Birthday Blog, 48th

 I remember, almost the same time last year (albeit a different time zone), I felt so at peace heading back to Keble College from Oxford Oratory Church of St. Aloysius Gonzaga. I had to Google the nearest Catholic church to me and had to wake up early despite the previous day's long travel. Of course I had my doubts, fears of being lost and not being certain there would be Mass anyway... Still, me and my penchant for marking and upholding significant days and milestones, I quashed every nagging thought, armed with google map (grateful that the vicinity seems to be neaby, I still got connected to Keble's wifi), went in search of the church. But of course, as direction challenged as I am (I really should stop telling myself this), I got lost despite the map haha  But I made it.

I remember passing through some kind of a graveyard, spotting a few tombstones, and a narrow alley just before making it to the church.  In true, Oxford sense, it looked really old but not imposing in any way. I felt at home right away and was just grateful to have found a church nearby.  I went inside and the altar was... grand but in a quiet, unassuming way.  Just they way I would have wanted it.  I kneeled down to pray.  No requests really... just gratitude. I am away from home on a mission, onto my fourth  country on the very day of my birthday.  Who wouldn't be grateful for that? I had a full day ahead, being on a week-long conference but was gifted with a chance to go to a church nearby? I was just counting my many, many blessings... 

It was not an easy life at all... Not everything was a bed of roses... I too had an angry, disillusioned phase... There were may instances when things were not going my way... or how I'd want things to be, from what my grand brain construed that to be.  I did not always have what I want, have love unrequited, was bullied, ridiculed, scoffed over for having weird thoughts and ideas... And yet, if I look back, I am more blessed than I could ever imagine.  And I could not thank God enough for His faithfulness... 

When the priest came and it became apparent that there is going to be a Mass (on a Monday.  What are the odds?), I had all the more reason to be grateful.  I grew up saying this novena with my Mom for the Holy Infant Jesus of Prague -- "seek and you shall find..."  And I have often sought... always try my best to seek God in places where I find myself to be.  In Iraq, on my last year there, I got transferred to Erbil and near the guesthouse is a Jesuit-managed church that house Syrian refugees.  Several times, I even got to sit and sing with the choir... In Kenya, I even had the chance to be a reader on what I did not know to be my last day there (thanks to the pandemic. I was just supposed to leave for a meeting and a mission afterwards).  But even on times and in countries where I wouldn't manage to find a church (I managed to attend at several in Malawi but not one in Mozambique), I feel that God always finds me instead... I remember wanting to visit Mary's House in Turkey and for the love of me, knows not how I would make it happen. But He made it happen.  I got to go, on Mother's day... imagine that...

From that Birthday Mass in Oxford last year until now, I was very fortunate enough to visit churches in Poland, the best of all was the Divine Mercy Church where Sr. Faustina's relic is buried... I was able to come face to face with the Holy Infant Jesus of Prague, in Prague itself... And very recently, finding St. the Baptist in Syria... Each experience has left me in awe of God's faithfulness to me.  I try to look back at how life has been all these years and I know every step is peppered with God's love, generosity and faithfulness.. I am not perfect though I always try to live a life that is always pleasing to God but I fail more times than I succeed... And my human brain could not conceive how I could be worthy of all these blessings.. .I am nothing but a sinner and a hypocrite to my faith at times even... But God knows, I try my best to always be faithful to love...

Thank you, Father God. I am not worthy but still You see to blessing me and my loved ones with so much... my cup overflows... Continue to hold my hand as I travel through life... that I may always be mindful of Your will, be true to my values and to be able to sow love wherever I go... I always am not at my best self, God. I stumble and fall... so do lift me up and push me to the right direction each time.. May I always be in keeping to my highest self and value. I love you. Thank you for loving me so...

I Always Would.

Funny how things work at times.  But I've always believed that there is no such thing as a coincidence really.  Sometimes I think, we "bid" certain situations to come to us because we're wrestling with some inner questions we can't seem to formulate quite clearly.  We know something is going on inside and that we are trying to put a name to it but can't seem to grasp it quite clearly.  Other times, I think we're being nudged to a certain direction and so suddenly something would happen that would make us think and make us fully conscious of the choice we have to make, that our hearts have long decided on. Something akin to this happened to me today and so I would just have to pen it down. 

Last night, we went to the citadel. As it was already dark, it is already close. I did not quite expect that.  I knew there would be restaurants around it that are often frequented by locals.  We came because a colleague invited us.  Been very busy since I got here so I was not really able to go around yet and I know this week would be quite hectic as well. So I grabbed the chance.  It had always been the hotel, office, nearby cafe and food shops for me since I got here.  When we were driving towards, the first thing I noticed was the solid, "stone" roads leading to the citadel. Anyhow, what drew my attention next are the many ruins and totally destroyed buildings we're passing by.  As if reading my mind our colleagues would say, "Nope, that was not because of the earthquake." Those were destroyed during the war.   She had repeated that perhaps 3 to 4 times as we made our way up towards the citadel.

I was tired so I was feeling a bit detached. Or so I thought.  Today, had to go out to get some food supplies and coffee. Since the museum is literally just around the corner, we decided to visit it.  Afterwards, we had some ice cream and bought some water to take back to the hotel.  As we were right opposite Sheraton where we stayed previously and where I left a pouch of daily-use essential oils, we decided to drop by and have our coffee there. We had to wait awhile only to be told they could not find it there.  So anyhow, we went to buy some groceries and then went back to the hotel.  

Caught up with Forest who then requested that I watch her sleep. I told her I'll sing her the song I usually sing to them when they were babies -- "The Promise."  So I sang and watch her sleep. I had a senior moment and tried to remember who sang it.  I knew it was from our old LPs of Mama's so I thought it must be Doris Day's.  Anyway, so I googled to be certain and came across Chris Cornell's.

I knew his must be a different song altogether because I was pretty certain his would not be as ancient as the song I sang to the kids.   I clicked on the MTV anyway and decided to watch.  And then there it was.  First scene, the "Battle of Aleppo." It was followed by the painful exodus of the people that was the result of it.  The scenes leapt at me, the devastation; the trip to the dessert; to those crowded ships crossing the Mediterranean... Yes, those bright red life jackets that had become a symbol of the many lives -- young and old -- that were lost at sea in those times.  I've forgotten that.  Now, looking as the scenes came alive in front of me -- some even are those of the Somali crisis and some other crisis --   the floodgates just opened.  "Detached" my @$$.  

