Productive Rest

Coming from a lifetime of being too hard on myself, one of my latest struggles is about being productive.

Like every obsessive-compulsive control freak, I have come to measure my days by accomplishments. I am seldom at peace unless my task list gets updated with a few checks everyday. I am distressed, guilty, and unhappy in between days of accomplishment, whether at work, and apparently, even at rest.

I am on a couple of week's break before I re-assume the detail-oriented position of being court attorney. Therefore, I should be, literally, taking a break.

So I visited my brother and sister-in-law in Singapore, my first international trip in almost two years, and immersed myself in window-shopping, mall-hopping, and cuisine-tasting.

But then I got back home and faced my cluttered room. Waiting for me were my suits for dry cleaning, books for reading, stuff for writing (two for Lingkod), lessons for finalizing, and other piles waiting to be discovered.

My state of mind is reflected in this mess. I have this habit of stashing things- and thoughts - until I'm ready to sort them out and file them properly, either in the keep, recycle, repair, or giveaway bins.

Rest has scriptural basis, my friends remind me. I should not be guilty for not being productive - whatever that means. If my body needs to rest, my mind needs to process, and my heart needs to ponder, then I should listen and respond, rather than resist, and push myself to do things that I do not exactly want, or need, to do. Like going out.

I have responsibilities and my prayer is that I can fulfill them in the order of urgency. Otherwise, I will try not to be guilty for slowing down, taking time for myself, and not publishing a paper, writing a book, or composing a song (as if I were in the habit of doing those things, but just to illustrate).

Sometime soon too, I hope to reconnect to my God. To ask Him my questions. To sit with Him, even if I don't understand His answers. To surrender to Him my worries. To express my gratitude. To listen. I have not done that, or enough of that, in a long time. I know I should do that first. I may have forgotten how, in my busyness with all things of far less importance.

I wish that God would come to me, and speak to me, and embrace me now. Perhaps that is the motivation that I need to make sense of the chaos that I have surrounded myself with. Yes, His Word, His assurance, His presence, that is all the rest that I'll ever need.

It's Pouring Out Here

Many of us complain that "when it rains, it really pours".  We say this idiom complete with a sigh and a shrug.  

Lately, however, I have seen the blessing of having too many things to think of (read: worry about).  It has taught me to let go and let God.

I was out last night with some friends after our prayer meeting was canceled due to heavy rains.  I felt bad when I arrived after two hours of traffic to find an empty, dark church.  Where was everybody?  Not only were cars and people delayed for the prayer meeting, text messages also arrived late.  

It was my last day at work and one thing that had kept me going was the thought that I was attending a prayer meeting afterwards.  My officemates had invited me to a drinking session but I declined.  I wanted to be spiritually nourished.  I felt exhausted, as if I had swam a great ocean and I was on the last few laps.  

I was supposed to pray, sing, listen, and share, and let my hair down in the process.  But there was no opportunity for that.  A friend of mine also texted that she was stranded outside our village due to the pouring rain.  I went to get her, and then we finally caught up to where the others were.  They had already finished dinner.

I told them, "Next time that I am in transition, please don't cancel a prayer meeting."  I could see their logic. They apologized.  I had forgiven them, but still  I was not my usual self.  I was spaced out.

Fr. B asked how he could help me and what he should pray for.  I shared with him that I was going through several major things all at the same time, and thus I  had not focused on any one concern.  Perhaps one pain was shielding me from the full impact of another.  Perhaps they were sent at the same time to cushion the blow.  I was forced to take it one day at a time and to deal with my challenges in the order of urgency.  As a result, I did not dwell too much on the goodbyes and the pains and the hurts.

"Wake me up when September ends", the song goes.  This had become literal for me again.  I imagine a September when I would have less worries.  And a December 2010 when I would be reunited with my whole family again and we would celebrate many occasions.

For now I get by through knowing that nothing is within my control, and I just have to go through this.  It was my last day at work yesterday.  For the next few days maybe I can deal with everything else aside from work.  And that means I have a whole truckload of things to think about.  And pray about.

