There have been a widespread of beliefs as to what enhances living or what gets people through their lives since the dawn of time; myths, sayings, magic, witchcraft etc. Our family depends on some things we believe are more powerful than any of those – the power of God’s miracles.
Prayer – is talking to God, is asking for help, is ranting or sharing thoughts to Him. I have been taught thousands if not millions of times about the importance of prayer in one’s life; from church to school, from family to friends, from mentors to even little children. Whenever there are situations of which I couldn’t handle, I am told to trust in prayer; whenever great things transpire, I am told to thank through prayer; whenever goals had to be reached, I am told to feverishly invest in prayer.
Each time I had problems about any matter and ask my Mom for advice, she would give me a long lecture but would always end them with this phrase, “Pray, it is the best thing you can do.” Indeed our family is more than legitimate to attest to this fact. We have been blessed by surplus miracles and results of prayer. From the smallest things that happen to our everyday existence to the life changing moments we encounter, never once did our faith in these miracles fail us.
I believe that many people had committed major mistakes even once in their lives and i confess that i have too.
The very life of my brother is a witness to prayer’s power. My brother was in Naga city when he had a motorcycle accident, his skull was fractured and we really thought he was a goner. We were not able to be at the hospital where he was confined, but through intense prayer, miracles happened and his life was salvaged.
From when I was a child, I have been told about several shocking stories as to how miracles have worked within our family. I would always be absorbed whenever my relatives would tell about the numerous life changing events that have transpired throughout our ancestry, and through hands on experience of these miracles I have fully appreciated these events as much as they did.
The condition of our family as our dad went through being a stroke patient is a testimony to the miracles brought by God. Our family is not wealthy, since my father was not able to work, we live day to day by the salary my mom earns in her job. Nevertheless all the expenses in our home and of medicine and hospital bills were always taken care of. There would always be provisions that held us through all trials and they would come in the most appropriate moments.
These are not even fragments of what abundant miracles we have encountered. While others choose to believe in myths and magic, our family would forever pass on from generation to generation our declarations of reliance to the power of miracles and prayer.
Back when I was in nursery, during Sunday school, the teachers would always bring out illustration boards filled with colourful images of people, animals, and places and start telling us stories from the Bible. From time to time I would imagine myself as a part of these mind-boggling stories: form the extraordinaire event in Red Sea to the amusing yet amazing fight of David and Goliath. Sadly, my conviction for these stories was at the same intensity in which I would believe in Mr. Sandman, Santa Claus, and Easter Bunnies. As any child would, I outgrew believing these fictitious characters and along with it, although the wonderment for the parables I heard in Sunday school stayed with me, my conviction for them slowly faded. I guess what held me to believe were the stories I have been told our family itself experienced.
From when I was a child, I have been told about several stories as to how miracles have worked within our family. I would always be absorbed whenever my relatives would reminisce about the numerous life changing events that have transpired throughout our ancestry. One of the famous stories would be the one about my grandmother who survived, without serious injuries, a ten feet fall from an arena in Jerusalem. It was said that during her fall, it seemed like she was taking a part of a sci-fi movie where gravity ceased to exist. She fell like a feather that gently touched the ground. I thought these kinds of things were too astonishing to be true and that they only happened in fictions or in fairy tales, so while I would be engrossed in listening to these kinds of shocking events, there would always be these lingering questions of their authenticity. I even thought of them as just fairytales old people tell children to put them to sleep. I was never fully a believer– not until I actually took part in a similar experience myself.
It was in year 2000 when my father showed signs of stroke, as time passed his condition worsened. It was a bleak time for all of us in our family. These were the times when I was sure that all the stories I have been told before were just fancy fairytales and that reality was all about grief and hardship. Nevertheless, even if our family was emotionally and financially struggling, none of our relatives ceased to believe that things would turn out right for my father and my family. I really thought they were being delirious to push themselves to believing in the impossible. But they had faith; they always believed that there was hope.
