Thinking Aloud

She

2010-02-13T19:08:00.000-08:00

November 17, 2009. Hubby was diagnosed with a life-threatening illness. Cancer of the nasopharynx, stage 3.

My comfortable world was suddenly turned upside down. I remember feeling so afraid, dazed, anxious, angry, confused, dreadful. There was so much pain inside of me. I had sleepless nights and nightmares. There seemed to be no end to my tears. For several nights in a row, I would always have these terrible dreams with a consistent theme - myself running along either a dimly-lit valley, or down through a dark tunnel with no light in sight, or a very dark forest being chased by who knows what. I was terribly hurting and desperate for help.

I realized all along that I was living an illusion, that life is at the tip of my fingers. That things would always be beautiful. I have been living the most comfortable and near perfect life. I felt so blessed in every imaginable way then.

Everything about me was shaken to the core. I was nothing but a broken soul, a lonely spirit desperate for help, and yet I felt help was too long in coming. Sure, I had my friends who prayed for me and comforted me. But I wanted somebody who would be there every minute of my waking hours.

And then she came into my life.

She arrived quietly I never noticed that she was there except when I opened my heart to her. She said that she was beside me all along, waiting for the perfect timing to introduce herself to me. I said I have known her long before, in fact, she had been the constant subject of my conversations with my friends during our regular sessions. But she said I have never really come to know her in the most meaningful and deepest way. Now was the time.

For the first time in my life, I came face to face with her, analyzed her, questioned her - upclose and very personal. Amazing but the more I searched for her, the more I longed for her presence. In moments I felt she was absent, I simply had to ask her to come and she would come. She told me all I needed to do was to trust. And to trust meant to rest, literally rest. I asked her to help me and she did. I don't know how she did it but she successfully propped me up, built me up inside, and strengthened me. She told me there was hope.

I started to take her seriously and really listened to what she was talking. As I did, I felt so relieved and comforted. But there was a part of me saying she was not giving the entire picture. It was all too good to be true. If she was lying, pain would be more unbearable the next time around.

But she - who had become my closest friend by then, my constant companion for 24 hours a day - kept drumming this powerful message into my heart - keep your hope alive! She reminded me that God has prepared me for this, and instructed me never never to forget the lessons I learned in the light now that I am in the dark.

I kept struggling with her though. One moment I was filled with hope, the next moment I was desperate. It was like a roller-coaster ride. But she did not give up on me. She held me when I was too afraid to move. She hugged when I needed the warmth of a friend. She kept saying - "I may be weak and hurting right now, but I will eventually become stronger and heal. That when I was ready to learn, teachers will appear. That in the darkest moment, the light is not long in coming".

Over the days, she had become my greatest ally and constant companion. With her help, I managed to silence the nagging fears and doubt pestering inside of me. And then one day, I just woke up to a kind of joy and peace in my heart, the kind that transcends all human understanding. I found strength I never knew possible.

Hubby is still undergoing through the cycles of chemotherapy and radiation sessions. And he's doing very very well, by the grace of God. Yes this is a tough time for the family, but I have not a single doubt in my heart that we will emerge victorious by the end of the road.

And all these because of my newfound friend. I cannot thank her enough for what she has done in my life. Miracle is not too strong a word for the connections that she has made, for the changes that have been made possible in my life. I see the greatest miracle unfolding before my very soul - the miracle of profound self-transformation.

By the way, I don't see my friend physically. She has no body, no form but her presence is very strong, and very real. Her name is FAITH.

Take this from me. If you're going through the same tough moment in your life, faith will be there when you hit bottom. And you'll know you've hit bottom when she appears. The serendipity is too wonderful and amazing to think that it was all a coincidence.

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(Matthew 17:20 NKJV) Jesus said to them, "Because of your unbelief; for assuredly, I say to you, if you have faith as a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.

God in the midst of Suffering

2009-10-05T18:08:00.000-07:00

Calamities one after the other. People dying. Suffering and Poverty. Man's inhumanity against man.

These have become part of our regular diet. These are not made-up stories in a horror flick, or magazine photos from faraway places. These are the grit and pain of life, upclose and very personal.

My teen-age kids are asking: Where is God in the midst of all these? If He had the power to instantly stop that typhoon or earthquake that claimed thousands of lives, why did He turn his back? If He loved his people, why didn't He spare them from suffering?

To such young minds, these are very unsettling questions. It is hard for them to reconcile the image of a loving God versus a God who allows his people to suffer. Why would, indeed, a loving God allow such horrible things to happen?

I don't want to wrap everything into a neat theological package and simply dismiss those questions as invalid. But I do know that our limited minds cannot possibly fathom the infinite wisdom of the Creator behind the universe. His thoughts are higher than ours, even if we're the most intelligent creature that ever roamed the planet. He knows the past, the present and the future.

Take note that I used the word "allow". God is not the author of all these horrible things. We are. The free will that God has given us included the possibility of sin within its own meaning. We live in a fallen world and whatever is happening around us is the consequence of our disobedience to God. We are greedy, stubborn and we are simply reaping the consequences of our action. We are self-destructing, to say the least.

But the good news is that God is sovereign and he is in control of everything, even if, on the surface, it doesn't appear that way. These "signs" as prophesied in the Bible, will come to pass. He will reclaim the earth and restore it to its full glory.

Truly, his wisdom vastly exceeds ours. All we have to do is simply trust that He knows best.

Waiting...

2009-09-27T16:53:00.000-07:00

I woke up to a chilling news today. Typhoon (Ondoy) hit my home country (Philippines) in such rage and fury unequalled for the last several years. As of this writing, death toll is continually rising as rescuers began to reach submerged places, thousands more were rendered homeless and injured.

The images on tv and you tube were truly heart-wrenching: a couple whisked away by a sudden gush of water, a man desperately holding on to a coconut branch hanging loose from the trunk, cars tumbling against each other in the midst of the flood, rescuers braving the cold and the rains to bring people stranded in a roof down to a safer area, a mother and child walking from roof to roof, trying to maintain their balance lest they tumble towards the neck-deep waters below.

As I started watching the searing images, my vision started to blur and my lips became numb in anguish. My sister and her family live in Marikina – the city that was hardest hit by the typhoon. Fatalities continue to be reported round the clock. Since her place is located right in the middle of the city – I knew they could be right into the center of the flood. What if ......what if?

It is so debilitating to watch something happening right before your eyes but you are helpless to do anything about it. The feeling was beyond description –the knowledge that they are out there in the flood – helpless, hungry, cold – and there’s nothing I can do about it.

As usual, I had to turn to my greatest SOURCE of comfort, my greatest HELP in moments like this.

But even as I said my word of prayer, I wished I could go back to sleep and realize that this was all but a DREAM.

Just Another Disposable Commodity

2009-09-14T19:29:00.000-07:00

In Canada, if you're not satisfied with the product that you bought or the service that you received, you have money-back guarantee subject to certain conditions. For instance, you can return a party dress you wore the night before to a party (provided you keep the tags), claiming that it didn't fit you right. (I know a lot of people doing this sooo shamelessly!) Or you can claim for the current week's sale price of an item you bought at regular price the week before provided your receipts are intact.

The overriding principle behind all of these, is that the buyer has the right to demand value for his money. And rightfully so. You pay for the services that you think you deserve and the products that give you quality.

Sadly though, this same mindset about "value for money, quality-consciousness" has been stretched to the point that it now transcends the value given to relationships, specifically marriage.

A couple enters into marriage with the same "contract" or "rights entitlement" mentality. They wed with certain expectations from each other. And when, in the course of the relationship, the expectations are not met, they have an easy solution.

Terminate the contract, otherwise termed as divorce.

Marriage is seen only as one of those disposable commodities.

"I'll scratch your back, and you scratch mine. Now that you can't scratch mine anymore, what's the point of continuing the relationship?"

"What we have is simply a legal contract, with each party having clear expectations from each other.

Easy way out. No strings attached. No need to work things out. No need to try harder or one more time.

Marriage is not seen as a covenant. God is out of the equation.

No wonder the children end up rebelling. Or drifting without a purpose. Or committing crimes at an early age. Or being left to the care of foster families. Or turning to drugs and crime. Or committing suicide.

Sad...

P.s. I am not condoning abusive relationships, especially in cases where women are on the losing end. What I am referring to here are ordinary cases of incompatibility and individual differences.

Goodbye 2

2009-09-04T20:32:00.000-07:00

After a week of back-breaking strut with the broom, vacuum cleaner, shampooer and every available cleaning gadget to clean-up our apartment, we officially turned-over our home for the last 18 months to our landlord last Monday, August 31.

As we walked away from the apartment, a surprising twinge of sadness clutched my heart. I looked back and surveyed the place for the last time, lingering my gaze in the patio and I recognized the feeling for what it was. We were parting with something that had become so much a part of ourselves.

Our stay in the apartment was rather brief, but it was laden with the best memories that characterized our first year of living as immigrants in this country that welcomed us with open arms. After all, the apartment was our first home in Canada, a silent witness to our early days of struggle and coping. Its bare walls had seen days of extreme emotions in a gamut - from euphoria to excitement to anticipation to frustration to doubt to hope then back to the cycle again.

If it could speak, it would tell a beautiful story that blends courage, hope and faith amidst adversity, uncertainty, and worry. If it could write, it would fashion an amazing narration of events and milestones that would prove that we are exactly in the place where we ought to be.

But like a book whose chapters have ended, we have to close the book and move on. It's time to read a new book.

Goodbye

2009-07-31T18:54:00.001-07:00

Although I no longer reside in the Philippines and have considered Canada my new home now, I continue to be in touched with the events in the Philippines. I scan the daily papers for the latest news, thanks to the internet. I still cringe when I hear corruption in the government, crimes committed in broad daylight, politicking in unimaginable places, poverty-stricken families. I monitor the latest about the business honchos and showbiz personalities. I keep in touch with relatives and friends and officemates who will always be a part of who I am now.

Yes, Virginia – I will always be a Filipino at heart.

Today, I join the rest of the Filipino nation as it mourns the loss of former President Corazon Aquino, considered an icon of democracy, for sweeping away a dictator with a “people power” revolt. As if that was not enough, she sustained democracy by fighting off seven coup attempts in six years of her rule.

While I have not always agreed with her political leadership, I have the highest respect for this woman who changed the course of our nation's history. I was a college freshman – an age characterized by idealism and rebellion - when she was catapulted to office. For the generation I belonged with at that time, she represented hope in a country rocked by hopelessness and apathy. She helped restore our faith in the democratic institutions.

Come to think of it, our deepest dreams and aspirations for a better tomorrow somehow became intricately intertwined with her destiny.

As it turned out, she struggled in office to meet high public expectations, including our generation’s. Consider her land redistribution program which fell short of ending economic domination by the landed elite, including her own family. Add to this her indecisive leadership, especially in social and economic reforms which did not really trickle down to the benefit of the “masa”. And it was probably because she lacked the political experience and the self-confidence to take up the fight to restore democracy on her own.

But if there’s anything that she should be credited for, it was her resoluteness to remove all vestiges of an entrenched dictatorship. She gave us back what was taken from us – the freedom and the voice to determine the course of the nation the way we wanted it to. She may not have been the ideal president, but who is? Even today, can we really find a much better alternative to her?

Goodbye, Tita Cory. Where you are today, I know you are at peace – with yourself and with your Creator, for not turning your back to the destiny that God had designed for you.

Of infidelity and dirty linens

2009-06-08T11:41:00.000-07:00

From thoughts about faith, now my mind is preoccupied with thoughts about faithfulness or the lack of it. Especially in the context of marriage.

Of course, I'm not toying about the idea of being infidel to my husband. That's farthest from my mind. I have no reason to be unfaithful to him in the first place. I am blessed to have him as my lifetime partner. And assuming that I do have reasons, it is against my character and values to be so. And by this, I'm not trying to cast aspersion on those who at one point in their marriage, have been unfaithful to their partners. I am not in a position to judge anybody. Only God is.

And I know my husband is not going to cheat on me either (some ladies out there will say "i don't hold his mind so how can i be sure?). We have been together for the last 16 years and I know and I know and I know in my heart that he will not do it, period. After all, he has everything to lose and nothing to gain, except a misdefined machismo taken to a new level. He knows that if cheats on me, I would not be mad. I would not get even but I would be hurt so badly.

I've been worried not about our marriage but about news of a broken marriage due to unfaithfulness. I have only been affected a bit when Mel Gibson recently divorced his wife of 28 years, Robyn due to a third party. Who's next - Brad Pitt and Angeline Jolie? Your guess is as good as mine. The point is that this thing about separation and divorce seems so ordinary and frequent to showbiz couples as changing their underwears so when news hit the papers, it didn't come as a surprise to me anymore.

But it was a different feeling when I heard that Jon and Kate Gosselin who both star in Jon & Kate Plus 8, a reality tv show about family, are in the verge of separation due to infidelity. And to think that they are such a sweet and ideal couple! Jon was seen out on the towm with a woman not Kate, and Kate and her bodyguard are rumoured to have more than just employee-employer relationship.

Man, how I felt so betrayed! And to think that I don't even know them personally. Perhaps because they represented hope in a world rocked by separation and divorce and marital infidelity every now and then. I thought the couple was different, after all they embodied the ideal marriage both in and out of television set.

The tragedy is that they are now washing their dirty linens in public and their eight children are now being dragged into the endless swirl of accusations and counter accusations and competing headlines.
Their marriage is disintegrating and they are further adding up to the indignity of it all by the way they behave (or misbehave) towards each other in public.

I wished I hadn't come to love their show. But it's too late to undo that now.

When Things Don't Make Sense

2009-05-27T11:35:00.000-07:00

I’ve been thinking about faith lately.

Sounds too profound and complicated? Yes it is. But I’ll try to simplify it as much as possible.

When I was younger and have not encountered crisis situations in my life, I believed then that life would always be happy and carefree. Having lived for more than 3 decades now and having had my share of pains and sorrows and difficulties, I am beginning to see life from a different perspective.

I admit that there were moments in my life before when I struggled with the most troubling question that every human has ever asked: “Why? Why did these things happen to me? If God was truly a caring God, why did he not do something about my situation?”

God did not answer my “why” questions right away then. But as days and years went by, the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together. I still don’t have answers to all of my questions (perhaps, I never will), but the message that I got translates to this very simple understanding:

“trials happen so I can exercise my faith"

The bible defines faith as believing that which has no absolute proof. It is holding on to what I believe even when the circumstances are in opposition to my belief. It is deciding to trust him even when things do not make sense.

The solution to my struggle was really simple. I must never forget that He is God. He wants me to believe and trust in him despite the things I don’t understand. I don’t have to comprehend what he is doing (much as I try, I could not because I am finite in my thoughts) but I just have to learn to TRUST him.

Of course, there's nothing wrong with trying to understand, but I discovered that it is much easier not to lean on my ability to comprehend. My intellect has posed questions after questions that I cannot answer. It dawned on me then that it would be wise to remember His words:

“As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts”.

Only when I learned to trust did I find comfort in my approach to life. Finally, I was relieved of the responsibility of trying to figure things out. It is enough to acknowledge that God makes sense even when things around me don’t make sense.

Way to Go!

2009-05-15T13:06:00.001-07:00

Moms out there will agree with me that our greatest legacy is to be able to raise responsible, godly children. Sure, we are proud of them when they excel in academics, sports, hobbies or whatever they set their hands into. But our greatest joy is to see them imbibing the values that we taught them, to see them blossom into the kind of persons we want them to be.

The other day, my daughters and I had our usual night bonding in bed - teasing and cajoling each other, playing wrestling and pillow fight - when Danee the youngest, suddenly blurted out:

"Mom, my schoolmate always teases me. She says embarrassing things about me, and tells me she's mad at me", was her opening statment.

"How did this start? What names does she call you with? Are you sure you didn't start it?", was my reply.

"I haven't done anything bad to her. She just says she doesn't want to see me. She makes me uncomfortable", she explained.

I could tell that Danee is worried about the matter as she was almost in the verge of tears. Suddenly, I felt the urge to protect my kid. I looked intently into her eyes and told her very emphatically that the kid wasn't just teasing, she was BULLYING her and that she doesn't have to put up with her.

"I don't want you to be abused by other people. Tell her that if she doesn't stop bullying you, you're going to tell the teacher about it", I ordered her.

"But she's not bullying me!", she retorted.

