He Knows Me

Hearing Mass last Sunday, I was thinking about a few concerns that were on my mind lately. Realizing that I was so distracted from the Celebration, I said a short prayer to God asking him to help me keep focused on his Word.

Shortly thereafter, I found myself distracted once again - and again I asked the Lord to help me be at peace, as the thought of my concerns kept me from the essence of the Celebration.

Finally, after catching myself a third time, I apologized in prayer. I have been searching for the Lord for years, but I have never felt as far from him as I did in recent months. I said "Lord, if you were just any other ordinary person, I am quite sure that you would have forgotten about me by now: I am not as active in the service as I used to be nor as I wish I could be; I do not have a Community I could serve with like I used to; even my own prayer time has lost the quality I believe it had once before. Surely, I do not merit your attention, for there are many others who do. All I ask, is that you help me find you again. I pray that I may know you once more, so that you may know me again."

Shortly thereafter, my family and I stood up to receive communion. I have to admit that at this point, my mind was blank of any thought. Looking back now, I would even say that I was just going through the motions of lining up for communion. We lined up with a Special Minister of the Eucharist who was far from familar to me. We were, after all, hearing Mass at a different church and parish, and therefore the servers there were not familiar to me.

When I got to the Minister, he presented the Host to me and said with conviction: "THIS is the Body of Christ". I was surprised and moved at such conviction, that I answered a loud "AMEN". He placed the Body of Christ on my tongue, and just as I was about to step away, he leaned forward, looked me in the eye and said: "Brother TJ".

All I could do was stare back at him. And as he smiled, I found myself smiling back.

He knew me.

I swear, I still cannot recall where I met him or when I met him. He was obviously from my former Community, but I swear (as if I could or should), I cannot, for the life of me, remember him at all.

But he KNEW me.

And that was all I needed to know.

The Lord heard my prayer of despair. He knew I needed affirmation and confirmation. In the two words spoken by the Minister and the smile he gave me right after, God was saying: "I DO know you. You were never out of my mind. I know you, I hear you, I see you. I know your fears, your concerns, your worries. I love you, and I will see you through. Be at peace, for I KNOW YOU."

If that Minister ever gets to read this, Brother, do drop me a note. I want to say thank you for being God’s voice of affirmation to me when I needed it the most. May God Bless You!

Peel it Off

Today, I just became my daughter's official nail artist.

Julia had received a couple of bottles of Barbie's kiddie nail polish: one in pink and the other in blue.

And for some reason, Julia wanted me to paint her toenails in alternating colors. So as she wiggled her toes in preparation for my artistic touch, I shook both bottles to make sure that the consistency of the polish was just right. After all, I didn't want my first customer to complain, unless I wanted that to be both the start AND end of my new career.

The instructions were simple: "1) Shake bottle; 2) Apply evenly on nails; 3) Peel off to remove. No need for acetone or nail polish removers."

"Peel off to remove". That simple.

If only more Christians would realize that turning back to God is as simple as "peeling off the past", what a more beautiful world this would be.

I believe in many things, one of them being that life is a result of decisions we make. If you boil it down to basics, we decide what happens to us in life.

We decide to move on, or sulk about a problem.

We decide to change things for the better, or accept the situation we create for ourselves.

We either find solutions, or live in the problem forever.

We decide our life.

God gave us that power. It is called "free will".

And he also gave us a simple solution for turning back to him: "Peel it off."

"Tell Mama not to Forget..."

The operation was delayed by one day.

Apparently, on the morning of his original schedule, doctors found a thrombus – a blood clot – in the vein between the heart and the lungs. It was a bad turn of events that caused the unnecessary and dangerous delay of the much needed operation. The next day however, the doctors concluded that further delays would be disastrous.

After much consultation with his team, particularly with his Anesthesiologist Dr. Papa, Dr. John Balinghasay decided to push through with the operation. He explained the situation to all of us, my brother JV included.

With my very little medical knowledge (close to nil) this is what I understood: "too much blood pumping through the veins during the operation could push the clot into the arteries, causing a blockage which may lead to cardiac arrest. On the other hand, too much push in the other direction could send the clot into the lungs, possibly leading to pulmonary arrest. Further delaying the operation to treat the thrombus first would definitely allow the gas gangrene to spread faster and deeper into his body".

Not too many acceptable options, huh?

