Fight or fold.

I don’t know where to begin. Somehow, I think that’s a good start. Or maybe not. I don’t know what questions I must ask, who I should ask them to, or if I should even ask these questions. A few days ago, I decided on a whim to stop waiting on someone. People would be surprised to know I was even waiting on someone. I didn’t even know I was until I took some time to reflect on how I’d been acting in front of this one guy and all I could tell myself was, “girl, you have a lot of expectations for that guy. Why are you waiting on him?”

So yes, it seems like I’ve been waiting on some guy I didn’t even consider in the first place. I used to think that after getting my heart broken some 4 years ago, and after ‘surviving’ that ordeal 2 years now, that I was okay. That my heart was stronger, my emotions in check. My last relationship broke my heart to many thousand pieces. I was never really the same after that but I took in the pain and the wounds of that one relationship and moved forward. It was a process for me, as any heartbreak is to all of us. Some moments of denial, anger, feelings of betrayal and distrust, feelings of rejection and then numbness. It took me two years to come to terms with the loss of that relationship, but I dealt with it as best as I could. I certainly thought my heart was stronger.

But somehow I think that even with everything we’ve been through in the past, there’s just no one way to prepare our hearts against heartbreak, any form of it. It always feels new and foreign to us, and it always hurts. What I’m going through now doesn’t compare to what I’ve gone through before, but even then, it hurts. It really hurts. And we are again sitting in that same place of pain and rejection, asking the same questions we asked many years back. “At what point did he stop trying? At what point did everything start falling apart?”

I guess I just can’t reconcile things now, the way they’re quickly unfolding before my eyes. Where I used to matter to this one guy, and where I used to have his heart, suddenly I’m left hanging. He wouldn’t even try fighting for it even if I begged him to. He wouldn’t even TRY.

So perhaps I should start there. I should start asking, “why won’t you even try?” I’ve seen this repeated in my life many times and I always end up asking, “won’t somebody even give it a try? Am I not worth fighting for?” They fold. That’s how it has always been.

 

All things work for the good

The bible teaches us a fundamental truth about the way circumstances play out in our lives. “All things work together for the good…” Romans 8:28. It takes faith to believe in that.

Last night, after deciding that I won’t be able to join my friends on a climb I organized two weeks back prior to being hospitalized, I reflected on this. And in a cubicle, at that. Everything that could go wrong in an event went wrong. It was the 85^th anniversary of our family optical and the project that Rayjohn, Keren and I were working on for about a week didn’t turn out well. In fact, nothing turned out well and I was feeling pretty much helpless. Had I not been sick, maybe, just maybe, I could have done something, even with my limited technical skills. Had I been more on top of things, that is, had I not been lax and sloppy and had I prioritized this ahead of time, maybe things would have turned out better. We each have a part in the blame, but there wasn’t anything to do anymore. I went inside a cubicle, prayed for strength both for Rayjohn and Keren, and just heavily relied on the word of God that “all things work for the good.” 

I woke up past 7 this morning with two messages. One message read, “We’re already in Baguio.Sana andito ka.” Another read, “We’re on our way to Cubao. Sayang you cannot join us in our climb.” Two texts from two groups of friends telling me my presence is sorely missed on activities I am never absent from. Had I been stubborn, I would have ignored the advices of people who care for my health and I would have gone on that bus to Baguio, climb Pulag, go through the killer trail, chill in the hypothermic atmosphere, and enjoy myself without a care in the world. The better judgment was to stay behind because, as Luz said, “Pulag is always there.” And my health is a top priority. The fact that I’m home and chose to miss out on things that come second nature to me, almost without even justifying, means that I know full well I need to recover and be healthy. And I need to slow down and reflect. 

“All things work together for the good.” It doesn’t mean that right away we understand they do. In fact, so many things don’t make sense to me now. Like, why I have a condition that came this early in my life as a single girl. Why, just when I’m no longer working, I’ve been sent to the ER more than 5 times already. Why, out of everyone in the family, the genetic diseases are capitalizing on me like I have a sign that says, “choose her. She’s the perfect patient.” It also doesn’t make sense to me that things could drastically change in a year. You know what I feel? I feel like I’m carrying a ticking time bomb in my body, waiting just to explode. 

But the second part of that verse goes, “to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.” And to add to that, the next verse following Psalm 139:13-14 reads, “all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”

While it isn’t so rainbow-colorful right now in my world, the flowers aren’t blooming, the trees are not swaying, the mountains are distant, to us who love God and are called according to his purpose, hope still remains and joy is not only promised but actualized and lived out. The joy of what? The joy of knowing that what I’m going through right now has been ordained for me, written by God, for his purpose. And all things work out for good in the end. It’s not just one of those random situations where I ask the heavens why and I get no reply. No, faith is “being sure of things not seen.” Things will work out in the end; God said it himself. And I believe in that with absolute certainty.

Things didn’t work out well last night, but you know what happened? Help came in the form of my lolo who did his version of the timeline. He summarized what was supposed to have come out in that video, and in a very entertaining fashion. In the end, the people still got the story, just in another way. As for my condition? Well, things aren’t looking bright yet. More tests next week, but I remain on the side of God. 

 

Life in the ER

The good news is, I’m out of the hospital. The bad news is, I’m still sick. The last 72 hours were spent going back and forth in the hospital, running tests, waiting for lab results, being injected here and there. I was glad I didn’t have to be admitted long in the hospital. It’s bad enough that I’m sick; being there just makes me feel sicker.

It all started Monday night during the leader’s Meeting of BSF. We were kneeling on the floor, praying, when I felt it. I felt the same pain I felt about 3 months ago, the same pain that rushed me to the ER many times. By 8:30, I was in terrible pain. I got home, took the first medicine I know to usually cure me of this discomfort, but by midnight, I was still squirming in pain. The next thing I know, I was waking Keren up to get me a cab and rush me to the ER. 

The same scene unfolded before me: nurses wheeling me down to the primary care. Me waiting in the cold. Me being injected some pain killers. Me being checked by the physician. And then waiting some more. After 9 hours, I was back home, feeling much better. But it was only the start of it. The first food I ate, I ended up vomiting. I was running a very high fever and couldn’t stand up without feeling the need to head to the CR. And then another trip to the ER.

The third day was the most relaxed for me. I was in Makati Med, and my good friend Dotty, who was also in the hospital with her mom, came by to see me. I underwent some ultrasound tests to find out the condition of Kidneys, ureter and bladder. And then it was a trip to the OB.

When results came out, the first thing I did was to email my mom and tell her everything. It’s in times like these I wish my mom were here. She would understand what I was going through. Reading that paper sort of made me numb for a while. I wouldn’t say I was shocked, but I am a little overwhelmed. I ended up praying again and reciting Psalm 139:13-14. My God can make things whole and healed. 

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

 

When the fire cools down

I could never forget one of the harshest truths my guy friends told me face to face one night as I sat crying, waiting for a logical explanation. I was 18, elsewhere it was Lovapalooza, and my drunk friends were giving me some advice, which to my mind, was defying the laws of intoxication. But I listened. 

