Harry Potter is my son!

“The firstborn of a donkey you shall redeem with a lamb, or if you will not redeem it you shall break its neck. All the firstborn of your sons you shall redeem. And none shall appear before me empty-handed.”  Exodus 34:20

SPECIALIS REVELIO! This is a spell which causes an object to show its hidden secrets or magical properties. One of many in the Harry Potter series. Maybe, the very spell which causes HP followers to yearn for more.

When the first film was shown in movie theaters years ago, my children were then 9 and 6 – old enough to understand the story despite the accent, but young enough to be bedazzled with its awesome special effects.  From then on, our household increased by three – Megan, Miguel plus Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.  My kids loved their new-found siblings, and in Hogwarts, they would meet new friends with whom they would grow up with in time.

My kids indeed have grown now.  So did Harry, Hermione and Ron.  It is amazing to note the physical transformation.  But it is more noteworthy how their bond grew stronger through the years.

10 years, 7 books and 8 movies after, JK Rowling did a great job to steer our kids’ imagination towards a love affair with books.  Such that national bookstore was like a candy store to them.  The significant influence is written all over our children’s chosen career path.  Megan is a prolific writer with a passion for creative production layouts.  Miguel, on the other hand, dreams of becoming a filmmaker.  Thus, Harry Potter casts his spell .

We knew someday our kids would go and follow their own calling.  But Harry Potter had to go too, and we are sad that it all ends now.

On the contrary we are blessed, that in our time, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, their masters, friends and villains, came to life. Our household had been stupefied by their presence, and like a son, Harry Potter would live on in our hearts.

Thanks to GOD who is ever greater than magic and the creator of JK Rowling, Harry Potter would triumph over all evils for ages to come.  EXPECTO PATRONUM!

when the time is now

“Do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day.” 2 Peter 3:8

we’re now ten days into 2011, and i still don’t have a list of new year’s resolutions.  not that i even plan on having one, but it has been tradition that before the old year ends, the list should have been done and must be followed from Day 1 onwards.  but since it’s a bit late already, maybe my new year’s resolution is to not have any new year’s resolution at all.

before Christmas, Megan was giving slight hints here and there about what gift she really wanted-a canon 550d camera.  since it is quite expensive and we don’t have the money to buy one just yet, i told her that patience is a virtue. wittingly she responded that time is goldhaha!  that camera might as well be gold!

aah youth! –  carefree, always in a hurry as if there’s no tomorrow.  but only with age will they realize that time is just a passing fancy.  and i sure finally did. in fact, as i grow older, i perceive time as a curse.  especially when life is defined by the years, months, days, hours, minutes, seconds, nanoseconds… 

when i was younger, i used to believe that time is really gold because our culture dictates our life in terms of the years that we live.  like when at 12, one has to finish grade school.  one can vote or date at age 18.  by 20, one has to finish college.  by 30, one has to have established a career already, earned his 1st million and settled down.  between 30 to 40, one should already have a family, built a house for them, sent kids to school…

between 40 to 50, one would be preoccupied with advancing with that career, take care of seeping health issues and playing on retirement plans.  at age 60 onwards, one should then enjoy the fruits of retirement, then eventually die of natural causes or old age.

imagine the frustration when one doesn’t catch up with the hands of time.  i won’t be surprised if that expensive rolex, that cheap wall clock or that annoying alarm clock can be as deadly as a butcher’s knife.  these timepieces may actually be the number one cause of stress.  and stress as we all know is the number one cause of any illness, or the reason some diseases get even worse  for that matter.

 it’s been two months since my surgery, and i’m still stuck here in my room. since i felt stronger, i think that i should be elsewhere doing something else, which “culture” expects of me.  but God put me exactly at this spot at this very moment. just as He planned.  building up my patience, strengthening my faith and bolstering my confidence in what He has in store for me.

we should be defined by the moments we live. not the hours we spend catching up with the future.  not the minutes fighting off the ghosts of the past.  we are in the here and now. and whatever we think or do now, will shape up our tomorrow .  or change how we look at our yesterday.

