The Distance Between Us

Sometimes I consider myself a shadow of my former self, at least spiritually. Whereas before my days and nights were spent on prayer, service, sacraments, scripture, and fellowship, now what occupies my time is work, work, and more work. Instead of dwelling on it too much, however, I just try to do my best every single day and long for a time when I can pay more attention to my spiritual life.

I took a leave off work today to rest, and thus was able to spend a longer time praying, go to mass, and attend bible study. I knelt at church and talked to Jesus, and felt just how much I had missed Him, like I missed other people. I realized that He was always there for me, even during my busyness, and I was the one causing the gap between us.

I was the one rushing through morning prayers. I was the one saying no to service. I had let go of most of my service opportunities because of something that was bothering me to the limits of my faith. Somebody asked me to pray over her yesterday and I replied that I did not feel worthy. I ended up praying for her, despite my own struggles, and being blessed by the words that came to me through the Holy Spirit. The other day, Fr. Brian asked me to give a talk for the youth leaders' training, and I wanted to say no, because I did not feel worthy. But when was I ever worthy? a voice inside me asked. Wasn't everything I did for the Lord brought about by His grace and power, and not by anything that I had done? Besides, what I was being invited to talk about was very practical, and I knew I wanted to do it. So I said yes.

Without my knowing it, I had slowly been hardening my heart towards Jesus. I had let doubt and fear rule me, instead of faith and trust. I had forgotten how He wanted to be a major part of my life, and had shut Him out, like a file I could go back to when I was good and ready. As I was staring at the cross earlier and telling Him that I did not understand where my life was going, Fr. Steve, who was leading the bible study, said, This is what you do when you don't understand: you move on.

He was referring to something else related to the Gospel according to Mark, but I was struck by what he said. Instead of over-analyzing, again, a situation that had been baffling and, admittedly, paralyzing me the past few months, I should just move on.

I do not know how to move away from this burden. But I do know that I want to move towards Jesus again. I am thankful that it's almost Holy Week. I need this time to rest. For no matter how far we distance ourselves from God, it only takes one step to go back to His embrace.

Putting My Tomorrow in God's Hands Once More

It is hard for me to share about a crisis if I am still in the middle of it.  Thus I have been holding back from blogging.  I'm no longer as free to share as I was when I started this blog.  Somehow, I have gradually hidden inside my cocoon and preferred to just let the storms pass.

I have wished, for many years now, to end my waiting - for God, for my career, for my state of life, for my finances, for happiness - but it is a futile wish, for the waiting ends only when I get to heaven.  If I get to heaven.  

Tonight I am experiencing a terrible sense of helplessness.  I have been preparing for something for quite a while now, but earlier today I learned about a development that threatened to nullify all my preparations.  It was not fair.  It was totally unexpected.  I worked hard for that, and there was so much at stake.  

And then I prayed.  I told God that I did not know anymore what to do, and His word to me was from Psalm 46:10, "Be still and know that I am God."  Oh, it was hard to be still.  I wanted to take charge once more.  I wanted things done my way, my time, my own pace.  But it was very clear that nothing I could do could change the situation; I needed a miracle for my plans to work and the thing to be successful.  I also needed to let go, and to consider that perhaps I would not succeed on this one, but this thought scared me and caused me to panic.  It was at that point of helplessness that I recognized, once more, my dependence on God, and my own powerlessness.

Working apart from God had made me tired, weary, stressed, and sick.  Without realizing it, I seemed to have forgotten all that I had learned about God's love and the way He usually worked in my life.  I had wanted so badly to be a good witness for His greater glory, but instead, I slipped farther and farther away from Him, and weakened my faith in the process.

A friend of mine told me about the time when she went up a mountain, only to see everything covered in fog.  Her companions encouraged her, being the only first-timer in the group, to pray that the fog would clear so she may behold the beautiful valley below.  She prayed for God to remove the fog if it was His will; but said also that she would not mind not seeing the valley.  When the clouds moved, partially at first and then fully, she saw what her friends wanted her to see below, and she praised God.  

She told me that our challenges in life were that fog, and we were both being called to pray, and to trust, and to believe that God had our best interests at heart.

She believed before she saw.  Tonight, I have three things that are not just foggy but are in total darkness.  I want to give up but I have nowhere to go, but to stay, and to trust in the Lord.  I will trust despite this fog.  I will pray that His will be done.