“He never wanted you for that; he just wanted…” 

Of course they didn’t say it that way; drunk people never sound so grammatically correct. These are just my attempts at paraphrasing the surprisingly sound advice my grade school friends gave me. And drunk people are brutally frank, totally honest. 

Up until that moment, I never realized how naïve I was and oblivious to a guy’s true intentions. Blame it on the fact that I hardly dated and if I did, I always thought we’d end up married. I had the first-boyfriend-no-more syndrome. I believed in absolutes. I believed, generally, that if you do decide to date, if you do get into a relationship, you do so with the guy you know you’ll get married to, no backing out. First-and-last boyfriend, fairy tales and happy endings. It still happens. 

It came as no surprise then that the early demise of my first dating experience broke my heart into many thousand pieces. I was devastated, for months depressed, and I never looked at relationships the same way after. Where was the prince and why did he become a frog? What were those promises of sunsets for, those rare serenades and songs of sweet sunshowers? My prince of light became a prince of darkness. 

I’ve gone past that teenage romance. I was young, but somehow the lesson stuck: Men always put their best foot forward to win your heart; whether or not they do that in the long run, only time will tell. So I have to be on my guard. 

Now as my views on relationships matured, this lesson remained constant. It made me more cautious, more observant to a fault, because honestly, I want to spare myself another heart break. I know I couldn’t hold on to absolutes anymore, but I could still hold on to lessons tested over time, one of which is the value of reading a man’s true motives.  And I’ve often come to realize that one of the best ways to do this is to find out if they will stick even as the fire cools down. 

What I mean is this. A guy likes you at first. He finds something in you that’s attractive, something that makes him want to get to you know deeper. He engages you in conversations, he becomes friends with you, and he gives subtle or maybe not so subtle hints that he likes you. A friendship blooms. As a girl, you like the attention. You like that he tries to know you, so you give him that chance. You talk about faith because faith is important to you. You mention books because you love reading. You write about your climbing adventures because that’s what you do. You tell him you don’t eat pork so that he’ll know what to order on a date. You’ll ask a favor from him to fall in line with you, because this line spells fulfilling a dream to see your basketball idol. Little things. You make yourself known little by little. 

And then, as the friendship develops, the big things come. You talk about why you don’t date someone of a different religion. You talk about ideas in books you’ve read. Your climbing notes reveal your fears and the fact that you expect a lot from male climbers. You confide in him about your diet-related conditions. You’ll ask favors from him, like buying you Gatorade because you’re feeling very sick. Big things. And that’s when things start changing. 

He settles. He becomes “content” with a setup. He no longer pursues you with as much fire as he used to, with as much inflamed desire. When he came to know the real you, the fire sizzles. Is it because he’s afraid he’ll get consumed? That he was getting more than he bargained for? Did it overwhelm him, that fact that this is who you are? Was he just there to light the match, play with fire, and when it’s too hot, to extinguish it? Like I said, a man will always put his best foot forward as he tries to get to know you. His motives will always show in the end. 

I’m 26, I still believe in happy endings, and at this point, anyone who won’t walk across the fire for me does not cut it anymore. We owe it to ourselves to be as honest as possible, and I think it’s about time people stop playing with fire. A relationship is a serious thing, not a teenage drama. If you start lighting a match, COMMIT TO IT. Don’t stay on the surface. Invest. Dig deep. Pursue a relationship. BIG THINGS. 

I don’t settle for setups. I don’t even settle for coffee dates or movies, if at the end of all these, I am reduced only to a casual affair and to a routine. When the fire has cooled down and you see me as I am, stripped of labels you had on me, and you are now emptied of all your preconceived notions about me, when you now have the chance to know who I really am, will you stay? Or will I hear again my friends’ advice many years ago, “He never wanted you for that; he just wanted…” 

It’s heartbreaking, this playing with fire. When it all cools down, what next?

 

Not a wall post away

Life these days can be summed up in Facebook statuses. “I feel bored, what to do?” “I just got my license!” “I want to climb soon.” “I’m craving for donuts.” From the truly superficial, mundane, random statuses we post, to the re-evaluating, life-in-a-dilemma kind. “Giving you up is the hardest thing. What next?” “LOOKING FOR WORK.” “Took a big leap of faith, this is it.” Yes, life is summed up in those few words for us and through them, we get to know how each one is doing. But I wonder, with all this free access to information, is it making any of us closer? 

One of these days, I might just shut down my Facebook. I’m serious. I do feel that it has made us more impersonal, more complacent, and more dependent. Or maybe it’s just how you utilize the tool. Gone are the days when we genuinely greet a person on his birthday, because thanks to Facebook, we are forever without excuse of missing it on our calendar. That is not to say that I don’t rely on it for that purpose. But I do genuinely greet people I wanna greet and I’m never bad with birthdays.

And gone are the days when we genuinely check up on a friend. These days, all I have to do is check a friend’s wall, spend a minute or two browsing her albums, scroll down for recent heart break hints, and I would have already done myself a big favor. “At least I know what she’s been up to these days.”

But is that even enough? Over Christmas, I expected, as I normally did, to get greetings from friends. I swear, there was a time when I’d wake up on Christmas day and my phone screen reads, “inbox full; please delete.” (Okay, those were the obsolete phones.) How about, “48 messages.” I’d be lucky to even get that number of friends to greet me. Hours before  the actual new year, people are rushing to send in a text for fear that by that evening, cell phone signals will be too jammed to even receive a single message. Now, I’m shaking my phone, trying to see if I don’t have signal, and I’m wondering what’s wrong because I have not gotten a single message. Is it that bad?

I love wall posts. I do. I just don’t want our relationships with people to be limited nor constrained by them. I want friends to pick up their phone and call me when they’re in trouble, when they need to talk, when they have good news —news they would share with me first before the rest of the Facebook community. In fact, I want them to meet with me face to face. Over coffee. Or a spa date. I wish we could go back to those days when we value telephone calls which we fight over with our sister. “Ano ka ba, ang tagal mo na dyan. Ako naman!” I wish we could go back to those days when our first impulse to checking up on a friend is calling to meet with her and not her wall post. Texting isn’t even the technological savior I’m referring to. It’s nice to get a text from a friend. You know what’s nicer? To have them come over and talk with you in person. 

I guess what I’m saying here is, we’ve lost the ‘personal, physical touch’ of relating with our friends and family. If how a person is doing is summed up in one short sentence, then it’s definitely up for anyone’s interpretation. “I’m good.” “I’m hurt.” “I’m sad.” Her current status ends up being conveyed through a short sentence and yet I don’t even get the whole story. So in a way, we know less and less about a person even with how open she shares her life. The sad truth is, the less we see the other person, the less personal the interaction. And I don’t like that. I wish we were more intentional. 

Our lives right now may be summed up in very short sentences, but our relationships nor the effort we give to them, shouldn’t be so constrained that way. Fight the impulse to be ‘impersonal’. I’m not a wall post away.

 

Fall by the wayside

I chanced upon the Facebook page of a guy I used to date back in college. From the looks of it, he’s happily married, has kids, a family guy. Seeing him brought back memories of the time we used to date.

