Just a Question

I want to say Yes to God. But what is the question?

A Quote from James Joyce

I know it's been a while. To say that I have been busy is an understatement.

Anyway, something blog-worthy is my amazement at this paragraph from a chapter of great book I am reading, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce.

It was strange too that he found an arid pleasure in following up to the end the rigid lines of the doctrines of the church and penetrating into obscure silences only to hear and feel the more deeply his own condemnation. The sentence of saint James which says that he who offends against one commandment becomes guilty of all, had seemed to him first a swollen phrase until he had begun to grope in the darkness of his own state. From the evil seed of lust all other deadly sins had sprung forth: pride in himself and contempt of others, covetousness In using money for the purchase of unlawful pleasures, envy of those whose vices he could not reach to and calumnious murmuring against the pious, gluttonous enjoyment of food, the dull glowering anger amid which he brooded upon his longing, the swamp of spiritual and bodily sloth in which his whole being had sunk.

These words seem to come from deep within the writer; indeed, this book is based on his real life experiences. I stared at the paragraph and read it again and again. Such truth. Such a magnificent way of stating the truth.

Walking with Jesus This Holy Week

It is Palm Sunday, a day we remember Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Of course we all know that by the middle of the week, the people would change their minds about him and would want him to be hanged. But that is getting ahead of the story.

Palm Sunday also ushers in Holy Week. The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines "holy" as:

1 : exalted or worthy of complete devotion as one perfect in goodness and righteousness
2 : divine
3 : devoted entirely to the deity or the work of the deity
4 a : having a divine quality
b : venerated as or as if sacred

The priest, after hearing my confession, said that my invitation is to walk with Jesus in his passion and death in this week, which by definition is to be devoted entirely to Him anyway. I consider it as not asking too much of my time; for one week, out of the more than fifty-two (52) weeks in a year, devoted to prayer, silence, veneration, recollection, meditation, and even solitude. The priest said I might want to ask the Lord, "How do You want me to walk with you?"

I asked Jesus during the anticipated Palm Sunday mass yesterday. Then after that, I saw an answer. I was reminded of my personal cross. I will hoist it above my shoulders and carry it, like my Lord did. I will take up my cross, even embrace it, to follow Jesus.

I could go to the mall, the beach, the pool, the hotel, the resort, on 51 other weeks this year. In fact, I already did some of that. It is time for God, and God alone.

Our parish has this schedule for Holy Week. I invite you to check your parishes as well, and take part in this week, so that we will all feel Easter on Sunday.

• Holy Monday = Recollection after the 6 p.m. mass
• Holy Wednesday = Kumpisalang Bayan (Went to confession already to avoid the queues.)
• Holy Thursday = Chrism Mass, 7 am at the Cathedral (I want to attend for the first time.)
• = Commemoration of the Institution of the Eucharist and Washing of the Feet
• = Start of Easter Triduum
• = Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament
• Good Friday = Veneration of the Holy Cross
• = Procession
• Holy Saturday = Easter Vigil
• Easter Sunday = Salubong Mass (I will serve at this mass, my earliest assignment ever.)
• = Easter Sunday masses

How about you, how will you walk with Jesus this Holy Week?

The Girl on the Last Row

When I sing songs about standing before God's throne, or entering His courts, or being in His presence, I see myself running late for a time of heavenly worship and proceeding to the very last row. In fact, when I am viewing this image I often see that I am crawling to my place in the huge hall and wishing God would not notice me. Kind of like the daughter who got in way past her curfew, tiptoeing through the living room and hoping to get to the stairs unnoticed.

As if that were possible. God not noticing me, that is. But that is a recurring image. Usually I would be carrying heavy stuff - musical instruments, song sheets, journals, bibles, notepads, pens, fans, and every other load for the whole congregation - and I would see myself trying to avoid making a noise or inviting attention to myself. Good thing that this always takes place in heaven, where the others with me would be fixing their eyes on Jesus and His majesty, and not being disturbed, really, by my lateness. Or my extra luggage.

Last Sunday, I modified the image. Well, it was probably a daydream by then, because while we were singing during mass, I saw myself playing the guitar, again in the Worship Hall in Heaven, but from the very back. It was a glaring image of my feeling of unworthiness. In my limited imagination, I could only see the Catholic saints surrounding the Throne, followed by the good people - the missionaries, the priests, the nuns, the teachers, the mothers, and the fathers. In that hierarchy, the humble, selfless, and generous people would be on the next circle, and so on and so forth. I would be grateful just to be in the same room as those souls. But I would be playing music, faintly, from my inconspicuous spot. It is a daydream because I play the piano and not the guitar, although I own two of the latter.