If only faith were a one-time lesson, which we learn after a painful episode in life, and then apply over and over, without running out or faltering, for the rest of our lives.  In my experience, however, answered prayers and unexpected blessings of before are easily forgotten as soon as a new challenge, obstacle, or difficulty comes along.  It becomes a new test of faith all over again.  If only I could, with each test, grow stronger in faith and sustain it much longer.

I will end this post by sharing this video, which a friend and brother shared with me after reading my Facebook status/ prayer.  I cried when I watched it, because God heard my prayer, and spoke to me through the words, music, and images of this short video.  

Another Undeserved Blessing

"For when I am weak, then I am strong."  2 Cor 12: 10b (ESV)

I was humbled in a major way yesterday by God who turned a situation I was frustrated about into a productive one.

I was on the last leg of a two-week, six-destination business trip and was very exhausted already.  I was scheduled to train a group of legal researchers and lawyers in a city I had not known existed until about last month.  Literally in the middle of nowhere.  To make matters worse, I was promised a ride from my hotel to the venue, but at the last minute, was told that they could not find an available vehicle for me, and I had to take the bus.

This would not have been a major problem, for I was going to travel with two male co-workers, if not for the following complications:

1.  I was not a morning person.  And I had to get up at 4:30 a.m. for this one.  Reminding myself to be a professional, I did get to the bus station before sunrise.  Had my prayer time and my shower, and surprised even myself.  I could have gotten over it and been a trooper, but...

2.  I did not have time to drink coffee or have breakfast.  Without coffee, I was usually a walking morning grouch.  The hotel packed my breakfast but it was a heavy meal requiring utensils, and I did not have a proper place to enjoy it, so it remained uneaten the whole day.

3.  My companions were late because the caretaker of our office building was late and they could not get our training materials on time.

4.  I was wearing a suit at 5:30 a.m. in an unfamiliar bus station, and people were crowding around me either to inquire about my destination or offer their products.  I shook my head at people for almost an hour until my officemates came.

5.  I glared at them and fumed silently because I knew we were going to be late for the 8am training.  That to my mind would badly reflect on our company, and would ruin my condition to conduct the training powerfully.  I put on my dark glasses, plugged my iPod earphones, and ignored them for the most part of the ride.  Very mature, I know, but I conserved my energy for the training, and planned to express my disappointment later.

6.  We got the slowest bus driver on that part of the planet.  He stopped the bus for every man, chicken, and duck on the road.  We passed by rough roads and farm lands.  I failed to appreciate the tall coconut trees, the bananas wrapped in plastic, and the mangroves that were visible from the highway.  My arms were crossed and I, even crosser.

So when we got to the venue, 30 minutes late, it was a painful effort to smile.  Friendly participants approached me even before training started, and I forced myself to engage in small talk.  We were led to the most modern computer room I had ever seen in a government office.  I could not believe that it was sitting there, all along, hidden behind the mangroves, the bananas, the ducks, and the coconuts.

I wanted to start with training right away, but unknown to me, the host office prepared a program.  They had an emcee, who introduced the participant who would lead the Invocation.  It was a good Opening Prayer, until the IT person played the music for the National Anthem.  There was no time to skip the first part of the CD, so we had another opening prayer, the usual one that their office played.  I found myself praying harder the second time, begging God to take over, for I was out of energy and cheer for what I was about to do.

When the emcee took the mic, she was so passionate and lively that she caught everyone's attention.  It was a new Training Center and she said we were the first users and I, the first speaker.  I felt the pressure mounting and walked to the back of the room to calm my nerves.

Then she summarized my four-page resume.  It would have been enough to be introduced by my position in the company, but no, she started with:  "This speaker is a woman of many talents."

I wanted the earth to swallow me but controlled my facial expression.  All I could think of was that we were already running late and the introduction was taking too long.

But it was no ordinary introduction.  I've been to programs where the organizers just rattled off this and that accomplishment of the guest speaker to the utter boredom of the audience.  This particular emcee, however, was so gifted, and into what she was doing, that she made me sound like somebody else.  I immediately regretted not editing the CV that was faxed to their office.  I should have just put a one-sentence introduction, but did not have time to do so.