I guess seeing one emergency, one after another, one gets sort of "vaccinated" and becomes somewhat immune.  To some extent, one is not as bothered by it anymore.  It ceases to become a "passion," or a "cause" which was the reason why one signs up for this "profession," in the first place.  Well at least in my case.  It starts to become "just another day at work."  But I guess I'm always "lucky" coz each and every time, I would be reminded -- To.Always.Care; that I "SHOULD" care.. Because, I am fully human.  And perhaps, a long time ago, before I've started on this journey in this lifetime, I have decided that I always would.  

Field Work Musings (First FW this year)

Truth must be really tired now if she is an actual person.  Coz she can easily be ignored, really.  Others are more than happy to take on half-truths, even outright fake news/untruth if it will suit their own personal interests…

In a humanitarian situation, community needs are ACTUAL needs.  There’s no need to qualify that further whether you get enough media coverage or not…Syria has long been forgotten even if most of its people feel everyday what had cost them this war.  

I’m here to do some field work.  And while the conversations I had would often revolve on the same narrative – how the earthquake has compounded the vulnerabilities of the people – there was one that really struck me.  I quote, “Has the epicenter of the earthquake happen to just be in Turkey alone, this country would not have been so ‘lucky.’”  Imagine that.  Lucky to have been struck by a natural disaster but I totally understand where the other person was coming from.

The earthquake has once again brought Syria to media attention.  As a consequence, the donor landscape has suddenly shifted to accommodate a place for Syria once again.  They’ve been “ignored” for years now as more and more emergencies are happening around the world; as more “media-grabbing” crises are brought to the limelight and to the forefront of “donor consciousness.”  Not saying that these crises are “little” or “less important” as compared to Syria. The drought and hunger crisis in HECA is a serious one. (And if I may add, also receiving less funding than other emergencies do, despite how massive and urgent the needs are.)

For a country that has been ravaged by war for more than a decade, the needs in Syria are unimaginable.  You have a country where power outage several times a day has become a norm.  A colleague shared how shops used to be open till 3 am in the past.  Now, they close around 11 or midnight because the power goes out by then.  I could only imagine how it is for ordinary households, having to go through harsh winters with the power constantly off.  They would have to resort to gas-fueled heaters and fuel prices have skyrocketed over the years.  And this is compounded even more with inflation affecting SYP. 

When I first came, I was surprised to have been handed a “bundle” of cash when I exchanged my USD.  I was surprised even more when I only managed to buy a small bottle of olive oil, a small packet of coffee and some vegetables with that whole sum.  What would daily expenses look like for ordinary households then? For the female-headed households with several children and dependents to feed? 

These are “truths,” realities that I know donor communities are aware of as well.  And still, had it not been for this earthquake, there were little aid trickling into Syria. And the "cost requirements" are massive -- for repairs and rehabilitation of WASH facilities; food and livelihood needs, etc.  The recent cholera crisis that hit several governorates here is the consequence of under-attended WASH needs.  Being in my role (but also on a personal level), I know I’d be looking at whether this earthquake and the interventions being mounted now by different humanitarian organizations (by my own, mostly) would be making a significant change in the years to come.  I’ve seen enough emergencies in my work to know this is not always the case. But I sure hope it would be different this time. 

 

Aesthetic vs. Authentic

 'Aesthetic' seems to be the buzzword nowadays.  Furniture, lifestyle shops, even coffee shops and restaurants tout their wares dangling the word.  Even my 12 year old throw the word around in her description of clothes, art and spaces to be in.  Even I am a bit guilty of this. I would love to check out the newest coffee shops claiming to have 'aesthetic vibes' whose Ads crop up regularly in my feeds.  Come to think of it, very few rarely speak about having really good coffee.  It seems 'instagramable' feels sell more than coffee does.  

As a mom, to me it is quite alarming noting all these flashy, aesthetic posts in social and popular media.  These are all what the children see nowadays.  It makes them blind to what's real and authentic.  They would grow up thinking that the standards that they have to live up to would only be to strive for material wealth, what's 'in' and 'aesthetic.'  And to me that is such a hard pill to swallow.  I'm privileged to have, had a lot of exposure to many communities/realities out there.  That is why I'm so grateful for the work that I have and the many opportunities afforded my way.  

Often what's real and raw and painful do not find their way to our newsfeeds.  Unless one watch sensationalised news.  Kids nowadays spend so much time in social media. They are exposed more to "sub-realities" and even fake news.  They hardly look up from their phones to see their immediate surroundings even.  Or be conscious of the people around them who love and toil hard for them.  They are often bombarded by "flashy," "un-real" projections of influencers who claim to be living the life but who also edits out the hardships and struggles behind the scenes.  Of course this does not include those who depicts what's really out there in the world and shed light on the various realities that many communities had to content with around the world.  

But even I, who is well aware of this, could hardly "urge" my children to spend less time in the internet.  Or be mindful always of what they watch and engage in.  I am not with them 24/7 and even if I will be, Kuya Rod and Ate Janin are old enough to have the right to their own space and privacy.  Oh I do remind them a lot and often I get "eye rolls" or nods of ascent but I know they do not really understand in full what I am trying to tell them.  Only Forest tends to listen and engage when I'm in my "lecture" mode on this.  Even with her, I try hard for it not to be "lecture-sounding," lest she would find the whole thing "annoying."

Sigh.  Parenthood is such a vocation really.  It's an everyday cross and challenge that one has to "consciously" take on.  So help me, God. I am not looking for the "perfect" son or daughter.  I just really want them to have an authentic unfolding of themselves, whatever that means for them. 

Saying "Yes" to the Entire Mission

 This was the phrase that struck me in today's gospel.  We're at the weekend house so we had to contend with an online Mass.  We sat through the entire thing patiently though  Forest and Tatay was a bit distracted at first and I had to put my arms around Forest the whole time who responded by snuggling closer.  In Tatay's case, I had to pat and hold his hands whenever he loses concentration.

