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"?

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.  

Beauty in the Mess

June 15 2011

I was looking for my book last night in the storage room. The room itself was in a mess. There were books on the floor and boxes scattered. I struggled my way to the bookshelf and began searching for my book. As i was rummaging the shelf, I bumped my knee into things and they fell. I was going to ignore them when something hard hit my foot. I looked at it and there it was, the book I was searching for.

Sometimes the very thing we’re looking for is in the mess we’re trying to avoid; it takes pain for us to finally see and acknowledge it.

God told me that night that we could find beauty in a mess. In Him, there is beauty in the mess. He found beauty in us.

And he asked me, “Do you have to get hurt just for you to look at it?”

Teenage angst: Rights

I was on my way to sign out when I saw a group of teenagers, say high schoolers, in a commotion. Two girls were crying and the boys were trying to comfort them. From what I've heard, there's a misunderstanding within the group. I think it was about the girls having no role in their play because of reason I didn't overhear. And then I realized...

When we're young, we tend to think that fighting for our own rights is the most courageous thing we could do. Everything is a big deal to us. We tend to think we're always right and we must be heard. But as we grow older and become more mature, as we let God mold us, as we love more, our rights become less of importance and we listen more to people's opinions. We learn the therapeutic use of silence when our pride wants to shout in rage. We think of ourselves less and more of others. We give more and take less. We let go and move on. We keep going.

Still

I still like hotdog. I still sing '90s songs. I still use warm water in bath. I am still left handed.

The word still is often unnoticed.
Tonight, while listening to a song that I am still playing right now, the word "still" became a big word.

There is still hope. This means that hope never left. It is there though maybe hidden somewhere. It can be found because it didn't disappear. Hope is still there.

I still love you. Love never departed. Love is there. When God whispered, "I still love you", it means that God never did not love us. His love for us didn't disappear like smoke.Still. It remains unchanged.

The Last Piece of Timtam

Last Saturday, I cried. I cried after months of tearless cheeks. I realized that the reason why I was too lazy to do my quiet time with God, why I stopped really praying and believing in the goodness of the Lord, why I felt tired and disconnected, is because I was bitter at God. I was bitter at Him for putting me in situations or places where I do not like. I thought, "Ok God..I can understand that You don't place me where I want, but to put me where I don't want? That's not fair". I didn't realize the bitterness grew and blocked my view of God and distorted my perspective of Him. The God that became in my head was far from the real God I knew when I was a child, far from the God in the Bible

Last Saturday, realizing that I became bitter somehow freed me. I became honest to God of how I have been feeling, knowing He understood and will always understand. Besides, He knows my heart. He knows me more than I know myself. He sees every corner of my heart but His love remains unchanged. I was scared to be honest with God thinking He'll love me less or leave me alone but that's not God, that's not His character.

And so, God used my discipler to encourage me. God is creative, He used the last piece of TimTam

The last piece of TimTam was at the other end. Being Filipinos, we like to leave the last piece. We don't usually eat the last piece unless prodded. But what's the difference of the last piece of TimtTm with the rest? Nothing. It tastes the same, looks the same, weighs the same. It is the same with the rest of the deliciously sweet Double coat TimTams. The thing is, the pack of TimTam was opened at the other end. The last piece of TimTam wouldn't be the last piece if the pack was opened at the last piece end. No TimTam is lesser than the other. They are equal and they are all sweet TimTams.

We are equal in God's eyes, equally the apple of His eye.
Don't ever think you're the lesser last piece. You may be the last piece but you're not anything less.

God is sweeter than millions of TimTams combined!
Thank You, Jesus :)

The tree in my stomach!

source: http://weheartit.com/entry/50694424

This.

 

Yes, I think alone times are necessary. It lets you see yourself more. And I believe alone times are best to be spent with God. 

Being jobless has its advantage also :)

Thank God for taking your job away along with its busy schedules so you could spend more time alone with God, just basking in His presence. 

