Where is Home in the Convent?

I know no one here but You, Lord.

You've been with me even before my mother conceived me in her womb.

You saw me grow my limbs and teeth, heard my first words, 

and witnessed how I slowly let go of the things that support me 

so I can walk on my own.

And I'm glad to see You here, where I am.

Where even my mother cannot be,

or my father, and my sisters,

or my friends.

I wake up each day to walls I'm not familiar with,

eat my meals on a bigger table,

and live with people I met just a month ago.

But Lord, whenever I face the heavens,

and watch the clouds in the sky,

I feel home.

Whenever I look at You

through the San Damiano cross,

I feel a comforting presence,

I feel home.

During dark nights,

while I lie in my bed,

confused, lonely, and afraid,

I hold on to my rosary,

and I feel home.

I wonder, Lord, if

by the time the world mars

the beauty of the sky,

termites eat the wooden cross,

and my rosary wears and tears,

will I still feel home?

"And remember, I am with you always, 

to the end of the age." - Matthew 28:20

Let Her Come to Life

I do not want to be wasted.

Whenever I step into my inner world,

I see my potential greatness.

I see my ideal self slowly forming,

an image that's full and whole in the offing.

And I want her to come to life.
I want to know how she'll move her hands,

turn her head, walk and talk.

I want to breathe the air she'll take,

taste the words she'll speak,

and feel everything that'll touch her skin.
 And as soon as I feel her heartbeat,
that first gush of her blood into my veins,

I'll know, I won't be wasted.

The Last Crumb

I am at the last stretch of my journey,

and I have no bread left to sustain me.

Last week, I trod a tough road, and

the last crumb helped me carry the load.

Now, my body's sick and weary.

my lips are dry and thirsty,

and my mind's away from the journey.

Now I rest, mulling over the sky,

feeling the breeze and watching doves fly.

I listen to the earth where I'm lying,

and wonder if this halt would be worthwhile.

But time is running, running, and running,

and I wasted my strength chasing.

Oh Lord of all graces,

Oh God of beauty, songs and phrases.

I pray that manna would fall from heaven,

I pray for bread or fish to keep me living.

Now that I am at this point of exhaustion,

Jesus, nourish me until the next season.

Empty Words

One day, I found my words dry,

lying wilted on the sun-drenched ground.

I held its thin leaves between my fingers.

They were empty.

No beat nor breath.

No movement.

My words were lifeless.

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.

Blossom

My first ever attempt to coffee painting resulted in this imperfect work of art. It isn't done yet. I need to add more details, refine some edges, and put more shades. But I decide, I like it this way. I like that it still has space for improvement. As you look at it, I want your imagination to finish it or do the revamps. Let the possibility of perfection of imperfection be limitless.

Blossom. That's how I entitled it. It's my word for 2016. The day I walked into January, I told God that I want to blossom this year - just like a plant extending its roots deeper in the soil, and its flower outstretching its petals as if arms embracing the sunlight. And God heard me.

I'll be entering the convent this May. I have two months left to prepare everything. I'm enjoying this phase. I like the anxiety - that fear for the unknown. It strengthens my faith. I like the fear of loss - that uncomfortable feeling of letting things fall from my grasp. I now see more of what matters. It is but thrilling to empty myself of the temporary and fill myself in with lasting things. I have to learn my lessons. I'm starting to blossom.

This imperfect painting is now pasted on my calendar, reminding me each day that I need to blossom. And as I journey on, I fix my eyes to heaven. I know I'll be treading a path full of thorny branches, cliffs and traps, but from afar, I can see a beauty beyond me. This painting says that the possibility of perfection of imperfection is limitless. This painting says that someday, I can blossom fully into someone like Jesus.

My friend, how do you want to blossom?

Have your own love story

What is your love story?

Romantic love is strongly attractive. Be it in motion pictures or words, it can capture anyone. At times, it can get too attractive that it leaves you vulnerable to be slain or devoured. Even just a hint of it may be misunderstood and result to aching scratches or bruises. Romantic love is that enchanting.

You can't help it. It's mighty interesting how two hearts find each other in one such magical moment and be but one heart. Likewise, it's marvelous how a heart brings its pieces back together after the great pain of ripping apart. I admit, I too am romantic love's victim. One day, I just found myself daydreaming, directing sweet scenes with a faceless guy. From that day on, I described myself as a hopeless romantic.

Do seeing and hearing love stories from beautiful couples give you a knot in your stomach? Well, me too. But it's not the bad sort, right? I can't tell if it's envy or what. Probably, it's a mixture of "I'm so happy for you," and "I hope I have such a good love story too." It's not that it'll complete me, but I guess romantic love's too wonderful I also want to have one.

The fact is, I don't have one. But after accepting that side of me who is certain would wholeheartedly enjoy a life alone and for others, I decided to look to Jesus and figure out how to fall in love with Him. I've decided to shift all my desire, yearning and energy I reserved (and almost bursting!) for one such person to Jesus instead. How about giving efforts to really know Him through the Word? How about having breakfasts, weekly dates and frequent conversations with Him? Or probably, I could sing and write plenty of love poems for Him. I realized that if I want to, I could enjoy getting creative and serious in my relationship with Jesus, (probably) more than I could with a human being.

Truth is, single or not, you can fulfill your romantic dreams. Yes, it's possible! Start with working on your relationship with Jesus. Look above. That perfectly romantic Lover has been waiting for your "yes."

Friend, it's time to have your own love story.