a day, a lesson, His love

Very often do I question if I am meant to be a nurse. The question rises more on occasions that I "fail" which, mind you, is getting more frequent these days and more evident. When I say fail, it means mistakes I do consciously or unconsciously, my negligence and malpractice resulting from lack of or unwillingness to review.

I'm becoming more stressed these days. Overworked, disorganized working environment, lack of resources, all of these resulting to burnout.

Today I made a stupid mistake. I was so sure of what I was doing until my senior caught my attention and told me, 'where did you get that idea? That's not how it should be with this case'. Everyone with me knew the right thing to do and I was the only one wrong, even the juniors knew better. I was flushed with shame. I might have put my client in a distressful situation. Given all these, I want to justify my desire to quit.

Rise to the occasion, do what the trial demands of you...as long as it give God glory.

I am left again with questions like, 'are the mistakes I made myself considered trials?' 'How can I give God glory when all I do is fail?'

My heart is full of pride. I always say to people, 'your mistakes don't define you. God loves you the same.' But when the same happens to me, hearing and digesting it is not as easy as saying it. It is just hard.

I tried (tried because lately my quiet time is not quality time anymore) reading a passage from the bible, random passage. God brought me to Psalm 103. It didn't give me a self-boost but an assurance. It is more like a promise that life is beautiful because of God, that everything the world condemns me with, no matter how they see me, is not of importance because God looks at me with love and compassion, His grace abounds. That mistakes don't matter to God as they are to people, that God doesn't always accuse but pardons instead. That he knows how we are formed, that we are dust and he's not surprised by our lackness but loves us immeasurably. That though we are fleeting, his love for those who fear him is from everlasting to everlasting.

I guess good entry comes from a troubled, ecstatic, or broken heart. A polished heart cannot produce authentic words.

Manners Matter!

After an hour of not-so-intense-but-fat-burning-sweat-dripping boxing session with my friend, we went to MiniStop for some refreshment. My friend went to the cashier to buy her drink while I stayed and sat at the table for four near the glass door. While I was waiting for her, a group of teenage girls walked in. One girl went to my table and without uttering a word placed her bag on the chair across me. Then another girl followed and placed her bag on the other chair and they went to buy whatever they had to buy.

I remained quiet but very disappointed with their manners or their lack thereof.

Given the circumstances like this, I still want to believe there's hope in this generation as not all are lacking their humanness.

Talking to the mirror, "There's a plank in your eyes"

Don’t pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults— unless, of course, you want the same treatment. That critical spirit has a way of boomeranging. It’s easy to see a smudge on your neighbor’s face and be oblivious to the ugly sneer on your own. Do you have the nerve to say, ‘Let me wash your face for you,’ when your own face is distorted by contempt? It’s this whole traveling road-show mentality all over again, playing a holier-than-thou part instead of just living your part. Wipe that ugly sneer off your own face, and you might be fit to offer a washcloth to your neighbor.

Matthew 7:1-5 (The Message) 

I have always been critical of myself. I magnified my lapses a hundred times that it covers up everything. After a day's work, I review my performance and realize what a lousy job I've done. This has always been my struggle.

Found this on Google...very..timely, I suppose

I am critical about myself because, this is hard to admit, I am critical about others as well. Very often do I compare myself with others and that eats my joy away. Matthew 7:1-5 hit me to the core because that's one of the ugly side of me; it took me a long time to admit it to myself. I don't nag people or make them my slave; I do what I can without asking for help as much as possible but keep an eye on other people's work as well. It feels that I am always evaluated whether I stand, sit, eat, write. It seems that there's this big floating score board on everyone's head that even a tiny flick of a finger would make a change in the score. I am so scared to make a mistake hence terrified to do things that sometimes it paralyzes me at work. I work best when I feel best, when people commend my work, when I please them. Pleasing people should never be my goal because it will get me nowhere. Performance doesn't matter to God, it is the heart that does.
I am not living the life Jesus died for. I am living a defeated life, a powerless one based on performance not on grace. 