I remember the first time I met him. He had asked for my number from my friend and he also asked to be introduced. I didn’t like him at first because he drinks and smokes. As a general rule, I tried to stay away from men with vices. Not only am I turned off by it; as a Christian, I also couldn’t agree nor tolerate the lifestyle. When he was courting me, he put his best foot forward. He tried to change. He was the persistent kind, willing to win me over. He was the kind who’ll drop by my place unannounced, knowing I was a girl who liked surprises. He likes driving for me and I found him to be very charming. His charm did win me over, but only for a short period. The stark differences between us would eventually surface, something charm couldn’t possibly remedy.

I remember us: the fights, the drama, the good times, the bad ones. And then, we just drifted apart. We’d catch up years later, only to have a more bitter ending. Now, we don’t even talk. We’ve become complete strangers.

I was looking at his pictures, thinking about those years we were at each other’s lives, and I found myself asking, “why didn’t it work?” Was it due to the fights, the differences between us, the circumstances around us? Was it because that’s how things were supposed to be in the long run? Or was it because we decided for ourselves not to make things work anymore? Wayne Dyer said our lives are a sum total of all the choices we make. Both of us could have chosen to stay together, even just as friends. But we chose not to. Choice is a powerful thing, perhaps that’s why when God gave man free will, He did so at the greatest risk.

I guess what I’m saying is, I have to be intentional in making all my relationships work. I have to keep choosing to fight for the people I should fight for, to love the people I should love, to keep the relationships I have, and not let them fall by the wayside. So many of our relationships are wreaked by a lack of choice, or by the wrong choices. I don’t want to have to come across an old friend’s picture somewhere in Facebook and wonder, “what happened? Why aren’t we friends anymore?”

 

Chasing after the Sun in El Nido

I laid in bed that night debating with myself if I should just forego my trip to El Nido. What could be worse than heading to the beach of all places when a storm was brewing, threatening to hit Palawan in two days? I didn’t want to risk it, not when the storm has already left thousands homeless, and worse, killed more than 500. There would be many more opportunities to visit El Nido and I would rather err on the side of safety and caution.

But as it happens, news reached me that the storm left Palawan a day before I was to leave. I didn’t want to rely on the forecast alone so I called up the cottage where I was booked in El Nido and inquired about the weather. “Maulan pa din, pero mukhang pawala na din ito.”

On the way to El Nido via a 5-hour van ride, it rained. I said a quiet prayer and asked for better weather. I’ve been praying about this trip for weeks now, and especially during the storm. I had some business I needed to do in El Nido which I couldn’t forego, and I also wanted to enjoy the place and go on a year-end retreat. El Nido, after all, is one of the best beaches we have in the country. I always feel proud talking about our beaches because they’re really beautiful and idyllic. I was looking forward to a relaxing time at the beach. I needed El Nido to be as dry as possible!

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El Nido is a town northeast of Palawan’s capital city, Puerto Princesa. The assets of El nido are not in the town itself, but in its many little islands, lagoons, limestone cliffs and Paleogene rocks scattered throughout El Nido. I would suggest you take tour A if you are pressed for time and spending only 3 days in El Nido. If you’re there for a whole week, by all means go explore everything and let the beauty of the island captivate you!  

Getting to El Nido

There are two ways to get to El nido: by air and by land. Land travel is cheaper, of course. One way is around 500 if you take the Garage terminal service of van transports like Fort Wally. But I wouldn’t recommend you taking them because of the very bad service both my sister and I got after patronizing them on two separate occasions. I just think there’s a more professional transport service out there and unfortunately for us, we’re stuck with them meantime. Even the tourists I was with complained of their service, or lack thereof. Shirtless drivers? Check. Rude-does-not-know-how-to-say-please-drivers? Check. An hour’s delay? Check. Traveling like Japan’s bullet train? Check. Cramped like sardines? Double check. I tell you: one would need to extend patience with the current system. The only stopovers for the trip would be an hour away from Roxas for a CR-break, and lunch at a restaurant in the town of Roxas which, incidentally, is owned by Fort Wally. Food wasn’t so great, either. Monopoly, anyone?

But in true blue backpacking fashion, I guess the land travel will do. I did note that there are two kinds of foreigners that come to El Nido: the backpackers, and the tourists who don’t mind paying a little more for better service. I was somewhere in between, admittedly.

Where to stay

There are many resorts, cottages, inns and pension houses in El Nido. Even if you do not book ahead of time, you can always try your luck by walking in and coming out with a booked room. But I didn’t want to do that. I opted to book mine a week before I left, which was actually a little bit late considering it was already Christmas time and tourists are booking resorts here and there.

I went for a cottage resort called Hadefe’s, which was a good 15 minutes walk from the beach front or from the jump off point at Lally and Abet’s Beach cottage. It didn’t bother me at first that the cottage was far; but it did when nighttime came and it wasn’t so fun walking that long stretch in the dark, not to mention passing by a cemetery and some barking dogs. If you ever find yourself booking into Hadefe’s cottages, make sure to bring headlamps or flashlights. Other than that, the place, at least to me, was ideal. It was quiet, secluded, and the single rooms are good enough for a budget of 700 a night, with breakfast.

Rooms in El nido go for 700 to as much as 4,000 a night. There’s a new resort beside Hadefe’s which intrigued me. It was called Cadlao Beach resort and they had stunning interior and exteriors. But they were also a bit far from the beachfront.

The reason you want to book somewhere close to the beach front is because the restaurants are all lined up parallel these cottages. Daily food can go as cheap as 80 to as much as 450 per meal. I’d say a meal of 150-180 is big enough. I would recommend that in your stay in El Nido, you try The Alternative, a restaurant that offers big servings for healthy food. It can be a little pricey, but their food is really good.

I was blessed with 3 sunshiney-days in El Nido. I also accomplished what I went to El Nido for, and I got to enjoy the beauty of the place.  By the time I was to leave, I felt a little sad. If I could only extend my stay for a few more days, I would. It was quiet, serene, and I liked that I can just lie on the sand and read a book all day. At night, I’m lulled to sleep by the sound of the waves, and in the morning, these same waves would wake me up, beckoning me to come closer, get my feet wet, frolic in the sand. The sun gleams through crystal-clear waters and I take my place at the hammock, marveling at all this beauty around me. I also made new friends in El Nido which made my stay more memorable. This is a place I would visit over and over again.  

 

Hello from stormy Palawan!

I’m in an internet shop somewhere here in Puerto Princesa. I was dropped off by my sister’s sorority friend and her husband, Marnie and TJ. We had lunch at Ugong Rock (which is one of the restaurants I would recommend when you’re in town, next to Ka Lui’s) and it was a very affordable place to eat at. However, the service took longer than with Ka Lui’s.

For the past two days since I’ve been in Palawan, I’ve been getting some worried texts and calls that a big storm was hitting Puerto Princesa. “What? Eh so it’s hot in here, I can’t even go outside without sweating head to toe.” Or yeah, that might be an exaggeration. I’m a mountaineer and I’m supposed to be good with long walks under the heat of the sun. But somehow, the fact that it’s December and it’s really hot, doesn’t make sense to me.