Today is the Feast of the Child Jesus and a part of me is sorry we are not able to go to the Shrine like we did in the past. The Jesuit one we attended online was not less meaningful though.  And the above phrase is what struck me the most.  Father talked about connection, vulnerability and forgiveness.  He underlined how Jesus could have come to us in a more formidable form -- like that of Goliath -- and just "demanded" repentance from all of us.  Instead, He came as a baby, dependent upon Joseph and Mary to keep Hi safe amidst Herod's persecution.  And why is that?  And so the whole narrative on connection and vulnerability and yes, forgiveness.  But when Father pointed out that Jesus had to rely on Mary having to say "yes" to the entire mission before everything comes to be, I was floored.  I felt the realization flood my entire being.  Physically, it manifested in goosebumps all over and the tears just came without bidding.  

Many questions Mary's importance in our spiritual life and often she is ridiculed for the claim of a virgin birth.  But indeed, nothing would have come to pass -- God's incarnation, apostolic mission, death and resurrection had she lacked the courage to say yes to it all.

I was driven to reflect on how I also conduct my life; how I "direct" my own unfolding.  It's because I had to say "yes" to certain turning points and personal missions.  I might have missed certain points and erred in some decisions but I am firm in my conviction that God had always been a good guide in steering me in the right path.  He is indeed my Shepherd who patiently finds me and meet me wherever I am to point me towards the path I ought to take.  He is also my greatest "even coordinator," orchestrating milestones in ways that He knows I'd find meaning in. 

Raising Daughters Pt. 2

 Before that whole snuggling, teen-ager conversation thing in the car, Forest came to me complaining about how she felt uncomfortable in her shorts.  I then looked for the spare yoga pants I brought with me.  It has floral prints on it.  The top she had on has large leaves printed on it too.  Both large prints actually clashed so I told her, "Here, wear this. It does not quite match (your top) but it should be fine.  We are going straight home and not dropping somewhere. Nobody would be seeing you and what you're wearing.  Why wear that in the first place, if it was uncomfortable? You know we are travelling."

She looked hesitant about changing so I left her with the pair and went back to the cousins.  She caught up with me though only to say, "Nanay, in the first place, I'm not wearing this (gesturing to her entire get up) to please other people.  I dress up for me. I dress up to make ME happy not other people. So it does not matter if people see me or not. I'm not wearing this though (the yoga pants). And I'm fine with the shorts.  Not really uncomfortable. It was the seat  meant!" Then she turned her back to me, leaving me speechless.  Murag korek.  Dress up for me indeed.  Maka-happy though.  

Raising Daughters

 Yesterday. Forest snuggling to me in the car as we are travelling home from Gen San: Teen-ager na ako, Nay (in June, on her birthday).

Me: Oo nga. (I wonder though what led her to such thoughts and what she is thinking).

I added quietly, "Nanay will be tough. If you are aryat-aryat."

Forest replying earnestly: I know. Pagalitan mo lang gud ako Nay kung mag aryat-aryat ako...

Then she straightened up and asked: What is aryat-aryat, Nay? In clothes?!

Hehe I actually don't know exactly, Anak, to be honest hehe It's a family term I grew up with. (And one she has heard often enough.). Let me ask the olds in the family. But we could also define it between us. (It is a critique thrown our way (but never said harshly) when we "girls" are out of line in some ways.)

I don't want you to lose your voice or smother your power as you are growing up... But I don't want you to go overboard either. My moral compass might be defined by how I was raised, though I try so hard to be more conscious about it too and unlearn the things I should. But I know there would be times I'd be unmindful because I'm tired or because it comes out as a default sub-consciously. Let us be each other's critique and always have that conversation... I love you so much.

#Babytales #raisingdaughter

Raising Children (Hello 2023)

Funny how the last post here seemed to have the finality to it.  I certainly felt that way at that time.  In the end, Tatay wooed us all and showed us how he values us above everything else.  Everyday I see him work on himself and there are also days when he is someone I could dislike the most.  And I do and let him know exactly that.  

Last year, there was no entry at all and it is such a shame as there are a lot of moments with the children that I should have penned.  I manage sometimes to share snippets in facebook as it is the most accessible and I could squeeze it in between work tasks.  

In hindsight, maybe that is partly why I have stopped blogging for a while. I've been very busy at work and opening up a blog to write just take up so much time.  I want to go back to it though.  Growing up "with" the children is such a rich experience I want to pen down most of my moments and conversations with them.  Lest, the time would come when I'd be feeble-minded and forget everything.  Most of my moments with the children (both happy and trying times) are the good stuff.  And it is always good to document all of them, if I could.

Yesterday there was one such moment.  We were driving home from Gen San when Tatay noticed something fell on the road from the girl riding the motorcycle in front of us.  Tatay stopped and ran back to retrieve whatever it was, as it might be something important.  It turned out to be a cellphone.  

The scene in the car after that was quite funny.  Had some of the nephews shouting, "turn it off, turn it off."  Tatay and myself on the other hand said, "No, don't. Keep it on."  Forest and her other cousins were  quite confused but was visibly excited too.  

Tatay drove fast to overtake the girl so we could return the phone.  It became obvious then to everyone that the intent was to return the phone to the owner.  On this Forest suddenly said, "Maka-proud," obviously renewing  Tatay's record as a "hero" in her books.  Simon also quipped, "Best Tatay ever!" Haha!

Everyone grew quiet and started to relax also still excited about catching up with the motorcycle.  She was quite fast though and when she turned towards the inter-city roads, we lost her completely.  Tatay then stopped, noting the police patrol car at the intersection.  He handed the phone to the police who thanked him profusely with one of them sharing he lost his phone the other day as well but it was never returned.  They said they would be waiting for the owner to call the phone so they could return it to her.  

I didn't know Tatay heard what Forest said about being proud.  Apparently he did and can't stop thinking about it.  He was quite happy talking about it until this morning and even urged me to write about it hehehe He said, "Unsa to ingon ni Forest, Nay? Proud daw siya?" smiling sheepishly like a little boy and obviously very pleased with himself :) He shared he worries about the owner having important calls and numbers and then losing them if the phone is not returned.  Indeed!

