Keep On Calling

I've begun a morning routine with a special friend.

What we do is have our Verse of the Day - which I pick from my bottle called "Vital Life" - and we reflect on it. Anyone who fails to send a reflection gets a fine of P100. We assigned no particular time; we're OK as long as it is in the morning.

Today, this is what I got from the bottle: "You are forgiving and good, O Lord, abounding in love to all who call to you." - Psalm 86:5. As practiced, I took a photo of it and sent it to him.

"It's about God's mercy and love," he messaged. He always goes first. "I was told that the unforgivable sin is not believing in God's forgiveness. My priest said that God loves us even if we are a bit of a joke."

I sent him a big thumbs up, and typed. "Yes. Hahaha." I was thinking, OK. Thanks for that, Lord, because You know, I am actually a big joke.

I was holding Fr. Thomas Green's Darkness in the Marketplace that time, planning to read it. After long days of spiritual dryness, I felt a yearning. A different kind of yearning. For God. And I had to do something about it.

I set the book aside. Now, it was my turn.

"As for me..." I was typing, "I feel spiritually dry most days. I guess it's because I feel sinful. I feel like I do things which I know God won't like." I sent.

Lately, I've been adjusting to heaps of things - family, career, future plans, relationships. I felt like I was not doing most things right. A lot has changed, and I found myself rarely in best disposition.

"But this morning feels different..." I added.

"How so?" he asked.

"'...abounding in love to all who call to you,'" I quoted then, "You know, I pray to God even when I do not feel Him. I know the problem is with me. But this morning, I realized that God's approach to me now is quiet intimacy."

Somehow, I felt that the dryness made my intimacy with Him painful yet more precious to me than before - so precious that I wanted to keep it unsaid, unknown by most people. As much as possible, I just wanted it to be shown in the way I walk, talk, or just be, lest I felt like I would be ruining its true essence.

"I realized that my spirituality does not actually stop from getting deeper, maybe?" I continued, "That there is progress when you keep on praying even when you don't feel Him because somehow, it's like you saying and proving that God is real. That His existence is not based on feelings. He exists even when I do not feel Him." I was internalizing it more as I wrote it.

"It's true," I concluded, "that God's love is abounding to all who call to Him. No matter how sinful you feel you are...just keep on calling, keep on calling, keep on calling. And He'll come to You with outstretched hands."

I guess God likes this morning routine, too.

When It Paints Sense

Most days, we do not understand. The rest of the days, we try to make sense of the little we can understand.

This is one of the rest of the days.

I remember the afternoon I painted vines in my room's walls. The green swirled in every direction, playful yet gentle. Dots of red made roses. I nursed a haven in my mind, and all I wanted then was to make it alive. So I transformed my room into a work of art.

Each day, I would hold a paintbrush or a pen. Classic music played on my laptop whilst I stormed the white sheet with colors or different shades of black. I would tape my best pieces to the wall. It embellished my walls until it turned into a sort of gallery.

It was beautiful.

I was ecstatic, drowning in the abstract. I resigned from my full-time job then, and I was satisfied with the little I was earning with my part-time job and writing gigs. I held my time in my hands. I had enough money for myself. Just for myself.

Until I was told that I was drowning myself in the abstract, probably, to weasel out life.
That hurt. A lot. Suddenly, my awe melted and all I wanted then was to lay my hands on each of the paintings. Destroy them, perhaps. Career-wise, I was fumbling in the dark. Quarter life crisis, as they described it. I was lost. I wasn't happy.

Today is very different.

Life's no longer vines and roses. Now, I live not in a world I painted, but in a painted world. I am drowned in the concrete - in the real, in the truth, in both sheer ugly and beauty. I stand here, alone with my eyes and hands. Alone with God, the Great Painter.

God tells me that I should grow up, and leave the worlds I invented. God tells me to live and turn the abstract to concrete, the mind to hands, the ideas to things. God tells me that I may be what I behold...but I am, too, what I hold.

