrs. Stephanie Cabanes. A mother of 3. Her eldest son Jarro now 23 years old, has experienced open heart surgery 3 times in his life for a condition called anti-phospholypid anti-body (APA) syndrome that damaged his aortic valve. She is one of the pioneers of conceptualizing Camp Braveheart in 2001. Camp Braveheart is her advocacy to the cause of bringing back hope to the families of children who have congenital heart disease. Her vision: to let them know that there is still room to dream again.

I saw glistening tears forming from the side of bright brown eyes and I felt mine surge to the surface as well. It is one of those moments where the soul speaks louder and breaks the barriers of age, experience, and environment. I was moved by how this has fueled her passion to live despite the moments wherein she hung by a thread close to giving up.


The irony of being in a Filipino middle class family is when you are not poor enough to be the cause of charity organizations and you are not rich enough to easily afford the expenses that hit you like a shockwave when you are in the middle of a family crisis. But it is here when all solutions seem to fail that another one shows up to unveil what solves the financial burden but most of all the very core of the burden itself: the anxiety of heart. Mrs. Cabanes experienced what it was like to have all options of financial support gone and only rely on her strong-willed mother’s heart to beg and borrow, kneel and pray so that their hearts as a family can begin to beat again.

It is here when the Filipino's "lakas ng loob kumayod kahit wala na ang lahat" [the strength to persevere even when all is gone] becomes an apparent virtue exemplified. The virtue of the Filipino Braveheart. The heart whose cries start from the depths of it struggles and reaches the end of its walls as a willful choice to keep it from caving in. The heart whose weakness is transparent in every lamentation but whose only ounce of strength is flung up to the high heavens because the last thing it can do is keep the hope. All for one thing. Para sa pamilya.

______________

Zaine Capangpangan is almost 2 years old. She had her open heart surgery when she was 7 months old because of a heart murmur since birth. I met Zaine yesterday introducing herself with a beautiful smile. Her lips next to my ear whispering “My name is Zaine Capangpangan.” She shyly poses infront of the camera and bursts out in exuberant laughter after she sees her photo on the little LCD screen.

She came with her mom and her Tita. Both of whom raised her since her father is working abroad. They are worried about her life and the fragility of her health. She does not like eating a lot except when they go to Jollibee and order her fries and gravy, her favorite meal. They are worried about how she will grow up and if there will be job opportunities that will take her given her condition. But they are happy saying, “Basta makita lang naming siya masaya na kami. Basta magkasama kami, Masaya na kami.” [As long as we see her, we are happy. As long as we are together, we are happy]

I look at the little girl with big bright eyes and a wide happy smile. She has so much life that you can barely notice the deep scar at the center of her chest.


The irony of seeing the vibrancy of life in a child who almost lost it brings me to realize how poorly we can keep our decision to remain vibrant in our lives when we are not threatened with sickness, poverty or calamity. If one little child, with her weak heart, can re-ignite the vibrancy in her family’s togetherness what more are we who have our families and our heart’s intact?
The Virtue of the Filipino Braveheart surpasses any struggle weighed upon by impossible life conditions. Giving value to what is nearest and what is dear, the family for whom it beats, and the life for whom it pours out love.

___________

I got reacquainted with Sarah Ocson Duremdes, a former Miriam Highschool classmate who was one of the guest speakers at Camp Braveheart. She shared her faith filled story with much inspiration and fortitude on how she conquered the journey of her son’s open heart surgery when he was 8 days old.

Inigo Ocson Duremdes was diagnosed with a condition called Transposition of the Great Arteries (TGA) wherein the aorta and the pulmonary arteries were reversed. This condition limits the body from getting oxygen rich blood. After just 8 days of being born he had to go through the difficult procedure of open heart surgery. His family in complete anxiety awaited the long procedure and struggled to remain hopeful through this whole time. As his family worried for his life, they also worried about the expenses that would be incurred.

Similar to the any middle class family who I have spoken in this Camp, the Duremdes’ went through the whole experience of begging and borrowing to ensure that their son’s condition can be well supported financially. The ordeal of thinking about the economics of the situation and remaining steadfast in their faith was a painful struggle that led them to the end of their selves. Put in one corner of life where the future seemed bleak, they had no other option, no other contingency plan except to surrender what is in their hands to God.

Nigo flatlined a couple of times and when the surgeon had almost turned off the machines that monitored his heart, hope came as if the heavens opened and Nigo by some miracle started to breathe again.




The irony of seeing life just being born to immediately being taken away is heart-wrenching for any mother to experience. After the long grueling hours of labor and recovery, you watch your life from a vantage of point and ask, “What is all this for?”

The Virtue of the Filipino Braveheart is reliant on the truth that there is always a miracle waiting around the corner that conquers insurmountable odds for someone who refuses to give up and let death simply take over.

______________

The family’s virtues make-up the character of any individual. The family is the microcosm of any nation.