The Loss I Thought I Will Never Mourn

Every morning after I pass my pee, I would go to specific corner in my house to greet a silent but day-changing dweller, the weighing scale. I tap one of the round metals on either four corners and wait for the "0.0" to appear on the small horizontal screen and the moment I step on the glass board is the moment my diaphragm stops moving. I hold my breath thinking inhaling air would increase the number on the horizontal screen which I dreaded. That's how I feel every morning. I face the weighing scale's derision at the start of my day. If my weight increases from yesterday's, I would not eat a hefty breakfast and would "punish" myself for overeating yesternight. I would be a pauper during breakfast but then I would starve at the middle of the day so I would eat like a prince at lunch and a king with a big appetite at night because I feel "deprived". So the cycle goes on, an unhealthy, misguided cycle. 

Why do I let the weighing scale dictate my day? Why do we want to be thin...thinner?
Society, the media, the world, made us believe that if only we can have a Coca-cola body then we're beautiful. Any dress would look good on, any angle on the picture would be perfect, the skinny jeans would fit, oxford shoes would match, swimsuit would be "legal" to wear, heads would turn, and the lies go on. Why do we buy those lies? Why do we let the standard of the world shape us? Why do we fear the scale and turn away disgusted at ourselves when the weighing scale shouts "FAT" with the numbers it shows? I like this picture.. Why do numbers make us cry? Why do they define us?

The villain..

I wanted to be thinner. I wanted to weigh 115pounds and then I would be contented and would feel good about myself. But I doubt that. There's always just a little more. Just a little more weight loss and I would be ok, just a little more tan, just a little straighter, just a little whiter, just a little taller, just a little fairer. Just a little more is not just a little. It's a lot and it goes deep into your system and develops ungrateful, discontented, greedy, insecure heart.

We always compare ourselves with people who have a little more. They are thinner, fairer, richer, etc. We see ourselves as someone inferior. We doubt ourselves and throw away our value to the dogs for them to feast on. Media has warped our view on ourselves. It poisoned the little girls' dreams and turned them into nightmares of self-obsession, insecurity, envy, discontentment, low self-esteem.

I still struggle with wanting to be more acceptable to the "society". But I want to stop trying to fit in a box I am not meant to live.

I want to encourage myself and you to stop seeing ourselves so small and not good enough. We have to stop wearing the skimpy clothes where we could hardly breathe and move, to throw the skinny jeans and stilettos that's holding us from  doing pirouette. Stop depriving yourself, stop unhealthy diet that's sipping your energy for fun. Beauty is not on the outside. I still believe and would always want to believe that beauty is on the inside; it starts on the inside and reflects on the outside.

This should be on every weighing scale, don't you agree?

Don't let the weighing scale weigh you down! Don't allow the tape measure to make a corpse out of you. Don't let the society define your worth.

Find your worth in Jesus. He died for you. He saved you. He didn't die on the cross so you could paddle in the puddle with pigs. Jesus has come that we may have life, and have it to the full (John 10:10). See yourself in God's perspective. You are the apple of God's eye! (Zechariah 2:8, Psalm 17:8)

Instead of exhausting yourself on being like the Victoria Secret's angels, be a Proverbs 31 woman! I am sure that when your Coca-cola body inflates, your wrinkles show, and your arthritis attacks, your character remains. And I am certain that every man wants a wife worth keeping for a lifetime, not a barbie doll stuck in a cabinet for display and then thrown in the trash when stained.

Bodies will decay but not character and the relationships nurtured.

Be beYOUtiful. Lose weight because you want to be healthy for yourself and God. You are beautiful because you are fearfully and wonderfully made by God (Psalm 139:14). To say that you're ugly and a reject is same as calling God a fake artist and a liar. Believe God when He says your beautiful.

My prayer for you is that you will see how much God loves you through His Son Jesus.
His love defines you.

Please wait....

I've been waiting a lot lately.

Last week, I waited for my friend to arrive for half an hour (not sure haha). I woke up and traveled early. I didn't have a decent sleep and I waited. I started waiting at dawn until the sun was up greeting me a warm day ahead. 

