Your Hands Are Smaller

When I was young, my hands were small and I wasn't realizing that.

I would compare my father's hands to mine and think that they were basically the same. I did not know why I couldn't wring the clothes, wash plates, and arrange things as easily as his hands did.

"Papa, why can't I do what your hands can? I have ten fingers, you have ten fingers. I have palms, you have palms. We even have almost the same creases! But why can't things fit in my hands as nicely as into yours?" I asked.

Papa laughed then spread his hand over mine. "Because your hands are smaller, Elaine."

My hands were smaller.

I have grown older now. I have bigger hands. I can wring clothes, wash plates, and arrange things almost as easily as my father's (now) old hands can. But I think, when it comes to other things, I haven't totally outgrown the idea...

My hands are smaller than God's, and I do not realize it.

My Safe Place

My father's arms.

It was his arms I slept to, which scent I breathed in every night when I was young. Once the clock struck eight, Papa would turn off the lights, and his three girls huddled toward him in the bed. I remember how excited I was to hear his story about their farm until sleep rolled over me.

"I pulled the marble hard with my slingshot then released it! Poom! The boys ran from the tree then off to their houses!" exclaimed Papa.

My eyes glistened with amazement in the dark. The whole scene was right in front of me. "Why were they hiding behind the tree?" I asked.

"Well, because they were trying to scare me."

"And you were not scared?"

"No. How can I be scared when I had my dog Blacky beside me and God watching over me?"

My sisters, cousins and I were fond of watching horror stories and films, so I used to fear darkness. I did not like the uncertainty of it. I would not know whose hand held my ankle if ever, or if the eyeballs staring right across me were my sister's. So I would curl up, hide in a blanket, and open my eyes really wide.

It was different in my father's arms, though.

It was the safest place I knew.

God keeps His promises

I dipped my hand in the basket and closed my eyes, "Please speak to me, Lord." 

I let my fingers run against the mound of scrolls then groped for one. I pulled it out and unrolled it.

"I don't get it, Lord."

We were at the Feast, and it was 2014. I was working as a freelance writer part-time and medical transcriptionist full-time. I wasn't so happy with my job.

"I think this is for you, Ate Nikki," I told my sister as we exchanged papers. She was a teacher.

March 2016, I saw the same paper scrolled up in a piece of straw on my desk. I unrolled it and read aloud, "Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it."

I was a preschool teacher. The school year was about to end, and I had 2 lengthy videos to create, portfolios to plan and write, narratives and checklists to accomplish, and a couple more of school works to finish for the next few weeks of class. My calendar was nothing but a throng of post-its. I was so stressed, I wanted a bit of inspiration. The verse gave me that. It reminded me of my purpose as a teacher. Then suddenly, everything made sense.

I realized that that piece of paper carried God's promise to me. On that day of 2014, He indeed spoke to me through that paper. He was actually asking me to have faith in Him. He was telling me to trust that, indeed, the best is yet to come! And He was assuring me that what didn't make sense that time will surely make sense soon.

Why doubt now? Truly, God keeps His promises.

Trust Me.

Trust me.

Trust me in the stillness of everything.

Where there is calmness and peace, there I am moving.

Feel my presence.

Hear my whispers.

Trust me.

How many times should I prove my love for you?

Embrace this moment's uncertainty,

and have faith in me.

I know your heart.

Just trust me.

I love you, child.

Trust in my heart.

I promise, I have great plans for you.

Know that I've been listening to your prayers,

and I'm working on it.

Trust me.

Uncertainty

I am in a journey I didn't wish to start,

and I can see not where I am heading.

My map seems to point to Paradise though,

for the road lies in the Calvary

of bombarding uncertainty

and answered prayers,

but it's the same Calvary of dark abyss

where things are beyond my control,

where there's God's ringing silence,

and where I can only trust His heart.

I am in a journey I didn't wish to start,

and I can see not where I am heading,

so I just keep my eyes looking heavenward,

and my arms outstretched in worship.