if you want a taste of hell, go ahead.  stare at that clock as it excruciatingly tick-tocks your life away.  waiting for that something that may just happen only after a century, or worse, may not happen at all.  do whatever you can wherever you are-NOW.

remember that in heaven, there are no clocks.  no calendars.  no new year’s resolutions. only moments of everlasting joy and infinite bliss with our Lord.  so savor each moment like you’re already in heaven.

love and bad hair days

“Remember the days of old; consider the years long past.  Ask your father, and he will tell you, your elders, and they will teach you.” Deuteronomy 32:7

megan had a bad hair day. literally and otherwise.  the other day, some newbie in the salon she went to, did quite a job on her crowning glory and caused her tears to fall.  not to mention strands of hair too.  it was such a mess that she can’t help but  write about it.  what disasters can do to ignite that passion to write!

what was remarkable was this particular line which i quote“I was one of fortunate people on earth who might run out of hair, but not of the people who would love me and care for me no matter what.”  OMG! her hair taught her a lesson 🙂

i had my share of falling hair too.  but just the right number of strands that are due to fall like leaves in autumn.  and i’m amazed that these too can motivate us to reflect past the hairstyles and hair color.

megan will always be our sweet baby with that pretty hair and perfect eyebrows (no need to have it shaved little lady).  but she’s eighteen now and in love with a guy.  and we are happy that she’s happy.  though there is concern over the sudden change in her behavior and taste.

like her delicate hair, love can make her shine.   some other time, “exposure to harsh elements” could break her. but as long as she remains rooted to what she learned at home, school and her Catholic teaching, she will always “grow back” to the same sweet human being that we always know.

now my hair is tri-color (black at the tips, white at the roots and gray in between).   my mommy, almost all white. my prayer is that when megan look our way again, she would  find the wisdom in each strand that age had rebonded…and eventually relaxed.

Weep, Rachel! Baby Boy Aborted Alive and Left to Die

This is what the LORD says: “A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because her children are no more.” Jeremiah 31:15

  • By Jennifer Hartline
  • 4/30/2010
  • reposted from Catholic Online (www.catholic.org)
  • The manner of this child’s death is horrifying beyond belief, but it’s not the location of his death that makes it a homicide!  He was the very same 22 week-old infant hours earlier when he was kicking and growing inside his mother’s womb!  He was the very same human being the moment he died as the moment before he was aborted.  That he died slowly, nearly two days after the abortion, only means he was clumsily murdered.

    A voice was heard in Ramah, Lamentation and bitter weeping: Rachel Weeping for Her Children Refusing to be comforted for her children, Because they are no more. (Jeremiah 31:15)

    A voice was heard in Ramah, Lamentation and bitter weeping: Rachel Weeping for Her Children Refusing to be comforted for her children, Because they are no more. (Jeremiah 31:15)

    WASHINGTON, DC (Catholic Online) –  I would have taken him in a heartbeat and loved him.  You probably would have as well.  I know there are countless couples out there who would have given anything for the gift of him.  I know when you read about what happened to him, you will be as angry as I am at this moment.  Then you will, hopefully, weep as I am at this moment.  He deserves every tear we can shed and then some.

    The story of this horrible evil deserves righteous anger.  It is entirely appropriate to scream and wail.  There doesn’t seem to be nearly enough wailing – that may be what is beginning to bother me most.  I am enraged by the overriding hush.

    The UK Telegraph reported April 28 that in the town of Rossano, Italy, a 22 week-old baby boy was  aborted alive, wrapped in a sheet with his umbilical cord still attached and left alone to die.  20 hours later, he was discovered by a priest who went to pray beside his body and noticed that the baby was moving and breathing.  Doctors then had the baby taken to a neighboring hospital to be cared for in a neonatal intensive care unit, where he ultimately died, nearly two days after being ripped from his mother’s womb and discarded like trash.

    His mother decided to end his life because prenatal scans suggested he was disabled.  Suggested.  Possibly disabled; declared unworthy to live.  He was murdered by heartless animals wearing lab coats, who have medical degrees hung in frames on their office walls.  He was handed over to death by the one who was entrusted by God with his care, and he was killed and thrown away by those who take an oath to “first do no harm.”