The Filipino Brave Heart is borne from experiences such as these. These virtues allow our lives to shine in the midst of darkness, stand strong in the midst of storms, breakthrough in the midst of circumstances that we thought would cause us to break down.




My experience with Camp Braveheart families yesterday showed me how to live with a heart that beats with no walls guarding its vulnerability. How this vulnerability transforms into the seed of strength wherein lies the dignity of the family. A Filipino Family. Filipino Families who survived and are surviving the journey of collectively letting their hearts beat as one so one can keep on living. How one tiny heart weakened in flesh has transformed all others to be strengthened in the heart of their spirits. This is the kind of miracle that ignites once again our will to live.



If one family can be transformed and re-ignited with passion for one another, then our nation can be filled with families giving birth to the flame that makes these little heroes today the big heroes of tomorrow.

Camp Brave Heart Song

Yung unang mabigat
Ngayon puno ng pag-asa
Sa bawat pagtibok
Tayo’y nabubuhay

Tayo’y nabigyang buhay
Dahil nilikha ng Diyos,
Aming simbolo ng buhay,
Aming mahiwagang puso.



Refrain
Sa bawat hininga
Ito’y tahimik ngunit buo
Mapayapa ngunit matapang
Magpapasalamat habang buhay
Nagpapasalamat sa Diyos.

__________

credits:
for the pictures - Javi Cabanes
for the invitation to Camp Braveheart - Tita Steph Cabanes

V Day

This Valentine's Day is quite different from the rest. I didn't get a rose from my Dad as was his usual stint for us on this day. If I had kept all those roses and cards he gave me it would stack to about 20 or more for ever year since I was about 13.

But despite that, this Valentine's is quite special because it's the first time he has come home since his hospitalization and last night I went with him and my mom to attend the prayer meeting at St. James Church. Martin's theme last night was seeking the giver and not the gift. How timely that the readings were from the gospel of Mark telling the story of a leper who asked Jesus if he can be made clean. If he can be healed.

I saw my Dad be moved and be transformed as he stood up in worship and reverent praise. Despite all the things that I have experienced this week that shook my faith's core, I felt blessed seeing a miracle at work. Knowing that part of the miracle was me.

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.

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.

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

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 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.

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.

Lessons from Work Resignations: Seeing Beyond The Change that Endings Bring and Taking that Leap of Faith to Begin Again

I've resigned twice in my life. The first resignation was to pursue higher learning in business school. In that resignation, there was a party to send me and a couple of people off where I got an award for innovation and leadership. I was unsure about my next move. I was scared about the next step. I didn't have any amunition with me to ensure that I will succeed. My life moved on 2 months after and before I knew it I was sitting in a caseroom filled with 73 people from different nationalities battling over airtime to discuss opinions about a 15 pager Harvard Business Case.

I was clueless. I was lost. I felt like a little girl in a room full of grown-ups. What was I doing here, I asked? A few months passed and I realized that I wasn't the only one asking that question. Two years down the line I passed my thesis. My grades weren't impressive. I was only proud of a couple of subjects that were leaning towards self-mastery, art, creativity, entrepreneurship. All the rest were average. Two weeks before graduation, our class president asked if I can deliver the graduation response speech in behalf of our batch. She said I was the best orator in class. It didn't sink in that my oratory skills were worth a place on stage for graduation. I thought those were just given to students who were graduating at the top of the list. The spot was given to me for some reason and so I delivered my first graduation speech in all my academic life. What I didn't get in honor medals or dean's list awards, I miraculously made up for in that 5 minutes of airtime graduating from one of the Philippines' toughest business schools in 2005.

I didn't know what I was going to next. So I ended up volunteering for church as a fulltime youth minister. The experiences were so overwhelming and I needed time to figure my life out again. Coming out of a business boot camp armed me with a sharp mind and a pretty tough interior. It also gave me a humbled spirit. Working for a church organization seemed easy enough. It should be. After all, I was working with a bunch of kids. What can be so complicated with that? But I was mistaken when I realized that I was dealing with unique individualities and vulnerable hearts that called for much nurturing than I was capable of giving. I was spent. Dried up. And in parallel, started off to pursue the first stage of my career as a change catalyst.

They say, people who institute change are those who are able to withstand the toughest change themselves. I've read about people like these. I've read about their lives and I've seen some of them in person. I've always marveled at their tough inner core. Oftentimes shrinking shyly back because I have nothing to show since I considered myself quite weak.

And I am. Two years stay in the company I got into after my volunteer stint exhausted all creativity out of me. Transitioning from entrepreneurial environment to professional without any back-up, no clear structure, no grounded support from the instigator of change whatever I learned in business school that will help me survive went down the drain. Soon I stopped reading business books or leadership journals and went for The Daily Word, Devotionals and Podcasts. I realized that I am battling with the toughest mindset to break in all change initiatives because that mindset belongs to the one who wants the change himself. I went horizontal and reached out to my peers. I went vertical to reach up to management. I barely made a dent.

I'm not sure if I still made a dent. I have stacks of studies and reports and files saved in my hard drive as a result of the churning of brainpower to satisfy all expectations I could ever anticipate. But that's all they are now. Files.