Emerging from the Vortex?

 Everything has yet to pan out but so far, everything seems to be "easy."  A part of me still "wants to" weep for the person that seems to be such a lost cause.  Yes, "wants to" because I can't seem to shed tears anymore.  I am sad about the whole thing but I guess I've cried enough over the years my soul has finally dried up.  

I am definitely wishing him well and still praying that he would find and save himself from himself.  I've tried over the years to do that but there is no helping someone who doesn't want to help himself.  Even from the beginning I was too naïve to think that unconditional love would overcome it all.  He has quite a lot of inside turmoil to navigate within himself and it would take a lot of will to do just that.  And as he is with other things, he doesn't want to expend that much energy.  I could weep for the "little boy" trap within all that for so long.  

But then it took me 19 years to realise that unconditional love is about self-love too. I am strong and so full of love true that it naturally overflows.  Yet, here I am, 19 years down the road and I feel I'm slowly disintegrating as I try to put up with abuse just because I "understand" and "love" that tiny, helpless, little boy.  I've tried compassion, outpouring love and understanding... And the children have suffered in the sidelines too... 

I need to love the children unconditionally too, unless I want them to end up like this trapped little boy as well... lost and trapped in a sea of trauma and emotions that they could not make the sense out of.  I wouldn't want them to live their lives being lead by this inner turmoil they are unconscious of.  I wish I could gift the children with my penchant for reflecting and introspection...  

So help us, Abba.

Mid-Vortex

We've just had a really good evening.  We ate out at a Harry Potter themed restaurant.  Imagine the kiddos' excitement.  Mine too!  Then we went grocery-shopping at a Korean one.  The result -- really happy and upbeat children.  Thankful.  Thankful for Loreto too for driving and being solicitous with the kids.  

I re-read an entry from last year's and did not realise I poured out all my angst in there.  And I'm thinking if those are still my realities now?  Partly yes in that he still has moments and I'm losing patience every time.  More like respect really.  What has changed though is how he is with the kids, particularly Kuya. I remember having conversations with him over the past year where he express how he regrets those moments when he'd lose his temper with Kuya.  Right now, his relationship with Rod has greatly improved.  Rod goes to him when he wants something done.  Coz Tatay does it without question (cook mid-afternoons because Rod said he is hungry).  Whereas with me, I often have something to say or nag about (why not eat on time with us? Eat what's on the table.  It's good for you.)

I must admit I'm a far cry from being someone who is always understanding, giving more of me, in the hopes of him changing for the better.  I'm definitely not lovey-dovey or as generous with my forgiveness.  I definitely call him out when he 'misbehaves.'  And I guess that is partly why Loreto is working hard at being better these days.  He knows I'm not as forgiving as before.   

I'm just grateful that there is none of those outbursts with the kids for more than a year now.  And I pray it remains that way and a bit optimistic about it too.  But as for me, I'm allowing myself to love myself more and being "less self-depriving" where he is concerned.  Sure, he's still battling with his ghosts and I can definitely see him trying his best more than ever.  But, I'm no longer looking at the whole thing as something I can help 'resolve.'  I've tried over the years and I've given it my all.  There is nothing left anymore.  So help me, Abba.

Archimedes Moment: On Rugs, Parenthood and Reflections

I looked at my watch.  I have a work call coming up, for which I'm facilitating.  I looked at the rug by the window.  It has been washed but noting the accumulated dust, I know I wanted it to be much cleaner.  It's been nagging me every time I see it and I've put off cleaning it for some time.  It would be quite heavy for starters and the past weeks had really been hectic work-wise.

To be honest, it had also been a source of resentment.  For Tatay and the kids to feel that it needs washing and would take it on as a task was something I've been wishing for, for the whole time.  I was thinking, I could definitely do with the helping hand.  I checked myself... why am I such a neat-freak? I just want everything neat and tidy.  I used to think it must be because of the work I do -- highly cerebral and a lot of writing.  One has to be in a certain mood and a really, really, really (how's that for emphasis? hehe) conducive environment to be able to pull it off (pouring over graphs and 'interpreting' them correctly).  

I thought of Mama too and how she's such a tidy person (the back of the plates, cups and mugs had to be thoroughly clean too and shiny!).  She hates clutter and she's always tidying up.  I remember her being such a nag over it a lot of times hehehe But there I was with my books and my adolescent, lazy bones to be really that helpful.  Well, in fairness, we do get our household chore assignments.  I remember scrubbing and sweeping the floors the minute I wake up.  Well, right after I made the bed and folded everything nice and tidy.  I watered the plants too and Mama has a lot of them! But the nitty-gritty stuff? Like scrubbing the pots and pans and dusting every surface until they are impeccably clean, that is mostly Mama.

I remember one incident wherein I ruffled Mama's hair in amusement while she was in her nagging tirade.  She was taken aback by it.  Oh the look on her face! But she did laugh. I told her, she relax and stop being angry all the time because us children (Nino and myself) would just take it as a sign as to how tedious and tiring all those chores really are.  I told her, by her attitude, we would be put off, just thinking about doing the chores like doing the dishes hehehe  But yeah, I do remember how Mama's nagging could really get to me as well.  Thinking all of that now, I recognize that Mama must have been really tired having to do all those things on top of work.  After all, I'm in her shoes now.  While I do not nag as much, I do feel resentment.

Begrudgingly, I began to see the kids as I was at their age.  I hated having to give up my book in order to just clean or do whatever Mama wants me to do.  Now with Rod it is computer games.  For Ate Janin, it is watching TWICE on youtube.  for For Forest, it is playing, lying around and yes, watching MVs too.  I remember being particularly lethargic while in my teen-age stage too.  From all the Waldorf discussions I've participated in, I now know that it's because the bones (and the body and brain) are growing at such a rate that the kid transitioning into the teen-age phase could hardly cope up.  