During my father’s third attack of stroke, he was at the same time diagnosed to have a cancer tumour in his kidney, he was very weak and the doctors said that it was possible to take out his infected kidney but they would not be able to assure us that he would live. One day, as my mom was doing her devotions, she seemed to hear a voice in her head that quoted a verse from the Bible, “Cast all your cares upon him...” Right after, my mom received a call from a kompare who suggested she asked for a third opinion of my father’s lab tests in another hospital. It took some time before my mom decided because repeating a test that would probably yield the same result was just emotionally exhausting. But she eventually complied; looking back at the surreal yet amazing encounters of our ancestry, she chose to believe that there might actually be hope. I thought of this as foolishness. I strongly believed then that stories about sudden changes in fate were only fictitious creations to satisfy what cannot transpire in real life – But as the third test results for my father’s kidney got out, I was taken aback. The doctor just smiled and uttered, “God’s intervention.” According to the test, my father’s tumour became (or turned out to be) nothing more than a benign cyst. When I knew about this, I was bewildered and at the same time struck with guilt.
Because I was too blinded by the trials upfront, I forgot that something that is beyond the understanding of human beings, something so astonishing that it seems surreal. But that’s the point of life, it’s not solely about logic, not just about understanding every single thing, but it’s also about believing. Believing that there are actually things out there bigger than us, even bigger than reason, and sometimes all we have to do is not give up on hope.
During the months that I was in China, I certainly have learned a lot. I remember that there was one lesson that taught me the moral “to achieve success, all you have to do is give your best and everything will follow.” I believe this applies to everything we do, and is also true for learning foreign languages. For those of us who went to Xiamen tour last summer, we were fortunate because the teachers we had in China did not only teach us lessons from books but also a lot of interesting stuff that only China had.
Although I missed the food in the Philippines: the paksiw, adobo, inihaw na isda, lechon and a lot of other Filipino dishes- the meals I had in Xiamen were also very interesting and exotic and equally yummy. Just like their nai-cha, pepper covered hotdogs, fried rabbit, caramelized strawberries, etc.. Which is why every chance I get, I eat and eat and eat!
Xiamen truly had lots of interesting places to go. I can remember the time when I got lost in a place called Zhong Shan Lu which was miles away from our dorms. I must admit that I was a terrified because I was not familiar with the place and it was difficult to ask for directions from people who couldn’t understand you and you couldn’t understand as well, but that predicament definitely challenged my communication skills and I can attest that it was definitely an unforgettable experience.
One of my favourite past time while I was in Xiamen was shopping. Almost every break I had were spent looking for bargains and “kakaibang stuff” that were only found in China. I also spent time trying to understand and speak to the sales people there, who in turn supportively helped me practice my Chinese.
I’m really happy that I had a chance to go to China to study because I realize that I did learn more about their language and culture and did improve my communication skills even if I only stayed there for a short while. If given a chance, I would definitely want to roam around China again!
“Pinaglaruan ang mundo, ngayon klima ang nagloloko“ this phrase tells how much it is our fault that climate change is hitting the whole world like an epidemic. One very bad result of climate change is global warming. The world’s temperature is gradually ascending and consequently, the whole earth suffers its effects. If global warming caused by climate change causes environmental damage and harming the creatures that dwell in it, shouldn’t we be alarmed? Sometimes, we miss the fact that we, human beings, are as well part of the environment that is being led to entropy caused by our own wrong doings. We don’t immediately feel the damage of our carelessness in our lifestyle and we continue being inconsiderate, when in fact, if we just try to care enough, it is apparent that the thoughtless little things that we do everyday are the cause of all the calamities such as the typhoons, landslides, and floods that has been going on in our world. The Philippines in particular is not a poor country to start with, but with all the negligence and apathy of each citizen, it will not be long before our country’s health and wealth will fail and fall. Drought can also be a major problem if the situation of our planet worsens. Many have died of dehydration alone but besides the loss of availability of water for direct consumption itself, the ground will dry up and vegetation will be, if not hard, impossible; and this will cause malnutrition. Unfortunate people who do not have much to be able to support themselves, or those who live is steep areas are the most affected in these changes, but it is actually those who live more comfortable lives in the cities, that trigger these dire changes. Greed is our accumulative sin. Human beings never get contented with what they have thus they want more, get more, and waste more. This is the kind of life that we should modify back to its correct form.