Most days, I do not understand.

But thank God, this is one of the rest of the days.

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.

Your Haven

Haven is a place 

where you can close your eyes, 

keep still, 

and listen to the chirping birds. 

Or where you can sing to the open sky, 

outstretch your arms,

 and twirl until you get giddy. 

Or where you can run fast along the cool breeze 

over the sweet-scented meadows!

Haven is where you can breathe,

and let God breathe on you. 

The thing is,

haven is within you.

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.

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.

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.

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.

One True Love

Make my words thick with wisdom, Oh Lord,

and my songs of praise taste sweet in my lips.

May whatever comes out from the depths of my heart

be a fragrant scent to Your nose

and to the one You've prepared for me.

May we feel Your warmth as our eyes lock

and our hearts beat with the same passion for You.

Lord, we place our hands in Yours.

I pray that You bring us together

once we both brave the path of Adam and Eve

and abandon all other paths yet not ruefully,

once we're healed enough to touch each other's scars

when we run out of wisdom and strength,

and once we're ready to love each other for eternity

and to love You yet for more than our eternity.

Strength of the Blemished

I come before You, Lord,

I, who is a selfish creature.

I own thoughts of greed by nature

and desires that solely benefit myself.

I aim for approval as much as

I grip the concept of self-worth.

I am weak, Lord, as much as this 

vale of soul-making needs me to be.

But I am glad to behold

such imperfections in the mirror,

for I won't touch what I don't know exists,

and thus change what I don't acknowledge.

Oh, I am weak yet I rejoice!

Because as long as I hold this fact,

You, O Lord, provides for me,

and my strength will be unceasing.

Off the Cliff

I've reached the edge, at last!

I used to be afraid of falling,

but I am now in a point

where I can care no longer

about where the wind would take me

or if I'd die or survive with broken bones.

I just want to get away from here,

from this beautifully ruined place,

from the memories embedded

up to its dust and ashes.

This place has died long ago.

No more green leaves or tall trees,

no more clean air or water,

no more warmth in houses,

no more hope nor love.

But there's another place,

another side, another destiny,

waiting for me.

Is it down there?

Then I would have to fall

and get hurt.

However, if it's that one across,

then God would surely make me fly.

Nevertheless, one thing is for sure,

I've reached the edge, at last!

It's time to leave everything behind

and step off of the cliff,

with my arms spread like wings,

with my eyes closed,

and finally, with my heart light.

When it is still the right word

It was just too great, I was at a loss for words.

I found out, only my tears could carry its substance,

and I could only be appeased through silent prayers.

Pain is not the right word but something more than that.

It was deep, dull and numbing.

Sometimes, it could be very sharp

that I didn't even notice I was broken into pieces.

No, pain isn't the right word.

All I knew was it was too great, I looked okay.

It started the morning after that one fine day,

when I knew I had to start facing atypical days

'cause you're no longer in it.

Every dream I had wafted away, deferred.

It crushed me or something more than that.

It was too unbearable that it kindled a fire of hope in me.

I suddenly felt that God's eyes were on me, on us,

and He knew my heart, your heart.

Then it dawned on me what word I was looking for.

I guess, I just had it in another form, but still...

love is the right word.

What Makes You Happy?

Today, I went home from work feeling empty. I wasn't happy. I wasn't sad either. I doubt I was even somewhere in between. I just felt nothing.

I decided not to end my day that way, though. I really wanted to make the day great but I only had the night left for me, so I just wished I'd have a great night. Immediately, I ran to my diary and wrote, "What makes me happy?"

Then I remembered what makes me happy. 

1. Hobbits. I thank Tolkien for inventing hobbits. They're really amazing middle earth creatures. Often, I would imagine myself walking along Shire with huge hairy foot. I would think of how simple life is in there, waking up in a nice sunny morning and freely running with woods, water and sweet smelling grass around. Usually, I'd sit at my desk, get my pen and think I'm Bilbo Baggins writing my tales. 

