An Act of Humility...

Benedict XVI, the 265th Pope of the Roman Catholic Church

Pope Benedict XVI’s resignation was a shock – to say the least – not only to Catholics worldwide, but to the world entire.

 
Many questions have arisen as to the true reason for the Pope’s resignation:  was it politically motivated?  Was it an admission of failure to curb the many sins of the Catholic Church?  The questions go on and on.  Unfortunately, so do the theories and criticisms of his act.

I say enough.

The Pope’s message, delivered in Latin and translated into many different languages in a matter of hours, says it all:  Pope Benedict XVI believes that the Church requires a person with both the mental and physical agility – on top of the spiritual maturity and inspiration – to take on the arduous and often thankless job of shepherding the world’s Catholics.

At the very least, Pope Benedict’s resignation is an act of perfect humility.

Let’s face it:  the Papacy is definitely one of the most influential and politically powerful positions in the history of the world.  Anyone with the least bit of desire for power would grab the chance to acquire this position given the opportunity to do so.

Pope Benedict was never one to deny that he had never sought nor wanted the Papacy.  But he accepted the role anyway.  Another act of humble obedience to the leading of the Holy Spirit through the College of Cardinals.

For once, it may be best to stop theorizing as to the “real” reason for his resignation, and instead accept Pope Benedict’s act as an act of humble surrender to the will of the Lord.  Jesus said “…You are Peter… and upon this rock I shall build my Church…”  Pope Benedict knows that the rock must not only be spiritually solid, he must also be physically and mentally sound as well.

Let us pray for Pope Benedict.  And for all the Catholics out there, let us pray for the Church.  Christ has never abandoned us, there is no reason to think that He would do so now.

May the Holy Father Pope Benedict XVI be remembered for his humility and love – which is so strong, that he readily gives up a powerful position so that the Church’s leadership may not be compromised.

With love, let us pray for our Pope.

 

And let us emulate his humility in our thoughts, deeds and words.

"A Time to Mourn..."



Ma. Teresa Amor Dignadice
July 20, 1939 - November 15, 2011

Ma. Teresa Amor Dignadice.  "Mamita".  It's been a good two months since I last saw her face - since I last held her hand.

 

I received the call at just around noon.  In between controlled sobs, my wife said "It's Mama... they say she's not breathing anymore..."

 

Everything after that was a blur.  Of all the days I decided to commute, it had to be THAT particular day.  I should have known:  since midnight of the day before up until just before six in the morning, I had stood beside Mama as she lay in bed in the ER of the local hospital.  She would complain of pain - but in no particular area.  Her speech was limited to cries of pain.

 

Only after the doctors at the ER confirmed through a few tests that "nothing was really wrong with her" did we finally ask if she wanted to be admitted or not.  She said she wanted to go home.  Little did I know what she really meant when she said she wanted to go home.

 

I arrived home to see a few friends standing at the open gate of Mama's place - a few of them gathered just outside the main door.  The funeral service was already waiting patiently outside the house.  Everyone stepped aside as I walked in.  There she was, lying peacefully on the couch that had served as her favorite resting and napping place for the months leading up to that day.

 

The next few days and nights were just overwhelming:  friends, neighbors and family never left us alone for a single moment.  Love was overflowing - if there was any way we could have collected all that love, I'm sure we could have filled countless containers - enough to share with everyone else.

 

The downside?  All throughout those days, up to when we finally lowered Mama's casket into the ground (with Papa's ashes in the casket with her) - up until today - I never had the opportunity to mourn her passing.

 

I have always had to be the strong one.  Just as it was when Papa passed away 10 years ago.  I have never really mourned Papa's passing either.

 

Friends, always find time to slow down and mourn.  Yes, to laugh in good times is always a better alternative, but when one must, choose to mourn in sad times.  It is never a show of weakness.  It is a symbol of our acceptance of our humanity.

 

So here I am, two months after Mama has passed, ten years after Papa went to his eternal rest too - and I have yet to mourn their passing. How I pray for the opportunity.  After all, I too, am human.

Time Changes...

...and so do people.

One day a few years back, my usual barbershop was closed for the day, and as I did not want to go around sporting longer-than-usual hair, I opted to go for a haircut at a neighborhood barbershop that I honestly considered my "last resort".