But, since a decision had already been made a couple of days earlier, the entire family was one in upholding the decision to go through with the operation.

My brother was wheeled out of the room soon after.

His twin brother Ray was at his side as JV left the room.

Just before leaving the room, JV reached up for Ray and said: “Tell Mama not to forget her insulin…”, and off he went into the operating room.

You see, a year or so earlier, Mama was diagnosed as having diabetes too. Since then, both she and JV had to inject themselves with insulin on a daily basis. Most of the times, JV – with over three decades of injecting himself with insulin – expertly administered the insulin injections to my Mom. Having had to live with diabetes for the past 30+ years, JV was strict with my Mom’s medical regimen. He constantly reminded Mama to “inject first…” before certain meals or at certain times of the day.

And even then – faced with the triple horns of possible death – he had only one person on his mind. And it wasn’t himself.

My brother’s operation and the events surrounding it have taught me and my family – and our friends too – so much about things we already know.

How many times have I had the opportunity to give more of myself – but did not?

How often have I found myself in a situation where I could have placed others ahead of myself – but would not?

I realize now that every time I failed, I missed the opportunity to see Jesus in others – and just let Jesus come first.

When Ray told me what JV said just before he went to face his biggest trial, I realized that even in one’s time of great need, it is still possible to choose others before one’s self.

I hope I still get a chance to place others ahead of myself – just as JV did.

"Cut it Off"

It’s been two months since my brother lost his left leg to “gas gangrene". Like so many of us, I didn’t know what gas gangrene was – until it started eating up my younger brother’s left leg, it’s toxicity spreading inwards and upwards towards his torso, giving us less than 24 hours to make a decision to either cut off the leg or watch him pass away.

It isn’t everyday that someone has the opportunity (yes, I said “opportunity”) to face death squarely in the face and say “I am not going down without a fight”. But my brother did. Bravely, but painfully, he did.

The night before the original schedule of the operation, when we were pressed for a decision, I asked everyone in the hospital room to step out – my mother included. I wanted a moment with my brother alone.

He had been diabetic for the past 27 years – since he was a 10-year old from Zobel. During his years there, we had done what we could to make life more bearable for him. I still recall the numerous times I would get called out of class by my younger brother’s teachers asking me to administer the required dose of insulin when his sugar level went crazy. His classmates would watch as I took the syringe and administered the dose. At that time, he needed us to decide on the right dosage and to act for him.

But that evening, the tables were turned. He had to act on this decision himself.

So, with no one else inside the room but my brother and I, I gave him his options.

“It’s worse than we thought it would be. Dr. Balinghasay said that the only option is to operate tomorrow. It’s spreading too fast.

“But – the choice is yours. Just tell me you want one more week to try other non-traditionals, and we will. I will stop the doctors and I will sign any waiver for you. IF this is what you want.

“BUT, the danger is that you may not have one week. The gangrene may reach your torso in two or three days – and by then it will be useless to operate.

“BUT – we will support what you feel is best”.

I was afraid. My brother, when faced with situations less dangerous than this – had the habit of clamming up and shutting out the world – us included. To shut us out now would have been disastrous, as a decision had to be made.

And this time, it was a decision HE had to make for himself.

I was ready to pry a decision from his lips, anticipating his “shut-down”.

But in less than two seconds after I had finished my sentence, he spoke. And it wasn’t just a mumble of words.

He spoke seven words with a conviction I had never seen nor heard from him before.

“Cut it off. I WANT TO LIVE”.

I was so moved by his conviction, that I asked him if he wanted me to lead him in prayer, and he said “yes”. So I took his hand and prayed with him. And only when I opened my eyes did I see the tears rolling down his cheeks.

I stepped out of the room, and admonished my family: no one was to ask him about his decision anymore. No one was to show signs of weakness, regret, sorrow or any such negative emotions. No one was to cry – NO MATTER WHAT.

“If any of you walk into that room and starts to cry – I will remove you from the room”, I said. “That includes you, Ma”, I told my mother.

My brother made a brave and hard decision. And none of us had the right to make him feel bad about it.

A week later, he was out of the hospital. Dr. Balinghasay (himself a graduate of Zobel and a friend and batchmate of my brother and his twin) and his entire OR Team had done perfectly!