Today is my last day of work and my arms were full this morning because I carried some gifts I bought for a few co-workers who I have grown attached to during my 2.5 year journey. You'd expect someone who has been hired to change the make-up of a 1.2B company to have more than two arm-full of packages. But no. I can only list with my two hands those I can say I really made a difference with. And half of them were not even from any department that I directly worked with. Half of them were the receptionist, the company driver, the company guard, the company janitor and janitress.

But I was cheerful today because I enjoyed painting my gift wrappers and writing handwritten thank you notes to those I wanted to wish all the best to.

I handed them with a "Para sa inyo po." (This is for you) and a warm smile. I know they didn't expect anything from me. And I also didn't expect anything from them. But the response was overwhelming.

Two of them cried after they read my note. And one of them said they were intending to buy a bag (my gift was a knapsack). There was really nothing to my note, I thought. It was a simple:

Napagaan niyo ang mga araw ko dito sa opisina. Salamat sa pag-tulong niyo sa kin sa mga maliit na bagay: pagbukas ng pinto, pagbati sa umaga, pagtimpla ng kape. (You made my life easier here in the office. Thank you for helping me in small things: opening the door, greeting me in the morning, making me coffee).

I didn't realize how much those words meant to them till I saw how it moved them. I didn't realize how much I was grateful really until I saw their tears. I thought I was just being gracious and cordial like people who resign from offices do. But there was something more.

I realized that no matter how small a contribution or how low your position, there will always be a moment meaningful enough to be remembered. Meaningful enough to be held. Meaningful enough to fuel a heart changed forever.

I am much more certain about where I am going this time around. I am much more certain about what I can do and who I want to be. But it's funny because it wasn't some great big career breakthrough or most expected promotion that brought about this epiphany. No awards were given this time to send me off. In fact, if I paid close detail to what the facts say of this experience it only spells one thing: I failed.

I look out of my office window from my little office corner for the last time. The skies are cloudy but the sun is bright. The skyline has patches of gray and orange. Breathing in, I sense something else.

The facts may describe one thing. But faith determines something else. Interspersed with reality and possibility is that very small window of breathing hope. That small window kept me above water. Kept me believing despite circumstances that because I am a child of the heavens, the hands that made a miracle out of me will not stop till the masterpiece is unveiled. Against all odds, against all scars...I am Redeemed. And there's no greater victory I can ever experience in my life than that.

The SkyAngel Cowbow Reaches Manila

It's another cloudy Friday but all warmed up by this video I found in Adi's Tumblr. It's a video of a child named Logan who calls up SkyAngel Radio to share something about his cow having to be put down because of a broken back.



I'm moved because of how young he is and how untainted his view about God is. He sure is not a theologian but he knows the truth about God so well.

Be Blessed!

The Flight of Leaves

This morning I had a chance to witness an artpiece in the making. Adi Mari finished her piece on birds and finally showed it to me all the way from London.

Art has always been something captivating for me because it allows me to be drawn inside and outside of myself. The focus of art becomes holistic instead of capturing just one aspect about life. Art makes life three dimensional because it forces you to look at reason (the purpose of pursuing the craft) and passion (the desire to pursue the craft). Art becomes the fruit of a journey's essence manifested in tactile form.

This is why I associate art so much with the journey of faith because it takes a lot of faith to keep up with an artistic journey and it takes a lot of artistic appreciation for life to keep up with the challenges of faith.

I have only started to really establish my journey on looking at how parallel faith and art can be. And today this journey is seen in the artpiece that my friend Adi Mari has made.

I'd call this piece The Flight of Leaves. She has used a variety of media to execute the concept of this artwork. It was quite a painstaking process of gluing in real leaves together to cover cardboard patterns of shapes forming a clutter of leaves at the base. I can imagine the gentle gesture of tracing a curve shaped stencil to draw the birds and capture the wings in flight.

She was talking to me about her fascination for birds ever since she moved to London and I surmise that it is because of how her life has always been. Filled with periods of traveling moving from one country to the next to settle into new homes and leave old ones. It's a melancholy journey of one who's barely anchored to maturity. But it is also quite a courageous journey for someone as young as her because it brings her closer to live a life reliant on faith.

I am caught by the flight of the birds which seems to be moving towards me. I can feel the wind from underneath sweeping the leaves up to the air as the wings swoop down to dip and soar up again. I am enchanted by the colored leaves and Adi Mari's hands that fashioned them intricately. The lines of the work are all moving. Much like Adi Mari's spirit. Moving to find the peacefulness of home in changing skies and the shifting of clouds.

It is true. That art is indeed a self-portrait and this piece can perhaps be her signature work because it literally expresses the story in her soul. One of hope despite the constancy of change and the hurried pace towards acceptance. One of faith despite the hurdles that needs to be crossed amidst the change hues and tones the color her life. One of authenticity despite the realities that challenge the meaning of her truth.

the Flight of Leaves