As I stepped in, there was just one barber, and he was finishing up on a customer ahead of me. I sat down and picked up a newspaper to do some reading. As I settled into the soft cushion of the bench, I heard a voice softly call my name.

"Tyne?"

The familiar way it was pronounced could only mean that this guy who called me was from my high school Alma Mater.

I looked up to see the back of the customer's skin head, and switched my gaze to the now familiar face staring at me in the mirror.

"Tyne?", he said again. He smiled and mentioned his name. "Pare, it's me, _____". I smiled back and said "Yeah, I know you".

I couldn't forget him. He was a character at school. Not really a bully, but not also Mr. Congeniality. He was one of the rowdier guys though.

I immediately recalled my days in Zobel. I was an athlete, but not a jock. I studied hard and got good grades, but wasn't a nerd. I belonged to a small group of friends who kind of went our own way. In short, I was just another face amongst the different clicks of my batch.

"How have you been?" His voice brought me back to reality, and we started chatting. I swear, the barber seemed to have slowed down (how much closer do you shave a skinhead?!?), and I really didn't want to chat with this guy too much. Not that I didn't like him, but I always thought I wasn't "cool" enough to merit his attention.

But chat we did. And as we talked, he began opening up about his life, and how he came to realize that he was empty without the Lord. He asked me if I were still speaking about the Lord, and was genuinely surprised to hear me tell him about my days as a full-time missionary for my community.

"I wish I could have heard you speak earlier, maybe I could have known all these things about the Lord much sooner..."

At this point, the barber was already brushing off the remnants of hair from off his clothes. My batchmate stood up and held out his hand. I took it and got a good, firm handshake.

"It was great seeing you, Tyne" he said. "I hope to hear you speak some day".

We said our goodbyes, and I took my place in the chair he had just vacated.

Yes, people change. And in many cases, for the better. Never give up on people nor hold them to the mold you first saw them in.

Never forget that God is always constantly working on each one of us.

The Pruning

Yesterday, after months of getting around in a wheelchair or walking around with a four-legged walker, my brother stood up and walked on his own two legs again.

Make that on one old leg and his "new leg".

My brother couldn’t get his prosthetic leg earlier owing to the fact that he had to be very careful – another wound might cause more trouble for him. Since his amputation in September last year, I had the honor of driving my brother to church almost every weekend. As he sat beside me in his wheelchair, I could feel the pain that he held back at not being able to walk around freely as he used to.

But I tell you: Yesterday, I had to swallow hard and hold back my tears.

Once his new leg was strapped on, he stood up and made his way to the parallel bars to take his “first few steps”. I whipped out a little surprise I had for him: a brand new brass-colored alloy cane. “Ang sarap tumayo!” ("It feels good to stand up!") he said, a huge grin occupying all of his face.

“You’ll need this”, I said with a smile. He smiled back – and then let go of the parallel bars to walk unassisted for the first time in months.

I laughed and said “I hope I can get my money back for this – you’re not going to need it after all”.

It was indeed a miracle. No, my brother’s foot did not grow back (now that would have been a miracle).

The miracle was how life suddenly and immediately flowed back into my brother’s face.

The Lord does this to us. It is called pruning. Some of us are pruned more than others.

And then there are those who are literally pruned.

My brother was one of those.

Any gardener would know this: pruning is done to remove any excess branches that may be taking the nutrients away from where it is needed the most. The Lord prunes Christians to take away the baggage that keeps us away from the source of our nutrients: the Lord himself.

My brother has always been(and still is) a stubborn person. He has a tendency to “close out the whole world”. His pruning made him more reliant on others – and on God even more. Now he speaks more about how God has changed his life through the loss of a limb. His pruning was painful, but it has completed him in the manner that God has chosen. He was forced to be more open to others – to us, his siblings. And he has come to realize that he must live in communion with all of us for him to feel the fullness of life.

Now: "what happens after a tree is pruned?"

Life nutrients flow where it is needed the most.

Just as life flowed back into my brother as he took his “first few steps”.

(I would like to express my gratitude to SGG Orthocare, owned by Paul and Glaze Sta. Maria (http://sulit.com.ph/3322927). You gave my brother a reason to literally “walk on”.)

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!"