Instead, every little thing that I put there to impress would-be employers, was read.  Even those that had nothing to do with legal research.  I felt myself shrinking as each word was said.  It was one embarrassing moment, because the participants believed everything.  I could not do anything.  I leaned helplessly against the wall and prayed for the introduction to end.  She made glowing remarks that worsened my pain.  Every career decision I had made was revealed to the participants; every group I joined; every new thing I ventured into.  My resume did not indicate the success of each endeavor; it simply listed what I had attempted to do in my life.  The audience, for that was what they were in the hands of the expert emcee, was made to believe that I was actually good at anything.   I cannot describe accurately how it felt, a mixture of humiliation and regret at my laziness to submit a proper introduction.

After fifteen (15) minutes, I was ready to die, but had to take the microphone and start the training.  I told them that it was a padded resume, and I would not admit which were actually true, and if the training did not go well or they fell asleep, I would probably resort to singing and dancing to keep them entertained.  

What caused me misery turned out to be a blessing, however, for anything I said after that became easy for them to absorb.  My stomach was grumbling, my head was spinning, and my body was complaining for lack of sleep and coffee, but they were a cooperative group of training participants.  The best in the world.  They listened and responded.  They were able to grasp the concepts and nail the exercises.  I could not believe it!

The prayer worked.  God indeed turned my mourning into dancing once again.  The emcee announced a break and even served me food.  I tried not to devour the hamburger, and managed to have a real conversation with the participants while having the snack break, until I remembered it was a Friday and none of us abstained from meat.  Having heard that my career objective was to be a Christian lawyer, those at my table put down their burgers after I remembered it was a Friday.  I took it back, and said, there were exceptions to the abstinence (and I wanted to check the authority for this one), and for medical reasons Catholics were exempted from fasting.  I silently prayed and promised the Lord I would make up for my meaty snack by doing an act of charity, but I was so hungry and there was no food in sight.  I needed food in order to continue with the training... And while I was discussing these with the participants, they said my being a lawyer showed even in my relationship with God and my attitude towards Lent.  I told you they were a perceptive lot.

The rest of the morning went on smoothly and we were able to cover everything before lunch.  They were all too happy to have the afternoon off.  I really do not know how I could have gone through that training session if not for God's blessing and provision.  Who knew that what was waiting for me were gracious people, intelligent participants, high-tech computers, and Jollibee hamburgers?

I freshened up to prepare for the long bus ride back to our branch office.  When I returned to the lobby, my officemates told me that we were going to join a van used for some delegates, and we did not have to take the bumpy bus ride anymore.  I wanted to cry, but the heavens were already crying due to rain.  I braved the rain going to the van, and the people who were already inside fussed over me.  I was referred to as "the speaker".  It felt surreal.

If only they knew what was going on in my head, heart, and body right before the program started.  If only they knew how unprepared I was, how scared that they would learn nothing new, how fearful that my coffee-deprived mood would ruin everything.  But thanks to the opening prayer, which we did twice, and to the people who were instruments of God's grace, blessings still poured that morning on all of us.  

Thank you Lord for once again showing me that you always go before me, and that you are taking me to places I have never imagined.  You deserve all the praise, honor, and glory.  You are a generous and glorious God.

Facing My Giants

Sometimes books are just forced upon us. That's how it worked out between Max Lucado's "Facing Your Giants" and me.

It had been sitting on my boss' desk for several months until I noticed it. I asked her if that was Max's latest, because I had most of his books on audio, and had read the more popular ones, but I could not recall that title. She said yes, and asked if I wanted to read it.

I said no because I had a pile of unread books at home. She insisted. "I'm not going to have time to read it in the next few weeks," she said.

Obedience to authority was a compulsion, so I accepted the book that I had no intention of reading. Suffice to say that I was going through a fiction-reading phase, and inspirational or even spiritual books were not on my immediate book list. Any such books on my list had been overstaying for more than a year already. That's just where I was.

So I brought home the book with the nice cover and put it on my desk. It was soon buried underneath my usual rubble. One weekend, when I was cleaning out my desk and trying desperately to look for something I cannot recall now, I unearthed the book.

"Face Your Giants", it said. Read me, the book said.


Did I mention that I'm an obedient girl? I opened page one, and realized some books come to us for a reason. Max Lucado's writing is nothing spectacular, it's just like hearing a preacher address his congregation. His gift, however, is in highlighting the obvious and in stressing the truth behind it.

I'm a firm believer in reading books, but I've learned to pick my battles. When I was younger, I forced myself to finish every book I opened, whether it was "War and Peace" when I was 10, or the complete Nancy Drew series. I later learned to conserve my time and energy, and let go of books, either because they were meant for a different audience, or because the writing style did not suit me.

