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God's Children

I don’t like how Yolanda has turned me into a 'tambay’. In fact, I think I’m one step closer to becoming depressed each day with nothing to look forward to and with an average of three persons to interact with every day. So, I thought I wanted to get my creativity running, you know, make art (although I’m not exactly much of an artist). I just have to do something. But I’m not even that motivated since creating without purpose is just pointless. Then, I thought about God’s creation of the world. Why did He want to create us? How could He be as motivated as He was as proven by the beauty of His work? Then, it occurred to me. It’s the same reason people would want to have kids.

Now, I don’t know all the reasons why people would want to have kids but as for me, I think I want to see someone go through life’s stages.  I want to see my child grow up with equal experiences of joy and sorrow and end up a victor by living a full life. Call me smug but I think I want to be someone my child can turn to when everything seems bleak; to be the source of encouragement given that I have been through everything that the child is going through and tell him/her that everything is going to be just fine. Then again, I’m still young.  I haven’t had any real thoughts on having kids yet. All these reasons I have might change. 

The point is that God wants to be a parent to us. The problem is that, in time, we become His rowdy teenagers and stubborn adult children. We neglect Him because we’re good on our own. We think life is all about getting what you want by making every night a party or making a fortune. But God continues to be a Father to us; waiting for us to come home to Him. He keeps waiting for us to tell Him about how we enjoy the blessings He sends us every day. He always wants us to talk to Him even only in our most convenient time. We simply forget everything He gave us (including sacrificing His begotten son).

To be His children is all God wants from us. He is our good and loving Father who would welcome us with open arms if we just come back to Him with a contrite heart regardless of how much we messed up with our lives.

Yolanda, we're just gonna laugh

After serving lunch in three-to-one ratio to the 157 evacuees...
Volunteer 1: Tara, pangaon na kita
Volunteer 2: Tara. Ano ngean tat kakaonon?

TRANSLATION
Volunteer 1: C'mon let's eat
Volunteer 2: Sure but what do we eat?
Everybody laughs. 

***

Priest: Kun ngadto ngean kamo kumaturog ha kwarto?
Volunteer: Waray na atop dre.
Priest: Nadiri kamo hito? Skyview!

TRANSLATION
Priest: Why don't you sleep in the bedroom?
Volunteer: Father, it doesn't have a roof anymore.
Priest: Don't you like that? Skyview!
Everybody laughs.

***

Puasa la anay an ayam.
(A Dobberman learns to fast by eating bread alone.)

Titikadako la an mata han Chihuahua han kagutom.
(The Chihuahua's eyes seem to grow bigger due to starvation.)

***

They say it's optimism and hope. Perhaps it is, but I can't really explain the Filipino humor. How could you laugh after finding out you're not getting a decent lunch after skipping breakfast? How could you make fun of your roofless bedroom? I guess, the Filipinos' sense of humor is just what it is. We just love to laugh.

You can break everything you want, Yolanda, but you're never gonna break the Filipinos' funny bone.

Living through the Tempest

I never thought of dying that day. I just thought of surviving. And I did.

My friends and I volunteered on Thursday night to help accommodate the residents of the squatters’ area who took shelter at Sto. Nino Parish in expectation of the coming super typhoon called Yolanda (aka Haiyan).  There was but a little drizzle and mild wind that night, how bad could the storm be? So we talked and laughed and made plans of activities for the incoming semester and we slept comfortably in one of the rooms of the convent. We never thought we’d end up being evacuees as well and all those plans will have to wait.

I was awakened on Friday morning by the whistle of the wind outside. She’s here. We went downstairs to prepare breakfast for the evacuees while the wind kept blowing stronger. Then, there was panic. The evacuees started rushing inside the kitchen saying it wasn’t safe to stay where they were. And then, boom went one of the glass doors and the other came next. There’s nothing we could do but pray. So, we offered a rosary despite the rising panic and wails as more evacuees filled the kitchen. I continued praying after the rosary and all I asked of God was that He will make the shelter of the convent enough to protect us. Dark water started to fill the room and there goes our breakfast and all our supplies. For a moment, I was scared I’d drown even though I can swim.

I was frightened when the strong wind broke the glass doors and windows and toppled the trees and electric posts outside and when the water rose to knee-level within seconds and we were forced to run to the second floor of the convent but death never crossed my mind; only survival. A nun kept pushing us to think of ways to make floaters for the children but there wasn’t anything. We weren’t that prepared. We found two prospective exits in case the water reaches the second floor and leaves us no choice but to swim through it. Thankfully, the water stopped rising but the strong wind hasn’t stopped yet. We offered another rosary. This time, many have calmed down. After what seemed to be the longest hours of our lives, the storm has passed.

Survivors from outside started coming in for they have nowhere else to go. One family had to swim through the murky water downtown and another let themselves be carried by the sea from San Jose to the shore of the city. Some of them were wounded while another had a broken arm but each held on to their dear life.

It was lunch time and there wasn’t much we could offer for the 157 evacuees, some of whom haven’t even had breakfast yet. We prepared about a half cup of rice and a half-slice of hard-boiled egg in disposable plates. Three people had to share each of those servings. That’s how little we had at that time. That didn’t matter. What matters is that we lived through the strongest storm.

After lunch, my friends and I went off to check on our friends and families. We agreed to come back to the convent before dark. Thankfully, all our families and friends also lived through Yolanda’s rage but the city is gone. All the pictures and videos you see in the news are true.