    It’s time to stop tip-toeing around, sugar-coating our language for fear of sounding offensive.  What’s offensive is what was done to this child.  What’s offensive is the barbaric execution of babies in the womb in the name of “reproductive freedom.”  What’s offensive is that societies at large turn their eyes away, pretend not to notice, and justify the evil being masqueraded as a “right.”

    How I long to hear Rachel weeping!  How I long to see her wail at the top of her lungs, cover her head with ashes and mourn for her children!  “A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because her children are no more.”  Jeremiah 31:15

    Instead, it is the anti-Rachel who presently exerts her influence and power over us.  The anti-Rachel is heard in the voice of Planned Parenthood, NARAL, NOW, Emily’s List, Catholics for Choice, Catholics United, the judges and politicians who protect abortion “rights” and yes, our President.  The anti-Rachel sits in the seat of power in our country and around the world, and weeping for our children has been eschewed; now we declare victory and “freedom” won by their calculated deaths.

    The anti-Rachel said just today that abortion must be kept safe and legal and whether or not it is rare is beside the point:

    “If those 1.21 million abortions represent only the women who could access abortion financially, geographically or otherwise, then that number is too low.  Yes, too low….Do we dare admit that increasing the number of abortions might be not only good for women’s health, but also moral and just?”  RHReality Check, “Keep Abortion Safe and Legal? Yes. Make it Rare? Not the Point.” by Aimée Thorne-Thomsen

    I would love to hear Ms. Thorne-Thomsen defend what was done to that baby boy in Italy this week, and defend it she must if she insists abortion is just and moral! 

    Where is the statement from Planned Parenthood extolling the courageous service of this doctor in providing the mother the “reproductive health services” she needed?  It should not make one iota of difference to them how this baby died.  All that matters is that his mother wanted him killed and the doctor tore him out of the womb.  As long as he ultimately died, the details are irrelevant.  After all, abortion is abortion is abortion.  What difference does it make how it’s accomplished?  So what if the insentient blob of tissue, the little parasite, the disabled fetus, the unplanned and unwanted intruder doesn’t die right away?  Whether in the womb, halfway out of the womb, or delivered and laying on an instrument table, who cares?  So what if it dies hours or days later, having been thrown in the corner with the dirty laundry?

    No, the voices of anti-Rachel cannot be sad for the death of this baby boy. Death is the necessary fruit of their labors. The most they can do is plead for the cause of better-trained doctors who are responsible and skilled enough to make sure they get the job done right on the first try. The tragedy for them here is that yet another doctor has failed to provide women the care they deserve. The manner of this child’s death is horrifying beyond belief, but it’s not the location of his death that makes it a homicide! He was the very same 22 week-old infant hours earlier when he was kicking and growing inside his mother’s womb! He was the very same human being the moment he died as the moment before he was aborted. That he died slowly, nearly two days after the abortion, only means he was clumsily murdered. I know there will be many people in many countries who will be outraged over this child’s death. They may weep and feel furiously angry. But will it matter? When the next opportunity comes to usher Rachel into the seat of power, that laws of life may be written in place of the current laws of death, will the millions remember this little boy and their anger over his murder? In our own nation, will the millions who say they recognize the humanity of the child in the womb remember this precious child and finally denounce the mythical “right” of abortion? Will they take their anger to the ballot box in defense of the sanctity of human life? Will Catholics in America finally live the undeniable truth of the faith they claim to believe? Human life is sacred and created by God. Abortion kills a child. No one has the right to kill a child. Abortion is intrinsically evil. This is what the Church teaches, yet scores of self-described Catholics either brush aside or flat-out reject this truth and carry the banner of “choice” instead. Why? Why would this child’s death have been legal, moral, just, and acceptable if only he had died immediately? How long will we choose the curse over the blessing? Why isn’t Rachel’s weeping a deafening roar? Rachel absolutely must refuse to be comforted over the brutal death of this child and every child who is killed in the name of “choice.”