"Facing Your Giants" seemed, well, heaven-sent. It came when I was silently wishing my Goliaths would go away. It came when I was hoping others would solve my giants for me.

I'm still reading the book, word for word, chapter by chapter. I savor books such as these, and let the message sink in. Max Lucado writes about David in a fresh new light - his "hidden years", which I have managed to ignore for most of my renewed Christian life. I had so far succeeded on focusing on the highlights of King David's life, and had missed out on the lessons to be learned from the more unpopular chapters of his journey. David's psalms documented his relationship with God, which might have waned during times of sin, but which found new life every time he asked forgiveness and returned to prayer.

This book forced me to face my own battles, and reminded me of the one thing I needed: to fix my eyes on God. We all have Goliaths, giants that have to be dealt with, and problems that won't go away. A long time ago, I wished that God would send me a David to deal with my Goliaths. This time I'm learning how to BE like David: focused, prepared, and faithful. I know He already sent His Son, Jesus, on whom I could depend. I have to work on my relationship with Him, for greater trust in His plan, and faith in His unwavering love for me.

Perhaps I'll write another post about it when I'm done. I'm growing in faith already and I'm not yet halfway through the book.

Realized I just wrote several paragraphs about some giants but avoided writing about them. Well, I AM facing them.

They may not know that they are my giants.

Pope Benedict Exhorts Us to Rediscover Fasting

I just want to share an article I read from the Catholic News Agency:

Pope Benedict exhorts Catholics to rediscover fasting this Lent

Pray. Fast. Give.

Pray.  Fast.  Give.  These are essentially the three things that Catholics are asked to do during the season of Lent.  I know this is regarded as a waste of time and effort by some people, but I believe that this exhortation is for the benefit of the believer.

Prayer connects us to God.  Don't we all crave that, even if we choose lesser gods in our pursuit of our One True Love?  I will go deeper in my prayer, listen more, obey more.  It is time for a fresh restart in this area.

Fasting clears our mind, purifies our heart, and cleanses our soul.  It is not good to be in celebration all the time - endless partying, drinking, and eating fattens us up and makes us neglect our spiritual life, blurs our vision of our final destination, and makes us forget our love for the Lord.  When we give up these attachments that we identify, we create a space in our bodies, minds, and hearts, for more of the Lord.  His Holy Spirit can work more in our open hearts.  

Giving not only blesses the recipient, but the giver as well.  We let go of our excess, what we don't need, and recognize in the process the most valuable things in life.  More often than not, we accumulate more than our pockets can afford and our rooms can hold.  Lent is the time to purge, cleanse, and let go, because we know that we are not alone.  Millions of other believers are doing so.

Surprisingly enough, I looked forward to Lent this year.  I confess that in the past, I had dreaded it, because it was usually a time of purification and testing for me.  But I found myself, early this year, putting aside decisions until Lent, when I would have the proper mindset and disposition to discern.

I even started early.  I had already my points for discernment/ decision-making lined up.  I had already identified what I wanted to stay away or fast from.  I had gone to mass to lift these up earlier this evening.

I could have started my discernment the moment I recognized, about a month ago, that I had reached another crossroads in life, but I wanted to take advantage of the abundant grace of Lent.  This is my 40-day tithe (roughly 10% of 365 days) to God.  This is my private time with Him.  I will journal more, seek the Blessed Sacrament more, consult spiritual advisers more, and hopefully, sin less.

I will let go of bad habits, attachments, and patterns.  It is easier - Jesus inspires me to do so. I know I will falter in this, especially when it comes to my "addictions", but I am going to draw from the strength that Jesus gives.  He endured all those sufferings.  My mundane concerns are going to be bearable, I just know it.

Tomorrow I start my healing process anew.  And I am thankful to be part of the Church in this time of Lenten observance.  With Christ as the head, and my brothers and sisters in the faith as part of the Body, I trudge on into this with open arms and an expectant heart.

Let the observances begin.

Now Showing: Doubt

"Where's the love?", I asked myself after watching the movie "Doubt".  Since the Oscar Awards are coming, I made sure to post this blog even if I had other things I wanted to write about in my other blogs.