On Friday twilight, one of the priests decided to hold a mass despite the current condition of the church. It was dark. The pews have been wrecked and displaced to one side of the church. Raindrops fell through the roofless church. There were only about fifteen people attending the mass and the priest did not even give a homily; just a moment of silence for reflection. To me, it was a solemn celebration of an extension of my life. I thanked God for answering my prayer to make the shelter enough for all of us. I thought about how I could have struggled and died in the storm. Yet, here I was still. Even though my excitement for my last semester got crushed by this devastation, I’m still alive. Graduation can wait, right now I just have to cherish the fact that I lived.

I realized how short life is. I have come to include in my bedtime prayers that God forgive me my trespasses and bless my soul just in case I die in my sleep. I have come to appreciate more the miracle of waking up every morning to see a new day.

The moment I felt safe, I thought about how my other friends were doing. Did we all survive? Did I lose someone? There wasn’t any way to be sure since all communications were down and I can’t really visit all of them with all the debris and cadavers lining the streets. I have come to realize that there may not be enough time to show how much you really care about the people important to you. So, for the moment, I had to value the presence of my friends who were with me and hope that all the others are doing fine as well. Until we got out of Tacloban, my friends and I looked out for each other. Our families were not with us in the ruined city so we only have each other. No one gets left behind.

The feeling of leaving is not all that glorious. It is a mixture of feeling very grateful to be alive, of being hopeful to live comfortably once again and a feeling of guilt in leaving behind all the people who are suffering.

I was there for three days since the super typhoon. I’ve seen a man mourn over the loss of his daughter. I’ve seen familiar faces deal with the loss of everything including their homes. I’ve seen looters in action and I have benefited from the lootings myself. I smelled the stench of death in the streets. Like everybody else, I felt lost too, not knowing what to do or even where to start. A lot of lives have been greatly affected. A large number of people died but to us who were spared, life goes on. We will all have to begin again.  

Super typhoon Haiyan opened my eyes. It used to be easy to hear and neglect the cry for help of my fellowmen at times like this until I experienced it myself and I can’t just ignore it anymore. I used to lament over the huge number of casualties and the money’s worth of damage on the properties. Now, I see the pain that had to be borne by those who lost their family, friends, neighbors and homes, yet, I can’t do anything about it. The once hard life that our poor fellowmen had to endure just got harder.

It used to be easy for my attention to be diverted to anything new that comes through the social media like criticisms of politicians. Now, I just want myself and everyone else to keep our focus on helping rebuild the lives of those who survived because I know what it’s like to lose the life you built in one city for several years. I also realized that the day the storm hit is one of those times when there is really nothing we can do but pray, let God be God, surrender everything to Him and believe everything is going to be fine.

Many would say that despite everything that’s going on, the spirit of Christmas is alive. But I believe it is because of all this generosity, all these people lending a hand to help Filipinos rise again and all this hope of starting over at a time when we are at a complete loss that I can say Christmas is here. To the rest of the world, thank you. With your help, we will rise again. The one good thing Haiyan brought to Earth is the restoration of faith in humanity.

LUMINO

Words from my current favorite Vampire

The bond of family blesses us with an immeasurable power. But we also must accept what comes with it. It gives us a responsibility to love without condition; without apology. We can never waiver from the power of that bond even when it's tested. The bond nourishes us; gives us strength. Without that power, we are nothing. -Elijah Mikaelson

 

 

***

Just got home. Praise God for the safe travel!

 

Challenge for this semestral break: Bring your family closer to God. 
"Let us make our family the first recipient of our mission" - Kuya Julius Comia 
LUMINO!

Bad Hair Day

My tears just dried up after crying over my new haircut. Months ago, my mother told me that my curls weren’t very pretty anymore and that I should get a haircut – a really short one – and allow my hair to grow back in its natural beauty (i.e. cut off all the damaged part of my hair). I agreed because I never imagined it to be that short. I cried over it, then. I crawled in bed with a box of chocolates and entertained myself with a movie. There’s nothing more I can do, anyway, my hair has already been cut off. I moved on. Eventually, I thought I looked better in pictures than when I did with long hair and so I learned to love it.

Yesterday, I laid in bed for hours after an exam and when I was preparing for my 5:30 PM class, I realized my hair can’t be done. There’s a stubborn portion of it that stems out and away from the rest of it. And then, last night, my mother called. She told me she’d seen my pictures on Facebook and said I should get a haircut because my hair was already shaggy. Imagine hearing that when you’re having a bad hair day. So today, I got a haircut. Now, I look like a kindergartner.

But hey, even a bad hair day can be a source of insight.

• There’s more to a day than having a bad hair day. How could I waste my tears on such a trivial matter when I could be happy for passing Cost Accounting? Yes, I did it. After two removal exams, I finally did it. Hoorah! So, when you’re having a bad hair day, ignore the bad hair and focus on the day. There are numerous things to be grateful for in a day.

 

• Remember that your haircut does not make you who you are. It is you who makes your haircut. I thought I look like a kindergartner with this hair. I didn’t realize I was acting like one for crying over such a petty matter. So whether or not my hair does look like that of a kindergartner’s, I want to try my best to look my age.

 

• Make your own decisions if you don’t want to end up blaming others for what you end up with. I kinda started to regret listening to my mother to get a haircut. But hey, mother knows best. Who knows, after this long (and I mean loooooong) period of time of waiting for my hair to grow back, it might actually look better.

• Thus, the last insight being “Sometimes, you have to wait for things to get better.”

Now I feel better. Have a great hair day!