The other day, I waited for my mom for an hour. She joined the christmas party at work and was seated at the front row. She asked me to sit with her but I didn't want to because of reasons I am too lazy to enumerate here. So I waited for her with a cup of hot chocolate, alone. I was hoping to immerse myself with good music but my Ipod ran out of battery. So there was me at the middle of the festive night, sitting alone, sipping her hot chocolate. It was tiring and melancholic.

Yesterday, I waited again for my mom at the grocery store and street corner. It was tiring and irritating. My eyebrows almost crossed each other and the corners of my lips nearly touched my chin. People were afraid to be near me thinking I would explode anytime.I think I really would.

I don't like waiting. Sometimes, I loathe it. It's boring and a waste of my time.
I don't like waiting in line. I'd rather hunger and thirst than to wait in line at the nearest food store.

I'd rather not get what I want than wait.

Yeah, that's pride welling up. I realized I have this self-entitlement that I should not wait.
I am impatient. I want to get things now and if I don't, I'd whine and give up.
I see how proud I am, how little I give, how lazy I am to love just because it's inconvenient for me.

Love is patient.

Love waits and perseveres. It stays. It forgives. It understands.
  
I hate it when people make me wait but God waits on me and stays even when I ran a hundred times, even when I'm too lazy to talk to Him, even when I just simply don't want to love people. He waits, stays, and never gave up on me even when I did.

Stuttering tutor

I want extra income so I tried online tutoring. I am to teach english to koreans via the internet. Today was my  interview and it was so awkward! I stuttered and words couldn't come out of my mouth properly. I didn't know what to say and I suck big time! A boring online tutor I will be :((
I hid my face because I look so haggard! The interview lasted for only 20 minutes.
It was a disaster, I tell you haha
Tomorrow is the demo and I don't know what to teach or say, I haven't picked a topic yet. I am thinking of a quote the student can explain..
I am not confident with my verbal communication skill, I can only write :| But I need to practice for my IELTS. I want to work outside the country and New Zealand's what I am eyeing for haha
*sigh*

Will be a tutor again? An English tutor this time.

the cliche in love: i love you with your flaws

It's so easy to say we love people with their flaws if their flaws don't hurt us.
We're so quick to say, 'it's OK if you're neither pretty nor healthy, it's OK if you're always late or you cook bland foods, it's OK if you move slow..I'm OK with your flaws'. But what if the person's flaws are something that hurts you? What if she does something unconsciously that hurt you? Can you forgive and love still? Or give up and say 'it's too tiring to love this person because I'm hurt'.

Let's admit it : we're selfish. When something is inconvenient for us, when we're hurt, we stop and drop everything and let the relationship we said we 'love' and 'treasure' shatter to the ground. We always see ourselves as the victim, we say 'I've loved too much, I've given too much'

Why is it like that? Where's the love in 1Corinthians 13?

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

(here's another version of the verse from English standard version)

⁴ Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant ⁵ or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;^[a] 6 it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things,endures all things.

⁸ Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away.

Love is enduring the pain it comes with. Nobody said love is pain-free. We decorated love so much that when we see the ugly, tattered side of the person we claimed to love, we step back and run away in disgust. Everyone is flawed and that is the loud booming truth.

“I don’t know a perfect person.

 I only know flawed people who are still worth loving.”

 John Green

Isn't love embracing the good with the bad? Didn't Jesus embrace us when we're stinking in sin?

If Jesus, the Son of God, gave everything even his life to save you, nothing we give is too much, even love.

Adventure, can you hear me?

Adventure...does it exist?

I was watching a historical romantic Korean drama about a girl who disguises herself  as a boy to enter a prestigious school exclusively for, yes you guessed it right, boys. Her desire to learn and to change her life drove her to do such act. In the drama, our heroine encounters many challenges - triumphs and defeats. But a protagonist is never alone. She has 3 young lads along with her in her adventures inside the school and in life. There, I said it. Adventure. That word popped into my mind while watching the drama. Her life's full of adventures..not a dull minute. Well yes because it's fiction but still I want to believe real lives are more colorful than what we see in dramas.

And so a question was raised. Adventure? Does it still exist? 