The image, or the vision, depending on who sees it, has stayed with me for several days now. Me, wanting to be close to God, but thinking I do not deserve to be in His presence. And the growing answer within me is that God is not like that. Or heaven would not be exactly like that.

God would know where I am at any point in time, so it would be useless, really, to try to enter the Hall unnoticed. Like what I do some Sundays when I am not serving for mass and I get delayed by some trivial thing.

God is inviting me to sit close to Him. Or wherever I am in the room, I would feel His presence and His love, which is no less than the love He has for the saints and the angels. In fact He is said to rejoice at every sinner who turns away from their evil ways. So it is possible that I would bring joy to my Heavenly Father just by trying to be with Him even with all my baggage and distractions.

A long time ago, I thought I would be in Row 1 in heaven. Regular confession and daily communion. Service that cost blood, sweat, and tears. Lengthy prayer time. Spiritual books and music, alone. Spiritual friends all around me.

But I have stumbled and continue to do so. Christian life has become more meaningful when I acknowledged my weaknesses and imperfections. Right now I see myself, the times when I think I would be able to enter Heaven at all, on the very Last Row. But it should not matter. It does not matter.

Because God sees me and is with me even when I am on the Last Row.

"And behold, some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last.” (Lk 13:30, ESV)

Creating Space for Lent and Easter

I attended a seminar on the Easter Triduum given by a liturgist today, and was utterly fascinated. If only all the people could hear, understand, and appreciate why the Mother of All Vigils is done that way. (If only I would stop being a fence-sitter, and start doing something about it.)

I enjoyed the seminar as much as much as I did the weekly Scripture Study with our parish priest that I used to be able to attend, before my classes were scheduled on the same night. I soaked up all the historical and traditional background, the relevant teachings of the Church, the writings of the early Church fathers, the theological significance, and the practical application. Even the bloopers that were caused by overzealousness, or overeagerness, by some people, were interesting. I liked the way the speaker, Dean Marc Martin, gave the cultural and social context to many of the Lenten observances, and taught us how to focus on the essential matters alone.

It was great just to sit and listen together with my fellow lectors and commentators, as well as the lay ministers. I prayed for a more meaningful Lent and a joyous Easter, and to be the kind of servant who would create space for these two beautiful seasons.

The Day Before I Went Home

I must admit that I still have post-holiday hangover. So once in a while I will blog about my trip to attempt to document that which I was not able to process immediately.

For the Sunday mass on the Baptism of the Lord, I went to Our Lady of Dolours in Chatswood. It was right after Christmas Day, also known as Boxing Day in those parts. The streets were very quiet. On the way home, my father and I were the only people on the bus!

Many Asians go to mass here. There's even a Filipino mass once a month where Pinoy food is served afterwards. The parishioners do it potluck and they bring their individual specialties. I skipped this one as I didn't actually miss Pinoy food while I was away.

I returned to this Church the week after, during the Feast of the Epiphany. As if to close the book on my holiday, to prepare me for Ordinary Time.

I had mixed feelings that day. I was very, very grateful for how the six weeks had turned out. At the same time I was very sad as I was leaving and going back to the real world, my real life, and all my responsibilities. Most of all, I was going to miss my parents, my niece, my Ate, and my brother-in-law.

I talked to God, thanking Him profusely, asking Him to take care of my family. I also recognized how blessed I was, that it was time of spring again. And then I asked Him to show me what He wanted me to bring home - what attitudes, goals, hopes, and experiences should stand out. Of course everything I had seen and done would forever stay with me - it was, after all, a life-changing trip inside and out - but they were all mixed inside my head. I needed clarity as I started a new year and a new life.

I was very much aware of how the seasons had changed while I was in Oz. I arrived just before Advent started, and it was still springtime in Sydney. The neighborhood I lived in, Lane Cove, was covered in Jacaranda lilac. It was so beautiful. It was also, more importantly, the First Sunday of Advent. I finished Advent, attended Christmas, all the way to the Feast of the Three Kings.

My mother removed the Christmas decor the day that I left for home. My family back home and officemates were so sweet as to wait for me before removing their belens, Christmas trees, and other decorations. I was touched.