So I heard that at around 2:00 am, tropical storm Washi, or locally known as Sendong, was going to make landfall. And true enough, at around 6 this morning, I was woken up by the sound of heavy rains and gusty winds outside my cottage. The sound seems to be more magnified here because I’m literally surrounded by trees. I’m staying at my tito’s rest house here in Puerto. It’s a big property of land that he’s still developing but it has two cottages fit for a family of 6. I’m staying in one of the cottages and the helpers all attend to my needs, such as breakfast and dinner. In the morning, they would knock at my door telling me breakfast is served. The only downside is, they all serve me pork! :( My tito’s driver drives me to his office everyday. When they go ahead, though, I need to commute from the resort and to the city. It’s a long walk, not to mention my tito’s dogs are all looking at me with hungry eyes. They seem to think I’m their dinner.

COMMUTING

Commuting in Puerto is actually easy, I found out. You either just go left or right from the National high way. They have tricycles, multicabs and jeeps, and it’s cheap at 8 pesos. I prefer the convenience of tricycles. You can ask them to drop you off wherever, and even if they only have a certain route, you can just add a little (make it from 8 to 12 or 15 pesos) and you have your personal taxi at such a cheap price.

GOING AROUND TOWN

I spent two days going around town, exploring business establishments, trying to have a feel of the place I would soon call my home. The lack of malls in Puerto Princesa actually disappointed me. Well, depends on how you look at it. Sometimes, it’s better to really have a simple life with less commercialism, but I was somehow looking for some semblance of city life. I mean, Davao, CDO, Zamboanga, Bohol —they have SM, Robinsons! Palawan seemsto be a little late! I hope by next year, Robinsons is already completed.

When I visited NCCC, I found it like a sub-standard mall which I liken to Makati Cinema Square. You have the grocery downstairs, the department stores up stairs. That’s it! No shops for clothes (like Bayo, Mango, etc). When I got to the department store, the first thing I tried to look for were outdoor gears. I was disappointed that they don’t have trail shoes for women. I was pleasantly surprised that they carry hiking bags which are locally-made. I also went to an old shop, Montanara somewhere near NCCC with Karen. Unfortunately, it’s closed already. The owner’s son started a Palawan Mountaineering Group. But it’s been inactive and now I’m on the lookout for a mountaineering group here in Palawan. I think if I’m better (with my shoulder injury), I can climb Mantalingahan. MAYBE.

Today’s my last day in Puerto. Tomorrow, I go to El Nido and spend three days there exploring this beautiful paradise! I only hope the weather cooperates and that by the time I arrive there, Washi is already elsewhere. I feel sad having read about the devastation Washi caused in the South, particularly in Iligan and in CDO. What could we have done to prevent that? I can only pray that with Christmas approaching, people will still find a reason to celebrate. God is always sovereign. He calms the storms of our lives.

Catch you in four day’s time! Pictures soon! :)

 

A lesson from a Girl Scout Sash

Boxes overturned. Bags, letters and papers scattered on the floor. One pair of slipper by the bed, another by the door. Plastics littered all across my room. As I type, my room looks like a scene from Jumangi. Everything was turned upside down. I was looking for my Girl Scout sash tonight as part of my School stereotype costume for our Christmas party. I actually had about two weeks to look for it but I was busy preparing for another costume that I just totally forgot to “exert” some effort into this one. Besides, I was to play the Girl Scout. I’m the best person to play that. Not only was I an active Girl Scout all throughout my school days; I was even a representative of both the Manila district and the country to many local and international Girl Scout affairs. My sash, the root of all this mess in my room, was the single proof of that. It was packed with a gazillion badges that at one point, I had to sew badges on top of each other. I was that invested.

So there I was, 30 minutes before the party, running around the house overturning boxes, opening closets, trying to look for my sash. Meryll later told me that I might have given it away. I said, “how could I?” You don’t give away something so significant to you. I know that it’s somewhere inside this house; I just wish I remembered where I kept it because now I obviously learned a lesson: It’s so easy to trash a room, so terribly difficult to clean it.

But I also learned something more important than that. One, I learned that we humans really do a lot of retrospection.  We like recalling past glories and achievements because it gives us a sense of pride and it reminds us of what our lives have been invested on. Very early on in my life I was groomed into many leadership roles, and my Girl Scout days were testaments to that. Second, I learned the irony of achievements. Don’t you find it amusingly ironic that years later, the only visible, tangible proof of your achievements are sewn on a green piece of cloth that would eventually go missing? And people could care less if they were.

Opening the many hidden boxes in the house also led me to come across a very old journal of mine. Year 2004. I am a Sophomore in college writing about my short-lived romances. One entry read, “I like looking into his eyes. It’s as if they tell you a story. He intrigues me and all this talk about him liking me is just making me all the more intrigued.” It was about the first guy I ever dated in college. There was another entry that read, “I like that he always asks if I’m home. I like that he randomly drops by with a pasalubong from the province. A bead necklace! I like that I am this much special to him.” This was about another guy I had dated after the first one. Even before I was already observant –of people, of things.

Reading the journal made me realize that I have both a sense of attachment and detachment to my 18-year old self. I’m as observant, as intrigued, and as naïve as the girl writing those entries many years ago.  But I’m more cautious and more guarded now. Reading what I wrote only made me more convinced that I used to be so simple-minded and easily swayed. “Did I really say that? Did I really feel that way? How immature!”

These reflections would not have come to me if I didn’t turn everything in my room upside down looking for that green sash. I still have to clean my room and I’m already dreading the hours it would take me to put everything back to its proper place. But I’m thankful that I found more significant stories behind the sash.

Our achievements would outlive us; our feelings would fade away. But it’s good to reflect on them from time to time because they narrate the story of our lives, stories that make up who we are today.

 

“It wasn’t always this way.”

I saw this video of Cathy and her team before and thought the short film was spot on. The movie tells of the different stages couples (or people in general) go through in the course of their relationship. They first start as strangers, where all of us start off with everyone else in our lives. And then they pick up to the Chase, to Honeymoon, to Comfortable, and then to Downhill, and Tolerance. Finally, to breakup. It’s a sad cycle that we see in many of our relationships. I’ve see it in mine.

Today, while I was browsing through a friend’s page, I saw the video again. I watched it again and it just kind of explained what was going on in my life right now. The video helped me put to words what I’ve been trying to define for many months now. As in the story, someone in my life stopped “trying”.

Whether it’s taking each other for granted, or people changing over time, the bottom line is: someone stops trying. – Josh

It’s a sad thing to realize that we do that to many of our relationships. We don’t ‘try to make it work’ anymore. We just lose any amount of effort we can give to “up” the relationship. We take people for granted. I’m not one to do that to my friends. I’m a people-person; I give it my all in relationships. I know that to make a relationship strong, we have to be intentional. We have to WANT to be in that person’s life, to be there for that person, to share life with that person. The reason friendships fall apart is because people start taking each other for granted.