 After watching, I saw my dad downstairs on his usual place. He was sitting at the far end of the table facing his laptop watching videos/news. My dad used to have lots of adventures but not now. He stays at home, watches news, washes my uniforms, watches news, sometimes watches movies, finds job in the internet, and stays home most of the week. What is adventure for him?

I look at my life. Nothing seems to move and it's not also being still. It feels like I am stuck somewhere in this endless universe. My life seems to be in a box labeled "work". I spend 5 days a week working. Work is not hard, it not just it. I want to love what I do. I want to work in such a way that even if I'm not paid with a hefty amount, I would still work and give my 100% because I love it.

I think my life is plain. Adventure seems a far off destination I could not go.
But then I squeezed my brain to bring to surface my lost memoir of adventures.

As a kid, adventure was as simple as running along the corridor with your friends, collecting newspapers for school project, running in the rain, cheering for your team, cleaning the classroom, going to new places outside your city, boat ride in less than a minute, getting your dream clothes for a very low price, dissecting a frog, walking late on the street, discovering a personal space at school where only you know, sneaking to get a glimpse of your crush, and the list goes on.

As a kid, everything is an adventure. Where does that spirit go? I have yet to uncover. Hopefully I could find it again. Finding it seems like the start of an adventure, don't you think? :-)

When it was too far to walk

I miss jeepney rides.

I started riding jeepney alone when I was in 2nd year high school when my dad flew to a distant country to work. We sold our car because no one knew how to drive except him.
I remember that day when I first rode my country's original, the jeepney. It was my friend's birthday and her house, the venue, was just a jeepney ride away from mine. I went there with them from our school but had to go home alone. They "para" or stopped the passing jeepney for me and told the driver to drop me to our street. I rode and was silently observing the people. The jeepney was packed you couldn't hardly move an inch. There's a deafening sound from the stereo and some head-popping-feet-tapping people. I could smell the perfume and sweat of the persons beside me. It was quite an adventure for a 15-year old me.

I started riding jeepneys everyday in college. My school was 3 jeepney rides away from our home. It's a 45-minute travel. I enjoyed it most when there's music playing, not the loud ones. Jeepney ride gives me time to ponder on things and to observe different people. It gives me a sense of tranquility somehow. I feel like I'm up for an adventure because several times had I been lost riding a jeepney. There were times the jeepney would go on a different path from the usual that I am familiar with.Sometimes it would take me farther from my destination that I had to take another ride back.  There were times when countless jeepneys would pass me by and none of them would stop because they were full. In some days I would squeezed myself in just to get home. It was quite an adventure really, the four years I rode the jeepney.

Then I started working somewhere very near in our home. My workplace is just a 10-minute walk from home and when there are lazy days I don't want to walk, I just ride a tricycle and in less than 5minutes I am home.

Last week I went to see a dermatologist in Makati. A different city from where I live. I was with my parents and it was 2 jeepney rides away. The first ride was not very fun because it was short and it was full of people and there's no decent music. The second brought back memories. There were few passengers and there's good music. The sun had set and it was cold. I felt the cool air sweeping my cheeks.

I miss those days. The days where you're just waiting to arrive at your destination while enjoying the view and the sweet breeze. The days where silence is your companion.

I miss being still in this busy world.

The issue within the issue of second best

The issue within the issue of second best.

Have you ever felt second best? I do and it sticks to me like a leech sucking my joy away. I've always thought I couldn't separate from that leech because 'it's the people around me who makes me second best'.

Yes, people may have intentionally or unintentionally made us feel second best, that we don't amount to anything hence we don't deserve the best (even the good  sometimes), but the real issue, the real deal is really (I'm using so much 'real' here haha) within ourselves. Because we let people define our worth? Partly yes. But maybe the real reason, the root of our insecurities and second best issue is the way we look at ourselves. We see ourselves, unconsciously or consciously, as someone deserving the best - the best treatment, the best anything - and when we don't get that, we get frustrated, feel mistreated, unloved, we begin to see ourselves as the victim.

How we measure ourselves affect how we perceive one's action towards us. The problem in the issue of second best is that we focus too much on ourselves; beneath that victim facade lies a villain that we created in and for ourselves. We're selfish, self-centered people, by nature, hiding in the pitiful mask of i-am-treated-second-best.