The Philippines indeed is one of the largest producers of geothermal energy since we are in the Pacific Ring of Fire. We also have one of the biggest solar cell factories in the world. All these are renewable sources; they never run out as long as the universe is intact. Besides negligence that people will just have to learn to change, the problem is, even though we have all these resources waiting to be used, promotion is not enough. Some don’t know the benefits of using RE, some even don’t know that there are such things called RE. For me personally, I haven’t understood how large the effect is of the little things that I do such as taking the elevator, keeping the night light on, or letting the engine of the car running while not in motion and other such actions; but upon realizing everything that has been and is being taught in our class, I am definitely persuading to change our household lights to CFL, and instead of taking automobile transportation, I will walk an extra mile a day so to speak.
Our generation is in need of these realizations the most. It may be hard because we were technically brought up by these customs, but we must try. As the forethoughtful people say, “Let us get our act together and win this battle against climate change”.
“Over there is the Rizal library, the new Rizal library,” indicated a dean of a certain department whose name I couldn’t even remember. All that was running through my mind as I and my mother was standing inside Leong Hall was the thought of the vastness of Ateneo de Manila University. It was as if all the tall, gigantic buildings on sight would devour me if I stare long enough. Spending most of my life in a small private school in Quezon City, the Ateneo seemed like a whole new country for me to venture in. I was definitely in shock, flabbergasted. “Why don’t we take a look around?” said my mom as she nudged me, my attention shifting towards the forest like areas of the campus. I inhaled in the fresh air, relieved that there was more to this campus than manmade structures. It was nice to see that this university gives much importance to nature unlike some other universities we have visited that did not really have greenery enough to go around. Nevertheless, the feel of the numerous towering buildings still made me uneasy.
My mom and I started walking away from Leong hall and much later as we were strolling around, trying to differentiate one building from another; we realized that we were actually already lost. I kept my composure as we tried to find a way to go back to Leong, but actually, I was in the midst of panicking because I knew that neither of us had any sense of direction. In short, after walking aimlessly passing numerous unfamiliar buildings for a period of time we still couldn’t find our way around Ateneo’s enormous campus grounds. We finally gave up and resorted to something that we should have done in the first place – call and tell our driver to find us.
I was only relieved when we finally saw our little red “Toyota” amongst the many cars, vans, and tricycles that were going to and fro the roads of the campus. It was about 12pm and the streets of Ateneo were starting to get busy. I had not realized that campus traffic can be as bad as the traffic in big roads till I saw it with my own eyes. When we got inside the car, I thought to myself the dire horror of getting lost moving from one building to another in between classes. And with that I discerned that even littlest things that I would be experiencing in the Ateneo would be challenging with a capital “C”.
Since the dawn of time, there have been a widespread of beliefs as to what enhances living or what gets people through their lives; myths, sayings, magic, witchcraft etc. Our family depends on some things we believe are more powerful than any of those – the power of prayer and the faith in God’s provisions and miracles.
My awe for the power of miracles started back when I was in nursery during Sunday school lessons. The teachers would always bring out illustration boards filled with colourful images of people, animals, and places and start telling us stories from the Bible. From time to time I would imagine myself as a part of these mind-boggling stories: form the extraordinaire event in Red Sea to the amusing yet amazing fight of David and Goliath. Sadly, my conviction for these stories was at the same intensity in which I would believe in Mr. Sandman, Santa Claus, and Easter Bunnies. As any child would, I outgrew believing these fictitious characters and along with it, my wonderment for the parables I heard in Sunday school slowly faded. I guess what kept me believing were the stories I have been told our family itself experienced.
From when I was a child, I have been told about several shocking stories as to how miracles have worked within our family. I would always be absorbed whenever my relatives would tell about the numerous life changing events that have transpired throughout our ancestry.
My favourite story was that of the encounter of my Grandmother in her youth. When i was in nursery, she would tell me countless times the story of her experience while she was in Jerusalem; I would even postpone watching cartoons on TV just to hear that story over and over again. The way my grandmother would describe the magnificent sights and the exhilarating feel of the holy place makes me feel as though I were with her the time she was there. Nevertheless, my anticipation every time her story unfolds was not because of the splendour of the place as she recounts it, but solely because I awaited the part where she would retell the miraculous encounter she had; She was on a tour of the Holy Land. One day while atop an arena along with her tour group, for some reason, she curiously gazed down. She suddenly fell from the arena, ten feet from the ground. Everyone was shocked when she fell. All of her tour mates thought she died for sure, but hence they witnessed with their very eyes a miracle transpired. She was like taking part in a movie where there was an effect of slow motion. It was as if gravity ceased to exist while she was falling as light as a feather until her body touched the ground as though being carried by wings and laid there with utmost gentleness. I could just imagine how it was truly a miraculous moment not only for her but also for those who saw what happened. Unbelievable as it may seem, for a ten feet fall, not even a fracture nor a sprain but just a mere bump on the head was all my Grandma had to remember it by, it was definitely amazing.
