will is a noun and a verb

Last night, I was made to realize the beauty of one’s history. I was reminded to be thankful for all the tears and heartaches. I was made to hope that each passing trial is that—a crossing. The passages come in various circumstances, brought about by different people, and clarified by solid and unique understanding of purpose. This year, I am turning 35. That’s half a decade to 40. My goals have somewhat shifted from “getting there” to “being here”. I welcome the grace of seeing that THEN was good, NOW is better, and HIS WILL is best.

 

not funny

Jokes are not meant to make one cry.
Big Boss, oh c’mon…I know You have
better humour than that!

 

joyride

Leaving people behind has become a skill. While I hold memories of the places I visit and call home for some months, friends call it “real” and “now”. How I’d wish that “real” and “now” stay longer with me. But as it is, my real is accepting that the BIG BOSS gives me circumstances that make me choose moving over staying. As it is, my now is learning how not to cry over experiences that make me real. This is me. My everyday mind is in transit. I enter highways when I have to. The intersections allow me to stop, look, and listen. The wrong detours remind me that I should pay more attention and be more patient. This is my freeway. Road signs are red, yellow, and green. Exits are musts to get there =)

 

tetris

Do not forget how you got here. Do not forget that the struggle was minuscule compared to what GOD has done for you. Accept that all the catharctic nights made you see and believe. The slipping and going away are not tragic. These are pebbles thrown for ripples to appear. These are spindles spooling thread for knitting your blanket of hope. These are neither empty thought bubbles nor dysfunctional white noise. These are your bricks. You layer. You count. You build.

 

Miracle at Andes

This personal mountain freezes the mind to think of possibilities. The series of avalanche remind me that some plans fail and that some dreams do not come true. The negative altitude results to shallow and uneven breathing. Yet, the cold nights assure me that the wind still blows in some direction. Whether the next breeze is my true north, the melting snow made me see what truly matters. I am ALIVE.

 

24 pages

My heart is heavy from the rain. It was not so much of recalling the pain. It was more of crying how I was able to survive a phase of emotional death. For a moment there, I could not breathe. I could not understand my reaction to a 24-page summary of what has been.

 

foosball

I have four rows to manage.
I defend.
I attack.
I play midfield.
I am my own goalie.

 

knocking

Yesterday, I was blessed to finally have the courage and join my community for the two by two. This is a 5-week Sunday activity of sharing the BIG BOSS’ love to non-Catholics. We were to cover one block, knock on every door and read the good news to whoever welcomes us.

Out of the 12-storey block and more than 50 doors, we only got to read ONCE.

 

hopefully this is manna

The same wind whistles to me now.

I felt it
when I took the UPCAT,
when I was in Brugge, and
when I sipped on that mango shake.

 

quicksand syndromes

Please let me see each situation as an opportunity to be patient.
Remind me to be sensible when my little brain screams foul.
Let my heart rid itself of bile when others play god.
Spare me from falling into ignoble traps.