    (This boy was killed in Italy, but it happens here in the U.S. more than anyone will admit, despite our Born Alive Infant Protection Act. Read more at Jill Stanek.)
    —– Jennifer Hartline is a grateful Catholic, a proud Army wife and mother of four precious children (one in Heaven). She is a contributing writer for Catholic Online. She is also a serious chocoholic. Visit her at My Chocolate Heart. – – –
     
    Deacon Keith Fournier asks that you join with us and help in this vital mission by sending this article to your family, friends, and neighbors and adding our link (www.catholic.org) to your own website, blog or social network. Let us broadcast, we are PROUD TO BE CATHOLIC!

    some kind of light

    “Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you girded yourself and walked where you would; but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you and carry you where you do not wish to go.” John 21:18

    my daughter megan was compared by my mom with Christmas lights that blink and blink.  when she was younger, she had  a temper which she undoubtedly got from me.  fortunately she got the ‘flash’ type temper.  ’twas here, next second pfft, nada, gone. 

    i wish i could control my temper like that when i was younger.  like a switch, i could have just turned it off as quickly in a flick.   and so should the spanking too.  (if that caused my behind to be this plump,  something good came out of it somehow, ha-ha.)

    this is just to point out that as we grow older, the more subdued and considerate we become.  when as infants, we cry when we were hungry or wet,  no matter if it was in the middle of the night when everyone else was asleep.  or we smiled and giggled when we feel like it, even when there was no one around  to smile with us.  who cares?  as kids, we were carefree. no worries, no inhibitions.  walang pakialam sa mundo.  at walang kamalay-malay. we didn’t care what time of day, or night it was.  our parents took care of everything we need.

    when we matured as teenagers, tougher rules were implemented.  parents stared at the clocks longer. tick-tock, tick-tock.  “time to do this, time to do that”.   “you’re late again”.   darn! these were played on and on like broken records.  that’s the reason we couldn’t wait until college graduation was over.  when finally, we would be able to find decent jobs and meet financial bliss minus parental restrictions.  aaaahhh sweet freedom!  haha! or so we thought…

    we don’t realize it until later that as we went about to build careers and eventually settle down and raise kids of our own, that we were never  free afterall.  when we signed employment contracts, we were bound.  when we get married, we tied the knot.  and the marriage contract didn’t even have an expiration date.  and the power over our own life would remain a dream, because our sense of responsibility decides when to turn on and off our self-indulgence.  we will forever be prisoners of time, jobs and loved ones.  or on a grander scale, prisoners of our own organization, company or advocacies.  

    by prisoner here meant to be involuntarily restrained.  as adult human beings, it is an instinct to belong.  and to belong means that one exists no longer for himself alone, but for someone else or something that he puts higher importance to, at times even more than himself. this requires sacrifice and self-denial especially when one’s desires and comforts are set aside for the well-being of another.   

    when we stretch out our hands to be tied down or when we allow ourselves to be taken and girded to be carried to where we would not want to go, we are perceived to be prisoners by human standards. but when we conform to a higher spiritual order, the restraints become the most profound symbol of freedom.  chains are made of love instead of steel.  and the prison walls of  warm embrace, instead of concrete.  when we are finally freed from the bondage of our own selfishness, we finally taste freedom of the sweetest kind.

    Jesus stretched out his hands to be crucified.  He allowed himself to be girded by others and carried away to where we would not want to go, to Golgotha where His body and blood were sacrificed so that we may be all be free from the bondage of sin.  it was not about weakness.  but obedience.  and love.

    the fate of St. Peter was predicted to be like that of his Savior, only upside down.  though he “blinked” 3 times, when he denied Jesus, he freed himself from the anguish and shame by accepting his designated task on earth.  to be the rock upon which the Church would be built.  to be the shepherd of Jesus’ flock after His Ascension.

    wouldn’t it brighter, if instead of blinking lights, we would rather be spotlights?…ever radiant and focused where the hand of God sets us upon.

    things are not always what they seem

    “When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and drawing near to the boat.  They were frightened but he said to them, ‘It is I; do not be afraid.’