The remedy is to take the focus off ourselves, besides we're not the center of the universe.
Focus on the center of everything, the Creator of the universe and everything that existed, exists, will exist, and nonexistent, focus on Jesus.

pimples and more...pimples

Lately my pimples are popping every day! I tried applying almost everything in the cosmetic shops and beauty stores but nothing seems to work. I was getting really frustrated that I wanted to spend all my allowance for my face's sake! Even the patients were telling me that I have zits! (The zits are ripe for harvest!) My coworker was telling me the same and I was losing my confidence.

Image from ayearwithoutmirrors.com

My friends who know my life story were telling me that stress is the culprit! I couldn't agree more!

But as I am writing this, I know I couldn't blame everything on my stressor. I believe everything has its purpose. Yes, even zits.

A few months ago I wrote that beauty inside eventually will reflect outside. Those pimples, frizzy hair, or extra pounds don't define a person. Now, I have to remind myself of that! haha

I know that God wouldn't allow my pimples to flourish on my face without his knowing and permission. He knows every zit and blackhead on my face and he intricately placed them there for a purpose grander than I could think and that is for his glory. Right now, I have to put my security on God that no matter what people say about me is not as important as what God says about me. I want to stop focusing on myself and start looking on God. I want to saturate my mind with what God has to say through His Word rather than what people say about how I don't 'pass' as pretty to them. I want to stop comparing myself to other people and start following Jesus :-) I will embrace myself and everything in it. Jesus embraced me first with everything in me :-)

 ''Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.''. - Thessalonians 5:16-18

I may not have flawless skin, zit-free face' or coca-cola body but I am beautiful. K?
My Dad says it first :-)

And you are beautiful :-)

seeing beyond

Three brothers and a handicapped mother on an improvised wheelchair arrived at the emergency room of the psychiatric hospital. All of them was poorly groomed and barely had a bath in a week. The wheelchair of the mother was a recycled one with a monoblock chair as its seat. The mother has wounds and she has edematous legs. And if that scenario wasn't enough to move you to tears, the three brothers were all mentally ill. No sane person brought them to the hospital. The mother has poor eyesight and she was waving crumpled paper money trying to hand it to one of her sons to pay the ER fee. Our head nurse was moved to tears. The psychiatrists interviewed the brothers and admitted the two, the most stable one was sent home to take care of their aged mother. Our head nurse gave them free medicines for continuous treatment at home.

The mother looked in pain. She was cold and was looking for her socks which weren't there in the first place.

The scene was heartbreaking. How could a family have such fate? I asked God how such things could happen and yes I didn't get a definite answer but just this: God loves them and He knows them and where they are and he cares...definitely.

Love changes...

I often hear people say "Just love the person, it'll change him". Yes, there's nothing love can't reach, even the most notorious person can be moved by love. We are used to hearing stories of a bad-guy-turned-good stories because someone loved them despite of who they were. But as I try to live that "love your enemies" command by Jesus, I see the more that it's never an irony. Jesus really knew what he was teaching. Yes, it may seem absurd at first. But you see, when we love a person, he doesn't change immediately. Sometimes it may take years or a lifetime to see the change. But I think the reason why we should love our enemies is not really to change the person but us. You see, love changes not only the recipient of it but all the more the giver of it. I don't know with you but for me that's how love works. The people I love don't always respond in a mutual way. Sometimes they remain the same until they're out of my life but the love I give never fails to change me..even in the slightest way possible.