I got a warm welcome everywhere I went. I thus did not feel so sad. A bit disorientated, yes (I used to say "disoriented"), but not really out of place.

I am now living in two worlds, at home in both. Just like the movie Inception, however, I had to wake up from my beautiful dream and to start living again. I will be back to dream land soon, and perhaps one day my reality will involve just one world. Just one life. Someday.

Awesome Oz

Our God is an awesome God. I asked for very little for my trip - just a chance to meet old friends, make new friends, celebrate with family, visit Hunter Valley, watch U2, and rest. I know, that sounds grand already, doesn't it?

I got so much more.

My niece is the loveliest niece on earth. I know all doting aunts say that, so sue me. But she is! I miss waking up to her smile and watching her dance in her playpen and carrying all 10 kilos of her. I am grateful that she is a healthy, happy baby.

I got to see the doctor of my dreams. Please see previous post for more on that. I'm on the road to health myself and, consequently, happiness.

I went on several dates. I'm not talking about sticky date pudding, which was hands down the best dessert I had during that trip, but I got to meet real men of different nationalities, all university graduates, and a few of them I did find interesting.

I went to beautiful beaches. I visited several churches, some for the first time. I slept over old friends' houses. I met a wonderful family who shared their story with me.

I attended many parties, the most fabulous of which was hosted by my sister and my brother-in-law. I stayed in a hotel with the most amazing view of the Sydney Opera House and the Harbour Bridge.

I was able to spend a mighty long time with my family, whom I've missed the past year due to our distance from one another. That was really awesome. Although we weren't complete, technology brought us closer to the rest.

I got to be there when Sydney was at the height of Oprah Fever. I made several trips to the grocery store, which all my friends know is my favorite chore. Next to doing the laundry of course, which I got to perform. Several times!!! Then I was able to conquer my sister's kitchen with a few dishes that were instant hits. I even attended my high school reunion online, at a batchmate's house, via live feed.

The ending was fitting - I watched the amazing fireworks display on New Year's Eve along with 1.5 million people who gathered at the Sydney Harbour. I learned that there were more people in Sydney Harbour that night than in New York City's Times Square. As the sky lit up in vibrant colors shooting from barges, buildings, and that famous bridge, I could not help but thank God for the grand ending to my holiday.

All in all, my vacation was not bad. Not bad at all. In fact, it was awesome!!! I am grateful to God, my family, and my friends for making this possible. I am trying to snap out of the vacation mode. The Church has started Ordinary Time after the Baptism of the Lord. Having spent Advent and Christmas in a special way, I am aware of the change in season.

Just like I prayed, I have been changed by this trip. I will write more about it in the future. I have created a slideshow of my favorite shots and will include a link here sometime.

Meanwhile, I am crawling back to reality as a changed woman. As to how, I will find the inspiration to write about it sometime soon.

How I Met My Dr. House

I rarely watch TV these days so my friends get frustrated when they want to discuss the politics of West Wing or the mysteries of Lost or the latest showbiz buzz and I give them a blank stare. However, there are a few shows, and characters in particular, who interest me.

One of those characters is Dr. House, pictured above. I like him because he is brilliant, cranky, and decisive. He is like a sharp-shooter when it comes to diagnosing patients with conflicting symptoms. The relief on the faces of the patients and their families each time he detects their mysterious illnesses and cures them is something that never fails to move me. He appears to be tough but he cares about people more than he wants to admit. I think I just described my ideal man, but I digress...

I think I may have met my Dr. House yesterday here in Sydney, Australia. Yes, something meaningful and life-changing has happened to me during this vacation, even with all the occasions my family is celebrating, and in the midst of the city's frenzy over Oprah's visit. My elation after this particular doctor's appointment even eclipsed my excitement at watching U2's concert the night before.

I have a medical condition, detected in 1994, which is not life-threatening, at least not yet, but which has caused me much grief over the years. I will not tell you what it is exactly because this is a sensitive topic for me. What I want to share is how God answered my prayer to be taken off my medication which has side effects that were driving me, and, consequently, the poor people around me, crazy.

For the past 15 years I have taken many blood and ultrasound tests that I did not welcome and consulted many doctors who have given me different ways of taking the same medication, which had become like the bane of my existence. Increasingly, I experienced vertigo, nausea, migraine, depression, mood swings, and weight gain. I once consulted a Chinese doctor in Shenzhen who told me that Western medicine always came with side effects. He prescribed a bottle of pills that cost me my entire stipend for that business trip, but it was worth it. For the next three months I was healthy and happy. Unfortunately, I could not read the label on the bottle and was never able to purchase it again because I could not remember the place and did not get the name of the doctor.