My brother is now getting back to his old activities – albeit in a wheelchair. A prosthetic leg is expensive, but he will soon have his own. Yet even now, one leg less, he “stands up” witnessing to God’s Love and Greatness. A week ago, I drove him to a CLP where he shared his life as a testimony to Loving God.

In the Bible, we are told by Jesus that if any part of our body causes us to sin, we must cut it off… for it is better to enter the Kingdom of Heaven lacking that body part, rather than to end up with your entire body in the bowels of hell.

My brother chose life. He had been battling diabetes for 27 years now. He was tired of it.

We may be facing our own “diabetic attacks”. Some of us may already have “gas gangrene” eating at our souls. Our lives may already be “rotting away” one way or another.

And we may be tired of it already, just as my brother was tired of fighting diabetes.

But he did not give up.

Instead, he chose to “cut it off” so that he could LIVE.

Reach Up!

It has been months since my last post in what is supposed to be a collection of daily thoughts. Amazing how the days pass by so swiftly that just as you are forgetting what the sunrise looks like, you are already witnessing a glorious sunset.

I now sit 10 floors above the busy Alabang-Zapote Road – from my window I see the Makati-Mandaluyong-Ortigas-Quezon City skylines outlined by distant yet all too familiar buildings, many of which I can identify by their silhouettes.

Every morning, I arrive to an empty office, and the distant view makes me appreciate the vastness of God’s creations. From my vantage point, I see large patches of green silently and peacefully wrestling with the all-too-familiar signs of development: rooftops of houses and buildings, concrete walls and roads, and the occasional soft arches of smoke emanating from factory chimneys here and there.

In the few minutes before the office spaces next to mine start filling up with people and the sounds of the daily grind, I say a prayer of thanks to our Lord. I thank him for the new day, my wonderful job, my great staff, my family and countless other blessings.

But I also thank him for the clear signs he gives me through the “green patches” in an otherwise grey world.

To me, the green leaves struggling to keep themselves above the pollution of everyday life is a very clear sign of “hope”. As the world encroaches into the natural habitat of these trees and plants, the once open air and vast amounts of sunshine are blocked out by the rising concrete structures of man.

So what does the tree do?

It rises above all these! It stretches itself upward. Up, up, up towards the sun. Where it cannot go upward, it will go left… or right. Branching in every direction – just to get a piece of that all too precious sunlight.

It never gives up.

Right below my window I see the top of an Acacia. Its sprawling limbs covered with millions of open leaves so strategically spread out that it catches the sunlight almost all day.

And then I realize: by spreading out to catch the sun, the Acacia provides a wide shade for the creatures who have invaded its natural habitat. In its desire to reach up and out for the source of life, it refreshes us who have caused it so much harm.

Yes, there is hope. Let us all stretch up and out – let us rise above ourselves, and go after that life-giving Son. Let us not be closed in by our work, our careers, our families, our friends and our selves.

Reach out. Reach up. Reach for the Son. Not only shall we have life, but our lives will be a refreshing spirit for others too.

"We are Holy..."

Last Sunday during Mass, my daughter – who had recently received her first communion – motioned to me that she wanted to receive communion by the hand.

“Sure, if that’s what you want” I said. “But I will not – our hands are not holy – that’s why the Priest is the one who should give us communion”.

My daughter looked blankly at me for a couple of seconds, and then looked back at the priest officiating the Mass. Then, as if having seen the answer to her question, she motioned for me to bend over so she could whisper in my ear.

“Our hands are holy because God made us holy.”

How many times have I forgotten this simple truth.

I have taught and emphasized time and again that God has made us in His image AND likeness. In fact, in a training program I co-authored with a former colleague of mine, we emphasized how God took the pains of creating us with his own hands. In Genesis we read how God created the world and all that is within it with His word – how he spoke all things into being. All things, that is, except for man. The bible teaches us that when God was done creating everything, He formed man out of the soil of the earth and breathed life into Man.

God actually got down on His hands and knees, and with His hands he formed man in His image and likeness.

Imagine this scenario:

Angel: “Uh, Lord, what’re you doing playing in the dirt?”

Lord: “I’m making Man.”

Angel: “That creature must be so special for you to get your manicure ruined.”

Lord: “Special – Yes – very special. Man will have dominion over all things great and small. He shall give a name to all that I created. He will be a reflection of who I am and what I am…”

I’m quite sure the exchange of ideas between God and his angel was much more eloquent than that, but you get the idea.