So there I was in the bath tub with the shower on, scrubbing every inch of the rug, and thinking I ought to be more mindful of the whole thing.  I should just give up feeling resentful (while honoring the fact that I am feeling it and it is quite real to me) and recognise the fact that the kids at this stage would no way give up something they really love to do -- games, playing, watching (which are all undeniably pleasurable) -- in exchange for brushing the rug until it is free of dust; sweeping the dried leaves from the front yard or washing dishes for that matter.  After all in fairness, the children do have their chore assignments and more often than not, they do accomplish them.  Well, at times, they do take their time and I have to nag but unlike other kids, they are really helpful around the house.  They know their roles well.

Kuya, who does little of the chores around the house, does clean his room and do his laundry all by himself.  He folds his clothes though and keep the work station (that he uses often for classes and his games) tidy as well.  He makes sure the wires are neatly arranged and all that stuff.  The girls are heaven-sent too! Forest cleans the sala. She sometimes takes on Kuya's watering the plants task.  She would suddenly be struck with an inspiration and she would suddenly clean the fridge.  She cleans the bathrooms too! Ate Janin cooks and does her dish-washing bit.  She helps me in re-arranging the plants, even in carrying the heavy pots.  She hangs the clothes and bed sheets that I;ve washed.  I'm very grateful for the girls and I express that often.  

However that whole thing also is a source of consternation for me.  I hate the fact that the girls are doing most of the household chores and Kuya isn't.  I've been telling him repeatedly that even as a small child he already knows my stand on gender roles in the house.  He knows it well.  He knows that care work ought to be shared and SHOULD NOT in anyway be delegated to the females alone!  He knows it well too! I nag about it often enough.  But there he is, as unmovable as a stone.  In one or two of our conversations over the subject he was forthcoming in telling me that he DOES know.  Only, he is really just being lazy.  Just this afternoon while I was arranging all the unwashed stuff by the sink, I was telling him to go help with the washing.  Ate and Forest are in Mama Fely's house because they have classes and we did not have internet.  I told him, there is no way I am raising an @$$h0l3 who thinks that household chores should only be done by the women and girls alone.  I've had had my little reflection a bit earlier though while in the tub and scrubbing the rug and so I was being less of a nag about it.  Still.

So yes, there I was in the tub, brush was set aside and washing the soap off the rug, having a eureka moment. (Very much like Archimedes' bath tub moment hehehe).  I told myself if I was upset at having Mama nag me when I was a teenager over the household chores, I should perhaps try a different approach with the kiddos.  Nagging would no way win them over.  I told myself, I should perhaps don't delegate the chores I want done but hate doing myself like washing that rug for instance.  At the same time, I don't force myself to do them and then be very resentful about it; and of the fact that I do all the chores while they sit and watch TV.  I should then wait till I am in the mood and have the energy to do it myself; honor those moments when I'm too tired or has too much to do at work and just beg off the chores altogether.  It would be very difficult I know but I could always try and be more mindful about it.  That way, when I was finally doing the task, I'm happy about it and the kids get to see that.  Perhaps, instead of nagging them too, I can tell them that when they're ready to do it, they can also help address long-standing tasks around the house like trimming the grass and whatnots.  After all, they are mindful of their assigned chores.  I should give them credit too where credit is due.  

Ahhh... mindful parenting is not easy.  While this may sound like a cliche, love always finds a way.

Found

 Thank you for finding me today, Lord.  I've been floundering these past few days (year since Mama took her wings?) and I wasn't even aware.  All I knew is that I would be in the middle of work, glued to my computer and then I would feel the urge to just flit off and take a drive.  It doesn't even matter where as long as I'm out and about.  If not that, I would check out every ad or so and cart almost everything away...

Now, while working ,You just found me.  You spoke to me through a video I was watching.  It wasn't even what I wanted to check out. Just felt the urge to open it.  Suddenly there You were...

It's been a while, Lord since I really found the time to be quiet and listen to my heart.  I am tired.  I knew this all along. I'm also well aware that I'm near burn out. It's not just work really. It's almost everything.  I just felt that if you're so capable about everything, the people around you tend to take it for granted that you can carry their burden too.  Well, maybe I do. Out of my desire to be of service, I do take on some burden.  And because I want things to be a certain way, I go out of my way to do things on my own.  I am so used to being 'reliable' and 'capable.' that I have not learned to 'rely' on other people.  It's not my nature to go asking for help or assistance.  I never wanted to be a burden so I take on everything.  To be honest, for some of this, I even do it happily.  I'm happy to be of help, to have had the chance to contribute.  

I wasn't aware how taxing that is... to my well-being, my mental health and yes, even physically.  I am tired, Lord.  And I knew that I don't have to be explicit about the things that truly make me tired coz you know my heart.  You've known all along even when I wasn't even aware...

I lift everything up to you, Lord.  I cannot do things all on my own. I can't continue doing so.  You know the desires of my heart and what my longings are.  

Resentment.  I sure am in that stage now, Lord. I never thought I would come to that point but here I am.  I am too caught up thinking about what others need that I forgot to think about what 'I' need.  I am so busy anticipating what would be expected of me that I have forgotten to ask myself what do I really want?  I was so busy chasing after other's comfort and security that I forgot about my own.  

I just want to feel that my needs are anticipated too.  I am running on empty.  Please fill my love cup so I can again go and fill the others' cup joyfully.  

Mama

 It always amazes me how busy I get around the time of your birthday and anniversary. Like I am barely awake now having worked  all of yesterday till wee hours. I barely had the time to think about anything else. 

Almost missed the early morning Mass for you and was two hours late for our padasal this afternoon. I arrived at 'your place' wearing a blouse inside out.  It was straight from the computer, to grabbing that blouse, urging the kids and off to the car kind of thing. 

Is that your way of making sure I don't think much about you, Mama? 

Yesterday I cried in a middle of navigating a tricky skip logic in the tool (it was easy really but I just remembered you and missed you a lot). The good thing that came out of it was that Rod came to me, tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was okay. His angstsy, teen-age journey had somehow eased a bit of his clingy, touchy tendencies with me and his Tatay. So that touch on the shoulder and asking me how I was, was a gift in itself. I quietly told him, "I miss Lola." He stood there for a while, letting me feel he understood and felt the same way.