And for months now, I’ve been in a state of silent grief because someone I used to matter to stopped trying, and I feel I no longer mattered. I probably was just a phase to him. I’m trying to deal with that because I know things and people change, but it doesn’t have to be that way if we only were more intentional. If you keep taking people for granted, guess what, they’ll be gone before you know it.

I don’t know. Josh was right. “It wasn’t always this way.” What changed?

 

Of Peeping Toms, Marine Rescue, and Lost trails in Pico

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Our year-end climb for C4C was at Pico de Loro, one of my favorite day hikes. I wrote about Pico a year ago and every time I go back there, I always have a new appreciation for the mountain. It’s just a thing of beauty. What I think is different with Pico compared to other mountains is that there really is a breathtaking view to enjoy.  

For this climb, I had three new experiences which, unfortunately, really aren’t worth celebrating. As a mountaineer, one of the things you have to get used to is going when you need to go. What I mean is, if nature calls, you just go. You do it there. I’ve learned over the years that because there’s really nothing I can do about it, I just have to do it without complains. On this note, girls should always bring a malong or a sarong as a wrap-around; you never know just how protective those things are! When we arrived at Peak 1 (just me and 7 others; the rest were still along the trail) I knew I had to go. I got my sarong, went around one of those rocks to a place I knew was as far out of sight as possible from everyone else. I needed to pee and I couldn’t hold it anymore. As far as I know, we were the only climbers in Pico that day. It was Thursday. Who climbs on Thursdays?

Just when I finished my ‘business’, I stood up (my sarong still wrapped around me) and then I heard a loud “WHOOOOO!” from across the hills. I was dumbstruck. I heard voices but I couldn’t see them. I went to the group, asked if they heard some people and they said, “mukhang may tao doon”, pointing across. I FREAKED OUT. “WHAT? Oh-em-gee, did they just see me?! Where the freak are they?!”

Well, you get the idea. We were positive there was another group of climbers because as soon as the rest of our team arrived, they even saw the climbers wave at them. I was too embarrassed for words; I’ve never felt so violated! Hahaha. So it was a good thing I had that sarong around me. Man oh man, that was my savior that moment. Thinking about it now, I still feel embarrassed. Sir Ace and the others were teasing me that I should change my shirt so they won’t recognize me. I said, “Nah, I’ll go up there and meet my perpetrators.” When we got to Peak 2, they weren’t around anymore. Nice job, peeping toms.

Second, we got lost going up Peak 2. Kuya Joel knew the place like the back of his hand, but for some reason, after the first assault, we got lost. We were supposed to be 15 minutes away from Peak 1, but then we blazed through a new, unknown trail, and farther and farther we went down. Instincts told me we weren’t going the right way. First, it was muddy and swamp-ish. I hated that. I don’t recall Pico ever being this dirty. And then, we were just going deeper and deeper into what looked like a mossy forest. This was wrong. I called out to Kuya Joel to stop, assess, and backtrack. Eventually, we found the right way thanks to the ribbon trail signs, but that cost us about 20-30 minutes of trek time.

Third, the failed rescue attempt of the Marines. YES. When we arrived past 5 at DENR, we knew the others were at risk of doing a night-trek. We didn’t know if they brought headlamps and flashlights. We just knew it was late and it was going to be a long night. After 2 hours, the team still hasn’t arrived. AA, Kuya Joel and Pam decided to go back and help them. We were under the impression that they got lost. AA told me, “if we haven’t returned in 2 hours, call your contact in the Marines.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” I said out loud. A rule in the mountains: Always assume the worst. Here we were, helpless, not knowing what happened to the rest of the group, and all the while I had military connections in the person of Tito Jun Parcon (Lt. Col Parcon), our church deacon. Signal was very, very bad in Ternate. We had to drive 2 kms away from the DENR post to get signal, about 15 posts away. When we got the elusive signal, I called Tito Jun and he referred me to Major Insierto. The whole business of asking for help from the military was so new to me, and it freaked me a little. I didn’t know what to report, actually, when Tito Jun told me to give them our “STATUS”. I was thinking, “um, complicated? Lost? Unknown?” I also didn’t if they would respond and how fast. He promised to send in a team who knew the trail.

As we were waiting for them to arrive, time was ticking. The night seemed to go on forever and I was really afraid for the group. I was also afraid that the Marines wouldn’t arrive, or that they won’t have the sense of urgency that we have. This was an emergency. Finally, at past 10 some of us arrived. They’ve been found! They got lost down Maragondon. So we got into the van to fetch them, and when we were on our way back, I saw BIG LIGHTS, A TRUCK, and MEN IN UNIFORM. Oh-em-gee, the Marines! They arrived!!!

I thanked them for coming and apologized for the hassle. Had they arrived earlier, it would have been nice. But I so appreciated the fact that they came in full gear, they had a plan, they brought men who knew the trail, medics. Wow! Who knew I could actually request for a truckload of Marines!? I was beyond grateful.

When I texted Maj. Insierto, he said, “Your Marines will always be at your service, Ma’am KZ. It’s not only our duty; it’s what makes us a Marine.” NOW who wouldn’t be honored to have an officer tell me that? :)

Overall, being back in Pico de loro was really exciting.

For everyone’s information:

• There’s no more ROPE going up the monolith rock, so you better bring a sturdy one to get to the top. 
• Second, there are very confusing trails that some irresponsible people/climbers blazed. It can get you lost. 
• Third, the DENR has better washrooms now :-)

 

Il dolce far niente!

I heard this line in Julia Robert’s Eat, Pray, Love which came out early last year. When translated, it means “the sweetness of doing nothing.” There’s no making that phrase any simpler. The sweetness of doing nothing. 

Since I resigned from work three months ago, I’ve been short of this Il Dolce Far Niente experience. Maybe, as what my friends repeatedly tell me, my life is really just one big calendar of activities that I can barely sit still without doing something. I literally cannot be stuck at home doing what regular bums do —eat, watch TV, go online, sleep. By now everyone knows that my life is far too allergic to routines like these that it would really be the death of me to maintain such a lifestyle. Or maybe because I’ve always just been doing something all the time. When I’m not working, my Mondays to Wednesday nights are devoted to two different Bible studies. Twice a month on Thursdays, I have Board duties. Friday is the day I meet with friends over spa or coffee, and Saturdays are for my climbs. Sunday is for the Lord.

Believe me, that’s already a relaxed schedule for me. It’s not really so routinary because Fridays can always mean different things to me. A movie date. A stay-home-i’ll-cook-dinner time, a trip to the mall. A friend once told me that my being so busy maybe the reason I’m still single to this day. “Pano ka ba naman maliligawan, eh hindi ka nga mahanap sa dami ng ginagawa mo?”

And it’s ironic, as some would say, that just when I have no job, I’m busier. I’m always out of the house doing something, going somewhere, meeting someone. But don’t get me wrong; I love doing nothing on some days. To just stay at home —watching TV, curled up in one corner reading a book, experimenting in the kitchen —these are things I enjoy now that I couldn’t enjoy when I was working. Maybe I just can’t stay that way for long; I feel unproductive. 