With a smile of knowledge, Julia confidently said with conviction that “Our hands are holy BECAUSE GOD MADE US HOLY.”

I stared her in the eye, and gave her a tight hug.

Who could argue with reasoning like that?

A Lesson from the Tooth Fairy

I carefully lifted Julia’s pillow to pull out a small, transparent, re-sealable plastic bag. Inside was one of her two front teeth, and a short note to the Tooth Fairy that read:


“Dear Tooth Fairy,

“I want P20.00 for my tooth… I Love You, Tooth Fairy.


“Love, Julia”

I quickly scribbled a note in my most feminine handwriting:


“Dear Julia,

“You have beautiful teeth. I am giving you P150.00. P50.00 for this tooth, and P50.00 for each of the two teeth that your Dada lost.


“GOD BLESS YOU!

“Love, the Tooth Fairy


“P.S. – I Love You too.”

I folded the note and, together with P150.00, placed it inside the little plastic bag. Then I carefully put it back under Julia’s pillow.


The next morning, Julia opened her eyes to find me staring at her.

“Mama told me she pulled out your tooth – did it hurt?”


She shook her head sleepily at first. Then, realizing that it was already morning, her eyes just opened up wide, she suddenly exclaimed: “The Tooth Fairy!”

In one smooth motion she literally dived under her pillow! She re-emerged a few seconds later – her big, boogly eyes staring in disbelief at what she held in her hands.


“Oh no!” Julia gasped, “I asked her for P20.00 – and she left P100.00!” (she did not notice the P50.00 bill folded within the P100.00 bill yet)

“Dada, how will I return her change?”


I was surprised at this reaction – oh she was happy alright – happy that she received the money for her all too precious tooth.

But she was also concerned that she received more than what she asked for – and that she had to return what she knew was not hers in the first place.

Honesty.

From a seven year old with a missing front tooth.

Tips for Living Life - Tip 4: Play in the Rain

It was raining hard yesterday.

What a way to spend a "special holiday". Now don't get me wrong - I like rainy days. It allows me to catch up on my much needed sleep - or on my viewing (believe it or not, I have not seen Transformers 2 yet).

Yesterday, I chose the former. So I curled up in bed underneath a warm blanket and just let the raindrops lull me to sleep.

And then she came.

She tugged at me and asked me one simple question: "Dada, can I take a bath in the rain?"

I got up and followed Julia Amaris into the kitchen, where she spun around and looked up at me with her "begging look" and pouting lips.

"Pleeeease?..."

It was raining hard enough, so I gave in and simply told her to be careful.

The joy immediately showed in her face as she skipped out the door.

I followed her outside to watch her. A couple of other kids up the street were already playing in the rain, and Julia Amaris was just enjoying herself right in front of our house.

"Why don't you play with them?" I asked her.

"No, I want you to play with me, Dada" was her reply. At first I said I'd just watch her instead, but before I knew it I found myself fetching a pail and tabo and filling it with water. When Julia Amaris saw what I was bringing, her face lightened up even more.

Yes, I ended up playing with Julia - in the rain!

I'd chase her with a tabo-full of water and try to drench her even more (though I stayed in the garage most of the time). Julia would challenge me to wet her if I could, and would just run up and down the street in front of me.

A while later, Jeng came outside, bringing with her a basin of ice (she was defrosting the freezer), and she started tossing ice shavings at Julia, who'd scream with delight everytime she got splashed with water and ice shavings at the same time.

As the rains started to subside a little I told Julia Amaris to come back inside to take a warm shower.

She obeyed without protest.

As she came in, she gave me a big, soaking wet hug. As she did, she said "Dada, I wish there was more ice and water". I said that she had had enough, and that surely she was feeling cold already.

Julia Amaris hugged me tighter and said, "I know. But if I'm feeling cold, then you will hug me more to keep me warm..."

Yes, it was raining hard yesterday - but there was a warmth that just couldn't be dampened by any amount of rain.

Tips for Living Life - Tip 3: Pick Somebody Up... Everyday

I still remember that day. Not the exact date - but the events of that day.

My first day in college.

The first part of freshmen orientation was done, and we had all been sent to have our lunch. I was not really familiar with the Manila area, but I knew there was a mall a short walk from my university. Since I had no friends yet, I decided to take a stroll down to the mall for some lunch.

A few meters from school, an elderly lady blocked my path and stopped me in my tracks.