The film was set at a time in the Church when I was not yet born, and so I might not be able to accurately comment on the characters, their reactions, their emotions, and their actions.  The theme, however, is universal and still very much applicable to the Catholic Church as I know it.

Most of you who read this blog know that I don't exactly write movie reviews; instead I write movie reflections.

I have been a Meryl Streep fan since childhood, and I need not add to the chorus of praises for her outstanding performance in this film.  She set the pace, the tone, and the outcome of this film.  Philip Seymour Hoffman and Amy Adams held their own against her restless, doubtful character.  Philip as the very human priest Fr. Flynn was so convincing that I could relate more to his feelings, rather than to Meryl's character, Sr. Aloysius.  Amy Adams was perfect as the innocent, compassionate younger nun, that it reminded me of her character from the movie "Enchanted", which I also liked.  

The theme that struck me while watching, and even hours after, was not Doubt, but Love.  In particular, I was looking for it from Sr. Aloysius.  She had been so caught up in her desire to pursue truth and to "serve God", that she had turned Machiavellian.  She firmly believed that she could step away from God in order to do God's work.  I could not live with that.  I disagreed with that philosophy the more I thought about it.  I was shaking my head during many of her unbelievably complicated, yet subtle, scenes.

Just last Thursday, a couple of days before I watched the film, we had Bible Study in our office (yes, I am blessed to be in a workplace where the bosses support our spiritual growth) and the topic was the Fruit of the Spirit.  We studied three Scripture passages on Love: 1 Corinthians 13, 1 John 14, and Colossians 3.  We wrote down what encompassed love and we each identified our strengths and weaknesses in loving.  

A friend texted me that he loved Sr. Aloysius' humanity in the end of the movie.  For me, it came too late, for somebody else had paid the price for her lack of compassion, gentleness, patience, obedience, and kindness.  

I was struck by the stark difference between the dinner table of the sisters - hardly any conversation, the only sound coming from the scraping of the spoons against the plates - and that of the priests - where there was laughter, some irreverent conversation, wine, and genuine interest in one another.  Sr. Aloysius must have had a loving side hidden deep inside her, but I wished she had revealed it sooner.  But then again, the movie would not be about Doubt, but Compassion.

The various themes of the film were as overwhelming for me as "The Secret Life of Bees", a book I had wanted to write a reflection on even before the film was shown.  Racism, to which I had never been exposed to, played a major part in how the characters were developed and dealt with.  I would not venture to dwell on this much, except to say that any form of exclusion, any assertion of superiority, or any form of oppression, seems to me to run counter to the very nature of agape love, to which we are all called.  

It is true, however, that Doubt binds us, and that is where the film succeeds in transcending time and exposing the hearts (and minds) of men.  The very servants of God could very well be the ones experiencing crisis of faith.  Zeal for His love could possibly blind a person towards the need to accept the weaknesses of others.  I asked with the priest's character, directed toSr. Aloysius, "Have you ever done anything wrong?"  Her response was chilling.

Sr. Aloysius did not approve of sugar.  Fr. Flynn loved four cubes in his tea.  He also smoked, drank, and joked around with the students.  Sr. Aloysius liked to live in the past, and to instill old-school discipline to the students.  It was easy to love Fr. Flynn and to hate Sr. Aloysius.  He was the victim and she the judge, jury, and executioner.  

What I took with me after watching this film was to ask myself how Jesus lived, and how as His disciple, servant, and friend, I was supposed to handle life and all its complications.  I did not want to become a modern-day Pharisee and to add to the law what God had not commanded.  I did not want to give Christianity a bad name by being a sad, bitter person.  

I wish for the winds of change to come again and blow the Holy Spirit's breath into the dark, doubting souls that permeate this earth.  I do not think it is Doubt that should bind us, but Faith - in the unseen, but certain, Love of our Father, revealed through His Son, and dwelling in us through His Holy Spirit.

Yes, what the world needs now is love.  I believe this without a doubt.

Love, the Second Time Around

Was love lovelier the second time around?  That was what was running through my head last night.  I did something I had not done in a while, something I used to love with every ounce of my being:  I attended a Friday night prayer meeting.

For the long-time readers of this blog (meaning my aunt, my cousin, an in-law of my in-law, and about two other people, hehe), I am a passionate servant of God, an eager student of His word, and a bold proclaimer of His message.  Through the years, however, the expression of my relationship with God had gradually changed.  I had grown older and had sought to deepen such relationship, even though more often than not, I had ended up shutting the Lord out of my life and taking control once more.  The fact that this blog, and this relationship, is still alive after all those ups and downs, is a testament that though I struggled a lot, the Lord had been faithful, and as one brother commented to my previous post, I was still "in the race" to finish the prize.