"Yes she is. If you don't do it, I'll go to your teacher myself". I angrily remarked, a bit frustrated that she can still find it in her heart to defend the girl.

That was the end of our conversation and I thought that settled it, but a little while later, Danee approached me.

"Mom, I'm not doing what you told me. I don't want to make a big deal out of it". She sounded so convinced of herself now.

"And why not?", was my curious remark.

With a smile on her face, she blurted out: "Because I'm different. Because I'm a CHRISTIAN!". And she proceeded on to remind me that in the first place, it was me who taught her to always behave that way.

Whoa! I felt myself melting before my daughter's eyes. What a way to learn from a 9-year old!

And yeah, she was right. I've been teaching her all along about the virtues of kindness, politeness or simply walking in love. These are the things that will make her a beautiful person, I would always say. And here was a situation that called for the application of the very same values that I teach her. Unfortunately, I failed. Fortunately, she passed.

I can always justify that it was a natural reaction for any mother who wants to protect her child. But no matter what I say, one thing is clear: at that moment, I was like a child learning from an adult.

But I am proud of my daughter. She is truly becoming a beautiful person.

Lessons

2009-05-05T09:31:00.000-07:00

It was a hot hot Sunday afternoon when we went out for our usual house hunting. Conscious of the scorching heat, I put sunblock on my face and grabbed my favourite over-sized hat. I reminded the kids to bring their anti-heat paraphernalias as well but before I could even finish my sentence, they were already out rushing to the car, unmindful of my instructions.

When we were about to get off the car, I kept looking for my hat but couldn’t find it. Then I saw Danee who was already out of the car, wearing it on her head, with a big smile on her face.

“Hey, Danee, that’s my hat! I told you to bring yours, ” I said.

“But mommy, don’t you know the concept of sharing?” she replied.

“Don’t you know the concept of responsibility? How many times have I told you to always bring your hat when the sun is high? Give it to me” I countered.

“Very well, then, but mommies are supposed to be more patient, more of a giver than a taker to their kids”, she retorted.

“Danee, have you heard about mom abuse? If you haven’t, you’re seeing one right now”, I shot back.

“Sorry mommy, it’s not mom abuse. I just thought that you wouldn’t mind me using your hat”, was the answer.

This is just a snapshot of how I and my youngest deal with each other on a day to day basis. My husband is amused everytime he hears the two of us arguing, and would often tease me “Nakahanap ka ng katapat mo” (you’ve found your match). He says Danee is very much like me.

Lest I be misinterpreted, I’m not at all offended by Danee’s tirades. In fact, I love it when she goes like that, as it tells me that I’m dealing with an assertive, no nonsense kid here. My husband is probably right, this is just her own personality shining out.

But deep down, I’d like to believe she’s imbibed my teachings about sharing and loving and is actually figuring out how to apply them in real life.

If only for this, I’d like to give myself a pat in the back, for being a good teacher, and Danee a big hug, for being a good student.

Contract

2009-04-29T19:43:00.000-07:00

This early, my youngest daughter Louise is starting to show her lawyering potentials.

For several months now, she's been bugging me to allow her to sleep in the masterbedroom, much to the chagrin of her dad. Each night, sending her to her bedroom is a never-ending tug of war between us. She never runs out of reasons NOT to stay in her bedroom. I think that she has mastered the art of emotional manipulation, the kind that makes her look like a pitiful victim and me an unfeeling cold-hearted mother that I have no choice but to give in to her caprices.

I can't exactly recall how she successfully negotiated with me to allow her to sleep in our bedroom every weekend (friday, saturday and sunday). The next thing I knew was that she was presenting me and her dad a piece of paper and asking me to sign it. I thought it was something about school so imagine how flabbergasted I was when I saw this:

Oh well, it seems like there's no reneging the promise now. She has the contract to back her up in case of dispute (LOL).

On Thursday last week, I found her sleeping in our bed. Aha! The contract maker has violated her own contract. When told about it however, she sheepishly pointed to the clock that read 12:00 midnight and said: "Mom, it's Friday already, therefore, I have every right to sleep in your bedroom."

Lessons for mom: Before signing a contract with your kid, be sure to define what weekend means.(LOL)

99 THINGS

2009-04-20T08:13:00.000-07:00

saw this here, and found it interesting, so i played along too....

here are the rules: bold the things you’ve done and post on your blog!

1. started your own blog
2. slept under the stars
3. played in a band
4. visited hawaii
5. watched a meteor shower
6. given more than you can afford to charity
7. been to disneyland
8. climbed a mountain
9. held a praying mantis
10. sang a solo
11. bungee jumped
12. visited paris
13. watched a lightning storm at sea
14. taught yourself an art from scratch
15. adopted a child
16. had food poisoning
17. walked to the top of the statue of liberty
18. grown your own vegetables
19. seen the mona lisa in france
20. slept on an overnight train
21. had a pillow fight
22. hitch hiked
23. taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. built a snow fort
25. held a lamb
26. gone skinny dipping
27. run a marathon
28. ridden in a gondola in venice
29. seen a total eclipse
30. watched a sunrise or sunset
31. hit a home run
32. been on a cruise
33. seen niagara falls in person
34. visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. seen an amish community
36. taught yourself a new language
37. had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. seen the leaning tower of pisa in person
39. gone rock climbing
40. seen michelangelo’s david
41. sung karaoke
42. seen old faithful geyser erupt
43. bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. visited africa
45. walked on a beach by moonlight
46. been transported in an ambulance
47. had your portrait painted
48. gone deep sea fishing
49. seen the sistine chapel in person
50. been to the top of the eiffel tower in paris
51. gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. kissed in the rain
53. played in the mud
54. gone to a drive-in theater
55. been in a movie
56. visited the great wall of china
57. started a business
58. taken a martial arts class
59. visited Russia
60. served at a soup kitchen
61. sold girl scout cookies
62. gone whale watching
63. got flowers for no reason
64.donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. gone sky diving
66. visited a nazi concentration camp
67. bounced a check
68. flown in a helicopter
69. saved a favorite childhood toy
70. visited the lincoln memorial
71. eaten caviar
72. pieced a quilt
73. stood in times square
74. toured the everglades
75. been fired from a job
76. seen the changing of the guards in london
77. broken a bone
78. been on a speeding motorcycle
79. seen the grand canyon in person
80. published a book
81. visited the Vatican
82. bought a brand new car
83. walked in Jerusalem
84. had your picture in the newspaper
85. kissed a stranger at midnight on new year’s eve
86. visited the white house
87. killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. had chickenpox
89. saved someone’s life
90. sat on a jury
91. met someone famous
92. joined a book club
93. lost a loved one
94. had a baby
95. seen the Alamo in person
96. swam in the great salt lake
97. been involved in a law suit
98. owned a cell phone
99. been stung by a bee

hmmmm... got only a 40 out of 99. which suggests i gotta do more...

Countdown

2009-04-07T10:36:00.000-07:00

This Saturday, April 11, is a big day for my highschool class. All roads lead to SNHS grounds as former classmates and friends and other alumni troop to join our alma mater's annual homecoming and reunion, this time being hosted by our class, the silver jubilarians.

The preparations for this activity started early last year, thanks to our dedicated classmates who cared enough to make the affair truly meaningful. Although I and the rest of my classmates who are based abroad, am several continents away from them, we were able to keep tab with the preparations and the developments, thanks to Marissa who initiated the opening of the e-group account for the batch.

As I write this, I can only imagine the excitement and frenzy building up as my classmates prepare for the big event. Menchie wrote in her blog how she and the rest of the locally-based classmates had been trying so hard to dance gracefully with the rhythm, conquering two left feet and stiff joints and arthritis, just to give justice to the production number. I am excited to see Nena, with all her towering height, pull it off and the rest of the girls who were not really into dancing during highschool.

They will also have a musical number to be participated in by the kids. Ali and Marissa are in charge of the rehearsals. I can just visualize how the kids will turn out to be as they belt out the lyrics of "Tomorrow" that used to be our class' unofficial theme song.

And of course, the Family Day exclusive to the class is the biggest treat of all. This is the highlight of the celebration, where friends and classmates will gather together in some warm, cozy and summery beach and talk about everything and nothing, reminisce the good old days, tease and cajole each other, share laughters and memories, and just have fun, probably up to the wee hours of the morning.

They will have so much fun. They will find each other again. They will celebrate old and newfound friendships. And when the day is over, they will experience the fullness of heart that will pave the way to tears. A few of them will cry a little but smile a lot.

They and only they, because I am unable to home to attend the celebration. Arrgh!

Since I graduated from highschool, I never had the chance to attend the alumni homecoming even though I was based in Manila then. I promised myself then that I will never miss out on our silver jubilee, but a year ago today, we migrated to Canada which makes travelling back home at this time of the year impractical and uncalled for.

But on our golden, I don't see any reason why I should miss it. And who knows, I don't really have to wait that long. A caring soul may want to organize an exclusive homecoming on our thirtieth year!

But for now, all I can do is wish my classmates good luck and pray for a successful homecoming celebration.

Winner

2009-03-31T06:45:00.000-07:00

The first time I saw her last summer - an old, frail-looking woman walking so slowly with a cane to brace her steps - my heart instantly went out to her. I thought to myself a woman this age should not be left alone. She had difficulty walking, each stride carefully taken else she would lose her balance. If it were not for her cane, she would definitely trip off.

I had to resist my initial reaction to help her. Something told me she was different. She was limping, and was literally dragging herself when she walked. But I also saw determination in every step she took. From the way she moved, she seemed to have gone through a heart stroke, which probably rendered half of her body paralyzed.

Every morning since then, she had become a familiar sight to all of us. We would see her garbed in her sweaters with matching toque and scarf, rounding off the corners of the walkway in our apartment complex, all by herself.

I tried to imagine myself in her shoes.

"Oh, it is utterly helpless to be trapped in a body that will not let me do what I want to do, or to be dependent on a piece of wood to keep me standing. It is so tiring to physically drag myself from the comfort of my bed just to brace the early morning creepy chill, just to fulfill this hateful walking regimen. Oh, this entire thing is so pathetic, and so hopeless. When will I see the end of it?"

I had to correct myslef - does she really think that way?

"Oh, now, I no longer have to drag myself from bed just to get up. Thank God I have this most reliable cane to bear me out. It is cold outside but the sunshine would feel good on my skin, and maybe I can complete 10 corner rounds instead of the usual 8 this time. Oh, how good it is to feel that I am improving everyday. How it gives me hope that I am making progress day by day".

Yesterday, my daughter and I saw her walking down the pathway again. She still had the cane in her right hand, but her steps are faster this time, more resolute, more assured, more determined. She has definitely gone a long way compared to the first time I saw her.

My daughter said she pitied the woman. I told her no, she did not need pity. She is to be admired and modeled for her courageous spirit. She's made a choice to overcome her circumstances, and I know she will.

One Year

2009-03-26T13:19:00.000-07:00

One year and two days ago today, my family left the Philippines to settle in Winnipeg, Canada for good. Admittedly, I and husband never envisioned ourselves living abroad before. But although we had an enjoyable lifestyle in the Philippines, we also had to think about the future of our children. With the way the country was going, we saw very limited opportunities for them there. So off we joined the fray of young and adult professionals seeking for a better life abroad.

When we got to Winnipeg, we just loved the quiet ambiance and felt at home instantly. Winnipeg is such a small city that one can actually explore its nook and corner in a day’s time. There are no expressways or subways and complicated fly-overs and overpass that characterize the bigger metropolitan cities. In Winnipeg, one can get to the downtown area using the bus in 15 minutes, or go to the biggest mall in 7 minutes.

It is such a simple laid-back city with very friendly people. People here greet you as if you’ve known each other for a long time. Filipinos also abound in Winnipeg (we constitute 10% of total population and belong to the top 5 immigrants). I see their familiar faces popping up everywhere –whether in the church, school, library, grocery store, bank and buses.

It also helped that our apartment is strategically located near all the major conveniences – Filipino foodmart and bakery (where I can buy Mang Tomas lechon sauce, Mama Sita seasoning mix, ube halaya and pandesal) just behind us, Filipino evangelical church and library right across our building, playground and garden two blocks away, and a major department store right next to our apartment complex.

Days after our arrival in Winnipeg, we visited our relatives in Toronto. Everything seemed to be so massive and grand scale there. While the place was so modern and very sophisticated, it was also very intimidating. When we toured the downtown area, I felt like a helpless child being drowned in an endless sea of humanity that seemed to care only for themselves. People appeared snobbish and seldom laughed. I only saw a handful of Filipinos around. Instantly, we decided we did not belong there.

Like most Filipinos here, we also had our share of “coping stage” characterized by fears, apprehensions, insecurities and shock.

Taking the bus for the first time was such an intimidating task. They come on schedule and right on time, and they’re not about to wait for you when you’re late. People are “cashless” – they don’t carry them in their pockets as transactions are usually made through debit and credit cards. Appointments are a must for almost all major transactions with the government or service entities – you cannot just pop into somebody’s office, even your friend’s office, and expect to be attended to right away. In the Philippines, this is quite unimaginable. You always have time to spare to your friends, even on unannounced visits. Office transactions are almost paperless, maximizing the use of technology.

My children suddenly had to mature and become independent so soon. No more maids at their heck and beck, no driver to transport them to school. They had no choice but to learn to cook, do laundry, clean the house and commute to school by bus.

Winter can be harsh, what with the chill creeping all over your body. Before you can go out, you need to bundle yourself up in layers of clothing, or you’ll freeze to death. The snow blocking the driveway needed to be shoveled too, and driving under extreme weather can be dangerous, what with poor visibility and undesirable road conditions.

Life in Canada is quiet and even boring. People stick to their routines mostly. They go to work in the mornings on weekdays; buy their groceries on weekends; and do their holiday shopping when the season is around. This is so much unlike the Philippines where many go out on "gimiks" with their friends on Saturday nights. Metro Manila's malls -- such as Robinson's and SM -- are also bigger and offer more malling activities than Toronto's.

But taking these things aside, life in Winnipeg is good. Although everything did not come to us in a silver platter, we consider ourselves blessed in every imaginable way. We did not have to go through the financial and physical hardships that most immigrants do. One of our greatest blessings is having been connected to a community of fellow Christians who welcomed us into their homes, and treated us like family.

But as always, we cherish our good old days in the Philippines - Friday night movies with friends, the monthly spa, hanging out in the malls, long chats with friends, and the regular trips to fine restaurants! This early, we’re planning our homecoming trip to the Philippines very soon.

And yeah, despite the fact that life in Canada does have its benefits, the Philippines will always be our first home.

.

Life's Roads

2009-02-23T18:14:00.000-08:00

Rick Warren, pastor of Saddleback Church and author of the famous "Purpose-Driven Life" book that raked in millions and instantly made him wealthy, is one of the few persons who affected my faith in a most profound way.

A few days ago, I learned that his wife, Kay is dying of cancer. Although they did not know me personally, my heart went out to them in this most trying moment of their life. But I need not worry, because Rick knows just what to do in times like this - becoming steadfast in his faith in God, both in living and in dying.

Here is a transcript of the absolutely incredible short interview by Paul Bradshaw with this man of great faith. After reading it, I realized how amateur and small my faith is compared to his. His is a mountain, mine is a mustard seed.

"People ask me, What is the purpose of life? And I respond: In a nutshell, life is preparation for eternity. We were not made to last forever, and God wants us to be with Him in Heaven.

One day my heart is going to stop, and that will be the end of my body--but not the end of me.

I may live 60 to 100 years on earth, but I am going to spend trillions of years in eternity.. This is the warm-up act - the dress rehearsal. God wants us to practice on earth what we will do forever in eternity.

We were made by God and for God, and until you figure that out, life isn't going to make sense.

Life is a series of problems: Either you are in one now, you're just coming out of one, or you're getting ready to go into another one.

The reason for this is that God is more interested in your character than your comfort.

God is more interested in making your life holy than He is in making your life happy.

We can be reasonably happy here on earth, but that's not the goal of life.

The goal is to grow in character, in Christ likeness.

This past year has been the greatest year of my life but also the toughest, with my wife, Kay, getting cancer.

I used to think that life was hills and valleys - you go through a dark time, then you go to the mountaintop, back and forth. I don't believe that anymore.

Rather than life being hills and valleys, I believe that it's kind of like two rails on a railroad track, and at all times you have something good and something bad in your life.

No matter how good things are in your life, there is always something bad that needs to be worked on.

And no matter how bad things are in your life, there is always something good you can thank God for.

