Remnants

Remnants.

I am still haunted by the remnants of our memories,

infested by their dusts latching on to my skin,

and blemished by the scabs and scars of my old wounds.

I have been refusing to remember you,

but your image is a fact hidden in my subconscious,

and a glaring truth in my dreams at night.

And now I have to face the remnants,

the pieces of what used to be and will never be,

wisps of the smoke of joys and sorrows,

and a speck of what once was a true love.

Remnants, which I am glad that just are,

for I know that soon,

these dusts will be blown away,
the scars will solely be patches that'll add to my beauty,

and the memories will fade like colors in photographs.

I am sure that soon,
my heart will be again clean and new

for a kind of love that will stay whole forever.

Who is Your Teddy?

"Who's that?" the four-year-old girl pointed at something among the stall of Christmas decors in the department store. In her left arm, she held her favorite teddy bear.

"Huh?" her uncle asked, peering at the direction the little girl was pointing.

"There," she pulled his hand, dragging him towards the life-size belen. "Who is this baby?"

"Oh, that's Jesus," her uncle answered, smiling to her.

"Why is he lying there? It's dirty there," asked the girl.

"Well," he scratched his head, "Because his parents cannot find other place for them to stay."

"Why? Are they poor?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," her uncle answered with a nod.

The little girl's lips quivered. She looked to her teddy bear then to baby Jesus. She held her teddy bear tight, grabbed her uncle's hand, and dragged him away from the belen.

While walking, the little girl looked up at her uncle with watery eyes and said,
"I'm not giving Teddy to Jesus."

Waiting with a Cup of Fruit Tea

Here's a cup of fruit tea.

It's supposed to be hot. Not anymore. She's been waiting for 2 hours now. Her yellow handbag sat on her lap, her itouch in her hand. She opened the iBooks app then closed it. She did not feel like reading at the moment.

"Traffic. Emergency meeting. Diarrhea," whatever reason that was, she understood. He promised to be there, so He will be. He never broke a promise, and He won't tonight.

She gulped the fruit tea until empty. Perhaps, the green tea would also taste good. She stood up, pressed the water boiler labelled Green Tea, and filled the cup to the brim.

It was quarter to 7, and she was firm on staying - on waiting. The chair felt good in her butt, and her favorite game show was on TV. While watching the girl lift the can with a straw, she blew the wisps off the cup and took a sip. Green tea tasted good as expected.

The tall, pretty girl won. Her favorite game show was over - it was 7:01 p.m. Her green tea's lukewarm now - her second tea, and yet He still hadn't come. She drummed her fingers on the table, thinking if she should wait some more or go and tell Him she needed to...because of traffic, emergency meeting, or diarrhea. She finished her tea. Now, she got an empty cup, a different show on TV, and an iBooks app she did not feel like clicking. She had to go.

She put her itouch inside her bag and zipped it. She stood up, walked towards the glass door, and pulled it open with the handle. As she went off, a piece of paper fell on the floor. A waiter picked it, pulled the door, and waved it in the air, "Miss! You left this!" But she was already too far to hear him. Maybe it wasn't that important. The waiter looked at the paper in his hand, which words read:

I'll meet you in the tea shop at 8:00 p.m. I have something for you. - Jesus

Float Along

Float along the waves.

Beneath you is the ocean of grace

Trust that you'll get to the shore

of the land you will most adore.

Be amazed, be amazed!

Upon the expanse of the sky, hold your gaze.

See through the clouds and pray

to the God who won't lead you astray.

And if the water breaks its stillness,

and the sky becomes a vast darkness,

Just float along, float along!

You'll come to the shore faster and strong!

Oh, float along the waves,

you are on the ocean of His love and grace,

Trust that He will bring you to the shore

of the land where there is something more.

When nothing makes sense, God does.

You wake up to an arid day.

The sunrays are dull, the billowing clouds move slowly, and your sister lies feebly beside you 

with her limbs spread out on the bed.

You wonder why today, everything is meaningless. The tasks you once perceived productive are pointless. You want to be nice and loving, but every person just leaves you in a fit of pique. Not their fault. You know you can't blame anyone save yourself.

You feel empty today. And it's a surprise that you are. Actually, everything's perfect this time but instead of seeing yourself on cloud nine, you're walking in a scorched land with no water to drink, wishing you will come to the end of the desert sooner.

It's okay. I tell you, it's okay that you're feeling this way. Probably, this is God's way of reminding you that there's something more, of redirecting you as the world blurs your way to ever after, and of telling you that He exists - that He wants to be sought after. By you.

Today, God whispers to you through the gentle wind, in the rustle of leaves, or through the soft chirps of birds. He teaches you how to see Him in the ordinary days, or in your worst - when nothing seems to be happening. It is today that He prefers to work quietly and imperceptibly, lovingly molding you in His hands. 

Today, you feel empty, but live anyway.

Trust. 

When nothing makes sense, God does.

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.