But Jesus knows our struggles. He knows my weaknesses and my ugly side and loves me just the same. 

He gave a solution to that behavior in the following verses.

⁶ “Don’t be flip with the sacred. Banter and silliness give no honor to God. Don’t reduce holy mysteries to slogans. In trying to be relevant, you’re only being cute and inviting sacrilege.

^7-11 “Don’t bargain with God. Be direct. Ask for what you need. This isn’t a cat-and-mouse, hide-and-seek game we’re in. If your child asks for bread, do you trick him with sawdust? If he asks for fish, do you scare him with a live snake on his plate? As bad as you are, you wouldn’t think of such a thing. You’re at least decent to your own children. So don’t you think the God who conceived you in love will be even better?

¹² “Here is a simple, rule-of-thumb guide for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you, then grab the initiative and do it for them. Add up God’s Law and Prophets and this is what you get.

I pray that God will change my heart and my critical eyes, that I will see people in His eyes just as he sees me.

a terrible mistake handler

I am terrible in handling mistakes.

I was in 2^nd year of high school. I was one of the three whose project was chosen to enter the interschool competition and by God’s grace won 2^nd place. After the competition, the three of us were invited as guests on a radio program where we’d talk about our project. I always thought it would make my parents proud of me. We went to the radio program together with our teachers. We were introduced by the commentator or whatever you call it. My surname was not read properly replacing a few letters in it making it not my surname. I was too shy to butt in and correct his mistake so I kept quiet about it. We were asked a few questions and it went ok. The sun had already set; it was already dark when we got back to our school. My dad was waiting for me, not with a ready hug but with sermon. He was mad at me for 1.) not correcting my surname 2.) not texting him where I was, instead I was just texting my mom. He asked me, “Do I not matter in this family? Maybe you just want me dead. (I wasn’t texting him because my mom was the first to text me. My dad didn’t send me a single message and I was just replying to my mother’s messages so I kept her updated thinking they were together. Yes they were together in the house.  

So yes instead of “I’m proud of you”, I got a bucket of cold talk on the way home. I cried that night.

I think that’s what shaped me. That I can’t be good enough because my mistakes will always be bigger than my accomplishments, bigger than who I really am. That maybe I am mistake.

I carried that baggage for years. I would put it down for a while but would pick it up again, every step becomes more difficult as the baggage becomes heavier.

Yesterday I made yet another mistake that kept me awake past midnight.

I work as a nurse. I endorsed a patient with fever. I monitored the patient’s temperature but when the fever subsided, I stopped monitoring since the patient was already sleeping comfortably (that’s what I thought). But then the temperature rose and I didn’t know because I thought she’s already ok.  It’s my negligence. I failed again. Big time.

I was lost and my mistakes were eating me. I went home quiet. My mom noticed but I just made an excuse that my throat hurt. I tossed and turned on bed but sleep was elusive. I prayed to God, asked for forgiveness, and then I dozed off. Morning came. My mistake flooded my mind again. It was consuming me. I ate breakfast then went to my room and cried to God. I was so ashamed of myself to ever face God but there’s no other way and I desperately need and miss him. It was drifting away, floating in the vast endlessness.

I had my quiet time.

Luke 24

Looking for the Living One in a cemetery. Jesus didn’t remain dead. He saved me from all my sins by dying on the cross and he rose again. He is not defeated and I shouldn’t be. Jesus overcame death and he lives so I can live. It’s one thing that your savior died for you and another thing that your savior died for you and rose again after three days. It gives me peace knowing that my Savior is with me all the time.

this Psalm really comforts me. God’s love is just too much and it’s exhibited in Jesus. God’s love is just breathtaking. It’s real and constant, unchanged. I can't express it more beautifully than this psalm

^1-2 O my soul, bless God.
    From head to toe, I’ll bless his holy name!
O my soul, bless God,
    don’t forget a single blessing!