2. "It's a good life, Hazel Grace." The first time I read this line from John Green's The Fault in our Stars, I wondered if Augustus was right. What is it that he saw in life that makes him say it's actually good? I sought for answers until I realized that John Green meant nothing deep about it. Everything is simply beautiful. And that it's a privilege to merely step onto this world and experience everything it offers - good food, good shelter, good family and friends, good weather, good books, good sleep and more. There are challenges, of course, but they are only to put some flavor. Often, all we have to do is to look around and be thankful.

3. My God up there has already laid His great plans on my timeline. All I have to do is to keep moving until I walk through all of them. I can't wait for God's surprises. Bo Sanchez, in his Take Charge Give All, said that each day is a seed. It's either you plant the seed or throw it. I may not have planted all my seeds but I'm confident I'll grow those that I did. I know God made sure they were laid in the best soil possible. Oh, I just can't wait to see my seeds full-grown and bearing fruits!

Just thinking about these things, I could say that it's been a great night! Indeed, all I needed was a good mindset. Now, I could look up my list every now and then. How about you, what makes you happy?

Have you looked up the sky today?

Do you love clouds? Well, I do.

I remember when my parents and I traveled to Baguio by car. I laid myself down on the back seat, facing the window. Then I looked at the clouds. They seemed to be keeping a gaze on me while we were running. Everything else below whizzed by so fast - trees, electric lines, houses - everything! While the clouds stayed on my sight and calmly got out of it.

I raised my hand and drew the outline of their curves with my index finger. I formed figures of birds, dolphin, fish and the like. I thought, looking at the sky is like having a glimpse of heaven. I had in my mind a picture of ascension: Jesus, with arms outstretched, went up to heaven. Heaven is above. Sky is above. Hence, sky is where heaven could be.

It was a long bumpy journey to Baguio. Yet, with such a refreshing sight, I fell into sleep peacefully and smiling.

That was years ago. When I got older, I rarely looked up the sky. I became too absorbed with those things that whiz by so fast - people, job, school, goals, pleasure. I started living with these things knowing that they would change and they could go. But I kept a grip on them tightly. I walked through the path to my dreams with them slipping from my hands, and me, trying to catch them. It was exhausting. It was painful. At the end of the day, I might've had everything altogether, but I would feel empty inside.

Look up. I realized that I must not forget to look up the sky again, to gaze at the clouds, to have a glimpse of heaven. When the road gets bumpy or when the waiting gets too long or when I can no longer catch up with a busy world, I must remember that there's something more than this; that above, there remains a cloud calmly moving across the sky; and that there is a God who went up to heaven with arms outstretched, light and unburdened. Perhaps, it's one way to heaven - letting go and surrendering.

My friend, have you looked up the sky today?

He, who truly loves

Oh, how I wish I could caress Your cheeks,

and look lovingly on You,

- straight in Your eyes!

I want You to feel how much I love You

and how I love loving You.

You are utterly beautiful, Lord.

Your presence feels warm in my soul.

Because of You, I feel like

I have too much love to give

that sometimes,

my heart's like bursting!

But give me strength, Lord.

A whole lot of it!

For I know that this brings pain

just as much.

Fill me with wisdom,

calm my spirit,

appease my soul!

Prepare me, my Lord,

for a long purpose-driven journey

for now, I can see myself

treading this world

with a loving heart,
but with You, Lord.
Yes, with you!
You, who truly loves.

I Believe in Infinity

At about quarter to 5 in the morning,

I saw the moon and realized 

that it's actually 384,400 kilometers away from the earth.

I then gazed at the black sky that surrounded it,

and marveled at the fact that

I'm actually seeing a glimpse of what is far beyond the earth.

I realized, I was seeing infinity in its concrete form.

I swerved my gaze ahead of me,

and beheld an extension of that same black sky.

I then thought that if I would clear the world

with buildings and anything that obstruct my view ahead,

I'd clearly see infinity not just above me

but around me.