    Then they were glad to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat was at the land to which they were going.”  John 6:19-21

    things are not always what they seem. 

    when a husband prefers fishing on weekends, he hates to be with his family.  truth is, he just needs quiet time and a stress-reducing activity after a week of rush assignments and impossible deadlines.

    when the house is in turmoil, used dishes are in the sink and the baskets are overflowing with laundry, the wife is just plain lazy.   truth is, she is too ill to get out of bed.

    when a daughter forgets to text or call back, she doesn’t love her dad and mom anymore.  truth is, she is practically in a rush to get the subjects she needs to enrol for summer classes.

    when a son spends more time with the computer than with people, he is anti-social.  truth is, he is just plain bored or just wanted to reach out to family and friends and stay in touch.

    when we get old, it is the end.  truth is, it is the time when wisdom comes of age and the fullness of life blossoms.

    when your dream house is almost within your reach and still lose it, you are such a LOSER.  truth is, you don’t really need it.

    when there’s no cash in the bank, then all else is lost.  truth is, God provides us with what we need. 

    when all plans don’t push through, you’re such a failure.  truth is, God has better ideas.

    when you are all alone, no one really cares. truth is, God is always with us.

    truth is, things are not always what they seem.

    i don’t know if it was a serious case of pre-menopausal syndrome, but i’d been through a hell of a week.  i thought this, i thought that.  i feared this, i feared that. i worried about this, i worried about that.  what a waste of precious time!

    the past week really started great.  we were able to watch the Divine Mercy Sunday celebration live on tv.  the message was TRUST and PEACE. and bhoy and i felt so blessed to be able to take part in spirit with this special mass commemorating the golden jubilee of the National Shrine for the Divine Mercy* and the life of  St. Maria Faustina of Kowalska. 

    but as the week progressed, and the real world sucked me right back in,  i ran round and round again to look  for my happy old self from other people, places and things.  i looked for me in me.  but neither did i find me there.  i kept telling bhoy that i feel sad, and i didn’t even know why or where it all came from.  by midweek, i gave up and just let everything be. 

    there was one constant though, that i failed to see because i was extremely obsessed with my self-inflicted ordeal.  and that constant is GOD.  and i failed to absorb the message of the Divine Mercy.  TO TRUST IN JESUS, THE KING OF MERCY.

    like the apostles, i was frightened too.  but when i see Jesus and let him into my boat, i am sure i will find what i was looking for.  and realize that what i was looking for was always there afterall. 

    to borrow the words of St. Teresa of Avila “Let nothing trouble you. Let nothing frighten you. Everything passes. God never changes. Patience obtains all. Whoever has God, wants for nothing. God alone is enough.”

    as another week begins, my simple life goes on as it did before.  there’s really nothing to look for afterall.  everything that i need, God provides.  people to love, things to do and blessings to share.  even trials to make me strong.  what more can i ask for?   GOD ALONE IS ENOUGH.

    * for more details about the devotion to the Divine Mercy, please go to http://thedivinemercy.org

    my guardian angel in disguise

     
    “behold, I send an angel before you, to guard you on the way and to bring you to the place which I have prepared.  Give heed to him and hearken to his voice, do not rebel against him, for he will not pardon your transgression; for my name is in him.”  Exodus 23: 20-21
      
    my daughter megan, went through a most terrifying experience last friday as typhoon pepeng entered the Philippine area of responsibility.  this happened just barely a week after typhoon ondoy wrought havoc and devastation mostly in the nation’s capital and nearby provinces where laguna is strategically located.  what you’re about to read is just one among too many actual stories of suspense and horror, of  inspiration and hope,  from the kindness that is innate in every human being.  the kindness that shines brightest during the darkest of times.
    the wrath of ondoy
    the wrath of ondoy
     
    in her facebook account, megan writes:
     
    My guardian angel in disguise
    Yesterday at 7:51pm
     
    If you happened to see my Friday update, you would know about the traumatic experience I had that day.
    I find it ironic in a way. I was excited to get home and log in to my ever-dearest social network, which is of course, Facebook, to blog about my exciting and crazy week.

    Bottom line: The last part was tragic and definitely it’s not the perfect ending for a fun-filled week.

    Good news is, nobody got hurt, I’m still alive and I can still do this right now.