For several years, Friday night prayer meetings were the highlight of my week.  I looked forward to the time of worship, the talk, the music, and the fellowship.  I could not survive without it, and it sustained my Christian life.  I exercised my spiritual gifts and experienced heaven on earth while doing so.  I had given my life to the Lord and there was no better way to live that out than through my prayer group, the community of single young professionals called Ang Lingkod ng Panginoon (now on its 25th year).

A couple of years ago, I felt the Lord calling me out of Lingkod.  It was not an abrupt call, but a product of discernment.  Alongside my Charismatic prayer life, I also went on constant silent, personal retreats, and sought spiritual direction, to listen more to God and learn to be still before Him.  I was at peace when I told my leaders that I would stop attending Lingkod prayer meetings, and I would concentrate more on my new ministry in our parish.

Life in the parish, compared to Lingkod, was radically different.  From a homogenous group where I was comfortable and understood, I met people of varying ages, backgrounds, and agendas.  Adjustment took time, but through the pastoral care and leadership of the Missionaries of God's Love, I slowly found my place in our parish.  Still, my heart longed for more - for teaching, for worship, for music, for fellowship.  I sought this out and shared it with my new found brothers and sisters as much as I could.  Fr Steve, our parish priest, told me that in time, we would build a real community in the parish.

Last night was the fulfillment of that promise.  We had our first prayer meeting, not just as a youth group, not just as guests of a Catholic charismatic community, but as a parish.  St. Benedict's would henceforth conduct a prayer meeting every second and fourth Friday of the month.  I stood there, lifted my hands in prayer, read Scripture from my bible, sang new songs, and prayed.  

I felt in my heart an invitation to find God in this new place.  It was an answer to my prayer, and yet I was not running to embrace it. I was different, and yet it was the same God.  I had disobeyed Him, hidden my gifts, held on to my hurts, and as a result, distanced myself from Him.  I was a reluctant worshipper, because I felt unworthy to stand before Him and to serve Him again. 

It was harder the second time around, but I did not expect it to be as exciting as the first time I joined a community.  I was grateful that I felt no internal pressure to excel at anything.  It was as if God had opened His arms wide for me and all who came to the prayer meeting last night.  I knew that the slowness, the hesitation, and the feelings of unworthiness, were all coming from my heart.  

God, with His infinite, unconditional Love, as I knew it was waiting for me.  I knew God to be patient and merciful, and I prayed that I would see His patience and mercy directed towards me, a returning and repentant daughter.  

Peace Over Destruction

I asked God this morning to let me get to know Him again.  To start over.  To see Him revealed to me, personally.  

I had a productive weekend.  I visited the dentist, got a haircut, did my laundry, brought the car to the shop.  Still, I was restless.  I knew then what I had to do.  It was something I had put off long enough because my regular confessor was away.  I had no more excuses.  My heart was crying out.

Recurring sins have a way of creeping back.  I thought that I was strong enough, but carelessly I fell into the same traps, until one day I started feeling bad about them.  Worse, even though I tried to avoid it, I had also inadvertently hurt other people, because of my unconfessed, unrepented, sin.

I decided I needed the comfort of a strange priest, one who had never heard my stories before.  I drove to U.P. hoping to make it before 7 p.m., and my prayer was answered.  I had little time to prepare, although I already knew the things that were killing my conscience.  Usually I wrote down what I wanted to say.  It helped me make a steadier confession.

I knelt down and the unknown priest heard me.  Pouring out how and when I did the things that I knew hurt Jesus unleashed my tears as well.  The priest said I explained myself fully and sounded like a smart girl.  In fact, listening to how I explained everything, he said I already knew the things that led to peace, and the things that led to destruction.  I only had to choose.

I only had to choose.  And it was something I had to do over and over again.  Like getting up from bed, combing my hair, brushing my teeth, eating my breakfast, and driving to work.  I had to choose Life.  Choose Peace.  Choose Jesus.  Every choice I had made that drove me away from Him broke my heart even further.  I knew I wanted to do as the priest said.  I should use my head more often.