You can focus on your purposes, or you can focus on your problems.

If you focus on your problems, you're going into self-centeredness,'which is my problem, my issues, my pain.' But one of the easiest ways to get rid of pain is to get your focus off yourself and onto God and others.

We discovered quickly that in spite of the prayers of hundreds of thousands of people, God was not going to heal Kay or make it easy for her.

It has been very difficult for her, and yet God has strengthened her character, given her a ministry of helping other people, given her a testimony, drawn her closer to Him and to people.

You have to learn to deal with both the good and the bad of life.

Actually, sometimes learning to deal with the good is harder. For instance, this past year, all of a sudden, when the book sold 15 million copies, it made me instantly very wealthy.

It also brought a lot of notoriety that I had never had to deal with before. I don't think God gives you money or notoriety for your own ego or for you to live a life of ease.

So I began to ask God what He wanted me to do with this money, notoriety and influence. He gave me two different passages that helped me decide what to do, II Corinthians 9 and Psalm 72

First, in spite of all the money coming in, we would not change our lifestyle one bit. We made no major purchases.

Second, about midway through last year, I stopped taking a salary from the Church.

Third, we set up foundations to fund an initiative we call The Peace Plan to plant churches, equip leaders, assist the poor, care for the sick, and educate the next generation.

Fourth, I added up all that the church had paid me in the 24 years since I started the church, and I gave it all back. It was liberating to be able to serve God for free.

We need to ask ourselves: Am I going to live for possessions? Popularity?

Am I going to be driven by pressures? Guilt? Bitterness? Materialism? Or am I going to be driven by God's purposes (for my life)?

When I get up in the morning, I sit on the side of my bed and say, God, if I don't get anything else done today, I want to know You more and love You better. God didn't put me on earth just to fulfill a to-do list. He's more interested in what I am than what I do.

That's why we're called human beings, not human doings.

Happy moments, PRAISE GOD.
Difficult moments, SEEK GOD.
Quiet moments, WORSHIP GOD.
Painful moments, TRUST GOD.

Every moment, THANK GOD."

Leaving

2009-01-19T17:09:00.000-08:00

I felt something different when I walked into the office last Monday morning. The usual “hi, how are you” greetings and morning chuckles from my officemates were conspicuously absent. Over in the corner of the room, I saw the HR director in a close huddle with two other managers, intently talking to each other in hushed tones.

In the hallway, I met two colleagues who seemed so self-absorbed that they didn’t even bother to return my hello. I think I also saw something in their eyes – was it grief or sadness – I wasn’t exactly sure.

Did I do something wrong – I asked myself. My mind raced back to the events last Friday. To the best of my recollection, I could not think of anything I have done that could have caused their indifference.

A few minutes later, I was able to put the pieces of the puzzle together. I understood. They were grieving for the loss of a dearly-beloved colleague of 15 years who succumbed to death due to heart attack right inside the Office at 5:00 PM last Friday.

His name was Bryan and he was in his 50s, a father of two teen-age daughters and a faithful husband. I didn’t know him personally, but from what I’ve heard, he seemed to be a very jolly person, putting a smile in everybody’s face with his wacky humor. He was a health buff, they say, hitting the gym everyday and forever conscious of his diet.

And so for the entire day last Monday, the world seemed to have stood still for the employees of MPI as everybody mourned the passing of Bryan.

Every time I hear stories of death or witness the death of somebody, my heart goes out to the family of the departed. I know how it feels. I’ve been there. But one doesn’t have to go through this painful experience to feel the pain of losing a loved one. Death permanently cuts off our physical and emotional ties with our loved ones, without any hope of being able to see them again, talk to them, touch them, embrace them. And this is quite hard to accept.

The only consolation, the only source of strength and comfort for the grieving, is the belief that somebody, she or he will be reunited with his loved one in eternity. In a different realm where there is no longer pain and suffering and death. Where there is only pure love and pure joy.

That is, if the grieving person believes.

If he doesn’t believe, death will never make sense.

Sixteen years, and counting

2009-01-09T19:53:00.000-08:00

January 9, 1993. I made a decision that would change my life forever. I married my ex-boyfriend now husband and best buddy.

For the last sixteen years, we have managed to stick together without killing each other (lol) save for body bruises and sprains here and there (courtesy of me, lol).

Kidding aside, today is the time to count the many ways why it was easy for me to overlook his shortcomings and to acknowledge how blessed I am to have him as my lifetime partner:

• He has been faithful to me all these years (at least as far as my knowledge goes lol). I completely trust him in the company of girls (although not completely in the company of boys lol again).

• He trusts me with family finances. He never asks for accounting. He is more concerned with the time I spend on shopping than with the amount of money I spend. What is funny is that the more he trusts me, the more I become conscientious about spending.

• He is not very expressive of his feelings for me. But what he lacks in words he compensates in action. His language of love is time and service. He does things in the house like laundering, cooking, dish washing, house cleaning and runs errands for me that I’m tempted to call him my runner (lol).

• He easily learns his lessons and takes it to heart. For instance, during our first years of marriage, he wreaked the hood of our car because of drunkenness (thank God he wasn’t hurt). He never drunk again since then.

• He covers up for me especially when I am overboard. He invents excuses and alibi so as not to put me in bad light before the eyes of other people.

• When our babies were born, he would get up late in the night to feed the baby or change diapers so I don’t have to lose my sleep.

• He snores so loud in sleep (imagine the sound of a helicopter lol). As a considerate act, he ensures that I get to sleep first before he sleeps.

And the list is endless.

Best of all, he taught me that marriage is a good excuse to grow up and think less of myself.

Of course, we also had our share of fights and struggles. But what I learned over the years is that fighting is healthy in any relationship provided you know how to do it. There is also no such thing as a perfect relationship precisely because the persons who compose it are imperfect. When things go wrong - when his ugly side looms large – I always go back to my list of reasons why I am blessed to have him. And when I do, the ugly side shrinks so small in comparison to the reasons why I love him.

If I can bring back the hands of time and be given the chance to choose the man I would marry, I would choose him over and over again.

Post-New Year Reflections

2009-01-03T12:34:00.000-08:00

My favorite John Lennon sound track was playing: ♪♪♪"And so this is Christmas, and what have you done? Another year over, and a new one just begun.”♪♪♪

As I listened to the song, it brought me into serious thinking “what have I done” so far. After all, the dawning of a new year is as good a time as any to do an inventory of what we have done during the past year.

Of course, I haven’t done anything spectacular or grandiose for 2008 that would consign me to the pages of history, nor do I intend to do anything of historical proportions for the next year. I don’t intend to climb Mt Everest, be a world changer, or do something extra-ordinarily heroic that would land me to the top pages of a newspaper. What I learned over the years is that with maturity comes the awareness of what I can and cannot do, and finding peace in the knowledge that I am whole and complete despite my limitations.

But what I think I have done, in my little corner of this world, is that throughout 2008, I have tried to be the best person I could ever be. I have sown kindness to the people around me and I am now reaping the harvest. I have remained true to the values and ideals I hold dear in my heart, although not without great pain and struggles. Best of all, I have given as much love as I could and tried to make life easier and meaningful to the people I care about.

These may not consign me to the pages of history, but these have definitely made a mark in the hearts of the souls that I have touched. I love them and I strongly suspect they love me too.

With the passing of every year, I have come to the realization that it really has nothing to do with how hard or how much we work. Sometimes we can delude ourselves into thinking that we have done so much but in reality, we are simply convincing ourselves.

Because by the end of the day, what really matters is that we have brought a smile in the faces of those we love just by our simple act of caring. And here is the thing that I have long realized: there is no substitute for doing that.

As I contemplate 2009, I think of how far I still have to go in this mission of loving and caring and giving.

But I expect to see all of us there, down the road.

As good as it gets

2008-12-20T05:50:00.000-08:00

About two weeks ago, I received a call from a headhunting firm asking if I was interested to become a Recruiter for a company in Seskatchewan, Canada. While I was elated, I was also puzzled. Although I eagerly waited for an offer like this, I stepped back. It was just too good to be true. What was the headhunter's basis for considering me when I didn't even apply to their company?

During my phone conversation with the HR Manager, I was informed that she made a research in the Canadian HR industry, and my name cropped up on the list. The explanation was as simple as that. Canadian HR industry? The only Canadian HR experience I can boast of is my membership with the Human Resource Management Association of Manitoba which is nothing special really because anybody can become a member of this organization.

Of course, I politely declined the offer as it involved relocation which I wasn't prepared to undertake at this point.

Then another offer from another consulting company came. This time, I will be designing a sales training and performance management system for a marketing company. By that time, I was already in my 3rd week as HR Clerk for the government in a temporary role. I gave my word to the employer that I am going to finish my contract until March next year so again, I had to decline the offer.

Me receiving HR job offers and actually declining them? How could life change so suddenly? And to think that a few months ago, I was so despondent and hopeless because no company seemed to take notice of my HR resume. I shed buckets and buckets of tears then, seeing no light dawning upon my heart's desire. But determined to make it, I enrolled in HR courses. It was then that I was advised by the educational institution that the shortest way is for me to take the National Kowledge Test which I did last October 4. I dropped the HR courses and concentrated on reviewing for about 2 months.

Last December 10 (3 days after my birthday), the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together. It was a confirmation of the faith that I had within me all along. I made it to NKE with a score of 87% (passing grade is 70%). My score is the 7th highest in Manitoba and 12th in the entire Canada. Whoa - what a great bonus! what a wonderful birthday gift!

Having hurdled the exam, I can now use the title CHRP Candidate after my name. There is still another exam that I need to write after a minimum of three years experiece in the HR profession to become a full-pledged Certified Human Resource Practitioner.

My friends think it is not very smart for me to hold on to my temporary job given the opportunities that are coming my way. Truth to tell, I still feel inadequate about my ability to mesh in in the corporate set-up here. There is a lot to learn about the Canadian workplace culture and work ethic. The current job that I have, although temporary, gives me that perfect opportunity to learn something I could not find in textbooks. Thus, despite having made it to the NKE, I admit I am still very much a learner. There is wisdom in staying in my job so I can acquire the necessary experience which would hem up my confidence to work side-by-side with the Canadians.

More importantly, I don' want to leave my employer in mid-stream. They took me in when I was a nobody and they have treated me so well from day 1, giving me meaningful assignments and showing a great capacity for tolerance during my adjustment stage. It is only fitting that I return the favor. What comes around goes around.

But in the midst of it all, I acknowledge, with deepest gratitude in my heart, that this blessing is from God. I may have been very focused and determined in my goal but if His hands were not upon me, I would not have made it. This may sound cliche but for me, it rings true on all things and for all times.

The Things That Matter

2008-12-13T07:16:00.000-08:00

I just turned 41 last December 7. I woke up to hugs and kisses from my hubby, a serenade of my favorite songs from my daughters and love letters and a bouquet of roses waiting at the breakfast table. Later in the night, I had a quiet dinner with my family.

What more could a woman ask for? I was asked by friends about my birthday wish. I told them I have everything I wished for, and so my birthday prayer was actually a prayer of gratitude.

At 41, I find it interesting that I have taken one step closer to 50. But the feeling is no different when I was 21 or 31, which seems to lend credence to the saying that “age is only in the mind” I still have the passions and excitement and inclinations of a twenty- or thirty-something year-old. I feel life radiantly bursting in, through and around me. I feel that there is still so much to do but at the same time, time is slipping away.

As I think about the fact that I am now into the middle age, this also brings me to reflect upon the things that truly matter in this stage of my life. My values and my priorities in life have changed tremendously over the years. What seemed important before is not nearly as important to me today.

• I used to define success as being able to make it based on the standards of this world – a name, a position, a bank account. Success for me is now being happy in whatever I do – whether as a simple housewife or mother or a corporate employee. Rank, position and money maybe important, but they no longer define my worth as a human being.

• I must and continue to take responsibility for my own life. I consciously live my life with a purpose and meaning. I now seek to be more joyful than to be happy, because happiness is a function of circumstances while joy is a function of inner peace inspite of the circumstances.

• Family and real friends are most important than anything else in the world. In their deathbeds, people usually died wishing NOT that they have spent more time working, BUT that they have spent more time with their families and loved ones.

• My relationship with God is of chief importance to me. I make Him as a part of my daily life, even with mundane things. He walks with me and I walk with Him everyday, even if my walk is not always straight. I realize that I am utterly dependent upon him. My life is in the palm of His hands. Just one click of his fingers and I am gone. Everything I am and I have I owe to Him. In fact, I am nothing without Him.

Everyone has a journey - and a story of what their life is, and what it isn’t. I have danced around inevitable changes all my life, taking and missing some of the precious opportunities that have come my way. But I have no regrets. I have accepted my place and have revolved my life on truths and values that are fundamental to my sense of being.

As I continue to write my story, I want to seek a life that truly matters. I want to continue to ponder on life’s great surprises, to feed on my natural sense of awe and wonder for ordinary things with extra-ordinary meanings, to affirm who I am as a person and to live the fundamental truths that have given my life meaning.

For every birthday marker that I go through, I see the “grains of sand” running out of my hourglass. And I’m rushing to ensure that I won’t run out of time to accomplish what I believe are the things that truly matter.

My Girl

2008-12-02T19:34:00.001-08:00

My girl turns 12 today, and I couldn’t help but feel a little bit mushy.

Time flies, and how fast indeed! Twelve years ago, she was just a tiny fragile infant that I carefully held in the palm of my hands. The first time I held her – I was overwhelmed by a deep sense of joy I almost wept.

She was such a well-behaved baby. She didn’t make much fuss even with wet diapers or hunger bouts. She knew how to entertain herself, cooing and laughing when no one was around, as if talking to invisible angels. She’d only given me very few sleepless nights which are nothing really compared to the joy when she smiled sheepishly at me, snuggled close to my breast to take her milk, and cooed and squeaked no end in the middle of the night.

At two, she had an immense vocabulary, she spoke straight tagalog and English, she recognized the letters of the alphabet and mimicked the sounds of animals. More than anything else in the world, she was fascinated by books with colorful drawings and illustrations. She was also such a fan of “The Land Before Time” video series to the point of memorizing practically all the songs in the collection.

Coming home from the office one day, I was greeted by an awesome sight - a three-year- old walking around the house in an oversized- high-heeled shoes that belonged to her mom, with kitchen spoon in one hand and my office bag in another. At this young age, she was fast showing signs of fierce independence, allowing no one to spoonfeed her, or to bathe her or to dress her up. She wanted to do all things by herself. I kidded myself – she is indeed her mother’s girl!

When her little sister came into the scene, the bouts of jealousy or selfishness that we predicted never surfaced. Instead, she surprised us with the kind of genuine concern and caring that she showed her sister. When the little baby was crying, she would race with her dad to find out what the fuss is. At night, she would send her sister to sleep with a wonderful rendition of the songs from the “Land Before Time”, culminating in the infamous “If we hold on” that had become the family’s unofficial theme song to this day. I didn’t have to teach her to take care of her sister. It came naturally to her. Even today, she is her sister’s best friend.

I could go on and on recalling the wonderful surprises, the endless joys and the precious bonding moments that she had delighted us with. Today, as I look at her and marvel at how she has perpendicularly grown up over the years, I am awed at the realization that my baby has now become my girl. In a few years, I know that my girl will soon transform into her own person. Already, I could spot the signs of its coming.

As a pre-teener, she had been pretty consistent in her ways: non-fussy, self-initiated, caring and responsible. But I have also seen that although I have raised her in a certain “mold”, she is slowly escaping that mold. She is starting to assert her independence in everything she does. It is fascinating to see her unspoken determination to be her own person – free from the dictates and pressures of others, even from her mom who used to be the center of her world. It’s not her style to wear the fad just because it’s the “in” thing or everybody else is doing it if she thinks it looks silly. She has very different interests compared to girls of her age. While others talk about Hannah Montana and acne and crushes, she would rather read books about astronomy and science.

But she still continues to sing. And how she loves to sing. She’s also into a lot of musical instruments – piano, clarinet, guitar, violin. On her birthday, she requested for an electric guitar to replace her acoustic guitar. She’s currently saving her weekly allowance so she can buy drums this summer. She’s a member of her school band and music choir and is the guitarist in our local church. Music is her greatest passion, if not her life. Why – she wants to become a music director or music teacher as an adult.

She also excels academically. She is on top of her class and is a very strong candidate for the dean’s honour by the end of the term, as her teachers told me during our parent-teacher session last week.