Lea Salonga's Something More MV

From Failure to Blessing

I have realized today how God really moves in mysterious ways, yet He uses everything for good.  There was one aspect of my life that I considered a failure, but in hindsight, it paved the way for one of His greatest blessings.

I failed the presidential elections three times in my life.  Three times in my life I ran; three times I lost.  

In grade school, high school, and law school, I was encouraged to run and I said yes.  In the School of Economics, I had the good sense to run for vice-president, and won.  I cried when I lost in grade school, laughed when I lost in high school (such a relief!), and just smiled when I lost in law school.  

But running while I was a law student was very difficult.  My heart wasn't in it, because I was getting tired of politics.  My mentors, the kingmaker who was behind our party's straight win when I was a sophomore (I won as Treasurer), and the President who I absolutely adored, gave me a big pep talk and asked me what was wrong.  I was the standard bearer and yet I could not keep the party together.

The truth was that I only ran out of obedience.  While I was discerning whether or not to say yes, I went to the UP Chapel and attended mass.  I heard a song that had always moved me to say yes to the Lord - "Here I Am, Lord".  So running for president did not become a thing I had to do for my party or my convictions, but for the Lord.  I remember crying so hard because I was tired of putting myself out there to serve and being the object of mudslinging as a reward.  I was too idealistic for politics.  My Ninang already forewarned me about that when I first e-mailed her that I was being asked to run again.

As I said, I lost in that election.  I gave a speech from the heart during the final face-off, more for my friends and partymates than anyone else.  When we found out the results, the party members had lunch at Chocolate Kiss cafe.  There was companionship, friendship, and camaraderie.  I felt grateful for the chance to be part of that idealistic, passionate, and brilliant party.  The party's name was Gabay.  I have remained friends with those people, all lawyers now, through the years after Malcolm Hall.

Two years later, when I was already a lawyer, I resigned from the law firm I was working for without a job in sight.  I just followed my heart.   As usual.  Then I got a call from Cherry, who ran for P.R.O. with me in Gabay, two batches below me so I would not have become close to her had I not run for President, and with whom I clicked as we had the same outlook in work and life.  She said that she had heard that I was looking for a job, and asked if I could work for her mother, who was then an Associate Justice at the Sandiganbayan, a mere seven minutes away from my house.

And the rest is history.  I happily worked for three years in that Court, until I heeded the call to be a volunteer mission worker.  In August, I'm going to work for the same Justice again after four years, and this time with Cherry, who has joined her mother as one of her legal staff in the Supreme Court.  

I remembered this story because this morning, my favorite uncle (from the US) called, and my father bragged to him about me working for the Court.  He excitedly asked to talk to me and then I said, "It's no big deal, Uncle."  He said, "It is a big deal.  Your father and all of us here are very proud of you."

I went back to my room and thanked God for the job opportunity, which I got again so easily, and which as a result, I had taken for granted.  I had tons of friends who worked for the SC so I had forgotten that not everyone could get this chance.  This led me to thinking as to how I got the chance:  by obeying God even if it was difficult, by going through failure, by being tested in fire, by being led to the right people, and by giving my best.

Yea, my life is hidden in Christ.  I thank Him for directing me and taking me to new places.  

He does this for all of us.  So let us not look at failures as final, but just as means to make way for even greater blessings.  I know.  I have failed a lot and He has worked miracles through each failure.

Grateful for God's Megaphone

In his book "Where is God When It Hurts", which I had read years ago and must have blogged about here already, Philip Yancey tries his hand on a topic previously touched upon marvelously by C.S. Lewis in "The Problem of Pain".

"God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."  --C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain

Expounding on this, Philip used the medical findings of Dr. Paul Brand who studied lepers for years to appreciate the value of the body's pain mechanism in pointing out to humans the areas where they are ailing, and thus, prevent further damage.

Philip's proposition is that pain is God's gift, for without pain to warn us of harmful and dangerous situations, we would all injure ourselves to death.

