Moit

Friday evening was a special time for all of us who had gathered to send off good Brother Daniel (soon to be Daniel Cardinal Strickland), dear friend and favorite rockstar candidate, who's been both a riot and a blessing. It's funny how time flies in the presence of great company - seems like only a while ago when I met him after sharing my personal testimony at a prayer meeting and then later reconnected through He Cares. Like everyone in our little group, Daniel has proved himself to be a professional kaladkarin - giving us heart attacks when he gleefully wandered off on his own in Kabayan (apparently I've yet to recover from the trauma -in the wee hours of Saturday, when everyone had "crashed" for the night, I jolted awake in a panic: "Where's Daniel?! He has to get home, Father Steve will kill me!!" It took some time for me to be brought back to earth and reminded that Father Steve had in fact been by just a little earlier to jam and Daniel had gone home with him. The agony. The humiliation.) His profession as a religious has never gotten in the way of his being such a good sport, which is probably why he fit in quite well as one of "us" - through infamous '80s music all-nighters, videoke I-Will-Survive challenges, frustrated rockstar makeovers, bargain shopping expeditions, and the more serious Thursday evenings of worshipping the Lord together and sharing the faith with each other as fellow travelers on the journey home. I, for one, will miss the kilometric conversations about conversion and Christ and life and loving Him in general - but I know that is just "so long for now" and not really goodbye. Just hope that none of our crazy adventures with Daniel will stand in the way of his papal nomination - not that we did anything over-the-top of course - but I'm sure even if the Vatican investigators stumble across them, they'll realize that the future Pope Daniel I is truly one cool dude (he's already practicing his papal wave this early on). So long, Moit...I'll miss you!

If You Feel Far From God, Guess Who Moved?

I couldn't end the day on a sour note (re the last whine-y post), and thank God that He's given me good reason not to. My "listening," or rather, His responding to my attempts to listen, began when, just as I was getting ready to go to the Center, I opened up Philip Yancey's Reaching for the Invisible God. I haven't read this book yet, although I've had it for ages, mainly because Yancey writes mostly about desolation and "separation" from God, and since my second post-"desert experience" conversion I hardly found myself too far from Him (praise God) to need Yancey's material. I thought that I could benefit from his reflections this time around, but thankfully, it appears that I still don't really need to, because when I opened the book, a handout - from one of Sister Bubbles Bandojo's talks before the old community - fell out. And since I started to listen closely to "life," I take it as one of His preliminary statements about my spiritual state of being and how I need to make things right again.

"It is not enough that Jesus is my teacher, my guide, my source of inspiration. It is not even enough that He is my companion on the journey, my friend and my brother. Jesus must become the heart of my heart, the fire of my life, the lover of my soul, the bridegroom of my spirit. He must become my only thought, my only concern, my only desire. The thousands of people, events, ideas and plans that occupy my inner life must become all one in the one and only name: Jesus.

"I know that I have to move from speaking about Jesus to letting Him speak within me, from thinking about Jesus to letting Him think within me, from acting for and with Jesus to letting Him act through me. I know the only way for me to see this world is to see it through His eyes. Everything has to become very simple, very unified, very focused. It is no longer a question of being up-to-date or well-informed. At this moment in history - my own as well as that of the world - I have to go to the very center of being: the center where time touches eternity, where earth and heaven meet, where God's Word becomes human flesh, where death and immortality embrace. There is really no longer a question of options. With an unmistakable clarity I have heard a voice saying, 'Give Me everything, and I will give you everything.'" - Henri Nouwen, "Jesus and Mary: Finding Our Sacred Center"

Once upon a time I gave Him everything, and thereby found my joy. But somewhere along the way I started holding on again, and holding back many things that I should have surrendered to him: my dreams and desires, my thoughts, my independence, my unwillingness to give up control over things I shouldn't. Too many complications have de-simplified the simple way of life I committed myself to a few months ago; they've muddled up the simple relationship I used to have with my God. And the solution to all of these is the same as it always has been, although this time it's taken me quite the while to remember it: just keep Him in the forefront, in the center of it all. I remember the simple promises we made to each other that Ninos Inocentes Sunday in Megamall. I would always love Him first of all, and most of all: bago ang lahat, higit sa lahat. And He told me...well, that's between Him and me. For now. :-)