What all these means to me is that I am raising a girl with extra-ordinary potential and passions. A girl who at a young age already knows what she wants in life.

I have read somewhere that raising a kid is like flying a kite. At the initial stage of flying, the kite owner must maintain a tight grip as the kite struggles up high. Upon establishing the momentum, the owner must help the kite maintain its balance. And as soon as the kite becomes stable, the owner must learn to let go, albeit gradually, and be contented to watch the kite in its full flying splendor from afar, but vigilant to come to the rescue in case of brewing storm.

At this stage of my girl’s life, I know that I have to correspondingly evolve from the overprotective and imposing mother that I used to be into a supportive, nurturing, and empowering mom that is exactly what she needs as she spreads up her wings. This, to me, is the greatest gift I could ever give her.

Winter Paranoid

2008-11-23T15:38:00.000-08:00

Since the day we came to Winnipeg, I have developed a winter paranoia. I got this from listening to endless tales of well-meaning friends who warned me that winter in Winnipeg can really be harsh. They said that there are days when the temperature can go as low as minus forty that could literally freeze anyone to death.

So for weeks on end, I have been so busy accumulating winter attires. What better way than to be prepared as there is no escaping the winter. Snow is very much a part of life here in Winnipeg and so I saw no point in complaining and grumbling. By the end of October, our cabinet was heaping with every imaginable winter stuffs I have set my eyes into – mittens, gloves, scarves, torques, ear mops, turbans, hats, parkas, sweaters, jackets, thermal pants, thermal socks, ski pants, winter boots, et. etc. Most were purchased from clearance so I didn't have to drain my pocket.

When news came out that snow was to fall in Winnipeg soon, I braced myself. While the kids were rejoicing, I was silently dreading. But I also knew I had to face it.

The snow probably dropped when everybody was still fast asleep because when I woke up in the morning, our porch was already covered with white cotton-like crystals about three inches deep. Outside, the sky was all foggy and overcast as snow continued to drop in torrents. The temperature was minus 18 with a minus 6 windchill.

I dressed up my kids into bundles and bundles of clothing to ensure their protection. As I did, I kept blabbering about safety precautions, thanks to the literatures I downloaded from the internet. I felt crazy as the icy rains continued to pour. I dreaded going out but since I was so worried about the safety of my children, I had to walk with them to the bus station. By the time we were ready to go out, the snow was 4-inch thick.

As I stepped out from the warmth of our home, I expected a bone-freezing chill to hit me. Surprisingly, it didn’t come. It was cold alright but it was tolerable. Then I realized the secret - appropriate covering from head to toe.

On our way, we met children walking all by themselves to school. They looked perfectly alright. I glanced at my children - they looked fine too, enjoying the snow that I hated. Used to hate, I should say.

After sending my children off to the bus, I went back to our apartment feeling a little bit cold but not chilled. In fact, I felt relieved. The long dreadful wait is finished. I smiled at myself – my winter paranoia is over.

Spiritual Quest (First of a Series)

2008-11-07T15:48:00.000-08:00

I was raised as a Christian by my parents. I remember attending a regular catechism class every Saturday and going to Sunday mass with my family. I also remember participating in many rituals and ceremonies that I hardly understood. I nonetheless went through them as a matter of compliance.

I must admit though that Christianity never took its roots in me. I became a Christian because that was the religion I grew up with but I never really understood my faith. I went to church regularly, got married under traditional church rites and even had my children baptized as Christians. Not once however had I opened the bible to find guidance on how I was supposed to live my life.

I had many legitimate questions about Christianity and sincere misgivings about some aspects of my belief. But I was too guilty and embarrassed to raise them. I also began to be scared and unsure whether it was permissible to express uncertainty about God, Jesus Christ and the Bible.

For a while, I kept the questions to myself – unanswered, unexplored, hidden beneath my heart. I tried to suppress them and pushed them deeper and deeper until they were forgotten. Or so I thought.

When my father died, the questions began to resurface, grow, fester and loom. This time the questions weren’t just about religion anymore. I was confronted by my own mortality and there was a quaint uneasiness in my heart. What is the meaning of life? Why do I exist? Is there really a God?

I remember looking intently at my father’s grave, and telling him – “now you’re gone. Soon I will be gone. Three generations from me, no one will remember you anymore. You are now a dust in the wind, as I am. Is this everything to it?”

From that point on, I knew that I was entering a new passage. I felt like something within me was unlocked. There was no stopping the massive outpouring from the floodgates of my heart. I knew that I couldn’t go on until I pursue the answers that will satisfy my soul.

Thus began my spiritual journey

America's New President

2008-11-05T12:36:00.000-08:00

It’s official: Barrack Obama is the new US President.

I know that the election meant so much to the millions of Americans who went out to cast their votes. A historical milestone is almost a tame word to describe this giant event that catapulted the first black man into the presidency of the world’s super power.

A lot of people has hailed Obama as the Messiah, a God-sent man to save America and the rest of the world from destruction. The infamous “Obama Worship” and “Manifest Obama” is an indication of how some people have lost their grip and put Obama at almost the same level as God’s.

Once the dust starts to settle, that’s when Obama’s real work begins. For sure, it’s not going to be easy, given the tumultuous political and economic upheavals America is going through right now.

Meanwhile, in my little corner of this world, I and my family will continue to watch in amazement and wonder how this black guy from Colorado will turn out to be as he begins to shape America’s and the world’s destiny.

Will he deliver the goods? Will he remain true to his ideals?

I wish him all the best.

Our Generation

2008-11-01T20:39:00.000-07:00

Got this yesterday from a forwarded e-mail. The text had me traveling back down memory lane when life was a little less complicated. Some of the texts tugged at my heart and I couldn't help but nod my head in agreement.

TO ALL THE KIDS WHO WERE BORN IN THE 1950's, 60's and 70's !!

First, some of us survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they carried us.. ( sioktong ang inumin)

They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, fish from a can ( brand : ligo ) , and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then after that trauma, our baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paints , pati na yung laruang kabayu-kabayuhan.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets, no kneepads , sometimes wala ngang preno yung bisikleta.

As children, we would ride in car with no seat belts or air bags – hanggang ngayon naman, di ba ? ( jeep )

Riding in the back of a pick up on a warm day was always a special treat. ( maykaya kayo pare ! )

We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle ( minsan straight from the faucet)

We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and NO ONE actually died from this. Or contacted hepatitis.

We ate rice with tinunaw na purico ( dahil ubos na ang star margarine) , nutribuns na galing kay macoy and drank sopdrinks with sugar in it, but we weren't overweight kasi nga ..... .

WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on. Sarap mag patintero, tumbang preso , habulan taguan….

No one was able to reach us all day ( di uso ang celfon , walang beepers ). And we were O.K.

We would spend hours building our trolleys or slides out of scraps and then ride down the street, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem .

We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, no video tape movies, no surround sound, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat rooms....... ....WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents. The only rubbing we get is from our friends with the words…..masakit ba ? pero pag galit yung kalaro mo,,,,ang sasabihin sa iyo…..beh buti nga !

We played in the dirt , washed our hands a little and ate with our barehands…we were not afraid of getting worms in our stomachs.

We had to live with homemade guns – gawa sa kahoy, tinali ng rubberband , sumpit , tirador at kung ano ano pa na puedeng makasakit…..pero walang nagrereklamo.

Made up games with sticks ( syatong )and cans ( tumbang preso )and although we were told it would happen, wala naman tayong binulag o napatay….paminsan minsan may nabubukulan.

We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just yelled for them!

Mini basketball teams had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Walang sumasama ang loob.

Ang magulang ay nandoon lang para tignan kung ayos lang ang bata….hindi para makialam.

This generation of ours has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and managers ever!

The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.
We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned
HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL!

And YOU are one of them!

The Man

2008-10-30T13:56:00.000-07:00

The first time I met him, I was instantly drawn to him and I didn't know why.

He was far from the man of my dreams. In fact he was just the exact opposite. He was also everything that I was not. I was extrovert, he was shy and quiet. I was opinionated, he had tempered judgment. I was assertive, he was laid back. I was transparent, he was cool and under composure.

Do opposites really attract? Psychologists explain this as arising from one’s innermost desires (probably rooted in the unconscious) to find traits and characteristics lacking in him in another person so he would feel complete.

After having been married to him for about fifteen years now, would I say that I am a complete person because of him?

He does complement my weaknesses. The opposite traits that I saw in him turned out to be that natural strengths that I depended on when times were hard. He was very much like the rudder that kept the boat afloat. When I was filled with doubts and fears and was on the edge, he was the steady hand that guided me through.

But such realization did not happen overnight. Over time, his natural strengths became sources of friction or even feelings of alienation. How I wished he would be more open with his feelings. How I wished he would feel the same way I do. How I wished he would be more sensitive and more caring. How I wished… How I wished…

So I tried to change his personality to suit mine. And that started my misery. It was like digging a hole for myself. The more I wanted him to be just like me, the more that his natural traits were being magnified.

I decided that, for my own peace, I better accepted him for what he is. After all, if I couldn’t change my personality to suit his either, isn’t that unfair to him? Funny how we want to change another person and yet we wouldn't take the first step to change ourselves.

Accepting him for what he is - strengths and weaknesses and all - was the most liberating decision I have ever made for myself.

Today, our marriage is stronger than ever. We have learned to live side by side with our imperfections, always highlighting our positives and downplaying our negatives. We have found that underneath our personality differences lie common and enduring values that we both believe in: love, responsibility, integrity and faith. Come to think of it, when you have lots of these, no marriage will ever crumble even with personality differences.

Happy birthday, ‘theart. I am glad I married you. I couldn’t imagine myself living with any other man.

Four Seasons

2008-10-27T13:32:00.001-07:00

Would you like to experience the four seasons – spring, summer, fall and winter – within one day?

Yes, you’ve read it right. Within ONE day. Right here in Winnipeg where we live. We just had one last Saturday.

We woke up to a fine sunny morning that day. Except for a slightly breezy wind, everything was summery perfect. Since the weather was good, the children geared up for some impromptu outdoor activities. While waiting for their breakfast, they hastily ran off to the playground nearby to enjoy the morning sun with only light sweaters on. SUMMER.

About two hours later while I was doing the laundry at the wash room, I was pleasantly surprised by the soft rhythmic sounds of raindrops hitting the roof, or so I thought. I was surprised because it was the first time since the day we arrived here that I am hearing raindrops fall. I went out to see only to find out that the sun was gone and the sky was dark with clouds. The soft rhythm that I heard earlier was actually the sound of flurries (snow) hitting the roof. I spent the next minute dusting off the tiny snow crystals scattered all over our porch. WINTER

The flurries were then followed by non-stop heavy rains. Outside, the trees were swaying and dancing as the strong winds hit them. The wind was howling like crazy. Yellow-green and purple leaves fell to the ground in torrents. Our pavement was slushy with mud and rain water. FALL and SPRING.

Whoa!

Welcome to Winnipeg, Melinda.

Gratitude

2008-10-21T20:02:00.000-07:00

I thank God that He has given me a limited intellect. For if I were so intelligent, I would not have to search for answers to my questions elsewhere and this would have made me self-righteous.

I thank God that He has given me a limited self-confidence. For if I were so confident of myself, I would have overshadowed others with my bloated self-image and this would have made me highly arrogant.

I thank God that He has endowed with less than desirable physical attributes. For if I were so beautiful outside, I would have failed to realize that what is inside of me is much more enduring and this would have made me highly vain and worldly.

I thank God that He has created me with weaknesses and fragilities. For if I were super strong and resilient, there would have been no room for me to overcome my defects and I would not have prospered from glory to glory.

I thank God that He has created me as an imperfect human being. For if I were perfect, I would have relied on my own capabilities and declared that I didn’t need God. In fact, I would have even attempted to equal or surpass God for then I would have been as perfect as He is.

I thank God that I am who I am because of Him. I thank God that because of His goodness, mercy and abiding grace, I will be who He has designed me to be.

Reaping

2008-10-17T09:18:00.000-07:00

In the workplace where I am training, I find a lot of fellow Filipinos - young and old, new immigrants, old timers - everywhere and around me. Not that I don’t like to associate with other nationalities but it is such a relief to be able to work with somebody who shares your language, your sentiments, your culture.

But alas, character flaw recognizes no race.

Sadly, there is one Filipino Assistant Manager there who is giving her fellow Filipinos a hard time than they already deserve. She barks instructions arrogantly, embarrasses her direct reports in front of others, and tends to look down on others. (Thank God she is not my trainer!)

One time that I talked to her, I could feel the wall that so distinctly divides us. She obviously doesn’t like me as she would not even acknowledge me even when it’s only the two of us present in one room. She is the subject of complaints and tirades from her co-workers, branding her as “mayabang, akala mo kung sino, parang langaw na nakatuntong sa kalabaw”.

Curiously though, she is the exact opposite when talking to the big bosses and fellow managers. She is very polite and respectful, as if “di makabasag pinggan”.

(I have read somewhere that the true test of character is not so much on how we deal with the people above us, but how we deal with the people below us, those who are helpless, defenseless and are not in a position to repay us for our kindness.)

It happened that a very unhappy Filipino customer came to the store with a complaint one day and was attended to by this Assistant Manager. To cut the story short, their conversations did not end well, with the former feeling unhappier than he first came to the store.

“Can I have your complete name?”, said the angry customer just when he was leaving.

“My name is ____________ _____________ and I am the MANAGER here!” she responded, emphasizing the word manager.

“You know what? I am surprised that you are a Manager. You certainly don’t act like one!” he quipped.

Then he turned to the associates and said - "You unlucky guys, I can just imagine what you're going through with her as your boss".

When the customer left, the Assistant Manager predictably went into a rampage, swearing and cursing “ang yabang-yabang, porke duktor siya, akala mo kung sino. Parang langaw na nakatuntong sa kalabaw”

Within my viewing distance, I saw a lot of her direct reports smiling triumphantly. And within earshot, I heard somebody muttering “nakahanap ng katapat”.

Life does have a way of evening things out. What you reap is what you sow.

Teaching Obedience

2008-10-09T08:57:00.000-07:00

My husband and I consider it extremely important that our children obey us or those in authority. One technique that we use to exact obedience is setting out negative consequences when they intentionally violate the rules of discipline that we have all set together.

So as not to foster resentment (which would eventually lead to rebellion) we have taken pains to explain that we discipline them for their own sake and not for our own convenience. That we want them to grow into mature and responsible adults and that as Christians, they ought to obey their parents as the bible says. We have always been careful to differentiate consequence from punishment, to condemn the offense but never the offender.

For three days in a row last week, my two girls have failed to do their share of household chores as per our agreement. They have been procrastinating and have been a little negligent of their responsibilities at home and in school. So I decided it was time for consequence. They could not watch television and use the computer for one week.

It was amazing how the word “consequence” sent them scampering to their feet. But it was too late. The die was cast. No amount of sweet-talking or apologies can undo my decision. As a parent, I have long since learned that it pays to be firm to command obedience from the children.

Last Saturday was the 7th day of their consequence. I needed to do a lot of errands so I left them under the care of my close friend. I had no idea that I would be up for a most pleasant surprise later that day.

When I left, my friend sent my children down the basement to join her kids (who are also close friends of my kids) to do some kids’ stuffs. She checked them out an hour later and was a bit worried to see my own kids staying by themselves at the living room while her own kids were inside the computer room browsing the internet, playing Wii and watching television.

Feeling sorry for my kids, she asked them to join her kids at the computer room but my children politely declined. Here is how their conversation went on:

Friend: Hey, guys, why don’t you join your friends at the computer room?

Kids: We're grounded. Can't watch tv or play with the computer.

Friend: Oh-I'm giving you permission. I'll just explain to your mom later.

Kids: But we haven't completed the seven days yet.

Friend: That's why I'm giving you permission.

Other Kids: Come on guys. Nobody's telling anybody!

Kids: Sorry, Tita. We can’t do that to our mom. It just isn’t right.

It just isn’t right. These words kept ringing in my ears. My children know how to behave even when I’m not around, ESPECIALLY when I’m not around.

What a wonderful joy to realize that my children obey not out of compliance, nor out of duty. They do because they feel it’s the right thing to do.

Waiting

2008-10-07T06:59:00.000-07:00

With office ID and the thick and heavy management-in-training folder in my hands, it’s official – I have started my first day of training yesterday as an employee of a company that owns a chain of fast-food restaurants in Canada and across the globe.