^3-5 He forgives your sins—every one.
    He heals your diseases—every one.
    He redeems you from hell—saves your life!
    He crowns you with love and mercy—a paradise crown.
    He wraps you in goodness—beauty eternal.
    He renews your youth—you’re always young in his presence.

^6-18 God makes everything come out right;
    he puts victims back on their feet.
He showed Moses how he went about his work,
    opened up his plans to all Israel.
God is sheer mercy and grace;
    not easily angered, he’s rich in love.
He doesn’t endlessly nag and scold,
    nor hold grudges forever.
He doesn’t treat us as our sins deserve,
    nor pay us back in full for our wrongs.
As high as heaven is over the earth,
    so strong is his love to those who fear him.
And as far as sunrise is from sunset,
    he has separated us from our sins.
As parents feel for their children,
    God feels for those who fear him.
He knows us inside and out,
    keeps in mind that we’re made of mud.
Men and women don’t live very long;
    like wildflowers they spring up and blossom,
But a storm snuffs them out just as quickly,
    leaving nothing to show they were here.
God’s love, though, is ever and always,
    eternally present to all who fear him,
Making everything right for them and their children
    as they follow his Covenant ways
    and remember to do whatever he said.

^19-22 God has set his throne in heaven;
    he rules over us all. He’s the King!
So bless God, you angels,
    ready and able to fly at his bidding,
    quick to hear and do what he says.
Bless God, all you armies of angels,
    alert to respond to whatever he wills.
Bless God, all creatures, wherever you are—
    everything and everyone made by God.

And you, O my soul, bless God!

Mean girl

I am mean.

I laughed with them. I laughed at someone today.

I felt guilt and shame. I shouldn't have laughed. He must be going on some battles that neither of us are aware.

Heart check:

I hate myself for adding damage to the person but more than that, I can't believe I'm such a mean person.
Pride enters.
How can I be mean when I think I'm not? I'm not mean, am I?

I desperately need the grace of God. I'm such a sinner and nothing near to being good.

I'm humbled.

Sorry.

Confessions.

I have confessions to make.


After a talk with my discipler today, I stayed in the mall to ponder on things.


I always tell everyone I know that I suck at work. I fail and am a miserable nurse. I lack proper judgement and become easily frantic. So I fear failure. Work becomes my life because that's what I know, what I think I am.

As you can see, what I've said in the previous paragraph is a contradiction. I masked myself with false humility.

Here's the truth.

My confession #1

I excel at work.
Yes, I do. The patients like me, most trust me. The people I work with like how I do my job. You see, I do my job well. I may sound proud but that's just being honest.My seniors praise me; they even requested for me. I believe I am pretty good. But I never fail to say the opposite.

I hate failing because I think I am good. Work is a place I feel secured and wanted. It is not the mistakes that I will make or failing that I fear but rather losing the security I now have. I dread the day that the people who now like me will despise me because of a single mistake.

The mistake I made: I place my security on the wrong things.

 Confession #2

I am a proud person masked in the facade of a meek person. I feel superior over people who do lousy work. I judge people on their mistakes and believe that people are ungracious because they judge others based on their mistakes.

The mistake I made: I use the wrong measure on people.

My resolutions:

Accept God's love and live it out.
Remind myself daily of the Cross.
Rise above the occasion.
Remove the lies in my head. Acknowledging them will never be enough. I have to terminate them and replace them with truths.
Love people.

The thing about....

The thing about being the less bad child is you become the outlet for rants.
The thing about being the youngest, you absorb almost everything. How your older sibling is way better or much worse than you.
The thing about being me is that I keep my mouth shut most of the time but almost shouts curses in my head.
The thing about keeping an almost anonymous blog is that I can pour my heart's content and nobody would even bother.
The thing about being sick is the luxury of staying on your bed, escaping the impending sermon.
The thing about all these, they are just mostly in my head.