Even the life of my brother did not lack the presence of God’s provisions and miracles. I can say that my brother, in his younger years was indeed a delinquent, my mom would always have headaches because of his irresponsible ways. He had a lot of vices during his college years in Manila which is why our mom was forced to make him stay in the province hoping it would help mend his ways. He was sent to Naga City and he stayed there for almost two years and but disappointingly, he was not improving. It was in his second year of stay when he had a motorcycle accident. While he was riding with his friend to the house of a person who owed them money planning to run a violent riot, a private car hit the motorcycle they were riding and toppled it over in the middle of the empty road (that road was one of the idlest in Naga City). It was a hit and run, my brother was still conscious but unable to move. Nobody was there to see what happened but if there were, nobody knew him anyway. His friend was as well injured but conscious, but before he even got to contact anyone for help, unexpected providence started to pour. There was a local doctor who fortunately passed that area where they were and brought them to the nearest hospital. He even gave them a quick pass into the emergency room of which without, would require them to wait their turn till they bled to death (this was apparent because it was a provincial hospital). That was when my brother’s friend called to inform us about the accident. His skull was fractured and we really thought he was a goner. But we prayed and prayed; we gathered all our relatives and prayed because we believed that the strength of prayer was also measured by the number of people who participated in it. By God’s mercy, my brother survived. Without knowledge of what were prevented because of this accident, one might think that this is another of those incidents that proved no sense as to why it had to happen. Words like unfair, unjust, unreasonable would come up with regards to our family’s faith. My brother did go through a lot of painful operations which were unnecessary if he did not plan to cause harm, but through this accident, not only was a foolish thing that he could have done was prevented, but this nearing death also served as a turning point in his life. There, was another plan critically and beautifully prosecuted by God.
All through my seventeen years of existence, I have witnessed more of these trials and miracles in and out of our family and in most of them I would always be filled with uncertainties about my faith to the point that I would doubt, hate and judge the conviction that I have grown up in. My biggest struggle was that of the sickness of my father. It was in year 2000 when his probability for having stroke started to show, as time passed his condition worsened until he had his fourth attack of stroke. During the years of his sickness, his body grew weaker and weaker until in year 2008 he became completely bedridden. It was a bleak time for all of us in our family.
My mother in particular would always show strength, but even as a child, I would always see through her tough facade. I would always see a fragile woman in the brink of back-sliding from her faith. My mother would have to keep her feelings to herself because she knew she had a family who relied on her for strength and along with that I have learned to conceal my emotions from my family too. During these many years that I have seen my family suffer from the condition of my father, my faith was shattered. There were times when I did not want anything to do with Christianity and thought of it as a continuous cascade of bull everybody relied on or even blamed just because they had nothing else to blame for their misfortunes. Sometimes I would feel despair, sometimes insecurity and sometimes even hatred. I cried endless nights looking for something to blame, sometimes even ending up blaming myself for the situations at hand. I searched long and hard in church gatherings and retreats for that kind of strong faith that our whole ancestry had had.