Oh, I remembered our silly fights as well, Mama.  Me, expressing my displeasure at your preoccupation with a particular afternoon telenovela.  Forest would watch with you at times  when she wakes up from her afternoon nap.  And we all know TV for her is a no-no. That is why we never upgraded our TV then. It wasn't a priority. But we love you and wanted to give what makes you happy so we kept that TV in the little room upstairs.  

Little did I know that one of Forest's most treasured moments with you were those afternoons.  Last week, she told me how funny it was to watch you rush downstairs to prepare her afternnon merienda and then rush right back up because you did not want to miss a single scene.  She was narrating how you would both race up the stairs, laughing and sit on the floor to continue watching.  You would watch the TV programme but she would watch you with fascination (and love, I could imagine). 

Now, I regret having made so much fuss about that. I could have told you to go watch all the telenovelas you like had I known you'd leave us so soon. I miss you, Mama but I know you are in a much better place. I feel that much of the relative 'ease' I'm enjoying amidst all these uncertainties could be partly because you are 'lawyering' up for us up there.  I could almost picture you hustling. Rest easy in God's loving embrace.

Bread

     We will Rise!

As we gather ‘round the table,

At the banquet of our King,
We lay down upon your altar
all our hungers deep within.
You may take all that we give.
Use our every strength or weakness
so that all the world may live.
When we eat this bread and in You believe,
We become Whom we receive.
And from death and strife, we will rise!
Fill us now with love and grace,
As we strive to be Your presence
That Your life we may embrace.
To reflect Your life and worth:
Make us all Your sons and daughters,
One in faith in You, O Lord. REFRAIN
We will rise!
Not death, not life, none on earth or above
Will ever separate us from your love!
In the breaking of the bread:
Pledge of future hope and glory,
Of our rising from the dead. REFRAIN
We will rise!

This song tugged at me while hearing Mass.  For some reason, I resonated with it and made me think about my work.  I had a skype call for the evaluation I was doing that overlapped with the Mass but I asked if I could move the call 30 minutes later, which was just perfect.  Happily, I was obliged. So right after the Mass,I proceeded with the call.

God's perfect timing really... The song was about bread.... being bread for others... and while I sat there with my set of questions, the 2 reps of the ESFVL Team we have in Syria described to me in detail the different challenges they had to contend with while implementing the project. Now, Syria is without question, one of the most challenging context there is.  Then you have the onset of Covid-19.  

When this was related to me -- "Women had to walk for miles, leaving children behind and unaccompanied at home, so they could get bread from the "nearest" town that has bakery," I felt the tears sting. But there were 20 other questions that I needed to ask so, I had to reign in my emotions.  

When the call ended, the tears did flow. I'm grateful for the teams and volunteers working closely on the ground, really. The challenges as they described them to me -- all happening towards the end of the project, during Ramadhan, with the distribution having to take place during the Eid Holidays -- all seemed insurmountable.  But they managed it just fine. Surprisingly, and also in a way, not that quite surprising really.  

I've always counted myself lucky, to be in an organisation where I get to meet very dedicated individuals who work long hours without complaints.  Smiling, joking around in the vehicle after waking up so early to manage a distribution under 50 degree heat for hours, without breakfast or lunch (not to mention the weeks and days of preparation that had to be done), is such a common sight. Exhausted definitely but you would see everyone smiling, talking about gorging on food while going back to the office...   Amazing, amazing women and men.  So gratefully to have come across them even in the most difficult and complex situations. 

I've said this countless of times and I'll say it again. I am grateful to be having this job. No matter the long hours and brain-wracking, heart-wrenching moments not that far in between.  I am privileged and everyday, the thought of it humbles me no end. It drives me to work even harder and to give myself even more into the work that I'm doing. I am in this thing wholly -- brain, heart, emotions, body, limbs, sweat, tears, happy smiles...  Thank you, God!

Vortex

I read somewhere that this Covid-19 crisis is actually just us being in a votex.  We're on a brink of transitioning to a new "normal,2 a new world and that we are just given a chance to sit and re-examine our bearings.

Where are you now? What is your "state of happiness" barometer?  What are the things that you currently value? What are the things that you hold close to your heart? Are they really as valuable as you think they are?  Are they really worth being held in your heart,devoting your time and life to?

So where am I?  I am currently in a job that I used to believe, helps define who I am.  In a way it does. It does.  Do I love my job? I do. I am grateful for having the job I have -- having the opportunity to contribute a little of me and the perks that went with it. It's a privilege to be earning my bread and butter, feeding my children, spending for their education and what-not's from doing something that I love to do. I am grateful for the opportunities for learning and self-growth as well; for the many wonderful souls I've met along the way; for the opportunity to sow love and light in my own little way.

At the same time, I am also exhausted, bone-weary and close to burnout.  The demands of my job is not easy.  It requires much thinking, heart, blood, sweat and tears.  But I love numbers.  I love analysing. I love thinking. I love being in the community, hearing their stories (albeit painful and heart-wrenching). I am happy to hear about their lives -- challenges, triumphs and all. I am grateful to be a witness to how indomitable the human spirit is. As to how generous can the soul be, still wanting to give even if they've just recently lost everything they've held dear.

It's being in a camp, interviewing people, imposing on their time, asking questions you are not sure they have answers to or are quite prepared to think about them amidst their situation.  And then, being offered the only bread they have, a fan, a seat because you are a guest in their homes made of makeshift tarpaulins and rugs.  How is that not heart-wrenching? How can that not one want to stop to simply be grateful to be in the midst of that? I am privileged.

Yes, I put long hours. I pour my heart and soul into every conversation I have in the community. I take pains in crafting the questions so as not to make them sound patronising, intrusive and or underlining the hopelessness they are already feeling.  Sometimes I would be spending hours pouring over documents I don't like to read really but had to.  Our pour over Excel files to try to make sense of the data yet being careful of tainting them with my own biases and prejudices.  There had to be that balancing that had to be done.  All the time.

Yet, I am also getting paid to be doing all these things. And truth be told, all those long hours are really self-imposed because of some inner barometer I measure my actions and work against. Everything had to be truthful and beneficial.  It had to have "real" meaning, whatever my own convoluted mind construe that to be.