"I need your help, please", she started to say in a forced American accent.

"I locked my keys in my car and I have no way to get them. Can you please give me P50.00 so i can go home and get my spare keys? Please?" She pointed to a car parked on the side of the road: a sleek black Mercedes Benz.

"Please?" She said. "I pay you two P50.00 when I get my keys from the home. My wallet - it is inside of the car also..."

Dressed in what could only be described as "useful rags" and continuing to jabber on in broken, sometimes undecipherable english, I couldn't seem to get her out of my way.

What was worse was the fact that I did not know how I should say "No" to her. I knew it was a scam - I didn't know how to let her down.

"Please... please... you help me, okay? Please..." she continued.

Suddenly, two men came along side me, one on each side, and in one scoop, they literally picked me up. My feet were off the ground and they held me up by my elbows.

Quickly carrying me past the old scammer, one of them just said "Walang pera 'to..." ("This guy has no money).

A few more feet onwards, my feet were on the ground once more, and the two gentlemen let me go.

My "friendly abductors" turned out to be a couple of my new classmates - blockmates, actually - from school. "Are you okay?" one of them asked in Pilipino. I laughed and said I was, and thanked them for "picking me up" when they did.

"Stick with us - you'll survive Manila if you do" the other one said.

I suddenly found myself with a couple of "friends" to have lunch with.

As I write this now, I laugh at the thought of what would have happened if my friends had not "picked me up" when they did. I would have most probably handed the old scammer a fifty peso note just to get away from her.

Today, I still try to find ways of "picking someone up", be it by encouraging words, a pat on the back, a smile of assurance or by literally "picking them up" when they fall.

It gives me a sense of peace and fulfillment.

And it gives the other person that glimmer of hope that there still exists other people who are willing to give others a helping hand.

Tips for Living Life - Tip 2: Say Goodnight in Prayer

We pray at night.

My wife, my daughter and I.

We gather together and sit on the bed and join each other in prayer.

I lead the prayer, then my wife joins in - and finally our seven year old daughter raises her prayers up last. Then we kiss each other and lay down for the night.

Last night, though was slightly different.

When it came time for Julia Amaris to say her prayer, she started slow.

"Papa God...(pause)...uh...Dear Papa God...(another pause)..."

And then we heard her sniff.

Then she continued her prayer as she began to weep.

"Papa God, please help me to be a good girl to my Mama and Dada..."

She was crying by now, and you could feel the sincerity of her prayer. My wife and I looked at each other as we listened to her prayer.

"...sometimes I am not a good girl... when I do not obey them and do not do my homework or my Kumon."

"Please let me be a good girl because I love my Mama and Dada and they love me..."

Her last words just trailed off as she continued to sob from the heart. I bent over, touched my forehead to hers, and whispered "Amen".

"Amen", Julia Amaris said with a sniff.

I kissed her forehead and lay her down to sleep. She curled up into a little ball beside me and I held her as her crying subsided.

"You're a good girl, Julia", I assured her. My wife reached over to hug her too.

Assured of our love, she fell asleep peacefully.

And so did we.

Tips for Living Life - Tip 1: Wake Up and say "Goodmorning!"

I woke up at around 4:00 this morning to the stirrings of my daughter. For some reason, she was awake early, and she was just tossing and turning in bed.

Sensing I was already awake, she reached over with her right arm and pulled me to her.

"Good morning, Dada..." she whispered in a sleepy voice.

"Good morning Sweetheart..." I whispered back, giving her a kiss on her cheek.

"You're up early... why don't you go back to sleep?" I asked.

"I want to be with you before you go to office" she said.

I hugged her and gave her another kiss.

"You know, this early, we can go watch the sun wake up and say 'Good morning" to all of us. First the sky will be a little red, and then it will become orange and then you will see the sun waking up. Do you want to see it?"

"Yes! Yes!" came the obviously excited reply.

So we both got up and peeked out the window. 'Twas then that I noticed that my wife had already gotten up and out of bed. She wasn't in the room though.

Julia and I stared out the window watching the surroundings slowly but surely brighten up.

"Wow! The sky is becoming red already!" Julia whispered excitedly. "God will say 'Good morning' to us already!"

She watched intently as the skies did brighten up little by little. No, it didn't turn red and then orange and then yellow with the light of the sun - the makings of a low pressure area kept that from happening.