I hold only to my faith, to the signs,

to my pain, and to my dreams.

I hold only to God's promises,

to that future, hope and prosperity.

I am in a journey I didn't wish to start.

I can see not where I am heading, but it's fine
for everyday I pray to God for surprises
and keeping things hidden and secret in the meantime
would make the unraveling a lot worthwhile.
Perhaps, God wants me to see
not the end of this journey, for all its worth,

so I could focus not on the end rewards

but on the beauty of the pilgrimage.

In God's Perfect Time

Should I wait for green leaves to dry,

or for many storms to stop pelting down?

Then I will.

Should I wait for the orange-drenched sky,

or for a gold to lose its luster?

Then I will.

Should I wait for my bones to go a bit brittle,

or for my falling hair to grow thick as a roll of yarn?

Then I will.

Should I wait until the soles of my shoes go thin,

or 'til my nails grow long and be cut for the nth time?

Then I will.

If this is what it takes for God to align the stars

and get me a ride on the moon prepared,

then I will wait.

I will, as long as I behold that sunshine in my mind,

that morning when I would finally wake up

and breathe in the air I am waiting for.

I will, as long as I hold dear the fact

 that after a seemingly endless wait,

in God's perfect time,

what'll be in my arms 

will be perpetually worthwhile.

Why we can't see through His eyes

I wish I could see through Your eyes, Lord,

especially now that things are unfathomable,

and my suffering feels interminable.

What will tomorrow bring?

Is it something better, wonderful, beautiful?

What is ahead of me that I cannot see?

I wish I could see through Your eyes, Lord

because all I could see now is a huge boulder.

Should I cross over? It could be too steep.

Should I crush it? It could take me years.

Should I change my path? I could be wrong.

Would whatever lies behind be worth it?

I wish I could see through Your eyes, Lord,

for I see nothing now but thick fog and black smoke.

Everything seems like a chaotic blur.

Truly, whatever's painful to behold, the eyes distort.

How vivid things are for You, Lord?

What is it that I fail to see?

I wish I could see through Your eyes, Lord.

Bring me hope. Give me light!

Tell me what's on the other side.

Tell me how the story ends.

And then what? Would I be happier?

No, the question is, would it make me wiser?

I wish I could see through Your eyes, Lord,

but if I could, what would be there to believe in?

If I could, would I be stronger?

If I could, would I still strive to become better?

If I could, would my love for You get deeper?
If I could, would I realize what matters most?

I prayed for wisdom

I whole-heartedly pray for wisdom, Lord,

for I believe that everything starts with it.

This wisdom will give me faith - a strong one.

Because wisdom will say why I should believe.

This wisdom will teach me courage.

Because she will provoke me to do the right thing

and tell me why I must not fear.

This wisdom will give me strength,

strength to endure all suffering.

She will remind me why I should not give up.

This wisdom will give me happiness,

profound happiness.

Because she will keep good insights going in my mind.

This wisdom will give me peace,

a peace that can't be destroyed;

the kind that is impenetrable.

Because wisdom will serve as its shield.

Grant me wisdom, Lord.

But most of all, grant me unceasing love for it.

Amen.

Dream, then pray.

Just one day, I thought of writing my goals in my spare notebook.  Scribbled in its front page are the words, "The mystery in a nutshell; Christ is in you, no more, no less."  

I realized, I really need a "dream/goal journal" since I have an ultimate dream which I, come hell or high water, am going to achieve! 

I've, so far, filled some pages with my "mapped out" career plan and "to read" books list. I put "checkboxes" so I could keep track of what I'm getting and what I'm not. What I'm not getting is equal to an alternative plan which is again, equal to another.

I'm happy to see one box already checked, and I'm currently in the process of making another box checked! 

Each morning, I read everything I've written there then say this prayer I wrote on top of the first page:

[Pray with me.]

Bless me Lord and all my plans. 

May Your dreams be my dreams. 

May Your will be my will. 