It came to a point when I refused to see doctors anymore about this condition. I also stubbornly resisted having another ultrasound test. I went to God in prayer and asked Him to heal me on many sleepless nights. I shed tears, saying that I knew there were millions of people with more serious illnesses, but I could be a better person if He healed me. I thought God didn't hear me at all. I was wrong.

Last year, my sister who is based in Sydney told me that she was referred to a specialist who diagnosed that she had a medical condition which was related to my condition. She was all praises for this doctor, whom I shall call Dr. House, because he was a pioneer and world-class and professional and brilliant. Dr. House apparently told her that her siblings with similar symptoms should take the same test she took and be given the medication he had prescribed her. That sibling was me and my sister practically nagged me to get my behind to a specialist and to take that test. I tried and tried but that test, as Dr. House described it, did not seem to be available in my city, or at least out of my reach.

In the meantime, the migraine attacks and other side effects became more debilitating for me, so I saw another doctor, supposedly a specialist, who increased the dosage of my medicine. I became very sleepy as a result, and was unproductive for the months that I was on that increased dosage. I finally had enough and self-medicated by lowering the dosage.

Then I went on this trip to Sydney for a holiday. My family conspired to make me go to Dr. House. I was resistant, naturally, for I saw him as yet another doctor who could not tell me something I did not already know. Plus I was tired of relating my medical history over and over again. I went to mass and prayed hard for a quiet heart. I lifted up to God my consultation and the results. I put my trust and my hope in Him.

First, I had to take his famous blood test. A note on this, my veins are very thin so it takes more than one try to get a test tube full of blood. For this test, 6 tubes were taken from me, from four different veins, in a span of two hours. The blood collector assigned to me, an Asian, was thankfully very good, but still she had to use the butterfly needle on my hands several times just to get enough for the test. I was weak and hungry by the time I left the clinic, and had to sleep several hours to recover from the experience.

The day of my consultation came and I did not want to be late for my mother and I had Googled Dr. House and had seen how widely known and respected he was in his field. I waited for an hour, and this would have normally ruined my mood, but I did not mind. As I told him later, he was worth the wait.

When he called me by my first name I felt important and recognized, like a little girl picked up by Santa Claus from the crowd. So I followed him to his office and sat down. He went over my account of my medical history. He knew, for his nice secretary told him, that I did not have Medicare and had to pay a lot to get his required test done. Then, he began to explain my test results and what my real condition was. I listened to his every word. He used PowerPoint slides, which endeared him to me. THAT was the way I wanted my doctor to explain to me. Scientific, accurate, and authoritative.

He told me that two things could worsen my condition: the medication I was taking (I was sooo right about that!), and stress. The first one was easy as he prescribed for me the cheapest brand of the right medicine I should have been taking. I asked him what to do about the stress part because it was an occupational hazard for lawyers, and he said I had to see a pscychologist for that, as he had advised all his professional patients. He answered patiently after my every question. I interrupted him when I did not understand. He even anticipated my questions because every time I would start to frown due to incomprehension, he would go back a slide and explain further.

He painted my road to health for the rest of my life in the most convincing manner that it was as if a bright light had enveloped the darkness in my mind. I felt tears starting to form in the midst of our consultation and I fought them back. I invited him to come to my country to lecture to at least the 7 doctors who had misdiagnosed me and to all the doctors in that field, not to disparage them, but because his findings were amazing. He said I should understand that those doctors were concentrating on a different area, not realizing that it was related to another area of my body. Some of them also went the easy way out of addressing the symptoms and not the cause. I asked when he started publishing his findings and he said 1998. I said I wished I had met him then, for I felt cheated of 12 years of my life. I told him some of the things the other doctors had said to me and he replied that if those were done in Australia, the offending doctor would be facing a lawsuit already.

He also had a sense of humor. He measured my height but I forgot that I was wearing my sunglasses like a head band. He said, "Take those off! You're cheating. Like a lawyer." Laughing, I removed my sunglasses and restrained the urge to give Dr. House a bear hug. He informed me so much of my body that I felt like I saw and appreciated it for the very first time.