But Julia somehow still saw the very faint hints of red and orange and yellow.

"Dada looooook! It's changing colors alreadyyy! God is awake!"

"Good morning Papa God!" she whispered with a smile.

By then my wife walked in with breakfast. Seeing us both at the window, she asked what we were doing.

"Saying 'Good morning" to the sun and to God" came my daughters' reply.

Everything went on as usual: I took my shower and got dressed for work; we had breakfast together (Julia tipped her plate over and soiled the floor with her food) and then we kissed each other goodbye for the day.

But somehow - and for some specific reason, the day seemed to start off far happier than usual, traffic seemed to be far more tolerable and the entire days' work already seemed to come into perspective that early.

All because of a cheerful and sincere "Good morning, Papa God!"

One Big Happy Family

A few weeks ago, my daughter and I were driving along the Alabang-Zapote Road when we spotted a "street family": a man and his obviously pregnant wife with their three children - one looked like he was around five or six years old, the second around three and the youngest maybe a year old at the most.

From the looks of it, they had been living on the streets for quite some time: dirty, tattered clothes, grimy faces and arms, and well-used cartons sheets on which they were obviously preparing to go to bed on. I had feelings of anger more than pity at what they represented to me: irresponsible parents who knew they had no place to live and hardly any source of income to feed their family, and yet found time and reason to bring fourth another life into their already dreary-world.

But then my daughter's voice brought me back to my senses. In her happiest tone, Julia simply said "Look Dada, they're one big happy family!"

I didn't have much time to give them a second look, but I did see that the two older kids were playing together, while the father gave the youngest a "horsey ride" on his leg. The mother watched the two older kids with obvious enjoyment.

They may not have had what I thought they needed - but at least at the moment I saw them, they had what they wanted: a happy family.

An office mate had earlier asked me how many people live in big houses but have incomplete families? Absentee parents or no parents at all?

I was amazed at the insight of my daughter. Actually, I believe it was more of my daughter's lack of adult insight that made her wiser beyond her years. She didn't see the street family through the eyes of a biased adult such as myself - she saw the happy family through the eyes of a child whose innocence still makes her believe that there is beauty in this dreary world.

No judgment. No hypocrisy. No biases.

Not the faintest hint of sarcasm or pessimism at all.

Just the simple and happy belief that this is still a beautiful world to live in.

I looked at Julia, and she looked straight back at me with the smile created by the scene of that "one big happy family" still radiantly displayed on her face.

Tempus Fugit

Time flies. For those of you who find that staying busy is therapeutic, this is an understatement.

A couple of weeks ago, I told my family -- my wife, daughter, mother and siblings -- to make sure that they get up early on Sunday morning.

"I'll pick you up at 5:30", I told my mother and siblings, as my wife eyed me suspiciously, "We can't be late".

When they asked what for, I actually did not know what to say, so I blurted out the first thing to come to mind: "We'll all hear Mass in Tagaytay, then we'll have breakfast at 'Bag of Beans'" (a personal favorite).

On the way home that night, my wife asked me when I had planned this early morning trip.

"Just a few minutes ago" I replied. She just smiled, and we planned the trip.

Now I'm not really an impulsive person. I think things through as much as possible. I do like taking risks - but calculated risks, that is.

But every now and then, we just have to take the plunge, don't you agree?

Life was meant to be lived! God meant it to be that way.

When he created Adam and Eve, God told them: "Now listen here: you've got this entire place to yourselves, so you go around and enjoy what you can because this is for you!"

But in His wisdom, God added a few rules. In fact, there was just one rule. "Obey me. Everything in this place is for you - everything, that is, except the fruit of that one tree over there. That is off limits".

Other than that, it was all good.

What else would you do in a paradise where you were allowed dominion over all things? I can imagine Adam and Eve in their early days: "Hey Honey! Come and look at this! This is one creature you've got to see!" "One moment Dear, I'm just finishing up with my exotic, all-natural, geothermically induced mud bath..." "That's okay, it swam away already. When you're done, want to take a dive into the Atlantic? We can swim with the whales..." "That would be great, just as soon as we bungee off that beautiful cliff the Lord made for us over there..."

Now THAT would've been living life. Enjoying all that God has given us - simply because it was there.

Hence the impulsive decision to just get up very early one Sunday morning, travel all the way to Tagaytay to hear Mass and then spend the rest of the morning enjoying a lazy breakfast and wonderful company -- all on a whim.