    I decided to go home early because of  Pepeng. On my way home, my parents called me because Mommy (my granny) already told them it was raining really hard in Balian. They asked me if I’m still in LB because if I am, I’d better not go home. But then I was on my home already at that moment, so they just told me to take care. The rain wasn’t pouring that hard until I reached Sta. Cruz. As I get closer to home, the rain poured harder and the floods were getting worse. I started to get nervous when we were in Lumban. I never experienced an actual flood, or even seen it. The wind was blowing so hard and it was starting to get dark. The floods had risen up to knee level in Kalayaan and the worst part was when we reached Longos.

    flood caused by ondoy
    flood caused by ondoy

    Vehicles found it hard to move on with winds blowing and rains pouring harder and harder. Finally, the vehicles stopped when people shouted “Atras na! Atras na!” Of course! I started to panic, quietly. I was petrified! I couldn’t move! And then I had another phone call. It was my parents, they asked me where I was and then at that moment I started to cry. I tried to answer them, trying to hide that I was actually crying. On that very instance, it happened. A landslide, right before our very eyes. It was the first time I saw something like that. I know what I’ve seen on TV were worse but I couldn’t think straight! I couldn’t focus! Nanay kept on telling me on the phone: “Calm down. Don’t panic.” But then my phone battery would be depleted any sooner so I told them.

     
    I know that the young man in front of me kept on watching me as I tried to hide I was crying. But I also kept on ignoring him. Maximum tolerance, I suppose. People inside the jeep started to make phone calls. “May landslide!”… “Stranded kami dito sa Longos.” The two of us seemed to be the only people who were quiet at that time. But I can’t help it. I just kept on crying. The sight of those dreadful incidents: Landslides, one at the time… People trying to get out of their vehicles, people trying to get out-of-the-way, people trying to warn the others. I was so afraid.

     

    But this young man in front of me, kept on watching me. As we waited inside, several thoughts kept running through my mind. Worst-case scenario: I wrote down contact numbers, Mommy’s and Tita Avit’s, my parents’ so if we’d spend the night, I could borrow a phone to tell them I’m alright. And then I was able to appreciate my carefree weekend nights, how I would go downstairs just to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner. I was lucky enough to experience all that. But how about the people who suffered because of typhoon Ondoy? How about even those people who experience this every single day?

    When there seemed to be no landslide to occur anymore, people tried to decide whether they should walk their way through it, because vehicles couldn’t move on anymore. Without further discussions, they started to empty the jeepney. The only ones who were left was me and this strange young man. I still was crying! “What am I an idiot? I’m not getting out!,” I said to myself. I’m scared of falling debris. I’m scared there might be another one. I couldn’t get out. But then, his presence made me feel that I should get out. He asked me “Hindi ka ba lulusong?” I stared at him. My face was blank. I was crying really hard. But then he said, “Wala kasi akong dalang payong eh.” I was holding mine at that time. Without thinking, I answered “Sige po.”

    chest-deep flood
    chest-deep flood
    We immediately got out of the jeepney and with the sight of the tragedy, I grabbed his arm. I was scared as hell. What a catastrophe. We walked through everything along with the others who were stranded. He tried to make me calm by starting a very casual conversation. “Kanina ka pa umiiyak ah. Okay lang yan.” That’s the only time I was able to smile again. During our talks, I started to learn he’s not a Laguna-native. He’s heading off to Paete General Hospital to visit someone. It was his 2nd time to visit the place but the first time he did, he took the Rizal route. So now I understand. He was new to everything here. He seemed to be a good person so I told him I’d take him to the hospital. Besides, he was taking care of me the time. It was surreal. Fear started to get out of the system as we continued to talk. And in no time, the rain poured lighter and lighter as we reached our destination. Trucks and rescuers came to the scene so we were somehow relieved.

    The sight of the hospital was the most rewarding gift after all that. You know how people would seem on TV when they walked miles and miles in a desert and suddenly saw an oasis nearby? We looked like that, we came very close to that. It’s like we were brought back to life. It was a heavenly feeling for me, I don’t know if it was the same for him but pretty much it was too. All I saw was that big smile on his face. Just like that, I thank God we were able to put our smile on our faces again.