Review: Queen In Hyun's Man

Queen In Hyun's Man is a romantic-fantasy Korean drama. It is one of those time-traveling TV series but the plot is beautifully crafted and carefully thought of. The story revolves around Choi Hee-jin, a struggling actress, and Kim Boong-do, a time-traveling scholar from the Joseon dynasty. They met under awkward circumstances and through these that they started falling in love with each other. 
This drama doesn't only focus on the romance of the two leads but also on the development of the characters.

*not in the mood for a review haha

I'm drunk. Blame it on the white mocha frappe

Disclaimer: This entry is the product of my disorganized train of thoughts

I met up with my friend in a coffee shop near our place (Yes, we’re now officially neighbors! Yay). We had frappe, mine’s a white mocha and hers a caramel. She wanted white mocha frappe but due to my violent reaction upon hearing her order, she opted to change hers. It turned out she liked mine but it’s too sweet which is weird or she’s just bitter haha (See, I live up to my disclaimer. Bear with me)

We talked about random updates and this topic which led me to writing my thoughts.

My friend told me that she still thinks that he-who-i-must-not-name is my GB.

I wanted to banish the thought myself but it still lingers even after a year or so has passed.

My entry starts here.

I first met the boy years before. He’s a friend of a friend. He seemed like a bibo kid back then, jumpy and a friend of everyone.

I noticed him only this 2011 during our review at the retreat house. He was a lost boy, standing outside, holding a cigarette, puffing smoke like some badass-i-don’t-give-a-damn. He was the opposite of the boy I met years before.

A couple of events led to the lobby of our dorm house, under the light of a chandelier. He opened up his life to me and he cried. It was a cry of a rain-drenched boy wanting to feel the warmth of life, to get back to God. I prayed with him and lent him the book, Travelling Light. He went back to his dorm and started again. He started attending bible studies, reading the bible, praying, and encouraging people. I could sense the warmth radiating from him, the warmth that was once lost. The hand that held cigarette was now holding a bible. His bible was attached to him like a body part. He changed.

I developed friendships with people during the review.

After a month of intensive review at the retreat house, we still had a month to review on our own for the licensure exam. We spent our month reviewing in coffee shops, diner, or wherever was convenient for most of us. If the place was far from where I reside, he would fetch me at the train station. He surprised me with a black sesame green tea frappe. He comforted me when my anxiety for the upcoming licensure was at its peak. He was there.

We spent hours texting or talking over the mobile phone or telephone. We never seemed to run out of things to talk about, or rather, he kept the conversation going. He was interested.

The 2 days of our licensure exam, he would call me every after test, during breaks, and after all the tests for the day was done. On the last day, we met and went to sunday service together where we met our other friends. He, to me, was someone I dread to be friends with. How it started was too fast to last, he's too close to stay. 

Unconsciously, I started having this thought that he’s one of those that are meant to stay in my life.

But then, just like when we first met, he went back to being a lost boy. In an instant, just like how everything started.

What scares me the most when the thought of him being my GB surfaces is that I am never sure with him. I really can't put a name to the uncertainty, but there is. He’s a drama I cannot handle, something I want to watch but doesn’t want to know the ending.

Honestly, I am ambivalent towards him. He entered my life, became one of the characters with a name and left with just scribbles all over the pages. He left me with questions I never intend to ask.

  

It is not my intention to put the blame on you or be an unwelcome burden to anyone. That part of my mind is just a little fuddled. I am just blabbing like a drunken pelican. 


I guess I still need to sort things out with you. Yes, I may need that for whoever's sake. 

Photograph

Browsing old photographs brought memories. I saw my carefree-i-don't-give-a-damn-how-i-look face on the photos. I may not be photogenic or pretty, I may not know how to angle myself but the photos give an i-know-i'm-beautiful-because-i-feel-it-inside impression.

I used to be full of life and sunshine. You cannot trace stress on my face when now it is tattooed all over.

I miss those fearless, joyful days.