I am back to retail operations or customer service, my "cup of tea”, as I am wont to describe it. I will be on training on theoretical and practical aspects for the next four weeks or so to expose me to all areas of retail operations. After that, I would be pretty much on my own, running a retail outlet in Winnipeg the “company” way.

So what happened to my passion for human resources management work? It’s still very much alive and burning within me, but for now, it has to take a backseat. At least until December 4 when the results of the National Knowledge test would be out, and I would be able to find out if I am really cut for HR work in Canada.

Life indeed is a series of choices and decisions we make everyday. When I made the decision to pursue HR three months ago, that was just the first step. When I enrolled in an on-line crash course to prepare me for the exams, I was taking a step further in my original decision. When I finally wrote the exams last October 4, that closed the deal. Whether I fail or pass would be another story.

Waiting for the exam results between now and December 4 is like walking in eternity. I have high hopes that I will make it. But if I don’t, I will not allow it to rob me of my joy. Life goes on, anyway.

For the meantime, I have decided that I will have to enjoy my cup of tea.

Blessed Fool

2008-09-25T06:04:00.000-07:00

Three months ago today, I have made up my mind that I will pursue a career in Human Resources. I knew what I was up to when I made that decision but I was determined to make it anyhow. The shortest way, I was informed, was to write the National Knowledge Exam for HR practitioners, which would give me the “license” to practice the profession in this country.

So for the last three months, I’ve been busy as a bee preparing and reviewing for the examination which is set this October 4. I have been very focused in my preparations, utterly convinced that this exam is my only passport to my goal. I have browsed all available HR books in the library and have enrolled myself to an on-line crash course on Human Resources Management Practices in Canada.

But alas, God seems to have a different plan for me. He’s calling me to places I did not even dream of.

A new career opportunity in customer service is opening up for me. (I did not apply for this job, the headhunter simply saw my resume in the monster website which I posted viewable by employers about three months ago). The one-on-one interviews with the Area Manager and the Operations Director were very fascinating. It was so affirming and refreshing to talk with people with the same work ethic and personal values that I have.

Yesterday, they just made the job offer which is so irresistible that I’m losing my focus. The financial package is not bad and so is the opportunity for me to maximize my skills in managing tasks and leading people. Truly, this is one opportunity that only fools would pass up.

But a fool I am indeed. For up to this point, I couldn’t bring myself to sign the acceptance letter. I am thinking - I have had three customer service jobs thus far, all of which I quit, because I was looking for something that just wasn't there. Could this job be any different?

On the other hand, I keep thinking also - I did not look for this job, it found me. I don't believe in luck or coincidence. So could it be that God is telling me about the path that's right for me?

The clock is ticking fast. I have only 8 hours left to make up my mind.

A life of Contradiction

2008-09-19T12:17:00.000-07:00

I chanced upon the name of David Foster Wallace in one of the old issues of Time Magazine citing his novel “Infinite Jest” as one of the 100 best English novels. I got to read some of his nonfiction works and instantly, I developed a particular liking for his style and the depth of his works. He had become one of my most admired writers/novelists/essayists.

Just this morning, I read from a blogger’s post that he passed away last September 12. What a sad news, what a great loss, considering that the man was only in his late forties with a writing prowess that can only belong to a genius.

Here is a sample (which I copied from the same blog) on how beautifully and poignantly he can mesh his thoughts into words.

"Because here's something else that's weird but true: in the day-to day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship -- be it JC or Allah, be it YHWH or the Wiccan Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles -- is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap real meaning in life, then you will never have enough, never feel you have enough. It's the truth.

Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly. And when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally grieve you. On one level, we all know this stuff already. It's been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, epigrams, parables; the skeleton of every great story. The whole trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness.

Worship power, you will end up feeling weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to numb you to your own fear. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart, you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. But the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they're evil or sinful, it's that they're unconscious. They are default settings.

They're the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that's what you're doing.

And the so-called real world will not discourage you from operating on your default settings, because the so-called real world of men and money and power hums merrily along in a pool of fear and anger and frustration and craving and worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom. The freedom all to be lords of our tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the center of all creation ... The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriad petty, unsexy ways every day.

That is real freedom. That is being educated, and understanding how to think. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the rat race, the constant gnawing sense of having had, and lost, some infinite thing."

Here is another that will knock the wind out of you.

“There are these two guys sitting together in a bar in the remote Alaskan wilderness. One of the guys is religious, the other is an atheist, and the two are arguing about the existence of God with that special intensity that comes after about the fourth beer. And the atheist says: "Look, it's not like I don't have actual reasons for not believing in God. It's not like I haven't ever experimented with the whole God and prayer thing. Just last month I got caught away from the camp in that terrible blizzard, and I was totally lost and I couldn't see a thing, and it was fifty below, and so I tried it: I fell to my knees in the snow and cried out 'Oh, God, if there is a God, I'm lost in this blizzard, and I'm gonna die if you don't help me.'" And now, in the bar, the religious guy looks at the atheist all puzzled. "Well then you must believe now," he says, "After all, here you are, alive." The atheist just rolls his eyes. "No, man, all that was was a couple Eskimos happened to come wandering by and showed me the way back to camp."

It's easy to run this story through kind of a standard liberal arts analysis: the exact same experience can mean two totally different things to two different people, given those people's two different belief templates and two different ways of constructing meaning from experience. Because we prize tolerance and diversity of belief, nowhere in our liberal arts analysis do we want to claim that one guy's interpretation is true and the other guy's is false or bad. Which is fine, except we also never end up talking about just where these individual templates and beliefs come from. Meaning, where they come from INSIDE the two guys. As if a person's most basic orientation toward the world, and the meaning of his experience were somehow just hard-wired, like height or shoe-size; or automatically absorbed from the culture, like language. As if how we construct meaning were not actually a matter of personal, intentional choice. Plus, there's the whole matter of arrogance. The nonreligious guy is so totally certain in his dismissal of the possibility that the passing Eskimos had anything to do with his prayer for help. True, there are plenty of religious people who seem arrogant and certain of their own interpretations, too. They're probably even more repulsive than atheists, at least to most of us. But religious dogmatists' problem is exactly the same as the story's unbeliever: blind certainty, a close-mindedness that amounts to an imprisonment so total that the prisoner doesn't even know he's locked up.

The point here is that I think this is one part of what teaching me how to think is really supposed to mean. To be just a little less arrogant. To have just a little critical awareness about myself and my certainties. Because a huge percentage of the stuff that I tend to be automatically certain of is, it turns out, totally wrong and deluded".

No doubt Wallace was incredibly brilliant and capable of biting satire, profound depth, utmost sensitivity. He impressed me as a man firmly grounded in the unnatural. After all, most of his work is a reflection of an awesome, brave stab against materialism and a natural inclination towards compassion.

But alas, he lived a life of contradiction. His life is the ultimate jest. He died in a most unlikely, unimaginable way that I could think of. He hanged himself inside his own home, knowing that a few hours later, he would be found by his wife of four years.

Goosed!

2008-09-09T09:20:00.000-07:00

One of the things we like about our new place is the absence of traffic jams. You don't have to adjust your clock for fear of missing your appointment due to heavy traffic. Having come from a country where “bumper-to-bumper” traffic is an ordinary part of life, this is such a relief to me.

Last Saturday morning however was a different story. As hubby and myself routinely negotiated the pathway of our jogging trail, we were surprised to find a long pile of cars stucked in the middle of the road with barely a hint of movement. Oddly, the traffic lights from a distance were working well but none of the cars were progressing. So we hurried off to find out what it was all about.

Right there, in the middle of the intersection, we saw more than a hundred wild ducks parading on the street, oblivious to the traffic jam they were causing. They were honking in unison, as if bragging about their power to render that corner of the road into a standstill. And much to the chagrin of the helpless drivers, they took their own sweet time, leisurely navigating the street, like they held the world at the palm of their feet. And how they did indeed! (Incidentally, Canada is a country known for caring for animals and respect for nature).

What happened next was even more fascinating. A small goose started to lag behind, with a distance of about 20 meters from the rest of the herd. As the traffic started to move already, the helpless goose couldn’t find a way to cross through. Realizing this, about a dozen drove at the other side of the road nestled to the ground and patiently waited for the single member that was still at the other side of the road. They left only when the wayward duck was in their fold. One goose is equally important as a hundred geese.

From the internet, I have read other fascinating facts about the goose – like how they usually fly in v-shape formation because the formation tends to add greater uplift for those flying behind, or how a leader naturally emerges, in rotating fashion, from the pack. If only for these, the geese have earned my respect and admiration, never mind the minor inconvenience they can cause us urban dwellers. Their minds may be primitive compared to humans, but they certainly provide us lessons about caring and relationships which, unfortunately for some of us, may take a lifetime to learn.

Loss

2008-08-28T08:15:00.000-07:00

I received very sad news in a row this week – the death of the loved ones of two of my close friends.

Judel’s father who is in his sixties was rushed to the hospital on Saturday night due to chest pain. In less than an hour, he succumbed to death due to massive heart failure.

Cookie’s only sister who is in her mid thirties had just started a family. She had been in the pink of health all these years. A week ago, patches suddenly began to emerge in her skin. The doctors ruled out leukemia and suspected it might have been blood infection. She died a week later, leaving a husband and two very young kids behind.

Two people: one nearing dusk, and the other at the prime of her life. One having lived a full life and the other just about to taste life.

Their death only affirms the hard truth that I’ve long been wrestling with. That death does come like a thief in the night. No choosing of victims. No pattern to watch for. Sparing nobody when the timing is right. Sometimes gently. Sometimes harshly. Always painfully.

The deepest pain and the greatest burden are for those who are left behind. The pain of those who are in the process of mourning just cannot be captured by words. It feels like a hole has been torn in your soul that cannot be mended. I knew, because I lost my brother twenty-five years ago and my father five years ago.

From a positive perspective, the death of my loved ones has changed me in a most profound way. I was never the same person again after they were gone. My personal loss had forced me to come face to face with myself and inspired me to seek the answers to a lot of questions about life. It brought me to the feet of a God I never knew before.

I may not still have found all the answers (perhaps in my lifetime I never won’t) but one thing is certain though: This world is not our home. We are not meant to live here forever. We are simply passing through.

Precious Bonus

2008-08-20T06:26:00.000-07:00

It took me a long time after I got married to conceive my first daughter. It was such an agonizing wait, with all the medical attempts I have tried proving to be futile one after the other. In my desperation, I bargained to God that all I needed was just ONE baby, and then I wouldn’t have to ask for anything anymore.

Then Bianca came, and what a bundle of joy she was and is to me and my husband. Truly an answered prayer.

Three years after, I gave birth to Danee. I didn't ask for her, she just came, unplanned but nonetheless wanted. Bianca is the gift, Danee is the bonus.

Today is Danee's 9th birthday and as I look at her, I am amazed at how she has turned out to be - a little lady with a big big heart.

We have given her the gifts she likes, taken from her long wish list prepared long before and plan to have a quiet family dinner later, which is what she wants. She hates parties. Not that she is anti-social, but her idea of a birthday celebration is a quiet time with the people she loves best. How charming for a nine-year old!

Opening the gifts one by one, she smiled so broadly at all of us, as a sign of appreciation. Little does she know that she herself is the greatest gift, touching my heart so gently yet profoundly, leaving a sweet aftertaste in my soul.

When I am ill, Danee is the first to come to my bedside, instantly dropping whatever it is that she's preoccupied with. We would inadvertently switch roles – she acting like a little nursing mommy and me acting like the big sick child. She would stroke me in the forehead, give me a massage, bring me my meds and why, even read me my favorite book.

When I am in such a lowly mood, Danee is the first person to notice and ask me what's wrong. When I cry, Danee would shed equal buckets of tears with me. At her young age, it is easy for her to feel my pain even if she cannot comprehend the cause. To own it even. Which makes me wonder: do we really need to have the breadth of experience to feel empathy for another person?

When I am not my usual self, like I am having a bad day and a bad mood, Danee is sensitive enough to give me space and just let me be. Even when I do or say crazy things, Danee never judges me as a bad mom. I would hear her quip to her ate "you know mom, she's just like that. sometimes abnormal but the real she is not really like that".

When I am away from home for a long time, Danee makes it a point to call me everyday just to talk about nothing and everything. She would sleep with the cellphone beside her, so she can readily grab it when mommy calls up. She never fails to punctuate our conversations with “I love you, Mommy”.

One time, I asked Danee what she wants to be when she grows up. She mumbled something about being a car mechanic, or a jet pilot, an astronaut even but wasn’t sure about anything of those. Out of the blue, she blurted out: “Why, I want to be just like you – pretty, intelligent and loving. I want to take care of you when you grow old!” I was speechless.

As an adult, I have my own baggages. Sometimes, pride makes it hard for me to apologize to somebody I offended. It will not take a second for Danee to apologize when she knows she’s at fault. And when she does get hurt, Danee readily forgives and forgets, even without the word “sorry” from the person who has offended her.

She is not all that perfect though. I can recall a number of occasions when she would have her own “moments” too. She can be as selfish and as naughty and as rowdy as any child could be. She would have her own annoying antics that really get on my nerves. She would constantly be in a brawl with her ate, with her Dad and even with me.

But with Danee, I have never felt so loved and cared for in my life. For all her innocence, the family has learned a lot of lessons from this nine-year-old who seems to have the wisdom of a ninety-year-old:

Love is not love unless it is shown or given.
Loving a person means loving him not just when he's good but even when he's bad.
It's easy to get hurt. but it's equally easy to forgive.

Happy happy birthday, my dearest daughter. Life had never felt this good, what with the love that you constantly radiate to each of us. You are one precious soul that we will all treasure. My geatest bonus!

A Sad Soul

2008-08-11T20:37:00.000-07:00

I have met my new friend Anette, a 77-year-old Caucasian widow during our church’s annual outreach project a few months ago. She doesn’t share my faith but she believes in the existence of God. She lives alone in a two-storey grandiose house with a big yard that needs regular mowing. With her limited pension, she can barely afford to hire a grass cutter. So we volunteered to do it, at least every other week till winter.

She has spent the prime of her life taking care of her ailing husband who eventually succumbed to diabetic complications while she was in her fifties. She has serious back problems (her tendons and ligaments have twisted due to heavy lifting of her husband while still alive) that run through her legs. She takes pain relievers daily which provided little comfort over time. The last hope is a back surgery which could cost her her life.

She is in such physical distress, but this is nothing compared to the pain that is searing through her heart. Anette is a very sad woman, with the burden of solitude weighing down her soul day by day. Her gaze reflects an inner ache, her voice a hollow vacuum.

Her children had long left her behind (2 daughters and a son are in Winnipeg while another son is in Toronto) to live their separate lives. Curiously, none of them bother to pay her a visit though they are only a distance away. They only meet on important family occasions like birthday or Christmas. Anette speaks fondly of her children and wishes in her heart that someday, all of them would have a happy reunion in that grand house of hers.

Something has gone wrong somewhere, and I am not about to pass judgment.

My family makes it a point to visit her every Sunday, just sitting for about two hours with her in the kitchen, talking about nothing over a cup of coffee. One time just as we were preparing to leave, Anette told me: “I hope I can fulfill whatever expectations you have from me”. I replied: “We don’t expect you to do anything for us, it is our pleasure to do something for you, and it had been a privilege that you allowed us intruders into your heart”. Her eyes were red with tears when we parted.

I am drawn to Anette, and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s my way of appeasing my guilt of leaving my mother behind. In my lifetime, I am happy that I am given the chance to meet this wonderful woman, and hopefully to touch her soul in a positive way.

But I will have to admit this - everytime I see her, I feel a gnawing fear inside me. She reminds me of how fragile life can be, and what will become of us all by the end of the road. When all is said and done and we have loved and given everything we have, and then find ourselves alone when dusk time comes, from where do we draw courage to get out from the abyss of despair and loneliness?

In my bed of thorns, He is the fragrant rose;
In my wilderness, He's the stream that flows;
A shelter built with loving grace,
His refuge shall be my dwelling place. —Krippayne
© 2002, New Spring Publishing, Inc./Chips and Salsa Songs

Trapped

2008-08-10T20:09:00.000-07:00

Trapped. The dictionary defines it as being in a situation from which it is difficult to escape and in which somebody feels confined, restricted, or in somebody else’s power.