I was reminded of Helen Hunt's character, Carol the Waitress, from the movie "As Good as It Gets", when she could not stop thanking Jack Nicholson's character, Melvin, for sending the right doctor to her house to heal her sick child. She was so grateful for the miracle that Melvin got embarrassed. If I had the chance I would pour those words of gratitude to my Dr. House. But I did not want to embarrass him.

He gave me a huge discount, considering my situation of not having the Australian government pay for his professional fees. He also showed me a slide that said something like all I needed now, after diet, exercise, and the medicine he had prescribed, was to wait for the right man. I said, "Could you please prescribe one for me, and also send me to the right warehouse where I could get a discount?" He laughed out loud and said I could call him anytime and he would be happy to talk to me, free of charge, if I had any questions about my condition and his prescription. That was generous of him. His professional fees were worth a transatlantic trip. My sister said that I bonded with Dr. House more than she did.

After thanking him and his secretary profusely, I left the office. Every step I took became lighter than the previous one. I had to stop in the middle of the bus station to thank God for this answered prayer. So He was acting, after all. So He was going to save me from my sufferings, after all. So there was an end to my crying, after all.

I celebrated by buying myself a healthy tuna sandwich on wheat with ranch dressing from Subway. I missed the bus by doing this but I did not mind. I decided that MY doctor was indeed a cross between Dr. House and Santa Claus. Most of all, I recognized that he was sent by God, through my family.

If this is my Advent, I am sure that Christmas will be even happier.

Mass at St. Patrick's Church

Today is the third Sunday of Advent. I was able to attend mass at St. Patrick's Church in The Rocks for the first time.

Although the mass is the same everywhere, I am making a pilgrimage around Sydney's Catholic churches this season of Advent.

The priest wore rose vestments to signify that Advent is drawing to a close and the Lord Jesus is coming soon!

I prayed for greater focus because I had many distractions. There have been movements in my heart but I have not had the opportunity to pray about them as much as I would have wanted.

This was even made more manifest when I got distracted by two little boys' whining during mass. They cried nonstop. I prayed for the grace to restrain myself from giving the boys' parents dagger looks. I was, after all, in the house of God and was supposed to be participating at mass. I thought the boys were disturbing the whole congregation, but after mass I asked my father if he noticed the noise, but he said he did not. Papa must have been praying while I was complaining.

I related it to the way I looked at the week ahead. I came to mass with much anxiety about an upcoming checkup and an event I did not plan to go to. I was so consumed by all my fears when I should have been grateful for the opportunity to be seen by a world-class doctor and to meet new people at the event.

Even up to now, I still hold on to the worry button when I should be filled with gratitude, appreciation, and excitement. I have to consciously clean my thoughts so I would look at the blessings instead of the challenges.

So I asked God to give me the grace to believe in Him more so my fear would give way to joy.

I saw this sign at the store: 12 more shopping days until Christmas. For a Christian, this sign should read: Twelve more days until we remember the first Christmas!

I wonder where I will attend mass next week. I am certain that by then I would be reporting all good news for the things I prayed about today. For I am well into Advent, the season of Hope.

Now Showing: Voyage of the Dawn Treader

I highly recommend Chronicles of Narnia: Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I found it was much, much better than Prince Caspian, as I fell asleep while watching the latter on HBO, despite the boy-next-door charm of the lead character.

In the third book to be made into a movie, Lucy has grown up and is no longer the innocent and cute little queen we have loved from The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. In this film, she struggles with her self-image issues and battles with her insecurities. Edmund is still haunted by the White Witch somehow and deals with his baggage about always playing second fiddle. And Caspian... what can I say about Caspian? If I were a teenager I would be swooning over him. He has transformed from prince into king splendidly.

I watched it on 3D so the special effects were more magnificent. I thought I would be seasick but thankfully, I did not. The film was so realistic I momentarily thought I had water on my 3D glasses.

The movie's Christian theme, injected in a few lines all throughout, came to a glorious end with the appearance of Aslan. Somehow, it made sense that he did not come early to rescue the young people from their battles. They had to go through them, to fight the darkness inside them and to face their fears with courage.

The faith and hope that the characters had was contagious. By the end of the film I too wanted to believe that I must not shy away from adventure, that I had all the tools and weapons to fight my enemies, and I would happily meet Aslan, but by the Name He is known in this world.

This movie is for God's children, for them to be in Narnia again so they can go back to the real world knowing that God is real. He is there for all His children.

I have to refrain myself from adding spoilers here. Please watch it and believe again.