But that is work.  How about the other side of the often coined "balance" -- work and life balance.  Where am I in my life?  I have a nice, comfortable house.  It was a love-work that was quite slow in progress.  Building this house took 2 to 3 years but really, if one is to count the little improvements here and there, growing this house took 8 to 9 years in total. It's how old Forest is and how long we've stayed in this house.   It's not as grand as per others' definition but it is how we've envisioned it to be.

That is the house.  How about it's soul?  The home part?  I have an angst-filled, almost-14 teenage son whom I am always in constant power struggle with.  I look at him and I see someone unhappy, angry, spinning out of control, hurting, afraid of failure thus short-changing himself and under-achieving.  I see a damaged soul in need of love but too proud and scared to ask for it or even to accept love when it is given.  I look at home and I try to search where in that angry or poker-faced, sarcastic demeanour was the sweet, little boy who was so full of mirth and was so intelligent?  Where was that boy who would read alongside me and delight me with conversations about ancient cultures and civilisatios?  Where is that sweet, little boy who would cry at the airport, not wanting to let me go or would tell me to "take care" when he knew I was off to some road, work travel after I dropped him in school? What had hppened? I knew full well what happened.

How am I as a mother?  I started so full of love and ideals of how things should be for my children.  I was and still am self-depriving, so driven to do everything for the children at the expense of my own wants and needs.  The children come first. There was no compromising that.

Now, I am just tired. Disillusioned at the state of things at home. There's oo much anger, distrust, pain, abuse.  We try our best to heal, make things alright but we have a beast in our midst. We are contending with a Jekyll and Hyde person -- too sweet and kind one moment and then explosive and hurtful the next.  Sometimes you don't even know what the trigger was.  It was an endless cycle of being hurt, wanting to give up to understanding and having to forgive again. All for the sake of the children, of having a complete family. But where are the children now?

I have an almost 10 year old daughter who told me over breakfast this morning how I easily give in when Tatay starts giving promises.  Promises he keeps until the next explosion you never knew what the trigger was.  Sometimes it's as trivial as voicing your own opinion or saying no to what he wants.  It'shaving that same daughter cower in fear as he threatens to overthrow all the food on the table or when he starts to attack his own son, her Kuya. It's her rushing to shield his Kuya from another blow.

My daughter-neice, who is turning 18, a full-grown adult a few months from now, who's happier and free-er when she's around friends than at home?  Almost adult but has no voice of her own; who readily does some chores that Kuya was supposed to do but refuse over some whim or another; who can and should be independent soon but had no answers to give when asked a simple question as to what she wants.

I'm in a 14-year old marriage that are full of happy memories true, even of real giving of the self and sacrifices from both sides.  It is a 14-year struggle of wanting things right, to change, overcome personal ghosts and be better. It's years full of defining dreams and working together at reaching them.  But it is also a 14-year marriage of broken laptops, cellphones, cabinets, diffusers, doors, door knobs.  It's one littered with physical abuse sometimes sparse in between and sometimes not quite.  It's all those years of struggle of wanting to understand, to forgive, to hope, seeing the abuser struggle to become a better person and then slid right back again.

It's me becoming angry at having to compromise, forget my sense of justice, having to fight back because I do not want the children to see a cowering, weak woman in the face of violence. It's me rushing to the side of my son, blocking blows, sushing-down over-deflated temper.  It's me asking myself the same question of whether to choose to let go or to forgive and start hoping again.

I remember when friends asked me why I have to choose him over a more "decent" someone.  I remember distinctly answering that it is because he grew up not truly belonging anywhere and hungry for love and me, having so much love to give.  Being my usual, naive, messianic self, I truly believed I can soothe all his pain away and fill up all that he lacked.  I thought I could "repair" him by all the love and understanding I can give.  And I tried.  God knows how much I did.

One thing I'm learning amidst all these is that I shouldn't have assumed that I could fill the role of a parent, partner, counsellor, fan, "encourager," personal coach all at the same time.  It took me 17 years in total doing just that but all for nought.  There's no helping a person who 'attempts' to change himself yet has an intrinsic belief that he is who he is and could not change at all. There's no helping someone who do not own up to his mistakes and blame it all on others instead.  There's no helping someone who is already expecting that all whom he loves would leave him in the end anyway. There were would be a battalion of concerned, soul-workers who love to see him through it all but all that amount of love does not have an effect on anyone who find it hard to believe that he is worthy of that love.  I've tried and rationalised all these years, finding again reasons to believe that he is worth another go, at exposing myself and my children to these abuses.  Enough.

If we are indeed at a vortex at the moment, at a brink of a new world, I would want to enter that world broken but on my way to healing and self-becoming.  I want the same thing for my children.  Indeed, I have so much love to give but I have given all that love outwardly.  I should have left a little something for myself.  No wonder I've been running on empty the past few years. My love tank is depleted.  So help me and my children, Abba.

Working from home

Tired. Overwhelmed.  This WFH arrangement, I think, is not healthy at all.  Every line becomes a blur.  You're working but at the same time you are constantly bombarded with other concerns from different directions.  I take it the kids are happy to see me around finally.  I am too!  But I guess I'm like everybody else who just trudged on into this quarantine, limited mobility and interaction...

Today

A lot of things happened today.  Forest throwing a fit every now and then, obviously seeking attention every time she sees me working.  This drove me a little nuts too, already pressured with work and having forced to do something I do not like -- seeing to reimbursements, liquidation and admin stuff. I find no joy in sifting through receipts, I'm afraid.

And I got irritated all the more as Tatay seems not helping at all and I had to prod him all the time as he was bent on doing his own thing while I balance both work and Forest's wanting some attention. (He must have noticed because he started making up for it in the afternoon)

Anyhow but there are two things that stood out for me today. It was Forest holding my arm as she ate her cereal for breakfast...