My husband and I were cruising peacefully along Jefferson Street yesterday towards the east of Winnipeg. Ever a defensive driver, Ronny was alert and vigilant of the traffic signs and conscious of the rush of vehicles in our way.

We were about to turn a left curve in an intersection when the amber traffic light flashed repeatedly before us. Ronny then slowed down and stopped in the designated area to pave the way for the other vehicles.

After crossing the intersection about 500 meters away, we heard a vehicle honking from somewhere. We dismissed it as probably a machine defect or something in the car behind us. But the honking repeated, forcing me to look closely to the lone vehicle following us to ascertain what was wrong. I thought maybe our tires were flat, or our hood was left open. By this time, Ronny has started to reduce the speed and was preparing to pull over.

Another very loud honking followed and before we knew it, the vehicle behind us has already made a swift overtake. When it was almost adjacent to ours, the male Caucasian (probably in his thirties) seated next to the driver suddenly thrust his head out and made a “f--k you” sign with his finger and shouted something like “you stupid Asians, better clear the way!” Then they quickly sped off.

Such brazen display of arrogance and rudeness! What have we done wrong? We reviewed the events that recently transpired to see if we violated any traffic sign or had been discourteous to them in any manner. We couldn’t recall any and I ended up suggesting that may be we were in such a slow irritating speed. Ronny corrected that we were very well within the speed limit and reasoned out that assuming that my conclusion is true, the other vehicle could easily make a cut without the need to honk given that the road was very clear.

Having realized what was just done to us, I started to get angry. Furious is a better term. It was racial discrimination, plain and simple. What right do these people have to treat us that way? Just because they are whites and we are Asians doesn’t mean that they have a license to call us names. Do they think of us as second-class citizens or an inferior race that can easily be trampled upon?

I felt an injustice of some sort was done and a part of me wanted to get even. I even urged Ronny to drive faster so we can run after the vehicle and then take my sweet revenge. But thankfully, the vehicle was nowhere in sight (or I would have done something that I will certainly regret later). I was left nursing my wounded ego and to appease myself, I resorted to cursing them and calling them names as well.

And then I froze. I realized what I was doing. By calling them names, by cursing them, I was debasing myself. I was no different. I don’t even know them, they have been out of my life as quickly as they came in, and yet they continued to still affect me several minutes later. And that is because I allowed them to exert such powerful impact on me that they were actually dictating how I should feel.

That was when I released them and even bid them peace. And when I did, I felt sorry for them. Beyond that, I felt good that I liberated myself from the trap. Several minutes later, I have already forgotten about the incident. And the rest of the day went on smoothly.

Mayhem

2008-08-01T22:20:00.000-07:00

I was greeted yesterday morning by a most horrific, bone-chilling news flashed all over Canadian television.

A 40-year-old man repeatedly stabbed a twenty-something man sleeping next to him as they rode in the back of a Greyhound bus together along the Trans-Canada Highway near Portage la Prairie, Winnipeg. Afterwards, he decapitated the man and waved the severed head in front of thirty-four passengers who watched in complete and total horror.

How I wished this was simply a gruesome scene from a horror movie, or photos in magazines from faraway places. But this was real, the grit and pain and horror of life, up close and personal.

Amid my disbelief and horror, I rationalized that there must have been a deep motive for the gruesome killing, like a personal vendetta of some sort. It was my mind’s way of tuning out a most shocking and unacceptable reality.

Subsequent reports about the incident had my defense mechanism crumbling to the ground. Alas, there was no motive that would account for the mayhem. The murderer and the victim didn’t know each other. The latter, a simple, unassuming boy who worked in a rolling carnival in Edmonton, was going home to his parents in Winnipeg. The killing was not planned nor pre-meditated. The murderer simply went on a rampage, attacking the first person closest to him who happened to be that sleeping boy.

The psychopath is now in jail, and during his brief court appearances, he never said a word, never had an eye contact with people. He provided little clues as to what was going on in his mind. Sketchy reports said that he worked as a newspaper delivery boy and his supervisor attested that he appeared like a "normal" person although with some marital problems.

I came from a country where crime happens everyday to the point that its vastness has numbed my senses. But this incomprehensible incident has personalized the horror once again and made me shudder anew in terrible disbelief. It is an intensely personal matter that has tied my emotions into knots and leaving me dazed, angry, scared, almost like a spiritual vertigo.

By the chilly manner of killing his victim, it is as if the psychopath was telling me “I am doing this and I can do it to anybody.” I cringe at the thought that that that anybody could be me, or someone I care for.

Why does it have to be a world where predators stalk prey and violence is an integral part of life? why do terrible things have to happen to innocent people?

I hope that the indifferent stars will give me the answers soon.

Knowing

2008-07-24T20:23:00.000-07:00

Part of my morning routine is to walk Danee to her summer school located around three blocks away from where we live. Hubby and Bianca are still very much asleep by this time, unwilling to trade off their pillows and blankets to a brief walk under the early morning sun. That is just fine, as this is is my moment to bond with my youngest daughter and to have brief time for solitude as I walk my way back home, alone, undisturbed.

On my way back today, I took a different route for a change. Having negotiated the same familiar pavement for the 9th time, I looked forward to a new path this time. Once in a while, it feels good to stray away, knowing that you will always find your way back. This was one morning that I felt different, and the prospect of getting lost but finding my way back somewhat thrilled me.

No sooner than I started traversing the pavement to my right was I led to a beautiful scenic place that had me repeatedly muttering “ohh and ahh!” What with a quiet small lake surrounded by lush of green where ducks and wild geese congregate, a beautiful park where colorful flowers abound, and a quiet and well-landscaped community with neat bungalows lining up the pavement - enough to take my breath away. Before long, I started to dream living in that community and enjoying every moment of it.

After an idle time at the park, I lazily inched my way back home, running a mental note of the many chores waiting for me. I was nearing the intersection of a busy traffic and had in fact stopped to pave the way for the rush of incoming vehicles when my heart suddenly froze. There in front of me, at the other side of the road, was a toddler running so fast towards the traffic, with only about a ten-meter distance between him and the edge of the road. Trailing behind him - about fifty meters away - was his mother with another toddler in tow, screaming, yelling at her child to stop running. The child, oblivious to the impending danger, seemed to be enjoying the “chase” game and henceforth continued running with all his might.

I was closer to the boy than the mother was but the endless surge of traffic prevented me from crossing the intersection right away. Time seemed to stand still as the distressed mother's cry echoed so loud in my ears. With the “go” signal still on, I instinctively braved the traffic with the hope that I could outrun the boy. I didn’t know how I did it but in the next moment, I saw the little boy making a 180 - degree-turn towards his mother, scared at the sight of me, a stranger, looming before him. The poor mother could only mutter “oh my God, oh my God" in between sobs as she held her precious boy in her arms.

On reflection, I was amazed at yet another powerful realization. It wasn’t an accident that I took a different path that morning, sat idly for five minutes at the park, reached the intersection at that precise moment in time. It wasn't ordinary that I felt differently that morning and took the unexplored path hoping to find something new. I did find something - an affirmation of a higher truth, at a different realm, about how perfect strangers are connected to each other in the overall scheme of things. The timing is perfect, not one second advance nor delayed. Another person may not be able to see the connection in those series of events. Someone up there orchestrated them to be so.

From whence comes my help

2008-07-17T11:18:00.000-07:00

Back in the Philippines, I used to have house helps who did most of the house chores, usually minding my children in my absence. I was able to effectively juggle family and work matters because of them. They made life so much easier.

Where we live now, house help is mostly unheard of. Gone were the days when we can stay glued to bed all morning without worrying about our breakfast. Or watch tv or read book all day without minding about the accumulated dust and mites. Or simply spend the entire day at the mall oblivious about the pending laundry.

Nonetheless, hubby and me were able to fashion an arrangement that conveniently meshed well with our new lifestyle. The one who is available must do all stuffs in a row – from laundering to washing the dishes to cleaning the floors. Capping these of course would be a good meal served hot upon arrival of the queen or king of the house, as the case maybe.

Happily, I recently discovered a great and effective way to ease our household burdens. It was there right under my nose, waiting to be tapped and utilized. I am talking about none other than my two dutiful daughters.

It was amazingly easy to get them to act on their feet – simply by asserting my authority over them. Now I hope I don’t sound like the Wicked Witch of the West or Hitler the Dictator. But given our family atmosphere, I knew this is the only way for me to get quick results. Of course, this wasn't easy for them, having been accustomed to the presence of nannies helping them in many ways before.

I started by setting clear and concrete expectations ripe for their age (like fixing the bed, folding the clothes, cleaning up, washing the dishes, cooking rice, setting the table, etc.), giving allowances for mistakes as a way of learning, reinforcing positive outcomes, and implementing consequences as needed. Rewards came in the form of heaps and heaps of affirmations, praise notes and love letters, extra allowances, favorite toy, extended tv or computer time, or anything that is viewed valuable by them. Consequences came in the form of grounding, withheld allowance or use of computers, not being able to watch their favorite show or additional workloads or anything viewed unpleasant by them. I had to resist the urge to do the tasks myself. I also had to be firm and consistent all the time and to really put on a good act of seriousness (the kind that says, I mean business, baby, so don’t test me) between procrastination, whining, promises to do it later, or outright tantrums.

After training them for about three months, my perseverance was worth it. They do their house assignments even without nagging from me and with little or no supervision. It had become a habit for them.

What is more important is that the payoff is way beyond helping me in completing the chores at hand. It’s about teaching my children the value of caring, consideration, flexibility, hardwork, teamwork and excellence even in the lowliest of tasks. It’s all about teaching them life skills that will prove valuable in their adult life.

Truly, the best lessons are first learned at home.

Living

2008-07-09T13:43:00.000-07:00

I was doing an inventory test in relation to life's purpose, and one of the questions that made me do some deep soul-searching is this - how do you approach life?

It's a very tough question. For one, I particularly don't approach every situation in the same manner. Different strokes for dfferent folks, as the wisdom of the old says so. But I liked the question, because it enabled me to look deep inside and get in touch, once again, with the things that really matter in my life.

So here goes...

When I embraced my newfound faith, my perspective about life has changed tremendously. I now consider myself as a "realist optimist", believing that everything that comes my way, no matter how unpleasant, carries with it valuable life lessons through which I can grow and mature.

I realized that when I didn't learn the lesson in a particular situation, it kept repeating itself. Not necessarily the same situation but through different circumtances and different persons, but always the same lesson. For instance, I had great difficulty before in controlling my emotions when I get really pissed off. What happened is that I continued to be exposed to many situations that really stretched my patience. And so by being exposed to these situations, I learned what patience is all about.

The lessons were there because they were what I needed at that moment. Once I learned the lesson, life would then open up new opportunities through which I can learn more advanced lessons. Sometimes I learned easily, at other times I learned painfully. Or I didn't learn at all. When it's the latter, I kept moving around in endless circles.

I used to define my life in terms of milestones and significant accomplishments complete with timetables. I felt then that happiness is contingent upon these accomplishments, so I was deeply frustrated when things didn't happen as planned and expected. Now this perspective has changed too. I still consider it magical and exciting for me to get from point a to point b. But I also know that I will definitely miss the point if I don't see the day-to-day life in the same light. I found out that the beauty of life is found in the joys of the present moment, although my goals will provide me the compass how to live my life.

What is amazing is that my positive approach to life had become somewhat contagious. I never knew that I could make a great difference in the life of another when I encouraged them or simply said a word that boosts their spirits. I realized that when I am able to comfort somebody, I become happier. There's a song in my childhood that resonates with how I approach happiness and it goes this way:

"The time to be happy is now,
The place to be happy is here
And the way to be happy is to make others happy
and to make a little heaven down here"

Why I Blog

2008-07-06T20:32:00.000-07:00

Time is such a slippery thing. I cannot seem to get enough of it.

Where I am concerned, life is taking such a rapid pace. I now live in a different world, across several continents. I have given up a lot of things I used to have, in pursuit of a different direction. I am no longer the same person I was yesterday.

Yesterday’s memories have all been consigned to imagination. Today’s memories will similarly be buried into obscurity very soon.

Should l allow the present moment melt into yesterdays and tomorrows without a trace? Should I let the treasures, wonders and joys of my journey pass by without me pausing a bit to acknowledge them?

These were the questions in my heart when I discovered blogging. Instantly, I liked the idea of being able to capture in words what I felt at the moment. And then, I couldn’t stop anymore. It felt wonderful – the idea that I can actually conquer time, albeit momentarily, and hold it in my palm. It was deliriously joyful that I have something to go back to when I am old and done. That I can actually collect and preserve today’s memories so I can remember who I was before I became who I am today.

And then there was an added bonus. As I blogged and hopped between blogs, I discovered as well the joy of being able to reach out to kindred spirits, including my newfound on-line friends and those from the olden times.

They were right in saying that blogging allows for rediscovery and reconnections. Blogging has made the world a much smaller place for all of us. Their blogs have touched me in a way I could never imagine. I sat in front of my laptop smiling and sharing with their little joys and life’s pleasant surprises. At other times, I can’t stop the tears rolling down my cheeks as I feel their pains and inner turmoils. Talk about a true and beautiful connection!

Crossroads

2008-07-03T17:21:00.000-07:00

I am now into a crossroad in my personal journey. To find my footing, I only have two options – either to move to the left or to the right, or to move forward. Staying where I am is definitely not an option.

There are two paths to choose from - an instant career in retail (customer service) or a long struggle to make it in the human resource management field.

The first path is tested and easy, promising immediate reward and instant gratification. It welcomes me with open arms, and I revel in the warmth of the familiar routes, the quirky yet fun-filled zigzags, the all-familiar easy turns and overtakes. This path is my cup of tea, the language I speak, the game plan I have won many times over.

The second path is only half-open and a bit distant and unsure. None would take me in, and perhaps for good reasons. Canadians speak a different HR language which I can understand, but cannot fully relate with, having come from a country with HR challenges and issues culturally divergent to theirs. Bottomline – it’s all about meshing HR practices with western culture – something that I am not equipped to handle at this point.

But HR is my first love. Before I became a customer service professional, a retail banker, I was a trainer, a recruiter, a counselor, an employee champion, a change management specialist and how I really enjoyed the role. For sure, HR was a thankless job (a case of “damn if you do, damn if you don’t”) but I truly loved it! The love for HR work flowed through my veins and nerves, giving me a soft kick, a sweet tickle inside.

Which road to take? What do I do? Do I stay in my comfort zone and let life pass me by, or do I take the risks necessary to move forward in the direction of what I really want to do?

With my passion and desires awakened, I think I know what I want. The answer is within me all along, and the choice is mine to make. And so now, based on my internal compass, I am forging ahead to the next connecting path, the second path … that of exploration.

As I diverge from the other road of my comfort zone, I am also pulling off for a reality check – I’m weighing in everything, coming to terms with my greatest aspirations, deciding which to give up and to trade off, which cargo to unload and which equipment to pick up. I know I need to brush up my HR skills and competencies to make them compatible with western culture. And this means going back to school, obtaining a certificate and writing the national knowledge test. The message is clear - I need to prove myself first. I need to begin all over again.

Obviously, the second road is much harder to thread. My travel will not be easy. There will be humps and bumps, snagging me from time to time and even scratching at my newfound determination, tempting me not to let go of that last thether.

When that happens, I think I’ll know what to do. I just have to look inward and tap the resources within me as a worthy, inspired being. I’ll keep my inner eyes and ears open, ready to take action when I’m prompted to, as wisdom dictates. I just have to shore up my courage, and continue threading on. I'll take the necessary actions maybe right away, maybe one step at a time, until I see the big sign that says “welcome, to a life that is in synch with your soul”.

Turning Point

2008-06-22T17:17:00.000-07:00

Three months ago today, I and my family decided to pack up our things to move to Canada, for good.

When we left, a number of my friends and relatives were flabbergasted. And for good reasons. Back in the Philippines, I was a woman who lived a comfortable and easy life. I had a good-paying and rewarding career that showcased the best in me both as an employee and leader. I had a bank acount that, by ordinary standards, is more than enough to send my children to good schools, build my dream house and sustain a comfortable life.

I wasn't rich, but I had almost everything a woman of my age could ask and wish for. Why trade them for a life of uncertainty and hardship? Why rock the boat?

Somehow, amidst the stable and secure life I was living then, there was a sense of longing in my heart that cannot be captured by words. No, it is not midlife crisis. I didn't have the negative emotions usually associated with those going through this stage. I think that for the rest of my life, I will continue to hold on to and live by the values and principles that have given my life meaning and direction. I think that I am and will continue to be on the right path.