I stepped out into the night.  There was a penumbral eclipse going on but I didn't know it then.  I felt the evening breeze and heard music blaring from a distance - the Sunken Garden.  It was the U.P. Fair and I was not even aware of it.  I remembered the few times I attended it, and all the fun I had in my youth.  

I had a choice - text people that I wished they were at the fair with me, or call up a friend who would support me in my decision to stay away from those people.  I chose the latter.

Tomorrow is a day full of fresh choices.  I am grateful for having been reconciled once again with my God.  I can do all things now, as He strengthens me.

A Lesson About Hope

I've been away from you for far too long...

I'm sorry for not updating this blog.  There was too much going on and I could not sit still enough to reflect.  Really.  I had a busy January, what with all my siblings and their respective spouses coming to Manila for a short holiday.  Suffice to say that it was their vacation, and my turn to drive.

So when a friend of mine, sounding distressed, called me to ask for "spiritual advice", I hesitated.  I doubted if I could offer anything to her at my state.  My prayer life was not as it had been due to many excuses, and I felt my friend was better off talking to a priest or a nun.  She insisted that I was the only who could talk some sense into her stubborn head, and so I relented.

Before seeing her today, I prayed for her.  I felt the Lord stirring my heart to be a friend and a listener, and not to worry about being her savior.  Of course.  That was Jesus' role.  I wanted to cancel our appointment several times, but I sensed something in her voice that made me forget my own troubles long enough to listen to her pain.

I knew that my friend was contemplating how to leave her husband of 12 years, who had been intermittently cheating her and beating her up.  I was afraid she was already suicidal, so I rushed to meet her.  I was shocked at her appearance - she was skin and bones, her hair, usually shiny, was unkempt, and she looked pale and distraught.  

Like a person in trauma, she updated me on her husband's latest escapades, but she spoke in broken sentences, and her story about her futile attempts to find concrete evidence that she could hold against him was not told chronologically.  I advised her to concentrate her energy on saving her career and taking care of her children, as there was no point in stressing herself over every indiscretion.  It was already creating a negative effect on her, and it could pose a danger to herself and her loved ones.

She asked me, "How come God is still blessing my husband?  Why doesn't he punish him?  What if I can't wait for God?  I want to catch my husband in bed with his girlfriend and to hurt him."

I looked at her body language to check if she was capable of violence.  She had shifty eyes and clasped and  unclasped her hands.  She told me that she was not satisfied with what a priest told her, that she was called to forgive.  She asked me if it was a sin to talk about her husband's philandering ways, and to be angry, for she was angry.

As a lawyer, I could only give her so much legal advice.  As a friend, I just listened to her ranting.  As her sister-in-Christ, I knew she needed my prayers and support.  Only prayers could save her from hurting herself and/or the people around her.  She had the classic battered wife syndrome - one minute hating her husband, the next minute talking about him proudly, and then the next minute saying she deserved how she was being treated because she was a bad wife, mother, and lover.

I almost did not want to let her drive home in that state, but it was late and we both had to work the next day.  She thanked me for giving her advice I did not remember giving.  Most of the time, people credit me for giving sound advice, when all I really did was to mirror back to them what they were saying, and what they knew to be the right thing to do all along.  

I had no answers for most of my friend's questions.  I, too, could not believe how a man who professed to love her till death could do the things he had been doing.  I wanted him to suffer the consequences of his actions.  But I had to rely on what I told my friend - that God sees everything, that He protects His children, and that He is already acting on the situation, though it may not be obvious yet how.  I cautioned her against taking matters into her own hands, and told her I would pray with her every step of the way.  

I got home still bothered by my friend's situation.  I prayed for her some more, and entrusted her to God, who, unlike me, was always with her.

I have never been cheated on like she had, but I know how it is to be lost.  I have seen how, when I was  in a state of darkness and confusion, it was so hard to pray, look up to God, and patiently wait for His answer, when all I wanted was for the pain to go away.  

I have learned during those times that survival lies on fixing my eyes on Him, the source of light and hope.  Sometimes I am afraid to ask for help, not knowing that others are more than willing to be by my side, and are in fact better at finding the words to pray on my behalf.  It was also good for me to be with my friend, for listening to her, and responding to her, made me realize my own values, and my need for God to fill me with hope in times of confusion.

I hope I am coming closer to the light at the end of a very dark tunnel that I have been trapped in for many years now.  For my own problems, I run to other friends for help.  And wait on God.  I continue to wait.