And so I'm going back to basics. Back to loving Him first and most of all. Back to the mission He's called me to; back to the little prayer group He's gathered us into. I'm going back to the streets and the communities and the people I've had little time for over the last few months, because His call from the very beginning was for me to find Him there, and He's still calling. I'm going to set aside Thursday nights, doggone it, as my personal time - OUR personal time - to praise and worship and talk about Him, Him, and Him alone, because no matter how many prayer meetings I conduct/serve at in a week, Thursdays (not to mention 1st Sundays at the Feast) are for ME - my personal growth, my fellowship and sharing with sisters and brothers on this walk, my concerns, my need for being ministered to and ministering. Those things, for now, are the simplest things I believe He's asking from me. And I know I will rediscover the simple joy in doing so, for, as the great poet Dante once said - "In His will, our peace." Amen.

Dark Days and the Blues

Today's not been a very good day. Yesterday wasn't too thrilling either. The weather is sympathizing with my general sense of ill-being - it's dark, rainy, and cold. I've got some kind of nascent flu that's not bad enough to keep me bedridden but not "good" enough for me to go out, plus it's that time of the month and I'm crankier and b*tchier than usual (to myself, since I'm riding this out in isolation). I didn't feel well enough to attend the council meeting yesterday or go to class today, which was probably just as well - I talked to Juwip on the phone earlier this afternoon, and apparently I'm not the only one suffering from a dark, dank, cranky mood. I guess everyone is a little tired lately, and I suddenly realized that this may be a general spiritual attack on all of us - this kind of dreary "desolation" last reared its ugly head prior to the Foundation's anniversary a couple of months ago.

But anyway. If it indeed is an attack, I'm trying to put up the best resistance that I can. I needed to talk to someone today and just vent, but my e-mail is on the fritz and I therefore cannot unload - to my satisfaction - on my prayer partner (to whom I owe a long overdue e-mail anyway!). And someone I was supposed to talk with online isn't around (you know who you are...yes I mean YOU, boohoo), right when I needed a long philosophical/intellectual yet alcohol-free objective discussion on the doldrums. Although it's probably my fault because I fell asleep early last night and slept through most of the morning, but still, grrr...

So I just made do and fell back into reading Bishop Sheen's Lift Up Your Heart, which helped somewhat. Listening to Stephen Curtis Chapman's Sometimes He Comes In the Clouds (considering that it's been a very cloudy day with the sun nowhere in sight) made me feel considerably better (I think I'll use this as a take-off point for tomorrow's Montalban talk), and reading some spiritual reflections is making me feel less sorry for myself (I HATE this feeling)...how's this, from Frederick Buechner:

"Listen to your life; pay attention to what happens to you." Because it seems to me that if indeed there is a God, which most of the time I believe there is, and if indeed He is concerned with the world, which is what the Christian faith is saying -- concerned enough to enter it, to live in it and to work in it and to fail and succeed in it and finally die in it and rise again in it -- if he is really involved with the world, then one of the most powerful ways He speaks to us is through what happens to us, which means keep your ears open, keep your eyes open for the often hidden, illusive word of God.

People often ask, "How do you listen to your life? How do you get into the habit of doing it? How do you keep ears cocked and your eye peeled for the presence of God or the presence of anything else?" One thing I have said, which I think is true, is to pay attention to any of those moments in your life when unexpected tears come in your eyes. You never know when that may happen, what may trigger them. Very often I think if you pay attention to those moments, you realize that something deep beneath the surface of who you are, something deep beneath the surface of the world, is trying to speak to you about who you are.

Interesting, huh? I think I'm going to listen a little bit more. And keep the tissues ready at hand. But the one sure fix from the down-and-outs that I need to get down to right now is to go back to the mission tonight, nascent flu or not. I'm sure God has something to tell me once I "show up" for work...He always does (even from behind the clouds!). Gotta go.

Reformatting, Ver. 2005

Today/night, I had to reformat once again. It's been more than a year since I've cleaned up my machine, and I paid a couple of technicians several hundred buckaroos (the last one up to twice the amount I usually pay, ouch!) just to get my system up and running again but, in the end, the buck stops with me. I had to decide which programs to get rid of, and which to retain, and I'm "rebuilding" my trusty laptop even as I type.