BUT, as this post would have probably by now given you hints, I am soon to enjoy what Julia’s character enjoyed in Eat, Pray, Love. The sweetness of doing nothing. 

 

A year of Departures

2012 will be a year of departures for me, and I couldn’t be more than excited! I’m finally going to Korea after so much delay! And, I’m also going to leave Manila for good. 2 years is a long time to be gone, but it seems that this is the direction God is leading me to. I’m just so excited and hopeful for a new start :-) God has big plans that are unfolding before my very eyes. I’m learning, as I cherish my time here in Manila, that things really do happen for a reason. All this waiting will one day make sense, and I’m just excited to go on a new adventure with the Lord! :)

안녕 Korea!

 

A Song of Ascents: Mt. Talamitam

“I look up to the mountains: does my strength come from mountains? No, my strength comes from God, who made heaven, and earth, and mountains.” (Psalm 121:1-2)

Vast verdant fields and a Pulag look-alike are descriptions of Talamitam. It’s on the other side of Batulao in Nasugbu, Batangas and can be climbed in less than two hours. It’s a beautiful sight, though not as famous as the mountains surrounding it, and not as breezy. To get there, you would take the same bus that leads to the jump off in Batulao, Evercrest. From the MRT Taft Station along EDSA, take the bus en route Nasugbu and go down 83 KM in Brg. Aga. Actually, even if you tell the conductor you’re going to Talamitam, they would know where to drop you off. The trip takes about 3 hours from Manila and costs Php 124.00 as of November 2011.

Talamitam is usually done on a day hike. You can choose to leave very early so that it won’t be that hot when you start climbing. However, the trail leading to the summit really has very little shade to offer. Just think of open fields in the province and you get Talamitam. There was a time, according to Concerned Citizen and Environment Movement (CCEM) Chairman Sir Ted, when Talamitam had lush vegetation. Today, there are on-going efforts to rehabilitate the mountain by means of tree planting. Upon registration at the jump off, we were asked if we could bring seedlings on our way up. The opportunity to help the environment was something we could not pass up. Halfway to the summit, we met with Sir Ted and the other locals who were planting trees. Every Saturday, this Bayanihan takes place and what’s commendable about it is that they are really encouraging mountaineers to take part in rebuilding the lost beauty of Talamitam. “Sino ba namang mountaineer ang hindi gugustuhing maging maganda yung bundok?”

I found Sir Ted to be very genuine in his efforts to rehabilitate Talamitam. I for one think that every mountaineer should have an innate desire to take care of the mountains. Mountains, after all, are the object of our passions and if we do not take care of them, what else are we to enjoy? A month or so ago, I underwent a Leave No Trace Training with my group, Climbing for Christ. There was so much I didn’t know about the principle and in the end, I learned that by observing the LNT principle, one comes out not only a better mountaineer, but a better person.

The climb took us less than two hours. It would help to bring 1L of water or more, since there are no water sources. But would you believe that there’s a vendor who sells ice cream at the summit, san ka pa?! :D

A word of caution: Do not wear red; I am serious. Kuya Joel, our Team Leader, had to evade the hungry, menacing looks of the carabaos. And they were plenty in Talamitam, grazing freely on the grass. They don’t mind a game of chase, and in fact, we were almost chased by one. Relieving that memory in Kanlaon is painful for me; I never want to be chased again by a carabao. Also, if like me you are very sensitive to cogon grass, wear leg warmers or convertible pants. I wanted to use my newly-brought Columbia Silver Ridge Capri trekking pants but I knew I was risking it. True enough, I had allergies. 

The summit gives you a view of Cavite and of the more popular mountains, Batulao and Pico De Loro. It’s big enough to fit maybe five groups of people. We had lunch at the summit and had a short devotions on Psalm 121, a song of ascents.

I lift up my eyes to the hills—

where does my help come from?

My help comes from the LORD,

the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip—

he who watches over you will not slumber;

indeed, he who watches over Israel

will neither slumber nor sleep.

The LORD watches over you—

the LORD is your shade at your right hand;

the sun will not harm you by day,

nor the moon by night.

The LORD will keep you from all harm—

he will watch over your life;

The LORD will watch over your coming and going

both now and forevermore.

By 1:30, we were on our way down, and by 3:00 pm, we were ready to take a cool bath. I had been craving for a cold C2 Apple, and I was praying we would find a store that sells one. Just before Mang Nick’s house was a store. The owner, who I’m sorry I had forgotten the name, had C2 apple, and she even offered us their very clean bathroom. Was I so excited to drink C2 Apple that I finished it in what probably was 15 seconds. And I asked for a second one! Nothing refreshes a sweaty mountaineer like cold apple drink! :)

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Doctor, Doctor, I am sick.

“Is it okay if I pray to God that I want to marry a doctor someday?” I asked my mom one day. I was 16. “Sure, why not, you can pray for anything as long as it is God’s will.”

I was determined to marry a doctor or at least I hoped I would someday, because doctors are healers at heart, servants by nature. To be one who heals the sick, one who takes care of another’s health, one who looks after another person’s welfare, is selflessness at its very core. And I was always drawn to people who are like that. Sacrificial. Lives for noble causes. Courageous. Personal. You can’t get any more personal with somebody than when you literally look inside their bodies and see what’s wrong. You can very well say then that I idealized, more than the profession, the persons behind it. I believed first and foremost that people do not go into this profession to become wealthy. Those are the after-rewards. Initially, they want to make a difference in the lives of many. When we were kids, we were always asked, “Ano gusto mo pag laki mo?” Kids say, “doctor po. Gusto ko po kasi makatulong.” I hope that innocent sentiment still holds true today. 

I’m 26 now, a decade past since I asked that question to my mom. Do I still want to marry a doctor someday? If those noble ideals still exist in them after all these years of service, why not? And of course, there’s really something about men in uniform. (I might get in trouble for saying this).

Recently, I was hospitalized for three separate conditions. On those hospitalizations, I encountered three different kinds of doctors. My last doctor was the head of the department of Gastroenterology. He was old, experienced, and, forgive my frankness, very impersonal.

After telling him my complaints and that I wanted to know what causes my frequent abdominal pains, he told me, “tomorrow at 6am we’ll have you undergo Gastroscopy, if it clears your mind to find out what’s wrong. You have GERD, but the abdominal pains are not symptoms of that.”

I was a little bothered, not for the way he went through with the procedure; he was the head of the department and therefore, very able. It was in the way he related to me, his patient. It seemed to me like I was just another cash register for him. “If it clears my mind to find out what’s wrong?” Of course it would, is he serious? It would make me sleep better to know at least what’s wrong with me. I found him very “business-as-usual”, cold, distant, mechanical. Yes, that’s the word. To top it off, he could have at least looked at me as he was explaining my condition and not on the paper. It felt like there was no ‘heart’ in his service anymore. It wasn’t like he had a long day: I was his first patient. I was really let down by his demeanor. Is this the kind of doctors we have today? I don’t like them. I don’t want them treating me. And I don’t want to marry someone like them.