Unlike my strength of faith, none of our family members or relatives ceased to believe that God had a plan for my father and for my family. And indeed it was true that the Lord never forsake his children. I later realized that the condition of our family as our dad went through being a stroke patient was actually a powerful testimony to the unending provisions by God. Our family is not wealthy, since my father was not able to work, we live day to day by the salary my mom earns in her job. Nevertheless, unexplainably all the expenses in our home and of medicine and hospital bills always had their way of being taken care of. There would always be provisions that held us through all trials and they would come in the most appropriate moments. My father also had experienced, even in the time of his ailment, the miracles of God. In my early high school days, he had his third attack of stroke and was at the same time diagnosed to have a tumour in his kidney, he was very weak and two different doctors said that it was possible to take out his infected kidney but they would not be able to assure us that he would live. My mom would cry endless nights and rant to God why this would happen, until one day while she was at the hospital chapel, she seemed to hear a voice in her head that quoted a verse from the Bible, “Cast all your cares upon him…”She recounted to us how peaceful she felt right after she heard that voice. She then sincerely prayed to God on the spot. It was amazing how things worked out; my mom immediately received a call from a kompare who suggested she asked for a third opinion of my father’s lab tests in another hospital. It took some time before my mom complied but she finally did. As the third test results for my father’s kidney got out, the doctor just smiled and uttered, “God’s intervention.” According to the test, my father’s tumour became (or turned out to be) nothing more than a benign cyst. Nothing would be able to explain how the presence of God was felt not only among our family, but everyone who knew what happened. It was truly a well worked out plan of the Lord to bless his people.
My father died before I graduated high school, but amidst the hurt of loss, our whole family would feel comforted acknowledging the fact that he has already gone to a better place, away from the suffering back here on earth. My father’s death was anticipated and considered as the better of two evils so to speak, because he has been fighting with the odds of life for more than ten years after all. I have to admit though that even after all the blessings that I have witnessed in our family, I sometimes still found it hard to be grounded on my faith. There were still sometime when I recount the trials gone through, I would feel them to be unfair. But during these trials I always found myself seeking for help again and again only from Him who, I have turned from.
The times i didn’t see through the blessings that God had brought to me and my family was because I was too blinded by the trials upfront, but through hands on experience of those mercies and miracles, I have fully appreciated the events as much as my family and relatives did. Those events themselves are proof to why I should and will stay intact with my faith, those are the miracles at work for everyone to see and experience, those are the unexplainable truths that I have learned to accept and savour. While they are not even fragments of what abundant miracles we have encountered, I, also as a curious witness to these unending miracles believe that they are more than enough to speak for the incomprehensible power of God. Others choose to believe in myths and magic, but our family would forever pass on from generation to generation our declarations of reliance to the power of God and God alone.
Drawing out her umbrella ten seconds late, the college freshman, drenched from the sudden outburst of rain trudged the muddy sidewalk of the Katipunan road. It was late afternoon and stench of the pollution seeping through the damp wet air irritated her nostrils to the tenth level. Bumping into the scuttling pedestrians who recklessly knocked their umbrellas against hers did not help her appalled mood either. The rain appeared to be a quick shower and had already stopped from pouring, but the air had already become soggy and gloomy. Just as she was about to reach the tricycle stop, catching the distressing sight of the long line of commuters waiting, she noticed a considerably deep puddle of mire blocking most of her path. Carefully avoiding it, two elfin sized street children unexpectedly came from behind and quickly ran past splashing mud all over her. Flailing her arms out of anguish, she cursed the horrible day she has had. “Those nitwits did not even apologize” she mumbled.
“Splish! Splosh! Splish! Splosh!” Full of amusement for the puddles created by the shower that came down awhile ago, the two street children, dressed in filthy, hole-filled rags, gathered together with their friends and blissfully pranced and leaped from one edge of the mud-covered side walk to the other, their skinny figures highlighted by the dim street lights. Near the area was another group of street kids, all taller and obviously older but having the same skinny forms, they were squabbling over rugby filled bottles and plastics. Resorting to violence, the small crowd finally dissipated and scampered away to different directions all running after each other. Shortly all of them invaded the road where cars and vans of different sizes sped and hustled. The sound of exuberant giggles combined with the barbaric yelling as the children ran and dashed the streets resoundingly blended with the noisy engines and continuous honking of the cars. As if merely sashaying through a territory they’re so familiar in, the street kids did not give any significance or at all pay any attention to the several vehicles that screeched to a halt while trying to avoid hitting them.
“Foolish youth!” The aged jeepney driver bellowed as he slammed on the tarnished brakes bringing his rusty old jeep to an abrupt stop. He felt the penetrating chill of the damp night gust towards him the instant his jeep jolted to a halt. After spitting out the gum he chewed tasteless on the ground and coughing rowdily, he continued driving on to his route. His route passed through an unsightly, clumped-up series of sidewalk vendors, packed with customers haggling with the merchants like a swarm of contesting flies around piles of garbage. Driving slowly through this area, he picks up a number of passengers. His passengers come in different shapes and sizes so to speak; noisy students, rude employees, tired workers, stingy housewives. Whether they are indifferent, insane, offensive, intimidating, he catered to everyone. “As long as they pay good money, I’m fine with that,” he always says to himself. Then later on he finally arrives and brings home the day’s earnings for his family’s supper.