Sort of like a reassessment of my life, which, in the last few weeks can be summed up in "two words": NGARAG (haven't used that word in ages, but that describes exactly how I've been feeling!). Not to say that I don't like doing what I've been doing - it's just that I think I've been doing a little too much. It's not very nice when you get comments like "Ate Honey, kulang ka sa tulog 'no?" (from Francis, because of my eyebags) and "Ate Honey, nakatulog ka na ba?" (the next day, also from Francis), and, just last Saturday, "Hon, matulog ka naman," (from Kuya Mike, which means that the luggage under my eyes was apparently a little over the maximum weight allowable!). Just too many things to do...sleep is just luxury. It still is, because I've had to catch up on household responsibilities set aside over the last couple of weeks on my rest days. Whew. Like I told someone recently, my life's ambition is to sleep for a week. Uninterrupted. Yum.

In the midst of all this, I've been asking God to situate me once again in the heart of the mission He's set me on. To immerse me once more in the certainty of His will for my life, and to remove the things and attitudes that keep me from following Him. Tonight at Mass, I prayed especially for the one thing that is still "festering" in my heart (although not as badly as before), the one thing that I'm pretty sure He wants me to surrender. And I hope to be rid of it soon, that I may come to love and serve Him more genuinely.

Speaking of Mass, and of direction, tonight God sent me a very sweet surprise - a host of "angels" to keep me company. My Mom and I split up because there weren't enough free seats at the 7 p.m. Project 6 Mass (I hardly go with Mom because she likes to hear Mass in the morning, and, except for the 11:30 am Mass, I very rarely go to Project 6 on Sundays). So, during the homily, I found myself sitting alone on the steps to the choir loft...but not for very long, because I heard a chorus of "Ate Honey!" from behind me - some of my very favorite He Cares kids: the Castenares twins (generically called "Kambal" although separately named Maria Lourdes and Mary Rose), Sarah Jane, Jolina, and Abigaile, were also attending Mass. Talk about Divine direction! As I held them close and prayed with them (children are very impressionable at the elementary age - they emulate everything adults they look up to do, like kneeling, even on the hard concrete floor, during the Consecration and after Communion, and singing the hymns with gusto), I knew that there was a reason we were late for Mass at San Nicolas and had to go to Project 6 instead. And I knew that God was confirming my call to love and care for these little ones, physically and spiritually and emotionally, just as they were called to care for ME. An added bonus for that night was that my Mom, who's long been waiting for a chance to take care of some "little ones," got to play Grandma for a short time. She even bought them burgers and had them calling her - Madam Taray in the flesh - "Grandmommy" by the time we took them home. Huh, it's been a weeklong trend...Ate Brenda calls it a "prophecy," but we shall see, shall we not? Amen? Amen! :-)

Manic Monday

Well, not really. Not as bad as the freaky Friday that was the subject of my last post, is what I mean. Actually, not bad at all.

Monday is actually my hibernation day. And hibernating sounded good on this particular Monday, especially after the exhausting last few days in Baguio + Sunday's madcap schedule that caught up with me in the movie theater just as El Abrazo Partido was starting. My first time in a theater in more than a year, and I slept through the entire film! Good thing my snoring was drowned out by the loud laughter of the guy behind us (at least I hope it was!).

Anyway, my well-laid out plans of staying at home and vegging were very happily set aside because of two gentlemen and a common plan to spend the day in Montalban. I've not had much time to go up there as often as I'd like, save for the usual Thursday prayer meeting and assembly, so this sounded like a good plan. But because it was Monday, and because things tend to get a little manic before a good plan gets carried out, I was delayed by a million and one distractions - all good, don't get me wrong, but distractions nonetheless. Some very welcome opportunities to make money (writing gigs are the best sidelines!), a surprising invitation to be the subject (and not the author) of a magazine article, a myriad texts and calls and last minute requests...a whole pile of things that I had to hurdle before heading out. And when I finally did, I looked in the rearview mirror and eek! I'd forgotten to brush my hair! Anyway, I finally got everything together and we made it up there in time for a late lunch.

We got to spend some more quality time with the boys in the household, since we weren't really going anywhere in the rain, doing homework and telling stories and cooking and just jamming. Later in the evening when the skies cleared up, we paid a visit to the village families - who were surprised and very happy to see Ate Honey and Kuya AG on a Monday evening instead of a Thursday morning. And then more quality "family" time with the household and in each other's presence, sharing faith and hope and love.

Manic Monday indeed; I fell into bed so exhausted that I didn't notice my bed was sheet-less (that didn't come out quite right, hehe). But this is the kind of "mania" I live for, and, please God, I hope to die in the midst of. :-)