    Yes. His name was Roy (How ironic. Friends, please don’t try to react, he’s not the same guy).
    “Megan,” I replied when he asked me my name.

    Before I left, I thanked him with all my heart.
    How could you thank someone who just saved you from your worst nightmare?
    To think that if he did not convinced me to get out of the jeepney, I’d stay there ’til morning!

    I was fragile at that moment but then I’m glad someone came to me.

    I felt secured, thanking God that there I was, riding on a jeepney once again on my way home, surely, no heavy rains, no brutal winds, no dreadful landslides. Everyone in the jeepney was smiling back then, telling their own stories about how they got through those incidents. As for me, I was thanking God endlessly, as I began to realize that Kuya Roy was just not a stranger who happened to take the same jeepney as mine, with no umbrella at all when the country’s expecting a typhoon coming. And then I smiled once again with the thought of how clever God has been by sending me a guardian angel.

    THANK GOD! This is it. HOME. ❤
    Is it just the weather or am I just glad I’m home? I opened the gate with the sight of Mommy waiting on the front porch. And yes, I told them the entire story. They (Yes, daddy too) were all ears. 🙂

    The phone rang and it was my parents. With their happiness, I could nearly imagine their faces smiling. They’re glad I made it home. I also told them my story but what I didn’t expect was the story they told me. That day, October 2, was the Memorial of Guardian Angels and they asked me if I met one.

    Well, I just smiled as I said, “Yes.”

    guardian angel

    being Megan, being hopeful

    “Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God.  Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds In Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:6-7

    my daughter sent me franctic messages the other day.  she was overwhelmed with just too much to do and she thought there was just too little time to finish all of them.  you see, it is Megan’s first semester in the university. and like all of our first times, this is one heck of a hard time for her.  but i believe in her drive and perseverance, her guts and strong will.  if only for those qualities, i knew she could pull through.

    but in those precious but few moments that my daughter was able to squeeze in for us to chat, there were words of wisdom that we were able to share with each other. but first i just let her do all the omg’s, the hmmp’s and whatever sighs she had to let out.  then i did all the lol’s.  and before we knew it, she already forgot what she was whimpering about in the first place. and we said our goodnights knowing for sure that the next day, she’d be alright.  that she’d be just fine.

    apparently what was causing her panic was really nothing compared to what we, adults experience everyday.  i remember watching the other night in ‘the insider’ a feature about the rise in the number of suicide cases in the US recently because of the current financial breakdown that they are suffering from. it is a sad reality; so very sad indeed.  on the other hand, in cnn there were features every now and then too about how people are coping in some parts of africa and i am amazed that most of them still persist in what to us seem such the most difficult and harsh conditions for a people to live in and survive.  those afflicted with aids and those dying of hunger, we never heard about them committing suicides. but rather, they hang on to the last threads of their precious lives with what’s left of their humanity.  but their spirits were larger than life.  their hopes even stronger. and i guess that’s what keeping them alive. the magic word here is hope.  if we live not looking forward to tomorrow, then our todays would be meaningless. 

    if somehow though, our today is in a state of panic and chaos, STOP! and for a while, close our eyes and let’s take a deep breath.  and think about this- we have 24 hours until tomorrow.  we can only do so much.  and if tomorrow finds that our human limitations reduces us to that weakling who cannot do anything at all, let us remember it is in our weakest that we are strong.  for our strength is in God. 

    do you remember a time when you were still a kid, when you felt left out and it was like the whole world was against you?  when you tell you parents your concerns with matching tears and sobbing as if the world is going to end?  remember how it made you feel better when they said that everything’s going to be alright and that they love you no matter what?  it made us feel better because we believed that what they said was true.  but now that we’re too old to run to our parents (if they are still alive) and sob everytime the world is falling down around us, there is our Lord who never fails.  if our parents loved us too much that they would protect us from all the hurts and pains, how much more our Lord whose love is the greatest.

    Megan would survive the first semester (and all the other sems of her life no matter how tough the going gets). she is intelligent. she is hard-working.  she is persistent.  but she also believes that first and foremost, it is the Lord who makes her so. therefore she will always be in GOOD HANDS. and so shall we be, if we only put our trust in Him. like Megan does.