God in the midst of Suffering

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.

When Things Don't Make Sense

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.

Leaving

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.

Spiritual Quest (First of a Series)

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

Gratitude

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.

A life of Contradiction

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.

Loss

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.

Trapped

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

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

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.

Living

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"

Turning Point

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.

Rythm

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.

My Evening Prayer

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.

Angels Around Me

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!

My Personal Mission Statement

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.