And oh, don't stress yourself if the person doesn't change, just keep loving. It's not really us who change a person but God :) I daresay my friend, keep loving; God loves you and that's where your source of love should be. Besides, God's vessel of love never runs dry. :)

“Now there is a final reason I think that Jesus says, "Love your enemies." It is this: that love has within it a redemptive power. And there is a power there that eventually transforms individuals. Just keep being friendly to that person. Just keep loving them, and they can’t stand it too long. Oh, they react in many ways in the beginning. They react with guilt feelings, and sometimes they’ll hate you a little more at that transition period, but just keep loving them. And by the power of your love they will break down under the load. That’s love, you see. It is redemptive, and this is why Jesus says love. There’s something about love that builds up and is creative. There is something about hate that tears down and is destructive. So love your enemies. (from "Loving Your Enemies")”
― Martin Luther King Jr.

pride rock is eroding

Our senior nurse had to manage the other ward with no nurse on duty so she left our ward since there were 2 of us "contractual" nurses on duty. We had the head nurse on the other ward as our senior nurse. I am not in good terms with that sir (I don't know why) because there was this one incident wherein my senior nurse didn't report on duty so he was a nurse-reliever in the ward and he didn't even go to check how our patients were; I didn't see a shadow of him for that 8 hours and it was a toxic day because we had a weak patient. So back to the story, sir was basically our nurse so we should report to him whatever incident happened in the ward. Our "original" senior nurse always checked on us and we reported to her the "significant" events in the ward. It was 12:50pm when one of our patient slipped and hit her right elbow on the tiled bench at the pantry. Our original nurse was in the ward that time so we told her about the accident and instructed us on what to do. We referred the patient to the physician on duty through phone and he instructed us to make an accident report and bring the patient's chart to him and to just observe the patient. We accomplished the report and was on our way to sir when one of our attendants called our attention and told us to hand her the chart immediately because the van she called was already there. We gave her the chart and she went to the physician. We were hesitant if we should inform sir because we didn't have the report and the chart but in the end we did because he's still our senior nurse. We went to his ward and told him about the accident. He was a bit shocked that everything was almost done - the report, referral, doctor's order. Fast forward. The attendant came back with the chart and doctor's order in it. I carried out the order while my partner decked the order. Sir read the report and told me to add this and that (accident report accomplished. proper authorities notified). I was hesitant because in our training, the assistant chief nurse told us that those are not needed because that paper is already the accident report and that it is understood that the report would be sent to proper authorities since it has the patient's informant's address on it. I wanted to told him that but I know it's just my pride that I didn't want to look wrong. I added what he said but I was really $^%$%# (couldn't think of a word). My pride was hurt; I looked like an incompetent fool and I knew that I was right. I really didn't like the feeling and I was in rage deep down. I didn't hate sir but I didn't like him at all. He gave me cold shoulders (and I don't know why! poor eye contact noted!) and I felt like he displaced to me whatever issue he has. There was so much anger and pride in my heart. I said things about him which were disrespectful and inappropriate. I was mad, really mad because my right was violated or so I thought.

Fast forward.

I was having my quiet time with God and I was still bothered and couldn't let go of what happened. Then God convicted me and revealed that there's so much pride in my heart. I think too much of myself, think too highly of myself that I felt violated.
God reminded me that it's Jesus who lives in me and it's not me anymore so I should stop focusing on myself. It was hard to accept. Me? a proud person? ang bait ko kaya sabi ng madami. Tsaka tama naman ako e.. But God told me, "O anu yan? Hindi ba pagiging proud yan?"  It was a blow in the face. I profess that I am a follower of Christ but I don't live His life.
I asked God to strip me off my pride and to help me unload my anger, to help me forgive sir and myself and to let it go, to surrender this to Him.
Right now I don't know if I arrived to that place where I totally let go of this incident's baggage on the Cross but I really want to. I think I can only know that when I see him tomorrow.

I am amazed at how God loves. He sees my heart, every nook and cranny of my being. I am in awe at how Jesus can live in me with all these junks. But then as I am writing this, God reminded me that He redeemed me through Jesus' blood and that Jesus' righteousness is what He sees in me. Yes He knows every detail of me, every part of me, but he loves me.

In response to His love, I want to live for God, really live for God. It won't be easy; it is impossible. I've accepted Christ as my Lord and Savior since I was young and my journey's not all smooth. There were bumps, uphills, and downhills but as I looked back I saw how God was with me through all those. I am still standing today because of His grace and goodness. He is with me. Jesus is in me.

Psalm 8:3-4

When I consider your heavens,
    the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
    which you have set in place, 

what is mankind that you are mindful of them,

    human beings that you care for them?