I think it is more of identity affirmation as opposed to midlife crisis. It's the kind that has made me take stock of and appreciate what I have only to realize that I was ready for the next level of personal growth. It's the kind that has made me felt full and yet seeking for more, for something higher, something deeper. I'm not talking about material things here. I'm talking about things that are unseen by the eyes, but felt by the heart and spirit.

Such was the seed planted in my heart. And God has led me to this place by opening this door of opportunity for me and my family. There must be something out here for me. There's a spirit in me that says I will be able to survive the tough times and adversities here and become the best person I could ever be.

I am now on my third month in this new country and for sure, we're not yet fully settled nor adjusted. I have not yet found the right job for me. I am currently employed as department manager of a big retail store but I don't feel a sense of belonging in the job. I'm still figuring out a lot of things in this new culture. I get confused every now and then but somehow, I manage to find my way. I get frustrated even for just simple things. I miss the old familiar places back in the Philippines and terribly long for the presence of my dearest friends.

Adjusting to life in Canada is an unfolding and slow process for me. And I think that is ought to be.

My personal journey is just beginning.

The Prodigal Father

2008-06-16T17:52:00.000-07:00

I wasn’t particularly fond of my father, nor was he of me. He was there since I was born up to the time I was growing up. He was physically present but was so elusive, near yet so distant. I could only recall one or two bonding moments with him, obviously not enough to cement our relationship.

I grew up becoming cold and aloof towards him. Something has gone terribly amiss between us. And I knew exactly why and how it happened.

My father was an incurable womanizer. For sure, he did not abandon us. But his bad habit of leaving us alone in the house for three straight days and reappearing later without a word of explanation had rendered my little world unsteady. I would wake up in the middle of the night wishing that he would be home soon. But when he wasn’t around, I felt strangely settled and secure. And yet, I envied my friends who had fathers that obviously cared for them a lot. Their world was a lot complete than mine.

Slowly, I became painfully aware that my resentment was turning to anger, then hatred, then betrayal. I sincerely doubted in my heart if he truly truly cared for me or his family.

When I became financially independent enabling me to support my college education, I basked in the newfound freedom. At last, I was free from his control. I was determined not to have anything to do with him. I left home and cut whatever ties I had with him. I communicated with my mother and siblings throughout the years I wasn’t home but never with him. The truth is, I was consumed with so much anger and pain inside. Strangely, I also felt so empty and hollow.

For years that I was away from home however, my father’s shadow kept following me. I viewed every man that showed interest in me as a potential heart-breaker or home wrecker. I had all my defenses solid and intact around me. I tended to question my authorities, whether in school or at work, and always doubted their credibility as leaders. I greatly envied my friends every time they would talk about their dad being their best buddy, and dismissed that as sheer nonsense.

After several years of unbroken silence, my father and I were eventually thrust into a situation that we both didn't like, but had no choice. He was into an extensive medical treatment for his heart ailment and he needed me to care for him and to assist him financially. I had the choice to either give or withhold my support. I chose the first, albeit grudgingly.

When my father lay comatose in his hospital bed after a near-fatal heart surgery, I saw the image of a different man – helpless, weak and broken. I suddenly felt the need to touch him. As I touched him, all the feelings within me were miraculously unearthed -first there was confusion, then anger, then bitterness, then pain. And then there was something else underneath, a solid core that never left me. It was a deep kind of love, compassion and kindness that had been there all along, only these were masked by the negative feelings that I carried with me through the years. Sometimes, we wander to look for answers only to find out that the answers are within us all along.

After his heart surgery, my father lived on for five more years. It was one of the most meaningful events in both of our lives, as we tried to gather the broken pieces, deal with our own hurts, confront our own weaknesses, and forgive one another, over and over again. It was not an easy process, but both of us tried and gave our best, and in the end, both of us triumphed. He died with peace in his heart, knowing that he has reconciled with the one person he has hurt the most.

My father was far from perfect. But looking back now, he managed to give me something precious, a unique gift that has sent my soul soaring – the discovery of who he really is and who I really am. He is divinely-connected to my destiny, a God-sent companion that taught me, not by words or examples, but by presenting himself as the instrument through which I could understand, what real healing and forgiveness is all about.

Belated Happy Father's Day!

Rythm

2008-06-06T08:43:00.000-07:00

The winter season is over and everything around me is literally “springing” back to life.

I hear the soft whistles of birds in their silvery voices, the heavy thumping of yard machines around the neighborhood, the shrill and excited laughter of children swimming in the pool nearby. I smell the delicious aroma of grilled barbecue interspersing with the warm smell of cut grasses and twigs and the fragrance of flowers that bloom everywhere.

The trees are standing proud teeming with life, displaying their grandeur to the onlookers, with their leaves in beautiful hues of green and yellow and purple. Tulips and daisies, carnations and dandelions continuously sprout here and there.

Only two months ago, all I saw around me were white, brown, grey and other shades in between. As if by magic, everything has been transformed to a world of different colors, almost like a paradise garden consisting of red, green, yellow, orange, pink and purple. Traces of snow have disappearedand winter has seemingly become an illusion. Until today, I still cannot believe my eyes.

Witnessing the changing seasons is truly an awesome experience for me. To most people who have grown used to it, they may see nothing special about it. But for me, it has touched the core of my being, leaving a powerful and lasting impression.

There is indeed a rythm in nature, just as there is a rythm in everything. With the changing of seasons unfolding before my very eyes, I am finding a place in my heart pulsating with the same rythm of nature - vibrant, constantly changing and yet remaining the same.

Today, I go through life in a time of rapid change and new adjustments where seconds, minutes and days seem to be merging into a loud crescendo. As I dance with the rythm, I find an incredible peace that subtly weaves the melodies and tunes of my own life into something much bigger. I can't explain what it is. I just feel it pulsating within me. And as I listen to it, I become acutely aware that I am part of a bigger rythm, a beautiful orchestra, a super symphony that connects me to the very source of it all. I know I cannot outlive this rythm, but it renders my life beautiful, punctuating my hours with a quiet call to live life to the fullest.

True Joy

2008-06-03T16:53:00.000-07:00

As a child, I remember how fascinated I was by the sight of snow. I dreamed of touching and playing in the snow and donning those fabulous winter attires I’ve only seen in pictures. The grandeur and beauty of white-capped mountains, veiled by a cotton-like fog against a sunny day, was like a billowing enchanted wonderland that was waiting for me.

When we moved to Canada this March, I finally set afoot into the "enchanted kingdom" in my mind. There was however no king or queen or princesses to welcome me. There was instead the terrible, bone-chilling cold and windchill that felt like a long and sharp kick all over my body followed by numbness. I felt like Cinderella, crying out for help from her fairy godmother, or more like Snowhite wishing for her prince charming to rescue her. Alas, there was not a fairy godmother nor a prince charming in sight.

And then something very beautiful and powerful - beyond words to describe- happened in the midst of it all. I saw the fulfillment of a childhood dream. No, I didn't dance or run or roll over the snow. It would take a lot of cajoling for me to do that. I'm talking about my daughters' dream even before we even thought of migrating, coming true.

At first, I was adamant when they said they wanted to go outside in the snow. The ever-protective mother that I am, I worried about them getting sick due to sudden exposure to the cold. Or catching the virus that lurked beneath those dirty snow-covered grounds. Or getting the winter itch which usually attacks newcomers. I had a host of reasons not to let them go out. But children are children who wouldn't easily give up. And so I threw away all my defenses into the air. And as they played in the snow - building caves and castles and making up their own stories about pirates, dinosaurs and all those childhood stufffs - as if they are playing in summertime, I felt a surge of joy slowly swelling through me. At first it was a tiny bit of joy, until it became bigger and bigger, setting my soul aglow.

Who was it who said that the true joy of motherhood is found in the joy of one's children? Hmmmm, it would be interesting to join them in their snow games and make-believe stories next winter....

True Joy

2008-05-31T16:34:00.000-07:00

As a child, I remember how fascinated I was by the sight of snow. I dreamed of touching and playing in the snow and donning those fabulous winter attires I’ve only seen in pictures. The grandeur and beauty of white-capped mountains, veiled by a cotton-like fog against a sunny day, was like a billowing enchanted wonderland that was waiting for me.

When we moved to Canada this March, I finally set afoot into the "enchanted kingdom" in my mind. There was however no king or queen or princesses to welcome me. There was instead the terrible, bone-chilling cold and windchill that felt like a long and sharp kick all over my body followed by numbness. I felt like Cinderella, crying out for help from her fairy godmother, or more like Snowhite wishing for her prince charming to rescue her. Alas, there was not a fairy godmother nor a prince charming to comfort me! Having come from a tropical country where the only weather is "dry and not very dry", it was understandably not easy for me to breeze through the cold weather.

But something very beautiful - beyond words - came out of my winter experience. I saw the fulfillment of a childhood dream. No, I didn't dance or run or roll over the snow. It would take a lot of cajoling for me to do that. I'm talking about my daughters' dream even before we even thought of migrating, coming true. As they played in the snow - building caves and castles and making their own stories - as if they are playing in summertime, I felt a surge of joy slowly welling through me. At first it was a tiny bit of joy, until it became bigger and bigger, setting my soul aglow.

Who was it who said that allowing others to find joy actually leads to your own joy?

Quitting

2008-05-26T07:08:00.000-07:00

As a newly-landed immigrant, I was cautioned that I will not get the job that I want right away. Canadian experience is necessary before I can penetrate the professional workforce. To get that experience, I might as well be ready to work on jobs that I don't like as a starting point, they say.

Stubborn as I am, I nonetheless insisted on applying for jobs aligned with my interest and matched with my skills. Having gone this far in my life with all its twists and turns, I have become convinced that only me can set a limit to what I can do. That my capabilities and potentials are those that I say I have. That while God ultimately defines my destiny, I define the opportunities that will come my way.

So I fired off my resume onto jobs where I think I will do best: customer service, retail banking, office management, administration, human resources. I was careful to tailorfit every resume with the requirements of the position.

The first opportunity that knocked at my door was as Service Coordinator of a global company specializing in self-service financial solutions such as kiosks, atms, scanners and portals. My job would involve dispatching the civilian engineers in the field and making sure that they have completed their jobs consistent with the service level agreements. The job would pay well and the benefits are impressive.

My first few days were spent on rigorous orientation and training. The job was fairly easy - all it would take is mastery of the keyboard and familiarity with Canada's geography. I figured that once I memorized the steps, I can do the job even with my eyes closed! Memorization however, is another thing (hehehe).

On my fourth day of training, I quit.

My friends and relatives had mixed reactions. Some agreed, others did not. The latter argued that so many newly-landed immigrants would gladly trade places with me. That I was such a fool for passing up on such great opportunity. That I would end of getting a worst job that pays the minimum wage.

But this is my life, and I know what is best for me. Of course, there wasn't anything wrong with the job, but there was everything wrong with me being there.

The job was very repetitive or mechanical. I cannot imagine myself being glued to my computer and telephone day in and day out, barking orders to the engineers with disembodied voices out there in the field. There's not much room to grow. Even if I stayed on, I knew that sooner or later, I would eventually quit.

More importantly, the job would take away my Saturdays and Sundays being a 24/7 operations. Henceforth, I wouldn' be joining my daughters as we devour our favorite books at the library, a stone's throw away from our apartment. I wouldn't be attending the regular fellowship with my newfound spiritual family every other Saturday night. I wouldn't be taking part in the Sunday church service with my family. I wouldn't be going out mall-and park- hopping with my family.

Bottomline: The job will rob me of the precious time when I do the stuffs that give me joy and make my life meaningful. It was simply not worth it.

I am glad I am into this stage of my life that I know when to quit and when to hold on. That I am no longer like the waves in the sea mercilessly tossed here and there by the wind. And only because I have the right anchors in place.

Three days after I quit my job, I was offered a new job - higher position, higher pay and with Saturdays and Sundays off - at Sears Canada, a retail business.

Coincidence or luck? Hardly. It's my faith at work.

Phone Interview

2008-05-24T10:14:00.000-07:00

I was looking for a job, so day in and day out, I fired off my resume into the cyberspace, via the various job sites such as job.ca, workopolis, monster.com etc.

After two weeks, the phone rang with an unfamiliar number in the Caller ID. It was the Hiring Manager of one company that got hold of my resume. He was asking for an interview. I said - sure, where and what time. Over the phone, right now - was the answer.

I was baffled. Having played the waiting game for days on end, is this the way the canadian employers would hire people? But the voice at the other end of the phone sounded professional and credible and even before I could say yes, he started firing off a barrage of questions.

* Tell me something about yourself.
* How did you know about our company?
* What are you looking for in a job?
* How can you contribute best to our company?

Those were the usual introductory questions which I have long anticipated. And having anticipated them, I have sort of already rehearsed the answers in my mind. Common sense dictates that preparedness for such questions pays off if you want to create a good impression for the first 10 minutes.

What followed next was a set of behavioral questions, which I found more difficult yet challenging. The interviewer started discussing hypothetical workplace situations presumably to evaluate my behavioral tendencies.

* Supposing there's a conflict involving two people in the workplace over some pettty issues like somebody taking one's hanger and they exchange verbal tussles right in front of the customer - how are you going to handle it as a leader.
* Tell me a situation in the past where you had an argument with a colleague who is on the same level as you are and how you resolved it.

And he rattled off with other similar behavioral situations.

They say that phone interview is a common-place practice for all industry and at all levels. As for me, it will always be a boggling concept, even though I belong to what they call the tech-savvy generation. True, it spares me of the inconvenience of having to travel but it is not as affirming as a face-to-face interview. I don't get to see the facial expression of the interviewer that gives me an idea of how I am faring. Once the interview is over, I'm clueless how I came across. Promoting myself to a disembodied voice will always be discomforting.

The only thing that I appreciate about it is the knowledge that I have already made the first base in my job hunting. Even if it is an elimination round, I know I've already had the first cut, otherwise they wouldn't have called at all.

Next time the phone rings with an unknown caller ID, I better be ready.

Bianca's School Band Concert

2008-05-22T19:31:00.000-07:00

My eldest daughter Bianca came home from school one day with a clarinet in her school bag. Since being a kid, Bianca has taken a particular liking for music. She sings pretty well and at age 7, can play the guitar and the keyboard almost effortlessly. She is the first (and probably the last as the rest of us are not really into music) member of the family who has learned to play a variety of musical instruments. She brought music into our home and touched our hearts in a very special way.

As clarinet is something new to her, she was all agog to make do with it. Her first attempts were of course - uhhhmmm - not very impressive and as her best critic, I had to point this out to her. Over the next couple of days, she just practiced and practiced, determined to learn at all cost. Why, she has missed a number of her favorite tv shows just to practice. One day, she surprised me with an effortless rendition of some portions of starwars theme song. It wasn't perfect but she has definitely gone a long way in such a short time.

Today, we just attended her school band concert where she, along with the rest of the choir members, participated in a musical ensemble that truly wowed the audience. It was a moving experience to witness children of different colors, of varying nationalities, united by music.

I don't speak the language of music. I don't know the difference between a wind instrument or percussion instrument or string basses or bass guitar. I don't understand how time signatures are integrated with musical notes (i'm sure my good highschool friend marissa can easily give me a crash course on this). But I do know how to appreciate good music. And what beautiful music they created - Mission Impossible, Spider Man, Pirates of the Caribbean, Best of Queen, Cartoon Symphony - to mention a few, with their individual instruments. As I write this, I continue to be in awe.

I figure that it will take me a lifetime to learn to play the guitar or the clarinet. But that is just a piece of cake to Bianca. God really does not bestow equal gifts to everyone, and for a good reason. Imagine if all of us can sing beautifully. No one is there to appreciate good music. At the risk of being branded as a proud stage mother, I will say without batting an eyelash that Bianca, with all her gifts and talents, is an amazing creation of God.

Plain Housewife

2008-05-19T11:30:00.000-07:00

Since our arrival here in Canada, I have been stuck with the following day-to-day routine:

Wake up at 6 AM to send hubby off to work then prepare the children's breakfast and school snacks
Supervise the children at 7 AM as they get ready for school
Tidy-up the house (dust the furniture, fix the bed, wash the dishes) at 9:00 AM after the children have gone off to school
Do some video-assisted exercise/calisthenics/belly-dancing and bath time by 10:30 AM
Read e-mail, surf the net, apply for jobs on-line and blog and bloghop at 11:30 AM
Cook early dinner by 3:00 PM just in time for hubby's and kids' arrival
Dinner fellowship with family at 5:00 PM
Walkathon with husband at 7:00 PM
Bonding with the children at 9:00 PM
Read favorite books at 9:30 PM
Sleep time and bed matters (censored) by 10:30 PM

Pretty boring and unchallenging?