All simply because it was there to be enjoyed.

In this fast world, the Lord allows time outs.

He wants us to stop long enough to see that, amidst all the clutter that our own faulty human nature has brought in around us, there is still the beauty of that thing called "life".

Learn to enjoy your journey through life. Choose to enjoy your journey, and all those around you will smile with you. And before you know it, they will be planning and enjoying their lives just as you do.

"Let Go and Let God!"

The Lord is risen! Satan's plans have been thwarted, and hope has been renewed -- Happy Easter to all!

Truly God continues to change the hearts and minds of those who are willing to "let go and let God". And when we give in to His plans by sacrificing our own - the rewards are beyond compare.

While going through pictures in my brother's bedroom a couple of weekends ago, I came across some pictures from my high school days. I almost forgot how thin and lanky I looked back then, and seeing the pictures of myself in a polo barong together with good and real friends just made me smile.

As I shuffled through the stacks of pictures, I got to a picture of Reyniel Catabian, Ruter Agati and myself inspecting the progress of the construction of what was to become the St. La Salle Multi-Purpose Center in Pasong Makipot, Muntinlupa City. Ruter was sifting through scrap wood donated by parents of fellow students from La Salle Zobel, Reyniel was chatting it up with a construction worker, and I was just taking in the entire scene altogether.

The picture was taken sometime in the schoolyear of 1989. It was at the site of our Scout Units' second adopted community. Not many know of it anymore, but I believe it is safe to say that for Reyniel, Ruter and I - as well as for a few of the other Scouts back then - it changed our lives.

It all started at the start of the schoolyear 1988-89. We were in our third year of high school, and over the summer I had decided that I wanted to leave a legacy with the school. I came to know of the Magnolia National Youth Achievement Awards, and I planned to gun for that. I approached our Scout Master (Mr. Ruben Deseo - true green La Sallians from Zobel would know him) and told him my plan: a massive tree-planting project on the slopes of the Scout Reserve on Mt. Makiling. I had the finances planned and had already contacted a seedling bank.

He asked me one question: "Do you really want to make a difference?"

I said I did.

A week later, Mr. Deseo, together with my four patrol leaders and I went to a remote barrio in Binan, Laguna: Barrio Loma. We met with the barrio elders and told them our goal: we wanted to provide adult-literacy classes, child-literacy classes, livelihood programs and the such to the barrio folk. At that time, an average family from the barrio had to live on no more than Php200 to Php300 a week - if they were lucky.

I don't know what convinced them, but the barrio elders accepted our offer of help.

Now, seriously: "what could a bunch of 35 high school students do to augment and uplift the lives of an entire community?"

Reyniel, Ruter and I pushed those thoughts to the back of our minds and just did what we set off to do. Reyniel looked into livelihood programs. Ruter took charge of the LRC and child literacy. I handled adult-literacy and catechism programs. Other Scouts worked together on sports and recreation, socials and other activities.

I spent every single weekend of our third year in high school living in Barrio Loma. I had a different patrol with me every weekend. Before I knew it, the fruits of our labor was starting to grow ripe right before our very eyes. Barrio folks got more involved in working together to raise poultry to augment their income from the rice fields; barrio elders got together to re-organize the residents into stronger units that would cooperate in the ongoing projects. I had 20 students taking up typing lessons three days a week (thanks to Mr. Guzman who patiently taught us how to type), five of whom later on found jobs as secretaries in small businesses in the town proper of Binan. Barrio youth came together to form a formidable youth group - and an entire new Scout Unit was even formed.

By August, the St. La Salle Health and Learning Resource Center was built. Materials were provided by parents of students from Zobel - but the work and the workers were provided by the beneficiaries. I didn't know it then, but it had the makings of today's Gawad Kalinga altogether.

Dr. Antonio Tamayo worked with us by providing medical teams from the Perpetual Help Hospital every month to conduct free medical and dental clinics at the Center. His son, Anthony Tamayo, was also a student at Zobel.

On their fiesta, there was a procession in honor of Mary Immaculate - their Patroness. The procession was so long and so well attended that houses were actually left unattended such that a thief would have had a looting spree. "Mang Ehser", the barrio captain commented that never had so many people joined the processions before.

By the end of the school year, we were already looking into adopting a second community - the community shown in the picture I mentioned earlier.