I woke up appreciating the pain that I felt strongly a few days ago, for it pointed out to me an ailing area of my life that, if left unattended, could have burned and used me up.  At first I was surprised at my response - for pain could have physical manifestations:  a real heaviness in the chest, difficulty breathing, recurring headaches - as well as mental dimensions: I have been distracted in my driving and almost collided with other vehicles for two days now.

I felt, surprisingly, that while I was being delivered the bad news, God was with me.  So it was with courage that I faced the verbal abuse.  I knew that my conscience was clear and the accusations were baseless, and in fact I could have argued my way to death, but I found myself exhausted emotionally.  I had no strength left to think, for the one who was hurling accusations was someone I knew and trusted.  

It happens to everyone, I told myself.  No one can ever know us fully.  We shouldn't put our trust in man, but in God.  So I let go.  Later on, the surface of the area where I was blackened and bruised hardened, and I felt a shield of anger envelop me and provide clarity.  Righteous anger is a gift, much like pain, for it showed me my convictions, as well as the other person's, and how starkly different they were in the first place.  Definitely time to move on, I thought.

When the anger melts, I know I will have to peer at the wound itself and open it up for further healing.  I am confident that God is sending me people who will be messengers of His love.  But it's my instincts that showed me lies from truth.  I am stronger than I initially thought.  Perhaps pain is not new to me.  Perhaps I have seen God's handiwork in challenging times like these over and over again.

I am in pain now but I am not alone.  I am grateful that God used His megaphone to wake me up from my blindness and deafness.  Such is the tender care and concern of The One in whom I trust.  It may take time, but as cliche as it sounds,  I know that God is with me, every single step of the way.

My True Worth

I'm currently reading "A Thousand Splendid Suns".  It struck me how the girl Mariam did not know that she was living on scraps thrown her way by her father until she saw his house and how his other children lived.

Like Mariam, I was happy about a certain area of my life, until I was brought to an astonishing shock that I was living on scraps, leftovers, and throwaways.  Then I had a choice - settle for that, or move towards a different kind of life, one where I would receive as much as I gave.

Sometimes, in life, we are taken advantage of.  And we don't mind.  We are even happy to oblige, thinking that there is no harm done in the long run.  Until we wake up one day to find that we have given away our inheritance to become a scavenger.  Friends tell us that we deserve better, but we insist that we are where we're supposed to be.  We believe tenaciously in our dreams, not seeing reality for what it really is.  

I was struck by a line from this morning's Psalm reading:

"The great grow poor and hungry;
but those who seek the LORD want for no good thing."  (Ps 34:11, NAB)

I stayed with it until I heard an invitation to seek the LORD and to lay before Him my pain.  Surely, a sister told me yesterday, this cannot be God's last word on the matter.  So deep and massive was my hunger that I had forgotten how I got there in the first place.  In this verse I saw an assurance of my true inheritance as a daughter of God.  It was something I had never thought possible.  I was willing to stay on the sidelines, to feign happiness, to shun success.

Unlike Mariam's father, my Heavenly Father does not treat me like an outcast in His own household.  I am the one who thought I was an outcast, unworthy of a seat in His table, tarnished and blemished and forgotten.  During times of prayer, however, I hear His voice calling me as His own, and reminding me that He has a plan for me.

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.  (Jeremiah 29:11, ESV)

The blurry image of my identity as His daughter is slowly gaining clarity again.  I pray that I may have the strength to continue to seek the LORD, to put my trust in Him, and to believe in His promise of a future and a hope.

I will not settle for scraps again.

With Friends Like These...

My parish friends had fun teasing me this morning.  We just had a tour of our new building and were cooling ourselves under a tree when our parish priest told us that there would be a mass wedding at our church in July, during the fiesta.  

Since this meant the wedding fees would be much lower (to share the altar with four score and seven other couples), I asked if I could have my wedding then.  I was told, "If you could book a groom by then, go ahead."  I laughed.  Then I looked at our clubhouse.  Then I looked at my friend's white car.  I asked him, "Can I borrow this as wedding car?"  He said, "Be my guest.  But the groom has to be captured first."