And then I hear on the news that doctors are “misreporting” on GMA’s supposed life-threatening condition. The discrepancies are not only bothersome; they’re frightening. Doctors have said her surgeries were successful, only later to recant and say she needs to undergo more. If it were me, I’d be worried. “Ano ba talaga, te?” Make up your minds. But the real cause for worry is when doctors are suddenly so politically-entrenched that they forego their medical ethics for an unspeakable price, and at the expense of their name, their profession. In the end, it isn’t their profession that led them to do this. It’s their person.  

Suddenly, I’m not so idealistic anymore. Are we losing our good doctors to the love of money?

On another note, the missionary doctors I’ve met and climbed with who go with us to missions have a different spirit about them. They’re experienced doctors, too, but you can tell that they’re different. They shell out from their own pockets, trek the whole day to reach a village where their presence is to the community a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. They’re just quietly serving the community, not much fanfare, no microphones or cameras, no fancy equipments or secretaries to remind them of their appointment. Everyone is their appointment. To me, they still have the heart for the people. It makes a lot of difference to have that, because you aren’t treating cancer or ulcer or kidney stones here. You are treating the person.

These are the doctors I still look forward of meeting someday. People who have healer hearts. People who are gentle and passionate and personal in a way that maybe the doctors in our city hospitals will never be. I don’t mean to generalize and I don’t mean to say all doctors in the city are like these. But I do hope they become more like the missionary doctors. Otherwise, mamumundok pa ako para lang makita yung mapapangasawa ko. Chos.

 

The fun in Quiz Nights

“How did you know that?”

I couldn’t believe Ruel knew about Skunk Anansie or had memorized practically all the sets in TV sitcoms. “Life of a potato couch”, he casually said.

To give him more credit, Ruel’s one of the smartest, wisest guys I know. Ever since he joined our Wednesday Bible study for Professionals, aptly called WFP or Wednesdays for Professionals, the sharing and discussions have been very interesting, informative and enlightening. And so as we rolled one Wednesday night to a session break of hearty Filipino dinner and Quiz Night later at Capricciosa, I was excited. Quiz Nights are fun for three things. One, as Meryll put it, you get to know the person a little better. “How did you know that? Ikaw na!” Two, everyone can contribute depending on the category that he/she knows she’s good at. There was a question there about famous personalities, particularly of the woman German Chancellor, and I knew I had this in the bag. Ah, European History and current events! And three, the geeks suddenly become way cooler. Hey, I do love the Big Bang Theory!

Quiz Nights are simple. You come in as a group and you compete with other groups for, well, bragging rights, and loads of fun. There are 8 rounds (or 10 in Capricciosa) and the questions can be anything under the sun. Last Wednesday, we had categories like This Day in November —significant events in November, fake diseases (from movies), science fiction (our least-scoring round), and Mariah Carey lyrics, which the emcee from Cebu aptly entitled “nakakabasag pinggan.”

It’s just a fun way to spend with friends, and you do get to know them better. Like, I learned that Meryll really, really knew almost all the broadways, even the lyrics to the songs and the characters. That’s always been her passion and it showed! The other table got a perfect score. “Puro bading kasi, alam na.” I also learned that Krisna was as much a potato couch as Ruel was. They almost got the TV sitcoms category perfect. Joemar, Ciel and Achi were still trying to find their voice, but I appreciated their presence and their being so game, even as we extended until 1 in the morning. They were, in that regard, in it for camaraderie and new experience.

I love Quiz Nights. I love that it challenges me to read and I love that I take home something educational after the game. And I especially love being able to use the knowledge I randomly picked up from somewhere. Like, did you know that the skin takes 28 days to replace itself after shedding? I learned that from Red Cross and before it was asked during Quiz night, I didn’t know where I could actually use that information. “Oh my gosh, alam ko yan.” I quietly, excitedly jotted down 28 on our board, expecting to raise it as high as possible. Alam na.

 

 

When it’s right to say, “Indulge yourself”

Any existence deprived of freedom is a kind of death.– Gen. Michel Aoun

“Freedom!”

Imagine how protesters and rallyists say it, and right about now that’s how I’m saying this word. Perhaps because, for the first time in a very long time, freedom became very real to me, as though I can taste it in my mouth, touch it with my hands, sleep with it. When was the last time you really felt free, released from chains, unconstrained, spontaneous? I could fill this space with a hundred more synonyms and I would still grope for the right words to express just how free I feel right now. But I guess the closest word to describing how I feel is guiltless.

Yesterday, I finally submitted an overdue report for work that got lost in transition. I’ve been sick the past month and have been unable to prioritize finishing this one report. Because it was left hanging for 2 months after I resigned, I felt held back and constrained in doing many things. At the back of my mind there’s always this voice telling me, “you still have that report to submit.” I was, in a way, held captive by that obligation. There were many times I could have sat down and worked on it, but then I was always somewhere doing something, and then I got sick somewhere doing something. While I have already resigned from work, I was never wholly free. I couldn’t fully commit to “now”, to this moment, until yesterday when I had the chance to visit my old office and finally get it off my chest.

It was such a representation of things that hold us back from living in the moment. Like if you had a debt (and I sure have lots of them), you’re not able to fully enjoy the things you want to do because you’d feel guilty about spending while you know you still have some debts to settle. You’re enslaved, as the Bible would say, to whoever you owe money to. Not a good picture, I tell you. The feeling of being ‘enslaved’ or ‘beholden’ to something or someone because you have no other choice, except of course to settle your obligations.

If not debts, then fears. We have lots of fears. Fear of being left behind, fear of making a mistake, fear of letting go and moving on. So many fears that hinder us from living in the moment, from enjoying the present, from “being alive”. Instead of making decisions that propel us forward, we hold back, we stay stuck just where we are now, we cease to move, because we fear what’s out there.

I try not to leave many things hanging and I know I haven’t been so good at it. God knows how many tasks I didn’t finish in the past —things I just literally run away from. Beyond unmet goals and objectives, ruined relationships are the real losses. Mending things sometimes come easy. Mending relationships don’t. These aren’t exactly memories I’d like to be written about me some day and if I could return to those times, I’d do things differently. When my friend Liselle was contemplating on whether she should continue with her Masters in UP or not, I told her to at least “try finishing what you started.” Her context was different from mine, but from where I was coming from, that was the only advice I could give. God himself is a perfect example. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. He doesn’t leave things hanging; He has a plan to execute things as He had planned them. One of the verses I like is found in Hebrews 12:2 which says, “Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith.”

You know what I learned yesterday? After we have settled our overdue obligations —assignments we left hanging, responsibilities we overlooked, debts we left unpaid, the feeling is more than relief. It’s satisfaction. A deep sense of satisfaction. Contentment. Achievement. Joy. Indulgence.

Yes, indulgence! I can now fully indulge in the present; I can now fully indulge in TODAY! I can indulge in hours of reading, in much experimental cooking in the kitchen, in many solitary walks in the park, in guiltless “moderate” shopping, in many sorely-missed catching up with friends. Above all, I can indulge in God’s presence and enjoy Him, read His word, meditate, write my heart out. Why it took me so long to come to this state, I can only wonder why. But I am here, now, fully free, released from chains, ready to seize the moment, ready to conquer!