Otherwise, I surrender to You. 

I trust in Your goodness and love.

Amen.

I wish you all the best, reader! ;)

Have faith, my friend

Have faith, my friend 

Even when your prayers seem unanswered,

and you can't get what you want.

Even when you're in need of help and comfort,

and nobody seems to be there for you.

Even when the one you love can't love you back.

Even when people hate you, mock you and insult you.

Even when you lose someone/something

who/which you know is irreplaceable.

Even when waiting seems endless

and becomes utterly painful.

Even when your job gets harder . . . 

and harder and harder.

Even when you barely see hope.

Even amid hunger and thirst.

Even amid natural disaster and war.

Even when in physical pain.

Even when the world isn't being fair.

Have faith, my friend. 

Just hold on.

The world may abandon you,

but God never will.

When I Was Peter

A thunder roared down to us. That night, the sky ran vastly dark and ugly. Our sailing ship was continuously shoved by the wrath of huge waves. We tried to unload by throwing baggage and buckets of water to the sea, but the sky endlessly pressed us with heavy rain.

I couldn't see clearly what was beyond us. My face and the rest of me was dripping wet. I shivered at the strong blows of the wind. I was afraid . . . afraid of drowning, of getting hit by lightning. I was afraid of death. I thought that if only Jesus chose to sail with us, He could have been there to save us.

The storm seemed unending and so was our struggle. The thunder roared again, even louder than before. A big wave pushed us hard on one side that we thought we'd sink. We screamed and braced ourselves. Surprisingly, another wave pushed us back and against, balancing the ship yet filling it more with water. I was fumbling for a bucket when from afar, I saw a figure of a man clad in white.

He was walking above the deep waters as if He was just walking on a solid ground.

One of us saw him too and shouted, "A ghost!"

The man, poised with calmness, turned to us and walked towards us. I looked around me, searching for a way to escape. I suddenly forgot about the waves and storm. All I thought about was how I could run away from this ghost. 

I swallowed hard, knowing there was no way out. The man went closer. He got approximately 2 yards near us when He stopped. I recognized who He was. 

Jesus. Jesus was walking on water. 

I held my gaze at Him, agape and almost not blinking. Despite the storm, His face remained as calm as ever. Suddenly, I felt like everything was fine. I thought He had left us to the lurch, but he was there. I teared up a bit out of joy, of gratefulness . . . and guilt. Slowly, He extended His arm to me as if inviting me to come to Him. His eyes told me that I could do it; that I'd be safe, that He'd be there for me and won't let me die from drowning or be electrified by lightning. His eyes told me to trust in Him.

It wasn't long before I saw myself getting out of the ship, dangling my feet at its edge. I looked at the sea water and wondered how deep it could be. I thought how impossible it was to stand and walk upon it. But then I looked back at Jesus. Without words, with just an arm extending to me, He assured me that it was possible.

I believed in Him and let my feet touch the sea water. It was a bit cold. I held my stare on Jesus. I believed in my rabbi. I believed in His power. I saw with my own eyes how he healed the sick and paralyzed; how the evil left the possessed man in His command; and how he brought the child and Lazarus back to life. Finally, I freed my hold on the edge of the ship. I smiled. Indeed, I had stood on water.

I made a step toward Jesus. I outstretched an arm to Him.

Yes, as long as You're there my Lord, I could walk on water. Let me come near You. 

I moved two more steps forward and saw a smile on Jesus' face.

Of course, it is possible! I knew You were right.

As I took another step, my eyes moved from Jesus to a huge wave which seemed to be coming to me. Quickly, I erased the peace that once embraced me and allowed fear to reign.

I gasped as the water underneath my feet went loose. I sank. I flapped and lifted my hands in panic, but the sea pulled me as strong and as deep as the fear I felt.

I'm gonna die, I thought. I had let fear kill me. Not the sea, not the lightning, not by a man. I drowned myself in fear with Jesus near me. Jesus knew I deserved death.