This started off all sorts of ideas on how Ate Ella could find a suitable groom.  I already had the church, the choir, the clubhouse, and the car.  One young friend of mine suggested that there should be an advertisement, "Huge Savings If You Marry Ate Ella."  They assigned someone to look for potential husbands for me.  I laughed with them.  There were suggestions to just marry anyone, to meet the deadline of submission of required documents.  I laughed some more. This was not the first time we were having this kind of conversation. 

Then I got home, had lunch with my parents, cooked dinner, folded the laundry, and got to thinking that I was not in a rush.  I don't need the "discount".  I am happy where I am.  Marriage is not necessarily a happier place.  In fact, if I ask a lot of friends, it isn't happy at all.

I have been thinking that being by myself, serving God, having wonderful friends and family, traveling at least once a year, indulging in my passions, expressing my talents, and learning new skills, I am so happy already.  I could live with this for the rest of my life.

I'm just not sure if I'm meant to.  But that's a question to be answered another day.

Year of Priests June 19, 2009 - June 19, 2010

Pope Benedict XVI has set aside a special Year of Priests, starting on the Feast Day of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, June 19, 2009. Let us pray for our priests, and for vocations.



From the Catholic News Agency:

Vatican City, Mar 16, 2009 / 01:16 pm (CNA).- Meeting with members of the Congregation for Clergy this morning, the Holy Father announced that the Church will celebrate a special year for priests beginning on June 19, 2009. The year will commemorate the 150th anniversary of the death of St. Jean Vianney, Cure of Ars.

Pope Benedict received representatives from the congregation’s full assembly, which is currently focused on how the three offices (tre munera) of the priest make him a missionary within the Church.

In his address, the Pontiff emphasized the constant struggle for moral perfection that dwells “in every truly priestly heart.” In support of this tendency toward spiritual perfection, the Holy Father announced that he has “decided to call a special ‘Year for Priests’ which will run from June 19, 2009 to June 19, 2010.”

He noted that the year also marks the “150th anniversary of the death of the saintly 'Cure of Ars', Jean Marie Vianney, a true example of a pastor at the service of Christ's flock."

The Pope will inaugurate the Year on June 19 by presiding at Vespers in St. Peter's Basilica, where the relics of the 'Cure of Ars' will be brought for the occasion by Bishop Guy Bagnard of Belley-Ars, France.

During the course of the Year, Benedict XVI will proclaim St. Jean Marie Vianney as the patron saint of all the priests of the world. A "Directory for Confessors and Spiritual Directors" will also be published, as will a collection of texts by the Holy Father on essential aspects of the life and mission of priests in our time.

The year will close June 19, 2010, with Pope Benedict presiding at a "World Meeting of Priests" in St. Peter's Square.

Speaking to the Congregation for Clergy, the Holy Father also mentioned the ecclesial communal, hierarchical and doctrinal dimensions that are “absolutely indispensable for any authentic [priestly] mission,” and which guarantee “spiritual effectiveness.”

He explained that the mission is ecclesial “because no-one announces or brings themselves, ... but brings Another, God Himself, to the world. God is the only wealth that, definitively, mankind wishes to find in a priest.”

"The mission is 'communal',” he continued, “because it takes place in a unity and communion which only at a secondary level possess important aspects of social visibility.”

He added that the “'hierarchical' and 'doctrinal' dimensions emphasize the importance of ecclesiastical discipline (a term related to that of 'disciple') and of doctrinal (not just theological, initial and permanent) formation."

The Pope also stressed the importance of priestly formation which must maintain “communion with unbroken ecclesial Tradition, without pausing or being tempted by discontinuity. In this context,” he continued, “it is important to encourage priests, especially the young generations, to a correct reading of the texts of Vatican Council II, interpreted in the light of all the Church's doctrinal inheritance."