Later that night, the jeepney driver lying down with his wife and children, the street kids sniffing on rugby inside their tiny squatter holes, and the college student in the comfort of her bedroom; are all consumed by the same thought, and sighs, “Tomorrow again.”
The journey of my chaotic love life started when I was thirteen. My first relationship could not actually be considered out of love because it was an effect of extreme infatuation and desperation. It was that time of a teenager’s life when she notices most of the love songs and sings along with them, feeling all blissful but not really getting the deeper meanings of the songs, it was a time when most of her friends have romantic relationships and she feels envious, not really because she wants to have a love life, but because the idea that her friends have it makes her want it too.
I must admit that I felt envious of some other girls around me who had their suitors carry their things, give them gifts, follow them wherever they go, etc. This was especially because my own best friend also had this kind of romantic relationship in the brewing and who else would she turn to share all her feeling of delights and struggles regarding the matter? As the saying goes, I was always the bridesmaid but never the bride. I kept as middle man for my best friend whenever she would have a squabble with her guy; I fixed things up for them, fabricating stories when they needed it, spending hours convincing them to patch up. I was happy to help them because I thought that was the closest I could get in having a relationship.
I was 13 when my best friend moved to a different school, her relationship with her suitor came to an abrupt stop. As one would expect, over the laborious hours of being a bridge for my best friend and her suitor, the guy would have been really close to me. It was not long before he showed signs of affection for me and so did me for him. I was finally there, I was not just the helpful friend anymore, and I was actually wearing the gown of a bride. But little did I know that this was a jump in a bandwagon and a start of a crazy ride towards the realization of the harsh phase of love.
Accepting to form a romantic relationship with this guy was a sudden decision, one that did not actually entail much thinking, instead proved to be a product of eagerness. Like all other love stories that were bound to end, our first few months together went very well. The warmth of caring for someone and having someone care for you felt really new and was very electrifying. Sadly, In the course of our relationship, this guy had a tendency to compare me from my best friend and the things that we do, though it seemed like he did not really notice he was doing so (which just added to the pain more). It was not long before I finally accepted that he actually was not that over my best friend just yet. As sudden as our relationship started, it was too that our relationship ended. The bride did not reach the altar, turning away, she left the groom alone.
I have been in a few more relationships after the first and in every one of them; I gave all my efforts to show my love. I felt the hardships that came with each relationship but I didn’t mind, I did my best to do my part as a lover even if it meant sacrifices. In each break up, my world will become shattered for a period of time, because not only do I lose a lover but also do I fail in finding true love again. But because of the repetition, I turned numb to its effects and the desire to have someone to care for and adore was beginning to become rapidly unappealing to me.
I would take as an eventful moment the time when I watched a movie entitledEat, Pray, and Love. By the words of Liz Gilbert (Julia Roberts), I came into a realization that love will come when it will, or maybe it will not. But one thing’s for sure, any vain effort of looking for it will not help me nor change my destiny if or if not I will reach the altar. I have an average lifespan of 70 years and I will enjoy it whether or not I have a lover. I’m not saying that I don’t need one, but I am most certainly declaring to myself that I can live without one.
“Since I was 15, I’ve either been with a guy or breaking up with a guy. I have not given myself two weeks of a breather just to deal with myself….I used to have this appetite for my life and it is just gone.”
“A friend took me to the most amazing place the other day. It’s called the Augustus… It’s one of the quietest, loneliest places in Rome…It feels like a precious wound, and a heartbreak you won’t let go of because it hurts too good. We all want things to stay the same. Settle for living in misery because we’re afraid of change, of things crumbling to ruins. Then I looked at around to this place, at the chaos it has endured – the way it has been adapted, burned, pillaged and found a way to build itself back up again. And I was reassured, maybe my life hasn’t been so chaotic, it’s just the world that is, and the real trap is getting attached to any of it. Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.”
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