Quite the contrary. Never in my life had I been so happy and contented. Finally, I had all the time in the world to do the things that truly matter - take care of my family, write and read and reconnect with my old self. Why, this is a dream come true!

I don't get paid for what I do. I don't receive bonuses and rewards for my accomplishment. I don't have people to do errands for me. I don't have the prestige of the executive job I once held.

But nothing could be sweeter and more precious than the eager smiles of my children and husband when they come home and find me waiting for them. Nothing could be more rewarding than the realization that my sense of womanhood is complete.

Just when I thought I have come full circle, reality hits me in the face. Tomorrow, I am starting with my new job. Ahhhh... I am back to the corporate world where I only half-belong.

My Evening Prayer

2008-05-17T20:22:00.000-07:00

Almighty Father, as the evening dawns and this day draws to a close, I'd like to spend this quiet moment with you, reflecting on the day that you have brought me through and thanking you for all the wonderful ways you've met my needs.

As I rest my body in your loving embrace, I pour out my entire being to you - my joys, my pains, my longings, my hopes, my thoughts, my everything. Nothing is ever hidden from you, and so I ask you now to remove even the smallest impurities from my heart and mind. Fill my heart with joy and peace that transcends all understanding, peace that can only come from you.

If I have hurt someboday today because of my insensitivity and carelessness, I ask that you restore that person's heart and soul and find it in his heart to forgive me. And as you restore him, I pray that I will become more sensitive and patient to avoid unnecessarily hurting other people's feelings.

If I have been arrogant and boastful, taking pride in my own abilities without recognizing you as the ultimate source of who I am, I ask for your forgiveness. I recognize fully well that who and where I am today I owe to you. Apart from you, I am nothing.

Dear God, I close my eyes today knowing fully well that the moment I sleep, I am completely under your mecy; my life is in your hands. Thus, if it is your will that I should still see tomorrow, I ask for a good night's sleep. I ask for a healthy body and nourished spirit so that I can fulfill the mission that you have set for me in this lifetime.

My prayer is not complete without thanking you for the endless graces and the miracles that you continue to shower upon me and my loved ones. I am truly sorry for the times when I take you for granted; for the times when I fail to heed your voice; for the times when I am such a rotten soul. I am glad that despite my imperfections and transgressions, you love me just the same. Truly, your love for me is beyond compare.

In Jesus' holy name.

My First Bus Ride

2008-05-02T21:25:00.001-07:00

Which way to go - taxi or bus? I was scheduled to go to downtown Winnipeg early morning the other day for a job interview and it took me sometime to decide how to get there. The taxi, of course, offered the more convenient and hassle-free means of transport, without me worrying where to get off and how to get to my destination. The bus, on the other hand, was a cheaper alternative plus it offered greater excitement and challenge to a hopeful starry-eyed newbie like me. I admit though that it was intimidating to ride the public transport especially for somebody like me who understands very little how it works - the destination sign, the bus route, the bus schedule, how to pay the fare, how to disembark etc.But I figured that sooner or later, I would have to take the bus, and the earlier I learn to ride it, the better for me. Besides, I reasoned out that if I cannot learn something so easy and ordinary as riding a bus, how then can I be expected to learn biggger and more important things? Life in Canada is definitely more than riding the buses. So off to the bus station I went, complete with map and the directions I downloaded from google, and of course, a dose of forced courage and confidence.

When the bus arrived, I nestled into a comfortable seat at the middle portion where I could have a full window view of the city I now call "home". I quickly surveyed the passengers within my viewing range - a lady in her thirties seated across my seat, deeply engrossed in a pocket book; two black teenage girls with their long black tightly-braided hair in place, surreptitiously giggling over "you know what" girlish things; a father and kindergarten son tandem probably of european descent, the father instructing the kid to eat the sandwich properly so as not to spill on the latter's face, some very polite, soft-spoken latina nannies and some mestizo school boys all wearing i-pod headsets. Each passenger seemed to build an invisible fence around his private little space in the bus where strangers cannot thread into. I felt the same way too.

For the first few minutes, I was grateful that no one has decided to sit with me at any of the stops we made. I didn't want to miss my bus stop number so I focused intently on the sceneries outside the bus, careful to mark the number of each and every station that the bus passed by. I was amused by all the doll house-like bungalows that lined-up the road pavements and wondered about the people who live there. There were tall and small structures, lanky andbig trees about to bloom, busy streets, graffiti on the wall, men and women in corporate suits walking down the street, cars hurrying to beat the traffic - all the hallmarks of an urban life.

Everything was totally new and unfamiliar to me so that every now and then I had to secretly glance at the map safely tucked inside my folder. What a relief that the bus was actually plying the same route appearing in my downloaded map. Of course, I was careful not to show my map to other passengers, else I can become an easy target of some mean people out there ready to take advantage of my ignorance. When you're in a new place like this, much as you would like to trust people, wisdom also dictates never to throw caution into the wind.

And then as if somebody was reading my thoughts, out of nowhere popped two very odd-looking middle-aged couple at the Selkirk area. They were almost triple my size, exceptionally huge and tall and probably of aboriginal descent based on their physical features. To protect their tribe, I will refrain from physically describing them. To my great surprise, they decided to sit next to me despite the many vacant seats around.

So what's wrong with having someone like them seated next to you? Nothing actually, except that I have heard a lot of negative stories about them, like how they can be so unruly and rude in public, or how easy it is for them to pick up a fight with just anybody. The stories are a bit scary although I know deep in my heart that some of them may not necessarily be true. In fact, the first time I heard about them, I instinctively ran to their defense as if I've known them long enough. I felt that they are being unfairly stereotyped, placed in labels that are actually applicable to other races as well, Filipinos like myself included. Why, I have seen a lot of other nationalities who have displayed rude character and rough behavior so I knew it is truly not right to judge them this way. It was very unchristian to say the least.

But being actually with them now seemed to be a different story. The paranoid in me started to dominate my thoughts. What if the stories were true? What if they harm me now? What if they ask money from me? But the better side of me whispered "come on now, where is your sense of fairness? you have no right to judge them". Good thing I let the good side of me dominate my thoughts. Indeed, nothing could be truer that the battle is in the mind. I managed to say "hi" and flashed a smile towards them. They smiled back, albeit sheepishly.

Over the next couple of minutes, my seatmates were simply there - sitting peacefully in their couches, doing their own thing in that little corner of their world, dutifully awaiting for their bus stop. A few minutes later, the man politely excused himself as he pulled off the yellow string tied at the window near my side to signal that they were getting off. And when they were finally off the bus and have walked several steps away, I saw the man placed his right hand over the shoulder of the lady. That's it. I smiled knowingly. They were such a beautiful sight to behold in such a sunny day!

Although my first bus was incident-less, it was one of the most insightful experiences I had during my first few days in Canada. It affirmed what I already knew to be true in my heart all along. There is nothing to fear about riding the bus just as there is nothing to fear about other people, or about other nationalities. There is inherent kindness in everyone. The tough-looking stranger that sits next to you is just like everyone else - beneath the exterior lies a gentle heart, capable of kindness, capable of loving. Most passengers, myself included, are like mushrooms who seem to get on in the middle of nowhere, and then get off a few minutes later, again in the middle of nowhere. Most passengers just like to quietly get on with their lives, eagerly anticipating for their destination wherever that is.

Angels Around Me

2008-04-23T10:10:00.000-07:00

I have read somewhere that angels, whether supernatural (beings of light) or ordinary human beings, surround us every day. It takes an open heart and utmost sensitivity to be aware of them, and to recognize what they're doing to us.

My life has always had a recognizable pattern. In my lowest moment, I never run out of somebody who comes in at the right time and says or does the right thing helping me cope or see through a most difficult situation. This somebody is my human angel, and I can count lots of them in my fingers. They come and go. Or they stay for good. Those who stay, I believe, are God's designated angels to accompany me throughout my life's journey.

There are latest additions to my list of angels, and one of them is my good friend LA. He used to be my officemate but we weren't that close really. Our conversations were limited to work and our greetings were simple hi and hello. He stood out from his league as he was unusually bubbly and disarming even to strangers. I never had an inkling that our paths would become closely woven later. He moved to Winnipeg a year ahead of me and then we didn't communicate much after that.

A few months later, I received our family's immigrant visa with Winnipeg as destination. I started making travel preparations already, banking on the support and assistance of my sister-in-law who was to help us settle. As fate would have it, in the thick of my preparations, my sister-in-law suddenly decided to move to Toronto, for good, leaving us hanging in the air. Naturally, we were thrown off balance. It was like drowning and gasping for air in the middle of the sea. We wanted to quit mid course. The fear and anxiety of having to do it by ourselves was just too much to bear. Settling in a foreign country with no one to help you is definitely no joke!

We were about to put off our migration plan and then ta-dah - LA came into the scene. He volunteered to arrange for our airport pick-up, look for our apartment and do all sort of stuffs for us. Whew - what a relief that was! I felt like a damsel in distress being saved by a mighty prince! To cut the story short, LA did as promised, and delivered more than expected. Everything was ready when we arrived. He even had a hot molo soup and chicken barbecue waiting for us in our apartment upon arrival from the airport. He also had the sense to pick up minor grocery items for us, anticipating that we will have nothing to eat on our first day.

Over the next few days in Winnipeg, LA and his sister (Lynn) and her hubby (Chris) had been our tireless companions, driving us here and there as we opened our bank accounts, applied for our health and employment cards, looked for school for the kids and even shopped for our furnitures and home needs. They truly made us feel at ease, and at home. I never thought that settlement could be this easy, and only because you have friends to assist you. Then they introduced us to other well-meaning people who eventually became our friends too. Most importantly, Chris facilitated the employment of Ronny at Palliser, the company he works with. So many angels, and so much blessings!

I will never be able to repay them fully for all the good things they've done. Being the kind-hearted persons I've known them to be, I'm sure they're also not expecting anything in return from me, except probably a word of thanks and a spirit of gratitude, which I am so profuse with. I know they are God-sent, and as I write this, I have made a promise to God to be an angel to others, especially those in great need. This is my contribution to ensure that this cycle of giving and receiving is not broken. What comes around goes around.

At one point in your life, you may have met a human angel in the form of a friend whose words of encouragement have healed your soul and led you to the right path, or a stranger on the street who asked you something, delaying you long enough to spare you from a fatal road accident. Or an ordinary human being who has touched your life with his deeds of kindness. If we will only be sensitive enough, there are many situations which are often dismissed as simply luck, coincidence or even a miracle, but which have "the touch of a hand of light behind it." The most amazing thing is - you can be an angel yourself!

Spring in Canada

2008-04-13T14:39:00.000-07:00

Before we left for Canada, the horrible stories I've heard about winter - how one needs to bundle up with layers after layers of clothing to beat the bone-chilling cold, how a bath-fresh hair should be blown dry before going out or how one should never stick out his tongue while outdoor else they will freeze, how an protected ear could harden, freeze and literally fall off without one knowing it, and many more -had been scaring the wits out of me. So when we received our canadian visa in October (winter was only a month away then) hubby and I had a very serious discussion on this matter.

With the best intentions for the family in mind, we agreed to come to Winnipeg in March 22 this year, just when winter is about to end and spring is just around the corner. Spring is supposed to be "less colder" so we did not bother to clothe ourselves with thick jackets. My friend had warned me not to underestimate the cold weather in spring but I figured that the fur-decorated denim jacket I was wearing then would be enough protection. As I stepped out of the airport in the middle of the night, I was jolted as my cheeks were kissed by a chilling wind. Horror of all horrors - it was minus 15 degree centigrade and the cold is penetrating like painful needles pricking the tiniest of my veins!

Going to the heated car that was waiting for us about 30 meters away from the airport entrance was like a walk in eternity. I was literally freezing to the bone. It was as if I am in the thick of a freezer turned to its coolest temperature! My fingers and my toes started to feel numb, my nose became stuffy and eyes were reddish with pain. We hurriedly hopped into the car, and despite the heater, it provided little comfort. Oh, how I wished we didn't have to get off anymore.

As we drove through the snow-littered stretch from the Winnipeg airport all the way to our pre-rented apartment, I wasn't very much impressed by the sights around me. Trees along the street pavements appeared barren and lifeless, with nary a single leaf hanging from the branches (twigs is a better term) having fallen off in autumn in preparation for the winter. The streets were slippery and slushy, with the frozen ice gradually clearing up for spring and eventually summer. The buildings (or warehouses is a better term) had facades that are as unexciting as the surroundings around them. All I saw around me is brown and white and gray and a little variation in between. I suddenly found myself wondering if we are in the right place.

When we went out of the car to walk the pavement that leads to our apartment, the weather was surprisingly not very cold anymore. Tolerable is a better description. I felt more relaxed and confident as we entered our pre-rented fully-heated two-bedroom apartment at Tyndall Gardens. Despite the absence of furnitures, our new home had an unexplained ambiance of warmth and life to it. The carpeted floor felt warm under my feet while the newly-painted walls felt smooth under my palms. The hot molo soup and chicken barbecue waiting for us were certainly a most welcome sight, courtesy of my good friend LA.

As my body clock was still adjusting to the new timezone, I couldn't sleep on our first night. I thus spent the night tidying up our luggages and busying myself with other things, hoping that sleep would eventually catch up on me. After three hours of fussing over things, doing this and that, I finally dozed off.

I woke up at around eleven o'clock in the morning to the soft sound of birds chirping by. Drawing the window blinds apart, I saw four of them playing in our balcony. The snow outside shone like crystals as the sun rays hit them, giving the surrounding a brilliant whitish glow that permeates all over. And there in the backdrop was a rainbow in very clear and lucid colors! Standing side by side with the brown lifeless trees lining the pavement that led to our apartment were a number of trees already in full bloom. The sight was just awesome, giving me a surreal feeling. It was as if time stood still. I wanted to hold the sight in my palm. I cried and said a prayer of gratitude to the one Creator who made all these sights possible. Suddenly, I felt home. All the fears I had were swept away, replaced by hope and peace and confidence. I had the sense that I am exactly in the right place and at the right time, as designed by God .

As Winnipeg is one of the coldest regions in Canada, we still had a "little" taste of winter over the next several days. There were residual snows everywhere, occasional hails, windchills and blizzards and the temperature without warning, would still drop to minus 20! To describe the weather as simply cold is an understatement. It was piercingly, achingly COLD to the bone! But the peace that had enveloped me since the first night had never left me. Deep inside, I just knew I could overcome the cold weather and conquer all winters to come.

Spring has now fully arrived and summer - when trees and flowers would be in full bloom - is something to look forward to. As the spring completes its full course, and as I see new life springing all around me from nowhere, so does my faith continue to leap. Spring symbolizes new life and to live is to trust. And when there is trust and hope and life is lived in prayers, nothing seems scary and insurmountable anymore.

My Personal Mission Statement

2008-03-29T18:04:00.000-07:00

I may just be a dot in this vast universe, but I am convinced I did not come here by accident. All the forces in the universe have conspired to bring forth my existence into this world as a unique individual. God has a great design for my life and I will not leave this world without fulfilling my purpose.

Life is like a changing season. A rainbow always comes out after the storm. Spring is always preceded by autumn. Dichotomies always exist. Where there is love; there is pain. Where there is joy; there is sorrow. Where there is hope; there is despair. It is only in dying that a new life begins. And so I embrace life with all its grandeur and pain. For it is only by experiencing both the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly, the pleasant and the unpleasant that my soul can be healed and become whole.

I only have one life to live. My stay here is only temporary so I intend to make my life truly worthliving for. Life is such a precious gift and I am not about to waste it. I will seize each moment in time to be the best person God wants me to be, no matter the circumstances. Human as I am, I may falter at times but I will certainly rise after every fall, forgive after every hurt, celebrate after every pain. In the end when I would have completed this path, I would face my Creator confident that I have lived the life He has given me to the fullest, that I have nurtured the talents and gifts I am blessed with and that I have touched, in a positive way, the lives of other souls who accompanied me in this journey.