In conclusion, the Holy Father warned of the “dilution” of priestly ministry. He explained that the without priests, “there would be no Eucharist, no mission” or the Church. “It is necessary then, to ensure that 'new structures' or pastoral organizations are not planned for a time in which it will be possible to 'do without' ordained ministry, on the basis of an erroneous interpretation of the promotion of the laity, because this would lay the foundations for a further dilution in priestly ministry, and any supposed 'solutions' would, in fact, dramatically coincide with the real causes of the problems currently affecting the ministry."

Almost There

Someday I will understand why it is so much easier to write when I am depressed than when I am ecstatic.  It probably has something to do with the reason why it is more natural for me to hold on to negative thoughts than positive thoughts.  I'm afraid the reason for the happiness won't last.  I'm afraid to hope so much and then fall flat on my face afterwards.

I don't want to operate on fear, insecurity, and anxiety anymore.  In fact, I have no reason to.  As usual, my fiscal year has signaled the end of my waiting period and the start of my blessing period again.  When the rains come and when the schools open, that's when I notice God's blessings.  

This month, I have found new opportunities previously unimaginable and unreachable for me.  I have enjoyed healed relationships that are even stronger than they were before.  I have felt the end of my time of pruning and testing, and the beginning of another season in my life.

That cliche about the caterpillar being in a cocoon to make way for a beautiful butterfly?  It's true.  The analogy of the ugliness of the caterpillar trapped in a dark cocoon for an unbearable period that results in a colorful, ethereal creature finds consistency in the life of a Christian.

Yes, God speaks.  He directs.  He moves.  He listens.  I have uttered prayers to Him in desperation, about things beyond my control but which were oppressing me, and He came through for me.  He answered my prayers the way I asked Him to.  He opened new doors.  I only had to wait for Him.  It's frustrating to listen to this when you don't see the light at the end of the tunnel, but take it from me.  I have seen Him work in my life too many times.

From darkness and uncertainty, I am on my way to a future filled with hope and light.  I cannot write the details now, but I will soon enough.

For now, I want to share my joy, and to proclaim that God is good.  He has saved me from my personal distress and I have Him to thank for all these.  There are still many details to iron out, and many challenges to face, but I am assured that I am almost there.  To the next step.

One New Thing

I'm going to be a teacher. Did I ever write about that before? I must have forgotten. With the advent of Twitter and Facebook, I've turned to microblogging and have utterly neglected this online journal.

I never planned on being a teacher. When we were kids, it was my sister who liked to write on the blackboard and pretend the rest of us were her students. I was going to be many things (search "Alternative Careers" on this blog), but not a teacher. I called my teachers by their last names. Only. I took part in "Malcolm Madness", where they were parodied, sometimes mercilessly, by the law students. And I have this insatiable need to be liked by everyone. Who knows what students these days want?

I come from a family of teachers, from both sides, actually. My parents, aunts, cousins, siblings and even siblings-in-law have tried their hand at teaching. As for me, I just kind of bumped into it.

I was asked to give talks and 'teachings' in Lingkod, the Catholic movement for singles I was heavily involved in for several years. And then, I took part in training lawyers to update their written English and improve their electronic legal research skills. And then, before I knew it, I was saying yes to teach freshmen the subject "Legal Research and Bibliography". Now is the time to study. Gadget Girl who loves to write and is a lawyer on the side needs to get her act together two hours a week, for the sake of her students.

I could give Madonna a run for her money in terms of reinventing myself. I have gone from Business Economics into Law, from law firm into government service, from the Court to a foundation, from Lingkod to my parish, from singles to youth leader, from travel writing to marketing.

So now, teaching it is. Even if it's just two units, I'm going into unchartered territory. This is an answered prayer, however, and I fully entrust it to God.

And oh, obedient daughter that I am, I have joined the faculty of my father's law school alma mater. With his remarkable grades, he should be the one teaching. Needless to say, I am a little bit anxious and a little bit excited at this new chapter in my life.

I will keep you posted on the other things. I'm waiting for the right time.