I then woke up from reverie and smiled.

I remembered, infinity is where God is.

Warmth

I'm lifting up my sincerest thanks to You, Lord!

Today, I hope that as I look up the sky,

my smile would beam the heavens.

I woke with Your embrace in the cold morning,

the first warmth I felt before sunrise.

The moment my mother saw me open my eyes, 

she sang me a Happy Birthday.

I thought it may almost be akin to the first time

she saw me open my little eyes to the world.

My sister whom I slept beside with

gently touched my head as a greeting.

My eldest sister gave me a crazy song and dance number.

My father greeted me and rejoiced with me

as I faced a day of birthday leave.

When I picked up my phone and unlocked it,

more greetings, I love you's, 

and heartfelt messages welcomed me. 

Unworthy I was, for I never thought I am that loved. 

I know it was a teaching on gratitude,  Lord. 

Oh, my mornings never felt that warm!

Lord, You've walked with me through these years,

rocky, steep or narrow the paths had been.

You have never left me,

nor lifted Your gaze upon me.

Certainly, even by the time my memory fails me, 

I won't forget the warmth of Your hands. 

Your hands that molded me, 

the first that touched my cheek when I was born. 

Your hands that held me and helped me to my feet 

when I was learning to walk.

Your hands that comforted me when I was in pain.

Your hands that tapped my back when I was feeling down. 

Your hands that're holding mine now

as I continue to tread the earth.

Lord, if there's one thing I must celebrate on my birthday,

it's the fact that You chose me,

me against the infinite possibility!

This feeble sinful me,

who You knew would hurt you,

but still chose to share Your warmth with.

Must I regret

I am asking you,

must I regret?

Must I regret that I thought of you more than you thought of me,

or that I wanted to be with you more than you wanted to be with me?

Must I regret that I told you how much I cared,

or that I wanted you to at least care too?

Must I regret that I waited for you,

or that I assumed that you'd be happy to know I was waiting?

Must I regret that I let myself be deeply hurt by you?

or that I gave you chance for an nth time?

Must I regret that I loved you this much,

or that I let you know it?

Please tell me,

must I regret?

But should I regret now though I know

that just regretting is the worst I can do?

I Forgot the Meaning of Defeat

It came to me again, at dusk.

All was gray and gloomy.

Even without opening its mouth,

I recognized its cold, raspy voice.

It moved close to me like a dark cloud,

so heavy that it hovered the place,

as if it was empty.

It was my enemy.

It used to send chill to my spines,

and make my every limb tremble.

But that day, I was prepared,

all equipped and strong.

"Come to me," it said.

I shook my head.

It smiled with hidden deceit,

and offered me its hand

in false reassurance.

My lips parted as I uttered,

"No".

The wind grew strong and colder

with soft yet murderous whistle,

but not a hint of fear came to me;

I've grown bolder.

Then the world suddenly stopped,

and was filled with ringing silence,

not in peace but with deeper darkness.

I opened my eyes with nothing to see.

I listened with nothing to hear.

I walked with no direction. 

And in the nick of time,

my enemy pierced me with my own sword.

The excruciating pain dropped me onto the ground,

swimming in the pool of my own blood.

It knew where to struck me,

and hit me, and beat me.

It knew the kind of pain 

that would bring me to my knees.

I tried to stand up, but my will failed me.

I thought, I grew strong,

but my enemy, stronger.

My mind was preparing for an nth-time defeat.

I thought that it would eternally be impossible,

to win a battle with yourself.

Yes, it was me.

Rather, it had been me I was fighting with.

Amidst the great length of hopelessness,

my sapped out self-esteem,

and unresolved confusion,

came a dazzling blinding light . . .

It was more ardent than the sun,

yet older than the oldest stars.

It was a light brighter than the brightest light,

blinding, indeed, yet vivid.

Marveled by its overwhelming glory, I looked up.

At that moment,

for the first time in a mileage of time,

I  forgot  the  meaning  of  defeat.