Here's me more than a year ago

 Not the prettiest photo. No make up. No take two. A stolen shot of when I was sharing my life with the girls at the retreat. It was all honesty. I knew back then I was at peace, contented, and loved beyond question. I believed that goodness is there; beneath the chaos there's hope because God is there. I was so secured in God that I could smile at the storm, I could sleep with the waves crashing on my sides because Jesus is with me in the boat and he will get me through to the other side of the ocean. I know that it is still true and will forever be. Jesus will always be my Savior and Lord who could and would calm the raging storms within and around me. I want to be engulfed with that truth, to let myself let God be God again. To let him consume me until I am totally His.

If I take pictures of myself these days, can I look at these photographs 1 or 2 years after and say to myself, "Wow, there's so much hope, peace, faith, and love"?

Thank you God for your grace. It still amazes me. Really.
Thank you Jesus.

Rise!

Rise to the occasion—do what the trial demands of you. It does not matter how much it hurts as long as it gives God the opportunity to manifest the life of Jesus in your body.

Oswald Chambers

Wreck it or Fix it?

"Turns out I don't need a medal to tell me I'm a good guy. Cause, if that little kid likes me...How bad can i be? " 

Wreck It Ralph

 

I am a 22-turning-23-year-old lass. I work in a hospital for more than a year, a year and a month as a trainee with close supervision from my seniors and already 3 months now as a regular staff, employed and training trainees, hopefully that’s what I am doing because that’s what I am supposed to do.

So here’s the thing: basically I’m not new to my job but half of the work I do is not-so-fitted for a regular staff. What I mean is, I stammer, get frantic about almost everything, forget things, am scared of the seniors and trainees, am always nervous, and so on. So yeah, I think I’m basically unlikeable because of the things I do. I am generally not the hero in the game.

So that’s my thought lately.

Then I watched Wreck-It Ralph. And it dawned on me that I’m Wreck-It Ralph trying to be Fix-It Felix! I am trying to go against the system. I want the role of another player!

Spoiler alert!

My name's Ralph, and I'm a bad guy. Uh, let's see...I'm 9 feet tall, I weigh 643 pounds, got a bit of a temper on me. My passion level's very near the surface, I guess, not gonna lie. Anyhoo, what else, uh... I'm a wrecker. I wreck things, professionally. I mean, I'm very good at what I do. Probably the best I know. Thing is, fixing's the name of the game. Literally. Fix-It Felix Jr. So yeah, naturally, the guy with the name Fix-It Felix is the good guy. He's nice enough as good guys go. Definitely fixes stuff really well. But, uh, if you got a magic hammer from your father, how hard can it be? If he was a regular contractor, carpenter guy, I guarantee you, you will not be able to fix the damage that I do as quickly. When Felix does a good job, he gets a medal. But, are there medals for wrecking stuff really well? To that, I say, ha! And no, there aren't. For thirty years I have been doing this, and I have seen a lot of other games come and go. It's sad. Think about those guys atAsteroids? Boom, gone. Centipede? Who knows where that guy is, you know? Look, a steady arcade gig is nothing to sneeze at, I'm very lucky. It's just, I gotta say, it becomes kinda hard to love your job when no one seems to like you for doing it.

Ralph is a wrecker, that’s his job and mind you, he’s been wrecking things for three decades. In a game, we hiss at the sight of the villain and we want him defeated right away. But the bad guy is not actually a bad guy. That’s just his role. No one wants to be the last option, the unlikeable, the monster everybody despises. There’s this Bad-Anon in the movie where villains confess their feelings about being always the bad guy and never the good guy praised by people. Here we see Ralph having the same struggle. He wants to prove his worth. He wants the Nicelanders to see that he plays the big part in the game, not just someone who wrecks things and needs to be defeated every single time. Ralph sees Felix fixing things and people bringing him pies and inviting him to parties because he’s programmed to be the good guy. It’s not the role he chose but the role given to him. Ralph longs to have that same affection and acceptance from people he’s been with for three decades.