This is the kind of FREEDOM I want to enjoy!

 

The promise of half-filled boxes

When God overrides your preparations, when He changes things around, what do you do? How do you cope? To most, the answer would simply be to panic and lose it, and it happens to the best of us, especially when our plans are “ruined”. Nobody likes ruined preparations. But what sometimes seems to be a tragic, unfavorable circumstance becomes, in the simplest but truest of clichés, “a blessing in disguise.” And this was exactly what Climbing for Christ Philippines experienced during their Mission climb to Badeo, Kibungan.

At the jump off point in Sitio Bokes, about an hour’s drive from Poblacion, all 30 boxes that have been carefully and laboriously packed by the group were waiting at the shed for pick up. They contained all the medicines for the medical mission, the school supplies to be given to the teachers and the students including the prizes for the games, and the Bibles and other church materials for Pastors and church leaders. These donations were collected at least two months before the Badeo climb from many kind-hearted individuals and churches that partnered with C4C in blessing the community of Badeo.

We had seen these boxes before we started our trek, and the entire group assumed that the boxes would all make it to Badeo ahead of us. After all, what to mountaineers is a 9-hour trek to Badeo, to locals, it only takes 4-5 hours. We were confident that everything would go smoothly.

After a whole day’s trek, the group arrived Saturday afternoon, tired yet excited. Sunday would be our ministry day. When we had settled in, only 6 boxes had arrived. Teacher Elvira who welcomed the group offered a genuine apology. “Pasensya na po kayo, hindi kasi namin nasabihan yung ibang mga magulang gawa ng hindi nila alam na pupunta kayo.” There have been lapses in the coordination between the barangay and the persons in charged, despite the climb being planned months ago. It was also impossible to have volunteers pick up the boxes all the way from where they were dropped off. It was indeed an unfavorable scenario, one that has never happened in any mission climbs in the past. Nevertheless, the group was still hopeful that by the end of the day, all the boxes would make it to Badeo.

The boxes never made it. What now? As everyone was preparing for the fellowship and church service that Sunday morning, Sir Ace led the group to a morning devotions where the group sang what would be the theme song of the whole climb, “Heart of Worship.”  He also asked everyone to open their Bibles to Matthew 25:34-40.

In this simple song and short passage, God was already preparing the heart of every C4C member. His message was simple and spot on. “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it for me.” The boxes and whatever it contained were just side dishes on a full plate. They were never meant to be the full meal. If these boxes were gone, or as the song said, “when all is stripped away”, would we still be able to serve God and fulfill the purpose for which He has sent us in Badeo “for the least of these brothers and sisters?” Would we still seek out the children, heal the sick, minister and encourage the church workers?

And the group was one in spirit. Yes, the lesson couldn’t have been more direct and personal, more specific and clear. “Serve without your props, because you’re bringing Me to them, not these material things.”

And as the day unfolded, it suddenly became clearer. All 6 boxes which were randomly picked up by the porters had a little bit of everything that the group needed. Prizes and story books for the kids, some basic medicines for the clinic, and supplemental readings and church materials for the Pastors. How this happened, we do not know. The boxes were not labeled and categorized. But it was clear that God guided the hands of the porters to get the boxes He knew the group would need. Nothing more, nothing less. These half-filled boxes had a purpose and a promise contained in them. God’s grace was sufficient, and He was in control.

How can we not be in awe of such miracle?

As the day came to a close and the group all huddled up in one room, everyone said nothing but praises and blessings. God had overridden our preparations; God had changed things around. But we were not left in ruins. The half-filled boxes became more than blessings in disguise. They were all part of the promise that was to be fulfilled in Badeo.

 

Fulfilling a promise to Badeo

 

“Not one of all the LORD’s good promises to the house of Israel failed; every one was fulfilled.” – Joshua 21:45

 

A lament

“Let not our longing slay our appetite for living” – Jim Eliot.

Today is one of those days when I feel my heart grieve the heaviest, for many unanswered questions. Questions only a single girl like me can ask; questions I cannot ask friends because I know I will not hear the answer I’m looking for. How do you tell your friends that you feel life is passing you by? They tell you, “You’ve got a whole world ahead of you. You have so many things going for you. You’re living your dreams.” Am I? How do you tell your friends you feel an emptiness that you know will never be satisfied by the most genuine condolences, the sweet comfort, the warm and soothing words friends bring to one who is longing in her heart? “It will come, you just have to wait.” “Don’t rush it; it will come when you least expect it.” Will it really come? When? How long should I wait? How do you tell your friends you’re lonely and you wish you weren’t? What comfort or reassurance can I expect to get from friends who have someone beside them? It’s beginning to weigh me down, this being single. That’s the ugly truth that I cannot hide anymore, not from my friends, not from myself, not from God.

I muttered a short prayer two days ago just before this realization dawned on me. “Lord, I just want you to know that I like someone. Could there be something great here? Is he the one?”

There was no hiding in those questions, no pretending. Only vulnerability and the resolve to be honest before the God who I believe knows the desires of my heart. I’ve been waiting for a while now since I last got my heart broken. That heart break is a thing of the past. I’ve learned my lesson, and I’ve learned it well. You tell me what a single girl’s gotta do with her season, and I’ve done it. I haven’t been sitting in a corner waiting for a phone call all day long. I’ve been out there, doing what I know I should be doing, because I know that in the meantime, there’s a lot that can and should be done. I’ve been out there, and I haven’t been sitting pretty or knocking my head on the wall until someone decides to rescue me. I’ve been out there, living the life God is unfolding before me everyday.

Yet two days ago, a window opened. My little heart, for the first time in a very long time, got excited. The magical list of non-negotiables hung in the air and quietly, as I was observing him, I saw my hand invisibly check YES, YES, YES. A guy so in love with His Lord that everything about him is colored by this love relationship. Same passions. Check. How could I not be excited about it? I’ve not been in this situation in a very long time. I haven’t been this observant, nor this intrigued by any man. “Could this be…?”

But before that question could be completed, I got my answer in what I call a mocking fashion. It was as though the piece of candy was dangled before my eyes, and I was just about to grab it until it was yanked away from sight. “Not for you, little one.” And he, this guy I thought possibly could be, and the dream I’ve had, were all but gone. It was back to waiting.

Can I be honest? I feel like everyone has everyone else except me. I fear that I would never meet the guy I dream of, and I fear, more, that my friends would one by one get married, leaving me sitting among the pews, holding a wilted bouquet of flowers, and counting the sheep til I fall back to sleep. Yes, I’ve been out there, and no one has still found me. Lord, have I escaped your notice? I’m still here, Lord. 

I know someday all this waiting would make sense and I would be grateful for the important lessons I never would have learned if I didn’t wait and persevere. But I’m losing ground, Lord. I’m floating and drifting away on a sea of unanswered questions. Hear my heart’s cry, Father. There’s no one else to give them to but to You.