What started as a selfish dream of winning a national award turned into a real act of community development, spiritual enlightenment and nation-building.

What began as a project with only 35 Scouts turned into an effort of the La Sallian Community, as De La Salle University provided certificates to those who finished a Basic Electrician's Course in Pasong Makipot.

What was once the project of a single Scout Unit became a project of the World Bureau of the Scouting Movement after a representative of the World Bureau flew in from Switzerland to inspect the projects - and then later grant La Salle Zobel some funds to augment the project even more.

What was once a weekend project of 35 high school students later became a project that involved parents, teachers and students from all grade levels.

There were trade-offs for me, though.

I never did go to either my Junior or my Senior Prom (good thing too - I don't dance anyway).

And I never did get that National Award from Magnolia. Heck, I never even applied for it.

But today, as I look back, there are living rewards that I can be proud of. Soon before our graduation in 1990, Reyniel and I received the news.

Two boys were born to two families in Barrio Loma.

One was named Reyniel. The other was named Tyne.

What could be better than that?

Crossing the Street

“You have to go to Tita Beng – it’s an emergency. And you have to go alone”.

This is what my brother told my six-year old daughter.

Just half an hour earlier, my brother JV picked my daughter up from her Kumon classes. She was going to spend the weekend at Mamita’s once again.

When they got home, my brother prepared lunch, and then asked Julia to “call Mamita” to eat. Julia went into my mother’s room and returned a few seconds later telling my brother that “Mamita was not answering and she was not waking-up.”

Mama was recently diagnosed as being diabetic. JV – who has been an insulin dependent diabetic for over two decades now – became very strict with my mother’s diet and sugar intake.

He realized immediately the Mama was unconscious due to low blood-sugar.

JV took her blood-sugar count – and indeed it was a deathly low 25. Being alone at home, he had to go get help, but he also had to stay with my mother. That’s when he told Julia that she had to cross the main road alone to get to our neighbor’s house.

“I can’t, I’m scared”, Julia said.

“Julia, you have to. Mamita needs help, and I can’t leave her. You have to go.” JV then started to prepare some sugar-water to try to administer as soon as my mother hopefully regained consciousness.

A few seconds later, JV heard the gate close and when he looked behind him, Julia was gone.

A few minutes after that, Tita Beng (mother of Felice Fernandez) and Tita Linda walked in. By then JV had already called a few people, and my sister-in-law Lanie was on her way to the house, as was Kit, a childhood friend of ours. My other brothers and I were likewise rushing home.

Mama is okay now, and as I type away, she is sleeping soundly and comfortably in her bed.

No offense to Mama, but this isn’t about her really.

It’s about Julia (again). And about all of us as well.

Sure, Julia is six, and a lot of six-year olds walk and cross streets alone. Lots of kids Julia’s age do so many things alone.

So this isn’t really about her crossing the street to get help in an emergency situation either.

It’s about her crossing the street when she was absolutely sure she couldn’t do it because she was scared to do it.

Julia faced her fears when she had to – and in so doing she actually and literally helped save the life of her grandmother.

And you know what else is amazing about it?

It was no big deal for her. As far as she is concerned she crossed the street because Mamita needed her to do so.

That’s it.

She found a reason to overcome herself and her fear.

I know of many adults – my age and older – who have not yet overcome their fears nor themselves.

There are those who shy away from relationships because they were hurt once or twice.

Those who put off doing what they want to do because they failed at it once too often.

Those who wallow in their sorrows because they feel no one would be interested to listen to them.

Julia faced her fear because she wanted to help Mamita.

Want to be in a meaningful and fulfilling relationship? Then work on it.

Want to achieve something great in your life? Then take the first step – and then the next.

Want to find comfort and a reason to move on? Seek the comfort of the people you call your friends.

Our Lord came into the world for one reason: to give his life so that we would have life.

He came into the world because of the future he wanted for us, not because of the past.

So when faced with your fears, forget the past.

And look into the future you want to achieve.

Then take the first step until you finally cross the street.


P.S. - I wasn't able to publish this earlier, as things were quite busy during the days Mama was in the hospital. Thank you to all who prayed for and with our family; thank you to all who visited and called. Like I said in one of my emails, GOD IS GOOD not only because he has watched over Mama and us, but also because he gave our family people like you. GOD BLESS!