Ralph then went to different games to earn that shiny gold medal that he thinks will give him the pass to a life he always wanted – living in the penthouse with the Nicelanders. He got a medal from a game not his; he caused trouble – big trouble. Everyone was disturbed. Along the story, Ralph met Vanellope, a glitcher (meaning she’s not supposed to be in the game, an accident waiting to happen) from Sugar Rush. She got/snatched his precious medal for her to participate in the race that will give her a chance to be included in the game. 

 

Okay I won’t spoil everything.

 

Fast froward. Felix went to Sugar Rush to find Ralph for their game not to be plugged out. Felix was caught and imprisoned in the King’s castle. In his cell, the iron bars were dwindling. He could free himself. He pound the iron bars with his hammer and he finally broke free...NOT! The iron bars became sturdier and bigger in diameter! He fixes things, remember?

A series of events happened. Ralph was able to save Vanellope and the Sugar Rush game. In the end, Ralph still wrecks the building and still sleeps on the dump but he finally get what he always wanted - acceptance.

 

Ralph wrecks things, Felix fixes them.  They both have different roles and they’re both important.

 Some things need to be broken to be fixed. And some needs to be broken real bad to realize that it needs fixing big time.  

I break things; I am good at it. And I break easily, I am vulnerable and I take pride in that because in being so I know I am alive, more than just breathing and heart pumping. 

I realized I don't actually need a golden, shiny medal to be loved. I don't need achievements and recognitions that I wanted so badly to belong. I am loved and liked by God regardless of this world's so-called medals. Finally I can say:

Turns out I don't need a medal to tell me I'm accepted. Cause, if Jesus likes and loves me...what more can I ask? 

The Man who Climbs

I met a man who climbs almost half a year ago. It was the time when butterflies long abandoned my stomach and instead of colorful wings, acids and fats lurked in my stomach.

He was introduced to me by a colleague because he had worked with him before. He is the shy, laid-back type of gent. He looked like a child stuck in that body of boulders. His eyes were round and glistening and his smile, contagious. It was my third day in the area but our first day meeting. He toured me around, just the two of us walking in the hallway. It was a tranquil night where only our footsteps and a few snores and scratching of bedsheets could be heard aside from his soft, masculine voice and my short timid responses. I described it to my friends as "tour around the world" where you just want to savor the moment, every step, every word, and every glance. I don't know when I started to like him but it could be traced to that fateful night.

After the tour, we settled inside the station. We sat next to each other and he taught me things about work. After a brief orientation, he showed me his feel-at-home supplies. He had containers of coffee and sugar, packs of creamer, teaspoons, and even offered me his mug to drink on. He told me to just get what I want, to feel at ease. Every night, we talked about random things like life, family, his adventures, our dreams (separately) and little on relationships and love. He used to read newspaper articles at the station. I usually sat in front of him and wrote notes. Conversation was always present. I told him about me working as a part-time tutor before being hired at the hospital. He asked me what I teach and how I handle the kids, if I get annoyed or pissed if they're being brats. Then I would ask him about his work experience. After an hour or two of conversing, he would go to the other room to rest.

There was this one night when I was counting the tablets and capsules and he was reading a newspaper beside me. We talked about relationships. Then there was this awkward moment of silence. No one spoke or tried to open a new topic after my short "ah" response. I continued counting and he continued reading. It was awkward and no one dared to break the silence for a few seconds. Then he stood from his chair and went to get/check something in the cabinet and took the initiative to start a new topic. It was awkward enough for me to want to disappear from my seat but good thing he cut the string of dead air.

I was awkward, he was too. I used to like him. He likes someone else.

I learned some things from that one month. It's to enjoy the present, be thankful for what is there but never holding it tight, to move on and to accept, to let go. :) 
I learned to climb. Climb and conquer my mountains of self-doubts and second best. I may be bruised but the view was breathtaking.