I just woke up and went downstairs with my laptop, plugged it in and settled to work.  I found her and Tatay preparing cereals.  Seeing me, she sat close to me in the living room and proceeded to eat.  Tatay on the other hand is close-by and also eating. I admonished them for again not eating at the dining table.  Tatay replied it's not a proper meal but a snack (rolling of the eyes here)/  They both went to the dining anyway.  To convince Forest, I told her I will sit with her and stay with her while she ate.  And so we talked. But it never escaped me that at one point, she was holding on to my arm while she ate.  It went straight to my heart.  She really must miss me.  All these tantrums (despite giving me more pressure than anything) are actually just her way of making sure I'm all hers.  That hand on my arm is like telling me that she wants to connect and that she's happy that I'm right there.  It's as if she is afraid I would flit off again any second.

And indeed.  While she was writing her journal (for her homeschooling session -- a situation that is brought upon us all by this virus), she wrote -- I'm grateful for Corona because Nanay is home.  She started with "Malipayon" and then not quite satisfied, she said she prefer to use "thankful." When I mentioned, "grateful." she wanted to use that word instead.  I was regretful I had to mention that as I did not want to influence her thinking.  I told her she should just use "thankful! as that was what she wanted to use first but then she whined and insisted she wanted to use the g word instead.  But yes.. my heart...

I'm just here, Forest.  While sometimes we might not be physically together, We're never really truly apart as I think of you and keep you close to heart all the time...

I'm Raising Good Children

I must admit there were a lot of instances of late that made me doubt that.  Seeing Rod's pre-occupation with his phone; his temper, answering back, throwing a tantrum and I'm beginning to think the opposite -- that Rod is turning out to be a horrible person; disrespectful and self-centred.  And then tonight, we picked Mama Fely up from her house.

Mama Fely called us up saying Mia and Eman has gone with their Mom and that there's only her and Nonon.  We urged her to just come and sleep with us here at the house for tonight.  As usual, she refused.  We compromised. We said we'd pick her up instead for dinner.  That way, I can also proceed with "bathing her in oils" (translation: haplas). 

I had some calls so while I got started with the "oil anointing," I had to stop.  I urged Rod to take over.  He was in a middle of an online game so I was expecting some "strong" resistance.  Instead, he put down his phone and spent a deal of time giving her Lola Fely massage.  It started with a back rub but I could tell he was doing it really well. It wasn't a "compliant" act at all, which was what I was afraid of.  I thought he would do a quick rub and then go back to his phone and his game.  Instead, he was really into it, talking to his Lola as well.  At one point, he stopped but only to put on "Moon River" and other old songs for his Lola Fely.  He then continued with the massage, accommodating Lola's request on rubbing it here or there, without complaint.  After a while, Forest joined.  They took one leg each and did a proper massage.  Ate Janin meanwhile was helping in preparing dinner.  We had imbao soup and some camote tops salad. 

Indeed, despite our "parenting a teenage dramas" of late, the kids are growing up with a good heart. It's there somewhere, beating warm and thoughtful, hidden amidst all these teenage angst and confusion. 

I'm hoping and praying they would trust me enough to listen to my "promptings" and urging (translation: nagging) and know deep down that I have nothing but their best interest at heart.

Thank you, God.

Drawing Strength

I was reading a very difficult document, Lord. It wasn’t difficult in the sense that it was badly written and thus difficult to understand.  On the opposite, it was well written.  It was difficult because it was about my work and the direction it is going to take.  It is difficult because my work is also my passion.  It is difficult because given all that, it would seem as if my life and future is hinging on it. 

And then You came blaring into my headphones.  And I just knew everything will be alright.  I know there are a lot of uncertainties up ahead. And I admit there are moments I become unsettled as well.  There are times, I would find myself worrying about the future too.  I mean, it if it is just me, I am not really that scared.  But put the children into the picture and then my usual peace and calm wavers.

“Humble King, holy One; Friend of sinners, God's own Son; God in flesh among men
You walked my road; You understand…” blared through my speakers… followed by, “Christ is enough for me…” I must say I am not as “religious” as I used to be but yes, definitely still “spiritual.”  I wouldn’t be able to carry all that I had to carry particularly last year, Lord if that wasn’t so. 

We’re making a big move soon, Lord and that occupies like 65% of my thoughts. Which apartment, which schools, how would we manage the expenses here with the payables back home as well... And then there’s this ongoing conversation around uncertainties at work…

But yes, thank You for finding me yet again today just when I was about to worry about uncertainties, you came blaring in reminding me of Your promises. I cling to that.

On Mama, Motherhood, Attachments and Unfolding...

I'm drowning, Mama. In grief.  I had such a crazy two weeks.  Little sleep.  Too much work and everything else in between.  Awhile back I was just fine.  I was happily doing the dishes, cleaning up the kitchen.  My housemate cooked me a traditional Malawian dinner.  So it was my turn to do the washing up.  The music kept me upbeat as I worked.

Now, as I settle here in the sofa, the same music brought the memory of you.  I'm thinking of our impending move and how we would be leaving you behind.  I was thinking of bringing along your photo. Have it in one of our rooms so it would still be like you are with us.  I am hoping that Aunty and Eric would pay you a visit sometimes. So you won't be too lonely where you are...

I miss you, Mama so much.  Just now i felt as if a big weight is on my chest, making it hard for me to breathe.. I do know you are now happy where you are...  No more pain and that feeling of being tired... Sometimes I think perhaps you miss us too... Or maybe not... knowing what you know now... But I also know that attachment is real too... But you have loved us well, Ma. Do rest in peace... Let me cry a little every now and then but don't worry too much.  You're just too wonderful thus we miss you in our midst.  And yes, there are regrets as well, aren't there?  Like I should have spent more time with you... 

I was thinking earlier, if itwould be my turn to see Rod slowly drift away as well as he carves a space for himself, I would totally understand. I would understand if he would forget me... and would only pay a visit whenever... Life would be exciting for him.. adulting would be tough... he would have responsibilities... he would be overwhelmed at the same time preocuppied with chasing after his dreams, his wants... And I would have to accept that... I'm thinking that is why I should also not stop pursuing my dreams and wants... So I do not just sit there, alone, waitng for my children to come and pay me a visit.. wondering and worrying about them a lot...

Well, I pray I would still be "awake" enough to know all this... to give my children wings when the time would come and not to be a slave of my attachments to them.  After all, as long as I live, my own unfolding continues... perhaps when the time comes, I would finally have the time to learn how to play a cello... perhaps, singing well into my grey years...