When God Stares

I lay awake in bed with You in my head.

It was a fine morning. 

The sun was gently shining, 

the temperature cool.

And I felt like You were staring at me,

staring with soft eyes.

Lovingly.

Adoringly.

Unflinching.

I felt like You were telling me 

that You were with me.

That I was never alone.

That I was protected, guided and cared for.

That I was loved.

I lingered on Your stare,

basked in it.

Minutes passed.

A few more minutes.

I felt Your presence soaking my skin,

then my muscles 

then my bones.

You are with me, Lord.

Then I sat,

and then stood.

And I lived the day.

Who is The Real Thing?

I can almost touch it.

This, the reverse blade of the sword he wields. I am -- entranced by the X scar drawn upon his cheek. He used to be a manslayer - that legendary man who bears the name of Battosai Himura. Leaving his bloody past behind, he treads Japan with the goal of peace, of a new era! And retains the name of Kenshin Himura. The heart of sword.

Okay. Enough of that.

These past few days, I've been watching over and over again the three live action movies of Samurai X - Rurouni Kenshin, Kyoto Inferno and the Legend Ends. It's quite brutal, you see - amazing sword fights, fisticuffs, lots of blood. Well it really is brutal, but I know it isn't real. Aside from the whole thing looking so close to its anime counterpart, the story isn't only about fighting. It inspires mastery of craft, humility, and love in different forms! I loved it!

Actually I loved it so much, I got addicted to it. Each day, I allow myself to be in awe of the beautiful lines, fighting scenes, and basically, just the whole thing, that I fail to do stuff other than watch the movie. I feel helpless, finding in me this overwhelming fondness time and time again. It is such kind of beauty that makes me want to surrender.

And so I brought it to God.

"Lord, I'm so fond of this movie... I like how Kenshin..." I told every little thing to Him, spelling out every inch of awe I have for the movie.

What kind of world do you want to see, Elaine? What is your purpose?

God seemed to ask.

I thought why these are the questions I got from my prayers. Probably, it's because Kenshin Himura mastered sword fighting with the burning goal to bring a new era to Japan. He wants a world of peace, where people will no longer live in fear or feel the need to kill to save somebody. He longs to breathe the air of freedom and cherish the richness of life - something that he, himself, once deprived from many people. With much regret.

So God's question seems, how about you, Elaine?

I don't know, exactly.

Kenshin is a samurai. I'm a teacher. Also a writer. Perhaps, I can work on these facts.

Then I remembered something.

It is a fiction.

Samurai X, Rurouni Kenshin, Kenshin Himura - it's just somebody's imagination! I searched about the manga writer and found that Kenshin Himura is Nobuhiro Watsuki's masterpiece!

Then I thought of the real thing - the Legend, whose Name was written in history.

That one Person of great wisdom and authority who once walked the earth, and made it entirely new. Him, who destroyed darkness with his glorious light.
Him, who selflessly loved and still loves.

He, who lives.

Jesus.

Where can I find meaning?

Where can I find meaning?

Is it covered by the clouds, or hidden behind the sun?

Is it at the end of the rainbows, or on top of the highest mountain?

Is it at the foot of a pyramid, or concealed in a rock or boulder?

How did others find meaning - such that lasts?

Is it under the priest's cassock or a nun's veil?

Is it tied in the string of a preacher's words, or squeezed between a writer's lines?

Is it at the tip of a child's smile, or in the breath of a dying old man?

And what if I would be able to see behind the clouds and the sun,

reach the end of the rainbows, and stand at the peak of the highest mountain,

lift pyramids, and crack all the rocks and boulders in the world?

Or what if I could look under a priest's cassock or a nun's veil,

unknot a preacher's words, and get in between a writer's lines,

touch the tip of a child's smile, and catch the breath of a dying old man?

Would I know if it's meaning I would behold or hold in my hand?
Would I know that I have found it?

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

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

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.

Rock Bottom

That night, I was crying my heart out. 

All there was was darkness, and cold rocks, and dead ends. For the first time in my life, I was sure I had hit the rock bottom. It felt like life was slowly being pulled out of me. Pain was brimming in my heart. It was akin to dying.

I grieved until my eyes went swollen, my cheeks wet, and my lips salty. Exhausting. I shook my head. I didn't want to stop. No. I didn't want to, until I turned my head and saw Him. 

I saw Jesus. He, who had a crown of thorns. He, who was almost drowned by the pool of his own blood. Jesus was defaced inside and out.

I looked closely. Jesus' face was a taut mask of pain, yet when his eyes met mine I felt the warmth of His love in my heart. Then I saw his dried lips parting, then muttering, "Elaine, I am with you in this suffering."

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?

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.